Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

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The sun was slipping under the horizon, signaling the end of another day as the darkness raced to cover every square inch of land in Surrey. It was the evening of the thirtieth of July and out of window of the house at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging; a young wizard, on the brink of his coming of age, stared out into the gathering dusk. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had had a terrible summer. He had spent most of his waking time thinking of Dumbledore, of Snape, of Malfoy and of Voldemort. It hadn’t been too long since Snape had murdered Dumbledore right in front of Harry's eyes. He had felt the bottom fall out of his world then. It had brought home to him the realization of what he had to do and more importantly, the knowledge that he had to do it alone. He couldn't risk anyone else dying because of him.




His internal battles didn’t seem to matter to his aunt and uncle. He had told the Dursleys that he was leaving Privet Drive once and for all and so they had made a special effort to make his life a living hell, attempting, perhaps, to prove that blood was, after all, not thicker than water. Not that he cared about that anymore. He had got quite used to it. But it was a painful reminder of what he had missed all his life; a family. He looked around at the room that the Dursleys had been forced to give him, not out of compassion but rather out of fear of magical retribution for making him live in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. The room was unusually clean for once, mainly because there wasn't much in it. In a traveling bag in the corner were some necessities and new set of dress robes for Bill and Fleur's wedding. He had outgrown the one he had worn a little over two years previously at the Yule Ball in the fourth year.




Fourth year... it seemed like an eternity since those events had taken place. Unwillingly his mind drifted into the past. The eleven years that the Dursleys had mistreated him, and then the letter from Hogwarts that had changed his life, the letter that had told him that he was no ordinary boy, he was a wizard. That he was no ordinary wizard either was borne upon him when he had learnt that the most evil wizard of all time had murdered his parents. Harry remembered being told that his mother had tried to stand between him and the Dark Lord and had died thereby giving Harry protection from Voldemort. Unconsciously Harry's hand strayed to the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, the mark that Voldemort had given him when he had tried to kill him and failed.




Like a movie reel, the last six years at Hogwarts began to replay in his mind. His first meeting with Voldemort at the end of the first year, a Voldemort so weak that he needed to take the body of Professor Quirell just to survive. He remembered how Tom Riddle had possessed Ginny through his diary and had got her to open the Chamber of Secrets in his second year, thereby releasing the basilisk that had almost killed him. And then in his third year, Harry had finally found a father figure in Sirius Black who had been James Potter’s best friend and had been falsely accused of leading Voldemort to James and Lily. It had been Sirius who had given Harry valuable advice during the fourth year where Harry had been entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry cringed as in his mind's eye he saw Voldemort's rebirth and Cedric’s lifeless body, murdered for no reason other than that he had been with Harry.




Harry wanted the memories to stop for he knew what was coming. But his mind was like a runaway train that was pulling Harry along much against his will. He relived the fight at the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year. He saw Sirius, hit by Bellatrix’s spell, falling backwards through the veil. The pain Harry had felt then came rolling back. He had hoped that Sirius would see him through this journey that had been forced on him; a journey that Harry had known would be extremely dangerous ever since he had heard the prophecy. One of them, Harry or Voldemort had to die.




Harry shook his head to clear it of the images that had been conjured up by his thoughts. But one remained; the memory of Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower as Snape had towered over him and had killed him. As he saw the curse hit Dumbledore's body he cried out and that shook him out of his reverie. Wearily, he checked his watch. It was five minutes to seven. Mr. Weasley was to arrive by Floo Network at seven to take him to the Burrow for the wedding. This time Harry had taken care to warn the Dursleys of Mr. Weasley’s coming, to ensure against any unfortunate occurrences. He remembered how bewildered the Weasleys had been when they had tried to enter the Dursley home the first time through the Floo Network only to find it blocked up.




Harry's eyes swept the room to see if he had missed anything. He didn’t seem to have so he picked up his bag and headed downstairs, trying to think of a good excuse for coming with such little luggage. He couldn’t possibly tell them that he had no intention of going back to Hogwarts. He had to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes and then meet the Dark Lord for the last battle, which only one of them would survive. And he didn't intend to take Ron or Hermione with him either; he couldn't bear to think of what might happen to them just because they were with him. No, he had to do it alone and for that Harry had made meticulous preparations. He planned to leave early the morning after the wedding before anyone else woke up. He had already sent his trunk full of his spell books and his other clothes and Hedwig, his owl, to a safe place where he himself would go after leaving the Burrow.




He found the Dursleys huddled in the kitchen shooting dark looks at him.


"Don't get any ash on the carpet", roared Uncle Vernon.


Completely ignoring him, Harry headed into the hall and stood by the fireplace, waiting. At precisely seven there was a flash of light and Mr. Weasley stumbled into the hall. He shook his clothes to get rid of the ash on them then beamed at Harry and vigorously shook his hand.




"Good to see you again, Harry".


"Good to see you too, Mr. Weasley", said Harry wondering if his arm was about to come loose.


Mr. Weasley seemed to realize this and let go. He gazed around the room fascinated, for Arthur Weasley loved all the wonderful inventions that the Muggles had in their homes. "Well, you had better say goodbye to your uncle and aunt and we'll be on our way", he said absently as he looked around at the lamps and the television.


Harry nodded and stepped into the kitchen.




"Well, I'm off and I guess you think its good riddance. Well, the feeling’s mutual. Bye" Harry couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, thinking of the past seventeen years when they had treated him more like a servant than a nephew.


“You’d think you could show us some gratitude after all we’ve done for you,� growled Uncle Vernon.


Harry glared around at the Dursleys. They seemed bent upon ruining his departure too. Uncle Vernon’s face was slowing turning purple with suppressed rage. Harry knew what was biting him, Uncle Vernon did not like the fact that Mr. Weasley was coming to his house and he absolutely hated that there was nothing he could do about it. Dudley, meanwhile, was attempting to hide his vast bulk behind his mother, which he wasn’t proving very successful at, as he was twice as wide as her. Dudley had painful memories of Fred and George Weasley who had caused his tongue to elongate the last time they had met. Though they weren’t coming this time, Dudley wasn’t taking any chances. Harry glanced at his aunt fully expecting her to be scowling at him as well. But to his surprise she wasn’t doing anything of the sort. In fact Harry thought she was looking afraid.




She hesitantly cleared her throat and said, “So once you’re gone then this house…� She didn’t complete the sentence but Harry knew what she meant. He had forgotten that the protection that Dumbledore had placed on the house would disappear the moment he turned seventeen, which was in a few hours. And once the protection was gone there was a great possibility that Voldemort might send his minions here. At an earlier time he would have said that he didn’t care, but the truth was that now he had come to this situation, he was worried. Irrespective of the fact that the Dursleys hadn’t really seemed to be too concerned about his well being, he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He decided that he would talk to Mr. Weasley about some sort of protection for the house at least till Voldemort was destroyed.




“Yes, the protection will be gone, but I’ll see what I can do about it�, mumbled Harry.


Aunt Petunia nodded, then rising suddenly from her chair she picked up a leather-bound book that was lying on the table and handed it to Harry. Harry opened it with mounting curiosity, never having expected a parting gift from them. It was a photograph album, albeit a muggle one so the pictures didn’t move. But Harry didn’t care; he was too interested by the pictures themselves. The album contained pictures of his mother, aunt Petunia and two people who he assumed were his grandparents. Harry realized with a start that he had never actually seen his grandparents before.


“They died when Lily was at Hogwarts,� said Aunt Petunia “after that, well, I tried to take care of her whenever she came home.�


Harry had got so used to saying “Aunt Petunia� mechanically that often he forgot that she was, after all, his mother’s sister. She had pretended for seventeen years that she had detested her sister Lily, but now for once, Harry tried to understand what Aunt Petunia might have gone through when she had heard of his mother’s death. He began to wonder whether she had agreed to keep him because Dumbledore had ordered her to, or whether it had been because he was the last link she had to her family; one that no longer existed. Her parents, her sister… they were all dead and now he was leaving too. He couldn’t believe it but he was actually beginning to sympathize with his aunt. Shutting the album, he looked at her, wishing he could understand her, wanting to ask a thousand questions. But it was too late.




“Thanks,� he said, stuffing the album into the bag.
He began to turn away when she said “Harry, be careful.�
He paused, unsure of what he had just heard. His mind was in a whirl and he didn’t know how to react to this sudden show of concern. However, Uncle Vernon decided to butt in at this moment sparing Harry any further discomfort. Uncle Vernon had been steadily turning purple in the background and now he looked like an overgrown grapefruit. He didn’t like this newfound understanding between aunt and nephew and he wanted to nip it in the bud.


“CAREFUL! Yes, you’d better be careful, boy. Careful never to come back to this house again,� he bellowed. Harry felt his anger rising again.


“Don’t worry, I have no reason to return,� he snapped and turning on his heel he returned to the hall in disgust.




Arthur Weasley was attempting to take Dudley's computer apart when Harry returned to the hall.


"Mr. Weasley, what are you doing?" Harry cried, shocked.


"What is this wonderful contraption, Harry?"


"It’s called a computer." He couldn't suppress a smile at the look of glee on Mr. Weasley's face.


"And what does it do?"


"Err, well lots of things. I'll tell you about it over dinner."


Mr. Weasley took the hint and returned to the fireplace and for the first time noticed that Harry had only one bag with him.




"Where's the rest of your things?� he asked, looking surprised. Harry had his story ready.


"I didn't want to carry everything for the wedding, so I thought I'd come back here after the wedding to get the rest of the stuff"', he said, casting a furtive glance towards the kitchen to see if they had heard him. Luckily they didn't seem to have and neither, apparently, had Mr. Weasley who was staring with rapt attention over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned to see what had interested him so much and noticed the pile of old plugs that Uncle Vernon had been planning on throwing away. He grinned, knowing that Mr. Weasley had a weakness for plugs and collected them as a hobby.


“You can take them if you want, Mr. Weasley", he said.


Mr. Weasley jumped. "Don't your uncle and aunt need them?"


"Oh no, they have new ones."


"Excellent, excellent, these will do nicely for my collection", said Mr. Weasley as he put the plugs into his pocket.


"Well, we'd best be going. Do you want to go first or shall I?" he asked.


"I'll follow you."


"Very well, here's the Floo Powder. See you in a minute at the Burrow", he said cheerily and vanished in a flash of light.




Harry stepped into the fireplace and took a look at the hall that he would never again see. Well, they did give me a place to stay, , he thought grudgingly as he dropped the Floo Powder and said "The Burrow" in a loud clear voice. The hall vanished and Harry saw only darkness for a moment, before tumbling out of the fireplace at the Burrow.

A/N: This is my first fanfic and as mentioned in the summary, its how I’d like events to pan out in the seventh book. Got an interesting plot lined up so watch this space.

Chow for now

Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

Harry had barely shaken the ash from his rather unruly hair when he found himself enveloped in an enormous bear hug. Ever since Dumbledore's funeral, Mrs. Weasley had worried that Harry might do something rash and end up hurting himself. The knowledge that he was alive and in full possession of his limbs seemed to relieve her no end and resulted in her giving him a larger than usual hug and nearly throttling Harry.



"Harry, you're alright. But you still look thin. Don't those Muggles ever feed you?" she queried.



"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, really I am", gasped Harry, trying to breathe.





She released him and he took aboard a large gulp of air. Mrs. Weasley went back to stirring what seemed to be a multitude of different pots. Harry spent a few minutes breathing deeply and looking around the warm kitchen. Warmth, however, did not convert to cleanliness and the kitchen looked liked a hurricane had hit it recently. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that that had been Hurricane Molly.



"Thanks for inviting me to the wedding", Harry said when he finally managed to get his vocal chords working.



"Nonsense, child, you're like our son and so Bill's like your brother. You wouldn't want to miss your brother's wedding, would you?" replied Mrs. Weasley without looking up.



Our son; Harry's heart gave a painful jerk at the phrase. He had never known family and the Weasleys were the closest he had come to understanding what a family was. He smiled at Mrs. Weasley and dropped the bag on the floor with a thump.





Just as the bag hit the floor, the door opened. Harry saw a blur of brown before he was staggering back under the force of the assault.



"Hermione, why do you always do that?� he said plaintively, "you knocked the wind out of me."



"Harry, it’s so good to see you again", said the bushy haired girl who had tackled him. Hermione Granger had been his best friend from their first year together and was also arguably the brightest witch to come out of Hogwarts. And it always amazed Harry that her greetings could be so Bohemian when she was quite reserved the rest of the year.



"Its good to see you too", he said, "When did you get here?"



"Yesterday; came by the Floo too", said Hermione, giggling. Harry smiled; his friends always knew what to say to cheer him up.





Behind her stood his other best friend and comrade-in-arms, Ron Weasley, grinning broadly.



“Alright there, Harry? After Mum’s tried strangling you and Hermione’s tried to knock you out, reckon you’re not too keen about being here after all, eh?�



Hermione scowled at him and Harry grinned “Wouldn’t have missed being here for the world, mate. You doing alright?�



Ron assumed an expression of gravity. “I tell you, the way Mum’s been making us work over the last few days, it’s like being a ruddy house-elf, it is.�



Harry sneaked a glance at Hermione who was looking like a thundercloud. She had made it her mission in their fourth year to promote a better living standard for house-elves in Hogwarts and though the passion had waned a good deal, nonetheless, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to let this pass. Harry was just wondering how he was going to warn Ron to shut his big mouth when he was spared the need for action. A wooden spoon flew gracefully through the air and rapped Ron smartly on the head.



“Ouch… Mum, I was just kidding. Honestly, if there’s a sense of humor left in this house then you’d need a secrecy sensor to find it,� he said, winking at Harry and failing to notice a second spoon following the first.





As Ron was muttering under his breath and rubbing his head rather vigorously, Harry noticed that there had been an addition to their merry little group, and it made him glad and uneasy at the same time. The newcomer was the only female, and the youngest, in the Weasley brood, Ginny. He thought back to all those years when she had seemed to be literally afraid of him and would disappear whenever they came face to face. But over the course of the last couple of years she had begun to come into her own and he had finally seen her as a girl rather than as Ron's sister. He had finally found someone he truly and deeply cared about and she had made him feel as if he was living another life. Then came Dumbledore's death and everything changed and that was what was making him uneasy. He had broken up with her, for her own good as he repeatedly told himself. He couldn't risk something happening to her; Voldemort seemed to take those closest to Harry's heart. He would have given anything for things to be different, to be with her again. But it was useless to hope, Voldemort had seen to that. He had to push her away for her own safety. Quelling an urge to rush across and take her in his arms, he smiled and said "Hi". Ginny, sensing that he didn’t want to talk about the events of the past year didn’t pursue matters. She too just smiled at him and left it at that. But conversation flagged after that, no one quite knowing what to say next. Ron, sensing the strained atmosphere, suddenly became very interested in the contents of the various pots bubbling on the fire.





A rather sharp “Hey!� caused Harry to look at Hermione. She was staring at the bag that he had brought with him. Harry steeled himself; knowing what she was going to say, or rather ask. He knew he had to tell the story right so that they didn't suspect anything.



"Why do you only have one bag, Harry, where's the rest of your stuff?" she asked, fixing him with a penetrating gaze. Harry could feel all three women looking at him now. Ron still had his head buried in one of the pots and was completely oblivious to what was going on.



"It’s at Privet Drive. I only brought what I needed for the wedding. After that, I'll get the rest of my stuff in time for school", Harry said airily. He saw Hermione start guiltily but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley seemed to accept his explanation. So, no one else knew of the plan to go looking for the Horcruxes instead of heading back to Hogwarts. That was all to the good because he was sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't approve and neither would the rest of the Order. He was confident that he was safe from any further questioning by Hermione, at least when others were present. She was sensible enough not to divulge any clues about the Horcruxes to the others. But she didn’t seem to believe his story either and Harry knew she would definitely try to accost him in private. He resolved to make sure he didn't end up in a room alone with her.





The Delacours arrived just before dinner and Harry was introduced to them. Fleur, he already knew and he’d also met her sister Gabrielle before. Her parents were also very nice people though tending to be rather jarring at times as Fleur was. As the Weasleys and the Delacours milled around talking nineteen to the dozen, the trio slowly slipped out into the yard. They settled themselves on the lawn and began to discuss what they were going to do about the Horcruxes. Or rather, Hermione began telling them what they had to do about the Horcruxes. She had spent the entire summer trying to find out all she could about them and was rather crestfallen that she had been unable to turn up anything on Horcruxes, or for that matter, on the mysterious R.A.B. However, she seemed to have spent a great deal of time devising a plan of action and she outlined it to Ron and Harry. Ron amused himself by pointing out some of the flaws in her plans and pretty soon she was starting to lose it. Harry wasn’t really listening to either of them. His attention was taken up by the contemplation of how they’d react to his leaving them behind and going off alone.



“Harry, are you listening to me?� Hermione snapped suddenly, making him jump.



“Huh… oh, sure, I was listening,� he said quickly, not wanting her to repeat the whole thing again.



“Then would you please explain it to Ron who seems to be having trouble grasping it?�



“Hey, I only asked how we’re going to destroy the Horcruxes if we find them. It’s not like they’re going to have instructions printed on the side,� said Ron, defensively.



Hermione rolled her eyes, “Honestly Ron, sometimes I think…�



But they weren’t destined to know what she thought, for at that moment Mrs. Weasley came up behind them and herded them back inside, berating them all the while for holding up dinner.





Dinner, as was usual at the Burrow, was wonderful. Talk flowed freely around the table with the women discussing various aspects of the upcoming wedding. The men spoke of the goings-on in the wizarding world. Harry was mentioned rather often in this regard and soon he was beginning to get a bit fed with all the attention. He looked around the table to avoid being drawn into the conversation. He noticed that Percy, Bill, Fred and George were the only ones missing. Percy he discounted immediately and the twins were due the next morning while Bill had already gone to bed.





Bill was yet another example of how innocent people got hurt because of one wizard’s greed for power. Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf who was part of Voldemort’s army, had seriously wounded Bill during the fight at Hogwarts. Luckily, while Bill was being treated at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, the healers had informed the Weasleys that Bill hadn’t been infected, as Greyback had not completely changed into a werewolf when he had attacked Bill. But the encounter had left Bill badly scarred and many had believed then that the wedding was off. That was the time that Fleur had revealed a side of hers that none had suspected, an ability to truly love someone. She had spent every moment at Bill’s bedside and had repeatedly informed everyone of her intention of marrying him, even if she had to lead Bill to the ceremony on a leash. Many of the healers at St. Mungo’s had felt that that above all else had hastened Bill’s recovery. Harry fervently wished that one day; he too would experience a love so true, a love that transcended appearances.





At half past eleven, Mr. Weasley ordered everyone to go to bed and as Harry headed upstairs to Ron’s room where he was to sleep, he noticed Mr. Weasley trying to coax his wife to slow down. Mollywobbles was a commonly recurring theme in this entreaty and Harry hurried on, desperately trying not to laugh. Back in the room, he quickly changed but he was too excited to sleep. Fifteen minutes, he counted down, fifteen minutes and he would be seventeen and of age; for in the magical world wizards come of age at seventeen. Five minutes to go… and suddenly, Ron, who had been sitting next to Harry on the bed, smacked his forehead.



“I’ve got to talk to Dad about the Apparition test, Harry; be back in two ticks,� he said and rushed out.



Harry sat staring after him; it seemed a strange time to want to talk about apparition tests. Oh well, he shrugged and went back to counting down to the hour. One minute now, and Harry followed the second hand as it began its slow revolution before announcing that a new day had begun, a new year for Harry. Just as the hand ticked over to midnight, Harry heard someone running towards the room. He turned as Hermione burst through the door, looking terrified.



"Harry, you have to come, something's happened", she gasped.



A nameless fear gripped Harry. What had happened, how had danger come to the Burrow without anyone knowing?



"What's wrong? Is someone hurt, is it… is it Ginny?" he asked dreading the answer, but Hermione turned and ran downstairs. Harry tore after her, the blood pounding in his ears, hating himself for ever letting Ginny get so close to him. If something had happened to her... the thought remained incomplete in his mind as he saw Hermione run into the kitchen. He drew his wand out as he pushed the door to the kitchen open.





“SURPRISE!� shouted a chorus of voices. Harry stopped in shock. The whole Weasley family was there, even Bill and the twins, along with Fleur and her family and Hermione. Nothing was wrong; they were all safe.



“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!� they all yodelled and Mrs. Weasley brought out an enormous cake with seventeen candles on it. Harry had a fleeting thought that the cake seemed rather similar to the "wedding cake" which he had been shown earlier.



Mr. Weasley stepped forward. "The coming of age of a wizard is an important event, Harry. We wanted to make it special for you", he said. Harry stood there silent, partly because he was struck dumb by the gesture and more so because the going had been rather strong and he was out of breath. Presently he was able to cease breathing like an asthmatic and smile broadly.



"You really shouldn't have...� he began.



"Nonsense, Harry. You deserve it,� replied Mrs. Weasley kindly, setting down the cake and beginning to slice it. "Now sit down and have some cake and open your presents."





The twins' claimed the right to have their present opened first. They had come early just for Harry's party and Harry couldn’t help feeling that that was present enough. They solemnly handed him a small gift-wrapped box. Harry took it gingerly; knowing Fred and George, it was likely to be something that might bite him, punch him, explode in his face, or otherwise maim him in any of the other myriad ways. He removed the wrapping and opened the box, keeping it at an arm’s length. Sure enough, there was a mini explosion and a piece of paper floated out in a puff of yellow smoke. Harry grabbed the paper, it was a gift certificate for a hundred galleons at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop that the twins ran in Diagon Alley, and it was made out to “Our financier, Harry Potter�. Harry thanked them but he couldn’t help wondering if he would ever use it, if he would even live to use it.



"It was either that or a year's supply of U-NO-POO, but we went with the certificate in the end", said Fred grinning.



Harry laughed in spite of his morbid thoughts. "Thanks a bunch, guys", he said.





While Harry was putting the certificate away, Mr. Weasley came up to him with a large parcel in his hands.



“We thought we'd all chip in for this, Harry, so it’s from all of us", he said. Harry could tell what it was from the shape of the package. But when he opened it, he let out a gasp. It was a Firebolt XL, the latest model in brooms.



"We know how much you love Quidditch, so you should have a good broom to play", said Mrs. Weasley smiling.



Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione, who were staring determinedly at the ceiling and the floor, and with good reason. Harry hadn't played Quidditch since the game against Slytherin the previous year, when he’d been hit on the head by a bludger and had ended up with a cracked skull. And he wasn't likely to play this year for the very good reason that he wasn't going back to Hogwarts. But then, a plan began to form in his mind. Yes, he could use the broom after all; why hadn't he thought of it before. A broom would serve his purpose perfectly. But still, a Firebolt XL?



"But you couldn't..." he started and then bit his lip. The last thing he needed was to remind them that they couldn't afford it.



"Thanks Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley. This is a really great present", he said, making a mental note to somehow give the money for the broom back from his large savings, in Gringotts Bank, left to him by his parents.





He opened Hermione's present last. When he finally got through the layers of wrapping, he smiled. It was a typical coming of age gift...in the muggle world. She had got him a watch and chain.



"Thanks a lot, Hermione, I'm sure I'm going to need this", he grinned.



"Why don’t you open it instead of dazzling us with your sarcasm" she retorted.



Harry lifted the cover of the watch and realized immediately that he had underestimated Hermione, a mistake he usually no longer made. Instead of the usual numbers on the dial, it had the words "Safe", "Danger", "Trap" and "Mortal Peril" on it. The single hand that moved on the watch had Harry's picture, rather like the clock that hung in the hall of the Burrow. All this registered in a moment, what was holding his attention was a photo on the inside of the watch cover, a magical photograph of his parents holding him when he was a baby. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and fought them back. He stared at the photograph for what seemed like an eternity then slowly looked up. The room had fallen silent and everyone was looking at him, attempting to gauge his reaction. Harry managed a watery smile.



"Thanks, Hermione. You don't know what this means to me," he managed, with a slight quaver in his voice.



"Yes, I do," she replied quietly.



A rather uncomfortable silence ensued; nobody seemed willing to speak first. Harry realized that it was up to him to get the party back on track. Either that or risk looking like a group of Trappist monks.



"Well, are we having cake or not?" he said suddenly. That broke the spell and soon the whole kitchen was full of talk, laughter and flying cake, courtesy the twins of course.





Harry looked at the families in front of him and at his presents and he listened to their animated conversations. He sighed and looked out of the window. Not for the first time, he wished that he didn't have to leave this cozy atmosphere. But he would have to. It was the only way.

A/N: Thanks to those who read and reviewed my first chapter. I hope you liked it. Here’s the second installment. Please do review and let me know how you’ve liked the story so far and any ideas that you may have.



Chow for now.



Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

Harry was quite used to seeing the Weasley household in an uproar but today it seemed to have crossed the line from controlled turmoil into total insanity. It was the day of Bill's wedding and he had been able to hear Mrs. Weasley shouting at everyone since daybreak. The wedding was to take place at the Great Hall at Hogwarts at four in the afternoon, followed by a party that would stretch into the night after which they were to return to the Burrow. Harry spent the day dodging Weasleys who were tearing all over the place. Everyone seemed to have something to do, even Hermione. He had asked if he could help with anything but Mrs. Weasley had told him that he could just relax, everything was under control; which, incidentally, was far from being the case. So Harry spent a rather lonely morning watching them rush around him. Finally after a hurried lunch where everyone seemed to be competing to see who could shovel the most amount of food into their mouths in the shortest time, Harry retired to Ron's room to change. He spent quite a long time adjusting his attire, he wanted to look his best for the last time any of them would see him for a while. The new dress robes he had bought fitted well; Madam Malkin had given off her best; and he couldn't deny that he looked quite good in it. He wasn't a skinny eleven year old anymore. After six years of Quidditch and battling Voldemort at every opportunity, he had grown much taller and stronger. Finally at half past two, he stepped out the room ready, only to be almost run over by Ron who went charging in the opposite direction. "SorryHarrylookingoodmate" was all Harry could catch as he hurtled past.




He made his way downstairs and found that the energy levels were reaching feverish heights. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be everywhere at the same time. Mr. Weasley had a look on his face, which clearly indicated that he was wishing that all this would be over soon. Harry saw Ginny run past on an errand for her mother. She was looking quite flustered, rushing around for some last minute chores, but Harry felt she looked just as pretty. She smiled at him as she ran past and Harry felt a thrill run through him. Once she was gone, however, Harry sank into a melancholy mood. It would be bittersweet day. After all, he would be returning to Hogwarts for one day before he left, returning to the place that had been home to him for six years and which would no longer be a sanctuary where he could escape the evil of the world. Harry sat in a comfortable armchair sunk in his thoughts, while the tempest raged around him. He didn't even notice the twins trying to get in everyone's way and then attempt to dodge the various hexes being fired at them by their frustrated mother and sister. Harry was struck once again by the enormity of the task that had been set for him. He had to find the remaining Horcruxes with no help at all. Then he had to defeat Voldemort with absolutely no idea as to how he was to do so. He heaved a deep sigh and wished again that he didn’t have the scar, the scar that marked him as Voldemort’s biggest enemy.




It was entirely possible that Harry would have gone on thinking such thoughts till the last trump if he hadn’t suddenly come back to reality with a strange feeling that something was not right. It took him a moment to realize that he was now completely alone and the noise had ceased. He looked at his watch; it was a quarter past three and he realized that everyone else must have gone to get changed. They were to apparate to Hogsmeade at a quarter to four and then carriages would take them from there to the school. Harry got out of his chair and decided to take his thoughts for a walk outside before it was time to leave. Before he could move, he heard a footfall on the stairs and turned to see who was coming down. And then his jaw dropped and he couldn't help goggling.




He thought she had looked good for the Yule Ball during their fourth year but she looked even better this time around. In the two and half years since the Ball she seemed to have changed a great deal, changes he hadn't noticed. She wore a powder blue gown and she seemed to float downstairs. His reaction wasn't lost on her. She smiled gently as she linked her arm with his.


"Close your mouth, Harry Potter, we are not a codfish", she said impishly.


Harry hastily hitched up his lower jaw and retorted "Whatever you say, Mary Poppins."


She laughed and he felt a stab of regret that he wouldn't be hearing that laugh for a long time after that day. He felt a compliment was expected.


"You look..." he began, running through a list of adjectives he could use. “Good", he finished lamely.


He could see a look of disappointment flash across her eyes. "Is that..."


"I mean, you look beautiful, Hermione", he amended hastily, feeling an unnatural warmth in his ears as he said it.


Her face lit up. "Thanks, you look handsome in those new robes. They seem to have been made for you," she said. "So, shall we leave now and wait for the others at Hogsmeade?"


"Sounds good to me. I'll just tell Mr. Weasley and then we'll be on our way." he said, thankful for some respite. He felt as if his face was burning up and he was sure he had turned a bright shade of pink.




When he returned she was standing by the door waiting for him. "Ready to go? You have to hold on to me tightly, Harry, you haven't passed your Apparition test yet."


"I have to do it alone,� Harry replied, “I spoke to Mr. Weasley and he said that with the recent upheaval at the Ministry they don’t really have much time to be scheduling Apparition tests so if I can apparate to Hogsmeade in one piece, he'd consider that as the test and get me passed."


"Oh... well, that's great. I'm sure you'll do it with no problems at all."


Harry looked at her sharply. He seemed to have detected something in her voice. But she was smiling at him now, yet he felt that she had said those words with a touch of... "Ah, I'm looking for things that aren't there", he scolded himself.


"After you", he said courteously.


"See you in a minute."




Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard on his destination, Madam Rosmerta's hostelry in Hogsmeade. Then he stepped forward and felt the familiar pressure, as if he was being pushed through a thin tube. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the pressure eased and he opened his eyes and found himself in The Three Broomsticks. Harry quickly checked that all of him had come through especially checking his eyebrows since Ron had failed his test for leaving half of his eyebrow behind. He seemed to be all there so he took a look around. Several of the guests had arrived and he could make out several Ministry officials in the horde. He noticed Percy Weasley amongst them and frowned. Percy was also Bill's brother yet he almost never visited his family any more.


"Inconsiderate prat", muttered Harry.


"Not talking about me, I hope", said a voice behind him.


Harry turned to see Remus Lupin, who had been one of his father's closest friends and who had also taught Harry, Defence against the Dark Arts in his third year. With him was Sirius' cousin, Nymphadora, or Tonks as everyone called her. Harry thought she was looking happier than he had seen her in recent times.


"Wotcher, Harry. Where's Ron and Hermione?" she asked.


Harry looked around... where was Hermione? His eyes roamed across the room before finally finding her in earnest conversation with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. She saw him looking at her and smiled and he smiled back…


"Err, Harry?" He jerked around to see Lupin and Tonks grinning at him. He felt the color rising in his cheeks again and hastily turned to get some butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta.




The Weasleys and the Delacours finally arrived at ten to four. Everyone bundled into the carriages, which sped off towards the castle. Harry was in a carriage with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna. Ron, he noticed, was trying his hardest not to stare at Hermione. He seemed to be trying to say something nice but nothing would come. Harry waited till she was deep in conversation with Ginny then he nudged Ron.


"Tell her she looks beautiful", he prompted in a low whisper.


"What? I can't do that. Besides isn't it obvious that she looks good."


"Quite, but women like to hear these things."


"Still, I can't..."


"What are you guys whispering about?" asked Ginny suspiciously.


"Nothing" said Ron quickly but his voice seemed higher than usual. Harry sighed. Sometimes he thought Ron had a block of concrete instead of a head.




The wedding ceremony was wonderful. Bill looked a lot better and his wounds had begun to heal. He still had hideous scars but they couldn't mask the happiness that was obvious on his face. Fleur looked even more beautiful than usual and there were murmurs from some of the younger attendees as she walked down the aisle. She was part veela after all. Harry had managed to overcome the insidious charm of the veela side of Fleur long ago. Ron hadn't been as successful though and Harry tried desperately not to laugh as he watched Ron goggle at his sister in law as she walked towards Bill. He looked over at Hermione who was frowning at Ron's expression and his grin spread even wider.


"What are you smirking about?" asked Hermione in a heated whisper. Harry quickly assumed an expression more in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion.




After the ceremony the guests wandered around looking at the majestic halls of Hogwarts castle. The trio in the meantime was headed towards the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had suggested that they take one last look at it since they weren't coming back. Ron had agreed immediately but Harry had been more reluctant. He didn't need any more reminders of his time at Hogwarts that might weaken his resolve. He had tagged along hoping that the password had changed over the holidays. Unfortunately it hadn’t and the Fat Lady swung back to let them in. They stood looking at the common room for a few moments, the armchairs around the fireplace, the rugs on the floor and the paintings on the wall. Objects that Harry had unconsciously seen for six years, yet he seemed to notice them for the first time now.




After a few moments of looking over the common room, they split up to head to their respective dorms. His dorm affected Harry even more than the common room had. Harry looked down at the bed he had slept on for the last six years. In his mind's eye he could see his books scattered about and Hedwig’s cage standing in the corner; it was as if he was back home.


"Hey Harry, I just remembered Mum asked me to run down to check on the grub. Mind if I run along without you?" Ron said, cutting into his thoughts.


"Sure, no problem. Catch you later", mumbled Harry absently as Ron hurried out.


Harry stood looking out the window at the grounds as he had done numerous times during his stay at Hogwarts. He could feel something hard and prickly blocking his throat and swallowed hard. He couldn't afford to get emotional. Not now. Not here. He looked around one last time and headed back to the common room. He was a little surprised to see Hermione still there. She had also evidently been trying hard to keep her emotions in check. They stood looking at each other and then the tears began to fall silently down her face. And Harry could feel burning tears descend down his cheeks as well. He held her close, each taking comfort in the other's presence.


"I'm scared, Harry."


"I know; I am too. You don't have to come with me you know." He had a wild hope that she would say that she didn't want to, at least then he wouldn't feel so guilty about leaving her behind. But he also knew what she would say.


"No. I can't let you do this alone. You need us with you. We been together for six years, we won't let you go alone into danger," she said firmly. That’s what he had been afraid of.




Fifteen minutes later they were back in the Great Hall. It would have been sooner had Hermione not taken so much time to dry her tear-stained face. Harry felt he could have dried off after a shower in less time. When they reached the Hall, the dancing was about to begin. Ron came up to them.


"You were there for quite some time," he said, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and suspicion.


"Yeah, got rather nostalgic", replied Harry vaguely not wanting to talk about it.


Before Ron could ask any more questions, the band struck up a lively tune and Bill and Fleur stepped onto the dance floor as the newly married couple. All the Weasleys and the Delacours joined them shortly as was the custom. Ginny danced with one of Fleur's cousins and Ron was with another of Fleur’s part veela cousins, Danielle. Harry could feel the little green monster raise its ugly head. Fleur's cousin looked like sculpture that had come alive. He could see Hermione wasn't looking altogether pleased either. He spent a few pleasant moments debating the attractions of the bat bogey hex in comparison with the jelly legs hex, with respect to their effect on Fleur’s cousin; and then he caught himself. It no longer mattered. He probably wasn't going to see her again and it was better if she found someone else. The realization was painful but oddly liberating in a way. Perhaps he’d survive the fight with Voldemort, in which case he could come back to her. But till then the further they were apart, the better it was for her. He turned to see Hermione looking at him strangely.


"Would you care to dance?" he asked with a mock bow.


"I thought you'd never ask," she said grinning, as they headed for the dance floor.




He had a pleasant time dancing with Hermione, mainly because she was a much better dancer and therefore made up for his appearing like an elephant with two left feet. After a short break to relieve his aching calf muscles he danced with Luna and that turned out to be a near disaster. Luna insisted on telling him about the various conspiracy theories that her dad had dug up for his paper, the Quibbler, and Harry had to try very hard not to laugh. The effort, however, made him lose step a couple of times and he accidentally trod rather heavily on her feet on more than one occasion. Nothing seemed to faze the dreamy Luna Lovegood and she accepted Harry's apologies gracefully. Once he was done flattening Luna’s toes, he felt somewhat at a loss. Hermione came up to him as he sat eating treacle fudge with a rather faraway look on his face.


"Why don't you ask Ginny for a dance?"


"We're not together any..."


"I know, she told me. She also told me why and while it’s very noble and all, one dance isn't going to hurt," she said knowledgeably. Harry realized the truth in this, so he asked Ginny for a dance and they took their turn.




Conversation was at a bit of a premium for a while, considering their break-up at Dumbledore’s funeral. Harry was wondering how he could ask her anything without bringing it to the fore again. He settled on a comfortable non-threatening question.


“So… how have you been?�


She started slightly, not having expected to hear him speak. “Oh, um… I’m not too bad. How was your summer?� she asked politely.


“Rotten. My aunt and uncle decided they’d make life as bad as possible for me since I wasn’t going to be returning�, Harry replied with feeling.


Ginny stared at him wide-eyed. “That’s horrible. How can they do that, you are their nephew after all.�


“That’s never stopped them before,� stated Harry simply.


For some reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about Aunt Petunia rather strange behaviour on the day he’d left and he decided he wouldn’t tell Ginny either. It didn’t seem all that important anyway.


Ginny dropped her head slightly and then said softly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.�


This was what Harry had feared. But he couldn’t avoid the topic now that it had come up. “I thought about you a lot too,� he said with a sigh.


“I still stand by what I said that day at Dumbledore’s funeral. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to help you; I want to be by your side.� There was a determined edge to her voice and Harry couldn’t help but wish that he could take her. But he knew he couldn’t, there was too much to lose and Harry couldn’t bear the thought of losing her as well.


“I know and I wish that it could be that way but it isn’t. We have to stay apart, it’s the only way I can be sure you’re safe.�


Her face fell and then suddenly she shot him a most unusual question. “Then why did you ask me to dance?�


Harry gaped, unsure of why she had asked that particular question. He could sense that he shouldn’t say the wrong thing; only he didn’t know what the wrong thing was. So he said the first thing that came to his mind.


“That doesn’t prove much, I danced with Hermione and Luna too.�


“So I’m just one of the girls now, is that it?� she shot back.


“No… yes… I don’t know, all right,� said Harry quickly. There, I’ve said the wrong thing, thought Harry. But there was nothing for it now. Harry was getting decidedly uncomfortable with the conversation and its effect on his resolve, so he opted for the surgeon’s knife as the most painful but most direct way to end that particular line of talk.


“Let’s just say that I don’t have the liberty of having feelings any longer. The fewer feelings I show, the fewer opportunities Voldemort will have of getting to me, or to those I care about,� he finished, his face inscrutable.


“Harry, it’s our feelings that make us who we are. You can’t just leave your feelings behind,� she said and much as Harry wanted to agree with her, he knew he couldn’t.


“No, but I can hide them; and I must, for all our sakes,� he replied in a tone that clearly implied that he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Realising that her attempts were going nowhere, Ginny did not attempt a rejoinder and they danced on in silence.




“Hey, I don’t remember being asked to dance by a zombie?� Harry jerked out of his reverie and saw Ginny smiling at him. He grinned back sheepishly.


“Sorry, was just thinking of some stuff.�


“And what might that be?� she asked curiously.


“About Hogwarts. I guess it is going to stay open, right?� It was a question he had been pondering on for quite a while.


“Yes, I heard Mum and Dad talking about it. Apparently, McGonagall and some of the other teachers met Scrimgeour about it and he’s allowed them to go on with classes for whoever would like to come back to school.�


“I guess there won’t be many coming back to school. But who’s going to teach… Defence against the Dark Arts and Potions? I thought Slughorn was only staying a year,� said Harry, with the slightest hint of a pause.


It hurt him to speak about Defence against the Dark Arts because it reminded him of his erstwhile teacher, Professor Snape. Ginny didn’t seem to notice his discomfort; she was reveling in this new position of having all the answers, a role that often fell to Hermione.


“Yeah but I believe McGonagall convinced him to stay on. He isn’t a bad potions master after all. And I think she’s trying to get Mad-Eye or Lupin to come back for DADA.�


“That’s good. It looks like things are settling down. Dumbledore would have been pleased,� said Harry grimly. This time his tone would have been noticeable even to an ice princess and Ginny looked at him apprehensively.


“Harry if you want to talk about it…�


“Not now. Maybe some time later when I’m ready,� he said, rather more brusquely than he had intended to. She wished he wasn’t so difficult to read. She was just opening her mouth to ask him when someone spoke up behind them.


“Excusez moi. Mind if I cut een?� It was Fleur’s Adonis-like cousin, Henri, who was looking down at Harry with a rather patronizing expression on his face. Harry’s first instinct was to tell him to go boil his head but then he thought better of it.


“Sure. You don’t mind, do you?� he asked Ginny, making sure he avoided her gaze. He really wanted to end the conversation; it was getting too painful for him.


“No, no problem at all,� she replied glacially.


She started to dance with Henri and Harry took himself off to the refreshments section to mull over the details of his escape plan.




It was now getting onto seven in the evening and the Hall was bathed in soft light by the candles that were floating above the room. The party was to end in a short while before they headed back to the Burrow. Harry was sitting in a corner, a mug of butterbeer in his hand, waiting for it all to end so that they could go back. It was almost time for him to walk away from them all. It was not a pleasant thought.


"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice said. He looked up to see Hermione looking down at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. She had spent the best part of the last half hour dancing with various partners and her face was flushed.


"I thought the correct expression was, a Knut for your thoughts", said Harry, pleased to see her laugh at the lame joke.


"Care for one last dance?"


"Hermione, I'm tired and you should be exhausted. You've been dancing for hours." He hadn’t failed to notice that Ron was treading the measure with Danielle for probably the fifth time that evening.


"I know, but one more. And then there's to be a bit of a surprise that the ladies planned out. Sort of like a belated Valentines Day celebration. No one was really thinking of Valentines in February, were they?"


"All right, just one." he said absently, not registering most of what she had said.




Harry forced his protesting legs to go through the steps, not realizing that the tempo of the music had begun, imperceptibly, to slow down. Harry wasn’t really concentrating on the music but his body unconsciously adjusted to the slow, romantic tune that the band had sunk into now. He awoke with a start to the feeling that he was almost crawling across the floor; the music was so slow. As the reality of the situation came home to him, Harry began to feel slightly uneasy. He felt trapped, situated as they were in the middle of the floor, and Ron and Ginny were nowhere to be seen.


"We can sit this one out", she said gently. He looked at her then decided to keep going; why, he had no idea.


She rested her head on his chest as they moved with the music. Harry felt as if he would drown in the cloying sweetness of the music, the atmosphere, and the moment. He tried to bring his errant mind back on the straight and narrow but it was floating away.


"I wish I was with Ginny. I wish I could be with her forever. I wish this moment would never end.�


It took him a moment to realize it and then it hit him, “Whoa, what was that last one?" It was a disconcerting thought, to say the least, and as he tried to explain it to himself...


"You aren't planning on running away, are you?" she asked quietly without lifting her head.


CRASH. He thought everyone must have heard his heart thud against his chest. How did she know, had she guessed or had they told her? They had promised they wouldn't but what if they had?


"Whatever gave you that idea?" He tried to keep his voice level, nonchalant.


"You have this strange look on your face nowadays; as if you’re somewhere far away. All alone, just you," she explained. Harry knew that Hermione's brilliance had helped him several times, but he wished now that she wasn't quite as perceptive as that.


"Well, I've had a lot on mind lately." That part was true at least. Thoughts of Sirius and Dumbledore and Cedric kept forcing their way into his mind and then the blaming would begin. Voices in his head would clamor that it was his fault that they were dead while he tried desperately to defend himself.


"It’s not your fault. They didn't die because of you," she said softly.


He didn't know if she’d been practicing her Legilimensy, she seemed to have developed this uncanny knack of knowing what he was thinking. He looked down at her face, which was now turned towards him.


"I know, you've told me that several times. But it’s no good. I can't help but feel that I could have done something to prevent it."


"But killing yourself over it, the way you seem hell-bent on doing, is just plain stupid. And it’s likely to cause you to do something totally irrational."


"So maybe you think it’s irrational that I want to avenge the deaths of my parents, my godfather and of my friends", he snapped, feeling his anger rise.


"No, but it is irrational to run into danger without any idea of what you're doing or what you're going to do", she said calmly. Harry opened his mouth to say something then shut it again. She was right as usual. But he had to stay strong. He still wasn't taking them with him.




"Did you borrow Ginny's perfume?" Harry asked to change the subject. Hermione was rather stunned at this rather abrupt change in topics.


"I… well, no, but I liked it so much that I bought some for myself."


“Ah… Fleurs d'un ruisseau, isn’t it,� he said attempting to keep a straight face.


Her mouth dropped open like a letterbox.


“How did you know that?�


“Flowers from a brook,� he said casually as if it was something everyone would know as a matter of fact.


“Harry, what… how… I mean that’s amazing. But when did you start learning to recognize women’s perfume, or start learning French for that matter?�


“I move in mysterious ways, my wonders to perform,� Harry replied trying out an inscrutable expression but spoiling the effect by grinning broadly.


She shot him a shrewd look. “You saw it in the bathroom at the Burrow, didn’t you?�


“Yup,� he admitted, his smile getting even wider.


Hermione laughed and then she abruptly pulled away from Harry. He was so surprised that by the time he realized what had happened, she had vanished in the crowd. He now stood all alone in the center of the floor. He scanned the crowd for Hermione, for Ginny, for Ron. He suddenly caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye and as he turned to look, he say something brown move in his peripheral vision. He didn't know what kind of a game this was but it was unsettling him. And then the lights went out.




Gauging from the fact that there were no screams from any of the women, he deduced that this was the surprise that Hermione had told him of. Though what the surprise was, he hadn't the foggiest, until he felt the arms go around his neck. He felt his head being directed gently downward. "You mustn’t; you must be strong", said a voice in his head. But the voice was rapidly losing strength and conviction.


"Oh well, this won't change anything. One doesn't count", he thought as he felt her lips seeking his till they locked gently. It wasn't rough or overly passionate, though the passion was unmistakable. It was as if she knew what this kiss meant to him, a memory to carry forward as he set out on his journey, a gentle touch to sustain him in dark times; and for that he was grateful.




He didn't know how long they kissed; he wished it could have been forever. But she was gone as suddenly as she had come. The lights came on. Harry still stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the same couples, alone except for a faint flowery scent lingering all around him.

A/N: A rather long chapter, I know, and I hope you like it. Please do review, only then will know how I’ve been doing so far. Also the idea for the part where Harry talks about “Fleurs d'un ruisseau�, was taken from the movie “Scent of a Woman�.


Chow for now.


Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

Harry lay on the spare bed in Ron’s room, staring up into the darkness. It had been almost ten when the party had returned to the Burrow. After the rather tiring day most of them had decided to go to bed immediately. As he watched Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George and Mr. Weasley all retiring to bed, Harry had also pretended to be exhausted, letting loose an expansive and rather comical yawn. As he had been heading up to Ron’s room, he had heard Mrs. Weasley mentioning to Ron that Harry looked all in and was likely to sleep till noon the next day. Harry had felt slightly guilty at this; he had no intention of sleeping at all. But he didn’t have time to dwell on twinges of guilt, there was still much to be done. Entering Ron’s room he had quickly changed into some clothes suited for nighttime travel. He had then arranged his remaining clothes into a state of orderly disorderliness. Anyone looking into the room would have thought that his effects were scattered around, as was his wont. Only they weren’t scattered at all, he had placed them there so he could still pack them into his bag in no time.





At midnight Ron had finally come up and after changing in a hurry he had crashed onto his bed. He was out like a light and soon Harry could hear his gentle snores. After half an hour, Harry slowly and quietly got up and began packing his bag. He had made a mental note of where everything was placed which enabled him to pack in five minutes flat. As he sat on the bed pulling on his shoes, he got the strange feeling that he had forgotten something though he couldn’t remember what. There was no light in the room; a passing cloud had hid even the moon. Harry decided to risk a little light and practice his non-verbal spell casting at the same time.





Drawing his wand, he said “Lumos� in his mind. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again, concentrating hard on the image of light emanating from the tip of his wand. Lumos. This time it gave a half-hearted flicker like a torch that had run out of batteries.



Harry cursed under his breath and then froze as he heard Ron mumble in his sleep. Heart pounding, he heard Ron say something about spiders and then turn over and fall asleep again. Harry smiled. Ron was terrified of spiders and he remembered how scared Ron had been when they had gone into the Forbidden Forest to meet the giant spider Aragog; which incidentally had been Hagrid’s pet of all things.



All right wand, just this one time could you please do as I think? Lumos, thought Harry desperately. The bright light that flashed out momentarily blinded Harry and he hastily shoved his wand under a sheet for fear that somebody might notice it. Ron continued to snore. Harry waited, listening hard. After a few minutes he drew out the wand and slowly explored the room looking for anything he might have missed. He seemed to have got everything. Just as he was about to extinguish his wand he caught a glint out of the corner of his eye. It was the watch that Hermione had given him. It lay on the table and it had been partially hidden by Ron’s dress robes, which Ron had hastily thrown across the table while changing. Harry pocketed the watch, feeling sure he would need it. He was ready. It was time.





But before he could leave he needed to check that everyone else was asleep and Harry had thought of a way to achieve that. Quickly casting the Muffliato spell so that Ron wouldn’t hear anything, he whispered “Dobby?� softly.



For a few moments he couldn’t hear a thing. He was just beginning to wonder if Dobby hadn’t heard him when there was a sharp crack and a small high-pitched voice said, “Did Harry Potter call Dobby, sir?�



“No, I didn’t call you sir�, said Harry, grinning in the darkness.



“But Dobby thinks he hears Harry Potter and…�



“Oh never mind.� This wasn’t the time to be teaching a house-elf the nuances of the English language.



“Listen Dobby, I need you to do something for me. I need to leave the house without anyone knowing. I want you to go to all the rooms and check that everyone’s asleep,� said Harry in a low whisper.



The extra precaution was needed because Lupin, Tonks, Neville and Luna were all spending the next few days at the Burrow. Since the death of Dumbledore, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been moved from Grimmauld Place to the Burrow, which was why Lupin and Tonks were there. Neville’s grandmother had decided to take a short trip to meet some of her relatives while Luna’s father was in Romania researching a story (“Have we descended from dragons?�) for his paper, the Quibbler. Mrs. Weasley had therefore kindly invited Neville and Luna to the Burrow to spend the last few days there before they left for Hogwarts. That meant that with more people in the house, there was a greater chance of someone hearing or seeing Harry as he executed his escape plan.



“But...� began Dobby, obviously rather taken aback by this strange request.



“No time for buts, off you go�, said Harry briskly.



Obediently Dobby vanished and Harry settled down to wait. He didn’t have to wait long, Dobby was back almost before Harry knew he was gone.



“Well?�



“Everyone is asleep, Harry Potter, except your girl friend.�



“Eh…Ginny’s still awake?� asked Harry. This complicates things a bit, he thought.



“No, no, Harry Potter, not the Wheezy girl. The other one.�



“Hermione?� said Harry blankly, “but she’s not my girlfriend.� He had spent the better part of his fourth year saying the same thing after an article by Rita Skeeter had hinted at a romantic involvement between the two. After a while he had begun to feel that he would have said it even if someone had mentioned that Hermione had brown hair.



“But, she is Harry Potter’s friend and she’s a girl�, said Dobby in confusion.



“Quite, but we don’t need to go into the whys at this point.�



Harry wasn’t sure if he was amused by Hermione’s persistence or irritated by it. It also made things rather difficult for him. He knew that Mrs. Weasley woke up at five and though she may have been tired by the previous day’s exertions; there was no reason to believe that she wouldn’t do the same today. Consequently he had to leave by three at the latest.



“Alright Dobby, go back to her room and stay there but stay hidden. The moment she falls asleep, wake me up,� instructed Harry.





Harry lay back on the bed, waiting, and thinking of the previous night. He wanted to remember everything that had happened, everything that had been said. He thought back to the kiss and in the darkness, he smiled. As he slowly slipped into the realm of the sandman, he traveled back to the Great Hall. In his dream he relived the entire night, the last dance, Hermione pulling away. This time the lights stayed on. He looked around, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of red hair. He felt the arms go around his neck, swiveled to see who it was…



“Wake up, Harry Potter, she is asleep.�



“Huh, Whaaa… Oh, right.� Harry let out a humongous yawn and reached for his watch. It read nine o’clock.



Harry sat up bolt upright. “What?� he cried out, and then he let out a sigh of relief. He’d been holding the watch upside down; it was only a half past three. Still, Harry wasn’t too pleased. It was a lot later than he had hoped. He hastily slung the bag across his shoulders then stopped.



“Are you sure she’s asleep?� he asked suspiciously.



“Oh yes Harry Potter. She has a sheet over her head,� said Dobby happily, seemingly pleased that he had done what Harry Potter had asked him to.



Harry narrowed his eyes; knowing Hermione, he couldn’t afford to take any risks. “Well, go back to her room and check that it’s really her under the sheet. Sometimes people put pillows under the sheet to make it look like people,� he said in a rush.



Dobby blinked, trying to make sense of this statement. Harry himself began to wonder about what he’d just said.



“But why...� began Dobby.



“Never mind why. Just do it. And don’t poke her to check if she’s there… think of something else.�



As Dobby disappeared, Harry got the feeling that Dobby must have been having grave doubts about his sanity. He was quietly chuckling at the thought, when Dobby reappeared.



“It is her under the sheet,� he reported.



“How do you know?�



“Dobby could see her face. She was asleep,� Dobby added hastily.



“Right then, good work Dobby and thanks. You can go back to Hogwarts now. I’ll see you soon� Harry lied. Dobby disappeared in a puff of smoke as Harry prepared to leave the Burrow for what could possibly be the last time.





Harry quietly crept out of the room and headed downstairs. He hesitated at the door of the room where Ginny and Hermione were sleeping, listening for any sound to indicate that the occupants weren’t asleep. Satisfied that there was none, he went down the stairs and to the main door. “Alohomora� he whispered and heard the lock click open. He gently pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. Shutting the door he whispered again "Colloportus". The door was locked but not securely. He set off to the little broom-shed nearby where he and Dumbledore had had a discussion just the previous year. He pushed the door open; ah, it was still there.





Harry had thought of Apparition for moving from place to place but the new Firebolt XL had changed his mind. For one, he didn't care much for Apparition, it was too physically demanding. A broom was slower but at least there was no risk of getting splinched or ending up in Paris when he was aiming for London. He headed over to the corner where it leant.





"And just where do you think you're going?"



The effect of hearing a voice where there should have been none caused Harry to bite his tongue. The subsequent pain and the shock of realization that he had been found out made him speak rather sharply.



"It’s none of your business. What are you doing here anyway?"



"I'm here to make sure you don't do anything reckless", she replied coolly.



"Hex me then, because there's no other way you're going to stop me." He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. Guilt was something he did not need on his conscience right now. His abruptness had the desired effect on her. When she spoke again there was a quaver in her voice.



"Harry, please don't do this. We want to go with you; we’ve always been with you, supported you in everything."



“Is that right? Well, I seem to remember two people who didn’t believe that Malfoy was up to no good last year. Yeah, they sure gave me a lot of support then,� he barked harshly. The memory of how they had pooh-poohed all his concerns about Malfoy still rankled and he had needed this opportunity to let out his frustration. He knew he was hurting her but he had to, at least it might cause her to leave him alone.



“Harry, I’m sorry, we should have believed you. But it didn’t make sense at the time. Surely you must see that. Besides, even Dumbledore didn’t really seem to attach much credence to the theory and…�



“Now he’s dead,� he finished dully. She stopped abruptly knowing that this was going nowhere, wishing fervently that she could reach him somehow.



“Harry, we can help you…�



"I don't need your help." The moment he said it he wished he hadn't. But there is no spell to take back what has been said. He heard her gasp but he couldn't weaken now.



"Harry, you promised we could come with you. And at the dance you said you weren't running away." There was a definite plea in her voice now but he had to ignore it.



"Well you should start listening better. I never promised that I would take you. You assumed I would. And at the dance I never said that I wasn’t running away." He hated himself with every word. Please just go away; don't make me say all this, he thought desperately. He could hear her begin to cry softly behind him. His shoulders slumped.



"I have to do this alone. I can't risk anyone else dying because of me", he said gently.



"Don't you care about how we'd feel if something were to happen to you because we weren't there to help? Don't you care?"



It took all of Harry's willpower to force out the single word, “No�. Wearily he reached forward to pick up the broom and then felt her grab his shoulder and turn him around.



"Look at me and tell me you don't care", she challenged. Her face was glistening with tears but her eyes were blazing with anger.



"I DON"T CARE, HERMIONE", yelled Harry, momentarily forgetting that he didn't have the job of waking up all of Ottery St.Catchpole. She took a step back as if he had struck her. He took the opportunity to grab his broom and stalk out of the building. He had his wand at ready just in case she did try to hex him in order to stop him.



"Harry wait, at least... at least take me with you." He stopped, astounded. Whatever he had been expecting, this definitely was not it. She wanted to come with him, into who knew what danger. Hmmm, she was the brightest witch in Hogwarts; she could definitely help in some tough situations.



Wait, that’s just selfish, to take her into danger you yourself know nothing about and to take her and not Ron, what are you thinking.



He sighed, "I'm sorry." The next moment he had mounted his broom and was gone.





She ran out of the building and scanned the dark skies for him but there was no sign of him. The tears that had momentarily abated returned in full force now.



Why did I let him go, I could have stopped him, I could have...



A sudden sound caused her to look up hopefully. Sure enough, Harry was flying downwards towards her. Had he changed his mind, was he coming back? She knew it wasn't likely but she clung to the hope nonetheless.



She ran up to him as he landed. He got off the broom and pulled her into a fierce hug.



"I'm sorry", he said again "Take care of yourself; and Ron and Ginny and the others. They won't understand."



"I'm not sure I do either. Why does it always have to be you? Why do you have to be the knight in shining armor every time?" She was surprised to hear Harry laugh at this and demanded crossly as to what he was cackling about.



"Nothing. I just had a vision of me in a knight suit, riding a broom." he chuckled. She smiled through her tears, amazed that he could be cheerful at a time like this. Then she realized; he was doing it for her.





"By the way, how did you know I was out here?" he asked; it was something he had been wondering ever since she had suddenly turned up.



"Spell on the front door. Sets off an alarm when someone crosses it."



"What? An alarm went off when I opened the door? How come I didn't hear it?"



"Because only the spell caster can hear the alarm. I read it in a book over the summer."



Harry looked at her, impressed. "You're going to sail through your N.E.W.T.s you know."



"How can you say that? How can you be bothered about how I'll do on my N.E.W.T.s when you're off alone fighting Voldemort?" Tears were welling up in her eyes again. Harry's face turned solemn.



"You must understand; I didn't choose this life. It was thrust upon me and now I have to see it through to the end… alone. You do understand, don't you?" he pleaded. She nodded mutely. He kissed her on the cheek and smiled at her.



"Don't look like that, Hermione. I'll see you soon."



Yeah, right. The last time he had said that, Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts and Dumbledore had ended up dead. And this time...



"Harry, wait. I have to tell you something. Ginny and I..." She stopped. Harry was already streaking into the clouds. And for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger wished she had been better at Quidditch.

---

After the strain of the previous night, Hermione awoke with a splitting headache. Even though she felt like something Crookshanks had dragged in, she could still hear the noise coming from downstairs. She knew what it was about and didn't really fancy going down to join in but it had to be faced sometime. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed.





Ten minutes later, Hermione descended to the kitchen to a scene of total chaos rivaling all that had happened the previous day. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing in the corner with Ginny and Fleur trying to comfort her. Ron, Mr. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Neville and Bill all seemed to be talking at the same time. Even the twins seemed more subdued than usual. Hermione caught snatches of conversation... hotheaded...reckless...must search....





At the sight of her, all conversation stopped. They all seemed to want to tell her yet no one wanted to be the first. She waited for someone to say something, anything. She didn't want to be the one to open the conversation. Luckily for her, just as the silence was beginning to get oppressive, Mrs. Weasley let out an extra loud sniff and wailed, "Hermione, Harry's gone. He left in the middle of the night. He's going to fight You-Know-Who alone", and then she burst into a fresh bout of sobbing. Ginny came over to Hermione and held out a piece of paper.



"He left this letter behind", she said. Hermione felt a pang for Ginny who was looking rather white. She had been hard hit but she seemed to be bearing up reasonably well. Hermione turned her attention to the letter.





Dear all,





I am really terribly sorry to have to do this and I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. I will not be returning to Hogwarts this year. There is unfinished business for me to attend to alone. Everyone who has ever been close to me has died. I cannot risk the lives of any more of my friends; I don't think I could take the pain again. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it’s the ones I love who are always the ones who pay. That is why I must set out on this journey alone. All I ask is that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna return to Hogwarts. The attack from Death Eaters notwithstanding, Hogwarts is the safest place for them right now. I don't presume to dictate but Voldemort has a nasty habit of coming after the people I love most and therefore it is vitally important that they are kept safe.





Ron: I'm really sorry about this, mate. I wish I could take you along but I can't. Please try to understand. I have never for a moment regretted that you sat next to me that day on the Hogwarts Express, when this all began. The last six years have been bearable because you've been there to share all the experiences. Take care of Hermione and Ginny.





Hermione: I couldn't have got through the last six years without your help, in the classroom and out. I guess all I can say is thanks and hope that by this quest I can make this world safer for you. By the way, I'd asked the Order to put some protective charms on your parents’ house and I believe it has been done so you don't need to worry about them. They'll be fine. I'll see to that.





See you all soon.



Yours ever,

Harry





She looked up from the letter. It had been along the lines that she had expected, though the part about her parents being under protection had surprised her. She suddenly felt a pair of eyes boring into her. She turned to see Ginny looking at her suspiciously.



"You don't seem very surprised by the letter or by the fact that Harry's gone. You didn't, by any chance, know about this, did you?" she asked. Hermione could see that Ginny was fervently hoping that the answer would be no. She took a deep breath, feeling every eye in the room on her.



"Yes", she said softly.



She couldn't have caused a bigger sensation if she had announced that Dumbledore was alive and well, sunbathing in the south of France. Ron's jaw dropped. His sister's reaction was markedly different; her expression was a mix of anger and disappointment making Hermione feel rather guilty for not having told Ginny of her suspicions. Everyone else’s expressions were similarly indicative of various degrees of shock. They all just stood around staring at her open-mouthed. Ron was the first one to recover and unfortunately in his case, shock had been succeeded by anger.



"You knew?" he thundered.



"Yes" she said defiantly.



"You knew he was going to do this stupid, fatheaded thing and you didn't stop him," he said, as if wanting to be sure that such a thing were even possible.



"I wanted to stop him but I couldn’t."



You could have hexed him. Anything to make sure he didn't leave."



"Like I would hex my best friend. I can't just petrify him."



"You didn't seem to be quite so scrupulous about petrifying Neville in the first year," Ron spat out. Neville went slightly pink at this, but he needn't have worried. Anyone not giving their full attention to the heated argument would have had to be stone deaf. Besides, Hermione had already flushed a deeper shade of red.



"It’s not the same thing. Its Harry's decision and I can't stop him," she stated with as much dignity as she could muster.



"So you'd rather he went and got himself killed just because he thinks he doesn't need us." Ron’s face was now almost as red as his hair.



Hermione had to blink back tears. "You really think I want Harry to die out there? Its not that he doesn't need us, it’s just that… he doesn't want to see us get hurt and he has to do this alone."



"Oh that’s so noble. Remind me to be eternally grateful for that."



"He said you wouldn't understand", she screamed at him.



"He's right. And I don't understand you either", he yelled back, storming up the stairs towards his room.





Hermione stood in Ginny’s room looking out the window without really seeing anything. The weather seemed to have taken a cue from the general atmosphere in the Burrow and had turned rainy and depressing. After the big spat with Ron had ended, everyone had begun to be at least a little sympathetic with her. But she could see that underneath the "Never mind dear, it was the only thing to do" all of them were actually thinking, "She must be completely mental to have let him go off like that". She had wolfed down her bacon and eggs as fast as she could manage without choking herself, and then had returned to her room. Ginny had come up once to take her potions book and they had looked at each other rather awkwardly. Hermione had tried to make out if she was forgiven or not but Ginny’s expression had been unfathomable.



“Ginny, I’m sorry. I should have told you about what I thought he was going to do,� she had begun tentatively.



“It’s alright. I understand,� Ginny had replied with a small smile and she had grabbed her transfiguration book instead and disappeared downstairs.



There had been something in the way she had said those words that had made Hermione even more uncomfortable but she had decided not to think about it. She had enough unpleasant thoughts to occupy herself anyway. The truth was that she didn't quite understand herself as to why she had let Harry go. He hadn't been eloquent nor had he been frightfully clear. But she knew that it was what she would do if she had to do it again. Still...





A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. "Go away", she grunted. She didn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone in her present frame of mind.



"You did the right thing, and don't change your mind just because everyone else says different", said a quiet voice behind her.



Startled, she turned around. Lupin stood in the doorway, looking at her. "Professor, I'm sorry..." Lupin held up a hand.



"Nothing to be sorry about, Hermione, it’s perfectly understandable.�



As he stood there smiling encouragingly at her, she got the feeling that he was the only one who understood her right now so she decided to put the question that had most tormented her, to him.



“Professor, should I have tried harder to stop Harry?�



“I don’t think it would have served any useful purpose. If you had stopped Harry somehow, as Ron suggested, then I’m sure he would’ve just figured out some other way of shaking you off. Besides, I feel certain that it would have seriously damaged your friendship. He would have hated you for not letting him go and you would have been worried as to when he’d try to go away alone again."



She stood uncertainly chewing her lower lip. Finally she said, "Professor, I'm scared. I know I let him go, but if anything happens to him, I'll... I'll never forgive myself."



"Perhaps now you are beginning to understand what it’s like to be in the shoes of Harry Potter," he said quietly.



"What?" It wasn’t the reply that she had expected.



Lupin elaborated, "How do you think Harry would feel if he was to take you with him and then something was to happen to you?"



"But that’s different. We chose to go with him."



"And he chose to go alone. I'm not saying it’s the right choice. But it is Harry's decision and we must respect that."



She knew he was right but it didn't really help. She looked at him hoping for more words of comfort but his face turned grave.



"However, even though he has chosen to go alone, he will hold on to those he loves; you and Ron, even if it is only in his thoughts. No matter what happens, you must believe in him. Because once your faith in him falters, then the only difference between him and Voldemort will be gone."





She nodded and shifted her gaze out of the window. Part of her still blamed herself for letting Harry charge ahead into danger without stopping him. She also knew that to hold on to her belief that she was right, was to isolate herself from those closest to her, well, most of them at least. Lupin was right. She was finally beginning to see what it was like to be Harry. To constantly blame oneself for something not in one's power; and to feel completely and utterly alone.

A/N: Another long chapter and I hope that’s not turning off the readers. So what do you think of it? Good or far-fetched? Let me know, I’d love to hear your opinions on this. Also I put part of a quote from Spiderman 2 in the letter that Harry left behind, but I guess that’s pretty obvious anyway.



Chow for now.



Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

A/N: I’ve moved the author’s note to the top this time because I need to apologise for the abnormally long time it’s taken to get this chapter up. I just couldn’t get this chapter into proper shape and I have to profusely thank my wonderful beta without whose help and support this chapter would not have been half of what it is now. That said, read on and enjoy, and let me know what you think of it.

---

The cold night wind tore at the invisibility cloak that Harry had drawn over himself and the broom, as he flew towards his destination. Harry watched as dawn lightened the sky, colouring it with varying shades of pink. He could see the ground whizzing past under him, lights twinkling from some of the villages that he passed. Normally, these were sights that would have done much to lift his spirits. But this time he had too much on his mind to fully appreciate the beauty of the scenery that was laid out before him. He was thinking again of what he had to do and what his next steps were. His plans had to be perfect to ensure that Voldemort had no inkling of where he was, and also to deny Voldemort any opportunity to hurt those he cared about. Then a new thought began to intrude. A thought that he did his best to ignore, but it just wouldn’t go away.







Why did she let me go? Harry wondered again and again. The Hermione he knew or thought he knew would have tried every trick in the book to make him stay. Yet she had let him go. Has she finally realized that I have to do this alone?, he thought. If she had, then she was probably the only one; Harry had no illusions about how Ron and the others would react to his disappearance. And what about her request that he let her come with him? That had been strange to say the least. She must know that he, Harry, was going into grave danger and yet she had wanted to come with him. Why? Why? Wh…




SQUAAAAWK!




Harry came to his senses, just in time to avoid hitting an eagle that had happened to stray into his flight path. Luckily for them, he zigged just as the eagle zagged, thereby averting a horrific mid-air collision, the likes of which one reads about in the papers every once in a while. But Harry’s train of thought was derailed, as he spent an invigorating five minutes trying to escape the enraged eagle bent on revenge. By the time he was able to give the eagle the slip, with some dizzying flying which would have brought tears of joy to Oliver Wood’s eyes, he was quite near his destination. Checking once again that both he and the broom were still invisible, he flew down over the waking city of London.







Harry took some time to get his bearings, since he had never flown over this part of London before. Then his sharp eye caught the outline of Regent Park and sure enough, there was the London Zoo as well. Now Harry knew where he was and soon he had located his destination, King’s Cross. From his bird’s eye view, he could see all the trains standing in the station. One of the trains was different from the rest, with its distinctively scarlet engine. Any wizard would recognize it as the Hogwarts Express, a sight that no muggle would be able to see from above. Satisfied now, Harry flew lower and shortly touched down on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.







So far his plan had worked, but it could all come crashing down if anyone happened to be on the platform. Luckily there wasn’t, Harry was alone, and with a sigh of relief he pulled off the cloak and stuffed it back into his bag. Now it was time for the next part of the plan. Quickly checking again that there was no one on the platform or on the train, Harry quickly ducked into one of the compartments and began to pull off his clothes. Out of his bag he took a set of clothes that no one knew he owned. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of tattered black jeans. Over the t-shirt he put on a green jacket and drew the hood over his head so that it obscured his forehead and his famous scar. As a final touch he clipped a pair of shades to his glasses. The transformation was complete but now came the tricky part, taking care of his bag and the broom. He first cast a spell to shrink the broom to half its normal size so that it fit quite comfortably into his bag. Next, he transfigured the bag itself so that it now resembled a well-worn suitcase. McGonagall would have been proud of that transfiguration, thought Harry, grinning to himself. All things considered, Harry was quite sure that he no longer resembled the famous seventeen year old wizard that everyone recognized, and he knew that this was something that would be very important if he was to be successful in hunting down the Horcruxes while avoiding detection.







Picking up the suitcase, the new Harry emerged from the compartment. The platform was, thankfully, still empty, and Harry walked briskly over to the barrier that led to the rest of King’s Cross station. He paused in front of the barrier, and then quickly walked through and emerged onto the bustling station, between platforms nine and ten. He kept walking to ensure that no one noticed his sudden appearance. He knew the Weasleys had probably discovered his disappearance by now and might have already sent out people to look for him. Hopefully the disguise will do its work well, thought Harry as he headed out towards the exit. And, indeed, he couldn’t have chosen a better get-up, looking now like any other teenager on a quick visit to London. Out on the street, Harry signaled for a cab.







“Where to, mate?� asked the cabbie who drew up in front of him.




“Thirteen, Edgeware Road�, said Harry.




“That’s not too far,� said the cabbie doubtfully, “oh well, it’s still early in the day. Hop in.�




Harry got in and the cab whisked him away to Edgeware Road, the cabbie chatting away happily about the weather, his opinion of the performance of England’s first Labour Prime Minister in eighteen years after his first year in office, and on England’s dim hopes in the upcoming Ashes test cricket series against arch-rival Australia. Harry made approving noises whenever the cabbie made a particularly forceful point, but on the whole he remained silent through the trip.







A few minutes later the cab pulled up at its destination. “Here we are, thirteen, Edgeware Road,� said the cabbie.




Harry paid the man with some muggle money that he had exchanged at Gringotts, and as the cab drove away, he turned to face the house in front of which he now stood. It was a nice house with a red tiled slanting roof; compact and modern without being stern, the kind of house one wouldn’t mind living in. It was one of the many that lined Edgeware Road. As Harry walked up the pathway leading up the front of the house, the door opened and a lady stepped out. She was dressed in a smart grey suit and her brown hair was done up in a bun. Harry was suddenly struck by a passing thought, of just how much her daughter looked like her.




“Hello? And who might you be?� she asked, smiling uncertainly at him. Clearly she hadn’t recognized him, and this was heartening since it was proof positive that the disguise worked and that he couldn’t be recognized by friend or foe.




Harry smiled at the lady and unclipped the shades. “It’s me, Mrs. Granger,� he said, “Harry Potter.�







Mrs. and Mr. Granger watched as the young man steadily worked his way through breakfast. They had been expecting him; and the rest of Harry’s stuff was carefully stored in the spare bedroom on the first floor. As he ate, they reflected on how the train of events - which culminated in Harry having breakfast at their house that day - had been set in motion.







It had begun almost three weeks earlier, on a quiet evening at the Granger residence. Hermione had left on a two-day trip to Portsmouth to visit her grandmother. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, as was usual, were spending their free time poring through medical journals. It had been an evening much like any other evening that they had spent since Hermione had left to attend Hogwarts. The difference came when the telephone had suddenly jangled insistently. Mr. Granger had answered, expecting it to be either Hermione or one of their friends calling for a chat. The voice on the phone had been neither, and it had identified the speaker as Harry Potter. Mr. Granger had been rather astonished at this as Harry had never once, in the six years that he had been friends with Hermione, called her at home. It was even more surprising when Harry had said that he wasn’t looking to talk to Hermione but rather to Mr. Granger himself, and to Mrs. Granger. Slightly stunned, Mr. Granger had consulted his wife and had then asked Harry over to lunch the next day.







Harry had arrived at their house the next day, right on time, but he had started on his story even before they could begin lunch. For three hours they had listened, all thoughts of lunch forgotten as Harry had recounted to them the story of his life. They had, of course, heard snippets of it from Hermione but listening to Harry telling his heart-rending tale had been an eye-opener to the dangers and the unfairness that prevailed in the magical world. They felt that it was too much to expect a seventeen year old to go up against and capture such a powerful wizard. For Harry had been careful to omit any mention of the Horcruxes or the fact that he would have to either kill Voldemort or die trying. The Grangers had been impressed by the almost frightening calmness with which Harry had told them the story all the way till the death of Dumbledore.







And then he had put forth a strange request. He intended to go alone to capture Voldemort but he was sure that no one would let him, so he wanted to leave in the dead of the night when everyone else was asleep. He said that the Weasleys and everyone else would immediately begin searching for him and so he would need a place to lie low, a place they would never think to look. In short, he had asked if he could stay at their house for a couple of weeks until the search had been abandoned. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been initially reluctant to agree to his plan, considering that it would entail, well, if not lying to Hermione, at least, hiding the truth from her. But Harry had played on their fears for their daughter’s safety and had made them promise not to say anything to Hermione or anyone else. He had even made them promise to ensure that Hermione returned to Hogwarts. They had grudgingly agreed and Harry had left, his lunch still uneaten.







On the thirtieth of July, Hermione had left for the Burrow to attend Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and not ten minutes later, Harry had shown up on their porch with his effects that he had asked them to keep for him till he returned. It hadn’t been much, just a battered old trunk and a cage with a snowy-white owl in it, which Mrs. Granger had immediately fallen in love with. Now he had returned, exactly on the day he had said he would. They had been hoping that he would change his mind during the wedding and tell his friends everything, but the very fact that he was at their dining table had destroyed that hope.







Mrs. Granger felt a stab of pity for this young man seated before her. He was so young, with so many other things that he should have been doing, instead of having to capture powerful wizards. Brushing these thoughts away, she cleared her throat and spoke up, “So did you have a good trip; no trouble getting here?�




“No trouble at all,� said Harry, smiling up at her, clearly grateful that the ice had been broken.




“And were you able to leave without any hitches?� she asked, more out of politeness than curiosity, feeling that if there had been any hitches he wouldn’t be there in the first place.




Harry paused in his eating, unsure of whether to tell them what had occurred before his departure. Deciding that since they were her parents, they had right to know, he sighed and said, “No, Hermione saw me and tried to stop me.�




“Apparently she failed,� observed Mr. Granger dryly.




“Well, she, sort of… let me go,� said Harry, staring at his plate.




“What?� exclaimed Mrs. Granger, “She let you go? Why?�




“I wish I knew, Mrs. Granger, but I’m just as lost as you are,� answered Harry truthfully.




“Well, Hermione never does anything without a reason. I’m sure you’ll find out the reason for it soon enough,� said Mr. Granger with an air of finality, and effectively put an end to that particular topic of conversation.







“Look at the time!� exclaimed Mrs. Granger, suddenly looking up at the clock on the wall. “We have to leave now, dear,� she told her husband, “we have to be at the clinic in fifteen minutes.�




Harry watched as they rushed about collecting their equipment. When they were ready, Mrs. Granger turned to him with a worried frown on her face.




“Take care, Harry dear; feel free to watch television and you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. Umm… unfortunately I was unable to make any lunch as…� she said casting an uncertain glance at him.




“You weren’t sure I’d turn up,� Harry finished for her, a smile creasing the corners of his mouth. “Don’t worry Mrs. Granger, I can forage for myself.�




“That’s all right then,� she said, sounding very relieved, “Hermione’s room is on the first floor as well, it’s down the corridor and on the right after your bedroom. I think you’ll find quite a lot of reading material in her room. We’ll be back by about seven or thereabouts. See you then.�







“Bye, Harry, see you later,� said Mr. Granger smiling at him as he shut the door and then he did a double take and opened it again.




“Oh Harry, I wanted to ask you something. Surrey plays Nottinghamshire at Trent Bridge in the County Championship. The match is from today through Saturday. Would you like to go; it’s not too far from London and I’m off this weekend,� asked Mr. Granger, looking at Harry expectantly.




This simple statement would probably have bamboozled most pureblood wizards, but luckily for Harry who had spent ten years at the Dursleys; its meaning was clear enough.




“Not really, Mr. Granger, but thanks. Cricket isn’t my game,� said Harry apologetically.




“Ah…a football fan, eh? Then how about West Ham up against Manchester United on Saturday at Upton Park? That’s only about forty-five minutes from here. Manchester United is looking good for the Premiership this year, and Dwight Yorke is in rare form,� said Mr. Granger enthusiastically.




“Uh… no, I don’t really follow football either, sir. Sorry,� said Harry. Though Dean would have loved to go, he thought, remembering his friend from Hogwarts, Dean Thomas, who was a keen football fan and a supporter of West Ham.




Mr. Granger looked genuinely shocked that there was an Englishman alive who didn’t follow cricket or football. Harry smiled at his expression, but how could he explain that his favourite game was one that Mr. Granger had probably never heard of and definitely never seen.




“It’s probably best if I stay inside, Mr. Granger, it’s safer that way,� he said, by way of explanation. Mr. Granger looked satisfied.




“Yes, yes… something in that. Well, bye again Harry, see you in the evening,� he said and shut the door.







“What a strange young man,� said Mr. Granger, as they drove to their clinic.




“Now, now, dear, just because he didn’t show much interest in cricket and football doesn’t make him strange,� said Mrs. Granger calmly, “And Harry is such a nice boy, so polite and respectful and caring.�




“That’s all very well, but it’s not healthy to shy away from sports like that,� stated Mr. Granger who apparently held very strong views on the matter. With a daughter like Hermione, he had never had an opportunity to share his love of sports with her. He had rather hoped that Harry would share his interest and since that had not happened either, he was feeling rather disgruntled.




“Perhaps they have sports of a different kind in the wizarding world,� she said soothingly, “Besides, you can’t expect him to be cheering at a stadium right now considering that task that he’s supposed to do.� She paused, watching the sights that she saw everyday flashing past, her mind clearly far away in a different plane.




“It’s so unfair that he has to do it,� she continued, her voice dropping lower, almost as if she was speaking to herself.




Mr. Granger pursed his lips at his wife’s words. “Hmmm… I’m not so sure about all that he told us. I mean look around you,� he said to explain himself, “does it look as if a war is on right now?� His wife didn’t seem to have heard him; she was still looking out the car window.




“I wonder if he didn’t make up some of that stuff,� Mr. Granger mused and then admitted, “Though why he would do that, I haven’t the faintest idea.�




“No, he wasn’t lying,� said Mrs. Granger suddenly, startling her husband and causing him to almost hit the car in front, “I could see it in his eyes; he meant every word�

---

It had been five days since Harry had disappeared, and no one had any idea about where he had gone. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on a search party, much against Lupin’s arguments, and so the Order had checked every plausible hiding-place; Godric’s Hollow, Grimmauld Place, even Privet Drive. Vernon Dursley had nearly had an attack of apoplexy when he had seen Moody, Lupin and Tonks at his front door. The three wizards had, however, ascertained that Harry wasn’t there and that the Dursleys did not know where he was. The Order had even checked with some of the muggle hotels in London but to no avail and by now the search had been given up. Harry had covered his tracks well.







Things had become rather chaotic at the Burrow since it was now the headquarters of the Order. Most of the Order members kept dropping in, some at very odd times. It was during one of the slack times that Hermione sat in the hall trying, yes trying, to read a book on advanced defensive magic. She had spent four days feeling thoroughly miserable as almost everyone in the house had avoided her and Ron had pretended she wasn’t there.







Finally, that morning, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George had decided to play two-a-side Quidditch, more to cheer up Ginny than anything else, and Hermione was trying to use the time to read up a little before their Hogwarts letters arrived. She had read ten pages in two hours, a record for her, and she had just read the same line for a fifth time without understanding it, when there was a loud crack from outside. She didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking it was just another Order member looking in. She was right in a way, for when the door opened, Professor McGonagall was standing on the threshold. McGonagall hadn’t come to the Burrow since the first meeting there. Hermione knew that as Headmistress of Hogwarts, McGonagall had a lot on her plate at the moment, so it came as quite a surprise to see her standing at the door of the Burrow.







“Ah, Ms. Granger, how nice to see you,� said McGonagall, smiling at Hermione, “Molly, good to see you too,� she continued, addressing Mrs. Weasley who had come to see who it was.




“Why, Minerva, this is a pleasant surprise, come in, come in, please. Can I get you anything, tea, pumpkin juice?� asked Mrs. Weasley, looking slightly flustered since she was, after all, addressing her children’s’ new headmistress.




“Some tea would be nice,� said McGonagall settling herself down on a vacant armchair and Mrs. Weasley hurried to make the tea.







Hermione had been rather taken aback by the sudden appearance of McGonagall, which was why she played no part in the previous exchange. When she finally found her voice, she dispensed with greetings and said the first thing she could think of. “Professor, Harry’s gone…�




“I know, Ms. Granger, and that is one of the reasons I am here today. I did intend to come earlier, but unfortunately the arrangements for the reopening of the school rather delayed my visit. But first, there is some other business to be taken care of,� she said, rummaging in the pockets of her cloak, “I have with me, Hogwarts letters for you, Mr. and Ms. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Lovegood. I presume you all are returning to Hogwarts?� she asked, eyeing Hermione sternly.




“I suppose,� said Hermione listlessly.




McGonagall’s face lit up, and it was obvious that she was now bursting with some more stop-press news. “Then it gives me great pleasure to give you this,� she said, and standing up, she solemnly handed over an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest to Hermione.




Hermione opened the envelope and emptied the contents onto her palm. She knew what it was; a badge of scarlet and gold, with the Hogwarts insignia and the initials HG on it, for Head Girl. She said nothing, no whoop of joy, no tearful thanks; she just stared at it.







“Well I must say that every other Head Girl has reacted with greater enthusiasm on being presented this badge,� said McGonagall, more than a little coldly.




Hermione jumped at the sound of McGonagall’s voice. “Sorry, Professor, I…thank you so much. It’s a great honour,� Hermione mumbled, with no marked increase in enthusiasm.




As McGonagall narrowed her eyes, Hermione asked quickly, “Who’s going to be Head Boy; Ron?�




“I’m afraid not. Mr. Weasley has many wonderful qualities but I’m not too sure that he’d be able to cope with the responsibility of being Head Boy,� replied McGonagall, still eyeing Hermione keenly, “Ernie McMillan will be Head Boy this year.�




“Oh, and Professor Moody has agreed to take on the role of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher for this year. The real Professor Moody,� McGonagall added, with a twinkle in her eye.




Well that isn’t so bad, thought Hermione. She was looking forward to having Moody teaching them. As for Ernie, he could be pompous at times but he did have his head screwed on right. Then a thought struck her and she looked up sharply at McGonagall.




“And what if Harry hadn’t vanished? What if he was coming back to Hogwarts?� she asked sharply.




McGonagall looked impressed. “Very astute, Ms. Granger, yes, I did intend to bestow the responsibilities of Head Boy to Potter. I did, in fact, suspect that he intended to pursue this course of action. I was hoping that I might be able to coax him to stay on with the promise of this role,� she said.




“It wouldn’t have made any difference,� said Hermione simply.




“No? I think you’re right,� replied McGonagall, placing the tips of her fingers together, much as Dumbledore had done, and regarding Hermione over them. “Power has never been much of an incentive to Potter. It is a quality that will be of great value to him on this… mission of his.�







Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley bustling in with a tray bearing two steaming cups of tea, which she handed to Hermione and McGonagall. She made some desultory conversation with McGonagall, mainly dealing with Ron and Ginny’s performance in school. McGonagall assured her that they were doing quite well though Ron needed to put in more work as this was the NEWT year for him. Mrs. Weasley was genuinely pleased that Hermione had been made Head Girl, and McGonagall was saved the rather unpleasant task of telling her that Ron wasn’t Head Boy thanks to a shrill scream from the kitchen.




“Tonks,� Mrs. Weasley explained to them as she rushed away to contain any possible damage, “Brilliant as an Auror, useless in a kitchen.�







Hermione sat staring glumly into the remnants of her teacup, looking to the entire world as if the tealeaves portended a rather gruesome death for her. She didn’t notice McGonagall watching her carefully.




“I spoke to Remus and he told me of your… confrontation, as it were, with Potter, the day he disappeared,� McGonagall said finally. Hermione nodded but said nothing.




“And I agree with him,� continued McGonagall, “You did the right thing.�




Hermione looked around at McGonagall. “Stop� she said, more sharply than she had intended to, and causing McGonagall to spill some tea down the front of her robes.




“I beg you pardon?� asked McGonagall, hastily cleaning it up.




Hermione was looking even more upset. “Please, stop saying that. I know you mean it to help but it doesn’t. If anything it… it’s starting to make me feel worse.�




“Ms. Granger, I know this must be hard on you,� said McGonagall quietly, “But this is what Potter is destined to do and we can’t stop it.�




“Destiny is what we make of it,� Hermione said, quoting something that she had once read.




“Clichéd,� replied McGonagall smiling, and then her voice became more solemn, “I agree that each person’s destiny is unique, and it depends on the person as to what he or she wants it to be. Unfortunately, in Potter’s case, his destiny will be dependent on Lord Voldemort, whether he likes it or not.�




“It’s so unfair. He shouldn’t have to do this,� cried Hermione, almost shouting now.




“True, Ms. Granger, but he does have to, the fate of the whole wizarding world depends on him now,� said McGonagall, trying to be as soothing as she could.




“He’s only seventeen years old; he doesn’t deserve to have this hanging over him. There is so much he needs to learn, so much of life he needs to live.� There was clearly a lot more that Hermione wanted to say only she wasn’t able to put them effectively into words.




“Ms. Granger, often, what we want and what we get are two very different things. It’s not always fair, but it is the reality and we have to deal with it the best we can,� advised McGonagall. Then she continued on a more positive note, “And I personally think that Potter has begun dealing with it. It’s up to us to give him all the support we can.�







And once again Hermione realized that she was being given good advice that was completely wasted on her. She just couldn’t push away the fear that something bad could happen to Harry because she hadn’t stopped him. Knowing also, that this line of conversation wasn’t likely to be very fruitful, Hermione moved to one that she was anxious for clarification on.




“Professor, in his letter, Harry mentioned something about some charms on my parents’ house. What was all that about?� asked Hermione.




McGonagall looked surprised. “Didn’t he tell you? Potter asked Filius to put a Fidelius charm on your parents’ house and clinic. Potter said that Voldemort might try to get to him through yourself and Mr. Weasley, and he wanted to be sure your families were also kept safe. Didn’t Potter tell you that?� she asked again.




It was Hermione’s turn to look astonished. “A Fidelius charm; on my house? That’s very advanced magic, isn’t it?�




“Yes, and very powerful. Your parents are quite safe, Ms. Granger, never fear,� said McGonagall confidently.




“And who’s the Secret Keeper?� Hermione asked, though she was quite sure of the answer.




“Why, Potter of course,� confirmed McGonagall, “That’s why I’m surprised he hasn’t informed you of this. If Potter does not tell you the location of your house, even you cannot return there.�







It took a moment for the full import of McGonagall’s words to hit her. I can’t go back home, I don’t even know where it is. How can this be, it’s my house? And why didn’t Harry tell me about this, why did he have to hide it?




Hermione’s emotions were in a whirl; she didn’t know whether to be resentful for Harry’s not telling her, or be thankful for what he had done. So she satisfied herself by turning on McGonagall.




“Harry actually got you to put a Fidelius charm on my house, and no one told me about it?� she asked McGonagall, the accusatory tone in her voice very evident.




McGonagall coughed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Yes well, Potter told us that he wanted to tell you himself but apparently he hasn’t. In fact, I believe he originally wanted to talk Scrimgeour into assigning some Aurors to watch over your parents’ house, but he wisely decided against it. That’s why he settled on the Fidelius charm,� she said in a rush.







Hermione’s eyes widened with surprise. “Harry wanted to do all that for me?� she squeaked, “He went through all that to make sure my parents are safe?�




“In case you haven’t noticed Ms. Granger, Potter cares a lot about you,� said McGonagall dryly.




Hermione carried on as if McGonagall hadn’t spoken, “And all this time I thought the reason he wasn’t replying to my letters was because he was still grieving over Professor Dumbledore’s death, while he was actually planning all this.�




“Yes, it’s quite impressive; how meticulously he has laid his plans out,� said McGonagall, looking quite awed by the amount of forethought that Harry had shown, “And I’m sure it will be of great help to him in the future.�




Hermione didn’t reply; instead, she continued to stare unseeing out the door into the middle distance. McGonagall stood up, and walking over to Hermione, she laid her hand on Hermione’s shoulder.




“I also agree with Remus about another thing, Ms. Granger, you must believe in Potter,� said McGonagall quietly, “Keep your faith in him strong, and he will succeed, and even more importantly, he will come back.� McGonagall gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hermione nodded and turning, she smiled up at McGonagall.




“Well, I need to be going. There is still much to be done ahead of the new term. So I shall see you in school on the first,� said McGonagall briskly.




McGonagall set down her teacup on the table and flashing another encouraging smile at Hermione, she swept from the room and out of the door. As she walked out, she failed to notice a rather grimy figure sidling along the edge of the house. A figure who till she had stood up, had been listening to the conversation through the window. And that figure was looking particularly angry, his scarlet face making a nice match with his flaming red hair.

---

Unknown to Hermione, miles away, Harry was, at the same moment, standing in her bedroom and staring at her rather awe inspiring collection of books. For the first few days that he had spent at the Grangers’ home, he had felt rather embarrassed about entering her room. But five days of watching television and reading his own spell books had become too monotonous, so he had decided to overcome his hesitation and take a peek in her room, to see if she had anything worth reading. When he had opened the door to her room, his jaw had nearly hit the floor as he beheld the massive number of books she had in the room.







He was now trying to decide which book he should read first. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to have any of her magic books in the room; but then again, Harry could understand that she couldn’t possibly keep magic books out in the open. Resigning himself to the fact that he would have to do with muggle literature till he left the Grangers, he chose a book at random. “Pigs have Wings,� he read aloud from the cover, which had the picture of an enormous black pig. He opened the book at random and started to read.







The House of Godric Gryffindor has always prided courage above all other traits, which is why the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry chooses all Gryffindors based on their ability to stand fast in the face of danger. As is obvious, this reflects on the most well known traits of Godric Gryffindor himself, known for his outstanding courage in the face of adversity.







Harry blinked, staring at the words in shock. Surely this couldn’t be a muggle book if it held references to Godric Gryffindor, and the Sorting Hat, and Hogwarts. He turned back to the cover, which still said Pigs have Wings, and had the same motionless picture of a rather obese pig. For the first time, Harry noticed that it had been written by a Mr. P.G. Wodehouse.







Harry recognized the author; one of his books had been a reading assignment for Dudley. Harry had vivid memories of the book because Dudley, in one of his tantrums, had thrown the book at Harry, and then had been too terrified to ask for it back. Harry had had a pleasant time reading the book till Uncle Vernon had confiscated it. So Harry knew for a fact that Mr. P.G. Wodehouse was not a wizard, nor did he know about Godric Gryffindor. He pulled down another book called Madam Bovary and, turning to a page near the center of the book, he began to read.







Monkshood, Wolfsbane and Aconite are three names of the same plant. This plant is used in the brewing of Wolfsbane potion, aptly named as it is used by people who have been infected by werewolves. A person infected by a werewolf, will also transform into a werewolf at the full moon. A werewolf is an aggressive and dangerous creature and can bring great harm to anyone who crosses its path. If unable to roam freely or attack anyone or anything, a werewolf may even harm itself during the full moon. However, under the influence of the Wolfsbane potion, an infected person will transform into an ordinary wolf, and will not unduly harm anyone during the period of the full moon. The correct mode of brewing Wolfsbane potion is given below.







Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. This was clearly a potions book, yet outwardly it looked like a muggle book. Suddenly, Harry threw back his head and laughed.




“Got to hand it to you, Hermione,� he said, addressing the room in general, “you’ve done it again.�




She had somehow worked out a way to transfigure the magical books to resemble muggle books, so that any muggles looking through her library would be none the wiser. Harry was sure she had also put charms on the books so that any muggles picking the books up would be unable to see their true contents. Still chuckling, he replaced the book he held in his hand and went back to the first book he had picked up, which he strongly suspected was actually, Hogwarts: A History. He returned to his room and reclining on his bed, he began to read it for the first time.

Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

The tranquil atmosphere in the living room at thirteen, Edgeware Road, London, was only occasionally broken by the rustle of paper, or to be more precise, the rustle of an atlas that a Harry was peering keenly at. He had been studying the atlas diligently for over two days now, hoping that he would find some clue to the whereabouts of Godric’s Hollow. But so far it would seem that it was too small a village to figure in any of the maps that the Grangers had in their home, or in the one that he had used to navigate to London on his flight. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had no knowledge of the possible location of the village either. They had even gone to the length of asking their friends about it, but to no avail. Now Harry had turned to these maps in a last-ditch attempt to find the village, but he was fast losing hope of ever doing so.






Two weeks had now passed since Harry had arrived at the Grangers’ front door and he knew that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna would have returned to Hogwarts for their final year. Sometimes when he lay awake at night, he would reflect on how painful it was that they were going to get to spend their year together while he was all alone, trying to find ways to defeat Voldemort. Then he would furiously berate himself for such selfish thoughts and tell himself that this was the only thing to do, for all their sakes.






With an angry gesture and a whispered expletive, Harry pushed the map aside. It, too, had proven to be a broken reed in assisting him in finding Godric’s Hollow. Harry eased back on the sofa that he was seated on, and leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and began to consider his options. Apparition was out of the question; he needed to know where he was going to be able to concentrate on it. And the last thing he needed, after his painstaking attempts at staying hidden, was to end up splinched and having to return to St. Mungo’s and report to the Ministry of Magic. Flying was useless as well; unless he learnt to converse with birds and ask them directions, he would again be hopelessly lost. The ideal mode of transport in the situation would be the Knight Bus. But with Stan Shunpike still in Azkaban and the threat of Voldemort growing by the day, the Ministry had decided to temporarily halt the services of the Knight Bus. In the infinite wisdom that comes to men in power, they had felt that it was one less target for the Death Eaters to attack; though whether the Death Eaters would really bother to attack a bus that traveled like the wind is debatable. However, the painful knowledge, that comes to all and sundry when dealing in matters decreed by the government, had allowed witches and wizards throughout England to bite the bullet and carry on gamely without the Knight Bus.






Try as he might, Harry could not think of any other way of getting to Godric’s Hollow. He was just considering drastically altering his plans and trying to contact Lupin to ask him the way, when he heard someone clear their throat. Opening his eyes, he saw Mrs. Granger standing at entrance to the living room, smiling at him and holding a cup of steaming hot liquid.




“Some tea might help your search,� she said, smiling. “And perhaps calm your nerves, as well?� she added, looking at the map that had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor.




Harry hastily picked the map up and folding it neatly, he placed it on the table by the time Mrs. Granger placed the cup of tea before him. She cut short his apologies with a smile and a wave of the hand, as she seated herself on a comfortable armchair facing him.




“After all these years of marriage, I think I know a certain amount about men and their tempers,� she said, “Besides, you’re under a great deal of pressure so it’s only understandable.�






Harry settled himself comfortably in the sofa again and took a sip of the tea. And indeed it did cause him to calm down almost immediately. He took another sip and felt himself begin to relax. “This is good tea,� he said, feeling the warmth course through him.




“Thank you, Harry,� replied Mrs. Granger. “So I take it your search hasn’t been very successful?�




“It’s been a total fiasco really,� said Harry meditatively. “It was the one weak link and because of it, all my plans have been destroyed, or at least drastically altered.�




“Well, I find that when I’m getting frustrated by a case, it helps to talk of something totally unrelated. It can clear the mind, and then when you return to the problem, you’re more likely to get to the solution. Why don’t you try that?� she suggested.




“But what can I talk about?� asked Harry.




“How about sports? Mr. Granger was lamenting your apparent lack on interest in cricket and football,� she confided, “But surely there must be some sport that interests you.�




“There is one. A magical sport called Quidditch,� replied Harry, his eyes holding the faraway look of one recollecting better days, “I play that… or rather I used to play that at Hogwarts.�




“Now I remember,� said Mrs. Granger suddenly, “Wasn’t there a… Kwidditch World Cup final or something a couple of years ago? Hermione mentioned that she was going with you and the Weasleys, for that match.�




“Yes Ma’am, just before our fourth year it was,� Harry said, remembering that famous match, “Ireland against Bulgaria. Ireland won.�




“I see. But surely a World Cup final of even a magical sport would require quite a lot of space for the stadium and the people attending, so was there enough space for everyone?� Mrs. Granger asked, interested.




“Oh yes,� answered Harry, “it was held in a sort of moor and there was lot of magic used to make sure non-magical folk couldn’t see it.�




“Oh, and is this close to where the Weasleys live?� asked Mrs. Granger, “If I remember correctly, Hermione went to the Weasleys’ house and she said that you’d be going to the World Cup from there.�




“No, it’s not close to the Burrow at all,� said Harry quickly, “in fact, to get to the stadium we had to use a…�






“Harry, are you alright?� asked Mrs. Granger with concern. For Harry had sat up suddenly, and but for the fact that he had already finished his tea, he probably would have sent it flying across the table in front of him. His eyes were shining with the light of sudden realization.




“Of course,� he cried, “I’ve been so blind.�




“I beg your pardon,� asked Mrs. Granger clearly not abreast of what was going on.




Harry did not enlighten her further, if anything he plunged her further into confusion by asking a rather strange question. “Mrs. Granger, do you have an old bottle or a soft drink can or something like that?�




Mrs. Granger remained seated, unsure of what to do, and wondering whether Harry had gone off his head. An old bottle or soft drinks can? Whatever would he want with those?




Harry correctly interpreted her thoughts and smiled. It wasn’t the first time people had thought him a nutter. “I assure you, Mrs. Granger, it’s important because it can help me get to Godric’s Hollow,� he said and then seeing that this had the effect of causing her to look even more skeptical, he added, “With magic, of course.�




Mrs. Granger still had her doubts but she decided to trust Harry on this and so she left the room and returned a few moments later with an old bottle. Harry said a quick thank you and was about to rush out of the room when he paused.




“Since I’ve found the way to reach Godric’s Hollow, Mrs. Granger, I'll be leaving tonight,� he said, “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.� And he ran out of the room, before she could say anything, and almost collided with Mr. Granger, who had just returned home, in the corridor outside.




“Where’s the fire, Harry?� Mr. Granger asked, once he had recovered his balance after the rather ungainly two-step he’d had to do to avoid the collision.




“I’m so sorry, Mr. Granger,� said Harry, “It’s just that I’ve found out how to get to Godric’s Hollow so I’m leaving now.�




“At nine in the night? Are you sure its wise, Harry?� asked Mrs. Granger who had come out into the corridor and was looking slightly worried, “Wouldn’t it be better to leave in the morning?�




“I must go now, Mrs. Granger, it’s time I got around to getting on with what I have to do,� Harry said, then noticing the worried frown on her face, he continued softly, “And before that I have to see where my parents were buried… for the first time.�






Mrs. Granger’s expression softened and slowly she nodded, as did Mr. Granger who was smiling at Harry. Harry hastened upstairs to his room and opening his trunk and put the bottle right at the top. His trunk was all packed in readiness for his departure. All the contents of the bag that he had taken to the Burrow had also been bundled into the trunk. Hedwig was sleeping inside her cage. Shutting his trunk, Harry stood up and walking over to the cage he gently stroked the owl’s head.




“Time to get up, old girl,� he said softly, “We have to be off.�




Hedwig hooted sleepily, but she was soon alert, her eyes roving across the room. Harry quickly checked that he had got everything. Satisfied, he made his way to Hermione’s room. There he pulled down one of her magically hidden books. Flipping through the pages he finally came to the chapter he wanted… portkeys. Harry quickly read through the whole chapter, making sure that he knew exactly how to create a portkey and avoid any unfortunate accidents. Once he was confident of creating them, he shut the book, replaced it and returned to his room. He thanked his lucky stars that he had overheard Mr. Weasley and Lupin discussing the fact that the Ministry had passed a decree allowing portkeys to be set up without authorization. He pulled his trunk, which was on casters, with one hand and with the other he held Hedwig’s cage as he headed downstairs.






After one near mishap, when he almost lost control of the trunk, Harry got downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing by the door, waiting to see him off. Harry put Hedwig’s cage on the floor and stood the trunk vertically. He gripped Mr. Granger’s extended hand and shook it.




“Best of luck, Harry, and be careful,� said Mr. Granger.




“I will, sir, and thank you for letting me stay for so long,� said Harry earnestly.




“Oh nonsense,� replied Mr. Granger waving his hand dismissively, “We’ve enjoyed having you here.�






“Goodbye, Harry,� said Mrs. Granger, as she pulled Harry into a hug which, thankfully for him, wasn’t as rib cracking as Mrs. Weasley’s hugs. “Take care of yourself,� she admonished as he stepped back, and then she smiled at him and softly said, “Your parents would be proud of you.�




Harry nodded, a lump rising in his throat; wanting to believe that she was right, and knowing that he had a long way to go before he could truly admit to having made his parents proud. He picked up cage and gripped his trunk. Mr. Granger opened the door for him and Harry stepped out into the cool night air.




“Oh, and Harry,� Mrs. Granger called out.




Harry turned to face her and she continued, “Thank you.�




“For what, Mrs. Granger?� asked Harry bewildered, wondering what she could be thanking him for.




“For taking care of Hermione,� she answered.




Harry had to smile, “Well, I should be the one thanking her,� he said, “She’s probably taken better care of me, than I have of her.�




“Thanks all the same,� said Mrs. Granger smiling.




“You’re welcome,� he said, and turning, he walked down to the driveway and out to the pavement. Once on the pavement, Harry looked back and waved to the two people standing in the doorway, and they waved back to him. Then, taking a firm grip of his trunk and Hedwig’s cage, he strode purposefully into the night and was gone.






Harry strode along quickly, knowing that a young man with a broomstick strapped to his trunk and holding a cage with a snowy white owl was likely to cause comment. He had the hood of his jacket drawn over his forehead but he knew that it was unlikely to keep him from detection for long. However, luck was with him and after walking for about five minutes he came upon a house for sale, its front garden completely dark and shielded from the road by a tall, thick hedge. Harry checked up and down the road for any sign of activity, or of people who might wonder at his entering an empty house. The road happened to be empty, save for a man walking a dog about two hundred metres away. Harry tried to be as inconspicuous as possible and soon the man entered one of the houses without having cast a single glance towards Harry.






Harry checked up and down again and satisfied that the road was now empty; he sneaked into the garden of the house through the unlocked gate. He withdrew to the darkest corner of the garden and making sure that he couldn’t be seen from the road; he opened his trunk, took out the bottle and placed it on the ground. He ran through the chapter on portkeys in his mind again. Drawing his wand, Harry concentrated on where he had to go and then, pointing the wand at the bottle, he said “Portus�. The bottle glowed briefly before resuming its normal, innocent appearance. Harry gripped both his trunk and Hedwig’s cage firmly in his left hand and then extending his right he took hold of the bottle. Immediately he felt the tug behind his navel and had the sensation of being spun around very fast. And then, almost as soon as it had begun, the spinning stopped and Harry went sprawling along a cobbled pavement, losing his grip on the cage and trunk, and sending them clattering away.






Harry picked himself up quickly, his ears still ringing with the clanging of the trunk bouncing along the ground. He felt sure that someone would have heard the din and would come to investigate, and if it were to be a policeman, then he would most probably have quite a lot of quick explaining to do. But as he picked up his trunk and ran over to soothe Hedwig, who was feeling rather disgruntled at this shoddy treatment, no one came and the street that he was on, remained as silent and empty as it had been. Harry took a good look around at his surroundings. He was in a narrow street lined with two-storey houses, all of which looked alike. It was almost like being back at Privet Drive; only these houses were nothing like the ones he had seen, growing up. These houses were grimy and coated with layers of dirt. The paint was peeling off the walls and most of the windows were broken, most likely by random stones and cricket balls. Obviously the inhabitants of Godric’s Hollow didn’t bother too much about outwardly appearances. Harry picked up the bottle and dropped into a nearby dustbin, which was already overflowing with garbage from all the kitchens of the houses on that street. Harry knew he had to look around and perhaps find someone who could guide him to his parents’ house, and he couldn’t do that, encumbered as he was with a trunk and a cage. He dragged the trunk and placed it next to the dustbin so that it was out of the way of any passers-by, and he placed Hedwig’s cage on top of it.






“I’m going to have to explore a bit, Hedwig,� he told the owl, “I’ll be back soon, until then stay still and don’t make a sound.�




Hedwig hooted in reply, a trifle coldly, Harry thought, but she was silent after that. Harry had taken out his invisibility cloak and he now draped it over the cage and the trunk so that they were completely invisible. Then he began to walk towards the next street that intersected with the one he was on, about a hundred meters further. He wished fervently that he would meet someone who could direct him without asking too many questions.






Strangely enough, Godric’s Hollow seemed to have called it a night and Harry didn’t meet a soul. He was, in fact, beginning to suspect that he had stumbled onto a ghost town but the lights in the windows of the houses confirmed that there were people there; however, none of them seemed to roam the streets at night. Harry was starting to wonder if he should just walk up to one of the houses, knock on the door and ask whoever answered whether they knew where the Potters had lived. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to doing this, so he stood undecided on the street; letting “I dare not� wait upon “I would�, like the poor cat i’ the adage*. It was as he was looking up uncertainly at the windows of the house nearest to him, that he heard someone mumbling incoherently, and the sound of approaching footsteps.






Looking up the street, Harry could make out the silhouette of a man, the first human he had seen in Godric’s Hollow up until then. The man was swaying rather than walking and it was quite obvious that he was gloriously drunk. In his hand was clasped a bottle, and he occasionally took swigs from it as he walked. Harry didn’t particularly want to converse with the town drunk and he began to walk hurriedly along, trying to avoid looking at the man. The man was coming closer, now they were abreast and then as Harry was almost past him, the man stumbled on a stone and pitched forward, Instinctively, Harry darted towards him and caught him before his head hit the pavement. Hauling him up, Harry supported his weight and guided him over to the steps that led up to one of the houses, and eased him onto them. The man sat down as comfortably as he could, and he hiccupped his thanks to Harry. Harry looked up and down the street but there was still no other sign of life, unless you counted a cat that scuttled behind a dustbin looking for scraps to feed on. Feeling that he could do no worse than question the drunkard after all, Harry seated himself down next to him. The man regarded him with bleary eyes.




“Aye, not as young as I once was. Shansks hic… shanks for catchin’ me,� he slurred. Harry made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat; the fumes emanating from the man were starting to make him feel light-headed. The man took another large gulp out of his bottle and turned a watery gaze on Harry.




“I ain’t seen you around these parts. You new here?� he asked. Harry nodded in response.




“Thought so… hic. So whereabouts you from?� he continued the interrogation.




“London,� mumbled Harry. The man lifted the bottle to his lips, and then he eyed Harry as keenly as his eyes would permit in his rather brightly illuminated condition.




“So, what is a young man from London doin’ in Godric’s Hollow?� he asked. Harry thought quickly, obviously this drunkard was no fool even when completely inebriated, so he needed a good story.




“Well, I’m related to some people who used to live here; the Potters,� Harry began, “They died about sixteen years ago in a gas explosion.�




The man took another drink but now his whole demeanor had changed, his back had slumped and his eyes had the unfocused look of one who is about to reminisce.




“I knew them, the Potters,� he began, “Mr. James he was such a gentleman, always helping people out around the village and taking good care of his family. And then Miss Lily, she was the sweetest lady you could ever know. She’d always give me something whenever I passed by their house.� The man sighed, “Yup, you couldn’t find a more happy and wonderful couple anywhere.�




Harry felt the familiar lump in his throat rising again. This was the first muggle who admitted to knowing and admiring his parents; the Dursleys had always been derisive of them. In his mind, a picture arose of his parents as they might have been when they had moved into Godric's Hollow.




The man continued talking, “And they had a son, Harry I think his name was, and you wouldn’t find a better-behaved baby. Never used to cry or anythin’,� he said smiling, “I reckon he’d be about your age by now.�




“What do you mean? Didn’t he die in the explosion,� Harry asked, quickly latching on to what the man had said.




“No one really knows. They found Mr. James and Miss Lily’s bodies but not the baby’s. And then, strange folk began to show up around here, looking at the house and some looking right happy to see it. That’s when the rest of the folk here began to be more careful. Ain’t nobody come out after dark now,� he finished and slaked his thirst with another go at the bottle.




“And why is that?� asked Harry, now fishing for more answers.




The man lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Some say it was no gas explosion that killed the Potters. Someone did them in and it wasn’t by any way that folks here know of, though they guess often enough. Something happened that night… something evil. That’s what…� the man yawned widely, “That’s what folks around here believe anyhow.�




“So where was their house?� asked Harry desperately.




“Eh... oh, straight down this street, left at the lamp-post you see there, then first right. That be the area where all them bigger houses be,� the man explained, “You can’t miss it, it’s still charred from the explosion. There’s no one who’ll go near that house no more. ‘nfact, people next door moved out too. That street’s deserted now,� said the man, and then he yawned again.




Harry waited a few moments, and then the bottle slipped out of the man’s hand and dropped to the ground, where it luckily did not break but rather rolled away into the street. Harry could hear the man’s snores, and slowly, the man began to slide sideways. Harry grabbed the man’s shoulders and leant him more comfortably against the wall of the house on whose steps he was seated. Making sure that the man was as comfortable as could be expected in the situation; Harry got up and ran back to where he had left Hedwig and the trunk. A half hour later, Harry Potter was standing in front of the house that he had spent the first year of his life in.






It was unlike any house that he had seen. Almost the whole front of the house had been blown away and he could see clearly into many of the rooms. Even though the explosion had blackened the paint on the house, it was the most beautiful place in the world to Harry. Silently checking to see that no one was watching, Harry walked forward, there was no door anymore, and soon he was standing inside the house itself, and feeling for the first time outside of Hogwarts; that he was home.






It didn’t take Harry very long to explore the house. As he walked through this place that he should have remembered for the joy but only knew of the sorrow, he felt that he had become a vortex of emotions, unsure of exactly what he was feeling. Sadness for what had happened to his parents. Thoughts of vengeance jostled for their place in his mind as well. He felt a small measure of happiness for having been able to return at least once. And finally there was some guilt too; wondering if that all that had happened was in some indirect way, his fault. All these thoughts swirled around in his mind.






The living room, which was he standing in, was unrecognizable as such, having been blown away completely; Harry figured this was where his father had battled Voldemort. The battle had then moved to the dining room, where he had probably made his final stand while urging his wife to take the baby and run. The kitchen was relatively normal and the dining room wasn’t as badly affected as the living room, making it clear that James Potter’s final stand hadn’t lasted long.






Harry climbed the rickety staircase that led up to the first floor. The guest room was untouched and there were only two rooms left in the floor. One was his parent’s bedroom, which seemed to be unaffected, though the door had been blown open; the other was his own. Harry paused before opening the door, dreading what he would see. As he entered his eyes fell upon a cradle, in which he had probably sat, or perhaps even slept, as Voldemort had walked through the house. He could imagine the scene, his mother standing in front of the cradle shielding him; Voldemort blasting open the door; his mother pleading, not for her own life, but for the life of her son and then falling as the killing curse hit her. And once Lily was gone, Voldemort had turned his wand to baby Harry, and had said the two words that should have killed him instantly. Only they hadn’t, all because of his mother’s sacrifice.






Harry felt tears sting his eyes and he angrily brushed them away. The time for tears is over, there's work to be done, he told himself sternly. Taking one last look at the remnants of his old playroom, Harry closed the door and returned to the ground floor; and then he began to search.






For five hours Harry diligently searched the entire house; knocking on walls, looking under rugs, and even pulling up loose, and some not so loose, floorboards; looking for anything that could even remotely be a Horcrux. But finally at four in the morning, he admitted defeat. There was nothing in the house that Voldemort could have turned into a Horcrux. As Harry stood in the destroyed living room looking out on the empty street in front, he suddenly realized that he was exhausted. He knew that this wasn’t the safest place to be; that he had to move along and continue the search; that he had to see his parents’ graves as well. But for the moment, sleep was the only thing that he could think of. Wearily, weighed down by failure and sadness, Harry got his trunk. He let Hedwig out for her nightly hunt and as she flew away into the night sky, he trudged up the staircase and went into the guest room that still had a bed; probably his parents had kept it prepared just in case any visitors dropped in. Welcome visitors, that is. The bed was covered with layers of dust but Harry really couldn’t care less. He dusted it off as best he could and then fell on it. He took his glasses off and placed them on top of his trunk, and then he was overcome by tiredness and he slept.






It was the sunlight filtering in through the open window that woke Harry in the morning. Yawning, he checked the time and saw that it was already ten in the morning. He dragged himself out of bed, and stood looking out the window at the back garden of the house, which was now overgrown with weeds due to sixteen years of neglect. He felt hungry and dirty from having spent the whole of the previous night in the dusty old house but he didn't focus on these things. He put on his glasses and went back to searching the house. He went through it, this time with a fine toothcomb, making sure that he did not miss anything. He even checked in the gardens, both in the front and the back, pulling up weeds and throwing them hither and thither as he searched. From time to time he looked out onto the street in front of the house, expecting to see someone pass by. But not a single person passed in all the time that he spent searching the house, it was almost as if this area was no longer considered part of Godric's Hollow. Harry spent the whole morning and the most part of the afternoon searching. It was only when the sun was making it trajectory downwards towards the west that he admitted defeat; there was no Horcrux in the house.






Harry sat on the bed in the guest room again, thinking of any other possible places that the Horcruxes could have been hidden. He was sorely disappointed that the search of his parents' house had turned up nothing. It was as he was looking out the window at nothing in particular, that he noticed the steeple of a small church. He quickly strode over to the window to take a closer look, sure enough, there was the church and next to it was a small grove of trees, which seemed to be shielding a small plot of land. Harry focused his keen, Seeker eyes on a gap between the trees and he could just make out... gravestones. He had found the Godric's Hollow cemetery. Harry's mind was in a quandary, one the one hand he didn't want to leave yet. On the other, he knew it wasn't safe to spend another night in the house, unprotected as he was. And he needed to see his parents' graves as well. Thinking hard, Harry came to a decision, his trunk was still packed and Hedwig had returned after a night of successful hunting. It was time for him to leave his parents' house.






Harry took hold of the trunk and the cage and set off downstairs, but this time he exited the house from the back, which seemed to be the shortest way to the church. He walked briskly, constantly looking over his shoulder to check if there was someone watching him. But he needn't have feared because he saw no one and he walked on, thinking that in all his time in Godric's Hollow he had only met one human being, and he didn't even know that man's name. Lost in his thoughts, he almost walked on past the church compound. The church itself was small, likely to seat about two hundred people at most and it was white in colour though it had faded over the years. The gardens in front were well maintained and to the left were the trees, which formed a screen to the cemetery, affording a measure of privacy for mourners. Harry quietly entered the church compound and followed the path that entered the cemetery. He walked through the silent graveyard; the twittering of birds was the only sound that broke the silence. Idly, Harry read the names on some of the gravestones as we walked by until he came upon two graves that were set together. Slowly, Harry walked closer and he could see that he had finally found his parents. After sixteen years, he had found their final resting place; two graves marked, James and Lily Potter.






Harry knelt down and with his bare palm he swept off the leaves and dust that had accumulated on top of the graves. Then, opening his trunk he took out two candles that he had nicked from Privet Drive. Checking to see that no one was watching, he drew out his wand and lit the two candles and placed them on his parents' graves. He then conjured up two bouquets, and placed them by the candles. Satisfied, he sat down, cross-legged, on the ground in front of the graves, unsure of what else he could do. Shouldn't I be crying for my parents? Yet no tears would come, and he could only look at the gravestones, all that remained of two of the most wonderful people in the world. And then, without meaning to, he began to talk to them.






“Hi Mum, hi Dad,� he began, “So here I am, finally. Took me long enough to find you, I suppose.� He paused feeling incredibly foolish, yet unbelievably happy at the same time.




“The time's come for me to go after Voldemort and destroy him. He has taken too many lives; too many of those that I have cared about. I can't let him go on,� he said, his voice getting stronger. And then just as suddenly, his voice dropped.




“It's hard that I have to do this alone,� he conceded, “But it has to be this way. Ron and Hermione, they'd come anywhere if I asked them too, but I can't. I won't put them in the same situation. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to either of them, it would destroy me.�




Harry paused, looked at his father's grave and smiled. “I think you would have liked Ron, Dad. He does tend to enjoy attention when he can get it but he never lets it go to his head. He's great to be with, loads of fun. I could go on and on about how he's cheered me up when I've needed it.�




Then he turned and looking fondly at his mother's grave, Harry spoke to her. “And I think you would've liked Hermione, Mum. She's exactly like you were. Smart; after all she is the best witch in our year. She's passionate about whatever she believes in, and she can't bear to see any injustice being done. She probably would have sold you the idea of S.P.E.W. as well,� he said, grinning.




Harry paused and heaving a huge sigh, he continued, “I miss them so much; I wish they were here. But they can't be, and I just have to live with that.�




A light breeze began to blow through the cemetery. The candles sputtered in the wind, and before Harry could do anything about it, they went out. Harry smiled grimly. Story of my life, he thought, every time I have a chance at happiness, something comes along and blows out the light.




Harry stood up and dusted off the seat of his jeans as he returned to the task at hand. He unstrapped his broom and took out his invisibility cloak, and then he remembered. “Oh and Dad, thanks for the invisibility cloak. It's been really useful,� he said, addressing his remarks to the gravestone marked James Potter. Harry quietly attached Hedwig's cage and his trunk to the broom, then checking one last time that there were no onlookers, he mounted the broom and drew the cloak over himself, the broom, the cage and the trunk. Though weighted heavily, Harry knew that the finely tuned performance of the Firebolt XL would enable it to handle the additional load.






Ready to leave, Harry turned one last time towards the two graves, “Bye, Mum, Dad, I love you. I know that you'll be there with me, wherever I go. I hope that, one day, I can make you proud by destroying Voldemort and ending all this fear that the magical world is living in.�




Then he turned to face the darkening sky and kicking off lightly from the ground, he was soon soaring away, leaving behind the village of Godric's Hollow. Next stop: the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

A/N: Once again, I am so sorry that this chapter took so long. I was completely overwhelmed with work. I also need to profusely thank my beta reader again for her tips and her encouragement; this chapter is a lot better thanks to her. Though this chapter focused solely on Harry, have no fears, I have not forgotten the rest of the gang and we shall be meeting them soon.




*�Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would’, like the poor cat i’ the adage� – is taken from Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ Act I Scene VII.




Chow for now.




Scarhead Steve.

Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

It was only after Harry was in the air did he realise that he didn't have the faintest idea of how to get to London, because in the first place, he still had no idea where Godric's Hollow was actually located. That meant he didn't have a clue as to which direction he had to fly in. He stopped his broom and hovered for a few moments wondering what to do for the best, and then he remembered a spell that Hermione had taught him in fourth year. Taking out his wand, he laid it flat on his palm and said “Point Me�. The wand spun around like a compass and finally came to rest pointing north.
“Right, so if that is north, then London should be... that way,� said Harry looking towards the south-east. Stowing his wand in his jeans, he began to fly again, until a new problem struck him; the fact that he had no idea how far London was. Sighing, Harry decided to keep flying for a while and if he didn't seem to be getting anywhere then he'd land and weigh his options. Besides, he preferred flying to any other means of transport, at least it made him feel alive and forget even momentarily, the dark path that he had to tread.

Harry flew for what seemed to be hours at a stretch, checking constantly to see if he was still flying in the right direction. Eventually, his optimism began to fade as he began to feel incredibly cold, almost as if he was being frozen to the broom. Shivering, he decided he'd give it another half hour and then he'd fly down and either he’d use another portkey, or apparate to Grimmauld Place.

But there was no need for such courses of action, as twenty minutes later, Harry saw the lights twinkling below and looking closer, he concluded that he was back in London again. He took a few moments to pin point his location and then he figured out the direction he had to head in. Minutes later he was flying down and soon he landed on the street facing Grimmauld Place.

As usual he could see number eleven and thirteen but no number twelve. In his mind, he thought “’The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’ is at twelve, Grimmauld Place�. And before his eyes, a house began to inflate itself; pushing aside numbers eleven and thirteen. It always amazed him when it did this because it seemed incredible that the muggle neighbours never seemed to notice a thing. He could hear a television droning on in number eleven and the clatter of dishes in number thirteen, but neither seemed to have noticed that a house had just materialised next to them.

To Harry’s great relief, there was no one out at that time of night who might have seen him entering an invisible house. Harry quickly ran across the street and using his key, he let himself into Grimmauld Place that now, technically, belonged to him. Shutting the door and locking it, Harry turned to take a look at the place that he intended to use as his base for the fight against Voldemort. He was sure that the Order would have been here searching for him and would have found nothing. And since the Order headquarters had been moved to the Burrow, there did not appear to be cause for any of the order members to pay an impromptu visit to Grimmauld Place. Even so, Harry decided to take a look around, to see if there was anything left in the house, which might prompt them to return.

Placing his trunk and Hedwig's cage against the wall in the corridor, he whispered to Hedwig, “Whatever you do, don't make any noise, not even a hoot.� Hedwig regarded him sagely and Harry stole a glance at the curtains that covered the portrait in which Mrs. Black resided. The slightest sound would set her off into one of her rages at which point she'd bring the whole house down with her screaming. Right now, however Harry could hear the snores coming from behind the curtain, which indicated Mrs. Black was asleep at least for the moment.

Quietly Harry tiptoed across the corridor and then headed down to the basement kitchen to start his inspection from there. The kitchen looked just as dank and depressing as he remembered it. But someone, most likely Mrs. Weasley, had made an effort to clean it and as a result everything in the kitchen was in its rightful place. All the plates, saucers and cups along with the vessels had been stacked away neatly. The table, which had served as a dining table during and after Order meetings, was scrubbed and clean. Harry felt a surge of gratitude for Mrs. Weasley's concern.

Harry then headed upstairs and checked all the rooms in the house one by one. He looked in the drawing room that he had helped decontaminate two years earlier. Except for the tapestry, which had the Black family tree on it, the drawing room was free of most of the Dark objects it had contained earlier. He looked into the room that he and Ron had shared, where he had had his almighty tantrum at being left out over the summer after his fourth year. He paused a while before entering Mrs. Black's room, which had housed Buckbeak when Sirius had been at Grimmauld Place. The room was empty now save for some bones that littered the floor, and bloodstains, which obviously had resisted all attempts at removal. As he stood there, he couldn't but help remember locking himself into that very room in the fifth year, when everyone had believed that Voldemort had possessed him. He remembered how he'd nearly gone mad, sitting alone in that room, until Hermione had finally managed to get him out. Idly, he wondered how Buckbeak was doing, now that he was under the care of Hagrid. Knowing Hagrid, Harry was sure that he was likely to be trying to get Buckbeak and Grawp - Hagrid's sixteen-foot giant half brother - to be friends. Harry definitely could not put it past Hagrid to try out such a hare-brained notion; Hagrid did seem to have a knack for undertaking schemes, which were doomed to failure even before they began.

After going through the whole house, Harry satisfied himself that there was no-one there, nor did there seem to be any reason for anyone from the Order to come to the house. Harry returned to the main corridor where he had left Hedwig. It was as he came into Hedwig's line of sight that he noticed she was rustling her wings preparatory to giving a hoot of welcome. Harry rushed forward quickly to stop her from doing so and that's where he made his first mistake. The next moment there was a resounding crash and Harry went sprawling across the floor after tripping over the severed troll leg, which served as an umbrella stand and as an obstacle to the unwary and the clumsy.

Harry sprang up quickly but it was too late. The curtains across the portrait had blown open and there was Mrs. Black, looking as malevolent as ever.
“TRAITORS, MUDBLOODS DEFILING MY HOUSE,� she screamed.
Harry rushed to the portrait and tried with all his might to pull the curtains across the screaming Mrs. Black but to no avail. And the sight of him seemed to inspire Mrs. Black to greater heights of eloquence.
“BLOOD TRAITOR, MUGGLE LOVER, YOU AND YOUR FILTHY MUDBLOOD AND TRAITOR FRIENDS ARE NOT WELCOME TO THIS HOUSE, DEFILED AS IT ALREADY IS BY MY WORTHLESS SON,� she bellowed.
Harry had never had much patience for Mrs. Black’s portrait and in his current situation with his nerves on edge; it didn’t take a lot to push his temper to dangerous limits. Harry’s blood boiled when he heard these words; not only was she referring to Hermione as a mudblood and to the Weasleys as traitors, she was even calling her own son, Sirius, his godfather, worthless. Harry stormed into the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers till he found a large and very sharp knife. He returned to the portrait, which was still screaming its head off.
“SHUT UP,� roared Harry and amazingly, Mrs. Black did just that.
“Now listen to me, you old bat,� said Harry, his voice controlled but tinged with menace, “One more crack out of you about mudbloods, traitors and your son, and I’ll slash your painting so badly that you won’t have anywhere to go. Do you understand?�
There could be no doubt that he meant every word he said and Mrs. Black quailed for a moment. Then she screamed again, “FILTHY SON OF A MUDBLOOD, YOU DARE THREATEN THE DAUGHTER OF THE PUREST OF THE PUREBLOODS.�
Harry drew back his hand and then brought the knife down towards the portrait. Mrs. Black screamed, in fear this time, but the knife came ever closer. Finally when the blade was about an inch from the canvas, Harry stayed his hand.
“Next time, I won’t stop,� he said simply.
Convinced now that he definitely meant what he said, Mrs. Black obeyed. She continued to mumble under her breath but it was clear she had given up on the screaming. Harry drew the curtains across the portrait, and breathing heavily at the thought of what he had just done, he returned the knife to its drawer in the kitchen.

It was while he was standing in the kitchen, breathing heavily, that he realised he had not eaten for a while and he felt rather empty around his middle. However, the books in Hermione's bedroom had proved to be quite useful in providing him information on how to make food and drink with magic. Trying to remember some of them, Harry flicked his wand a couple of times, but other than causing some of the plates to fly off their shelves and shatter on the ground, he had no food. Cursing, Harry tried again and this time he closed his eyes to aid concentration. He tried again and strained his ears. Not hearing any sounds of breaking crockery, he opened his eyes warily. Before him on the table was a plate of sandwiches and some pumpkin juice. Feeling that he could do worse, Harry said down to his frugal meal. It didn't take him long to run through it and once he was done, he headed up to the room that Fred and George had used earlier. He didn't want to return to his and Ron's room as that had a portrait of Phineas Nigellus, Sirius' great-great-grandfather and Harry didn't particularly feel up to facing him yet. As he closed his eyes, Harry sleepily told himself that he had to search the house the next day, for any clues or any possible Horcruxes.

---

As Harry was searching through twelve, Grimmauld Place, the next day; Hermione was eating her breakfast at the Great Hall at Hogwarts, with the Daily Prophet propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice. The Great Hall was more subdued than she remembered it since their first year but then again that was to be expected. A lot of students had not returned to Hogwarts, many parents no longer felt that their children were safe there. Gryffindor House had the highest number of returning students, though the number was less than half the usual. Ravenclaw and then Hufflepuff followed it. Slytherin had the fewest students this year, and Hermione really wasn’t surprised since most pureblood wizards had been threatening to take their children out of Hogwarts for a long time, and this had been the perfect opportunity for them to do so.

As she sat reading yet another article on the increasing number of deaths among both wizards and muggles, she felt a presence next to her and she looked up. Ron was standing near her looking rather sheepish. Ron and Hermione had hardly said a word to each other after Harry's departure and Ron sometimes had gone out of his way to avoid her. Hermione had let him have his space, assuming that he would come around in time.

“Hi, Hermione,� Ron began, his voice sounding rather strangled.
“Hello, Ronald,� Hermione replied and went back to reading the paper. Uh-oh; full name, big trouble, thought Ron.
“May I sit down?� he asked, sounding a little more normal now.
“If you want to,� she answered without looking at him.
Ron bit back the retort that had sprung up to his lips. He looked across at Ginny who was sitting a little way down the table. She nodded to him sternly. Sighing, Ron sat down. Hermione continued reading the paper with great interest. Ron cleared his throat meaningfully but Hermione didn't look up. He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. This time Hermione turned to face him.
“Would you like a lozenge, Ronald?� she asked coldly.
“Eh? Err, no, no I'm fine,� he mumbled. Hermione gave him a withering look and went back to reading the paper. Ron stole another glance at his sister. Ginny inclined her head towards Hermione and mouthed, “Go ahead�. Ron sighed again, this was more difficult that he had imagined.
“Err... Hermione?� he ventured tentatively.
“Yes?� she asked without looking around.
“Look, um... I wanted to apologise for being such an idiot till now,� Ron said.
“You mean since first year?� she asked nastily.
“No, I don’t mean since first year,� he snapped back, mimicking her. Hermione didn’t bother to answer, preferring to read about the seventh occurrence of strange hurricane like weather, to have sprung up in the Yorkshire Dales that month.
Ron took a long calming breath. He knew he had to sink his pride and avoid their normal bickering if they had to make up. It was bad enough that Harry was gone, without driving Hermione away as well. He tried again, “What I meant was, I want to apologise for being such a prat since Harry left.�
He saw Hermione’s shoulders slump. Slowly, she passed a hand across her eyes. “It’s alright, Ron, I understand,� she said finally, “I just wish you could understand how it was trying to talk him out of it.�
“I'm trying to,� replied Ron quickly, glad they were back on talking terms, “But I still don't know how you didn't hex him.�
“I wanted to,� admitted Hermione, “But seeing him that night, it was like a Harry I had never seen before. He looked so sad and yet so determined; I just couldn't hex him after that.�
Ron still couldn't quite convince himself that letting Harry go had been the best course to pursue, but recognising that since Hermione was now talking to him, he was loath to do anything to jinx that so he decided to let it go.
“And by the way, congratulations on being made Head-Girl,� he said, changing the subject, “I'm really glad you got it.�
“Thanks Ron,� she said, brightening up. Ron didn't have the heart to tell her that others weren't as thrilled at her selection now that she had showed that she was likely to be quite a strict Head-Girl. Even Ernie had mentioned that often he had had to remind her that he was Head-Boy when she had been on the verge of ticking him off.
“McGonagall got pretty teary-eyed at the opening feast didn't she?� said Ron. It was an observation that all of Hogwarts had made after McGonagall had broken down during her opening speech and had been unable to continue. Luckily for her, since most of the students were similarly stricken, the incident had been discussed with an air of sympathetic understanding.
“Well what do you expect Ron, she's known Dumbledore for ages, surely she'd be at least a little bit emotional at his death,� Hermione replied, a trifle more sharply than she had intended to.
“Oh yes, yes quite,� said Ron, quickly backing off. “So what have we got first today?� he asked, trying to take Hermione’s mind off McGonagall.
“Defence,� she replied shortly.
Ron groaned. He had vivid memories of the previous day's defence class that had involved a rather harsh hex test. Apparently the real Professor Moody was taking a page out of the fake Professor Moody's book and was giving them as much practice on Defence Against the Dark Arts that they could get. By the end of the class, Ron had ended up with his face blackened, and his hair having turned curly all of a sudden. If that hadn't been bad enough, he had passed a group of sixth years on his way to the common room, a group that had included Ginny and Luna. Luna had dreamily gazed at him before announcing that he looked like a redheaded gollywog. Ron supposed he should have been thankful for that, especially since Ginny's appraisal had been much less flattering.

“What do you reckon Moody's going to throw at us today?� he asked Hermione, “I just hope I can exit his class vertically today.�
“Well, you wouldn't have to worry if you listened in class a little more,� she said smiling, as she gathered up her books.
“Why would I want to do that when I have you?� he mumbled, as he loped along beside her.
“Well, if that's going to be your attitude, Ronald Weasley, then you can stop expecting help from me,� she said severely, as they left the Great Hall. And the last that Ginny heard from the two was a heartfelt groan from Ron, which seemed to come all the way up from his shoes.

---

Harry had spent two days searching through Grimmauld Place for anything that could possibly be a Horcrux. The problem was that, since the Blacks had had certain leanings towards the Dark side, he wasn't entirely sure that he had actually been through the whole house. But the parts that he had been able to reach, he had searched thoroughly and for the second time in a week he had had to admit defeat. There was still no sign of anything even remotely like a Horcrux.

Harry was slowly beginning to despair of ever finding the Horcruxes in time. He thought of Voldemort getting stronger, recruiting more followers, causing more mayhem and slowly taking over the wizarding world.

“Why me?� he yelled at the ceiling of the drawing room where he was seated, idly turning the fake locket over in his hands. But the ceiling did not answer and Harry didn't know if he wanted to know the answer.

Maybe it would be better if I just go back to Hogwarts and tell the Order about the Horcruxes and let them help find it. At least they might have some ideas about it, after all, some of them taught Tom Riddle; surely they’d know or would remember something about him that could be significant, Harry had thought, in some of his most desperate moments. And as pleasing as the proposition sounded, Harry regretfully decided that it was a course of action that he could not pursue.
“Dumbledore asked me not to tell them and I won't,� he told the cabinet sternly, and then slumped back in the armchair feeling incredibly tired, not from exertion, but from sheer loneliness. He looked over at the Black family tree, which had been embroidered onto a tapestry that would not come off. He saw the burn mark where Sirius' name had been blasted off. Close to Sirius’ name was another, Bellatrix Lestrange, and as he saw the name he felt a burning hatred grow in his chest. She was the reason Sirius was dead. He was looking forward to meeting her sometime.

And near hers was another name he was hoping to meet, Draco Malfoy. It was Malfoy's cowardice that had given Snape the opportunity to kill Dumbledore. Malfoy, who had been so ungrateful to Dumbledore after all Dumbledore had done for him, that he had gone to the extent of trying to kill him. Oh yes, he was definitely looking forward to meeting Malfoy. And if he were to meet Draco's pathetic father Lucius Malfoy, then so much the better.

Harry let loose a deep sigh, realising that these were but idle daydreams. It did not do him any good at all to contemplate what vengeance he was going to wreck on the Malfoys and the Lestranges. It didn't matter, at least, not greatly. What was important was to get to the Horcruxes and destroy them. He began to swing the locket, absentmindedly, on his finger, like a pendulum. As he watched the locket swing to and fro, he began to get the strangest feeling that he had seen the locket somewhere before. He stopped swinging it and began to study the locket closely. The feeling grew stronger; he had seen it before, but where? Like most irritating memories, this one also stopped short of actually telling him where he had seen the locket. Harry studied it closely for almost five minutes, hoping for some clue of its origin, or of where he might have seen it before.
“Come on,� he asked it, “Where have I seen you before?�
The locket remained silent as did his memory, no matter how much he jogged it.
Maybe I need some fresh air; clear my head and then try to figure out where I saw this before, he thought, And how about if I...

Coming to a decision, Harry grabbed his jacket and he put it on, pulling the hood over his forehead as before. He snapped the shades onto his glasses and then he peered at his reflection in the closest mirror. Satisfied, that few could recognize him now, he headed towards the front door, but stopped short when he heard Mrs. Black's muttering growing louder. Drawing the curtains a crack, Harry glared and her and she immediately fell silent.
“That's better,� he told her and shut the curtains again.
Opening the door, he looked out into the dark street, lit by street lamps that showed him that the street was empty. Stepping out, he shut the door quickly and hurried out into the street. He headed towards a nearby park that he knew, which was usually empty after sunset. As he had expected, the park was deserted and covered in pitch darkness. Harry stood in the shadow of a tree and closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on his destination. Then he turned and stepped forward. Immediately he felt the pressure that always reminded him of being pushed through a very thin tube. And then, just as quickly, the pressure eased and opening his eyes, Harry found himself in the little village of Hogsmeade.

A/N: Well, this chapter is up faster than the last one, and for that I have to thank my beta for turning it around so quickly, and for all her encouragement. Thanks also to all who have read, and especially to those who reviewed. Keep those reviews coming, as the interesting bits are just around the corner.
Chow for now.
Scarhead Steve.

Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

Harry strode through the quiet streets of Hogsmeade, a village that, now, looked so different from the way he remembered it. There was no longer the merry chatter that used to ring out from the houses. Many of the merchants had closed down their establishments, and even the ones that remained did not stay open late anymore. The streets were deserted and as Harry walked, for the second time in a week, he had the sensation of having entered a ghost town. Nonetheless, he walked on towards his destination and soon he was standing under a signboard with a picture of a severed boar’s head with blood dripping off it – the Hog’s Head.

Cheery place, thought Harry sardonically. He had been there once before, during the day, and it had left him with a definite feeling of wishing to be someplace else. By night, it looked even more uninviting than usual.

But as Harry stepped into the pub, he realized that he didn’t need to have worried. His air – of not wanting to be recognized – fit in perfectly with the general ambience of the Hog’s Head. Most of the clientele were more than a little shady, and with Harry not announcing himself as he had done the previous time, he blended in quite nicely.

The pub was covered in a haze of smoke; most of the conversations were in whispers. As Harry entered, conversation ceased and most of the customers turned to look at the new entrant. Realizing that he, like them, was another who wished to be left alone, they did so and went back to their mumbled conversations. Harry cast a quick glance around the pub, to make sure that there wasn’t anyone there who would recognize him, even in his new get-up. The last time he had been there, Mundungus Fletcher had seen him, and he did not wish for the same thing to happen again. But he could not see anyone who looked like Mundungus, not unless the other man had changed himself into a Medusa-like witch whose hair was flailing around dangerously. Satisfied that there was no one watching him, he walked confidently up to the barman.

The barman, who had been cleaning a glass when Harry had entered, set it down and peered down at Harry. Harry made sure he didn’t lift his head so that he avoided any risk of exposing his scar.
“Well, what d’yer want?� enquired the barman gruffly.
Harry took a moment to answer, because his throat had become constricted with powerful emotion. He had caught a glimpse of the barman and this was what was affecting him so powerfully. For that barman was Aberforth Dumbledore – brother of Albus Dumbledore – and the similarity between the two, was striking.

“I ain’t serving mutes here, what d’yer want?� asked Aberforth, more impatiently.
“A butterbeer,� Harry managed to utter.
The barman took a good hard look at Harry and then, almost unwillingly, he bent down and retrieved a dusty bottle of butterbeer.
“Two sickles,� he growled.
Harry paid up and heading over to an empty table close to the entrance, he sat down and began to drink and watch the other occupants of the pub. He could still see Aberforth glaring at him and he quickly looked away. The rest of the people in the pub seemed to take no notice of him at all. Slowly, taking regular sips of butterbeer, Harry allowed himself to relax. Though the people in that pub were not the sort he would associate with in the normal course of life, at least they were wizards. Harry, who had had no contact with wizards at all since Bill’s wedding, now reveled in the feeling of being among his own kind once again.

By the time Harry had got halfway through the bottle, he began to feel quite safe and consequently he ceased to take any precautions. He was looking around himself almost benevolently, and at that moment, Aberforth came towards him and began to vigorously scrub the table that Harry was seated at. And to Harry’s great astonishment and consternation, he began to talk.
“You want to be careful round these parts, Mr. Potter,� Aberforth muttered, �You’re too well known to be hidden for long.�
Harry was too shocked to speak and Aberforth continued.
“Most of the people here tonight ain’t too interested in you,� Aberforth whispered, “but there’s a bloke in the far corner that ain’t taken his eyes off you since you came in.�
Harry looked and for the first time, he noticed the man that Aberforth was referring to. He sat in the darkness near the far corner of the pub. Harry hadn’t noticed the man, indeed he wouldn’t have seen him if he hadn’t been specifically looking for him. The man, Harry could see was taller than him and was wearing a black traveling cloak, which did much to camouflage him. The hood of the cloak was drawn so low that it obscured everything above the man’s nose. Even looking at half his face, Harry felt that there was something very familiar about the man. And though he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, there was no doubt that they were fixed on Harry alone.

Aberforth was still speaking, “I never seen this bloke before…� his voice trailed off, then he seemed to collect himself and he continued, “Before Albus died. Since then he’s bin here most every night.�
The mention of Dumbledore’s death brought Harry back to reality and impressed upon him the danger of his situation. Quickly downing the rest of his butterbeer, Harry mumbled his thanks to Aberforth and stood up. He noticed that none of the other patrons looked at him.

Just as he stood up to leave, Aberforth spoke again in a hoarse whisper, “If you need to talk to me sometime, come on around to the backdoor in the morning and knock three times. I might be able to tell you summat useful.� Harry nodded, and as he made to leave, he involuntarily glanced to the far corner to see if the man was still watching him. And then he received a sharp jolt. The man was no longer there.

Quickly Harry scanned the rest of the pub, but he was nowhere to be seen. Feeling more and more uneasy and realizing that this idea had been reckless in the extreme, Harry almost ran to the entrance and wrenching the door open, he stepped out into the night. The streets were still deserted and Harry set a quick pace to the edge of town from where he wished to apparate back to London. And then, just as he passed the closed door of the Three Broomsticks, he heard the voice, coming from the darkened doorway he had just passed.

“Got the time on you, mate?� it asked quite civilly. Though, Harry couldn’t see the speaker, he knew that it had to be the strange man who’d been watching him at the Hog’s Head. Instinctively, he lifted his arm to check his watch, when he realized that he had left his watch at Grimmauld Place. Besides which, he had no wish to be telling strangers the time.
“Sorry, haven’t got a watch,� he replied quickly, and began to walk away.
“How interesting; the Boy-who-lived; the Chosen One, and you don’t even have a watch,� remarked the voice, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Harry froze, every nerve in his body tingling. Every instinct was telling him to run, yet he could not get himself to move an inch. Slowly, he turned around to face the cloaked figure that had stepped out onto the street.
“Please don’t run, Harry, it would be such a terrible waste of time. Besides, I have no intention of harming you,� he said. Harry noticed to his surprise, that the voice held no triumph or malice, in fact it sounded almost… friendly.
“Who are you?� asked Harry, sounding braver than he felt.
In response, the man pulled up the hood, and the light from a nearby lamppost fell on his face. Harry stumbled backwards with a cry of horror.
“Sirius!� he wanted to yell, yet his voice came barely above a whisper.

But even as he said it, he realized that the man before him wasn’t Sirius, though he looked a lot like him. This man’s skin was pale, as if he had spent too much time out of the sun. His beard, however, was neatly maintained; his hair, though long, wasn’t wild; his nose was just like Sirius’, and his cheeks were hollow. His eyes however, held a glitter in them, of a passion that had not died yet, no matter what hardships this man had faced. In height, he was slightly shorter than Sirius had been. In fact, if Harry hadn’t known different, he would have thought that this was…

At the same moment, the man began to speak, softly, each word chosen carefully; yet there was an undercurrent of laughter in his speech.
“Not quite, but close enough,� he said, and then a smile lit up his features, making him finally seem more friendly and even more like Sirius, “People did say I bore a startling resemblance to my brother.�
Harry’s mind just would not accept it, it couldn’t be. “You can’t be… you’re dead, you’ve been dead for seventeen years… you just can’t…� he stuttered.
“Oh, but I assure you, I am. Harry Potter, let me introduce myself,� he said, his smile widening, “Regulus Black.�

Harry thought he’d gone mad. He had begun to have hallucinations of men who looked like Sirius, and claimed to be Sirius’ long-dead brother. He stared at the man in front of him as if in a trance, oblivious to everything else around him. He didn’t hear the crunch of feet on gravel, coming closer. But the man claiming to be Regulus had heard the noise and his expression became serious again. He walked forward quickly and grabbed Harry’s arm.
“Harry, we must leave here. There may have been someone else who might have recognized you as well,� he said urgently, “Where are you staying right now?�
As if in a dream, Harry found himself replying, “Grimmauld Place.�
“Figures,� said the man, smiling again, “Now, looking at you, it doesn’t seem as if you’re in any fit state to apparate so hold on to me tightly.�
Harry didn’t think, he just grabbed the man’s arm in a vice-like grip and felt themselves Disapparate. The village of Hogsmeade disappeared from view, and after the usual discomfort, he found that they were standing on the street in front of Grimmauld Place. The man was looking around from side to side.
“Where’s the house,� he asked, looking thoroughly bewildered, “I can see numbers eleven and thirteen, but where’s twelve?�

It was this simple question that finally brought Harry to his senses. He released the man’s arm and stepped back.
“Wait,� he said, but his voice was shaking, “how do I know you’re the real Regulus Black?�
“Harry, didn’t you read the Ministry’s guidelines?� asked the man, sounding amused, “Just ask me a question.�
“Alright,� said Harry, racking his brains for a question to which only Regulus Black would know the answer, “Err… whose portrait hangs on the wall in the bedroom on the first floor?�
“That would be Phineas Nigellus, my great-great-grandfather and based on what I’ve heard of him, one of the most unpopular headmasters of Hogwarts,� said the man.
“Anyone who had visited his house could know that,� said Harry quickly, “One more, what’s Kreacher’s dearest wish?�
Harry wasn’t sure but he thought that for a moment, the amused expression on the man’s face faded, to be replaced by a look of dislike. Just for a moment, and it was gone and then the grin was back.
“Well, unless he’s changed it, his dearest wish was to have his head cut off and mounted on the wall like his mother,� he said, smiling.

Harry didn’t know what to do; on the one hand, he couldn’t believe that Regulus Black had been alive for so long without anyone knowing. On the other, the man had answered both questions right, so he must have been a member of the Black family. The man watched Harry’s internal struggle with amusement and then he spoke up again.
“Listen Harry, do you honestly think that if I were an imposter, I would pretend to be someone who is supposed to have been dead for seventeen years?� he asked reasonably.
Harry’s mind was buzzing with a million questions, and the man’s face turned serious and he said, “Harry, I promise I will answer whatever you ask of me, but we must get indoors. And we can’t do that if there’s no house.�
“I need some parchment and a quill,� said Harry, coming to a decision. If this man was to be believed and he really was Regulus Black, then his story would be interesting to hear.

The man dug into the pockets of his cloak and drew out a quill, some ink and piece of parchment. Harry stared at him in amazement.
“Do you carry that around with you?� he asked interestedly.
“Never know when you might need it,� the man answered, handing the paraphernalia to Harry.
Harry quickly scribbled on the parchment and handed it back to the man along with the quill and the bottle of ink, which disappeared into the man’s cloak again.
“Read it, destroy the parchment and then think about what you’ve read,� Harry instructed.

The man’s dark eyes narrowed as he read what Harry had written in the parchment. Then, he smiled and touched his wand to the parchment, which burst into flames. Together Harry and the man turned to face the gap between houses eleven and thirteen, both focusing on the words that had been written on the parchment. And before their eyes, twelve, Grimmauld Place began to inflate itself, pushing aside the two houses adjacent to it. The man whistled softly.
“Must have been Dumbledore’s idea,� he said almost admiringly, �My father was paranoid about security but this was something that even he hadn’t thought of.�
Harry was staring at him wide-eyed. “How did you know this was Dumbledore’s idea?� he asked suspiciously.
“All questions answered inside,� said the man briskly, “We’ll draw too much attention to ourselves if we keep chatting here in the middle of the street until morning.�
The two men walked up to the door of twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry drew out his key and unlocked the door. As he pushed the door open he turned to the man and placed his finger on his lips, and with his other hand he pointed to the covered portrait of Mrs. Black.
“Mrs. Black,� he whispered succinctly, “She doesn’t take kindly to visitors, and if you are who you say you are, well, I confidently expect her to raise the roof.�
The man grinned and whispered, “Should take a peek at her, just for the heck of it.�
“Don’t you dare,� whispered Harry, glaring at the man, as the curtains billowed dangerously, “Let’s head down to the kitchen, we can talk there.�

Moments later, they were down in the kitchen and the man was strolling around, taking in every nook and cranny.
“Well, it’s cleaner than I remember it,� he remarked, then he rubbed his hands with glee, “Right, time to raid the Black family liquor stash.�
He turned to Harry, “Butterbeer for you, if I’m not mistaken…“ Harry nodded and the man went on, “And for me, how about some Firewhiskey? Accio Butterbeer, Accio Firewhiskey.�
Two bottles came skidding along the table, one coming to rest in front of Harry and the other, containing an amber liquid, stopped at the end of the table. The man got a glass off the sideboard and took a seat at the end of the table. He poured some of the liquid into his glass and then emptied the contents down his throat.
“Ahhh, that hit the spot,� he said, thumping his chest, “Right Harry, what do you want to know first?�
Harry had just got his bottle open and had raised it to his lips. Hearing his name spoken, he fumbled with the bottle, and ended up taking a larger gulp than he had intended. The man waited patiently while Harry coughed and spluttered.

When the spasm finally ended, Harry sat contemplating. He had so many questions; he had no idea where to begin.
“How did you know it was me in the Hog’s Head?� he blurted out, and immediately felt stupid.
Even the man seemed surprised by this question; obviously he had been expecting something else. Then the smile was back on his face. “You’re a famous man, Mr. Potter. I’ve seen pictures of you. You were the right height and build. More than that, I could see you were going to great lengths to keep your forehead and your eyes hidden. Now why would you do that, unless you had something on your forehead that could identify you; something, say, like a lightning shaped scar, hmmm…?�
Harry didn’t reply; he was too busy kicking himself for making his intentions that obvious. The man was smiling kindly at Harry. “Don’t curse yourself too badly; most of the Hog’s Head’s patrons have no interest in their fellow drinkers. However, the clincher was your order. Butterbeer! I ask you. In the Hog’s Head?� he said, sounding almost awed at the height of stupidity that this smacked of.
“Well I don’t drink anything stronger,� replied Harry defensively.
“Agreed, Harry, but surely you know the kind of people the Hog’s Head caters too. Why, I’ve even seen vampires go in there and be served. Although, they were probably looking for a little nip on someone’s neck, here or there.�
Harry surreptitiously checked his own neck for bite-marks, unsure whether to believe this stranger or not. The man continued talking, “The point is, ordering butterbeer is guaranteed to make you stand out in the Hog’s Head. Somehow, everyone else seemed to lose interest in you pretty soon so they didn’t notice your order. If they had, they would have been very interested.�

They sat quietly drinking for a while before Harry thought of another question, “The barman told me that you’ve only been in Hogsmeade since Dumbledore died. Any particular reason for that?�
“To find you, of course. Mind you, it was sheer luck that I saw you there tonight,� the man answered, “I thought you would have returned to Hogwarts for your final year, so I hung out at Hogsmeade, thinking I’d meet you on one of the Hogsmeade trips that Hogwarts arranges periodically.�
Then the man’s gaze, which had been roaming all over the room, suddenly zoomed in on Harry’s face, “But it became very obvious tonight, that you had not returned to Hogwarts and were, in fact, working alone.�
Harry dropped his eyes and focused on his bottle, to avoid the man’s rather penetrating gaze. He quickly thought of another question to divert the conversation, “And why were you trying to find me?�
“To help you find the Horcruxes,� answered the man simply.

This was such an unexpected response that Harry immediately looked up and saw the man raise his glass to his lips, looking quite unconcerned that he had mentioned one of the darkest objects known to wizardkind.
“How do you…� he began, and then finally, things began to fall in place in Harry’s mind. “You… you’re R.A.B,� he said.
The man looked up quickly, and Harry could see that the statement had unnerved him. He put his glass back on the table carefully and then faced Harry again.
“You found it… you found the fake locket?� he asked. Harry nodded mutely.
The man got up from the table and began to pace up and down the kitchen. “So that was where you and Dumbledore had been to, that night Dumbledore died?� he asked.
“Yes,� said Harry quietly, his mind not quite grasping the fact that he had found R.A.B, and completely forgetting that this man shouldn’t have known about his and Dumbledore’s expedition in the first place.
“Didn’t you realize that the R.A.B stood for me?� asked the man.
“We guessed it was probably a Death-Eater who had written the note,� said Harry, �But we never guessed it was you. After all, we knew you as Regulus Black, RB; we didn’t know you had a middle name beginning with A.�

A ghost of a smile flitted across the man’s face. “Not many people do,� he said, “My parents gave me such a ridiculous middle name, that I spent my whole life making sure as few people as possible knew about it.�
“What is it?� asked Harry automatically.
The man paused and then he walked over to where Harry was seated and bending down, he whispered into his ear. Harry’s eyes widened as the man whispered.
“You’re joking,� he cried.
“You’d better believe it,� said the man, a slight smile on his face.
An evil grin spread over Harry’s face, “From now on, that’s your secret question,� he said. The man laughed and then he turned serious again.
“Flippancy aside, Harry, I think it’s time I told you the story of my life,� he said and sat back down at the table.

Unconsciously Harry sat up straighter and looked at the man in front of him. He knew that whatever the man was about to tell him now, would decide if he eventually chose to believe him or not. And under the circumstances, that was going to be a crucial decision to make.

A/N: This chapter literally took ages to come up with because things have been pretty crazy for me over the last few months. I’m really sorry for vanishing for so long and I hope that people haven’t given up on this story. I’m trying to get the next few chapters out quickly to make up for going AWOL. Hope you like the story so far.
Chow for now.
Scarhead Steve.

Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

Harry didn’t notice the growling in his stomach, the sign that he had not had anything to eat since noon. He ignored the fact that he hadn’t slept very well in the last few days, which was causing his eyelids to feel as if they just had to obey the law of gravity. He sat and looked at this man sitting at the other end of the table at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. A man who claimed to be Regulus Black, brother of Sirius Black; supposedly an ex-Death Eater; and last but not least, a man believed to have been dead for seventeen years. And a man who was going to tell Harry the story of his life, in an attempt to get Harry to believe him. Harry could feel that this was going to be very interesting indeed, and he waited expectantly for the man to begin.

The man didn’t clear his throat like a practiced raconteur. He didn’t seem to be searching for the right words to say. He sat nursing his drink for a few moments before he looked at Harry.
“I don’t know how much Sirius told you about me?� he began.
“Erm… well not much, actually,� replied Harry, not wanting to repeat what Sirius had told him.
“He must have said that I was a spoilt little mama’s boy who was too weak to stand on his own two feet, am I right?� asked the man, grinning.
“Yup, that’s pretty much what he said,� affirmed Harry.
The man took another sip from his glass before replying. “Well, I won’t deny it, I was weak but I wasn’t a mama’s boy. The thing is, Harry, Sirius was always rebellious and argumentative with my mother and father. Since I was more docile, tending to keep my mouth shut even if my parents said something I didn’t agree with, I got tagged as a mama’s boy.�

“You see,� he continued, after a few moments of silence, “We were taught from a young age, that purity of blood was very important. Sirius wouldn’t listen to it because that’s the way he was; though for a while he was big on making the right kind of friends with pure blood and all that.�
“No, he wasn’t,� remarked Harry hotly.
“Oh he was,� said the man calmly, “But he changed, and you probably have your mother and Remus Lupin to thank for that. But me, I had no friends like that, so I grew up believing all the trash that my parents fed me.�
“The fact that my mother and father preferred me was enough for Sirius to club me along with them. There was no love lost between us and the fact that I joined the Death Eaters was just another reason for Sirius to hate me more,� the man continued, and then he looked straight at Harry,� What Sirius never knew is that he was the reason I joined the Death Eaters in the first place.�
“What?� yelled Harry, slamming his bottle down on the table and almost breaking it.
“Not in the way you think, Harry, it wasn’t because I hated Sirius. I had always, sort of, looked up to Sirius, always admired the fact that he could stand up to my parents when I didn’t have the guts to do so. And then in Hogwarts, I was always in Sirius’ shadow; always Sirius’ baby brother. Sirius was everything I wasn’t,� said the man, reminiscently, “He did well in tests, without seeming to study. He was good-looking, got all the girls. And thanks to great foresight on the part of the Sorting Hat, he was put in Gryffindor and I ended up in Slytherin.�

The man smiled slightly at Harry, “You probably know what that means. Gryffindors are the pride of the school and everyone looks up to them. Whereas the Slytherins, they rank along side Peeves and the Bloody Baron in terms of popularity.�
Harry smiled for the first time since he had met this man, a smile that quickly changed to a frown. “What does that have to do with you joining the Death Eaters?� he asked.
“Since I was never seen as an individual, I wanted to do something majestic to, you know, announce my presence, “ explained the man, “And at that time, joining the Death Eaters was the biggest thing you could do. Mind you, I was still underage when I asked to join.�
“Wait – you joined when you were underage?� asked Harry quickly.
“Sure did, but you must understand, Harry, that I meant it to be a gesture, nothing more. I didn’t think I’d be accepted, but I thought that by just asking to join I’d show everyone else that I wasn’t to be taken lightly,� said the man.

Harry said nothing and the man continued. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when my dear cousin Bella,“ Harry noted the sneer that crossed the man’s face when he said this, “showed up at our house to escort me to the Dark Lord. I suppose the Dark Lord was looking to recruit as many pureblooded wizards as he could, irrespective of whether they were of age or not. Bella and her husband had been Death Eaters for quite some time and she hated both Sirius and me.�
“Why did she hate you?� asked Harry surprised, “I can understand why she hated Sirius, but why you?�
“Because she thought I was unworthy of being a Death Eater. She, too, considered me weak, and definitely a smudge on the pure blood that ran through my veins,� replied the man, sardonically, “But she had to do as she was told, I suppose, so she took me to the Dark Lord, muttering all the while. And then I was initiated into the ranks of the Death Eaters, and branded as one of them.� And the man lifted the sleeve of his cloak, revealing the Dark Mark burnt onto his skin.

Before Harry could make any comment, the man continued, “At first I was excited about this. I got to leave Hogwarts which I was getting sick of anyway…�
“Why were you sick of Hogwarts?�
“Haven’t you been listening, Harry?� asked the man, “I was a nobody there and if the news got out that I had been made a Death Eater, then my already non-existent popularity would have reached a new low.�
Harry nodded and the man went on, “So anyway, as I said, I was excited, naïve as I was, to be part of the movement which would restore the importance of the purebloods. It didn’t take me long, however, to realize that I had made the biggest, most stupid mistake of my life.�

The man stopped, staring into the bottle at his elbow, which was now only half-full. Harry sat looking at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. He could hear the noises that one associates with old houses; the odd creaks and rattles, the drip of a partially open tap. He could feel the passage of time but he didn’t really care, this man’s tale was fascinating him. But when the man did not speak for about five minutes, Harry began to grow restless.
“Err… Regulus?� he said, addressing the man.
The man looked up, surprised and then his face split into a grin. “So you’ve decided that I am Regulus Black, have you?� he asked.
“I didn’t say that,� said Harry quickly.

Regulus laughed but soon his face became somber again, and resumed his story. “Those were dark times, Harry, and the Death Eaters were repeatedly sent out on missions. I was part of a few of them. And to this day, I wish that I had just run away right then. You see, those missions mainly consisted of torturing or murdering muggles, muggle-born witches or wizards, or even pureblood wizards who stood against the Dark Lord.�

Regulus took a deep breath, and Harry noticed that all signs of laughter had vanished from his face. “I can still hear the screams in my dreams,� Regulus said slowly, “Of all the people that I helped torture or murder. After every mission, I would come home and lock myself in the bathroom, hands over my ears, trying to drown out the screams in my head. I would close my eyes, trying not to see their eyes looking at me accusingly. Several times, I nearly fainted on a mission. I was disillusioned; well, I guess that’s a euphemism, after all that I had done,� he corrected himself, “But I couldn’t go on; to do so would have resulted in me booking a bed in the ward on the fifth floor of St. Mungo’s.�
And slowly Regulus’ voice grew louder, “If this was what had to be done to restore the purity of blood, then I wanted no part of it. And again, it was because of Sirius that my mindset changed. Sirius had friends; friends would even give up their lives for him. And one of his really good friends, your mother, happened to be a muggle-born. But I had no one like that. That, finally, opened my eyes to what was really important in this world. Maybe this could be considered weakness, I didn’t know and I didn’t care, I just wanted to get out.�

He stopped and then poured out some more firewhiskey into his glass and emptied it down his throat. Harry looked at Regulus, wondering whether to feel revolted by him or sorry for him. After a few minutes, when Regulus seemed to have regained some measure of self-control, he looked up at Harry. Harry had never seen such pain in another person’s eyes, and he concluded that if this man was indeed lying then he was the best actor that he, Harry, had ever seen.

“That’s when I found out that I couldn’t get out,� Regulus went on, “I had signed on for a lifetime of service to the Dark Lord; I couldn’t just walk away. And all this while, complaints of my lack of loyalty to the purebloods began to make their way to the Dark Lord. Most of them by Bella, I’m sure. She had loads of fun, gloating to my mother that both her sons had disappointed her.�

Regulus heaved a deep sigh. Harry chanced a glance at the clock on the wall and was somewhat surprised to find that it was already two in the morning. He turned his attention to Regulus, who was absentmindedly swirling some of the firewhiskey in his glass before emptying it down his gullet too.

“I realized that I was now a marked man,� said Regulus, startling Harry whose mind had wandered, “Anytime now someone was going to come my house, I would open the door and see a flash of green light and it would all be over. Or so I thought. But nothing happened for quite a while; I even stopped being sent on missions.�

Regulus paused for a moment before going on, “And then it came; a summons to meet the Dark Lord. I must confess that I was rather surprised by this. I hadn’t expected to be killed by the Dark Lord himself. And I wasn’t.�

Regulus smiled bitterly as he relived that day, “He told me that I had disappointed him by my apparent lack of loyalty to the cause and that I had to be punished. I did take quite some time to recover from that Cruciatus. And then the Dark Lord smiled at me, almost kindly, and it was the most revolting thing I had ever seen. He told me that I had to prove my loyalty by following him and assisting him in a task that he had to perform.�
“Creating the horcrux,� breathed Harry, “But why choose you?�
“I think the Dark Lord had made up his mind to kill me,� said Regulus looking pensive, “Therefore, choosing me was the perfect solution. You see, if he had taken any of his regular Death Eaters, he could never be sure if they might try to capture the Horcrux and hold him to ransom. The Dark Lord never trusted any of his followers.�
Harry nodded; this did tie in with what he knew of Voldemort’s marked distrust of everything and everyone. It definitely made sense for him to have taken Regulus if he had decided to kill him. That did raise some new questions, but Harry held back for the moment.

“My life was precious to me then, Harry,� Regulus went on, “And in my naiveté, I believed that if assisting him would pacify the Dark Lord then I was all for it. He told me that I was to be ready and that he would call for me when it was time. I went home and waited. Thoughts of escape did cross my mind occasionally, but I discarded them. There was no point in running if the Dark Lord decided to kill you.�

Regulus paused and now Harry could see that it was costing Regulus quite an effort to go on. “He called for me about a week later,� said Regulus, after swallowing hard a couple of time, “Said we had a mission to go on and the locket was necessary for it. We traveled to Kent that day, to one particular family there. Husband was a muggle, wife was a witch, and she was strongly against the Dark Lord. We walked up to the door and the Dark Lord, he knocked on the door, cool as a cucumber.�
Regulus paused again, and Harry could see his adam’s apple bobbing vigorously as he tried to swallow a large lump in his throat. “The man opened the door; he was dead before he hit the ground. The woman, she got her wand and started sending every curse she could think of, at us. She was standing in front of a door, guarding it almost, when she, too, fell. Then the Dark Lord blew open the door and we were looking into a playroom, and there were two children there, cowering in fear.�
Regulus’ voice was now shaking as he looked Harry in the eye. “I swear I didn’t know there were children in the house. I watched in horror, as the Dark Lord lifted his wand again, and, and…� Regulus stopped, running a hand over his face, possibly to wipe away a stray tear.
“He killed them,� Harry finished softly, looking horrified.
Regulus nodded and continued, he voice, slightly steadier. “I have seen grown men and women tortured and murdered, but this… this was horrible. I almost fainted again; my legs were threatening to give way under me. Bile was rising in my throat as I looked at them lying there dead, I felt as if I was going to vomit right there on the bedroom floor. And he was just standing there, cool as you please, not a hint of remorse. If I hadn’t been thinking of leaving the Death Eaters till then, this would definitely have been the clincher.�

Regulus stopped and this time he had to take a couple of shots of firewhiskey before he could continue. “And then he asked for the locket and I watched as he tore his soul into two and put one part in the locket. It was, if possible, even more gruesome than what I had just seen. You see, Harry, to tear your soul into two requires not just a terrible crime of murder, but a murder so heinous that it defies imagination. Killing innocent children, the way he did, was something that qualified as heinous enough to allow him to create the Horcrux.�

The firewhiskey seemed to have the required calming effect on Regulus and he continued more steadily, “Splitting his soul made the Dark Lord pretty weak and so I had to help him back to headquarters. Once we got there, he asked me to stay, since there was something else he needed my assistance in. He got Bella to prepare a room for me at headquarters and there I stayed, a prisoner, nothing more. It was almost a fortnight before he recovered enough for the next part of the plan.�

Regulus stood up and began to pace the kitchen again, probably feeling stifled from having sat for so long. “You can, perhaps, guess at what happened next,� he asked Harry.
Harry nodded, it was quite obvious really; Voldemort must have taken Regulus to the cave to hide the Horcrux. Harry, however, couldn’t understand why Voldemort had needed Regulus for it, so he asked Regulus about it.
“It’s quite simple, Harry. The Dark Lord’s blood is too precious to be wasted on opening secret entrances in caves,� Regulus replied, sarcastically. Suddenly, Regulus paused, and Harry noted that Regulus was looking at him intently. What Harry didn’t realize was that he, Harry, had begun cradling his head in his hand and his eyes were starting to glaze over.
“I can continue this tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep,� he said, smiling at Harry, who quickly lowered his hand and forced his eyes to focus.
“Don’t worry, I’m listening,� Harry said, “This is all fascinating. Besides this is the interesting part, isn’t it?�

Regulus laughed and continued his narrative. “We entered the cave and it was much as you must have seen it; the lake full of Inferi, the island in the middle, and the basin filled to the brim with some strange potion. The Dark Lord dropped the locket into the basin and as he did, some of the Inferi began to get restless. It was the distraction I needed. You see, Harry, I had realized what the locket was now, though I didn’t know it was called a Horcrux; I knew what purpose it served. I decided that I would take it and destroy it to make it easier to destroy the Dark Lord himself. But as the Dark Lord turned to face the Inferi that was causing the disturbance, I found that I couldn’t put my hand into the potion. Mind you, this was more to ascertain what type of potion it was, rather than to take out the locket itself. Since I couldn’t put my hand into it, I scooped out a little into my hands and drank it.�

Regulus involuntarily shuddered as if he could still taste the potion. “It was like being hit with a Cruciatus curse, only it was ten times worse. And mind you, this happened with only a sip of the potion. Drinking the whole potion was almost guaranteed to kill you.�
“I know,� said Harry tonelessly, “Dumbledore drank the whole thing. He was in such pain, as I’ve never seen anyone in before. He even kept asking me to kill him.�
“I’m not surprised,� Regulus replied, horrified, “It must have been a terrible experience for him. Anyway, I drank some water from the lake and felt a little better. By the time I was steady on my feet, the Dark Lord had quelled the Inferi and we left the cave and returned to headquarters.�
“Hang on,� said Harry suspiciously, “Why didn’t he kill you as soon as you left the cave?�
“Good question, Harry,� answered Regulus still pacing, “And it’s one that I have asked myself countless times. The only solution I can come up with is that the Dark Lord wanted to kill me before all his Death Eaters, as an example of what would be done to Death Eaters who proved to be disloyal. Anyway, we returned to headquarters and I was back under virtual house arrest.�

Regulus ran a hand through his hair and yawned before continuing, “That’s when I met Hector Dashwood, another minor Death Eater. He came over to headquarters one day to report on one of the missions he had been involved in. Hector was a year older than me and he had been at Hogwarts. We knew each other reasonably well since he had been a Slytherin too. He wanted to know what I was doing at headquarters and I told him the whole story, using some rather colourful language. I figured that I was a dead man anyway so it wouldn’t really hurt. To my great surprise, he too seemed to be interested in ending the Dark Lord’s reign, so he pressed me for more information. My first impression was that this was a trap of sorts, so I asked him to help me escape as proof of his intentions to destroy the Dark Lord.�
Regulus stopped pacing, and stood facing Harry who seemed to have forgotten all about sleeping. “So he helped me escape,� Regulus said bluntly.
“How?� asked Harry, all agog for more details.
Regulus grinned, “It was the simplest thing, really. He came over to the headquarters again the next day on some pretext and when he was there, he lowered the wards around my room. Then he left me a timed portkey, which activated early the next morning, hours after he had left. That way, I escaped and he wasn’t suspected at all.�

Harry blinked, seemingly disappointed by this rather simplistic escape plan. He had expected Regulus to have escaped after fighting his way past fifty death eaters. Regulus smiled at his rather crestfallen expression. “You’d do well to remember, Harry, that, sometimes, keeping things simple is the best way of handling a problem.�
Harry nodded slowly, vowing to keep this in mind. “So what happened next?� he queried.
“I was portkeyed to Hector’s house in Hampshire. He was waiting for me, and the moment I turned up, we Apparated here. I grabbed as much of my stuff as I could and then we headed to a hideout that he had chosen for me. He sure seemed pretty keen on getting rid of the Dark Lord,� mused Regulus and then he continued. “As you can imagine, the Dark Lord wasn’t too pleased by my escape and soon the Death Eaters were out looking for me. This was just what we needed, since it gave Hector the opportunity to get into headquarters more often and get some of the books out.�
“Wait,� said Harry, “What books?�
“Books of dark magic, Harry,� explained Regulus, “The Dark Lord wanted to make sure that no one knew of his sources of power, so his death eaters were instructed to get their hands on as many dark arts books as they could and bring them to him. I guessed that some of those books might have had some information on Horcruxes so I asked Hector to get them. Oh, and also some books on potions since we needed to replicate the potion in the basin.�
“Why?� asked Harry.
“Because, Harry, if the Dark Lord were to return to the cave after we had obtained the horcrux; seeing the potion gone would have tipped him off that the Horcrux had been destroyed and then he’d have just made another. So we decided to put a fake locket in the basin in place of the real one, and filled it up with the potion again,� Regulus said.
“Where did you get the fake locket?� asked Harry, quickly.
“We got one which closely resembled the real locket at one of those cheap trinket shops in Diagon Alley,� Regulus answered, “We put in the note and went back to the cave.�
Something about the note rang a bell in Harry’s mind. It was a few moments before he managed to figure it out. “Regulus, why did you say that you’d be long dead before Voldemort found you, in the note?� he asked, anxious to know if Regulus could answer this one.
Regulus smiled sardonically, “Like I said, you don’t live long if the Dark Lord wants you dead. I didn’t think I’d be around after destroying the locket Horcrux, so I put that in the message.�

Harry wasn’t sure if the explanation was enough but he decided to set it aside for the moment, especially since he had thought of another question. “Where’s the real locket then?� he asked.
“I snuck in here a few days after my mother’s death and hid it in the cabinet in the drawing room,� Regulus replied, “I managed to blow off the ornate ‘S’ on top of the locket but there was another one inside which was rather more resistant. So I put a strong locking charm on it and hoped no one would guess that this had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin.�

Harry was kicking himself again for not realizing that the locket they had found in fifth year was the real Horcrux. It did, however, confirm Regulus’ story to an extent. But Harry wasn’t thinking of that; he was lamenting the fact that either Sirius had thrown out the real locket in their massive cleaning drive then, or else Mundungus had got his hands on it the next year. And then a light bulb went off in his head.
“Krea…� he began and then clapped his hand over his mouth. The last thing he needed was for the old house-elf to return and see Regulus there. Silently he walked over to the boiler in the back of the kitchen. Looking under it he found the remains of Kreacher’s old abode. He rummaged through all the junk that Kreacher seemed to have accumulated, until he found what he was looking for.
Regulus watched him curiously as Harry walked back to the table and threw the locket onto it. “Is this it?� he asked quietly.
Regulus nodded, and then he reached over and picked it up. He tapped the locket with his wand and said a charm, at which the locket seemed to gladly spring open. Regulus turned the locket towards Harry who could now see the elegant ‘S’ embossed inside, with emeralds at the tip to make it look like a snake. Harry reached into his pocket and taking out the fake locket, he placed it on the table. “So that’s another one down,� he said, looking at Regulus.
“Yes,� Regulus replied, “But there’s still a lot to tell in my story.�

Harry sat back down and reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the two lockets lying side by side on the table. “So you and Hector went back to the cave?� Harry asked, “When?�
“About a week after my escape,� replied Regulus, “We had to move fast so that the Dark Lord did not move the Horcrux. Luckily, he hadn’t and we got it.�
“You got it?� repeated Harry, wonderingly, “Just like that?�
“Well, not quite, just like that. Some of the Inferi almost got us on the way out. And I nearly passed out from the pain of drinking the potion. But yes, we got it and we returned to the hide-out,� said Regulus.

Slowly, Regulus returned to his seat at the table and poured himself another generous helping of firewhiskey. Harry deduced that what Regulus was going to speak of, wasn’t going to be very pleasant to hear, but he had to hear it.
“And then we made the most costly mistake. I had told Hector not to touch the locket, which is what the Dark Lord had told me when we were traveling to the cave the first time. But when we returned to the hideout, we had a party of sorts to celebrate our success. And in that heady celebration, Hector suddenly picked up the locket and pulled it over his head.�

Regulus took another swig and then looked at Harry. “Now Harry, since a Horcrux is a part of a person’s soul, it will essentially prefer to inhabit a living body rather than an inanimate object. Which means that if it is given a chance; it will try to move to a human or animal body, than stay in, say, a locket. And that is the time it is most vulnerable, and most easily destroyed. Do you understand what I’m saying, Harry?� he asked.
Harry nodded, it all fit. The piece of the soul in the diary had been attempting to possess Ginny when he had destroyed it. And the ring must have been trying to possess Dumbledore when he had destroyed it. But with this came the realization of what must have happened.
“So the Horcrux began to possess Hector?� he asked slowly, “Surely you could destroy it when it began to possess him?�
“I could have, only I hadn’t learnt how to destroy the Horcrux yet,� said Regulus sadly, “We hadn’t thought that far ahead.�
Harry stared at Regulus, aghast. “But that means… the Horcrux must have moved into Hector,� he cried, “Now there’s another living Horcrux?�

Regulus spoke again, sounding as if he hadn’t heard Harry. “It was terrible to witness. Hector looked as if he was having a fit. He began to shake vigorously, his eyes rolled up and he began to foam at the mouth. And then his body began to rise up in the air, surrounded by a strange glow. I just stood there, not knowing what to do, wondering if we had come so far only to fail. After about five minutes of hovering in the air, Hector’s body crashed to the ground.�
Regulus passed his hand over his face as he relived those horrible moments. “I thought that he had to be dead, but to my great surprise, he was breathing feebly. I had worked out about the Horcrux transfer, but I wasn’t sure. So I took hold of the locket and pulled it free off his head. Nothing happened, and that made me pretty sure that the Horcrux had moved into Hector.�

Regulus sat silently staring at the last dregs of the amber liquid nestling at the bottom of the bottle. Harry didn’t say a word, his mind taken up with the imagination of the Horcrux having moved into another human being.
“Wonderful thing, polyjuice potion,� said Regulus suddenly.
Harry’s head jerked up. He couldn’t be sure if he had heard right; had Regulus just mentioned polyjuice?
“Hector had given me a couple of bottles of it. It, at least, allowed me to move freely even while there were death eaters looking for me. And that’s where this story takes a bizarre turn,� said Regulus, suddenly looking very tired. Harry didn’t answer, he had an inkling of where the story was going but he couldn’t still believe that it could be true.

“There was still some of the juice left, so I gave him a bit with my hair in it; and I had some with his hair in it and we changed into each other. He was still unconscious and so I side-along Apparated with him to Bellatrix’s house. She seemed only to happy to see us; I get the feeling that the Dark Lord might perhaps have blamed her for my disappearance,� said Regulus, “She didn’t ask any questions; heck, she didn’t even wait. She just drew her wand and killed Hector, thinking he was me. And the Horcrux was destroyed.�
“Are you sure of that?� asked Harry, trying to sound as if he didn’t find this whole story nauseating in the extreme.
“Yes. Since the body, in which it was housed, was destroyed, so was the Horcrux. Bella didn’t even wait after she killed Hector, she just Disapparated after telling me to get rid of the body. No doubt, she wanted to report to the Dark Lord herself that Regulus Black was dead. This was, of course, what I had been hoping for, since, in death, Hector was beginning to change back into himself. I Apparated to a little, isolated bit of country near Cornwall, and there I buried him in an unmarked grave,� Regulus sighed, “It was almost insulting to do that to him, but I had no choice. And then I went into hiding – until now.�

With that Regulus took hold of the bottle, and emptied the last few drops down his throat. Harry just sat there, idly staring at his empty bottle of butterbeer. He definitely felt like he needed a pensieve at that moment, it was just too much information to take in. Then out of his consciousness, a question surfaced. “You said you knew Dumbledore,� he asked Regulus.
“Yes, and that was thanks to my feelings of loneliness; just as yours helped me find you. One day, I happened to head out to just get some fresh air, hoping that doing so would ensure that I didn’t start climbing the walls of my hideout. And due to my carelessness, I got seen. Luckily for me, it was by a member of the Order of the Phoenix, who immediately reported to Dumbledore. Dumbledore got in touch with me and asked if I could help, by keeping track of the movements of some known Death Eaters. I agreed, and that’s what I have been doing since then.�
“But why didn’t you just come out of hiding when Voldemort disappeared?� asked Harry, feeling that this should have been the obvious thing to do.
“Come on, Harry, think about it. I was supposed to be dead. I was a Death Eater, wanted by the Ministry. If I had shown myself, either some of the remaining Death Eaters would have killed me, or else I would have ended up with life imprisonment in Azkaban,� said Regulus, impatiently, “Even Dumbledore couldn’t have saved me from that. Besides, my usefulness was in being unknown to those I spied on.�

“So you’ve been helping the Order?� asked Harry, feeling like his head would explode with all that he had heard.
“Don’t know how much I helped, but yeah. I learnt to…� here Regulus spread out his hands and said, “see without being seen, and hear without being heard. And I began to listen in on conversations of the Death Eaters who had managed to stay out of Azkaban. I frequented places similar to the Hog’s Head and managed to find out some interesting information now and then.�
Harry wasn’t listening; he had just thought of another question, a very important question. “Why didn’t you tell Dumbledore about the locket Horcrux,� he asked, his eyes glittering dangerously, “Dumbledore needn’t have died then.�
“I’m not so sure, Harry, I think Dumbledore might have died anyway,� said Regulus slowly, “But the answer to you question is in the house that I was put in. Do you know what quality the Sorting Hat looks for, to place someone in Slytherin?�
“Ambition,� answered Harry promptly, though his first instinct had been to say evil.
“Right you are. And so, once I got over Hector’s death I began to think. I had just helped destroy a Horcrux. I had made the Dark Lord a little less invincible. My ego began to bloat,� said Regulus sounding disgusted with his former self, “And I began to think that I could destroy the Dark Lord all by myself. Luckily, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the Dark Lord had made only one Horcrux. So I decided I would find all the Horcruxes, destroy them all, and then destroy the Dark Lord himself.�

Regulus definitely looked ready to drop now, but he ploughed on, determined to answer all of Harry’s questions. “I searched and searched for years. I knew that the Dark Lord’s disappearance was only temporary, that he’d be back. I told myself I could find all the Horcruxes and destroy them and then the Dark Lord would be mortal again. But as the years passed, I began to despair of ever finding them. Yet my ego would not let me give up so I kept searching, though I never managed to find a single one since then.�
“It is also unfortunate that Dumbledore never confided in anyone about his search for the Horcruxes. So no one told me, either, that Dumbledore was following the same path as I was,� Regulus continued, definite remorse in his voice now, “but my fault was more culpable as it was brought on by own large ego.�
Regulus could see the unspoken question in Harry’s eyes and he answered it, “When Dumbledore died, I realized that I had gone far enough without help. If Dumbledore, the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared, had died even before the war had begun in earnest, then I had to move fast. I knew I had wasted time in not seeking Dumbledore’s help so I decided to seek out the next best person, Dumbledore’s protégé – you,� he finished, looking straight at Harry.

Harry put his face in his hands, then taking off his glasses he began to massage his eyes gently. He couldn’t deny that the evening had been interesting, to say the least. His mind was spinning, almost out of control, while trying to make a coherent decision. He still found it hard to believe that this person was Sirius’ brother, thought to be dead for seventeen years, and indirectly responsible for the deaths of a Hector Dashwood and Albus Dumbledore. Did he really want to trust him? Do you have a choice? You’re this close to giving up already. Maybe he could help after all, a small voice spoke up in the back of his mind.

Harry put his glasses back on. He looked up at Regulus who seemed to be studying him quietly. “When do we start?� Harry asked briskly.
A slow smile began to spread out over Regulus’ face. “Tomorrow,� he answered, “I’m exhausted. I’ll kip out in the attic; it’s the one of the places without a portrait in it. I don’t think any of the portraits in this house would be able to keep it quiet that I’ve come back from the dead, in a manner of speaking.�
Harry grinned and agreed. He began to get up to head up to his room when Regulus seemed to think of something and asked him to sit down again. “What’s up?� asked Harry, yawning widely now.
“Do you know what the other Horcruxes are?� asked Regulus, sounding a trifle embarrassed, or so Harry thought.
“Yup. One was a diary, which I destroyed in second year,� recited Harry, much to Regulus’ astonishment, “Then the Gaunt family ring, which Dumbledore destroyed, and Slytherin’s locket that you destroyed. That leaves Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s, Nagini and Voldemort himself.�
Regulus seemed lost in thought when Harry finished running down the list. He gave himself a shake when Harry cleared his throat, and then he smiled. “I think its best we concentrate on where we can find Hufflepuff’s cup first since it’s the easiest one of the list as of now.� Harry nodded in agreement.

Regulus’ face turned serious, reminding Harry forcefully of McGonagall before she ladled them homework. “Before we begin looking for Hufflepuff’s cup, you need to make sure you’re up to speed so that you’re ready for any challenge which we might face when we go looking for the remaining Horcruxes,� he told Harry.
“But I am up to speed,� burst out Harry indignantly, “We can’t afford to waste any more time, so let’s begin looking now.�
Regulus raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Alright, what spell would you use if you were to suddenly come across Inferi?� he asked.
Harry paused, stumped. Desperately he tried to remember the spell that Dumbledore had used in the cave, but to no avail. “Err… something that produces heat and light?� he mumbled.
“That is correct,� chuckled Regulus, “But you have a long way to go. That is why you need to study some more before we begin.�
“Study?� said Harry incredulously, “But if I wanted to study I would have gone back to Hogwarts.�
“True. But would you have had the same freedom at Hogwarts?� asked Regulus sensibly.
“Well no,� agreed Harry, “But when you say study, what do you mean?�
“I don’t think your books for seventh year will be very different from mine so I’ll get you those,� Regulus said, “I think Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms and Transfiguration should about do it.�
“Why potions?� whined Harry, thinking that he had just got rid of potions only to have it foisted on him again.
“Because, Harry,� Regulus explained patiently, “Quite often when you’ve been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty curse, knowing the right potion would be the fastest way to get you back on your feet.�
“Well ok, I suppose I could do that,� Harry grumbled, “But I still think spending six months on this is a bit of a waste of time.�
Regulus laughed out loud. “Six months? I expect you to have finished all the four in a month.�
Harry gaped as if Regulus had just told him to go up against a dragon. “One month?� he squawked, “You must have me confused with Hermione.�
“I beg your pardon?�
“Nothing,� mumbled Harry. Then when he saw Regulus grinning at him, he hastened to add, “She’s a friend of mine who’d read each years’ books in the month before term began.�
“She has the right idea,� said Regulus, “Anyway the reason I want you to finish them in a month is because I want to give you some books that deal with rather more advanced magic than what you’d have learnt at Hogwarts. So you need to know what Hogwarts can teach you, before you move on to the advanced stuff.�
Harry nodded in agreement. Regulus looked straight at him, right into his eyes and Harry began to feel slightly uncomfortable with his penetrating gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?� he asked.
Regulus ignored the question and began to speak slowly and clearly, “Harry, some of those books would deal with very dark magic. I think you need to have some idea of what you’re against which is why I shall give them to you. Also, I’ll tell you how to get to the Black library. However, I must warn you, Harry; the Dark Arts can teach you as well as seduce you. It is easy to be corrupted by the power the Dark Arts can give you. But you must resist – because if you give in, then you’d be no different from the Dark Lord.�

Harry gulped visibly when Regulus said this. Am I strong enough to resist the Dark Arts? I couldn’t even resist the Half-Blood Prince, he thought.
“Penny for your thoughts, Harry,� Regulus said suddenly, bringing Harry out of his reverie.
“Nothing,� said Harry, quickly, “I’m just really tired, I might even fall asleep right here at the table.�
“Well we can’t have that now, can we?� said Regulus with a laugh, “Off to bed then, and good night. Or rather, good morning,� he amended, glancing at the clock.

But as Harry trudged up to his room, he wasn’t sure if he was going to get to sleep at all. He had a lot to think about. Was he right in placing his trust in a former Death Eater, who was believed to be dead, and who was Sirius’ brother? Harry put his right hand to his forehead and rubbed it to ease the headache that he was beginning to feel. There was no doubt about it; he was definitely edging closer to ending up next to Lockhart at St. Mungo’s.

A/N: There, as promised I’ve got the next chapter up faster and I promise to update, maybe not as regularly as this, but still regularly enough to keep all my wonderful readers satisfied. I’d like to thank all those who read and reviewed, your support has been instrumental in getting this story up and running again. Thanks also to my wonderful beta whose encouragement and assistance has been vital in getting this chapter up.
Chow for now.
Scarhead Steve.

Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

As the darkness in twelve, Grimmauld Place was grudgingly replaced by the sunlight filtering in through the few de-grimed windows; a very groggy Harry stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. After a late night spent listening to the unusual tale of Regulus Black’s life, Harry hadn’t slept much, having been kept awake by an internal debate on the pros and cons of accepting Regulus’ story. When he had finally fallen asleep at five in the morning, he had made up his mind to trust Regulus but also to keep him at an arm’s length, just in case. And now barely three hours later he was groping his way to a cup of some strengthening fluid.






Pushing open the door to the kitchen, Harry paused as the heavenly aroma of bacon and eggs assailed his nostrils. He pried his half-open eyelids a little further up, and noticed Regulus standing over the stove and stirring the contents of a steaming pot. Harry concluded that Regulus, like himself, had learnt to forage for himself, and by the smell of things, had learnt very well. Harry strolled over to the table and pulled up a chair for himself.






Hearing the sound of the chair scraping along the floor, Regulus spun around and seeing Harry, his face split in a wide grin. It occurred to Harry that the two brothers were very alike; Sirius also had had the habit of keeping a smile almost permanently glued to his face. Harry remembered with a pang, that Sirius had even been smiling seconds before he had fallen through the veil in the Department of Mysteries.






“Good morning,� Regulus said, a view to which Harry was yet to subscribe, “It appears that our discussion earlier hasn’t been too conducive to a good night’s sleep.�




“No,� said Harry, speaking thickly, and wishing Regulus wouldn’t look so like a fresh daisy, it was giving him a headache.




“Nothing a good strong cup of tea won’t cure,� Regulus continued, and taking the pot he had been stirring off the stove, he poured some of the contents into a cup and passed it over to Harry. Harry let the steam rising off the healing brew swirl around his face, and slowly the pain in his temples subsided. Feeling a little better, he began to take regular sips, and he had to admit that Regulus definitely had a way with tea. With something approaching normalcy, Harry was even able to muster a reasonably cheerful smile.






“Boy, I really needed that,� Harry stated, blinking to clear the last mists of sleep from his fogged mind. He watched as Regulus ladled out a generous helping of bacon and eggs onto a plate, which was then placed in front of him. Regulus then picked up his own cup of tea and plate of food and joined Harry at the table.






“How did you get the bacon and the eggs? Did you conjure them up?� Harry asked interestedly, as he forked a sliver of bacon and transported it to his mouth, and then promptly spat it back into his plate. “Why the heck didn’t you tell me it was hot?� he queried chagrined, his eyes streaming.






“I would have thought it was obvious,� Regulus answered grinning, “You did see me take it off the stove.� Still chuckling, he passed Harry a jug of cool water, which Harry proceeded to gulp down as fast as he could. As the burning sensation died down, to be replaced by complete numbness, Harry was convinced that he would be unable to taste again.




“To answer your question, Harry, I didn’t conjure up the food,� Regulus proceeded, “There’s a useful little store nearby that stocks all that I need. I remembered it from the time that I used to live here. Their food is pretty good, try it.�






Harry eyed the contents of his plate suspiciously, as if expecting it to jump up and bite him. Gingerly, he skewered another slice of bacon and after diligently blowing on it till it fluttered like a tree in the high wind, he ate it. Slowly the pain diminished as he chewed on the bacon that had obviously been made from contented pigs. By the time Regulus, who had been pouring a spot of firewhiskey into his tea, looked up, Harry’s plate was clean.




“Whoa, that was fast,� Regulus observed, his eyes widening in surprise, “Did you just inhale all your food or something?�




“Hey, I grew up in a house with a fat uncle and a fatter cousin,� Harry explained, “If you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat at all.�




Regulus laughed out loud, and even Harry, whose thoughts of late had veered more towards the morbid that the humorous, cracked a smile. “Would you like some more?� Regulus asked when his spasm of mirth had exhausted itself.




“Nah, that was enough. Wouldn’t mind some more tea though,� Harry replied hopefully.




“Help yourself, there’s plenty more in the teapot,� Regulus said, gesturing towards a ghastly piece of crockery that Harry had not noticed thus far. When Harry laid eyes on it, he recoiled in horror, causing his fork, which he had been holding loosely, to fly through the air and narrowly miss impaling Regulus. Regulus, who had had to duck in a hurry to avoid the missile, emerged slowly and hastened to make the necessary explanations.




“Sorry, I should have warned you about that, it does give people a bit of a start when they first see it,� Regulus said, going back to his food, “It was one of my mother’s. She did have a taste for the… bizarre.�






Harry could well believe it. The pot was shaped like a nasty pig-like creature with fish scales, a malicious sneer and a snake for a tongue that formed the spout for the pot. Time had caused the paint to darken giving it an even more forbidding look. Harry approached the pot warily, expecting to come alive at any moment and attack him. But it was an extremely well behaved teapot and Harry poured himself another cup of tea quickly, gave a small shudder, and hurriedly returned to his seat.






“So what’s the plan for the day?� he asked, when he had managed to calm his fluttering nerves a bit. Regulus, who had just taken aboard a mouthful of eggs, champed in silence before replying.




“First of all, I’m going to show you how to get into the Black family library…� Regulus started and then paused. “What are you grinning about?� he asked.




Harry, whose mouth had curved upwards, when the library had been mentioned, hastily resumed his somber expression. “Nothing,� he mumbled, and then when he noticed Regulus looking at him questioningly with his eyebrows raised, he proceeded, “I was just thinking of what the reactions of my two best friends would have been like if they had heard that there was a secret Black library.�






“Oh,� Regulus answered, and then a thought seemed to strike him. “I’m surprised Sirius didn’t show you the library,� he continued, looking at Harry.




“When we were at Grimmauld Place earlier, we didn’t really need to do any research,� Harry responded, “And maybe Sirius didn’t want to show us the library because, like you said, there are certain leanings towards the Dark Arts, and maybe Sirius didn’t want to expose us to that.�




“True,� Regulus mumbled as he chewed, “Well anyway, as I was saying, I’ll show you the Black library. There are some really old books down there, and you may be able to find something about Horcruxes. I’ve looked through a few already, didn’t find anything though. But since you’ve been under Dumbledore’s tutelage, you might have a fresh perspective on what to look for.�






Where’s Hermione when you need her!!!, Harry thought as he nodded gloomily; he hated research work. But he knew also that it was something that needed to be done. “What about you? What are you going to do today?� Harry asked dispiritedly.




“I’m going to Flourish and Blotts,� Regulus replied calmly, and then noticing Harry’s look of alarm, he laughed again. “Don’t worry, I won’t be recognized,� he said confidently, and he took a final swig of tea and set the cup aside.






Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was a streak of recklessness that seemed to be characteristic of the Black brothers. As Regulus cleared up breakfast (after assuring Harry that he was glad to do it and really needed no help), Harry headed back up to his room and, pulling out a parchment, he began to write.

---

The dull murmur in the Great Hall at breakfast time wasn’t interrupting Ron’s appreciation of the house-elves’ mastery at cooking and he was getting his daily essential nourishment. Moments later there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind and Hermione plunked her books down on the Gryffindor table and began to pile food on her plate.






“Err… Hermione, you might want to chew before you swallow. You wouldn’t want to choke before the N.E.W.Ts, would you?� said Ron with a twinkle in his eye. Hermione satisfied herself with shooting a disparaging look at Ron before resuming her eating.






“Seriously, Hermione, you should slow down a little on the studying. I mean, the N.E.W.Ts are a while away and I think you’re pushing yourself too hard,� said Ron, abandoning his flippant tone and now sounding worried. Ginny who happened to be passing by, sat down next to them and supported her brother’s stand.






“Yeah, Hermione, what with your Head Girl duties, and other activities, and the N.E.W.Ts I think you’ll wear away to a shadow soon,� she said. Hermione was saved the need to answer by the arrival of the morning post. Ron and Ginny had received letters from their mother with information on how the rest of the family was doing. Hermione looked up hopefully but all the owls passed by, and except for the Daily Prophet, she had no other mail. Ginny noticed her disappointment and tried to extend some comfort.




“I’m sure your parents are fine, Hermione,� she said gently.




“I know, but I just wish I could hear from them,� Hermione replied sadly.




“Well, with that Fidelius charm thing I’m sure they’re safe… Ouch,� exclaimed Ron, glaring at his sister who had pinched his arm. But the damage was done and battle lines had been drawn.




“And what’s that supposed to mean, Ron?� Hermione asked, turning on him sharply. Ginny made a warning noise in the back of her throat, wishing that she had the time to clump Ron over the head and see sense.




“Considering all that Mum and Dad have done for him, I’d have thought Harry would have made arrangements for their security as well,� said Ron, ignoring his sister’s attempts at getting his attention.




Hermione looked at him as if he had gone totally off his head. “Ron, you really are thick aren’t you?� she asked dangerously, “Whose idea do you think it was to move the headquarters of the Order to the Burrow?�




“Lupin’s I thought,� Ron fired back, again ignoring Ginny’s sigh of exasperation, “And anyway what difference does that make?�




“First, it was Harry’s idea to move the Order since the Order HQ has to be guarded by certain powerful charms including the Fidelius,� Hermione rebutted triumphantly, “Not only that, since it is the HQ now, there’ll always be one or two Order members present at the Burrow at all times. So, you see, your parents are very safe.�




Ron and Ginny’s mouths dropped open in unison, making them look like a comical duo in a cross-talk act. Quite obviously, this piece of news had been completely unexpected. “How do you know this?� asked Ron, clearly deflated.




“Because I asked Lupin,� Hermione answered, continuing to rub it in, “Apparently, Harry told him that with Dumbledore’s and Sirius’ death, he thought that it would be better to move the Order to a place where there would be somebody at all times. Lupin agreed and so they moved HQ to the Burrow.�




Ginny, who had been thinking hard, voiced her concern. “But if the Fidelius charm is on our house then that means Ron and I can’t go back there for the holidays,� she said.




Hermione snorted with impatience. “Don’t you see, the Secret Keeper is Lupin and you remember what he said at the first Order meeting after the wedding?�




“Erm… what did he say?� Ron asked sheepishly.




“He said welcome to the Burrow, new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Since as Secret Keeper he told us that, it means we can now find it without any trouble,� she explained with the exaggerated patience of a teacher explaining her subject to a class of not too bright students.




“But the question is – why did Harry do that?� Ron put in, still reeling slightly at these new revelations. Ron had meant this as a rhetorical question, sort of a heart-cry. Instead, to his great surprise, Hermione apparently had answers to rhetorical queries as well.




“Isn’t it obvious?� she replied, sighing, “At Bill’s wedding there were lots of people present, right? And there was a possibility that some of them might have been in league with Voldemort. So once they saw all of us returning to the Burrow, they’d want to attack it immediately. By shifting HQ to the Burrow, Harry made sure that even when he was gone, no one could attack its inhabitants, thanks to all the enchantments.�




That Harry was capable of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff was quite a revelation to the Weasley siblings. As they sat mulling over his actions, Neville Longbottom, who had a letter in his hand and a very puzzled expression on his face, joined their merry little group.






“What have you got there, Neville?� asked Ron, hoping to change the subject. He was feeling extremely guilty about doubting his missing best friend, and he hoped that a few moments of Neville’s well meaning but klutzy companionship might do something to assuage that guilt.




“A letter from my grandmother,� Neville replied, still looking slightly dazed, “Remember she went to visit her relatives during the holidays, which is why I stayed with you guys? Well, she’s back home and she’s written to me asking me to thank Harry.�




“Thank Harry?� Ginny blurted out in astonishment, “Whatever for?�




� For…� Neville consulted the letter again, “giving her the idea of visiting her relatives. Oh, and also for advising her to ask your mum if I could stay at your place for the rest of the holidays.�




If Ron and Ginny hadn’t known Neville better, they would have thought that he had been having a go at something stronger than butterbeer. ‘Harry moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform’ about summed up their thoughts. Ron turned to ask Hermione what she thought of this latest exhibition of Harry’s lunacy, to find that she was already waving energetically towards the Ravenclaw table, and soon Luna Lovegood joined them.






“Hello all, any news of Harry?� she asked, peering around dreamily, as if expecting to see Harry emerge from under the table.




“No, Luna, we haven’t heard anything,� said Hermione briskly, “but we wanted to ask you who tipped your dad off about the dragon story?�




“Harry did actually,� Luna informed them, still looking as if she had wandered into the Great Hall by mistake, “In fact, Dad is planning to make a special note of thanks to him in his article in the next issue of the Quibbler.�




“He’s completely mental; Harry, I mean,� said Ron when he had managed to hitch up his drooping jaw. The expression on Ginny and Neville’s faces seemed to indicate that they too felt that Harry needed to visit a good mental specialist, and right speedily.




But, there was no trace of confusion on Hermione’s face; in fact she was smiling. “Oh, he’s brilliant,� she observed, with something approaching awe in her voice.




“Brilliant?� Ron echoed, feeling that brilliant was scarcely the adjective he would use to describe Harry’s behaviour, “He’s crazy; what was the point of sending Neville’s grandmother on a trip to her relatives and Luna’s father to Romania?�




“To get Neville and Luna at the Burrow of course,� Hermione stated, “Since that day at the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, all the Death Eaters know that Neville and Luna are good friends of ours, and they are pretty capable when it comes to fighting, which therefore makes them targets as well.�




“Thank you, Hermione,� said Luna. Hermione had been openly disdainful of Luna, especially in their fifth year and now to hear her say that Luna was a good friend of theirs and praising her fighting skills was quite a vote of confidence, and Luna was touched.






With a brief nod and a smile in Luna’s direction, Hermione went on. “So my guess is, Harry got both of them over to the Burrow for two reasons. One, to keep them safe at HQ till they had to return to Hogwarts, and two, to be able to hold their own in case of an attack,� she finished, and but for the fact that the rest of them were still digesting her explanation, there might have been applause.




Luna was the first to break the silence. “It makes perfect sense,� she mused, “well thought out Hermione.� Ron and Neville were still trying to work all this out, but Ginny was staring at Hermione with a strange look on her face, which began to make the older girl feel slightly uncomfortable.




“What’s up, Ginny?� Hermione asked frowning, because she was being reminded of Ginny’s expression when she had found out that Hermione had known of Harry’s plan of leaving.




“How do you do that?� Ginny asked slowly.




“Do what?�




“Read his mind,� Ginny clarified, “It’s like you know how Harry’s thinks.�




Hermione let out a tinkling laugh. “That’s ridiculous, Ginny, I was just guessing. I mean, it’s what I would do if I were Harry.�




“Well if that was a guess, then I’m the Queen of England,� stated Luna, “and speaking of the Queen, make sure you read the next issue of the Quibbler for an article on her.� And she walked back to the Ravenclaw table leaving behind her an uncomfortable silence that had nothing to do with the upcoming exposé on the Queen.






Hermione returned to her plate of food, determinedly avoiding the eyes that were fixed on her. Ginny and Ron looked faintly suspicious while Neville was staring at her interestedly, as one does when one meets a mind reader for the first time. Hermione was just wondering if she should try to talk Quidditch to ease the strain, when there was sharp gasp from the other end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville all looked up together to see what had caused this sudden outburst. And then all their jaws dropped simultaneously and four voices chorused out together, “HEDWIG�.






And sure enough, Harry’s snowy-white owl was swooping down towards the foursome, but strangely she had a letter clenched in her beak rather than tied to her leg. Hedwig neatly dropped the letter right in front of Hermione and flew away.




“Wait Hedwig,� Hermione cried out desperately, “I want to send a reply.�




But the owl didn’t wait; clearly acting under Harry’s instructions, she flew up and out the window into the clear blue September sky.






All four of them now leaned over to look at the letter that Hedwig had dropped. Surprisingly, Harry had written a short note on the envelope, which they all read together.






Dear all,




I’m fine so far. How are you all doing? I don’t think I’ll be able to write very frequently after this. I can’t risk sending Hedwig as she’s too easily recognizable and I can’t find any other owls to use. I’ll try to be in touch. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok.




Love,
Harry.




P.S. Hermione, the contents of this envelope are for your eyes only. Make sure you are alone when you read it and destroy it immediately after.






There was much eyebrow raising and forehead-wrinkling at the postscript. Hermione, sensing that the timing couldn’t have been worse, picked up the envelope with shaking fingers and held it uncertainly.




“Well?� said Ron, expecting Hermione to tear open the letter so that they could all read it together.




“Well what?� she asked evasively without meeting his eyes, though his meaning couldn’t have been clearer. She kept an eye out for all possible exits to assist in a speedy escape.




“Aren’t you going to open it?� Ginny prodded. One could understand the Weasley siblings’ testiness. After all, Ron was Harry’s best friend and Ginny had been his girlfriend, and in light of that it was rather galling for them to have Harry writing special letters to Hermione.




“Yes, but not here,� Hermione replied carefully, sidling sideways along the bench, like a diffident crab, “I’m going back to the common room to read it privately.�




“Surely whatever Harry has to say to you can’t be such a big secret that we can’t know about,� said Ginny, her eyes narrowed.




“He certainly seemed to mean it that way,� replied Hermione, getting up quickly. She picked up her books and the envelope and made to leave, not failing to notice that the atmosphere in their group had gone extremely frigid.






Making her way quickly out of the Great Hall and away from the curious stares of the other students, Hermione hurried towards the Gryffindor common room. Taking one of the corners at a high rate of mph, she attempted to walk clean through Minerva McGonagall.




“I’m sorry Professor,� Hermione gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth in surprise and completely forgetting that McGonagall was now the Headmistress, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.�




“No harm done, Ms. Granger,� replied McGonagall, resuming her normal dignified bearing after nearly having been knocked base over apex by Hermione colliding with her at full tilt, “I assume that that was Potter’s owl that has just visited you.�




“Err… yes,� Hermione answered hesitantly, hoping McGonagall wouldn’t ask what the letter had said since it was something that she herself was still ignorant of.




“Well, judging by the haste with which you were trying to get away from the rest of the school I assume you know the contents of the letter,� McGonagall said with a twinkle in her eye.




Hermione stared uncomprehendingly at her headmistress, wondering if said headmistress had had one over the eight. How could she be expected to know the contents of the letter? It was still, quite obviously, sealed, and she, unlike Superman, did not have x-ray vision. And then it hit her. “You mean this is…?� she mumbled, looking at the letter in a new light.




“I would expect so,� confirmed McGonagall, “So I’ll let you carry on to the common room where doubtless you are eager to peruse the contents.� And saying so, she strolled off towards her office.






Hermione hurried past McGonagall and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, which luckily for her, happened to be free of any stragglers. Tearing open the envelope she pulled out the single piece of parchment that it contained and threw the envelope into the flames. The letter had only one sentence.




“The address of Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s residence is thirteen, Edgeware Road.�




Hermione smiled slowly. “Thank you� she whispered to the empty common room and she crumpled up the parchment and deposited it in the fire as well, before collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh of relief.






Just then the portrait hole opened to admit the two Weasleys, and Hermione braced herself. She could see their eyes darting between her curled up on the sofa, and the burning embers of the letter and its envelope. For quite a while no one spoke, and the common room stayed silent except for the merry crackling of the fire.






“So erm… how’s Harry?� Ron finally asked, turning beetroot red, and speaking in a sickeningly sweet voice.




“I know as much as you do about that,� Hermione answered truthfully, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.




Ginny who had dropped into one of the armchairs by the fire was watching the last bit of the parchment turning into ash. “What do you mean?� she asked plaintively, “You just got a letter from him, which you burnt.�






Hermione laughed, not out of spite, but because she was feeling extremely relieved and her relief had turned to joy, the sort of joy that makes one want to dance and sing. But she quit it quickly when she noticed that the others were not joining in her moment of mirth. “I burnt it because Harry asked me to,� said Hermione, “Oh don’t look like that, Ron, the letter just had my parents’ address,� she snapped, when he snorted derisively. Sure enough, she had found the talking point. Ron abandoned his rhinoceros imitation and, looking more like someone who had been on the receiving end of a sharp buffet to the solar plexus, he gaped at her with his mouth open again.




“What?� Ginny exclaimed, speaking for her brother as well, who for the moment seemed incapable of speech.




“Harry’s the secret keeper for the Fidelius charm on my parents’ house, so he sent me the address,� explained Hermione patiently, secretly enjoying their looks of amazement.




“Oh,� said Ginny, when Hermione had finished, “Oh… ummm… well, that’s good,� she finished.




Ron, who had just taken a seat, shot up as if realizing suddenly that it was red hot, and began to pace the room. He seemed to be struggling for utterance, and his face worked furiously as he thought of what to say. Finally realizing the futility of it all, he grinned sheepishly and said, “That’s great, Hermione. Now you can go home for the holidays.�






Ginny seemed to come to herself and regain her joie de vivre, and she too smiled her brightest smile and echoed her brother’s comments. Hermione couldn’t help feeling that this was definitely the way things needed to be. With the war at hand, and Harry missing, the last thing they needed was to be arguing amongst themselves. As she thought these profound thoughts, she looked over the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts castle and suddenly started in alarm.




“We haven’t been to visit Hagrid yet, have we?� she asked the flame-haired Weasleys in a tone approaching panic.






And so, during their lunch hour, Hermione, Ron and Ginny knocked nervously on the door of the little cabin out on the Hogwarts grounds. There were the usual sounds of movement from inside the cabin accompanied by the frenzied barks of Hagrid’s dog, Fang. The next moment, the door was flung wide open and a large, hairy face stared down at the three of them. Awe-inspiring as Hagrid could be to new students, everyone came to learn quite soon that his size belied a soft heart. At the moment however, the softness seemed to be in short supply, as a frown disfigured his usually jovial countenance.






“Well, ‘sbout time you thought of ol’ Hagrid,� he growled at them.




“We’re sorry, Hagrid,� they chorused together, smiling disarmingly at him.




“It’s been difficult trying to pry Hermione away from a book this year,� Ron grinned, before grimacing when a sharp punch connected with his arm.




“Dontcha tease little Hermione,� Hagrid said, scowling at Ron, “At least you coulda come before.�




“I would’ve,� Ron began defensively, “If I wasn’t so afraid of… AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!�






Fang, who had managed to squeeze past Hagrid and had launched himself joyfully at Ron, knocking him over onto the hard earth, prompted the yell of terror. Placing himself squarely on Ron’s chest, Fang then proceeded to slobber all over his face.




“Gerroff! Hagrid, get him off, get him off!� Ron yelled in disgust, attempting vainly to fight of the dog’s affections.




“Oi! Fang! Stop that, you dumb dog,� Hagrid commanded, trying hard to keep a straight face. The girls had quit trying and were guffawing loudly at Ron’s predicament. Obediently, Fang got off Ron’s chest and strolled over to the girls, who happily patted him on his large head, still giggling. Ron sat up and fished out his handkerchief. Grumbling, he wiped his face thoroughly, attempting to remove all traces of Fang off himself.






“Well, come on in, you all,� Hagrid said, back in good humour, and he stepped aside to let them in. The three of them strolled in and settled in the large chairs that dotted Hagrid’s humble abode. Hagrid pottered over, if a person of his size could be said to ‘potter’, to his furnace and tended to a large kettle, which was steadily steaming.






“You’re lucky I’ve got a pot of tea on. An’ I just finished another batch of rock cakes. Like some?� Hagrid asked, expecting a large order. Unfortunately, opinion on Hagrid’s culinary skills varied widely. Hagrid thought they were great; everyone else thought they were a danger to man and beast.






“How’s Grawp?� Hermione asked quickly, hoping that the change of topic would enable them to escape having to take on a sample of rock cakes, whose only possible could be as training bludgers.




“Oh, he’s grand,� Hagrid replied, pleased that they had asked, “He’s happy now that he’s got a new friend.�




Hermione, Ron and Ginny exchanged looks of horror. Grawp had a new ‘friend’? Did that mean Hagrid had found another giant and brought him or her back to the forest? At the thought of that possibility, their imagination boggled.






“When you say ‘new friend’,� Ginny asked timidly, “Whom are you referring to, Hagrid?




Hagrid lowered his voice conspiratorially, which to the three of them was another bad sign, and said, “Buckbeak, obviously.�




“WHAT?� they all yelled in unison, aghast. This was worse than they could have imagined. Buckbeak the hippogriff, they knew, was a strong creature. But against a sixteen-foot giant with an extremely short temper, his chances of survival were lower than that of a snowman in the Sahara.






“You’re trying to get Buckbeak and Grawp to be friends?� Hermione asked in alarm, while Ron contented himself with staring at Hagrid with ill-concealed astonishment.




“Shhh…� Hagrid hissed loudly at Hermione, “No one knows Buckbeak’s still here. Anyway, I’m sure once they get to know each other, they’ll be great friends.�




Hermione and Ginny sighed and Ron shook his head. They knew that the most likely outcome of the state of affairs was that when Grawp got the chance, he would probably throttle his ‘friend’. Still, there was no use in explaining this to Hagrid. They had realized long ago that once Hagrid had an idea, there could be no talking him out of it.






Conversation flagged for a while after this startling revelation. The kettle came to a boil and Hagrid poured out some tea for all of them into humongous mugs. Ron had regularly confided to Harry that tea at Hagrid’s could sustain them for at least a day and a half. That is, if they ever got through the entire mug. Most of the time, the tea would taste like one of Snape’s potions, causing increasingly exaggerated and amusing reactions. Today was no different, and as Hermione looked out of the window of Hagrid’s cabin, she could see Ron surreptitiously pouring the contents of his mug into Hagrid’s vegetable garden. Ginny, who was extremely fond of animals, was giving Fang a run on the grounds. Left alone in Hagrid’s cabin, Hermione loyally struggled through her mug of what tasted like dishwater.






“How’ve you been, Hermione? You ok?� Hagrid asked as he came up behind Hermione and joined her in looking out of the window.




“Yes. Things have been a little hectic, but I’m managing all right,� Hermione replied, smiling up at him.




“Always knew you’d make Head Girl,� Hagrid said proudly, eyeing Hermione’s badge. Hermione smiled again, but this time it wasn’t quite as wide. She was recalling the day McGonagall had come by and given her the badge.






In the days since they had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione had thrown herself into her studies and her responsibilities as Head Girl, trying not to think about the fact that Voldemort was growing stronger and that Harry was out there all alone. Lots of work meant that she didn’t have to dwell on the decision she had made. And everyone else had been very supportive of her at Hogwarts, which had made it a lot easier to not reach for the paper every day and fear the worst. But fear she did, and she knew that Ron, Ginny and, indeed, almost all of Hogwarts felt the same.






She hadn’t forgotten about Hagrid, after all, he was their one refuge at Hogwarts. But she also knew that Hagrid looked on Harry as a son, and to face him after letting Harry go was what had made Hermione hold back and not visit him yet. And she was quite sure that their conversation now was moving towards Harry.






“Hermione, I ain’t angry with you,� Hagrid said softly, seemingly divining her thoughts, “You did what you felt was the right thing at the time.�




“Would you have done the same?� Hermione asked, hoping for a confirmation that it was indeed the right thing to do.




“I dunno,� Hagrid answered honestly, much to Hermione’s disappointment. “But I do know one thing,� Hagrid continued, “This is what Harry is meant to do, whether from Hogwarts or outside. An’ he’s been brave enough to go out there and face it like a man. That’s what counts.�




“But I feel like such a coward, Hagrid,� Hermione said sadly, “Ron and I were supposed to go with him, to help him through this. I could have talked him into letting us come but I didn’t.�




“You’re not a coward,� Hagrid said forcefully, “None of you are. You’re all Gryffindors and believe me, when the time comes, you’ll all prove your courage.�






Hermione sighed heavily, and looked out across at the forbidden forest. The site of so many adventures, but now it only served to remind her of the ever-growing darkness. The war was coming, and it would be upon them soon. But the outcome of the war, who would win, and who would lose? That was something that could only be hoped for, but not foreseen. As they looked into an unknown future, Hagrid placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder, and they both silently prayed for their only hope.

A/N: I’ve actually had this chapter ready for a while but what with one thing and another I haven’t been able to put it up till now. Hope everyone enjoys this installment, and thanks to all who have read and reviewed so far. And thank you to my wonderful beta for your suggestions and assistance and for getting this back to me in a matter of hours, wow, that was amazing. Next chapter up soon, I promise.




Chow for now.




Scarhead Steve.

A/N: Well, what can I say? Nothing really, which can forgive my terrible sin of omission. To all those who have waited for ages for this chapter, I can only say I am completely guilty and worthy of all your condemnation. I have been floundering in an ever growing sea of responsibility and have let this story slide, and for that I am sorry. I hope to make up for it by getting up few more chapters in the next couple of weeks. If you are still willing to give this story a chance, then I salute you and hope that this installment lives up to your expectations.

Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

---

It was a weary Harry Potter who laid aside the book on Defensive Magic that he had been idly flipping through. One month had now passed since Regulus had obtained the necessary books for his research and Harry was beginning to realize just how valuable time was. Over the past month he had had barely enough sleep and yet he felt as if he had not achieved much. Almost every minute of his day was accounted for. He had to spend time studying the seventh year text books. This was followed by a period of training with Regulus, which usually ended with Regulus having to pick up Harry off the floor and attending to either his mismatched ears or his jelly legs. Though Harry managed to get in a few good shots it was still obvious that he needed more practice. Then the evenings were usually spent poring over old tomes and trying to strategise on the possible locations of the Horcruxes, and on Voldemort’s next move.


It was also becoming increasingly normal for Harry to wake up with a knot of fear in his stomach. He quite realized that his progress was painfully slow and he was sure that he wasn’t anywhere near ready to face Voldemort. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Tom Riddle would begin an all out attack on the wizarding world. The only way to prevent the attack was to stop Voldemort soon, but he still wasn’t close to the answers he needed.


Sighing, Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought back to his previous encounters with the Lord Voldemort. Though the whole world believed that it was Harry’s courage and skill that had enabled him to come up trumps each time, to a rather dejected Harry it seemed as if his successes had been due to a combination of luck and timely intervention by Dumbledore. With Dumbledore no longer there to guide him, Harry knew the likelihood of his surviving the final encounter with the Dark Lord had reduced considerably. And along with that thought, came anger. Anger against Dumbledore for trusting Snape. Anger against Snape for betraying Dumbledore. And anger against Malfoy for being a coward. With one brisk movement, Harry picked up the book at his elbow and flung it away. The sound of breaking crockery did nothing to ameliorate his high blood pressure.


Regulus, who had come into the kitchen on hearing the crash, surveyed the remains of his mother’s hideous tea pot for a few moments. Then he shrugged and strolled over and took a seat at the table.


“Sorry about that,� Harry muttered, still glowering, and plainly not sorry in the least.

“Don’t worry about it,� Regulus said airily, and then motioning to the shattered pot with his thumb, he continued, “Somebody should have done that a long time ago.�

Harry didn’t answer and continued to stare at the table as if daring it to start something. His frustration at having to sit around inactive, when the danger from Voldemort was ever greater, was beginning to boil over and the probability of one of the chairs following the book’s trajectory was extremely high.


Regulus spent a few pensive moments contemplating the grumpy lad sitting in front of him. He knew how hard the past month had been on Harry, in fact, he himself was starting to feel the strain of the training and the research. Regulus knew that Harry was getting better at dueling but he was still no match to what the Dark Lord could unleash. Still, what Harry needed at the moment was encouragement so Regulus had a shot at pouring oil on troubled waters.


“Harry, you just need to have a little patience,� he said slowly and distinctly.

Harry’s simmering temper exploded with a pop as he brought his fist crashing down onto the table and yelled, “DON’T TELL ME TO BE PATIENT!� Harry had never been very good at controlling his emotions and, with the stress of the last few months; it was getting even more difficult.


Regulus, on the other hand, never flinched. He didn’t look away but continued to stare back at Harry calmly. Some of his calm rubbed off onto Harry and his breathing eased and he slumped back onto his chair with a sigh.


“It’s just hard, you know,� Harry mumbled sadly, after a few minutes.

Regulus paused for a moment, before he answered, “Harry, I can’t expect to fully understand what you’re going through now. You have friends whose safety you fear for and I don’t. But I know that the best way you can help protect them is to keep soldiering on, to hold on for another five minutes when your body screams for sleep, that’s the only way you’ll be able to help them. And I’ll be here to help you go on.�


Exhaustion was causing Harry’s eyelids to droop as he told himself that Regulus had a point. “I could go on for days on end for my friends,� Harry said, stifling a yawn, “But our progress has been so slow. We still have no clue as to where the next Horcrux could be. And my dueling skills wouldn’t even threaten Bellatrix or Snape yet. It’s depressing.�


Silence fell on the kitchen at twelve Grimmauld Place, as Harry moodily let his mind wander and Regulus realized that Harry needed some motivation to keep going. He watched as Harry idly transfigured a goblet into a snitch and began to play with it. And as Regulus watched Harry make some impossible grabs which invariably resulted in him snaring the snitch, his face began to clear.


“You know Harry,� Regulus said, “I think you deserve a day off. Why don’t you think of something else to do today?�

“Like what?� Harry grumbled, as he snatched angrily and nearly squashed the snitch in his palm.

“Oh, I don’t know,� Regulus grinned, pretending to think, “How about a visit to the old alma mater?�

At the words ‘alma mater’, Harry made a wild swipe and, for the first time, completely missed the snitch. He turned wide eyes to Regulus, thinking the older man had gone off his rocker.

“Are you crazy?� Harry queried, before ducking as the snitch whooshed passed his head.

“Well, surely you want to see your old school and your friends,� Regulus continued, nonchalantly drumming his fingers on the table.

“That’s not the point,� Harry sputtered indignantly, “You know very well that I can’t possibly go back to Hogwarts; not after all the trouble I had to go through to make sure that I didn’t have to.�

“An ingenious boy like you,� Regulus said smiling “shouldn’t have much trouble in getting anywhere unseen.�

His emphasis on the last word caused Harry’s eyes to narrow suspiciously. “You haven’t been going through my stuff, have you?� he asked slowly.

Regulus smiled enigmatically, before saying, “You really need to make sure your room doesn’t look like a disaster area. A little tidiness would ensure that your private items remain private; if you know what I mean,� he added.


Harry nodded; feeling his distrust of Regulus, that had dropped slightly earlier, now rise up a notch. Competing with this was the realization that he did have the means to enter Hogwarts unseen if he so wished. It was a bitter struggle between wanting to keep an eye on Regulus and seeing his friends again, but in the end, his friends triumphed. Rising quickly, he announced he was going out for a while.


“Could you bring that down, Harry?� Regulus said, motioning to the snitch that was now joyously ricocheting off all the walls, “I rather like that goblet.�

“Oh right,� Harry said, and drew his wand. Taking careful aim, he nailed the snitch with the appropriate charm and the goblet dropped neatly into his waiting hands.

“Impressive,� Regulus exclaimed, looking suitably awed by Harry’s display of marksmanship, “It would appear that the practice sessions are having some effect after all.�

Harry himself stared at the goblet with surprise, not having expected to hit it the first time. With returning hope and encouragement, he placed the goblet on the table and returned to his room. Collecting his invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map, Harry quietly exited Grimmauld Place.


Harry felt extremely strange wandering through the halls of Hogwarts because he had rarely done so while under the cloak in broad daylight. Harry had never appreciated how many students attended Hogwarts until now, when he had to step extremely nimbly to avoid colliding with the milling throng. Getting in hadn’t been too much of a problem. He had apparated to Hogsmeade and then chosen one of the secret entrances to enter Hogwarts. Once inside, though, it seemed as if staying in undetected was going to be the challenge.


At the moment, Harry was standing against the wall and rubbing his shin which had accidentally tripped up a beefy sixth year Slytherin. The gorilla of a boy, who had sprawled unceremoniously to the floor, much to the mirth of his fellow students, was now trying to ascertain who had tripped him so that he could wring his neck. Once he had got the circulation going, Harry had the brilliant idea of removing himself to a place where there wouldn’t be this much activity and where he could actually do something useful. Hobbling slightly, Harry carefully side-stepped the rather bemused lad and headed to the library.


Strolling into the library a few moments later, Harry nearly walked into Madam Pince. He had to stand absolutely still and hold his breath, while Madam Pince surveyed her surroundings carefully. She had been a librarian for too long to not notice when something wasn’t right. But the cloak did its work well, and after a few moments of scrutiny, Madam Pince shrugged her shoulders and removed herself to another part of the labyrinthine library.


The next half hour was spent wandering among the myriad tomes and attempting to ascertain if there was anything that could of use in his search for the Horcruxes. Harry wasn’t too sanguine about his chances; after all, Hermione had done quite a thorough census only a few months earlier and had found nothing. Still, as a drowning man will clutch at the flimsiest of straws, Harry was ready to try anything as long as he was doing something.


Rounding a corner, Harry came upon one of the many tables strewn around the library that were meant for in-house research. This table happened to be occupied by the one person Harry had expected to find in the library. A mane of bushy brown hair was bent low over several books and, what appeared to be, a sea of notes. Impaled again on the horns of a dilemma, Harry pondered his next move. Caution dictated that he remove himself lest he be found out. Seven years of friendship urged him to stay. It was a difficult problem, but loneliness won out in the end. Reasoning to himself that his sole purpose of coming to Hogwarts was to see his friends, Harry tiptoed closer and peered over Hermione’s shoulder.


From the tons of literature around her, it seemed to Harry that Hermione was attempting to study several different subjects at the same time. Closer observation revealed that there were five books open before her, all covered in strange symbols, though Harry did remember some of them from his own research. With a rush of pride, Harry also recognized the badge pinned to her robes, although it wasn’t really a big surprise. It would’ve been a surprise if she hadn’t got it, Harry thought to himself. Just then, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted something. Turning, he perceived that Hermione had written ‘Horcrux Research’ in bold across the top of one of pieces of parchment lying off to the side.


Luckily for Harry, the parchment happened to be on top of a couple of others but he couldn’t quite make out the writing on it. Moving slowly, Harry attempted to get into one of the chairs to get a closer look. Unfortunately this was easier said than done as he could not simply pull the chair back to take a seat. However, by dint of twists and turns that would have made a contortionist proud, Harry took a seat and began to read.


Harry felt quite glad and also a bit uneasy that Hermione and Ron were still researching the Horcruxes. Though he knew that they would never do anything rash, it was still possible that they might decide to help by going after some of the Horcruxes themselves. Sighing, Harry told himself that this was not a contingency that he had expected and therefore he couldn’t really do anything about it and turned his attention to the parchment.


Horcrux Research


The seven Horcruxes:

1) The diary – in the Chamber of Secrets, destroyed by Harry

2) The ring – in the house of the Gaunt family, destroyed by Professor Dumbledore

3) The locket – in the cave, not yet known if destroyed by R.A.B ? ? (Harry knew the answer to that)

4) The cup – belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, stolen by Riddle. Current whereabouts unknown

5) Something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s
a. Gryffindor’s Sword – Not likely, Prof. Dumbledore would have spotted it
b. The Sorting Hat – Same as above
c. Something in Godric’s Hollow? ? (Harry knew the answer to that too)
d. Ravenclaw’s wand, whereabouts unknown

6) The snake – wherever Voldemort is

7) Voldemort – wherever the snake is (this appeared to be in Ron’s handwriting)


Possible locations of the cup and something of Gryffindor’s / Ravenclaw’s:

1) The orphanage

2) The shop he was employed at, in Knockturn alley

3) The Malfoy mansion

4) Hogwarts (??)


Possibilities for R.A.B.:


Harry had just got this point when he nearly had a heart attack, brought on because Hermione had suddenly said “Hello?� The matter was susceptible of a ready explanation. Hermione had simply sensed a presence in her vicinity and after looking around her in vain, had asked the question of the space around her, wondering if there was someone near. Swallowing his heart, which had jumped into his mouth, Harry scanned the list of names and noted that Hermione had still not found out about Regulus.


As he finished, Hermione rose and, still looking around herself in bewilderment, began to gather up her books and notes. Harry sat absolutely still, thinking about how bizarre it was to be sitting with Hermione in the library without her knowing he was there. For a moment, as she collected her belongings, she looked right at him, and Harry’s resolve nearly melted. I shouldn’t have to be hiding from Hermione and Ron and Ginny and everyone else, Harry thought bitterly, I should be enjoying my last year at Hogwarts with them right now.


As Hermione left the library, Harry gave himself a shake and turned his thoughts the contents of the parchment he had just read. Hermione seemed to have found out just as much as he and Regulus had. He did know, though, that Ravenclaw’s wand had been in one family for generations, before disappearing around the same time the cup had. As far as locations of the Horcruxes were concerned, none of them seemed likely except for the orphanage that Harry had decided to explore after a few days. The shop was not too secure for a Horcrux, and Voldemort didn’t trust his own followers enough to entrust part of his soul to one of them. With a sigh, Harry rose to leave as well, realizing that he was still no closer to defeating Voldemort.


With heavy steps, Harry made his way back towards one of the secret exits from Hogwarts. He couldn’t deny that although he had had to be hidden all the time, it had still been quite a relief to be back in the bustle and chaos of Hogwarts, and he was sorry to leave it. Trying to remember the shortest route to the exit, Harry ducked into one corridor and then pulled up short. The corridor was empty save for two hulking brutes, and Harry had no trouble recognizing them as Malfoy’s lapdogs, Crabbe and Goyle.


Crabbe and Goyle were the quintessential henchmen. Without Malfoy around, they were no longer the force they once had been. They had now taken to whispering dark threats at students from other houses or sniggering when someone from Slytherin made off-colour remarks about other students but that was pretty much all that was left in their realm as far as terrorizing others was concerned. But Hermione’s rather strict rule as Head-Girl had them chafing a great deal as a result of which they were now discussing ways of getting back at her.


“That Granger Mudblood’s got to be taught a lesson,� Crabbe was whispering as Harry crept up behind them to listen.

“Agreed, but how are we going to do it?� grunted Goyle.

“Dunno yet, but there’s got to be some way of pulling her down a peg. Let’s think,� said Crabbe. Harry leant against the wall watching the two of them turning steadily purple as they exerted brains that hadn’t been used in ages and weren’t meant for such strenuous utilisation.

“How about leaving her in the Forbidden Forest? Surely something will attack her there,� said Goyle after a few minutes of contemplation.

“And just how do you think we’re going to get her into the Forbidden Forest?� muttered Crabbe.

“Oh yeah, good point. How about pushing her into the black lake with the giant squid?� said Goyle in an attempt to regain some ground.

Crabbe snorted derisively, “So she’s going to be strolling near the lake one of these days just waiting for us to push her in, is that it?�

“Well, if you’re so clever, you think of something,� mumbled a rather hurt Goyle.

“I would if you’d stop interrupting me with your inane ramblings,� said Crabbe loftily trying to sound like Malfoy.

Harry was pretty sure that they could think till kingdom come and they’d be no closer to a viable plan. On the other hand he didn’t want them blundering around in some pathetic attempt at revenge and end up really hurting her. He was just turning over some spells in his mind, trying to decide which would do most damage to Crabbe and Goyle, when he remembered how he had got rid of Peeves once in his first year and decided to use a similar approach; it was much more subtle. He crept up behind Crabbe and in a hoarse whisper said, “If you touch a hair of her head, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your miserable, pathetic lives.�


Harry thought Crabbe must have lowered the existing record for the standing high-jump. Crabbe and Goyle had assumed that the corridor was deserted and a sudden disembodied voice speaking in his ear had completely unmanned Crabbe. Goyle who had been on the point of saying something, stood with his mouth hanging open as Crabbe shot up like a rocketing pheasant. Feeling that Goyle shouldn’t be left out of the fun, Harry charmed one of the books, which Crabbe had dropped on take-off, to fly up and hit Goyle on the nose.


Crabbe and Goyle wasted no more time in the presence of this new and rather unfriendly ghost and ran pell-mell down the corridor, almost steam-rolling Hermione who was on her way back from the library. Only some nimble footwork enabled her to avoid getting squashed by two of the largest bodies in Hogwarts. She stood watching their retreating backs with a slightly haughty air.

“That’s five points each from Slytherin for running in the halls, you two,� she yelled.

Harry grinned; Hermione wasn’t exactly endearing herself to the Slytherins, and he couldn’t be more pleased. She swept up the corridor reminding Harry irresistibly of the way Professor McGonagall carried herself. Since she didn’t seem to be headed to class and as none of the dormitories in that particular direction, Harry deduced that she was on her way to the grounds. Realizing suddenly that there was one other thing he missed terribly about Hogwarts, Harry silently followed her. Harry knew he shouldn’t go; he was already having enough difficulty tearing himself away from Hogwarts. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself and kept going till he had followed Hermione all the way to the Quidditch pitch, where the Gryffindor team was practicing.


Harry had loved flying since the first day he had clambered aboard a broom. And once introduced to Quidditch, he had shown himself to be a natural Seeker, the most important position in a Quidditch team. Blessed with sharp eyes and quick reflexes, Harry had proved his worth to his team time and time again. Gryffindor had never lost a match that Harry had played in, except for the time he had been attacked by Dementors and once when he had been clobbered by a bludger while distracted. Even Viktor Krum, the Seeker for the Bulgarian national team, had been impressed with Harry’s flying. But now, forced to be discreet, Harry had had to eschew flying as it posed too great a risk of detection, and this caused him a great deal of disappointment.


Up above him, the Gryffindor team wasn’t being coached; it was being bossed around by the new captain, Cormac McLaggen. To Harry’s relief, McLaggen had moved himself to Chaser so Ron was still the Keeper for the team. When they had walked up, Ron had been temporarily distracted, leading him to let an absolute lolly through. Immediately McLaggen was on him and proceeded to chew him out quite thoroughly as the rest of the team took a break. While Ron’s ears turned redder, Harry scanned the skies for a few moments till he found the Seeker. Her red hair blew in the wind as she patrolled the boundaries of the pitch, her eyes peeled for the glint of gold. Harry smiled, glad that he’d been able to see Ginny too. But the smile was half-hearted, circumstances having arranged themselves so as to cause him to hide from her, from all of them.


As Harry watched the team being put through its moves, he wished fervently that he could have been up there with them. He longed to feel the wind on his face, longed for the thrill of peering in the hope of spotting the snitch, the excitement when finally laying eyes on it, the adrenaline rush of the chase, the final grab and then the raucous cheering of a hundred voices as he held it high in the air, winning the game for his team.


Nostalgia settled like a heavy blanket on him, and Harry realized he had made a mistake coming to Hogwarts and, specifically, coming to the grounds. Far from making him feel better, he now felt even worse that he had in the morning. Turning quickly, Harry made his way back to the castle to find an exit back to Hogsmeade. None of the Gryffindors noticed small patches of grass flutter suddenly as if kicked by a petulant shoe.

---

A/N: I hope you liked it. The next chapter will have some more action in it. Until then…

Chow for now.

Scarhead Steve.

Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.

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It was dreary Tuesday morning in October. Dark clouds rumbled ominously as they obscured the sun, while a slight drizzle kept most people indoors. Aberforth Dumbledore was inspecting his stock and making a note of what he needed to replenish. The Hog’s Head never did much business in the mornings and certainly not on mornings such as this one. Aberforth had just noted his depleted stock of Old Wizard Rum when there were three firm raps on his back door.


Warily, Aberforth peeked out through a convenient window to catch a glimpse of his visitor. Outside stood a young man dressed in jeans and a jacket, with a cap pulled low over his face. Breathing a sigh of relief, Aberforth opened the door and his visitor scuttled in quickly. Shutting the door, Aberforth motioned his visitor to have a seat at the table.


“Good morning, Mr. Potter,� he said, his face softened slightly by a smile, “Tea? Or would you prefer some butterbeer?�

“Tea please, sir,� said Harry taking off his cap, and running his hand through his unruly hair.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, Mr. Potter,� Aberforth said, as he busied himself at the stove, “You can call me Aberforth.�

“And you can call me Harry. Mr. Potter makes me feel extremely old,� Harry grinned.

“Fair enough, Harry,� Aberforth said as he poured out two steaming mugs of tea and placed one in front of Harry. Harry took a glad sip of his tea. After trudging through the cold streets of Hogsmeade, the tea was a welcome relief.


“So how have you been, Harry?� Aberforth asked, watching Harry carefully from under his bushy eyebrows.

“Not too bad,� Harry replied, not sure of how much information he could divulge. It had been difficult enough to convince Regulus that meeting Aberforth could be useful.

“There’ve been all sorts of theories about your disappearance, you know,� Aberforth continued, taking a swig of his tea while his eyes still watched Harry. Harry knew, having kept himself up to date on all the news in the wizarding world. Most of the stories about his disappearance had claimed that the great Harry Potter had got cold feet, and, unwilling to face his destiny as the Chosen One, had gone into hiding. Some came quite close, saying that he was in an undisclosed location, training to meet the Dark Lord. And some of the more ludicrous stories stated that he had eloped with a mystery lover.

They drank their tea in silence, neither sure of what to say next. Harry wanted to ask about Dumbledore and Grindelwald and didn’t know how to broach the subject. He was rather hoping that Aberforth would bring it up. Aberforth, unfortunately, did nothing of the sort. He just finished his tea, stood up and strode over to the sink.


“I see some of your friends around here now and then,� Aberforth said finally, as he loudly rinsed his mug.

So the Hogsmeade weekends were still a regular fixture, Harry thought, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Though it did help to bring a degree of normality to the school year, it also left the students open to an attack during their time in Hogsmeade. Harry remembered what had happened to Katie Price during the previous year and shuddered.


“Last week, I saw that mousey haired girl who talks a lot,� Aberforth went on, while Harry grinned at the rather unflattering description of Hermione, “She went into Puddifoot’s with some red-headed chap.�

“Ouch!� Harry yelped, his sudden start having caused the remnants of the tea in his mug to descend onto his jeans.

Aberforth waved away his apologies. “Accidents will happen, lad,� he said, “Now, since you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we can talk about why you’re really here.�


Harry was glad for the opening. Using a drying charm on his jeans, he placed the mug back on the table and faced Aberforth, who had returned to his chair.

“The last time I was here, you said that you might be able to tell me something useful,� Harry began, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Aye, that I did, Aberforth answered, “So what do you want to know?�

Harry paused, before asking the one question that he most wanted the answer to. “How did Professor Dumbledore defeat Grindelwald?� Harry queried.


“Ah, I was afraid you’d ask me that,� Aberforth said slowly, and Harry’s heart sank, “Thing is, no one rightly knows how he did it, leastways no one, except Albus himself.�

“But you’re his brother,� Harry burst out indignantly, unable to hide his frustration.

“That was Albus’ way,� Aberforth replied unmoved, “He would keep things to himself until he was ready to tell about it.�

Harry nodded brusquely, he knew that trait of Dumbledore’s, but it wasn’t helping any. “So what can you tell me which could be of any help?� he asked.

“Harry, if you want to know exactly which spell Albus used to destroy Grindelwald, I can’t help you,� Aberforth said firmly, “If you want to know how many days it took him to prepare, or how many hours a day he trained for, again, I can’t help you. I can’t help you not only because I don’t know, but also because it will be completely useless to you.�


Harry was becoming more and more convinced that he had come on a fool’s errand to listen to an old man’s ramblings. He picked up his cap and made to get up, but Aberforth gestured him to be seated.

“Don’t be hasty, lad,� Aberforth growled, “Albus was never hasty which is why he beat Grindelwald. You’re on the right track, Harry, but you need to learn that attitude is just as important to beating Voldemort as knowledge.�

“If I had attitude problems I would see a psychiatrist,� Harry snapped, “I’m sorry but I…�

“That’s your problem, boy,� Aberforth said, his face flushing red, “You’re too cocky for your own good. You think its all about how fast you can draw your wand and how many spells you can remember. And you’re afraid now, because you know that you could never be as good as Voldemort in that. You’d be right too.�

“I really need…� Harry retorted hotly, again rising off his seat.

“You think Albus beat Grindelwald because he was better than that darkest of dark wizards?� Aberforth was almost shouting now, “Boy, Grindelwald would make old Voldemort look like Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. But Albus beat him, why? Because Albus never once doubted that he could.�

“This isn’t helping,� Harry snorted and made for the door.


“Albus knew he could win because he knew what Grindelwald’s weaknesses were,� Aberforth’s voice had suddenly dropped, “Albus was thorough; studying everything he could about Grindelwald, till he knew everything about him. He would isolate himself from everyone else and focus only on his research. And that helped him have the faith that he could win. You’ve made a beginning, Harry. The question is, can you believe that you can beat Voldemort?�


Harry had paused at the door when Aberforth’s voice had lowered. Now with the monologue ended, his mind was still whirling. He hadn’t learned anything new and he was just as confused as before. Sitting before him was a tired old man, haggard from years of work and not much rest. A man who was intensely proud of his brother, and had not got over his death. Not being able to think of anything to say, Harry quietly exited and made his way back to the isolated spot outside Hogsmeade that had become his usual apparation spot.

---

A few days later, Harry was still musing on Aberforth’s words. Though he was sure the trip had been wasted, he couldn’t help wonder about Aberforth’s mention of Professor Dumbledore’s faith in beating Grindelwald. Harry could well believe it, even though he had known Dumbledore for only six years, he knew that nothing could shake Professor Dumbledore. But he himself felt far from feeling that confident in his own abilities.


“Lot on your mind, Harry?� Regulus asked, setting a cup of tea down in front of Harry.

“Yeah,� mumbled Harry, massaging his forehead gently as if doing so would miraculously clear his over-burdened mind.

“Barkeep didn’t help much, did he?� Regulus queried sympathetically.

“He helped scare the dickens out of me, if that’s what you mean,� Harry grumbled, “Now I feel even more unprepared.�

Regulus let out a long sigh and then he set down his cup and leaned forward to look straight at Harry. “Listen,� he began, “Forget about the fact that Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and that he was never afraid of Voldemort and stuff like that. It’s not really important to you. You’ve come a long way in the short time that you’ve been preparing and, believe me, I think, soon, you’ll be more than prepared to defeat the Dark Lord. But you have to stop taking every death so personally.�


Harry began to say something but Regulus held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve seen you, Harry. Every day, when you read the papers,� he continued, “Your eyes moisten up and your hands clench the paper more tightly every time you read about the Death Eaters having murdered or tortured someone. Harry, those aren’t your fault. If you have to blame anyone, blame Voldemort. He’s the one behind these deaths. And you will stop him when the time comes. Prepare for that time, Harry, and forget about everything else.�


Harry nodded slowly, though his mind was beginning to wander again. A dull throb had begun around his temples and nothing seemed to ease it. Regulus watched him with concern before speaking again.

“Harry, you’ve been working nineteen, twenty hours a day for the last week,� he said, “Maybe you need to take a break again. Why don’t you make another trip to Hogwarts?�

“NO,� Harry yelled. Then, noticing Regulus’ look of surprise, he dropped his voice a few decibels.

“Not right now. It’s… it’s… hard every time I go,� Harry continued, and then he lay his head down on the table with a sigh. What he really wanted to do was to fly again. That had always been his release. But now with the increased need for secrecy, that was impossible. Or was it?


Harry’s head jerked up as he thought of this new possibility. Could there be a way by which he could get to fly and not be seen. After all, the previous summer, he and the Weasleys had played Quidditch in a wood near the Burrow and they hadn’t been seen. Perhaps the idea was crazy enough to work. Harry debated on whether to tell Regulus but then decided against it. Regulus would most probably say it was insane, and Harry wanted to go ahead with the plan before he himself had second thoughts about it.


“Uh, Regulus,� Harry said, “Maybe that’s not a bad idea after all. I think I will make a quick trip to Hogwarts. See how everyone’s doing.�

“Ok,� Regulus answered, looking slightly suspicious at this sudden change of heart, “But be careful alright.�

“I’m always careful,� Harry smirked, as he rushed out of the kitchen. In the back of his mind, Harry heard a small voice telling him that this was madness. But Harry had been desperate to break free of his rigorous daily routine and was in no mood to listen to small voices.

---

An hour later, after consulting a few maps, Harry found the place he needed to go to. With his broom in tow, Harry exited Grimmauld Place again, heading for his usual disapparation point. Checking that no one was watching, Harry focused on his destination, felt the similar stifling apparation experience and opened his eyes to find himself near a large wooded area. The trees were sparse enough to fly around them while being dense enough to provide some cover from prying eyes.


Kicking off from the ground, Harry immediately experienced the same rush of adrenaline that he always got when we was on his broom. Harry laughed with pure joy as he felt the wind in his face again. Slowly, picking up the pace till he was darting among the trees at tremendous speed, Harry almost forgot that he was on a kill-or-be-killed quest. For the moment, he was just another teenager having fun without a care in the world.


Soon, tiring of having to fly among the trees, Harry rose higher and higher, climbing past the leafy canopy into an expanse of cerulean blue. He had chosen an area that was far enough from habitation to allow him some freedom of movement. Closing his eyes, Harry let his mind run free. He imagined himself after an imaginary snitch, darting this way and that, suddenly diving then rising again. Time flew by and the sun began to dip towards the horizon, and still Harry zipped around like a bird that has just learnt to fly.


Presently, the air around him began to get colder and the sky started to darken alarmingly. In his state of excitement, Harry didn’t bother with these trivialities, assuming that a storm was on its way. And if he hadn’t executed a sharp change of direction, he may not have seen the approaching danger. Three black-hooded figures were rising towards him and they were coming fast.


Dementors, Harry’s mind screamed and at the same time, instinct took over. Even though he was already tearing through the air towards them, Harry turned as hard as he could. For a moment, he feared that he would lose control but years of training stood him in good stead, and he managed to right himself and speed away in the opposite direction. However, the turn had taken precious seconds and now the Dementors were even closer.


Looking over his shoulder again, Harry could see the Dementors splitting up, with two of them now coming up aside while the third sped straight towards him. They were closing the gap fast, so Harry frantically began to swerve to try to buy himself some time as he struggled to extricate his wand from his pocket. When he finally got his wand out he turned around as best as he could. He tried to think of a happy memory, and yelled “Expecto Patronum�. Perhaps the stress of the chase was getting to him, because only a thin wisp of smoke emerged from his wand. Desperately, Harry went into a dive while trying to think of a happier memory. His failed attempt had lost him even more time and now the Dementors were almost at his elbow.


Finally, Harry fixed his thoughts on the Weasley wedding which had been the happiest time for him in the recent past. Concentrating as hard as he could, Harry turned again and found to his astonishment that only two Dementors were following him now. Swiveling forward, he found himself looking into the dark chasm of the Dementor’s open mouth. As he felt the all happiness being sucked out of him, Harry clung to the memory as hard as he could. He struggled to lift his wand arm that seemed to weigh a ton. He felt weak, his head swam and his other hand began to slip off the broom handle. With all his remaining strength, Harry belted out an Expecto Patronum again, just as he slid completely off his broom.


With a flash of bright light, Harry’s stag patronus shot out of his wand and, seemingly unimpeded by the fact that it was a mile up in the air, proceeded to joyfully take the Dementors to task. Though Harry had always enjoyed watching his patronus in action, this time he had more important things on his mind, such as the ground rushing up to meet him.


Harry thought hard for any spell that could help him, but he came up blank. Fighting down panic, Harry stretched his brain to the maximum for something, anything that could save him. But it is at moments of extreme stress that the simplest solutions are forgotten. Harry was only seconds from colliding with the trees when the answer came to him.


Accio Firebolt, he hollered with all his might, hoping that he wasn’t too late. The next moment, he felt his broom at his fingertips and he grabbed it. Racing against the clock, Harry mounted in mid-air and began to try to lift the broom up and arrest his free-fall. Unfortunately, the time he had lost trying to think of alternatives proved critical. Just as it seemed like he would be able to get it up again, the broom clipped the top of one of the trees, causing Harry to lose control and throwing him clear of his broom again.


As Harry fell, he tried to grab something to hang on to, but nothing would stick. To his fevered imagination, it felt as if he hit every single branch of the tree on the way down. Once his bruised body cleared the branches, the relief was short-lived and he landed with a sickening thump. Luckily for him, the few seconds on the broom as well as the branches had slowed him down, which probably was the only reason that the fall didn’t kill him. The sky seemed to sway like an inebriated dancer for a few moments before he finally blacked out.

---

Harry didn’t know how long he had been out. When he came to, the sun was in its final moments, and the gathering darkness matched Harry’s general outlook. Gingerly, he sat up and then collapsed again as searing pain shot through his left arm. Grimacing, Harry felt up and down his arm and found the break between his elbow and his wrist, cracked during his descent through the foliage. Cradling his arm, Harry sat up and then forced himself up to his feet. Giddy with pain from the broken arm and the hundreds of cuts and bruises, Harry stumbled and leant against the tree and took on a few deep breaths. Out of the millions of conflicting thoughts filling his mind, the one that was foremost was amazement that he was still alive, but that wasn’t the only one.


Idiot, idiot, Harry furiously berated himself, why did I do something so foolish? Everyone’s counting on me and I go and nearly get myself killed. What was I thinking?

With the pain in his arm increasing, Harry decided to head back to Grimmauld Place and have his injuries looked at by Regulus. As he straightened up again, his arm shifted and hundreds of white hot needles seemed to pierce his skin. In spite of himself, Harry cried out, and then he froze. Hours of training for the final battle seemed to have done him some good, because even through the haze of agony he had heard the slightest movement. Some sort of sixth sense told him to move fast and he did, diving behind some nearby bushes, just as a blast of green light destroyed the tree he had been leaning against a moment earlier.


Unmindful of his pain now, Harry was back on his feet in a second and he dashed away at a half-crouch. He could hear furious voices behind him now and every now and then a blast of light would illuminate the forest around him. As he zig-zagged, trying to use the trees as cover, Harry’s mind raced. Obviously, the Dementors had alerted Voldemort to his whereabouts, and he had sent some of his Death Eaters to capture him.


Running for his life while trying to identify where the Death Eaters were, Harry nearly ran plumb into one of them. Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus, he yelled in quick succession, and the Death Eater collapsed in a heap. A moment of relief, and then the realization hit him. He didn’t have his wand! In his mad scramble to get out of the way of the killing curse, he appeared to have dropped it. The fact that he had just performed wandless magic didn’t even register in his mind. All he could think of was getting his wand back. Unfortunately, his outburst had alerted the other Death Eaters who were now lumbering towards him.


As the light faded, Harry doubled back as best as he could to where he had lain initially, all the while avoiding his pursuers. Many of the curses were coming dangerously close, and Harry was despairing of ever finding his wand again. Then, he came across the damaged tree, and he dashed towards it happily, only to have to pull up short as he noticed a Death Eater approaching nearby. Harry dropped to the ground, and slowly, using as much cover as he could, he crawled around towards the bushes he had dived behind. Just as his sharp eyes noticed the wand, the Death Eater stepped in direct line between him and his wand.


Accio wand, Harry said instinctively, just before realizing that he needed the wand to cast the spell. And then to his astonishment, his wand shot through the air straight towards him. The Death Eater, who had turned towards him on hearing his shout, watched wide-eyed as the wand flew straight into Harry’s waiting hand. As the realization of his wandless magical abilities sunk in, Harry petrified the amazed Death Eater and made a run for it again.


The next few minutes were the most nightmarish of Harry’s life. Avoiding curses flying at him, stunning and petrifying any Death Eater he saw, Harry stayed one step ahead of his assailants. He knew that he needed to apparate away as this deadly game of cat and mouse wouldn’t go on much longer. His arm was killing him and he was already exhausted, operating on adrenaline alone. Moments later another Death Eater loomed to the side, and this one had spotted Harry. As he made a slashing motion with his wand, Harry threw up a shield charm but his reflexes had been dulled. Though the shield took much of the curse it didn’t take the full brunt and a large gash opened up on Harry’s right thigh. Harry stumbled and almost fell but forcing his mind to focus, he managed to stun the Death Eater even though he was off balance.


The situation was now one of extreme urgency. With a broken arm and a badly bleeding cut on his leg, Harry’s reserves of strength were fast running out. Dodging more curses flying around him, Harry’s mind was now moving sluggishly, and his body refused to obey him. Taking cover behind a slightly thicker clump of trees, Harry tried to think of twelve, Grimmauld Place. But it was proving too difficult in his enfeebled condition. His injured leg gave out beneath him and he fell to his knees, the force of the fall knocking off his glasses. With as much will power as he could muster, Harry picked himself up and concentrated as he had never done before, on the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Just as he began to apparate, he saw a Death Eater off to his side. Harry heard the Death Eater’s yell of anger and then he was flat on his back, looking at the night sky.


Without his glasses, Harry could only see blurred shapes in front of him. He could make out what seemed to be a man running towards him but he no longer cared whether he was friend or foe. Strong arms took hold of him under his armpits and helped him up and began to guide him towards one of the houses.

“Harry, are you alright?� Regulus’ voice broke through the haze fogging Harry’s mind, “What happened? Can you hear me? Harry… Harry….� As it happened, Regulus had just returned for replenishing their food stores and had been on the point of entering the house when he had heard the crack of Harry disapparating. Lady luck seemed to favour them as the street happened to be deserted and no one else had observed Harry’s sudden appearance.


Harry’s legs moved as if they had a life of their own. As he floated in and out of consciousness, he could feel himself going up a flight of stairs. Then he was being laid down on the most comfortable bed that he had ever been in. Now incoherent, Harry could only think of one thing.

“Did… wandless… magic,� he rasped in his loudest voice. Then, he let the blessed darkness engulf him for a second time that day.