I’m Only Me When I’m With You



“Why love if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore; only the life I have lived. The pain now is part of the happiness then.�
- Anthony Hopkins



“The tragedy of life is not that is ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.�
- W.M. Lewis



Prologue: May 2, 1998
Following the fall of Lord Voldemort



Harry Potter stood on the battlefield amongst all of the fallen - friends and enemies laying side by side, their lives over. Behind Harry on the ground, milky red eyes staring lifelessly up at the sky, lay the body of the late Lord Voldemort, finally defeated. The seventeen year old boy took in all of the destruction, all of the dead - people who once had been loved and had dreams of the future - and knew that he could never fix what had befallen here this day. Yes, in the end he had won, but maybe the price was just too great.



He had fulfilled the prophecy and his destiny, but now what? What was he supposed to do now? He could not just go back to a normal life, celebrating his victory over Voldemort while so many lay dead for protecting him. Inside the castle the Weasleys, Hermione, Neville, Luna and so many others who had stood by him were at this moment partying, feasting, and mourning those lives lost. But Fred was dead, leaving behind a broken twin; Remus and Tonks lay cold in death, leaving their only son an orphan who would grow up with only pictures to fill the emptiness they would leave. At least fifty others had met the same fate. All of the names ran a mantra through Harry’s head so fast he wanted to only keel over and disappear along with them.



Mum and Dad … Cedric … Sirius … Dumbledore … Mad-Eye … Hedwig, his faithful pet … Dobby, who’d once tried to get him expelled from Hogwarts and then saved them all in Malfoy Manor … Fred … Remus and Tonks … young Colin Creevey …



The list went on. So many names and faces were lost forever because one man wanted to control the world and he, Harry, failed to stop him fast enough.



He couldn’t face his friends, the closet semblance to family he’d ever known; couldn’t bear to watch as they shed tears over their brother and son. None of them would blame him, he knew that, but that didn’t change the fact he blamed himself.



Harry walked through the tall oak doors of the school, heading for the open entrance to the Great Hall. He passed nobody on his way as they were all inside eating, laughing, and acting as if everything was right in the world again. He didn’t mind though, because truthfully, he didn’t want to be seen by anyone. They would gawk and shake his hand, thank him for saving their sorry asses; Harry didn’t want their gratitude or their sympathy.



And so he was thankful that nobody paid him any attention. His eyes were free to roam the Hall and search out the crowd of red hair that he was looking for. Finally he spotted them, all sitting together at the Gryffindor table, excluding George, who was still huddled protectively over his twin’s still body.



He realized then that what he really wanted was to not have to face them every day for the rest of his life anymore. Obviously he could not take his own life, that was too drastic and he refused to allow the war to take that away from him too, but there was one thing he could do; he could leave, run away, start over somewhere where no one knew his name--



Harry stopped that line of thought right there. Leave? How could he leave everything he had ever known or loved behind? He wasn’t a coward - where was his Gryffindor courage? Besides, Ginny would certainly hex him in to the next century for even thinking of leaving. And yet, the idea had a strange lure to it. The possibility of just going and putting everything to his back was so tempting - but no … he had to stay. It was the right thing to do.



Just at that moment, as if she had read his mind, Ginny Weasley looked up from the conversation she was having with her mother. She smiled and sent him a questioning look, as if to ask if he wanted some company, and he gave her a small nod in reply, waiting in the shadows of the pillars as she quickly excused herself and came to meet him.



“Hey,� she whispered breathlessly.



“Hi.�



She gave him a strange look; he had forgotten how perceptive she could be. “Are you alright?� she asked.



“Yeah … I mean, no … er - I don’t know.�



She gave him a tentative smile, like she was affirming to him that she understood perfectly, and took his hand, her smaller one fitting in his larger one as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Lets go for a walk.�



He let her pull him out of the Great Hall and down a corridor. Neither spoke as they walked past the rubble, fallen statues and torn tapestries. On one side the wall had been busted through completely by giants and they stopped in front of the huge hole, watching the orange sun descend gradually toward the surrounding mountains.



“It’s sad, isn’t it?� said Ginny. “For years Hogwarts was this indestructible haven, almost separate from the outside world, and now it’s ruined.�



“Yeah,� Harry agreed.



They were silent for a long moment before Ginny began again. “I thought you were dead. You know, when Hagrid carried you out of the forest.� She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear every word. Tears brimmed at the surface of her eyes and he wanted nothing more than to wipe her soft cheeks dry, but at the mention of his near death any comforting thoughts vanished to be replaced with his depressing ones of earlier. He wasn’t good for her, or for her family. He could never make this up to them.



“Ginny, listen,� he said thickly, “I’m sorry about Fred--�



“Don’t.� She released the hold she had on his hand so suddenly he stiffened in surprise. “Just don’t, Harry. I don’t want to talk about Fred right now.�



“I’m sorry.� He turned away and shoved his fists into his pockets.



“Fred knew what he was getting in to,� she murmured after a minute. “He understood what might happen if he stood up and fought. He always believed that V-Voldemort needed to be stopped. �



She watched him steadily, her facial features first adopting a look of confusion before it changed to knowledge and frustration. “I know that look Harry James Potter!� she spat. Fire burned in her brown eyes and he was surprised by the quick turn around that her mood had taken. “You are not going to blame yourself for this!�



Like lightning illuminating a dark night, he saw the faces from all of those names on the list in his head flash before his eyes. Their eyes, normally full of life, were literally deadened now, frozen as they were; they scorched Harry with their furious immobile glare, seeming to accuse him of everything that had happened. Then he saw all of their families, who would be forced to mourn those dead because of him. He felt sick, sick to his core.



“How can I not blame myself?� he exclaimed loudly, turning to her. “Tell me Ginny, HOW?� He crashed his hand into the cold, hard brick, wanting to lash out, wanting some kind of release; and he cursed furiously as all he got was a throbbing ache in his wrist to go along with the emotional pain that was trapped in him.



The tears fell freely as she didn’t try to hide the hurt his words caused her. Harry turned back to the crimson sun and the bloody battle ground and the giant hole in the bricks, the hole that so resembled the tearing in his heart that had ripped open with the rage he felt. He knew he had scared Ginny from the look on her beautiful face, and he wanted to take it back more than anything, but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t ready or prepared to deal with this horrible day and all of its consequences. He had told himself while he was surrounded by the dead fighters outside that he didn’t know how to face any of them, and now he’d just proven himself right by blowing up at the one person he wanted at his side the most. This inner turmoil and anger he felt disgusted him, and he could not - did not know how to - stop it, because his head was spinning in circles and he was going to scream unless things started to make more sense.



Harry walked away. He left the crumbling castle and started across the seared grass. He refused to stop and think, just let his anger and instincts take over until he was on the other side of the gates to the school grounds. Ginny was calling his name in the distance but he ignored her. After exploding on her, it was clear to him just how much he needed to leave and to run away to a place where he would never be wanted or needed again; where it would not be possible to hurt his adoptive family with his cursed presence ever again. He wanted to be able to just be. He wanted freedom, and he would never get that by being here where everybody knew who he was.



And so Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, defeater of one of the darkest wizards of the age, left all that he knew behind and began his journey to find the life that he’d always wanted and, until this day, had always been denied.

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

September, 2002 - Atlanta, Georgia

Just over four years later

A solitary man sat in one of the many cubicles in the large office room. He was a young man, no older than twenty-one or twenty-two years old, with untidy light brown hair and round wire-rimmed spectacles, which were currently sliding down his nose as he napped. His eyes were closed and he snored softly, his legs crossed together on his desk and his chair tipping back so far it looked as if one light touch would send the man tumbling to the floor.

Pasted like a collage across every single spare space of wall were dozens of newspaper clippings. The haggard men and women in the pictures snarled up at anyone who dared look at them too long and the headlines flashed with the names of these people and the atrocious crimes they had committed. A few of the faces were crossed off with bold red X’s, but the majority of them stayed untouched as these fugitives remained at large.

The sleeping man started abruptly as a loud, obnoxious voice boomed off of the joined walls, barely managing to keep his balance as the chair wobbled precariously.

“Fisher, what did I say ‘bout sleeping on the job! Only babies have nap time an’ I don’t pay babies to catch me the bad guys!�

The man named Fischer sat up at a surprisingly fast pace and starting pulling profiles and forms in front of himself. “Sorry, Boss! Was just resting my eyes is all. I was working on that report you wanted—�

Fischer stopped his rambling as the person behind him started letting out great bellowing laughs, supporting himself against the wall with one hand as he clutched his side with the other. Fischer turned around, his blue eyes glaring daggers at the other man.

“I hope you enjoyed your little joke Bryant, because it is the last one you’ll play if you know what’s good for you.�

“Ah, come on John, it was funny! And you should’ve seen your face; it was priceless!� Bryant, the second man, said in between hysterical laughter.

“I’m sure it was highly amusing,� said John Fischer dryly.

Bryant sniggered before suddenly becoming serious. “Anyways, as much as I loved scaring you with my Director Morris impression, that’s not why I’m here, John.�

John’s angry retort got lost on the tip of tongue when he met his partner and friend’s solemn gaze. “What is it, Dave?�

“Two more Death Eater casualties; Muggles, this time in the Chicago area. I’m worried; they’re coming closer and closer every week. We can’t ignore them and hope they’ll go away much longer.�

John ran his hand through his hair distractedly, making it even more impossibly messy than it already was. “I know, I know.�

“I mean, it’s been four years,� David Bryant continued. “If we haven’t caught the bastards by now, how can we ever hope to?�

“They keep coming closer, mate. In no more than a week’s time they will make their way to Atlanta and we’ll be right here waiting for them.�

“But that’s just it!� he cried. “They’re coming towards us! Why would they do that? Surely we’re not that big of a threat to them that they have to come to us.�

“We’ll figure it out, David. I promise.�

David started to leave but stopped and turned back to John. He tossed a thick off-white envelope on to his friend’s desk. “Here, I picked up your mail earlier while I was getting my own.�

He turned on his heel and hurried out of the small square of walls toward his own cubicle. “Thanks,� said John, but he was already gone.

Turning back to his desk, John picked up the formal envelope, wondering who could have sent it. He was a private man and didn’t have many friends. He lived alone in a single bedroom apartment, ordered take-out dinner most nights, and didn’t leave the house except for work and groceries. Slitting it open, he unfolded a similarly fancy cream-coloured card and his eyes widened in delighted surprise at the elegantly scripted names on the front. A small smile graced his lips for a second but no sooner was it there and it was gone. He tucked the invitation safely in the top drawer of his desk, heaved a huge sigh and closed his eyes again, leaning his chair as far back as it would go and feigning sleep so he wouldn’t have to endure the snide looks of the fugitive Death Eaters taped on to his walls. When he pretended to be content like this he could almost forget his guilt, could almost make himself believe that he was really John Fischer, American Auror, and not the scared, cowardly kid he had tried to leave behind.

* * *

Ginny Weasley walked into the flat that she shared with her best friend, Hermione Granger, after possibly the most dull date in the history of dull dates, only to find said best friend hidden behind a mound of bridal books and magazines, party favours and table decorations, talking animatedly out loud to no one but herself.

“No, no … that pink is really too girly … maybe a nice salmon? Or maybe yellow …�

“Hermione?� Ginny called, peeping her head around the taller stack of magazines. The one on top had a picture of a happy bride and groom waving at the camera. The caption to the side of the bride was promoting a contest to win a dream honeymoon to Hawaii. “I’m home.�

“Oh! Hey, Ginny.� She held up a couple of colour pallets, both supporting what Ginny thought to be two of the most utterly hideous shades of pink she’d ever seen. “Pick one.�

“That one.� She pointed in the general direction of the first of the little cards of paper and placed her handbag on to the table.

“You didn’t even look,� Hermione complained.

“Forgive me for not showing the proper enthusiasm,� replied Ginny tartly. “You wouldn’t feel like it either if you’d just been on the date from Hell! I just spent two hours listening to why pewter cauldrons really are better than copper; if I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d just been on a date with Percy. Ugh! I’m going to go shower and get to bed.�

“Really, Ginny, I don’t know why you agreed to see Hunter at all. Even I could have told you that you wouldn’t like him. I mean, the way he struts about the office as if he owns the place …�

Ginny threw her sweater towards the laundry hamper, missing by inches, and headed to her bedroom to change out of her dress. “You did tell me. I just chose not to listen.�

“Do you think,� began Hermione tentatively, but she grew flustered and didn’t finish.

“Do I think what, Hermione?� Ginny halted mid stride, in the middle of removing her earrings.

“That, maybe, you’re trying to replace Harry with Hunter?� Hermione asked timidly. Ginny’s face went bright red and her eyes darkened dangerously; Hermione grew even more embarrassed and began fiddling distractedly with her fingers.

Ginny took a step in Hermione’s direction, her earring forgotten. “What makes you say that?�

“Look at the facts, Ginny! Did you never realize how similar the two are?� She seemed to gain courage by Ginny’s temporary silence. “For one, their names both start with H; two, they both have black hair and green eyes; and three, they both needed someone else to point out to them that they fancied you because they were too thick to see it themselves!�

“They’re a lot different too.� Ginny turned around again and started on her way, but Hermione’s small voice stopped her cold.

“You’re right by that,� Hermione agreed. She put down the colour pallets and now her full attention was on Ginny. She stood, wringing her hands. “Harry’s less self-assured; more easy going and yet, in some ways, too high strung. He’s always had too many responsibilities on him. But he was better for you than Hunter, or any of those other ‘respectable’ businessmen you constantly date; and no matter how much he hurt you and how angry you are with him, your heart has always, and will always belong to him.�

“Maybe that was so when I was a kid, Hermione, but not anymore.�

Hermione’s voice was sad when she spoke next. “He said no.�

“What?� asked Ginny, turning to face her.

“Ron and I sent him an invitation - it wouldn’t seem right if we didn’t - but his reply said he couldn’t come; couldn’t get away from work or something.�

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that Harry put his friends off on the side for what he wanted.�

“Ginny …�

Ginny didn’t answer, just turned away from her friend, wanting to forget that the conversation had ever happened. But Ginny slipped into bed that night just as shaken as before, and her dreams were definitely not of the well-groomed, pompous Hunter Mackenzie, with his sleek black hair and dull, muddy-looking green eyes, that she had eaten dinner with that night, but of one with messy black locks and bright emerald eyes that pierced right through her soul and never failed to make her feel as if she’d just lost all of the bones in her body. A kind face and bright smile remembered from happier times looked down on her before the dream slowly faded into nothingness and she fell into a deep sleep.

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

Chapter 2

The Past Comes Back to Hurt You



"So, are you going to go?"

"Going to go where?" asked John. He shifted restlessly behind the dumpster he was currently hiding behind and looked questioningly across the alleyway to his partner.

"To that wedding you got an invitation for last Monday."

John got an uneasy feeling somewhere deep down in his stomach. He hadn't let himself think about the wedding lately; it would've made what he was feeling now real. It would have made everything about his past that he had tried to get away from too real. He had sent his reply back as a no, but truthfully, he really did want to be there to see his two old friends marry. It had been a long time coming, he thought. "I haven't decided yet."

"You should go, if these people are important to you," said David.

John’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. "We can't talk about this now," he cut in harshly.

"Says who?" David started to stand up and cross the small space between them when a dark shadow moved outside the entrance to the alley. He ducked back down in a dexterity that could only come from a lifetime of training, his wand held at the ready in an instant. "Shit!"

"That's who," John hissed. "Now be quiet."

Approaching them at a brisk pace were five men, wearing dark cloaks with hoods drawn up over their faces, shadowing their features from any recognition. They didn't notice the two men crouched behind the garbage bins, but walked right pass them to the brown door put in the brick wall of one of the tall buildings. As the door shut, John and David stood up and pressed their ears to it. Nothing but the heavy stomping of boots ascending a flight of stairs, followed by muffled voices, could be heard.

"What I wouldn't give for a pair of extendable ears right now," murmured John, not thinking his companion would hear him.

"A pair of what?"

Startled, he turned wide eyes on David, who was standing closer than he remembered, before composing himself and muttering, "Nothing." He turned his attention back to the happenings on the other side of the door but gripped his wand more tightly in his hand until he felt his fingernails biting into the soft flesh of his palm.

David slowly pushed the door open, willing it not to squeak and give away their position. They slipped inside and crept up the stairs, pushing their bodies against the wall on either side of the next door. Inside a small room, the five cloaked men sat around a wooden table. One yellow light flickered above them, casting the men in and out of darkness. They were talking in hurried whispers; John and David leaned in closer.

“… The plan’s all set?� one of the men asked. He was sitting on the far right and was twirling a quill between his fingers. A roll of worn parchment was in front of him, covered in scribbled notes and plans.

“That’s right,� replied another, sitting in the centre-left place.

“By this time next month, all of this will be over.�

The man on the far left held up one finger, as if cautioning the others. “Someone is here.� As one, they all turned to the door. The man who’d just spoken stood up and approached John and David’s hiding place; they didn’t have time to run before he was standing before them. “Well, well, well … look who we’ve got here: the baby and his new sidekick.�

“Who are you?� demanded David. “We’ve been tracking you for months; why are you here?�

But the man ignored David and instead turned amused eyes upon John. “Why are you here?�

“Surrender, or we’ll make you,� replied John stiffly. He shoved the man against the wall, his arm holding him in a chokehold, and stabbed his wand to the man’s pulse point. “Start talking.�

“Still got some of that old fire in yah, eh?� He spat the words as if not to would leave a foul taste on his tongue. He struggled against John and in the process, his hood slipped off of his head, revealing white-blonde hair gelled back off his face, a familiar pointed chin, and stony grey eyes. John staggered backwards at the same time the man pulled out his wand and yelled, “Sectumsempra!� John rolled on to the floor, narrowly missing the evil curse. Still standing, David was firing off spells at a rapid pace; already, he’d managed to stun one of the Death Eaters and badly wound another.

Draco Malfoy meanwhile, was still firing the cutting curse at John, who was having a difficult time getting in any decent shots of his own as he continuously dodged Malfoy’s attempts. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it, filth!� called Malfoy.

Ten minutes into the fight, and only one person was down. John and David were now each battling two against one, and the odds were not in their favour. Just as John was about to aim a stunner at Malfoy, however, all together the four Death Eaters leapt out of reach, as if pulled by an invisible string. As one, they all revealed a small silver chain with an emerald pendant from underneath their robes and gave them a tug. They port-keyed away, and the defeated Aurors were left at square one again - with an unconscious body and no idea where the deserted man’s companions had gone.



* * *

The interrogation room at the Auror Headquarters located in the American Ministry of Magic was small and cold; its furnishings consisted of no more than a long metal table and two chairs, and on one wall behind where the prisoner sat was a one-way glass wall. The bricks were painted a drab grey and there was not even a single window allowing light into the dismal atmosphere.

John Fischer walked through the single door and approached the unconscious man before him. “Finite Incantatem.� Then, as if awaking from a deep sleep, the man slowly opened his eyes, blinking furiously as he gazed about his situation. “Welcome back,� said John emotionlessly; it was clear that the man was anything but welcome in his presence. “I’m sure you won’t mind answering a few things for me today, will you.� It was not a question.

“Who wants to know?� sneered the man.

“The American ministry, that’s who,� John replied just as coldly.

The man shrugged his shoulders, but said no more in return. John sat down and, withdrawing a small vial filled of what looked like clear water from an inside pocket, placed it plainly in view of the prisoner.

“This, as I’m sure you are aware, is Veritaserum - truth potion. Three drops of this and you will be revealing to me all of your innermost secrets. If you choose not to cooperate today you will be forced, under the law, to drink some, and you will me tell what you know anyways. So, why don’t you just start by stating your name for the record?�

The Death Eater rolled his eyes arrogantly but said, “Keith Wiblin.�

“Good. Now, who are you working for, Mr Wiblin?�

Keith Wiblin laughed, throwing his head back, his chair rocking. “Who else?�

John’s eyes tightened. “Give me a name, please.�

“You of all people should know!� the prisoner exclaimed, quite beside himself.

John stood up. He walked around one end of the metal table and leaned forward on it so that he was eye-level with Wiblin. “Are you working under the orders of the late Voldemort.�

“Hmm,� mocked the Death Eater, “now how many people do I know of, who are alive, that still dare mention the Dark Lord’s name so … negligently? Oh! That’s right, only one … only you.�

John’s lips twitched and his breath hitched sharply, but his eyes gained a haunted look in them. “How do you know me?� he demanded.

“Why else did you think Draco Malfoy was here, in the ‘New World’ of all places?� he sneered. “Your childhood enemy. Coincidence? I think not. He’s here … we are here, for you. You are the reason for running all over North America like a pack of wolves, you are the focus of our attention. Draco Malfoy wants you to pay, and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied.�

The door slammed shut behind John as he ran out; Keith Wiblin could be heard laughing himself hoarse on the other side. John pressed his back to the wall, focusing on breathing evenly, and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as the start of a migraine began. He knew he would have to face his past eventually, he just didn’t think that all of his preparations toward a normal life would come to be for naught so soon.

Breathing heavily, John sprinted down the hallway; he found David about three quarters of the way back to the offices, walking in his direction and holding a pale envelope in his hand. He looked scared about something, John thought: his eyes were panicked, and the fingers grasping the card were creating wrinkles in the paper.

“Hey, John …�

“Dave, I need you to finish interrogating the Death Eater. Please, I just … need to get away, or something.�

David stopped when John reached him and hid his hand holding the card behind his back. “Okay, sure. But, John, I need to talk to you about something first. It’s pretty important.�

“What is it?�

“Umm, how do I say this?� he stumbled on the words. “You know your friends that are getting married next month? The Weasleys.�

“What about them?� asked John, confused.

“Well,� He held up the hand previously behind his back. He didn’t speak for a minute and then he muttered, “I’m in-invited too.�

John heard the words, but did not understand the meaning. Blank dumb shock was written across his face. Ron and Hermione knew David? How was that even possible? David was in America with him; as far as he knew the Weasleys, nor any of their extended family, had ever been to America, let alone met David and formed a relationship with him, a bond close enough to consider including him on their marriage day.

David was still talking, though. He looked morosely down at the toes of his shoes. “I haven’t told you everything about me John, but when I saw the invitations last week, I knew I would have to soon.�

“You know the Weasleys?�

“I met them briefly about four years ago, immediately after the end of the war. I was in England visiting some distant family who’d survived the war and was recruited to help in the rebuilding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Weasleys were also helping in the renovations, and we became friendly. I haven’t heard from them in a while - you know how you lose touch - and I never expected them to invite me to their wedding.�

“You know the Weasleys?� John repeated. If he didn’t believe it, maybe this would turn out not to be true, like willing yourself awake during a nightmare.

“Yes,� said David worriedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, John.�

But John turned on his heel and walked back the way he had come. He was not in the least bit angry with Dave, but this was too much for any one person to be expected to take in a day. First, he sees Draco Malfoy for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts and learns that Malfoy is planning on taking revenge on him for some obscure reason that only him and his cohorts know of; and next, he learns that David Bryant, his friend since the Auror Academy four years ago, had known his past family for all of these years. He walked slowly back to his cubicle and flopped into his chair, leaning back heavily on it; it wasn’t even three o’clock yet and he already needed a nap.

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

Chapter 3

One Great Big Happy Family, Almost



They had to run to catch their second flight that night, the one from Portland to England. The flight from Georgia to Maine had been long and uneventful, and they’d only had a short stop in between flights before they were scheduled to leave for London. They reached their terminal just as the notice for last boarding was being called over the loudspeaker and they hurried on, quickly finding their seats and settling in. In the window seat, David pulled out his small Muggle music player again - a present from his sister - and closed his eyes to sleep the long hours through; John decided it would be good to do the same.

An hour into the flight, however, and he was still wide awake. He had too much to think about to be able to relax enough to drift off. Earlier that day, before their first flight, he’d snuck into the airport bathroom to change his appearance into something less recognizable; he had kept the light brown hair and blue eyes that he had worn for the last four years, but his nose was shorter and sported a spattering of freckles across it, and he wore Muggle contacts in place of glasses. For the first time in four years, John was returning to the land where he’d been born. He wondered how the Weasleys would feel if they knew that he would be there at the wedding, staying in their home, and how they all must have felt about his betrayal so long ago; surely they would hate him now if they ever discovered his true identity. He’d have to be very careful to never give them any reason to doubt him.

John had not told David who he really was, but before the decision was made to go to the wedding together, he had explained the basics of his relationship with the Weasleys, that he'd once known them, but hadn't been in touch for years. David had promised to respect his choice and to keep his secret, something John was eternally grateful for.

But he still had a few hours until they reached England. Putting on his issued airplane headphones and plugging them into the jack, he turned on the television screen on the back of the seat in front of him and flipped through the movie channels. Settling on a random comedy he’d never heard of, he only half-watched the show before finally his tiredness overcame him, his eyes closed and he slept.

It seemed like only seconds later when John found himself standing outside once more. He was on a street, one that he thought he recognized from his last time in England, and he was alone. He looked around for David, but his friend was nowhere in sight.

Something about this seemed very off. He decided he’d walk up the street a bit to see if he ran into David and if he could figure out where he was. He was scanning the street signs - anything to jog his memory - when he nearly ran right into a tall man with a sweeping silver beard and long purple robes standing at the intersection of two streets. The man, Albus Dumbledore, John realized with a surprise akin to fright, didn’t notice him as his back was turned, but instead was staring steadily across the street to where a tabby cat sat on a low brick wall. “I should have known," Dumbledore chuckled.

John, thoroughly scared now, gazed up at the street sign directly above him and read: Privet Drive. He stood in the shadows and watched as Dumbledore crossed the street and sat on the wall beside the tabby cat, which promptly transformed into Professor McGonagall, who then started a conversation with the supposed-dead headmaster. He watched his two old professors converse in low, serious whispers as they seemed to comfort each other. John got the feeling that something bad had just happened.

Suddenly, out of the dark sky, a rumbling could be heard and a bright light shone from above, illuminating the entire street. The perfect houses and lawns of Privet Drive lit up as the motorbike and its large companion dropped out of the blackness. John watched as Hagrid, with a tiny blue bundle in his massive arms, spoke to McGonagall and Dumbledore before Dumbledore gently lifted the blanketed thing out of the half-giant’s arms. He carried him up the steps of number four Privet Drive and turned away, abandoning the sleeping child on the porch. John wanted to reach out and take the lonely child; as soon as the others were gone, he started forward, but a voice was calling to him--

“John … Hey, John!�

David was shaking his shoulder. John opened his eyes slowly, rubbed them, and squinted in what he thought to be his friend’s general direction.

“Get up, Sleepyhead. We’re in England.�

“Already? It feels like we just left.�

But David was right: all around them the other passengers were standing up, stretching, and retrieving their carry-on luggage from the overhead compartments; his vision from before had been just that, a dream … an entirely too vivid dream in his opinion. John and David got up too and followed the other passengers out of security and to the baggage pick-up. When they had collected all of their bags, they entered the grey overcast morning of London, hailed a cab, and drove away.

They drove in silence until they reached Ottery St Catchpole. On the outskirts of the town, they exited the cab and found themselves in a small village. Cheery people - wizards and Muggles mingling seamlessly together - walked and chatted as they strolled the streets around them.

“We’ll Apparate from here,� said David, pointing to his left.

They turned together into a skinny alley and walked until they reached the darkest shadows at the end. Picturing the Burrow, the men disappeared with two distinct pops, disappearing and then reappearing only a short distance away from the crooked house, on the edge of a forest and out of the range of the anti-Apparition wards.

As they walked towards the house, John whispered, “Remember, I’m just your good friend from the office. I don’t know the Weasleys personally and I never did. I don’t want them knowing I’m here.�

“Don’t worry,� replied David cheerfully, a little too much so in John's opinion. He clapped John on the shoulder, smiling broadly, and turned so that they faced each other. “I will keep your secret. Promise.�

“Thank you.�

They continued to the house. When they reached the porch, a plump red-haired woman was waiting for them. John breathed deeply through his mouth as he spotted Mrs Weasley for the first time since he left; it was a long time to go without the woman who’d been a mother to you for seven years of your life. She smiled warmly as they drew closer and pulled David into a warm hug.

“David, dear, how lovely to see you again. It’s been too long!�

“Hello, Molly. This is my partner and friend, John Fischer; I’m grateful you don’t mind him being here.� He gestured to John.

Mrs Weasley turned her kind eyes on John, looking into his face intently. She seemed stunned for a moment but quickly shook her head and gave him a hug too, although not as familiar as the one she’d given to David. “Hello, John; of course you’re welcome! The more the merrier I always say! Of course, we don’t expect any strange activity at the wedding, but, as you said in your letter, it never hurt anybody to be extra prepared.� She smiled tensely without any real humour. “We don’t seem to have the best track record, after all.�

She opened the door for them and followed them through. “Ron, Hermione and the rest of the gang are out at the moment I’m afraid. I’ve made up some cots for you in Ron’s room - I do hope it’s okay that you’re sharing with him, we have a full house at the moment - so do make yourselves at home now!�

It’s no problem, Molly,� David pacified. John felt his stomach churn uneasily.

She left to prepare supper and John and David were left to their own devices for a few hours.

* * *

Dinner was a ruckus affair: a promised event when you crowded most of the Weasley family, plus their two guests, into the small, but cozy kitchen at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had prepared a feast and everyone dug in with relish. The chaos of a simple dinner with this family reminded John as especially different than his dream of earlier: the lonely orphan boy, disposed of and forgotten on the porch in the middle of the night … this change was a welcome relief from that sight.

John also gazed around in wonder as he realized that these people were still, for the most part, the same as he had left them: Ron still stuffed everything within reach into his mouth as though it was his final meal while his mother only half-heartedly admonished him; George was keeping the entertainment going by telling the table about all the new products he hoped to perfect in time for the annual Halloween sale at the shop; Mr Weasley was excitedly explaining some new Muggle gadget he’d recently acquired. There was only one Weasley missing, but he didn’t know how to bring it up when he wasn’t even supposed to know her. Thankfully, not too long later David asked the very question that had been nagging at John all evening.

“Where’s Ginny? I haven’t seen her yet,� David directed to Molly. As one the table grew silent as everyone stopped their own conversations to listen in.

“W-well, Ginny …� stammered Molly nervously. “Don’t you fret dear, she’ll be home in time for the wedding. She wouldn’t miss it for the world. She’s excited to finally see you again.�

“Where is she?�

“Moscow - in Russia,� Charlie said, his voice tinted with unexplained anger. “She has a big game with the Holyhead Harpies. She’s the head chaser now, you know. Couldn’t miss it apparently; couldn’t take some time off to help out with her own brother’s wedding.�

“If she hadn’t already been free on the first of next month, she probably would’ve happily missed it all together,� agreed Bill, in the middle of cutting up his eldest daughter, Victoire’s, chicken.

Percy passed the baked potatoes to his wife, Audrey, a quiet Muggleborn woman with soft blonde hair and blue eyes, and commented, “Well, I for one think it’s good that she has ambitions, unlike some of you.� But his eyes sparkled and there was no hint of venom in his voice like there would have been before the second war ended.

“All the same,� sniffed Molly, cutting in before anyone could call back a retort, “it wouldn’t hurt her to save more time for family.�

It appeared that Ginny was not in the good graces of her brothers, and hadn’t been for some time. John wondered if there had been a fight like with Percy or if she’d just fallen out. Nobody seemed inclined to add anything and David rightly sensed the discussion finished. He went back to his chicken and ham pie and everyone else did the same. After a few seconds, George came up with a funny tale of an exploding cauldron, blue slime, and a lizard’s tongue that had happened at the shop last week and the happy (although more subdued) atmosphere of earlier resumed as if there had been no interruption at all.

Chapter Five
Hurt and Comfort


“But Hermione and I agreed …�

“Do you mean, ‘Hermione and I agreed,’ or ‘Hermione’s making me and I have no choice but to bow to her whims if I want to get shagged any time soon’?� smirked Seamus Finnigan the next day. Seamus, along with Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom, had arrived that morning and had wasted no time, not even bothering to enter the house fully, before voicing their request, quickly getting David in on their plan with them.

“She’ll kill me! I don’t want to be killed two days before my wedding,� Ron argued.

“It’ll be fine, Ron,� said Dave. Neville and Dean nodded in agreement. Forgotten for the moment, John watched the whole exchange with wary eyes.

“This is Hermione we’re talking about! You do remember Hermione, don’t you?�

“Don’t be stupid, Ron,� scoffed Dean, and Ron shot him a death glare.

“Of course we remember,� Neville sympathised. “Which is why we’re going two days before the wedding and not the day before. You can be hung over tomorrow and be perfectly fine by Tuesday.�

“And how ‘bout my mother. Did you think about what she’ll think about this too?�

“We can do this either the hard way or the easy way,� said Seamus irritably, all teasing in his voice gone. “You can go easily and spend one night of fun with your friends, or we can--�

“All right. All right!� Ron waved both hands in front of him like he was stopping traffic. “But if you think I’m happy about this, than you are sorely mistaken.�

Unfazed, George grinned up at his younger brother from his seat at the kitchen table, enjoying the younger wizards’ antics, little Fred Jr. on his lap. “That’s the spirit, Ronniekins! Don’t let them get you down.�

After dinner that night, David and Ron’s three former roommates all proceeded to drag a reluctant Ron out of the front door. As predicted, neither Hermione nor Molly Weasley were at all happy at the mention of their plans for that night, but even they quickly conceded under the encouragement of an amused Mr Weasley, who took it upon himself to say as they headed out the door, “They only get to live once, girls; let them have a little fun along the way.� Anxious and embarrassed, John held back, not wanting to come in the way of the friends’ fun, but as he passed him, David grabbed the neck of his jumper and pulled John along too.

The Muggle bar that Dean had picked out for the occasion was called The Heartless Harlot and it was a small, shady pub on the opposite outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole as to where the Burrow was located. Built of dark brick, with even darker shades on all the windows and a chipped black door that failed to even hang on the hinges straight, the place didn’t appear to be in running condition until Seamus, leading the way, pushed through the door and the confused buzz of many loud voices burst out.

“So, six Firewhiskeys, then, huh?� asked Ron in a weak voice.

David laughed, “Have you ever been to a Muggle bar Ron?�

“Don’t fret, I’ve got this covered.� And Dean strolled casually over to the counter, smiling charmingly at the scantily clad waitress who was cleaning the mugs with a grimy rag. The others found a seat while they were waiting and not five minutes later, Dean reappeared with six clear glasses filled with an amber liquid. John stared at it distrusting, but everyone else seemed eager at the challenge. He had never been that good at holding his liquor the few times that he had gone out after work with David, and he doubted he’d be much better now.

“It’s Scotch,� Dean answered everyone’s wordless question. “Not as good as Firewhiskey, but it’ll do the trick.�

Neville, surprisingly (at least to John), was the first to raise his glass. He held it in the air, the dark orange-yellow drink lapping at the sides of its clear prison, and said in a firm voice, “To Ron and Hermione - we wish you a long and happy life together!�

“Hear, hear!� Five more glasses came together and clinked soundly against the first; then their holders brought them down again and, as one, downed their contents. When each glass was empty and the friends were all wearing similar satisfied grins, the glasses met the table again, the expected clunk lost amidst all the noise.

After that, the afternoon blended effortlessly into the night and the cheery gang was still there, a collection of glasses covering the middle of the table, and more ones still full in front of each of the men as they readied one of their own for married life.

Neville, being the only one of the six actually married, to Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff no less, had seemed to take it upon himself to doling out “helpful� tips on what to expect from your wife; he wasn’t doing a very good job though, as his words all seemed to slur together and he could hardly keep his head up straight. The others were not much better: Dean was laughing uncontrollably at nothing in particular; David and Ron both looked sick, their faces green; and Seamus seemed to believe that the rather hairy man in the corner was, in fact, a woman, and was preoccupied with hitting on “her�. John also felt rather light-headed and he imagined that he looked no better than Ron and Dave did.

“And when they ask you to do something,� Neville said louder than was necessary, taking caution to pronounce every word perfectly, “they don’t mean to do it later; they mean right then. You see, Ron, that’s the key to a good marriage: always do as they say!�

Ron nodded his head seriously. Dean, still guffawing ridiculously, looked round at his fellows and added, “Marriage? Who’s getting married? I love weddings! Lots of hot bridesmaids to sleep with after!�

Seamus lost interest in the hairy man quickly. “Yes, hot bridesmaids are always good.�

Ron was not as excited about the turn this conversation had gone and he shot daggers with his eyes at Dean and Seamus. “The only bridesmaid will be my sister and, I promise you on ol’ Merlin’s – �

“Yes, all right, Ron; we get it. Nobody is to touch Ginny. And I’ll make it my personal duty to make sure that two days from now, neither of these two buffoons will lay a finger on her,� pacified David.

“Besides,� Ron continued grumpily to himself, “Ginny belongs with Harry. Ginny and Harry are good for each other. They should be together now more than ever, because Ginny is distancing herself from everyone, and no one - except maybe Harry - can bring her back.�

John, in the middle of another Scotch - he had lost count of just how many long ago - as Ron started this passionate speech, at the mention of Ginny Weasley immediately tried to swallow his drink too quickly and choked for a moment before he was slowly able to regain control. “Wh-what?�

Neville, Dean, Seamus and David were all unnaturally quiet and attentive. Ron, his cheeks red from both the drink and his anger, gripped the edge of the table and tried to squeeze his frustration out and into it. “Harry bloody Potter,� he snarled. “Who should have been here, not God knows where else, busy working!� He spit the last word. The hand that wasn’t trying to pulverize the wood table slammed hard upon the top of it, rattling the glasses and shocking every patron in the shabby pub into staring, flabbergasted, at the group.

“Ron, you’re making a scene,� mumbled David. John sat frozen in his seat, his eyes wide in shock.

“I don’t care anymore!� Ron retorted. “Some best friend - abandoning his family on the most important day of his best mate’s life! He should be here, drinking with us; he should’ve been calming me down, encouraging me that I’m doing the right thing, and standing beside me as a best mate should when I marry the woman I love!�

Neville’s voice was calm. “I’m sure he would have come if he could, mate; you know he loves you.�

“I would’ve believed so before he decided to stay away like he did. Guess I’m not that surprised, though; hasn’t shown his face in ‘bout four years, has he? Not one letter either, saying that he was even alive, till now.�

“It’s all right to be mad at him,� said Neville.

“I know that!� cried Ron, exasperated. “He deserted me … deserted us, but I still want him here; I need him.� He heaved a heavy sigh. “I guess that I just feel like, maybe, in the end we weren’t enough for him to stick around for.�

“He’ll be back when he’s ready; he just has to figure this thing, whatever it is, out for himself,� consoled Seamus. “He would be so proud of you and Hermione, though; heavens knows, it’s taken the two of you long enough!�

Ron snorted into his drink. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.�

John gazed intently into his Scotch. He had never thought of his actions like that before, as having such a big impact on his friends even now, four years later. He’d gotten it backwards before: leaving hadn’t done them any good; if anything, it had only provoked the feelings in them that he’d wanted to escape from in the first place. He continued to avoid the others’ gazes, afraid that his condemnation would be written clearly upon his face. He didn’t say anything more the entire night.

* * *

John woke up the next morning feeling disoriented and sporting a pounding headache, making his head throb like he had just been struck on it with an out-of-control Bludger. He looked around Ron’s vibrant orange room with squinted eyes, still decorated in numerous Chudley Canon Quidditch team posters, dazedly trying to make sense of where he was and what he’d been doing last night; it all seemed like one big blur now. The sun was bright through the window and there was no sign of either Ron or David. Hearing muffled voices coming from below, John rolled off of his cot and, still in his pyjamas, exited the room to find out what was going on.

He was almost to the kitchen before he encountered any more signs of human habitation in the usually full Burrow. The shouting voices had gradually gotten louder the further down he went, and now they invaded his ears, only worsening his headache. Outside the entrance to the kitchen, where the voices were emitting from, four tall figures lingered and John recognized David, Neville, Seamus and Dean. At the sight of them, his memory of late last night flooded back like a dam had been released and he was bombarded with the reminder of Muggle alcohol, the six men drinking away Ron’s ending bachelorhood, and the depressing conversation it had all led to.

He crept forward behind David and whispered, his voice scratchy, “What’s happenin’?�

“Shh,� came the anxious answer from the majority of the men; but David turned around and eyed him expectantly, knowingly, as only the sole person aware of John’s worst secret could.

“It’s Ron and Hermione,� he murmured. “Hermione wasn’t too happy about Ron coming home so drunk last night. She’s been giving it to him since eight o’clock this morning.�

John checked his wristwatch; it was almost nine. “Why is she so upset, though; did he do something after we returned?�

David turned away again. “No, listen.�

Now that he was barely a foot away, the raised voices were loud and clear. John imagined this fight in his mind compared to all the ones he had witnessed in their school days and shook his head; clearly, no matter how much older they got, the need to always contradict each other would never go away. The other members of the Weasley clan had probably seen enough of their bickering lately to last them till doom’s day, which explained the eerie emptiness of the house. Typical.

“If Neville, Dean and Seamus wanted you to jump off a cliff, would you?� came Hermione’s shrill, disembodied voice.

Ron mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like, “Would if I could right now.� John heard cupboard doors slamming shut and angry footsteps pacing the wooden floor in a fury. This didn’t look good for Ron; out of the corner of his eye, John saw Dean shake his head sympathetically.

“Those two at it again?� somebody asked from behind them. All five of the eavesdroppers whirled round guiltily on their heels to find George smirking in the direction of the kitchen, where his youngest brother was trapped.

Then, more shrieking from Hermione and Ron said stupidly, “Well, can I not have some fun once in a while? Instead of cleaning, and picking out appetizers and flowers, and a million other things!�

Everyone on the safe side of the barrier between life and painful death winced in sympathy for Ron. In answer, someone huffed out a clear disapproval and staccato footsteps announced the approach of one half of the fighting pair towards where they stood. Suddenly, John found himself quite alone as his companions made themselves scarce and, before he had a chance to move too, the door was flung open and an irate Hermione stormed out. She only paused once to give John a forced smile before barricading herself in Ginny’s old bedroom on the first floor.

John sighed. Deal with a probably extremely angry Ron, or console an irrational Hermione; neither were very appealing at any time. But John still remembered Ron’s depressed state of last night and his hurt voice as he verbalized his feelings for his old friend, and it was bound to be awkward, even if only in John’s perspective; he didn’t want to have to relive that moment quite so soon. Shoving his fists deep into his trouser pockets, he took the decidedly less scary route and knocked timidly on the bedroom door. When Hermione’s head peeped out, her eyes red and cheeks wet, John entered the room without waiting for an admittance and closed the door softly behind him.

Hermione gazed at John from the opposite end of the bedroom, a confused expression on her tear-stained face. Determined not to look at her yet, he pulled out the desk chair to sit on it and motioned for Hermione to have a seat on the bed, to which she reluctantly complied. He stared at his entwined hands, awkward and out of place, wanting her to speak first, and yet almost wishing that she wouldn’t and that they could just sit here in silence for a while.

“Is there something you needed, John?�

He looked up from his hands in surprise. “Um … no, not really.� She just stared at him inquisitively, so he continued, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay; I heard the fight.�

She laughed shakily once without humour. “Who didn’t?� she asked rhetorically. She took a deep breath. “I’m fine, thank you, John.�

“You don’t look it,� he muttered. “You shouldn’t take it out on Ron so bad.�

Her eyebrows rose on her forehead, a suspicious expression entered her eyes as she studied him, and he found himself squirming under the pressure. “I know it’s not my business,� he whispered.

“You’re right, it’s not,� she replied curtly. “But, if you must know, he … he is - can just be so infuriating. Irresponsible; child-like. He’s twenty-two, not two, but you’d never know it sometimes! He hardly helps with the wedding, he lets his idiotic friends - no offence, John - coerce him in to staying out all night and getting pissed--�

“None taken,� he cut off her rant.

“Moping around all the time. Just being plain … Ron.�

John laughed, he couldn’t help it. That was one way of describing Ron’s behaviour. Yes, he was just being himself: fun, tactless, big-hearted Ron. “Then do you really think starting arguments over it is going to help any?�

“No,� she murmured to herself. “But it’s easier than trying to deal with it.�

He leaned forward and took her hand gently in his. “He’s mad and hurt, he misses his best friend and wonders if there was anything he could’ve done to stop whatever happened from happening. Trust me, Hermione; it’s not your fault. None of this is,� he said sadly.

She stared intently at the floor and he thought that he saw more tears gathering in her brown eyes. “How do you know all of this?�

“He talked about it a bit that day we played Quidditch, and he talked a lot about it last night at the bar. Plus, I’ve pieced together some of the parts on my own. I have to say, this guy you all seem so distraught over losing must have been quite the git to just drop such wonderful people like he did.�

“You didn’t know Harry,� she shot at him furiously; her warm eyes drowned in pain. “You never knew him, so don’t come here thinking you know everything about us, and our pasts, and that you can fix it all - because you can’t!�

“Sorry.� He got up and turned away from her before she could witness his face scrunching up in pain over her words, and walked towards the door. “All I’m saying is, ease up on him a little, please, Hermione. You’re all hurting real bad, I can see that, but taking it out on each other will only make things worse. And you may find that - although you may not like it - that if you leave things to fester too long, it may be too late by the time you actually want to fix it. Trust me, I know from experience.� He opened the door and was halfway out before she spoke again.

“Thank you,� she breathed so quietly that he almost missed it, “for listening.�

“You’re welcome,� he returned, stepping out into the hall, and then he left.

Chapter 4
Broken Pictures


The next morning Ron, David, and John awoke early to the smell of sizzling bacon, eggs, and toast that was drifting from the kitchen and through the floorboards. Wide awake with the thought of a home cooked meal by Molly Weasley, the boys dressed quickly and hurried downstairs, where the kitchen was already full to the brim of red-haired people eating and laughing. Hermione was helping Molly serve the food, and when she saw Ron in the forefront of the trio charging towards the table, she smiled and pecked him fondly on the cheek before serving him with a heaping pile of his favourite breakfast foods. They sat down - Dave to the left of Ron and John on David’s other side - and started wolfing down the delicious meal.

“David!� cried Hermione when she finally noticed him. He looked up from spreading jam on his toast to greet her in return. “It’s so good to see you!�

“Hello, Hermione. Long time, no see,� said David. He swallowed and stood up to kiss her cheek. “And this is my partner, John Fischer, from America; great Auror, he is.�

“It’s been too long. Nice to meet you, John.� She shook his hand, and just like with Ron the night before, John was once again caught up in the knowledge of how much he had missed her - missed them all. All of them were older now, wiser, matured, experienced; but when he was with them again, witnessing their nearly picture perfect family, he felt like he had never left; like he belonged with them still. And, he knew, as the sudden truth of the statement caught him off guard, that he loved that feeling.

“So, David.� Hermione had turned back to him and was quizzing him about his life in America. “How are you? Have you been very busy in the States?�

“Everything’s good, I guess. It’s been stressful lately though, hasn’t it, John? Bunch of rogue Death Eaters terrorizing the Muggles, but we’ve been slowly rounding them up.�

“Horrible, absolutely dreadful; of all the nerve!� exclaimed Mr Weasley, sitting at the head of the long table. “To think that some are still out there after so long!�

“There aren’t many, thank Merlin,� David replied. “Why, just a couple weeks ago we brought in another one. Four of them still got away, but it’s progress.�

John stayed silent through the conversation. He knew exactly why Draco Malfoy and his followers were in America, and it wasn’t just for the fun of Muggle-baiting. Besides, Malfoy had never been one for all that, more likely to only proceed to meet his own demands; and like every other time they had clashed in the past, he had a bigger plan than just seemingly random havoc now. The Muggle casualties were more likely to be a warning that they were coming than anything else. John just hoped that they wouldn’t notice he’d left the country for the meantime.

He tuned back into the present then. Mrs Weasley was asking Ron to de-gnome the garden after breakfast and Ron was arguing that he shouldn’t have to; it was his wedding after all!

“You didn’t make Bill or Percy do it!� he shouted. “At Bill’s, you didn’t want us planning behind your back, so you forced Hermione, Harry and me to do it! Three times!�

The entire table fell silent, and, realizing whose name he had just called a second too late, Ron’s eyes squeezed shut in anger and he banged his fist against the wood. “Damn it!� he said.

“But I am asking you to do it now!� she replied. She had drawn herself up to her full height, her hands resting on her hips: a bad sign that anyone familiar with Weasley family dynamics would recognize a mile away. “You’re not doing anything else today, so you have no excuse.�

“We’ll help, right, John?� Dave intervened quickly, before it could go any further.

“O-of course,� he answered, still shaken by Ron’s last outburst.

“Are you done eating? Come on, Ron, we’ll start now and maybe have a game of Quidditch after.� David pulled John up by the arm and Ron, albeit sulkily, got up too.

“Fine,� he huffed, and led the way out to the back garden.

But he did not go quietly. He slammed the back door on his way out and stomped all the way to the small, overgrown garden. At once, he started trying to yank a lurking gnome from its hiding spot behind a Flutterby bush, only succeeding in getting his finger bitten by the angry creature. After a great deal of swearing and some grappling, he finally grabbed it by its leg and swung it so far that it was only a faint dot in the sky before it dropped to the ground.

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down there!� David yelled. He forcefully held Ron back from snatching another gnome.

Meanwhile, John had his own gnome held tightly by the legs with both hands. Twirling it like a lasso over his head, he let go and watched it fly over the low hedge. It wobbled about for a moment before teetering off in the opposite direction.

“I’m sorry,� Ron murmured; Dave had let go of him and was swinging his own gnome around his head. “I shouldn’t have let her work me up like that.�

“I imagine she just wants to make sure you and Hermione have the perfect wedding,� John intervened quietly.

Ron snorted. “What? Does she expect it to be invaded by a horde of garden gnomes bent on using the appetisers for a food fight? Not bloody likely, if you ask me.� He bent his head down for another doomed gnome and continued muttering curses under his breath.

Afterwards, David and John waited in the Burrow’s living room while Ron went upstairs to fetch his Keeper’s gloves. They had agreed on the two Aurors playing Chaser against each other, with Ron acting as the Keeper for both sides. As John and Dave claimed to be equally horrible at scoring, and Ron was decent at defending the posts, the sides were the most evenly matched. John was glad that they weren’t playing a full scrimmage game: he didn’t think he could spare the embarrassment after having neglected flying for so long.

David had sprawled out on the couch. Upstairs, Ron was arguing with his mother about playing around when he should be working, and his loud voice carried down to them. At the moment, he was busy convincing her that a little fun hurt nobody and besides, they had guests who came for a wedding, not to be house elves. At the inclusion of house elves, Hermione started in about rights and freedom. Apparently her dedication to SPEW had not dimmed at all over the years.

While he waited, John scanned the framed photographs along the fireplace mantel. Portraits and captured moments in time depicting the Weasley children from infanthood to maturity spread along the wall. John saw a lot of familiar and happy faces. Bill and Fleur on their wedding day, Charlie riding a dragon in Romania, and all of the children’s graduations from Hogwarts were just a few. Some were harder to look at than others. One was of a jubilant Fred and George outside their Diagon Alley joke shop - their arms were around each other’s shoulders and the animated faces were laughing at a long-forgotten joke. George still had both his ears, and the twins looked much younger and carefree than the last time he had seen them both. But it was the picture lain face down on the stone mantel that caught his eye. Picking it up and turning it over, John gasped audibly as his blue eyes met familiar bright green ones behind round black glasses.

The picture was of a quartet of teenagers. They sat under a large oak tree beside a shimmering lake, the sun shining and the bright turquoise sky cloudless. A small dark shadow could be seen in the lake not far away, but unless you were looking, it was hardly noticeable. Two redheads, a boy and girl, another girl - this one brown-haired - and a scrawny boy with untidy black hair were enjoying the perfect weather by completing homework under the shade of the tree. John watched as the black-haired boy wrapped his arm around the red-haired girl’s shoulder, pulling her closer; the way his eyes shone, like he was the lucky winner of a much coveted prize. They were so happy …

"They like having no freedom!" Ron’s voice was heard from above, and John came back to reality with a sudden jolt. Hurried footsteps stomped down the wooden stairs and two doors slammed one after the other on the landing above. The picture frame slipped from John’s sweaty grip, succumbing to gravity as it fell to the floor, the glass cover shattering. David sat up in surprise, his eyes wide; and Ron, now standing frozen at the bottom of the stairs, stared disbelievingly at John across the den in an emotion that could only be pure, hot rage.

"What were you doing?" he shouted. His ears were still red from his argument with the women and the colour only deepened now. He strode to where John was standing, and bending down, scooped the fallen photo from among the broken glass shards.

"I was just curious."

David’s head was moving steadily back and forth between the two like a pendulum. His mouth was open and his eyebrows were drawn together as if he had just put the clues together and formed a larger truth that he in no way liked. Ron held the photo tight to his chest, beyond words.

"Who are they?" John questioned. He wanted Ron to admit his hatred for that green-eyed boy; wanted somebody to come out and finally say the words aloud.

"Who do you think?" he snarled. He waved his wand and the frame came back together effortlessly. Cradling it, he inserted the picture and placed it back in its spot on the mantel.

"Well, the red-headed boy is you … I think … and the brown-haired girl’s Hermione. Is the other girl your sister, Ginny?"

"Right in one. But aren’t you curious about the other?"

"The black-haired boy with the glasses? I - I don’t believe I know him."

Ron huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He tried to look indifferent, but his eyes were full of pain as he spoke. "Harry Potter. Every bloody person in the Wizarding world knows him … or knew him. What rock have you been living under for the last twenty years?"

David got up then, probably deciding to cut in while Ron still looked halfway sane. Grabbing his broomstick and heading for the door, he smirked over his shoulder. "Are you ladies playing or not?"

Ron slumped out of the door, pulling on his Keeper gloves, and headed for the broom shed. When John followed, David stopped him by gently grabbing his upper arm. "You should tell them soon, John, or it'll only get worse."

John nodded stiffly and David let go. "I know. But I can't."

The game was slow, but exhausting. Ron was still an excellent Keeper and it was rare when the others managed to get the ball they were using as the Quaffle by him. John had not been on a broom in years, and the feeling was strange and foreign to him now; he'd always thought of flying as being like learning to ride a bike: once you’d learned, you never forgot. But when he felt so little like his past self, like a totally separate person, just maybe, he acquiesced, it wasn't so weird for it to feel wrong now. After over an hour, David ended up winning the match sixty to twenty, and the three companions flew back to the ground and put their equipment away. They all went straight to work then, dusting any surface they could find, changing the sheets in all of the bedrooms. Ron had told them earlier that his old school mates - Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan - would be coming tomorrow to spend some time with Ron before the wedding, and with the addition of even more guests staying under her roof, Mrs Weasley wanted everything to be in pristine condition.

Chapter Six
False Pretence



It was the ideal day for a wedding. Nearly two o’clock on the afternoon of the first of October and the sun was a shining beacon in the clear sky, the birds chirped their upbeat ballads cheerfully, and the accustomed hustle and bustle at The Burrow was in full swing as everybody got ready for the ceremony that was happening there that day. On the lawn everything was set - the marquee, alter and chairs had been put perfectly in their places earlier that morning, and it was the first time in years that the yard and gardens had looked so clean and trim.

However, inside there was chaos from all corners. In the girls’ dressing room, the bride paced the length in front of the mirror spastically as her family watched nervously, wringing her hands and trying not to wrinkle her ivory dress. The only man in the room stood like an out-of-place sentinel in one corner.

“Hermione, dear, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,� sighed a tall, skinny woman with thick brown hair and prominent eyes whom John assumed to be her mother.

Hermione paid her no mind and instead turned her attention on him; John shrunk away as the frantic expression on her face was directed towards him. “How is he? He’s not getting cold feet, is he? What is--�

“Whoa, whoa.� John made sure he moved in front of the open door just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. “He’s fine! He’s, wait … cold feet?�

He had thought his question was innocent enough but she only paced faster and went to pull her hair, nearly screaming with frustration when she remembered that it was now sleeked and pinned up for the occasion and she could not touch it if she didn’t want it ruined. Seeming to take pity on her soon to be daughter-in-law, Mrs Weasley answered for her.

“Is Ron all right to be married today, John? He’s not getting scared, is he?�

“What? No, of course not; Ron’s doing great.�

“You see,� placated Hannah, “everything’ll be perfect. Ron wants to marry you; you want to marry Ron. You have nothing to worry about.�

Hermione breathed in a deep, calming breath. “Yes. Yes, of course. John, you should most likely be getting your suit on now.�

“On my way.� He risked a step forward and pecked her on the cheek, enjoying watching her eyes widen in happy alarm. “You’re beautiful. Ron won’t know what hit him.�

She was still blushing when he closed the door behind him.

Inside the men’s room, the groom was going through a similar bout of hysteria. His freckled face was currently a perfect match for his flaming orange hair.

“Why did I ever let Hermione talk me into wearing one of these ridiculous things!� fumed Ron Weasley as he struggled with his stubborn tie. “I can’t breathe in this, it’s too tight!�

“Calm down,� Neville chuckled beside him. He had finished pinning his pale yellow corsage on to his lapel and was now admiring himself in the full-length mirror.

Ron narrowed his eyes at his best man’s handsome black Muggle suit. “Well, you look good. Why do you look so good? I just look like an idiot in mine.� He pulled on the tie some more, glaring down at it as if wishing it to knot itself. “This is useless!�

“It’s not so bad,� said David. “You know how important this is to Hermione - having it as Muggle as possible. A lot of her relatives have no clue she’s a witch, or that there’s even such a world.�

“Still,� he huffed, “I wish I could’ve just worn dress robes.�

John, who by this point had put on his own Muggle suit, looked down at his tie hanging around his neck and smiled slightly; Ron made such a big deal out of things sometimes. Hermione may not have wanted wizard clothing, but she had said absolutely nothing about using magic to help you dress. He pulled out his wand, pointed it at his neck, and said clearly, making sure that Ron could hear and see what he was doing, “Ligo�. Immediately, his silk tie was perfectly knotted and centered on his neck; Ron scowled.

“Bloody hell, John! Where’d you learn that?�

“Let’s just say that I’ve been to one or two occasions where a tie has been required over the years,� John smirked. “Here, let me fix that.� He pointed his wand at Ron’s and repeated the charm; immediately his cream-coloured tie secured itself at a comfortable length around his neck.

“Spiffy,� muttered Ron, impressed. He smoothed the palm of his hand down the front of his dress shirt. “Thanks.�

“Don’t mention it.�

There was a sharp knock on the other side of the door and then it opened and Mr and Mrs Weasley entered. They smiled proudly at the sight of their youngest son. “It’s time,� Mr Weasley announced.

* * *

At precisely two o’clock, John followed the congregation of guests outside with David, Seamus, and Dean, and they found their seats in the second row from the front of the ceremony. Everything looked beyond words; the Weasleys had outdone themselves once again. The chairs, aisle, and pillars of the marquee were draped in a soft lace, an array of light pink and white petals were scattered on the floor, and the surrounding trees were decked in small twinkling fairy lights. The crowd was an equal mixture of Muggles and magical people, the large majority of whom were decked out in Muggle attire to not give away the secret of the magical world to the bride’s extended family.

As the music started softly behind them, the entire crowd turned their heads toward the back of the tent to watch Hermione make the customary walk to the alter. While his eyes travelled to the back, John spotted many familiar faces from his time in England. In a magically-fortified seat sat Hagrid the half-giant, who pulled out a large tablecloth-sized handkerchief from the deep depths of his pocket to muffle his emotional tears. He saw many of the professors of Hogwarts too, as well as some of the shop owners in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Luna Lovegood, in all of her eccentric glory, was seated contently between Ollivander the wand maker and a slim, wide-eyed man who John did not recognize. He also saw many familiar faces from school, including Susan Bones, the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot.

Finally, his eyes were drawn to Hermione, a stunning vision walking between her tearful mother and smiling father. Her eyes were locked to the front where Ron was waiting, and John thought that she must be the most gorgeous girl at The Burrow today - that is, until he saw the slender red-haired girl taking the place as Hermione’s Maid of Honour. Ginny Weasley strolled gracefully up the aisle carrying a small bouquet of flowers in a pale yellow dress that accentuated every feature and curve on her body. Almost unconsciously, John found his eyes following her more intensely than he had the bride.

The group had now arrived at the alter where Ron, with Neville standing beside him, and the small tufty-haired wizard who had performed Bill and Fleur’s wedding were waiting. Hermione’s parents pecked both her cheeks and placed her hand in Ron’s; they left and together, Ron and Hermione turned to the minister as he began to recite his speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls in holy matrimony…�

John couldn’t keep his eyes off of his two old friends - they were so happy; they looked as if all of their doubts and questions and fears could be answered just by the presence of the one person in front of them. He wondered how that felt, knowing that you had a soul mate, another half… someone who’d never judge you and would always love and forgive you when you did something wrong. He turned his attention back to the ceremony, the guilty pain in his chest suddenly an unbearable burden.

“Do you, Ronald Bilius, take Hermione Jean, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?�

“I do,� Ron declared; he slid Hermione’s ring on to her third finger.

The tufty-haired wizard repeated the vow for Hermione. Tears cascaded down her face, but she smiled adoringly at her love. “I do,� she said and put his ring on him.

“Then I declare you bonded for life. You may now kiss the bride.� John watched as Ron leaned in, lifted her veil, and captured Hermione’s lips in a searing kiss. The couple broke apart after a moment, rather reluctantly, and the minister said, “Guests, if you will please rise.� Everybody stood up, clapping, and the chairs were quickly moved, leaving the makeshift dance floor clear.

The reception commenced quickly after that. John found himself alone at a table in the corner as people congratulated the happy couple and danced along to the music from the live band. Overall, despite everything that he had felt before, he was glad David had dragged him along; he wouldn’t have missed this wedding for anything in the world. As he was thinking this, Mrs Weasley had just finished an upbeat waltz with Mr Weasley and was making her way through the crowd to join him.

“Hello,� greeted John as she sat down across from him. “Magnificent ceremony.�

“It really was, wasn’t it?� she gushed. “Everybody seems to be enjoying themselves.�

Mrs Weasley peered at him shrewdly for a few seconds, her lips pursed; John got the distinct impression that she saw something in him more than she let on most of the time. “I’m glad you came, John.�

“I’m glad I came too, Mrs Weasley.�

She reached across the table to pat his arm affectionately and stood up. “Well,� she said, “don’t sit here brooding the entire time, dear, do you hear? Go catch some girl for a dance; it looks like Ginny’s free now.� She glanced furtively at him out of the corner of her eye and left, pulling one of her sons out onto the floor for a turn as she went.

Mrs Weasley was right, John noticed at once; Ginny, having just ended a friendly dance with Neville, was standing by herself at the punch table. Getting up, he approached her, holding out his hand; she looked up inquisitively.

“Hi, you’re Ron’s sister, Ginny, right?� She nodded. “My name is John Fischer, I’m--�

“You’re David’s friend, aren’t you?� She smiled only slightly, but John thought that it made her still even more beautiful. “His Auror partner in America.�

“Yeah, I am,� he replied, shaking her hand. “Care for a dance? It’s just … your family, they talk about you a lot. I just thought we could get to know each other a bit.�

“I’d like that,� said Ginny. She followed him onto the dance floor, holding on to the hand she already had and placing her other lightly on his shoulder. John tentatively put his free hand on her waist and slowly, they revolved in a small circle.

The music changed to a song that was a bit too fast for their rhythm, but they didn’t stop. The heavy feeling that he’d felt earlier had entirely gone, leaving him feeling light-hearted and joyful; he wondered why, now, her mere presence was more of a comfort to him that anything else he’d encountered for a long time. He found that he could spend all night like this, with her in his arms, and not get tired of it at all. If only she knew …

“So,� he said, trying to strike up a conversation, “your brother, Charlie, said you’re a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies; how’s that?�

“Oh, it’s good … busy schedule,� she replied vaguely.

“I was a Seeker in school myself. Haven’t played seriously in years though.�

“Yeah? You went to Salem’s School in the United States like David, then?�

“Um, no actually,� he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I didn’t. I grew up outside of the States; only moved there after I graduated.�

Ginny perked up then; her eyes sparkled with renewed interest and they locked with his as she attempted to figure him out. John wondered if she was having any luck with that; most of the time he didn’t even know himself.

“You know, you remind me of someone,� she said. He stiffened under her touch. “Where did you grow up?�

Just then, his answer was cut off as several loud cracks disturbed the peacefulness of the atmosphere. Several things happened at once: the band stopped playing abruptly, the tent under which everyone was dancing and eating was suddenly ripped off of its supports and thrown through the air, a few startled screams pierced the chaos, and before he knew what was happening, John felt Ginny wrenched harshly out of his grip. He whirled around, searching for Ginny and whatever was causing the disturbance of the best day he’d had in forever, his wand held at the ready. He saw David pushing through the frightened crowd, his wand out too, screaming something as he ran towards John.

“IT’S THEM! THEY FOUND US! IT’S THEM, JOHN!�

“Shit!� John snarled. David positioned himself back to back with John, calling orders out into the crowd.

“ANYBODY WITH WANDS, GET THEM OUT! IF YOU CAN APPARATE, GET THE CHILDREN AND MUGGLES OUT OF HERE!�

John watched the frantic guests impatiently; why weren’t they leaving? Did they want to get killed? Now, several black-cloaked Death Eaters were forming a large circle around the group, blocking everyone from running away. Out of the corner of his eye, John spotted a small boy with a shock of bright turquoise hair weaving through people’s feet.

“They have anti-Apparition wards up!� Dean Thomas shouted from somewhere to John’s left. “They’re blocking the exits! There’s no way out!�

“ANYBODY WHO CAN FIGHT, PULL OUT YOUR WANDS!� roared John. “EVERYONE ELSE TAKE COVER!�

John and David stood in the dead centre of the circular wall of Death Eaters. Together, they started volleying off spells and others started to do the same, until a malicious laugh, magnified to be heard over the din, made them stop; a cold silence drowned out everything but that laugh and the man who made it.

A tall, dark figure stepped forward out of the mass of black; behind him, a couple of other Death Eaters dragged two girls bound in their arms along with them: one in a long ivory dress, the other in a pale yellow. A silencing charm muted the girls’ screams.

“Hermione!�

“Ginny!�

Cries rang from several of the onlookers; John felt like crying along with them, but the man had now stopped in front of him and David.

“Fancy seeing you two here,� he sneered at them. “How nice of you to lead us right to you. All we had to do was cast a simple Tracking Charm on one of you, and look, here we are!�

Ron was being forcefully held back by George and Percy. His eyes glared balefully at the man. “You!� he yelled, “I’m going to find out who you are, and I’ll kill you, I swear I will!�

The man only awarded Ron with a fleeting glance before his attention was back on John. But he lowered his hood, revealing his white-blond hair and cold grey eyes, smiling pleasantly at the confusion he had caused. He laughed again. “Some things never change, do they?� said Draco Malfoy. “Your old sidekick has quite the temper. I wonder how he will feel once he learns that he’s been replaced.�

“Shut up, Malfoy,� hissed John as a muddled babble of voices broke out.

“Tsk, tsk, Fischer, your manners are no better than his, are they?� said Malfoy. “But, that aside, I suppose you are wondering why I’m here.�

“Yeah, I’m wondering. So spill, what good could this possibly do? Why are you doing this?�

“Because I can,� he answered simply. He beckoned the men holding Hermione and Ginny captive to come closer. “You ruined my life, Harry Potter, now I’m going to ruin yours.� Then, amidst the shocked cries and angry retorts, Draco Malfoy pulled the same emerald pendant he’d used in Atlanta from underneath his robes and gave it a tug. He disappeared into the thin air, his Death Eaters following him in the same manner, taking the struggling girls with them.

Chapter Seven
Unravelling



The silence around The Burrow’s kitchen table was almost loud compared to the events of just a few hours before; it practically screamed in John’s face as everyone stared expectantly at him. The only person who’s attention was not focused on him was Ron; he slouched stonily in the corner, avoiding everybody else and twirling his gold wedding band around his finger. The Grangers weren’t there - Mr and Mrs Weasley had set them up in a bedroom while things were being decided.

The tension seem to last an eternity, as all awkward moments somehow do, and John didn’t want to break it; but they needed to get moving, get their act together so that they could find Hermione and Ginny and put this whole mess behind them. John cleared his dry throat and immediately it seemed to unleash the flood in Ron that had been building steadily over the last while.

“So, what’s the plan?� asked John.

Nobody answered his question, but Ron snorted dismissively and stood up; he towered over them so much that John had to strain his neck to watch the constantly shifting emotions on his face.

“Plan? Yeah, what is the plan, ‘John’? We don’t know where they are, what’s happening to them even now, how long he’ll keep them alive! All I know right now is that my best friend is no longer M.I.A. after four years and my wife and sister have just been kidnapped by the man who hated and taunted us at school. Tell me, Potter, what is our plan? If you care enough to stick around to help, that is.�

John flinched at the cold use of his true surname; he hadn’t heard that name connected to him in so long, not even by himself … and to listen to Ron scream it at him like this hurt, not that he blamed him.

“Boys, let’s calm down for a minute,� pleaded Mr Weasley. He stood behind his wife, his arms wrapped around her shaking form in a sign of wordless comfort.

“I’ll calm down, all right!� snapped Ron crossly, his eyes full of distaste. “I’ll be calm once Hermione and Ginny are safely back home, and he is out of my sight.� He pointed accusingly at John.

“Ron …� John whispered.

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk to you.�

“Ron, please,� said David.

“What was your part in this, David?� exclaimed Ron. “The two of you must’ve been having a real laugh at us all this time, imagining the poor clueless Weasleys; never mind what it would mean to us knowing what we know now, and only because of Malfoy!�

“That’s enough, Ron,� John said sharply. Everyone froze. “Why do you think I never told you? That David never did? This is exactly the reaction I expected. I never told him my true identity - just enough that he knew that I was once close to you. He figured it out eventually, but he promised he wouldn’t tell, and he didn’t. I came back to see you and Hermione marry. Hell, I never thought Malfoy would have the guts to come here; it’s me he’s after,� his voice grew soft and remorseful, “it’s my fault he took them.�

“You’re damn right it’s your fault.�

“I knew he wanted revenge on me; he’s been chasing me in America for months now. I put his father in Azkaban, and his family was penalized really harshly for their part in the war. I never should have risked coming here and putting you all in danger.�

Everybody else’s eyes softened slightly, all but Ron’s. He continued to ignore him, glaring at David for some incomprehensible reason that John could not figure out.

“And you!� he said accusingly to David. “You were supposed to tell us something like this! It was your job!�

And there was that silence again. What was that about? John looked back and forth between David and the Weasleys. Everyone was looking at Ron now, all sporting similar looks of shock and … guilt? What on Earth was going on? This fight had gotten way out of hand.

Ron’s face was flaming red, but he spun back onto his stunned family, nearly screaming. “There! I said it! It’s out, over, done with! And you know what? I’m glad. It would have come out sooner or later.�

“David,� said John, his voice low and menacing, “what is he talking about?�

“Aw, crap, Ron!� David had moaned while Ron was shouting. He turned to John now and said, “This is not how you were supposed to find out, John. I’m sorry; this is gonna sound so, so bad. Do you remember how I told you I met the Weasleys while rebuilding Hogwarts, and that we became pretty friendly?� He met John’s eyes, and John, in all his confusion and anger and shame could not deny that his friend looked truly miserable to be saying this.

“Yes, I remember.�

“Well, that’s not the whole story. You see, I specialize as an Auror in tracking and protection. After the Hogwarts renovations were complete … well, the Weasleys kind of … hired … me to look out for you. They were all so worried; didn’t want you to end up dead, or worse - so I was supposed to follow you to America, befriend you, and report regularly back to them that you were okay.�

“Are you telling me that you pretended to be my friend, for four years!� He could not believe that he had been betrayed like this. “Are you kidding me?�

“John, I never pretended; you have to understand that, if nothing else! A few months into our training course at the Auror Academy, as we became real friends, I stopped seeing you as an assignment, and as a real person who had just made a mistake.� He looked up at John, and John could see that he was fighting to hold back tears. “I still occasionally told the Weasleys that you were doing okay, keeping busy, things like that; but it was never in less than a friendly gesture.�

“You lied to me, David, how can I trust you now?�

He stared down at his shoes miserably. “I don’t know.�

John looked around at all of the Weasleys and David; he could not believe this. All of this time, and David had been their man. At the moment, he didn’t even care that there wouldn’t have been a need for this if he had just stayed. He didn’t know these people anymore, and he definitely did not know David. He shook his head once, trying to get rid of the itch telling him it was time to run. Despite everything, he didn’t want to run anymore. So he just walked out the front door, slamming it shut loudly, leaving them all behind him again.

He found a large tree stump, half rotten after many seasons of frosting and defrosting, and sat down, holding up his head with his elbows perched on his knees. It was night time and chilly, the waning moon watching him ruefully, and John shivered with the wind. He thought about a lot of things; he thought about himself, about everyone probably laughing behind his back inside The Burrow; about how again he was faced with the questions of: who was he? And, what was he really doing with his life? He was different now, changed in some way from the man that he was prior to leaving America, and he thought he knew how - it was John. John felt different, like he was disappearing … because he had never really been John, he realized. That was just an excuse he had made to hide from himself.

But he wasn’t hiding anymore. Everything had been brought out explosively into the open tonight. He was Harry, Harry Potter, and he had known that all along; it had just felt right that, when he left his old life behind, he would have to leave his name behind too. He would have to start thinking of himself as Harry again; but he had been John for so long …

He was interrupted suddenly from his musings by soft footsteps coming towards him through the grass. He looked up, expecting maybe David coming to plead his apologies some more, and was surprised to find Audrey, Percy’s wife, approaching instead.

“Hi, Harry,� she spoke quietly, “can I sit down?�

“No offence, but I would really rather be left alone at the moment.�

“I know,� she replied, chuckling nervously and taking a seat beside him anyways. “That’s why I have talk to you.�

He sighed resignedly and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. “What?�

“I am going to give you the same advice that you gave to Hermione - yes she told me,� she answered his silent question. “Don’t be too hard on them. They meant well, and they did it only because they love you.�

“Funny way of showing it.�

“Well, people do funny things for the ones they love, don’t you think?� Her voice took on a hard edge. “For instance, did you not do the same just four years ago?�

“It’s not the same thing,� he said stubbornly.

“In what way?� she retorted snippily, and he was surprised by the sudden hostility in her tone. “You left them because you thought they’d hate you for causing the death of so many, of their family, and you couldn’t live with that. They spied on you because you deserted them and they wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t die without them knowing about it. You both committed wrongs and now it is time to make up for them.�

“It’s easy for you to say though. You’re not emotionally involved; we don’t know each other and, therefore, you can’t say you were hurt when I left.�

“Harry,� Audrey sighed, standing up, “the Weasleys have been my family for three years now, three amazing years since I met Percy, and I love them all dearly. So, yes, I have been hurt by this. Do you honestly have no clue how much they adored you - how they still do, despite your absolute stupidity and ignorance at the moment?�

He stared at her blankly and she rolled her eyes. “I have never met more stubborn people in my life.� She huffed irritably, strolling across the dewy grass and back into the house.

When he had first come out here the darkness had been comforting, like shelter from everything inside; now, it was just suffocating. Audrey’s words lingered in the cool air between him and the house, staring him in the face with every turn he took. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was right - annoyingly right, and he felt like screaming again. But there was no time; they needed to find Hermione and Ginny before it was too late.

He stood up and took out his wand, holding it lightly as he swept it the length of his body. He could feel his appearance changing at once: his hair was growing thicker and he knew that if he checked, it would be coal-black instead of brown; his nose grew longer and his shoulders filled out slightly; his eyes were by now their original shade of green and he hastily exchanged the contacts for his old wire-rimmed glasses. With his wand safely stowed and his hands shoved deep into the confines of his pockets, an older, changed Harry Potter stepped through the door and into The Burrow’s warm kitchen.

Nobody saw him enter at first and he caught the tail end of a hushed conversation between the Weasleys while Audrey hesitatingly relayed to the others what Harry had said outside; they stopped abruptly when he cleared his throat and at least all had the decency to look a bit sheepish when they realized that they’d been caught. There was a stunned moment where everyone took in his familiar, but slightly matured features after not really seeing him for so long, and then Mrs Weasley gasped loudly, lunged around the table and pulled him into a bone-cracking hug.

“Harry … oh, Harry!�

“Hey, Mrs Weasley,� he replied, patting her back gently.

She pulled back, holding his face between her hands and scrutinizing him intently; the rest of the gang had now crowded around them, most of them smiling. “Harry … I knew it; I just knew it! There was just something too familiar about John Fischer - we can call you Harry now, can’t we?� she gushed.

Harry chuckled despite himself. “Yes, I’m Harry now.� His brows furrowed. “And, you knew?�

“Well, I didn’t know, know, but really, dear, you should have realized that you couldn’t hide forever. Not from me.� She beamed up at him. “You’re still awfully thin, though; come now, I’ll whip up something for us all to eat.� She ushered him into a seat and the Weasleys and David sat around him. Only Ron seemed unaffected by the happy reunion and he slumped moodily behind everyone else, leaning against the wall in favour of a chair.

The sight of his mother cheerfully rushing around the kitchen, as well as the delicious aroma emanating from her pot on the stove, seemed to rouse him, however, and he addressed the table at large with a scowl.

“So, what? We’re all buddy, buddy again and Hermione and Ginny are left to fend for themselves?�

Bill answered, “Ron, be rational; we have no idea where they are - no clues, no traces … there is nothing that may assist us in finding them.�

“We’re not leaving them behind,� said David determinedly. “But we are not rushing in blind either; we need a plan first.�

“Yeah, that’s great, but where are we going to find one of those?� said George. “We need information.�

“I agree; we have to be prepared,� Harry said as Mrs Weasley set a large steaming bowl of soup in front of him. His voice was small. “Draco Malfoy is doing this to get revenge on me; that’s what his guy who we interrogated in America said. So, just taking the girls won’t solve anything. He’ll use them as bait to lure me to him; so I expect we should be hearing from--�

A sharp tapping on the window over the sink interrupted him. Turning his head towards the disturbance, Harry saw a sleek black owl pecking at the glass, an envelope tied to its right leg.

“--him soon,� Harry finished.

“I’ve got it.� Ron let the bird in and unattached the letter; immediately, the bird flew off. He slit it open, pulling out a small scrap of parchment and what appeared to be two photographs.

“What is it?� asked Mrs Weasley. Ron was reading the paper with a confused expression, but right as he was about to answer her, he glanced at the photos and had to run to the sink, the recently digested soup coming violently back up.

“Ron, are you all right? What did the note say?�

He shook his head, looking like he wanted to puke some more, but he quickly washed his mouth out with a glass of water. “Don’t … look at those … photographs,� he panted.

“Surely they can’t be that bad, Ron,� said Percy. He picked them up and stared at them for a long time before putting them back on the table face down; his face turned a pasty white.

“I told you.�

“What’s in the pictures?� demanded Mrs Weasley of her son.

“Hermione and Ginny, bound and gagged to chairs. They don’t look good,� muttered Percy. Everyone gasped, their features becoming downcast.

“It’s the note that I don’t get. Looks like nothing I’ve ever seen before,� Ron said.

Audrey unfolded it tentatively; Percy and Harry looked at it over both of her shoulders. It seemed like gibberish to Harry, but evidently Audrey understood it because she sighed deeply, appearing resolved.

“What does it mean?� asked Percy, his brows furrowed.

“It was written by a British Muggle poet back in around the year 1600 for a play called Hamlet,� she said slowly. “Although how Malfoy could possibly know it is beyond me; I only recognized it because I’m Muggleborn and my sister studied it in school when she was seventeen. It was a very sad play: about a man who finds out that his horrible uncle killed his much beloved father and then took his brother’s crown and married his wife. It follows the son’s quest for self-discovery and revenge.�

“Does he get it in the end? His revenge, I mean,� asked Harry.

“Yes, and no; you see, they all end up dead in the last act. This is the line from the play written on the note:

“Our indiscretion sometime serves us well / When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us / There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, / Rough-hew them how we will.*

“And then there is this small sentence on the bottom.� She peered between squinted eyes at the tiny words. “It says: Go to the place of the fire. I wonder what that means?�

“That line from the Muggle play,� prompted Ron impatiently, “I don’t understand what it’s saying. What does it mean?�

“He is saying,� she observed them all sadly, “that sometimes the things we don’t plan for work out in our favour, but it is a moot point, because when our plans fail there is a higher power looking out for us, fixing our mistakes, and we just have to learn how to use that power to our advantage.�

“So is there no hope then?� said David, “If Malfoy believes that he has some higher power over us – fate, if you will – working in his favour.�

“There is always hope,� Mr Weasley answered for her, leaning over the table to stare them all in the eyes, “but we must be willing to fight for it.�

Chapter Eight
Not a Killer



When Hermione awoke, she was stiff all over; everywhere ached as her muscles pulled at each other and her limbs bent unnaturally. She was groggy too. She tried to remember what day it was, and where Ron was, and why on earth was she so uncomfortable? Was there something she was supposed to be doing today? Had the wedding already happened? But no luck; it was all a blur.

She opened her crusty eyes and blinked furiously around at her surroundings. She tried to move so she could rub the sleep from them, but that was no good either, as her hands refused to move from behind her back. That would be the reason why her shoulders felt as if they were about to snap. But that didn’t make any sense: why would she be sleeping like that? And where was Ron? And Harry … Harry was a part of this strange dream too; had he really come back?

A slight movement to her left caught her attention. Turning her head, she saw a slumped over figure in the same position as she, long red hair obscuring her face from view. As Hermione watched, the girl’s head jerked up and a cry of pain left her lips.

“Ginny?� whispered Hermione, her throat burning. “Ginny, are you all right?�

“Hermione? Where are we?� Ginny looked around until she spotted her friend.

“I don’t know. Are you hurt bad?�

Ginny shook her head. She looked into Hermione’s eyes in the dark, confusion and something like a desperate longing was writ upon her features. “Harry. But … not Harry. He was disguised. He came home.�

“I know,� She felt warm tears starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. “I know.�

“I remember … the wedding, but the memory’s becoming fuzzy. I was dancing with John, only I thought that he was John … but he was really Harry!�

“You were dancing with Harry?�

“And then somebody grabbed me, and held a hand over my mouth while they cast a silencing charm on me.�

“That happened to me too.�

“And then Dave was running and shouting, and John – I mean, Harry – Harry was shouting too. But I couldn’t. And it was all chaos,� Ginny whispered hoarsely. “Dave was ordering everybody who could fight to fight, and everybody else to take the children and the Muggles.�

“Yes,� said Hermione, “But there was an anti-Apparating shield and they couldn’t get out.�

Ginny choked out a strangled little laugh. “Mum was right,� she rolled her eyes up at the high ceiling, “our family really doesn’t have the best track record with weddings. I mean, Percy’s was all right; but first Bill’s and then yours and Ron’s. It’s like we’re cursed.�

Hermione was about to respond, to reassure Ginny that no, the Weasleys were not cursed, even if she didn’t quite believe it herself at the moment, when she heard soft footsteps approaching their room. A second later, a heavy door made of bricks in order to blend in with the brick walls opened and Draco Malfoy stepped through, a malicious smirk lighting up his whole face.

* * *

It was grim and overcast outside. Ron watched the grey clouds roll by, relaxing slightly as they soothed his anger, which over the past while had only seemed to grow instead of go away. The clouds hid the sun’s brightness and Ron was thankful that, as he lay face up in the grass, he wouldn’t have to squint against it when he just felt like brooding in peace.

When he thought about Harry returning, his heart felt like it wanted to both swell and contract at the same time; it confused him. On the one hand, he was so ecstatic to have his best mate back; but on the other, his return had brought about Hermione and Ginny’s kidnapping and he desperately wanted to cause Harry to feel that pain as much as he did. Just as he was pondering these conflicting emotions, a shuffling noise approaching his spot and a light thud on the ground beside him alerted him to another presence.

“Ron?�

He knew that voice as if it were his own; he didn’t want to hear that voice.

“Ron, are you ever going to speak to me again?�

That voice sounded so miserable. For a moment, Ron contemplated comforting the owner of that voice, but he thought better of it in the next second. “I am speaking to you,� he responded instead.

“Well … yeah, but I meant, are you ever going to forgive me?�

Ron felt Harry lay down beside him, but he didn’t turn his head to look; his gaze never strayed from its focal point in the sky. If Harry had not started talking, and had Ron not answered, to any outward appearances it would have seemed like the two men didn’t even notice that they were together.

“I wasn’t aware that you needed to be forgiven for anything. Everyone has welcomed you back with open arms.� Ron purposely made his tone sound as cold as possible. “Well, except for Hermione and Ginny, and they’re not here; but I’m sure they will when they’re able.�

Harry sat up suddenly and scowled down at Ron, who stared impassively right back. “Don’t start, Ron.�

“Or what, you’ll leave again?�

Harry huffed irritably and lay back down on the grass. He ran one hand through his black hair as he sighed. “I’ll stay until I know that the girls are safe. After that, I can’t say.�

“Good to know.� He snorted. Mentally, Ron was cursing himself; why couldn’t he just say what he meant, or at least, not make this situation already worse than it was. The truth was that him and Harry, hanging on the precipice of another potential disaster … well, he hated to admit it, but it felt almost normal. And he missed normal. “You know,� he said instead, “I still don’t get it.�

Harry looked at him inquiringly, so Ron continued, “I mean, I still don’t get why you just left like you did, and without telling anyone! One moment you were there, and the next you weren’t, and nobody could say why because we never heard from you again.�

Harry smiled weakly. “Well, it was sort of a spur of the moment decision.�

Ron didn’t find it at all funny like Harry seemed to. “I think that after all we’ve been through together, you owe me this much at least.�

“You’re right Ron; I owe you a lot.� He sobered instantly and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. “I owe you all a heck of a lot. But I don’t know if I can explain it right, not just yet.�

“Try.�

“You have to understand,� he conceded, “that … killing Voldemort took more out of me than I ever expected; than I ever let on that it did. Even though I was relieved, I was also thoroughly miserable: I just kept thinking of everyone who died that day, of the sacrifices that they made for me to come out on top … I couldn’t block that out. But my guilt wasn’t all of it, although it was the greatest motivator. I was just so angry and … bitter towards everything - did Ginny ever tell you of the fight we had that day?�

Ron felt his eyes widen expansively. “No, she didn’t.�

“Well, we did have one,� said Harry, and his voice choked a bit coming out. “She told me not to blame myself, that no one else did, and I just … I just snapped at her! I screamed at her. How I could not blame myself for so many deaths? How could this disaster not be entirely my fault? How could anybody else not blame me! I couldn’t stop believing that if I’d just met Voldemort earlier in the forest, when he first wanted me to, than more innocent lives could have been saved. Also, I detested myself even more for yelling at her like I did. I didn’t feel worthy of being in her mere presence.�

“Well, that’s just bloody stupid!� Ron snapped. “That’s your damn ‘saving people thing’ speaking for you again. Everybody was so happy that you had finally done it! They loved you just for that; and the ones who loved you before, they were just happy that you were okay. And as for saving more lives, you can’t be every place at once and you can’t save everyone you want to; you’ve got to accept that.�

“I know that now,� he replied ashamedly, “but I didn’t understand back then. On top of that though, more than anything, I just wanted to be left alone, to be somebody - anybody - else other than Harry Potter, a person who wouldn’t have reporters hounding him and random people gawking at him when he simply tried to walk down the street; I was so sick of the fame that came along with being me.�

“Yeah, but when have you not had everyone wanting a piece of you, mate?� Ron chuckled dryly.

Harry laughed too, although it was rather forced. “Nothing has changed there, unfortunately, for purposes both good and evil. Malfoy’s proof of that,� he added sourly.

“So, how exactly are we getting Hermione and Ginny back?� Ron asked after a moment of awkward silence.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, do I? How are we supposed to know where to look? All we’ve got is that quote and ‘go to the place of the fire’. There have been millions of fires just in the last few years alone; how are we supposed to figure out which one Malfoy meant?�

“Scumbag,� Ron snarled. “I swear, when I get my hands on him …�

Harry rolled his eyes and then stared at his old friend. “You’re not a killer, Ron.�

“There’s a first time for everything. Believe me, I wouldn’t mind becoming one if it meant that piece of trash could never cause pain to anyone ever again.�

“You don’t know what you’re saying!� Harry said loudly and Ron was surprised by the quick turnaround his mood seemed to have taken. He sprang up on the balls of his feet, pacing back and forth restlessly. Ron sat up, shocked, his mouth gaping. “You don’t know - you have no idea!�

“And you do?� exclaimed Ron. He wracked his brains for an answer to his own question, but he couldn’t find one.

Harry whipped around to face him, his eyes hard and blazing with fervour. “Of course I do! Have you forgotten that I killed Voldemort?�

“Oh, right.� Ron had never felt more stupid than he did then. Of course Harry knew what it felt like: he blamed himself for everyone that died; no matter that it usually wasn’t even his fault. And Ron didn’t really count Voldemort, as that monster was barely human enough to kill. But that was the reason Harry had left in the first place – because he did believe those things.

“Or how about when my parents died to protect me; when I lured Sirius from the safety of his home to come rescue me; when I couldn’t even stop Mad-Eye, or Fred, or Dobby, or Crabbe from dying! How about--�

What was that Muggle saying that Hermione used, when she thought of something smart or important that had been avoiding her and then she suddenly remembered it? Like a light bulb had switched on in her head? Because … “Harry.�

“Quirrel? Or Cedric?� Harry was still pacing in front of him, looking half mad as he pulled his hair, his round glasses sliding down his nose.

“Harry!� Ron said louder. This was it! How could they not have thought of this sooner? There was only one fire that they were involved in with Malfoy, ever.

“What!� Harry stopped his pacing, and stared at him incredulously; his emerald eyes burned with a life all their own. Involuntarily, Ron flinched.

“That’s it! You said it!� said Ron.

“Said what?�

“Think about it.� He was positively grinning now, for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, he was practically floating with joy. “What fire do you think Malfoy would be talking about? There’s been only one with him!�

“You don’t mean--?�

“Yes, I do!� He watched a slow grin spread across Harry’s face now too as he finally caught on. “The Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, the one that killed Crabbe! That’s the fire that Malfoy wants us to go to. What other one could it be that we all know about?�

“Ron, you are absolutely brilliant.�

Ron ducked his head, hiding his blush. “Nah, you’re the one that said it. I just put two and two together.�

“But still--� Harry stepped forward at the same time as Ron, reaching out for a manly, backslapping hug. At the last minute, Ron pulled back, extending his hand instead, which Harry shook, looking crestfallen at Ron’s sudden hostility.

“This doesn’t mean that I forgive you,� he said more grimly.

Harry nodded, managing a stiff smile anyways, and started towards The Burrow. “Come on then, let’s go tell the others we know where they are.�

* * *

Hermione watched steadily as Draco Malfoy stalked towards them. His wand wasn’t drawn, so she didn’t think that he meant to harm them yet, but he also did not look very sociable either at the moment. She took this interval of time to study their old school nemesis: his hair, just as perfectly blonde as usual, was sleeked back flawlessly, his tall figure cast a menacing shadow along the floor and wall as he walked, and his cool grey eyes were shallow and detached. If Hermione had to hazard a guess, she would have said that he looked as if he definitely did not want to be here, wherever here was.

He approached Ginny first and she just stared indignantly back. He drew his wand out and pressed it into her neck, but Ginny didn’t make a sound; it was Hermione who reacted.

“Leave her alone!� she shouted, spitting a loose strand of hair out of her mouth as she did so. Malfoy turned slowly in her direction.

“Why?� he snapped, advancing towards her.

“She didn’t do anything! Just let her go!�

He chuckled humourlessly. “You never could learn when to shut your mouth,� he replied. “Too witty, too proud for your own good, Mudblood. That brilliant brain of yours can only get you so far.�

“So, what? You think you’re better than me? You think you can outsmart the Weasleys? You're not a killer, Malfoy. You’re not Voldemort, you were better than all that in school, I know you were.�

“People grow up!�

“That’s funny, coming from you! Look at what you’re doing!�

Ginny glared at him across the room, her head held high. “Personally, I’d rather be smart and proud than to be a miserable piece of garbage, scrounging whatever you can get with all of your advantages and filthy money!� she hissed.

Malfoy ignored her and said to Hermione, “You have too much of that damn Gryffindor pride, Granger - well, I guess it’s Weasley now, isn’t it? Couldn’t get enough of that poor, untalented blood traitor family, huh? Had to go and marry one.� He spit at her feet. “You’re lucky,� he sneered, “that you’re useful to get to Potter, otherwise I would have disposed of you long ago.�

“This won’t solve anything, Draco.� Her face adopted a calm expression which directly contrasted with her true feelings.

“You just don’t get it!� he howled, enraged. “This isn’t about solving things! This is between just me and Potter, and I won’t have you interfering with any of it.�

“You involved us in this, whether you like it or not, when you kidnapped us, Draco. He’ll find us – they’ll find us – eventually; they won’t give up.�

“Exactly.� He went back over to Ginny, who looked mutinous. “And then, he’ll pay for his mistakes,� cooed Malfoy to her, and he used his long, thin index finger to lift Ginny’s chin and examine it under the pale light slanting through the small window. “Your boyfriend will come looking for you, and when he does, I’ll make him see why screwing with a Malfoy was never in his best interests.�

Chapter Nine
All That I'm After

"This grove, that was once so peaceful, must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the thought I could believe I heard it ringing still."

- Mark Twain, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer



Harry stumbled as he apparated onto the uneven terrain right outside the gates of the castle grounds. Seconds later, another pair of loud cracks announced the arrival of Dave and Ron, too, and together they looked up at the stone wall surrounding Hogwarts, struck momentarily into silence.

Dave was the first to clear his throat and advance forwards. He shuffled along at first, obviously hesitant about entering, and Harry thought he knew why: the single time that Dave had been here, it’d just been the site of a bloody battle. He must be just as nervous as the rest of them to face the historic grounds.

It was the just the three of them that had come. Malfoy wouldn’t want a whole zoo full of Weasleys chasing after him, and three trained Aurors would be more effective than all of them anyways. The rest of the brood had stayed at The Burrow to await news and any last minute messages having to do with Hermione and Ginny, while they snuck into the castle to search out the Room of Requirement. It was September and while most of the teachers were aware of the events a couple days before, no students were and Harry hoped that they wouldn’t run into too many inquiring minds while they were here.

Opening the iron-barred gates, Dave entered first, then Ron, then Harry. He took a deep breath and held it in as he crossed the threshold, fearing the smell of blood and burnt flesh that he’d last smelt in this place. But he opened his eyes and looked around, and he was shocked by the simple tranquility of it. It didn’t look like the war of all wars had been fought here just four short years ago.

“Weird, isn’t it?� asked Ron in a hushed whisper, like how you might talk when in a library or in a room housing the dead.

“What is?� questioned Dave.

“It’s almost … normal in here. That’s a good thing, I guess. Keeps the atmosphere for the kids, but for those who know, were actually there … It just feels strange.�

David nodded. “I can see what you mean.�

“It’s like …� hesitated Harry, not sure if his opinion would be welcome, “like I expect to see it all again in my mind; smell the blood, hear the cries … but I can’t see it. It’s not really there.�

Ron nodded and for an all-too-brief moment a look of understanding was passed between them. Then the redhead glanced away, focusing on the tall towers and stonework against the overcast sky, and the spell was broken, and Harry was suddenly forcefully reminded of just how different everything now was. They weren’t here for reminisces today – they needed to find Hermione and Ginny, find them now, and get out.

Harry stepped in front. “Come on,� he said, and then, not waiting to see if the others were following him, he started sprinting across the green grass and up to the oak front doors of the school.

As he ran down the entrance corridor, a reel of pictures and sounds were flowing across Harry’s vision. He saw again the sprawled body of Lord Voldemort on the floor. Witnessed the slumped, tiny figure of Colin Creevey being carried up these very steps by Oliver Wood and Neville. He heard cries of Harry, HARRY, as Voldemort proclaimed victory over The Boy Who Lived, humiliating his body as he played dead. He saw and relived it all, and he fought down the nausea wanting to come up his throat, pushing himself harder and faster until he reached the main staircase leading to the upper floors.

He heard David and Ron hurrying behind him, saw blurs of people passing them in the halls, but he paid no special attention to them. He jumped trick steps with barely a thought, pushed tapestries aside to reveal their hidden paths, and he kept going, up and up and up, until he was on the seventh floor and couldn’t go any farther.

And then Harry stopped short. He had just come to an entrance he knew well: the regal stone gargoyle that lead to the Headmaster’s offices. Where Dumbledore had taught him his fate; where he had watched Snape’s memories of his burdening love for Lily Evans; the place where he, Harry, had fully embraced that heavy sacrifice to walk to his own end and, ultimately, to Voldemort’s.

Ron and Dave had stopped too and were looking at him curiously. “Harry?� asked Dave.

“I need to go in there,� he answered, gaze fixed upon the statue.

“What?� exclaimed Ron, his eyes disbelieving. “Are you mad! Have you forgotten the whole reason we’re here?�

“Of course not. Look, I can’t explain it … I just know that I have to. The two of you can go to the room without me.�

“What if Malfoy’s there?� yelled Ron angrily. “We’ll need your help if it comes to a fight!�

“Keep your voice down, Ron,� hissed Dave. “Harry … are you sure?�

“Yes.� He turned around, facing them. Ron was looking at him as if he were disappointed in Harry but expected nothing less; Dave appeared resigned. “Go on without me. I’ll catch up later. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.�

Ron huffed. “Whatever.� He shook his head at Harry and strode away, Dave following soon after.

Harry turned back to the gargoyle entrance. He realized belatedly that he didn’t have the password, but he couldn’t back out now. Some drawing force was still pulling him towards this place and he thought he’d try anyways. “Lemon pops?� he asked the stone face, feeling ridiculous.

Nothing.

“Bertie Botts? Cauldron cakes? Liquorice wands?� But still, the entrance revealed nothing.

He thought of any candy or sweets he could and then wondered if it might be none of those things. After all, those were Dumbledore’s types of passwords; Professor McGonagall might have something different. He remembered that it had opened for Dumbledore’s name during the battle, so he tried that too, but it did not work.

He was frustrated now and getting angry. Why did he have to go up there if the damn thing wouldn’t let him in? He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pulling at them, but that only gave him a headache.

“You stupid thing!� he shouted. “Just let me in! It’s Harry Potter, just let me in!�

The stone gargoyle came to life and sprung aside at the sound of his name, exposing the spiral staircase he had travelled up more times than he could count on both hands. And, mouth gaping, Harry stepped onto the staircase, which started spinning upwards in a tight circle, taking him to where he wanted to go.

When he reached the top, the door was already open and he stepped inside without hesitation. The office was empty save for the portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom appeared to be quietly dozing in their frames. A few of Dumbledore’s old instruments were strewed about the room, as well as some Harry didn’t recognize. He was busy studying the differences when he heard a small cough behind him.

“Hello, Harry.�

Harry spun around at the voice. Behind the large desk, in the biggest portrait of them all, a pair of familiar electric blue eyes were smiling down at him.

“P-professor Dumbledore … err, hi.�

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “No need to look so uncomfortable, Harry. I did not call you up here to reprimand you.�

“Wait, you called me?�

He nodded. “I did. Even after my death, I still have some control over the castle. I wished to speak with you.�

“Oh, um … what about, Sir?�

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed slightly and the corners of his mouth turned down in the way Harry remembered would happen when the Headmaster was displeased. “The last four years.�

Harry’s gaze dropped to his shoes remorsefully.

“Harry …� he said. “Harry, I told you I was not going to reprimand you.�

Still, it felt like one.

“Harry, please look at me.�

Harry looked up; Dumbledore’s expression was sad but not angry. Instead, he seemed more like a parent who’s child has done something regretful but whom still dearly loves that child anyways.

“I was merely wondering,� he continued, “what you have learned from your experience.�

“I don’t – I don’t think I follow you, Professor.�

“Well,� said Dumbledore vaguely, “You spent a long time away from home – trying to find meaning in your existence, I assume, in what you were forced into that last year. I could only conclude that you must have found whatever it was you were looking for to make you want to stay.�

“You cannot honestly believe that, Albus,� sneered a high, cold voice to Harry’s left.

Harry whipped his head around, his neck cracking, only to come face to face with the one person he’d never expected to see in this office again: Severus Snape.

“Don’t look so shocked, Potter, I was a headmaster too,� said the former Potions professor from his much smaller portrait, his lip curling. “You’re a coward,� he sustained. “You couldn’t face yourself, and you couldn’t face your friends. You stayed away out of pure disgrace.�

“Severus,� interceded Dumbledore.

“Do not tell me I’m wrong, Albus; I am not the only one who has entertained the thought.� He looked pointedly at Harry.

“And now you feel obligated to save the Weasley girl and Granger – yes, I know Draco has them, don’t look at me like that, Potter. Minerva was at the wedding; she came in here after it happened, sniffling like a pathetic homesick first year. You better get a move on, you’re looking in the wrong place.�

The wrong place? “I don’t understand,� said Harry slowly. A sudden feeling of dread had crept its way into his heart. “The note said to go to the place of the fire, the Room of Requirement, where Crabbe died.�

“And that was obviously meant to mislead you,� scorned Snape. “You are even more idiotic than your father, Potter. Hide hostages at Hogwarts, during the school year! Nobody is mad enough to try that, not even Draco. He wants you to chase him, to test you. You’re looking in the wrong place.�

Snape couldn’t be right, could he? The thought made Harry scowl. Now, though, in hindsight, the idea of Hogwarts as a holding cell for Hermione and Ginny seemed painfully, obviously ridiculous. He turned on his heel, heading for the door, meaning to tell Ron and David that they’d been played, when Dumbledore again called to him softly from his place on the wall. “Harry.�

He turned around, giving Dumbledore a curious look, one hand on the door handle.

“You never answered my question earlier: did you gain what you wished to when you left?�

Harry looked down at his scuffed trainers and baggy Muggle trousers. There had been a time, only a few hard months, in his first year away when he’d tried to make it as a Muggle, like when he was innocent and young, living in his relatives’ cupboard. Immediately, he had missed magic: it had been his refuge all those years ago, from his life with the Dursleys, and he had felt like he’d betrayed all it had given him. It wasn’t long before he was pulling his wand out again and casting all sorts of spells.

He had been betraying the Wizarding world, too, he realized, when he had hid from himself, even when he did use his magic. It never mattered what you accomplished by using it, only how you conducted yourself while doing so; and he had conducted himself rather poorly, in regards to his friends.

“No, I didn’t find what I was looking for, Sir,� he said. “But I think I’m starting to. Perhaps it will find me when it’s ready, someday.�

“You can do this, Harry, you can save your friends.� Dumbledore’s voice was a little kinder now. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his eyes smiled at Harry. “I have faith in you; you have faced worse dangers than Draco Malfoy many times over and come through on the other side. Think about what you know of him, and maybe the answer will come to you.�

Harry nodded and opened the door leading out of the office and down the revolving staircase. Behind him, he could hear Dumbledore and Snape talking over the background of snores from the neighbouring portraits. Faintly, he heard Snape say, “As arrogant as his father, but stupid – at least one thing can be said for the Muggles who raised him. Could you imagine him growing up like Draco! He’d be ten times worse: they have peacocks at the Manor, Good Lord. White peacocks!�

There was a muffled admonishment from Dumbledore before the door was shut and their conversation cut off.

Thoughts about Malfoy, and fire, and locked basement dungeons while Hermione screamed in agony overhead raced round his mind and blurred his vision as he ran towards the Room of Requirement. He reprimanded himself for being so stupid: he should have known this wouldn’t be as easy as sneaking into Hogwarts and winning back the girls with a bit of sweet talking; he should have anticipated Malfoy playing a ploy like this.

He turned onto the seventh floor corridor which housed the Room of Requirement and skidded to a halt: Ron and David were approaching, walking briskly towards him; Malfoy, Hermione and Ginny were nowhere in sight.

“Hey,� said David when he saw Harry running. “They’re not there. We asked for the place where Draco had been, but he’d already left, if he had ever been there at all.�

“Never mind that,� panted Harry. He stopped in front of them. “I figured that out already, or Snape did, actually.�

“Snape!� spat Ron. “How did he – Snape’s dead –�

“His portrait is in the Headmaster’s office. I was talking to him and Dumbledore. Listen, we should’ve known this was the wrong place from the start: why would Malfoy hide them, in the middle of September, in a school with thousands of students and staff who could spot them at any time? He wanted us to believe they were here, to throw us off his trail, make us believe we had a lead when really we had nothing.�

“Yeah, he wanted us here, all right,� said Dave. “But not for those reasons. This was in the room that opened up for us.�

Harry stared down at David’s open palm; in it was a long, snow-white feather, about a foot long.

“It came from a peacock – a white one.�

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. “White peacocks … white peacocks! But how did Snape know?� he murmured. He picked up the feather, twirling it in circles between his fingers.

“What’s going on, Harry?� asked Ron.

He looked up at them, his green eyes wide. “When I was leaving McGonagall’s office, I heard Snape tell Dumbledore something; I wondered how he knew … but of course he was a Death Eater … he’d probably been there a dozen times during the war.� Ron and Dave still seemed confused so he clarified, “According to Snape, Malfoy Manor has white peacocks. Malfoy wants us to go to Malfoy Manor; that’s where he must be!�

“It makes sense,� Dave mused. “Send us on a wild goose chase, tire us out; he also wouldn’t want to out right say the name of his place so it wouldn’t be as easy for us. It’s clever.�

“Harry …� Ron whispered; his voice shook. His form, bent over so his hands rested on his knees, trembled. “What – what if he’s torturing them there, like Bellatrix did before. I mean, Hermione still has nightmare’s of that place …�

In his mind’s eye, Harry saw himself again in the basement cell of Malfoy Manor, and he thought that Ron could too. He heard Hermione screaming upstairs; Wormtail’s silver hand choking the life out of its wearer; the tiny, but deathly knife sticking from Dobby’s stomach, his large and trusting eyes glazing over as he died in Harry’s arms.

He shook his head, scattering the memories. “We’re going to get them out, Ron,� he rasped. “We’re going to get them out of there.�