Harry Potter n Deathly Hallows (fanfic)

**Viewbie's Note: This is a fanfic and NOT the real book! So read if you want!

Hey,

Recently I have got Pm's from some members asking me to post the online version of Harry potter and the deathly Hallows. I can't find the link from where I have downloaded it so I am going to post.

Warnings!

• The below work is not by me but by someone else!
• There is no gurantee it can be the original version of JK rowlings 8^th Book BUT I THINK IT'S NOT AS HER WRITING STYLE IS COMPLETE DIFFERENT… SOME BLUNDERS IN THERE… IT'S UP TO YOU!
• Don't read it if you want to wait for the release date!
• I' myself is waiting for the book release date as I know this is not the original one… Only read this as I getting very impatient, lol..
• Once again the work is not by me but someone else.. No name has been mentioned.. atleast I can't find it..
• I am copying it and pasting it here as I have saved it my comp..

*Sanya*

Chapter One

Secrets Unraveled

Harry slowly raised his head and stared morosely at the familiar visage of number four, Privet Drive. What had already been a horrible day was rapidly getting worse. Not only did he have to appear unannounced on the Dursleys' doorstep (something he knew they'd have no problem expressing their displeasure over), but he'd also have to tell them that two other freaks would be joining him this afternoon. The corner of Harry's mouth twitched humorlessly as he envisioned how they'd take the news.

He'd left Ron and Hermione at King's Cross station a little over an hour ago. They were each going to make quick stops at their respective homes before Apparating to Privet Drive. Harry smiled fondly, remembering their show of solidarity. He hadn't been expecting it; he'd thought he'd be going on alone. Although he was desperately worried about them and the remainder of their quest, he had to admit that the thought of some support while facing his relatives was quite nice indeed.

Harry had thought it would be better – or at least less embarrassing – if he arrived at Privet Drive first and prepared his relatives for their arrival. He'd wanted to get away from the Hogwarts Express and the other students as quickly as possible…before he ran into Ginny.

Ginny.

Harry quickly shook his head – he couldn't afford to think about Ginny. He still didn't think his resolve was strong enough to hold.

Since he wasn't yet of age, he'd quickly slipped away without speaking to any of the crowd at King's Cross and taken the train to Privet Drive. The long, hot journey had left him irritable. It didn't bode well for the coming reunion. He'd considered just Apparating back from Hogsmeade to avoid the Hogwarts Express altogether. So what if the Ministry chucked him out of Hogwarts now? He wasn't going back, anyway.

Hermione, always the voice of reason, reminded him that there was no need to give the Ministry an excuse to break his wand, and Harry had to admit that she had a point.

Rufus Scrimgeour wanted Harry under his control, and Harry wouldn't put it past the man to make life difficult in an effort to force Harry to comply. Harry had no patience for the man or his politicking. Still, recklessly using underage magic for the sake of mere convenience was a risk not worth taking.

He hated when Hermione was right.

So, he'd sat in a compartment with Ron and Hermione and tried to ignore the hole in his heart that Ginny's absence created. He hadn't seen her the entire journey home and wondered which compartment she'd sat on the train. Neither Ron nor Hermione had asked him where she was, but he'd caught Hermione staring at him speculatively on several occasions.

Harry had been steadfast in avoiding her gaze. He'd stared out the window miserably, his thoughts focused on happier days…

Ginny.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and squaring his shoulders, Harry trudged across the street towards the immaculately pruned garden of number four, Privet Drive. He'd promised Dumbledore that he'd return one more time before his birthday, and he intended to keep that pledge. Harry's chest tightened as he thought of his headmaster, but he blinked the moisture from his eyes and continued forward. This was what Dumbledore had wanted, and this was what he was going to do.

Still, knowing what he had to do didn't make doing it any easier. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the Dursleys' nonsense. He had no patience for their petty bigotry…he had bigger challenges to face. The days when Vernon Dursley's purple face could make him cower were long past. He wondered what he could expect when they opened the door to find him standing there after his eventful departure last summer.

All in all, he supposed it could be worse. He'd rather face the Dursleys' ire than Molly Weasley's fury when Ron informed her of his plans to ditch the Burrow this summer and head straight into the war that she'd been so adamantly attempting to shield him from.

Oh, no, Harry mused, he got off far easier in only having to face the Dursleys.

He wondered if Ron would have dropped his little bombshell while still at King's Cross, or if he would have waited until arriving at the Burrow. Harry could picture Ron in the kitchen trying to reason with his mum, and Ginny would be there…

Ginny.

Harry's heart constricted at the mere thought of her, and he pressed his eyelids together as if to squeeze her from his thoughts. Everything had seemed so simple and straightforward in his mind when he'd made his decision. He couldn't put Ginny in danger. He'd never survive if he lost her, too.

But he had something he had to do, and he couldn't afford any distractions while he was searching for the Horcruxes. Breaking it off had been the right thing to do. There was no reason that she should have to put her life on hold just because he did. It could take years to find them all.

At the time, it had seemed the perfectly logical thing to do. But now, away from Hogwarts and facing the unknown…now, nothing was clear. He didn't know how he'd be able to function with this pain tearing such a hole in his heart. He felt as if he were bleeding continually from an invisible wound.

One thing he did know for certain: she could distract him with a simple smile, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. He had too much that he had to do.

As for what did come next…that's where Harry faltered. He knew what it was he had to do, he just wasn't certain about how to do it. How could he find the remaining four Horcruxes? Where did he start? And how did he keep himself – or worse, Ron and Hermione – from suffering the same fate Dumbledore did when he'd located the last two Horcruxes? Or what he'd thought was a Horcrux, anyway…

R.A.B. How was he to find R.A.B.? Where did he begin?

The locket, the cup, the snake, and something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw…

It seemed hopeless and overwhelming as a whole, so he'd have to start in pieces and work from there. He fingered the cold, hard metal of the fake Horcrux that he still kept in his pocket. Harry had found himself using it as some sort of talisman, holding onto it whenever the stress started to build. There had to be a way, and he was going to find it.

The first step would be Godric's Hollow. He wasn't certain what he expected to find there, it just seemed important that he go.

Scratch that. The first step would be getting through his last confinement with the Dursleys, and the sooner he started enduring that, the sooner he could move forward.

While he'd been lost in thought, Harry's feet had carried him to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he tapped the knocker three times.

Here we go.

It took only a few moments before he heard footsteps approaching the door. It opened slightly, and Aunt Petunia's horsy face peered through the crack. He watched as her eyes widened in surprise before the door swung open wide, and she yanked him inside by the collar of his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Aunt Petunia demanded, her long neck craning from side to side to ensure none of the neighbors were out and about and watching Harry being manhandled by his aunt. "Why are you back here so soon? Did those freaks at that school of yours finally decide they didn't want you either and throw you out? Did you think you could just show up here unannounced?"

"Hello, Aunt Petunia. It's nice to see you, too," Harry said pleasantly, pulling back from her grip and readjusting his collar. He spared a quick glance at the parlor, noting that nothing had really changed, although there were some crumpled sweet wrappers on an end table, which was unusual for Aunt Petunia.

"Don't you 'hello' me," his aunt snapped, dragging his attention back to her aggravated face. "I asked you what you are doing here? Term still has several weeks remaining."

Harry shrugged and dropped his gaze to the floor. "We were released early this year," he said vaguely, not wanting to discuss Dumbledore's death with her quite so soon. He wasn't ready.

Before she could reply, the kitchen door swung open, and Harry's cousin Dudley lumbered into the room. He was even larger than Harry remembered, and his face looked tired and drawn. His eyes opened wide with shock upon seeing Harry, and he began gaping like a fish.

"What's he doing here?" Dudley demanded, pointing a porky finger at Harry. Harry was pleased to notice the slight tremor in Dudley's hand. After years of being the victim of Dudley's bullying behavior, it was nice to have the shoe on the other foot, so to speak.

"Hey, Duds," Harry said, grinning widely. "You're home from school early, too. Did they chuck you out?" Harry asked, throwing Aunt Petunia's taunt back at his cousin.

Harry was surprised when Dudley ignored Harry completely and turned his panic-stricken eyes upon his mother. "Thought you'd get him to look me over, did you? Trying to compare and see if he's infected me? It's all his fault, anyway. You know that. Him and that freak of an old man who took him the last time – they did this to me. You know they did something. He threatened you, I heard him."

"Now, now, Popkin," Aunt Petunia said soothingly, but Harry couldn't help but notice the tremor in her voice. "Don't get yourself upset. You know what happens when you get too fussed."

Dudley's eyes nearly bulged out of the sockets, and he grasped his mother's forearms with enough force to leave red marks. "Mummy! Don't let it happen again," he whimpered.

Aunt Petunia pulled her arm away and began patting Dudley on the back and cooing softly as she led him into the parlor. Once she sat him on the couch and calmed him down, she turned back towards Harry. Her eyes were filled with such intense loathing that Harry found himself taking a step back involuntarily. What was going on here?

"Sit down and don't dirty the sofa. I'm going to get Duddy a glass of lemonade," she hissed, scurrying from the room. "Don't upset him."

Harry looked over at Dudley and furrowed his eyebrows. "What's got your knickers in such a twist, Dud?"

"What are you doing here? Did they ask you to come look at me? I won't have you or any of your freak friends pawing at me. Don't think I can't get that ruddy thing away from you, and when I do…" Dudley's face matched the purple color that Harry usually associated with Uncle Vernon.

"Take it easy, Dud. You're going to burst something. Why don't you tell me what's going on here? What is this all about?" Harry asked.

His mind was racing, trying to remember all the details from his last trip to Privet Drive. It seemed like another lifetime ago. Professor Dumbledore had been pleasant, even though it was obvious to Harry that he had been upset by the way that the Dursleys had treated Harry. Still, he didn't think that was something the Dursleys would have picked up. Harry's comfort and well-being had never been one of their considerations.

Dudley appeared to be under the impression that Professor Dumbledore had threatened them, however. How would Dudley's mind have formed that idea? Of course, being the bully he was, Dudley probably assumed everyone was threatening him, since he spent most of his time threatening others. Still, Harry tried to recall the conversation from the previous year to work out what had wound up his relatives so much.

Staring at Dudley sitting crouched into himself on the couch brought Dumbledore's words back into Harry's mind. He had said something about leaving a note for the Dursleys when he'd dropped Harry on their doorstep all those years ago.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

Was that what Dudley thought was a threat? How could it be, though? Another memory arose in Harry's mind of a Howler sent to Aunt Petunia after the Dementor attack on Harry and Dudley in the alley before his fifth year.

"Remember my last."

The last must have been this same letter. Harry was burning with curiosity to know exactly what the letter had said. He held little hope that Aunt Petunia would tell him, however. Why is she so worried about Dudley being upset, anyway? Not that she ever likes to see her little popkin upset, Harry thought with a grimace.

Only one thing to do for it, then.

"So what's this about Professor Dumbledore doing something to you last time, Duds? Are you sprouting a tail again? I didn't even see him do it. Of course, he has no problem with non-verbal spells, so you never know what he could have been up to," Harry said casually, forcing down the painful lump that lodged itself in his throat when speaking as if Professor Dumbledore were still alive.

Dudley cowered away from Harry and scrambled off the couch faster than his bulk should have allowed. His hands instinctively searching his massive behind for, Harry assumed, the return of a pig's tail. "Stay away from me! I mean it…you stay away!"

Harry stood up and began walking towards Dudley with a determined stride. "What's wrong, Dud? Why are you so skittish all of a sudden? Lost your nerve, have you? Is this what's got you acting like such a little girl?" Harry asked, drawing his wand from his sleeve.

"Put it away," Dudley screeched, backing into a corner. Harry would have laughed if it weren't so pathetic. This was the great git of a bully who had regularly made Harry's life a living hell when he was small?

"I mean it, Potter, put that thing away," Dudley growled.

"Or what, Dud? What are you going to do?" Harry couldn't help his morbid fascination, wondering how far he could push before Dudley would strike back.

Before Dudley could answer him, however, the vase on the table next to him started shaking violently. It rattled on the table as it moved closer to the edge. Harry stared at it in surprise. He really wasn't that upset, not about this, anyway. Why was his magic reacting so strongly?

"Oh, no," Dudley moaned before the vase flew from the table and went careening towards Harry's head.

Harry was so shocked that he never had time to move. The heavy ceramic vase slammed into the side of his face with enough force to knock him from his feet. The vase and Harry both landed on the floor with a heavy thud, the vase shattering in several large chunks.

Alerted by the noise, Aunt Petunia hurried back into the room and screeched at the destruction. "What have you done?" she spat, stepping over Harry to retrieve the broken pieces of her vase.

"It happened again, Mummy," Dudley wailed. "He did it! I know he did."

Aunt Petunia leapt to her feet and hurried over to Dudley. "There, there, now, sweetums. Mummy's here. Everything will be all right. Come into the kitchen, and I'll make you a nice snack. I'll take care of everything."

As she ushered Dudley from the room, she turned back towards Harry, who was still struggling to rise from the floor. "Stay here. I'll be right back. I warned you not to upset him," she hissed, her eyes nearly glowing with a burning intensity.

Harry groaned as he sat up and put a hand to his throbbing cheekbone. What is going on here? He pulled himself to his feet unsteadily and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

Bad idea.

The entire room swam before his eyes, and he had to grasp the arm of the couch to remain upright. He tentatively moved his jaw from side to side, testing how much damage had been done to his face. He didn't think anything was broken, but the pain was enough to make him wish for one of Madam Pomfrey's potions.

This would be no ordinary stay at Privet Drive.

He'd done accidental magic before, but not in a long time. He didn't remember ever hurting himself with it before, either. Something wasn't right. He glanced out the window apprehensively, wondering if he'd be receiving a reprimand from the Ministry.

Great. That's all I need.

Still, he'd never got them when it had happened when he was younger, so maybe he'd get by this time, as well. Nothing to do for it; he'd have to wait and see.

The more pressing matter was what was going on with Dudley. He'd acted almost as if he'd known what was going to happen. Almost as if…

Aunt Petunia strode back into the room at that moment and sat down stiffly, glaring at Harry all the while. Harry wasn't certain what she expected of him, but followed her lead and sat down at the other end of the couch, waiting. After a few moments spent in silence, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"What's happening here, Aunt Petunia?" he asked quietly. "I don't think I did that. I think Dudley did. How is that possible?"

"Of course my Dudley didn't do it. You're the freak here, not him," she snapped, before her face crumpled, and she put her head in her hands.

Harry was thunderstruck and at a loss for what to do. In all the years that Harry had spent with the Dursleys, she'd never once offered him a bit of comfort over anything, and he found it strange that he wanted to comfort her now.

Tentatively, he raised his hand and gradually moved it towards her before quickly pulling it back again. Twice more he struggled with the urge to lay his hand on her back in an attempt to calm her. She'd never taken kindly to his touch before, and he was afraid that anything he might do would stop her from talking. He wanted answers more than he wanted to comfort her, so he clenched his fists and fought to remain in his spot.

Aunt Petunia finally raised her head, and, although her lower lip trembled, she began to speak. "After you and your headmaster left here last year, odd things started to happen. These incidents grew more and more frequent until Dudley was finally asked to leave school. They suggested he needed counseling. As if we'd ever be able to talk about any of this. They thought he was acting out and being destructive on purpose. The nerve of some people."

Harry's head was swimming with questions, but he was afraid she'd clam up if he interrupted, so he just let her continue to ramble.

"What did your headmaster do?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "He removed the protection, didn't he? He said we didn't live up to our end of the bargain by not caring for you. We gave you food and shelter for all these years out of the goodness of our hearts. What more did he expect?

"He wanted us to love you like our own. You're not our own! You're just a reminder of the sister I wished I'd never had. We gave you shelter, and that has supposedly kept you alive and safe all this time. That should have counted for something. We could have just chucked you in an orphanage like Vernon wanted to do. Sometimes, I think we all would have been better off if we had."

Harry had long ago stopped caring about or looking for the Dursleys' approval, yet the coldness of the words stung.

"What do you mean by remove the protection?" he asked stoically, refusing to give her the satisfaction of knowing her words had hurt him. "The blood protection from my mother remains as long as I can call this house my home…at least until my birthday. He told you I'd be returning one more time."

"Not the blood protection for you," Aunt Petunia snapped. "This isn't about you. I don't care what happens to you or any of your freak world. As far as I'm concerned, we'd all be better off if you all just killed each other off. I want to know about the protections on Dudley. Dumbledore withdrew his part of the agreement, didn't he?"

Harry blinked, nonplussed. "What are you on about?" he asked coldly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, you never were very bright, were you? The spell he cast on Dudley. It's obviously not working, because he keeps making these freakish things happen."

"Dudley is a wizard?" Harry asked incredulously, the pieces all finally clicking into place. He felt as if the room was spinning, and he didn't think it had anything to do with his throbbing temple. He knew magic ran in families – the Creevey brothers proved that. They were Muggleborn, and yet both were wizards…but Dudley. How could this have happened?

"Of course he's not a wi…a.wi… He's not a freak," Aunt Petunia snapped, her voice nothing more than a high-pitched whisper. "I made a deal with your headmaster. He would block this unnaturalness from Duddydums, and I would take you in. It was all arranged. Then, after last year, whatever it was he did stopped working, because Dudley started having instances of these oddities every few days, and I can't stop them. I want you to fix it. You do whatever it was he had done before. You can fix this, and you owe us that much."

Harry's mind was racing. How could this be? Would Dumbledore really have suppressed Dudley's magic for all these years? It didn't seem like something he would ever do. It didn't make any sense.

As if from a fog, Harry's mind recalled the way Aunt Petunia had always catered to Dudley's every whim. How she'd acted as if the world revolved around keeping him calm and not letting him get upset. Harry's worst punishments always came as a direct result of Dudley getting upset. He wondered if Petunia's obsessive need to clean was only a byproduct of her anxiety over cleaning up what she considered a huge mess.

His mind continued to pick out little instances of times when Dudley had been upset. His thoughts again drifted to the night the Dementors had attacked, and Dudley had cowered in fear. Harry had wondered what Dudley could have been remembering. Could it have been some unexplained bits of magic that Dudley had fought to suppress? When Harry had found Dudley in the darkness, he'd had his hands clamped over his mouth. Harry had told him not to open his mouth, but when did Dudley ever listen to Harry? Could Dudley have actually seen the Dementors?

Harry felt as if his world had just spun completely out of his control yet again.

"Why would Dumbledore agree to hide Dudley's magic? It doesn't sound at all like Dumbledore," he said slowly, his gaze boring into his aunt's.

"He didn't want to do it. We argued for quite some time about it. I'd seen the strange things that happened from the time my Dudley was still in his cot. I knew what it meant; I remembered it from Lily. There was no way I would allow it to happen again, not after I'd worked so hard to make a normal life for my family.

"It was the only way I would allow you to stay, and he was desperate for that to happen. I told him there was no way he'd ever get his hands on Dudley, anyway. Vernon and I would never allow him to go to that freak school. We raised him with a healthy loathing of all things so unnatural. Dudley is a good boy," Aunt Petunia said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. It all made sense. Certainly the Dursleys wouldn't have allowed Dudley to attend Hogwarts, and Harry knew from Dudley's reaction a moment ago that he never would have wanted to go, anyway.

"So, what did Professor Dumbledore do, exactly?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity. Aunt Petunia had never willingly told him anything in the past. Don't ask questions had always been her standard response.

"How am I supposed to know how all your nonsense works?" Aunt Petunia snapped. "We took you in, and he did something to take Dudley's name off of a register or some such thing. For a time, Dudley stopped making strange things happen. The only time anything abnormal happened was when Dudley would get upset, and I could easily blame that on you so Vernon never had to know."

"Uncle Vernon doesn't know his son is a wizard?" Harry asked, secretly appreciating the humor in that statement.

"Of course he doesn't know. And Dudley is NOT one of you. Your headmaster did something to control it, and I want you to do the same thing now," Aunt Petunia said, crossing her bony arms across her chest.

"I don't even know how he could have done such a thing, never mind how do it," Harry said, aghast.

"Well, if you want to stay here, you'd better think of something," she snapped.

Harry's mind clicked on a way to make this work to his advantage. "All right. I'll try and find something. I'm going to need some help with it, though," he said, rapidly changing gears.

"What do you mean help?" she asked suspiciously.

"My friends, Ron and Hermione – they're brilliant with stuff like this. I'll ask them to come and help me put it together. They'll have to stay here for a while, though – while we research the correct spells to use. I'm certain it's very complicated magic if Professor Dumbledore did it," Harry said, his mind already plotting.

Aunt Petunia frowned with disapproval. "I don't know."

"All right, well…I can't do it alone, so I suppose I'll just be going," he said, going so far as to turn around, rising and taking a step towards the door.

"No!" Aunt Petunia screeched. "All right… Your friend can bunk in with you, and the girl can stay in the guestroom. I won't have any funny business under my roof."

Harry smirked, envisioning the color Ron's ears would have turned had he heard that remark. This was turning out better than he could have hoped. "All right, then."

"You have to promise me you'll all stay out of Vernon and Dudley's way. When Vernon is home, you must stay up in your room, and I want this done as quickly as possible."

"We're agreed on that, then," Harry mumbled.

"Oh, and another thing. Your friends will have to provide their own food. I'm not feeding any extra of your freaky friends. Vernon would never have it. They can bring their own or you can share your portion, but I won't be responsible for them," Aunt Petunia said, her haughty demeanor returning.

Harry had no choice but to agree. He hadn't really thought about how they would eat. He could only hope that Hermione would be better prepared. She was certainly familiar enough with the Dursleys' penchant for withholding nourishment. They'd just have to figure something out. Maybe if Mrs. Weasley wasn't too upset with them she'd send something, or maybe Ginny would help…

Ginny.

On second thought, Harry decided that she couldn't be involved with this in any way. It wasn't fair to her, and he didn't think he could stand to have her so close and yet so far. They'd have to come up with something else.

But her presence here would certainly be a nice contrast to Aunt Petunia, his mind said, betraying him.

Stop it, he told himself firmly. Ginny would not be involved.

"I'm going to send an owl. I'm certain they'll be able to arrive shortly – they're both of age," Harry said, watching the panic fill Aunt Petunia's eyes once again.

"What does that mean? They're able to do…to…to use their things? I won't have it in this house. You said they were coming here for research," she said, a whine in her voice.

"Aunt Petunia, they're coming here to work out how to do a spell that you asked me to do. Are you telling me that they can't use magic to do it?" Harry asked, thoroughly enjoying his aunt's conundrum.

Aunt Petunia's lips thinned into a tiny sliver of a line. "One time and one time only. You owe me that much. You're to help your cousin, and then you and your friends are to get out. I want nothing more to do with you or your kind. Vernon can see nothing unusual – he's unhappy enough with you as it is."

"So what's new about that?" Harry mumbled.

"He's been muttering about the fact that you came into an inheritance and didn't bother to make us aware of that situation," Aunt Petunia said with obvious disapproval. "We've provided you with house and board for sixteen years; certainly, if you've come into a house of your own, we deserve something for our trouble."

"You won't get anything that belonged to Sirius," Harry said hotly. He might not want anything to do with Grimmauld Place either, but he certainly wasn't about to let them get their grubby paws on it. He owed Sirius that much. Taking a deep breath to control his temper, he said through gritted teeth, "It wouldn't do you any good, anyway. It's a wizarding house – Muggles can't see it. Although I suppose Dudley might be able to see it, actually…"

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened with panic. "Enough. Diddyums most certainly will not be seeing any of your unnaturalness. Go and send your letter…and tell them to bring their own food," she snapped before storming from the room.

Harry smiled grimly. Whenever it was that he'd be leaving this house to start the search for the Horcruxes couldn't be soon enough.

The ringing of the doorbell startled Harry from his deep thoughts. He'd been up in his room, unpacking his few meager belongings from his school trunk. He reckoned that he and Ron would be quite cramped in his small bedroom, so a little organization couldn't hurt. He wanted to be done with it before Hermione arrived and saw him doing it, however. There was no sense in letting her think she'd had any influence over him, or he'd never hear the end of it.

He glanced at the clock and was relieved to note they still had a half-hour before Uncle Vernon was due home. That should be just enough time to get settled and give Aunt Petunia some space to let him know they would be here. Even if they stayed confined for the most part to Harry's room, there was no way for Uncle Vernon not to notice three extra people using the bathroom.

Hopefully, Aunt Petunia would think of something to placate him, and then Harry, Ron, and Hermione could just stay out of his way. It would be best for all of them to avoid a confrontation. Of course, having Ron

attempting to live as a Muggle ought to be a task worthy of the TriWizard tournament itself, Harry thought with a chuckle.

He was nearly gleeful with anticipation and was amused to realize that he'd never once before eagerly anticipated anything to do with the Dursleys as much as he was Ron's presence in their very ordered life. It would be worth a few good telling-offs, actually.

He shut the door to his bedroom and hurried down the stairs, quietly noting Aunt Petunia straining her neck in order to peer out from the kitchen. Dudley was nowhere in sight.

Harry swung the door open wide just as the bell rang again.

"…you know anyone heard it the first time?" Ron was asking.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hi, Harry," she said brightly before releasing a horrified gasp. "Harry! What happened to your face?"

Harry put a hand to his cheek, wincing at the deep bruising. He'd been so lost in his musings that he hadn't even paid attention. "Long story. I've got loads to tell you."

Hermione looked dubious. "Is everything settled?"

"'Course it is," Ron said, taking Hermione by the arm and firmly ushering her inside. He obviously wasn't about to take any of the Dursleys' excuses. "Just stop talking for a minute and let him tell us what's happening…then we can decide what to do about it."

Harry stepped back, grinning, and allowed them to enter. "Everything's fine, Hermione. Come on upstairs, and we can talk privately."

Neither Ron nor Hermione made any effort to move. They both stood in the hallway, looking around the house. He saw Hermione frowning at the abundance of pictures of Dudley adorning the walls and every spare bit of surface space in the parlor. Harry was amused to notice that there was now a new picture perched on top of the table that only hours ago had sported the broken vase.

Ron grunted his displeasure, while Hermione's brows knitted as she scowled. Harry couldn't blame them; Dudley wasn't much to look at, that was for certain. Harry was keen to get them out of the parlor and away from Aunt Petunia's prying eyes before her nosiness might allow her to learn anything he didn't want her to know.

"Uncle Vernon will be home soon, so it's better if we go upstairs. I've got loads to tell you," Harry said, trying to steer his friends toward the stairway.

Hermione, however, was peering over his shoulder with interest.

"You must be Harry's Aunt Petunia," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger. You've probably heard Harry mention me. We've been friends since our first year."

Harry groaned inwardly. Too late.

"Can you do it? Can you help my Dudley?" Aunt Petunia asked, ignoring Hermione's outstretched hand and peering intently at her face.

"Help him to do what?" she asked, startled.

Aunt Petunia whirled on Harry. "I thought you said they'd know what to do," she hissed. "I allowed them to come here, because you said they could help him. They're in your year…why do they know how to do it if you can't?" She pointed her bony finger at Ron disapprovingly. "I recognize that one from that family who came to collect you and destroyed our parlor a few years back."

"I said I'd need some assistance, and they're it," Harry said trying to placate her. "Unlike me, neither is underage. I only had time to tell them I needed some help – they don't know all the details yet. Just give us a little time, and we'll get it all set to rights."

"What's going on here, Harry?" Ron asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Aunt Petunia.

"Not now, Ron," Harry said, glaring.

"How long will all this take?" Aunt Petunia demanded. "I can only appease your uncle for so long. I want this done and you out of this house as quickly as possible."

"Nothing will please me more," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Give us a fortnight, and we'll never have to see each other again."

"Mrs. Dursley…" Hermione said, her eyes wide.

"A fortnight? That long? Do you really expect me to keep you here that long?" Aunt Petunia screeched.

"I assume you want it done right without any mistakes that might affect Dudley?" Harry asked.

Aunt Petunia paled. "You better not do anything to hurt my Dudley. That would be just like you, wouldn't it? I don't know why I'm trusting the likes of you with this. You've always been jealous of Dudley, because you could never be like him."

"Now, wait a moment, Mrs. Dursley…" Hermione tried again, shocked.

Neither Harry nor his aunt paused to look at her.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's just what I've always wanted – to be more like Diddydinkums. You're trusting it to me, because you really don't have any choice, do you? Of course, if you'd rather we just leave now…"

Aunt Petunia glared at him for several moments before her shoulders sagged in defeat. "Get upstairs and keep quiet until I can talk to your uncle. Under no circumstances are you to upset Dudley."

Before the words were even completely out of Aunt Petunia's mouth, the front door swung open, revealing the startled face of Vernon Dursley. He stopped in his tracks and looked with confusion at the faces staring back at him.

Slowly, his color turned a deeper and deeper shade of red before he started spluttering. "You! What the devil are you doing here? What is the meaning of this?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What have you done to my family this time, boy?"

"Hello, Uncle Vernon," Harry said dryly.

"Don't you take that tone with me. You are no longer welcome here – not that you ever were. Get out and take your damn friends with you," Vernon snarled.

Harry smirked. "I think Aunt Petunia might disagree with you."

Aunt Petunia glared at him viciously.

Uncle Vernon turned an enraged expression from Harry towards Aunt Petunia, but seemed to whither a bit under her scrutiny. "Petunia?" he whined.

"They need to stay, Vernon. They won't be here long, and when they leave, we'll be rid of him for good," she said, waving her hand in Harry's general direction.

"But...but…but," Vernon said, spluttering.

"I'm not any happier about it than you are, Vernon, but this is how it's going to be," she said firmly.

Uncle Vernon's shoulders slumped momentarily before he turned back on Harry. "I won't stand for any of your funny business, boy, and I want to talk to you about this inheritance you so neatly forgot to mention last summer. What was it? Your dead convict of a godfather leaving you a house. Thought you'd hoard that information all to yourself, did you?"

Harry's face remained impassive.

"It won't do us any good, Vernon. It's a…a…unnatural house. We wouldn't even be able to see it, and it's full of freakish things," Aunt Petunia said with a shudder. She turned on Harry. "Go upstairs and settle in for the night. You'll have to provide for yourselves, as we're going out to eat."

Harry turned towards his friends, who were staring at him in stunned silence. "Up the stairs, first door on the right," he said, jerking his head toward the stairs.

Ron and Hermione hurried up without another word.

As Harry lay in his bed that night feeling much older than his sixteen years, he wished his mind was as tired as his body. He had filled Ron and Hermione in about everything that had happened with Dudley and Aunt

Petunia's explanations for it. He had to admit, he'd enjoyed listening to Ron and Hermione's outraged indignation to the way Harry's relatives spoke to him.

Ron kept coming up with more and more names of the twins' inventions to use on them, and even Hermione had suggested a curse or two. It warmed Harry's heart to hear them, even if he would never allow them to get into trouble for doing something to the Dursleys. He enjoyed plotting it, nonetheless.

Hermione's parents hadn't wanted to let her go – they'd only seen her once during the whole year, at Christmastime – but Hermione had insisted that she was considered an adult in the Wizarding world now, and this was something she had to do.

Ron had been much less forthcoming about how his big revelation went at the Burrow. After much needling and cajoling from Harry and Hermione, Ron had finally admitted that he'd only told his mum that he was staying at Privet Drive with Harry, not that he wasn't planning on returning to school at all come September. Hermione had scowled her disapproval and uttered something that sounded distinctly like coward.

They'd talked much more about Dudley and what Dumbledore could have done to mask Dudley's magic. Harry still had trouble reconciling himself with the idea that Dudley was a wizard. It was mind-boggling. In the end, Hermione had promised to look into it while they were staying on Privet Drive. It would be something to pass the time, and if worse came to worse, she could simply cast a Cheering Charm before they left. That would keep Dudley happy for while.

It had been very late when they'd finally crawled into bed. Harry had shown Hermione to the guestroom and suggested she add a lock to her door. Ron hadn't wanted to leave her alone, but shut up quickly after Harry suggested he stay in there with her. Harry smiled in the darkness, remembering the expression on Ron's face. Hermione had transfigured Harry's desk into another bed for the night, with the promise to make some changes to Harry's room in the morning.

Harry hadn't asked Ron or Hermione about Ginny, and neither had brought her up. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. He knew he should just let her go, but he'd never expected how hard that was going to be. He was doing the right thing…wasn't he? He had to keep her safe at all costs. If anything happened to her because of him…Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to survive it.

When he'd been with her these past weeks, it had felt like, for one brief shining moment in his life, he'd been normal. Nothing else had mattered. Not Voldemort, not the Horcruxes, not a prophecy. He was just Harry Potter, a sixteen-year old wizard falling in love with a beautiful, red-haired witch.

Falling in love?

Wait a minute… Where had that thought come from? Harry didn't know whether he loved Ginny or not – he hadn't even considered it before now. How was he supposed to know what love was? All he knew was the way

she made him feel – so alive. She made him feel like he could do anything.

Being with Ginny had made him want more out of life.

He knew what the prophecy said, and half of him had always suspected that he was going to die, anyway. He'd just hoped he could take Voldemort with him. But she had to go and make him want more. She'd made him see the possibility of what life could be like, and, damn it, he wanted more.

Harry groaned and rolled over, viciously punching his pillow.

"Harry," Ron's voice called sleepily.

Harry froze; he'd forgotten Ron was there.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Ron was quiet for a moment, and Harry thought he'd gone back to sleep when Ron suddenly spoke again. "Ginny didn't seem pleased that I was coming here with you," he said, in a voice that was much too casual to be natural.

Harry felt as if all the air had been compressed from his lungs. "Oh," he replied in a choked voice.

Ron fell silent again, as if waiting for Harry to say something more. When Harry didn't respond, he said, "You broke up with her, didn't you?"

Harry took a deep shuddering breath. "Yeah," he replied, bracing himself in case Ron leaped upon him.

Ron sighed heavily. "I think you made the right choice," he said. "It would be too dangerous for her to come with us. You'll have a lot to make up to her when this is over, though."

To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. Still, he steeled himself for what he was about to say. "I didn't ask her to wait for me, Ron. We have no idea how long this is going to take, or if I'll even be around when it's finished."

"Don't talk like that, Harry," Ron said fiercely. "Of course you will. And she'll wait."

Ron fell silent again, and this time it was Harry who waited for him to say more. Finally, realizing that Ron wasn't going to add anything to that statement, Harry couldn't contain his curiosity. He wished he could control that hope that flared within his heart, but he couldn't. He didn't even know how to begin to try.

"How do you know?" he asked tentatively.

"She told me to take care of you," Ron said. "As if that isn't what I always do," he added with a snort.

Harry hastily swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. She does care.

"Thanks, Ron," he said, hating how gruff his voice sounded. He rolled back over on his side and listened to the sounds of insects flying outside the open window, his mind running over pleasant memories of the all-too-brief time he'd spent with Ginny.

Ron's voice once again broke the silence of the room.

"Of course, after this is all over, if you ever break her heart again, I'll have to beat you senseless."

Harry grinned into his pillow. "You could try."

"Don't think I won't."

"Night, Ron."

"Night, Harry."

Chapter Two

When One Door Closes…

The next morning, Harry was awakened by the sound of Ron's snoring, which was causing the entire room to shake. Combined with Dudley's snores coming from the room next door, it sounded as if a battle of the bands was taking place.

Harry sniggered.

Uncle Vernon must be loving this. Of course, he snored fairly loudly himself, so maybe he was missing it. The door to Harry's bedroom creaked open, and a disgruntled Hermione stuck her face inside.

"Does he always snore that loudly?" she asked testily.

"Pretty much," Harry replied, grinning. He pulled the covers up closely to his bare chest, suddenly becoming aware of his state of undress. "Er, what are you doing in here, Hermione?"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink, as if she just realized what she'd done. He noticed her gaze remained fixed on Ron's bare chest as he lay uncovered on his bed, his arms flung open wide.

"Hermione," Harry repeated.

She started. "Oh! I mean, erm…I just couldn't sleep with all that racket. I'm going to Apparate into Diagon Alley and pick up some books at Flourish and Blotts that might help us with our search. I'll get some breakfast while I'm out. Try and wake Sleeping Beauty there; we've got loads to do when I get back."

Hermione had, thankfully, thought to bring sandwiches and snacks with her when she'd arrived yesterday, and they'd feasted in Harry's room. He was grateful that she'd offered to get breakfast and relieved him of the duty of having to explain that the Dursleys wouldn't be feeding them.

"All right. Be careful," Harry said.

"Honestly, Harry. I'm only going to Diagon Alley. I'll be back before you know it. What do the Dursleys like to eat? I could pick something up for them while I'm out, too."

Harry just stared at her, mouth agape. "You…you…you want to get breakfast for the Dursleys?" he asked, unable to wrap his mind around the idea.

"Well, if I'm getting something for us, it would be the polite thing to do. I think that if we just made an effort you all could come to an understanding. You're her nephew, after all, and she's raised you since you were a baby. She came to you for help, and I think you have the chance to really build a relationship here, Harry."

Harry's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Had his friend finally gone mad? He knew exactly what would happen if Hermione brought back food to the Dursleys – they'd sooner let it knock into their heads than touch it. They did as much last year with the wine Professor Dumbledore had offered them. He also knew Hermione well enough to understand that nothing he could say would dissuade her from her campaign.

"Why don't you just get a variety of pastries," he said. He was amused with the idea that Hermione's latest crusade appeared to be to enlighten the Dursleys. Harry knew she stood a better chance with the house-elves. In fact, he'd spent most of his life being treated like a house-elf by the Dursleys. Between Ron trying to live like a Muggle and Hermione trying to civilize the Dursleys, this would be the most entertainment he'd had on Privet Drive in his entire life

After Hermione had left, Harry took a shower – a very long shower once he got distracted with thoughts of Ginny again – and then went to awaken Ron. He tried calling his friend's name several times, and when that didn't work, he lobbed a pillow at his head.

"What the… Bloody hell, Harry. What'd you do that for?" Ron asked grumpily, throwing the offending pillow back at Harry and pulling the covers over his head.

"Come on and get up. Hermione told me to have you up and dressed by the time she returned," Harry said, grinning at Ron for jumping to attention at the mention of Hermione's name.

"What? Returns from where? Where is she?" Ron asked.

"She went to Flourish and Blotts to get us some research material and also to pick us up some breakfast," Harry replied, tossing Ron's dressing gown at him.

"The shower gets wonky with the hot water sometimes. If it gets too hot, just jiggle the handle, and it resets itself," Harry said.

"Jiggle the handle," Ron repeated blankly.

"Yeah," Harry said absently, opening the window to let in the owl delivering the Daily Prophet. He paid for the paper and turned back to find Ron still sitting there.

"What?"

"I can't just tell the shower how hot I want it to be?" Ron asked, although it sounded more like a whine.

Harry remembered his first summer at the Burrow, when he was twelve and standing naked in Ron's shower, completely perplexed over the lack of a handle to turn the water off and on. He'd broken out in goose bumps before it had finally occurred to him simply to ask the water to begin spraying.

Taking pity on his friend, he grinned and said, "Come on. I'll show you how the common folk live."

By the time Ron had finished with his shower and returned to Harry's room (with the echo of Aunt Petunia huffing over the waste of water), Hermione had returned from her visit to Diagon Alley.

She burst into the room in a foul temper, angrily swiping the hair from her face. She dropped a heavy load of books onto Harry's rickety old desk and plopped a box full of more pastries than even Ron could eat onto the bed.

"Your relatives weren't hungry, so there's plenty to eat," she said stiffly.

Harry really tried his best not to grin. Really.

"What did they do? Throw them at you?" he asked.

"They're under the impression that I did something to the pastries. Honestly, Harry, I can't believe that you ever tried to poison them, so I don't know what all the fuss is about," she sniffed.

"They hate anything – and anyone – associated with magic. It has nothing to do with you, Hermione. It's just how they are," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well, that's just as bigoted and narrow-minded as the Malfoys' view of Muggles."

Harry supposed she was right. "Yeah. Now that you mention it, I think Dudley and Malfoy could have actually been mates."

"There's an unpleasant thought," said Ron with a grimace. He'd already opened the box of pastries and held one in each hand. He took a bite of one, causing jam to squirt up on the side of his face. He slowly licked it off. "Mmmm, this is brilliant. I love you, Hermione."

Hermione's cheeks turned pink as she hurriedly looked away and selected her own pastry.

Harry wasn't certain what was happening between his two best friends. He'd thought that maybe they'd come to some sort of an understanding at Dumbledore's funeral, but they hadn't said anything to him. In fact, they were acting pretty much the same as they always did – except for a lot more blushing.

He didn't know how he felt about it. He wanted his friends to be happy, but the idea of sitting on the sidelines and watching them fall in love while his own heart was aching was more than he could bear.

Ginny.

Things were different for Ron and Hermione, though. They were together on this quest for the Horcruxes. They were a team and worked much better with each other than apart. Harry watched his friends out of the corner of his eye as he ate his own pastry. Ron was doing a good job on both of his, but Harry noticed him pausing every once in a while to sneak a glance at Hermione. For her part, Hermione was much more discreet, but she was also copping her fair share of peeks at Ron. Harry thought there must be some powerful feelings between them if Hermione could distract Ron from food.

It was different for Ginny and him, though, wasn't it? He had to protect her…she was better off far away from him. Still, the battle raged within his mind. For those few weeks that they'd shared together, he'd felt as if he could conquer anything. He'd felt so much stronger when she'd been by his side.

No! Stop!

He couldn't do this. He couldn't even allow his traitorous heart to think it. Ginny shouldn't be anywhere near him.

He had to be the one to do this thing. Even if Ron and Hermione were with him on the hunt for the Horcruxes, he had absolutely no intention whatsoever of letting them get anywhere near Voldemort when the final battle raged. He'd take Voldemort out, and maybe die in the process, but he'd be certain that neither of his friends was anywhere near him when that happened. He could never allow any of them to become another spare. Especially Ginny.

An image rose unbidden in his mind of Cedric's lifeless eyes staring from his crumpled body in a graveyard. Harry shuddered as his mind played a trick and warped the body into Ginny. Her warm, brown eyes – eyes that could melt an iceberg – stared blankly, almost accusingly, through him. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

He glanced up at Ron and Hermione in time to see Hermione use a napkin to wipe away the jam that still remained on the corner of Ron's mouth.

It would be wrong of Harry to begrudge them this happiness, no matter how much his heart ached to see it. Hadn't Professor McGonagall said that Professor Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think there was a little more love in the world?

He'd personally told Harry that love was his greatest strength, so why was he pushing it away?

No!

It was different for Ginny and him. Everything was always different for him, and he'd only end up getting her killed, or forcing her to watch as he died. No. It was better for her own sake to keep her away. He'd never want her to have to suffer the kind of horror and pain that he'd felt when he'd watched Sirius slip through that Veil.

Harry shook his head, steeling his resolve. This was the way it had to be.

"Okay." Hermione's voice dragged Harry out of his thoughts. "Let's start with this room. It definitely needs some improvements." She scowled as her gaze roamed around the stacks of broken toys cluttered in the corner and the rundown condition of Harry's small bed. She withdrew her wand from her sleeve.

"We can't use magic," Harry said quickly. "The Ministry can't detect who is doing the magic, only that it's being done here, and I'll get another reprimand. Dumbledore told me that's why I got the letter when Dobby levitated my aunt's pudding."

"Not to worry, mate," Ron said, his mouth still full of pastry. "My dad said he'd inform Matilda Hopkirk at the Ministry that Hermione and I were staying here this summer, and we're both of age."

"So…then…they won't do anything if I use my wand, either. Right?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"No, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "You're still underage, and we have to play by the rules if we want to avoid any trouble from the Ministry. They could still use a Priori Incantatum to see if your wand has been used. Let Ron and me handle the spells while we're here."

Harry scowled, feeling that old, familiar resentment arise within his heart. Dumbledore had always tried to shield him, and look at how well that turned out in the end. "Yeah. I'll just sit back and be a good little boy – like I always do."

"Right," Ron said, choking slightly on a piece of his pastry. "You're so good at staying out of trouble. It's not our fault you're such a young 'un."

A reluctant smile spread across Harry's face. "Shut it," he mumbled, but it was no use. It was impossible to stay in a foul mood when he had Ron and Hermione here with him on Privet Drive.

"So…what kind of changes do you have in mind?" he asked, looking back at Hermione.

"Oh, something like this," Hermione said much too casually, as if she'd been thinking of nothing else since she'd arrived. She waved her wand toward the mess of Dudley's old things in the corner and vanished them completely.

She turned towards Harry's desk, and, with a brief flick of her wand, the chipped, sagging old wood transfigured into a polished cherry and doubled in size. Shiny brass knobs appeared on the drawers, and a small bookshelf formed on the top.

Harry's jaw dropped in amazement. "Nice transfiguration, Hermione."

She wasn't finished. She turned her wand towards his bed – really, just a threadbare old mattress on top of a box spring that sagged in the middle. It immediately transformed into a replica of his beloved four-poster bed at Hogwarts, complete with a fluffy red duvet.

Harry felt as if his face would burst from smiling so wildly. "Wicked," he said.

Hermione aimed her wand at the window. The bolts that had once held bars in place disappeared, and the window adjusted itself so the panes could swing outward, letting in a nice summer breeze. Heavy curtains in a shade of red that matched his bed linens appeared, tied back with gold braids.

Harry had never had curtains in his room before, and honestly, he'd never really even noticed. He was stunned at the difference it made.

"Oh, I know what I want to do with that," Ron said, sounding disgusted.

Harry turned to see him pointing towards the cat flap on the door.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Ron answered before Harry could change the subject. "They used to shove his food through there when they locked him up after first year."

Hermione's lips thinned into slivers. "What did you have in mind, Ron?" she asked, her voice sounding extremely shrill.

"Remember that drive-through place your parents took us to yesterday?" Ron asked, grinning.

Hermione's face lit up with a memory. "I know exactly what you have in mind," she said.

Harry frowned. He did want them together, but he wasn't certain that he liked this secret language that only they appeared to understand. "Erm?"

Hermione flicked her wand again, but the cat flap appeared unchanged.

"Did it work?" asked Ron.

"Try it," replied Hermione.

Ron lay down on his belly in front of the door.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"I'd like three cheeseburgers and some crisps, please," Ron said, speaking to the cat flap.

Before Harry even had the chance to ask Ron if he'd gone mad, the food Ron had requested slid from the flap on the door. Harry blinked in surprise.

"Have a nice day," a voice echoed from the cat flap.

Hermione grinned, and Ron looked as if he'd died and went to heaven. He unwrapped a cheeseburger and took a bite. "Mmmm."

"What do you think, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry had yet to remove his eyes from the cat flap. Slowly, a delighted grin spread across his face. "I think the smell of that food alone will drive Dudley mad."

"It's cold down here on the floor, though," Ron said, his voice muffled with burger. "Can you do something about that, Hermione?"

Hermione flicked her wand yet again, and a lush soft carpet covered the floor. "It's going to be a bit crowded in here, though," Hermione said thoughtfully before closing her eyes.

Harry's eyes widened as the walls began to shift outward, enlarging the room to nearly double its original size. Quickly, Hermione transfigured Ron's conjured camp bed into a duplicate of his bed at Hogwarts. "There," Hermione said with an air of satisfaction.

"My aunt is going to flip," Harry said with glee.

"The house won't appear any different from the outside, so it's only if they come in here that they'll notice," Hermione said.

"Oh, believe me, Aunt Petunia will be sticking her head in. I'm certain the curiosity over what we're doing up here is killing her," Harry said grimly.

Hermione bit her lip. "She won't be angry, will she?"

"Of course she will," Harry said happily. "Not only did we perform magic, but now my room is nicer than Dudley's. She'll despise it."

Hermione frowned. "That certainly can't be a reason, Harry. She doesn't like the magic, but she's coming around now because of Dudley."

"Okay," he replied. He knew Hermione was only setting herself up for disappointment. He only hoped his relatives wouldn't be too hard on her. He didn't want to see them hurt her; she was truly trying to

help. He could handle the snubs – he'd had loads of practice – but he wasn't about to let them take out their prejudice on her.

Their days at Privet Drive passed slowly, and Harry felt the stirrings of restlessness growing within him as they approached the day they would leave forever. He felt as if he were wound tight as a drum and plunged himself into the books that Hermione had brought back from Diagon Alley in an attempt at distraction.

He'd been having trouble sleeping, and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes. Each night when he'd try to settle down to sleep, thoughts and vague memories would churn in his head, and he couldn't turn them off.

The locket, the cup, the snake, and something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw…

At times, he felt confident and ready to rush out and begin the hunt. The forced confinement grated on his nerves, and he was certain he'd worn a layer off his teeth from grinding them. At other times, the task at hand appeared so overwhelming that he felt hopeless and full of despair. The fake Horcrux that he always kept in his pocket seemed to mock him.

It was at these times that he'd retreat into himself, growing distant and increasingly quiet. He could see the concerned glances shared between Ron and Hermione when they thought he wasn't looking, but he pretended not to notice and continued with his research.

Hermione had set him the task of writing down everything he could remember from the Pensieve memories that Professor Dumbledore had shown him, in addition to any comments that the headmaster might have made about Tom Riddle. They hoped for some clues that could help them narrow their search. He'd placed a charm on his notes similar to the Marauders map so that no one else would be able to read back what he'd written. The phrase he'd chosen as his password: I solemnly swear I'm up to some kick-arse good.

Actually, the kick-arse part had been Ron's idea, and the two boys had chuckled over it for so long that Hermione had left the room in a huff. Ron's task had been to scour old Hogwarts lists in an attempt to locate the mysterious RAB, but he claimed it was hopeless.

Hermione spent her time looking for references of Horcruxes, which thus far had proved futile. It seemed no one in the wizarding world wanted to discuss them. Harry had started referring to them as The-Items-That-Can't-Be-Named, causing Ron to snort his fizzy soda. He'd been nicking it from Dudley's stash since he'd arrived on Privet Drive. Harry had begun to wonder if maybe the library at Grimmuald Place would be a good place to find something on Horcruxes – it had been full of dark magic items – but he wasn't certain if it had been completely cleaned out or not. He still didn't have the heart to go there, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind for the moment.

Ron's complete and utter cluelessness about normal Muggle life was comical, and Harry enjoyed having the shoe on the other foot. He remembered all too well the blunders he'd made when he'd first entered

the wizarding world, and how Ron had enjoyed taking the mickey out of him for most of his mistakes. Payback was sweet.

For several days, their paths and Dudley's hadn't crossed, but on a sunny afternoon when the trio had abandoned Harry's room to sit in the back garden that all changed.

"What's this?" Ron asked, holding up a statue of a funny little man with a scrunched up face.

"It's a garden gnome," Harry answered absently as he scribbled in his notebook.

"No. It isn't," Ron said with disgust. "Don't be stupid."

"It's what Muggles call gnomes, Ron," Hermione answered patiently, giving his book a gentle shove back in his direction. Ron had grown increasingly bored with all their revising and constantly looked for diversions.

"Hey, Harry, think fast," Ron said, tossing the ugly gnome towards Harry, who managed to catch it before it splattered dirt all over his notes.

Harry tossed it back without comment, and it sailed over Ron's head, just missing his reach. "I can see you're out of practice. Good thing we're not going back to school, or I'd probably have to throw you off the team," Harry said, managing to keep a straight face. He, too, was feeling restless, and winding Ron up seemed like as good idea as any.

"Throw me off the team, is it now?" Ron asked, drawing himself up to his full height. "Then who exactly would warn you about all those Bludgers that seem to follow you around all the time, Chosen Boy?"

With that, Ron launched himself at Harry and pinned him to the ground. The two boys rolled on the ground, wrestling with each other for a few moments and ignoring Hermione's huffs until Ron finally had Harry pinned with his forearm across Harry's throat.

"Yeah, you've got it right. The little runt never could stand to have anyone's hands on his neck," Dudley's voice sounded from the corner of the garden. None of the three had noticed him standing there watching them

Harry froze at the sound of Dudley's voice, his mouth forming a slight "O". Dudley had avoided them as if his life depended on it since their arrival, and he hadn't so much as spoken to Harry since the incident with the vase.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, a hard edge to his voice.

"That's what he always used to hate the most when me and my mates used to chase him, too," Dudley said, nodding his approval.

Ron rolled off of Harry and stood up quickly, his ears growing redder by the minute. Harry raised himself up on his elbows, curious to see

how Dudley and Ron interacted, yet ready to pounce if things got out of control.

"I always wondered why you red-haired lot put up with him and had him come to stay at your house for summers. I can see now that he's your target practice. I always used him for that, too. He always gives a good chase, but you can get him if you use your mates," Dudley said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"We don't all gang up on Harry," Ron said indignantly. He reached down and pulled Harry to his feet, as if trying to prove there were no hard feelings. "He's our friend."

"Friend," Dudley said, scoffing. "Who'd want to be friends with him?"

"I do," Ron said vehemently. "Just like my brothers, my sister, and anyone else who knows him. He's the best friend anyone could ask for, and we'd all do anything for him. Could you say the same for your mates, Dudley?"

Dudley appeared taken aback by Ron's fierce loyalty. He stared back and forth between Ron and Harry several times, as if unable to wrap his small mind around the fact that someone would actually like Harry. "He…he knows how to do stuff with his stick-thing…but without that, he's nothing but a pathetic little runt who messes up everything. He doesn't have any real mates. My mates stick with me, because they know I'm the strongest."

"Dudley," Hermione said gently, "Ron and Harry were just playing around. Certainly at some point while you were growing up you and Harry must have gotten on…once in a while."

"I'd never do anything with that freak," Dudley said.

"Freak," Ron said in disgust. "You don't even know him, do you?"

"He is a lot like Malfoy, isn't he? I've never noticed it before now, but Ron's right. He never did much on his own, either – always had to have his little gang behind him. You should have come to Hogwarts when I went, Duds. Maybe you could have been one of Malfoy's goons, too. I'm certain they would have placed you in Slytherin," Harry said, unable to resist taunting his cousin back any longer.

"I'm telling mum you said the name of that school of yours," Dudley said, backing towards the door, apparently very confused over the loyalty amongst the trio.

"What? Hogwarts? But Dudley, you should have gone there, too. You're a wizard, after all," Harry said.

"Harry," Hermione said, grabbing his arm, but Harry ignored her.

"I never should have gone there. I'm not a freak like you lot," Dudley said, taking a step towards them.

"He'd have never been able to handle it, anyway, Harry," Ron said. "He'd be just another Crabbe or Goyle, fumbling his way through."

"I'm not a wizard," Dudley shouted, growing ever more enraged. His piggy eyes were flashing as he clenched and unclenched his massive fists.

"I'm surprised you haven't taken full advantage of it, though," Ron mused casually, leaning back against a tree and crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean…being able to use magic and all. From what Harry tells me, your favorite pasttime is picking on little kids. I'm certain you could have really scared some little Muggle kids by using magic…or frighten your mates into doing whatever you wanted. That's the way you work, right?"

"What do you mean?" Dudley asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Ron! Ignore him, Dudley. He knows you can't use magic on Muggles without getting into trouble, and besides, you wouldn't want to intimidate any of your friends. That's not what magic is all about," Hermione said, glaring at Ron.

Dudley's eyes gleamed, as if a light switch had just been turned. "I could make them do anything I wanted, couldn't I?"

Harry shivered. Dudley's reaction had eerily reminded him of the memories he'd seen of a young Tom Riddle. "Stop it. You'll never have the chance to go to Hogwarts now, so it's a moot point. Aunt Petunia saw to that."

"I don't need your stupid school, anyway. I can make this stuff happen just by getting angry. Things always happen when I'm angry…and you can't do anything about it. She said it herself. You're not allowed to use magic against Mubbles," Dudley said, pointing at Hermione with a victorious glint in his eye.

"Just one problem with that, Duds," Harry replied. "You're not a Muggle; you're a wizard."

"Enough of this," Aunt Petunia hissed, entering the back garden in a towering rage. "You were warned not to upset him and to stay away from him. I won't have you corrupting him with your vile ways." As she spoke, Aunt Petunia stood in front of Harry, with one hand on her hip and the other flicking a dishtowel at him.

Dudley smirked as he stood behind his mother. He always enjoyed seeing Harry get told off. "He said I was one of them, Mummy…that I could do….mag-"

"Don't say it!" Aunt Petunia yelped, whipping around and slamming her hand over Dudley's mouth. "Don't even listen to them, popkin."

"But Mummy, if you'd have allowed me to go to that school, I could have got a thing, too. I would have been able to keep him in line around here," Dudley whined.

"Don't speak of such things. I won't have it. I'm not going through all that again. You are normal, Dudley. Never forget that," Aunt

Petunia said fervently. She'd grown increasingly paler as he spoke, and now appeared ready to faint away on the spot.

"But that was my decision to make, not yours," Dudley said, surprising Harry so much his jaw fell open. He'd never seen Dudley openly defy Aunt Petunia before; he usually only did it behind her back. Aunt Petunia was just as stunned, and she glared at Harry as if it were entirely his fault.

"I won't speak of it again, Dudley. You're to have nothing to do with that hellhole of a school," Aunt Petunia said, with that no-nonsense demeanor that Harry remembered so well.

A sick, nauseous feeling arose within him as he fully realized the extent of Aunt Petunia's hatred of the magical world – and everyone it. "You really hated her, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

He hadn't expected her to answer; she never did when it pertained to his mother. He was shocked when she turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "I never hated her; I hated what she became. I thought when she was done with that devil of a school that she'd come to her senses and return to her family, but no. Your cretin of a father had her by then, and look how they ended up. Then you arrived on our doorstep, looking just like him. I had to look into her eyes and see his face.

"I won't have my Dudley meet the same end; I won't have it."

Harry was stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times but couldn't form the words.

"But, mum…I could be powerful," Dudley said.

Harry couldn't contain his disbelief any longer. "Powerful? You've already had them jumping through hoops since you were born. What more did you want?" Harry's mind was racing. Had magic played a part in the dominance that Dudley had always appeared to hold over his parents? Had he somehow influenced their decisions? Had he unintentionally been prodding them along to buy just one more gift all this time?

As usual, the Dursleys ignored Harry's outburst.

"Popkin," Aunt Petunia said, putting a hand to Dudley's face. "Of course you don't want anything to do with all his foul nonsense. You're better than that. He's just trying to bring you down to his level."

Dudley shuddered. "You're right. I don't want any of this touching me. I'm normal." Dudley stormed over to Harry and poked his porky finger at Harry's chest repeatedly. "I'm normal. You hear that, Potter? I'm normal."

"Could have fooled me," Harry replied, finally recovering the use of his voice.

Ron moved next to Harry and shoved Dudley's hand away. "Keep your grubby, normal hands off him."

"I warned you to stay away from him," Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.

"We were out here working on the project that you asked us to do. He was the one who came out here with us," Harry replied.

"Well, stay in your room, then," Aunt Petunia snapped. "Heavens, if the neighbors have heard any of this you'll be in for it. Do you hear me? Get inside and stay away from Dudley."

After Dudley and Aunt Petunia stormed inside the house, Ron turned towards Hermione. "Can you honestly think of any reason why Harry would want to continue a relationship with those people?"

"Because they're his family," Hermione said stubbornly.

"No, they're not," Harry said, shaking his head. "We share my mother's blood, that's all. You two have been my only family for a long time now." Harry quickly picked up his books and headed inside without looking back at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione's attempts at striking up a friendship with Aunt Petunia had continued, but they had – of course – been futile. Harry had kept trying to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. He'd wondered if his aunt might actually enjoy some female company for a change, but Aunt Petunia made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Hermione. Oh, she'd let her help with chores – Aunt Petunia could never resist having someone else to boss around – but when it came to any kind of conversation, Hermione was rudely rebuffed.

At first, Aunt Petunia had merely been snippy, but as the days wore on and Hermione's persistence refused to wane, Aunt Petunia's comments had become increasingly rude and more biting. For Harry, it was basically what he'd expected to happen, but he was caught unprepared for Ron's reaction.

Ron had always been quick to stand up for Hermione; from a very early age, he'd always taken exception to anyone other than him giving her a hard time. But his fury over the Dursleys' comments to Hermione appeared extreme – even for Ron standards. He'd already threatened them several times, and once Harry had even had to step in before Ron drew his wand on Uncle Vernon. He wouldn't have much cared if Uncle Vernon got hexed, but he was afraid Ron would get in trouble for Muggle-baiting.

The night before they were due to leave, Harry found his Aunt Petunia doing her nightly wipe-down in the kitchen. They hadn't found any kind of spell that would subdue Dudley's magic, although they hadn't really had the time to look very hard. They'd decided simply to use Hermione's original idea of a Cheering Charm. Harry wished someone had thought of that idea when he and Dudley were younger; it might have made Harry's childhood a lot more pleasant.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry said quietly, hoping his uncle, who was watching the telly in the parlor, wouldn't overhear him.

"What?" snapped Aunt Petunia.

"We've found something that should help Dudley. We'll perform the spell tomorrow before we leave," he said.

Aunt Petunia froze, her hand shaking slightly as it held a sponge over the kitchen counter. "You're certain this won't hurt Dudley?"

"Yeah. He won't even be aware when it's done," Harry said.

Aunt Petunia nodded and went back to her scrubbing.

"I think we're going to go to Godric's Hollow. I want to see my parents' graves," Harry said, uncertain why he'd chosen to share this bit of information with her. There was something about knowing that he was leaving forever that felt strange. He certainly felt nothing for the Dursleys and knew they didn't want him any more than he wanted them. Still, they were all he'd known for nearly sixteen years, his only living family; he couldn't help but feel he should say something.

Aunt Petunia hesitated again, although so briefly that Harry thought he must have imagined it. "Don't leave a mess behind and take all your belongings with you – I won't be handling anything strange to forward. And be certain not to take any of Dudley's things."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said softly, already regretting his efforts. As he turned around, he came face to face with a pale Hermione and a positively livid Ron standing in the entryway of the kitchen.

"Hey," Harry said uncertainly. "We're all set for tomorrow. Let's just go back upstairs and finish our packing. We'll leave in the morning."

"What is the meaning of this?" Uncle Vernon asked loudly as he stomped into the kitchen, glaring at finding Harry, Ron and Hermione there.

Before Harry could respond, Ron bit out, "I believe Harry just said that we'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I always say," Uncle Vernon muttered, his countenance visibly brightening.

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye and good luck to your nephew?" Ron asked, nearly snarling. "That's certainly the very least you can do."

Uncle Vernon narrowed his piggy eyes at Harry. "That doddering old fool who was with you last year said you'd come of age this year. That means this is the last time we have to put up with all your nonsense, right?"

"That's right," Harry said, smiling humorlessly. "I'll be of age in a few weeks and a fully qualified wizard. I'm no longer in need of your services." Harry enjoyed the shudder of revulsion the word wizard caused amongst all his relatives. He just wanted to be done with all of this. It was time to move onward.

"Harry," Hermione said pleadingly. Her eyes darted to and fro between Harry and his uncle. "You want to leave here on good-"

"I don't bloody well believe you lot," Ron said, his ears flaming. "What is wrong with you people? Do you know that I always felt a bit embarrassed about my house after the first time I saw this place, even with the bars on Harry's window? I was stupid enough to feel ashamed of my house, thinking that Harry was coming from something better. What an idiot! I really can't believe how stupid I was. It's only now, watching your behavior, that I understand why Harry always seemed over the moon to arrive at my house. It's no wonder. You lot are pathetic."

Harry stared at Ron with wide eyes, visibly reminded of Mr. Weasley and a similar reaction when he'd come to collect Harry for the Quidditch Cup. Harry had never been so proud to have Ron for a friend.

And Ron wasn't done with Uncle Vernon. "My mum…my mum can holler with the best of them. She could probably even give a banshee a run for her money. But I know damn well that if I had been born a Squib, it would have changed nothing. She might have been disappointed, but she would have treated me the same, and expected the same from me as she did the rest of my siblings. And no matter how hard she was on me, she'd never allow anyone else to be.

"That's what families are supposed do. You pathetic wankers don't even know Harry. How could you? You don't even know the kind of person you've had here all the time and the lengths he would go for you if you asked. The sad part is that I don't think you'll realize it even after he's gone."

Harry looked up sharply in time to see a grimace cross Ron's face after he'd said the words, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Aunt Petunia's face had paled slightly, glancing quickly at Harry before returning her eyes to the floor.

Ron had withdrawn his wand and was waving it jerkily beneath the Dursleys' noses, causing them to cringe back against the counters. Ron didn't make any indication that he was going to curse them, and Harry was enjoying the tongue-lashing they were receiving, so he didn't make any move to stop it.

"Damn it, if the Death Eaters only knew about you lot they'd have the best recruiting tool they'd ever come across, because I've never wanted to curse a Muggle as bad as I want to curse you. You know why I don't? Because he—," Ron jammed his finger at Harry, "he won't let me. Why, I'll never know. He certainly has never done anything to deserve the likes of you as family.

"The funny thing is, those same Death Eaters who could use you wouldn't do it because of the fact that you're Muggles. And the only thing standing between you and them right now is him. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

"Come on, Harry; we're getting out of here," Ron said, turning to leave the room. Hermione beamed at him, her eyes glowing with pride as she watched his retreating back.

Uncle Vernon's face had gone from red to maroon and now displayed a nearly purple hue. He became much braver as soon as Ron moved his wand away. "I will not be spoken to with such disrespect in my own home by the likes of…of…of someone like you. You will all take all of your belongings and get out of my house in the morning," he raged, as if it had been his idea all along.

"No problem, Uncle Vernon. We'll be gone come morning. You can even redecorate my old room," Harry said cheerfully, slapping the door to the cupboard under the stairs on his way past.

Hermione, who was walking directly in front of him, stopped sharply, causing him to bump into her.

"Herm-"

"What did you just say?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Harry's eyes widened, realizing his blunder. He'd never shared that particular story with Ron and Hermione. He'd always been a little embarrassed by it.

"Er, nothing. Just forget about it," Harry said, trying to hurry them along. Ron had now stopped, too, and was staring with curiosity at the series of locks and door jams along the cupboard entry.

Hermione shoved Harry's arm out of the way and forcefully opened the door, gasping at what she found inside.

Harry's eyes wandered over his old, familiar, cramped quarters. A lumpy old mattress with several springs poking out still rested on a wire camp bed. Several toy soldiers and broken chess pieces were scattered on a shelf. Spider webs had covered the slanted ceiling completely, and a heavy layer of dust covered everything inside. Harry vaguely wondered why Aunt Petunia hadn't sanitized this spot like she did everywhere else. It was almost as if all the things that frightened her were hidden inside that cupboard.

Harry recognized his childlike writing on the walls. Just scribbles, really, beside his name. He'd once confiscated some of Dudley's crayons and made a habit of nicking more whenever he'd got the chance. He could see a crude drawing of a birthday cake with candles drawn in different colors with gradual improvement in the drawing. He remembered adding to it each year on his birthday.

To say that Hermione exploded would be an understatement. She whirled toward the Dursleys, whipping Harry in the face with her hair as she spun around.

"How could you?" she screeched, baring her teeth like a wild animal.

Aunt Petunia averted her eyes to the floor, but Uncle Vernon puffed out his chest as if to defend himself. Hermione never gave him the chance.

"What?" Ron asked blankly.

"You loathsome, despicable cretins. To think I tried to tell him to be nicer to you. You actually kept him locked in a cupboard when he was just a little boy?" Hermione raged.

"They what?" Ron exploded, his head swinging wildly from Hermione to the cupboard to the Dursleys and back to Harry again.

Hermione ignored him. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," she hissed, raising her wand.

Harry grabbed her hand and pulled it away from Uncle Vernon just as she gave it an upward flick. Unfortunately, as he'd pulled it away he'd pulled it towards himself. He suddenly found himself hanging upside down by his ankle in the entry hall of Privet Drive.

Aunt Petunia shrieked and covered her eyes. Uncle Vernon shielded her with his body and pushed her back into the kitchen. The slamming of the kitchen door echoed in the silent hall for a moment.

"Er, Hermione…can you let me down?" Harry asked with amusement.

Hermione gasped and gently released Harry from the spell.

"You used Levicorpus. I can't believe you used one of the Half-Blood Prince's spells," Ron said in amazement. Harry could hear the delight in his voice.

"Never mind trying to use it on a Muggle. Are you trying to get yourself arrested, Hermione?" Harry asked, beaming at his friend.

"Ready to start living on the wild side?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Oh, shut it, you two. I was just so angry with them. I can't believe you never told us about this, Harry," Hermione said, trying to maintain her dignity in the face of her laughing friends.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter now; let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

He could tell Hermione wanted to argue, but Harry didn't give her the chance. He bolted up the stairs in front of them, leaving them to follow in his wake. Still, settling down in his bed that night, it was a very long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Please bear with me I'll post the others soon. 😳

Chapter Three

…And Another Door Opens

The next morning, Harry awoke feeling groggy and disoriented. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head, but he just couldn't manage to raise it from his pillow. He could hear raised voices coming from downstairs, and he dragged his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the noise. It had taken a long time for him finally to fall asleep the night before, and it felt as if he'd only dosed off a few moments ago. Vague recollections of a dream started to come back to him…

He'd been on his Firebolt, racing through some dark tunnels in search of something. He'd felt a desperate panic rising within him that took nearly all his strength to clamp down.

He'd kept hitting dead ends, no matter which way he turned.

Dudley was there, stirring a potion, and he'd locked Harry in his cupboard where Harry soon fell asleep. His hair had kept growing while he slept and eventually grew so long it crept outside the cupboard door.

Ginny had used his hair to find him and had to slay a dragon in order to reach him. He'd climbed behind Ginny on the Firebolt, and the two of them had sped off into the sunset.

"Great," Harry mumbled into his pillow. "Now I'm dreaming about fairy tales, only I'm the damn Damsel in Distress." Harry knew he would never tell another living soul about that dream as long as he lived.

His bedroom door banged open, and Ron and Hermione entered — wide-awake and already dressed. They both looked entirely too upbeat to suit his mood.

"Come on, Harry. Get up; we're leaving," Hermione said bossily.

Still feeling groggy, Harry wiped his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time to go; Ron and I have taken care of everything. I've already shrunken our trunks and have them here in my bag. Let's go," Hermione said, trying to pull his covers back. "You've been anxious to leave forever, and we've got loads to do."

"Hermione, let me get dressed," Harry said, grabbing his bedcovers and feeling slightly panicked. He was only wearing boxers, after all. What was her hurry, anyway?

"I've left your clothes right there," Hermione said, pointing to a pair of jeans and a T-shirt already laid out for him.

"Thanks, Mum," he said, smirking.

"Don't get smart," Hermione said, frowning.

"We'll meet you downstairs, mate," Ron said, dragging a protesting Hermione from the room. He gave her a slight shove to walk in front of him and leaned back to say, "Just think; you're finally free of this place. Mum will be going spare if we don't arrive in time for her to feed you this morning. Hermione thinks there must be something going on with the Order, since she hasn't noticed them keeping watch and no one is here to escort us to the Burrow."

Harry hadn't noticed any of the Order keeping watch at Privet Drive, either, but he knew that didn't mean anything. With Ron and Hermione there to distract him, he hadn't spent all his free time looking for Order members as he had in the past.

As Harry dressed, he glanced at his nightstand and saw a folded piece of paper that he didn't remember placing there. He picked it up and read the few words printed on the inside in Aunt Petunia's small, tidy, script.

Godric's Hollow

16 Hillside Lane

Godre'r-graig, South Wales

Harry swallowed heavily and stuffed the note in his pocket. This was it: a real and tangible address of where his parents had lived — where he had lived, once upon a time. Why was Aunt Petunia giving this to him now? Was it her way of saying goodbye?

He'd have to think about it later. He stood up and took one long last look around his bedroom on Privet Drive. It felt strange, knowing he'd never see this room again. Not that he wanted to see it, but it felt strange, nonetheless. Although he hadn't felt like a child in a very long time, this somehow felt as if he were really leaving his childhood behind. He was truly an adult and on his own now.

Smiling slightly, he turned on his heel and followed his friends downstairs.

"We have to put the charm on Dudley," he said as he came down the last few steps to meet Ron and Hermione, who were standing by the front door.

"It's already done," Hermione said briskly.

"You did it already?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow. How long had they been awake?

"Yes," Ron replied quickly, turning to open the door. Hermione shifted her eyes as Ron pushed Harry and her out the door ahead of him.

Harry stopped walking. "What did you do?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the two of them.

"Nothing to worry about, mate; we took care of everything," Ron said, and something about the way he was smiling reminded Harry eerily of the twins.

Harry decided that he really didn't want to know. One task down — now it was time to face Ginny. That thought caused a slight shiver to run down his spine. Whether it was a thrill of dread or excitement, he wasn't certain. Maybe it was a little of both.

As Hermione continued to steer him towards a spot just outside the wards where they would be able to Apparate, he turned to glance back at the house one last time. For a moment, he thought he saw Aunt Petunia's face in the doorway, watching their departure. When he looked again, the doorway was empty, and he was certain he must have imagined it. If she'd been there at all, she was most likely checking to be certain they left, rather than feeling any sorrow over his departure.

They crossed the street in silence, Hermione nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet in her eagerness. "All right. Harry, hold on to my arm, and we'll be at the Burrow in no time."

Harry smiled and averted his eyes. Taking a deep, shuddering breath (refusing to admit that he was nervous to anyone), he grasped Hermione's arm and felt the uncomfortable constriction in his chest as he was sped forward towards the Burrow…and towards Ginny.

Harry opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the ramshackle home he loved above all others. Although somewhat the worse for wear, it was still there and still offering a bit of normalcy against the rising storm. Harry didn't think he'd ever been so happy to be anywhere in his life. Despite his apprehension about seeing Ginny, being at the Burrow somehow warmed him from the inside.

Chickens ran haphazardly around the coop, and Harry could see more than a handful of garden gnomes peeking out from behind a variety of lush green bushes, all of which were in full bloom. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of baking scones mixed with the heady scent of summer.

A sudden urge for treacle tart and a warm greeting from Mrs. Weasley filled Harry's mind. He had to fight to control his instinct to sprint for the front door and hurl himself inside. Gritting his teeth, he stepped in behind Ron and forced himself to walk at the slower pace. He had no idea what he'd say to Ginny when he saw her, but just the thought of seeing her filled him with such hope that nothing else mattered.

In his mind's eye, he could picture her hair all windblown from a morning fly in the meadow and a spot of flour on her otherwise flawless face from helping her mother bake the scones that Harry was now certain were awaiting their arrival.

He forced down the uncomfortable thought that she might not even want to see him and wouldn't be anywhere near him when his presence became known. He wasn't certain which would be worse — her rejection or her welcoming arms that he'd have to avoid — but he couldn't stop his own feet from hurrying to find out.

Ron pulled the door open, and they stepped into the chaos that was the Burrow. There were boxes and stacks of paper everywhere. Robes hung inside clothes bags from hooks on the ceiling, and Harry could make out a line of high-heeled shoes resting on the windowsill. Gaily wrapped packages were piled in every spare bit of space in the room, which admittedly hadn't been generous to begin with. Voices could be heard shouting from upstairs, as well as in the kitchen.

The sudden vibration from a small explosion in another room knocked Hermione into Harry's shoulder, and he barely caught the both of them before they tumbled to the floor.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, craning his neck to see if there was any damage.

Harry set Hermione back on her feet just as Mrs. Weasley began shouting at Fred.

"Welcome home," Ron said, grinning sheepishly.

A wide, delighted grin spread across Harry's face. "Can't think of any place I'd rather be," he said honestly.

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing each of them by the hand. "Let's see what that was and if your mum needs any help cleaning it up."

Hermione pulled them into the kitchen, where they found a frazzled-looking Mrs. Weasley using her wand both to cut vegetables and stir several pots, while simultaneously berating the twins for their careless antics.

Bill sat calmly at the table, shuffling through what appeared to be a list of names, while Charlie Weasley sat across from him with a somewhat dazed expression on his face. Sitting next to Charlie was the reason for his dazed look — Fleur was instructing him on the proper pace to keep as he walked down the aisle.

Harry wasn't certain if Charlie's blank look was because of the topic or just Fleur in general. Ron still reacted the same way to the beautiful part-Veela. Hermione stiffened next to him and scowled at both Charlie and Fleur. Hermione had never warmed up to the French girl, and Harry wondered how Ginny was faring with her future sister-in-law. Ginny hadn't liked Fleur any better than Hermione did.

Harry's gaze lingered for a moment on Bill's scarred face. The wounds inflicted by Fenrir Greyback were plainly visible and still looked quite painful. On Bill, though, they somehow gave him a rugged, manly sort of look. While Harry thought his own scar just drew unwanted attention, like the star attraction in a freak show; Bill's gave the older man an aura of mystery. Bill appeared to be someone in control of the situation, and the scars added a bit of daring to his story.

Hermione had apparently been struck dumb by the lack of order in the kitchen and hung back slightly in the doorway, while Ron simply slipped into his customary seat at the table and tried to remain unnoticed. Harry wasn't quick enough to follow suit.

"'Arry!" Fleur shrieked, gracefully moving away from Charlie and towards Harry. She took him in her arms and kissed him on each cheek. "I am zo 'appy to 'ave you here."

Fleur's shout had alerted the rest of the Weasley family to their arrival, and Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath all the attention.

"Hi, Fleur. Hello, everyone," he mumbled, feeling the heat rise to his face.

"Oh! You're all here," Mrs. Weasley cried, rushing over to crush Ron in her embrace before pulling back to look him over carefully. Finding no apparent cause for concern, she turned around and treated Harry and then Hermione to the same treatment.

"We're here, and we're fine, Mum. Nothing to get so worked up about," Ron grumbled, wiping his face of his mother's kisses.

Harry pulled away slightly and stood with his back against the wall as Ron greeted the rest of his family. He scanned the room yet again, cursing his traitorous heart for its pathetic hopefulness. How was his resolve ever to hold if he'd trade the world for the mere sight of her at the first chance he got? His breath caught in his throat as Ginny came down the stairs and stopped at the bottom, her eyes taking in the happy welcome.

She looked like an angel as she floated down the stairs, and Harry thought his heart would burst from simply seeing her again. The morning sun streaming in from the kitchen window lit her hair with a fiery brilliance that Harry longed to run his fingers through. Her hair had always been so sinfully soft, and he loved to touch it.

Time lost all meaning and, for a brief moment, he was back at Hogwarts, and she was still his. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away. It took all the force of will he possessed not to cross the room and take her in his arms. Suddenly and for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, nothing and no one else mattered to him.

Her eyes locked on his, and while time stood still their fierce gazes raked over one another as if each were committing every detail to memory to reexamine on lonely nights apart.

Dear God, she's beautiful.

Gripping the amulet in his pocket fiercely, Harry forced himself to breathe and drag his eyes away. That was exactly why he had to stay away from Ginny. He was powerless against her charm, but there were things that had to be done, and he had to be the one to do them.

If anyone else had noticed his brief lapse of resolve, they didn't say anything, although he was certain he could feel the heat from Hermione's stare on the back of his neck.

Ginny entered the room and walked towards Ron, gently nudging him on the shoulder. "Welcome home, Ron. I'm so glad you managed to get here in time to do some of these chores. The family that works together shares in the joy together," she said in a singsong voice.

"Great," Ron grumbled, pulling an apple off the table and biting into it.

"Hi, Harry. Hi, Hermione," Ginny said brightly.

Harry's heart nearly broke in two. Leave it to Ginny to act as if nothing had changed and there wasn't this huge wall of tension between them. He was certain she sounded casual to everyone else in the room, but he could hear the strain in her voice…and he knew he was the one who had placed it there.

He tried to open his mouth and return the greeting, but he couldn't form the words. When did she become such a skilled actress?

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione said. "Thanks for sending me those books. They were just what I needed, and they really came in handy."

Harry's head shot up, his eyes flickering between the two girls. He'd had no idea Hermione had been in contact with Ginny, or that Ginny had been helping. Damn! So much for keeping her out of it.

"How did everything go with the Muggles?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "They didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Ron replied with a self-satisfied smirk, "and they'll be finding little reminders of our stay for years to come."

Fred and George grinned maniacally. "Ooh, do tell. It sounds like our ickle Ronniekins has been paying attention all along," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"It's so gratifying to see all our hard work come to its fruition," George replied, sighing heavily.

"Oh, sit down and finish making those arrangements for the international portkeys. If the guests have any trouble getting here on the big day, I'm going to hold you both fully responsible," Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Never fear, Mother, dear. All the guests will arrive safely and promptly in time to see our dear eldest brother tie the shackle around his leg," Fred said, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

"What do you mean wiz zis shackle buziness?" Fleur asked, frowning. "You two should be zo lucky to find zomeone willing to zettle down wiz ze likes of you."

"Exactly!" Mrs. Weasley jumped right in. "That's exactly what I've been telling them for years, Fleur dear. Maybe they'll meet some nice friends of yours at the wedding."

"Ho, ho," George said, grinning. "We'll take that as our mission. To meet and talk with each one of Fleur's single friends who comes to the wedding."

"Oh, pleaze. My friends are completely out of your league, little men," Fleur replied dismissively, causing Bill and Charlie to howl with mirth.

"Seriously though, boys. Ron, Harry…did everything go all right at Privet Drive? Harry, did you move all your belongings out?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly.

"Yeah, we got it all," Ron answered. "Harry's seen the last of that place, and good riddance. Those Muggles are mental. He's just a homeless, orphan waif now, mum, so I suppose we'll have to take him in."

Ron grinned at Harry when he said it, but the sudden realization hit Harry like a punch to the gut.

He was homeless.

Realistically, he knew that he'd always have a spot at the Weasleys', there for the asking, but the fact remained that he was truly on his own. He really didn't belong anywhere. Not that he'd ever really belonged at the Dursleys, either, but at least it was an address. A place to hang his hat, as it were.

As if sensing his sudden unease, Ginny placed her warm hand on Harry's forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, Harry," she whispered. "You'll always belong here, no matter what else has happened."

Harry raised his eyes to meet hers and was nearly lost in their depth. How did she know? She'd always been able to see through whatever it was he was feeling and get to the heart of things.

Damn, this will be harder than I'd even anticipated.

He nodded slightly and saw the brief flash of pain in her eyes before she covered it up again. Smiling brightly, she turned her attention to Hermione and began chatting about bridesmaid dresses. Her dismissal allowed Harry to breathe again, but the pit he felt in his stomach would make eating impossible. He felt nauseous and needed to regroup. He hated feeling so wrong-footed and uncertain about everything.

"Of course, I suppose you could always go to Grimmauld Place," Ron said, oblivious to the startled and aggravated looks he was receiving from the rest of his family. "You do own that now, don't you, Harry?"

Harry's insides went cold. He'd forgotten about Grimmauld Place, but it would never be home. "Yeah," he said, finally finding his voice. "I'm going to go put my trunk up in your room. I'll take yours up, too."

He grabbed all the shrunken trunks from Hermione and nearly sprinted from the room. He knew they'd all be talking about him, but he didn't care. He couldn't stay there with her so close for one minute longer. He needed to breathe. And he'd thought it was bad at the Dursleys'. Somehow, he suspected that this would be the longest week of his life.

It wasn't until he'd reached the brightness of Ron's orange room that he remembered he couldn't use magic to enlarge the trunks. He left both Ron and Hermione's miniature trunks on Ron's bed and sat down on the camp bed with his own. He'd stayed in Fred and George's old room when he was here last summer, but he suspected that with so many people staying at the Burrow for the wedding, he'd be bunking with Ron. That's what he'd done last Christmas when they'd had a crowd.

He stretched out on the camp bed and let his thoughts drift to the previous Christmas. Things had been so much simpler then. He grinned as he remembered the sweetheart necklace that Lavender had sent to Ron. He wondered what his friend had done with it. Chucked it out the window of the Gryffindor dormitory, most likely.

He relaxed and allowed his mind to wander as he drifted off to sleep. He really hadn't slept well the previous night and was feeling quite drained. He wasn't certain how long he'd dozed, but he awoke to Hermione sitting on his bed, making a "Harumff" sound.

Harry jerked and looked around wildly.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "Mrs. Weasley put Ron to work with the twins, but I couldn't stand listening to them for one more minute. They can be so insufferably condescending sometimes."

Harry shook his head and tried to clear it. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Harry shrugged.

"Ginny looks good," Hermione ventured, letting her sentence hang in the open. Harry refused to respond.

Hermione huffed but continued prodding. "Fleur is driving her crazy with these wedding plans. Ginny says she's done nothing but attend engagements and make plans for this wedding and will be just as happy when it's over and done. She hates the dress robes she has to wear. Says they're made for a ten-year old. I'm supposed to help her with them tonight."

Harry fought the smile that threatened to crack his impassive expression. He could just imagine Ginny's tirades against wearing anything that would make her look younger than she was. She hated being treated like a child.

"Why are you telling me this, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I thought you'd want to know, since you avoided talking with her at all."

Harry frowned. "I-I- I didn't avoid talking…I just–"

"Just what?"

"I just didn't know what to say," Harry whispered.

Hermione smiled sadly. "She misses you, Harry, and I know you miss her. No matter how well you think you're hiding it."

Harry swallowed against the thickness in his throat. "It's even harder than I thought it would be."

"Harry, if Professor Dumbledore said this great power you possess is love, do you really think it's a good idea to be pushing her away?" Hermione asked, picking at a loose thread on the blanket on Harry's bed.

Harry stiffened, closing off his emotions. "It has to be this way, Hermione. I won't put her in danger."

"She's already in danger, Harry. We all are. Didn't you see the hands on that clock downstairs? Ginny's hand is still pointed to Mortal Peril, whether you're with her or not. I think she could help us."

"No."

"Harry– "

"Don't push it, Hermione. I can't let her die because of me, and I don't want her to have to watch if it's me that's going to go," Harry said, refusing too look at her.

"Don't say that," Hermione hissed, grabbing him around the waist and hugging him fiercely. "Don't even think it. We can't lose you, Harry."

"Don't be stupid, Hermione," Harry said, finally looking at her directly. "We both know it's a very real possibility. Look at what happened to Dumbledore's hand while he was after these things. This isn't a game, and I'm not nearly the wizard he was. It's more than likely I'm going to die, but so help me God, I'm taking him with me when I do."

"Don't!" Hermione pleaded, her voice choked.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, hating the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. He never did well with crying girls. "Let's just take this one step at a time. It's the only way I'm able to keep going forward. Ginny is a distraction — a very pleasant distraction — that I can't afford."

"Then you at least enjoy yourself at this wedding. Dance with her, drink and be merry and have a good snog if that's what you want to do," Hermione said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Hermione!"

"What?"

"I can't believe you, of all people, just said that," Harry replied, unable to contain his laughter.

She shrugged. "If you don't, you'll have no right to complain if someone else does."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked warily. The beast within his chest that had curled up in misery at the end of term suddenly raised its head and breathed fire.

"Well, Ginny told me that the two groomsmen are Charlie and Fleur's cousin, Jean-Luc. Fleur has been making no secret of the fact that she wants to pair Ginny up with Jean-Luc," Hermione said, her nose slightly in the air.

"What? What does Ginny think about this?" Harry asked indignantly. His monster was snarling. No prancing Frenchman was getting anywhere near his Ginny without her permission.

Unless…Harry's insides suddenly went cold. What if Ginny wanted the attention? He felt the beast whimper and curl its tail inward.

"Oh, Harry. You know Ginny. She won't be pushed into doing anything she doesn't want to do, especially by Fleur. But she's hurting, too, and…well…Ginny has been known to be spiteful on occasion," Hermione said, somewhat apologetically.

Harry's heart constricted so tightly that he thought he might asphyxiate himself. He clenched his fists, knowing there was nothing he could do. He'd brought this on himself, and if he thought a girl like Ginny wouldn't have a string of other suitors waiting in line, then he was being foolish. He felt as if all the air had been let out of his wings.

Harry shut his eyes, his head slumping forward.

"It gets worse," Hermione said, shifting as she made herself more comfortable.

He opened his eyes wearily. "How could it possibly get any worse, Hermione? Unless you're about to tell me there is some wizarding custom that all the attendants in a bridal party have to snog each other in front of witnesses, as well."

Hermione sniggered. "Actually, this concerns you. Ginny said that Fleur plans on having you entertain Gabrielle during the reception."

Harry blinked several times, nonplussed. "Huh?"

"You know, her little sister?"

"I know who she is Hermione, but isn't she around ten?" Harry asked.

"Eleven, actually. I wonder if she'll be starting at Beauxbatons in September. I read that other wizarding schools–"

"Hermione!"

"What? Oh…right, Gabrielle."

"Eleven. Do I really come off as being that desperate?" Harry asked, cringing.

Hermione giggled. "Of course not, Harry, but evidently Gabrielle has had a major crush on you since the Second Task. Fleur wants to make her dream come true by having you be her dance partner."

"Great. I don't suppose it occurred to her to ask me how I felt about this?" Harry asked, feeling nettled

"You know how it is with Fleur. How other people feel about anything has never been one of her top priorities," Hermione said, sniffling slightly.

Harry rubbed his forehead roughly. He could feel a headache beginning in his temples. "Well, she can forget it. I'm not jumping because Fleur says jump."

Hermione snorted. "Oh, ho. Now you sound just like Ginny. Besides, Harry, you can get as angry as you want. We all know you'll never hurt that little girl's feelings. So, if you really don't want to spend the evening as her escort, I suggest you get it straightened out with Fleur straightaway."

"Oh, I can see that conversation. I know it's your wedding day and all, but I really don't want to child-mind your sister, so please make other arrangements. As if I'm not already high on the list of cads to the Weasleys, anyway," Harry said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"No one thinks you're a cad, Harry. Although Fred and George do find the idea of you being Gabrielle's date highly amusing," Hermione replied, sniggering.

"I'll just bet they do. Did Ginny have any other little bombshells to drop, or is that enough for one day?" Harry asked, in a right foul mood now.

"Other than her complete misery of being apart from you, you mean?" Hermione asked, blinking innocently.

"Hermione," Harry said, irritated.

"Okay, okay. She did say she thinks there is something dodgy going on at Grimmauld Place. Her mum has been very secretive about it, of course, but the Order seems to have come into a lot of information recently. She's heard fragments of several conversations about a guest staying there."

"A guest at Grimmauld Place? Who do you suppose it could be?" Harry asked, leaning forward with interest.

"I don't know, Harry. Why don't you ask? It is your house, after all," Hermione said, frowning slightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's my house. If I want to know who is staying there, they should tell me. I have every right to know," Harry said, warming to the idea

"Of course you do, but since when has that ever stopped them?"

Harry set his mouth grimly. "Well, that all changes now."

"I know you don't want to tell the Order about the Horcruxes, Harry, but don't alienate them, either. There might come a time when we need their help. You know you can trust Remus and Professor McGonagall and all the Weasleys, at least," Hermione said.

Harry knew that Hermione's first instinct was always to go to someone in a position of authority, but Harry felt that if Dumbledore hadn't told the Order about the Horcruxes then there must have been a reason. He wasn't about to second-guess that decision.

"I'll work with the Order, but I'm not telling them anything about our mission. They had no problem stringing me along for the past few years; let's see how they enjoy having the shoe on the other foot."

Hermione frowned and bit the corner of her lip but didn't argue with him for once.

"Don't worry, Hermione. If Dumbledore didn't tell them, he must have had a good reason."

This seemed to make Hermione feel better about the situation. "Let's go downstairs and see about dinner. Ron should be done with his work by now and will be wondering where we've gone.

"You go on down. I'm going to take a shower, and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

"Harry — "

"I just need a few minutes to steady myself before seeing her, all right, Hermione?" he said, looking at his feet.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," Hermione said quietly.

"I do, too. Believe me; I do, too."

When Harry came downstairs a good while later, he headed straight for the kitchen, certain he'd find a crowd of Weasleys there. What he hadn't anticipated was hearing the low murmur of voices coming from the sitting room as he walked past. The sound of his own name caught his attention, and he stopped to hear what was being said.

He had to squint against the dimness of the room, but he could just make out Ron and Hermione sitting on the couch at the far end of the room and speaking in hushed tones. Ron had his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, and Hermione was nestled in the crook. They were stuffing little gift boxes with chocolates — for the wedding, Harry assumed — but it looked as if they were eating more than they were packaging. Harry had to grin, watching them.

"So, he's upset, and she's upset. How is that different from anyone else in this bloody house? Someone is always upset." Ron said, scowling moodily.

"It's more than being upset, Ron. They're both miserable, and I don't know what to do about it," Hermione replied, gently swiping a bit of chocolate from Ron's mouth with her finger.

"Maybe it isn't up to you to do something," Ron said, his voice strained.

"I know you think he's right to keep her out of it, Ron…but what if he's wrong?" Hermione said, resting her head on the back of the couch.

"What do you mean? How is trying to keep her safe wrong?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Because she's not safe, no matter what he does. And he might be the one who's in more danger without her. You saw how happy he was when they were together. How long has it been since you've seen Harry that way? Even his marks improved."

Ron shrugged. "Not everything is about marks, Hermione."

"I didn't say it was," she snapped, sounding a little hurt. "Ron, don't you see what's going on?"

"What?"

"Harry's had a tough life, and not many things have truly gone right for him. Ginny is just about the best thing that ever happened to him. She made him happy, and he's willing to give her and all that up in order to rid the world of Voldemort so all the rest of us can be safe.

"Ginny has loved Harry since before she even knew what love was. She stood on the sidelines and watched him struggle, even moving on herself rather than forcing her feelings on him. When they finally came together and acknowledged their feelings for each other, it was like every dream Ginny ever had coming true. Now, she's willingly giving him and all her dreams up, because she knows the rest of our lives depend on his success, and he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

"Don't you see? They are so alike it's painful. It's like that Christmas story," Hermione cried.

Ron wore a stunned expression. "What?"

"You know, that old Christmas story about the man who wanted to buy a present for his wife, and he sold the only thing of value he owned — his father's pocket watch — to buy her a hair clip for her long beautiful hair. Meanwhile, the wife cut her hair and sold it in order to earn enough money to buy a gold chain for the man's watch.

"It's beautiful and so romantic in a bittersweet sort of way," Hermione said, smiling sadly.

"You mean they both ended up with a present they couldn't use?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Oh, Ron. That's not the point," Hermione snapped. "They ended up with each other."

Harry pulled back sharply and blindly stumbled for the kitchen. He sat down on a stool, breathing heavily. Was that what he and Ginny were doing? Each one sacrificing what was most important to them for the greater good? And would both of them end up with nothing in the end?

He had never wanted to make Ginny suffer. He put his head down and ran his fingers through his hair.

I don't know.

He'd never considered it as any sort of noble act; he just wanted to keep her safe. Harry was beginning to think there was no way to do that.

"Harry?"

He looked up to find Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway. She was looking at him with concern over finding him sitting alone in the dark.

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked kindly.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine."

"Well, I suppose you'd say that even if you weren't fine."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Guilty as charged."

Mrs. Weasley poured a glass of cold pumpkin juice and placed in front of him. She sat down in the seat next to him and took his hand in her own. "The one thing in this world that always seems to be in short supply is love, yet it's the one thing that grows and multiplies the most when shared. We should never throw away a chance to have more of it in our lives. "

Harry looked up into Mrs. Weasley's eyes and found only warmth and compassion there. He felt his own eyes fill and blinked furiously in order to hold back the tears that suddenly wanted to fall. "I'm just trying to do what's right, Mrs. Weasley."

"I know you are, dear," she said gently, rising up from the table and kissing him on the head. "She knows it, too."

Harry nodded silently as Mrs. Weasley pushed a piece of warm bread into his hands. "That should hold you until dinner. We'll be eating out in the garden tonight. There will be more room out there. Be a love and go ahead and start setting the table for me, would you, dear?"

As soon as he went outside, Harry knew he'd been set up. Ginny was already there, placing napkins next to each of the plates. Harry gathered the silverware and began helping her to set the table.

"Let me guess — Mum sent you out here?" she asked without raising her eyes from the table. The low, husky quality in her voice sent a shiver up his spine.

"Yeah," he replied.

They worked in silence for a few moments, working in tandem to set each place setting. Finally, Harry couldn't take the strained silence anymore. "It's good to see you, Ginny."

"Is it?" Ginny asked dully.

Harry swallowed. "You have no idea."

"Why did you allow Ron and Hermione to go with you? They're going with you again, aren't they? When you go off to do the thing you're going to do," Ginny said, turning to face him and placing her hands on her hips.

"What?"

"You said you had things to do alone now. Ron and Hermione being with you isn't actually alone."

"No. They never listen to me."

"Maybe I shouldn't have listened, either," Ginny said, her eyes glistening brightly.

"Ginny– "

"No. I shouldn't have said that. I know you're only doing what you have to do, and I know it isn't any easier on you. That doesn't always help," she said, her shoulders slumping.

"I know," he replied, his heart aching. She was absolutely right, but he had no idea what he could say to make it better for her, aside from the one thing she wanted to hear. And that was the one thing he couldn't — shouldn't — do.

"So, what happens now? With us, I mean. Do we just go on and pretend nothing has ever changed?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno. Can you do that? 'Cause I really don't think I can," Harry said honestly.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "I'll do what I have to do."

"You always do," he said, trying to smile.

"Yeah. That doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

Harry snorted. "No. It does that."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the Weasley clan, along with Fleur, Hermione, and Ekaterina, Charlie's Romanian girlfriend. She had long, straight dark hair that hung well below her waist and dark eyes that appeared to study them all intently. She was as opposite to Fleur in coloring as she could be, yet equally beautiful.

"You are Harry Potter," she said in a thick accent, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Yes, I am," Harry said, lowering his eyes.

"I am honored to meet you. I have heard stories of you since I was a little girl," she said.

Harry felt his face burn, and he longed to be anywhere else. He noticed Ginny biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Come on, Katia. You're embarrassing the kid. Leave him alone," Charlie said, chuckling and tugging on his girlfriend's hand.

Ginny giggled. "You've never got used to that, have you?"

Harry shrugged. "I wish just once someone would say, 'Hullo, Harry. Nice to meet you,' and leave it at that."

Ginny grinned and stuck out her hand. "Hullo, Harry. Nice to meet you."

"Ha, ha."

"Oh, 'Arry. 'E iz still zo 'umble," Fleur said, increasing Harry's embarrassment. "'Ee weel 'ave all ze girls lining up to dance wiz 'im at ze reception."

"As long as he saves one for me," Ginny said, and Harry could hear the hard edge in her voice. She was challenging him.

"I can do that," he said, locking his eyes on hers and raising an eyebrow.

"But, Ginny. Don't go promising all your dances before ze wedding. Jean-Luc is zo anxious to meet you. You may find yourself wishing you had a free dance card," Fleur said, waggling her finely arched eyebrows.

"I think I can manage my own dance partners, thank you, Fleur," Ginny said through gritted teeth.

"But of course you can," Fleur replied, waving her hand dismissively. "I just zink you will be pleazed when you meet 'im."

"I'm certain I'll be happy to meet all your family, Fleur," Ginny said sweetly.

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. She sounded so sincere, yet he could hear the snide quality in her voice. His inner monster was dancing an intricate waltz with the knowledge that she wasn't going to let herself be set up with Jean-Luc. Harry hated his name just on principle.

Of course, that same monster had been snarling in fury just moments ago when Fleur had been attempting to play matchmaker for his Ginny.

He had to stop thinking like that. She wasn't his Ginny anymore.

"Fleur, my love, you have to stop worrying about everyone else's dance partners," Bill said, wrapping his arms around Fleur's waist and nuzzling her neck. "You only have to think about sharing all your dances with me."

Fleur's eyes softened as she turned to rub her nose against Bill's. Harry turned away in embarrassment and walked towards the other end of the table.

"They're sicky sweet, aren't they? I hope they cool off after they've had a honeymoon," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe regular shagging will help."

"Ginny!"

"What? Come on, Harry. They've been living here with Mum, who has impropriety detectors hooked up in every room. All that sexual tension has to be released somewhere," Ginny said.

Harry didn't know if she was joking or not, and he stared at her uncertainly. "Er."

"Oh, I'll be so happy when this wedding is finally over," she exclaimed.

He didn't know what possessed him, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out. "Yeah, and maybe you and Jean-Luc will hit it off splendidly and dance the night away. You'd better keep your mum's detectors in mind then."

He knew he was in trouble before the words had even finished leaving his mouth.

"Don't worry, I know my way around them," Ginny said, her voice rising angrily. "What's it to you, anyway? The idea is to not let anyone know there was ever anything between us, right? Maybe kicking up my heels with a handsome Frenchman is a good way to get that rumor moving."

"Wouldn't know. Why don't you try it?" Harry replied, his own anger mounting.

"Maybe I will," Ginny snapped, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"Fine."

"Fine."

Harry turned on his heel and stomped away from the table. He knew his and Ginny's raised voices had attracted the attention of several of the others, but he didn't really care at the moment. He stopped at the front of the Burrow and took several deep breaths. None of the Dursleys had managed to get this much of a rise out of him in the entire fortnight he'd spent there. How did she manage to do it three times in the space of a few short hours?

Damn, she can get under my skin.

Harry noticed a fat little garden gnome munching on one of Mrs. Weasley's prize rose bushes right out in the open without even making an attempt at concealment. With his Seeker reflexes, Harry's hand shot out and grabbed the little gnome around its middle. Winding up and releasing some of his anger and frustration as he did, Harry flung the creature and watched as it sailed over the fence, screaming all the way.

That felt good.

Harry began searching for gnomes in earnest and releasing some of his pent up frustration by cleaning them out of the garden. He wasn't certain how long he'd been there — long enough to work up quite a sweat — when Ron joined him. His ears were a deep magenta, and he was a scowling fiercely.

Harry silently handed him a struggling gnome. Ron looked at the ugly little creature for a moment without saying a word, then, with a snarl, he tossed it well past the garden gate.

"Nice one," Harry said appreciatively.

They tossed a few more gnomes in silence before Harry finally asked. "What set you off?"

"Have you seen the guest list for this wedding?" Ron asked, tossing another gnome.

"Er, yeah, Ron. It was the first thing I did when I got here," Harry said sarcastically. "How was I supposed to have seen the guest list? Why? What's wrong with the guest list?"

"Turns out you and Fleur aren't the only former Tri-wizard champions who will be attending," Ron said, viciously swinging a gnome in the air.

"Huh?"

"Viktor Krum, Harry. Vicky was invited, and he responded that of course he'd be here and looked forward to catching up with old friends. I'll just bet I know who he's really looking forward to catching," Ron spat.

"Ron. Fleur and Viktor competed together in a grueling competition. We bonded in a weird sort of way. It only makes sense that we'd all be here together when one gets married," Harry said, not quite believing he was actually saying it.

"Cedric won't be here," Ron said testily.

Harry flinched.

"Sorry," Ron said quickly. "It's not your fault. It just hacks me off."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"You're one to talk. I saw you go storming out of the back garden. Ginny looked like she was about to cry," Ron said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Harry flinched again. If he'd felt bad before, he felt ruddy awful now. Maybe letting Ron and his brothers clobber him would help.

"Don't worry. She'll be all right; Mum will see to it. A few of my brothers might be ready to hex you, though, so I'd watch your back," Ron said.

Harry looked at Ron with some apprehension. He raised an eyebrow but didn't voice the question.

"No, I'm not angry with you. You're just as upset as she is; you just hide it better. Hermione told me," Ron said, smirking.

"Remind me to tell Hermione I owe her one," Harry said, tossing another gnome.

"You'll work it out. Both you and Ginny are more resilient than most people are. You're more resilient than me, anyway. Hermione told me that, too. It'll all work out in the end, though; I'm certain of it. Maybe we can hex Vicky and Jean-Lucifer into fancying each other," Ron said, only half-joking.

"Maybe Jean-Lucifer is just what Ginny needs," Harry said despondently, unable to resist using Ron's nickname.

"Don't be stupid. What Ginny needs is you, same as you need her. I know my little sister, Harry. She didn't spend how many years waiting for you only to give up now that you're finally paying attention. Ginny's way more tenacious than that," Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry smiled, feeling a little better.

"What's going on between you and Hermione, Ron? Are you together or not?" Harry asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know. Still, Ron had made him feel better; he should at least try to do the same.

Ron was quiet for a few minutes. "I think so. I mean…we never actually said anything, but…after Dumbledore's funeral…it just all sort of clicked, you know? We didn't have to say anything."

"Er, Ron. I think maybe you do have to say something. This is Hermione we're talking about. She likes words," Harry said, grimacing.

"You think?" Ron asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I do," Harry replied confidently.

"Bloody Hell."

Harry snorted. "After all this time, you'd think we would have figured out what we're doing."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Ron asked, handing Harry another gnome.

"Prat."

"Git."

Chapter Four

Until Death Do Us Part

The day of the wedding dawned bright and glorious. Harry was awoken at what felt to him to be an ungodly hour by the chirping of birds. The

sun streaming in from the cracks of the blinds in Ron's attic bedroom pierced his skull with a fierce, unforgiving intensity. The ruddy twittering was driving him mad.

Harry had been to his first stag party the previous evening, and even the sobering charm that Mrs. Weasley had performed on them all before ushering them off to bed hadn't stopped the pounding of his head this morning. He had a vague feeling of unease, but he wasn't certain if it was only due to the nauseating headache.

It had been one of the strangest weeks in Harry's life, and that was saying something. The Burrow – a hub for chaos and activity under normal circumstances – was the center of operations for the upcoming nuptials. If Mrs. Weasley had appeared frazzled to Harry over the previous years while working with the Order, it was nothing to her state while preparing this wedding.

The Delacour family had arrived two days ago with more trunks and belongings than a small army should rightfully own. The ceremony itself was to take place in the meadow where Harry had played Quidditch with Ron and his family on many occasions. Therefore, the Delacour family took over the other side of the garden, where they had erected a large tent surrounded by lush flowerbeds.

Harry had never seen anything quite like it, even at the Quidditch World Cup. The tent was more like a castle – with peaks and turrets – and bore the French flag on the top. The area surrounding the tent blossomed with an array of exotic plants and flowers, and a small fountain appeared in a newly formed pond.

If Mrs. Weasley was stressed, it was nothing compared to the state of Mrs. Delacour. Harry had yet to hear her speak in anything but a shout, and he'd noticed Mr. Delacour liberally filling her tea with some oak-matured mead on more than one occasion.

Bill and Fleur appeared oblivious to all the fuss and merely floated in and out of the chaos with the sappiest expressions upon their faces. Fleur had moved out of the Burrow, where she'd been staying, and in with her own family, leaving Ginny, Hermione and Ekaterina sharing one room. Harry supposed that Ginny liked Ekaterina better than Fleur, because the tautness in her face had lessened considerably after the French girl's departure.

Since their blow up in the back garden nearly a week ago, the tension between Ginny and him had been so thick it could be cut with a knife. They had taken great pains either to act overly civil to one another or to avoid each other entirely. Ginny again proved her accomplished acting ability by easily pretending that nothing was wrong, treating Harry as no more and no less than Ron's visiting friend. She was civil, polite and frustratingly distant. It was only on brief, rare occasions that Harry thought he caught a glimmer of something in her eyes, but when he looked closely, it was gone.

Harry, on the other hand, was failing miserably at playing along. He couldn't just close off his feelings and pretend there was nothing wrong, no matter how hard he tried, and the effort was making him increasingly bad-tempered. It occurred to him that while he had failed

dismally at mastering Occlumency during his fifth year, Ginny would probably be very good at it.

The presence of Jean-Luc Delacour certainly hadn't helped matters. Suave and debonair, Jean-Luc was everything Harry wasn't. He was only a year older, but he somehow managed to appear vastly more sophisticated. He had dark hair that he wore slicked back and robes that not only fit impeccably, but also were made of the finest material.

It gave Harry a new determination to go shopping for some Muggle clothes of his very own and in his own size for the first time in his life.

Jean-Luc had kissed Ginny's hand when he first met her, and always seemed to know the right thing to say or had some witty response to everything said to him.

Harry felt as if he were tongue-tied in comparison.

All the women in the house were fawning over Jean-Luc, and Harry had memories of being back in fourth year and trying to compete against Cedric to get a date to the Yule Ball. The only consolation was that none of the other Weasley brothers cared much for Jean-Luc, either. Ron acted out overly exaggerated imitations of his prancing ways, and Harry suspected the twins were devising a major prank.

Couldn't happen to a nicer bloke, Harry thought savagely.

Despite her brothers' obvious disapproval – or maybe because of it – Ginny appeared quite enamoured with the dashing Frenchman. Every time Harry saw her, she was with him, laughing at his stupid jokes or listening intently to whatever it was he had to say. Harry had seen her take his arm on several occasions, and he appeared to take every opportunity to place his ruddy hands upon her waist.

The monster in Harry's chest had been roaring with such intensity that Harry was shocked no one else could hear it. He'd been in a right foul mood, and most of the Weasleys had been giving him a wide berth because of it. The only one who apparently wasn't bothered at all by his foul disposition was Gabrielle Delacour. She'd become Harry's shadow, following him nearly everywhere and helping him with whichever task Mrs. Weasley or Mrs. Delacour assigned to him.

Gabrielle chatted incessantly as they worked, and Harry hadn't yet found a way to disengage himself from her presence. She followed him, laughed at nothing, and then blushed the deepest shade of Weasley red if he happened to answer one of her endless questions. He remembered when Ginny had a crush on him, back in his second year, but that had been different somehow. Ginny had never been this annoying.

It was as if he were assigned Colin Creevey as a Potions partner, only with more giggling. The only slight positive to the whole situation was that Fleur had stopped pushing Harry to entertain Gabrielle. It was as if ever since Harry and Ginny's shouting match in the back garden, Fleur had a new pet project. She purposely arranged tasks and insisted that both he and Ginny needed to work on them together.

Harry would have been eternally grateful to her if the circumstances been different, but spending time with Ginny while she was acting coolly polite and detached was nearly driving him to distraction.

Hence the reason he'd imbibed so much at the stag party the previous evening.

It had started innocently enough. Charlie had gathered all the Weasley brothers (minus Percy), Harry, Jean-Luc, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Delacour, and they had Apparated to a private room at the Leaky Cauldron. Remus, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and several other members of the Order had met them there, along with some of Bill's co-workers and old friends.

Harry had taken a seat with Ron in a corner, somewhat distanced from the rest of the crowd. He'd been happy enough with his cold Butterbeer when Charlie approached their table with a bottle of Firewhiskey and added a shot to his and Ron's drinks. Harry hadn't yet tried the legendary drink and was quite keen to oblige. It burned going down, and he spluttered and coughed until he got used to it.

He'd only intended on trying it and leaving it at that, but he'd ended up taking a fair share of ribbing over being the only bloke there still underage. He felt he had something to prove, particularly to Jean-Lucifer, whom the alcohol didn't appear to be affecting at all.

He had soon found it very difficult to string words together clearly – more difficult even than he normally did – and he wasn't quite certain how he'd got back to the Burrow at the end of the night.

Which was how he'd ended up lying here on the camp bed in Ron's sickeningly orange room, trying to decide if he had the energy to cast a Reducto spell on the sun.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned from beneath the covers on his bed.

Harry tried to sit up but ended up falling back onto his pillow and swearing. "I am never drinking Firewhiskey again as long as I live," he moaned. "Whose brilliant idea was that, anyway?"

"I think it was yours, mate," Ron replied, and his voice sounded abnormally loud in the stillness of the room.

"Good morning, boys," Hermione's voice trilled as she pushed open the door and entered Ron's room, grinning merrily. Both boys cringed and pulled away.

"Oh, it's a perfect day for a wedding. Mrs. Weasley has breakfast ready. Come on, get up. The guests will be arriving soon, and you need to be dressed in order to greet them."

"Hermione," Ron groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers up over his head. "It's only the crack of dawn."

"Nonsense," Hermione said, pulling the covers off him completely and then turning and doing the same to Harry. "It's almost ten o'clock.

Everyone else is up and has been for quite some time. Ginny, Fleur and Gabrielle have already left to have their hair done."

"Left where?" Harry asked, suddenly interested. He grabbed his blanket back from Hermione to cover his bare chest.

"Oh. They Apparated to some cousin of Fleur's in London. Ron, your mother is going to be up here in a minute if you don't get up," Hermione said.

"My head," Ron moaned.

"Oh!" Hermione said, starting. She pulled two phials from the pocket of her dressing gown. "Here. Your mum said to give these to you to help clear your heads."

Harry took the phial eagerly and downed the contents, wincing at the taste. His mind cleared instantly, and the throbbing in his temples receded.

"Why didn't you say that bit first?" he asked irritably. Now that he could think, he realized he still had that distinctly uneasy feeling. He suspected it had something to do with his hangover, along with his apprehension over having to spend the day watching Jean-Luc fawning over Ginny. Still, the prickling on the back of his neck caused him some concern. He'd have to remain alert. He wasn't about to let anything spoil this wedding for the Weasleys.

***

Several hours later, Harry found himself dressed in his stylish gray dress robes and helping Ron and the twins escort guests to their seats out in the meadow. Rows and rows of white chairs were set up in a semicircle around a white gazebo adorned with more white roses than Harry had ever seen. Aunt Petunia would have been beside herself at the lushness of the blooms.

Viktor Krum's arrival caused Ron's eyes to narrow and his ears to grow red, despite the fact that Viktor arrived with a stunning blonde beauty on his arm. Harry hurried over to greet them and escort them to their seats before Ron could make a scene. Viktor did ask about Hermione, but Harry chose not to mention that fact to Ron.

When the wedding began, Harry went to take a seat towards the back of all the rows, but Ron grabbed him and dragged him to sit with him and Hermione in one of the rows reserved for all the Weasleys. Harry felt oddly touched.

He honestly didn't remember much of the ceremony after Ginny walked down the aisle. Gabrielle had walked down first, wearing gold dress robes with a bit of a ruffle and lacing up the front. The sleeves rested on her shoulders, and she wore a gold shawl draped across the top. Her golden curls were piled heavily atop her head, and even Harry had to admit she looked thoroughly charming.

Ginny followed next, and Harry felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't even manage to swallow. The gold robes, while pretty on Gabrielle, looked

stunning on Ginny. They appeared to hug every curve, and Harry would have been hard pressed to drag his eyes away if Voldemort had chosen that moment to attack. Her hair was curled softly and piled into an intricate pattern of plaits atop her head with thin wisps surrounding her face. She'd tied the shawl more closely around her than Gabrielle had done, but even with it there Harry could tell the sleeves on the robes bared her shoulders completely.

She was stunning, and he was lost.

The ceremony commenced, and he supposed Bill and Fleur had said their I do's at some point. Honestly, however, Harry hadn't been aware of anything else but the shine of the sun on Ginny's fiery hair, and the pink lipstick she wore on her softly smiling lips. He watched several times in fascination as Ginny's small tongue darted out to moisten them, making the lipstick shine.

Before he knew what was happening, Bill and Fleur were kissing one another, and small white doves flew from all the trees surrounding the gazebo.

"Now, let's get this party started," Fred said, slapping George on the back.

"Right, brother mine. We promised to dance with each and every one of Fleur's friends. I, for one, took that promise as a personal oath," George replied.

Harry rolled his eyes and followed them to the area where tents had been set up holding tables of food and drink. He took a seat with Ron and Hermione and wasn't surprised to find Gabrielle at his elbow almost instantly.

"Oh, there iz an empty zeat right next to me, 'Arry," the young girl said eagerly, patting the chair beside her.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring Ron's snigger, Harry sat down. Ron and Hermione sat across from him, looking extremely cozy. Fred and George were up and already instructing the band by the dance floor in the middle of the tent.

Bill and Fleur were seated at a table for two at the front of the tent, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Delacour occupying a table to their right. Harry sat with the other Weasley siblings and Gabrielle at a table on the left of the happy couple. Harry looked up in time to see Ginny and Jean-Luc taking the remaining seats at his table.

Harry's eyes locked on Ginny's for a moment as she sat down, and he was unable to pull them away. She was wearing make-up on her eyes that made them look kind of smoky and unbelievably sexy. He didn't remember ever seeing her wearing more than lipstick at school.

"Let me pour you zome of zis wine, Ginny," Jean-Luc said, and it sounded like he was caressing her name.

Harry's beast snarled crossly.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc," Ginny replied sweetly.

Scowling, Harry took a liberal drink of his own wine.

Despite all the delectable food that was offered, the dinner dragged excruciatingly slow for Harry. Between Gabrielle's hints about how much she wanted to dance and Jean-Luc's constant attentiveness to Ginny, Harry was ready to leap on his Firebolt and dive bomb the whole affair.

The only upside was the wine that had made him pleasantly warm. He'd quickly forgotten his promise of just that morning never to imbibe again. Even a hangover would feel better than the way he felt at the moment.

When he finished his dessert, he thought he'd managed to make it through the evening. He'd planned on slipping away from the festivities quietly and making it an early night. They were leaving for Godric's Hollow in the morning, and he wanted to be well rested.

That plan changed when Jean-Luc asked Ginny to dance. She nodded brightly and turned around. Looking directly into Harry's eyes with something he thought looked like a challenge, she allowed the shawl that she'd been wearing to drop from her shoulders.

Harry gulped as his mouth went dry. He felt as if all the air in his lungs had been forced out of him. The neckline of Ginny's dress suddenly appeared much lower than the modest cut of Gabrielle's, and Ginny's bosom looked as if it were barely being contained. Her robes no longer looked as if they had been made for a little girl at all.

Harry's jaw dropped open, and he wasn't even been aware of it until Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Ginny's eyes sparkled with triumph.

Jean-Luc, of course, handled the situation with much more grace than Harry had managed. He leaned over and whispered something in Ginny's ear, causing her to blush and look toward her feet. In doing so, she missed the appreciative look the Frenchman cast down her cleavage.

Harry didn't miss it, however, and jumped to his feet.

Once again, it was Hermione who held him back. "Don't make a scene, Harry," she hissed.

Harry glared at her. "Did you see where he was looking?" he demanded crossly.

"Yes. The same place you were looking. Honestly, Harry. It's called a push-up bra," Hermione said, her cheeks turning pink.

"What the bloody hell has Ginny done to herself?" Ron demanded, finally finding his voice after Ginny and Jean-Luc had walked onto the dance floor. "That…that doesn't look like my baby sister, and I don't want all these blokes looking at that."

"Would you lower your voice," Hermione snapped. "Ginny wanted something to make her dress robes look less childlike, so I told her what to get.

It's a Muggle thing, and it's designed to take what you've got and…push it all up a bit."

"A bit?" Ron demanded furiously.

"Never mind your sister, Ron. She can take care of herself. Besides, she's only dancing amidst the presence of her entire family. Speaking of dancing, I believe you promised me one," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

Ron gulped but held out his hand and escorted her onto the floor, still throwing murderous glances towards Ginny and Jean-Luc.

Scowling, Harry turned on his heel and stormed away from the table. While Charlie was watching Ginny closely, Ekaterina was smiling knowingly at Harry, and he couldn't stand it. He saw Remus standing with Tonks near one of the bars and walked over to join them.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said. She was wearing bright fuchsia robes with a hair color to match. Harry was happy to see that both her Metamorphmagus abilities as well as her relationship with Remus appeared to be back on track. The couple was nearly beaming. Despite the sting he felt from the mess his own relationship with Ginny had become, he was pleased the fates appeared to be smiling on his former professor.

"Hi, Tonks. Hello, Remus," Harry said, shaking the older man's hand.

"What's the matter, kid? You look like you just lost your best friend," Tonks said with concern.

Harry shrugged. "I'm all right."

Remus's eyes scanned the dance floor and came to rest on the glittering figure in gold with the fiery red hair. "Ah. I see," he said, before handing Harry a shot of Firewhiskey.

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Sirius always said it helped to take the edge off," Remus said, raising his own glass. He and Harry clinked their glasses together before tipping back the shots.

"How are things going at headquarters?" Harry asked once his eyes had stopped streaming.

He noticed the furtive glance that passed between the two Order members before Tonks answered. "Busy. There has been a lot happening."

"Like what?" Harry demanded. "I know someone's staying there that you're protecting."

The last statement was merely a shot in the dark, but it appeared to hit its mark. "Not here, Harry," Remus said, speaking in a low voice. "We can talk about it another time in a more secure location."

As he spoke with Remus and Tonks, Harry's eyes kept glancing surreptitiously at the dance floor. He watched as Ginny danced with several partners in addition to Jean-Luc, although he appeared at her side more often than not. She looked as if she were having the time of her life. He hadn't known she could dance so well. If it weren't for the fact that Jean-Luc was out there with her, he would have enjoyed watching her.

The monster in his chest was screaming at him to go out there and ask her to dance, but he held back. He couldn't do that. If he went near her now, he'd be lost, and he knew it. It was better for her and all involved if he kept his distance and allowed her to move on with her life.

He just wished it didn't have to hurt so much.

As Tonks turned to speak with someone from the Ministry, Remus leaned over to speak softly in Harry's ear. "If she won't leave your thoughts even when you try to keep her away, perhaps the answer lies in keeping her closer to your heart."

Harry sighed, still staring at Ginny as she danced. "I wish it were that simple."

"Sometimes it is," Remus said mildly.

"It's too dangerous right now, and I don't want to see her hurt," Harry replied, the standard answer suddenly sounding weak even to his own ears.

'Ah, I see. That old mistress Nobility appears to run strong in your family, Harry. Your father went through a stage of wanting to protect your mother, too. He didn't want her involved in the Order or fighting Voldemort, but he finally came around and allowed her to be herself. He realized that he fell in love with that feisty, stand-up-for-what-she-believed-in girl, and then he asked her to change. That wasn't really fair to either of them," Remus said, taking another drink.

"Is that what I'm doing?" Harry asked, shocked. He'd never quite looked at it that way. Of course his parents had both been involved in the fight against Voldemort. The prophecy had said they'd defied him three times. His mother was in the Order, the same as his father, yet he'd still tried to protect her when Voldemort had first arrived at Godric's Hollow. How had he reconciled the two such opposing desires?

"It would be highly unfair if Ginny locks away her true personality in order to support your quest, only to have you fall out of love with her because she's no longer the same girl with whom you fell in love in the first place," Remus said.

"That would never happen," Harry stated firmly.

"I feel like a hypocrite giving you this advice, Harry, considering my actions of the past year," Remus said, wincing. "But take it from a man who knows where you're coming from, you're much stronger and a more able wizard with her than without her."

Harry sipped his wine, mulling over Remus's words. Hadn't he said himself that he'd never felt stronger than that brief time he and Ginny were together? Hadn't his own parents decided that living and loving were worth all the risk?

"Come on, Harry. Let's dust off your dancing shoes," Tonks said, grabbing his hand and dragging him onto the floor. He danced with Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and even Fleur before insisting he needed a break.

A disturbance near the entrance of the tent caught his attention, and he walked over to investigate. Fred and George stood there with arms akimbo, glaring at Percy, who was standing at the entrance, looking extremely uncomfortable. With him stood the Minister of Magic, dressed in his finery and bearing gifts. Harry was reminded of a similar scene this past Christmas.

"What are you doing here, Percy?" Ron demanded, storming across the tent and stopping within inches of his elder brother.

"I was invited," Percy said, lifting his nose and adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah, and you didn't reply," Fred spat.

"Mum had a good cry over it, as I recall," George said.

"Unfortunately, my busy schedule didn't allow my prompt response, and I do apologize for my ill manners," Percy said stiffly. "I've come to deliver a gift to my eldest brother, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Mr. Potter," Rufus Scrimgeour said before Harry could slip away. "I wondered if we might have a word while Percy here discusses a private matter with his family."

"Harry is family," Ron snarled. "More so than this sod," he said, jerking his head in Percy's direction.

"Percy? Is that you?" Mrs. Weasley cried, interrupting them all. "Oh! You did come; I knew you would. Come over and see the newlyweds. Bill will be so happy to see you."

As Mrs. Weasley led Percy away, Scrimgeour stared pointedly at Harry. "A word, Mr. Potter?"

Harry crossed his arms across his chest but didn't move away from Ron and the twins. "We have to stop meeting like this, Minister. I suppose old habits are hard to break."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Scrimgeour's face. "Things are dismal, as I'm certain you are aware. Now that some time has passed since Albus Dumbledore's death, I'm wondering if you've taken the time to reconsider my proposition?"

"Your proposition?"

"About Ministry protection, Harry. I'm certain you've read the reports of Muggle casualties. Just last week there was another attack in Diagon Alley, where several shops were destroyed."

"I'm aware of them. What are you doing about them?" Harry asked.

"The Ministry is doing everything within its power—"

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?"

"That is not going to get us anywhere," Rufus Scrimgeour said, his voice rising slightly.

"No, what's not getting us anywhere is your refusal to accept that I'm not going to be your poster boy," Harry said, snarling. "If you want my approval for the way things are being done at the Ministry, then earn it. Start doing what needs to be done. Skip these useless handbooks on how to protect yourself and start teaching people something useful. Teach them how to cast a Patronus, or how to deflect the Inferi. Stop terrorizing people you know are innocent just to make it look like you're doing something.

"You can start with questioning those former suspected Death Eaters who claimed to be under the Imperius. Hell, any Death Eater worth his salt knows to claim he was acting under the Imperius, and you'll release him. The fact that Stan Shunpike never thought to claim it should tell you he's no Death Eater."

"This is getting us nowhere," Scrimgeour said irritably.

"No, and I can see from your refusal to accept some cold hard truths that it's not going to. You might have once wanted to help people when you first became an Auror, but now you're just like Fudge, more concerned with politics and public perceptions. That isn't the kind of leader we need in this climate, Minister. So, you go right ahead and do what you've got to do, while I'm going to go and actually get something done," Harry said, fuming.

"Exactly what is it you think you're going to be doing?" Scrimgeour asked suspiciously.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"You know what Albus Dumbledore was doing before he died, and I intend to find out," Scrimgeour accused, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"As I said," Harry replied with dead calm, "you do what you have to do. Right now, I have a wedding to enjoy, and your presence is neither needed nor wanted here." With that, Harry walked away from a spluttering and very angry Minister of Magic, Ron following closely in his wake. Harry was amused to see Fred and George remain behind to escort Scrimgeour from the tent.

"Whoa, Harry," Ron said, grinning appreciatively. "You just dismissed the Minister of Magic. I'm glad Hermione didn't hear that, though. She would have started hyperventilating."

Harry smiled. "Are you two having a good time?"

"Yeah, we are," Ron said, watching Hermione chatting with Viktor Krum.

Harry tensed, waiting for the explosion. "Ron."

"She came here with me. She wants to be with me," Ron said firmly, keeping his eyes fixed on Hermione as she walked across the dance floor.

He could hear that slight measure of uncertainty still in Ron's voice. Deciding to tease a bit, he asked sharply, "Did you get a nice look at her bum?"

Ron jumped. "What? I- I- I didn't."

Harry couldn't hold the stern face any longer. "You did so! I just watched you. You can't take the mickey out of me anymore about Ginny unless you want to get it back about Hermione. She's the closest thing I've got to a sister, you know."

"Sod off. Don't let her hear you say that, either, or she'll cry all over you. We all know how well you handle crying girls," Ron said, elbowing Harry in the ribs.

Harry shoved Ron's shoulder. "Git."

"Would you like to dance, 'Arry?" Gabrielle asked. She'd walked up behind them without his noticing.

Harry groaned inwardly, while Ron sniggered.

"I'd be honored, Gabrielle," he said gallantly, causing the young girl to beam. He glared at Ron as he led Gabrielle onto the dance floor. As the music played, he caught sight of Ginny, once again dancing with Jean-Luc, and had to grit his teeth in frustration. He tried to steer Gabrielle away from where Ginny and Jean-Luc were dancing, finding it unbearable to watch her. Somehow, however, every few steps Gabrielle managed to maneuver them nearly next to the chatting couple. He knew he was the one who was supposed to be leading, but he'd never quite got the hang of the steps.

Just as they came alongside Ginny and Jean-Luc, the music changed into a slower song, and the couples surrounding them pulled each other closer.

"I zink it iz time to switch partners," Gabrielle said, shocking both Harry and Jean-Luc. She let go of Harry and wrapped her arms around her cousin. She said something in French as the two began to dance.

Harry and Ginny were left staring at one another.

"So, are you going to ask me to dance, or what?" Ginny asked, raising a finely arched eyebrow. Harry could read the challenge in her eyes. She was daring him to walk away.

Damn it all to hell, but he couldn't do it.

"Would you care to dance with me, Ginny?" he asked hoarsely, licking his suddenly dry lips. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his upper lip as got a better look at the neckline of Ginny's dress. His eyes wouldn't behave and kept trying to look down.

Ginny's eyes softened as she put her small, warm hand within his own. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against him, inhaling the sweet, flowery scent he remembered so well.

He forgot about his feet and counting the steps and simply allowed himself to be swept away in the moment, loving having her body pressed against his. He ran his hand along the silky material of the dress robes on her back and hissed involuntarily when he reached the bare skin near her shoulders.

"You look lovely," he whispered.

"Merlin's Beard, Harry. Was that a compliment?" she asked, laughter dancing in her eyes.

His eyes dipped to the cleavage that seemed to be fighting its constraints, and he swallowed heavily. He could now feel the sweat rolling down his back. "I suppose it was."

Ginny smiled gently and leaned in to rest her head on Harry's shoulder. He shut his eyes and placed his cheek against the softness of her hair. He had no idea how long they stood there, simply swaying to the music; he just knew this was where he wanted to be. When Ginny finally looked up and into his eyes, he was mesmerized by the play of lights on her face. He leaned over slowly and her lips parted, but before he kissed her he glanced around the room.

He suddenly realized they were the only ones still on the dance floor. The band had taken a break, and there were several people watching with watery eyes as the two of them swayed back and forth to phantom music.

Harry pulled back sharply, his eyes darting wildly. Ginny giggled and hid her face against his arm. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her off the dance floor, stopping only to grab a glass of wine for each of them, and outside of the tent into the warm summer air. The meadow was lit with hundreds of floating candles, and several other guests had come outside to enjoy the slight breeze.

Harry kept ahold of Ginny's hand as they walked across the meadow and stopped by the pond that the Weasley children often used as a swimming hole. Ginny leaned her back against a big old oak tree and placed both glasses on the ground.

"Are you going to finish what you started, Harry?" she asked.

Harry knew she meant the almost-kiss on the dance floor, but his head kept screaming that she was talking about so much more. If he did it, if he leaned over and kissed her now, he didn't think his resolve was strong enough to let him walk away again.

"Ginny," he whispered, his eyes once again displaying a will of their own and dipping to the ample display of cleavage.

"Harry!" Ginny said, stamping her foot. "My eyes are up this way."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest crossly. "You should be."

"You were the one who put it on to make…those…pop out at me," Harry said, waving his hand in the direction of her chest. "You must have wanted them to be noticed. You can't get angry with me for noticing."

"I did want you to notice…but I wanted you to notice the whole package," Ginny replied, stamping her foot again. "I wore make-up and stockings on my legs. I have a new hair style…not just the boobs."

"I can't help it; I like the boobs. I like the whole thing. That dress is snug in places where school robes just aren't," Harry said earnestly.

Ginny's anger began to melt, and her shoulders started to shake with laughter. "How much of that wine have you had to drink, Harry?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Enough not to care what I'm saying."

Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and began playing with the bit of hair at the nape of his neck. "So, you like the robes, then?" she whispered, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine.

"I like the robes," he groaned before crushing her body to him and kissing her firmly. It was some time later before they came up for air, both panting heavily.

"I missed that," Harry said.

"Me, too," Ginny replied. "What happens now, Harry?"

"No clue," Harry responded truthfully. "I really don't think there is a person under that tent that doesn't know exactly how much I care about you…except maybe Jean-Lucifer…so what's the point in denying it?"

"Jean-Lucifer!" Ginny gasped, giggling. "He's an idiot."

"Yeah. I think so, too," Harry responded, thrilled to hear it. He took her in his arms and kissed her again.

When they broke apart, Ginny brushed the fringe from his forehead and rested her own against his. "We'll work it out, Harry, and we'll work it out together. For tonight, let's just enjoy the rest of the wedding, yeah?"

"Yes. I'm finally going to take Hermione's advice and go back inside that tent, dance with my girlfriend, and even snog a bit if the mood hits me."

"Hermione told you that?"

"Can you believe it? She practically insisted, but I was too busy being noble to listen," Harry said, smirking. "Who'd have thought all it would take was some gold dress robes and a push-up bra."

"The dress robes were more an act of rebellion, really," Ginny said, sighing. She held tightly to Harry's hand as they walked back towards the tent, as if afraid to let him go. "They can stuff me into it, despite the fact that it's designed for someone who is eleven, but the fact remains that I'm not eleven. I'm not a little girl anymore, and my body is going to burst out of it."

"It's bursting just fine," Harry said cheekily.

Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Prat. It's only an illusion, you know. Once the bra comes off, everything settles right back down where it was."

Harry grinned. "That's okay. I always looked; I just didn't get caught as much."

Ginny giggled and hugged him around the waist. He wrapped his arm around her, and they entered the tent. Jean-Luc immediately made a beeline towards them.

"Zere you are, Ginny. I have been looking everywhere for you," he said, looking slightly irritated.

"No time to chat now, Jean-Luc," Harry said, handing him their empty glasses. "I promised my girlfriend the next dance."

He swung Ginny onto the dance floor, completely ignoring the stunned expression on the Frenchman's face.

Ginny laughed fully, and Harry realized for the first time that he hadn't heard that real laugh of Ginny's since he'd arrived at the Burrow. It was like music to his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabrielle watching them with a sad smile. When she noticed Harry watching her, she raised her chin and smiled bravely. Harry smiled back, mouthing the words, 'Thank you.' She truly had given him the shove he needed. Gabrielle straightened her posture and winked before blending into the crowd.

They danced to several more songs, completely oblivious to the fond stares they were receiving from some of the other guests and ignoring anyone – the twins in particular – who tried to interrupt them. As the night began to wear down, some of the guests began to depart, leaving more empty space on the dance floor.

When some loud bangs were heard from outside the tent, Harry thought Fred and George had ignored their mother's warnings about not bringing any Weasley Whiz Bangs to the affair. It was only after the screaming started that he realized something was terribly wrong.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he spun toward the entrance. Ginny was right beside him with her wand already drawn.

"Stay beside me," he hissed, beginning to walk towards the tent opening. He cursed himself for becoming so involved in the drama of his personal life that he'd completely ignored that feeling of unease that had plagued him this morning.

His eyes scanned the room quickly, but he couldn't see Ron or Hermione anywhere. As he reached the tent's entrance, he immediately knew what was happening, despite the fact that several members of the Order were glancing around wildly with their wands drawn, searching for the cause of the disturbance.

There had been many wards placed around the Burrow, not only to protect the Weasleys, but also due to the fact that Harry had been staying there. Additional wards had been placed in preparation for this wedding, and while they kept the Death Eaters outside the perimeter, they had no effect on Dementors.

Harry could already hear his mother's distant screaming in his head as he strode outside the tent.

"Anyone who can cast a Patronus, do it now," he bellowed. "We've got Dementors coming from that direction," he said, raising his wand towards the other side of the meadow. "Expecto Patronum."

Prongs leapt from his wand and charged toward the tree line. Immediately, he could see several other Patronuses following in that direction, as well. Ginny's tiger erupted from her wand a moment later.

"Are you certain, Harry?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, trying to herd some of the screaming guests away from the tent and back to the Apparition point. In their panic, some of the guests were running right toward the Dementors.

"I'm certain," Harry replied grimly.

"How do you know? I don't see any of them." Kingsley said.

"Trust him," Ginny replied, looking pale and strained. "He's right. I can hear it now, too."

Sirius's voice entered Harry's mind, growing clearer by the second.

"There," he said, pointed at a spot in the trees. Several of the hooded, black-cloaked figures were emerging onto the meadow, and their numbers appeared to be growing at an alarming rate.

Harry cast another Patronus and shouted at Mrs. Weasley, who had just emerged from the tent, her face a mixture of fear and rage. "Mrs. Weasley, get anyone who can't cast a Patronus back to the Apparition point and get them out of here. Arrange some portkeys to go to headquarters for anyone who can't Apparate. Who is the new Secret Keeper?"

"Minerva," Mrs. Weasley said. She appeared slightly stunned, and Harry's heart lurched in sympathy. She'd worked so hard for this wedding.

"But, Harry, we can't send them there; it's supposed to be secret," she said nervously.

"As long as it's under the Fidelius Charm no one can tell its location, anyway. Besides, it's my house, and I like the idea of it being used as a place to house refugees," Harry said, directing Prongs towards another Dementor.

"But-"

"Mrs. Weasley, there's no time. We have to get everyone out of here." Harry suspected that Mrs. Weasley's arguments had more to do with whoever the Order was hiding at Grimmauld Place, rather than a concern for headquarters. In normal circumstances, she most likely would have demanded the evacuees be sent there.

"You're right; I'm on it. Ginny, you come with me," Mrs. Weasley said, squaring her shoulders.

"No, Mum," Ginny said. Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes were firm.

"Ginny, this is no time to argue," Mrs. Weasley said, grabbing her daughter by the arm.

Ginny pulled away from her grasp. "Exactly. I can cast a Patronus, Mum. I'm needed here."

Mrs. Weasley's resolve wavered. She looked indecisive for a moment before a Dementor appeared directly beside her.

"Expecto Patronum," Ginny bellowed, and her tiger mowed down her mother's attacker. "Go now, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley looked one more time at Ginny and Harry with despairing eyes before turning and hurrying toward the house.

A loud, clanging sound filled the night air, reverberating across the open meadow.

"What was that?" Harry shouted, glancing around wildly.

"I think it's the wards coming down," Ginny replied grimly.

"Great. Have they started clearing any of those people out yet?" Harry shouted over the noise of the battle now taking place.

Ginny looked over towards the direction of the house, squinting her eyes to see. "Some. A lot of people have had a bit to drink so they're arguing. Some are just panicking. I can see Mum and Professor McGonagall trying to move everyone. The crowd has thinned some, but not a lot."

Flames could now be seen around the perimeter, and the scent of smoke was rapidly filling the air. Harry stared around hopelessly. He could see various Order members on the front line, trying to hold back the

Dementors. Several of the soul-sucking demons had breached the line and were moving toward the tent. He could see the Death Eaters, as well. Their masked shapes were creeping from the shadows and casting spells to weaken the wards, Harry assumed.

Squinting his eyes to try and see through the smoke, he could tell that even the Patronuses were weakening the wards. It wouldn't hold much longer. The members of the Order looked tired and drained.

He could see Fleur, her beautiful white wedding robes streaked with dirt and Auntie Muriels's tiara askew on her head, standing firm and firing off her butterfly Patronus as she covered Bill. Bill was hunched down and waving his wand in intricate patterns. Harry assumed he was attempting to strengthen the wards.

Staring desperately at the chaos around him, it occurred to Harry that he still hadn't seen either Ron or Hermione, and the feeling of hopelessness began to build in his chest.

Where are they? And how am I going to stop this from happening?

Chapter Five

And Life Goes On

An unearthly fog covered the length of the Weasley meadow, where only moments before a celebration of life had been taking place. The floating candles had all been extinguished by the cold, damp fog that always accompanied the presence of Dementors. Shouts and muffled grunts mixed with the sounds of rapid spellfire as those guests who had chosen to stay and fight attempted to hold back the approaching Dementors. Death Eaters could be seen gathering along the edge of the forest, casting a barrage of spells and further weakening the already strained wards.

Harry was cold and feeling slightly dizzy from the intensity of the memories flashing through his mind. His teeth chattered as he moved quickly toward the crouched figures of Fleur and Bill, Ginny's hand held firmly in his own. He could feel her small body trembling, and he knew the Dementors were affecting her as badly as they were him.

"What are you doing 'ere, 'Arry?" Fleur hissed, directing her butterfly Patronus toward the direction Harry had just sent Prongs. Her beautiful white wedding robes were smeared with dirt and mud, and one sleeve looked as if it had been singed. "If zose Death Eaters do get in, zey will come right for you. You should evacuate now."

"I'm not leaving," Harry said firmly, his eyes locked with Bill's. This was as much his home as any other place he'd ever stayed, and he would not leave it without a fight. He saw a look of acceptance and understanding flash on Bill's scarred face, and he was grateful for it.

Finally, someone who wouldn't treat him as if he were a child.

Bill nodded, and Fleur apparently took this as reason enough to cease her demands. Auntie Muriel's tiara remained perched on her head, shimmering as the lights from various spells illuminated it. The

thought rose unbidden in Harry's mind that it was Ginny's right to wear that one day, and he'd see to it that she got the chance.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked.

Bill sighed heavily, and Harry was struck by how strained and exhausted the eldest Weasley sibling appeared. The scars lining his face stood out starkly against the paleness of his skin. "The wards around the Burrow are failing. That loud clanging sound and the flickering lights that appear every few seconds are indications that the wards are about to collapse. I'm trying to strengthen them, but I don't know if I can."

"Strengthen them how?" Harry asked.

"I designed the framework for these wards by using strength from the positive emotions that I feel for the Burrow," Bill said, and Harry could easily envision him as a Professor of Ancient Runes. "The wards are capable of being strengthened by transferring power from a witch or wizard connected to the place within the boundaries. I reckoned that one of us would always be here in case of an attack and could use our emotions to power it. I hadn't expected the sheer number of spells being cast in each direction, however. The Burrow has always been crowded, but not this crowded."

"So, anyone who feels strongly about the Burrow could do it?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"Anyone who feels positively about it, yes. It takes a lot of power, Harry, which is why I can't even stand up right now," Bill warned. "I don't think I have the strength to hold them up much longer."

Fleur placed her hand protectively on Bill's shoulder.

"What if we try to do it together?" Harry asked, and now he felt Ginny's hand on his own shoulder.

Bill looked at Harry uncertainly, his eyes flicking back and forth between his sister and Harry. Harry though he appeared vaguely uncomfortable, but he couldn't dwell on that now.

"Look, I love this place as if it were my own, and you said yourself that what you're doing now isn't going to work," Harry said with a hint of annoyance.

"I don't have time to teach you all the spells and wand movements in a few seconds, Harry, but I think I can continue casting them by using your strength and transferring it to the wards," Bill said contemplatively. "Head to that hill over there and climb to the top; that way, we can cover the whole area. On my signal, you have to project all the positive emotion and anything good you feel about this place into your thoughts. I'll take it from there. Make certain to have some cover, though, as this will leave you feeling very drained."

"I want to help, too. I'll go with you," Ginny said immediately, her eyes glinting with determination.

"No. Stay and help Fleur cover Bill; he's more exposed here, and we can't lose more than one Patronus while I'm up there," Harry replied, knowing she'd hate the answer.

Ginny frowned and stared back and forth between Harry and Bill, lying on the ground. Finally, she looked out across the meadow at the pitifully few Patronuses struggling to hold back the surging Dementors. Nodding, she squared her shoulders and whispered, "Be careful," before kissing him fiercely.

"You, too," Harry replied, squeezing her hand once.

He turned, crouching down low and running behind some of the others, as he moved carefully toward the small hill that Bill had indicated. He stumbled several times as waves of Dementor-inspired memories crashed over him. By the time he'd climbed the hill and reached the right spot, he was panting from exertion.

He could barely distinguish Bill and Ginny through the smoke, but thank Merlin for that red hair; he could spot it anywhere. He'd also been able to spot the twins standing near the perimeter with Tonks, her wolf Patronus signaling their position. He wished he could see Remus, but that search would have to wait.

When Bill sent red sparks into the air, Harry shut his eyes and channeled every positive thought and memory he had about the Burrow into the front of his mind. He had many to choose from and started focusing on memories of the Burrow connected with all that lived there.

He remembered the wonder and awe he'd felt as a twelve-year old coming to stay here for the first time. He'd learned so much that summer, not only about the wizarding world, but also about how it felt to really be a part of a family. He'd experienced how it felt to belong and not simply be cast aside as a nuisance.

He remembered the smell of freshly baked scones, roasted chicken, treacle tart, steak and kidney pie and all his other favorite foods that Mrs. Weasley had quickly discovered and always served in ample supply. He remembered the feeling of pleasure he'd felt that first time she'd washed and darned his socks right along with Ron's and her other children's. She'd folded them and put them back in his trunk, and he'd sat there in slack-jawed amazement for a full minute until Ron had asked him what was wrong. Aunt Petunia had usually just given him the socks once Dudley poked holes in them; Mrs. Weasley had actually mended them for him.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and continued focusing on his memories.

He remembered Mr. Weasley's shed, full of more electrical sockets than anyone could ever need in a lifetime, and the elder man's open glee over sharing his discoveries. He remembered not only being asked his opinion for the first time, but also actually feeling as if his answer mattered.

Harry's legs shook as he stumbled but managed to remain upright.

He remembered Quidditch matches in the meadow, tossing gnomes in the garden, and the camaraderie of a slap on the back from a group of redheads that had treated him as another brother, rather than the freak in the cupboard. He had laughed here, really laughed and enjoyed the summers for the first time in his young life.

Harry's legs finally gave out, and he stumbled to the ground, panting heavily. He was tired, and his head ached, but he pushed the positive memories through and battled against those the Dementors tried to force to the front.

He remembered the face of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen smiling at him warmly in greeting, her eyes alight with such warmth, compassion and downright orneriness he thought he could drown in their depth. He remembered kissing her barely an hour before, and the feeling that he could do anything as long as she remained in his arms.

Harry needed his arms to support his weight now, yet still he pushed the memories and emotions forward.

This was the home of his best friend, the friend who'd opened his arms wide and shared his family with a lonely boy who'd never had even a glimpse of such a life. It was the home of the girl he loved, the girl who loved him enough to let him go. It was the home of the family that had stood by him and believed in him when no one else had, and he would not allow it to be taken from them now.

Not if he could help it.

A loud surge of blinding light illuminated the meadow for a brief moment, and Harry had to shut his eyes against the glare. A whoop of joy that unmistakably belonged to one of the twins filled the air and caused Harry to blink dazedly. Shouts of glee filled the night, and Harry became aware that his body was no longer chilled. He could find no trace of the Dementors.

He lay on the ground, panting, for a moment, trying to summon the energy to stand. He could see Prongs cantering back towards him and running with a small Jack Russell terrier Patronus that he knew belonged to Ron.

Ron was all right! He was somewhere in this chaos, and hopefully that would mean Hermione was all right, as well.

He recognized most of the faces remaining in the meadow and hoped that meant that Mrs. Weasley had managed to help the other guests escape. He fought against the dimness trying to encroach upon his vision, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. The motion caused his world to tilt alarmingly, and for a moment he thought he might get sick. He had just managed to control his nausea with a few deep breaths when Ginny appeared by his side.

"Harry!" she shouted, dropping to her knees beside him and cradling his head in her lap while gently running her fingers through his hair. "Are you all right? Oh, you poor thing. Bill said you'd be exhausted. You did it, Harry! You really did it. You were magnificent."

Harry grinned and leaned into her touch. "It worked then, yeah?"

"It worked splendidly," Ginny replied, her eyes bright with excitement. "Not only did you strengthen the wards, but you somehow pushed them even further back and forced the Dementors out, as well. I literally saw one Death Eater's body being flung through the air. You were brilliant, Harry. Even Bill is impressed, and it takes a lot to impress him. I wouldn't be surprised if he offers you a job after you leave Hogwarts."

"Yeah? Harry Potter, Curse Breaker, eh?" Harry said, managing a weak smile. "Maybe if being an Auror doesn't work out for me."

"Let's get you back to the house where you can rest. Do you think you can stand?" Ginny asked.

Harry tried to rise on his elbows but couldn't manage to make his body respond and flopped back onto the ground. "Right here is fine," he said, fighting to keep his eyes open. Suddenly, he felt his world tilt again as he was scooped up into thick, heavily muscled arms.

"Come on, Harry. Let's get you out of here," Charlie Weasley said. "Ginny can say thanks by snogging your brains out later."

"She said I was magnificent," Harry said, slurring his words.

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head, mate. She said you were a hopeless idiot yesterday. She's always been temperamental, that one," Charlie replied, grinning.

"Hey!" Ginny cried, slapping her brother on the arm. "I'm right here, you know."

Despite his closed eyes, Harry could tell Ginny was smiling. He was too tired to care that Charlie was carrying him to the Burrow, so he just let his body relax, and the dimness on the edge of his vision covered his eyes completely.

The tinkling of glass, the drone of muted music, and the distant peals of laughter were the sounds Harry heard as he slowly drifted back to awareness. He was warm and comfortable and felt more secure than he had in quite some time. He wasn't willing to give that up by opening his eyes just yet.

"Exactly how long are you going to pretend to still be asleep, Harry?" Ginny asked. He could hear the amusement in her voice as that sweet, flowery scent he always associated with her wafted across his nostrils. "You're not hurt, and being too tired is no excuse to deny me the dancing that was promised me."

"We danced," Harry said, smiling but keeping his eyes closed.

"Barely! You'll have to do better than that to keep me satisfied," she said primly.

"Is that so?" Harry asked, enjoying the banter. He opened his eyes wide as memories of the night crashed down upon him.

He sat up suddenly, glancing around the room and feeling slightly panicked. He felt his heart rate increase as he recognized his surroundings. He was back in the one place that he'd sworn he never wanted to see again. He was back at Grimmauld Place…at Sirius's house.

He was lying on a couch in one of the small sitting rooms off the main hallway, and his head had been resting on Ginny's lap. She rubbed his back soothingly, apparently understanding his dismay.

"Why are we here?" he asked tightly, struggling to do anything but look around at his surroundings.

Ginny moved closer and wrapped her arm around his stiff shoulders. "We sent a lot of refugees from the wedding here, remember? Mum was too uptight to leave anyone at the Burrow until the wards are thoroughly checked, so we've moved in for the night. Bill and Fleur absolutely refused to allow Voldemort to spoil their special day. They've continued the party right in the ballroom; the band set up their equipment and are down there playing right now."

Harry could hear the grudging respect for what Fleur had done in Ginny's voice.

"Bill's all right?" he asked. If he felt as bad as he did, certainly Bill couldn't be dancing. He cracked his neck from side to side, trying to judge if had the strength to dance. He felt as if he could sleep for a week, and it galled him to think Bill was in much better shape.

"Oh, he's just sort of propped up in a corner, watching Fleur dance. He can barely keep his eyes open, but she wasn't about to let him use up all his remaining energy dancing. I'm certain she has other plans for him this evening," Ginny replied, her eyes twinkling.

It took a moment for the full impact of what Ginny said to sink in, and when it did Harry blushed crimson. "Ginny!"

Her words stirred images about what Bill and Fleur might get up to that he really didn't want to think about. Having Ginny pressed so nicely against him caused his train of his thought to switch tracks to images of her that none of her brothers would want him thinking about, and his anatomy began to respond. He shifted uncomfortably, the collar of his shirt suddenly becoming unbearably tight.

"That caught your attention," Ginny said, smirking as if she knew exactly what she'd done.

She was right, too; he had been preoccupied with the idea of being back at Grimmauld Place until she'd moved his thoughts to other things.

"Ron and Hermione," he said suddenly, staring into her eyes with alarm. "I saw Ron's Patronus, so I know he did turn up eventually, but-"

"Nothing to worry about," Ginny said soothingly, shaking her head and placing her soft hand on his lips. "Hermione did get cursed with

something, but she'd already been tended to by Mum when I saw her. I haven't got the full story out of anyone yet, as I've been rather preoccupied with you, but I believe it had something to do with an altercation between Ron and Viktor Krum."

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Ron, what did you do?

"All three of them are here somewhere. Ron's been by several times to check on you, along with Fred, George, Charlie and Mum. Every ten minutes or so one of them pops their head in. I think it's a conspiracy," Ginny whispered dramatically. Soft wisps of hair had broken free from the intricate knot on her head and tickled his face as she leaned near him. He longed to free the rest of her hair and let it fall loose.

"Don't they trust us?" he asked, grinning.

"Should they?" she asked, arching her brow.

"Well, we'd best live up to our as yet unearned reputation, shouldn't we?" he asked, quickly rolling over and twisting so that she was now resting back on the couch, and he was leaning over her. More pieces of her hair came undone as he pressed his lips to hers and lost himself in the sweetness of the kiss.

It felt like only an instant later when there was a sharp clearing of a throat from the entranceway to the room. Harry pulled back reluctantly, to find Ron standing in the doorway, glowering, his lower lip swollen to twice its natural size.

"Do you have to do that?" he asked, his speech oddly distorted from his fat lip.

"Most definitely," Harry replied cheekily and quickly planted another kiss on Ginny's lips. "What happened to you?"

Harry and Ginny sat up and moved apart slightly on the couch, as Ron entered the room and took a seat across from them.

"Well, if you hadn't noticed because of all your snogging with my sister…there was a battle with Death Eaters at my house a bit ago, Harry," Ron said, disgruntled.

"You don't say? That would explain why I'm flat on my back then, wouldn't it? Funny, I don't remember seeing you during the battle," Harry said, cocking his eyebrow.

"You told him," Ron said, scowling at Ginny.

"Of course I did," Ginny replied, smirking and snuggling closer to Harry again. He wrapped his arm around her and ignored Ron's glare.

"What happened to Hermione?" he asked, torn between enjoying seeing Ginny spar with Ron and wanting the details before it erupted into all-out sibling warfare.

"Vicky tried to get me with a Reducto spell that ricocheted off Mum's hutch and hit Hermione. Mum patched her up, but she's not talking to me. As if it's my fault," Ron said, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling at the room in general.

"Why did he try to curse you?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling very tired again.

"He could have been provoked," Ron admitted grudgingly. "That's not the point, though. He curses her, and she won't talk to me. How am I supposed to ever figure that one out?"

Harry groaned. "What did you do, Ron? Why were you hexing each other? I thought you'd told me earlier that you knew Hermione went to the wedding as your date. I thought everything was okay between you."

"It was okay until that git tried to make his move on my girl," Ron said angrily, and Harry suspected he didn't even realize how he'd referred to Hermione. "After you went off with Ginny, I knew you'd end up snogging, and I didn't want to see it, so I went to look for Hermione. I found her cozied up with Vicky back inside the Burrow."

"But Ron, I thought we'd talked about this. She went to the wedding with you, as your date. I thought you were okay with her and Viktor," Harry said wearily.

"I was okay with it when he was just an old boyfriend on the dance floor, but I wasn't okay with finding him chatting her up while she was wearing that dress and looking like that and sitting in my house at my kitchen table. No bloke would be okay with that, Harry," Ron finished with a shout, his ears as bright as his hair.

He had a point. Harry hadn't liked seeing Jean-Luc with Ginny, and there wasn't even a past between them. For the first time, Harry understood and sympathized with Ron's feelings about Viktor.

"So, what happened? And what do you mean you knew we'd end up snogging?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing what Ron had said.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Harry. You haven't been able to keep your eyes off of her all week, and Merlin knows she wanted to snog you. She can't seem to control herself."

"Hey!" Ginny cried indignantly.

"Neither of you were very discreet," Ron said, sounding remarkably like Percy at that moment

"Obviously not, if you noticed," Ginny replied coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, obviously I was right if what I just walked in on was any indication. Good thing I wasn't Mum," Ron said, narrowing his eyes.

"Mum is so grateful to Harry right now that we could have been shagging, and she would have allowed it," Ginny replied dismissively.

"Ginny!" Harry yelped, glancing quickly at Ron to gauge his reaction. He sat stone still and gaped like a fish.

"Well, she is. You saved the Burrow, Harry. She'd look the other way for just about anything right now. You really should use that to your advantage and let her know that you're not coming back to our house. Get that out of the way," Ginny said, biting her lip in thought.

That's not a bad idea, Harry thought, wondering how Ginny already knew he wasn't going back. They hadn't yet discussed anything about the future. He only knew that he wanted her in his.

"I can't let her know my plans when I'm not even certain what they are yet. Besides, I would have helped Bill no matter what," Harry said sincerely.

"About that, Harry…I'm really sorry," Ron said, staring intently at the carpet.

"Sorry for what?" Harry asked.

"Sorry for not being there when the fighting started. I promised you that I'd be at your side through this whole thing, and I let stupid Vicky distract me at the first hint of trouble. I didn't even know about the Dementors because I was so busy rowing. Then, when Hermione got hurt, I lost it. I couldn't think of anything else but getting her sorted. It wasn't until you were already up on that hill helping Bill that I got my arse into gear. I should have been right there with you the whole time," Ron said, his shoulders slumping.

"We both should have done, Harry," Hermione said from the doorway. She was very pale, and her eyes were shining bright with unshed tears as she gazed intently at Ron.

"Hermione!" Harry said, relieved to see her up and walking.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her eyes darting to him for a moment to do a cursory inspection.

"I'm fine. You're the one who got hurt, from what I'm hearing," Harry replied.

"Oh, it's nothing. I need to take it easy for a few days and take a potion for a few cracked ribs. Nothing too serious. You've been out of it completely, and Ginny wouldn't let anyone near you," Hermione said with a disapproving sniff.

Ginny blushed, abashed. "He was sleeping."

"It looks like things are okay between you two. I'm happy for you. You really were being silly, Harry," Hermione said, smiling fondly at both him and Ginny.

Harry ignored her slight rebuff. "Speaking of being silly…" he said, staring pointedly at her and Ron.

Hermione raised her nose slightly in the air. "As usual, Ron overreacted."

"Overreacted, did I? When I walked into the kitchen he had his hands all over you. What was I supposed to think?" Ron demanded angrily.

"All over me? He most certainly did not, Ronald Weasley. He asked if I was happy, and I assured him that I was. We embraced and would have ended the conversation there if you hadn't stormed into the room as if the hounds of hell were on your tail," Hermione said waspishly.

"He had his hands…wait…what? You told him you were happy? With me?" Ron asked, suddenly sounding very insecure.

Hermione's eyes softened. "Did it really worry you when you thought I was hurt?" she asked in a small voice.

Harry immediately wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Ron and Hermione were his best friends in the world, but he really didn't want to be a witness to this side of their relationship.

"So, is Mum still hanging all over Percy?" Ginny asked. Obviously, she was uncomfortable with Ron and Hermione's conversation, as well.

"Percy? Percy is still here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. He was still talking with Mum and Dad when the attack began, and Mum just insisted we all stay together," Ginny replied.

"The git was shocked that Death Eaters would actually attack the Burrow. It was as if he couldn't believe they would ever actually take notice of it…or us. I know Mum is happy to have him here and talking to her, but I don't trust him. I don't think he should be here," Ron said darkly.

"I was wondering about that, Harry," Hermione ventured tentatively. "I mean, there are a lot of new people here learning about headquarters. Do you really think it was such a good idea to use this place as a sanctuary?"

"Yes," Harry replied shortly.

"I mean, obviously it was imperative to get everyone to safety, but the Ministry has safe houses and checkpoints for just such occasions," Hermione said.

"I think using this house as a sanctuary for anyone running from the Death Eaters, or from the Ministry, is exactly what Sirius would have wanted," Harry replied quietly. "Besides, I'm certain Mad Eye is performing Memory Charms on anyone who leaves, and with the Fidelius Charm in place, no one can reveal the location, anyway."

"They can't reveal the location, but they can reveal who is here and who they think is in charge," Hermione insisted.

"How come the Fidelius still works if Dumbledore is d…" Ron asked, trailing off with a sharp glance in Harry's direction.

"The Fidelius doesn't end when the Secret Keeper dies, or else all anyone would have to do is kill the Secret Keeper. It's a slow, gradual fade of the magic, and it leaves time to reapply the charm with a new Secret Keeper. Professor McGonagall is ours, I believe," Hermione said.

"She is," Ginny said, nodding. "Percy isn't the only potential security risk here. There are several of Fleur's extended family here that we know nothing about."

"And I'd say Jean-Lucifer is too stupid to be a Death Eater, but they took Scabbers, so you can never tell," Ron said, grimacing.

Harry had forgotten about Jean-Luc with all the chaos after the attack. He glanced quickly at Ginny to see her reaction.

She simply rolled her eyes. "You weren't very nice to him," she said to the room at large, although she didn't appear concerned over it.

"Harry hates him," Ron replied, as if that settled everything.

"None of us liked Jean-Luc," Harry said indignantly. "I think Fred and George were planning to prank him, although I don't know if they ever did."

"They didn't," Ginny said, picking a piece of lint off the skirt of her robes.

"How do you know?" Ron asked.

"Because Bill warned them off doing it. Jean-Luc was making Harry jealous, and Bill thought it was the best thing to push him past his nobility complex. Fleur put him up to it, actually," Ginny replied, futilely trying to control her grin.

"So it was a conspiracy?" Harry asked, dumbfounded at the lengths all the Weasleys would go in order to set him up.

"Of sorts," Ginny replied, shrugging. "Don't mess with us Weasleys."

"What's this I hear of Weasleys being messed with? That just can't be allowed," Fred said as he entered room.

His robes were torn and dirty, and he'd magically stuck flowers in odd locations to mask the destruction. Of course, the plan had failed miserably and only enhanced the ruin. Somehow, Harry suspected that was exactly what Fred had intended.

"It's wrong on so many levels," George replied in that odd way of sharing the same thought with his twin.

"What are you gits doing here? I thought you were busy groping all of Fleur's friends," Ron asked, sounding both disgusted and proud of his elder brothers.

A wave of exhaustion flowed over Harry once again, and he leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes as he listened to his friends banter.

Fred sighed dramatically. "So many women…

"…so little time," said George.

"Why didn't the two of you get your own dates for this wedding, anyway?" Ginny asked. "I'm certain there must be some witches somewhere who haven't been warned off yet."

"Dates?" asked Fred in mock horror. "Why would we want to bring dates to an event where there would be many beautiful French women…"

"French Veela women," George added.

"…who hadn't yet had the pleasure of being introduced to us. We were willing to sacrifice ourselves for their greater benefit," Fred said.

"Good grief," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and elbowing Harry in the ribs. He'd started to drift off again. He opened his eyes owlishly wide and tried to focus on the conversation.

"What about Angelina?" Hermione asked. "I'd thought that you two were seeing each other."

"Angelina?" Fred asked, blinking. "We went to Yule Ball together back in sixth year, but as far as I know it wasn't a lifetime commitment. If it were, technically you should be sitting on that couch with Viktor Krum."

Ron's expression soured instantly, and Hermione's cheeks pinkened.

"Oh, let's not do this again," Ginny said with a tired sigh. "What are you two up to, anyway? You had extremely guilty expressions on your faces when you came in here."

"Us? Guilty expressions?" Fred asked in mock horror.

"We'll have you know, sister dear, that we've perfected the art of covering our guilt with expressions of nonchalance," George replied, scowling.

"We did not appear the least built guilty," said Fred.

"Uh, huh," Ginny replied drolly.

"We were merely avoiding Mum's wrath. She's quite put out at the moment, because it appears the nightingales from the wedding ceremony have not only followed us here, but have also taken an odd liking to Percy's head," George replied with a mischievous grin.

"They're fluttering about in a most unattractive way," said Fred.

"And you know nothing about that?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I suppose it could have something to do with the reproducing bird feed we sprinkled in his hair when he wasn't looking," George said, scratching his head thoughtfully

"With a disillusionment charm on it, of course," said Fred.

Harry, Ginny and Ron all sniggered, while Hermione tut-tutted her disapproval. Harry's eyes were itchy, and he tried unsuccessfully to cover another yawn.

"Mum is over the moon that he's here, but Moody is insisting he can't leave without a Memory Charm. They're battling it out now. Moody is handing out Memory Charms like Honeydukes chocolate," George said.

"Well, then, let's go and get our last dances in before the party is over completely," Ginny said brightly.

"I don't think Harry looks up for much dancing, Ginny," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. He forced himself to sit up straighter.

Ginny looked Harry over for a moment before nodding resolutely. "He'll be fine. We need one good night before we decide on what happens tomorrow."

Harry knew she was right. They hadn't really discussed much of anything. They'd spent most of the time since reuniting snogging each other senseless. Not that that was a bad thing, mind, but he would have to make some hard decisions on the morrow. For tonight, he wanted this one last chance at glittering fairy lights and pretending the future didn't appear so bleak.

Leaning on Ginny and Ron, he followed the others from the room to have that one last dance.

The next morning, Harry sat in Sirius's old spot at the worn kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. He sipped a steaming cup of coffee and tried to figure out his next move, as he fingered the tiara that Fleur had worn yesterday, which he'd found on the table this morning. He'd planned on leaving for Godric's Hollow today with Ron and Hermione, but that was before Hermione got hurt, and Ron had had to abandon his home. Now, he didn't know what he was going to do.

And then there was the complication of Ginny.

Harry knew she suspected they had planned on leaving, but she was still trying to piece together what they were going to do. He knew now that he couldn't cut her out of things entirely — he needed her. He found he was far more focused now that he wasn't worried about where she was and what she was doing.

Still, he'd promised Dumbledore only to reveal the information about the Horcruxes to Ron and Hermione. He hadn't even told Professor McGonagall when she'd asked what they'd been doing. He couldn't break that promise, and he hoped Ginny would see it that way. He did have to tell her about the prophecy, however. He owed her that much. But the Horcruxes…

He trusted her implicitly, of course, but a promise was a promise. He supposed it was his own way of hanging on to his connection to Dumbledore, but he felt he still needed that. He ran his hand through his tousled hair and groaned.

"Things that bad, are they, lad?" Moody's voice croaked.

Harry looked up to see the grizzled ex-Auror standing in the doorway, squinting his one good eye as he scrutinized Harry.

"Things could be better," Harry replied wryly.

"Aye, that they could," Moody said, sitting down at the table with Harry.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked.

"Appears to me you just did," replied Moody.

"When an Auror is on a case, is there a spell he can perform to detect if Dark Magic has been used?" Harry asked, thinking back to a cold, dank cave on a chilly spring night.

"Of course there is," Moody said shortly.

"Can you teach me?" Harry asked.

Moody's glass eye narrowed as he studied him. He was silent for a moment before he waved his wand towards the open door. A moment later, a small black case came zooming into the kitchen. Moody opened it and pulled out what looked to Harry like a pair of theatre glasses.

"This is used by upcoming Aurors during training. It's a Spell Detector. When you wear it, you can see traces of a magical imprint surrounding objects. Dark magic shows as red," Moody said, pushing the glasses towards Harry. "As an Auror becomes more proficient with them, some can even use their wand and a Revealo spell to detect the imprints, but you need to be able to achieve a unique level of concentration to detect the colors."

"Professor Dumbledore did it with just his hands," Harry mumbled, his mind in the not-so-distant past.

"Well, that was Dumbledore, wasn't it?" Moody said gruffly.

"It can have a feel to it, too, can't it? Just enough to cause a shiver, maybe?" Harry asked, searching for the words to relate his meaning.

Moody glanced sharply and appraisingly at Harry. Harry had the vague feeling that Moody was somehow impressed. "Anyone able to feel a magical imprint would have to be mighty powerful, indeed. That would be a highly useful skill for anyone who wanted to be an Auror. One would want to keep such abilities quiet. That kind of information should be kept from the wrong hands."

"Indeed," Harry replied, his eyes widening. Had he really felt something that night in the cave when Dumbledore was looking for the traces of Voldemort's concealment? Harry couldn't be certain, but he at least now had a way to attempt to find out.

"Can I borrow this?" he asked, holding the Spell Detector.

"I don't think I'd notice if it went missing," Moody replied, shrugging.

Harry nodded and tucked the black case into his shirt pocket. "Where is everyone this morning?" he asked.

Moody slowly poured himself a cup of coffee. "Avoiding me, most likely," he said at last. "None of the Weasleys are too happy with me right now."

"Because of Percy?" Harry asked. He knew Percy had finally managed to leave headquarters the previous evening, and he could tell that Mrs. Weasley hadn't been happy about whatever arrangements had been made.

"I understand he's Molly and Arthur's boy, but he's a liability. It's my job to concern myself with liabilities," Moody said gruffly.

"You used a Memory Charm, then?" Harry asked.

"No, but I still think we should have. Molly was adamant that he be allowed to remember reconciling with his family. Memory Charms are tricky business, mind, so I couldn't promise her that. We finally settled on an Unbreakable Vow. Arthur agreed to it, but Molly was livid. I don't envy being in Arthur's position this morning," Moody said with a grimace.

Harry sniggered over the idea that battle-scarred Mad-Eye Moody was intimidated by Molly Weasley. Not that Harry wasn't, as well, but still…

"She probably won't speak to me for days before she lets loose again," Moody said. "I'll miss the meals. I haven't eaten this well in years."

"I don't know. I don't think Mrs. Weasley could let anyone go hungry, no matter how angry she was," Harry said.

Moody chuckled. "Let's hope you're right. She doesn't have a soft spot for me like she does you."

Harry grinned and said cheekily, "Lucky me, then."

The kitchen door swung open again, admitting Ginny and Hermione. Both girls looked rather disgruntled and only half-awake. Harry poured them both cups of coffee, and they accepted gratefully.

"Morning, ladies," Moody said.

Both merely grunted.

"Why did you get up if you're still so tired?" Harry asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do you know my mother? She's on a rampage this morning about cleaning this place up before we go back to the Burrow."

"She is rather adamant about leaving," Hermione said sleepily. .

Ginny took the tiara from Harry's hands. "This belongs to my Auntie Muriel. There is a great story behind it. It–,"

"She wants us busy so we don't look around too much," Hermione said, suddenly wide-awake.

"Pardon?" Ginny asked, frowning and placing the tiara back on the table.

"Your mum. She doesn't want us looking around here too much," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows significantly.

Harry suddenly remembered the conversations about a guest staying at Grimmauld Place.

"Good morning," Remus said, entering the kitchen with Tonks following closely behind him. "You're all up bright and early today. I would have thought you'd all have wanted a lie-in after all the dancing last night."

"Who else is staying here?" Harry asked sharply, his eyes locked on Remus. Remus lowered his gaze to pour a cup of coffee.

"The Weasleys and the Delacours are here until the wards at the Burrow can be checked," Remus replied calmly.

"This is m-my house," Harry stated with a slight tremble in his voice that he hoped no one else heard. "I may have agreed that the Order could use this house, but I want to know who this mystery guest is; I want to know why he is here, and I want to know now."

Remus looked at Moody, who shrugged. "It is his house, and he appears to know more about what Dumbledore was up to than any of us."

Remus's shoulders sagged. "I know," he said. "And Harry, we need to know what you're planning in order to help you. We want to protect you."

"You can't. No one can. I can't tell you what I was doing with Professor Dumbledore, Remus. I promised him I wouldn't. If he'd wanted the Order to know, he would have told you himself," Harry said firmly, feeling slightly uncomfortable in denying Remus.

Beneath the table, Ginny took his hand and squeezed it slightly. He gave her a weak smile, appreciating her support.

"Of course," Remus replied, and Harry could easily read his conflicting emotions. He trusted Dumbledore implicitly, but he also wanted to protect Harry. When would they ever understand that it was beyond them to do that now? It always had been.

"Who is the Order protecting?" Harry asked again.

"Draco and Narcissa Malfoy," Tonks said, speaking for the first time. Her face contorted into an ugly scowl. "My family."

Harry's jaw dropped open. He wasn't certain what he'd been suspecting, but that wasn't it. Draco Malfoy? Here? Malfoy, the one who'd plotted Dumbledore's death all last year? The one who'd led the Death Eaters onto school grounds in search of a little glory? And Narcissa! The one who'd plotted with Kreacher to get Sirius killed? Here? In Sirius's house?

"What?" Harry exploded, pushing back his chair and causing it to clatter to the floor. He was at the door in two strides, ready to mount the stairs and strangle Malfoy with his bare hands.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back. "Listen to me, Harry."

"What in Merlin's name is he doing here?" Ginny demanded, her eyes blazing in fury.

Hermione's face had turned chalk white, as she stared back and forth between Harry and Remus.

"He's supplied us with some valuable information," Remus said, struggling to hold Harry back.

"Whatever it is, he's lying," Harry snarled.

"He's not. It's information that has been confirmed," Remus said. "We were able to stop several deaths because of it."

Harry stopped struggling, breathing heavily. "Why would Malfoy give you any information? There has to be something in it for him."

"Of course there is. He has strong survival instincts. Voldemort ordered his death for failing to complete his orders. According to him, Snape helped him and Narcissa escape. They were trying to go into hiding when we caught them," Tonks said.

"Snape?" Harry snarled, seeing red again. "Why would he help them?"

"He's always had a soft spot for Narcissa. Voldemort ordered her death, as well, for asking Snape to help Draco," Remus said softly.

"He killed Dumbledore, and Malfoy helped him do it," Harry said. He was physically shaking with fury.

"He got in over his head, Harry," Remus said, sighing wearily. "Look, I don't believe he's helping us out of any great desire to right past wrongs, but he does want to live. His only hope of being able to do that now is if we win; otherwise he knows he'll be hunted for the rest of his life. And it won't be a long one. It's a forced partnership with mutual benefits for both sides. He doesn't want to die, and he does want to protect his mother."

"She helped kill Sirius; I don't want her here. She has no right to seek refuge in this house," Harry said, a hard lump forming in his throat.

Remus hung his head and answered in a strained voice, "I know, Harry. Believe me, I understand how you feel, but we have no choice. We no longer have our spy among the Death Eaters. Both Draco and Narcissa were heavily involved in some of Voldemort's plans. They understand how the minds of the Death Eaters work better than we do. We can use their help."

"And in exchange they stay alive," Harry said bitterly.

Remus nodded, still keeping a hand on Harry's shoulder. He could see Hermione fearfully watching him, waiting to see what he was going to do. Ginny's expression was fierce; she didn't like this any better than he did, but she was prepared to follow his lead.

"I hate this," he whispered, taking a deep breath.

"I know," Remus said sadly.

"That little ferret better stay out of my way. If I so much as see him, or hear him make one snide remark, he'll never see the hex coming. And no one better stop me this time," Harry said fiercely.

He took one last look around at the pale faces of the others before storming from the room.

Harry spent the remainder of the day stewing over the fact that Malfoy was here, in Sirius's house. His reaction could be called tame compared to the howl of rage Ron bellowed when he learned of the arrangement. Mrs. Weasley had been informed that they'd all have to remain at Grimmauld Place for a few days before anyone could inspect the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley hadn't been pleased at all.

As he paced in his room, Harry came to the conclusion that he needed to get out. He needed to set his plan in motion, and something told him that his plan needed to commence at Godric's Hollow. Something was drawing him there.

He'd promised Ron and Hermione that they'd work together to find the Horcruxes, and he still needed to figure out how Ginny fit into all this, but Godric's Hollow was his own. This was his private quest. He wasn't certain why he needed to go there so badly, but he knew that he did. And he knew he wanted to do it alone.

That night, as everyone slept and all was quiet in the house, Harry packed a light rucksack and took along the address Aunt Petunia had given him. He left a note telling Ginny not to worry and that he'd be back, there was just something he had to do first.

A/N: This chapter was written before JKR clarified how a Secret Keeper worked, so I left it as is. I do need others able to get into Grimmald Place.

Chapter Six

Godric's Hollow

The steady hum of the train lolled its few scattered passengers to sleep as they traveled from England into Wales on a cool summer night. After his unannounced departure from Grimmauld Place, Harry had headed directly for the train station. While staying at the Burrow, he'd arranged to have some of his gold converted to pounds, thus enabling him to purchase a train ticket.

He was still underage and unable to Apparate legally, and he'd also been concerned that the Order would have been able to trace him if he used any magic. He was certain Ron and Hermione would deduce where he was going, but he hoped that they wouldn't reveal his destination out of anger over being left behind.

He'd never shown them the slip of paper Aunt Petunia had given him that last morning at Privet Drive, but he reckoned that Lupin would know the address if they mentioned Godric's Hollow. There was nothing to be done for it now; he could only hope they'd hold their tongues.

He didn't plan on being gone very long and fervently prayed they'd understand by the time he returned. He still wasn't certain what was drawing him to the place where it had all began for him. He was unsure what his own reaction would be on seeing the spot where his parents were killed, and his life had been irrevocably altered. It all felt sort of surreal to him as he stared unseeingly out the train's window.

Ever since Dumbledore's funeral, the idea of seeing his parents' final resting spot had obsessed Harry. He'd agreed to allowing Ron and Hermione come with him, but the more he'd thought about it, the more he wanted to make this journey alone. He knew his friends cared about him and only had his best interests at heart, but he didn't feel up to answering Hermione's unending questions or dealing with Ron's awkwardness over any show of emotion. He needed to do this alone.

Luck had been on his side when he'd reached the train station. He'd managed to catch the evening's last train to Swansea with only ten minutes to spare. Even if they'd noticed him missing immediately, no one could have figured out where he'd gone and caught him in time. He'd have to switch trains when he arrived, but only for a short distance. Then he hoped to catch a taxi that would take him to Hillside Lane.

His stomach roiled at the thought. He had no idea what to expect once he arrived. Try as he might, he could recall nothing of his life in Godric's Hollow. His earliest memory was of massive amounts of green light. Hagrid had told him the house had been ruined, but he'd never heard if it had been rebuilt, or sold, or what had become of the land. He didn't even know if it was a Muggle or wizarding area. He bounced his leg on the ball of his foot anxiously as the train drew ever closer to Wales.

He kept his wand at the ready, and his eyes scanned the train car warily, but no one had bothered him since he'd climbed aboard and taken his seat. It was as if he'd finally achieved the anonymity he'd always desired while traveling amongst the Muggles. He wasn't about to let

his guard down, however. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck made him feel as if he were being watched.

There was no moon to brighten the landscape, so Harry could only stare into the darkness and imagine it racing past. From the map he'd glanced at back in the train station, he knew Godre'r-graig was near the sea. He allowed his mind to wander over pleasant images of his parents walking along the beach.

He pressed his nose against the window as thoughts of Ginny once again filled his mind. She'd looked lovely in her wedding finery, and he savored the memories of their shared kisses. He smiled as the thoughts of their day together washed over him. She was a bright spot in the cold, dismal murk that was his life at the moment. How had he ever hoped to do this without her?

As dawn's light crept slowly across the horizon, Harry tiredly rubbed his itchy eyes. He collected his bag as the train pulled into the station and stepped off and into Wales. It took him awhile to find the connection he was seeking, but he managed without a lot of fuss and by the time the morning sun was blazing and life was returning to the sleepy holiday village, Harry was standing on Hillside Lane.

He'd asked the cabdriver to let him out at the end of the quiet street, preferring to walk up to the house and give himself some time to adjust. The nervous fluttering in his stomach continued and seemed to increase the closer he got to his destination. It was a bright, clear morning, and Harry was pleased to note that the street with its secluded cottages appeared unique and so unlike Privet Drive. That alone bolstered his spirits somewhat.

Godre'r-graig was a quiet Muggle village with quaint Birch-lined streets of old stone cottages. It wasn't located directly on the sea, as Harry thought, but was set further back and was more woodsy than he'd anticipated. Still, he could smell salt in the air and knew he wasn't far from the coast. As he trudged up the street, his heart hammering in his chest, he clenched and unclenched his fist around the fake Horcrux in his pocket. He found his hands were suddenly sweating profusely, despite the coolness of the morning.

As Harry turned around the bend in the road, his breath caught in his throat. The lots on either side of number sixteen were vacant, making it appear that it was set on its own in the forest. Nature had reclaimed most of the land and it was overgrown with weeds and vines. In the midst of it all, Harry could see the remains of a stone structure. Only one wall still stood amidst the rubble and stone in a depressed crater.

Harry found something lodged in his throat, and swallowed painfully. He had to drag his unwilling feet closer as his mind warred with the conflicting desires to both see the destruction and to run away from it. He had the oddest sense of familiarity, even though he knew that was impossible. He'd been just over a year old when he'd left here; there was no way he could remember this place. Still, the feeling persisted as he trudged closer.

He again felt that prickling on the back of his neck and turned around apprehensively. The wind ruffled the trees slightly, but other than the droning buzz of insects and a few birdcalls, nothing disturbed the peace of his surroundings. Harry kept his wand in his hand as he moved closer.

It's just nerves.

Thick clumps of lilies grew along the edge of the house foundation, and Harry wondered if his dad had planted them for his mum. He swallowed again, realizing for the hundredth time how little he actually knew about his parents and their life together.

As he inched closer and closer towards the ruins, he wondered – if things had happened differently – whether his dad would have put a tire swing on a low-lying branch of one of the garden's many trees. There was a swing at the Burrow that appeared to have seen a lot of use, and it had come to symbolize a happy family home to Harry. He would have liked to see a swing in his own yard.

He wondered if he might have had younger brothers or sisters who would have swung with him or maybe demanded that he push them. He thought he would have liked being a big brother.

The persistent lump in his throat grew in size as he imagined both his parents taking him to King's Cross on his first day of Hogwarts and actually accompanying him onto the platform. Everything could have been so different…

Rage and loss filled Harry's heart as he stared at the destruction around him with deadened eyes. Voldemort did this. He stole whatever chance of happiness and a normal childhood Harry had ever had. It wasn't fair!

It doesn't do to dwell on dreams…

Dumbledore's voice echoed in Harry's head as he stepped over the threshold and inside what would have once been his family's home. Harry shuddered; there had been entirely too much death already. He could feel a tingling sensation under his skin that made him uneasy, and he glanced warily at the street once again.

Nothing disturbed the peacefulness of the morning, and Harry scolded himself for losing his nerve. Being here was making him jumpy. In his mind's eye, he could vaguely imagine how it would look if all the walls had remained intact, and thanks to the memories the Dementors had evoked in him, he could hear the echo of his parents' voices.

He inched forward, pushing random pieces of rubble out of the way with his foot, until he came upon a piece of blackened, scorched earth. It appeared as if there had been a fire on this one small bit of ground. Harry knelt down and ran his hand in the dirt. It felt decayed, lifeless, as if nothing would ever grow in that spot again.

A chill ran down Harry's spine. This was where his father stood when he'd been murdered. Harry knew it with the same certainty that he knew his own name. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep, shuddering

breath. He continued walking through what once was his home, staring without really seeing. He kept hoping for some stray memory to surface, but there was nothing.

An overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness washed over him as he sank to his knees and sat amidst the ruins, uncertain where to go or what to do next.

What am I doing here?

Suddenly remembering his conversation with Moody the previous morning, Harry removed the Spell Detector from his rucksack and placed it on the end of his nose. He inhaled sharply as pale images of blue, pink, and green light emanated from every direction on the lot at number sixteen. Harry frowned in confusion.

He walked back to the spot of scorched earth and stared through the Spell Detector. The light he saw was vivid red and appeared to be pulsating. Harry yanked the Spell Detector off his nose and backed away as if he'd seen something indecent. This place – his familial home – was virtually alive with magic.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that the entire area must be under a concealment charm, otherwise the Muggles might have rebuilt it, or worse, the wizarding population would have turned the spot into a tourist attraction. He'd found the location very easily, but he'd known where to go, or perhaps it wasn't hidden from him since it was his family. All of these uncertainties made his head pound.

He put the Spell Detector back on and continued to poke around. It took several minutes before he saw more traces of red. They were coming from a spot near the back of the dwelling, where much of the rubble was piled. He wondered if perhaps there had been another floor since there was so much debris. He moved some stones and dirt again until he saw the same, deadened black marking. This was where his mother had died, where he'd received the mark on his forehead. Harry absently ran his fingers along the scorched earth, his mother's screams echoing in his head.

Putting away the Spell Detector, he reached out with his thoughts to try and identify the magic on his own. He felt the same shiver he remembered from the cave on that fateful night with Dumbledore. Still, he didn't know if that was simply coming from the maelstrom of emotions this place was evoking in him.

Harry sighed heavily and stood upright. There was nothing here but memories now, and he'd have to test his ability to feel the magic in a less traumatic place. It was useless to attempt it here. As he turned on his heel and took a single step, he saw a quick flash of a long, wiry tail flicking behind some rocks. Harry drew his wand, aiming at the pile of rocks.

"Reducto," he hissed, blowing the rocks apart.

The rat squealed and scurried toward another pile of rubble, revealing its telltale silver paw as it sprinted.

"Reducto," Harry growled again, sending more dust and particles into the air. "Hiding in cracks and holes again, Wormtail? I suppose a rat can never change its spots, either, eh? Come out and face me man to man."

As the dust from his second blast settled, Harry looked around warily. There was no sign of the rat anywhere.

"Come out, Wormtail. I don't have time for your sodding little games. You've been following me for quite some time now; you must have something to say. Spit it out before I do what I should have done a long time ago," Harry said, his hand shaking. All the rage, fear and pent-up emotion over seeing the destruction of his parents' home finally had an outlet, and Harry was nearly radiating fury. Here in front of him was the stinking little rat who'd betrayed his parents and was directly responsible for everything that had happened here. The thought that Wormtail could still find his way here because he was supposed to have been this home's protector made his blood boil.

Harry was going to see to it that he finally paid.

"Where are you?" he snarled, enraged. A slight noise caused him to spin and blast a spot on the ground, but still Wormtail didn't reappear.

"You coward. You've always been a coward. You never deserved their friendship," he said, panting.

He was met with silence. He stalked around the area, chest heaving and clenching his teeth as he tried to control his anger.

After several moments, a raspy voice from somewhere on the other side of the one remaining wall startled him. "Will you put down your wand and listen to me for a moment? If you won't listen, then I can just disappear once again."

"What do you have to say that I would possibly want to hear?" Harry asked, slowly inching along the wall and preparing to strike when he reached the end.

"I want to discuss a common enemy," Wormtail replied, his voice wavering.

"'A common enemy,' is it now?" Harry asked. He was almost there, just a few steps more. "Have you earned Voldemort's disfavor, Wormtail? He's your enemy now, is he?"

"No! I didn't mean the Dark Lord," Wormtail squeaked, sounding panicked. "I'm talking about Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asked, stopping dead in his tracks. "What about him?" He momentarily forgot his rage and hatred of Wormtail as he heard the name of the man he loathed above any other, save Voldemort. Snape had killed Dumbledore in cold blood, and he'd helped to kill Sirius. There was no doubt in Harry's mind, and he was going to see to it that he paid.

"Yes, I thought that might interest you," Wormtail said as he slowly scurried around from behind the wall and came face-to-face with Harry. Both held their wands on one another, although neither made a move to cast a spell. Wormtail's eyes darted rapidly, and he appeared ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Harry was momentarily tempted to simply curse him anyway, but his curiosity about Snape was overpowering that impulse. Still, Ron's words from long ago arose in his mind.

Throw your wand away and punch him in the nose.

Harry drew back his fist and did just that. Wormtail's head snapped back, and he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose as he scrambled away from Harry.

"Be glad that's all I did," Harry spat, shaking out his split knuckles.

"I thought you'd want to discuss Snape," Wormtail said, sniffling.

"What about him?" Harry repeated.

"He's gained great favor with the Dark Lord for killing Albus Dumbledore. There isn't a plan underway that he isn't involved in or at least aware. Where the Dark Lord once trusted many, he now trusts only one," Wormtail spat, bitterness unmistakable in his voice as he dabbed at his still-bleeding nose and rose to his feet.

Harry watched him warily, seeing red when he so casually mentioned Professor Dumbledore's demise. "Voldemort doesn't trust anyone. You're the fool if you believed that, and Snape is a fool now to think he won't turn on him in an instant when his usefulness has expired. You're not his friends but his servants, nothing more."

"You underestimate the benefits of the Dark Lord's favor," Wormtail replied reverently.

"I underestimate nothing. I know exactly what he's all about," Harry said coldly.

"I once stood in that spot of great favor," Wormtail said, puffing out his chest and raising his chin defiantly.

"Yeah, I remember; you lost your hand over it. So what? Now you've been bumped down a spot, Wormtail? Being replaced not sitting well, is it? What do you want me to do about it?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I know you despise Snape as much as I do. I know you'd like him brought to justice. I might be able to help you with that," Wormtail said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"And get him out of your way in the process?" Harry asked, finally cottoning onto Wormtail's agenda.

Wormtail shrugged. "Indeed. Snape's capture could be mutually beneficial."

"And after Voldemort's fall, the fact that you turned Snape in couldn't hurt your own sentencing. Isn't that true?" Harry asked.

"I honestly don't see that happening, Harry, but it never hurts to have all your options covered," Wormtail said.

"How very Slytherin of you," Harry said drolly.

"Some would take that as a compliment."

"So, this is why you wanted to talk to me? You've followed me all the way here from the train station for this? Hold on. Why were you at the train station, anyway? How did you know I was coming here?" Harry asked, raising his wand.

"Actually, I expected you yesterday," Wormtail squeaked, his beady eyes darting back and forth. "At the Burrow you said that you'd be here the day after the wedding. I suppose the unexpected guests delayed your arrival. My master was livid that you'd managed to get away. Snape told him exactly how the wards at the Burrow were constructed. He hadn't expected them to be able to reinforce them against the Dementors."

Harry's mind reeled. Wormtail had heard him at the Burrow? How? But of course! As Scabbers, Wormtail would know all the ways in and out of the Burrow, and as a rat he could probably breech the wards, much as Sirius had done at Hogwarts in Harry's third year. Wormtail knew everything there was to know about the Burrow, right down to the gnomes in the garden.

Damn! Ginny had never been safe there, and he'd almost left her alone and undefended.

"You've been at the Burrow all this time?" Harry asked, his throat dry.

"I was assigned there. The Dark Lord knows everything and doesn't hesitate to use anything to his advantage. You'd do well to remember that, young Harry. He's aware of my connection to the Weasley family, and he knows of their importance to you," he said, a hint of pride showing on his pasty face. "Your interest in the Weasley girl has not gone unnoticed by the Dark Lord. Severus specifically mentioned how taken you are with the girl. He's right that you do wear your emotions on your sleeve."

"So, you've been spying all this time," Harry said, his voice deadened.

"You'd be surprised at the knowledge I can accumulate in my Animagus form. Even those that know that I have the ability to transform forget and speak openly without realizing I am there. I know more about the Dark Lord and his plans than any of the rest of them. I know more than even he's aware I know," Wormtail said, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he spoke.

"What do you know? I can't imagine he'd trust you with anything important," Harry said, thinking quickly. He was purposefully goading him, but he could see a resemblance to Dudley in Wormtail. Dudley had

always said too much if Harry merely showed the slightest skepticism in his imagined greatness. Harry hoped the same ploy would work on Wormtail.

"I know plenty. I was there. I was the one who nursed the miserable wreck of a creature he was. It was me who helped him prepare the potion. It was me who helped him return. I was his most loyal servant," Wormtail shrieked plaintively.

"And he discarded you when he was done," Harry said, feigning boredom

"I know about the Horcruxes," Wormtail whispered triumphantly.

Harry's blood ran cold. "What?" he asked numbly.

"I know about the Horcruxes. There are seven of them, two of which have already been destroyed," Wormtail said. "You destroyed the first one."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said unconvincingly.

"I think you do. I think the part you don't know is the part only the Dark Lord, Severus, and I know. I suspect Dumbledore had also at least pondered it before he died," Wormtail said mysteriously, obviously relishing having something to hold over Harry.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked.

"I'm talking about the reason the Dark Lord will win in the end – his Seventh Horcrux – the one you will be unable to destroy," Wormtail replied smugly.

Harry was perplexed. He didn't want to reveal any of the Horcruxes if Wormtail was only bluffing, but even as the thought occurred to him, he discarded it. Wormtail was more certain of himself than Harry had ever seen the man. He knew something, and Harry had to find out what it was, despite every internal nerve and instinct that was screaming at him that he didn't want to know.

"After the Horcruxes are destroyed, he'll be mortal. He can die like any other man," Harry said firmly.

"I'm not speaking about the bit that's still in him. I'm speaking of the Horcrux even he wasn't aware of until two years ago. The Horcrux he never intended to make," Wormtail said, eyeing Harry speculatively.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked in frustration.

"Don't you know, Harry? Haven't you at least suspected?"

The pit in Harry's stomach was growing heavier by the moment. "What are you saying?"

"Didn't you wonder why He left you alone all of last year? Why after the Department of Mysteries fiasco he never made another attempt on your life? Even during the battle at Hogwarts, all the Death Eaters had strict orders not to harm you. You were to be left for him, he told

them. I know the real reason. I've heard him talking to Severus," Wormtail said, sneering.

Harry was momentarily stunned. He was right; Voldemort had been unusually quiet all of last year. He should have come after Harry with a vengeance for all the trouble he'd caused at the Ministry.

Why hadn't he?

Trembling visibly, Harry forced himself to ask the question, "Why?"

"He possessed you at the Ministry. I heard him talking to Severus about it. That's when he realized the truth, and it shook him. It's you, Harry. You are his Seventh Horcrux," Wormtail said, smiling with a mad gleam in his eyes.

Harry's throat was dry, and he suddenly felt very cold. "That can't be true," he whispered hoarsely.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

"But it is true, and I can see by the look on your face that you know it is. He intended to make a Horcrux that night he came here for you," Wormtail said raising his arm expansively. "It was his plan. He told Severus that the spell to make a Horcrux is wordless, it takes the act of murder and an intense amount of concentration, but there is no incantation; the force of will powers the spell."

Wormtail's casual discussion of murder made Harry's stomach churn.

"He believes that he got over-excited the night he came to kill you. He thought he was going to eliminate the only obstacle in his path. He was thinking of his final goal, already planning to kill you, when your mother got in the way," Wormtail said, and here his voice did waver slightly.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest so loudly that he could barely hear what Wormtail was saying. This can't be happening.

"It was her death that caused the creation of the Horcrux, and when he cast the Killing Curse at you, it rebounded on him but sent that piece of his soul into you. You are the Seventh Horcrux, Harry," Wormtail continued unmercifully.

Harry stepped back as if struck. Of course! It made perfect sense, why hadn't he seen it before? Harry felt sick. Why hadn't Dumbledore prepared him? Had he been trying to protect him from the truth yet again? For in his heart, Harry knew this was true. It was as if the last piece of a puzzle finally clicked into place.

"That's why he'll win in the end, Harry, because the only way for you to defeat him is to destroy yourself," Wormtail said, shaking his head with mock sadness.

"And what makes you think I won't do that?" Harry asked, surprised by how strong his voice sounded.

Wormtail frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm speaking of dying. Why would you sacrifice yourself? That wouldn't make any sense."

"Of course it wouldn't make sense to you. You were the one who betrayed your best friends to save your own neck. You couldn't possibly understand dying so that they might live. Look at that," Harry screamed, pointing at the spot of blackened earth. "That's where my father died because of you. He died right there, and nothing will ever grow there again. You did that to him."

Wormtail cringed and pulled away, refusing to look at the spot.

Harry's head began to spin. No, no, no.

"He wants to get to you now, Harry. He wants to capture you and lock you away where he can keep you safe. He won't kill you, but he won't make your life pleasant, either. Snape will see to that. Snape hates you and longs to see you suffer," Wormtail said, sniffling. He was sweating profusely and appeared suddenly agitated, his beady eyes shifting in every direction.

"If you can't destroy the Dark Lord, you can at least ruin Severus," Wormtail said, taking a step closer towards Harry.

Harry was shivering violently now, so much that he could barely hold onto his wand. He couldn't understand how it had got so cold. His vision was blurring slightly, and he blinked to try and stay focused.

Wormtail inched closer again, but in his confusion Harry couldn't seem to care.

"Get away from him, Peter," Remus's sharp voice rang out across the garden.

Harry blinked dazedly, uncertain how Remus came to be there just then. Wormtail reacted much more quickly. He squealed and ducked behind Harry, using him as a shield between Remus and himself.

Harry was too stunned to move and only stared at the two men uncomprehendingly.

Remus glanced at Harry with a worried expression. "What have you done, Peter? What did you say to him? Harry, move away."

Harry turned to look at Wormtail and blinked. In that instant, Wormtail morphed back into his Animagus form and sprinted into a pile of debris, squealing in fright.

Remus immediately gave chase, running towards the spot where the rat had disappeared and blasting it with his wand.

Unable to wrap his mind around what was happening, Harry stood numbly as the two raced around the ruins. He felt oddly disjointed, as if he weren't really there and only witnessing something happening on the Dursleys' telly rather than real events. It was Remus's piercing cry of pain that snapped him out of his fog.

He hurried over to his former professor, who was crouched on the ground, cradling his hand. Harry could see a thin trail of blood running between Remus's fingers.

"Damn it, he's gone. He got me with that damn silver hand," Remus said, shaking his hand. "It's only superficial, nothing Poppy can't fix. What happened here, Harry? Are you all right?"

Harry swallowed, unable to form any words. His mouth opened and closed futilely.

I'm going to die, anyway.

Remus grasped him by the shoulders and shook him slightly. "Stay with me, Harry. Tell me what happened."

Neither can live…

Harry tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. "How did you find me?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Remus stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments, but Harry couldn't decipher what he was thinking. Finally, he wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder and led him over to a pile of broken stones that was big enough to rest upon. He pushed Harry down and sat beside him.

"Hermione first noticed you'd gone missing and found your note this morning. She was rather hysterical. You're going to have quite a bit of explaining to do upon your return, Harry," Remus said with a hint of amusement. "Everyone flew into panic mode trying to figure out where you could be. To his credit, Ron remained stoically silent, even under his mother's tirade."

Harry blinked. He heard Remus's words, but felt as if he was speaking about something distant and not really connected to him. He couldn't shake the fog that had enveloped his brain.

I'm going to die.

"Hermione finally caved under the onslaught from Molly. She told everyone about your plans to visit Godric's Hollow. She wanted to follow you immediately, but Ron said it was most likely something you wanted to do alone," Remus said.

Harry looked away. He knew Ron would understand, if only because of his own desire to avoid awkward displays of emotion. He found himself wishing they had come with him, if only to help him wrap his mind around this Horcrux business. Hermione would know what had to be done.

"Ginny had been quite livid with you, as well, until that point. She evidently felt you'd promised not to exclude her and then went back on it. She only softened when Ron explained your desire to see this place alone. It occurred to me that she's a remarkable blend of both your friends, your Ginny," Remus said mildly.

Harry smiled weakly. He'd never thought of it that way, but he supposed it was true. Ginny did display a lot of the qualities that

attracted him to both Ron and Hermione. He shivered again. Merlin, he'd give anything to see Ginny and be away from here right now. Why was it so unseasonably cold?

He realized Remus was waiting for him to speak.

"Ron's right," he said, his throat very scratchy. "I needed to do it on my own. I'd wanted to see their graves, but I haven't found any trace of them…just this," he said, gesturing to the ruined structure.

"I see. I understand your desire to see it, Harry, but I wish you'd at least taken someone with you. It isn't something you should have done alone," Remus said quietly.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing to be done for it now."

"Would you still like to see where they're buried?" Remus asked, his voice strained. A brief flash of sorrow crossed his face as he asked the question.

Harry nodded solemnly.

Remus stood up, and Harry followed him, finding a detached amusement in the fact that Remus still went through the now non-existent door. They walked up a hill to the area behind the cottage ruins, almost to the line of trees. Harry reckoned he could vaguely see the hint of blue that indicated how close they were to the ocean. It was a calm, peaceful resting-place. It was what Harry would have chosen for them.

Remus placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. "I'll give you a few minutes alone, but I'll be right over there if you need me," he said, walking back down the hill.

Harry looked down at the small stone marker baring the names of each of his parents. It seemed somehow fitting to him that they should share the same marker. He swallowed against the painful lump in this throat and sank to his knees beside the stone.

"Mum? Dad?" he whispered. "I'm here. I came back."

Harry swallowed again; he really didn't know what to say. "I wish…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He listened disjointedly to the sounds of birds in the trees, wondering how they could sound so cheerful when his own world was falling apart. He'd succeeded in finding one of the Horcruxes, but did he have the strength to destroy himself? How could he tell Ron, Hermione and especially Ginny? He stared hopelessly at his parents' gravestone.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered brokenly. "I could really use some help here."

He waited for a moment, unmoving except for the increasing trembling of his body. He didn't know what he'd expected, but nothing had changed. The sky hadn't opened up with answers, and no great voice of wisdom directed him on where to begin. There was nothing here. His parents'

bodies had been buried here long ago, but the only piece of them that was left behind was Harry. He'd had them with him all along.

Tentatively, he reached his hand towards the grave marker and ran his hand along the engraving of his parents' names. The pressure of his fingers tracing the letters was met with nothing but cold, unyielding stone. Harry shut his eyes tightly and willed the tears away.

Suddenly, it had all become too much. Harry wrapped his arms around himself and hung his head, as reality seemed to slip away.

Remus appeared next to him, but Harry didn't know how he'd got there. He wasn't real, anyway. Nothing was real.

Remus, who appeared very concerned, was speaking to him, but he wasn't really there. Words didn't mean anything anyway, because it was all just an illusion. Why wouldn't Remus stop calling his name?

He wasn't going to answer someone that wasn't really there.

He was walking now. Remus was leading him away – he couldn't form the words to tell him that he hadn't found what he'd been looking for in the first place. His legs felt heavy, and he could barely move them. The sudden, crushing sensation of being squeezed hit Harry like a blow, but he didn't cry out because it wasn't really happening.

Harry blinked and realized he was somewhere else. Headquarters, it looked like, but he wasn't really here. It was so very cold and there was nothing he could do to get the warmth back in his body. He stumbled but Remus caught him before he fell.

"Harry!" Remus's voice was harsh and slightly panicked. Harry remained silent.

Remus led him inside and into the main parlor. A great crowd of people was there, faces he knew but couldn't place. He didn't know why he was even trying, anyway. The room began to spin, making him feel nauseous. Voices rang out, calling to him, but he couldn't understand the words, so he ignored them.

He saw Hermione move toward him, tears streaming down her face as she spoke. He shrank away from her, and Ron held her back, whispering something in her ear. She frowned at him, but stopped shouting and instead stared at Harry worriedly. Harry turned away, not wanting to answer her questions. His gaze roamed over the many faces, searching…

When he saw her, she was sitting alone in a chair in the corner of the room, but to him she appeared to be the center of all the activity. Her brown eyes were filled with concern as she slowly rose and simply held out her arms to him. He was drawn to her as if she were a beacon on a rough, stormy sea. He moved into her embrace, and although she was a good head shorter than he was, he bent low and rested his head upon her shoulder. She closed her arms around him and held him tightly as he clung to her, not even caring that anyone else was there.

He could hear shuffling sounds behind him and thought Remus might be clearing the others out of the room, but he paid no attention. Every

ounce of energy he had was focused on keeping his composure and not falling to pieces. Ginny helped him to do that.

Images of his day, of Wormtail's words and what they meant flashed in his head, and he began to shake. Ginny tightened her hold around him and began whispering soft, gentle words meant to comfort, and he felt like a heel knowing he was going to break her heart.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the world away. "Ginny," he croaked. "I'm going to die."

"Don't talk like that, Harry. Of course you aren't going to die. We're in this together, and I won't let anything happen to you," she replied fiercely.

Harry was unable to form the words. He'd have to tell her everything but not just now. He just wanted to hold and be held by her right now, feeling safe for the first time that day.

Standing there wrapped in the warmth of her embrace and smelling the sweet flowery aroma of her hair, for one brief moment, he could almost believe that was true.

Chapter Seven

Forward Progress

Harry slowly drifted awake, gradually becoming aware of a brightness piercing his closed eyelids. He lazily rolled to one side, hoping to doze again and nearly fell to the floor. He managed to catch himself just in the knick of time, but was startled fully awake. He blinked several times in confusion.

Dazedly, he glanced around the room and realized that he was sprawled on the couch in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place with Ginny snuggled close and sleeping peacefully at his side.

She shifted in her sleep, seeking the warmth from his body that had pulled away from her during his near fall. Soft tendrils of her hair tickled his nose and stuck to his lips as he pulled his head back, trying not to wake her.

He had vague recollections of holding her in this very room the previous evening, but he found it hard to believe that Mrs. Weasley had allowed her to stay here with him all night. He wasn't even certain how he'd got back to Grimmauld Place in the first place, never mind how he and Ginny apparently had spent the night together.

It was just his luck that the first time he'd ever found himself in this predicament, he had absolutely no memory of how it happened. That scenario seemed horribly appropriate for how his life worked, he thought bitterly. He shifted slightly, and Ginny's eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," she said groggily.

"Morning," he replied, smiling softly at her sleepy expression. He pushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead.

"Are you all right?" she asked, suddenly sitting up straighter. The memories of the previous evening were obviously coming back to her.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, not quite meeting her eyes. "Thanks, Ginny."

She'd been there for him when he'd needed her the most, but he couldn't put that into words. He didn't yet want to confront what he'd learned yesterday. He needed to work it out in his own mind before telling his friends. It was even more difficult with Ginny since she had no knowledge of the prophecy or the Horcruxes. This was too big to keep from her, however. He just had to figure out exactly how much to tell her, never mind how to say it.

"We were all really concerned about you last night," Ginny said tentatively, and he was grateful to her for not demanding answers right away. "Mum didn't want to disturb you after you'd fallen asleep, but she used a charm to alert her as soon as you woke. Expect her any minute. She'd never allow enough time for any funny business."

Harry blushed deeply enough to do any Weasley proud and tried to extricate himself from Ginny's embrace.

"Don't worry. It's not you she doesn't trust; it's me," Ginny said, grinning. She arched her eyebrow and looked him up and down speculatively. "She's probably right about that."

Her words intrigued him as his brain started thinking of all the possibilities in that statement. He knew that any one of her brothers would likely hex him for the thoughts in his head, but at that moment, he didn't really care.

He leaned over to kiss her just as Mrs. Weasley rushed through the open door, wearing her dressing gown and looking slightly flushed. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that she'd sprinted from her bed and raced to the drawing room the moment her charm had alerted her that Harry was awake. He was happy Ginny had known about the charm so they hadn't been caught in a full-out snog.

Ginny lowered her head and rested it against his chest, giggling. "Morning, Mum," she said, her voice muffled.

"Good morning, Ginny, Harry. How are you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, moving towards the sofa and sitting down between Harry and Ginny. Ginny stood up and made faces at Harry behind her mum's back as she spoke.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, grinning at Ginny over her mother's head.

"Honestly, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding more stern. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Running off like that alone. What were you thinking? You could have been killed. Now, I know you've become used to handling things on your own, but there is really much too great a risk for you to be running off without protection. I love you as if you were one of my own, dear, and I couldn't bear to see you hurt."

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, touched by her devotion. She really had been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known, but she had to understand right now that she couldn't stop him from doing what he had to do. "Don't think I don't appreciate that you're trying to protect me, because I do. No one has ever done that, and it means the world to me…but you can't protect me from this. I'm more than involved in this fight…I am this fight. It centers around me more than you realize-"

"I know you've suffered more than most in this whole wretched war, Harry, but you're still very young — too young to be fighting. You're still in school," Mrs. Weasley said, desperately. Tears filled her eyes, and Harry felt like a heel for hurting her after all she'd done for him, but he'd come this far. He couldn't turn back now.

"It doesn't matter, Mrs. Weasley. Professor Dumbledore gave me a job to do. We were working on it the night he died, and I intend to finish it," Harry said firmly, glancing at Ginny to gauge her reaction.

She'd silently watched the exchange, an unreadable expression on her face as she stood behind her mother. She'd stayed in the room to offer her unconditional support, but Harry knew she'd insist upon some answers soon.

"What do you mean Professor Dumbledore gave you a job to do? Certainly Albus didn't mean for you to put yourself in harm's way," Mrs. Weasley asked shrilly. He watched as she swelled with indignation, ready to unleash her outrage on a man who was no longer there to take it.

"We're all in harm's way, Mrs. Weasley, and I'm going to do everything I can to stop it. I can't tell you anything more right now, but I'm asking you to please trust me on this," Harry said, staring intently into Mrs. Weasley's watery eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you I'm happy about this, Harry, because I'm not, but I know I can't stop you," Mrs. Weasley said, sniffling. "Ginny, go upstairs and change your clothes. I'll start breakfast."

Harry hung his head wearily as Mrs. Weasley bustled from the room. That hadn't gone as well as he hoped, and he wondered if he'd get a similar reaction from the rest of the Order. He dreaded her reaction when she learned that not only wasn't Harry returning to school, but he was taking Ron and Hermione with him.

Ginny squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as she left the room. Harry got up and stretched. He had to talk with Ron and Hermione and begin making some plans for finding the other Horcruxes, but now all he wanted was a hot shower. He felt dirty and abused somehow, and desperately wanted to clean the filth away.

***

As he'd suspected, the shower helped immensely. He had a clear head and felt ready to confront Ron and Hermione with his startling news. He'd sunk as low as he'd ever felt in his life the previous evening, and he felt there was no place to go from here but up. He didn't want to die, but if that was the only way…

Ron and Hermione wouldn't like it, but they were as committed to ending Voldemort's reign as he was; they'd do whatever it took. Perhaps they could even help him figure out what would be the easiest way to….to…to eliminate the seventh Horcrux.

Harry was doing better than he'd been when he'd first heard Wormtail's news, but it was still easier to separate the thing from himself, even in his own mind. It made it easier to think about what he had to do, anyway. He'd need to do it at virtually the same time as he killed Voldemort. Perhaps Hermione could help him figure out a way to take care of both things simultaneously.

After his shock had worn off, a new determination had settled over Harry. If it had to be someone, it was better that it be him. He couldn't stand to have anyone else die for him, and his entire family might be waiting for him on the other side. He knew his friends would miss him, but it wasn't as if he'd be leaving any family behind. Better that it was him rather than one of them. That was his driving force at the moment, anyway.

He was so lost in thought as he emerged from the bathroom that he walked right into someone who'd been waiting for the shower.

"Pardon," he said, the rest of the words dying in his throat. He blinked in surprise.

Standing right there in front of him, wearing an expensive-looking dressing gown with a golden "M" emblazoned on the left pocket and an infuriating self-satisfied smirk, was Draco Malfoy. His usually sleek blonde hair was mussed as if he'd just awoken, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Harry.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter," Malfoy said, wiping imagined dirt from his dressing gown. "I can't believe I'm being forced to share a bathroom, never mind having to share it with you."

Harry's shock melted into rage. "Malfoy," he spat. "I may have said you could stay here, but it doesn't mean I'm happy about it, so stay out of my way."

"You said I could stay here?" Malfoy said incredulously. "I'm staying here because your precious Order needs me. I'm the only one who can give them the kind of information they need. This house is rightfully mine, anyway. It belongs in my family. I'm certain there is a will lying around somewhere that will declare it as true; my mother will see to it that it goes to me. Best be nice to me, Potter, or when that happens I'll have your own Order chuck you out on your arse."

"Here's a bit of a news flash, Draco," Harry said, clenching his teeth. "The will has already been found and confirmed. This house and everything in it belongs to me. Imagine that. Me, owning all this stuff that belongs in your family lineage."

Harry ignored Malfoy's expression of stunned outrage, picked up an ancient-looking vase that was resting on a display table in the hallway and cavalierly tossed it in the air.

"Be careful with that," Malfoy hissed. "That's been in my mother's family for generations. It dates back to the Blacks that were present during the time of the Founders."

Harry looked at the vase intently, then raised his eyes to stare into Malfoy's gray ones. Tipping his hand over, he allowed the vase to fall and shatter on the floor.

"Oops," he said tonelessly.

"You idiot!" Malfoy screeched, kneeling on the ground and trying to scoop up the pieces. "My mother will kill you for that, Potter. How can this house possibly be yours if you'd so easily destroy its treasures?"

"Sirius left it to me. I think it was his final prank on you sorry lot," Harry said, raising his chin defiantly. It felt as if he were giving Sirius the final shot against the family who had turned against him.

"Sirius," Malfoy said, disgust dripping from his words. "He never should have been the heir. He had no pride, no family honor. Regulus was the rightful heir to this house; he knew his proper place."

"Tell it to the Goblins," Harry said, turning his back on Malfoy. "I'm certain they'd love to hear it."

He left Malfoy fuming in the hallway and walked back to his own room to get dressed. Baiting Malfoy might have been childish, but it had felt really good, and Harry's heart was lighter as he ran down the stairs to the kitchen. He found Ron, Hermione and Ginny all seated at the large table waiting for him.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and rushing towards him before Ron could stop her. "Are you all right? What happened yesterday? What were you thinking running off and leaving us behind? We'd talked about this, Harry. Ron and I were supposed to go with you. We were all going to do this together. You can't go around changing our plans and singularly making these kinds of decisions. Why did you do that? Why?"

"Hermione!" Ron said, grasping her shoulders and leading her back to the table. "Give him a chance to speak. I'd like to hear this as well,"

Harry could see the telltale red on Ron's ears and knew that Ron was equally upset with him for leaving them behind.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his irritation. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going. I just decided that I needed to see my parents' graves alone." He looked over at Ginny. "That's where I went, to my family's home in Godric's Hollow."

"Yeah. We'd worked that bit out ourselves," Ron said.

"But why?" Hermione cried plaintively. "It's too dangerous to do these things on your own, Harry. We'd already planned it,"

"Plans changed," Harry said, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Look, I don't know if I can make you understand this, but it was just something I had to do alone. I won't do it again; we're in this together, but I had to do that part alone."

"What happened while you were there?" Hermione demanded crossly. Harry wasn't certain which she was angrier about, the fact he'd gone alone or that he'd altered her carefully laid out plans.

"Hermione," Ginny said warningly, speaking for the first time since he'd entered the room. Keeping her eyes fixed on Harry's face, she said, "I think that might have been rather personal for Harry."

Harry felt bolstered by her defense, and he smiled weakly. "Thanks, Ginny. It was difficult, and I do need to talk to you all about some of it. Maybe we could go up to the drawing room where it's a bit more private." He'd been watching the door warily, hoping they wouldn't be interrupted. The kitchen always seemed to be the center of activity at headquarters.

As they followed him up the stairs, Harry's heart raced. He'd really mucked up this time. He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione alone in order to get his thoughts together before approaching Ginny. But how was he supposed to ask her to leave without hurting her feelings, or worse, getting hexed? Ron took the problem out of his hands.

"Beat it, Ginny," he said, turning in the doorway to block her entrance.

"What?" Ginny asked indignantly, surprise and irritation clearly showing on her face. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at her brother.

Ron crossed his arms across his chest. "We've got things to discuss that you don't need to hear. You can snog him later."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Ron. I want to know what happened at Godric's Hollow, too. You don't mind, do you, Harry?" she asked, looking up at him, color rising on her cheeks.

Harry could see the trace of uncertainty in her eyes, and he cursed Ron for his tactlessness. "Back off, Ron. Give me a minute," he said, pushing Ron into the room and turning to face Ginny. Her eyes were glistening slightly, and his stomach clenched.

"Ginny, I do want to tell you about Godric's Hollow. There are things I want to talk to you about that I can't discuss with Ron and Hermione, but there is also something that I need to discuss with them that I just can't share with you. I promised. Please understand," Harry said, his heart dropping when he saw the determined glint in Ginny's eyes.

"Oh, get over yourselves," she snapped, pushing Harry backwards into the room and irritably casting the Muffliato spell as she stepped through the door.

Ron and Harry stared at her, stunned, although Hermione was grinning slightly.

"Ginny, you used magic," Harry said stupidly.

"Yeah, what of it? You and I are the only underage people in a house full of qualified wizards; they'll never trace it back to me. Besides, this house is Unplottable anyway," Ginny said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with exasperation.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ron bellowed. "I'm telling Mum."

"Yeah, why don't you run along and do that, Ron? Meanwhile Harry can tell us what happened in Godric's Hollow, and what he plans to do about the Horcruxes," Ginny replied calmly, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. She looked up at Harry expectantly.

Both Ron and Harry stared at her, mouths agape. Hermione, Harry noticed, shrank deeper into the corner of the couch where she was sitting.

"What did you just say?" Ron asked, his voice coming out in a strained squeak

Ginny ignored him and turned to Harry. "Well?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. It was only down to how well he'd come to know her that he saw the nervous tremble in her hand as she twisted her hair. Ginny always twisted her hair when she was anxious.

He glanced between Ginny and Hermione. Hermione wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You told her," he snarled, glaring at Hermione. "Dumbledore asked us to keep this to ourselves. I gave my word."

Ginny leaped from the couch and stood in front of Hermione, glaring right back at Harry. "Don't be stupid — of course you wouldn't tell me — you were the one that promised, not Hermione. You couldn't say anything because it would go against that blasted nobility of yours. No matter how infuriating it can be, we don't want to mess with the kind of person you are. It's important for you to keep that integrity, I think.

"Of the three of you, Hermione is the logical one who would seek help. She wants facts and data and will use any means necessary to get to the answers she needs. Of course she told me, she knows I can help. She's also a good friend and knew I was going mad. I knew enough to be terrified for you, but not what was real and I think my imagination was making everything worse."

"Hermione?" Ron asked, shocked. Harry would have found the expression on his face comical if he hadn't been so angry.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione shrieked. "I wasn't getting anywhere with our research, and I needed someone who could sneak me some books from the library here at Grimmauld Place. Ginny would come to the meetings with your parents and wait for them in the library so she could sneak some books out to me. I know you promised, Harry, but I honestly think Professor Dumbledore would have allowed you to include Ginny if he knew the stakes. You need her."

Harry swore violently and turned his head away. He wasn't even certain why he felt so angry. This was the solution he'd been seeking, a way to share things with Ginny without having to betray his word, but damn it, he'd wanted to keep Ginny out of this, and she'd been at the heart of it all along. It was galling.

"How could you do that, Hermione?" Ron shouted, his temper finally exploding. "She's not getting involved. It's too dangerous."

"Honestly, Ron. I realize you're very protective of your sister, but-"

"My baby sister, Hermione. She's too young to get involved in this," Ron said.

"Would you have followed Harry if all this had happened last year?" Hermione asked. "Of course you would. She's the same age as you were then. The difference in her age and Harry's is nearly the same as Harry's and mine. Do you think he's too young to be involved?"

"What? Of course not; it's not the same thing," Ron shouted, flailing his arms in the air. "It's his fight. Ginny's not getting involved because it's too dangerous for her."

Ginny whipped her head around so fast that Ron took a step backwards from her fury. "Don't you dare say you want to keep me out of this or it has nothing to do with me, Ron Weasley. It has much more to do with me than it does with you. These Horcruxes are bits of sodding Voldemort's own soul. I had one of those bits in me, and I'm going to make damn sure that never happens to anyone else! And as for being too young; I'm older than you were when we went to the Ministry. As I recall, I came out of that fight a damn sight better than you did."

She turned to Harry, determination gleaming in her eyes. "This, this is my fight, and you're not going to keep me from it. I have as big a stake in this part of it as you do."

Harry thought she'd never looked more beautiful with her hair flowing down her back in waves, looking almost as if it were standing on end like an angry cat. Her gaze was passionate and fierce, and it occurred to Harry that he'd never thought of it this way, from her point of view. Of course she had a personal stake in this. She'd been possessed by one of these very Horcruxes. If anyone would know how it felt to have a bit of Voldemort's soul stuck inside him, it was Ginny.

What was done was done. They couldn't go back, and she was right. For her, like him, this was personal.

"All right, quiet," he bellowed over the arguments of the other three who were all bickering and snapping at one another. The tense atmosphere in the room had dissolved into complete chaos. "This is getting us nowhere. Ginny knows what we're up against, but from this point forward, we keep this information amongst ourselves. Are we clear?" he asked, staring hard at Hermione.

They all nodded and looked at him expectantly. He noticed that Ron still looked disgruntled, while Ginny appeared triumphant, and Hermione

merely looked satisfied, as if her plan had come together in the end. Harry had to bite back a smile. They really were the best friends he could have ever wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "So, we need to go after the Horcruxes before I can face Voldemort. The problem is, I really have no idea where to begin. Professor Dumbledore showed me all those memories from Riddle's past, and he thought the clues were hidden in them."

"Why do you have to be the one to face Voldemort?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide. It was as if now that she'd finally been accepted into their confidence, the reality was frightening her.

Harry glanced sharply at Hermione

"I told her about the Horcruxes because I needed some help with the research materials, and I thought you could use some moral support. I didn't tell her about the prophecy. I thought you should do that," Hermione said, giving Harry a weak smile.

"The Chosen One," Ginny whispered, a distinct catch in her voice. "It's true then?"

Harry nodded and watched as her lower lip trembled slightly. His gut twisting, he waited while she steeled her resolve. "Are you okay?

Ginny gave him a watery smile. "Shouldn't I be asking that of you?"

He took her hand in his and rubbed it reassuringly. "I've had awhile to take it all in. Believe me, I didn't handle it well at all when I first heard."

"I'm scared for you, but I know you can do this. You're a powerful wizard, Harry. You can beat him, and you will survive," Ginny said solemnly.

Harry swallowed painfully. This is it. "That's what we need to talk about. I wasn't alone in Godric's Hollow yesterday. Someone followed me."

Ron's head whipped up, and Hermione gasped, "Who?"

"Wormtail," Harry replied grimly, the name leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"Wormtail? What did the little rat want?" Ron snarled. "I'm surprised you let him live."

"Ron," Hermione hissed reproachfully.

Harry ignored her. "He's jealous of Snape. He thinks Snape has stolen his thunder or something. He wanted me to eliminate Snape for him."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ron said, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

"I'm dead serious," Harry said, barely moving. His jaw was beginning to ache from clenching it so hard. "He said he knows a lot more about what's going on in Voldemort's inner circle than even Voldemort is aware."

"I find that hard to believe," Hermione said, frowning. "Doesn't Voldemort use Legilimency on his Death Eaters?"

"Yeah, but no one ever considers Scabbers to be a real threat, do they?" Ron asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "He knows about the Horcruxes," he said quietly.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore.

"What?" Hermione shrieked simultaneously. "Did he say that? Did he actually say Horcrux?"

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. "The circle of people who know this secret is getting bigger and bigger. Perhaps that will be what leads to his downfall."

Harry's hands began to shake, and he clenched them to hide it from the others. "He…he told me about the Seventh Horcrux. The one he doesn't think I'll be able to destroy."

"The Seventh Horcrux. Well, that's him, isn't it?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Technically, the bit that's still in him is the last that has to be destroyed, but it's the bit that all the others were created from, so it's actually the first. The seventh is the last one he created," Harry replied, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

"So, that's Nagini, right?" Hermione asked, studying him carefully.

"No," Harry said, his throat dry. "Dumbledore was wrong….or merely misleading. Nagini was never a Horcrux. All his Horcruxes were created before he lost his powers."

"How is that possible though?" Hermione demanded. "I thought you said he was planning on making the Seventh Horcrux with your murder."

"He was," Harry said, nodding stoically.

"Well then how…Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"What?" Ron asked, lost.

"Oh no, Harry. This can't be true," Hermione cried, tears springing to eyes.

"What are you on about?" Ron demanded, frustrated.

"How did this happen? He must be mistaken. He's just trying to scare you," Hermione said shrilly, clutching Harry's arm and growing more hysterical by the minute.

Ginny put her arm around Hermione's shoulder and said fearfully, "I think you'd better explain, Harry."

And so he did. He told them all about his confrontation the previous day and how Wormtail had explained to him how Voldemort's own over-confidence and excitement had created the Horcrux from Lily's death, and how the soul fragment had ended up inside Harry.

The others listened in horror, their faces mirroring his dismay. Harry cleared his throat. "So, the way I see it, we have to figure out a way to destroy both Voldemort and the Seventh Horcrux at the same time."

"No!" they all shouted at once, their shock giving way to fierce determination.

"Don't be stupid," Harry snarled without mercy. "Don't you think I haven't been thinking about this? There is no other way. Voldemort has to be destroyed, and if I have to sacrifice myself to do it, well…that's just what I'm going to do."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, biting her lip in thought. "No, Harry. There has to be another way. It can't end like this. Professor Dumbledore never would have given you hope that you could survive if it weren't possible," she said fiercely. "Riddle's diary was still a diary after you sank the fang into it. And the ring! Dumbledore was still wearing it as a ring after he removed the bit of Voldemort's soul."

"Yeah, but with a big crack down the middle. I don't want to live the rest of my life like the Longbottoms, Hermione. I'd rather die," Harry said vehemently.

Ginny whimpered slightly from where she was seated on the couch. Harry reached out and took her hand. He could feel her trembling even though she tried to hide it.

"But, the diary wasn't damaged," Hermione insisted. "Professor Dumbledore hurt his hand horribly destroying that ring, but you didn't hurt yourself destroying the diary, and the diary remained intact. Only the soul fragment was gone. There has to be a way."

Ron stared at Hermione hopefully, nodding his head. His Adam's apple bobbed convulsively.

"Maybe," Harry replied, refusing to allow the seed of hope to blossom too fully. "But we can't trust that. We'll have to explore both options — a way to destroy both remaining bits of soul, and a possible way to survive." He still couldn't bring himself to say out loud that he was the Horcrux.

"I won't lose you now," Ginny said quietly but firmly.

Harry knelt down in front of her and took her face in his hands, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. "I can't make any promises to you, Ginny. Merlin knows I wish I could, but if there was ever something worth fighting for, it's what you've shown me my life can be. I do want that, Ginny. I want you," Harry said, leaning over and kissing her softly. He could taste the salt from her tears and hated himself for making her cry.

"We'll do this together," she whispered. "We'll find a way."

Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her fiercely. He decided then and there that he would live and be happy with Ginny while he could. It was exactly what his parents had done. His one greatest regret about losing Sirius was that they'd never had enough time simply to be together. He'd give Ginny the gift of time; it was all he has to give.

As he embraced Ginny, his eyes fell on the tapestry hanging on the wall and it sparked a memory.

"Oh, I ran into Malfoy this morning," he said, sitting next to Ginny and putting his arm around her shoulders. Both Ron and Hermione's heads shot up from their discussion in the corner.

"You did?" Hermione asked blankly.

"What did the wanker have to say?" Ron asked darkly.

"He was sputtering about owning this house. You should have seen his face when I told him that I actually did. He said Regulus should have inherited it, not Sirius," Harry replied, reliving the memory of Malfoy's shocked expression.

"Regulus?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Sirius's brother," Harry replied, forgetting that none of the others had heard that story when Sirius told him.

"Regulus Black?" Hermione asked, her brow knitting.

"Yeah, his name is still on that tapestry over there," Harry said pointing. Hermione jumped up and nearly sprinted to the tapestry. "Sirius showed it to me the summer we stayed here. His mum burnt his name off it, but she kept Regulus's because he upheld the family's honor by becoming a Death Eater."

"Sounds like Mrs. Black," Ron replied. "Mad as a Hatter, that one."

"Regulus Alphard Black," Hermione squealed, waving her hands in the air. "Harry! R.A.B. — his initials are R.A.B."

Harry stared at her, blinking stupidly. There was no way it could be that simple. Things in his life didn't just work out that way.

"You can't be serious," Ron said, voicing Harry's thoughts.

They all moved toward the tapestry where Hermione was repeatedly jabbing Regulus's name with her finger.

Harry's mind raced, trying to recall any bit of information about Regulus Black that he might have gained. "He did become a Death Eater then panicked when he realized exactly what he'd got into, and he tried to run. Remus said he only lasted a couple days before they caught him."

"Maybe he panicked because he learned Voldemort was making Horcruxes. Dumbledore did stress how much of a taboo they are. Maybe he actually tried to do the right thing by destroying one," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"So, where's the locket, then?" Ron asked.

Ginny knitted her brows together thoughtfully. "Do you think it could be right here in Grimmauld Place? What happened to all that stuff we cleared out of here during my fourth year?"

"Didn't it all get thrown away?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Actually, I think some of it is stored up in the attic," Ginny replied, her eyes widening as if she'd finally remembered a piece of the puzzle she'd been seeking.

Harry turned and bolted from the room, Ron and the girls following right at his heels. Mrs. Weasley's sharp voice stopped them in the hallway.

"What are you lot up to? What has you all in such a hurry?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Harry made a derogatory remark about the Cannons, and Ron took offense," Ginny lied smoothly.

"Honestly, Ron, you and that ridiculous orange team. Leave Harry alone and stop running in the house," Mrs. Weasley scolded as she headed back towards the kitchen.

Harry arched his eyebrow at Ginny, impressed. She shrugged and quickly moved towards the attic. The others followed, walking quickly but taking care not to run.

The attic was cluttered with boxes piled from floor to ceiling in rows and rows from the door all the way to the far back corner of the room.

Harry groaned when he saw it.

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned, looking around hopelessly. "Hermione, this looks like something you would have organized."

Hermione sighed. "It's daunting, I know, but the fact it's organized might prove helpful. Things have most likely been stored according to which room they were found. Once we find the right room, it should narrow our search considerably."

Harry thought Hermione sounded almost gleeful at the prospect. He caught Ron's eye, and they both grimaced.

"How are we supposed to know which room we want though?" Ron asked.

Pulling the fake Horcrux from his pocket, Harry showed it to the others. "We're looking for an amulet very similar to this one."

"I think I remember something like this when we cleaned one of the rooms," Ginny said, taking the locket from Harry. "I remember that it wouldn't open, but I don't recall which room we found it in."

"Well, that does help," Hermione said eagerly. "We cleared a bunch of rooms on the second floor landing together, so we'll begin our search there."

They spent the next several hours going through box after box but not finding what they wanted. Harry was growing frustrated and weary when Ginny's shout distracted him.

"Did you find it?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Well no, not the amulet," Ginny said, "but look at this."

Hermione grabbed an old painting out of her hand. The frame was scratched and scuffed, and it looked incredibly old.

"Sweet Merlin," Hermione said, breathing heavily.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Is it what I think it is?" Ginny asked.

Harry glanced over Ginny's shoulder to see the painting Hermione was holding. It depicted two couples standing in what Harry thought was the great hall at Hogwarts. They were clad in exquisite dress robes, one of the men standing slightly apart from the other three.

"It's the founders of Hogwarts," Hermione said, awestruck. "Look, Harry, Godric Gryffindor is wearing the sword you used against the Basilisk."

Harry looked closely and realized she was right. He looked carefully at the other founders, recognizing Helga Hufflepuff from a painting he'd seen at Hogwarts. The other woman, a stern looking witch wearing a glittering tiara, reminded him of Professor McGonagall. He assumed this was Rowena Ravenclaw. The fourth person — the one standing slightly apart and scowling — was Salazar Slytherin.

"How did this end up packed away up here?" Hermione asked, breathing heavily. "This is a priceless piece of history. Harry, you have to show this to Professor McGonagall."

"I bet it's worth a fortune, mate," Ron said.

"I'll give it to her when she arrives for the Order meeting this evening. They want to talk to me about yesterday, and what I was doing

with Professor Dumbledore. I'm going to have to put them off, and they're not going to like it. Maybe this can be a kind of peace offering," Harry said, smiling weakly.

"Harry! Call Kreacher. Maybe he can help us," Hermione said suddenly.

Harry's eyes widened. "Kreacher!" he bellowed.

There was an immediate crack and the dirty, disheveled house elf appeared, scowling at all of them. He was wearing a filthy tea towel with the Hogwarts logo emblazoned upon it.

"The halfblood whelp summons him, and poor old Kreacher must answer. Oh, if his mistress only knew what Kreacher has been reduced to," the elf muttered under his breath, woefully shaking his head from side to side.

Hermione knelt down in front of him. "We're terribly sorry to have disturbed you, Kreacher. We're in need of your help," she said kindly.

"The mudblood dares to speak to Kreacher directly. Kreacher won't answer her," the house elf said.

"That's enough, Kreacher," Harry said angrily. "I won't have you using that foul word. Do you understand me?"

"It's all right, Harry. He doesn't know what he's saying," Hermione said.

"Don't be fooled by him, Hermione," Ron said, staring at Kreacher menacingly. "He knows exactly what he's saying. We want to know about Regulus Black."

"Master Regulus was a great and honorable wizard. He never once broke his poor mother's heart. He died in service to the Dark Lord," Kreacher said reverently.

"He died because his friends murdered him," Harry said flatly. "Look, we're not here to listen to you spout off about how great it is to serve the Dark Lord. I want to know if Regulus ever had something that looks like this," he said, holding out the fake Horcrux for Kreacher to see. "I want you to tell me what happened to it."

Kreacher twisted his lips together and grunted, obviously trying not to answer. Finally he could resist no more. "It was here, on a shelf in the drawing room. That horrid halfblood thief who has stolen many of my mistress's fine things took it."

"Mundungus!" Ron exclaimed.

"Of course. Remember, Harry? We saw him in Hogsmeade with a trunk full of your things from this house," Hermione said.

"Where does Mundungus live, though?" Ron asked.

"I bet Fred and George will know," Ginny said.

"That's our next step then. We have to find out where Dung lived before he was arrested and then search his place," Harry said. "I'm assuming the Ministry is still holding him?"

"Yeah, Dad mentioned something about it recently. Let me talk to Fred and George; I bet they'll know where he lived. I think they'll tell me," Ginny said.

"Why would they tell you and not me?" Ron asked, frowning.

"They like me better," Ginny said simply.

Harry smirked at Ron's disgruntled expression. He felt better now that they were finally making some progress. A clear objective always calmed and focused him. Two Horcruxes had been destroyed, and they had a good lead on another. He knew what the final two pieces were, so only two left to find. He was doing better than yesterday.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were determined to find a way for him to survive. He didn't think they'd succeed, but the fact they were so focused on it warmed his heart. He could do this. He could eliminate Voldemort so his friends and the people he loved, at least, had the chance for a better life.

Chapter Eight

An Uneasy Alliance

Due to a number of unforeseen interruptions, the Order meeting scheduled for that evening never actually happened. Harry squirmed in his chair, poking at the remains of his supper with his fork and dreading all the questions the Order members were sure to ask. He knew that some of them, Remus and Moody, for instance, would accept what he had to do. Others like Mrs. Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt certainly would demand more information than he could give.

He was startled out of his musings by the arrival of Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall, who entered the room wearing grim expressions. The kitchen at Grimmauld Place, which only moments before had been filled with pleasant chatter and the raucous laughter of the twins, became oddly still. This ragtag group of survivors had been through too much recently not to feel anxious over the prospect of more bad news.

"What is it, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked fearfully, jumping up from her chair and pushing Mr. Weasley towards it.

Harry suddenly realized how tired and old Mr. Weasley appeared. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles beneath them, and white hairs were visible on each temple. Harry turned his gaze to Professor McGonagall, to whom Hagrid had given his chair. She, too, appeared to have aged rapidly since Professor Dumbledore's death only a month ago.

Harry's throat grew tight. This war was killing them all. Voldemort was killing them all, and he had to be stopped.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice sounding stronger than he felt. He rapidly scanned the room, trying to determine if anyone was missing.

The expressions on both Mr. Weasley's and Professor McGonagall's faces made him worry that there had been another death.

He felt a small hand creep into his own beneath the table and turned to see Ginny watching her father with fearful eyes. He threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed reassuringly.

"I've just come from a meeting with the Board of Governors," Professor McGonagall said. "They've made their decision."

"Scrimgeour called in all the department heads to hear the results," said Mr. Weasley wearily.

"They're not reopening Hogwarts, are they?" Harry asked numbly, uncertain if he should feel shocked or enraged.

"No, they are not. They've decided that they cannot guarantee the safety of incoming students. The Aurors are simply stretched too thin as it is," Professor McGonagall replied, an uncharacteristic waver in her voice.

"How can they do that?" Hermione cried, scandalized. "Where are students going to go for their education?"

"The governors feel that not enough students would have returned, anyway. It's no secret that You-Know-Who has a great interest in Hogwarts. Most believe he only stayed away because of Dumbledore, and that there is nothing to stop him now. Parents won't send their children directly into his path," Mr. Weasley said, sharing a pointed look with a numb-looking Mrs. Weasley.

"Dumbledore would 'ave wanted it ter remain open," Hagrid said, pulling a handkerchief the size of blanket from his pocket.

"I realize that, Hagrid, but the Board would not be swayed," Professor McGonagall answered briskly.

"Did Rufus Scrimgeour push for it to be closed?" Harry asked. He wouldn't put it past the man to keep Hogwarts closed in retaliation for Harry's refusal to aid the Ministry. He'd think Harry would be far more vulnerable and in need of assistance outside Hogwarts walls.

"No. This decision came from the Governors," Professor McGonagall replied, sighing.

"He's not an evil man, Harry; he's just not going about this the way we'd like," Tonks said. "He does want to bring an end to this war; he just wants to be the one to get the credit for doing it. He won't stand in our way, but he will try and find out what we're doing. He's used to being in charge, and he doesn't like feeling like an outsider."

"Scrimgeour's become as obsessed with the politics of being Minister as Fudge was. He's not doing enough because he fears the public's reaction," Bill said angrily. He'd become somewhat embittered toward the Ministry since Greyback's attack.

As several arguments over the pros and cons about having Scrimgeour as Minister broke out around the table, Remus leaned over to speak quietly with Harry.

"All right, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Remus. Thanks for coming after me yesterday," Harry replied, staring intently at a dark spot of wood on the table in front of him.

"I'd easily do it again, Harry, but I'd prefer it if I didn't have to," Remus replied. "I sincerely hope you won't be running off without telling anyone again."

Harry didn't respond but continued to stare at the table, lightly tracing the spot with his finger.

"Harry," Remus said, waiting for a response.

"I can't make you that promise, Remus," Harry whispered.

On his other side, Ginny was doing a poor job of feigning disinterest, and he was certain she was hanging on every word they said. Ron and Hermione also appeared to be watching him closely. He wondered why Mrs. Weasley hadn't insisted all of them clear out when the others had arrived. He supposed she would if the topic turned to anything she deemed inappropriate for their young ears.

"Harry, you need to inform the Order about what you're going to do. I know you well enough to see you're planning something. We can help you," Remus said, a pleading quality in his voice.

"I can't. Remus, you told me once that it all came down to whether or not we trusted Dumbledore's judgement. At the time you said you did. Is that still true?" Harry asked, turning to face him for the first time.

"I- I do, but Dumbledore is gone, Harry," Remus said quietly, his voice pained.

"And he left me a job to do. He wanted me to do it, and to keep quiet about it. I'm going to honor that request," Harry said vehemently.

Remus hung his head, his shoulders slumping. "Very well, Harry. I won't do anything to stand in your way. However, if there is anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

Harry nodded. "There is something you can do. The Weasleys have to stay here; they can't go back home. You have to make certain they stay here. Wormtail said he's been at the Burrow, and that he was assigned there to keep an eye on them. Voldemort knows about their connection to me. It's not safe for them to return."

Remus's face darkened. "Understood. I don't think Molly will be happy about it, but Arthur will see reason. Peter's not going to destroy another family."

He wanted to tell Remus about what Wormtail had said about Ginny, but not while she was eavesdropping. It was yet another reason he wanted to keep her close to him. It was the only way he could ensure her safety.

"Anything else?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, there is," Harry said thoughtfully. "When I went to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys, we stayed in magical tents. There were some that were small enough to look like Muggle pop tents, so they could be transported easily. Do you think you could locate one for me? You can take the funds from my account at Gringotts."

"Consider it done," Remus said.

"There is one other thing I'd like to discuss," Professor McGonagall said, standing up and raising her voice above the chatter. The room quieted and turned towards her once again.

"Please go ahead, Minerva," said Mrs. Weasley.

"I visited the Hog's Head earlier today and spoke with Aberforth Dumbledore," she said, her voice quavering slightly.

Harry's head shot up, an image of the tall barkeep from the Hog's Head pub rising in his mind. He was Professor Dumbledore's eccentric brother? Harry sat slack-jawed, wondering how he'd never made the connection — the similarity between the two appeared so obvious now. An inexplicable swell of sadness arose in Harry's chest at this revelation. There was so much about Professor Dumbledore he'd never known, and now he never would.

"Did he have anything unusual to report?" Moody growled.

Harry's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Of course! That was how Dumbledore always knew what was happening in Hogsmeade. His brother would have kept him abreast of anything unusual. Harry smiled sadly, feeling great fondness for his cagey former headmaster.

"He's finished putting Albus's affairs in order. He said that Albus left specific instructions on where some of his belongings were to go. I've brought several items with me to deliver to some of you," Professor McGonagall said stiffly, waving her wand. Several plain brown boxes appeared around her.

Harry's insides went cold. These were Dumbledore's things, his prized possessions...

"Harry," Professor McGonagall said, sounding distinctly gentler that she had a moment earlier. "This one is for you. Aberforth was particularly adamant that you receive it posthaste."

Harry nodded numbly and took the package without comment. He rested it in his lap, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Hagrid began blowing his nose into his huge handkerchief, and Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes. Harry's heart hammered inside his chest, and he found the air in the room had become stifling.

"Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said, but she didn't get any further as Hagrid dissolved into wracking sobs, mumbling about what a great man Dumbledore had been. Hermione jumped from her chair and began patting him on the back consolingly. In the confusion, Harry quietly took his package and slipped from his chair, escaping from the room unnoticed.

***

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed with his chin in his hands, staring at the box Professor McGonagall had given him. The package remained sealed, unremarkable really, with its plain brown wrapping, but Harry knew that opening it would be a last goodbye. Professor Dumbledore was really gone; he wasn't coming back. He knew that not opening the package wouldn't change anything, but to Harry, it would somehow make it final.

He'd been sitting in the same spot for over an hour and wasn't certain if everyone was still meeting downstairs. He'd wanted to open whatever it was Dumbledore left him privately, in case it contained anything to do with Voldemort or the Horcruxes. He also didn't trust his own emotions and didn't want a crowd to witness yet another breakdown. He knew he should get on with it before anyone came up to check on him, but he couldn't seem to force himself to do it.

His door creaked open slightly, and Ron poked his head inside. "All right, mate?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm fine. You can come in."

Ron pushed open the door and entered the room followed closely by Hermione and Ginny.

"Harry!" Hermione said, frowning slightly. "Why did you leave without saying anything? I hadn't even noticed you had gone."

Harry merely shrugged.

"What did he leave you?" asked Ron, nodding toward the package.

"Dunno," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders again.

"You haven't even looked?" Hermione cried, aghast. "It could be something important, Harry, something we could use."

"I know," he said quietly.

Hermione apparently realized the reason for his hesitancy because her face softened, and she gazed at Harry with something that looked like pity. He averted his eyes, and she backed off and sat beside Ron on his bed.

"Everyone's gone now; they never really had a proper meeting. I can't believe Hogwarts won't be opening at all," she said tremulously.

Harry started when the edge of his bed dipped slightly. He looked up to see Ginny sitting on the end, watching him closely. Her expression was neutral, and he was grateful for it.

"So, did Professor McGonagall finish delivering everything?" Harry asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Not everything," Ron replied darkly.

His curiosity piqued, Harry looked towards Ron and raised his eyebrow.

"Dumbledore left something for Snape," Ron said, spitting the name.

Harry clenched his fists tightly. "Not surprising; he always did trust the git."

"It is rather startling, though," Hermione said, looking troubled.

"Why's that?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

Ginny took his hand and gently unclenched his fist, revealing several crescent shapes drops of blood where his nails had dug into his skin. She wiped the blood away and clasped his hand within her own warm one. His stomach settled slightly.

"Well….now, I know you don't want to hear this, but just listen to me," Hermione said nervously. "Professor Dumbledore adamantly trusted Professor Snape. He insisted that he was on our side-"

"Until he killed him," Harry shouted, unable to contain his fury.

"I know that, Harry," Hermione said. "Still, I kept hoping there was some other explanation, that maybe they had planned it this way for some reason."

"You think Dumbledore planned for Snape to do him in?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know," Hermione cried, exasperated. "I just can't help wondering if there is something we're missing. But now, if Dumbledore left Snape something…maybe he didn't know. I'd like to know what he left him. It might answer some questions."

"There is no question," Harry said flatly. "Snape killed him. Dumbledore left him something because he trusted him; he thought he was his friend. Snape's no different from Wormtail."

"You can't honestly still think Snape is working for our side, Hermione," Ron said.

"No. I suppose not," Hermione said, deflating, "but I just wish I knew for certain."

"There's nothing to know," Harry said angrily, feeling more agitated by the moment. "He's a murderer, Hermione. He killed Dumbledore, and he can never be forgiven for that."

"I spoke with Fred and George," Ginny said suddenly. "I asked them if they knew where Mundungus lived."

"Did they?" Ron asked.

"No, but when I told them Harry needed to know, they said they'd do some checking. They said Dung never seemed to stay in any one place too long," Ginny replied.

"Great," Harry said, that hopeless feeling threatening to overtake him again.

"Don't worry, Harry. Leave it to Fred and George. If anyone can find his last address, they can," Ginny said bracingly.

"It's something, I suppose," Harry said. "I asked Remus to see if he could find us a magical tent to use while we're travelling. We can use Headquarters as our base, but I reckon we'll have to be on foot a lot. Dumbledore was away a lot last year, and we know that's what he was doing."

"That's a very good idea, Harry. When do you think we'll go?" Hermione asked.

"Not until after my birthday," Harry said. "I don't want any Ministry entanglements about underage magic, and it'll give us a little time to get everything in order. We need to decide where we should go first. Ron and I also have to take our test to get our licenses to Apparate."

Ron shifted uneasily, and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile.

"Why don't you open that box," Ginny said gently. "Maybe it will give us an idea."

Harry glanced at the ordinary-looking box and sighed heavily. Nothing left for it. "Yeah…okay," he said, pulling at the tape. Once he'd moved past his initial hesitation, he found his curiosity overwhelmed him, and he hurried to find what was inside.

He unwrapped the last of the packaging and lifted an incredibly old, stone basin from the box, placing it on his desk reverently. Several wrapped items were stored inside.

"What is that?" Ron asked, peering at it closely.

"It's Dumbledore's Pensieve," Harry said quietly, removing the items inside.

"Harry, these are really rare," Hermione said, curiously examining the runes along the edge of the Pensieve.

"And expensive," said Ron.

"This is how he showed you the memories of Tom?" Ginny asked, running her finger along the rim. "Are those the memories?"

Harry nodded, unwrapping the last of sealed phials. "Yeah. These are the memories he showed me in our lessons. He felt understanding Riddle's past was the key to finding the Horcruxes."

"But wouldn't Dumbledore's memories have died with him?" Ron asked.

"No. A lot of these memories belonged to other people, all of whom are long dead. One of them was even a house-elf," Harry said, as he unwrapped the final two items.

He turned quickly when Ginny gasped.

"Is that…?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Harry held the diary that had once wreaked havoc upon a young Ginny's life. He looked deeply into her troubled eyes, willing some of his strength to her. Having just dealt with confronting some of the horrors of his own past, he knew exactly what she was feeling.

"Yeah, it is. I don't know how Dumbledore got it. I gave it back to Lucius Malfoy with the sock that freed Dobby. Maybe Malfoy dropped it, or Dobby had it. I dunno, maybe Dumbledore somehow got it back from Malfoy Manor," Harry replied, watching Ginny closely.

Ginny reached a shaky hand toward the tattered book with the fang hole through the cover. Harry solemnly handed it to her, knowing she needed to confront her demons.

"No, Ginny, don't," Ron said, making a grab for the diary.

Harry grasped Ron's hand and held him back. "Let her do it, Ron. She needs this," he said, his eyes remaining fixed on Ginny.

Her eyes were dark and haunted, but remained free of tears. She silently flipped several of the pages before looking back at Harry. "Just a book," she said shakily.

Harry nodded. "That's all that's left now; just a book. You beat him, Ginny."

"No, you beat him," Ginny said with a small, humorless laugh. "I was unconscious."

"You did beat him; you survived. You were never supposed to have done that. You fought him for a year alone, and you survived. Never sell yourself short for that, Ginny," Harry replied vehemently.

Ginny's eyes filled with the tears she'd held off for so long, but she forcibly blinked them away. Harry leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What's in the last package?" Hermione asked quietly.

Still keeping an eye on Ginny, Harry opened it. It contained Marvolo Gaunt's black stone ring. "It's the other Horcrux. The one Dumbledore destroyed," Harry said.

"Ooh, can I take a look at it?" Hermione asked.

Harry handed it to her. "There's something else in this box," he said, pulling out one of Dumbledore's delicate silver instruments.

"What does it do?" Ron asked.

"No idea," Harry replied, studying the instrument closely. It consisted of several, fragile silver cylinders with a tube at the top.

"Are there any instructions?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry replied curtly, struggling with a memory on the edge of his consciousness. "I've seen this one before though," he said, distracted.

"Well, of course you have. Dumbledore's office was chock full of them, and you were in there often enough," Ron said.

"When were you in Dumbledore's office?" Hermione demanded.

"Last Christmas. The night Harry had that dream about Dad getting attacked by the snake," Ron replied.

"That's it!" Harry exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

"That's what?" Ginny asked.

"That's where I've seen this thing. It was that night, the night I had that vision, or whatever it was. Dumbledore did something with this instrument. It had green smoke coming out of it," Harry said excitedly. "The smoke turned into a snake."

"I don't remember that," Ron said, frowning.

"Well, you had other things on your mind, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"But, isn't there a note or anything telling you how it works?" Hermione asked, blowing a stray piece of hair off her face.

Harry looked inside the box again, but it was empty. "No. There's nothing."

"I can try asking Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "She might know how it works."

"That's a good idea," Harry said, nodding absently. "I still need to show her the portrait of the Founders."

"I think she'll tell you that it's safer here for the moment, since Hogwarts isn't reopening. I don't think she has much trust in the Ministry right now," Hermione said.

"Can't say as I blame her," Harry replied.

"So, if Hogwarts isn't reopening, at least I don't have to tell my mum that I'm not going back," Ron said.

"You'll have to tell her you're leaving though, Ron. She's still not going to be happy about it," Hermione said.

"I don't think we should tell her," Ginny said. "She'll never agree to it, and she'll more than likely try to stop us. We should just slip away the first time. You said we were going to use Headquarters as a base, didn't you, Harry?"

"Yeah, I said that to Lupin," Harry replied, grinning. "How did you hear that, Ginny?"

Ginny smiled. "I'm the youngest of seven, Harry. If I hadn't learned to eavesdrop, I'd never know anything."

Harry grinned. "That was how I managed with the Dursleys, too. I reckon we can go through these memories in the Pensieve until it's time to leave."

"Where do we go first?" Ron asked.

"I think the best place to start is the same place he did, at the orphanage," Harry replied.

"It was a Muggle orphanage, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding.

"Can I borrow Hedwig?" Hermione asked. "I'll send a note to my mum asking her to get us the names of any orphanages that were running in London fifty years ago."

"How would she know that?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"She can just use the internet," Hermione replied, shrugging.

Ron's bewildered expression never changed. "The what?"

"Oh, that's a computer, right?" Ginny asked, grinning widely. Her enthusiasm reminded Harry of Mr. Weasley.

Hermione's cheek twitched as she tried to contain her laughter. "Yes, it involves a computer. Don't worry about it; she can do this. She'll be happy I asked her for some help."

Harry looked up and met her eyes questioningly.

Hermione shrugged. "She just feels a bit disconnected from my life now. How could she not? There's nothing to be done for it, Harry, but she'll like being asked for her assistance."

Harry sighed, feeling badly that Hermione's family was drifting apart. "Okay, then. It's a start. You three need to practice your shield spells while we're here, as well."

"Harry, we covered shields in fifth year in the DA," Ron said scathingly.

"If we run into any resistance, or if Voldemort figures out what we're doing, it's you three they'll go after. Voldemort wants me alive," Harry said firmly.

"Yeah, so he can do you in himself," Ron said darkly.

"Wormtail said that after he figured out I…when he…he ordered the Death Eaters not to kill me," Harry said, stumbling on the words. "That's why he never came after me all last year. He wants to capture me and keep me somewhere under his control."

The others gasped in horror.

"We won't let that happen, Harry," Ginny said, shuddering. She moved closer to Harry and wrapped her arm around his waist, as if anchoring him.

"Voldemort still doesn't know the whole prophecy. As long as Snape didn't know, that is. Dumbledore told me the only two people who knew the exact wording were him and me. So, if Snape didn't know, that means Voldemort still doesn't know that he has to be the one to kill me in order to come to full power," Harry replied.

"But Snape does know that Dumbledore was looking for the Horcruxes, right?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"Yeah. Dumbledore said that Snape was the one who saved him the night he hurt his hand," Harry said, wondering where Hermione was heading.

"Then if Snape really has turned-"

"He has."

"If Snape really has turned," Hermione said, ignoring Harry's interruptions, "he's told Voldemort what Dumbledore was doing. Voldemort isn't stupid. He's going to believe that Professor Dumbledore passed that information to someone else, and that person will try to do the same. He'll be guarding the other Horcruxes."

"Maybe," Harry said, nodding. "Not necessarily, though. Voldemort never would have told anyone else if he were secretly doing something to bring down an enemy. The Death Eaters are his minions, not his friends; Dumbledore stressed that over and over last year. He would never share that kind of information, so he'd never consider the idea that anyone else would."

"Do you think that's something Malfoy might know?" Ginny asked.

"It's possible, but he's not likely to tell me," Harry said, imagining the sneer on Malfoy's face if he were to question him.

"You could get Moody to ask him," Hermione said.

"Hermione, we're not telling anyone else," Harry said through gritted teeth. He ran his hand through his mussed hair in frustration.

"I still think someone in the Order ought to know what we're doing, but I understand how you feel about this," Hermione said, frowning slightly. "Still, I think Moody would help. I doubt Malfoy would know

about the Horcruxes, so you could just ask if he'd suddenly ordered any of them to guard anything without reason."

Harry frowned, mulling it over. Hermione had a tendency to always want to run to someone in authority, and she could never admit that the authorities might be wrong. Still, her idea could work, except…

"Moody's too suspicious; he'd never leave it at that."

"He trusted Dumbledore, and I think he trusts you," Ginny said.

"All right. I'll ask Moody if I can talk to Malfoy. That's just the thought I want in my head as I try to go to sleep," Harry said sarcastically.

Ginny ruffled his hair affectionately. "Aww, it's not easy to be the hero."

Harry scowled, making Ginny giggle.

The girls bade them goodnight and returned to their own room. It took Harry a long time to fall asleep, and when he did his dreams were marred with visions of werewolves, locked boxes and green smoke.

***

Harry's heart pounded as he paced inside a small room off the main hallway in Grimmauld Place. Amazingly, Moody had agreed very easily to Harry's request to question Malfoy. Harry's expression must have shown his surprise, because the old Auror began to chuckle.

"I figured you were working with Dumbledore on something, and I reckon you're going to carry on with it. If Dumbledore didn't think it was something I needed to know, that's good enough for me. Constant vigilance, Potter. The less people who know what you're up to, the less chance there is for a leak," he said. "I gave my word to Dumbledore that I'd see this through. If that means helping you with whatever it is you're doing, that's just what I'm going to do."

Turning, he stomped out of the room to fetch Malfoy, his wooden leg thumping on the floor with each step.

Harry moved to the back of the room and took a seat in a darkened corner, hoping for the chance to observe Malfoy's interaction with Moody before he was alerted to Harry's presence. He was doubtful that Malfoy would cooperate, but if he had any information that could aid him in any way, Harry was determined to get it.

Hearing voices in the hallway, he ducked into the shadows and waited.

"Just because I am forced to survive in these less-than-stellar accommodations does not give you the right to barge into my room uninvited, Mr. Moody. Decent wizarding manners dictate the necessity of sending an owl to arrange an appointment. Despite your lack of breeding, I expect you to uphold these common niceties," Malfoy sneered as he entered the room, sat down on a stiff-backed chair and placed his feet on the matching footstool.

Moody followed closely behind wearing an amused expression. He sat in a chair opposite Malfoy and leaned towards him so that their noses were nearly touching. "Listen here, Darren, and listen good-"

"It's Draco," Malfoy spat, affronted.

Moody continued as if there hadn't been an interruption. "You're not here as a houseguest, you're here because if you were anywhere else, you'd be dead already."

"And without the information I can provide, you lot won't be long behind me," Malfoy replied, although he had paled slightly.

Harry took a moment to take a good look at Malfoy's appearance. He'd lost the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin no longer had an ashen pallor, but he still appeared pale and drawn. He spoke with all the haughtiness and bravado Harry had come to expect, but there was an air of brittleness beneath it that hadn't been there in the past.

"We've been through all of this already and agreed to come to an arrangement that could be mutually beneficial," Moody said, sounding weary, as if he'd been over this same conversation many times already.

"That doesn't mean you can barge into my chambers-"

"I knocked on your door, David," Moody said dryly. "I have a few questions that need answering."

"It's Draco," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, "and when my mother hears about this, she won't be pleased."

Moody nodded his head towards the door. "By all means, if you need your mummy present, go and fetch her."

Malfoy puffed out his chest indignantly. "I won't be treated as a common house-elf, and I'm perfectly capable of handling my own affairs."

"And I won't be treated as your nanny. Grow up, Dudley," Moody growled, his magical eye looking directly at Harry's hiding spot and winking.

Harry nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter.

"It's Draco," Malfoy spat, clenching his teeth. "What is it you need to know? I don't have all morning."

"Sorry to interrupt your busy social schedule," Harry said, moving into the light and taking the chair next to Moody. He imitated Malfoy by placing his feet on the footstool and crossing his hands on his chest. "I hadn't realized how fascinating the portraits were up on your wing. I assume that's who's keeping you busy since none of the living inhabitants in the house will actually speak to you. I'll have to visit when I'm in need of stimulating conversation."

Malfoy's expression rapidly turned from stunned to angry. "Potter," he sneered, glaring down his nose at Harry. "What are you doing here? I'm not staying if he's in the room."

"He's the one who has a few questions for you, and since it's his house, he gets to decide where he goes," Moody replied indifferently.

"I have nothing to say to you," Malfoy said obstinately, looking away from Harry.

"All right," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I believe you know how to find the front door. Be sure to take all your belongings as there are plenty of people waiting to use your room. Moody, would you mind asking Narcissa Malfoy to join me? I'll see if she's any more cooperative then her son. We'll offer her the same deal."

"Stay away from my mother, Potter," Malfoy snarled, two bright pink spots appearing on his pale cheeks.

Harry gazed at him coldly. "If you won't cooperate, Malfoy, then I need to find someone who will."

Malfoy clenched his fists tightly, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. "What is it you want to know? I would have thought the precious Chosen One would have better things to do. If you want me out of here so badly, why don't you follow your destiny so the rest of us can all get on with our lives?" he sneered.

"That's enough," Moody growled, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Malfoy.

"It's all right, Moody," Harry said calmly. He knew Malfoy had the tendency to boast when he was angry; Harry was counting on that habit now. "That's exactly what I'm going to do, Malfoy, with or without your help. I don't care what happens to you anymore than you care what happens to me. But I think we both have other people living in this house that we do care about. Do you think you can control your childish outbursts for a few moments, or should I go ask your mother?"

Malfoy paled yet again at the reference to his mother. Still, his anger won out, and he sneered, "He's going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to his snake."

Harry forced himself to keep his voice steady. "Perhaps, but if I can't take him with me, your life isn't worth dragon dung."

Malfoy's anger appeared to swell, and for a moment, Harry was certain he would draw his wand and hex him. After a moment, however, he seemed to deflate and sank wearily back into his chair. "What do you need to know?" he asked tonelessly.

"I want to know if Voldemort," Harry ignored Malfoy's hiss when he said the name, "has shown any particular care in guarding certain places recently — meaning in the past year. He would have asked for these places to be under surveillance, but he wouldn't have given any reason why. Does this sound at all familiar?"

Malfoy's eyes showed a spark of recognition although he tried to cover it. "Why is it important?" he asked.

Harry shrugged indifferently. "It might not be, but call me curious."

Some of Malfoy's haughty bravado returned as he said dismissively, "I don't think it could possibly be significant."

"What's not significant?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing, the hair on his arms suddenly standing on end.

"Whatever is being guarded isn't important, or he would have other, more important people guarding it. People that matter," Malfoy replied.

"Like you?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy flushed. "He gave me the greatest task of all, and I fulfilled it," he said pompously.

Reminded of Malfoy's role in Dumbledore's death, Harry felt his skin burn with indignation. "You didn't; Snape did. In the end, you couldn't do it. You're not a killer, Malfoy. Someday you might even be proud of that."

"What do you know about it?" Malfoy asked, his eyes widening with alarm.

"I know plenty. I know you were lowering your wand when Snape and the others burst through that door. Professor Dumbledore offered you a chance, and you were going to take it," Harry said, shuddering as he remembered.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "How do you-"

"Let's get back on track here, boys. What do you know about whatever is being guarded, Draco?" Moody asked, using the correct name for the first time.

"I don't know what or where it is, but he assigned Pettigrew, Crabbe, Goyle and Simmons each to do something and report directly to him. None of them is the brightest or most loyal of followers, so whatever it is can't be very significant," Malfoy replied, shrugging.

Harry's mind was racing. Wormtail was watching the Burrow, which of course meant watching him. That would leave the cup and the unknown Horcrux. So, what could the fourth person be watching? Assigning Death Eaters who weren't particularly smart was exactly Voldemort's style. They wouldn't question why or look any deeper into what they were doing, and if the other Death Eaters had attitudes like Malfoy's, they wouldn't believe whatever was being done was significant.

Wormtail was Wormtail, and if Crabbe and Goyle were anything like their offspring, they wouldn't be very bright. He didn't know anything about Simmons, but imagined he would fall into the same category. Why four of them, though?

Of course! The locket. If Voldemort never knew that RAB had gone to the cave and stolen it, he wouldn't have been aware that Harry and Dumbledore made it there, either. Dumbledore had said Lucius Malfoy told his master about the diary, and Harry imagined that Snape would have told Voldemort about the ring, but no one knew about the locket. He'd still have someone watching the cave. Their orders would be to report anything suspicious or any visitors immediately so Voldemort could descend upon the place himself.

This was a start. If they could find these people, they'd know they were in the right place.

"Does that mean anything to you, Potter?" Moody asked, watching Harry carefully.

"It might," Harry said absently. "Who really knows what Voldemort is thinking?"

Malfoy dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Look, Potter, I don't know if this Chosen One business is true or just more of your hype, and I don't really care. The Malfoy name is as old and respected as any pureblood wizarding family today, and we are being hunted like animals. Neither my mother nor I deserve to live this way. If you're going to try and end this madness, I'll do what I can to help you. It doesn't mean we're friends, and it doesn't mean I'll want anything to do with you once this is all over. If you're still around, that is."

"Fair enough," Harry said, nodding. "I'm certain I won't want anything to do with you once it's all over, either."

Turning his back on Malfoy and nodding slightly at Moody, Harry strode from the room with his head held high. He had a place to start.

***

Far from London, in a dark stone manor-house set apart from all others, the Dark Lord had summoned his minions. He sat behind a massive oak desk in a high-backed chair resembling a throne. His serpentine features studied the masked, robed figures standing before him, their heads bowed in submission. His long, thin fingers stroked his wand almost lovingly as his fierce red eyes bored into the group.

"Which of you can tell me where Potter and the blood traitor clan have gone?" Voldemort hissed softly. His voice was calm, yet still it caused a shudder to pass through most of the Death Eaters.

"Might I suggest," a smooth, oily voice volunteered from the back of the room, "that they've taken shelter inside the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix? As I've reported, the entire Weasley family is in it, and Potter is prone to protect them."

"Yes, Severus," Voldemort said, his eyes briefly flashing with an eerie red glow. "You've been quite helpful in supplying me with the names of those in this Order, but you haven't been able to tell me where their headquarters is located."

Snape bowed even lower to the ground. "My humble apologies, Master, but you are aware of how the Fidelius Charm works. Without the Secret Keeper, the location cannot be revealed."

Voldemort's irritation showed as he tightly wrapped his emaciated fingers around his wand. "And who would that Secret Keeper be?" he asked.

"As you know, after killing Albus Dumbledore, I am no longer privy to the happenings in the Order," Snape said silkily.

"Yes, we all know you were the one to kill Dumbledore, Snape," Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, unable to maintain her silence any longer. "You appear overly fond of reminding us. What he asked was who their new Secret Keeper is."

"Thank you, Bella," Voldemort hissed dangerously. "While I appreciate your loyalty, I do not appreciate your speaking out of turn."

Bellatrix's eyes widened behind her mask, as she had finally realized she'd overstepped her bounds. "Of course, Master," she said, bowing her head. "My apologies."

"Do not let it happen again, Bella," he said calmly. As she took a step backwards to take her place in the line of Death Eaters, he raised his wand and hissed, "Crucio."

Bellatrix dropped to the floor, screaming and writhing in agony. The other Death Eaters kept their gazes focused straight ahead, never moving. After an inordinate amount of time, Voldemort lifted the curse and turned to address Snape once again, leaving Bellatrix whimpering on the ground. No one moved to assist her.

"You know these people better than the rest of us, Severus. Whom do you suggest they would have chosen as their Secret Keeper?" he asked.

Snape moved his finger across his chin slowly, deliberating. "My instincts would say either Minerva McGonagall or Alastor Moody, but there is always the enigma of Potter to consider," he said, his upper lip curling.

"What does Potter have to do with it?" Voldemort asked.

"If the brat has any say in the matter, he is most likely the Secret Keeper himself. He's exceedingly arrogant, and his opinion of himself is exceptionally high. His foolish Gryffindor streak wouldn't allow anyone else to be at risk, therefore, he'd take on the role himself," Snape replied, grimacing as if he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Voldemort shook his head dismissively. "The Order would never allow a sixteen-year-old boy to be Secret Keeper."

"Ordinarily, I would agree with you, however all rules tend to be bent to Potter's whim. Dumbledore himself entrusted the boy with far too much information," Snape said, clenching his fists.

"Dumbledore was a fool, and his fondness for the boy was one of his greatest weaknesses. I don't want any of you to concern yourself with Potter. Leave him to me. I have very specific plans for the boy. He needs to learn what it means to defy me, but he is by no means a threat to our plans," Voldemort said.

Snape looked as if he would argue, but lowered his head and backed away. "Yes, Master."

"Have any of you incompetent fools learned how it was that the blood traitors managed to repel the Dementors from the wedding reception?" Voldemort asked in a low voice.

"Potter and the eldest Weasley, the one I marked as one of my den, managed to strengthen the wards, my Lord," Fenrir Greyback said.

"I see," Voldemort hissed. "I expect, Fenrir, that you will want to be the one to see that this Weasley is punished?"

"Yes, my Lord. I've marked him, and I am certain he is now feeling the frustration over how the Ministry regards our kind. He'll be ripe to turn to our side once I make him a full werewolf," Greyback said, grinning maniacally.

"Excellent. What of our missing Malfoys? Have they been apprehended?" Voldemort asked.

The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.

"I asked a question, and I expect an answer," Voldemort said without raising his voice. Still, the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

"No, my Lord. They appear to have vanished," said a woman's voice.

"How is this possible?" Voldemort asked.

Again, he was met with silence.

"Answer me," he bellowed, green sparks flashing from his wand.

"They could not have done it without aid," Bellatrix replied, still huddled on the floor. She gasped in pain as she rose on her knees. "My sister doesn't have any contacts who would aid her against you, my Lord. An acquaintance of Draco's must be offering them sanctuary."

Snape's face remained impassive.

"I want them found and brought before me, along with whomever it was who facilitated their escape. Whichever of you finds them will, of course, earn my favor and a small measure of my gratitude," Voldemort said.

"What about Wormtail?' Bellatrix asked. "He's not here. Perhaps he allowed my sister to escape."

"Wormtail lacks the courage to do anything so bold. I am aware of his location, as I am aware of each of your assignments. Never forget that, Bella," he said menacingly.

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, wincing.

"You all have your orders; don't disappoint me again. I will be far less gracious the next time we meet if you again have nothing to report but utter failure," he said, his cold, snakelike gaze raking over all of them. "Severus, please remain behind. I have something I need to discuss."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, bowing stiffly.

The remaining Death Eaters Disapparated as quickly as they could, eager both to do their master's bidding and to be away from his wrath.

"It has been over a month since Albus Dumbledore's death, Severus, and there has not been a single sign of movement towards any of my Horcruxes. I believe you were mistaken that Dumbledore would have made someone else aware of what he was doing," Voldemort said, his voice a low hiss.

Snape bowed his head and moved slowly toward the desk. "Of course you may be right, Master. However, I feel I knew the Headmaster very well after rendering my services to him for so very long. He always had contingency plans."

"Yet you've said that you'd lost some of his trust towards the end. You said you thought he was keeping something from you," Voldemort replied, his scarlet eyes narrowing into slits.

"Yes," Snape said, shifting uncomfortably. "He didn't feel I was doing enough to learn what the Malfoy boy was planning. I was unable to reveal what I knew and without Draco's cooperation, the stories I fabricated were proven false. As you know, Dumbledore always believed everyone could be saved. He'd hoped that I could offer the boy the chance to reform."

"Yes. His compassion was one of his greatest faults. He could never understand that there are those of us who never wanted to be saved," Voldemort said, a hideous smile twisting his face.

Snape grimaced as if swallowing something slimy and unpleasant. "He also refused to reveal what he was discussing with Potter on their many evenings together."

Voldemort waved his hand carelessly. "You said you'd ensured that Potter was unable to learn Occlumency the previous year. Perhaps Dumbledore attempted to teach the boy himself and caught on to your deceit."

Snape bristled, an ugly sneer crossing his sallow features. "The boy is incapable of using the simplest of techniques. Saying he was unable to learn was not far from the truth."

"Still, Dumbledore was fond of the boy," Voldemort said, apparently amused by Snape's naked hatred of Harry.

"Yes," Snape replied through gritted teeth. "He was so fond of him that he often allowed the boy to interfere in matters that should have been left to those more capable. I fear that Potter might actually be the one Dumbledore confided in about the Horcruxes. The boy's ego is certainly large enough that he would believe it was something he could handle."

"Ridiculous. Dumbledore always had a weakness for his favorites, but he would never share the information that could destroy me with a sixteen-year-old boy. Be careful, Severus, your jealousy is showing," Voldemort said, amused.

Snape cocked his head slightly. "If I may respectfully point out, my Lord, you assigned a sixteen-year-old a similar task."

Voldemort's smile faded and his eyes narrowed again. "I assigned the Malfoy boy his job as a punishment to his father. I knew he'd be unable to complete his task, and I was right. It was you, Severus, who destroyed my enemy. I never expected the Malfoy boy to survive. Dumbledore was far too noble to ever willingly place anyone he considered a child in such danger. His love for the Potter boy would never have allowed it."

Snape scowled. "My Lord-"

"Enough! I do not want to hear any more of this, Severus. I have plans for Harry Potter. I believe the prophecy referred to him as a threat because he is a Horcrux, not because he is anything special on his own. Once I realized what had happened, it became clear to me. I can handle Harry Potter. He is no longer a threat to me. My plans to dismantle the Ministry can now begin. There is no one who can stop me," Voldemort said, his eyes glowing.

"Yes, Master," Snape replied, an uneasy frown upon his face. It was no secret that Snape believed that Harry's reputation was highly overrated, but he also had to know that it wasn't wise to underestimate the boy. He had a nasty habit of being in the right place at the right time.