Chapter 1

He was walking down a long corridor, toward a door at the end. It swung open as he neared it, letting him into a circular room walled with doors. He strode purposefully up to it and opened it, revealing an amphitheatre, with the seats leading down to a stone dais upon which stood an archway, a dirty tattered sheet hanging over it, obscuring the entrance. There were people fighting all around him. A man with a flat face and red eyes with slits for pupils aimed his wand at a pretty red haired woman.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The woman fell to the floor, became a man with untidy black hair, then changed again to become a man with longer, more elegant black hair, who hit the floor and lay, spread eagled, with his eyes wide and staring. The flat-faced man raised his wand and pointed it at him. "Avada

Keda-"

"NO!" Harry Potter sat up in bed his hand grasping a wand that had been under his pillows moments before. He pointed the wind wildly around the room, squinting his eyes in the dark. His breathing slowed as he realized where he was, and rested his head on the wall behind his bed, closing his eyes, wand still in his hand. It was just a dream, that was all, just a dream. In the room down the hall he heard Uncle Vernon give a snort, and roll over in bed. He was not in the Department of Mysteries. He was no where near the Ministry of Magic, he was safe in Number 4, Privet Drive, that fight had happened months ago, his parents had died fifteen years ago and Sirius-

Sirius is dead, Harry told himself for the thousandth time, and for the thousandth time he could not believe it. He cast a quick glance at the clock beside his bed it flashed 6:32 in green numbers. He groaned, but there would be no more sleep for him that morning. He got up, flicking on the light of his room, dressed himself and hastily stuck his wand in his back pocket. Then remembering what a certain Auror had told him ("Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, boy! Elementary wand safety. . .") he thought better of it and stowed his wand in the waist band of his jeans.

What to do? He had at the very least another forty-five minutes before the Dursley's woke up. First things first. He walked over to his calendar and marked another red X on it; one more day and he'd be with the Weasleys, at the Burrow. So it hadn't been in time for his birthday, well, they'd only missed it by a few days and had promised him a celebration when he arrived at the Burrow, and even if they still couldn't tell him much in their letters, this was the earliest he'd ever left the Dursely's house. One more year, Harry thought, one more yearhere, and then I'll never have to come back. Never!

With this thought in mind, he opened his window, and looked out hopefully for Hedwig, who was off delivering a letter to Ron. But the sky was gray, cloudy, and Hedwig-free. But, there was something in the sky. . .what was it? It looked a bit like a shimmering in the sky, a horizontal band of. . .shimmering. What. . .? Harry leaned out of his window and squinted at it. It looked a bit like movies he'd seen of the atom bomb explosions when he'd been in primary school. Same shimmering, same force moving outward. But it couldn't be. If it was he'd already been dead. Wouldn't he? It had been a while since he'd last taken a Muggle science class.

All of a sudden there was a sort of sonic boom, and the house shook violently. Harry was thrown to the floor, his books slid off his bed and Hedwig's empty cage landed on top of him. Several loud thumps from the adjoining rooms told him Uncle Vernon and Dudley had fallen out of bed. Continued snores told him that had not woken up his relatives. Getting up, wand in his hand again, Harry crept over to the window and peered out of it.

Everything seemed. . .normal. The sun was still hovering just out of sight, no lights were on in any of the houses in Privet Drive, and the light seemed to be gone. What the hell? An attack, maybe. But who's close enough that I could feel it? On the other hand distance was often warped in the magical world, but- Harry shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. If anything had happened he wouldn't be able to find out till tomorrow, if the Order saw fit to tell him, that was.

The rest of the day passed more or less uneventfully. Harry finished his summer holiday homework and managed to go more or less unnoticed by the Dursleys at mealtimes. Dudley had been kicked off the school boxing team after sending another student to the hospital in critical condition, but was now on Smeltings' rugby team. Not much better in Harry's view, although Dudley's opinion of him had so worsened – if that was possible – since last summer that he now did not even speak to Harry, not even to taunt him, and only occasionally shot him glances of fear out of his piggy eyes.

In fact, he managed to stay out of the Dursleys way so well that it wasn't until a large barred owl tried to fly in the open window that Uncle Vernon started yelling at him. "BOY! I DON"T CARE IF YOUR ENTIRE BLOODY WORLD IS BEING BLOWN TO BITS BY MOLDYWART BUT I WILL -- NOT– HAVE – RUDDY – OWLS IN MY HOUSE!"

"Vernon, please, the windows are open," begged Aunt Petunia.

Dudley stood gripping the owl by its feet staring maliciously into its eyes, as it tried to peck him, hooting angrily. Harry rescued the owl, apologized to his aunt and uncle and escaped back to his room. It's my Hogwarts letter, he thought, it's finally come. It'll have my OWL scores. His OWL scores. They had been worrying him all summer. The only thing Harry had ever really contemplated being when he left Hogwarts was an Auror, but to become one it was necessary to have exceptionally high OWL scores, and a number of NEWT's.

Breathing heavily he slit open the envelope. Inside were two smaller envelopes, one with the Ministry of Magic's seal on it. His OWL's.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are your scores on the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations, which you performed last May. We apologize for the lateness of this letter, which is due to discrepancies among the graders of your examinations.

Best wishes,

Trafila Hopkirk

Department of Examinations

Apparently the Hopkirks had quite a hold on jobs at the Ministry. Harry vaguely remembered Mr. Weasley complaining about it once. Discrepencies among the graders of your examinations? He shook the small envelope and out fell a slip of paper.

Ordinary Wizarding Levels

Harry Potter

Gryffindor House

Key:

O Outstanding

EE Exceeds Expectations

A Acceptable

P Poor

D Dreadful

An A or above is required to obtain an OWL in that course. Please be aware that some courses only accept students at an NEWT level if they received an Outstanding on their OWLs.

Charms: EE A. Flitwick

Transfiguration: O

M. Mcgonagall

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

D.Umbridge

Potions: O

S. Snape

Care of Magical Creatures: O

R. Hagrid

Herbology: EE

B. Sprout

Astronomy: A

V. Sinistra

History of Magic: P

G. Binns

Divination: P

S. Trelawney

Well, not bad Potter, he thought, not bad at all. He had known he was never going to pass Divination, or History of Magic, and truth to tell, he wasn't all that fussed. In fact, it would be a relief to never have to go to divination again. Never to have Professor Trelawney predict his demise, never fall asleep in that stifling heat of the North Tower, and as for Binns' class, well, he'd had a suspicion that it was turning his brain slowly into mush.

But an O in potions! How had he managed that? Had Professor Mcgonagall stepped in, perhaps? Last year she had shouted at Professor Umbridge that she would help Harry become an Auror no matter what it took. An Auror needed and NEWT in potions. And to get into an NEWT class, one had to get an O in potions. But surely Mcgonagall, a stickler for rules, would not do anything of the sort.

The only conclusion Harry could come to, was that he had managed an O on his own, and that Snape had definitely not graded Harry's potion. Snape wouldn't give Harry an O if his (Snape's) life depended on it.

Turning his attention to the second envelope, Harry opened it. Inside was the usual list of things to get for Hogwarts which he studied carefully until he found the book for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps that would give some indication of who his new teacher would be. There it was- Defensive Spells and Hexes, by Hare Sonend. Well, whoever had assigned it had to be better than Umbridge. They certainly couldn't be worse, and it seemed as though they meant business.

Another letter was folded inside the list of things. Curious, Harry unfolded it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As we are sure you are aware, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has meant an increase in security measures taken at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His return puts us all in peril unlike anything we have seen in fifteen years. Because of this, administrators at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in cooperation with officials from the Ministry of Magic, have seen fit to appoint twice the number of school prefects. These new prefects' duties will extend to such things patrols, and in case of any emergency the prefects will attend instructions from the staff of the school, and may be required to aid them in specified tasks.

If you do not wish the extra duties of prefect please send a note back with the owl you receive this letter with immediately. If you accept the duties mentioned above simply retain the badge accompanying this letter.

Looking forward to September the first,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

And out of the letter fell a scarlet prefect's badge.

Harry stared. It was not possible. It was not possible. And yet there sat the badge in his hand, as solid as anything. After Harry's turmoil and jealousy last year, when he had not gotten the badge and Ron had, this seemed a calculated strike at his pride. He did not really care about being prefect anymore. He didn't. Not really. And yet. . .a flicker of happiness fluttered inside Harry as he looked at the badge.

Of course, the Slytherins would no doubt have much to say of the matter; he could picture them now. . ."Wee Potty wanted a badge just like his mummy, and they felt sorry for him. . ." "Everyone knows Potter's Dumbledore's lapdog, so Dumbledore made it up to give it to him. . ." "He's not a real prefect, of course. . ." But if there were two more from each House, then Slytherin would have two more as well.

He could see Hermione smiling happily, Ron shaking his hand, Mrs. Weasley's proud face, Fred and George's looks of disgust. . . Harry grinned. At least they'd all be on equal footing this year. Not that Ron and Hermione had ever said or done anything to exercise what power they had as prefects against him, but still. It was nice to know they couldn't, even if they wanted to.

The only thing that could have made him happier was if Hedwig had been back. Or if his parents could know. Or if Sirius. . . That was certainly thinking in the wrong direction, and Harry shoved that thought down ruthlessly.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," said Harry.

"Come out where I can talk to you, boy." It was Aunt Petunia.

Harry sighed. When he opened the door he was a little surprised. Aunt Petunia was there sure enough, but it was not the hard-faced Aunt Petunia, ready to berate him for tracking mud into the house that he had expected. She stood looking a little pensive, and glancing over her shoulders from time to time, as though she expected someone to come up any minute and ask her what she thought she was doing talking to her nephew.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry.

She gave a little jump, and stared at him a moment as though she had forgotten he was there. "Oh!" she said, and then she shook her head as if to clear it. "Yes, well, er, Harry," she said, "I've got a letter for you."

"Oh?" said Harry, completely nonplussed.

"Yes," she said.

He stood there a moment, waiting and said finally, "Well, can I have it then?"

"Yes of course, the thing is, the thing is, Harry," and she glanced nervously at his wand in his waistband, "it's from, it's from," her mouth gave a little twist, and then she said, "it's from -- my sister."

Harry was silent. Either she was out of her mind (unsurprising, if she'd finally taken a good look at her family) or she was keeping something from him. "From my mum?" He said slowly.

"Yes," she said simply. "It arrived the normal way, a few weeks after you did," by normal she meant by post, "with instructions on when to give it to you."

"She, she said to give it to me now did she?" His pulse was throbbing. A letter from his mother. Something she had held, something she had written, in his hands!

"Well, no, Harry. She said to give it to you on your birthday."

"That's not so far off then." Harry forced a smile, but his mind was screaming, give it to me! Give me the letter!

"Er, your, er, thirteenth birthday Harry." Aunt Petunia looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"Well, that's al- Hang on. Did you say my thirteenth birthday?" She nodded. "And you've kept it from me for three years?" he said. She nodded again. "Give it to me!" he snarled, "Give it to me!"

His shout seemed to remind her that she was the mistress of this house and would not be shouted at. "Harry!" she said sharply. "Well, it wasn't as though you really needed it, just sentimental nonsense, but not a word to me her only sister oh no. . ." Harry had only seen a torrent of words like this from Aunt Petunia once before, on the night Hagrid had shown up and told him he was a wizard. ". . .me she just sends a baby to, no explanations, no thank you, no please, no word from her for years, and then I get landed with you." Her face was twisted up in hatred and anger, "and now you're being attacked by dementors and Voldemort and I am required to put up with you or my family will be blown to pieces!"

"I'm sure Dumbledore would never, he wouldn't," Harry protested, "And even if it is 'sentimental nonsense', I- Wait. You read it? You read my letter? YOU READ -- ?" He was trembling with anger now. He pointed his wand at her (when had he drawn it?) and said slowly, "Give me my letter."

His words produced a sort of déjà vu effect. . . he was eleven and Uncle Vernon held his letter his only letter, the only one he had ever gotten, ever, and he wanted it. . . "GIVE ME MY LETTER!" He snatched it from her and slammed the door to his room in her face. He heard her sniff loudly on the other side, evidently she had regained her composure, and listened until her footsteps had died away.

He sat on his bed and switched on his light, moving his Hogwarts letters to his bedside table. Breathing fast he slipped the letter out of the envelope.

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this then I have passed on. Since I am not there to be with you I just want you to know that I love you. I always have and I always will. I am sorry I will not be with you to see your growing up, to help you, to hold you, but always remember that I love you, as does your father.

I have some important things to tell you. I wish I could be there to tell you in person, but as I cannot -- I want you to know certain things that I did not believe should have been told to you before this. There is a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort. I will not repeat it word for word,( you may ask Albus Dumbledore to do that), but it says that one of you must kill the other eventually. I am sorry that this burden rests on you, Harry, but believe me it is true. There was some doubt that it was you the prophecy concerns, but if you are reading this than there is no doubt at all. I am sorry, Harry. I love you.

We do not know how to defeat Lord Voldemort, so I am afraid I cannot help you there, but Love is the key Harry. There isn't much time now, but ask Dumbledore for the prophecy, and the second one as well. Tell Sirius it wasn't James, and tell Remus I was the one that told Andromeda. Tell him I'm sorry.

I love you Harry. More than anything.

Love,

Mum

Lily Potter

PS Happy thirteenth Birthday.

Harry thought, The second one as well? What does that mean? What wasn't James? Who is Andromeda? She loves me.

Harry slowly sank down, back onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling. The prefect's badge winked at him from his bedside table, as Hedwig flew in the open window, a letter in her beak.

"Hedwig! You're back!" Harry hurriedly dumped some fresh food in Hedwig's cage as she hooted affectionately and nipped him on the ear. He untied the letter from her leg and instantly saw from the handwriting that it was from Ron. Stroking Hedwig absentmindedly he read the short letter.

Harry-

Will be there noon tomorrow. Mum wants you in time for lunch. Much to tell. Will be different from last time. Less cleaning. See you soon.

Ron

Harry reread the letter and turned it over to make sure that nothing was written on the back. Well then, he thought, noon tomorrow. Hedwig flew over to her cage and began scarfing some owl treats. He noticed for the first time that some of her feathers were ruffled the wrong way, and -- he blinked several times. No, it was not his eyes. There was definitely a bluish tinge to her feathers.

"Hedwig," Harry said slowly, "Are you alright?"

She looked at him, and blinked her amber eyes once, and then dipped her beak in her water bowl.

Harry shook his head. Talking to Hedwig as though she could reply. He supposed it was being cooped up with the Dursely's for so long; knowing why he had to stay with them made the actual fact of it no easier, but still. Soon he'd be talking to the wall.

Not that Hedwig wasn't an extremely intelligent bird, and she did seem to understand most of what he said, but animals were animals and that was that. Sighing, he rooted around for his spell books, and set about finishing his summer homework.

On Sunday morning, noon seemed to take forever to arrive. Time could not possibly have actually slowed to a crawl, but much slower and he would begin to think it had. To pass the time he read old copies of the Daily Prophet that had come to him by owl over the summer. Small attacks on Muggles happened periodically, and once there had been an attack on a wizarding family, but small things. Nothing big.

At least the Ministry was now aware of the fact that Voldemort had returned, but really! Small articles on home safety, a hotline on the flu system to alert the ministry, it was all rubbish. Voldemort had to be planning something big, or there wouldn't be such quiet. He hadn't even broken his Death Eaters out of Azkaban yet, something that should be fairly easy, now that the dementors were gone, and probably fighting for Voldemort.

The exodus of the Dementors had made headlines for a few weeks, when the Ministry seemed to have some hope of tracking them, but no results after a month and the search had dropped to the second or third pages of the Daily Prophet. A raid on the Riddle House in Little Hangleton at Dumbledore's behest had produced less than nothing.

Oh, certainly signs that someone at some point had been living there when no one should have been, even traces of a snake, but no Voldemort. How, Harry thought furiously, as he had so many times that summer, how was it that Voldemort could simply vanish so suddenly and completely? Why was it they were always struggling to figure out Voldemort's plans? Why was it never the other way round? After last year Harry had thought that things would result in open warfare, but no such luck. Luck? Bloody. . .soon I'll be chasing after Voldemort myself. Get ahold of yourself, Potter. Voldemort had to be planning something, he had to! No, no, Harry thought desperately, I don't want him to be planning anything, I want him to be dead. Dead! But that was not the case of course.

Harry wished he could believe that Dumbledore had killed Voldemort, that Voldemort's flight from the Ministry of Magic, had not been flight at all, but his disintegration. But he knew it was not true. There was the prophecy for one thing. Only he could kill Voldemort, or Voldemort would destroy him. The prophecy.

What was the second prophecy his mother had referred to in his letter? He had been to the Department of Mysteries, seen the recording orbs, there had been no others with his name on them. Hadn't there? Surely they would be together in the same place. Unless perhaps there was another one filed in another place, under P for Potter instead of V for Voldemort? Or was there another one as yet unlinked to him? Had his mother traced another prophecy to him? How would he ever find out about it if she had?

But there was no use thinking about that until he could talk to Dumbledore, or even Ron and Hermione. Hermione might be able to puzzle something out. Harry sighed and stretched and glanced at the clock over the fireplace. Five to twelve. After Harry had told his Aunt and Uncle that he was going to be picked up at noon, they had suddenly remembered that they, and Dudley, all had dentist appointments at half past eleven.

The clock struck noon. Harry looked expectantly over at the fireplace, then at the door, then out the window. Which was when he realized that he had no idea how they were going to come. Would they Apparate? Use the Flu Network? Broomsticks? Horses? Harry shook his head. After all the Weasleys probably wouldn't get here for hours. They always seemed to be- CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

All of a sudden six people Apparated in the Durseleys' living room. Remus Lupin, Mad Eye Moody, Mr. Weasley, Sturgus Podmore (recently released from Azkaban) and. . .

"Fred? George? What are you two doing here?"

Moody harrumphed, loudly. Remus said, "Nice to see you, too, Harry."

"Ah, well," said George, "We couldn't let ickle Harrykins get taken off by a bunch of strange wizards."

"Yeah, said George, with a mocking grin, "'E might panic, and lose his head and hex the lot of them."

"He needed friends," said George, earnestly.

"Really," huffed Mr. Weasley, "You'd think they'd have grown up by now, I am sorry Harry. . ."

"We're still Mum's little angels at heart, you know that Dad."

Harry smiled, and getting over his shock at seeing the twins with members of the Order of the Pheonix, took another look at his 'escort.' They looked. . .worn. Tired. Mr. Weasley had a five o'clock shadow growing, and more lines around his eyes than Harry remembered. Even the twins looked a little thinner than usual. Lupin's eyes looked as though he was trying to forget seeing something horrible and Sturgus Podmore. . .the emptiness in his face made Harry want to shiver. The Dementors had left Azkaban only a short time after his arrival, but apparently even just a little time with them was more than enough to give you that haunted look. Especially if you didn't have Sirius's -- No. That was thinking in the wrong direction.

"Well," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Shall I get my stuff? I really didn't expect you quite yet- well, that is, I mean, you're usually. . ." Harry trailed off, and stared at his feet, embarrassed. Actually saying out loud that they were usually late? How rude could he get?

"We're usually late?" asked Fred.

"Not on time?" said George.

"Unpunctual?" suggested Fred.

"I'll go get Hedwig," said Harry, and all but ran up the stairs.

He coaxed Hedwig into her cage with some owl treats, shoved the last of his things into his trunks, and looked around to see if he had missed anything. Then he started lugging his things downstairs. Sturgus Podmore trotted up to the landing and floated the trunks downstairs with a wave of his wand. "Thanks, Mr. Podmore," said Harry.

Sturgus smiled faintly. When he got downstairs Mr. Weasley was whispering furiously with Lupin, but they stopped when they saw him. "Ah, Harry," said Mr. Weasley and clapped his hands together. "We'll be using brooms again, as you might have noticed," he waved a hand to several brooms in the corner that Harry had not noticed, "So we'll just strap your trunks on and we'll be off."

"Don't you need to Disillusion me?" asked Harry.

"Oh, no, we've got something much better now. Don't you remember-? Oh, of course not, sorry, Harry. I keep forgetting how isolated you've been -- we've had the Granger-Extension spell for a month now, works much better."

Moody muttered something that sounded like, "Nothing better than Disillusionment. . .new fangled spells. . ."

"The- what? Granger. . ?"

"Yes, Hermione invented it," said Lupin, "It's a way of extending the invisibility spell woven into invisibility cloaks so you don't have to be under the fabric. Much more convenient this way. In fact, just two weeks ago, she managed to isolate it entirely, so you don't even need the fabric at all."

"Yeah, she used our formulas for Headless Hats as a basis for it," said George.

"Of course, we asked Hermione not to release the casting info for the spells, only the Order knows it," added Fred.

"Otherwise the prices would drop," George added gloomily. "As it is, she only promised because she said Death Eaters would use it and she didn't-"

"Hermione invented a spell?" Harry was dumbfounded. "You can invent spells?"

"I'm sure she'll explain it to you, Harry," said Lupin, "Now, we really must be off. Gather round, and I'll cast it. Are the suitcases fixed on tight, Sturgus? Good. Now, follow me, everybody got their brooms in hand? Right. . .Solcu Tare!"

Harry felt. . .funny. Almost. . . carsick, but not quite. A little lightheaded. He looked down and couldn't see himself. He smiled. This would be wonderful for sneaking around school at night.

"Okay," said Mr. Weasley's voice from somewhere on Harry's left, "Follow my Ripple."

"Your what?"

"My Ripple. Even if you're invisible you still Ripple. It's actually quite fascinating, you see, it seems that-"

"Dad."

"Right then," said Mr. Weasely, "We'll be grouped around you, even if you can't see us, so don't worry. Mount up, everyone."

Once everyone had mounted their brooms, they took off, and Harry could indeed see a ripple, almost like Muggle demonstrations of sound waves, where the other wizards were, or rather had been. It was a little like watching heat waves on the road in the hottest part of August. He followed the Ripples higher and higher, until they were soaring just below the clouds. Just ahead Harry thought he could see. . .

What in bloody hell is that? thought Harry. A black depression lay in the middle of the buildings. It looked like the edge of a crater. But in the middle of London? It couldn't be. That was impossible.

Mr. Weasley shouted over the rush of the wind, "I think we'd better go up now, Mad Eye."

"Quite right," came the answering growl and the small group of wizards went upward again, and Harry lost sight of whatever it was that he had seen, his vision obscured by the clouds. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Language, boy," grunted Moody.

"Well, what was it then?" Harry said.

"Just fly, Harry," said Lupin, "Wait until we get to. . .where we're going."

Grudgingly Harry fell silent. Why was he always the last person to find anything out? It was really unfair. Really unfair. He had more control over his temper than last year, but still he felt the old familiar rage at being left out of the loop for months at a time beginning to burn in his stomach.

He shoved it down ruthlessly. He was going to arrive at the Burrow, and everyone was going to be there, and everything would be explained to him, and that was that. And then they were descending, and the clouds parted and below him, among the familiar rolling hills, Harry saw. . .nothing.

"Where is it?" Harry shouted. "Where did it go?"

Harry could almost feel Fred's grin. "Where did you go?"

They landed, and Harry's feet felt solid ground again, seeing the grass part under his invisible weight. "Finite Incantatem," someone muttered, and everything fell into place with a bump. Although Harry was quite used to being invisible, it was always reassuring to see when you did come back, that you were all there.

"Where's the Burrow?" Harry asked again.

"It's invisible too," said Lupin. "It's also got an Unplottable Charm on it, as well as a Shelter Charm, and an Intentioned Hex as well. And of course, the Fidelius Charm as well, Dumbledore is Secret-Keeper."

"What-? Why-?"

"Ahem." Moody cleared his throat and handed a crumpled bit of parchment to Harry, which said in Dumbledore's familiar hand, "The Headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix is at The Burrow, 1 Haversham Road."

Harry blinked at the paper. He shook his head, and looked up from the parchment and gasped. There was the Burrow, as if it had never been gone, complete with ramshackle yard with roaming chickens, and a smoking chimney. Mr. Weasley knocked on the door and opened it, calling out, "Molly, dear! We're home!"

"Go on in, boy, Sturgus has your bags," growled Moody. So Harry did.

"Harry!" came Hermione's voice, and suddenly the breath was being squeezed out of him by a pair of tanned arms, and a familiar bushy brown haired head was smiling at him. Hermione? thought Harry, astonished. He hardly recognized her. Although he didn't really think about her that way, he could always appreciate. . .He shook himself.

"Hello, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder, "Good to see you, mate." Then Ron turned, and bellowed, "MUM! GINNY! HARRY'S HERE!"

"We heard, we heard," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming. "Oh, it's so good to see you, Harry dear. I'm so glad you're here. I think I've finally persuaded Dumbledore to let you stay here all of next summer vacation, by the way. And of course you'll come for Christmas won't you, dear?"

Harry assured her that he would, and turned to greet Ginny, and his breath caught in his throat. What was it with girls and getting so, so. . .bloody beautiful overnight? Ginny was wearing bottle green robes, but rather low cut, emphasizing. . . That is Ron's little sister, Harry told himself firmly, get your mind out of the gutter! Then he almost laughed. Mind in the gutter. That was what his Aunt Petunia always said. "Hey, Ginny."

"Hi, Harry," she said, "How are you? We've so much to tell you. . ." and then he was grabbed from behind and spun round by Charlie, and then Bill was asking him how he was, and then Tonks (who's hair was long and blonde, just then) punched him on the shoulder and he went round and round the group, even bumping into Professor McGonagall (What was she doing here?) whom he hurried away from quickly. He didn't want school to start one minute earlier than it had to.

After a minute the crowd dispersed to their various duties, Mrs. Weasley had gone off murmuring something about making a pot of tea, and Harry found himself alone with Ron and Hermione. The three of them stood grinning at each other for a minute, and then Hermione's smile faded, and she said very seriously, "How are you, really, Harry?"

"Fine, I'm fine," he said, forcing his grin back. "Really. But what's this Granger-Extension spell, they're all talking about?"

Hermione looked for a minute as though she were going to pursue the subject, but just then Ron laughed and her cheeks turned pink. "Really," she said indignantly, "it's the inventor's right to name the spell whatever she pleases, you know. And it's really quite fascinating," she continued, turning to Harry, her eyes shining, "You see, I was reading this book over the summer about Medieval Spells, and variations on them, you know, how they have evolved into modern spells used today, and things like that, and I just started thinking, well, if you can make variations on spells like that, why can't you isolate it completely, make it completely different, almost? It's a similar sort of formula-"

"Hermione," interrupted Ron, "I'm sure Harry is absolutely fascinated with your spell, but I'm sure he'd rather catch up on what's been going on. Right, Harry?"

Harry almost smiled at the way Hermione's face went from angry, to indignant, to serious in the blink of an eye, but the seriousness echoed in Ron's eyes forestalled it. "Yes," he said, "tell me."

"Let's go somewhere a bit more, er, discreet, though, eh?" said Ron, and then turned around and yelled, "MUM! I'M TAKIN' HARRY UP TO OUR ROOM, ALRIGHT?"

"Okay, dear," came Mrs. Weaseley's voice faintly from the kitchen, "Don't disturb your father though, he's talking with Professor McGonagall."

They assured her that they would not bother Mr. Weasley, and trooped up the stairs to Ron's room, dodging the twins who were for some reason racing down them at breakneck speed. "They've been impossible to live with ever since they joined the Order," grumbled Ron.

"They joined-"

"Yeah, but they still won't tell us anything," said Ron glumly.

Once inside Ron's room Harry turned to the other two, and said, "Well. So. Tell me. What's been going on? That hasn't been reported in the Daily Prophet, I mean. I already know that."

"Well," said Hermione briskly, "almost nothing at all, until yesterday morning in fact, from what we can tell. The Order still won't really tell us much of anything, and after Mrs. Weasely found out about the Extendable Ears we lost one of our prime sources of information."

"We do know that Voldemort has organized a headquarters of a sort, although we haven't been able to find out where yet," added Ron.

"Wait," said Harry, "What happened yesterday morning?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

"You didn't read the Prophet this morning?" asked Ron.

"No," said Harry, "It never comes until at least one o'clock."

"We'll tell you more about that later, but listen Harry, we also know that, well," said Hermione, her voice almost a whisper, "They've been trying to figure out how to get into the, the Chamber of Secrets again, Harry. Without using you. We think, well, we think they're looking for something in there." She glanced over her shoulder as if afraid someone was going to overhear them.

"What?" gasped Harry. Images flashed through his brain; a sixteen year old boy, with cold eyes laughed over Ginny's limp form. . .a huge snake rushed at him. . .a phoenix swooped down and. . . Harry shook himself. "Why-?" He swallowed. "Why do they want to go back in there? The basilisk is dead. I killed it. I did!"

"Keep it down, mate," Ron hissed.

"We know you did Harry, we know," said Hermione, "But listen, we-"

"Personally, I don't think they intend to do anything of the sort," said Ron, glancing at Hermione, who was frowning at the interruption. "It's Hermione's idea, although how she made that out, over what we've overheard, I don't know."

"Oh, come on Ron," said Hermione, "What else could it be? They said-"

"I believe you," said Harry quickly, "But what do they want?"

"Well," said Hermione, tentatively, "There wasn't a statue in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry, was there? Of Salazar Slytherin?"

"Actually, yes, there was," said Harry, slowly, "When the basilisk came, it came out of an opening in this huge gigantic statue of him." He grinned, ironically, "It slithered out of Slytherin."

"That's it, then," said Ron, "I guess you were right, Hermione."

"I was! That must be what they're after! I heard Tonks say something about going in through the mouth, and I thought that we must have heard it wrong, but we didn't. Don't you see? They're looking for something else hidden inside that statue. Although how they know about it I certainly don't know."

"I don't think we can figure it out now," said Harry, "But listen, Hermione, have you heard of another prophecy? About me? Or Voldemort? Or anything that might have to do with me?"

"No. . ." said Hermione, "Why?" she and Ron looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"No reason, I just-" Ron crossed his arms. Hermione put her hands on her hips. Harry looked back at them. "Well ,okay, alright," and he told them about his mother's letter.

"From your mum?" gasped Ron.

"How dare your aunt keep that from you?" fumed Hermione, "And no, Harry, I'm sorry, I've no idea what your mum is talking about. You'd better just go ahead and ask Professor Dumbledore. And don't put me off this time about him being too busy. That's rubbish."

"Ron. Hermione. What happened yesterday morning? Tell me."

There was a silence. Then finally Ron said, "There was an attack. A sort of blue bomb went off in the middle of London. Just happened to explode almost on top of the Ministry of Magic."

"What!"

"It appears to be a magical modification on the atom bomb, Harry," explained Hermione, "except more concentrated."

"I don't know what an atom bomb is," said Ron, "But this was bad, Harry. Really bad. It killed loads of people. Fudge told the Muggle Ministry about. . .You-Know-Who, and the Muggle Minister helped him cover it up, so the Muggles think it was some sort of terrorist attack. Weapons of mass distraction, and all that."

"Weapons of Mass Destruction, Ron, honestly."

"Wait," said Harry slowly, "Did it make a sort of -- blue-ish light, really early yesterday morning? Sort of like a, a-"

"Yes," said Hermione, "But, Harry, the entire Ministry of Magic was destroyed."

"What?" He seemed to be saying that a lot, recently. "But your dad, Ron, and, Sturgus Podmore, and Kingsley, and all the Aurors, and -- Percy? How-"

"They're fine, Harry," said Ron quickly, "Someone, well, you're not going to believe this, but someone had pulled the Fire Charm, just minutes before, so practically no one was in the building. They'd all evacuated."

"We think that that means the Order still has a spy among the Death Eaters," said Hermione, "It can't be just coincidence that there was a prank on the Fire Charm that just happened to save hundreds of lives."

"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" called Mrs. Weasley, "I've got the tea ready! With biscuits!"

They looked at each other. "We'll talk later," said Harry, and hurried downstairs, the other two following.

After they escaped from the dining room, and Mrs. Weasley's endless questions about Harry's health, Harry, Ron, and Hermione retreated back to Ron's room,dodging Ginny and the twins, to try and find a quiet place to talk.

Harry sat down in a squashy armchair, Ron reclined on his bed, and Hermione was perched delicately on a rather beaten up wooden chair. "Well," said Harry, "I don't mean to bring up unpleasant subjects, but, er, has anyone heard from Percy?"

Ron rolled his eyes and said, "Not a peep has come from him. Not one owl, saying 'look I'm sorry I was such a git, but I'm begging for your forgiveness. . .' Nothing of the sort, not so we could have the joy of telling him to-" Ron said something that cause Hermione to purse her lips in a very good impression of Professor McGonagall.

"Really," said Hermione, "I think he's just ashamed."

"Speaking of Perfect Percy," said Harry, and Ron snorted, "I suppose you've both, er, heard about the, um, new. . . prefects?" They both nodded looking at him expectantly, so he went on, "So, well, I'm one of them."

"I knew it!" Ron crowed, "Didn't I tell you Hermione? The minute Dad told us, I said, I know who the Gryffindor prefect is going to be, didn't I Hermione?

"Oh, Harry, that's great!" said Hermione, "You have to tell Mrs. Weasley, and everyone, they're going to be so thrilled."

Harry grinned embarrassedly, and there was silence for a moment.

"So tell me," said Harry finally, "Why aren't we in, you know, Grimmauld Place? Why's the Headquarter's moved to the Burrow?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and said, "It's alright, I promise I won't. . .get angry."

Ron snorted. Hermione's lip twitched. "Well," she said, "It's actually rather amusing. Grimmauld Place has been inherited."

"What?" said Harry, startled.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Well, who's got it?" he asked.

"Well, Sirius didn't, er, leave a will, you know, Harry, so it went to the closest living relative."

"Oh no," said Harry, "Not the Malfoys."

"Of course not," said Hermione, disgusted, "No, they Malfoys and the Lestranges are both out of the running because they've spent time in Azkaban. Criminals can't inherit."

"So who did?"

"I'm not actually sure," said Hermione, frowning, "Some foreign relatives, I believe. Anyway, we can't use it anymore."

"Shame," said Ron, "It was really beginning to grow on me."

"Well, what about Kreacher?" asked Harry, "What happened to him?" Harry felt a burning rage at the idea that Kreacher could still be living in the house of the man he killed.

"He's in Azkaban," said Hermione simply.

"What?"

"Yeah," said Ron, "Not good enough for him, I say. I think Dumbledore should have killed the little bugger. Nasty, slimy, son of a-"

"Ron!" said Hermione, "Kreacher didn't know. . ."

"Don't you dare," said Harry, quivering, "say a word in his defense."

Hermione looked at him, did a double take, and backed down. "Oh, alright, he knew exactly what he was doing," she said quickly, "but anyway, Dumbledore didn't want him to be thrown in there, he was really angry."

"So why-"

"Fudge," said Ron, "Fudge needed to show that he was doing something so he threw everyone he could find into Azkaban. Not," he added, "that it's really so terrible there, now that the Dementors have left."

"So Fudge is still Minister?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, "though not for long I don't think."

"Why not?"

"Elections," Hermione said with grim satisfaction, "are in December."