ok, yet another story. ¬¬…xP I cant help having an annoying amount of ideas that take over others…anyway…disclaimer for all chapters up until the next remembered disclaimer – I don't own any of this except the crappy characters never heard of in the original books and the places never described in the actual story. So yeah….lets get goin'!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The journey back to the burrow the day after the funeral was a sombre one. Harry had refused point blank to return to the Dursleys – he hadn't even bothered with going to collect the rest of his meagre possessions; instead leaving his only family to deal with it.

The Weasleys (minus Bill, Fleur and Percy), Harry and Hermione had travelled in silence so still it had screamed in Harrys ears – no one made eye contact; instead preferring to gaze out of the window at the passing scenery or into their laps. Not that Harry minded. He wasn't in the mood to talk or smile The Aurors had provided cars for their journey, preferring that Harry was to travel with those who asked little questions. The route back was an unfamiliar one, full of small, winding country lanes lined by hedges and trees so thick they formed a green, leafy tunnel.

A week later, Harry sat in a steaming bubble bath occupying the Burrows second floor bathroom, trying to get rid of the scene that insisted replaying in his head. Malfoy lowered his wand. Death eaters burst in and Snape moved forward. Dumbledore muttered something, pleaded. Snape raised his wand and mouthed those unforgivable, life ending words. The beam of the spell glowed eerily as it slowly made its way to its destination. Dumbledore went flying over the wall, out of site, out of life. The whole scene moved in silence – words were mouthed, crashes exploded mutely and cruel laughter turned into sickening leers.

Taking a deep breath, Harry slipped down under the water, thankful for the muffled silence it offered against the noisy life of the people he loved so dearly.

0o0

"Do eat something, dear. I know you don't want to go, but doing so on an empty stomach will make it worse." Mrs Weasley said to Harry the next morning at breakfast. He did not reply, instead continued to stare unseeing at his loaded plate in front of him.

"Harry?" a soft voice near his ear and the pressure and warmth of a smaller hand on his own brought him out of the reverie his mind had bestowed upon him. Looking up, his eyes met the warm concern of Ginnys own, and he offered a small smile before releasing his hand and taking a long draught of orange juice.

Although he had been determined that they did not continue with their relationship, a feeling of possession and attraction still lingered between himself and Ginny – something which even he could not break.

The room once again fell into its awkward silence, bar the clanking

of cutlery and the ticking of the clock that Mrs Weasley still carried close to her.

As the silence pressed ever more into Harry, he ground his teeth in annoyance and glared into the empty fire grate. Determined to break it, he glanced around the table at which he sat, attempting to make eye contact.

As he glanced at Hermione, she began staring down fervently at her copy of the daily prophet as though she had found something incredibly interesting, but as her eyes did not move, he could tell she was avoiding talking. Ron, who sat opposite her, stared out of the kitchen window and into the silvery gold glare of the morning sun whilst he chewed on a bit of bacon, completely oblivious to the world around him in the kitchen. Fred and George both gazed glumly down at their plates, making the same, eerie movements – not even the ghost of their general cheerfulness graced their faces. Mr and Mrs Weasley were much the same, although Mr Weasley was also reading the daily prophet. Charlie, last of all sat to the right of his mother and next to Hermione, and seemed deep in concentration.

Giving up the attempt, he sighed and pushed the food around on his plate, occasionally taking small bites when he remembered.

"So Harry, ready to go?" Mr Weasley asked eventually, breaking the suffocating silence easily. He stood up and adjusted his deep blue robes and smiled at the boy in question. Harry nodded and did the same.

"We'll be apparating, if that's alright – floo networks been reserved for incredibly important matters only. We have to apparate in a small alley next to the ministry, however as you can imagine, security has been tightened a hundred fold." Arthur explained as he and Harry made their way to the edge of the wood that lined the village in which the Burrow was situated.

Although Harry now had a licence, Arthur thought it best if he assisted as the apparition point was something Harry had not yet seen, and he did not really want any splinching to take place.

Taking hold of the thin, red headed mans arm, Harry closed his eyes tightly as the familiar sucking and squeezing tightened around him, restricting his breathing…then with a pop, they arrived in a dark, damp badly lit underground tunnel in front of a rather grimy, dull red brick wall.

"Just through here." Arthur said, attempting to sound cheerful and tapping five bricks in a particular order with his wand.

The wall shimmered into a pinkish haze and then disappeared all together, revealing to Harry that he was now standing in the entrance hall of the Ministry for Magic. Looking behind himself, Harry saw that the tunnel had vanished to be replaced with the shiny, dark panelling of the Ministry.

Staring at the bustling room before him, Harry felt a slight saddened tug at his heart. Had it really been only a year or so ago when Dumbledore had fought Voldemort and the death eaters after they had attempted to steal the prophesy in this very room? A year ago since he had heard that prophesy – that prophesy that had sealed his very fate seventeen years ago? A year since his new found friend and godfather had been cruelly snatched away and forced into non – existence in this very real and very twisted world? It made anger course through him to see the wizards and witches that bustled passed acting normally as though nothing had happened here. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts and Harry smiled apologetically at the man – but it died quickly as he realized who it was.

"Ah Harry! Just the boy I wanted to see!" Rufus Scrimgeour exclaimed in a cheerily false voice, his smile not reaching his eyes that stared stonily into Harrys emerald like ones.

"Couldn't wait to meet you, Harry m'boy, had to come and collect you myself!" Harry then couldn't help but notice the Ministers voice raise in volume which in turn caused most people in hearing range to turn and stare with eager eyes even more intently then those who had glanced his scar and whisper with those around them. A few white flashes blinded him for a moment and as the white cleared he scowled and blinked rapidly.

"…and Papaila Periblue will be asking you a few questions, hope you don't mind – oh and I took the liberty of allowing a reporter in – nothing like reassuring the public a, my boy?"

"Huh?" Harry had been so busy trying to find Mr Weasley in the sea of faces that had hovered around him like a swarm of waiting insects, he had not noticed that he was now infront of the elevators, Scrimgeours hand firmly clamped on his upper arm like an iron band.

"Just talking about the aurors who want answers – I know you are probably a bit nervous! Don't worry, don't worry you'll be fine, everythings perfect!"

Harry stared at the man as though he had just sprouted a rather foul boil in the centre of his forehead. Perfect? How were things perfect? 'If he really thinks he's getting anything out of me…' Harry thought, giving him a particularly dirty look as he laughed again at something obviously missed.

"Ministers floor, level twelve." The lift womens voice announced smoothly as the lift shuddered to a halt. The golden gate slid open to reveal a grandiose, circular almost cathedral like entrance hall adorned in so much dazzling black and white marble and granite it made Harrys head spin. He could just about make out several doors implanted in the walls and several corridors running off at intervals along the walls before the iron grip dragged him to eight foot high, heavily gold studded oak doors that opened silently to reveal Scrimgeours office.

This too was circular bar the straight wall directly ahead that held six enormous arced windows that let in so much dazzling sunlight it almost engulfed the Ministers enormous, neatly organized desk. The floor again was marble, though this time in checkerboard fashion – the large black squares bordered with a thin strip of gold and the walls were panelled in dark oak. To the left of Harry stood a gigantic black marble fire place that would have comfortably taken Hagrid and his brother. A large black leather sofa and two arm chairs stood in front of this, and hanging above the mantle piece was a painting of a castle that looked so remarkably like Hogwarts Harry supposed it could have been – though no life seemed to be in the picture and only the occasional cloud floating by gave it away as magical.

Opposite this were several more sofas and armchairs in a square, stood infront of inbuilt bookcases. The seats were occupied by an assortment of people Harry didn't recognise.

"Do sit!" Scrimgeour exclaimed with his forced cheeriness, dragging Haryy into an empty chair and sitting to his direct left in another.

"I really don't see the point in this. I've already told you that what Dumbledore and I were doing is between us. I'm only going to tell you what happened at the tower." Harry said lifting his chin defiantly, before anyone could open their mouths. The room froze momentarily in shocked silence, the three middle aged Aurors, pristine blonde reporter and Minister for Magic all rather taken back at the speech Harry had just firmly put across.

Clearing his throat and laughing somewhat nervously, Rufus clapped Harry on the shoulder and said

"Of course, of course! That's what we agreed on, don't you worry!" he smiled around, but it never reached his eyes and Harry had a hard time fighting the urge to hex the man.

"So before we begin, may I offer anyone a beverage? Here you are Harry." The Minister waved his wand and a tray of pumpkin juice appeared on the polished coffee table then pushed a glass into Harry's hand before he could protest.

Looking toward the Aurors, he noticed that no-one else had yet taken a sip from their own glasses – instead had taken to staring at him in anticipation.

Glaring at the mousey haired witch directly infront, he put down the offending drink, which had suddenly occurred to him as being spiked with veritaserum, sat back and folded his arms.

Clearing his throat again, Scrimgeour took a gulp of his own and looked directly at Harry.

"well, if you could recount the events of that fateful night? I do apologize for forcing you to do so again, but we really must get this put into the records."

Harry now admitted defeat – he understood that the Aurors needed all the help they could get in order to end the pending battle. Taking in a sighing breath, he began to recount the night in question.

"And…and that's what happened. I don't think….I just wish that he had let me stay mobile. I just don't understand."

The Aurors had been listening intently, the sandy blond wizard to the right of Harry taking down notes at an alarming speed.

"That's it, is it? Sure you won't have a drink?" Scrimgeour said hastily, gesturing toward Harry's untouched glass. Sighing impatiently, Harry stood up and glared down at the Minister, irritance clear in the emerald depths.

"Do you really think I would be so stupid to drink something spiked with veritaserum? I may not be the smartest boy on the planet, but I am not naive. I'll see myself out." Before anyone could even utter a sound, he strode across the room, wrenched open the door and slammed it as hard as he could.

Glaring at anyone who stared, Harry continued his angered walk across the cool hall, clenching his fists as anger boiled inside him. How dare he try and trick him into telling something he knew very well he was not to know?

"Potter! There you are!" Harry turned suddenly, frowning as he recognised the voice of someone who shouldn't be there. McGonagall hurried over to him, wisps of greying hair stuck at awkward angles from her bun giving the impression she was rather rushed and stressed, clutching at a large wooden crate.

"Hello professor. I didn't expect you to be here." Harry replied, his anger subsiding at seeing a familiar and well respected face.

"Yes, well I have a meeting with the school governors in a moment, and rather hoped I'd see you – Scrimgeour informed me of your meeting and I have something you need."

She held out the crate, casting it a slightly curious gaze as Harry grasped the sides carefully. It was not too heavy and from the slight clinking noise that the inside made when moved, he could tell it contained several items.

"We found it pre-packaged and labelled to you in Dumbledores private quarters two days after the funeral. I do hope that they are something you can use." McGonagall stopped for a moment and sighed, her face truly showing her age for a second as she looked at Harry sympathetically. "well I must be off, the meeting begins in a moment. See you later Harry." with a last glance she turned on her heel and marched off back up the passageway without a backward glance. Harry watched her retreating form, feeling strangely alone. Shaking his head, he turned and walked into the lift, the golden gates closing behind him with a resounding clang. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall as the elevators cool voice told him his destination.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Well – there you go! Second chapter is in working progress- I cant guarantee exactly when it will appear – perhaps we can get Harry you conjure it up, x) ay Harry?