-- Simply Complicated –

Chapter One
Predictability

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

"This is not happening," Harry said dazedly; he closed his eyes and gripped his head, seriously fearing for his sanity. He wished he was right: This was not happening; he was not in 1977; Ron's life was not in danger; Ginny was not at home without him; the Death Eaters had not escaped; Albus Dumbledore was not in front of him, alive.

He gripped the sheets of his bed so tightly his knuckles turned white. He felt himself swaying slightly and steadied himself, trying to keep composure. He sucked in a deep breath, and then another.

Okay. He was stuck in a time where his parents, his godfather, his almost-godfather, the person who betrayed his parents, his headmaster, and Voldemort were all still alive, and he wasn't even born yet. Great. Fantastic. He could handle this, no problem. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Twice, the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Defeater of the Dark Lord – he could handle this.

Right?

Harry let his head fall back and pressed his hands into his face. No, he couldn't handle this. He was stuck in a time consumed by darkness with no way to get back home. He might have to end up killing Voldemort, destroying his Horcruxes, again (Just that slim, slim possibility made him want to curl up into a ball and cry).

He really wished he'd called in sick that morning.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Seven Hours Earlier…

OR

Twenty-Seven and A-Quarter Years Later…

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

A cackle of mirthless, high-pitched laughter, red eyes blazing –

"Avada Kedavra!"

A heavy, horrible, sickening, thump – footsteps – the sounds of desperate scrabbling around – a thrown-open door banging against the wall – a red-headed woman dropping a last kiss on her son's forehead, a forehead without a scar –

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –"

"This is my last warning –"

"Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything –"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

Red eyes narrowing in anger and frustration – a pleading, tear-streaked face –

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry jerked awake, bolting upright. Morning sunlight was streaming in through a gap in the curtains; a single ray was shining into his face, and instead of waking him up, it irritated him more than anything else. He ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair and inhaled deeply.

He felt the mattress move and looked down, but Ginny didn't wake up, only rolled over onto her other side. Harry smiled at her, scooting further back under the covers and propping himself up on one elbow. Moments like these were his favorite, when he could just watch Ginny sleep peacefully. Her steady breathing calmed him, cleared his head; he appreciated them almost beyond anything else, these simple little nothings that wouldn't have mattered to anyone else. Small moments like these wouldn't be around much longer, he knew.

With a sigh, Harry tore his gaze away from Ginny and got out of bed. He had a big day ahead of him.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

"Got everything?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright…"

"Ginny, I'll be fine."

Harry was used to this routine: Every time he left before a major mission, Ginny would worry herself silly, no matter how much he assured her that he would be fine. The first time he had asked her why she was so scared for him, she had turned away, mumbling something about how she couldn't "lose you again". After that, he accepted it, recognizing at the right times when to pull her into his arms and whisper promises into her hair.

"You'd better be careful, Harry," Ginny told him, attempting to be stern – she failed miserably. Her eyes were duller than usual, she was paler, and she was not smiling at him like she normally would before he left for work.

"I always am," said Harry. "Don't worry, Gin." He dropped a kiss on top of her head as she hugged him. "I could never leave you – especially not now."

She half-beamed, half-grimaced at him and pecked him on the lips. "Get going," she said. "Save the world for me."

"Been there, done that," Harry said cheekily, and he grinned at her before Apparating.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Harry slammed his fist down onto the wooden table in front of him; Landhart's mug of coffee toppled over and spilled, dribbling down onto the floor.

"Pay attention," he snapped.

Alex Landhart was a very tall man, but as he was sitting down, his height did nothing to help his intimidation at the moment. This was the first time Harry had been teamed up with Alex Landhart, and the gravity of the situation made it no easier to become fast friends with him.

Landhart made a sour face at him. "You're not the boss of me," he growled childishly.

"Actually, Landhart," said Harry, enjoying the moment more than he knew he should, "I am. Robards put me in charge –"

"He put you and Weasley in charge, last I heard!" Landhart argued.

"Yeah, and Weasley declared me unofficial leader," said Harry calmly, but he injected an edge into his voice that made Landhart shut his mouth and pout like a five-year-old (Harry knew from experience). Sighing, yet also smirking in satisfaction, Harry rubbed his face and walked back to the front of the room to the board he had set up.

He swept his eyes over the squad assembled in the meeting room in the Auror department of the Ministry. Ron was nearest him; in one of the two chairs at the head of the long table, his face was as set, determined, and freckly as ever. On Ron's right, on the side, sat one of Harry's other most trusted partners: Jackson Wilson had entered the department with Harry. Over the years, they had developed a friendship that consisted of insults thrown back and forth throughout the day, and joking about it over butterbeers at the Leaky Cauldron after work or at lunch. Jackson was from the States – Chicago, he'd said – and was a lot shorter than Harry, but at the same time appeared so much taller. He demanded respect, and most of the time, he earned it. On Jackson's right was Erica Fisher, who, although he had only worked with her once before, was one of the most sarcastic people Harry had ever met. She reminded him a little of Tonks, with her bubbly personality, and it only made her that much easier to like. Across from Erica was Landhart, and next to him was his partner, Bruce Peterson. Bruce had remained almost completely silent since the briefing had started, and that didn't seem likely to change. All the same, Harry had confidence in him if he could put up with Landhart.

"Alright," Harry said. "Today, we're going after the Lestranges. Please tell me you know who they are."

Bruce and Landhart were the only ones who didn't nod. Harry's jaw clenched. He heaved another tired sigh. If he had slept only ten minutes later…

"They're known for painfully skilled use of the Cruciatus Curse," he told them with difficulty. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ron grimace. "Rodolphus and Rabastan are brothers – Rodolphus' wife Bellatrix was killed back in '98, after the huge breakout from Azkaban. They were put in for the first place because they helped torture the Longbottoms." The image of Alice Longbottom, eyes dark and empty, forced its way into his mind's eye and he mentally shuddered. "They're brutal, they're desperate, and will not hesitate to do the same to you."

"How would you know?" Landhart asked him obnoxiously.

"I know Bellatrix," Harry said simply, shrugging. He tried to fight off the rage that was building inside of him; Bellatrix Lestrange stirred up bad – horrible – memories, and Landhart was not helping that frustration. "And let me tell you – not fun."

The other Aurors cracked grins, but Harry shared an uneasy glance with Ron, whose eyes were burning with obvious hatred. Harry gave him a slight nod: I know.

"Anyway, we've tracked them to a shut-down store in Knockturn Alley. I have a feeling they're more powerful than Robards thinks, because we've done a sweep of Knockturn so many times it's not even funny and they weren't there. I had a bad feeling about that building, and… Ron?"

Ron sat back, crossing his arms. "I checked the place out a few months ago. It seemed pretty normal, a little dusty, nothing big – at least, until I checked the ceiling."

There was a pause. Then –

"Why the bloody hell would you check the ceiling?" Landhart asked with a snort.

Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "It was just… I dunno, like Harry said, it was weird. I cast a Reductor Curse at it, which would have blasted through the roof of a normal building, and it rebounded. Nearly took my head off."

"We had to get a whole investigation going," Harry picked up. "It was a mess. They tried everything – no results. There's something funny going on with that place, and I'd bet that there's some kind of… passageway, or something, that's letting the Lestranges get in unseen."

"A passageway?" repeated Erica skeptically.

Harry threw his arms up in a mixture of frustration and exasperation. "I've no idea, it's just a feeling."

"And his feelings are usually right," said Ron.

Jackson threw a wry grin at him. "You would know, Weasley."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, I would. You don't know how many times this git's pulled me into some crazy thing where I'd think he was a complete nutter, and it turns out he's right."

"Get used to it, Ronnie," said Harry lightly. The others sniggered. Ron glared at Harry. Harry ignored him.

"The plan is," he said, "to surprise them. They've gotten careless – they've been sighted three times in the past ten days. They think they're safe – which they will be, in Azkaban."

Everyone, even Landhart, grinned at him. He returned it.

"Alright," Harry said loudly, clapping his hands together and turning to his board, "here's the plan…"

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Knockturn Alley was as deserted as it usually was, with little to no pedestrians to worry about. Diagon Alley, however, was quite bustling, which the squad judged by the steady hum of shoppers making their rounds to Eeylops or Quality Quidditch Supplies, or whatever else they needed to get done. It was disconcerting to Harry that all of those innocent people had no idea just how much danger they could be in if two Death Eaters were in such close proximity.

He inhaled deeply, looking to make sure everyone was in position. He received thumbs-up all around.

"Here we go, Potter," he mumbled to himself under his breath.

Harry walked further down the pathway, pulling the hood of his cloak up and sticking his hands in his pockets, one fist still curled around his wand. He saw a quick movement on one of the rooftops and smirked slightly. This just might work, he thought.

He stopped in front of an old building. He couldn't read the name; it had long since faded into nonexistence, but he knew that it had to have had something to do with the Dark Arts and the like. Glancing around and trying to look as suspicious as possible, Harry slid his wand out of his pocket. He tried the door.

Locked.

He tapped the side of his leg with his wand as though in impatience, purposefully making orange sparks shoot out. He heard more scrambling of feet on rooftops, a heavy-yet-not-so-heavy thump, and Ron was next to him.

"What now?" he muttered into Harry's ear.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "We go in," he said, as though it were obvious.

"But if it's locked –"

Harry interrupted him with a raised hand. He backed away from the front of the shop and looked up. He could see Erica, Jackson, Bruce and Landhart on the roofs of two other shops, where he told them to be; he beckoned Erica closer to the edge of her roof to where he couldn't be heard if there was anybody on the inside.

"Get on top of the place," he told her quietly. "Our element of surprise isn't going to be as great as it was, but we'll manage. As soon as you hear a spell fired, get in there."

"And if I don't hear a spell fired?"

Harry thought for a moment. "If we're not out in two minutes, come on in anyway. Tell the others."

"What are you –"

He stopped her from saying anything more by promptly walking away, preventing any arguments. He threw a sharp look over his shoulder at her. Erica rolled her eyes, but moved to do as he wished.

"Wand out," he mumbled to Ron.

"Plan on telling me anything?" Ron asked him; Harry could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Nope," said Harry. "Just follow my lead."

He saw Ron's eyebrows raise, but kept quiet about it.

Harry took another deep breath.

He kicked open the door.

He was over the threshold before Ron could even begin to splutter incoherently, turning in every which direction to be sure he wouldn't be attacked from behind. He heard Ron's footfalls enter the dust-layered building and relaxed a little, but at the same time tensed.

The front room was deserted. There were empty shelves, now white with the absence of merchandise, lining the walls; a counter, L-shaped, stood in between two curtained doorways, the latter of which Harry tried not to focus on: Veiled arches reminded him of the same things Bellatrix did.

Harry saw Ron tilt his head at one of the curtains, and then nod at the other. Harry understood: I'll take this one, you take that one.

His hands were sweating; he shifted his grip on his wand, approaching the dark, plum, velvet fabric. It, like everything else in the place, was peppered with dust, although it, unlike everything else in the place, was also moth-eaten and frayed. It seemed to be nothing more than a rag.

Harry slid it to one side. He stuck his head into the room, and looked to his left to find Ron doing the exact same thing. He grinned in spite of the situation and entered the room fully. It had stone walls, which looked almost blue, stone floors, and a stone ceiling. There were four large crates, stacked to create a cube, in the center of the room, pushed against the back wall. One thing that made him weary: The wood looked brand-new. It unnerved him.

"Go get the others," he muttered to Ron. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Don't you always?" he heard Ron grumble to himself under his breath, but he could also hear the smile in the complaint.

It took only a few seconds for Jackson to come bounding in, looking frantically around for anything that needed taking care of. He and Harry nodded at each other.

That was the most enthusiastic acknowledgement Harry received out of his squad. The other Aurors walked in calmly.

"What's the plan, Stan?" Jackson asked him. Harry gave him a look; he rolled his eyes.

"Help me move these boxes," said Harry.

"He's gone mental," mumbled Landhart.

"A little late for that," said Ron and Jackson together. They moved and shoved the crates to the corner of the room, as Harry directed them. Once they were there, they moved back and saw a flight of steps leading downward.

"That wasn't here last time," said Ron, blinking.

"C'mon," murmured Harry quietly. "Be ready. They're going to be down here. I can feel it."

Harry heard a snort – even though he couldn't see him, he knew it was Landhart. He started forward, but hadn't even reached the fifth step down when he felt someone grab his shoulder.

"Mate," said Ron sternly, "you are not going down there first. Not this time."

Harry had rarely heard Ron use that tone before, but when he did, it was usually for something that had Harry's best interests at heart. Harry was sure what it was for this time, so he let his friend lead the way and followed after him, not missing Erica, Landhart, and Bruce's confused expressions and Jackson's happy, knowing smile.

It was pitch-dark in the basement – was it really a basement? Harry wondered – and even illuminating their wands didn't do much to boost their eyesight.

"Here," said Bruce suddenly, the first Harry had heard him speak. His voice was deep and gravely. "Lumos Maxima." A ball of light soared from his wand and hovered in the center of the room.

"Nice," he heard Erica mutter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw a movement.

"Stupefy!"

The red light lit up everything it passed as it traveled through the air, eventually disappearing into nothing when it hit a wall, next to which were more crates. Convenient, he thought dryly. Only a second later he saw a golden jet of light come shooting at Erica.

"Protego," he muttered quietly; the yellow spell ricocheted back to its caster, who Harry glimpsed ducking before it gave him a face full.

"Rodolphus! Rabastan!" he said loudly. "Get out here and save us the trouble of kicking your arses!"

"Not likely, Potter," a taunting voice said. Landhart shot a spell at where he thought the source of the voice was and missed completely.

Harry rolled his eyes. If they wanted to play the hard way, then so be it.

"Now!"

Immediately, the other five shot spells in every which direction – he heard Bruce say, "Lumos Maxima" again and the basement was fully lit; Erica said, "Petrificus Totalus!" but was blocked by a Shield Charm of the Lestrange's own and got hit instead; Harry muttered, "Finite," before she could topple over; Jackson was sending a series of multiple offensive spells around the basement, hoping to hit something; Landhart, Harry had to admit, was doing a good job of keeping track of where the brothers moved behind the crates; Ron was blowing up the crates with an onslaught of Reductor Curses, minimizing the Death Eaters' hiding spots.

Finally, the last crate was destroyed, and Rodolphus and Rabastan were revealed, mouths curled up into identical sneers, one's pose mirrored by the other.

"Stupefy!" said Harry.

Rodolphus sidestepped easily, returning with an obviously un-practiced, "Sectumspempra!" He made wild slashing movements over Jackson. Harry plowed him to the ground, just in case.

The other Aurors were still firing spells. Harry could not figure out for the life of him how the brothers were dodging everything that was thrown at them. Unless, he thought, understanding dawning as Jackson scrambled back to his feet, these weren't them…

Harry hopped up and all-out sprinted across the wood-strewn basement, ducking under only the occasional curse.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing?"Ron bellowed at him. Harry answered by punching Rabastan in the gut. He dissolved into thin air, followed shortly by his brother.

"Oh," said Ron. "I thought…" He shook his head. "You can't do stuff like this anymore, mate."

Harry nodded grimly. "I know."

"ARGH!"

They spun around: The real Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were dragging Erica and Jackson, who were looking groggy, with their arms around their necks, wands to their temples; Landhart and Bruce were on the floor, unconscious. Both of them swore under their breaths.

"What are you going to do now, Potter?" taunted Rabastan.

Ron raised his wand, but Harry put a hand on his forearm. Ron shot him a startled look; Rodolphus laughed.

"That's right, Weasley. Don't make any decisions you might – ah – regret." His grip around Erica tightened.

"Drop your wands!" Rabastan commanded.

The two Aurors did so.

"Gee," said Harry, "I wonder who wears the pants in this relationship. Ron?"

"It's hard to tell, Harry," Ron agreed.

"Shut up!" the brothers snarled at the same time. Harry and Ron smirked.

Rabastan narrowed his eyes. "I doubt you would still be smiling if I let slip" – he gripped his wand tighter, jabbing it deeper into Jackson's skull – "a little curse, now, would you?"

Harry's jaw clenched. He took a step forward.

"Harry," muttered Ron seriously, so only Harry could hear him.

"Don't move, Potter," said Rodolphus with authority.

Harry took another step.

"I swear to Merlin – " said Ron.

"Potter, I'm warning you," said Rodolphus.

Another step. He was almost within a leaping range.

"– if you do something stupid –"

"Stay back, Potter!"

He was in arms' reach.

"– and leave my sister without you –"

"Are you deaf? I said stay back!" yelled Rodolphus in frustration. "Depulso!"

The Banishing Charm was a lot stronger than Harry expected: It lifted him off his feet, and he slammed hard into the opposite wall. The back of his head hurt; he felt it and dimly registered something hot and sticky there, dribbling down his back and onto his shirt.

"Damn it!" he heard Ron swear vehemently. "Stupefy!" Harry struggled to his feet as Rodolphus deflected the Stunner with a flick of his wand.

Rabastan groaned impatiently. "That's it! Let's end this! Expulso!"

"NO!" shouted Harry. "Protego!"

He was still not fully aware of himself, the result being that his Shield Charm was much weaker than normal. The Blasting Curse was slowed and powered down by his barrier, but not enough. It hit Ron full in the chest and sent him flying backward just as Harry had. Harry ran past him, noticing as he did so, with a sickened, horrified lurch of his stomach, that Ron's front was shockingly scarlet, and that his friend was completely motionless.

Harry bent down to his lower leg, tearing his spare wand away from its straps. He pointed it at Rabastan. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Incarcerous!" His spells were fired in such quick succession and now in such power that the Death Eater had no time to react before he was disarmed, unconscious, and tied up. Jackson was now still and on the ground; he was moaning slightly, however, and despite the fact that it probably meant he was in pain, Harry took it as a good sign that Jackson could feel anything at all.

Rodolphus let out a bellow of rage. He threw Erica to the ground behind him, where she lay limply. "Crucio!"

Harry fell to his knees, trying to keep a hold of where he was. He bit on his lip in his attempt to remain silent. He dimly registered Rodolphus mutter something else he couldn't hear, and his eyes closed as the agony doubled. Immediately, images flashed before his eyelids: Ginny, deathly pale, in the Chamber; Hermione, lying on a bed in the hospital wing, Petrified; the crack of Ron's broken leg as Sirius dragged him into the Whomping Willow; Cedric, eyes open and glassy, his face still mirroring determination and confusion and fear all mixed into one; Hermione, wincing when she moved suddenly over a month after the Department of Mysteries; Ron, always wearing long sleeves to hide the scars on his arms; Sirius, falling backward into the veil, innocently shocked – Harry was screaming by this point, screaming in physical and emotional pain, and he could feel tears running into his open mouth – Ron, terrifyingly still, because there had not been a bezoar; Snape's self-loathing as Dumbledore was suspended, broken, in mid-air before he plummeted down, down; Hermione, screaming, as Bellatrix tortured her into insanity; Fred, the ghost of his last laugh still etched into his face; Remus and Tonks, hands entwined, lying peacefully; Colin, so, so small in his death; his parents: Lily telling him he had been so brave, James telling him they were proud of him, that they would be with him until the end; Ginny, as still as Cedric, because Bellatrix's curse had not missed; Ginny, now, dead, her hands folded over her middle; his father, telling his mother to run, that he would hold Voldemort off without a wand in his hand; his mother, pleading for her son's life before she was murdered –

Harry was beginning to lose sense of where he was and who he was and even when he was. His nails were clawing at his face, trying to escape the memories, of what could have happened, and what did happen, and blood was dribbling down his cheeks from the cuts, mingling with the tears that would not stop falling… Harry could not remember anything about Ginny or anyone else, and because of that he wished it would end, wished it as wholly as he had when he had lost all hope when Fred had died. He would be with his family at last…

Family.

The thought somehow threw off the Cruciatus Curse. Harry found himself curled up into a ball, his knees nearly tucked under his chin. He was facing Ron, and when he regained his vision he felt his insides go cold: He couldn't see that Ron's chest was still rising and falling. He was shaking so much he could barely move, but despite that he tried to push himself up. He fell back right away, his right arm completely useless. He grunted loudly in pain when he fell back on it.

Harry crawled over to his wand – both of them – and then to Ron. His eyes were half-open, and his breathing was shallow, but it was something. "Ron, don't die on me," he whispered frantically, staring at the mess Rabastan had made of his friend. The fronts of his robes were in complete tatters, revealing a mess of torn flesh, blood shining gruesomely. "Don't you dare give up now, Ron Weasley."

Ron's eyelids flickered. Harry snapped his gaze up to meet Ron's, and wanted to cry again with what he saw: The bright blue hue Ron's eyes usually were had dulled drastically. Harry, of all people, knew what dull eyes meant.

"Harry…" muttered Ron.

"Ron, you aren't going to leave Hermione," said Harry, as half-angry, half-terrified tears started to pool in his eyes. "Your mum lost one son to Death Eaters. Don't make it two." His voice broke.

Ron's eyes slid closed again, but he was still breathing.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Vulnera Sanentur," he whispered: Some of Ron's colossal wound healed, and some of the blood returned to his body, so it was no longer so, so, so deathly pale, but not enough to definitely save his life. Left-handed and weak did nothing for him.

Knowing he had done all he could do, Harry looked over his shoulder to a sight he hadn't expected: Landhart was up, fighting both of the Lestrange brothers. Rabastan had obviously been untied and Reenervated by his brother, and as his gaze darted around his surroundings, it landed on Harry, and he received one of the deadliest glares he had ever even seen given.

"Ferula," muttered Harry, pointing his wand at his useless arm. A splint appeared out of nowhere and attached itself to his forearm, where he assumed the break was. He saw Jackson, Erica, and Bruce stirring, too, wondering what had happened. They took in the situation: Ron, on the floor and drenched in blood; Landhart, handling the Death Eaters; and Harry, on his knees, propped up mostly by his left arm, still trembling, gritting his teeth in pain. Shaking their heads to shake away their confusion, they snatched up their wands, moving toward the fight. Erica, however, came over to Ron.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Blasting Curse," Harry managed to get out. "I got a Shield Charm up, but I wasn't fully paying attention."

"And you?"

"Cruciatus" – Erica gasped – "and something else… something…" He trailed off, standing up. "Take care of Ron. Whatever you do, do not let him die. It means more to me – to his whole family – than you could ever understand."

"Harry –"

"I'm going in."

And he did. What Harry currently lacked in aim with his violent shaking and awkward forced left-handedness, he made up for in the power behind his spells. Rodolphus had to redirect a Reductor Curse up to the ceiling, which trembled dangerously.

Harry would never fully understand how it happened.

He could see Jackson, Bruce, and Landhart, sweat gleaming on their brows, about to each dodge a hex or curse. He could see Erica moving swiftly toward him, staying low to avoid being hit, her face pale and eyes filled with a nervousness that only came with telling bad news. He could see Ron, chest rising and falling more rapidly now, and he could see Rodolphus and Rabastan, snarling like wildcats.

Some sort of connection seemed to pass between the brothers: They nodded to each other. Stopping their constant spell casting, they wordlessly moved the rest of Harry's squad to the far side of the room. Highly suspicious and keeping on the very tips of his toes, Harry jumped to the side to avoid Rodolphus' Stunner; his still quivering legs gave out under him and he landed hard on his broken arm.

Seizing the opportunity, the brothers shouted together, "Temporalius!" pointing their wands at Harry. At once, he began to glow orange, at first only slightly, but then to the point where they couldn't even see his outline. Nobody spoke – they couldn't.

There was an ear-splitting BANG! followed by a drawn-out cry of pure, unhindered, indescribable agony.

Silence.

Rodolphus and Rabastan were gone. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Where he had lain only moment before was a lonely splint.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Well, there it is! The first chapter of the new-and-improved version of Simply Complicated is UP! I tried really, really, really hard to get it finished by 2010, but my schedule had other plans for me, and here I am.

I've gotta say, I love this version already so much more than the old one. Literally as soon as I upload this I'm going to get started on the second chapter. I won't have as much time on my hands as break ends on Monday, so it'll be back to school and more homework and less time with the computer. Don't worry, though – with any luck I can knock it out of the way this weekend. I promise it'll be up in the next three weeks (Sorry for the long estimate. I just always tell myself, 'Next week… next week… next week…' and then it ends up never getting done).

Now, just a little something to say…

If you loved this story before, thank you for Alerting it, Favoriting it, etc., etc. I hope you enjoy this new version as much as I already do. If you are just now joining the party… hold on tight.

POP QUIZ!

Virtual cookie to anyone who can tell me when it is in Harry's time and why Ron is being so overprotective of him. It's kinda obvious, but at the same time not so obvious. It might just be obvious to me, because I know what to look for… Hmm… Suspicousness…

Thanks for re-joining or joining the reading of this story! Enjoy the ride!

(The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and all of the bajillions of people that helped her publish, edit, etc., the books. If I had a dollar for every book I have published, and it was my only money, I would be broke. (That spelling doesn't look right to me. Is it?) I am not making money off of this story, although it would be really awesome if I were.)