Harry Potter and the Will O' The Wisp

by SwordnQuill

Dudley Dursley isn't going to let "I don't think you're a waste of space" be the last words he ever says to his cousin. Not after Harry saved his life and his soul. Harry Potter is finally attending his Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Will he be able to recapture the love of the castle he called home or will the past continue to haunt him day and night even in this magical place?

1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Will O' The Wisp

It had been just over a year since Dudley Dursley had seen his cousin, though it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. From the moment the Dursleys had been told that the war was over and they could return home Dudley had been trying to reach out to Harry. Every night for weeks when he was sure his parents were asleep he'd try something else. He'd already tried calling out to the owls in the back garden, clutching his letter in his hand but none of them would go near the large boy as he danced about wildly trying to get their attention. One night he'd built a fire, in what was now a functioning fire place, and shouted Harry's name into it for the better part of an hour. And as recently as August 1st he'd gone to King's Cross, ran straight at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, was mercifully halted by an odd looking woman in a cerulean blue top hat, and had his memory of the whole thing before being put in a cab.

Dudley took a deep breath as he stood at the kitchen door. There was nothing else for it. He had to talk to his mother. As he walked in he found her happily cleaning the top of the refrigerator. His father would be working late tonight, which he was grateful for. She beamed at his entrance.

"Can I get you anything Diddykins? A snack to take out to the telly?" Dudley waved her off.

"No thanks, Mum. I just…I just wanted to talk to you- to ask you something." His mother's smile stayed fixed on her face (Likely because she couldn't imagine what her darling son was about to ask her) as she climbed down to sit at the gleaming table.

"Mum I..," he tried to jump right into it but the words got stuck on the way out. Like a car spinning its wheels in the mud. He could walk away right now and they'd never have to talk about any of it. 'No,' he thought. 'No more easy ways out.'

"Mum I want to get in touch with Harry." Petunia Dursley's body seized up in one great twitch, her vapid smile never leaving her frozen face.

"What was that dear?" Dudley, who was quite unnerved by his mother's lack of emotion, tried again.

"I'd like t-to talk to my cousin. Please." Her gaze fell down to the table as she began to arrange and rearrange the place settings.

"Why would you want to do something like that darling? We're finally rid of him." He had to admit it had been really nice to not have his parents so tense all the time, ready to explode at any moment. 'But that wasn't Harry's fault,' said a very tiny and very unfamiliar voice at the back of his mind.

"There are things- things I've been thinking about since we were in hiding. I just need to tell him I'm sorry." Petunia clasped his hands from across the table, tears and pride swimming in her eyes.

"Oh my sweet boy! Such a kind heart. You have nothing to apologize for Diddydums!" She went blathering on. "He was an awful little boy who ruined everything for you. You were just defending yourself!" Dudley dropped his mother's hands as though they had burned him, her smile faltered for the first time. If she had at least been delusional enough to believe what she was saying he could've mustered up some pity for her. But she wasn't. It was written all over her face. She'd wanted Harry to hurt.

"Are you mad?" He'd never spoken to his mother that way but his words were now being fueled by the flicker of anger and frustration that had begun to burn at his throat and lick at his insides.

"We locked him in a cupboard. We starved him!"

"We had to suppress him Dudley," she said in a harsh whisper as though there were a listening device somewhere in the walls. "You don't know what he could've done to us!" Dudley was getting a bit incensed at this point.

"He wasn't going to do anything to us. He just wanted us to be his family. He-he loved us Mum, back at the start. And even after all we did to him he cared about us enough to keep us safe while HE was out there risking his neck to save us all!" Dudley gripped his hair and started pacing around the room, his distorted figure being reflected back at him from every shinning surface like some cheap fun house. He hadn't expected to be this emotional. When next he spoke his voice was as hard and flat as the counter top.

"What if it had been me?" Mrs. Dursley was genuinely confused.

"What if I had been born with magick?" His mother gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

"My Aunt was a Witch, clearly it's in our blood somewhere. Would you have locked me away? Given me away perhaps?"

"Dudley we would never-we love you." He didn't believe her.

"Then why couldn't you love him?" She stared unseeingly at the fruit bowl and whispered, "Because he took her from me."

"What?"

Petunia leveled a gaze at her son.

"Voldemort came after her because of Harry. He killed her because of Harry. We lived in constant danger because of Harry. You nearly had your soul sucked out by a dementor! All. Because. Of. Harry." Dudley came back to the table and squeezed her hands.

"But none of that was his fault Mummy. He didn't want any of those things to happen." The hard look in her eyes told him nothing had changed. He sighed.

"I need to talk to him, Mum. And if I have to stand in the middle of London shouting his name until someone carts me away I will."

"You wouldn't."

He chuckled humorlessly. "I've been throwing tantrums my whole life. One more won't kill me." They sat for a moment in silence as the wars raged on in Petunia's mind.

"You can write to him at Hogwarts."

"But I don't have an owl."

"They have- their sort stationed at the post office. It will get to the Headmaster."

"How do you kno-" Without another word Petunia rose from the table and practically ran up the stairs to her room.

Minerva McGonagall didn't typically frequent The Leaky Cauldron (it really wasn't to her tastes) but this wasn't exactly a typical meeting. She'd never expected the boy to care a whit about his cousin let alone deduce how to contact her of all people. But his letter had sounded sincere, if a little disjointed, so she had sent a reply which contained a day pass to the magickal pub. When worn it would allow his muggle eyes to find the entrance. Presently the roughly hewn door opened hesitantly and a very large, very blonde young man stepped in. Dressed in clean pressed pants and a crisp green checked shirt with the M.O.M day pass around his neck Dudley stuck out like a troll at a house elf convention. Professor McGonagall met his eyes with a polite smile and motioned him over. He looked very relieved.

"Mr. Dursley I presume?"

"Oh no that's my fath- oh! Yes mam. That's- that's me." The boy thought she'd been referring to his father. His size belied how young he truly was. Yet despite his nervousness, and his youth, his early arrival and smart choice of muggle attire indicated that he was taking this seriously. She respected that.

"Would you care for a drink?" Dudley quickly flashed back to the last magickal drink he'd refused and concluded that he wasn't too keen on being beaten over the head again.

"Yes! Thank you." The Headmistress motioned to the toothless old bartender who bustled over with a Gilly Water and a mug of Butterbeer. Knowing it would seem rude if he hesitated Dudley took a long swig from the steaming mug.

"Wow!" Warmth flushed every inch of him and all his muscles seemed to unknot at once.

"Quite. Now to business I think." She adjusted her spectacles. "I must say when I first received your letter I thought someone was having me on." She took a small sip between pursed lips. "I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that when Harry spoke of his family- well, it wasn't with a very pleasant air."

"No mam. I'm sure it wasn't." Dudley couldn't meet her eyes as he clutched his mug with both hands. "I can't change the things I did. I expect I'll regret them for the rest of my life. But with some help I can change who I am now…and who I'm going to be."

"Admirable sentiments Mr. Dursley but I fail to see how taking up a grounds keeping assistant post at Hogwarts would aid in this venture." Dudley fidgeted with his day pass as a group of boisterous middle aged wizards whirled into the pub ordering a round of drinks. He spoke quietly as a chair scrapped across the floor.

"I'm sorry Mr. Dursley?"

"I can't go back to them," he said a bit more firmly than intended. "They're going to pamper and spoil me just like they've always done. I'll never be able to get out from under them. I'll never be able to change." Professor McGonagall remained skeptical.

"You realize that as Professor Hagrid's assistant you would not be living in the castle but in a rather small hut on the grounds? Not to mention the job itself, which is very labor intensive. Helping to maintain the grounds of a magickal school isn't exactly cutting the grass on a Sunday."

"Yes mam. I understand." She looked at the young muggle curiously. He hadn't even flinched at the thought of not being able to live in the luxury of the castle.

"You also realize that you will be assisting the very man who once gave you a pig's tail and frightened you half to death? A man who reveres your cousin like his personal hero." Dudley flinched just a little at that but covered it up by sitting up straighter.

"I do." The Headmistress was silent for a moment as her piercing gaze scanned Dudley from over the rim of her glass. After a well-measured sip, she spoke.

"In its history, Hogwarts has never had a muggle in its employ. Why it is only this year that a Squib was hired to the teaching staff."

"But perhaps I'm a Squib." He hurried on before she could cut him off. "My Aunt and who knows what distant magickal relations are my family. I am a non-magickal person born to a magickal family. A Squib." His train of thought was building up a fair head of steam by now. "Which also means to say that since Witches and Wizards can be found in family lines all throughout human history, in every corner of the world dating back to the very beginning of things, perhaps there aren't truly any Muggles at all and all 'Muggles' are really just Squibs." Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had shot up to her hair line and though her lips remained in the same thin line the smallest hint of a smile seemed to play at the corner.

"Well reasoned Mr. Dursley. I may have to share that one with the Ravenclaw doorknocker." The severe looking witch adjusted her spectacles. "I have to tell you Mr. Dursley that from the very start I had no intention of hiring you." Dudley felt tears, real tears, sting the corners of his eyes as he cast his gaze down and focused on a circular shaped burn mark on the table. The sudden onset of true saddens was so unexpected he hardly had time to swallow it down.

"However…" Dudley held his breath. "You have persuaded me. No small feat I assure you."

"Yes mam! I mean no! No mam I'm sure it's not." The professor pulled a long folder from her bag and tapped it with her wand. She passed it across the worn wooden table to the visibly excited young man along with an ink well and a quill she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere.

"Normally I would have an owl drop these by your home. Given the circumstances however I think you'd do better to fill them out here." The aging witch sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I won't pretend that your cousin or his friends are going to be very happy about this. And I don't hesitate to tell you that if he, Ms. Granger or Mr. Weasley ask for your dismissal I will have to seriously consider their request." She sniffed a bit as she straightened her cloak. "We owe them our lives after all." Dudley nodded solemnly.

September first arrived in a swirl of gusting winds and for Dudley Dursley it wasn't a moment too soon. The end of the summer holidays had been the most dreadful of his life. It was little wonder considering the news he brought home that day in early August.

Petunia Dursley could usually be found in her back garden on sunny summer days such as this one. However her family's yearlong disappearance amidst the chaos which had enveloped the country at the time had not gone unnoticed by her equally nosey neighbors; who at that very moment were craning their heads over fences and around shrubs in an attempt to get a look at the now very reclusive Dursley family. Her new homebound passion, other than obsessively cleaning, was shopping on the home shopping channel. There was a new gadget for everything but she ordered more every day. Petunia was in a particularly good mood after having just bought a machine to clean the toilet brushes while Vernon, who had the day off, was merrily reading a scathing review of the new Prime Minister. Dudley took a deep breath; it was a good a time as any.

There was a lot of crying and yelling on both sides. It would die down a bit when everyone got tired but picked right back up again as soon as someone became frustrated enough. It lasted into the night and ended with a fair amount of door slamming. It was a very horse Vernon Dursley that spoke first at the breakfast table the next morning.

"If you insist on throwing your life away, on throwing in your lot with their kind, then there will no longer be a place for you in this family." Petunia held back a strangled sob. Dudley could feel the knot tightening in his chest. He'd never even considered that they'd toss him out completely. Hot angry tears flooded his eyes as scattered childish thoughts raced through his head. 'But I want this! I asked nicely. I love them! They love me!' And it was that last thought which struck him hardest. He turned to his mother.

"You'd have loved me anyway eh?" She wouldn't look at him. He stood slowly and stared at them both for a moment, as though he was truly seeing them for the first time. "I'll be out in two days."

That night several Great Horned owls carrying a very battered trunk showed up outside Dudley's window. He nearly tripped over himself to let them in as they were making quite a bit of noise. The owls left as quickly as they'd come but not before dropping the large trunk soundly onto the young man's foot. Despite its worn appearance it was a sturdy trunk with a strong lock. He knew where it had come from of course but the question was why. Did they think perhaps he didn't have a suitcase? This of course was absurd as the entire right hand side of his room was piled high with six suitcases, two duffle bags and at least three rucksacks. Dudley opened the trunk to find a folded piece of parchment. The script was as tidy as a wedding invitation and written in green ink.

Mr. Dudley Dursley, Number 4 Private drive, Little Winging, Surry, The largest bedroom.

Dear Mr. Dursley,

You have been accepted to the assistant grounds keeping post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will henceforth be assisting Professor Rubious Hagrid in maintaining the grounds as well as providing support with his Care of Magickal Creatures classes. A place of residence befitting your new position has been erected on the grounds and, as all house hold items will be provided by the school, it is requested that you pack only those personal effects which will fit in this single trunk. There will be a smattering of formal occasions during the school year in contrast to your usually laborious work days. Please pack an outfit which would be appropriate for such occasions.

Due to your non-magickal status, this letter has been enchanted to allow you access to Platform 9 ¾ on September the 1st before eleven AM.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looks forward to your arrival.

Sincerely,

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

P.S.

No electronic devices will be able to function in the magickal world. Please keep this in mind as you pack.

Dudley reread the letter at least three times. 'Everything? I have to fit everything into this one trunk?!' He plopped down on the floor with a great thud and stared from the massive pile to the simple trunk and back again. "What am I doing?" He said to his disheveled room. 'I could just stay here and…' It was as though Dudley's thoughts had hopped onto a bullet train. What if he fell in love with a girl they didn't approve of? Wouldn't he just lose their love all over again? What if he accidentally fell in love with a witch? What if he married the perfect girl but produced a magical child anyway? It was in his blood after all. He set his jaw and with some very un-Dudley like determination began tearing through the bags in the huge pile. Dudley Dursley had never had to do a lot of- well any- planning before. So trying to figure out what he would absolutely need for the rest of his life was a fairly daunting task.

The sky was just beginning to brighten when he finally slammed the lid closed and secured the locks, which were straining a bit. Despite having been up all night Dudley was dressed and ready to spring out the door on that cool September morning. After the way his parents had been treating him he wanted out. Badly. With the last of his pocket money he called a taxi and was on his way to King's Cross. As he stood in the station with his trunk on the trolley and his letter in his hand Dudley flashed back to the first time he'd ever heard Harry talk about the Hogwarts Express.

It was the first night of their Summer holidays and Petunia was helping her son get ready for bed. She fussed over smoothing his sheets and made sure the window was open just enough to keep him cool. With tears in her eyes, she kissed his forehead and smoothed down his thick blonde hair.

"We're so happy to have you home Diddykins," she crooned as though he might've just returned from war. As he hugged his pillow close and settled down to sleep the sound of his cousin's voice floated through the paper thin wall. It seemed that he was actually having a one sided conversation with that cool looking owl.

"I just can't believe it wasn't all a dream Hedwig. But it feels like it was doesn't it? When we walked through that wall between the platforms it was like we stepped right into a dream." And so began what Dudley would later call the summer time stories. Every night when he went to bed, and sometimes when he was already asleep, he would hear Harry talking to his owl about all of his adventures at school. They were the best bedtime stories he'd ever heard and he looked forward to them all through the school year. After his fourth year at school however Harry's night time ramblings became infinitely less pleasant. Harry began to scream and cry out about a boy named Cedric a lot. He seemed to be really worried about Ron and Hermione as well. Voldemort had always been a threat in the background but now it seemed that Harry was battling him regularly. And losing. Horribly. Dudley was becoming extremely disturbed and hardly sleeping. By mid-Summer, before Harry was to start his fifth year, Dudley was absolutely terrified to set foot in his own room at night. It was as though Harry were telling him scary stories he didn't want to hear and he couldn't make him stop. So he lashed out even more than usual in the hopes of bullying him into stopping. And then the Dementor came and Harry saved his life before it could…

Dudley shook himself back to the present and before he could hesitate for one more instant he pushed his way through the wall and onto the platform. Harry had been right. It felt just like a dream.

Being the first on the train allowed Dudley to have his pick of the staff cars at the front. He purposely picked the one closest to the engine in the hopes of putting as much distance as possible between himself and his cousin. For the first time, in what felt like months, Dudley let out a breath and relaxed as the compartment's door clicked shut. After stowing his trunk he nestled back into the plush seat and dozed off, the muffled sounds of the train lulling him to sleep. When a gentle hand shook him awake a flood of noise and movement seemed to be coming from outside the once quiet window. A plump, middle aged witch wearing a red and white candy stripes was smiling at him.

"I think you've over shot it a bit dear. The student cars are back down the train." He blinked blearily for a moment.

"Oh! No I'm not a student mam'. I'm taking up the assistant grounds keeper post." He produced the letter of employment from his pocket and her look of skepticism faded away.

"Well, so you are. Fancy that. We haven't had one as young as you since Hagrid himself took the job." She handed him back his letter and made her way to the door. "Anything off the trolley before I go dear?" Out in the hall, he could see a gilded brass cart crammed with sweets, cakes, and juices. He reached into his pocket and for the first time, it was empty. The bubbly witch noticed his sudden distress. "Oh no dear you can keep your money away. Staff eat for free on the train." He smiled. It was the first time anyone had shown him such a simple kindness.

Dudley watched the hustle and bustle as he savored the most scrumptious cakes and pasties he had ever eaten. Children and their families were crowding very inch of space that wasn't being occupied by the trolley carts piled high with trunks and animals. New pets had apparently been added to the acceptable list of creatures one could bring. He'd only ever remembered Harry talking about a boy named Nevil's toad, Hermione's cat and of course his own owl. But now he could clearly see tortoises, cavies and rabbits. 'Well what look to be tortoises, cavies and rabbits at any rate,' he thought to himself as he watched a young girl with curly black hair stroke the turquoise shell of her ivory scaled reptile as it nuzzled and snuggled into the crook of her arm. When the train whistle blew everyone began scrambling to say their goodbyes. Dudley turned away and drew the shade. He wasn't much in the mood for familial displays of affection. But his dower mood was interrupted when he finally felt his car give a great lurch forward. His heart leapt up so high it seemed to be pushing the smile right onto his face. He'd never been an overly emotional boy, not true deep emotions anyway, which is why the internal collision of fear, joy, excitement, loss and determination hit him so forcefully. Out in the corridor he heard the distant sound of jubilant young voices. No one had come this far down the train yet but he worried that it was only a matter of time. Quick as a flash he jumped up and latched the door. He'd have to face Harry and his friends eventually but eventually didn't have to be so soon.

Harry awoke to the sound of Pig twittering about on the wardrobe as he enthusiastically greeted the day. 'Owls. Hedwig. Dead.' The cold knife of sadness stabbed at him but he pushed it away just as quickly. In a flurry of rapid movements he tossed back the covers, leapt off the cot and started rummaging for clothes. Harry had learned months ago that trying to fight off his grief with sleep resulted only in fitful, gruesome, dreams. Ron had gotten used to him banging about in the mornings and rolled over with a great snore. Taking care on the creaky stairs Harry made his way to the kitchen where he knew Mrs. Weasley would be waiting. She was the only one in the house to rise as early as he did. Her demons didn't seem to like sleep either. Fouled up as the situation was Harry was still grateful for the normalcy and routine.

"Good morning dear," she sang out cheerfully as she flicked her wand to flip the bacon. She had stopped asking how he'd slept. And he was thankful.

"Morning." Harry nodded toward the batch of sizzling meat which seemed to be twice as fragrant as usual. "Trying to rally the troops?" She smiled a mischievous smile and threw more teabags into the kettle.

"This is your last First Day of School and Merlin help me we are getting to King's Cross with plenty of time to spare!" Harry snorted into his glass of pumpkin juice.

"With ambition like that, you could've become a Slytherin." He ducked as she sent the Daily Prophet flying at his head.

It was 10:52 when the Weasley's new car, a 1952 London taxi cab, pulled into the carpark at King's Cross. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny scrambled out of the backseat as Mr. Weasley ran for the trollies. For a brief moment, Harry felt he had jumped back in time as they all raced for the platform with barely a moment to spare. But there were people missing from his nostalgic scene. Percy was at the office. George was at the shop. And Fred… Harry jerked his head to the side as though trying to physically dislodge the heartbreaking thought. Ginny caught the movement, opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind at the last moment.

Just as they reached the barrier a sharp looking woman in a conductor's uniform stepped into their path. She was taller than Ron and slim and straight as a railroad spike. Her head was shaved on one side and just a few dark brown bangs peered out from under the brim of her cap. She smiled a wide smile and held out her hand to Mrs. Weasley.

"Ah the Weasley family I presume? And right on time too." Mrs. Weasley instinctively shook her hand but with a bit of trepidation. After everything that had happened surprises and new faces weren't as welcome as they once were. Hermione already had her wand out of her sleeve, seeming to not give a damn who saw it, as Ginny clutched a small pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. The woman put her hands up with a nervous smile. "No need to be alarmed young Ms. My name is Becks Trippton and I am the new Conductor of the Hogwarts Express." Harry whipped out his wand.

"The old conductor had never come out to meet us before. Hell, up until now I thought the train drove itself." She took a step forward so that Hermione's wand was brushing a gold button on her waistcoat.

"No he didn't. Ole Morris was quiet the introvert who I'm sure was very happy to retire to his quiet life in the country. He didn't care much for crowds. I, however, have been on the platform for the better part of an hour or so meeting my passengers and their families. When I saw it was nearly 11 I thought I'd better make my way out here to find you lot and escort you to the secure compartment." It was at that moment Mr. Weasley finally caught up to them with the luggage.

"Ah-*pant* I see you've *pant* met Ms. Trippton. She's part of the new security detail *pant* they've put in place for the kids." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple knut. "The niffler seeks…" The young conductor pulled out her own purple coin.

"…what the toad likes to hide." Mrs. Weasley glared a bit at her husband for forgetting to tell her about this beforehand but breathed a sigh of relief all the same. Arthur pushed Harry and Hermione's wands back down.

"I'm sorry Madam Conductor. We were just a bit thrown off," said Harry sheepishly. Her vibrant smile became a little sad as she took in the meaning behind what had just happened.

"There is nothing to be sorry for Mr. Potter. Nothing at all."

Dudley tried to keep track of where the train was traveling but was soon mesmerized by the rolling hills and scenic moors and found that he didn't care. It wasn't as though he'd be trying to find his way back. The last shreds of daylight were fading over dark mountains as they pulled into the little station. He could hear the excited voices of the students over the old steam engine's grinding breaks. His heart began to race. What would it be like seeing Hagrid again? How would he treat him? And then he heard it.

"First years! First years over here please!" Hagrid's deep boom of a voice could be heard clear as a bell over the din. Dudley quickly started pulling himself together. He didn't know if this was something he was supposed to be assisting with or not but he wasn't going to be written off as a duffer on his first day. Throwing open the compartment door he ran straight into the conductor.

"Oy!"

"Sorry! Sorry Mam'. Just trying to-"

"Ah, just the fellow I was looking for! Thought I'd have to search the train for you. Mr. Evans isn't it? The new grounds keeping assistant?" Dudley was confused.

"Oh yes. I mean I am. The new assistant that is, for the grounds. But my name isn't Evans, it's Dursley." Her smile was quick and charming as she pulled a piece of parchment from her breast pocket and handed it to Dudley.

"Not anymore. As of right now you are Derrick Evans." Dudley backed up and sat down on one of the benches looking very worried and confused. The conductor sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance as she explained. "The Headmistress thought you'd have a better go of it if you weren't carrying around a name with so much bad blood weighing it down. Though of course you are free to keep it if you wish." She pulled a long pheasant quill dripping with black ink out of her smallest pocket and nodded toward the parchment she had given him. "She also thought it would be best if your family were not able to contact you, at least until you're settled. This is a magically binding form which will change your name and prevent any communication exchange with them for at least four months. Are you willing to sign such an agreement?" Dudley didn't even have to think about it. He was more than ready to shed what he thought would always be a constant reminder of his past. As for his parents? He'd have signed an agreement to move them to Mars if it had been available. Still getting used to writing with a quill he scratched out his name as best he could. No sooner was he done than the parchment jumped up into the air and transformed into a passport, a birth certificate, a bus pass (for the Knight Bus) and a Hogwarts employee I.D. card. He read his new name over and over on all the new documents. When he finally said it out loud for the first time "Derrick Evans" it was as though he could really feel the extra weight of his old name seep right out of him.

"Now if you're ready. I'll show you to the carriage. Professor Dodge will meet you at the gate and your trunk will be taken to your new quarters." She walked him down the now empty train and onto the platform where she shook his hand firmly. "Good luck Mr. Evans." He nodded.

"Thank you Madam Conductor." As he began walking down the platform he felt the very air come alive with magick, filling him with an intoxicating happiness. He knew then, more than ever before, that he could never go back to being ordinary, to being "normal" again.

As Harry Potter rose from the table The Great Hall fell silent. His palms were sweating and something the size of a snitch seemed to be caught in his throat. If Hermione hadn't helped him write this speech the he didn't know how he'd have strung two words together. The students, all in their black robes and pointed hats, gazed up at him expectantly; reverence sparkling in their eyes. He was, after all, The Boy Who Lived, The Man Who Conquered… The Chosen One. Ron stood against the far wall, Hermione's hand in his, both making encouraging gestures at him. Yet there was only one face he truly sought in this crowd. There, at the front of the Griffyndor table, was Ginny. With the flick of her wand a faint outline of a Hungarian Horntail appeared across her chest as she flexed and made a strong face at him. Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. This was, after all, a very serious moment. He nodded once to Professor McGonagall who took the cue.

"As your new Head Mistress I, as well as your Heads of House, felt that this year it would be prudent to speak to you all about some changes being implemented, before the sorting. As you will have noticed parents of our Slytherin students are in attendance." She gestured toward the surly group lined up along the back of the hall. "They were asked here in order that they might have the freedom to remove their children from the school should they feel at odds with the new rules and standards we shall be setting henceforth." Harry could see that most of the Slytherin parents were cursing under their breath and probably only remained present in an effort to feign compliance. With a flick of her wand Professor McGonagall summoned enough chairs for the first years to sit in as she took her place at the staff table. All eyes, as they so often were, were on Harry.

"I wish to start with the story of a very brave man who called Slytherin home for many years." And so as they listened with rapt attention Harry wove the tale of Severus Snape. They sat in wide eyed silence when he spoke of Severus the boy, gasped when he betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort and hung their heads in sadness upon learning of all he had done to protect them, as well as Harry, while they had been so busy hating him. Harry paused to give them a moment to take it all in. McGonagall resumed.

"This is the new standard by which Slytherin house will set itself. Cunning and determination need not be used to achieve foul ends. Salazar Slytherin and his ideals no longer have a place in this school and the Sorting Hat has been informed, repeatedly, of the change. Any mention of pure bloods or mudbloods will result in immediate expulsion. History of Magic and Muggle Studies will be the only places these terms will be permissible purely for academic reasons." She took that moment to stare directly into the eyes of every Slytherin parent. "Finally all Slytherin prefects will return their badges. A rotation of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor prefects will be taking their places for the next three years." Many mutinous mutterings broke out among most of the Slytherins present, both parent and child alike. "At the end of three years we will evaluate Slytherin's behavior as a House and make further decisions as to whether to continue the practice." Professor McGonagall's lips drew into a fine white line and her voice took on a tone which brokered no argument. "If there are persons in this hall who feel they cannot abide by these standards please take this time to make your exit. Quietly."

All of the Seventh and Sixth Year Slytherins turned to their parents and walked from the hall while a dozen or so Fourth and Fifth years were practically dragged away. Harry looked down trying not to smile as he counted down in his head. Three…two…one…

"Though I feel it is my duty to inform you all," she said as though she were recalling a cheerful after thought. ",that Durmstrang will not be accepting Hogwarts students as it is currently undergoing its own… renovations." Harry never thought he'd see Professor McGonagall trying to fight a smile off of her hard lined features but here it was right in front of him. It had been kept closely under wraps but as the British Ministry took the summer to restore Hogwarts and Diagon Alley the French and Scandinavian Ministries had taken the same time to utterly purge Durmstrang. Every dark artifact was confiscated, every curriculum revised, every Professor subjected to veritaserum and legilimency in order to glean their true intentions.

Those who had risen to leave had done exactly what the Headmistress had wanted. They exposed themselves for the entire Hall to see. Most were too proud to come back in and continued out the door but some of the younger students, who had no desire to be isolated in their manor houses with stuffy tutors, let go of their parent's hands and resumed their seats.

"By remaining here as Hogwarts students you, and your parents, agree to the new policies and standards." She then turned a stern but proud gaze to the First Years. "Those of you who find yourselves sorted into Slytherin this year should feel extremely honored. You will be the first and most important step in helping your house as it strives toward the standards Severus Snape has set forth."

It was a wise move. After all that had happened the First Years must've been absolutely terrified at the thought of any of them being sorted into Slytherin. McGonagall stepped down from the podium and brought the stool and Sorting Hat out. Harry looked down upon the hat with a mixture of reverence and pity. Brown and battered. Patched, frayed and charred. It had taken McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Slughorn and Kingsley Shackelbolt himself being shut up with it in a room for three weeks to restore it. But this, the sorting of brand new students it had never met, was going to be the real test.

As she had done hundreds of times before Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment which held the names of the First Years.

"Alinson, Clara." A timid girl with dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes smiled nervously, strode up to the stool, and gingerly placed the hat on her head. It seemed like hours of waiting before a rip near the brim opened wide and shouted, in a voice which was a bit raspier than usual, "Gryffindor!" The cheering would have been louder if half the Hall's initial reaction hadn't been to sigh with relief. Along down the list she went. "Albaster, Athena; Alves, Brodrick; Amberstone, Deagland." "Ravenclaw! Gryffindor! Hufflepuff!" Professor McGonagall was long into the D names before it happened. "Drakespear, Kellen." A young boy with raven black hair and dark brown eyes walked slowly up to the hat. He was unnaturally pale. The freckles across the bridge of his nose stood out like flecks of cinnamon upon new cream. There was purpose in his step, a need to prove something to himself; to everyone. Long moments passed and the Hall was silent save for the creaking of wood under Kellen's white knuckled grip. It was beginning to look like they might have a Hat Stall on their hands but Harry smiled knowingly. He had a fair idea of what might be going on under that very patched hat, but he didn't say a word. After such a prolonged silence the shout from the Sorting Hat was particularly jarring. "Slytherin!" With a haughty smile fixed upon his pale lips Kellen Drakespear strutted over to the Slytherine table where he was greeted with very mixed emotions. The younger students were simply ecstatic to have a new member. The older students were not so easily swayed. They were well aware of the new brand of Slytherin this boy represented, but they held their tongues and clapped politely. Kellen took no notice of them. He had set the trend. All the new Slytherins walked to their table with pride, none of them paying any mind to the less than warm welcome from the older members of their house. When the last student had been sorted McGonagall dismissed the chairs and moved to speak once more.

"I am well aware that if Professor Dumbledor were with us today he would be appalled that you all had not been 'fed and watered' properly by now but there is one last announcement. A bit of a surprise you might say." The students smiled broadly, awaiting the treat which McGonagall's own smile seemed to be promising.

"As you know last year was nothing short of a disaster, to put it mildly. Under constant fear for your lives there was simply no way for any of you to do your final exams justice let alone your O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S." The students murmured and nodded in ascension. "My fellow teachers, as well as The Ministry, have all agreed that it would be to your benefit to repeat the year." Just as the defiant din began to rise the doors burst open with a theatrical bang and in streamed those Seventh Years who should have graduated the year previous. There wasn't a Slytherin to be seen. Neville gave a cheerful wave at Harry followed by Luna, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, Padma, Terry, Ernie, Justin and every living Seventh year from the three houses. Immediate silence swept The Hall as Neville strode in. It was in that moment that Harry truly understood what Neville Longbottom had meant to the students of Hogwarts during the war. Their eyes followed him to where he stood with his hand outstretched to Harry, clasping him in the warmest of greetings. Neville turned to face the crowd.

"No one should have a first, a last, any year at Hogwarts like the one we had. This is our chance to have another go and make it right." Without another word he took his seat at the Gryffindor table. The other Seventh Years followed suite including Ron, Hermione (who looked fit to burst with joy) and Harry. At last Professor McGonagall clapped her hands and ordered the feast to begin. The House Elves had outdone themselves. Standing rib roast, rotisserie chicken, thick cut pork chops, mashed, roasted and twice baked potatoes, tureens of buttered peas, seared asparagus and a large bowl of tripe right in the middle in case anyone wanted any. No one ever did.

Harry paused with the fork halfway to his mouth and chose instead to sit for a moment in complete contentment. It was as though someone had wrapped him in a warm blanket when he hadn't even realized he was cold. For one more glorious year he could sleep in his warm four poster, savor Hogwart's hearty fare and sit in the squashy armchairs by the common room fire with nothing bigger than a large pile of homework and his upcoming N.E.W.T.s to worry about. Which, after defeating Voldemort, breaking into and out of Gringots on the back of a blind dragon and escaping from Death Eater headquarters itself, didn't seem nearly as daunting as it had before. Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Should be an easy year after all we've done eh? Maybe they'll just let us show up and pass. You know; as a thank you." Hermione looked scandalized.

"I should certainly hope not! That's an entire year of schooling we've missed. Think what your N.E. will be like with only six years of education!"

Harry smiled and tore off a piece of chicken as his friends debated the merits of real world experience verses formal education. It was good to be back.

The next morning as they all went down to breakfast they were unceremoniously pulled into an empty classroom by their new Headmistress. "I would have requested a meeting with you in the Headmaster's- in my office but I didn't want to draw more attention than was necessary." She cleared her throat and took on an even more formal tone than usual. "Owing to the fact that you three eradicated the greatest evil the world has ever known," she said this as though they'd gotten a particularly good mark on their homework, "the Ministry would like to extend to you the option of foregoing your seventh year at Hogwarts. You would of course receive all graduation honors as well as full marks on your N.E.W.T s." Ron looked as though she had just asked him to play for England and was about to accept when Harry and Hermione responded together. "Thank you but no." Ron deflated a bit. He slumped his shoulders, gazed down at his sneakers and mumbled something about remembering what happened the last time he'd decided to go off on his own. Professor McGonagall in contrast was swelling with pride. "I told them you would understand the value of your educations but Kingsley insisted I offer it to you anyway. Well we should get down to breakfast, I've got schedules to hand out." She had just reached the door when, "Oh, I'd almost forgotten." She walked up to Ron and Hermione and pinned their prefects badges on their robes. "There will be a meeting tonight in the Great Hall after diner to discuss the Slytherin rotation as part of your new prefect duties."

They let her get a little ahead of them before leaving the classroom. Harry clapped Ron on the back.

"Just think. A whole nother year of Quidditch!" Ron brightened up a bit.

"Blimey. After everything that happened I'd almost forgotten about Quidditch. Pity you're not still the captain."

"Well I didn't come back, did I? They had to replace me. I'm just glad it was Ginny."

As Harry sat munching his toast in the Great Hall it suddenly occurred to him that he might have one of the quietest terms of his life. He smiled to himself but something at the Slytherin table caught his eye. Kellen had just discretely, or so he thought, poured the contents of a small vial over his oatmeal and was quickly stirring it up.

"Did you see that?"

Hermione looked up from her new schedule which boasted a length of nose to naval. "See what?"

"That Kellen kid just poured some potion into his oatmeal." Ron leaned around Hermione to get a better look, misjudged the distance, and WHAM! Before anyone knew what had happened Ron scrambled off the floor and back into his seat. It had all happened so fast that by the time everyone's eyes found Ron nothing seemed to have changed except for the fact that his face looked like it was on fire. Hermione chuckled a little behind her hand. "Very subtle Ronald." When Harry turned back to the Slytherin table Kellen was nowhere to be seen.

"I wonder what kind of potion it was. Must be unauthorized if he made a run for it don't you think?"

"No," said Hermione not even looking up from her schedule.

"No what?" asked Harry who thought she might be talking to herself.

"No we are absolutely not getting involved with things that have nothing to do with us. No we are not following him. No we are not going to spy on him. No we-"

"But Hermione," Harry cut across her as he leaned in closer, not even attempting to hide his mocking tone. "you are a prefect after all. What would our new Headmistress say if-"

Hermione slapped her schedule into a thick book and slammed it shut. "Fine. You'd like me to behave like a prefect? I'll just go have a word with his Head of House after breakfast shall I? You know like any respectable prefect would. Because only egotistical nutters like us go around trying to constantly take matters into our own hands from the age of 11 onwards!" Without realizing it she had gotten a bit loud and more than a few people were looking at her. Ginny reached over to her very slowly, "Hermione." She came back to herself, cleared her throat a bit and sat. Harry was stunned into silence. Ginny continued to eat her breakfast but held Hermione's hand under the table.

"After last year, after all these years, don't you want just one quiet term? One normal year at Hogwarts? We'll be out in the world next year. We'll need to get jobs, buy things on our own, get our own flats, part from our friends. This year is a gift and I don't intend to waste it." Before Harry could say a word…

"That's what George said." It was so quiet they almost missed it. Ron's voice seemed to have come out of nowhere. "George and Dad have lots of connections now at the Ministry. They mentioned we might have to come back this year. When he told me I started complaining a bit. George lost it. Threw me against the wall and got in my face. Told me…told me…"

"he'd trade everything he had in the world for one more year at Hogwarts…with Fred," Ginny finished; unable to look up from her eggs. "Me and Dad were the ones who pulled George off him. Mum was crying and tried to talk to him but he was too angry so he stormed out." They spent the rest of breakfast in silence.

Their first class of the term was potions. And for the first time in his life, Harry was thoroughly prepared. After all, he had read "Advanced Potion Making for Complete Dunderheads by Professor Severus Snape" from cover to cover that summer.

The whole thing had been Ginny's idea really. Before Ron had found out he'd be going back as well he decided to have some wholesome fun taking the mickey out of Ginny for having to return to school and repeat the year. They were seated at the scrubbed kitchen table when Pig came zooming through an open window nearly dropping all the post into Ron's pottage. Ron, who knew very well it was too early in the summer for Hogwarts letters, made a big to do of reading off each one in a futile attempt to goad his sister. "Ahhh well. No booklists today. But soon though. Soon." Ginny ignored her brother as she flipped over her copy of The Quibbler and continued to read. Unsatisfied with her reaction Ron stalked off up to his room. Once he was gone Ginny let out a sigh and mumbled something under her breath. "Wish I had 'The Half Blood Prince' writing in all my books this year."

"Sorry?" Harry thought he heard her correctly but he wasn't sure.

For the first time in a long time, Ginny blushed a little under Harry's gaze.

"Well with Snape distracted and Slughorn already liking me I just…sort of…" She stood and walked quickly over to a crowded bookshelf. And from under Caitlin Cokeworth's Creative Cauldron Confections, she pulled out a very battered copy of Advanced Potion Making. "...stole the book back out of the Room of Requirement."

Harry sat transfixed. He'd thought the book long gone. Lost with everything else to the Fiend Fire. Misunderstanding his silence "It was just so helpful! All those notes in the margins. And I never used a single spell I didn't know, not after what happened with Malfoy." Harry was now sporting a very sarcastic smile.

"But Ginny I thought using the book was cheating."

"Actually Hermione told you it was cheating. I told you to chuck it when those awful spells started popping up." She relaxed a bit but was still put out as she halfheartedly flipped the book onto the table. "Doesn't really matter though. It's just one book for one class." Her eyes went wide then and Harry could practically see the idea glowing around the top of her already fiery hair. "There must be others!"

"What?"

"He was really smart…he loved being smart…there must be others…maybe at his house…we could publish…George!" Harry actually jumped as she shouted her brother's name and looked around to see if he had suddenly appeared. "George could publish them as a line of Hogwarts school books!"

Harry looked on, quite confused as Ginny dashed to the fireplace, threw in the floo powder, told him he was brilliant and shouted "Hermione Granger's house!"

Over the coming days Harry was able to piece together the confusing muddle Ginny had blurted out in the kitchen. She wanted to start up a line of standard Hogwarts school books which would not only come pre-annotated but would also explain the subject matter in a more student friendly, and sometimes even jokingly acerbic, fashion. When Ginny presented the idea to Hermione she became rather excited, raced to her parent's cookbook cabinet and came back with a bright yellow book entitled "Cooking for Dummies." As she showed Ginny the comical, yet factual, contents of the book the girls became even more excited. "Yes! This is exactly what I mean! Imagine how much easier it would be if all the school books were set up like this!"

Hermione gasped a little, a smile spreading across her face, "And it wouldn't be cheating because everyone would have them!"

The problem now was getting to the books themselves. If they existed at all. In his will, Snape left all worldly possessions to Hogwarts and by proxy Headmistress McGonagall. It took a bit of convincing but in the end, Ginny knew the perfect thing to say.

"But professor think of it. It would be the first nice thing a Slytherin's done for anyone in ages."

"And I suppose Severus giving his life for us all wasn't 'nice' enough?"

Ginny backtracked a little. "Yes of course it was Professor but this will be something the students could see every day. Something they could be grateful for after every inch of homework. It's almost like he would be a part of their lives."

Harry knew it was true. How many times had he been eternally thankful to the "Half Blood Prince"? And when it had really counted, when Ron was dying, hadn't it been the Prince's notes he remembered even in his panic? Professor McGonagall fixed them with a rather piercing stare as she thought. Finally she sighed.

"Well…it would shine a more 'friendly' light on Severus, and Slytherin House as a whole. Lord knows anything we could do in that regard would be welcome. Alright Ms. Weasly. You have my word that any school books found in the inventory of Severus' possessions will be sent to Ms. Granger for proofing and onto your brother for publication." And thus Severus Snape and Ginny Weasley rewrote the entire Hogwarts Booklist.

"Harry M'boy!" Professor Slughorn's boisterous greeting brought Harry back to the present. He gave the portly man what he hoped was a winning smile. If Harry had been a favorite of his before it was nothing to how Slughorn looked at him now.

"Professor," he said as he genially shook his pudgy hand. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice low as he spoke next to Harry's ear.

"I was wondering if I might have a word before we get started."

"Sir if this is about the meeting with your publisher friend I've already-"

"No, no dear boy nothing to do with that. Though Morin is quite persistent so I wouldn't be counting him out just yet. No, if you'll just step in here please." Hermione and Ron were quite non-pulsed. Everyone and their third cousin 'wanted a word' with Harry these days.

The potion master's office was unremarkably the same. A large room filled from end to end with every comfort anyone could ever imagine. Slughorn walked over to his desk on which sat an overly ornate wooden box. So crammed with designs and carvings was the surface that indeed the craftsman looked to have set themselves a challenge to see just how many would fit on a box the size of a pillow. 'Oh no. Not another one', Harry thought to himself. He'd been getting pelted with gifts from all over the Wizarding World for the better part of the Summer. He tried to politely decline and have some of them sent back (he'd felt the full suite of Goblin made armor had been a bit much) but most had been enchanted with anti-return to sender charms. Harry was about to tell Slughorn that he was very grateful but really he didn't need a year's supply of crystalized pineapple or whatever was in there but something about the old professor's expression stopped him. He was smiling a bit but seemed on the verge of tears as well.

"Over the holidays I was doing some clearing out. Being on the run for a year really gives one perspective about what they can do without." Harry inwardly scoffed. Slughorn's idea of roughing it on the run was moving in and out of a rotation of Muggle houses. He had no idea what it was like to be half starved, half frozen and completely cut off from everyone he knew.

"I'm sure you remember my telling you that Lily was one of my favorite students?" Harry felt a small sting at the mention of his mother. After seeing her in the Forbidden Forrest, after actually talking to her, he felt as if he'd lost her all over again. Slughorn must've seen the faraway look in his eyes because he cleared his throat before continuing. "Well yes anyway I thought you might like to have these." He gestured toward the box. Wanting very much to get this awkward moment over and done with he walked quickly over to the desk and unclasped the lock. Inside was a book about the size of a clipboard bound in deep green leather. 'People will insist on giving me books.' Dumbledor's words came to him unbidden. He had received a considerable amount of rare volumes, most of which he had given to Hermione. There was no title. No author. He opened it. The words had been hand written in small tidy script.

"A bezoar: found in the stomach of a goat, antidote to most poisons."

Harry recognized the writing even though he'd only seen it once before. At Grimold Place. It was his mother's. These were her potion notes! All seven years worth if the thickness of the book was any indication.

"Professor… I," Slughorn cut across him.

"It's nothing m'boy nothing. I'm sure she would've wanted you to have them." He gave a great sniff and motioned a little toward the door. Harry took the hint, gave Slughorn a grateful smile, and walked out. Ron and Hermione were fairly confused to see Harry walking toward their table grinning like a Cheshire cat instead of looking harassed as he normally did.

"Tell you later," he said taking his seat. Their first potion lesson was rather enjoyable. Seventh years were now required to spend their final year learning about the healing arts; and as a result spent a very cheerful lesson brewing Pepper Up potions. Harry had never seen a potion class so at ease. Even Neville cut, ground and stirred his ingredients with confidence as he referenced his copy of Advanced Potion Making for Complete Dunderheads. By the end of the lesson professor Slughorn was practically bouncing around the dungeon. " My word. Just remarkable! I've never had such a talented class," he exclaimed after taking a measure of Neville's swirling, smoking concoction and gave them ten points each to Gryffindor.

There had been a lot of staff changes at Hogwarts over the Summer holidays. Bill Weasley took up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post though only after Arthur, Molly and Flur were thoroughly convinced it was no longer cursed. Old Ms. Fig now taught Muggle studies, making history as the first Squib to ever hold a teaching post at the ancient school. Flur Weasley was appointed personally by Professor MacGonagal to take over her Transfiguration post which both thrilled and unnerved the students in equal measure. Ferenze was now the full time Divination teacher and while professor Trelawny was allowed to maintain residence in the castle her brand of Fortunetelling was regulated to a more extracurricular capacity. Hagrid was now teaching Care of Magickal Creatures for 5th, 6th and 7th years while professor Grumblyplank took over years one through four. Professor Binns had found the battle for Hogwarts to be a bit too much excitement for him and decided to permanently haunt the restricted section of the library. His replacement was taken up by none other than Dumbledor's childhood friend Elphius Dodge. The History of Magick appointment was markedly the most notable staff change at the school. Professor Dodge's passion for magickal history, along with a talent for theatrical storytelling, kept every class on the edge of their seats. His interpretation of Rangnuk's surrender in the goblin rebellion was particularly thrilling and was made complete by his transfiguration into Rangnuk and the classroom into a bloody battlefield. When it wasn't a battlefield the classroom was still a marvel. Every inch of wall from floor to vaulted ceiling was covered with historical portraits, artifacts and tapestries. Even the flagstone floor was a mass of replicated grave markers. Harry's seat was over a witch named Andela Arguon, 1745-1886, one of the most celebrated heads of the Wizanagomot.

"For homework please compose one roll of parchment pinpointing what you feel was the pivotal moment in the rebellion where Wizard Goblin relations were damaged forever." As they rose to leave for their next lesson, "Though if any of you should feel so compelled you are welcome to hand in two rolls of parchment." Hermione looked down at her bag and smiled.

That night in the common room Harry showed Hermione and Ron what Slughorn had given him.

"Blimey, there must be more in here than the whole set of textbooks put together," said Ron weighing the book in his hands. "Why do you think he kept them all this time?"

"Well he did say she was one of his favorite students. If he thought she was going to be some sort of celebrated potions master one day he'd have wanted to keep her early notes to sell later. Say he knew her when she was young, taught her everything she knows." Hermione was looking at it with a bit more suspicion, however.

"Harry would you mind if I gave this a read?" Harry was on the verge of saying no, reluctant to give the book up so soon, but he knew if there was anyone who could find true joy in his mother's old potion notes other than himself it would be Hermione. She took the book so gently you'd have thought it was a thousand years old and ready to crumble into dust. Ron flopped down into an armchair.

"Well at least you'll have something to read while we're watching the Slytherins." Hermione, who had already plunged headlong into Lily's notes, made an exasperated noise at him.

"We are helping to mold a new Slytherine House Ron. We're shaping the home of future generations of Hogwarts students. Not just playing babysitter. I suppose if it were up to you we'd just leave the First years to be sorted out by the older students currently in the House?" Ron sighed as he set out his History of Magick homework and grumbled a bit under his breath.

"I know why I'm doin it. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Harry awoke in a cold sweat around 1:30 in the morning. This nightmare had been a particularly bad one. Belletrix Lestrange had been torturing his mother while Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters watched and cheered her on. Harry had tried to stop it but had been hit with a freezing charm. He watched helplessly as she writhed and screamed. Suddenly her twisted form became Dumbeldor's broken body. A top the tallest tower he faced a more self-assured and cruel Malfoy.

"The magic of love only works if there are people to love you back," he said with a mocking smile that was too wide for his face.

"One more off your list Potter. Tell Weasley we'll be seeing him soon." These weren't the prophetic dreams of years past but they were none the less unsettling. By now Harry was quite well practiced at dealing with these night terrors. For instance he knew that trying to go right back to sleep was a sure fire way to start the dream right back up again. No it was better to be awake for a while, no matter what time of night it was, and clear his head. Careful not to wake anyone else he pulled on his robe and slipped out of the dormitory. There was no need for his invisibility cloak now. There wasn't a professor or prefect in all of Hogwarts who was going to send Harry Potter back to bed. But it did feel odd to be walking the halls so freely after dark after all those years of sneaking around. Odd yet peaceful. The portraits who were not yet asleep tipped their hats, curtsied as smiled warmly as he passed by. Without thinking very much about where he was headed Harry suddenly found himself standing before a very familiar tapestry of trolls in ballet tutus. A shaft of silvery moonlight stretched across the floor to shine on the strip of blank wall concealing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. So much had happened in that mysterious room. Harry traced his fingers lightly over the stone where the door would appear and wondered. 'Does it still work? Would I go in if it did?' Halfhearted and with no real need of the room Harry wandered on.

A bit later, after some twists and turns, two secret passages and a flight of stairs he came to rest against a stone banister overlooking the large entrance hall. The grand oak doors had been repaired, reinforced and covered so thoroughly in protective magick they fairly hummed with it. But the doors, no matter how grand, were not what caught his eye. At the foot of the marble staircase stood a rather portly man in a shimmering green and silver bathrobe. Professor Slughorn had placed his lantern on the floor and was presently checking the time on a very shiny silver pocket watch. He had only just begun to ponder what Slughorn was about at this hour when the robust doors groaned and opened. A cloaked figure slipped inside as deftly as anyone could while hauling a school trunk. The stranger whispered something Harry couldn't hear but Slughorn had never been a soft spoken fellow.

"Now, now no more of that. You've been pardoned! Just a boy after all. Why even Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter spoke on your behalf." Draco Malfoy nodded and began to drag his trunk off toward the dungeons. Harry was desperately fighting the urge to run down the stairs, grab him up by the collar and throw the traitor out on his greasy blonde head. He settled instead for throwing a Beartie Bots Every Flavor been at his feet while Slughorn was locking up. Malfoy jerked his head up, a bit more startled than he should've been at such a small noise. Despite initially being a bit thrown off Harry was feeling quite cool at the moment. He knew that to Malfoy it appeared as though Harry had intended to intercept his secret arrival. A brief glimpse was all he allowed before turning out of sight.

Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy for more reasons than he could count. But he pitied him just as much. With his father in jail and his family fortune seized Draco and his mother had been brought low. They were currently renting a small flat on Spinnersend where Mrs. Malfoy had taken to mending discarded cauldrons to sell at discount in Knockturn Alley. Over the summer Draco had pled his case before the Wizanagomot. Many held him directly responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledor as well as being a participant in the atrocities which took place at Malfoy Manner during the war. But in the end it was Harry who bore witness to the fact that Draco could not find it within himself to cast the fatal curse. Hermione had also become an unlikely instrument of Malfoy's reprieve when she testified that Draco outright lied when the Death Eaters were questioning him about Harry's identity. She stated that it was obvious that he knew exactly who was standing in front of him. Yet despite being beseeched by his own family for confirmation he refused to give it. Both times Draco had the opportunity to commit truly evil deeds. Both times he stepped away. As for his allowing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts it was determined that having Voldemort residing in your home and essentially holding your family hostage was something which would have shaken the resolve of even the most hardened Witch or Wizard; let alone a sixteen year old boy. No Draco wouldn't be sharing a cell in Azkaban with his father but how he'd managed to weasel his way back into the school; or why he'd even want to come back was a mystery to Harry.

The next morning Harry told Ron, Ginny and Hermione about his night time wanderings over breakfast. By now however the school was well aware of Malfoy's sudden arrival as he was currently seated, by himself, at the far end of the Slytherine table.

"Well he's got some nerve just showing up here. Just sitting there eating his eggs like nothing even happened," said Ron as he held his fork in a white knuckled grip. Hermione was nose deep in a thick purple book and treating the whole thing with an enormous amount of indifference.

"He isn't someone we need to worry about anymore." She was right of course. Malfoy was a creature utterly broken.

"Bit sad really," said Ginny tearing into a piece of beacon. "Like a dragon with clipped wings and no fire. You can't really have a care for it, because it could never really care for you; doesn't mean it isn't a sad sight." The dragon in Gringots flashed across Harry's mind. Blind and pale, it's legs raw and bleeding from the chains; and the fear. The fear in it's blotted out eyes when the clankers came. Ginny was right. It was Malfoy to a T. A sad, broken dragon.

Down on the more sociable end of the Slytherin table the mood was quite different. Kellen had become fairly popular since the sorting and was currently entertaining some Second Years with a joke about a horklump and a troll. Every now and then, however, Kellen stole a look down the table at Draco. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to talk to the infamous stranger but Malfoy packed up and left before Kellen could do anything more than consider it.

It was just about an hour before dinner when Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron could finally make their way down to Hagrid's hut. The new wood planks and fresh roof thatching on top of the charred original parts made it seem more like a patchwork quilt than a house. But with wood smoke curling out of the chimney and the pumpkins growing thick in the patch it still made for a comforting sight. Hermione knocked on the door. Fang's booming barks, which had greeted them for so many years were timid and muffled though Hagrid was just as cheerful as ever and simply thrilled to see them all. It was a beautiful Autumn evening rife with crisp air and dancing leaves. Ginny thought it might be nice to take their tea and rockcakes in the garden. As they sat sipping from their oversized mugs Ron chortled.

"Just so weird not to've snuck down here." They all laughed a little at that.

"Can't imagine what you four are going to do with yourselves this term. Not much mischief to get into now eh?" It was just then that Ron caught sight of Derrick's new hut, which was about 100 yards from where they were sitting.

"Built yourself a guest house have you Hagrid?" Hagrid sputtered a little when he saw where Ron was pointing.

"Oh- er- no. No it's fer me new assistant actually." They all looked a bit surprised. They'd never known Hagrid to need help with his duties. Help with baby dragons, illegal imprisonment, terrifying creature care and Giant baby brother babysitting yes but not his official duties. " The war- ya know it took a fair bit outta Fang and me and Professor McGonagal thought I could use a hand here and there. Great Lady she is to keep lookin after me now that… that um Professor Dumbledor is in his portrait and all." The cracking and popping of the fire was the only thing filling the silence until Hermione shot up from her seat and pointed toward the Dark Forrest.

"Did anyone else just see that?!" Everyone jumped up, wands out, tea completely forgotten. Ginny took a few steps into the more open part of the garden to gain some space and a better view.

"What was it? What did you see?"

"There were lights. Blue lights at the edge of the tree line. They looked- they looked…happy to see me."

"Happy to see you? How can you tell if lights are happy to see you," said Ron skeptically as he tried not to trip over Fang.

"I don't know. It just felt like they were." Ginny walked up to Hermione and grabbed her by the shoulders as she stared hard into her eyes.

"A disembodied blue light, seeming to have a sentient life of its own, which acts in a manner that would draw a curious passerby closer to it. What is it Hermione?" With a faraway look in her eyes Hermione seemed to be flipping through the catalogs of knowledge in her mind. Ginny knew that she would calm down and think the answer out if she could focus her as a Professor in a classroom would.

"A wisp. A will o the wisp. They lead travelers to their fate, be it peril or prosperity."

"Exactly. Dad told us about them when we were little. You mustn't ever follow one especially not into that forest of all places. Do you understand?" Hermione nodded her head and Ginny hugged her as tightly as her mother would have if she were there.

"Blimey. In all me years I've never seen one of them. Strange to be popping up all of a sudden." They all watched the trees for a bit longer before heading up for diner but nothing else seemed to want to show itself. What they missed by not turning around was the sight of Derrick standing outside his house in his socks with an entranced look on his face. When he came back to himself he had no idea how or why he'd come outside knowing his cousin to be so close by. 'Something about a happy blue tree? Light? Something?'

"Good lord I must be more tired than I thought. I'm sleep walking," he said to no one in particular before heading back in for a hot shower.

October burst into life on the Hogwarts school grounds as though it had been impatiently waiting just off stage all year long and couldn't wait to show off in all its finery.

Harry came down to the common room to find Hermione asleep in a chair, her homework still in front of her. He smiled, wishing he had something to capture the scene. Just then an ember burst in the grate sending a small shower of sparks at Hermione's feet. She screamed as she whipped out her wand and started sending curses everywhere.

"Hermione! Hermione stop!" Harry screamed from behind the nearest chair. It was no good. Half awake and completely terrified she continued throwing hexes like they were dung bombs. Seeing a clear shot Harry leaped toward her.

"Expeliarmous!" With her wand across the room and her hand stinging Hermione came back to herself and collapsed onto the rug. Harry crawled over and held her.

"It's ok. It's ok Hermione we're at school. We're in the common room. She isn't here. She's dead. She isn't here." Hermione sobbed into his shoulder.

"She'd always here." The door for the portrait hole opened. Ron and Seamus (who had been made a prefect to help with the extra work) returned from their shift in Sytherin.

"Well at least the beds are comfortable even if the place does look like…" They stopped dead as they took in the sight of a sobbing Hermione on the floor of the destroyed common room.

"Wha-"

"She was dreaming about Bellatrix." Ron dropped to the floor and wrapped his long arms around them both.

"S'alright. S'alright. We're all here together see? We can do anything when we're with you. You helped save the whole world." Seamus understood and volunteered to hold off anyone coming down the stairs. Ron and Harry gathered Hermione off the floor. Ron spoke to her softly. "We're going to take a walk to the hospital wing love. We can take the back passages along the way. Why don't you tell me more about that bloke who carved them all out. What was his name again? Sean Slinktroph?" Hermione sniffed.

"His name was Stephen Stealthwright and he didn't carve them, Ronald. He used a fairly brilliant cartography and architectural combination spell he'd invented himself." Ron kept his arm around her as they walked.

"Ah that's right. I'm always forgetting these things. Lucky I have you around eh?"

Harry stared around at a common room which had been expertly blown to bits. He tried a few repair and cleaning spells but it was no good. He hadn't grown up doing magickal chores so no one had ever taught him such basic skills. He didn't want to tell anyone else what had happened but it was going to take an army to clean up the place. 'An army. Yes!'

"Kreacher!" The ancient house elf popped out of thin air wearing his Hogwarts tea towel; Regulus' duplicate locket hung solemnly about his neck. He bowed deeply.

"Master Potter." After all that had happened there was no question that the elf's respect was genuine.

"Kreacher, please ask the kitchen if there are any elves they could spare to help-" Before he could finish Kreacher was gone and over a dozen house elves had popped up all around the room like little, bat-eared daisies. In no time at all the room was repaired, cleaned and organized. There were even fresh bowls of fruit and nuts on all of the tables. The elves all bowed and spoke in unison.

"Might there be anything else we can do for you Master Harry?"

"Oh, uh no. But thank you." With a series of pops all but one disappeared. He recognized the tiny elf straight away. Winky, who was surprisingly sober, walked toward Harry with her eyes glued to the floor.

"Master Harry Sir, Winky has taken the liberty to inform Mistress Granger and Master Weasley's professors of their infirmary today. Winky shall collect Mistress and Master's school work and deliver it to the hospital wing." Harry smiled. A pile of homework was worth a thousand flowers to Hermione any day.

"Thank you Winky. You've been very helpful." Winky bowed and popped out but was back before Harry could even blink.

"Winky has been asked to inform Master Harry that there is a surprise for himself, Mistress' Granger and Lovegood as well as Master Weasley in the kitchens. Please come at your convenience."

Seventh Year Herbology consisted of growing, harvesting and fighting off some of the most dangerous plants imaginable. Devil's Snare was their opponent for today. Apparently the grey fluid seeping from its pores was a key ingredient in gripping solutions. Harry's previous experience with this menacing bit of flora wasn't serving him very well at the moment seeing as all he knew how to do was repel it. Just as he was about to make another go something outside the greenhouse window nearly made him drop his wand. Completely filthy and covered with sweat Dudley Dursley hauled a cart full of moss towards Hagrid's cabin. The Devil's Snare sensed his distraction and was on him in an instant. It's tentacle like vines went straight for his arms and throat. From the corner of his very blurry vision he could see the other students rushing toward him. A burst of light and heat struck him like a wall of fire as solar spells erupted from at least half a dozen wands. The evil plant released him at once as he gasped for air. Professor Sprout came bustling over, her arms full of odd looking medical supplies.

"I'm alright Professor. I just got-" The squat little witch brushed past him and started pouring dark earth and slimy salve onto the very charred Devil's Snare. Harry was offered a hand and helped to his feet. Whoever it was also handed him his glasses. As things came back into focus,

"Thanks mate. I'm just blind without these things." Draco Malfoy nodded once and walked back to his own table. Before Harry could even take it all in Professor Sprout rounded on him.

"Mr. Potter! What in the world happened? I would expect this kind of carelessness from a Second Year but form you? Good Lord."

"Sorry Professor. It won't happen again. I was just…" Over her head he caught a glimpse of blonde hair disappearing down the sloping lawns. "…distracted."

Harry threw his books into his bag so roughly he nearly ripped the seam. He ran down the path toward Hagrid's as Ron shouted from behind for him to wait up. But Harry wasn't stopping for anything. 'I'm delusional. There isn't any way…He can't be…' As he rounded the corner at the back of the hut the smaller house with its cheerful little garden came into view. And there, down in the dirt, applying moss to some very sizeable boulders, was Dudley Dursley.

As though he could feel him watching Derrick slowly lifted his head without Harry having to say a word. Harry dropped his bag and drew his wand. Derrick froze, his mouth agape, still holding two clumps of moss in each hand. Ron had just caught up.

"Harry," he panted. "what's the matter with you? People see you running like that and they're going to…bloody hell!" Ron stumbled forward a step. "What in the name of Merlin's knickers is he doing here?" Before anyone could answer Hagrid and Fang came out the back door.

"Alright there Derrick. You keep mossin them boulders while I fetch some lily o' the valley that's been growin by that dead stump. Professor said to make the barrier good and secure before nightfall." When he finally lifted his shaggy head up from looking in his bag he was able to take in the comically frozen scene before him. Fang tilted his head and whimpered in confusion as Hagrid strode over to stand in front of Derrick holding up his dustbin sized hands. He could see Harry was fuming.

"Neglected to tell us some things about your new assistant did you? How in the bloody hell did he get in here and why are you calling him Derrick?!" Derrick spoke softly, interjecting himself.

"That's-that's my new name now. Derrick Evans." As soon as he uttered the name a tiny ball of courage wiggled its way into his chest. He dropped the moss and stood up. Ron pulled his wand at what he felt was a threatening gesture.

"Alright now that's enough! Harry, Ron, I'm sorry you two had ter find out like this but if you have a problem with me new assistant yeh can take it up with the Headmistress."

Professor Mc Gonagall sipped her tea as she listened intently to Harry's recounting of some of the most horrible moments of his childhood. Hermione and Ron, seated to his right and left, visibly winced more than once as more and more traumatic instances came to light. Ron squeezed Harry's left shoulder and Hermione sat close enough that their knees were touching. The Headmistress waited until he was completely done before she put her cup down and met his eyes.

"Sometimes in the chaos of trying to survive our memories can lose details of the event we are experiencing here and there. Exactly how much of your final dual with Tom Riddle can you recall Mr. Potter?" The trio's heads all snapped up at once, as though springs had been placed under their chins.

"E-everything. All of it. Down to the last moment."

"And in those last moments, when you told Tom it wasn't too late, when you told him to try for some remorse, were you being sincere? Did you honestly believe that a man like that, a man who had committed unspeakable evils beyond count, could find genuine remorse for what he had done?" Complete understanding washed over Hermione's face as Ron and Harry continued to look like they had been hit with a stunner.

"I suppose I hoped he could. I wanted to believe he could."

"Mr. Potter. You found it within yourself to hold out hope for the redemption of one of the most terrible people to ever walk the face of the Earth, to extend mercy to the man who killed your family and friends, yet affording your cousin the same is completely beyond your capabilities?" Harry was silent as he clenched and unclenched his fists. She was right of course. What Dudley had done to him, while horrible, could never compare to the truly sociopathic deeds of Tom Riddle…whom he had still hoped to save.

Hermione simply couldn't hold her curiosity in any longer. "But why did he come? Why leave his pampered life and come to work as a groundskeeper? I'm sorry Professor but doesn't that seem a bit off to you?" Professor McGonagall sat up even straighter, if that was at all possible, and spoke to a portrait behind them.

"Would you tell him to please come in now?" A moment later Derrick walked into the room, some dirt still smeared across his brow, and stood behind the large desk. "They'd like to know why you're here. I thought I would give you the chance to tell it yourself but if you're not comfortable.."

"No Headmistress, it's fine." Derrick told them the whole thing; from his first tries at writing to Harry (this earned him some chuckles from Hermione and Ron) to being found by his cousin that very day. "So I guess the point is I just really wanted to tell you I was sorry. And I thought that if, maybe, I don't know, years from now you accept it things would be easier if I was already here... in your world. I thought that maybe…maybe by cutting off the Dursleys it would be easier to be family…someday." Harry guffawed reflexively.

"You can stay here, and you can call yourself Derrick and you can sweat your Muggle arse off (Mr. Potter!) out there with Hagrid but you will NEVER be my family. Not today, not tomorrow, not a hundred years from now!" Harry stood "Excuse me Professor," and he walked out the door leaving a room full of very uncomfortable silence in his wake.

The Gryffindor common room was fairly lively that evening. Games of Exploding Snap and Wizard Chess littered every available inch of carpet as the tables had been courteously given up to anyone actually trying to work. Harry, Ron and Neville sat on a deep windowsill watching Derrick's hut intently, oblivious to the din. Hermione had positioned her and Ginny's table directly beneath them, her back pressed firmly against the smooth stones which stayed wonderfully cool despite the roaring magical fire. She always sat this way now. No one was going to sneak up on her through solid stone.

"So what do you think the smarmy git is doing in there," asked Ron as his nose fogged up the window.

"Probably realizing that whatever insane plan he and the Dursley's cooked up to get at me wasn't worth missing his first year of University." Hermione's only response was the scratching of her quill. She had already made it quite plain that she agreed with the Headmistress' logical reasoning. The boy deserved a chance to make things right. Even if he was being duplicitous, what could a young muggle do surrounded by an entire school of Witches and Wizards?

Derrick Evans was presently collapsed in a heap on his mattress, staring up through one of the skylights in his lofted sleeping area. His entire body ached. And he had never felt so good in all his life. Boxing had never worn him out like this and all he'd ever had to show for his work in the ring was a bloody opponent. Today he had scraped the courtyard walls clean of moss and learned from Hagrid how to transplant the fuzzy little lichen to the large boulders which now surrounded his house. When the jolly half giant complemented him on a job well done Derrick swelled with pride. After that he mucked out the Hyppogryph paddock, which was a bit tougher than it might have been since he had to continuously keep his head down and avoid eye contact with the proud animals. Next was the cleaning out and scrubbing down of the school carriages and the rowing of all the boats back across the Black Lake. Towards the end of that particularly grueling chore even the giant squid, who he at first thought was going to eat him, started helping him along by giving the little boats a pull with its tentacles. The last thing he had on his list was to fill in the potholes and wheel ruts in the road which lead from the station to the castle. The thought of the castle pulled a smile onto his face. Growing up in the U.K. Derrick had seen his fair share of castles and manor homes but nothing compared to this. It wasn't just the shear height of its spiraling towers or its vast imprint across the landscape. No this place had a presence, an energy. And whenever Derrick began to flag in his very physically demanding work he would look up at Hogwarts Castle and feel renewed. In the days that followed he even began to feel as though the ancient edifice was watching over him. Kind of like a big brother; protective, wise yet still mischievous and full of wonderfully bad ideas.

To be continued…