Harry locked the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place behind him. Alone, with only Kreature and Buckbeak to keep him company, the 18 year old Potter found himself missing Privet Drive for the first time in his life. He knew though that it was silly to think of the old place, especially when his Aunt and Uncle had been all too cheery at letting him pack his bags on his birthday. Harry walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a turkey sandwich that was starting to mildew. He stuffed it down, trying not to think too much about the inevitably difficult year that lied ahead of him, one without Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione, or Dumbledore. Yes, they had begged him to let them join in on his future escapade, but he flat out refused. It was going to be too dangerous.

After feeding Buckbeak, and forcing himself to stay up for Hedwig to return, Harry found himself sinking deeper and deeper into an old armchair trying not to fall asleep. Instead of succumbing to a restless slumber, he picked up A Guide to Legimancy by Cille Slensinger. He was reading up on this to know more about Voldemort's favorite practice, and he had been attempting to perform this difficult magic on Kreacher, but the only thing he had managed to see so far was an ugly, scowling image of Kreacher's face, that Harry had the faintest idea had something to do with the elfs feelings toward him. He began to read,
After setting aside your own cogitations, remember to slightly cross your eyes three times before penetrating into the depths of your opponent retina...
"WHAM" Hedwig landed on Harry's arm forcefully, knocking his glasses slightly askew.
"Finally, I've been looking for you, girl." He untied the letter wrapped around her leg, and carefully unfolded it.

Dear Mr. Potter,
I have received your request for a meeting on the 30th of August and accept your invitation for lunch at 12:00 in the Leaky Cauldron. I must mention however, that I have my doubts as to whether your plans for missing the Hogwarts Express on September the 1st is a wise decision. I do hope that you can enlighten me on your motives for doing so when we meet.
Also, I have enclosed some information on the Auror's self guide to effective defense, and you will find my old notes quite helpful if you still want these texts. Until then, best of luck.
Rufus Scrimgeour
Minister of Magic

Harry looked for a book or rolls of parchment in supplement to the letter, but couldn't find anything. "Visualify!" Nothing appeared out of thin air in reaction to his spell. He wondered if the texts had been taken by an intercepter of the letter, and if so, that person would know Hedwig belonged to him and had been sending messages to him all summer long. Perplexed, he ruffled his black hair and began walking to bed. It was late. The important thing was that Scrimgeour would meet with him. Harry crawled into the covers, switched the lamp off, and fell asleep thinking about a red haired girl and a red-eyed murderer. His scar was painless.

Deep underground the Hogwarts castle, a golden and red bird perched on top of a slightly dilapidated statue of a giant snake. The chamber of secrets hadn't been empty for several months. Beyond the statue, sat Albus Dumbledore, pen furiously at work, beard trailing the top of his parchment as he wrote. He was explaining the facade of his death to Minerva Mcgonagall, who would be the only person aside from Hagrid and Snape who would know the story of how he had lived as she would be running the school. He knew his hiding place was accessable only to two people other than himself, and he doubted whether Harry Potter or Voldemort would seek the place of their battle during Harry's second year. Dumbledore sealed his letter, and signalled for Fawkes to pick it up. She had accomplished a lot of healing in the past few months. Dumbledore doubted the students had picked up on her song during his "death".

Minerva McGonagall was furious. Another teacher resignation form had been sent in. First Professor Sinistra, now Madam Hooch? She was having a hard enough time finding a defense against the darks arts teacher. Looking up from her desk she glanced at the portraits on the wall. Looking at a sleeping Dumbledore, she tried to ignore the jolt in her stomach and the tear that came to her eyelid. But at a second look, he wasn't sleeping at all. The portrait winked at her.
"Yes, Dumbledore, you would like to say..."
"Leave my office and walk over to Hagrid's hut. You will find something waiting for you there. He is not expecting you. Find an excuse to visit him."
The other portraits were perking up. This was the second time Dumbledore had spoken since his death. The first was a simple welcome to the headmaster's office. Minerva's earlier frustrations left her as fast as Lockhart's mental facilities left him and they were replaced by newfound feelings of excitement. Finally, something interesting was coming into her job.

She stepped quickly down the spiral staircase and stopped briefly to change the password to "feline". The word made her think of transforming herself, but on second thought, she realized Fang might not take a liking to cats. Arriving at Hagrid's, she rapped on the door three times. Sure enough a booming bark answered and moments later, Hagrid's giant silhouette appeared in the doorframe. He was wearing patched up a pajamas.
"Professor McGonagall, what in the world are you doing up at this 'our?"
"Enough I would say. Things are plenty busy for the summer around here. I'm here because another teacher just resigned and I am asking you to fill the position. This is urgent becuase I've been warned that Dolores Umbridge may attempt to secure Ministry approved teachers this year if I am unable to find them. I know your heart is with magical creatures, but Grubbly Plank is willing to teach that if you will fill in the position I speak of. I daresay, you will be able to control the students in this topic, even if it may involve additional learning on your behalf."
"If you don't mind me asking Professor, what would I be teachin'?
"May I come in?"
"Sure, Sure, my apologies, I's just so caught up in what you were a sayin..."
There it was. A single golden and red feather on the top of Hagrid's tea table. She hadn't seen Fawke's sign in months.
"Professor?"
"Oh, of course. You will be teaching quidditch."

"Would you mind if I had some tea?"
McGonagall wanted to reach the scroll and pocket it before Hagrid noticed it. Just as she was picking it up, he turned his shaggy head.
"Oh that, must be from Dumbledore, been wonderin when he'd say somethin'."
She gave him a quizzical look.
"Oh dear, shouldn't ave said tha'."
But it was too late. She was unrolling the letter and found it addressed to her in the ex-headmasters slanted writing.
Dear Minerva,
I am writing to you now because it is critical for you to keep the teachers from resigning. They are doing this for the wrong reason. First and foremost, I am alive. If you have questions, ask Hagrid, as he can inform you how he carried a scarecrow to the funeral, and other details on my so thought departure.
Secondly, do not speak with Harry Potter about this letter, for he will make himself stronger if he thinks himself an independent young man.
Thirdly, back to the teachers. Your reason for them to stay will be a new curriculum, based extensively on defense against the dark arts. You are to find ways of encorporating this magical practice into the other subjects and in a way that will appeal to the teachers. They are quitting to join the war against Voldemort, and because they do not trust you the way they should. Gain their trust by following my instructions. It is more important to train the future than to struggle with the present.
Lastly, enjoy your new freedoms. Do not let Umbridge ferret her way into Hogwarts again. I will have my ways of stopping her. Enjoy talking with Hagrid. Yours truely,
Albus

"In Merlin's name! How did this happen? Surely the likes of Harry's eyewitness account is not at fault?"
Hagrid smiled widely as he brought the tea over to her.
"So he's told yeh eh?"
"Quite apparently so."
"Righ'. No, no, it wasn't Harry's miscommunication, it was Snape's. Yeh see, when he pulled the ol' Avada, he was doin' soma that nonverbal stuff, the countercurse yeh know, same jet o' green light and everything. Dumbledore worked his own bit o' magic at the same time, yeh see? Fooled em all. Dumbledore came right out to me hut right after it all. Don't know where he's at now, just know I've been gettin messages and the like."
She nodded curtly.
"Yes, he must have used Vanisia, the ancient and highly difficult dissapearing charm.." Almost muttering to herself, McGonagall continued to connect the dots in her mind until she arrived at another question.
"Why did flames engulf the scarecrow?"
Hagrid grunted and took a sip of tea. "Well, that's top secret that is." He looked really uncomfortable, but he had given McGonagall an idea.
"Where is Snape?"
"Aww now I don't know that, listen, I think it's time for yeh to head back to the castle. I'm getting really tired, it's way past midnight and yeh should get some rest too. And I don't know if me legs will take a likin' to Quidditch. I'll let yeh know about that later. 'Night."
And with that he opened the door, and ushered her out of the room.

Harry spent the next week reading the Daily Prophet, practicing Legimancy, and writing out his ideas for Scrimgeour. The date of their meeting was rapidly approaching, and Harry needed to buy some new robes so he wouldn't reveal several inches of his ankles to the Minister of Magic. He planned to take the Knight bus in order to arrive at Diagon alley a day early. Before leaving, he spent some time tidying Number 12 and instructing Kreacher on how to take care of Buckbeak.
"Feed him 6 of these rats daily. If you see a rat that's missing a finger, give it to the hippogriff immediately. That's an order."
When all seemed together, Harry slipped out the front door, robes filled with gold, and raised his wand hand high in the air. He waited for forty-five minutes when finally the purple triple decker bus screeched to a halt in front of him. Stepping aboard, Harry selected a bunk on the second floor as the first was filled up with disgruntled looking witches and wizards. He layed down, and felt the bed slide across the floor. He had few hopes that this trip would be less jolting than his first.

Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron late in the night. He thanked the driver, and dragged his stiff body down the stairs. When he got to the front desk, Tom told him that no more spaces were available for the night. Harry was forced to find an alternative. He tapped the bricks with his wand and entered Diagon Alley. It was practically deserted. Finally, he reached a neon sign that read Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and he rang the doorbell. Minutes later, Fred popped his head out the door and yelped with glee.
"Harry, didn't know you were a partier! Glad to see you out and about at these wee hours. Come inside, have you had a little too much firewhisky, or was it mulled mead. You definately seem woosey."
"No, actually I just got off the Knight bus. I'm needing a place to stay because the Leaky Cauldron is all full."
Fred frowned. "Sorry bro. Got nothing for you. The inventing room is filled with Dixie eggs being incobated. You would burn up in there. George and I don't have room to spare. Out the door!"
He pushed Harry out and slammed the door.
Harry felt utterly dejected. He had been so sure this would be the place to spend the night. The streets seemed awfully lonely and dangerous at this hour. Just then the door popped open. It was George.
"He was only kidding you know. Come on in and have a hot chocolate. It will make you have brown hair while you drink it. We borrowed some hair from Tonks to get the formula right."

"We actually have a guest room upstairs. Bill and Fleur used it last so it's probably a little messy."
Harry didn't care.
"Thanks, that's alright."
He walked up the stairs to his room and noticed photographs of beautiful women hanging on the walls on the way up. When he got to his room, Hedwig was already there, perched on top of a lime green dresser. Harry plopped on the bed and immediated drifted off. He could faintly hear the sound of something exploding in the inventing room that didn't sound like Dixie eggs hatching at all. Curious, Harry couldn't help but get up and attempt to take a look. Unfortunately though, George caught him so he pretended to be going to the restroom to brush his teeth.

The next morning Harry woke to the loud rapping music of the Slim Wizards band, booming out from Fred's room. He scrambled up, put his glasses on, and headed out to get some breakfast. George was already setting up shop downstairs.
"Morning Harry old chap! Ready for a spot of our cooking? Straight from our new book, The Flavors that Make You Famous. We've fixed the little gas side effect, you'll get more and more famous as you eat it."
Harry, hardly desiring fame or farts, decided to dine out.
"No thanks, I really better run. C-ya later today."
He walked out the shop and a cacophonous buzzer rang as the door opened. Fred and George were funny, but you had to be careful around them.
Harry ate at a little shop called Bewitched Breakfast then headed out to Madam Malkin's to be fitted. He chose navy blue for the first time since he knew he wouldn't be attending Hogwarts. It seemed more mature somehow. Just as he was leaving the shop, he noticed something curious happening on the street outside.

A large hoard of people was gathering around someone dressed in Muggle attire holding a gun. He was a middle aged mad who looked furious about something.
"I'll tell them all about this! My uncle's one of you freaks and now you've gone and killed my daughter. This is how I feel about that."
He held the gun in midair as if to fire it, but was restrained by a subdueing spell. A Ministry witch stepped in and performed a memory modification.
"See here now, let's walk this way."
She parted the crowd and guided the man out of Diagon Alley. Harry watched as reporters clicked their cameras, and the curious magical community whispered about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He wandered how the man had entered Diagon Alley. It was like seeing Dudley at Hogwarts- utterly out of place.
Harry checked his watch. It was nearing time to meet with Scrimgeour.

Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron and saw the usual assorted crowd of sketchy folks. Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting at the bar looking at his watch. Harry tapped him on the shoulder.
"You must be Mr. Potter. It's nice to meet you in person. I've booked a private room for us for the sake of privacy from listening ears. Shall we?"
They followed a very pretty witch into a secluded room, where two tables with soup and sandwiches were awaiting them.
"Thank you Minister, I err, am really pleased to be able to do this. Thanks a lot for your time."
"Well of course. Things have been tremendously busy at the Ministry, what with all the attacks. I do need to get back, but I can give you thirty minutes."
Harry suddenly felt nervous about what he was going to say. He decided to warm up with something he knew the Minister could relate to.
"Speaking of attacks, I was in Diagon Alley this morning when a Muggle came in harping about err, an attack from Voldemort."
Rufus cringed at the name.
"A muggle was in Diagon Alley? Oh dear, I hadn't heard yet."
"Well it just happened a few moments ago, but I'm not very surprised. One of the things I wanted to mention was Muggle rights. My friend Hermione Granger is obsessed with House Elf rights, but what about Muggles? Voldemort pays them absolutely no respect and I think it's time we treat them the opposite. Are we in any formal state of contact with their leaders?"
The minister looked impressed other than another slight cringe.
"Now Harry, this is not something I want you spreading around, but yes, I have met with the Muggle Minister. This is an ancient tradition. There is little else we can do."
Harry disagreed but said nothing. He needed to move quickly.
"Thanks, err I also wanted to ask you about being an auror. Is there a society for aurors where they can ban together and build off of each other's strengths? If so, is there any way I could attend a meeting? As you know, I won't be attending Hogwarts this year."
The minister looked a little ruffled.
"No, I'm afraid there isn't anything public. Organizations of this nature must be kept secret do the nature of their practice. May I ask why you will not be attending Hogwarts?"
"Becuase I'm going to destroy the 7th Horcrux."