Man, the turnover of HP fics is incredibly impressive…anyway, thanks to the (one) who reviewed – kiki-kobre, thank you so much! – and those who read but didn't, you're awesome too.


A few moments of crushing darkness later, Harry breathed in deeply, tasting the honeysuckle in the cool evening air. It was a welcome change form the recycled air of the Ministry, which was, of course, located underground. Even though Magical Maintenance did amazing work, fresh air was only this refreshing and this good when it was pure.

Next to Harry, Arthur was straightening his travelling cloak, having just Apparated too. With a smile he and Harry began walking towards the warm light that was the Burrow, a long awaited haven. The evening was cool but still light, as the two wizards walked down the lane.

Harry had been staying at the Burrow ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. He couldn't go back to the Dursleys, of course, and he hadn't really considered what he would do as far as living arrangements went: a war with Voldemort drove such normal concerns fro the mind. Mrs Weasley had told him to stay with them, and at first the arrangement had seemed temporary – but three weeks on he was still here, in Fred and George's old room. And Molly didn't seem to care at all.

Hermione was staying at the moment – she had been to Australia and found her parents, and lifted the enchantment on them. After explaining why she had done it and what had happened, the Grangers had retuned to their old house in England and were now getting the hang of sending owls. Hermione spent her time split between them and the Burrow, where Molly maintained another feminine touch was always needed in a house full of men. The genders were in fact even at the moment; no one had the heart to point this out to her.

Molly and Arthur, and Ron and Ginny, were recovering from the shock of loosing a son and brother. Ron had spent his free time helping George in Diagon Alley with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Harry hadn't seen much of George save through Ron, who said his elder brother was still completely mental and actually seemed to be doubly so, as if he was making up for Fred. Bill and Fleur visited from time to time, and Teddy Lupin and Andromeda did too. Charlie had returned to Romania and his dragons, but Percy was still around, living in London and working at the Ministry and appearing for dinner at least three times a week.

In fact, Harry reflected as they came closer to the Burrow, everyone had come a surprisingly long way in a short amount of time. A month ago Voldemort was still making life a living hell for most, and terror was everywhere, people were dying…now it was a memory, but a vivid one. Everyone had come to terms with what had happened well, and now life was getting back to normal. Or as normal as it could in the wizarding world.

Stepping through the gate of the Burrow, Harry could smell dinner on the air. It made him realise how hungry he was, and he couldn't bite back a smile. On opening the door there was a chorus of welcoming calls coming from the living room. Harry and Arthur wandered through to those waiting within.

Molly was folding washing, Hermione had her nose in a book (as usual) and Ron and Ginny were sprawled on the floor playing chess. Arthur approached Molly to give her a kiss and Harry shrugged off his jacket and bag, dropping down behind Ginny to give her a hug and sit down next to her. Molly and Arthur went through to the kitchen, leaving the four teens alone.

"How was training?" Ginny asked, giving Harry a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Did you go into the arena today?" Hermione added, looking up over the edge of her book.

"Fine, and yeah," Harry answered, adding in an undertone to Ginny, "take out his knight and you might be able to check him."

Ron scowled over the board. "Oi! No giving her help. So, what's it like?"

"The arena? It's like a massive room with obstacles and platforms and stuff. You've got to subdue another Auror as quickly as you can. There are a few rules concerning spells, but pretty much anything goes. You still considering joining the Department, Ron?"

Ron paused, one hand hovering over a knight. "Maybe. I'm still helping George, but I don't know how much longer he'll need me for. I'll think about it when the time comes."

Harry nodded, his eyes flicking up to Hermione. In true Hermione form, she was going back to Hogwarts in the new school year to complete her seventh year and get her NEWTs. It was strange to think that her and Ginny would be in the same year, both sitting the exams at the same time…Harry had to admit he'd seriously thought of joining her, but had decided her wanted to do the Auror training more. When both him and Ron had made their reasons about not going back, Hermione had rolled her eyes and said something about it being 'exactly what she had told McGonagall'.

Dinner was always a homely affair to Harry. To be here with these people, in such a relaxed state as this, was something that made Harry thankful. Tonight, Percy appeared, as did Bill and Fleur, and George, so the Burrow was as full as it allowed. It was almost as if the war had never happened, Harry thought sadly as he looked around the full table. Fred could just be in the next room…

After dinner, the nights were mainly lazy and calm. Ginny and Bill battled it out on the chessboard while Harry cornered Hermione about all she knew of Disillusionment Charms (which turned out to be most useful) and they had fun discussing other methods of magical concealment. Fleur and Molly were chatting about children (while Bill was trying to act like he couldn't hear them) and Percy and Arthur were talking about the changes at the Ministry.

As Hermione started to divulge the more obscure facts and points to a Disillusionment Charm, Harry's focus began to slip. He was exhausted – although from the day or something else he didn't know. He had been ever since the war, really. Ever since it ended, ever since the pain lessened…pain…

…perform the Cruciatus Curse first, to weaken them and watch them struggle. Once or twice, enough to hear them scream…

Harry pushed the thought away. He was overreacting, that was all. It was just a sick joke.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you listening?"

"What? Sorry, Hermione. I lost track…what were you saying?"

Hermione was looking at him, her head on the side, scrutinising him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Really," he added, sharper than he meant to. Hermione looked slightly taken aback, and Harry immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm just exhausted. I haven't been sleeping properly lately, and I'm tired all the time." He ran a hand across his forehead distractedly. "It's given me a bit of a short fuse."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I've told you all the basics of a Disillusionment Charm anyway. Go to bed and get some sleep, Harry. You look as if you need it."

Harry made an affirmative noise, but before he could rise, the four guests were discussing their own plans to leave and return to their respective homes. The three Weasley brothers – and one Weasley sister-in-law – bid goodnight to the four teens and left, Molly and Arthur leaving also to accompany them to the gate.

Harry gave Ginny a kiss goodnight and made his own excuses, making his way up to the second floor and the room he called home. It had been Fred and George's room; and Harry occasionally found a remnant of a prank or a half-developed magical sweet somewhere around.

He moved to put his jacket over the back of the desk chair, and as he did so something rustled in the pocket.

He pulled out the parchment and unfolded it. It was definitely his writing…but he didn't recall writing it at all. And he wouldn't write this kind of stuff…he'd never used – or attempted to use – the Avada Kedavra. And the Cruciatus Curse he'd only used properly once, and that was in defence of another. He would never, never use it for fun…

"Harry? You okay, mate?"

Ron was looking through the open door at where Harry was standing totally still and looking at the parchment in his hands.

"Yeah, Ron, fine," Harry lied, screwing up the parchment and throwing it onto his desk.


Ginny sat, watching the doorway as Harry left, and Ron soon after. She was biting the inside of her lip, hoping Harry was okay…he had seemed different as of late. She guessed it was because of what had happened only weeks ago, but something – instinct, perhaps – told her that there was something more to it.

Hermione followed he sightline, guessing her train of thought. "What is it, Ginny?"

"Harry…" the younger girl muttered, before tearing her eyes away from the door to look at Hermione. "I'm worried about him."

Ever since the war, Harry had been…different. He'd been quieter, grief stricken – they all had, to be fair – and after being told everything about what had happened, Ginny could understand that. Everything Harry had been through was horrific. But just as of late, he seemed to be slightly distant, looking more and more exhausted and drawn out, occasionally lashing out at those around him…

"He's just tired, Gin," Hermione said soothingly. "I'm sure he's okay."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm sure there's something else. It just…it doesn't feel right."

"I've noticed it too," Hermione said quietly after a moment. "And so has Ron…but there's not much we can do about it. He says he's fine."

"He said he was fine a lot during everything that happened – you know that as well as I do and probably better, Hermione. I'm still worried…there's something he's not telling us."


Harry opened his eyes slowly. Once again he felt as if he hadn't slept at all…but this time it was probably due to the dreams he had had last night…they were fragmented and vague, as always, but there had definitely been something to do with the Dark Mark and Voldemort…

Rubbing a hand over his scar, which was throbbing angrily, Harry sighed and rose from the warm confines of his bed.

A relaxing shower later, Harry was dressed and on his way downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen, he could feel the tense atmosphere. Those at the table turned to him when he entered, and Ron silently pushed a copy of the morning's Prophet towards him. Harry took one look at the front page and felt his jaw drop.

DARK MARK SEEN OVER LONDON – NO DEATHS KNOWN OF

Last night the Dark Mark was seen hovering over Diagon Alley. No deaths have been reported as of yet, but those in Diagon Alley have been told to stay in their homes while Ministry of Magic officials comb the area. The Dark Mark is, of course, the sign of You-Know-Who, who was defeated by Harry Potter at the beginning of the month…

Harry tore his eyes from the article and looked at the photo. It was of the Dark Mark floating above the recognisable roofs of the shops in Diagon Alley…and it reminded him painfully of a similar photo, years ago…at the Quidditch World Cup…

Harry dropped the paper back to the table and looked up, stunned. "They can't be serious! It's a hoax, or something."

Arthur looked troubled. "It's no hoax. That's the real mark."

"But…" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "He's…"

"Gone?" Ginny supplied. "We know. We all know."

"They say in the article it's probably one of the remaining Death Eaters who are on the run, trying to inspire fear," said Ron, pulling the Prophet towards him. "They've got a list of those who have evaded capture."

Over Ron's shoulder, Harry scanned the list, looking at the images of the Death Eaters with extreme dislike. He could remember them all, laughing as he was tortured in the graveyard, killing without mercy in the Hogwarts corridors…these had been the ones clever and stupid enough to get away…the others were all inside Azkaban, and these were the ones the Aurors were tracking…

Harry frowned at the list, pointing out three of them. "These three – Crabbe, Goyle and Rowle – they're not intelligent enough, probably couldn't remember the spell if their lives depended on it…"

"My galleons are on Lestrange," said Hermione bitterly. "Someone who married that horror Bellatrix would do something like this."

Harry nodded. And Rudolphus would like to inspire fear for the fun of it…

…and he had dreamed of it. Right then, he suddenly remembered – an image of the Dark Mark over rooftops, shimmering evilly. Or had that been coincidence? Surely, just coincidence.


It's getting weirder…poor boy. I'm really playing with his head in this one. A few seconds of your time for a review makes all the difference to me!