Chapter 02 – So Little Time

The final few weeks before term began were like a taste of heaven on Earth for Harry. Somehow, the threat of Voldemort's rise to power seemed to be repelled by the protective charms around the Burrow as effectively as Voldemort himself was. News from the Ministry was always on the agenda for dinner conversation with the Weasley's but aside from a few mysterious disappearances, there was never much to worry about.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix often dropped by for meals or short chats. Harry knew this was another form of protection—extra guards around as often as possible—but far from minding, he enjoyed the visits, especially from Remus Lupin, the man who had been best friends with both Harry's father and godfather.

Lupin, once Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in his third year, had returned to teach at Hogwarts last year and would be back again for Harry's seventh and final year. After Dumbledore was reinstated in the Wizengamot from his short dismissal upon the grounds of spreading rumors about Voldemort's return, he was suddenly held in much higher esteem by almost everyone in the wizarding world. Therefore, he was able, very easily, to convince the Ministry of the safety and benefit of having Lupin—a werewolf—on the Hogwarts staff.

Harry always looked forward to Lupin's visits if only because he was as close to a father figure as he had anymore. Not to mention, Lupin enjoyed spending dinnertimes planning future Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with him, Ron, and Hermione. It was always fun to anticipate what sort of magic they'd be attempting this year.

However, all too soon it was the morning of September first and Harry was experiencing that familiar hour of chaos just before the returning Weasley's, he, and Hermione would journey to King's Cross station to catch the Hogwarts Express.

This year, Dumbledore himself had set up a special floo network attached directly to the magical platform nine and three quarters. Harry watched as first Ginny, Ron's little sister, accompanied by her mother, then Ron with Auror and Order member Mad-Eye Moody, and finally Hermione with Nymphadora Tonks of the same occupation as Moody, were whisked away by the green flames. Finally, only he, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley remained in the kitchen of the Burrow.

"Now Harry," Lupin began, laying a hand on his shoulder. "While we have you here alone there are a few things we need to go over with you.

"First of all, Professor Dumbledore would like you to know that you will be continuing lessons with him throughout the duration of the year."

Harry nodded. He had already been expecting this, wondering when he would receive the first invitation to Dumbledore's office.

"Second," continued Lupin. "There are a few things you should know about Voldemort."

This threw Harry. Things had been so quiet it was easy to lull himself into a false sense of security. "But I thought Voldemort wasn't active. What could you have to tell me?"

Mr. Weasley eyed him somberly. "He is active, Harry. Of course he is. Only he's moving slowly—much more slowly than the first time he tried to rise to power."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"We can't be sure but we think he feels more confident this time around."

"More confident about what?"

"Time," Mr. Weasley answered simply. "He thinks he has unlimited time. And the thing we need to realize is that he might, Harry. He might have all the time the world has to offer."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "He's immortal?"

Lupin shook his head. "We can't be sure. Professor Dumbledore has been researching the means he took to resurrect himself at the end of your fourth year. It's an obscure branch of magic he used, combining emotions to create solid, animate things—"

"Er," Harry interrupted. "Sorry, but did you say combining emotions? No, Voldemort used real ingredients—his father's bones, Wormtail's flesh...my blood."

"They were tangible, yes," explained Lupin. "But there was more significance to them than just their material existence. Different emotions were tied to each object."

"What emotions?" Harry asked wearily.

"Well, this is where the problem resides," Mr. Weasley said. "We can't be sure. There are the obvious answers; his father's bones represented resentment; Wormtail's flesh represented servitude; your blood represented hatred. And these ingredients combined, we know, would create something purely and exclusively evil, born as it is from such acerbic emotions."

Harry nodded. "That fits." He thought of Voldemort's bone white face, set with a pair of evil red eyes.

"It would," said Lupin. "Only those weren't the only emotions combined in this particular spell."

Harry was confused. "What other emotions could he have used?"

"We don't know. Probably Voldemort doesn't even know. It's exactly the reason why this kind of magic is so rare. It's impossible to pin an exact outcome on human emotions. They're too unstable, too unpredictable. Do you understand?"

He was beginning to. He nodded toward his shoes, too immersed in thoughts of the terrible outcomes Voldemort's spell might have had—other than the obvious. But then he had a question.

"Hang on," he said. "If Voldemort can't even know the side affects of what he did, then how could he think he has unlimited time? He wouldn't know, would he?"

Lupin frowned. "It is true he can't know for sure. However, Voldemort does have a few insights we don't have. For one thing, he knows a bit better than us just exactly how he felt about the three people who contributed to his resurrection—though he can't know exactly because of subconscious feelings and desires. Also, we believe he might be able to...sense the changes inside of himself."

"How do you mean?"

Lupin shared a look with Mr. Weasley, who gave a cursory glance to his watch and then leapt half a foot in the air.

"Galloping gargoyles!" he cried. "Look at the time! You'll miss the train! Quickly, Harry, into the fire!"

The three of them squeezed into the grate and Lupin threw down a handful of floo powder and shouted their destination. When Harry spun out the other side, the platform was already mostly empty and the Hogwarts Express was singing its warning whistle.

"There you three are!" Mrs. Weasley called over the heads of parents seeing their children off. "Harry, dear, onto the train now! The doors are already closed!"

Just then, Ginny flung open a door for him and he jumped through just as the train rolled out of the station. After picking himself up and grinning conspiratorially at Ginny he thought of a question and threw himself at the open window.

"Wait!" Harry called to Mr. Weasley as the Hogwarts Express blew its whistle one last time and began picking up speed. "Why couldn't Dumbledore tell me any of this in one of our lessons?"

"So much to learn, Harry," Mr. Weasley shouted back. "So little time!" And then they turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Harry turned back in with a frown.

"Tell you any of what?" Ginny asked curiously.

Harry eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. Sometimes he, Ron, and Hermione discussed things in front of her but never anything too secret. He thought maybe the information he had gathered today would fall under that 'secret' category.

"Nothing," he said coolly, a minute too late. Ginny scowled at him. He changed the subject. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Prefect compartment," Ginny answered tersely.

That's right. Hermione had made Head Girl and Ron was still a prefect. Harry felt a little pang of irritation. He'd wanted to tell them what he'd learned right away.

"Where is my trunk?" he asked.

With a long, suffering look, Ginny hesitated and then turned and lead him through the corridor to the compartment she had already reserved. He grinned a little behind her back. Sure, she might be annoyed that he wouldn't confide in her like he did Ron and Hermione but Ginny was too facetious to really care that much. Guilt trips were her specialty but often her last attempt. He would be safe if he could resist this last assault.

Sure enough, when they reached the compartment, she entered with a cheery greeting to two of Harry's good friends; Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Then she smiled at Harry and offered a game of exploding snap, which he accepted at once.

The four passed half the train ride with comfortable camaraderie and the other half was spent enjoying easy conversation once Ron and Hermione had returned from Prefect and Head Girl duties.

Night had blanketed the sky when the lights of Hogsmeade Village finally illuminated their dim compartment and Harry pressed his nose against the window to see the distant outline of Hogwarts.

But just before the train shuddered to a stop, the compartment door slammed open to reveal a sneering Draco Malfoy. For once he was not flanked by his faithful cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. However, he looked as disgusted as always at the prospect of finding himself in the company of anyone as lowly as Harry Potter and his fellow Gryffindors (plus one loony Ravenclaw).

"Granger," he spat before anyone could speak. "Where have you been? You've got a job to do!"

"Correction, Malfoy," said Hermione. She seemed unruffled by his rude appearance. "We've got a job to do."

He turned up his nose at her. "Correction, Mudblood. You do as I—"

Bang!

When a rather dense cloud of purple smoke cleared, Harry and the others were looking at what appeared to be an overgrown shrub in a Slytherin uniform. Hermione and Neville were both gaping, Ginny was snickering uncontrollably, and Ron was glaring, his wand raised and trembling slightly.

"Git," he mumbled under his breath.

His voice seemed to break the shocked silence.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, rounding on him. "You're a Prefect! And he's Head Boy! You'll be in so much trouble!"

Ron shrugged, seeming only slightly abashed. But Hermione said nothing more, instead pulling out her own wand and repairing the damage. In fact, before she turned away from him, Harry thought he may have detected a delighted blush to her cheeks.

In moments, Malfoy was back to normal. Without comment, he huffed and swept furiously away. Hermione followed with a cheery wave and a smile over her shoulder. Then, the remaining five joined the throng of students filing out onto the platform and loading into carriages.

On the ride up to the school Ginny, Neville, and Ron laughed and conversed gleefully about the Malfoy Tree.

Luna put in her two cents; "He rather resembled a Bumbleburg Bush. I wonder, if left to ripen, would he bear the native fruits? They're quite rare, you know. And they give the consumer temporary Seer abilities."

"Maybe Malfoy needs some, then," Ginny smirked. "He might've had enough foresight to avoid Ron." She smacked him on the back and his ears turned pink with satisfaction.

But Harry couldn't laugh with the others. He had noticed something about Malfoy and it wasn't that he made a better plant than person. Some things about his visit had stuck with Harry. The first and most obvious was his lack of back-up. Surely he wouldn't leave behind his bodyguards upon entering the lion's den.

More bothersome than that was his behavior. If he hadn't been Harry's biggest school rival for six years he might never have noticed. But it seemed as though Malfoy was losing his touch. First, though his opening line had been rude enough, he did not fling any insults until provoked. Second, after being restored from Ron's curse, he had left without so much as a threat to tell his favorite professor, the biased Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape.

It wasn't like him.

So many odd things, Harry pondered. Malfoy's seemingly subdued behavior. Lupin and Mr. Weasley's odd look when Harry had asked them about Voldemort's way of sensing his own attributes.

And a kiss.

The thought came unbidden to his brain. He hadn't reflected on the silly muggle movie since arriving at the Weasley's. And yet there it was now, spinning through his head just like Sarah and Jonathon had spun through the dancing crowd.

He could see the scene clearly. Sarah's fingers were curled tightly over Jonathon's impressive biceps. Jonathon held her around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Their lips came together infuriatingly slowly but when they touched they were suddenly fused. Their noses were aligned side-by-side. Their eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing gently. A blush colored her cheeks prettily but the subtle tightening of Jonathon's neck, a muscle ticking just below his jaw, seemed more passionate to Harry. Harry. Harry!

"Harry!"

He was startled from his reminiscing and blinked, focusing his gaze on three worried expressions and Luna, gazing serenely at his left shoulder.

"What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked urgently. "Did you have a...you know—" He glanced at Ginny and Neville and hissed into Harry's ear; "A vision?"

Harry was speechless for a moment. For some reason Ron's face kept morphing into Jonathon's and Ginny, hovering close to his side, slightly resembled Sarah.

"Don't worry," Luna finally said, as the carriage pulled to a stop. "He's probably just been bitten by a Hufflapod. Their venom causes fantasies. It'll wear off." Then she slid off the seat to the ground.

Despite himself, Harry snorted inelegantly at her comment. This seemed to shake some of the worry off his friends' faces and they slowly followed after Luna. As Harry trailed behind, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of shock at how close Luna's guess had been.

Something in his stomach tightened and an odd tingle ran up and down the right side of his face as he pictured that pulsing muscle in Jonathon's jaw. Then he shook his head fiercely and took his seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Harry thought he had felt calm and peaceful at the Burrow, but somehow, throughout the sorting ceremony and the start of term feast, he relaxed into a mood he had forgotten over summer vacation. There was something entirely too soothing about knowing Dumbledore was sitting not far away, looking down upon his students. So relaxed had he become that he couldn't wipe the ear-to-ear grin from his face even as he prepared for bed in the familiar Gryffindor dormitories.

"Good to be back, eh, mates?" Seamus rumbled happily as he pulled on his pajamas.

There were murmurs of cheerful agreement from the rest of his dorm mates and Harry climbed into bed smiling.

His dreams were affected by the too-large portion of treacle tart he'd ingested that evening. For some reason, when the kissing couple danced tonight in his unconsciousness, Sarah had disappeared and Jonathon had duplicated, so that he was dancing with himself.

Harry stood alone on the edge of the dance floor, happily admiring the way the man and his reflection sashayed with perfection. Around the two danced a variety of Harry's friends. Dumbledore was dipping Luna. Hermione twirled Dobby the house elf. Ron was attempting a tango-like strut with Neville, who constantly stepped on his toes. Harry was laughing fondly at them all, searching the couples for more familiar faces.

Then, through the flying skirts and coattails he spotted a pale, pointed face. He stood alone on the outskirts just as Harry did, staring through the dancers just as Harry did. And there in the corner of Malfoy's jaw, a muscle pulsed with familiarity.

Harry started awake from a sudden electric shock just above his right temple. But it faded almost instantly into a light tingle running from jaw to hairline. He rolled over and fell back into sleep, not remembering his dream in the morning.