Harry Potter: A Soul In Tension

Written by abi2301

Chapter 02

v.01: 02/28/2005

Official disclaimer:

The Harry Potter movies and novel series are the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Inc. and Scholastic Books, Inc. All rights are reserved. 'Harry Potter: A Soul In Tension' is a purely fictional series based upon the original HP and written for entertainment purpose only. No money is made out of it and no law infringement was intended in its writing.


Chapter 02: Messages, disagreements and plots

With a shaking hand, Harry Potter reached towards the Gringotts owl, dreading the content of the message the bird carried on its leg. Untying the scroll of paper with unsure fingers, he found himself being wracked from the inside by a strong sense of sadness, desperation mixed by foreboding and yet...a strange sliver of determination woven between the previous feelings. I know what it is and I will read it to its end. I swear. For HIM, he thought, steeling himself for the task at hand. The dark-feathered owl blinked in obvious interrogation, not quite comprehending the unease of its message's addressee. Usually, they bore a much eager face than that. After all, money was a source of rejoicing, right? It seemed that this time was an exception to the rule.

Harry unfolded the message, reading the tidy scrawl etched onto the fabric, the lines filled with sympathetic sternness, if the oxymoron could exist.

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to our knowledge that your godfather, Lord Sirius Orion Black, Heir and current Head of the Most Noble House of Black and the Terrington line, has recently passed away; may he rest in peace. According to wizarding laws, a ceremony of inheritance must be performed in order for those cited in the deceased person's will to come in possession of their share of Mr. Black's assets, in accordance to his will. As you are his main heir, given by name, your presence is requested here, at Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley, to perform the ceremony in all legality.

However, according to the 9856th Ministry Decree, Appendix A, instituted on the 26th of July, 1714, if the aforementioned parties do not present themselves at the inheritance ritual at the set span of time, all assets, titles and family rights will be relinquished to the Ministry since no one has claimed or just forfeiting the right of possession. The material assets will then be redistributed or sold to the public but the money will be donated to Gringotts' Security Fund Association to help us increase our security measures and improve our ability to serve you as a banking institution.

You have until the fifth of August to present yourself at our offices, in Diagon Alley. Please inform our services as soon as possible if you are unable to come or are prevented from attending the ceremony. In that eventuality, steps will be taken in order to make things possible or easier, in your best interests.

We wish to hear from you soon and we would like to offer you our deepest condolences for your loss.

Sincerely,

Goblin Ripbag, Senior Elderblood Solicitor, Gringotts Bank

Sirius' will.

Those two words spoke louder than an encyclopedia or a thesis about sadness and human misery. Right here, in front of his eyes, was the definite proof, the official sign that Sirius Orion Black, was indeed dead. Harry had for a long time harbored the hope of seeing his godfather rise from the shadows hidden by the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. For many weeks he had replayed that horrid scene in his mind, recalling how Sirius' body, after being hit by one of Bellatrix Lestrange's spell, had eerily glided towards the Veil and passed beyond the cold fabric, never to be seen again. All that because he, Harry, hadn't bothered practicing Occlumency enough. The lesson had hit Harry harder than any other as it had taken him the loss of his closest impression to a father to understand that shielding one's mind was critical in staying sane and safe. Hermione's voice, in his head, however, kept on disagreeing. Dumbledore didn't tell you how important it was, Harry! It's not your fault! It's true that you should have practiced Occlumency every time before going to bed. If Dumbledore said so then it had to be done with a lot of attention thrown in! Oh, Harry...

"The will..."

His voice caught in his throat. The two owls looked at him in alarm, seeing how pale his face had gone. His hard-gained self-control was slipping away in a now rare but deep show of weakness. Harry immediately braced himself, trying to keep the spreading cold out of his body. "I will...not...give up..." he choked. Hedwig went out of her still open cage and in a flurry of feathers, took off and landed on Harry's shoulder, soothing him with one of her wings, rubbing her limb over his raven-haired head. Harry weakly stroke her back, in a token of gratitude. "Thanks, girl...I'll...be...okay...just let me for...a few minutes, okay? Just a few minutes." He breathed in deeply then let out. He would get over it, he would get over it, he promised himself. Dropping heavily on his bed, he looked around, his gaze finally falling on Gringotts' owl, which still was waiting on the windowsill, obviously awaiting an answer for him. Looking at the animal for a couple of seconds, he got up, walked to his desk and snatched a blank piece of parchment off a stack of notes. Dipping his feather quill in his ink bottle, he jotted down a few words, confirming his coming to the Inheritance Ceremony. Surely the Order would let him go to the ritual and let him mourn definitively his now confirmed dead godfather.

He rolled up the parchment and tied it to the owl's leg. The bird looked at him gratefully and took off, its gracious form rising towards the sun, until it became just a black speck in a field of light. Harry kept on looking, trying to feel the sun's heat but perceiving but coldness within his entrails. It was just like a dementor attacking him.

"I...cannot go on like that. I must be strong," he muttered to himself. Hedwig hooted in approval, showing her support towards her distressed master. Harry had tried to forget the eventuality of such an event and had so far succeeded. Until today. But as much as it tore his heart apart because of the unbidden memories, it also instilled him with a feeling of...eagerness? Yes. He was definitively looking forward to attending the ritual. He would get over Sirius, but he would not forget him. His long-haired, ex-convict godfather wouldn't have wanted him mulling dark and self-destructing thoughts and drowning in depression. He would have wanted to see him free and full of life. Ready to vanquish Voldemort.

Harry looked once again at the ceiling, as if trying to see Sirius, there, somewhere in the heavens. His demeanor grew cold for a moment, as his lips uttered a single, hard, sentence, devoid of any feeling. "I swear, Sirius, on all that I am, that I will avenge you. I'll kill him. For you. For Dad and Mum. For everyone. I swear."

Unbeknownst to him, Harry's body started to slightly glow, as the wizard's oath took place and was sealed by the young teenager's magic. He had sworn an Ulciscor Oath. The Oath of Revenge. An empty glass of water rattled on the nightstand, as if an unseen vibration ruined the perfect stillness reigning in the room. Even Hedwig seemed to notice the drop in temperature in the surroundings. As animals were more perceptive to those layers of reality, she was the only being in the household who perfectly understood what Harry had just done. As well as the implications of the boy's actions.

Harry went back to his desk and retrieved Gringotts' letter from it. He reread the message, taking in the hidden meanings. I cannot let the Ministry seize control of his possessions. That would be the final insult. They imprisoned him without a semblance of a trial and it would be completely sadistic from their part if they were to gain possession of his assets. I won't let them do it. I won't give them that satisfaction. His eyes darted downwards, until they fell upon a single word, one he had never heard before. Elderblood? What in the blazes is that? I know 'pureblood', 'half-blood' and that stinking 'mudblood' but 'elderblood'? He had never heard that word around him. He figured that it might be one of these old-fashioned wizard terms pertaining to blood purity, a notion that he despised above everything else. A long time before Harry, one man named Martin Luther King had proclaimed that he had dreamed of a society where his sons wouldn't be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. Harry completely agreed with the individual's opinion, even though that then-groundbreaking declaration had been the cause of his death. There were people who hated to see the foundations of their world being shaken apart. Voldemort's followers were some of them. Purity of blood. Sounds like Hitler's beliefs.

"Elderblood?" he asked Hedwig, not seeing the ridicule in his actions - trying to converse with an animal that couldn't reply or just be understood by a human being. "Ah...well. I might ask Hermione about it, though," he mused, turning around to look for another blank sheet of paper. He found one under two transfiguration books and started his letter.

Dear Hermione,

How has life been treating you lately? I know that I don't really have the right or good conscience to ask you that, but I feel the need to. I'm sorry for what happened in the Ministry. Yes, I know, I already said in my previous letter but I still want you to know it. A lot of things happened down there and I don't know if I might forgive myself for them one day. I'll see how it will turn out.

Apart from that, have you been enjoying your holidays? I heard you made a trip to France, in Paris, I think. Was the weather good? Did you enjoy yourself? I hope so. For my part, I've been stuck up here in my room at Privet Drive. After all, it's not like as if I could get abroad without having an Order member catching me by the collar and dragging me back home and tutting away about my being the wizarding world's only hope to vanquish You-know-who. I even doubt they'd let me as much as put a step in Diagon Alley. Your safety comes first, Harry. Your safety comes first. For the greater good, as would say Dumbledore.

Yes, you're right. I'm bitter towards him. We had shared some words after the events in the Department and most of what I learnt was not to my liking. If not it only made helllook like a holiday inn resort compared to my current life. Don't ask me what he made me hear. I'm not ready to share it yet, but you'll be the first to know when the time will be right. You have my word on it. Just trust me. I just need the time to put myself together and face reality the way I truly should.

Which brings to my next topic. As I said a few weeks ago, I'm working out. Physically and mentally. Oh no, Hermione, don't you die of heart attack on me! Yes, you heard me right! I'm studying! And now, the coup de grace for you: I've been reading books. Theory books. Oh, the shock! Call an ambulance! Come on, seriously, Hermione, a lot of things changed ever since the end of our school year. Rules have changed and so have I. For the best, for the worst? I don't know, you'll have to find out. In the meantime, I've already done my homework. I finished it three weeks ago and now I'm spending my time tearing through pages of Defense Against the Dark Arts to avoid dying of boredom in my room. There's nothing else left to do. Hedwig can't even fly around during daytime, you know. This place has everything of a gulag, only without the cold.

And...

This morning, I received a letter from Gringotts.

Yes. I think you've guessed what was enclosed in it. Gringotts was asking me to attend the Inheritance Ceremony. I'll try to be there before the fifth of next month otherwise everything will be seized by the Ministry, those blundering, incompetent, greedy vultures if not to say more...I wish to come there alone, if it's possible. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to avoid you or something like that. I just want to keep my head clear and not be distracted by anything else. I have to come to terms with Sirius' death. And mourn him one last time.

By the way, in the message, there was one word, an honorific or official title, that was used by the Head Solicitor. 'Elderblood'. Do you know anything about it? I thought you might have an idea as to what it might be. I wanted to ask Ron about it, but the Weasleys would automatically report my query back to Dumbledore, and I particularly don't feel like having him breathing down my neck and watching each of my moves or thoughts. So I chose to ask you, as you doubtlessly retain more knowledge of the wizarding world in your mind than me, oh poor, unworthy, simple wizard that I am. Could you enlighten as to what it is? I'd be glad to hear from you very soon. I miss talking with someone. The Dursleys aren't exactly chat material, did you know about it? -smirk-

I'll send Ron and Ginny a letter later. I thought that this had more importance right now, so I began straight away your letter.

Oh, and one last thing. Don't mention any of this to Dumbledore. I'm not exactly very keen to have a talk with him right now. The same goes for any Order member. Scratch that, any wizard or witch. Including Ron and Ginny.

I hope to see you soon.

Love from,

Harry.

Harry reread twice his letter then sealed it shut with his wand. As the parchment was already enchanted, the act wouldn't trigger any alarms in the Ministry's Misuse of Underage Magic Department. The enchantment recognized the magical signature of the wand (which serves a power concentrator and focus system) and just initiated the wanted change. In this case, sealing the sheet. He then attached it to Hedwig's leg, already feeling the bird's eagerness to carry the message to its addressee. The pet was obviously delighted to do something for a change and her happy hoots only confirmed Harry's suspicions. Not that he minded, of course. He'd be the last to ever deny his friend such a pleasure. She was doing what she was meant to do. Just like him, but for a more trivial role.

"Girl, listen to me," he spoke directly to the snow white owl, a sense of seriousness filling his words. "I must tell you a few things before you go. No, listen to me. There, there. I want you to bring this directly to Hermione, okay? Her and her only. Not anyone else. Not even her parents or any individuals around that you're acquainted with. Not even Dumbledore," he added, his voice hardening. "Same rules for the way back here, girl. Nobody is to read our messages, okay?" Hedwig let out a semi-indignant hoot, her eyes clearly asking 'do you really think I would do such a thing?' Harry's eyes softened for a while. "No, I trust you, but the Order will probably intercept the message to see whether I'm saying too much or to see what I'm doing right now. It's their way to control my life. Our lives. So don't let them take the letter away. Attack them if they try to do it. And keep on biting them until you get your message back or they back down. If they try to read it, then do whatever you can to destroy the message. Got it?" Hedwig hooted approvingly. "That's my girl."

He brought her back to the window and released her. Once again he watched the bird fade away in the horizon, a feeling of loneliness draining his morale away. "Because I want to be the one in control."

He turned back towards his books, passing a hand over the rugged surface, feeling the power underneath. The means to fulfill his destiny.

"I want to be the one who controls my own life."

And so he swore to the world surrounding him. His vow rang without answer in the silence.

For the first time in this summer, he truly was alone.


"What? Care to repeat that, Albus?" sputtered Remus Lupin, whirling around to stare back into the headmaster's eyes, disbelief etched onto his features.

The old wizard sighed deeply, obviously having foreseen such complications to arise after his previous statement. "Harry cannot attend the Inheritance Ceremony, Remus. It's too risky, with Voldemort's followers stalking around for the smallest piece of information. If only one of them would as much as have a glimpse of him, the results could be catastrophic. Now that the Dark Lord has resurfaced and proclaimed to the world his resurrection, he is no longer safe in the wizarding world, except for his own house and of course, Hogwarts."

The werewolf remained silent, not believing one word of what he had just heard. He knew that Albus Dumbledore went to many lengths in order to prevent people from being hurt but this was utterly ridiculous, if not revolting. "Safe...you're telling me that you're concerned with his safety?" he whispered, the edge in his voice getting increasingly firm and sharp. "He is safe nowhere, Albus!" Remus exploded. "Not even at Hogwarts! In his first year, from what you told me, he had to wrestle the Philosopher's Stone out of You-know-who's hands! Second year, he had to battle a bloody basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets!" Dumbledore tried to stop him but the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor kept on shouting, indignation radiating off his entire being. "Third year...he...he had to fight me and try to catch Pettigrew before he could try to get back to his master! Fourth year, he nearly got killed because of Crouch! And last year was the pinnacle of his so-called safety!" he raged on. "How could you deem him safe where he is?"

"The blood wards set around the house will prevent Death Eaters from entering the building, Remus. I trust that they will hold on as long as Harry is inside to keep the shields up."

Remus strode up to Dumbledore's desk and slammed his hands on its top, before leaning forward, eyes narrowing in pent-up anger. "Yes...as long as he considers it as his home. But you made sure, by giving him to the Dursleys, that he would hate that area and those bloody relatives of his! If he cannot call the house his home anymore, then the wards will fail!"

The chief warlock looked away, an odd sense of serenity around him. "The wards are still up, Remus - I can still feel them. They will hold up."

"But for how long? By denying him his freedom, you destroyed his will to..."

"Enough, Remus. Harry will stay where he is. It's for his own safety. Surely you wouldn't think that his parents wouldn't have wanted that?" Remus recoiled, as if slapped. Blood drained from his face and for a moment, his interlocutor feared that the former Marauder might have a heart stroke. "How low of you!"

"I admit," said Dumbledore, eyes downcast in modest regret. "That I should have used Lily and James to make my point, but Harry must be kept safe at all costs" he emphasized. "We cannot lose our sole chance to destroy Voldemort by allowing him to wander away and get at arm's length from the Dark Lord's followers. We came very close to losing him last year, Remus" he concluded, hoping that it would put an end to this discussion. He knew that Remus Lupin had very badly taken his old friend's death and had dramatically changed during the past two months. From an individual whose soul was impregnation with wisdom and caution he had changed into someone harsher, with a more wry spirit. He had lost two surrogate brothers. He wouldn't afford himself to lose James' son and would go to any extent to keep Voldemort's troops at bay, even if it should cost him his life. But the point upon which Dumbledore and the ex-Marauder disagreed greatly was Harry's mental well-being. Remus was willing to let Harry go outside as long as it helped him heal his wounds whilst Dumbledore wouldn't even let him leave Privet Drive.

"So is that all you see in him?" Remus roared, making some wizard portraits in the luxurious office cringe and others mutter in indignation. "A WEAPON? IS THAT IT?"

"Remus, PLEASE!" the old headmaster bellowed back, feeling himself loose control over his own exasperation. "Only Harry has the means to vanquish the Dark Lord, don't you understand it? We must keep him safe as we have done so for the past five years! If we do not ensure his safety, then not only will he lose his life but we will also lose all hope of ending this war! More countless people will die if we do not keep Harry away from the war until the final confrontation!"

Remus's knuckles went deathly white as they gripped the edge of the desk, as if holding on for dear life. "Don't you understand that that type of behavior that that line of action was what get SIRIUS killed two months ago, do you? DO YOU? You kept him bottled up in that hellhole of his, where you left him to mull over the painful memories of his childhood and look how it all ended up!" The words came with great difficulty. Forgive me, Sirius...brother...but I must say the words. Dumbledore had the decency to look slightly ashamed as Remus screamed his opinion into the old wizard's face. "I know...an old man's mistake...but I cannot afford myself to commit more of that sort. That's why Harry has to stay where he is. Away from danger."

The graying wizard snarled in barely contained fury and strode away, leaving the richly decorated office and slamming its door behind him. Dumbledore looked at his pet phoenix, Fawkes, who was currently sitting on his own perch and looking around with unreadable, beady eyes. "Times change...people change...yet the pain still lingers. Do you think we have any hope left to vanquish the dark without being destroyed from the inside, by intestine quarrels?" he asked the red-feathered bird, looking with a sorry expression.

Strangely, for the first time in many centuries, Fawkes didn't trill in answer. But what Dumbledore couldn't tell was whether the animal didn't offer an answer because of an unspoken disagreement or because he didn't have an answer to give.

For the first time in many weeks, a wave of heat had finally reached Great Britain, chasing cool air away and finally giving the country's denizens with their first true glimpse of summer weather. The temperature level, however, kept on increasing, much to the displeasure of people who didn't like sunbathing in their garden or fancied gardening. The air hung heavy above the ground, its stillness randomly broken by small gusts of wind, which people eagerly welcomed to ease their discomfort towards the sunrays.

In the Grangers' household, both adults, Mrs. Diana and Mr. Nicholas, both renowned dentists in their district, had retreated in the cold, soothing atmosphere of a half-sealed house. Windows were left closed and the air conditioning was working at full power, bringing cooled masses of air to wash through the house and refresh its inhabitants. While the Granger family didn't mind the heat of the French Provence, it still had its tolerance limit. Especially when one of its members had to stay indoors to recover from a slight physical problem. Hermione Granger had been hospitalized in the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. She had been one of the six students that had snuck inside the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries and had to fight off determined Death Eaters. Most of the teenagers had suffered from at least one type of injury and five of them had to sleep in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing to speed their recovery. Hermione had been hit with a dark curse, right in the chest. Fortunately, she had had good instincts during that fateful night and had been able to conjure up a shield in front of the incoming spell. Even though it didn't stop the beam of magic from hitting and incapacitating her, the interference had changed the spell's matrix parameters and modified its effects. As a result, she had not had her heart torn out of her ribcage, but merely suffered from a corruption of a bludgeoning spell.

The damage wasn't very critical, but rather...extensive. In order to heal her slightly 'traumatized' lungs, she still had to take a couple of potions per week, the flasks being sent directly to her by none other than Severus Snape, her much-hated but highly competent potions professor. Along with directives from madam Pomfrey, the school's appointed nurse. Leaning on her bed with her omnipresent books around her, Hermione was leading a battle of sorts, one not fought with great arms covered in blood and gore but waged with interrogations, thoughts and reflections. I wonder what Harry's doing right now. Probably working like a slave for those horrible Dursleys! I really don't know why Dumbledore allowed them his guardianship - it's completely preposterous! They don't care one whit about him, they only see him as a...a freak! And with what happened two months ago...he really should be owling us more letters - at least we would be able to help him and not sit around! she lamented, looking at her neat, ever-tidy room, with its logically arranged bookcase and its spotless desk laden with perfectly vertical stacks of paper - the epitome of meticulousness and order. Even Ron says that Harry's letters have diminished in amount and frequency. I hope Remus or the Order pays him a visit or two per week to liven him up or all those memories will eat him up from the inside.

"Minee?"

Her head swiveled on her right, to find herself gazing at the bright blue eyes of her younger sister, Kathleen. She also had brown, curly hair but the similarity ended there. Her face was more round and had her father's eyes instead of her mother's, a feature that was passed onto the eldest daughter, Hermione. Both sisters were had what the family called 'the bookworm syndrome', a strange knack for staying a great amount of time in libraries and ransack bookshops, much to the owners' pleasure. Kathleen, on another hand, didn't have one ounce of magic in her blood, a characteristic that kept her close to her parents during school year, unlike Hermione, who had to go to Hogwarts and stay there for the rest of the year to complete her studies.

"Yes, Kath. Is there something wrong?" she asked, rising from her bed to face her sibling. Her chest flared for a brief instant but she paid it no heed as she had grown accustomed to those feelings during their stay in France.

"No, I just wanted to see if you were okay," the girl answered, looking at the crate of flasks on the nightstand. "Mom told me to check up on you and ask you if you needed something." Concern could be seen deep inside those cerulean blue orbs, filled with an unspoken love that Hermione cherished more than anything else in this world. "No, it's okay."

"Okay, Minee" nodded the girl, using her nickname for her sister. "But don't hesitate to tell us if you're requiring something, okay?" During all summer long she had been pampered by her family but she couldn't hold that against her siblings as it was just a display of affection from their part. She didn't want to be considered as a fragile object that could break down at any moment. Kathleen left the room, leaving Hermione to think over the events of the past school year, the worst one so far. She had told her parents that her injury was the consequence of a stray spell that had been badly performed and remained quiet about the Death Eaters and the confrontation in the Ministry of Magic as she didn't want them to worry too much over her.

Setting her Transfiguration Advances Throughout the Nineteenth Century book by Celsia Cudgeon on her bed, she stood up and looked out of the window, taking in the ravishing scenery in front of her. Her family was somewhat wealthy and as one blonde-haired boy in Slytherin might have said, money was a doorway to luxury. Not that she minded, of course, but she didn't spoke aloud of her wealth, as most of Hogwarts' students weren't rolling in gold and were often coming from the middle classes. Turning away to shield her eyes from the glaring sun, she tried to forget her worries and clear her mind but once again, she couldn't bring herself to enjoy the current weather. Her thoughts once again drifted away towards the wizarding world. Reaching to her right, she set the radio on. A scratchy voice rose from the black contraption, breaking the peaceful silence.

"...Reports of gang attacks in the Devonshire, resulting in the death of twelve people and many other injuries. Twenty individuals had to be sent to the nearby hospitals for intensive care even though their current state has still not been disclosed by the local authorities. The police is currently trying to put an end to all those attacks, often led against common..." Sighing with desperation, she flipped the switch off, knowing what the bulletin truly was about. The Death Eaters are becoming more and more brazen - they don't even fear wandering out in the open and firing spells at Muggles. I can't believe everything is crashing down. Two months ago everything was quiet; now it's become a true hell.

A rustle of beating wings tore her off her grim thoughts. Whipping her head towards the windowsill in anticipation, Hermione's face lit up as she saw a white owl sitting outside, gazing at her with merry eyes. "Hedwig!" Taking the owl by her hands, she carried the bird towards her desk, before untying the scroll of parchment. Rubbing the length of the rolled sheet of paper with her own wand, she unsealed the document. After reading twice the content of the letter, she let a frown invade her face. Elderblood? Surprisingly, she had never heard of that term before, a strange occurrence for a girl that spent her time in books, trying to find more and more about the world's unknown aspects and piling pieces of knowledge on top of the other - like building a mountain of sorts. And - good grief - Harry must be now upset with Sirius' will. I'm really sorry he had to receive that message. He doesn't need a reminder of Sirius' death, but I'm happy he's trying at least to get over it by reading about magic. And he's actually done with his homework? What an achievement! she beamed inwardly, delighted by her friend's willingness to actually work during summer. But then again, he's got nothing other to do. I guess I should be glad for him. I wonder when we could meet each other with the Weasleys so that we could share our knowledge. Even the DA could benefit from our studies. Once again, the planning part in her awoke, taking over her mind. If we could set up...well, we'll see that later with Harry and Ron.

She looked back at Harry's letter and frowned when she saw the part about Dumbledore and the Order. She could understand Harry's anger towards the Headmaster but she harbored the opinion that he shouldn't alienate himself from the only wizard known to be feared by Voldemort. They could help each other and...

Ron and Ginny, too? He must be trying not to bother other people or...well, it's true that Ron has a poor notion of confidentiality and secret-keeping, after all. It makes sense but I still don't agree. I'll live with it, for the time being, though.

Taking a fresh sheet of paper and a feather quill from her desk, she started to write her answer to Harry Potter.

She only hoped that the least thing she could do right now was help him through his ordeals, no matter what it took.

Everyone of them would need it.

"That nerve of his!" snarled Remus Lupin as he tore through Hogwarts' deserted passageways, striding towards the Great Hall. During the school year the whole place was bustling with animated people, chatting over trivial matters and how life went on, but during the holidays, the castle was as silent and lonely as a tomb in a desert. All teachers were currently enjoying their vacations, even though some of them regularly paid the Headmaster a visit for the incoming year, seeking advice for the new courses and curriculums. The werewolf half-ran out of the building, towards the small wizarding village on the grounds' outskirts, Hogsmeade. He paid no attention to the world around him, not even sparing a glance to the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack, a lone island of bad memories sitting in the distance. His mind was elsewhere, working furiously on a problem that plagued his conscience. Sprinting down the stony path that led down to Hogsmeade, he kept on thinking about the discussion he had just had with the Headmaster. The wheels of an enormous machine were definitely in motion but it seemed to him that they were working in the wrong direction. He needed to change all that, for the world's sake. As soon as he reached the anti-Apparition wards, he willed himself away, disappearing with a loud crack from the hill he was standing upon.

When he felt his feet slam back on solid ground, he heard a surprising shriek from his right, immediately followed by a large crash. Whipping his wand around in alarm, the former DADA professor found himself gazing at the prone form of Nymphadora Tonks, sprawled on the floor, a turned-over chair beside her. She had obviously been leaning back on her seat when he had Apparated in, startling her and making her loose her precarious equilibrium. "Errr...sorry, Tonks..." he greeted her with a apologetic smile, helping her get back on her feet. The metamorphmagus wore that day long, purple hair and a narrow face, reminding Remus of her late surrogate uncle, Sirius Black. He could actually see the similarities between the two relatives at that moment. "Well...wotcher, Remus!" she answered back, dusting her robes off. She was famous in her department for her hopeless clumsiness, a flaw that had earned her a nice nickname from her fellow Auror: 'The Klutz'. She kept on tripping over items and pieces of furniture that were easily avoidable, a bad habit of hers that nearly made her fail her 'stealth' exam when she had applied for her job. But she made it up by acing on her DADA course, a nice comeback for those who had to put up with her and knew that they could rely on the petite but ever-cheery girl.

"Sorry for that, I knew I should have Apparated inside the hall and knocked on the door" he apologized. Even though he had changed in demeanor, Remus still was the placid, cautious and wise man people grew to know. He just thought that another type of behavior was needed right now in those times of woe.

"It's okay, it's okay - so what brings you here?" she grinned embarrassedly at the graying man, trying to keep him off his downcast mood. He had lately lost Sirius and his entourage had somehow agreed on making his life easier. Remus sighed, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, knowing that this was the hard part of what he was planning to do.

"Have you received your Gringotts letter?" he asked directly. Tonks' mood instantly deflated. The Blacks weren't exactly known for their benevolence towards Muggleborns and showed nothing but scorn at those individuals they deemed lower than scum. Sirius, however, was another case. His hate of his own family and the beliefs it held had changed him into a more understanding, gentle person, but the small Slytherin part in his heart was what had made him a Marauder. Love of pranks and disrespect towards rules. "Yeah - I just got it this morning. It's up to the fifth of next month. Did you...receive yours?" she asked cautiously, knowing that the matter was still to be considered as sensible when it came to talking to Remus.

The man nodded, his throat constricted by grief and invisible indignation. "Yeah. I don't expect from Sirius a lot of money, even though I think he planned to leave me with a fair share of the Black and Terrington vaults' content. I just expect some things...closer to the heart. Souvenirs and the such..." he trailed off, gathering up his courage. His own rage towards Dumbledore, however, was what made him break his own reluctance. "I suppose Harry's received it too" he told Tonks, seeing her slightly smile as he spoke of his 'adopted' godson. "And that's where the problem is."

"What?" asked a frowning Tonks. "Don't you think he should get a part of his godfather? Something that could remind him of what Sirius while he was still alive?"

Remus waved her off. "The problem is not there. I do want Harry to be there - I hope that it will help him get over Sirius but Dumbledore doesn't want him to leave his house for the holidays, no matter what?"

"What? Blimey, is the old man crazy? How many bats has he got in his belfry?" she asked. "Harry needs to go to the Inheritance Ceremony! He has the right to! How could Dumbledore tell him not to go?"

"I don't think Harry even knows, Nymphadora." Tonks scowled when she heard her much-hated first name. Why did my parents name me like that? "Dumbledore doesn't want him...to...err...'be distracted by disturbing events that could hamper his ability to fight back if need be' as the old coot put it. He wants Harry under control. He doesn't care one piece of shit about his mental well-being, Tonks. He just doesn't know what's best for people. He just follows his own opinion. Just look what it did last year."

"Could we talk him out of it?" asked Tonks, pacing around in furious circles, thinking deeply. She had grown fond of the boy, nearly considering him as a distant cousin or a younger brother. The bond between Sirius and Harry had somewhat rubbed off on her and she felt the same commitment most 'intimate' people had towards the Boy-who-lived. Unconsciously, her blue eyes took a slightly grayer shade, as he metamorphmagus skills answered to her mind's concentration and mood. "I mean - surely, if he's got Harry's well-being in mind, he could agree to letting him go to Gringotts, isn't it? After all, the place's loaded with protection charms and wards - I know it, I saw the list from the Ministry's archives a while ago. What does he risk in there? If it's a private ritual then what danger hangs over his head?"

"Tonks, you don't get it" moaned Remus. "Dumbledore doesn't want to take any risk. Ever since You-know-who possessed Harry for a brief instant in the Ministry of Magic, he got afraid that Harry's mind might become corrupted from the Dark Lord's Legilimency attacks. He's fearing that Harry might go to the darkness." Tonks' eyes flew wide in shock. "Harry confessed to me that he had used the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange during the confrontation, just after...after Sirius' passing...the spell didn't work correctly, but Harry made the step beyond the set limit, Tonks. He just took the step beyond. And as the saying goes, if you did it once you can do it once again. Dumbledore wants to control Harry. He wants him kept in check, like a vulgar weapon. I guess that during last year's meetings, the weapon he told us about was not only the prophecy but Harry."

Tonks remained silent, mouth agape in horror. "But...but what can we do then?"

"Well, Tonks, that is where you come in. I need to speak to you and Alastor now. We've got plans to make."


He clutched the letter in his hand, shaking with barely contained fury. The shovel he was previously holding was lying on the ground, dropped in surprise and anger. How could that old bastard do that to me? he raged in his mind, desperately trying to keep his self-control. Once again he was being attacked through a very sensible spot in his soul: his right to control his own existence and abide by his own choices. But once again, it's not like he left me with any choices before, isn't it? Keeping Hermione and Ron in Grimmauld Place without inviting me, keeping the prophecy away from me...what's next now? FORBID ME FROM BREATHING?

Once again, he looked at the message, trying to understand why his Headmaster and former idol, had come to such a decision.

Harry,

I know that Gringotts has requested your presence in their building for Sirius' Inheritance Ceremony. While it pains me to make such a decision, I must ask you not to go there, as the wizarding world, especially in a place as open and bustling with activity like Diagon Alley, is not yet safe for you. Death Eaters are still on the rampage and wouldn't hesitate to take a shot at you and since you're forbidden to practice magic during your holidays until the Ministry considers you of age, you would find yourself in a tight spot.

You must understand me, Harry. It's all for your safety. You must stay within your house's wards, where your mother's blood protection will keep you away from Voldemort's grasp. You must, at all costs, keep a low profile and not attract attention to yourself. Hogwarts and your home are the only places safe for you and until school term begins, you must imperatively stay put, until the Order comes to fetch you for King's Cross Station.

Yours sincerely,

A.D.

He tore the message into shreds, before crunching the bits into a tight ball. He didn't notice the fabric getting redder, before actually bursting in flame, set afire by Harry's growing ire. As it was only accidental magic, the Misuse of Underage Magic Enforcement Department didn't paid it the occurrence any heed, as only wands were tracked, not the wizards' or witches' body. The letter instantly turned to ashes, falling onto Aunt Petunia's begonias. I must find a way to get at Gringotts, before the Order brings me back. Safety to be ensured or not, I will go to Diagon Alley! he raged in his mind. The world around him had faded away, the scorching heat dissipating like a wisp of smoke in the billowing wind, leaving Harry alone with his frustration.

"Boy! Get back to work!" bellowed his uncle, while his aunt scowled at him. "Daydreaming again? Your laziness is an insult to humanity, just like your...lot!" At this, the beefy-faced man turned wildly around, as if expected wizards to come out of the blue and get back at him for his declaration. He retreated back inside his house, slamming the door behind him. Aunt Petunia kept eyeing him from the window, making sure he didn't ruin her precious garden and hoping to catch snippets of conversation from the neighbors' households. Gossip always needed fresh material to remain interesting.

With as much as a grunt of acknowledgement towards his relatives' opinion, he picked up the shovel from its place on the ground as started digging a small hole around the plants, to put some fertilizer in it. After that, he would have to cut the grass in the front lane, to keep up the Dursleys' appearances. If he didn't finish in less than one hour, he wouldn't get his dinner tonight. Malnourishment and food deprivation were out of question for him. His training and studying needed a lot of nutrients to keep the pace even.

I need to talk to Remus. He might help me. Or...no, not the Order. Maybe Uncle Vernon? No, he'd think I'm trying to get his car crashed or something like that. Hermione's parents? Maybe, but I don't want to be a bother. Remus, yeah, definitely. He'll understand. He'll understand.

With that, he went back to work, not knowing that elsewhere, other individuals were also making plans of and on their own.

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was a man of many facets. Otherwise famous for his maddening paranoia and the scars he bore all over his body - the results of many a duel against dark wizards - nobody knew exactly what were his true passions. Hiding behind the appearance of a watchful and a cautious, retired Auror, he loved spreading around him a feeling of control and intimidation. Deterrence was the specific term to qualify the aura he endeavored to radiate off himself. He had, through the atmosphere his demeanor created, instilled fear inside countless criminals' hearts, forcing them to comply to his orders and reveal their deepest secrets. He actually held the efficiency record in the Auror Department when it came to extracting information from convicts and suspected Death Eaters. But his success had not come without heavy prices, as the loss of one leg and one eye, and his being covered with scars and sometimes missing patches of flesh and skin on his limbs and face. Everybody knew the highly competent law enforcer that he was but very few could boast knowing who Alastor truly was underneath his impenetrable armor.

Fewer even where those who knew his love of whiskey and wine, as well as his secret passion for history books. In a way, he believed that History repeated itself over time, like a tide crashing over and over a ruined beach. The events that had occurred two months ago were a proof of his theory. Those who do not know History are condemned to repeat it till the end of Time. Indulging himself with a sip of Scottish Macallan bourbon, he took the time to survey his surroundings, gazing through walls and darkness, scanning the horizon for any queer sign or detail that might hide an attack against himself. There are so many ways to kill somebody, and nobody can think of everything. Therefore constant vigilance must be used to avoid dire situations from which one can't escape. His gaze fell upon his two visitors, eyeing them with great care.

"Are you sure you want to go forward with this?" he asked them with his usually gruff voice, his face contorting into a forbidding scowl. "Do you know what that implies, don't you?"

Remus didn't flinch under the gaze of his friend-in-arms. His newfound determination prevented him from looking away, surrendering to Moody's powerful aura. "Yes. Albus has gone too far. We must do this for Harry's sake before something goes wrong."

"What about you, Nymphadora?" Moody turned towards the young Auror, searching for her answer. The metamorphmagus, used to his antics, didn't wilt either, keeping her smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed his hidden seriousness. People like her loved keeping around them an atmosphere of cheerfulness, positive attitude in all circumstances, and Remus couldn't but admire her for that. She could discuss about nearly every topic in this world without loosing her happy composure. "Well, I must agree with Remus, here. Keeping Harry cooped up at his own house will do him no good. I think," she smiled. "that he needs a little change of scenery for a while."

"Aye. 'Tis true that Dumbledore overstepped his limits this time, even though I can see that he did all that for the boy's own good." The two behind him frowned. "But once again, do you realize what you're about to do?"

"Yes," answered Lupin, looking away. "We're practically staging a rebellion amongst the Order's ranks."

"Once you make the step, there's no coming back. Albus has proven himself to be quite unpredictable in times of war, you know. I've known him longer than you. He hides himself behind a wall of wisdom but very few people know what's going on inside that head of his." He once again took a sip from his flask, savoring the matured taste of the liquor. "You will probably lose his trust after that, even though he'll cover it up by officially forgiving you. He'll most probably assign you minor tasks after that, like acting as couriers or just messengers. Especially nothing have something to do with the boy."

"I don't care what he's going to do, Alastor!" retorted the werewolf, startling Tonks with his vehement tone. "My commitment is to Harry's happiness! I failed in my duty to keep care of him for nearly fourteen years and it's actually time for me to get the job done, once and for all!" He ran a hand through his brown-gray hair, looking through the window at the trees surrounding the house, losing himself in the calming scenery. "Dumbledore's not making things easier for him. Instead of training Harry, he's letting him rot in that hell-hole without as much as a word or a message telling him not to do anything...rash! He's even forbidden people to visit him for his own so-called sake!"

"Remus has a point" cut in Tonks, in a semi-serious tone. "He's not helping him. Harry, it is true, must prepare for war. If Dumbledore does nothing to ensure that Harry's got his weapons right and clean for the incoming battle, then why not do it ourselves?"

Moody grunted, seeing the logic behind, but not quite confident in that course of action. "Aye. Sounds logical. And on the practical side, girl?"

"Well, he's got both of us!" she answered with a cheering tone, gesturing to herself and Moody. "Both Aurors or ex-Auror and new Auror and..." she turned towards Remus, who acquiesced silently. "Remus here was one of Harry's favorite teachers in Hogwarts, so...why not?"

Moody remained silent. Trudging towards his sofa and with his wooden leg clunking away, he analyzed the proposition given to him. "An apprentice, eh?" His face scrunched into a grimace, that the two other individuals in the room recognized as his equivalent of a smile. "Sounds appealing to me" he grumbled in a positive tone. "But it's been a long time since I taught an apprentice to the art of combat. The last time I did, the boy got killed because he got careless. Quite a disappointment for someone who had great promises in him."

"And what do you think about Harry?" asked Tonks, moving to her right before tripping on her own feet and falling face-first on the wooden floor. Moody's eyes rolled upwards in exasperation. How the hell did she managed to become an Auror? That's beyond my realm of understanding! "He's got the tools in him to become the greatest dueler in our time, but the problem is to bring it out of him. Especially since he lost one year because of that incompetent ass-licking Ministry lackey" he snarled, recalling the toad-like face of Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts' former High Inquisitor and Self-Appointed Headmaster. "And what about your plan for tomorrow?"

"First, Alastor, we need to know if you're with us on this" said Remus, not bothering to explain further. "I need guarantees first then I'll use the assets in my own hand."

"Good. Check your weapons first and fight after. Excellent, they thought you well in school" he smiled in his own grim fashion, his scarred face once again collapsing into a horrifying grin. "As for your question...as long as it is for the...greater good...as Albus puts it...I'm in it. Albus and I have had some disagreements these past days. So...why not? After all, I'm the one on duty tomorrow, isn't it? Aye. That's why you sought me out and nearly risked your head getting blow off for approaching my house without warning me first. Quite brave of you. I appreciate that."

The two behind him broke into a smile.

Things were definitely going into motion, for the best.


"Mum, when is Harry going to get here?" asked a sleepy Ginevra Weasley as she walked down the staircase and into the kitchen. The redheaded matron looked from her washbasin and back at her daughter. Her frown deepened as she thought about Harry's living conditions. "As soon as possible, I hope! Those horrible relatives of his must have been starving him all summer long! He needs proper food and space" she huffed indignantly.

Ginny sat at the table, rubbing her eyes to wake herself up. She had taken the habit of taking a nap after midday and her body still strained somewhat to conform itself to the new changes. "I hope so, Ron's been a prat lately!" Molly Weasley's eyebrows furrowed at her daughter's language. "Always talking about Quidditch, Quidditch and Quidditch. Nothing more, nothing less. He's even considering tricking Fred and George into buying him a new broom for the incoming school year." The Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shop was working full-time in Diagon Alley and the twins were currently gained a lot of revenues, a proof of their business' success in a world dipping into darkness. Even Zonko's was thinking about allying themselves to the new concurrent to avoid bankruptcy. Of course, the new income of money was a welcome manna for the large Weasley family but for some individuals, instead of looking like a glass of water inside the Sahara, it took the appearance of an addicting drug.

"What?" she whipped around, looking at her startled child. "Does he know how much that costs? And don't tell me he's bullying the twins into buying one for him!"

Ginny shook her head. "No, Fred and George were smarter than that. They told him that they would actually consider acquiring brooms for me and him if we agreed working part-time at their shops, so that we would actually and partially earn the money to buy the brooms. They said that they would pay the rest as a gift."

Molly Weasley's scowl lessened when she heard about the twins' decision. In that way it seemed more reasonable, as she was quite reluctant to see her children throwing money out of the windows as if it were just water. Her progeny had not endured years of poverty and the reluctance to disburse money for much-needed but expensive items. They still had to learn the rough life of a pauper and learn from it. Ron's behavior did not make her happy. As soon as he had seen Fred and George's dragon-hide boots, he had been considering buying tons of miscellaneous objects, much to the rest of the family's displeasure. Hearing him rant about newfound fortune at dinnertime for entire weeks did get on one's nerves. Especially the twins who now eyed their sibling with caution. As much as they loved him they still remained quite careful as to not anger their much-feared mother and not let Ron become a new Percy but with greediness as a plus. "It...sounds fair. But I really must deflate Ron's ambitions. He's gotten quite obnoxious these past weeks."

"I think we both agreed on that, Mum" quipped Ginny, leaning back on her chair. "He's literally abandoned his project to become an Auror in favor of Quidditch."

Ginny's little bombshell nearly made her mother drop the plate she was currently holding and drying off with a Cleaning Charm. "WHAT?" The youngest Weasley child cringed as a sound shockwave brutally threatened to destroy her eardrums. Moving a little away from a dumbfounded Molly, Ginny tried to explain things further without incensing her parent. "Well...he thinks that he's not exactly Auror material and that his Ordinary Wizarding Level scores won't be as high as he'd wish...so he would try something more...in accordance to his abilities."

"What in the name of Merlin is that boy thinking!" steamed the family matron. "Dropping off his ambition like that? How is he going to find a job then? A Quidditch player?"

Ginny shook her head. She knew her mother would react like this and had braced herself for the impact but visibly, Molly Weasley's disappointment was nothing compared to her anger. "Does he really think that's he is going to find a job like that, with a snap of his fingers? Good lord, he's only sixteen! One doesn't get engaged like that as soon as you post your name in the Daily Prophet's job propositions, for Godric's sakes!"

"I know, but it's definitely set in those brains of his. Ever since he got in Hogwarts' Quidditch Team, he's been dead set on becoming a professional Quidditch player. He wanted to live his life to his strengths and do want he loved most."

"Oooh...he's going to get an earful from me, I promise you that!" grumbled Mrs. Weasley crossing her arms in indignation. "How dare he let his chance to have a respectable work fall away like that! Oooh...I'm going to teach him a lesson, that's for sure!"

"Mum, Mum, please..." pleaded Ginny, holding a hand up. "If you're going to give him your opinion, don't tell him I told you, please?"

Molly Weasley nodded, her mood now only describable as 'grumpy'. "Yes, but he'll hear me...and when I'll tell his father...Merlin's beard...Arthur really wanted to see him work at the Ministry too. With Fred and George now running a joke shop, he's going to be so disappointed..."

"I know, that's going to be upset, but he'll agree anyway - it's not like he was against Fred and George's idea, after all..." That last part brought a scowl on Molly's features. Everyone knew she didn't agree with the twins goal in life. She believed instead that the two of them could have done much better on the OWL exams had they not chosen to concentrate on their pranks and other joke items instead of studying and tuning their knowledge, like Hermione did. "And I don't think that Dad is actually very bent on seeing us joining the Ministry any time soon, with those at the head of the country."

"Okay, okay...dear, but still, what's gotten in the boy's head? He wasn't like that two months ago!"

"You got a point, Mum. But Ron's been acting illogically very lately. Do you think the scars are there for something?"

Molly Weasley's hands stopped washing the dishes, freezing in place. The topic was still very sensible and put a great strain on the family. Ron had been suffering from nightmares for two months and he kept, nearly every night, waking up with a high-pitched scream. She even had to walk in his room to calm him up and feed him with a Dreamless Sleep Draught to still his fears. Now, if the welts he sported on his arms proved to be messing up with his mind... "Do...do you really think that?"

"I...I don't know, Mum" answered the little redhead with a sad smile. "It's as if he has completely changed. There are times where I don't recognize him. Sure, he's still the annoying git of a brother I always had, but with all the things he's been saying and asking lately, I don't know how to respond. It's as if the rules of the game had changed in the meantime. He's actually told me that it would be nice to have everything Harry has." At that, Molly's eyes narrowed. Oh, jealousy, then? What's gotten into him? It's like his fourth year, when she shunned Harry away. This is not good.

"I...I'll talk with your Dad about it tonight, but don't speak about it anymore. Nobody must know, are we clear on it?"

Ginny nodded in acquiescence. Things had to change. For the better.

Little did she know that everything would come crumbling down for the new school years.

And she was right on one point. The rules had changed.


Dear Harry,

I got your letter earlier this day and I must admit, you thoroughly shocked me. You, of all people, studying? The end of times must have come!

Seriously, Harry, I'm delighted you finally decided to concentrate on your lessons - without wanting to berate you, I think you should have done it years ago. No, listen to me, I'm not trying to turn you into a 'bookworm' like me or lecture you about the benefits of reading and learning. I think you heard that speech from me enough to recite it in your sleep. But I'm glad anyway. Do you think we could use it for the DA lessons? It should be useful to share our knowledge with the DA members so that they can defend themselves in a better way. We were only six in the DoM against a dozen Death Eaters and we managed to fend them off and even get some prisoners. We could do much better with a little more training, don't you think so?

And...I'm sorry, Harry. I must have reminded you of Sirius. His death was not only your loss but ours too, Harry. He was not only close to you but to us, too. For me, he was like a elder cousin of sorts. Someone I could rely on, even though he couldn't be at our side every hour of everyday, in body but not in mind. You must let the pain go away, Harry, otherwise it will eat you from the inside. Let it all out. I'm not a specialist in psychology (yes, I just admitted not knowing anything about that science!) but you should talk to someone about your ordeal. I know that the Dursleys, as you said, aren't chat material, but try to find someone to talk to. Remus, maybe?

As for the Inheritance Ceremony, well, I didn't find any reference to the word 'Elderblood'. I hope it hasn't anything to do with the terms 'mudblood' and 'pureblood' - as far as I know, as it is stated in 'Goblins and Orcs: Species of Gold and War' by Junius 'Axe-wielder' Tristleweed, Goblins do not really believe in blood purity and the so-called authority and respect that notion entails, except, of course, for the respect it asks from their part towards their clients. But then, it would only be something related to wealth and not ancestry. That's what I first thought, then I saw that my reasoning didn't make sense. 'Elderblood' is obviously related to bloodlines. So, I think you'll have to find out by yourself. I'm sorry I couldn't find anything of relevance to the topic.

What are you going to do about Professor Dumbledore and the Order, Harry? It's not as if you could oppose them, you know? I know you're quite angered at them, but if Pr. Dumbledore says it's for your safety then you should comply. I only want you to be safe, Harry. Please understand me. I don't, however, condone your being let in the dark in your room.

And what did you mean by 'working out physically'? Are we having a brand new Schwarzenegger attending Hogwarts, now?

Please stay safe.

Love from,

Hermione.

"Schwarzenegger? Me? I shouldn't have told her that!" he moaned. "She's not one to tease me, but it looks like she took it as funny. Ooh no..."

Petting Hedwig one last time and feeding her with a couple of owl treats, he went back to his desk and inspected his room. All his belongings were now inside his old, battered trunk, ready to be carried away. Tomorrow he would leave this place for a place where he could live in peace until school term began. He had previously thought about calling the Weasleys but he didn't think that it was a good idea. Dumbledore would immediately look for him at the Burrow and would bring him back at four, Privet Drive and confine him to that miniature hell. Remus was probably too busy coping with his grief to be bothered and...well, he couldn't bring the Grangers in his own business. He didn't know them much and his staying at their place would only make them a bigger target for Voldemort's troops. He refused to put them in harm's way. Hermione's family didn't deserve that all.

"Like I'm going to lose somebody else. Sirius was one death too much for me" he mumbled with sadness piercing through his words. His face, however, remained unreadable. Keep up the appearances and steel yourself inside.

Dropping on his bed, he relished for a last time the softness of the mattress, knowing that he wouldn't probably ever return here. His path was already set and he would be the only making his own choices. He wouldn't let anyone, especially Dumbledore, make his own decisions. If he had to grow up he would mature his own way, according to his own experiences with life. Nobody would shield him from the dangers of reality. He would see everything for himself without relying on anyone else's testimony. He would see everything firsthand and take steps to make everything better. So he swore to himself. Once again, his body shone with magic as his second oath was sealed by fate.

"I must get out of here."


An author's notes: of paces kept and events unfolding

Many people might be trying to strangle me right now. It's dark, it's depressive, it's slow. It shows Harry in a more adult way. Humor is scarce, if not nonexistent...what's not to complain about? Well, my opinion about the turn of events after the Department of Mysteries is that one big blow would have been given to Harry's mind. He lost his newfound godfather and his nemesis is stronger than ever. His life has radically changed and the game's settings are no longer the same. I do see him falling into depression, but he wouldn't share his pain with the others. Like in fifth year, he would deal with his problems alone. As seen in book five when he tried to dissuade his friends from following him to the Ministry of Magic, he retains a strong sense of independence as well as a determined wish to not hurt others by pulling them down in his own business. He would probably mope around, but he would pull himself together when he'll realize that he cannot mourn Sirius' death forever. That's when he would try to set things right. He would train but I do not see his training going easily, nor do I envision his metamorphosis as sleek, easy and short. It would be long, hard and full of difficulties from which he will have to learn the roughness of life. He will tread the path of adulthood much sooner than he ever had thought.

Now, about my pace. Yeah, it's slow. Blame me. That's because I attach a high degree of detail to my writing and I do not see events occurring real fast, even catastrophes and dramas often only take a single second to unfold. After all, the bullet that hit John Fitzgerald Kennedy didn't take six hours to kill the president, right? Some things are fast, others aren't. Many will compare my work to a snail's pace, but I'll try to improve myself. I think it'll get faster after the dark part of the fic - Harry coping with Sirius' death - will be over. As soon as he begins his true training, things will go much faster.

Am I too serious about it? Well, I don't see a war waged against a monster like Voldemort to be sunny and full of happiness. It would be laden by angst, drama, doom and gloom. But I'll try to liven things up for my own sake. Rating will however change in the later chapters, maybe up to 'Restricted', since the 'NC-17' level isn't offered by FFN.

Got a message for me? Be my guest, I'll be watching my mailbox but don't swamp me with messages!

On a happier note, I'll probably be concentrating more on HP than Evangelion since that area is practically dead right now. The series ended in 1994 or something like that and well, fandom is going to the crapper as fast as a nuclear reactor melting down. So HP will be on top of my priority list. Lucky you.

Now, on a more personal basis, I'd like to 'file' a complaint about two reviews I received. Well, about one only - the other will be the object of a statement. I had one guy literally yelling a me about how H x Hr was something completely stupid and therefore that I was reading nothing but crap. I'd like to tell that guy that my preferences are MY OWN and not HIS. He cannot decide for myself what I'm going to read or what I'm going to write. If he doesn't like my series, then he can look elsewhere for what he deems satisfactory (i.e.: H x G fics). There are character search slots above that can help him narrow his own list of HP fics and leave him only with the H x G and prevent him from stumbling on H x Hr fics. What pisses me off is the fact that he got mad at me without any reason at all. I call his behavior bigotry and fanaticism. An asshole's attitude, as I stated earlier. I don't call his message a review, either, just a worthless rant. Did I berate on his choices? NO. Therefore did I deserve his ranting? NO. So get lost. On another hand, one guy told me as it was H x Hr he wouldn't keep on reading HP-ASIT anymore. While I must commend him on his pacific tone (which I can't say about another fucking individual), I can't keep from rolling my eyes upwards and saying 'okay, do as you want, I won't and can't stop you' in regret. While I respect your choices, I must ask you to not get biased. Just because my series is H x Hr and there are a lot of H x G fans out here doesn't mean that I'm writing crap. Ignore me if you want but please, please, if you want to post a review, just give me your opinion about my writing. Not your preferences, okay? As I said in the prologue's author's notes, I only want CONSTRUCTIVE reviews, damn it! Not rants! But who am I to stop you from asserting your right to proclaim your freedom of expression? Say it aloud, okay, but don't turn my review pages into a propaganda or masses-conversion page. Just thought I had to make that clear.

Now, I've got nothing against H x G, H x Luna or even H x OC, as long as you're not like the first individual I described above, but please, please do me a favor. Stop those aggressive flames. It's not worth my time. I could do much more better in the meantime.

Until next time,

abi2301