A/N - I, in no way, form or fashion, own anything to do with Harry Potter; except for some really classy boxers. JK Rowling owns this stuff.

Chapter 2 – Reflections

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a dark place, dingy and cold was the best anyone could say about the façade. Inside, there were still acres of cobwebs, years of grime on the walls. Some might call it haunted as there was a painting that screamed in hatred like some banshee from the isles. There was even a grumpy, ugly little creature wandering about within its halls. In the front room there was a young man of 17 hanging his head in despair, looking every bit dejected as the house, as if it was slowly dissolving his soul.

All this could be said of the house if anyone could see it.

Harry had spent much of the summer isolated, mostly, from the world within the dark confines of Grimmauld Place. Between the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, people who were trying to find a way to profit from association with Harry, the nearly unbearable and guilt laden feelings that were part of the constant thanks and the bone numbing sorrow. All of these were coupled with guilt about his growing feelings for Ginny. They just didn't balance out.

How could anyone, except a narcissist like Gilderoy Lockhart, think he could be happy with the attention?

Hermione and the Weasley family came by every few days, but he could not shake the almost depressive feelings inside him.

The words of Albus Dumbledore and memories of Severus Snape had sunk in after the battle. Was Dumbledore really that manipulative? Had Harry been used? What was Dumbledore's plan if he had lived and Harry had actually died? The quick meeting with Albeforth, Albus' estranged brother, didn't clear it up; if anything he was even more confused reviewing that encounter.

Sometime in May, Harry had asked Bill Weasley to teach him the Fidelus Charm and a few other spells to help reestablish the security surrounding his house at #12 Grimmauld Place. These difficult charms and spells seemed to be less draining and easier than before the life or death fight on the 2d of May. His daily routine spells seems stronger. Harry wasn't sure if this was due to less fear, stress and panic or if something else was happening. Few knew the address before this happened, fewer knew it now, but better safe than sorry. Things weren't as dark now; even Kreacher was a bit more pleasant.

Harry had made overtures to Kreacher in first few days after moving back into his flat. Kreacher was already in a better state of mind after having given him the locket last summer, but Kreacher had fought in the last battle and Harry decided to try and give him a level respect. At the same time, he was undoing some annoying aspects of the house. Kreacher and Winky now slept in 'Master Regulas's' room. He also had discussed that instead of removing the picture of his mistress, who hated Harry, Kreacher could move the picture to Kreacher's room. This nearly caused the ancient house-elf to have a coronary. He hinted that Miss Hermione felt that Kreacher deserved a reward for his actions causing the half-elf to reconsider the dreaded "mud-blood friend" and Winky to lessen her resentment of the witch who tried to free her multiple times the year before.

Kreacher was still no Dobby, but he wasn't the grumbling, angry little pain in the butt from last summer. Winky had stopped being the drunk, self-pitying mess after the "Master Barty" disasters, one of whom freed her, the other whom betrayed her.

Kreacher brought Master Harry a cup of tea as he sat down and started to reflect on his current situation. Ginny was becoming more and more withdrawn and Ron was almost hostile. Harry needed to shake himself out of this abyss where his mind was mired.

Harry had finally made peace with Gringotts after the break-in last April. Charlie had helped by finding a "new" dragon and after receiving promises of less torture replaced the escaped guardian Harry and his friends had ridden while escaping Voldemort. Goblins also seemed to find the victory over Voldemort combined with his rescue of Griphook warranted some forgiveness.

The goblins also seemed less hostile once Harry discovered how much he actually had in Gringotts. Not only was he the Head of House Potter, but also the Head of House Black, Head of House Peverell (last known surviving descendent) and by combat, Head of House Gaunt. The latter two were in name only since there were no remaining assets for either House except the shattered ring, a shanty and the undisclosed Hallows. One of the Hallows was lost, hopefully forever, one was in Dumbledore's tomb (hopefully forgotten after the midnight sortie to replace it), and his dad's cloak. Head of House to four ancient Houses, plus a combined fortune equaling or overshadowing most accounts managed by the Goblins, seemed to sober them once they realized Harry might just "remove his assets."

Harry, his head in his hands and almost in tears from frustration, jumped when an owl landed on the table in front of him. Shaken from his stupor he removed the envelope, said, "Thanks," automatically and looked at the return address: Minister of Magic.

Dumfounded, he slowly opened the letter and began to read.

Dear Mister Harry Potter,

It has come to my attention that you are considering not returning to Hogwarts this next year. I understand you have expressed a desire to become an Auror. Discussions with your professors these past months, led me to this understanding. This position requires multiple NEWTS for reasons that I hope to you are obvious.

Having said that, the Auror Corps is currently short staffed due to recent losses. We are considering offering interviews to select Wizards and Witches for conditional appointments.

Should you still be interested, please contact us, you actions, and frankly your survival this past year, have earned you this consideration. If you decide to accept this offer please respond by owl.

Sincerely,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Mister of Magic

Stunned, Harry sat back. He had reread the letter for the third time when he finally accepted what it said.

"YES! Yes, wow, brilliant…", Harry yelled. Harry tried to write his affirmative response while doing a little Irish jig he noticed Seamus doing on several occasions. Finally he calmed enough to write his response and attach it to the waiting owl. In the meantime, Kreacher had come into the front room looking at Harry a bit bewildered.

"Can Kreacher help, Master? Does Master Harry need a tonic or potion?" in a puzzled voice.

"No Kreacher, I finally got news that doesn't annoy me. Finally, I have something to focus on besides this The-Boy-Who-Lived nonsense, Voldemort and the death of my friends. I need to go see Ginny, Ron and Hermione.." Harry hugged Kreacher, startling the little house-elf, did little skipping dance and went outside.

After a quick, habit formed, reconnaissance of the street and surrounding area, Harry bolted to the little grove in the park across the street and apparated to the Burrow.

!Bang!

Harry arrived, did another quick look around, another little dance and ran to the Burrow. He skidded to the doorway and remembered how he had acted these past weeks, reviewed his reasons and after one of those 'collect-yourself-Harry' moments, he knocked softly.

Humbly, as was his norm and a bit put off by his own demure attitude, he knocked again a bit louder.

"Now whoever could that be?" he heard Molly Weasley's shrill voice through the open window. The door popped open with Mrs. Weasley standing there in a mixture of happiness and irritation. "Harry, come in, come in dear."

Harry gathered himself, wrapping his dignity around him like a shield and stepped into the front room. This was one of the few places he considered home and Harry didn't want to lose that. "Um, Mrs. Weasley, I was hoping to talk to you, and the others, and apologize for being a bit standoffish."

"Ginny and Ron are out practicing Quidditch, would you like some tea?" she implied he needed to sit down and talk to her first before he hurt her children any further. She considered Harry her adopted son, but that didn't mean she wasn't hurt or protective.

"Yes, please," he mumbled. Harry followed her into the kitchen and took a seat.

Harry had mixed feelings sitting there, trying to determine how to talk with this woman that was in effect his surrogate mother. "Uhhh, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not sure how to say this. I'm sorry for the past couple of months. There was just so much I needed to work out in my head. I don't know where to start."

Silence, not even the tea cups clinked. Harry sighed, considering if he should continue or just leave.

"I never had a family, except yours. I lost Sirius, then Professor Dumbledore, then I nearly lost Hermione and Ron, then there's Fred, Remus and Tonks, I couldn't imagine losing you and Mr. Weasley… Ginny…" He looked up and Mrs. Weasley was leaning against the counter looking at him with such empathy.

Harry gained a bit of courage from the lack of outburst and continued, "I'm sorry." He said with all of the confidence his 17 years of life could provide. Merlin, his is hard.

She came over, gave him a quick hug and sat down opposite him. Sipping tea, tripping over words and stumbling through his thoughts Harry talked about his fears and self-reflection. Knowing the Weasley's undimmed perspective of Albus Dumbledore, he avoided those doubts about him and the mission to destroy the horcruxes. He cathartically released his pain and fear.

Molly was at the point of understanding his seclusion and forgave him with her signature hug. Neither was sure if everything was tip-top, but it was better. As far as Harry was concerned, things were on their way towards being right again.

He'd just stepped from the backdoor heading toward the homemade pitch when he noticed his two friends coming from the woods toward the house. Ginny froze. Ron took a couple of steps before he noticed Ginny stopped, looking at the house. He quickly turned expecting the worst.

Harry slowly walked toward the two of them. As he edged closer he continuously gathered himself, stiffened his back and tried to approach with a combination of dignity and remorse. These were two of the three people in his life he demanded of himself to apologize and explain fully what had occurred. Tentatively he made the last few steps toward his friends and stopped.

Both nearly as worried as Harry, he began. "Um, so, I just wanted to apologize to everyone, especially you two. Your Mom said you were at the pitch, so I just came to here to, ummm, apologize and let you know what happened."

Ron remembered he had bailed on Harry and Hermione more fully than what had occurred here. Ron was densive about somethings and he remembered Harry's immediate forgiveness of that, but he was Ginny's big brother. His decision had to be based on how severe Ginny's bat-bogie hex would manifest this time.

They stood there for several seconds, then Ginny shook herself, looked at Harry and said, "I read one of Hermione's books on what muggles call PTSD, it sucks. Are you back for good this time?" No emotion, just a flat statement.

"Yeah, I really am. I had to work through a lot of mental baggage. I got an owl from Hermione that she is back. I was hoping she was here so I only had to do this once. I really need to sit down with you three and talk through some things that caused me to be a prat. I need you three to tell me how far off I was..

"I'm done being isolated, but we need to talk," Harry wanted to say more, but wanted all three together before he did it. Looking for a sign from his two friends he just waited.

"She's just back from Australia, but we can send Pig. I do want to hear, we want to hear, your reason for shutting us out. I guess it can wait until tomorrow, but no snogging Ginny until we hear what you say. I won't have you hurt her again," Ron said flatly.

"Agreed," said Ginny ending that small hope immediately.

"Tomorrow for lunch then, at Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

He laid his hand on Ron's shoulder and tried, but just couldn't, do the same to Ginny. Harry turned, remembering the joy of the Ministry letter from just an hour ago, walked to the edge of the Burrows charmed area, turned and apparated back to his house.

Hermione was reflecting on the past two weeks. She spent several days of happiness after the reunion of her with her parents preceded by 15 minutes of terror.

Hermione had worked with Mr. Weasley and the Ministry of Magic to get a portkey to Adelaide, Australia. Both Ministries had worked together to find her parents and set up portkey locations. She was met at the terminus on the Australian end by a tall black man named Neville.

"G'day lass, you must be Hermione Grainger. M' name is Neville, volunteered m'self ta meet ya and show ya the way. Nice trip?" he said with a slight grin assuming that someone as young as this wee lass would not have very much experience with magical travel.

Hermione just smiled and said, "Hello, Neville. I'm Hermione. It wasn't bad, thank you. It saved me a great deal of trouble, actually. At least I will remember your name; one of my friends back home is named Neville."

Neville was a little impressed with this young lady, she wasn't at all disoriented like most people that portkeyed. Shrugging it off he continued, "Right, just this way a bit. Your folks have set up shop down the street a ways. I went to their business last week to have a tooth check, interesting lot Dentists. Anyway, they were amazed at me teeth, so they should remember me. Figured we'd chat them up a bit if they recognized me, we can then work this bit of a surprise into the conversation. Sound good?"

"You went to a Dentist?" she giggled, "Brave of you."

"No sacrifice to great, my lady," he said nobly, along with a sweeping bow. "Actually I was curious. We work a bit closer to our mundane counterparts here, than you lot do in Britain. It makes things less messy. I just thought it might help more than walking up and sticking your wand up the back of their head."

"No, it is a good plan. Maybe our Ministry should take some notes."

There was another hour before her parents stepped out for lunch so while walikng up the street they looked in on various shops at muggle items. As they were standing outside of a bookstore looking in the window, Hermione's still wound tight nerves, noticed a reflection in the window. With a curious glance up at Neville, she realized he had also noticed the two men who were almost comically trying to sneak up on them from across the road.

Neville was an experienced Auror and between his tribal magic, that taught at the Australian Wizard's school and his Auror training he was rarely, if ever, caught by surprise. He dropped his wand into his hand and used the window to target the two. Silently he cast a spell with his other hand to create a barrier between himself and his young charge. With a slight grin, he started to turn, Hermione tried hard to match his calm manner and actions. They both turned slowly.

"If it ain't nosey Neville. Look boys, the wog even brought us a present. So, you going to share the little Sheila with us Neville mate or will we just take 'er?" The man was crudely dressed, with a ridiculous hat and vest trying to look like someone Hermione remembered from a movie.

Neville's eyes tightened a bit, but his grin never moved from his face. Hermione would follow his lead. But her experience with these types over the past few years left her with little doubt how she would react when the storm happened. Her reactions were just too hard wired now, she thought it a bit sad that at 18 she was able to harden her emotions so quickly.

Neville had heard the tales of her and her two friends from contacts in Britain, he doubted them by half, but didn't have a choice with these two. He tapped her lightly on her left arm with his elbow, trying like hell to signal for her to step off and either run (what he expected) or fire some damn spell.

Her computer like mind adjusting her tactics to the situation in nanoseconds, she rolled to the right. Almost simultaneously, all four shouted "STUPIFY!"

The combined power of multiple spells hit the two men. Neville's unknown spell was some type of shield that re-bounded the two spells on the ambushers. Those coupled with Neville and Hermione's spells blasted the two wanna be's completely across the road into a metal trash bin.

Out of habit, Hermione cast a notice-me-not spell on the two of them, cast the charm to tie them both and started looking around for other attackers. Neville had sagged against the wall, seemingly exhausted. After her quick security actions and assessment, she checked on Neville, "Are you alright, Sir?"

"I'm fine lass, thanks. Guess they weren't kidding when I got the briefing," he said in quiet admiration.

"What happened to their spell? Did their wands backfire?" Hermione asked confused and a bit worried.

"Naw, that was a bit of tribal magic. Haven't used it in years though, really hoped I had it right."

"Tribal.. oh, wow that's brilliant. I read about that before I came here, but didn't think I would actually experience it. They said in the text that none of the tribal spells are shared or written down, which is rather disappointing." Hermione was nearly always miffed when something wasn't in a book somewhere.

Neville had recovered somewhat, chuckling as he told her, "No, these are taught verbally to each generation. They are sacred to us, we don't share these parts of our history. This was one of the few things that kept us safe over the years when settlers and explorers arrived centuries ago. However, based on this, you really don't need to know my secrets," chuckling and looking over the two ne'er-do-wells crumpled in the road.

A more or less, fully recovered Neville sent his Patronus to collect some reinforcements. While they waited they chatted more about tribal magic, touching on some of Hermione's experience over the past year and her two friends Harry and Ron.

The two of them stood a bit more alert, facing opposite ends of the avenue, as three locals came around the corner. Neville relaxed and waved.

"Hey Nev, got you on crossing guard mate?" one of the men said good naturedly.

Smiling, Neville dispelled the disillusion spell over their captives and just said, "Na Tug, more of Micks boys, out on a romp. They might need a bit of freshening up though. The lass wasn't impressed with the welcoming committee they offered."

Hermione blushed a bit, and laughed at the understatement.

"So usin' your scrub magic again, when will they learn?" Tug said a bit envious, but respectfully.

Neville simply replied, "That and several quick spells from Miss Grainger here. She reacted like a pro and netted the two while I was recovering." Tug and the other looked skeptical. Hermione just met their eyes and her best 'dare you to say something' look to squash any doubts. "Her spell was the one that hit Nagus, he is the one with the busted shoulder and broken jaw. Trust me lads, respect is due the young lass. If for no other reason than I don't want her pissed at me."

Hermione blushed again, further limiting their belief in what happened. They started with the site report, questions and witness statements for the initial paperwork.

Hermione was pretty sure what they expected and gave a quick rundown of what happened, her experience with the Order of the Phoenix and other Aurors gave her a good idea of what information was required. Neville, Tug, and the others were surprised at the concise, complete information she provided.

Tug gathered himself and bowed. "Miss, if half of these rotters here could give that kind of report, we wouldn't have nearly the problems. Nev, we'll need her full statement. Not sure about the prosecution though, bringing her back to testify might be a bit of a problem."

"I'll handle the paperwork and get her statement later. Get these two back to detention, I'll see ya in a bit mate."

No one questioned Neville. They collected the two criminals and apparated.

"Now, seems we were on a bit of a walkabout when we were interrupted," said Neville who pointed up the street.

They continued their talk about local customs, special types of magic and other topics.

Two of them arrived at the location of her parents' office and set up watch so that they could reverse the memory charms with the least difficulty possible.

Hermione came back to the present when she heard Pig scratching at the window of her bedroom in the Grainger's house. She took the note and quickly read it. Finally, we can figure out why Harry has been so reclusive.

It was after lunch the following day when Harry heard a quick knock on the door, it opened immediately after. Kreacher still wasn't quite sure he liked his master's muggle friend, but she treated the old elf with respect and helped him get Master Regulas' pendant. Kreacher appreciated that bit of her despite the fact she wasn't pureblood.

"Master is in the kitchen," Kreacher said.

Hermione went into the kitchen, plopped down and said, "Hi'ya Harry, glad to see a smile finally. So…" She was interrupted as Ron and Ginny entered the kitchen.