Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter

Chapter Four

A man in his late twenties paced in his room, trying his hardest to concentrate. It was hard, so many thoughts were running through his mind. And none of those thoughts had to do with the papers that lay before him.

Stopping in front of barely useable desk, he glared at the pieces of parchment. He gave his wristwatch a glance; it was ten after eight in the morning. She would be awake by now. And he knew it wouldn't take her long to figure out what happened.

And then all hell would break out.

He didn't like what he did; but he had to do it. It wasn't in his plan to run into her like, let alone let her see him. But he made a mistake, she saw him, but yet he got what he came for.

But she saw him.

Groaning, he fell down on a rickety chair and put his face in his hands. All he could see was her face, the fleeting moment of shock, anger, and then just plain happiness mixed with sadness. She walked up to him, a look of doubt on her face, wondering if he was real or not. But she touched his cheek and her tears of realization fell.

It was his fault; he shouldn't have waited. When he got there, he should've went strait to her office, grabbed the papers, and then left right after that. That was a lot of should haves. What he had done was wait till the feast was over, hid in a hallway he knew that no one traveled but her, and waited there.

So what if he had to see her? It had been ten long years since he had seen any of his friends, minus the various newspaper clippings of them. But that never was the same as seeing them in person.

She had taken longer then what he anticipated; he was about to turn and go strait to her office, then he heard the click-click of her shoes as she made her way down the hallway. The lighting in the hallway was low, just enough for her to see and plenty enough dim for him to hide. He backed himself into the darker shadows so he couldn't be seen, but where he could see her.

When he saw her, he smiled. She looked the same as she always has. Her brown hair was still a curly mess, but it looked more tamed now. Maybe it was because it was longer now then it used to be. She looked more like a woman now than a teenage girl. Her eyes were the same soft brown he remembered. But the more he looked; he noticed that she looked tired and sad.

Frowning, he wondered what the hell could've caused that.

Then it hit him in the gut; of course. He knew exactly what caused it.

"Hermione."

He didn't know he said that aloud until she clapped her hand over her mouth, waited a moment, and then looked around with her wand out. He had to duck so the light from her wand didn't hit him. Frowning, she yelled at Peeves and walked off, slowly. If he was smart, he would've stayed right where he was and waited till she was asleep before he went in.

But he made a move and so did his robes. They moved with him and she heard it. She turned around, pointing her wand in his direction. Thinking fast, he pulled out his own wand and knocked hers out of her hand. She had barely made a gasp as it flew away and fell a good twenty feet away from her

But none of that stopped her. She came walking in his direction. He decided to move again, but he had trapped himself in a corner. So he just stood there, knowing that she had caught him. Closing his eyes, he used his wand to make the lamps turn brighter.

He opened his eyes and watched her struggle with the sudden brightness. When Hermione saw him, she went pale. All he could do was watching her as she came closer, touched his cheek, and cry silently. He noticed her wand hand and reached up absent mindedly and looked at it, hoping to see that he didn't cause any damage to it. When he was sure that it was fine, he looked back at her.

"Hermione." he said. "I'm sorry."

She almost said his name before he knocked her out. It was a simple spell, no harm would come to her. She'd just have a killer headache when she woke up.

Hermione had gone limp in his arms. He lifted her in his arms and carried her off. He grabbed her wand, made all the lamps die down low, and walked to her office. He knew where he was going and it didn't take him long to find the entrance, say the password, and then head to her room.

He placed her on her bed, pulled the covers over her, placed her wand on the desk, and walked out. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for, but when he found it, something caught his eye. It was a picture of Hermione, Ron, and him. They were all goofing around and had managed to jinx each other; each having bits of animals parts in place for body parts.

Harry grinned, thinking of that day. Placing the photo back on the desk, he headed out. When he got halfway there, he turned into his Animagus form, crossed Hogwarts ground, went through the Forbidden Forrest and headed towards where he made his home for now.

Harry stood and stared at the papers. They were things that the Minister of Magic had sent to Hermione for her to know what the heck was going on. They were very detailed and somewhat dramatic on what was happening. But Harry knew he had to read them, get them memorized, and pray that what he thought wasn't true.

But he knew it was. He had seen it happen. Of course, he had been there. Voldemort had realized his defeat, and did something to the Manus building, causing the green flames and then the screaming. Harry had barely managed to escape before the whole thing collapsed.

And how Voldemort managed to escape after what he did to that building? Harry had no idea. But he did manage to escape, with him right behind that evil bastard.

He shook his head, not wanting to think of that night and the memories that tore him apart.

The reports of the bazaar incidents were indeed bazaar. People, who were thought of perfectly normal, happy with their lives and families, climbed the top of some building in Diagon Alley, screamed and yelled something obscene or unintelligible, and jumped. This of course, had happened more then once and all of them were the same.

The Ministry had thought of this as some work of the Dark Arts. They questioned and drilled everyone they could think of, even the ones in Azkaban. But no one had knew a thing about was going on. All they knew is that Lord Voldemort was dead and that they were to spend the rest of their lives rotting away.

Stretching, Harry began to think. He knew of the rumors, knew of the stories, and knew that some of them were very true. He began thinking of his plan and wondering. He had to rethink of this plan. If these killings/suicides kept on thinking, then they were growing more powerful by the minute. And the Ministry needed to know.

The only way they could find out is if someone told them. And Harry knew he couldn't just go to the Ministry and tell them. He had been faking his own death for ten years now. Everyone knew that he was dead.

Everyone but one.

Which was one person that now needed to be a part of his plan.