Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"You wanted to speak with me, headmaster?"

"Thank you for coming, Remus. Please make yourself comfortable. And remember that it is Albus, dear boy," the old man remonstrated with a gentle smile for the younger wizard.

Remus Lupin gave him an apologetic look as he took a seat in front of the headmaster's desk. "Sorry, Albus. Coming here just brought back old memories of being a student, you know?"

"Yes, I can imagine," the headmaster replied gravely.

"And well, I was thinking about them. James … Sirius … Peter," Remus added with a weary sigh and a pained expression. "Why did it all have to end like that?" he asked despondently.

"That is sadly the nature of evil. Like a weed it spreads and corrupts. It is jealous of happiness, and tries to strangle and destroy it. Which is why we need to fight it whenever we can, and yet can never fully succeed because it leaves its damnable seeds everywhere." Albus Dumbledore's expression was sad. And resigned.

Remus looked aside, clearly discomfited. "Of course. You probably want to know about the Dementor on the train?"

"That is one of the reasons I called you, yes."

"Why else?"

"I saw how you looked at Harry during the feast, Remus."

Remus continued to avoid the headmaster's eyes.

"Yes," he said tonelessly. "I don't understand ..." he trailed off, suddenly looking up. "Why? He seems a nice kid … he even apologized for it on the train when I told him I was a friend of his father's."

The headmaster sighed. "He is. A nice kid. A nice kid, who had a not very nice time growing up. Lily's relatives … they … are not nice people at all," he admitted.

Remus stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What are you saying? And didn't you put him there yourself?"

Albus nodded sadly.

"Yes. To my shame, I did. They … neglected him. Badly. It is sorted now," he said, stopping the other wizard from interrupting with a raised hand. "They will never do so again, unless they want to feel my considerable displeasure."

"But," he continued with another sigh. "He had a hard time growing up. And then when he came to Hogwarts … he went from being considered less than nothing to everyone fawning over him. I do not know if you have kept up with everything that happened to him but … well, he ended up really hating the constant attention and unwarranted fame."

He gave Remus a thoughtful look. "You of all should know how horrible people can be. How … inconsiderate and prejudiced. How willing to believe the sensational over the truth."

The younger wizard nodded. "Of course. But still … why did he not want his father's name anymore?"

"He does not mind that it was his father's name. It is the expectations that come with it. The fame and mindless adulation. He never knew James. But he knows about Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that, and he knows about the name being alternatively lauded and condemned. And so he came to resent it very much. When he approached me to ask for this … and I learned of his upbringing ..."

The headmaster gave the other wizard a searching look. "It was my fault. Thus I owe him a debt. I could not refuse him."

Remus looked away again, clearly uncomfortable. "I have no right to judge, of course," he admitted softly. "It's just … first seeing how different from James he looks … and then hearing this ..."

"I believe he had also grown rather tired of hearing all the time that he looked exactly like his father," Albus explained. "It is sad, don't you think, to be reduced to nothing but a scar and the looks of a dead man?"

Remus nodded. "Of course," he repeated again, faintly, and both his face and voice were blank. "I … will have to think about this."

"Try to talk with Harry," Albus advised him gently. "For all that he is not a Potter anymore, he still cares about his father and would enjoy hearing about him, I believe."

"If you think so ..."

"I do," the headmaster said firmly. "Please talk with him. He will very likely tell you more about his reasons, too. And … it would be just like Harry to feel guilty about hurting your feelings," he admitted with a sigh. "He is that kind of person. He is really a lot like Lily, rather than James."

"Then I will," Remus said softly.

"Thank you," Albus said with a sincere smile. "Now … what can you tell me about the incident on the train?"

"I was reading, when I felt the Dementor come closer. I have no idea how it got on the train," Remus admitted. "I think we might have slowed down. I was not really paying attention, I'm afraid. But when it got colder, and so … hopeless and depressive, I thought something was wrong and I went to investigate."

"When I came to the next compartment I saw the shroud already bending over a student … I did not know then who it was … it looked about to deliver the kiss," he explained, shivering. "My Patronus managed to drive it away just in time. It was such a close thing, Albus. So very close. And if I had not been on the train … and luckily right next door as well ... "

They exchanged a look. Remus looked away first. He shivered again, crossing his arms as if to ward off a chill.

"I must admit I am concerned further," he added, giving the headmaster a worried glance. "Because that Dementor made straight for Harry. The other two children were closer to the door, and it still went for him. I am certain as well that it passed several other compartments after it got on the train. So what does that tell you, Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore gave a weary sigh and closed his eyes as if in pain.

"That someone sent after him," he replied bleakly.

"Yes," Remus said. "That's what it seemed like to me. But who ..."

"The ministry. Voldemort. Someone at the ministry working for Voldemort."

The younger teacher nodded in agreement. "Yes. And none of that is good."

Albus Dumbledore got up restlessly and moved to the window. After staring at the rain-laced darkness outside with unseeing eyes for long moments, he finally turned back to face the other wizard with another tired sigh.

"I had hoped this would give the boy a more peaceful year for once," he said. "But between Sirius Black and the ministry's glorious idea to use Dementors to keep him away, I fear this is not to be once again."

"And now from what you tell me there is apparently another direct threat against Harry," he added helplessly.

Remus nodded. "I will do what I can to help guard him," he offered.

"Thank you. And as I said … please talk with him."

"I will. And I bid you a good night now … I should go and unpack."

"Indeed. Good night, dear boy. Though sleep may be hard to find tonight," Albus admitted softly, looking back out of the window.

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oOoOoOoOo

Half an hour later Minerva McGonagall came up to the office to start on the paperwork, now that the new students had been sorted. They worked quietly for a while, only conversing about their task, but he could tell there was something weighing on her mind. There were the sidelong glances, and the way the smile did not reach her eyes when he attempted a joke. And her lips spent too much time firmly pressed together.

"Do tell, my dear, what has you in such a dither," he finally asked her, after getting yet another tight-lipped sidelong glance.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the witch declared with an affronted expression.

"Oh, Minerva, how long have we known each other?" he admonished her gently. "Now tell me, why are you so upset about Harry?"

"Really, Albus, how could you let the boy do something so foolish?" Minerva asked, and the expression on her face was halfway between disapproving and lost. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"Do you truly think he could have done this without my assistance, my dear?"

She appeared taken aback at that. "You really were behind it?"

"Well, it was his wish and decision. But he could hardly have accomplished it without my help."

"Then why did you help him?"

"His arguments were quite compelling."

She continued to look bewildered. "Then ... why did he want this?"

"That is for him to tell," he told her firmly.

"Surely … he is but a child … how can he know his mind, and the consequences ..."

"But you know, it must be a terrible thing to be overshadowed by your own name," he added almost idly, but there was suddenly a steely edge to his voice.

Minerva blanched. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand fluttering to her throat in an unconscious gesture.

"That because of his name, everybody had expectations of him from the moment he set foot into this school. And he could either meet those expectations, forcing himself to be possibly quite untrue to himself, or fail, and disappoint people."

Albus' eyes were hard as he watched her struggle with herself.

"He wants this to change, Minerva. And that is very hard when everybody has preconceived notions about him. This is his chance to escape from them. Do not grudge him that, just because you would like to see James come alive in him again. Harry really is not his father."

She sighed in defeat. "I know," she admitted. "James was so … carefree. Such a joyful and happy person. So confident and wilful."

"And you would like it if Harry was, too, I know. But how could he be, with Voldemort after him? And ..." he gave her a searching look. "Unfortunately you were right. They really were the worst kind of Muggles."

"What do you mean?" her voice went up as she stared at him in dismay.

Albus sighed. "James had loving parents. Harry … did not. Their care of him was of the most grudging kind. They gave him as little as they could, and made him work for even that much. As for love and care and tenderness …" his pained voice trailed off and he lowered his eyes to his hands, which were toying with a quill. "He had none of that, ever."

"But, how … why did no-one notice? Didn't you place Arabella there to watch over him?" Minerva's voice was disbelieving. Horrified.

"So I did. But they were clever enough to hide the obvious signs, and made sure he would not want to tell anyone."

"Oh, Albus … and you never checked yourself? And … " the disbelief in her expression changed to rage as her voice went up another notch. "You left him there again this summer!"

"Yes, I did. After a long, a very long talk with them. They will never dare neglect him again, believe me. And if they should dare ..." he gave her a crocked smile which did not reach his eyes, which were cold and deadly. "They will only have themselves to blame for what will happen to them."

"But still ..."

"Leave it be. I have taken care of matters, and he was fine this summer," he sighed wearily. "And you could not make me feel more guilty than I already do."

"But you must realise Harry will never be like James. And that he has the right to be his own person, which involves bearing the name he chooses for himself. And you loved Lily, too. He wanted to honour her name now. So if you want to help him, then support him and his choices, Minerva."

She folded easily after that, her expression softening.

"Yes," she murmured. "Of course I will."

"And please, keep an eye out for him. He knows most there is to know about … his godfather, and the danger Sirius poses. Harry accepts we will need to keep him close to Hogwarts because of that. But ... unfortunately, it seems the Dementors themselves might present him a danger, too."

Minerva blanched. "That is … most worrisome. But was it … wise to tell him about Sirius Black? Harry is still a child, Albus, he needs to be protected ..."

The headmaster's eyes grew distant.

"Sadly … he is not, Minerva. Please do not make the mistake of treating him like one. I would preserve his childhood … if there was anything left to preserve. And I would doubly wrong him now, if I were to treat him like an ignorant child, when it is thanks to me he never had the chance to be one. Instead I must now honour my debt by arming him as best I can for what is to come."

"So please, watch over him. And if he should come to you with any concerns, or observations … do not disregard them. Circumstances have made him grow up beyond his years. Which is both a blessing, and a curse for him. Let us at least not waste the blessing," he told her with an earnest look.

She clearly was not happy. But she understood enough now that she would do as he had asked. And the least he could do for Harry, was to give him what allies he could.

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oOoOoOoOo

For all that he'd gone to bed straight after the feast, Harry awoke the next morning feeling wrung out and out of sorts. Sleep had eluded him for the longest time, and he'd spent long hours staring into the darkness of his bed-curtains while trying to analyse the happenings of the day. It must have been well after midnight when he finally drifted off into uneasy slumber.

But it wasn't just that he still felt tired and anything but well-rested. He was also feeling rather apprehensive. Last night his mind had kept replaying the confrontation with Ron, trying to figure out if he could have gone about it better. Of course, there was nothing he could do about Ron's reaction to Harry no longer being a Potter. But he could have told Ron earlier about the name-change, instead of letting him find out with everyone else.

And lying awake, in the unrelenting quiet of the dorm, he finally had to admit the truth to himself.

He'd simply been afraid. Afraid of loosing his best friends. Because that was the real reason he'd waited to tell them. Yes, the press finding out had been a consideration. But mostly he'd simply been too cowardly to tell them. And that was stupid, because he'd known they would find out. All he'd done was delay the inevitable. But his stomach had clenched every time he'd considered telling them. His mouth had dried, his quill had ground to a halt, and his brain had refused to come up with the words to express himself.

It was easy being a Gryffindor when confronting evil wizards and basilisks. That was clear-cut, and the danger of the moment made the decisions obvious. But he found it hard to be one when faced with relationships. Because he was pants at dealing with friends. After all, he didn't have any for most of his life. For that matter, he didn't have all that many now, either. So the very thought of loosing them had terrified him. And he was horribly bad at opening up to people. At letting them close. He'd been a loner all his life, thanks to the efforts of his relatives, and consequently he didn't really know how to handle people.

And so he had delayed, and pushed it all away until it was unavoidable.

And thus he'd created an even worse mess.

All of which meant he was very reluctant to get up and face people this morning, especially his friend. Though he was doubtful if he would still be able to call Ron his friend at the end of the day. But he pretended to himself that he was a good little Gryffindor, and got up and showered and got dressed. Which at least made him feel less wrung out. It also helped in avoiding Ron, who'd left the room by the time Harry got back from the shower.

But now breakfast was looming ahead. Which meant braving the Great Hall, and not only his friends, but everybody else, too.

And everybody by now had plenty of time to talk about him, and form ideas and misconceptions about what Harry had done.

He went downstairs anyway.

As he slipped into a seat beside Hermione, Harry cast a worried look at Ron. The red-head seemed relatively calm, but he was subdued and refused to talk all through breakfast, which made Harry realise how much his friend normally contributed to the conversation. Hermione tried to make up for Ron's silence, but she sounded forced. And she kept shooting Ron reproving glares, which were probably not helping. Harry badly wanted to get up and run away, but he forced himself to stay and try to make at least a token attempt at eating.

Finally, towards the end of the meal, Ron suddenly put his fork down and looked straight at him. Harry tried to meet his friend's eyes calmly, but his insides were churning.

"Look," Ron said, sounding strangled. "I can't say that I understand … all this. But I do want to be your friend."

The red-head lowered his eyes to the table again, and toyed with the remaining food on his plate for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"And yeah, I guess I feel hurt you didn't tell us. Though I think I can understand that part, actually," he admitted with a rueful expression. "So anyway, I don't get it. The why and everything. But you are right about one thing … you are still Harry."

"Yes, I am," Harry told him firmly. "Though I'm probably a bit different from what you are used to. But not that much different."

Ron gave him an uneasy look.

"We'll see, then. Though, please don't make me call you 'Harold'," he pleaded. "That one's every bit as horrid as 'Ronald'!"

Harry almost laughed at his friend's horrified expression.

"Don't worry," he said with a reassuring smile. "I'll always be Harry to you, I hope."

"Why did you go for that name anyway?" Hermione asked him curiously.

Harry shrugged, feeling relieved that a lot of the tension was finally gone from the air.

"Dunno really. But 'Harry Evans' just doesn't ring. So I went with 'Harold Evans' for when I'm being formal. But otherwise I'll simply be 'Harry'," he explained with a hopeful smile.

"Hmm, you may be right about the 'Harry Evans'," she admitted, tilting her head sideways. "Just 'Harold Evans', though? I'd have thought you'd keep the 'James' at least?"

He sighed. "I thought about it," he said, letting his gaze stray across the room. It still met a disconcerting number of people staring back at him.

"But 'Mione, and please don't take this the wrong way," he said hastily, with an apologetic look at her. "The only time anyone ever used my middle name was when they were yelling at me or chastising me."

Hermione blushed at that and lowered her eyes. However, she was spared having to say anything because right then McGonagall showed up to hand out their class-schedules. Harry's Head of House was looking him straight in the eye when she handed over his schedule. To Harry's great relief she was smiling softly, and the look of disapproval from yesterday seemed gone. He gave her a questioning gaze, which earned him a quick nod and a reassuring smile before she moved on. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh look, we have Divination first thing," Ron exclaimed, appearing pleased to start the week with something new.

Harry's relieved sigh turned into a wince. He knew he'd forgotten something. Oh, dear. And Ron had just come around mostly, too. He grimaced, feeling his stomach clench. Still, there was nothing for it. He'd have to bite into the apple, no matter how sour it was.

"Ron," he began tentatively, getting his friend's attention.

"Yeah?"

"I … have another confession to make," Harry said unhappily, keeping his eyes down.

There was a long moment of silence.

"What about?"

Ron sounded uneasy.

Harry sighed. "I owe you another apology," he admitted, looking back up at his friend. Who was starting to look apprehensive now. Unfortunately there was nothing Harry could do about it. He plunged on.

"Because," he drew a deep breath. "And I'm really sorry for ditching you, but I'm not taking Divination."

Ron's expression was stunned. And turning hurt again.

"Why not," he asked hoarsely.

"Bill convinced me it would be pointless," Harry told him quietly. "And Ron, I'm sorry for abandoning you," he repeated hurriedly. "But I just can't afford to go for classes which give easy marks. You know the things that keep happening to me. I need every advantage I can get, if I want to survive," he concluded earnestly.

He felt bad for playing that card, which came too close to a guilt-trip for comfort, but it was probably the only thing which could make Ron understand. The red-head was still looking stunned. And definitely hurt now. But at least he wasn't yelling.

"Why didn't you at least tell me?" Ron finally asked. His voice sounded choked. "I mean, this was hardly a big secret you needed to keep from everyone?"

Harry winced. Because Ron was certainly right about that.

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted.

"I … I guess I simply didn't think," he added, with a guilty expression. "You're right, I should have told you about that one at least. I'm sorry," he repeated to Ron's accusatory face.

The red-head ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

"Are you sure you really want to be my friend?" he asked harshly.

It was Harry's turn to look stunned.

"Oh Merlin, yes," he breathed, feeling suddenly terrified with the realisation how badly he'd messed this up. "I'm so sorry. I … I just didn't think. I do want your friendship, Ron, I really do," he pleaded.

Ron gave him a glance that was heavy with doubt. And a tightening of his mouth that was both hurt and a bit hostile.

"I guess I've gotten into a bad habit of not telling stuff," Harry admitted, closing his eyes and grimacing.

"And I was afraid you'd take it badly and … now it's even worse," he concluded helplessly, realising his mistake. Because he could … barely ... excuse not telling them about the name-change. But he had no excuse at all for not telling Ron about Divination.

Once again he'd messed up because he didn't trust people. And because he was too much of a coward. Or too self-absorbed to realise that in trying to avoid a confrontation, he'd eventually make it much worse once the truth came out. And that it would hurt people even more when it did. He certainly was stupid sometimes.

"I didn't think this through. And I should have! I know how it feels when people don't tell you stuff you ought to know. And now I'm the one doing it!" he said, struggling with an overwhelming feeling of self-loathing.

"Harry ..." Hermione said, putting a hand on his arm. Her eyes were on Ron, though. Who was frowning hard, and seemed very unhappy.

"No. I'm a horrible friend," Harry moaned, hiding his face in his hands, with his shoulders slumping dejectedly.

"I wouldn't say … horrible," Ron said after a lengthy pause, sounding relatively neutral. Harry looked up hopefully, but Ron was still scowling.

"But you're not being a terribly good friend right now, either," the red-head added harshly.

Harry simply nodded. He deserved this judgement.

"So. Anything else you've forgotten to tell us about?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Uhm. That I intend to work much harder in class from now on?" Harry offered, trying hard to remember if he'd kept anything else from his friends. "I really need to, you know. I have to take this serious. Dumbledore is sure Voldemort is still out there. That he'll come back," he confided, watching Ron's expression turn frightened. And a bit green.

"So I guess that's another thing. Because being my friends makes you a target, too. Me not being Harry Potter anymore isn't going to change this. You shouldn't want to be my friends," he said, feeling rather hopeless. "Especially not with me being such a bad friend back."

"Harry ..." Hermione began again, but he cut her off.

"Because I don't know how to be a friend. I never had any friends before Hogwarts," he admitted, feeling irrationally ashamed for this lack.

"And I was so afraid you'd take it badly, that I … I simply couldn't tell you. And now it's all messed up because I'm really a coward. It's all my fault."

Ron just stared at him. There was hurt in his stare, and confusion, and an edge of hostility, too. It pained Harry to look back, but he forced himself to, trying to put all the wretchedness he felt about this situation he'd caused into his expression.

"Yeah, well …" Ron finally said, tearing his gaze away and standing up abruptly. "We'll see, I guess."

It was better than outright rejection, at least.

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oOoOoOoOo

Harry felt downcast as he headed off to Gryffindor tower to collect his books for today. Just as he was about to leave the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore's voice calling his name arrested him in the process of opening the door.

"Sir?" he asked, looking back up at the headmaster who had come up behind him.

"Walk with me for a moment, Harry."

"All right, sir," Harry said reluctantly, not really feeling like talking at the moment, but he fell into step beside the old wizard.

"How are you holding up, dear boy?" Dumbledore asked him quietly once they were away from the press of students exiting the Great Hall to get to their classes.

"Not so good, sir," Harry admitted dejectedly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I … should have told Ron and Hermione. It would have been much better. Not telling them was a mistake."

"Sometimes it is unavoidable that we make mistakes," Dumbledore told Harry gravely, and there was regret in his voice. "But once done, dwelling on regret does little good, dear boy."

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry said, looking up to find the headmaster staring off into the distance.

"That I, too, regret many of my decisions, especially those regarding you," the old wizard admitted. "But it does not help anybody, if we get caught up in feelings of guilt and regret. The wise man admits his mistakes, learns from them and moves on. And of course does his best to make up for them," he concluded, peering down at Harry with a sad smile.

"And what you should learn from this is that sometimes we have to keep secrets, because not doing so would do great harm. But when we do so only to spare the feelings of others, or because we are afraid of admitting to something ..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, and his smile turned rueful.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I realised that last night. I've been a real coward about this. Keeping secrets because you don't want to hurt someone is really very stupid when they are bound to find out anyway. It ends up hurting them even more once they do," he concluded, scowling unhappily.

"Well, then you have already passed the first steps," the headmaster said with an encouraging expression. "Now you just have to try to make up for it. And not do it again," he added thoughtfully.

"That's going to be the hard part," Harry admitted glumly.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Learning is never easy, Harry. At least not the worthwhile things. And growing up is often painful, but much preferable to staying a thoughtless child."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking away.

He felt relieved to see the gargoyle ahead that guarded the headmaster's office. The old wizard's words were making him uncomfortable in their truth. Dumbledore stopped once they reached it and turned to face him fully, reaching out a gentle hand to tilt Harry's face up and looking straight into his eyes.

"Always remember, Harry," he said quietly, but with a strangely intense expression on his face. "That the price of having friends … is being a friend. And that it takes two equal sides for a true friendship. Mr. Weasley will likely forgive you, especially if you can show him you are sincere in learning from your mistakes and not keeping your friends at arm's length again. Just as you need to forgive him his insecurities and immaturity until he can grow out of them."

Dumbledore's eyes were earnest as he continued: "You are both still young. And that means there would be a long time to nurse regrets if you let your friendships fail now, just because you are afraid of loosing them."

Harry found his voice had deserted him, so he gave the headmaster a jerky nod instead. Dumbledore gave him a long, searching look in return, which made Harry feel as if he was an open book for the old wizard to read.

"Remember," Dumbledore repeated softly, with a final pat on Harry's shoulder and a gentle smile, before he turned to ascend the staircase to his office.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Ron heaved a great sigh as he sat down next to Harry for lunch. He quickly loaded up his plate with food, but unlike normally when he would tear into it immediately, he stared at it morosely for long moments before looking straight at Harry. The red-head looked like he had bitten into a lemon, but there was also an apologetic twist to his mouth.

"Bill was right," he finally said bluntly. "It really is a load of rubbish."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Divination?" he guessed.

"Yeah," Ron muttered, returning his attention to his loaded plate and poking at it with his fork. "Trelawney must be the greatest fraud like ever," he exclaimed. "You should have heard her go on about the power of the Inner Eye! And she kept talking about death and doom and disaster."

Harry felt immensely grateful that his friend was talking to him again. Now he'd just have to work on keeping it that way. Agreeing with Dumbledore about the need to make up for his mistakes had been easy. Actually doing it … was a big challenge. Commiserating with Ron would certainly not hurt, though.

"Hmm, yeah," he agreed. "She sounds pretty bad. Though she can't be the greatest fraud ever," he said with a frown, remembering a certain other fraudulent teacher.

"You didn't hear her, mate!" Ron declared. He clutched his hand dramatically to his brow, faking a swoon. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, I see great pain in your future. And I see a grim which will snatch you and take you from your nearest and dearest!" the red-head intoned in a high voice, rolling his eyes upwards dramatically.

Harry had to laugh at this display.

"Yeah, she sounds like a real phoney. She still isn't the greatest fraud, though. I think after last year no-one can beat Lockhart to that title, honestly."

Ron sobered up at that. Obviously he remembered Lockhart's attempt at obliviating them and leaving Ginny to her fate all too well. "Yeah," he muttered, poking his food again.

"Yeah," he repeated a bit louder after a moment. "Guess you are right about that one."

And he picked up his fork and started eating determinedly, keeping his attention firmly on the plate. Harry sighed. It would be a long road back to normal. As much as anything was ever normal for Harry … Evans.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry … no Sirius in this chapter after all. But I first need to write a nice juicy bit of Daily Prophet sensationalist slander, which is giving me serious (pun intended) trouble. I really should not ever consider a career in journalism, given how much I'm struggling with it. And sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but real life reared its ugly head and having my father in hospital for an operation wasn't helpful in getting the creative impulses going. He's better now though, so I'll try to get back into regular updates for my stories again.

Thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming! Receiving feedback not only nourishes the author's desire to keep writing, but getting an outside perspective of my writings also helps in making this a better story, too!

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