Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This was the last chapter I had written from several years ago concerning this tale. I still have another four chapters ready, so relatively quick updates may continue for a while. I'll let y'all know when I run out of chapters-to-post, just so you'll know why it's taking a little longer than normal between updates. Happy reading!

Shades of Gray

Chapter Five: Life in Weirdsville

During the following few days, Harry and Neville were rarely seen outside one another's company. Neville managed to make sure most of the student body didn't harass Harry with questions regarding their adventure at the Ministry, and had also pointed out to Harry that he shouldn't wear the rings he'd received from Gringotts unless he wanted everyone to know about his change in status, and Harry… Well, Harry had his hands full avoiding the list of people Lily had given him, particularly Snape – he still didn't know what Lily's last message regarding the man had been, but it was more than enough that he was expected to spend an as-yet-undetermined amount of his summer actually living with the man.

On the first Tuesday following that fateful night at the Ministry, Luna Lovegood showed up outside the portrait of the fat lady. A first year student that Harry and Neville didn't recall the name of let them know that she wanted to talk to them.

Harry, hauling his black backpack, and Neville met her in the hallway. "Luna?"

Luna smiled, "Hello Harry, Neville. How have you been?"

Neville and Harry exchanged glances, "Well enough, I suppose," Neville answered.

"Did you see the Sunday Prophet? They bought Harry's interview from Daddy."

"Yeah, we noticed."

"Ronald and Hermione are wondering why Harry hasn't been to visit them."

Harry winced a little, he still hadn't figured out what he was going to do about those two. "I just… I mean… It's hard…"

Luna's smile didn't falter, "Don't worry. I told them you were worried about the possibility of lingering ashel mites. I don't think Hermione believed me." Changing the subject, Luna asked, "So, what are you two going to do this summer? Daddy said he wanted to take me to visit some friends of his in Norway."

"What I normally do, I suppose," Neville replied. "Help Uncle Algie in the greenhouse and whatnot."

"Sounds like fun. What about you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know."

Luna's smile broadened, "I think you'll like your summer, Harry."

"I doubt that," Harry didn't think a summer with Snape sounded particularly appealing.

Luna laughed. "It'll be better than you think." Luna turned to go and Harry and Neville watched as she started down the hallway. She paused before turning a corner, "Tell Lily I said hi, would you?"

Neville and Harry exchanged another glance, this one one of surprise, but Luna had disappeared before they could call after her. "Damn it," Harry muttered and kicked the wall. "Who else knows about this?"

Neville shook his head, "I don't think we need to worry about it, Harry. Luna's… well, Luna. She sees what she wants to."

"But –"

"According to that first message you received, Luna isn't one of the ones that the professor is using, right?"

Harry nodded. "But –"

"But nothing. She's weird, we both know this. It doesn't mean anything, other than she's on your side."

Sighing, Harry dropped it for the time being. "What do I do about Ron and Hermione though?"

"I don't know, Harry. Come on, let's go back up to our room. You can make them a get-well card and I'll take it to them tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan. Aren't they supposed to get out of hospital soon?"

"I don't know."

Most of the remainder of the term passed much in this manner, with Neville acting as an intermediary between Harry and the rest of the students, particularly Ron and Hermione. Hermione seemed to understand when Neville relayed the message that Harry just needed some time alone, but he noticed something… unsettling about Ron's expression. Neville wondered, for the first time, if Ron was willingly aiding the headmaster in his control of the people surrounding Harry. The only real bright spot during the last two weeks of term was when Delores Umbridge was finally driven from the school. Even Harry'd managed to crack a smile at seeing that.

When term finally ended, he and Harry joined Ron and Hermione in one of the thesteral-drawn carriages. Ron seemed to be back to himself; whatever it was that Neville had thought he'd spotted in the redhead's expression was no longer there. Knowing that Harry was trying not to raise their suspicions too much, Neville helped keep the talk in the carriage light. It was surprisingly easy to do, as Harry was subtly directing the conversation, keeping it away from anything that might be a problem. Ron's obsessive monologue after Harry had asked about the Cannon's standing managed to fill in most of the journey to Hogsmeade, as well as locating a compartment on the train. Once the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station, Ron and Hermione left to patrol the cars – their prefect duties still active until the last student disembarked at Platform 9 ¾.

After they'd left, Harry slid the door to the compartment shut and slumped backward in his seat. "So…" Neville said, "what's the plan?"

Harry removed a crumpled parchment envelope from his pocket and read aloud.

Harry,

As you know, your relatives will be unavailable for the first portion of the summer. With Voldemort still at large, you will need to be in a protected location until they return. Therefore, Professor Snape has graciously agreed to watch over you for the duration at one of the Order's safe-houses. He will meet you at King's Cross Station. Please let him know at that time if you need to stop by Privet Drive to retrieve any of your summer things. Remember what we discussed, Harry.

Yours Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

"I never really saw it before, but he's… he talks down to you, doesn't he? I mean, it isn't obvious, like Snape. He's not insulting or rude or anything like that, but… he –"

Harry nodded and removed his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I know, Neville. He's got that whole disappointed-grandfather shtick going for him. And I disagree; he is insulting, but it's not in what he says. It's how he says it. The whole 'you're-just-a-kid-and-don't-deserve-full-disclosure-now-run-along-and-play' tone. It's like he's so much older than we are, he's forgotten that we know how to think at our age."

"Not quite what I was going to say, but probably better phrased than I could have managed."

"I still don't know what to do about Ron and Hermione, though. Any ideas?"

Neville sighed, "Not so much on Hermione – I think, if she knew what was going on, she'd help you in a heartbeat – but… Ron… There's something, oh, I don't know."

"What?"

"Well… I can't be sure, but there's something I thought I saw the other day. It's weird, though, so I don't know if I actually saw it or not."

Harry growled in frustration, "Neville, either tell me or drop the subject. Quit dancing around it."

Neville chuckled a little. "All right, all right. It's going to sound nuts."

"Neville!"

"Fine. When I told him that you needed some time alone to think, he got this weird look on his face. It was only there a split-second, and I could have imagined it."

"But you don't think you did."

"No, I don't."

Harry toyed with a buckle on his backpack. "What do you think it meant?"

Neville bit his lip, "I don't really know. It could have just been that he's your best friend and was worried about you after what happened at the Ministry."

Harry rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of the compartment and let out a deep breath, "Neville, I can tell that's not what you really think."

"I know. It's what I want to believe, though. I fear it's more that he wanted to be able to make one last report to the headmaster before summer began."

Harry nodded, "You think he's aiding and abetting Dumbledore." It wasn't a question.

"I do. It makes sense, the whole Weasley family has been supporters of Dumbledore since well before the Grindlewald thing back in the forties."

"I don't want to believe it, either, Neville, but I don't think that what I want is going to figure too largely in my life for quite some time to come."

Neville sighed again and changed the subject. "Have you heard from Lily recently?"

Harry shook his head. "Not since that night in the quidditch stands. Honestly, it's starting to worry me a bit."

"I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe whatever it was that broke the connection that night has yet to clear."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. All I do know is that I really don't want to spend the summer with Snape."

"There really isn't much that can be done about it, though."

"I know, I know. It sucks, but that's pretty much the story of my life."

Neville gestured towards Harry's backpack, "Why don't you see about looking into that obliviate, then? If you can't do anything about living with Snape, you might as well see if there is anything you can do about that."

Harry shook his head again. "No, Neville, I think I've researched that avenue to death. You can't remove an obliviate from yourself; someone else has to do it for you. I have been thinking about it, though. You know how it's blocking more than fifty years, right?" Neville nodded. "Well… I don't know why it didn't occur to me immediately, but I've got a theory on it."

"What?"

Harry grimaced, "It's kind of gross to think about, but I'm sure this is what's going on."

Neville grinned and shook his head rather exasperatedly. "Are you going to tell me, or should I just throw you out the window?"

Harry laughed somewhat humorlessly. "Well… I think the obliviate is blocking Voldemort."

Neville blinked. "Huh? If that was the case, then how come the Ministry-thing happened?"

"No, you miss my meaning, Neville. It's not blocking the living Voldemort. I think it's blocking the memory of him."

"Sorry, I still don't follow."

"Okay," Harry leaned across the compartment, "look at it this way: Dumbledore said that the night Voldemort killed my parents, he 'accidentally' transferred part of his power to me when the AK rebounded; that's why – or so Dumbledore told me – I can speak to snakes. With me so far?" Neville nodded. "Okay, then let's assume that Dumbledore isn't telling me the full story, like usual. What if, instead of part of his power, he ended up transferring a copy of his memories?"

"Kind of like a living pensieve?"

This time, it was Harry who nodded, "Precisely. He'd done something similar before, transferring a memory of himself into a diary. Do you remember everything that happened in second year?"

"Wasn't that the year a basilisk got loose in the school and petrified all those people?"

"Yeah. The basilisk was released because Ginny got a hold of Voldemort's old diary and it possessed her."

Neville let out a low whistle. "Damn. And you think he did the same thing, essentially, to you?"

"It makes sense and fits all that I know about the problem. When Voldemort killed my parents, he was right around fifty-five or fifty-six. I don't know exactly, because I don't know when his birthday is."

"How do you know that's how old he was?"

"That diary I mentioned? Yeah, I got a chance to 'talk' to it. He was a fifth-year fifty years before we were second-years. I suppose it helps that Hogwarts won't take students unless they are eleven," Harry finished with a wry, little grin.

"So… If he really did copy his memories into you that night, then someone had to have known what really happened, or else the obliviate wouldn't have been put there to block him."

Harry's grin morphed into a true smile. "I always did suspect that Snape was completely wrong every time he called you a 'bumbling brainless excuse for a student'. Nice to see I was right."

Neville blushed. "And with all the stuff we've learned about Dumbledore, it's reasonable to assume that he's the one who obliviated the memories, right?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't have any concrete proof, but that's what I suspect."

Neville bit his lip in thought and sat back in the seat. "You know, Harry, I almost hate to suggest this, but maybe we're all better off leaving that particular spell in place for now. I mean, you're probably the best friend I've ever had, but the last thing we need right now is two Voldemorts running around."

Harry laughed. "You might be right about that, at least until we figure out what to do."

The remainder of the trip back to London went rather well, with Harry and Neville chatting. At one point, Ginny stopped by and said hello, and when the train came closer to their final destination, Ron and Hermione rejoined them in the compartment. Harry had just enough warning to slip back into his 'nothing is wrong' persona he had taken to projecting around the people on Lily's list. He was confident that neither Ron nor Hermione noticed his oddness around them.

When the train pulled to a stop at King's Cross Station, Harry glanced out the windows and sighed. "I guess this is it until September," he said to his friends.

Ron clasped Harry's shoulder, "It won't be all that long, I promise. I'm sure Dumbledore will let you come to the Burrow for at least a little while."

Harry smiled at Ron, trying to forget for a moment that the only person in the compartment he could completely trust was himself, though Neville was rapidly moving up on the list. "Yeah. Hope so," he replied, not allowing himself to fall too deeply into his self delusion that everything was fine. "I'm not going to hold my breath, though. Write me?"

Ron nodded, "Sure thing." The lanky redhead then grabbed his trunk and proceeded to fight his way through the crowd to his waiting family after saying goodbye to Hermione.

Neville, likewise, had retrieved his trunk. "I'll keep in touch, too, Harry," he said with a flickering glance to first his own watch and then Harry's.

Harry's smile brightened a little, "I know, Neville. Let me know what your Gran says, okay?"

When Neville had vacated the compartment, Harry was reaching for his own trunk when Hermione cleared her throat. A little abashed that he'd nearly forgotten she was there, Harry startled. "What?" he asked.

Hermione was still sitting on the bench, looking up at Harry with an odd expression. Harry wasn't sure what it meant; it sort-of looked like a combination of confusion, the look she got when faced with a mountain of homework, and just a touch of anxiety. "Harry…" she began, but trailed off.

"We'd better hurry up, Hermione. I'm sure you don't want to miss your parents." Harry finished tugging down his trunk from the overhead shelf.

"We still have an hour before the train returns to Hogsmeade," Hermione stated, then sighed. "I'd hoped to be able to talk to you while we were still at school, but you kept avoiding me…"

Cautiously, Harry sat his trunk down and turned to face the bushy-haired girl. "What did you want to talk about?"

She leaned forward a little and rested her elbows on her knees, her fingers lightly rubbing her temples. "Something weirder than normal for us is going on, Harry. I don't know what, really… but… I…" she stopped suddenly and looked up at him.

A little flare of hope burst forth in Harry's chest. "What, Hermione? What have you noticed?"

With a slightly pained expression, she shook her head as though trying to physically clear something from it. With her eyes closed, she muttered, "I don't know. Warped time, missing chunks – it doesn't make any sense!"

When she opened her eyes, Harry could see the underlying panic she was forcibly keeping back. "What are you talking about, Hermione? Missing chunks of what?"

Hermione opened her mouth as though to answer, but no sound came out. With a wordless cry, her head twitched violently to the right. Knowing that she was one of the people on whom Dumbledore was keeping a close watch couldn't stop Harry's automatic response. Hermione had been one of his closest and best friends for as long as he'd been going to Hogwarts, and to see her in pain triggered his reflexes. He knelt in front of her, though she'd gone quite still after the twitch. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. He reached out and shook her shoulder, "Hermione?"

She blinked rapidly, her breathing slowing to its normal pace. "I'm sorry, Harry, I must have been daydreaming. What were you saying?"

Making a split decision, Harry stood and quickly slid the door to the compartment shut and locked it. "Harry?"

"Hermione," Harry said, turning back around, his wand in hand, "listen carefully to me, and trust me. Can you do that?"

Hermione smiled, "Of course. But… you really ought to put your wand away. You don't want to get expelled, do you?"

Harry's smile was far grimmer than Hermione's. "I don't want expelled. But, technically speaking, we've not left the train yet, so this shouldn't matter. Also, I don't think Dumbledore would allow me to be expelled. Not with Voldemort still out there."

Hermione laughed a little, "I see your point. What did you need, though? I'm sure my parents are waiting for me…"

Harry nodded and sat down next to Hermione. "I know. Hopefully, this won't take long."

"What won't take long?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, "Just hold still for a moment, okay?" When Hermione nodded, Harry flicked his wand, "Exibeo magus." When the blue glow formed, he rolled the wand along the back of Hermione's hand.

Hermione recognized the incantation, but was unprepared for the ticklish sensation of the spell running through her. She wasn't sure what Harry's reasoning was for the spell until the results display appeared; blue letters hovering in the air.

Spells Found: 5
Active Spells: 1
Interactive Spells: 2
Passive Spells: 2

Spell Descriptions

Trace – Passive – Standard underage tracing spell –
set in place 16 years, 8 months, 21 days, 8 hours, 10 minutes

Contraceptus – Passive – set in place
4 years, 7 months, 22 days, 14 hours, 9 minutes

Defigo Veritas – Interactive – set in place
5 years, 9 months, 29 days, 10 hours

Obliviate – Active – blocking approximately 8 hours, 34 minutes'
worth of total time – newest set in place 1 week, 3 days, 8 hours, 44 minutes

Ultimate Authority – Interactive – set in place 4 years,
7 months, 30 days, 20 hours, 4 minutes

The only spell Harry recognized was the obliviate. "Harry? What was that for?" Hermione asked.

"Just a mo, Hermione," he quickly retrieved his palmtop from his backpack. While waiting for it to boot up, he nodded towards the rapidly-fading light of the exibeo results. "Did you know you had those spells on you?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged, "Everyone magical who is underage has a Trace – it's usually set in place within moments of a child's birth. I thought everyone knew that. For muggleborns like me, there are watchwitches who work in muggle hospitals that do it. For everyone else, it's either a parent or a midwife who places the Trace."

Recalling that no such spell showed up on either of his own exibeo results, Harry merely nodded, telling himself to check into that at a later date. "And what of the rest?" he asked, pulling up the search engine in the palmtop while he spoke.

"I don't recall ever having heard of a spell called 'Ultimate Authority' – personally, I think it sounds rather ominous. The obliviate is somewhat alarming, as well. The last two are spells Madam Pomfrey gave me, so I know what they are."

Harry looked up at her. "And what are they?"

Hermione sighed and looked away, "I don't really want to talk about it, Harry. Please."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "Come on, Hermione. Just let me know what they are."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You honestly haven't heard of contraceptus?"

Hearing her pronounce it, Harry got it. He blushed. "Oh. Um… Sorry. But what about the other one?"

Hermione stood so quickly, Harry nearly got whiplash trying to follow her movement. "Harry, no. It's not something I want to talk about, and I want you to promise me that you won't go looking for it."

Suspicious, Harry slowly stood, closing the computer and tucking it into his jeans pocket as he did so. "Why?"

"Because I asked, Harry. Trust me – it isn't anything bad. I swear. I just don't want people to know about it. Please, please promise me you won't look for the spell?"

Harry shook his head, "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I can't do that. What is the spell for?" He knew it couldn't have been a healing spell because of her injuries at the Ministry - it had been set in place too long.

Hermione was growing angry, "Like I said, Madam Pomfrey gave it to me, so would you please drop it!" She grabbed her trunk and very nearly ran out of the compartment before Harry could do more than shout after her.

"Hermione!" She didn't look back. "Damn it," Harry growled, turning back to his own trunk. What the hell is going on? I know that Mu – Lily, damn it! I know that Lily said she was one of the ones Dumbledore had under his thumb, but what the fuck is that spell and why is she so reluctant to talk about it? Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of a very irritated-looking Snape lurking on the rapidly emptying platform. Harry sighed and shrugged into his backpack, then grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage. He could have sworn he heard a funeral march play as he slowly made his way through the mostly-deserted train to the platform.

Snape met him at the door with a sneer. "Potter."

Harry absolutely refused to let the professor get the best of him and so forced himself to remain neutral. "Professor."

"If you've forgotten anything, it's not my problem, Potter. I will not come back for it."

"I've not forgotten anything," Harry replied, his voice still flat and inflectionless with his forced neutrality.

Snape began walking towards the barrier that housed the archway to the muggle portion of King's Cross, not even bothering with offering to help Harry with his luggage. Snape only paused momentarily at the barrier. Passing his wand over his robes without a word, the long black fabric changed shape. His professor was now wearing a muggle trench coat – And if that isn't a fitting garment for him, I don't know what is! – over his white shirt, black vest, and trousers. The man's dragonhide boots looked enough like muggle shoes that they went largely ignored by everyone. Snape glanced in Harry's direction once, to verify that he was still following him, before striding through the barrier. Harry really didn't want to follow him, but knew he had no choice.

Once through the barrier and into the muggle area of the train station, Harry suddenly realized that he could run. All he'd need to do is duck into a bathroom, remove the shoelace from his ankle, and take off. He knew, theoretically, how to operate in the muggle world… Harry shook his head. Fat lot of good that would do me. I'm sure that if I didn't run into the Death Eaters, Dumbledore would find me without too much trouble. Come on, Harry. Think, damn it.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Snape's shrill, piercing whistle. A taxi pulled up to the curb. Since when can Snape do mugglish things? Harry mutely watched his professor speak quietly with the driver for a moment before he turned to him and sniped, "Put your trunk in the boot, Potter. I don't have all day."

Biting back the retort Harry desperately wanted to say, he did as Snape bid him and put his trunk in the boot. He removed his backpack from his shoulder and debated putting it in the boot as well, but decided to keep it with him for the time-being. Following his teacher, even though he would much rather have done nearly anything else, he slid into the back seat of the cab, Hedwig on his lap. Snape, unruffled as ever, handed the taxi driver a couple of folded-over muggle bills. "Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The driver took the money and nodded, "Aye, mister."

Harry reached up and slid the glass window that divided the driver's area from the passenger area shut. Turning a glare on Snape, he hissed, "Just why are we going there?"

"The headmaster told me to allow you the opportunity to gather what things you needed for the summer from your family's home, Potter. Surely, even you can comprehend that?"

"There's nothing there for me, Snape," Harry replied before letting the topic drop and proceeding to stare out the window, a bare glimmer of an idea beginning to surface in his mind.

After what seemed to be both the shortest and longest trip ever from King's Cross to his aunt and uncle's house, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the brown brick house that was identical in every way to the houses on either side of it; the color of flowers lining the walk the only real difference. Harry got out of the cab and lingered long enough to hear Snape tell the driver to wait for them. He then headed around the side of the house for the back door. He had just finished removing the spare key from a fake rock when Snape caught up to him. "What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry looked up to meet Snape's eyes, "What does it look like I'm doing, Snape? I'm making sure you get what you came after. My so-called family doesn't trust me with a key to their precious house, but their oh-so-wonderful son is always forgetting his, so they had to make a copy of the key and leave it where not even Dudley could forget it. Technically, I'm not supposed to know it's here."

"And I suppose an alohomora is beyond your grasp?"

"Sure, Snape, and give those twats at the Ministry cause to snap my wand? I don't think so."

"I meant by me, you lackluster halfwit!"

Harry didn't bother to respond to that. He merely unlocked the back door and put the key back into the fake rock. When he stood back up, he noticed that Snape was still watching him. "Well? What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Go on, Snape. This is your chance to see how well the Boy-Who-Lived is thought of by his adoring family. Take a look, Snape. See all the pictures, the mementos, the veritable shrine to me. It's what you're expecting, isn't it?"

Snape brushed past Harry, muttering under his breath. Harry thought it sounded like 'Merlin save me from melodramatic teenage fools,' but he wasn't sure. He followed his professor, a confusing mix of anger and amusement lurking in his expression.

A/N2: I started writing this story several years ago. I got to this chapter, and then the muse went off on a world-tour. The next chapter is where I managed to get back into it. I hope there isn't too much of a discrepancy in the writing style.

Thakee kindly to all who review and to all who simply read. I hope you continue to enjoy this tale.