Disclaimer

I do not own this. If I did, I'd have fewer worries financially.

Note

This is the previous author's note that appeared in this chapter's place:

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I'm sorry to say that I've written about four paragraphs this week, but have been unable to write any further. It's not through lack of interest, and definitely no one's fault here.

My mother has been diagnosed with Grade IV metastatic endometrial cancer. This means that it started in one place (her uterus) and has spread to her lungs and the bones in her spinal column. As I'm sure you have guess, the prognosis is not good. The typical survival rate from diagnosis is 6 to 8 months. Add in that she's 73 years old...

(etc.)

For those who are curious, she's doing fairly well now. She has, as of this week, beaten the average prognosis. (Go, mom!) She may start a second round of chemo shortly, but is on drugs that allow her to 'take a break' from being poisoned by it for a while. The whole thing depends on what they decide as a result of her upcoming tests.

On the downside, as she feels better... Well, when one is feeling just a little bit bad, one tends to get cranky. And, boy, has she been cranky! On the bright side... With her better able to take care of herself, I can write the more intensive stories again. Still not up to my previous standards, but I'm getting there.

On another note, the total hit count across AO3 and FFN staggered me. GoF: 15974. OotP: 27556. This is, of course, pure hits. It doesn't take duplicates into account. Still, wow... The two combined have over 140 reviews!

Chapter Seven

The arrival of the book lists sparked a bit of controversy. Mostly, in Harry's opinion, because the magicals of the world were bred for stupidity. Not that Molly was stupid, but she was ignoring the facts in front of her. She didn't want him in Diagon Alley at all. She claimed it was too dangerous.

She was not very happy when he pointed out that he'd personally removed several of Voldemort's top Death Eaters from the roster. Or, when he reminded her that he was legally an adult. (An assertion that had him sounding more like a child than he'd like to admit.) After three hours of listening to her screech, he finally gave in to the demands of his ears and silenced her. Then, he downed a potion for his splitting headache and got ready to leave.

To her irritation, no one demanded that he remove the spell. She did – finally – calm down a bit when he told her that he was planning on asking Genesis, Tonks and Remus to accompany him. Just because he was capable of taking care of himself did not mean that he was stupid enough to not accept help. Having a squad to watch his back was sound tactically.

Then, Ron mentioned he wanted to go. That started the whole argument over again. The end result, was that Sephiroth would pick up Ron's things (plus a few requests he'd hastily scrawled on the parchment) and Hermione's things (plus a few extra books she'd added to the list), and a few more things for Ginny (he drew the line at the love potion ingredients). He'd reluctantly agreed to pick some extra supplies up for the Twins, too. Mostly in the interests of not angering Molly further by reminding them that they were adults, too.

As he grabbed his key, pack and money pouch, the twins started debating exactly what it should say on his tombstone when their mother finally gave up and murdered him for failing to comply with her demands. The leading options were Pranked a Prewitt (in honor of his silencing Molly) or Smothered by a Mother (commemorating her interactions with him). He had to smile. It wasn't that it was terribly funny, but that some part of him would have liked to see Molly handling the invasion of Wutai. He was fairly certain that she would have either had the local government under her thumb in a weekend or she would have harangued President Shin-Ra into giving up his goals.

He did appreciate that she wanted him alive. He loved that she cared. But, he felt that she needed to realize that he really wasn't one of her children. He hadn't even been a child in his first incarnation – much less now. He'd thought that she'd understood it, but maybe the habit was too hard to break?

Of course, there was a bit of other drama to consider. Ron had been made a Prefect. He was happy for his friend, really. Well, more relieved that it wasn't him. One lifetime trying to forge the masses into something resembling order was more than enough for him. He certainly didn't want to try it in a school. There was no way he could do it with the current point system – the teachers would probably get upset if he dragged a third year into a training room and battled him to get his point across. Not to mention the inevitable alienation of being 'in charge.'...

So, he congratulated Ron and ignored the people that were waiting for him to explode at being excluded from such a 'prestigious' hassle.

Genesis, of course, found the whole thing amusing. He knew quite well why Sephiroth didn't want to lead again. Genesis had seen what had happened the first time. He'd probably come up with a few reasons in addition to the ones he'd already thought of.

Diagon Alley, when the small group arrived, was bustling. People were happily shopping with no knowledge of the coming storm. Voldemort, Harry knew, would not be denied his chaos. He hadn't been much different as a villain. He'd just been a bit better at it.

Really, the so-called Dark Lord couldn't effectively oppress a small fraction of the populace of a single island. Sephiroth had nearly destroyed a world.

As it was going to upset his minders, Sephiroth quickly did the regular shopping before going into the areas he wanted – needed – to explore. In the process, he even grabbed a couple of extra books for himself and Genesis. The red-haired SOLDIER was now the proud owner of Hogwarts: A History, and a few other useful guides to the wizarding world. He'd picked up all the primers on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that he could find. Divination and Care of Magical Creatures? What was I thinking? Of all the useless topics...

The two magicals were less than pleased to see him heading for Knockturn Alley. Remus spoke up first. "Harry, you shouldn't go down there."

He sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes like the teenager he was in this life. "Remus, Voldemort and his sympathizers are still out there. I need to know what I'm facing. I am most certainly not going to discover what I need to know in the section of the market that deals with Bright-Eyed Novices."

Tonks interjected, "The Black library..."

Harry cut her off, "Is only useful in the most limited sense. Voldemort didn't limit himself to the library of one House, and I can't afford to do so. I already examined the library and now we're going to see if we can add to it." A smirk made it's way across his face. "Besides, if you think this morning was bad, can you imagine Molly's response if I pick out and start reading Dark Arts: Spells of Choice in front of her? I need sources that she can't attempt to censor."

With a reluctant nod, they followed him.

The shopping trip, he reflected later, probably would have gone better without an Auror along. Not that Tonks was wearing her robes, but she was relatively recognizable when she wasn't changing her shape. There were few witches that walked around with lime green hair. By choice, at least.

Still, he did manage to pick up a few gems. He found a book on the animagus transformation and one on Occlumency that even Remus had to admit he'd find useful. A book on ritual magic, one on Elementalism, and a few on magical history rounded out his reading list. The pickings were disappointingly slim.

Like Binns, most of the histories on Flourish and Blotts had been focused on the Goblin Wars. It was useful information, true, but he needed a bit more than that. He needed to know what had happened with the various Dark Lords. It might help him predict what Voldemort was going to try next.

The trip to Borgin and Burkes was amusing and a bit more profitable than the other stores. His actions at the resurrection had apparently spread through the underworld gossip network, as the shopkeeper (a Borgin of indeterminate first name) was more afraid of him than the Auror behind him. A few glares and a couple of pointed comments gained him entry to the hidden stacks in the back. That was more helpful. Seventy-three Dark Arts books later, they walked out of the store with Sephiroth's coin purse much lighter.

He was willing to be that only two or three would actually be useful, but he couldn't be certain until he sat down and did a comparative study. Though, considering the amount of work involved, he might rope Genesis and Hermione into helping him. Books were more their field. He was just an amateur by comparison.

After that, they stopped and grabbed an expanded trunk. It had three compartments. Two were just standard sized, but the third had a large library rack that would rotate and allow him easy access to his books. After adding his purchases, he could still probably fit the entire Black library in there – were he so inclined.

The trunk was also heavily warded. It wasn't that he didn't trust his roommates, but better safe than them accidentally injuring themselves with the wrong information. He also made a note to himself to research further wards to add. Who knew what the Ministry or the teachers would try in their attempt to keep him quiet, controllable, and child-like?

He had Genesis keyed into the wards immediately, since he was present, and instructions for how to add Hermione later.

In the grand scheme of things, this was probably not retribution. Sephiroth wouldn't imagine that Molly saw a party as the torture he did. Still, even accidentally, it was a fitting torment to be forced to mingle with the various Order members. Needed, if he was to achieve his eventual goals. Still, torture.

Oh, the party for winning against the Wizengamot wasn't bad. This, though, was most of the Order and the tedious conversations were boring the heck out of him. He didn't get half the jokes, since they required background information that 'every' wizard knew. It reminded him of the Shin-Ra office parties that he'd been dragged to as a General. Even Ron seemed a bit unhappy with the soiree, though he was still basking in the attention.

Molly was in her element, and seemed to have forgotten – or, at least, forgiven – their earlier disagreement. He knew his genuine happiness for her younger son had helped that along. She was practically radiating pride. Every now and then, she'd walk past Ron and squeeze him to near asphyxiation with one of her hugs.

He, meanwhile, tried his best to network the way he'd seen so many Shin-Ra employees do. It was amazing how far a little attention went when it came to making a good impression on people. That he was willing to listen to them seemed to flatter them no end. When he actually paid a complement, they beamed happily at him.

He was probably reaping the benefits of his 'Boy-Who-Lived' title, but he'd trade on it forever if it meant keeping his friends safe.

To his great surprise, even Snape had shown up. The 'Bat of the Dungeons' was in one corner, just watching everyone else as they attempted to enjoy themselves. Since the professor's attention was elsewhere, Harry took the moment to examine him. He was still sallow skinned, greasy haired and had appalling dental hygiene. Still...

With his memories of a different time, came a different appreciation for the work of a spy. It was true that he didn't seem to be making much of a difference. Or had, as Moody claimed, possibly not made much of one in the last version of this war. Still, it wasn't the quality of information passed - it was how the superior officers chose to use (or not use) it. He couldn't be entirely blamed for his risks not yielding much return.

He smiled ruefully to himself. The things children failed to understand, but that being a General brought into sharp relief.

He thought back to his own mistrust and behavior. Sure, he didn't trust him. It was impossible, from a logical standpoint, to trust a spy. Still, he had given the man a harder time than was perhaps needed over the last few years. Tseng and Lazard would have been very disappointed in his treatment of what could be an excellent resource.

With that in mind, he squared his shoulders and approached. Black eyes turned to meet his, and he felt the first ticklings of something in his mind. It was a simple effort to gently remove him and establish a barrier. He was nowhere near as skilled as Mother had been.

Shock passed fleetingly through the gaze, but was suppressed in less than a second. It didn't show on his face, though. Their spy had too much control for that. He had to have that control to survive his tenuous position.

Harry's mouth had dried, so he swallowed to moisten it. "I owe you an apology." He continued when the professor's head tilted in curiosity. "I haven't given you half the credit you deserve. Instead of reserving judgment on your abilities and motivations, I have let a petty personality conflict shape my opinion of you since the day we met. It was a mistake on my part to allow our personal dislike of each other to have an effect on my interactions with you on a professional level. I am deeply sorry."

"Since I know you have no desire to be in my company, I will leave you to your drink. Good evening, Professor." With that, he gave a short bow, turned and headed back to the others.

If he'd kept his eye trained on Snape for just a few more seconds, he would have seen unbridled surprise followed swiftly by confusion. A Potter, showing intelligence and courtesy? Acknowledging that I'm at least useful? The professor set his drink down and headed for his quarters at Hogwarts. He needed to think on this... development. And, perhaps, examine his own interactions with the boy.

Having had enough of the party – and not seeing Molly anywhere to try to stop him – Harry retreated from the fray. He'd spoken to everyone for at least a few minutes, and he just needed a chance to relax and let his guard down a bit. He slipped up the stairs quietly, only to hear sobbing noises coming from the drawing room on the first floor. He entered the room at a run, Masamune appearing in his hand, only to draw up short.

Molly was on the ground sobbing, while an image of Ron lay dead on the floor in front of her. He wasn't sure what supposedly killed him, but it wasn't a spell. There was blood everywhere. He blinked for a moment, as he'd just seen the younger Weasley downstairs. And there was no scent to the blood.

She raised her wand. "R-r-riddikulus!"

Ron turned into him with a cracking noise. His brain kicked in. A boggart. He could use the same spell, but...

He looked at Masamune. He looked at the boggart. Maybe? Wizards tended to ignore the physical approach.

A slash later, the boggart had become Arthur. Molly sobbed harder and he growled. Fire curled around his fingertips. It wasn't the relatively safe fire of the incendio, or even a Firaga. No, he'd learned well at the fight in the graveyard. His finger pointed and a small stream of Fiendfyre crashed into the semi-sentient monster.

With a shrieking pop, the image vanished. All that remained was a pile of ash.

He ended the spell after a short but intense battle for control. He released Masamune and moved to kneel beside the overwhelmed woman. She was crying, face buried in her hands. He swallowed. He was no good at this. Still, he couldn't leave her in a heap on the floor.

A little coaxing had her settled on a ruined settee. Drawing on his limited experience comforting Hermione, he settled next to her and tugged her against him. His new height allowed him to tuck her face into his neck, even as he stroked her back with one hand. He made what soothing noises he could, reassuring her that it was only a boggart and – if he had anything to say about it – she was never going to have to face that in reality.

She cried harder and he resigned himself to having to shower again tonight in order to get the tears and snot off of his skin. He supposed it would be worth it. After all, she was almost family. If he could ease her pain, he would.

A noise caught his attention. He didn't move, but he did raise his eyes to see a sympathetic looking Remus and Moody standing in the doorway. Moody shook his head and left. Remus walked over, sat on the other side of her and rested a hand on her back.

"What happened?"

"Boggart."

The were looked around, and then spotted the ash. His eyebrows climbed. "What did you do to it?"

"Few things can resist fire." Molly was calming now, so he gently pulled away. Her eyes were red and she was still sniffling, but she seemed otherwise fine. She accepted a handkerchief from Remus. "I promise you. I will do everything I can to avoid that happening." He moved a strand of hair that her tears had plastered to her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Nightmares, I take it?"

She swallowed, but nodded. Her eyes lowered in shame.

He forced himself to smile at her. He could relate to this. He'd had nightmares of his friends dying, too. Heck, he had nightmares of what would have happened had Cedric taken the Tri-Wizard cup.

"It's perfectly natural. We all have them." She blinked up at him and, just for a moment, he knew she was seeing him. Not the child she expected, and not the savior of the Wizarding world, but him: the world-weary ex-SOLDIER that had been reincarnated into the body of a child soldier. "All we can do is our best. Even then, some will die. But, we keep fighting and keep working. Just maybe, when it's all over, we'll see them when we pass on and they will thank us for not letting them die in vain."

Molly Weasley was not a stupid woman. She never had been. She may not have Hermione's analytical brain, but she could reach a conclusion that was right most of the time – once she'd allowed the facts to reach her. "You were a soldier."

He nodded, but changed the emphasis slightly. "Yes. I was a SOLDIER. To be more accurate, I was a General. I was hoping that this life would be more peaceful, but..." He gave a rueful laugh. "I seem to be destined for conflict no matter what I do."

The realization of what his war had probably inflicted on him had her tearing up again. She hugged him and shed a few more tears into his already sodden neck. "Oh, Harry..."

He gently kissed her hair. This was... new for him, but not unwelcome. In his last life, people had cried because of him and not for him. At least, to his knowledge. Aerith might have, before he killed her. She was a rather compassionate soul. In this life, it was first Hermione and now Molly. Some part wondered if they'd be better off if he hadn't befriended them, but he set that aside for later contemplation. "I know. It's all right. I've lived with this for a very long time."

"It's n-not a-all r-right! Y-you shouldn't h-have t-to!"

"No one should have to, but someone does. Otherwise, megalomaniacal morons like Voldemort win and civilization crumbles. It's just... the way things are. Every society needs a Hero – a Champion – to help keep the true Villains in line. I just happen to be saddled with it, this time around."

Finally, Remus managed to convince Molly to let him go. He watched them leave and then took a quick shower. The water was soothing as it beat down on his tense muscles, but it didn't wash away the headache that had started earlier and only gotten worse as he spoke with Molly. He settled into sleep expecting to have a rough night.

He was right. Wutain battlefields, dying friends and hypothetical situations streamed in vivid Technicolor behind his eyes for most of the night. By the time he fell asleep, the rest of the house was silent. Even then, his sleep was far from restful.

Molly has, sort of, learned her lesson in previous chapters. Still, that doesn't mean that she doesn't worry. She still sees the surface – a fifteen year old boy – and that's what she reacts to. Most people do that. It's natural. In addition, the habits of a lifetime are hard to change. She deals with worry by smothering – or, mothering depending on your perspective. I think her later conversation with Sephiroth might help with that. Maybe.

Sephiroth's memories, meanwhile, are influencing Harry to a greater degree in this chapter. He's heading into a war and he knows it. That means that he needs intelligence, weapons, and soldiers. He has the last one, if they can ever realize that he is a General and not a pawn. He has weapons, too. Intelligence has to be obtained from other sources, since he knows the majority of the Order will not tell him what he needs to know. Molly will see to that.

Yes, the inevitable shopping trip. Honestly, I think Sephiroth overestimates how useful the books will be for him. The only thing he could really get from them is which curses to avoid and how to counter them when they're inflicted – things any decent Healer could take care of. (Though, still useful in a fight as that's a bad time to be incapacitated.) He doesn't have a natural aversion to the Dark Arts. He sees them as just another tool. But, he does want to stay roughly on the right side of the Law. There is no need to give Fudge any more leverage.

Seph's comments about 'Bright-Eyed Novices' is a subtle tribute to the Field Guide to Neopaganism. I first read it... oh, at least a decade ago or so. Give it a read. It's rather funny and easily findable through Google.

First floor – In Britain, the floor at ground level is referred to as the "Ground Floor." In the UK, the first floor is the American second floor. Makes a bit of sense, yes? It also makes for confusing conversations when you discuss your living arrangements. My bedroom is on the second floor. When I say that, a Brit would assume my house is three stories tall, instead of only two plus an attic.

I know many of you reviewed the chapter when it was an author's note. For those who did, I hope to have the next chapter up soon, so you can review this one and that one at the same time, if you want to.

I do thank you all (again) for your kind words and wishes. Those have been passed on to my mother.

This is... almost completely unpolished. I haven't really edited for word choice or grammar. But, on the great grammar debate:

Effect/Affect – After having consulted four dictionaries (including Oxford and Webster's), six grammar websites, two textbooks, and my mother – the former English teacher – I have chosen effect for use in 'x had an effect on y.' If you can find a hard answer that says otherwise, I'll change it. Still, I feel a bit better. One of the books had a page and a half discussing which one to use when. It made me feel less like an idiot, at least. Both words can be nouns or verbs, depending on usage, and have remarkably similar definitions when you consult a hard copy dictionary.