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So far... Badly mistreated, young Harry Potter discovers his magic and becomes empowered. He meets Granny Tremble (in three forms) who teaches him to control his magic. She also warns him of Dumbledore's manipulations. She dies, leaving Harry with a home but no money. He hardens up on the streets, thieving and fighting. At Hogwarts he's sorted into Hufflepuff and befriends Hannah Abbot. Several tragedies highlight the Headmaster's negligence, and in his second year at the school, Harry made a magical vow to kill Dumbledore. Now read on...

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Chapter 9

Exposed


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Scars

Following desperate pleas from students and staff during the preceding year, there was a new Defence teacher at the start of Harry's third year. Professor Lockhart had been replaced by Professor Lupin, and the new textbooks appeared much more interesting. Harry and Hannah were determined to study harder and more effectively, and to try third-year lessons initially, even though they'd progressed further in private study.

Their anticipation was rewarded. Lupin focused more on wand work which was always more fun than theory and studying dull passages in obscure books. A Boggart had been discovered in a wardrobe in the staffroom and the teacher was to show them how to deal with such creatures. He explained how the mutating beast operated and what they should expect when he released it.

"I'd like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. ... Everyone ready?"

Fearful, long-suppressed images from his childhood rose up within Harry's mind. He wasn't prepared for this. How could he possibly make the abuse he'd suffered seem amusing! But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

Harry struggled within himself. He had no fear of the Dursleys now, but the horror of his upbringing was deeply etched into his broken psyche. He began to feel physically sick and lurched forward slightly, clinging precariously to his staff. Vaguely he was aware of Neville dressing Snape in his grandmother's clothes. A mummy fell over for Parvati, a banshee fell silent: these all seemed so easy to visualise in a comical way. Harry dared a glance back at the door; could he slip out before his turn? He began to edge away...

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean.

"Excellent! Harry, you next!"

The classroom swung drunkenly, and terrible yellow light filled Harry's vision. Through it he saw – and felt – A heavy boot kicking out. A punch broke his rib; his feet were strapped to a chair and a leather belt was thrashing down, down, over and over. The pain and fear were unbearable. A terrified little boy was trying to curl up into a ball, shrieking in dreadful agony. There were other cries now too: Leanne was weeping. Parvati ran out of the staffroom squealing in horror. Other students stared in shocked disbelief; one was sick while others turned away, unable to watch. Hannah sagged down to her knees, shaking...

Lupin shouted, "Riddikulus!" but Harry was too far gone. His crutch had been sent flying. He was that little boy on the floor of the cupboard now, knees up to his stomach, knuckles tightly gripping his filthy mattress in a vain attempt to resist the suffering – when he was dragged out again for another beating!

"No – No, Uncle!"

"Shoes off, Harry..."

"Please don't hurt me... please!"

Fingers were undoing his laces. Air reached his bare soles. More screams and gasps. Hannah fainted.

"Merlin!" cried Lupin. "Everybody out!"

The real Harry was crying now. He knew everyone could see the deep, deep scars that would never heal, the deformed feet, and worse of all, his shame for being a freak. The entire magical world would forever know that Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was neither strong, nor admirable, but truly, truly, broken.

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Healed and Honoured

Harry awoke in a place he'd never seen before. Hannah was clinging to him, half across his arm, face to face. He wished he'd not buckled, that he'd been strong instead for his intended mate. What must she feel for him now? Pity? Disappointment? How could he face his Hufflepuff family ever again? Or worse, the Slytherins mockery, should the entire school hear the story – as surely they would.

"Where is this place? How long have I–"

"–less than an hour. This is the hospital wing," said Hannah soothingly. "Madam Pomfrey has... she told me she'd taken the opportunity to start the bones regrowing properly. You'll need to stay in bed till tomorrow."

So it was. But walking alone from the infirmary the next day, Harry tried to fight the shame he felt inside as he trudged back to the Hufflepuff Basement. Hannah would be waiting for him, he felt sure, to offer her support. But the common room was empty when he entered. And the red door was ajar. He knew what that meant.

He was walking normally now but his steps towards the sanctum seemed to take forever. Faces were coming into view. He passed the threshold. Someone closed the door behind him...

"HURRAH!"

"Harry Potter, we, the House of Hufflepuff, are honoured to have you as one of our family," declared Diggory solemnly. "We stand side by side with you now in your emotional trials. What you have suffered, yet won through, is beyond comprehension. We are humbled to have you in our company. Hufflepuff never offer mere physical awards. Instead, you have our utmost admiration, our respect, and our undying support. So mote it be."

"HURRAH!"

Perhaps Harry stood a little straighter. Perhaps he shed a few more tears. He certainly smiled. And Hannah kissed him in front of everyone.

"HURRAH!"

Resolving to boycott Lupin's classes entirely, Harry took to studying fourth-year dark texts in the library instead. Hannah kept him informed of any significant information gleaned from Defence lessons and Harry continued to teach her the more advanced material.

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The Cavorting Captive

Excitement rose towards the end of October, especially amongst the third-years who had not been allowed to visit Hogsmeade before. The day arrived. Crowds of Hufflepuffs were gathering in their basement preparing to leave, exchanging banter and laughing. Together, with Harry in their midst, they surged joyfully up the steps to the Entrance Hall...

McGonagall blocked the way. "I'm sorry, Potter, but the Headmaster does not think it advisable that you go to Hogsmeade at this time."

"What! But I handed in my permission slip!"

A roar from his comrades supported him.

"Sorry, Potter, but it's out of my hands."

"But why?"

"Potter, be reasonable! There's a madman out there somewhere!"

"What! Then what about my friends, and all the other kids? Why's the Headmaster always got it in for me? Why's he always keeping me locked up!"

But there was no reasoning with the Deputy Headmistress. The crowd swelled around them, mostly Hufflepuffs, but others too. Yet despite their cries of protest, McGonagall would not shift. She headed down to Filch at the gates ahead of them all, clearly to act as an extra sentry.

"Then I'm not going either!" said Hannah, taking Harry's arm.

"No... that's alright. You go ahead with Susan and Leanne. No reason for you to–"

"–HURRAH!" The Hufflepuffs were in a huddle, debating something. Suddenly they broke apart.

"NONE of us are going!" cried Truman. "Cedric, catch up with those others and spread the word. We're a family and Potter's one of us!"

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He'd never known such camaraderie. A party was organised back down in the common room. A feast was smuggled in from the nearby kitchens. Butter beers had been smuggled back in from those who'd gone ahead into Hogsmeade. Harry felt like a hero. It was the best of the new term so far at Hogwarts, and probably ever, not including the day when Hannah promised to be his girlfriend and they'd kissed for the first time.

The intoxicated party marched through Hogwarts in protest. The Great Hall was commandeered for lunch, dominated by their enthusiasm.

"HURRAH! HURRAH! HURRAH!"

Dumbledore was unable to dampen their spirits. He glared at Harry, but Harry, free now of his crutch, was dancing with Hannah to the Prisoner's Waltz while Hufflepuffs joined in the verses: "Death to all tyrants!" and "Freedom for all!" A movement had started. Harry's enforced ignorance and incarceration were becoming known and Dumbledore had to do something about it.

The solution came that evening after the Halloween feast that evening. No sooner had the Hufflepuffs wearily made their way back to their common room than Madam Sprout arrived and was ordering the prefects to take them back to the Great Hall.

"What's going on?" was asked by many.

"Are we all expelled or what?" said another.

As they trudged back into the Hall, Dumbledore made a sweeping wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the walls; another flick, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

It took some time but gradually they learned from the Gryffindors that their Fat Lady portrait had been attacked and the staff were searching the castle for an intruder. Harry made a show of herding Hannah into bedding near the wall with him taking the nearest bag beside her to offer a sense of protection. She smiled at him from her pillow and somehow Harry found himself wishing he could step forward into the magic mirror upstairs and be happily married to her forever and ever.

"Sweet dreams, Harry," were the last murmurs he heard from her before he quickly drifted off to sleep. It was a wonderful end to a wonderful day.

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The Greater Good

At Christmas, Harry invited the Abbotts to his Wittering home to celebrate the entire holiday together. Even this far south, snow was gently feathering the great Christmas tree in the new Civic Centre. Carols were sung. The band was excellent and hot toddies were passed around. Harry pointed out the improving areas of his hometown as they 'sleighed' around it, pulled by a team of fake reindeer on wheels.

It was a great success but Dumbledore was furious on his return to Hogwarts in the new year.

"You have been a bitter disappointment to me, Harry," said the old man who was looking rather tired and frail.

"Good," said Harry. "I wish I could say the same, but sadly that is impossible because you're exactly as I expected you to be: an arrogant fucking arsehole."

Shocked, Dumbledore visibly cringed. He looked weary. As Harry grew stronger, he seemed to diminish. "You don't understand the whole picture, Harry."

"You've made sure I don't see ANY of the picture!" Harry said angrily.

"You're too young to make your own decisions."

"And you're too old. You look sick, old man. Are you in pain?"

The Headmaster bowed his head. "I confess I have not been well."

"Excellent. I'm delighted."

Even with their past history, Dumbledore struggled to understand the boy's attitude to him. "Please, Harry. Why do you seek to torment me? I have done you no wrong."

Harry spat in the Headmaster's face. "You disgust me. I made an oath in this office to end your despicable life and I intend to carry it out."

"You will fail. You cannot defeat me."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because I'm..."

"Yes?"

The man clutched the edge of his desk to brace himself, gaining time to consider his next words carefully. "Because I'm already dying, Harry. A year or two at most..."

There was a brief silence, then Harry sprang to his feet. "This is cause for celebration! The best news I could have hoped for!"

Dumbledore shook his head. There were real tears in his eyes. "Don't you see, Harry? You will die with me when your vow is broken."

"It would be worth it, believe me. I'd like you to suffer for years, yet I prefer that you perish soon because the longer you live, the more others will endure pain, hardship, and die because of your neglect."

Another rasping breath escaped the old man. "Professor Lupin told me of your fearful experience in his class. I am truly sorry, my boy."

"No you're not. You're incapable of caring for anyone. You care only about your plans and schemes, dreams of greatness, the end game. The pieces you sacrifice along the way are scarcely worth a sigh to you. You set out to break a tiny child but you created a bitter demon. This demon is now intent only on your suffering and death."

"Harry, I promise you, before that end, I will explain everything. Then you will agree it was all for the greater good."

"Fuck your greater good!" Harry stomped off to the door. "And fuck you!" he called back over his shoulder as he went out.

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Sorry Tales

When spring arrived, there was further horror at Hogwarts. A man had somehow obtained the Gryffindor password. A terrible fight had taken place. The mad intruder was killed, but Percy Weasley and another prefect also died in the dormitory melee. Everyone was mystified as to why. Neville Longbottom was expelled with no public explanation. The boy was inconsolable as he trudged out of the gate with his grandmother. Some said he'd let the killer in – even collaborated in the atrocity – but Harry found that hard to believe for the poor boy was clearly broken by his experience. Much more believable was that Dumbledore was to blame. He'd discovered that if he blamed the Headmaster for everything, he was right nine times out of ten. The world would be better off without the heartless meddler.

Accused, and looking dreadfully old, Dumbledore appealed to the Wizengamot. He persuaded them to blame Fudge for not doing enough to catch the intruder who, Harry learned, had escaped from Azkaban. The Minister's position became precarious. He was expected to be replaced by the summer yet, as a distraction, Fudge promoted the restoration of an old tradition at Hogwarts which should see the country strengthened by unity with its European neighbours. Harry's friends couldn't wait to see what it would be, but Harry himself had become sceptical of anything that took place at Hogwarts.

One day before Harry's birthday, there was a sad account in the Daily Prophet of how Neville Longbottom had hung himself from his favourite Alihotsy tree in the family garden that he loved. Apparently the murderer had somehow obtained the Gryffindor password from Neville's lost note, and the boy had been torn apart by guilt ever since. Harry shook his head sadly and took care to spell the surname carefully in his diary. The book was becoming a grim memorial to those he regretted having never known – now it was too late. He began to write in other names now: the names of the living along with everything he could learn about them. Perhaps he might extend the hand of friendship before it was too late.

On the back page of the same newspaper were two paragraphs describing Fred Weasley's short life. He had finally succumbed to his injuries and died alone in the night at St. Mungo's. The boy had suffered for a long time. The additional burden of constantly trying to forgive his deceased brother George for egging him on to spray Firewhisky on the young dragon raised illegally by the Hogwarts gamekeeper had finally broken him. It was a sorry tale and Harry was determined to find out the name of the dragon in case Hannah asked.

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The Real Professor

Quidditch was cancelled at the start of the new school year to be replaced by a special inter-school tournament. Participants were to be selected by a large flaming goblet. Harry was more interested in Hannah's outstanding end-of-term results. She was top in her year again and the Deputy Headmistress had agreed with Madam Sprout to move her ahead a year. Harry informally joined her in the fifth-year classes, the staff having long since given up on assigning him detentions or even deducting house points – though they now could. Somehow the staff had come to accept his noncompliance and no one could influence him. The odd time someone forgot, Potter simply went ahead and achieved something spectacular so was promptly awarded double what he'd lost.

Harry was delighted to discover that Lupin had been dismissed. There had been crazy, bizarre talk that the man had attacked and eaten a kitchen elf but the story was too outrageous to be true. The teacher's replacement was Professor Moody. Apart from his strange appearance, Harry sensed something very odd about the man's magical aura. Only when he noticed on his map that the man's true name was Barty Crouch did he come to the conclusion that the teacher was an impostor. When he asked around, it was generally agreed that Moody was a very close friend of Dumbledore and to be trusted absolutely. For that reason alone, Harry decided to keep an eye on him. Had the Headmaster planted a mole to watch over Harry? Or was something more sinister afoot?

Harry and Hannah were spending a lot of time in the library now, studying for their OWLs. He assured her that, unlike all his previous tests, he would not deliberately aim for low or average marks. "Previous tests were for the school to evaluate our progress; this is the first set by an outside examination board and which will affect our careers," he explained.

As well as helping Hannah, he was ploughing ahead beyond OWL level with his own studies – almost NEWT in some disciplines. He'd mastered Polyjuice and its counter spell long before, of course, always preferring a simpler ageing potion on his researches at the Ministry. Now he discovered an odour detection charm that would reveal the use of the potion without giving the game away. Sure enough, not only was the man using an assumed name, Moody wasn't even who he appeared to be!

Harry began closely following him on his map and by October had discovered the real Moody was hiding or trapped in the Defence teacher's quarters. Harry went directly to the Deputy Headmistress.

"Nonsense, Potter! The Headmaster is not plotting to kill you or anyone! Where is your evidence? Have you told me the truth?"

Harry was reluctant to show her the map; it would surely be confiscated. He sighed. McGonagall had been a bit huffy ever since stories had begun circulating that Harry had deliberately swayed the Sorting Hat to put him in Hufflepuff just so he could be with Hannah Abbott.

"I didn't!" he blurted out without thinking, and was sent on his way with a warning not to tell fibs ever again.

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Rooting for Cedric

On the 30th, participants from the other schools arrived. A beautiful fair-haired girl caught Harry's eye and he couldn't help thinking she'd look almost as nice as Hannah if she braided her hair. Hannah saw him looking and gave him a nudge.

"What? I was looking at Madame Maxime." That only earned him another nudge.

"You entering, Cedric?" asked Harry, once they were all gathered in the Great Hall once more.

Diggory nodded. "Bailey says he'll stand down and support me if I put my name in."

"We're all rooting for you Cedric," cried Ernie.

"HURRAH!" went up the roar, to the annoyance of many in the hall, but evoking a smile from Madam Sprout who was clearing trying to suppress a fist pump.

But Harry was determined to focus on Moody. All that evening and late into the night he watched his map. Names occasionally appeared approaching the flaming goblet, but he had eyes for one only. Crouch! There he was, moving into position beside the vessel as if guarding it. Was he waiting for a victim? What was his plan?

Harry fell asleep watching, and woke the next morning with a crick in his neck which was quickly soothed away using one of Granny's old recipes from his copious flatbag, and applied by Hannah's gentle fingers.

"Hannah, what do you think happens when you die? I mean, wouldn't it be wonderful to live forever?"

"Depends who you're with, Harry," she said playfully tickling some solution onto his ear lobe.

"Yeah, guess I'd better start searching – OW!"

"Oh, sorry, did I dig in too hard?"

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The Magical Contract

At the Halloween feast, Harry was extra vigilant. Would the goblet's flames leap out to fill the Hall? Explode? He heard a couple of names selected then a soft chant started up for Cedric and he quickly joined in.

The Goblet of Fire turned red; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled a piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

A great roar went up. "HURRAH!"

Harry applauded enthusiastically along with the rest of them. Nothing threatening had occurred. He'd been wrong to worry, and could relax. Perhaps some good can come of this! Yay for Cedric!

"Harry Potter."

Cedric's smart enough to win, he nodded to himself. And we can all help him!

"Harry Potter."

Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

"Harry Potter!" the Headmaster called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Harry shook his head and stayed where he was. "You've done it wrong. Cedric's our champion."

"Harry, the goblet has selected you. You must go through the door."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no. Whatever you're planning, I'm not falling for it."

Apart from the occasional splutter of a candle, absolute silence held the great chamber spellbound.

"We'll discuss this in private." Dumbledore turned away, expecting Harry to follow. He wasn't smiling now.

"You do that," Harry called after him.

"Please, Harry, be reasonable. You have been magically selected and cannot refuse."

"Yet that's exactly what I am doing."

Snape was staring at Harry, his black eyes glittering maliciously. Moody was impassive, unmoving, almost too still. Hannah was nudging his arm hesitantly, confused as to what was going on or the implications of it.

"Very well. We'll talk later," said Dumbledore, and strode out through the door.

There was only a short pause before chattering began and increased in volume to shouts and cries from every house.

"How'd your name get in, Harry?" called Bailey, who was a little sore that he'd pulled out of the competition so Cedric would be the only serious Hufflepuff contender.

"Don't know, but I'm definitely not participating. Cedric's the Hogwarts champion, and I'll support him no matter what!"

"Good for you. We're with you on this, Harry," said Bailey.

That settled the confusion. To the Hufflepuffs, someone had put Harry's name in the goblet and they were annoyed at whoever had done it.

"Why?" – "Are they trying to get Harry killed?" – "Did the Goblet get confused because Harry might be better than Cedric?" – "Oh, come on!"

McGonagall clapped her hands and called for order. "Houses will please depart back to their common rooms. "Potter, you will remain behind."

"I'll spare you a few minutes but then I'm going to bed. I've more important things to do tomorrow than sort out the goblet's bad spellwork. That's someone else's job."

McGonagall glared at Harry then strode off to the far door and went out. Hannah remained sitting by Harry's side. Moody continued to stare impassively ahead but Harry was certain he himself was in his focus – especially of that weird magical eye. Snape was muttering to Moody and Harry knew it would likely be some snide remark about himself. He caught the word 'arrogant' and 'just like his father'.

But McGonagall returned almost immediately followed by Dumbledore and the heads of the other two schools and all the officials and participants as well. Cedric was looking at Harry with great curiosity.

"Would you come here please, Harry."

"No. You fucked it up. You come here."

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" said Madame Maxime. "zat 'e talks zis way?"

"Harry, I had nothing to do with this." The Headmaster was walking forward and the other followed in his wake until they were gathered adjacent to the Hufflepuff table.

"You're a liar, Dumb Balls. It's everything to do with you. It's ALWAYS you."

A grey-haired man said, "Mr Potter, the placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract; you must participate."

"Who are you?" said Harry, wishing he'd paid more attention earlier and wrote it in his diary.

"I, Mr Potter, am Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

That made Harry sit up straight. He itched to pull out his map. He stood up. "I have to go now. Enjoy your tournament."

"Mr Potter!" cried McGonagall as, with Hannah by his side, Harry strode off out of the main doorway and to the door that lead down to the Hufflepuff basement. His map was out almost before he was through the door.

"My God..."

"What is it, Harry?"

"There are TWO of Barty Crouch in there!" Harry stared for a few moments more. "Wait here."

He hurried back into the Hall. "Listen up!" he shouted. "I, Harry James Potter swear on my magic that I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire and I further swear on my magic that I will not under any circumstances, compete or even participate. So mote it be."

Shouts and cries followed him as he strode out but he slammed the door behind him and ignored them all.

"Oh, Harry, I heard! What will happen to you now?" said Hannah.

He stopped on the stairs to explain. "To me? Nothing. There are hundreds of magical contracts made every year. I should know, I've studied tons of documents at the Ministry. They are usually defined in written text – in this case the rules of the Tournament apply. Contracts are rarely ever broken for two reasons: One is that the magic will force compensation to the other party, but no greater than their loss. Since the Tournament loses nothing if I don't participate, they can't get a single Knut. The other reason is any businessman who breaks a contract would then be regarded as untrustworthy and have great difficulty with future deals. In my case I really don't care."

"But don't they know that?"

Harry resumed walking down slowly. "They're all set in their ways. It so rarely happens they cannot conceive of anyone breaking a contract. They didn't even consider the possibility. Dumbledore should have investigated but he was trapped in his own assumption. Or maybe he does know but doesn't care. Did you notice that not one of them said what would happen to anyone breaking a contract? That's because it's so unthinkable they don't even go there."

Another voice spoke, "Thanks, Harry. Glad to know all that – in case it gets rough."

Harry looked back up the stair: Cedric had caught up with them.

"Yeah, well, just because we know, doesn't mean we have to tell them, does it?" grinned Harry with a sly wink.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

It's worth repeating that these deaths were likely if Harry was broken. In the original book, Sirius Black used a knife to attack Scabbers – scaring Ron badly. But in my fic, without Harry, Ron was killed by the Troll so Sirius saw the rat on Percy's shoulder in the Daily Prophet photo. Sirius didn't know Scabbers was 'put to sleep' in Egypt. And Percy is not Ron, he's almost eighteen years old at this point, and a fighter as proven in the Battle of Hogwarts. A stranger with a knife ripping open his bed coverings, and Percy, half-awake, retaliates instinctively. Other 7th-year Gryffindors join in. The knife flashes in self defence against the frantic wands. People die in sudden fights amongst armed men. Blame Dumbledore, who can't even keep a dog out of Hogwarts let alone Voldemort. Even though he knows Sirius has already broken in once and slashed the fat lady portrait because at that point he hadn't yet got the password!

Now Neville has a strong moral sense but a poor memory. In the original book he wrote down the Gryffindor passwords but carelessly dropped his note which Sirius found. Apart from a bad scare, nobody was hurt in the original scene and Neville only received detentions I think and maybe banned from Hogsmeade. His same mistake in this fic cost lives and he was expelled. His feelings of guilt must have been intolerable, and without any further magical education, he could see no future, and probably felt he didn't deserve one. Ironically, the Alihotsy Tree is the tree of happiness.

MarisAres felt that Dobby's death was not credible. There is some merit in that view. I never planned Dobby's death but I'd not given him any thought in my original story design at all. Then I remembered him and had to either recruit him which might mean rewriting and complicate things – or dispose of him. Now I like Dobby but it does annoy me he intrudes without invitation and he's pretty stupid in that sense. How'd you like to come home and find a weird creature on your bed? Now, MarisAres says, "...who would enter a room and just start throwing lethal weapons fire around?" And my answer is, "a BROKEN boy in fear for his life, is who." I hate most fics when Harry walks into a situation where there's a Death Eater, chats for a bit, then tries a silly stunning or disarming spell, then chats for a bit more so other Death Eaters can circle around him, and so on. THIS IS WAR! Kill the bastard first chance, I say, or they may kill you! And elves, don't go entering illegally into people's homes unless you accept they might have a shotgun and you might die. Make an appointment like any civilised elf. Having said all that, I do sympathise with your viewpoint, MarisAres, and my scene was OTT I admit, and I kinda wish I'd simply got Harry to threaten the elf and order him to leave and never come back.

The final chapter is set for next week. Will Harry kill Dumbledore before he dies anyway? Will Harry die if he doesn't kill him? Will they make up and hug? Not likely. :D

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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