Note: Someone with a willful lack of ability to spell left me a review. I couldn't figure out what they were trying to say. So I wrote this chapter instead. For the record, it's a long one.

I should probably have a disclaimer at some point, don't you think?

CHAPTER NINE, GHOSTS OF MEN IV

The catastrophe that was the visit to Aunt Marge aside, Harry's Christmas break had gone rather well. The only other low point was when he'd received Dudley's Christmas present; An Idiot's Guide to Witchcraft. It made a better bludgeon than it did a reference book, as he discovered moments after opening it. Dudley wasn't pleased about helping him discover this, but it had cheered Harry up immensely.

Being grounded for two days was a price he paid gladly.

Though he was beginning to wonder why his parents hadn't asked him about his semester. Apart from the regular questions; who'd he meet, what were his classes like...who Luna was, they'd by and large left it alone. Which was odd, because he knew he looked different. He'd seen it in the mirror one morning. Something about his eyes. They looked...older, or maybe sadder. It was how Dumbledore's eyes had looked when they'd talked about Malfoy's dad last year.

There was something else. He was starting to think that only magic people could see the tattoos on his face. No one else had seen them until he'd pointed them out. After a while, he'd just stopped doing it. It was probably for the best, given the recent development in this area:

They were spreading again. They now covered almost the entirety of his face, creeping across the bridge of his nose and down to the tip of his chin. The only part of his face they didn't cover was his forehead. It's probably only a matter of time though, he thought, running his fingers over the newest additions. They're kinda cool, though. Like a tattoo without getting stabbed by needles.

He'd never admit that to his parents. He was in enough trouble as it is. Somehow, and he wasn't sure though he suspected Hermione, had told them what had gone on during the semester. Before that day he'd never had occasion to use the word 'bollocking', but it was the only word he could think of to describe the tongue lashing he'd gotten.

That was nothing, nothing, compared to what Dumbledore had gotten. The old wizard had come around after Petunia had broken the puce dish trying to get hold of him, and had weathered the storm of her and Vernon's anger before sitting them down and calmly explaining why there was nothing to be done that already hadn't been.

Funnily enough, they hadn't taken that well, either. Even though they were much quieter about it, now that they knew Dumbledore was doing everything he could to protect their son. Their anger was then directed at the Minister of Magic, who was beyond their reach.

"We'll just pull him out, then." Vernon growled one evening. "Not like they can keep him there."

Petunia winced. Harry watched curiously, and with some amount of trepidation. "Honey, that's not entirely accurate."

"So they can." Vernon's voice was far too calm, and Harry decided that it would be a good time to go try and build snowmen in the park.

When he came back, his dad was nursing a glass of scotch and his mum was rubbing his knee sympathetically. Dudley was nowhere to be found, though that was to be expected. Both adults looked up at his entry. Both managed small smiles, though Petunia's was more forced. "Sit down, son." Vernon said, waving him between them. "We have something we need to tell you."

Harry sat, not sure who he should look at or what was going on. A ball of anxiety knotted his stomach. "What is it?"

Vernon sighed, took a sip of scotch, then set the glass on the coffee table. "We, that is, your mother and I, don't want you to go back to Hogwarts."

"Wha-" Harry protested, but cut off at Vernon's raised hand.

"That being said," his dad continued, sounding like he'd much rather not. "after talking the situation over with your Headmaster and each other, it sounds like there's nowhere else for you to go. So, against our wishes, you're going back."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say. He felt a mix of excitement- he'd get to see his friends again!- and depression- people were trying to kill him, after all. Vernon saw some of what he was feeling on his face.

"I thought you'd be more excited."

"Well..." how was he going to explain this? "I am, sort of. And I'm also kind of not."

There. That made sense.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Petunia asked. Harry sighed.

"I- I don't know. There's good things about going back, yeah, but there's also the fact that people are trying to kill me and no one's trying to stop them. So I do want to go back, and I also don't. If that makes sense."

Vernon frowned. "It does. It makes more sense than I'd like. We're leaving the choice up to you. Your life is affected by this, son, we aren't going to ignore your opinion."

"Well... can I think about it?"

"Take all the time you need." Vernon replied, then wrapped him in a hug. "Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Thanks, dad." Harry mumbled. He wished he could take as much comfort from his parents' hugs as he used to. Too much had changed for that. He took as much as he could and hugged his dad tight.

Days dragged on while the internal debate raged. It was hard to see past the people wanting him dead, the unwanted fame. Malfoy. When he did he saw how much that world made his life better. His friends, whom he'd started to see as closer family than his Aunt. He was better for having them in his life. If he left that world, he wouldn't see them again. He could lie to himself and say they'd stay in touch, and they would. For a while.

But they'd be part of a world that he left, and sooner or later that would tear them apart.

And then there was Luna. Whatever she was, the idea of not seeing her again left a weird, tight feeling in chest that he did not like. He wanted to ask one of his parents what it was, this feeling, but...he couldn't. Every time he tried, nothing came out of his mouth. It was secret, and belonged only to him.

He put off making the decision until two days before the Hogwarts Express left for Scotland. That morning he found Petunia in the kitchen and before he'd said a word, she just smiled sadly at him and said, "I'm proud of you, Harry."

Harry blinked. "But I haven't told you what I decided yet."

That got a laugh out of her. "Oh, honey, it's all over your face. You're going back."

"Yeah." he sighed and joined her at the table. "I...I just need to, you know? It's part of my life now, and I can't just walk away. And it's not all bad," he insisted, feeling a need to explain himself. "it's been good, really. I think I just have really bad luck."

Petunia smiled again. "No one's is that bad, sweetie. But you're right. I've never seen you happier than when you're at Hogwarts."

"I don't want to make you guys worry." he confessed, then he laughed. "Been here before, huh?"

"A few times. And what have I always told you?"

"That you're my parents and it's your job to worry?"

"That's my boy." she said, squeezing his hand. Then she frowned and released him, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh, God."

"What?"

"We need to get your supplies. You go back in two days!"

There was only one word to describe how Harry felt at that moment.

"Damn!"

"That's a pound!" Petunia declared. He dropped his head on the table and groaned. Today wasn't going to be much fun, he just knew it.

He was right. That day hadn't been fun. The result was nice, though. He was now fully kitted out and ready to go, just in time to make a mad dash for King's Cross station. Petunia saw him off at the barrier, recent changes making it impossible for someone with no magic to go through. Neither he nor her liked that very much.

Hang on a minute. He scanned the platform, seeing fewer people than he should have. Where was everybody? He saw a few familiar faces, but it looked like entire families were missing. The Bones' weren't there. Neither were the Abbots or the Parkinsons. The Malfoys were. He floated his trunk behind him, eyes flashing momentarily, and made his way onto the train.

Inside was a similar story. Less people. The ones who were there had tight expressions, worry in their eyes. It didn't take him long to realize that something had happened while they were on break. It was obviously something to do with the escaped prisoners even though damn it, he wished it wasn't.

He finally found an empty compartment and lifted his trunk into the overhead storage rack. Not for the first time he lamented his parents' stance on owls. If he could get the newspaper he wouldn't be out of the loop so much and things like-

"Potter." Malfoy slid open the door and stepped in.

This wouldn't happen. Harry groaned, knowing beyond doubt that he wouldn't like what was coming. The look on Malfoy's face just reinforced that. Still, no point in being rude and ruining this weird...truce they had going on. "Malfoy." he said evenly. "What do you want?"

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hair as his once-rival and current something else sat down opposite him. Malfoy produced a newspaper from his robes and handed it over, saying nothing. He took the paper and opened it, jaw falling open. Really? A month. He'd been gone a month. And this happens.

RAID ON HOGSMEADE LEAVES TOWN IN RUINS!, the headline shouted. HOGWARTS CLOSING?

Nothing was said for a long minute. Then Malfoy said, "You didn't know?"

Harry shook his head. "I uh, I don't get the paper." he unfolded it and read the details. On New Year's Eve the remaining nine escaped fugitives made a play for Hogwarts castle. Somehow Dumbledore got wind of it and, with the help of the professors, had driven them off. The resulting battle had burned Hogsmeade to the ground. "This is getting ridiculous." he finally said.

"It's getting what?" Malfoy asked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing, but Harry was fed up.

"These nine lunatics are rampaging around England and no one's doing anything!" He growled, tossing the paper back to a bewildered Malfoy. "I mean, I'm thirteen and I kill- I stopped one! Why in the hell isn't anyone else doing anything?!"

"They're afraid." Malfoy said flatly, tucking the newspaper away. "Afraid of what could happen, afraid of men like- like my father was. You don't know what it was like, Potter. Living in our world just before V-He died." he shuddered.

This struck Harry as odd, because, "Surely you don't remember?"

"Don't be an idiot!" Malfoy snapped. "I was barely a year old! I've never thought I'd have to explain this to you of all people but, we've all grown up with the stories of...Him. Of what he did to people who fought back. It's worse for our parents, they were actually there. They lived it. So they're afraid of what could happen. And if you're as smart as I hope you are, Potter, you are too."

With that, Malfoy stood and left the compartment, leaving Harry with absolutely no idea what had just happened. A minute later, Neville and Hermione entered the room in the middle of what sounded like an argument.

"...and another thing, what exactly is the Force, anyways? It sounds like magic, if you ask me."

"It's not though, it's the life energy of all living things- Hi, Harry- that the Jedi tap into to augment their abilities."

"I get that." Neville sat next to Harry, Hermione curling up opposite them. "It's the lightning I don't get. How is that not magic?"

"Star Wars?" Harry asked.

"Star Wars." Hermione confirmed.

The discussion continued much in the same vein, leaving Harry to wonder exactly when they'd started spending time together outside of school.

The rest of the train ride, thankfully, passed in complete and total normality. Harry was happy to discover that the ride back to the castle was not nearly as unpleasant as the ride leaving it. For one, there was no wind, for another, no snow. Finally, and most importantly, he didn't spend the entire ride expecting an attack.

Something else he noticed was the complete lack of dread that had hung over the school like a miasma since the year started. Harry couldn't help the happy smile that spread across his face, the Dementors were gone! Finally, someone had got rid of the monsters. Their absence showed. People were smiling now. Laughter rang easier in the halls than it had until now. Something else was talked about besides the escaped Death Eaters.

It was like a renaissance. Hogwarts renewed. Walking through it, feeling that new-found sense of almost-hope, was a powerful thing. A humbling thing. The pall cast by the ruined frames buildings, sticking out like old bones, from where Hogsmeade used to be could only dim the new brightness of the school.

As he got into bed the night of the welcome feast, a hope grew in him. Silly in the face of all that had happened, but there nonetheless. Maybe, just maybe, the rest of his time here would be more peaceful than it had been. The idea was a comforting one to go to sleep with.

So he did.

"You're looking better, Harry Potter."

Harry spun around, already knowing who it was. The owlrey was as much his perch as it was the owls and she was one of four people who knew that. Of those four, only one called him his full name. Luna smiled at him where he sat, on his customary ledge overlooking the school.

"Thanks," he said, returning her smile. "I think. Did I look bad before?"

"Yes." she nodded. "You looked all pale and tired and like you hadn't eaten in a week."

"I did?" Harry blinked.

"Yes. It was very worrying. In fact, I think I should be mad at you, for making me worry." she declared, budging him over and joining him. He gave her a bemused look. Was she angry with him or not? He'd have to do something about it if she was, because he didn't want her angry with him. He didn't like it.

"Well," he said hesitantly. "are you?"

"Oh, no." she replied, pushing on his shoulder. He took the hint and scooted farther over. The smile she gave him did funny things to his stomach. "I mean, you shouldn't do it again, but no, I'm not angry."

"Oh. That's good, then." Harry decided. Luna hugged his arm and rested her head against the same shoulder she'd shoved earlier. He could tell she was working her way up to something. She had a thoughtful cast to her face, having some internal argument about...

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Asking him that, apparently. He sighed and rubbed an ear. "Not really," he said. "I sort of talked it to death-" he winced. "-with my parents over the break. I mean, I'm not okay, but I'm getting there."

"Oh," she said, managing to sound pleased and disappointed at the same time. "that's good then. I didn't like it, the way you looked. It scared me."

"I'm sorry for scaring you." he said quietly, and how had he not noticed how pretty she looked at night? Or in general, really. This of course completely derailed his train of thought. Luna was pretty. He hadn't noticed. How big of an idiot did he have to be to not...

Oh.

Now he understood. Boys were oblivious.

Thanks, Petunia.

"It's okay," she said, voice slightly thick. "just don't let it happen again."

He wished he could put his arm around her. She had his arm trapped, and this was the first time that he could remember regretting a girl hugging him. Since he couldn't hug her back, he rested his cheek on the top of her head, put his free hand atop hers, and whispered, "I won't. Promise."

Harry watched the castle lights wink in the night, looking like fireflies in a field from this far up. He wondered exactly what it was about Luna that made him feel like this. There were girls that were prettier, he had noticed that. But they didn't do...this; turn his stomach into knots and get him to make promises that he had every intention of fulfilling. They didn't look prettier every time he saw them.

Her face was shadowed by her hair and the dim owlrey light. He could see the slight upturn of her nose and the curve of her lips and it wasn't fair. She shouldn't be able to creep into his thoughts like that, or make him mumble things like "D'you-wanna-go-to-Hogsmeade-with-me?", after which he turned bright red and looked back out at the school.

Luna stirred. "What?" she asked, and gave him an out. All he had to do was say 'nothing' and it would go back to normal. He could take it back and she wouldn't have to turn him down and crush him forever. The part of his brain not dying of embarrassment pointed out that hey, she has no reason to say no, but he wasn't really listening to himself. "Harry," she murmured. "what did you say? I couldn't hear you."

This is Luna, he told himself sternly, she likes you. Otherwise she wouldn't have made you promise not to get hurt. Now ask her again, you idiot, and speak clearly this time!

So he did. After taking a deep breath, he said, "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me? This weekend?"

There was a long silence during which Harry couldn't look at her. Every fear he'd suppressed when he asked her out came roaring back with a vengeance. He shouldn't have done it, now everything would be ruined and she-

"Are you asking me out?"

Would do that, apparently. Drag it out of him. Carrow hadn't been this cruel.

"Yes." he ground out.

"Oh. Oh!" and then she laughed, bright and clear, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, just at the corner of his mouth. His brain shut down. Completely. He couldn't process anything beyond the feeling of her kissing him. She wasn't really, but it was close enough for his suddenly narrowed worldview. "-ove to, Harry."

"What?" Harry blinked. Luna laughed again.

"I said I'd love to." she repeated, and it was as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. She said yes. It repeated in his head, blending into background noise; the soundtrack to the general happiness he was feeling. He thought furiously, trying to find the words to express how he was feeling.

"Oh." he said. "Cheers."

Good show, Harry.

She laughed, this time he was sure at him. This time he found himself joining her. Wondering at his luck, he felt Luna wrap herself back around his arm and tuck her head against his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment. She said yes. The sky could catch fire and he wouldn't care.

In this moment, he was untouchable.

She said yes.

He was panicking. There, he admitted it. Harry Potter was panicking because he had a date in ten minutes and no idea at all what was done during one of those. Briefly he entertained the idea of faking his death so he wouldn't have to go. All he had to do to dispel himself of that notion was to remember what her lips felt like on his. Then he'd go all weird, and ten minutes would pass where he'd do nothing but smile at walls or out windows.

Deep breaths. Fainting won't make a good first impression. Neither would throwing up. She's your friend. You can do this. Calm. Down.

With a tremendous effort, he did. Just in time. Luna came down to the Entrance Hall. She smiled widely at him and asked, "Ready?"

Oh, he was dead. Dead, dead, dead. She was going to kill him because every time she smiled his brain stopped. He shook himself and smiled back. "Yeah. You?" Instinct had him hold out his hand, and his smile widened when she took it.

"Lead the way." she said, letting him do exactly that. As he walked them down the path towards Hogsmeade, he wondered if it was obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. Probably not. She was still here, after all. If she knew he had nothing planned she might fake sick and run off.

So the plan was to fake having one until he could come up with it. He could do that. "Anywhere you want to go?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Not really, anywhere's fine."

No help at all.

He scrambled for something, seizing the first idea his mind came upon. "I hear the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be interesting. Want to start there?"

She smiled happily at him. "Sure."

Way to go, Harry. You've got the next twenty minutes planned.

There was no way he was having another date without a plan. Ever, ever again.

The Shrieking Shack was, as spooky things, went, a distant third on Harry's list. He supposed he was somewhat jaded, though. To someone else, he could easily see how it would scare people. The peeling, faded gray paint. Missing doors and windows like a missing front tooth or eye. Broken chimney stacks, crumbled bricks scattered across the old slate roof. A wicked barbed wire fence surrounding the whole place.

After fighting Voldemort's wraith, though, the rumor of a ghost couldn't scare him. After killing a man and destroying the Chamber, the suggestion of violence wasn't enough to disturb him. It was, he noted, a mark of how screwy his life had become that he was comparing a run-down old house to two of the most traumatic and damaging instances in his life.

"It doesn't look like much, does it?" Luna opined from beside him. She had a look of slight disappointment to her, like she had somehow heard what he'd been thinking and agreed. He nodded.

"I was expecting a bit more, yeah."

"Me too." she shrugged, then shivered. "Bloody hell, it's cold. Since this was a bust, fancy a drink at the Three Broomsticks?"

Thankful that one good thing had come of this, he agreed, and they turned to head back down the path to Hogsmeade proper. Harry felt a shiver of fear go down his spine, and moved to put Luna behind him. Streamers of light began playing around his clenched fist.

"I've been looking for you." the man standing in their path was gaunt, thin in a way Harry had only seen once before. He had a pencil thin mustache and carried himself in a manner suggesting previous wealth. The man held a wand in a loose, confident grip at his side, like he expected a thirteen year old boy to be no challenge.

His mistake.

Harry punched out, a textbook uppercut. His magic responded, an upward swooping golden comet that impacted in the thin man's chest and send him flying back over the top of the hill. He heard the impact in the snow and cursing drifted back to them.

"Harry." Luna sounded far too calm. Her face was pale and her eyes wide. "Why did you attack that man?"

Harry swallowed the tight feeling in his throat and answered, "Because he's one of the escaped prisoners. His name is Bartemius Crouch."

"Very good, Potter." A different voice said. Harry spun around, hands flying up and a crackling nimbus of light springing between them. Crouch Jr was the spitting image of Crouch Sr, save the mustache. He lashed the wand in his hand at them. A ribbon of green shot across the clearing at them, full of painful death.

Harry spun, grabbed Luna, and dragged them both to the ground. He slashed out blindly with his hand as he did, retaliating with a golden lance as the green curse howled overhead to smash into a snowbank. The steam thrown up by the impact was perfect cover, Harry's brain told him. They could start running now. He hauled himself and Luna to his feet.

"Run!" he shouted, waved his hand behind them, and they tore off down the path towards Hogsmeade. Behind them the snow covering the ground rose and formed into a blizzard in miniature. It knocked Crouch Jr into his father, who had just regained his feet, and buried them in a massive pile of snow.

"What's going on?"

"Just run!" he gripped her hand tightly and hauled ass towards Hogsmeade and safety. As they ran his mind raced. How had the Crouch's found him? How'd they get into Hogsmeade? Most importantly of all, where were the rest of them?

As they rounded the corner and the little village came into view, he got his answer.

Hogsmeade burned. The flames burned so high and so hot he could feel them from there, a quarter of a mile away. The Three Broomsticks blazed, every so often a keg of something or other exploding and sending wood flying everywhere. Zonko's joke shop was so much ash and foundation. Honeyduke's was a smoldering ruin. The only building still standing, he noticed, was the old pub they weren't allowed in; the Hog's Head. As they pelted down the path, Harry found out why.

It was Dumbledore, or a man who looked a lot like him. He held off five darkly robed and sickly thin wizards singlehanded. For a man his size he moved with a duelist's grace, and his spells hit hard and fast.

"Harry, wait!" Luna hauled on his arm until they skidded to a halt. She bent over, hands on her knees, and took huge breaths of cold air. He danced on the spot, looking around constantly, anxious to be anywhere else. Movement was life. If they kept moving, they'd be all right. They had to keep moving.

"Come on," he grabbed her hand again. "We have to keep moving."

Luna took a final deep breath and drew her wand. She looked terrified and determined and beautiful. "Okay. Right behind you. What's the plan?"

"Get to the school." He took a shaky breath and tried to calm down enough to think. "As fast as we can."

"There he is!" Crouch's Jr and Sr had finally caught up. Curses flew their way, diverted into the sky by the golden shield Harry conjured.

"Go!"

They had almost made it. The gates were in sight. He and Luna had fought a running battle from the outskirts of Hogsmeade all the way up to the school. He could see teachers coming their way, shouting to each other and to was scared and cold and tired and he just wanted this over with. But there was a problem. If he was alone he could have fought. If he was alone, it would have been over.

But Luna was with him. He had to keep her safe.

Or, a clever corner of his tired brain whispered, get her to safety.

That would be difficult. She and Harry were surrounded. Their opponents paced in a circle around them, throwing idle curses their directions and laughing as they dove and dodged out of the way. Harry was flagging, the margins by which the curses missed him shrunk each time.

"Give it up, Potter!" one of them shouted. He didn't know which. "You can't get away!"

"Thank you, Captain obvious!" he shouted back, wondering where he'd found the courage to banter with the people trying to kill him. "I hadn't noticed!"

"Flipendo." Luna murmured, having learned the hard way about shouting her incantations. The knockback jinx hit one in the chest and sent him flying. Harry took the opening, clapped his hands together and spread them. Twin comets flew left and right, pile-driving the remaining wizards into each other.

"Run!" he yelled again, and they staggered up the path to the school. Both of them were so tired and hurt that they couldn't manage much more than a jog. It was cruel, how close the gate of Hogwarts were. They were so close, but they wouldn't make it. The teachers were drawing closer, but they couldn't apparate on school grounds. Harry's mind took in all of these facts and came to a weary, inescapable conclusion:

We're not going to make it.

"Luna," he gasped out. "Keep running. No matter what happens, do not...stop. Get help. Get...safe."

"Harry, what are you-"

Harry stopped and turned to face them. They weren't all there. Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't. Her husband and brother in law were. The Crouch's were. Travers was. Finch was. So was Nott. Black wasn't, he noted with dull surprise. He stood, panting, as they spread into an arc in front of him. "Do you really think you can take us all?" Crouch Sr, the group's apparent leader, asked derisively. "You're just a boy."

Harry shrugged, then stomped the ground. Jagged spikes of earth and ice erupted from the ground, impaling Travers through the thigh and Nott through the chest. He wove a curved shield, directing the retaliatory curses up and away from him.

Two down, he thought grimly, running sideways to draw them away. Five to go.

Instinct dropped him to his knees, sliding through the slush as a green ribbon sliced the air above his head. He spun, still sliding, and gestured to the snow behind him. It rose, hardened into jagged icicles, and with a wave from him, shot forward like bullets. Most were deflected or dodged.

Finch was too slow. He stared stupidly at the icy spear in his chest and toppled over backwards. Harry was too busy watching Finch die to see the arc of black light coming at him from the side. He did take notice when it hit. Mostly because it tore a hole in his side the size of a plate. He screamed and fell, blood staining the snow bright red.

He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't draw power through the pain.

He was pretty sure he was going to die. He could only hope that it was worth it, that Luna had gotten to safety and gotten help.

Harry breathed as deeply as he dared and watched his death stalk towards him.

Pain which suddenly and miraculously faded. He heard footsteps behind him, and raised his head to see who had helped him. Recognition shot through him like a camera flash. It was Black. None of the insanity worn by the others was present in his face. His eyes were dark and haunted, but clear. He was riddled with scars and his black hair hung lank around his face.

"Harry," Black spoke, voice sounding like a dog's growl. "I imagined this meeting for thirteen years. Must say, I never expected this."

The others were drawing closer. Harry didn't have much time, but he had to know. "Why did you do it?" he whispered. "Why did you betray my parents?"

Black's eyes became even more haunted. "That is a very long and complicated story, but the short of it is, I didn't." he pointed over Harry's shoulder towards the approaching wizards. He turned and saw a new arrival, a short fat man with a whiskery beard. "He did."

Harry took a breath, testing his side. It felt sore, but he could breath freely. He started drawing power. "When we get out of here, you're telling me everything."

Black laughed. "If we get out of here, Harry, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Good." With that, he stood and prepared to fight for his life. At his side stood the man who'd betrayed his parents and who had saved his life. He couldn't think about that now. The time for sorting out where the blame lay would come later. He could figure out whether or not Sirius Black deserved his hatred after the battle.

"How do you want to do this?" Black asked, and Harry noted that he wasn't much shorter than the older man. He opened and closed his hands, feeling his power flowing around his fingers. The others were closer, he could see their glowing wandtips through the blowing snow. It was a matter of moments before the fight would begin anew.

"How should I know?" Harry replied. "Do I look like a fighter to you?"

"Yes." Black said simply.

Harry swallowed. "Okay. Cover my back, I'll cover yours. Don't kill anyone unless you have to."

"How many are left?" the gaunt wizard put his back to Harry's and started scanning their surroundings.

"I got Nott, Travers, and Finch. That leaves five."

"Can we hurt them?" there was an eager snarl in Black's voice. He was starting to get the impression that Black and the other escaped prisoners didn't exactly get on.

"Feel free."

With that, Harry began fighting for his life, trusting a convicted murderer to watch his back.

"On your left!"

Duck. Spin. Punch. Watch as a massive ribbon of golden light damn near cuts one of the Lestranges in half. He dove forward from his crouch into a roll, coming up into a kneeling position. The half melted snow sticking to his fingers gave Harry an idea. "Black, watch my back!" he shouted.

"What have I been doing?" Black yelled in reply, dancing between cutting curses. Despite their imminent demise, the escaped prisoner seemed to be having the time of his life. A wide grin graced the man's canine features.

"Fine, just keep doing it!" Harry funneled his power into the snow, focusing his mind on it. Tendrils of power spread out into the drifts like a tree's roots seeking moist earth. That done, he reached out into the wind and harnessed it. The strain was massive. He felt it as a physical weight, and his skin burned as new runes etched themselves into his skin.

The magic burned inside him. It was complete and ready to be released. "Get down!" he yelled, released the magic, and fell over. He was completely exhausted. If this didn't work, he was dead. There was nothing left.

The wind picked up. A more careful observer than anyone present would have seen it circle back on itself, gaining speed as it went around and around. It tore at the feet of the remaining prisoners, causing their footing to slip and their aim to be thrown off. Harry's scarf, torn and dirty, ripped free of his neck and flew away.

Then the snow rose into the air and was swept into the circling wind. The now uncovered ground was churned by missed spells and dug in feet.

"How are you doing this?" Black howled at him over the wind.

"I'm not!" he yelled back. He wasn't. All he'd done was create the storm. It had taken on a life of its own now. He learned a quick lesson about weather just before he released it: the storm would not be contained. Not by him. Not by anyone. All he could do was keep him and Black from being blown away. "Just hang on!"

"Great plan, I was thinking of not doing that!" Black shouted back, and did the man's snark never cease?

Harry didn't know how long they crouched together at the center of his hurricane. It seemed like hours. Days. But it couldn't have been more than a few minutes at most. All he could hear in those moments was screaming winds and the odd cry of an injured man, somewhere out in the snow.

Slowly the storm exhausted itself, burning up the energy used to sustain it. The wind died and the snow fell to the ground in a solid, circular clump. Harry stood slowly. His legs shook underneath him for a moment before firming up. Black came to his side and together they saw the aftermath of what he'd done.

Rabastan Lestrange was dead. Rodolphus was unconscious, half frozen. There was no sign of Crouch Jr. Crouch Sr was upside down against a rock, both legs twisted in ways unnatural to them. The fat little man that Black said was the true traitor was mostly buried by the fallen snow, only his head and shoulders sticking out.

It was onto this scene that Dumbledore arrived. He kept his eyes on Harry as the Aurors went about trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Black had dropped his wand and knelt, placing his hands behind his head.

"I'm done running." he said. "I'm done."

Harry took long, slow breaths, fighting the nausea that was building in his stomach. He felt shaky and wanted to sit down, throw up, and cry all at the same time. Distantly he noted he was going into shock.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "what happened here?"

"Professor," sitting down seemed good, so he did. So did crying. Throwing up was still up for debate. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Dumbledore looked down at the ruins of Hogsmeade, following the curse scarred ground all the way to where they stood, terminating at the feet of a thirteen year old boy. A very unique thirteen year old boy.

"Oh, I think I might."

To Harry's surprise, the Headmaster believed him. Not only that, he was absolutely furious on his behalf. He watched Dumbledore pace around his office, mumbling to himself under his breath. He couldn't hear, but he was sure that what he was saying wasn't very nice. Finally, after a long few minutes of pacing and cursing, the old wizard sat down opposite Harry and steepled his hands.

"Harry," he said, voice hoarse and full of emotion. "I want you to know how very proud of you I am, and also how very sorry I am."

Dismissing the warm feeling that Dumbledore's pride gave him, he asked, "Why are you sorry?"

"Because as Headmaster of this school it is my job to keep the students under my care safe. I am failing at my job, Harry, and that is a feeling I do not like."

The old wizard had a look of torment on his face, to the point that Harry wanted to reassure him, to tell him that it wasn't his fault. It was a shock to realize that he would be lying if he said that. It was Dumbledore's fault. He didn't blame the headmaster, but it was his fault. "What's going to happen to Black?" he asked. Dumbledore seemed to appreciate the change in subject, and warmed to the subject.

"Sirius," he corrected gently. "is currently in the custody of Amelia Bones, whom you've met. I think it obvious at this point that the crime he went to prison for, he did not commit. The presence of Peter Pettigrew confirms that. I suspect there will be a trial and the accompanying media circus. You may be called to testify though I don't know if you'll want to."

Neither did Harry. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man. For thirteen years Black- no, Sirius, didn't exist. He was a ghost. Then he entered Harry's life in a newspaper clipping, and then he hated a man he'd never heard of before then. Months passed with that hatred building. All for nothing. Sirius was innocent. "I don't know, sir." Harry said, studying his muddy trainers. "I feel like I owe him. He saved my life, you know. Down there."

"I know," Dumbledore said, smiling a quiet smile. "and I will leave it up to you whether or not you go. It may not happen. I do know that Sirius, in the short time he knew you before, loved you more than anything on earth. Given a chance, I think, you two could rebuild some of that relationship. It is of course up to the two of you to make that happen."

"I'll think about it, sir."

"Of course." the Headmaster clapped his hands together. "Now, as I understand it, there is a feast of some size waiting for you in the Great Hall, along with some very concerned friends. Shall we go?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent! Allons-y!"

Shaking his head slightly, he followed the old wizard to the feast, wondering what the fuss was all about.

I can't say I was expecting that.

It turned out the feast was for him. More specifically, it was a thank-you. He stood in the center of the Hall, surrounded by whooping, cheering students. Beyond a shadow of a doubt he knew he was bright red and he could not, for the life of him, stop laughing. He'd already received massive hugs from Neville and a furious Hermione (Honestly, Harry, I leave you alone for a day and you burn Hogsmeade down!).

Then he turned around and saw Luna. She was smiling at him, eyes shining. The noise faded a bit in his ears as she approached him. It was only when he looked around did he realize that they actually had stopped clapping. "Hey," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"You promised." she jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "You promised you wouldn't get hurt!"

"I didn't!" he protested. What was this about? He was fine! He spread his arms to make his point. "Look! Not a scratch on me!"

"Oh, you infuriating...boy!" she shouted, seized him by the ears, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. He stood there, arms spread, getting his first ever kiss. He was pretty sure the castle could have fallen over and he wouldn't have noticed. His entire brain was screaming, I'mgettingkissedI'mgettingkissedI'mgettingkissed. Then it shouted,

Kiss her back, you idiot!

But it was too late for that, she'd stepped back. The entire Hall was dead quiet. He heard somebody drop their fork. "Well?" she demanded, "aren't you going to say anything?"

Harry shrugged helplessly, not sure where his ability to speak had gone. "Cheers."

Behind him, Hermione dropped her face into her palm.

END CHAPTER NINE

Note: I wanted to end this year on a high note, seeing as it goes downhill from here. This chapter just would not end. Before I go bang my head against fourth year, I wanted to address a few things.

First, Harry staying at Hogwarts. Yes, he should leave. However, I wouldn't have much of a story if he did. Well, there would be, but it's not one I'm prepared to tell. So, he's not going anywhere. If I remember correctly, I dropped something about a law preventing him from going anywhere else.

Second, Fudge. To this I say, have patience. I haven't forgotten about him. In fact, the careful reader may find him the beginning of next year. If you have eyes, that is.

Third, there is no rule three.

Fourth, no pooftahs.

Before I forget, special shout-out to Joe M Lawyer. This man had the dedication(insanity?) to read all sixty thousandish words of this thing and leave me comprehensive, in depth reviews. Joe, if you haven't given up on me by now, thanks for that.

And with that, back to the studio.