Composed of a mass of soft, springy tendrils and vines that possess some sense of touch, Devil's Snare uses its creepers and tendrils to ensnare anyone who touches it…

Harry shifted in his uncomfortable wooden chair, then stuck his quill in the ink pot and continued writing.

The harder a person struggles against Devil's Snare, the faster and tighter it binds them, if they relax, it will not kill them as quickly.

Devil's Snare prefers a dark, damp environment and shrinks away from fire, so a well-placed flame spell will drive it away from its victims. However, Devil's Snare is most notorious for-

"Harry?"

The tentative call startled the teenager from his homework and to his aunt who was hovering in his doorway. "Yes?"

Petunia shifted uncomfortably under her nephew's inscrutable gaze. "We're going out to dinner."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation, Aunt?" A small smile quirked his lips when he noted the tension that suddenly tightened Petunia's shoulders. "Although I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I can't, I've got a bit more work to do," he gestured to the books and parchments littering his desk.

Immediately the blonde woman relaxed. "If you're sure. We'll be back in a few hours, there's some leftover roast in the fridge if you get hungry."

"All right."

"All right," Petunia lingered in the doorway for a bit longer, but after several long seconds of silence she took the hint and left.

With her gone, Harry was able to continue working on his homework in peace, but he found himself unable to concentrate as the Dursley's bustled around downstairs, preparing to leave. What was taking them so long? There were only three of them, and he figured the Dursley men would be moving faster than ever if it meant getting to food quicker.

As the minutes dragged on, Harry felt himself growing more and more impatient, but he forced himself to remain in his seat and write out another three paragraphs on Devil's Snare and its uses in different potions, until finally, finally, the Dursley's all piled into the car to head off to some poor restaurant that would, in all likeliness, not be prepared for the appetites of both Dudley and Vernon. They'd empty their stock before they could even hope to satisfy them.

Harry made himself wait another five minutes before rising from his seat at his rickety desk and crossing the hall to the bathroom. It had only been a week since his return from his fourth year at Hogwarts (his worst to date) and he'd been impatiently waiting for a chance to be alone since. He had something he'd been desperate to try since the third task, but didn't dare attempt to do it at Hogwarts lest he be caught by a student or teacher. Today was the first time he'd been truly alone in a long time and he wasn't going to waste it.

Quickly, Harry stripped down to his pants and stared at himself in the large mirror. A large part of him was scared to go through with what he was about to do, but another part of him, a very small part, was kind of excited.

Before he could talk himself out of going through with this, Harry twisted the tap on the sink as cold as it could go and allowed it to run for a few seconds. What he had done in the graveyard had been with a wand, but because of the foolish underage magic laws he would have to do his experiment wandlessly, using the tap just made things a bit easier.

A sharp crack echoed throughout the bathroom as Harry easily snapped the faucet, sending a geyser of water spraying in wide arcs to the tile. Harry allowed the water to thoroughly drench him as he focused on his task. Ice, he thought, visualizing a vast frozen tundra. Snow. Cold.

The effects of his magic were gradual, barely even noticeable for a while. First the air grew colder, so cold Harry could see his breath misting in front of his face with each exhalation, the temperature steadily dropped and Harry felt the invigorating effects of the cold taking over. The water spewing from the faucet froze, falling to the ground with a musical tinkling sound. As the temperature in the bathroom reached subarctic and all warmth was leached from his body, he waited. But even after the floor had been carpeted in a thick layer of snow and the walls had been coated in ice, his skin remained the same pale shade it had been all of his life.

When it was confirmed that his current approach wasn't working, Harry moved on to Plan B. A plan he was still pretty leery about. If things went right all he would have to worry about was a warning from the Ministry for the use of underage magic, if things went wrong...well then Harry would wind up with a most likely permanent disability. But the chances of the latter were slim.

Hopefully.

Harry retrieved his wand from his discarded trousers and, after mentally preparing himself for his actions and whatever consequences they may warrant, pointed his wand at his hand and muttered, "Glacius."

Immediately, a strong torrent of ice shot from the tip of his wand, but instead of allowing the ice to harden and engulf his hand as it was supposed to, Harry absorbed the icy magic and forced it to flow directly into his hands. It didn't even take a ten seconds before the change he'd been both dreading and anticipating slowly crept up his hand and over the rest of his body.

Blue slowly inched its way from his fingertips, up his arm, down his chest, and across his face until he was blue from head to toe, his normally green irises were blood red, even brighter than Voldemort's, and odd half circles marked his forehead and the center of his chest as if they'd been carved into his skin.

The fourteen year old observed his odd, and truthfully somewhat frightening, appearance in the frosted mirror and couldn't help but think the question Voldemort had asked him all those nights ago.

What was he?

It took very little effort to repair the damage the freezing temperatures had done to the Dursley's bathroom, all it took was a few waves of his hand and the ice was gone and the warped tiles and wallpaper were pristine once again. However, it took five nerve racking minutes and a shower in lukewarm water (any warmer and it was almost painful) to return his skin and eyes to normal, and another ten to calm his jittering nerves. When his hands had finally stopped trembling, Harry left the bathroom, crossed the hall to his bedroom, and collapsed onto his bed.

"Well, I know you're no longer a child and thus are too old to give me the flying hugs you used to, but I must say I expected a warmer hello than this."

At the familiar voice Harry was out of bed in a flash and in his father's arms. He hadn't seen him since the night of the third task several weeks ago; that night Loki had been furious with Dumbledore, with Fudge, with Voldemort, but especially with himself. He blamed himself for the injuries Harry had sustained in the graveyard, believing that if he hadn't been paying so much attention to his brother he would have noticed the danger Harry was in sooner. But buried beneath the anger had been something even worse. Fear. Because he knew that if he had been even a second later in transporting Harry from the graveyard, for it had been him that had done it, his son would be dead.

It had taken Harry the better part of an hour to calm his father down, but even then Loki had been so agitated he added a plethora of spells to the ones that had been on Harry since birth, one that included a ward to alert him when an Unforgivable was being used on Harry. It wouldn't help much in the face of a Killing Curse, but it would do a world of good when being put under the Cruciatus or an Imperius.

"It seems I must go back on my previous assumptions, apparently you aren't too old for flying hugs."

Harry burrowed himself deeper in his father's arms, the horror that came with Voldemort's return added with the stress of his odd reaction to subzero temperatures was weighing down on him, being held in his father's arms made things better, if only for a while.

"I'll never be too old," he muttered.

Loki seemed to pick up on Harry's sombre mood and pulled away to study his face. "Are you all right, little trickster?"

"I…" Harry hesitated, unsure whether to tell Loki about his odd form, the man had enough things to worry about already. "I'll let you know when I find out," he finally settled for.

Loki seemed displeased by the noncommittal answer, but let it be for the time being. "How have the mortals been treating you?"

"Pretty well, all things considered," Harry shrugged. "Dudley's still too scared to look at me, let alone lay a hand on me, he's lost a bit of street cred with his friends because he refuses to start anything. Vernon needs a bit of reminding every now and then, but Petunia's been a gem, she's called me down for dinner every night, informed me when they were going out, and she hasn't attempted to hit me with a frying pan in years."

Loki's shoulders tensed, but he nodded in satisfaction. "Good, those mortals need to know their place."

"Which, of course, is beneath me," Harry said faux arrogantly.

"Precisely," Loki laughed, "I have taught you well, little trickster." He looked at Harry sadly. "Well, perhaps not so little anymore."

"Aw, don't do that." Harry sighed laying his head on Loki's shoulder. "I'm still plenty young,"

"In Asgardian years you are still just a babe, but here…you're almost an adult. As old as I am!"

"Whoa, slow down now! I'm nowhere near as old as you are. You're ancient."

Loki sniffed in mock offense. "I would hardly call myself ancient, I am at the prime of my youth. Your grandfather, on the other hand…"

"Is older than dirt." Harry agreed. "But what about Grandmother?"

"She is just as old, but she does very well to assure that it does not show. Asgardian women are quite vain when it comes to their appearances. As is your Uncle Thor."

"I would be too if I had such luscious blonde locks."

"Please," Loki scoffed. "Do not insult the dark hair I have gifted you, it's far better than blonde," he spat the word as if it was a curse. "Besides, it makes you look mysterious."

"Mysterious?" Harry laughed. "I suppose that isn't a horrible thing to be."

"Of course it isn't. Why, if I wasn't dark haired, you wouldn't be here right now, your mother liked her men, tall, dark haired, and mysterious."

"Oh Merlin, spare me," Harry cried, slapping his hands over his ears. "That's too much information."

"But it's true" Loki protested. "She told me on many-"

"If you love me at all, you won't finish that sentence."

Loki hesitated long enough for Harry to almost feel offended. "Very well, I'll spare you the details of your conception."

"Thank you."

Loki laughed. "My pleasure. Now tell me, what plans do you have for this summer? I hope you don't intend on staying here for the next two months."

"No, Dumbledore was gracious enough to give me permission to stay with Sirius and Remus this summer, wherever that is. From what I can tell from the vague letters they've sent me so far, Ron and Hermione are already there, Neville will be showing up a few days after I will, but Blaise and Draco haven't said anything about going."

"Good, when will you be leaving this despicable place?"

"Next week. Apparently I've got an entire guard coming to pick me up. Dumbledore handpicked them himself."

"How kind of him," Loki drawled sarcastically. "I don't like this headmaster of yours, he seems far too controlling for my liking."

"He is," Harry agreed. "But I wouldn't be worried about him, he poses a mild threat simply because he holds a few positions of power and has a handful of ardent supporters, but nothing more."

"Regardless, be sure that you are careful around him, he's the type willing to do anything for his own skewed definition of the greater good."

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"Destroy it." Harry looked up from the little square of parchment in his hand to the grizzled ex-Auror who'd been impersonated by a now soulless Death Eater all of last year.

There was a soft fwoosh and the parchment in his hand burst into flames. The adults gathered behind Harry in the deserted courtyard of Grimmauld Place leapt back with small yelps of surprise, but Harry didn't move, allowing the flame to burn dangerously close to his hand despite the discomfort the heat wrought, before releasing it and watching as the flames puttered out on the ground and the ashes of the destroyed parchment drifted away in the breeze.

"Wandless magic?" a pink haired witch who'd identified herself as Nymphadora "Call Me Tonks" asked impressed.

"Just a bit," Harry shrugged distractedly as he watched a townhouse appear literally from nowhere. "Fidelius Charm," he muttered. "Clever."

"Dumbledore put it up," Tonks supplied helpfully.

"Well, let's hope this one works better than the last."

Remus, who Harry had been delighted to see was part of his guard, shot him a stern look before reaching out to tap his wand on the shabby door. There were several loud clicks as what had to be at least a dozen locks unlatched, the rattle of a chain being disengaged, then the door swung open and the group hurried into a dark, musty entrance hall.

"Stay still everyone," Moody said, as the door closed behind him and plunged the room into complete darkness. "I'll get a bit of light in here."

As the light from his wand flooded the dusty hall, Mrs. Weasley rounded the corner and immediately swept Harry up into a hug. "Oh, Harry dear, it's lovely to see you!" she gushed happily. "You're looking lovely, dear. How has your summer been so far?"

"Wonderful, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. And yours?"

"Oh, just fine." Mrs. Weasley released him and patted him fondly on the cheek. "You must be hungry after that long trip here, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait just a while longer for dinner."

"Is there a meeting going on?" Harry asked curiously as his guard disappeared through the door at the end of the hall.

"There is, but we shouldn't be much longer," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can catch up with Ron and Hermione while you wait, they're already upstairs. They're two floors up through the first door on the right. I'll give a shout when you can come down."

Mrs. Weasley gave him one last pat on the cheek before hurrying back to the kitchen, leaving Harry to traverse the dark halls alone. When he entered the guest room Mrs. Weasley had described, he was immediately greeted by a loud shriek before being tackled by an overexcited Hermione.

"Harry! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us no doubt. How is your family? Was everything all right? Did you tell them about last-"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron laughed, pulling the bushy haired Ravenclaw off of their friend. "Hey, mate, how's your summer been?"

"Boring," Harry shrugged. "Especially considering three out of my five friends apparently didn't seem capable of carrying a proper conversation."

Both Ron and Hermione winced. "We're sorry, Harry," Hermione said, "but Dumbledore thought it was best we didn't say much via owl post."

"And when did Dumbledore have a say on what you could and couldn't say to me?"

"Since we started staying in the Order headquarters."

Harry snorted derisively. "You'd reckon the Order Headquarters would be safe enough for me to live in."

"It is, but I think Dumbledore thought you were safest with muggles," Ron said.

Harry couldn't help but scoff at the ridiculous notion. "Yes, because remaining in a shoddily warded house with three magic fearing muggles was a sure fire way to keep me safe."

"He had the Order watching you."

Harry had heard about the Order of the Phoenix from accounts on the first war with Voldemort; while they were good at holding back Death Eaters, they were practically useless against the Dark Lord himself. "What's one Order member going to do against Voldemort?" he asked, ignoring his friends' shudders. "If he decides to attack the Dursley's there's not much they could do."

"They could alert the others."

"And have a full scale magical battle in the middle of muggle suburbia?" Harry snorted again. "Because that would go over so well with the Ministry."

Ron looked down at his hands and Hermione turned a dark red. "We're really sorry, Harry," she muttered. "We shouldn't have kept you in the dark."

"Damn right you shouldn't have," the dark haired teen said, flopping down on the bed closest to him.

"Can you forgive our stupidity?"

There was a moment of silence, then Harry sighed and shot his friends a weary smile. "Of course I can. Though I won't be near as easy on you the next time you blindly follow Dumbledore's orders."

"It won't happen again," Hermione said earnestly.

With apologies out of the way, the three friends settled down to talk about the things they'd got up to over the summer, they were soon joined by the Weasley twins and Ginny, who still blushed a soft pink whenever Harry addressed her in the conversation.

The fairly peaceful atmosphere was shattered, however, by a tremendous crash from the bottom floor, followed by the sudden loud screeching of a very angry, foul mouthed woman.

The teens hurried down the stairs to see the cause of the commotion and found Tonks sprawled out on the ground beside a fallen umbrella stand that looked disturbingly like a large, hairy leg, and a portrait of a horribly ugly woman framed by the long black curtains Harry had become all too familiar with the horrible Walburga Black the previous summer; he, Sirius, and Remus had done just about everything in their power to either remove her from the wall or destroy the portrait, but whatever spells that were preserving her were still holding fast.

It took Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley to wrench her curtains shut and restore some semblance of order in the house. The moment that was through, Sirius turned to Harry with a tired smile on his face and opened his arms for a hug. "Sorry about that, old bat just doesn't know when to quit."

"I'd hoped you'd have found some way to get rid of her before I returned," Harry said. "Although, I should have known she wouldn't be giving in so easy. Now, what's this I hear about you letting Dumbledore use Grimmauld Place as the Order's headquarters? He deserves no favors from you after all that he's done."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly Dumbledore's biggest fan, but I thought it was a good idea at the time and I still do," Sirius shrugged. "It's easier to keep an eye on everything he's done when he's conducting it under my roof. Keep your friends close and whatnot."

Harry nodded in reluctant agreement and allowed Sirius to steer him to the kitchen where he introduced him to one of the newer members of the Order, Mundungus Fletcher.

Harry had never met the man officially, but he recognized him as one of the guards who'd been skulking around outside of the Dursleys'. Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to approve of the dumpy man's presence, and after being formally introduced he understood why; the man was a crook and a drunk. But he had his purposes for the Order, so Harry said nothing against him, simply allowing him to discuss dubious dealing with Fred and George on the other end of the table.

Other than Mrs. Weasleys disgruntlement at Mundungus' presence, dinner was a calm affair, especially considering the amount of people present; Tonks kept the teens entertained by constantly shifting appearances, while the adults engaged in banal conversation. However, once the meal had ended and the plates were cleared away, the atmosphere grew tense as Sirius and Mrs. Weasley began shooting pointed looks in each other's' directions.

"All right," Mrs. Weasley said, clearing away the empty dished with a wave of her wand, "time for bed."

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said interjected. "There's some things I'd like to discuss with Harry, and the others if you'll allow it."

Mrs. Weasley shoulders tensed. "I don't think it's necessary, Sirius," she said stiffly. "They're much too young."

"I beg to differ, but if you want to leave your children in the dark, I have no say in that, Harry on the other hand-"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley snapped sharply. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius drawled sarcastically.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know."

"Which is nothing apparently. Now, I was kind enough to allow you all into my home, after all of the wrongs Dumbledore has done me, but I will not allow you to dictate my godson's life. If he wants to know what's going on with Voldemort, then dammit he'll know."

"I think," Remus cut in before things developed into an all out shouting match, "that it's better that Harry gets the facts, not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture, from us, rather than a garbled version from others."

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart -"

"He's not your son," Sirius interrupted quietly.

"He's as good as," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

"And whose fault is that?" Sirius shouted rising to his feet. "I was an innocent man, but not one of you, my friends and allies, had enough faith in me to believe that! None of you took even a second to sit back and think that James and Lily were my best friends, that Harry was like a son to me; I would have never betrayed them to Voldemort. But you all believed in Dumbledore's false assumptions, no doubt because I hailed from a dark family, and because of that I, an innocent man, rotted in Azkaban for thirteen years. You do not have the right to use my imprisonment against me."

The silence that followed was heavy with the guilt from the older members.

"Sirius, I-"

"I think Harry should be allowed a say in this," Sirius said quietly, sinking back in his chair.

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry responded after a second's hesitation.

"Fine," Mrs. Weasley said tremulously. "If that's what you want who am I to say otherwise?" she attempted to kick the other children out, but she didn't seem to have much fight left in her as, after only a few minutes, she finally conceded in allowing everyone but Ginny to remain and listen.

"I'm sure you've got a lot of questions regarding what's been happening since last June," Sirius said to Harry, he was still a bit subdued but he was quickly recovering, "so we'll just start with you."

"I've been reading the Prophet cover to cover and keeping a close eye on the muggle news for any suspicious deaths, but I've come up with nothing," Harry said. "Voldemort has been inactive since his return. Why?"

"Because you messed up his return," Remus explained. "You weren't supposed to survive, let alone put up the fight you did, but you did and Dumbledore was informed of his return within hours of the event, taking away the other side's element of surprise. Dumbledore was able to gather the Order and we've been preparing ever since."

"But he's been preparing as well?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley nodded. "In the last war he had an army of skilled wizards and witches, we believe he's biding his time, gathering followers and strength. The Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his return is only helping him."

"While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place," Remus added. "What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumor-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware any things happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"Has Dumbledore been trying to spread the word about Voldemort's return?" Harry asked. "He's known as the most powerful wizard since Merlin." The sarcasm in his voice was almost tangible "That's got to count for something."

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus said. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class too."

"I read about that, and their not so subtle digs at me as well."

"Yeah, but that's the thing," Sirius said, suddenly looking curious. "They've been outright slandering Dumbledore on the Ministry's orders, but all I've seen on you, the one who first claimed Voldemort was back, was a few cracks at your scar and the wizarding world's hero worship of you. Why do you think that is?"

Harry winced. "Ah, that's my fault," he said guiltily, "I may or may not have threatened the Minister the last time I saw him."

"You what?"

"Well maybe not threatened him, but I did say a few things that made him look as if he was two seconds away from pissing himself."

"What did you say?" Sirius asked.

Harry recounted the short conversation he and the Minister had held in the hospital wing that night almost a month ago, and took in his companions' varying expressions of disbelief in amusement.

"You've got quite a pair on you to talk to the Minister of Magic like that."

"I like to think so," Harry said proudly "What else is Voldemort doing, besides gathering followers?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks. "He's looking for something," Sirius said slowly. "Something he didn't have last time, a weapon."

"A weapon? What sort of weapon?"

"That's enough." Mrs. Weasley said sharply "They've heard enough. It's time for bed. All of you."

The teens attempted to protest, but they knew a lost cause when they saw one, so mournfully trooped upstairs. But before he left Harry, who still felt somewhat bad for the downtrodden look on Mrs. Weasley's face, gave the woman a kiss on the cheek and his most innocent smile. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly, "I just didn't want to be left in the dark anymore. I hate knowing the people I love are constantly putting themselves in danger while I sit back and do nothing."

Mrs. Weasley sniffed tearfully and put a gentle hand on Harry's cheek. "Don't apologize, dear, I just worry over you. But perhaps keeping you in the dark isn't the best way to go about things."

"I wholeheartedly agree."

The Weasley matriarch laughed shakily and pulled him into a quick but fiercely affectionate hug, then sent him off to bed.

As he hurried up the stairs, the Weasley twins, who had hung back after Ron and Hermione's departure looked at Harry in awe.

"You sneaky little Slytherin, you," one of them muttered.

Harry took that as a compliment.

"Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa."

That one statement pretty much summed up Harry's entire day. After a quick breakfast, he, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley entered the drawing room, armed with large spray bottles filled with black Doxycide. The task of ridding the curtains of the doxies wasn't horribly strenuous, but it was nowhere near fun having to simultaneously dodge and spray at the little buggers.

It took most of the morning to rid the curtains of the doxies, by the time they were finished everyone was tired and ready for a break. Mrs. Weasley left once the task was completed to whip up a quick lunch.

The teens were given some entertainment when, not long after her departure, Mrs. Weasley could be heard screaming at who they assumed to Mundungus Fletcher for bringing in a batch of stolen cauldrons. Though they were interrupted by the arrival of the Black family's mad house elf, Kreacher. Sirius kicked the elf out of the room after listening to his slurs for several minutes, but the house elf returned when they began clearing out the cabinets and attempted to sneak away items under his loincloth, only to grumble under his breath mutinously whenever he was caught.

He threw an enormous fit when a heavy golden locket no one could open was taken from him and thrown into the rubbish. Harry curious about its significance and wondering if he could use it to win the house elf's favor, stealthily pocketed it when no one was watching.

"Filthy mudbloods and blood traitors defiling the house of my mistress, no right, Kreacher says, no right to touch and to take and to destroy precious family heirlooms. Oh, what would Kreacher's mistress say?"

Harry looked up from the cup of coffee he was blearily nursing, it was early in the morning, the sun had yet to rise, so he'd assumed that he'd have at least a few hours before the house awoke and chaos reigned. Unfortunately, that was not to be. "Good morning, Kreacher," he murmured, taking a large gulp of coffee. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Kreacher did not see the boy sitting at my mistresses table, sitting as if he belonged, as if he deserved to be there. But he does not belong, no he does not."

"My morning's been fine so far, thank you for asking."

"The halfling is speaking to Kreacher as if her were an equal," Kreacher muttered in disgust. "Oh, the shame."

Suddenly, Harry was wide awake. "Halfling?" he asked "Why do you call me that?"

"The halfling has asked Kreacher a question. What should Kreacher do?"

"You could answer."

Kreacher glared with watery eyes. "Kreacher calls halfling a halfling because he is a halfling."

"Well thanks," Harry snorted. "That really clears things up."

"Halfling is part human, half not human, not of earth."

"How do you know that?"

"The halfling still speaks to Kreacher, but Kreacher will say no more, Kreacher has had enough of talking to the abomination, the aberration. Unnatural he is."

The green eyed boy observed the elf shrewdly; he was the third to know his true identity, or at least that he was not human, the other two being Ollivander and Luna. He didn't mind the latter two being privy to his secret, but knowing that Kreacher knew made him queasy. The elf was mad and liable to blurt it out at any time to anyone; whether anyone would believe him was still up for debate, but Harry didn't want to take the chance. Harry had to ensure that Kreacher wouldn't breathe a word, and there was only one way he knew how to do that.

"It's a shame what they're doing to all of the Black family heirlooms."

Kreacher continued to mutter nonsensical insults under his breath, but Harry saw his bony shoulders tense.

"I mean many of those things were priceless, and many others were ancient, entrenched in family history."

"Kreacher does not know what the abomination is getting at."

"I could, however, save some of these heirlooms from being destroyed or worse, sold off to mudbloods and blood traitors."

"Kreacher is beginning to see what it is getting at."

"For a price of course."

"Kreacher is listening."

"Cut back on the insults," Harry said, calmly taking a sip of his coffee as he plotted out his demands, "I'm not going to even believe that you have the self-control or even the sanity to stop all together, but no more mudbloods and such, keep it PG. I also think it's high time for you to stop skulking around and really start cleaning this house and, if Sirius approves, maybe you should look into redecorating, restore the Black home, and in turn its name, to all of its former glory."

"Is that all the halfling requires?" Kreacher asked.

"There's one more thing. You are to keep my status as a halfling and all that pertains to it to yourself. No one is to know."

Kreacher's eyes narrowed. "The boy is a true Slytherin."

Harry smiled softly and inclined his head to the small elf in thanks. "So, do we have a deal?"

"We do."

"Good, swear it."

This gave the creature pause. "How does Kreacher know the halfling will keep his word?"

"I'll give you something, as a show of good faith." Harry pulled the heavy, gold locket he'd pocketed several days earlier for this exact purpose and dangled it from the tips of his fingers.

Kreacher's eyes grew so wide Harry could see the locket's reflection in the black of his pupils. "Master Regulus' locket," he whispered tremulously. "Kreacher swears as a servant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to keep his end of the deal with Harry Potter."

Harry nodded, the elf's word was binding, he wouldn't be able to go back on it. Harry handed Kreacher the locket with no small amount of relief there was something about the necklace that made him uneasy, there was a certain sort of magical aura that was inherently evil, but it was no more than he expected from an heirloom of such a notoriously dark family.

Kreacher placed the locket around his neck with trembling fingers, then, much to the teen's surprise, launched himself at Harry and wrapped his thin arms around his legs. "Harry Potter is a good wizard. Mistress would agree, he is no abomination."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry said, awkwardly patting the elf's head, he hadn't expected such a strong reaction. That locket must really be important.

"What the hell?" Harry looked up from the potions book he was reading at the kitchen table to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and Sirius were standing in the doorway looking around in disbelief.

"Good morning," he said mildly.

"What in the world happened to the kitchen?" Remus asked.

Harry glanced halfheartedly around the kitchen; it was the first place Kreacher had cleaned and he had to say, he'd done a marvelous job at it, the room was almost unrecognizable in its cleanliness. Every surface now shone, copper pots and pans had been burnished to a rosy glow, and the wooden tabletop had been scrubbed until it gleamed, there was no sign of the previous mold infestation and the whole room smelled of fresh air and pine.

"Did you do this, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley beamed.

"No, Kreacher did."

"Kreacher?" Sirius spluttered.

"Yes, Kreacher. You know, I was thinking we should redecorate the place, make it more livable for you, Moony, and the Order. I was thinking we could take down this god awful wallpaper and replace it with something lighter, maybe a cream or a nice off white, but then have the floorboards a dark mahogany, it would make a lovely contrast."

"Okay, slow down, pup," Sirius said, shaking his head vigorously. "And back up, you said Kreacher did this?"

"Yup."

"And how did you manage to get him to do more than skulk around muttering obscenities under his breath?" Remus asked curiously.

"Because you don't know how to talk to him," Harry shrugged. "You lot are Gryffindors with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws thrown into the mix. Slytherins, of which I'm the only one, are the only ones who are clever enough to reason with a mad house elf. But honestly, what else would you expect from the best Hogwarts house?"

"Hold up a second," Sirius said, puffing up indignantly. "Who said Slytherin was the best house?"

"I did, just now."

"Please, don't even try to fool yourself," Sirius tossed his long hair dramatically. "We both know that Gryffindor is and always will be the best."

"Keep telling yourself that," Harry scoffed. "Maybe one day you'll actually believe it."

"All right, children," Mrs. Weasley chided, "enough bickering, sit down and I'll rustle up some breakfast."

"Hogwarts letters are here!"

Harry rolled from where he'd been reclined on his bed and easily caught the letter tossed to him. He, Ron, and Neville, who had, as promised, arrived only a few days after Harry, settled down on their respective beds and opened their letters.

"Only two new books this year. Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 and," Harry wrinkled his nose in disdain, "Defensive Magical Theory."

"Bugger." Neville sighed. "Do you think it would be too much to hope that we have a teacher as good as Professor Lupin was?"

"Probably," Harry nodded solemnly. "Magical theory is a fascinating subject, but Defensive Magical Theory is a horrible read, dead boring. The new professor is bound to be terrible."

"Hosting the soul of You-Know-Who on the back of their head terrible, so full of himself it's a wonder they can fit through the door with such a large ego terrible, or Death Eater in disguise terrible?"

Neville's question went unanswered as Fred and George decided to apparate into the room, waving their assigned reading lists in horror. "Who assigned the Slinkhard book?" Fred asked.

"The new Defense teacher," Harry said. "Neville and I were just trying to figure out how bad we thought they'd be."

"What have you come up with so far?"

"We're not sure," Neville shrugged. "Hey, Ron, what do you think?"

When there was no answer, everyone turned to look at the redhead, who was sitting on his bed looking down at his letter with his mouth wide open.

"What's wrong with him?" Fred muttered as he moved to look over his younger brother's shoulder. It only took a few seconds before his mouth too fell open. "Prefect?"

George leapt forward and snatched the letter from Ron's hand. "No way," he breathed, "Ickle Ronniekins is a prefect?"

"Oh, Mum's going to be unbearable." Fred groaned.

As the twins were attempting to recuperate, Hermione burst into the room, red faced and panting. "Which one of you got it?" she asked, holding up her own blue and bronze prefect's badge.

"Ron," Neville grinned.

"Ron…you-you're a prefect? I mean…are you sure?"

"Yeah," Ron said resentfully. "Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, I mean…it's just I…"

"You what?"

"Oh, never mind." Hermione pointedly turned to Harry. "Did you get one?"

"Me?" the sable haired teen snorted. "After all the hell I've raised? No, I reckon Draco got it."

"You're not upset, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Three prefects in the group is enough."

Hermione looked unsure, but the matter was put to rest when Mrs. Weasley entered the room and she was informed of her youngest sons newest status as prefect. The twins had been right, she was unbearable.

"- COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS -"

"- FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS -"

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry finished tying his shoelace, then grinned up at his friend. "Good morning, Hermione. What's going on down there?"

"Fred and George were too lazy to carry their trunks so they spelled them to fly themselves to the entrance hall, but they accidentally knocked Ginny down the stairs."

"Ah, is she all right?"

"Fine, Mrs. Weasley patched her up."

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE, PLEASE?"

Harry grabbed his and Hermione's trunk and, with a bit of maneuvering, dragged them down the stairs while ignoring the brunette's protests.

"Oh, honestly, Harry, I can carry my own trunk," she huffed. "You're just going to end up hurting yourself."

"Have a little faith, Hermione," he grinned, setting both trunks down in the hall. "See? I made it with no problems. All right, Ginny?" he asked the redhead.

"I'm fine," she smiled.

"MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!"

"Merlin, does she ever shut up?" Neville muttered.

"Maybe if I light her on fire…" Harry mused, staring thoughtfully at the screaming portrait as a flame flickered to life in his open palm.

Everyone looked over in surprise, when, with a shriek and a loud bang, Lady Black threw the curtains closed.

"Should've done that weeks ago, mate." Ron said, clapping him on his back.

With peace restored, the group of teens departed to the train station with Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and Sirius as their escorts. On the platform, students and parents alike seemed wary of being anywhere near their group whilst Sirius was in their midst, so they were granted a wide berth of space in which to say their goodbyes.

"Take care, Siri," Harry said, enveloping his godfather in a tight hug. "Try not to give Moony anymore gray hairs, but I give you permission to cause Dumbledore all kinds of trouble, try and drive him to tearing out a few clumps from his beard, I know I will."

"Winner takes the other out for dinner?" Sirius challenged. "There's this ice restaurant in Diagon Alley I've been just dying to try."

"Deal," Harry grinned.

Behind them the train whistled a warning, Harry hurried to help Ginny and Hermione load their trunks onto the train, then leapt on behind them "See you all!" he called, just as the train began moving.

"Have a good term," Mrs. Weasley cried, hurrying after the train. "Stay safe, and don't forget to write."

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children called back their affirmatives and gave one last wave, before closing the door and heading further into the train.

"Well," said Fred, clapping his hands together, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later." He exchanged a meaningful look with Harry, who nodded in understanding, before he and his twin disappeared down the corridor. Last term, after tying for the Triwizard tournament, Cedric and Harry split the winnings and Harry, who already had more than enough gold, gave the five hundred galleons to the twins, who were aspiring to open a joke shop.

"You guys better head to the prefects' carriage." Harry told Ron and Hermione. "Neville and I are going to find a compartment. Would you like to join us, Ginny?"

"Sure."

"All right, we're off, see you two later."

Harry, Neville, and Ginny set off in the opposite direction of the two, peeking into each compartment in hopes of finding Draco and Blaise; they soon found Blaise sharing a compartment with Luna, whose was reading a magazine called the Quibbler upside down.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said, entering the compartment. "Hello, Blaise, I'm assuming from his absence that Draco became prefect."

"Yeah," Blaise nodded. "He wrote me the moment it happened, bragging and rubbing it in my face."

Harry laughed as he settled down in the seat beside Luna. "That sounds like him."

"So how have you two been?" Neville asked. "Have you had good summers?"

"Yes," Luna smiled. "My summer was quite enjoyable."

"Mine was all right, would've been better if I could spend time with all of my friends. There's only so much Draco I can stand at one time."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, I tried to get permission to have you and Draco come over, but the adults wouldn't have it, and because the location's under the Fidelius I couldn't just sneak you in."

"It's fine, I know it wasn't your fault. Dumbledore would never let two potentially dark Slytherins into his precious headquarters, despite all his preaching on the equality and goodness of all houses. He's just as prejudiced as the next bastard."

"I'm pretty sure the only reason he allowed me to come was because I'm his precious weapon." Harry agreed.

"Dumbledore's head is full of wrackspurts," Luna said. "They're making him quite foolish."

"I couldn't agree with you more, Luna dear," Harry smiled, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "So what are you reading?"

"The Quibbler, Daddy's editor of it."

"Is it any good?"

The blonde's eyes seemed to light up. "Oh yes, it's fantastic."

"Do you mind if I read it with you?"

Luna snuggled herself into Harry's side and moved the magazine so he could read it easier.

The next hour passed with Neville, Ginny, and Blaise conversing quietly with each other, while Harry and Luna read a fascinating article on how Minister Fudge was poisoning goblins, throwing them off of building, and cooking them into pies. When through with that, they moved onto an article accusing the Tutshill Tornados of winning the Quidditch League by a combination of blackmail, illegal broom-tampering and torture, as well as a report on ancient runes that claimed if you turned the runes on their heads they revealed a spell to make your ears turn into kumquats. Both Harry and Luna were disappointed when their ears didn't turn into kumquats or any other miniature citrus fruits.

"Do you think we did it wrong?" Harry asked, flipping the magazine upright before turning it upside down again.

"Perhaps the magazine is supposed to remain upright and we're supposed to stand on our heads." Luna suggested.

"Luna, you're a genius."

Harry stood from his seat and flipped into a headstand "All right, pass me the magazine now, and make sure it's upright."

Just as Luna handed him the Quibbler, the door to the compartment slid open and Ron, Draco, and Hermione, who were just about to enter, stopped dead at the odd sight.

"What in the world are you doing, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I'm trying to turn my ears into kumquats."

The blonde Slytherin blinked once, then shook his head and moved to sit down. "Why do I even bother asking?"

"For an answer, I suspect," Luna responded.

"Yes, of course, thank you, Lovegood."

"You're welcome."

"Did it work?" Harry asked, wobbling a bit as he attempted to remain balanced while holding the magazine.

Luna crouched down and carefully inspected each of his ears. "No, they're still ears."

"How disappointing," the dark haired teen flipped back onto his feet, then settled back down in his seat. "So, how was the meeting?"

"It was very good, quite informative," Hermione said eagerly. "There are two fifth year prefects for each house. Gryffindor has Ron, obviously, and Fay Dunbar, Ravenclaw is me and Anthony Goldstein, Hufflepuff is Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, and Slytherin is Draco and Pansy Parkinson."

"The cow wouldn't leave me alone the entire meeting," Draco scowled.

Ron chuckled softly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was glued to his side."

Draco sighed woefully. "My beauty is often a curse."

"I have no idea what to say to that."

"Just accept it as fact and move on."

"I think you're very pretty, Draco," Luna said serenely.

"Pretty?"

"Yes, your features are quite delicate, like a china doll. May I dress you up?"

"No!" Draco slid as far from Luna and her disturbingly focused gazes as his seat allowed. "Loony you're freaking me out."

"I think you and Harry would make a beautiful couple."

"Wait, what?" Harry snorted. "Me and Draco?"

"Yes," Luna nodded. "You're very handsome, Harry, it's a nice balance to Draco's prettiness."

Harry studied Draco's flushed face in amusement. "Hmm, I see what you mean. But I think his attitude is a bit off putting."

"It is not!" Draco turned a darker shade of pink. "I'm just as beautiful inside as I am out. Anyone would want to date me."

"Okay, this is starting to get weird," Ron muttered.

"Are you sure?" Harry drawled sarcastically, ignoring Ron's comment. "I don't think I would, Goyle is more my type of guy."

"Goyle? Goyle? You would choose Goyle over me? That witless oath could never hold a candle to me. I am god's gift to all mankind. I am beautiful. I am perfection."

"And it's officially weird now."