A/N- Another chapter has arrived! Hurrah! Hopefully this chapter is a bit lighter in mood than the previous ones, but I guess you'll be the judge of that! Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise probably doesn't belong to me. Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. The song lyrics belong to the people who wrote them.

Chapter 14: Learning Curves

If you need a place where you can run,

If you need a shoulder to cry on,

I'll always be your friend.

When you need some shelter from the rain,

When you need a healer for your pain,

I will be there time and time again.

'Here I am', Leona Lewis

Harry exhaled slowly, pulling at a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper as he walked slowly along the corridor that would take him back to the Gryffindor common room. He had briefly considered going to dinner with the rest of the current occupants in the castle, but he in the end he had decided it was a much better idea to just go back to Gryffindor tower. He needed to think.

For the past week, his mind had been in a rut that he couldn't seem to get himself out of. No matter how much he tried, and no matter how much progress he made in his training sessions with Moody, he still could not see how it would help him defeat Voldemort. Moody had been tough, yes, but fights with Death Eaters and duels with Voldemort would surely be a lot worse, yet he was still nowhere near that level. And what's more, he didn't think he would ever be.

The Prophecy must have been wrong, he had thought almost incessantly throughout the week.

He couldn't do it.

Harry had continued to train, and play, and do whatever else was expected of him as the week progressed but he couldn't prevent a slight desperation from seeping into his consciousness at the thought of his destiny. He had people counting on him, and he knew he would fight for each and every one of them, yet he honestly didn't think he could win.

He was dooming them all.

Despite his resolve to live life, and try to be happy, Harry couldn't stop that sense of desperation from turning in a state of almost constant anxiousness.

When the Occlumency lesson had come upon him, his nervousness was not just aimed at the lessons themselves, although that did give him more than enough cause to worry. He was also terrified that Dumbledore would see straight through the projection he had given to everyone that he was alright. Simply put, Harry did not want to let the old man down. He did not want to appear weak, even if that was exactly how he saw himself.

But the disaster that had been his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore, and the conversation that had followed it, had thrown all Harry's previous beliefs out of the window, and now Harry wasn't really sure what to think.

He had been told all his life that what he felt didn't matter. From his early childhood, all the way to his dealings with the Ministry, as well as others like Snape, his emotions, no matter how much they hurt, were simply not important to them. It was hard for Harry to now realise that they might be the most important thing; that they might one day help him to survive and win was a concept that Harry clung to now, with hope burgeoning in his chest.

With his head held high, and his step becoming more purposeful as he walked, he made his way back to the Common room. Despite his slightly better mood, and a lighter feeling in his chest, Harry's thoughts were a mess after the discussion with his Headmaster, and as his head began to throb painfully, Harry wished he could do nothing more than sleep.

He climbed into through the portrait hole, expecting to find an empty room when he entered since everyone was supposed to be in the Great Hall for dinner, but he was surprised to find Ron sat in one of their favourite chairs by the fire, staring into the flames.

"Ron?" asked Harry, trying to get his friend's attention as he walked over to the fireplace.

"Oh, you're back?" said Ron, as he stood up and turned to face Harry. "How was the lesson?"

From the concerned, and yet understanding expression on Ron's face, Harry decided that he didn't want to lie to his friend, not this time.

"A disaster, really," answered Harry, with a wry smile at Ron.

"That bad?" asked Ron quietly as he studied the pale face, and red eyes of his friend. The joking manner in which Harry had mentioned the lesson had not fooled the red-head and he looked over to his friend with some concern.

Harry just shrugged and took a seat in the armchair by the fire, hoping that the conversation would end there. To his relief, Ron simply walked quietly over to the chairs and sunk gratefully into one without questioning Harry any further.

"Why aren't you at dinner?" Harry asked Ron quietly after they hadn't spoken for a few minutes, both having been lost in their own thoughts.

"I remember how bad the Occlumency lessons were last year," Ron answered with a shrug. "I thought...maybe you'd need to talk about it or something. Or maybe you'd want to play chess to take your mind off it."

As he said this, Ron pulled over their chess sets from the table next to them and began setting them up.

"Oh," replied Harry, unsure how else to respond. "Chess sounds good actually. Erm, thanks mate."

Thankfully, Ron didn't seem to expecting much of a response at all, and he merely nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the chess pieces. He seemed to be deep in thought and it was a few minutes before he spoke again.

"I wanted to...you know...be there this year," Ron said quietly as he stared at the knight piece that he had picked up. "For you and Hermione, I mean. I wasn't much use last year."

"Ron..."

"No," Ron interrupted suddenly, his voice rising as his distress grew, shocking Harry into silence. "I wasn't! Umbridge tortured you! All year! Dumbledore was gone from the school, you kept having visions and nightmares, and where was I? Playing Quidditch like a wannabe hero!"

"You were there, Ron," insisted Harry when Ron seemed to lose steam. "You and Hermione might not have been tortured by that bitch, but you were there! You helped, even if you couldn't stop it."

"We didn't do anything," said Ron, although it was slightly half-hearted as his eyes rose to meet those of his friend's.

"I spent years at the Dursleys without one friend to help me; to be there for me! You have no idea how important you are to me!"

Ron was hard pressed to not scoff harshly, but Harry hadn't missed the thought as it flitted across Ron's face.

"You are important you know," said Harry quietly as Ron carried on setting out the chess pieces, erratically, obviously trying not to show how emotional he was getting. "I don't think I've ever told you that before though."

"I know you think you're not sometimes...don't deny it," he said when Ron started to protest. "You think because you're my best friend that people will compare the two of us. You think that because I'm the Great Harry Potter that people will always think I'm better than you. That I'm worth more than you."

Ron closed his eyes. It was exactly how he felt; how could he deny it when Harry was telling him his worst insecurities.

"It's not true," said Harry softly but sincerely. "I'd be nothing without you. You're my best mate; my first real friend anywhere, let alone in the Wizarding World. You and Hermione are my family; you're the brother I never had growing up and Hermione's the sister I always wanted."

"Sister...?" asked Ron, confused, and Harry looked towards his friend with some concern.

"Yeah, it's always been like that," replied Harry with a small frown as he noticed surprise flicker across Ron's face. "I thought you knew. She's like my sister. I reckon she feels the same about me too."

"Sister..."muttered Ron, lost in thought.

Harry looked up at Ron curiously, but Ron was oblivious to the attention since he was so lost in his thoughts.

"I need something to fight for," continued Harry when Ron didn't say anything for a while, "but I also need someone to fight with. You've always had my back."

"Not always," mumbled Ron, ashamed, as he looked down at the chess pieces instead of at Harry.

"When it counted, you were always there when I needed you, Ron," said Harry decisively. "I couldn't do it without you mate."

"You don't have to," said Ron, a determined look upon his face.

After a few minutes of what seemed to be a contemplative silence, Ron spoke once again, "Do you think...do you think Moody will let me train with you two?"

"Maybe," said Harry uncertainly. "It won't be fun though. Moody's tough. I reckon I'll end up with a wooden leg to match his before he's done with me."

Ron didn't laugh.

"You shouldn't have to fight alone, Harry," he said assertively. "In fact, you won't be fighting alone. I won't let you. Neither will Hermione, and you know it."

They looked at each other then, and both knew with an absolute clarity that can only be gained when two friends know each other almost better than they know themselves, that they would fight together, until the end.

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely. "It means a lot, mate."

It was in that moment that Harry also realised that he would have to tell his friends about the prophecy. If they were going to fight with him, they of all people deserved to know the truth. Harry certainly owed them that much, after they had stuck by his all these years.

"Now," said Harry, pushing aside any thoughts regarding the prophecy and his possible fate to be dealt with another time, "I'm white, so I'm first. Maybe today will be the first time I actually beat you!"

"Fat chance, mate," Ron replied with a small but clear smirk, his mood lightening as he studied the board closely before making his move. It wasn't long before the game began in earnest, and the two friends allowed their thoughts to turn to the strategy of the game instead of war.

"Come on! Kill him! He's only a bloody pawn," Harry whined, as he tried desperately to salvage the game in front of him.

Ron snorted at his friend's misfortune, but showed no mercy as he made the move he knew would win him the game.

"Ah," said Harry good-naturedly when he realised that the game was lost to him. At least this time he had managed to last longer than ten minutes.

"You win this round, my friend!" Harry cried dramatically as he knocked over his own king in surrender. "One day I'll beat you!"

"Never!" laughed Ron as he started to collect up his pieces.

They had been playing for a good hour, and both their moods had improved dramatically as they had got lost in the competition. They had both needed it...

"What's got you two so happy?" asked a voice from behind them, momentarily interrupting their good spirits. "Has Snape finally washed his hair to reveal the beautiful locks we all know are hiding under all that gunk – "

" – Or has Filch finally realised his lifelong ambition and married Mrs Norris?"

It was Fred and George and they were apparently in very good spirits. Unlike the last time he had seen them, the Weasley twins positively oozed wealth and success now. Both were wearing oddly tailored suits that looked as if they were made from dragon scales, and their smiles radiated the cheerfulness that Harry could only associate with the two identical Weasley's in front of him.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Ron, confused, as he finished clearing up the chess board.

"We're here to give Harry his birthday present of course!" replied Fred as he patted Harry cheerfully on the shoulder.

"Present?" asked Harry wearily.

"Is someone suspicious of little old us?" asked George in mock-hurt, holding his chest as if Harry's words had physically hurt him.

Harry, though, was not convinced.

"I heard," Harry began cautiously, "that your joke shop was doing well. I doubt anyone would be surprised if a trick or two appeared in a totally innocent looking present..."

"Ah, well, maybe we are not entirely innocent these days," George smirked with no small amount of pride. "However, even we would not be stupid enough to prank our benefactor."

"Now," said Fred with the air of a showman, "that we have determined that our present is safe from pranks, would you like to have it?"

"Okay," replied Harry, still slightly cautious.

"Ta daaa!" sang Fred, as George produced Harry's present with a flourish. It wasn't wrapped.

"Firewhiskey?" said Harry uncertainly as he looked at the bottle in George's hand with no small amount of aprehension.

"Yep," replied George cheerfully as he placed the bottle down and conjured four glasses.

"It was Sirius' idea, really," explained Fred. "He took us aside last Christmas."

"Said that it was up to us," continued George as the twins puffed out their chests importantly, "to make sure you had a good time for once."

"Sirius said that?" asked Harry quietly, with a sad, wistful smile on his face.

"Just stop for a second -" said Ron with a small frown on his face.

"Don't be a spoilsport Ronnikins," interrupted Fred.

"Yeah," said George, "You're starting to sound like Perc...I mean, a prefect."

No one was in any doubt about who George had been about to mention, but it was clear to Harry that Percy was still a sore subject amongst the Weasleys.

"It's not that," Ron said with a scowl, although whether it was because of the fact that Percy had been mentioned or because the twins were winding him up, Harry didn't know. "Mum and Dad are staying in the tower. You know mum's not going to approve."

"You make a good point little brother. Ideas?" asked Fred, looking round the common room.

"The Room of Requirement," said Harry quickly, excited by the prospect of having a little fun for once.

"Brilliant," said George. "Well, let's go. They'll be back from dinner soon."

"Onwards!" cheered Fred, brandishing the bottle as if it was a sword. Harry couldn't help the laugh from escaping as he followed the twins and Ron out of the Common room. They could never fail to cheer him up.

When they finally entered the Room of Requirement, the boys found a relatively empty room. In fact, all they could see was a small wooden table in the centre of the room, with four reasonably comfortable chairs surrounding it.

"This room is brilliant," said George as they sat down. He closed his eyes for a second and almost immediately four classes appeared in front of him. With a big beaming smile on his face when he noticed the apprehensive looks that Harry and Ron were giving the alcohol, he poured generous amounts into each of the glasses. He winked over to his twin, and with a smirk, Fred winked back before turning back towards Harry and Ron.

"So, birthday boy first," said Fred cheerfully, as he pushed the glass of Firewhiskey towards Harry.

"It's not my birthday anymore," said Harry with a grin, as Ron eyed his own glass.

"Technicalities, technicalities," said George. "Now, drink."

Harry picked up the glass, and with a mock salute towards the twins and Ron, downed the whiskey in one gulp. The liquid burnt his throat as it went down, and he had to make a colossal effort to prevent himself from coughing. He didn't want the twins to think he couldn't handle it.

"Not bad, my friend," said George with a pat on the back when it appeared that Harry had gotten over the sensation. He took his own drink and downed it quickly; he didn't seem to have as much trouble as Harry had had.

When Ron took his, however, he spluttered as he swallowed.

"Not b-bad," Ron coughed, and Harry at to stifle a laugh at the constipated look expression that had appeared on his best friends face.

"Shut up, you git," said Ron once he had regained his composure, and Harry laughed outright at that. "Your turn again."

Harry took a refill from George, and brought the glass to his lips once again. Determined to drink this one with a bit more dignity Harry took a deep breath and swallowed the amber liquid quickly. It went down much more easily this time.

The bottle slowly began to empty as it continued to move around the table. Ron, who had been feeling alright at the start, was starting to feel a bit less under control as time progressed. His arms were starting to feel heavy, like he couldn't quite control them how he wanted to, and his vision was starting to blur a bit. For a moment, he idly wondered if this was how everything looked to Harry when he wasn't wearing his glasses, but from some reason his mind wandered away from this line of thought.

As he looked over to his best friend, another thought took precedence.

Harry was currently laughing almost hysterically at a joke that certainly hadn't been that funny, and both twins were sat across from his with bemused looks on their faces as they watched their friend in apparent hysterics.

"I am the eggman!" sang Harry loudly, completely out of tune, but blissfully uncaring. "I am the walrus! Goo goo g'joob! Whoa..."

"Bloody hell, Harry!" exclaimed Ron as Harry wobbled and fell backwards off his chair.

"Owww," mumbled Harry from his new position on the floor. He had stopped laughing and singing now, and was instead rubbing his back in pain.

"How many has he had, George?" asked Fred amusedly as Harry struggled to pick himself back up again.

"Not sure, Fred," replied George as he got up and helped drag Harry back onto his chair.

"I'm fine," slurred Harry, his head lolling down to his chest. "Fine, fine, fine, fine fi – "

"Okay, you're fine," laughed Ron. "We get it mate. Maybe you should take a break from the Firewhiskey for a bit though." Ron was certainly feeling the effects of the alcohol, but his best friend had certainly come off worse. Harry was well and truly drunk.

"M'fine," confirmed Harry with an exaggerated nod that almost overbalanced him again.

"Course you are," said Fred cheerfully. Neither of the twins seemed to be much affected by the drink at all. Ron guessed it wasn't their first time. "You're Harry Potter; you're always fine!"

"Nope," replied Harry, and then he began to laugh almost hysterically from behind his hands, as if he was keeping a secret.

"What do you mean?" asked George, the smile falling quickly from his face.

"M'not always fine," replied Harry matter-of-factly, although the effect he was trying to produce was somewhat ruined when he tried to take another drink. He somehow managed to fill the glass and bring it to his mouth, but his arm wasn't quite obeying him properly, and he ended up with most of it on his t-shirt instead of down his throat. Harry didn't seem to mind this too much, as he continued his story, completely oblivious to the surprised and concerned looks on the faces of the Weasleys.

"When aren't you fine, mate?" asked Ron.

"Lots of times. At the Dursleys, I set a snake on Dudley–Duddy-Duddikins once. Definitely wasn't fine then. Not as bad as when I flew onto the school roof though."

"You flew?" asked George.

"Yep," replied Harry, blissfully unaware of the awe upon George's face. "Wonder if I can still do it..."

Before any of the Weasleys could stop him, Harry pulled himself onto the table and stood up swaying dangerously. He seemed to close his eyes for a second before diving head first off the table, with a cry of "Superman!"

Before the twins or Ron could even stand, Harry landed hard on the floor, his glasses flying off his face as he rolled over onto his back.

"M'fine," Harry said almost immediately, looking up at them from his position on the floor as the three Weasleys rushed over to him.

"Can't fly though," he announced, with a small frown on his face.

"Do you have a death wish, you idiot?" asked Fred amusedly as Harry tried to pick himself up. After a few failed attempts, and after realising that he wasn't about to receive any aid, he seemed to decide to just stay sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Don't want to die," mumbled Harry, as he shook his head. "Volde-shorts...no, Volde-warts...no, wait, what's his name? Oh, I know...it's Tommy. Well...Tommy's gonna kill me."

"Harry – "

"No, s'true," Harry slurred. "The prophecy says so."

"I thought the Prophecy was destroyed mate?" said Ron with a frown.

"Was," replied Harry as he started to lie down on the cold, hard floor. "Dumbledore told me afterwards. S'me. S'always me."

"But – "began Fred.

"No... more... talking," interrupted Harry as he closed his eyes. "M'tired..."

And within seconds Harry was fast asleep, despite the fact that he was sprawled uncomfortably on the hard wood floor.

Harry woke slowly the next morning, his head throbbing painfully in rhythm to his beating heart. He groaned and shifted on whatever he was lying on. All he could tell was that he wasn't on his bed in the dormitory. Harry cautiously began to open his eyes, but almost immediately snapped them shut when the light of the room blinded him, and caused the throbbing in his head to increase.

He was never drinking again.

He wasn't even sure exactly what had happened last night because his memories of the time were a little blurred. He vaguely recalled jumping of a table, but other than that, last night remained a mystery to him. Harry knew he had let himself go a little bit more than he would have in normal circumstances, eager as he had been to find a distraction from his troubled thoughts regarding his destiny. He cursed Fred and George under his breath as he tried once more to open his eyes, squinting at the bright light as he tried to determine where he was.

From what he could see of his surroundings he was currently lying in the Gryffindor common room on one of the soft sofas in the corner. Harry groaned once again as he tried to sit up, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He felt awful. He was never drinking again.

"How are we feeling this morning?" asked a voice from behind him that was far too cheerful for Harry's liking.

In answer Harry simply mumbled something incoherent as he lay back down again, eager to go back to sleep if it meant he could escape this unbearable headache.

"Oh no you don't," they said, and Harry felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him back up into a sitting position. Another hand shoved his glasses onto his nose, and Harry turned to see his tormentor.

In front of him stood Lupin, and the all-knowing and smug expression on his face told Harry that his ex-professor knew the exact cause of his current condition.

"Good morning," Lupin said, rather more loudly than was strictly necessary. When Lupin smirked at Harry's grimace, the teenager's suspicions were confirmed; Lupin had at least some idea what had happened last night.

"I don't need a lecture," said Harry bluntly in reply, his voice hoarse as if he had spent a great deal of time shouting.

"I wasn't going to give you one," replied Lupin, the smirk still on his face. "I reckon you've learnt your lesson, yes?"

"Mmm..." mumbled Harry, as he tried to stand. A hand kept him seated on the sofa, and Harry was beginning to worry that he was in trouble. What exactly had he done last night?

"Where's Ron?" he asked. "And the twins?"

"In their beds, sleeping it off," Lupin replied cheerfully. "Apparently though, they decided that you'd be fine on the sofa. They didn't exactly want to drag you up the stairs, and you weren't really in any condition to protest."

"Sorry," Harry muttered as a blush rose across his cheeks. "I am never drinking again."

Lupin burst out laughing at that, and Harry flinched at the loud noise. He looked closely at Harry and, after a moment of scutiny, seemed to decide to take pity on the young man. He pulled a small vial out of his robes, and handed it to Harry who looked at his wearily for a moment, before simply taking it and downing it in one.

Almost immediately his headache lessened and the room stopped spinning slightly. He looked up at Lupin with gratitude as he even felt his stomach settle back to its normal state.

"Sirius and James discovered that potion after a particularly loud party in Gryffindor tower at the end of our fifth year," Lupin told Harry, with a wistful expression on his face.

"Thanks," sighed Harry gratefully, finding himself able to drag himself up to his feet with wobbling dangerously.

"Normally I would make you suffer," Lupin said sternly, although his smirk betrayed his amusement, "but Dumbledore asked me to let you know that there is going to be an Order meeting this morning, and if you decide you want to go, I really don't think you can turn up to that hung-over."

"What's going on?" asked Harry as he caught the excitement in Remus' voice.

"It's Fudge," replied Lupin, "We think we've finally got him!"

"What?" gasped Harry.

"He won't be able to get out of this one," said Lupin with the air of a man who hadn't heard good news in a long time and wanted to make the most of it. At Harry's questioning look, Lupin continued.

"He attacked a muggle," Lupin told him as Harry started to smooth out the clothes he had slept in last night. "He completely lost it and started shouting out that he was under attack from a death eater. Shot a stunning spell at an innocent old muggle man. The Obliviators had a field day. He finished!"

"Has he been arrested?" Harry asked as the unbelievable information started to seep in.

"No," Lupin answered regrettably. "They couldn't catch him and he's gone into hiding."

"Damn," Harry cursed.

"Actually this works in our favour," Lupin consoled. "With Fudge out of the picture, it makes it easier for us to get someone in place who could do a better job; someone who will actually help the Order instead of trying to oppose us."

"That makes sense, I suppose," conceded Harry as tried and failed to stifle a yawn. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. "Is that all that the meeting's going to be about?"

"Pretty much" answered Lupin.

"Then I might give it a miss this time," Harry said.

At Lupin's raised eye-brows, Harry moved to explain, "I could do with a bit more sleep."

"Alright then, Harry," said Lupin as the ex-Professor moved to the portrait hole. "Oh, I nearly forgot; Dumbledore wants to see you in his office after the meeting. He mentioned something about some extra lessons."

"Oh, okay," Harry said, intrigued about the one on one lessons with the Headmaster. After that Lupin left, obviously eager to get to the meeting, but Harry, who was not as desperate for information as he had been last year, was quite happy to miss it. He knew that he could trust Professor Dumbledore to inform him of any important developments. Instead, Harry lay back down on the sofa, and with a much calmer head than he had woken up with, he drifted back off to sleep.

After waking in a much more pleasant manner than he had first thing in the morning, Harry took a shower and changed his clothes, well aware that although the effects of the Firewhiskey had left his system thanks to Lupin's potion, he still stunk of the alcohol.

Feeling much more refreshed, Harry wandered down the deserted corridors towards the Headmaster's office, excitement filling him as he considered what Dumbledore could possibly be about to teach him. Whatever it was, Harry vowed that he would do his best to learn. If anyone was going to be able to teach him what he needed to know to survive a final encounter with Voldemort, it was the venerable Headmaster. That, and anything had to be better than trying to learn Occlumency.

Knocking gently on the outside of the office door, Harry was unsurprised to hear the headmaster greet him cheerfully and bid him enter. How the old man had known it was him, Harry didn't know, but he had learnt long ago not to question the Professor.

"Harry," greeted Dumbledore with a smile, as Harry quietly entered the room. "How are you feeling? Remus mentioned that you were a little under the weather."

Harry almost spluttered, but managed to contain himself. "I'm fine Professor."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes, and Harry was certain that the Headmaster already knew that his illness had been self inflicted.

"Now, my boy," the Headmaster said, gesturing to a chair for Harry to take a seat, "I believe I promised to give you some individual lessons this year."

Harry nodded, apprehension growing as he thought of all the complex spells and difficult magic that the Headmaster could teach him.

"I will not be teaching you magic," said Dumbledore shrewdly, and had the headmaster not been looking towards Fawkes, Harry would have thought he had performed Legilimency on him. "No Harry, what I will be teaching you, is everything I know about Voldemort. Who he was, and how he became the monster he is today."

At Harry's slightly sceptical look, Dumbledore continued unperturbed, "It is vital, my boy, to know who a man is, in order to discover their weaknesses. It is my belief that you will need this information as soon as possible, which is why we find ourselves enjoying these lessons before the school year has even begun."

Harry nodded in acceptance and leaned slightly more forward in his chair in anticipation of the tale that he knew the Headmaster was about to tell him.

Glad to see that he now had the undivided attention of his student, Dumbledore looked into the green eyes of the teenager in front of him, and asked the question that he knew would take both of them a journey that neither would be able to turn back from.

"Tell me Harry," he said, as he looked at the teenager from above his half moon spectacles, "have you ever heard of a family called the Gaunts?"

A/N- Okay, so I got Harry drunk. Does it make you feel better if I say that I feel bad about it? I just figured he deserved to rebel, let loose and enjoy himself for once. And let's face it, it is definitely something the twins would come up with. Oh, and how do people like the way I've written Ron? In almost every fic I've read, Ron is presented as petty, rude and jealous, but I don't think that's the way he should be. Yes, he made mistakes, but I think sometimes people forget the 11 year old Ron who followed his friend down a dark trapdoor to confront Voldemort, and who willingly sacrificed himself so that his friends could go on. He's brave and strong, and a good friend, but not perfect. Hopefully that came across. Oh, and to anyone who thinks this story is moving too slowly, it's about to pick up pace, so please don't give up on it. Anyway, let me know what you think!

Coming up... Chapter 15: Truths