.

So far... The six friends are staying at Grimmauld Place but Harry is annoyed that he is not privy to the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix and that Dumbledore is not keeping him informed of developments. However, he is reluctant to return alone to his own home in Harby Port. Now read on...

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Chapter 37

Chary Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Part 3

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~~~ Wake Up Call ~~~

So the days passed at twelve, Grimmauld Place. Each one made Harry more restless and only the company of his fellows brought him comfort. He knew he could leave Grimmauld Place whenever he wished yet now he realised the nature of the trap he was in: friendship. He had had a taste of separation when he had been expelled from Hogwarts and did not relish the empty silence of his home in Overpool Road. Yet, he chastised himself, aloneness had been his original plan! What had happened to him?

Each morning, afternoon, and evening he considered the options. Plans were forming in his head but he would not, could not, leave Ginny behind. Deep down he had a sense of waiting for something — but it was October before anything significant happened.

"Harry, wake up! Professor Dumbledore's here."

Bleary-eyed, he reached out for his glasses but someone was pushing them onto his face. "Hermione?"

"He wants to see you, right away in the study on the floor below."

"Wassup?" came Ron's voice.

"I should hurry, if I were you! He's waiting! Come on, get up and get dressed, he's waiting!"

Harry swung his legs out of bed and scratched his head as he gazed around. Neville lay, still asleep, in a folding camp bed in a corner of the room.

"Harry!" said Hermione.

Harry jumped up and pulled off his pyjama top, flung it aside then reached for his jeans. Then he stopped. "Why exactly am I hurrying, Hermione?"

"Well, it's Dumbledore; he's probably busy."

"And? What if I'm busy? And who is he to me anyway? He's headmaster of a school somewhere isn't he?"

"Oh, Harry, don't start. We're all on the same side, remember?"

Harry sighed and reached for the cord on his pyjama bottoms. Hermione squealed and ran for the door.

"Wait till I get out, at least!" she called back.

"Sorry but I'm in a hurry! Gotta see Dumbledore — DEADLY URGENT!" Harry shouted after her.

Neville stirred.

"Go back to sleep, Neville, it's only Dumbledore."

Harry looked at Ron, who was now sitting up, staring at him.

"What you going to tell him?" said Ron.

"Nothing — not until he tells me what's going on."

Ron sniggered. "Yeah... right."

.

~~~ Truth and Lies ~~~

The study was all stained oak panelling, and, with the dense, plum curtains still closed, so gloomy that Harry did not see the figure sitting at the desk on the far side.

A wand moved, the thick drapes moved obediently aside, and daylight cascaded in from the window. "Sit down, Harry, please."

Blinking in the new brightness, Harry sullenly dragged across a chair and sat down.

"What do you know, Harry?"

"I'm very well, thank you, Professor. How are you?"

There was a slight sigh from the old man. "I take it you are not happy with arrangements?"

"I want to hear what's going on. I need to know everything or how can I defend myself? How can I decide what to do for the best? How am I supposed to spot opportunities and take advantage if I'm kept in the dark? I accept that I can't fight Death Eaters one-on-one so I intend to keep out of their way, but there must be some action I can carry out or why did the Prophecy choose me? If I do nothing I might get caught up in trouble without even looking for it. Why was I not told there were already other Death Eaters? Did anyone know they would be laying a trap for me in Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore waited patiently, letting Harry get the frustration off his chest before speaking. Finally, he said, "Harry, do you have any knowledge of Lord Voldemort since then?"

Harry hesitated, but then the infuriating injustice of the years of Dursley oppression flooded back to his thoughts so he resolved to stand his ground. "Professor, Does the secret of the diary concern me? Is there something I should know? Why did you order my friends not to tell me anything about what's going on? Why won't Fudge believe us that Voldemort was in that shop? There were six witnesses! Lots of criminals are convicted on the evidence of young people. I would be willing to take Veritaserum. I bet the others would too."

"Don't be too willing to divulge your secrets publicly, Harry; it might not be wise."

"I've got nothing to be ashamed of!"

"Suppose you let slip that you have a connection with Voldemort? I'm sure it would be of great interest to him."

Harry pondered this for a few moments. "And why do I have this connection? Is it possession? Is it like the diary? Am I possessed like Ginny and Quirrell were? I'm sure you have answers; I'm sure you have."

"All in good time, Harry," said Dumbledore. "First, it is critical that I am appraised of the latest developments; lives may depend on it. You don't want that on your conscience do you?"

"No... but... I will not—"

Dumbledore's eyes blazed suddenly and he half-rose from his seat. At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared down at him was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore's face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold anger in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.

"Harry, you WILL tell me what you know!"

"Yes, sir, of course!" He found himself trembling before the great wizard, especially knowing what he had to divulge.

"Th- there was more to m- my going to P- Parry's than anyone else knows," he stammered. "I visited the evening before..." He paused, but Dumbledore did not question how he had managed to slip out of the castle. "The next day I told the others there were only two Death Eaters — I was worried they would hold me back — but there were actually three of them."

"Who was the third, Harry?" said Dumbledore, quietly. He had lowered himself back down into his chair but somehow still seemed to tower over the youth.

"Lucius Malfoy. I could not break the wards but he arrived while I was outside and I followed him closely in — so close, in fact, that I noticed something showing from the pocket of his robes."

"You took it?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And? What was it, Harry?"

"A document, a folded parchment. I had no opportunity then to examine it and completely forgot the thing until several days later. It was from Minister Fudge. Sir, a large sum of money was to change hands if Fudge kept quiet about... you see, he knew! He knew all along!"

Dumbledore did not look too surprised.

"It's on the mantelpiece in my home. You can..."

He took out a notebook and tore out a blank page and began to write upon it.

"Here is the address, Professor. You need to memorise what it says then destroy it."

Dumbledore took the paper, studied it briefly, then, with a tiny movement of his free hand, it vanished.

"If you retrieve it, you should be able to depose Fudge and get Ginny and myself pardoned!"

Dumbledore drew in a quick breath. "That... would not be advisable... At least, not soon."

"Why not, sir?"

"Cornelius Fudge is not the best of ministers but if he should topple then I fear there may be a power imbalance that could cause turmoil in the Ministry. A weak stability is preferable to chaos in a crisis."

He got up and went to the window and gazed out at the light morning traffic in the square, lost in thought.

"Sir, might you now be willing to tell me what you know?"

Dumbledore turned around. "Yes, I think so. You have earned it, Harry."

He returned to his seat, steepled his hands together before his lips and studied Harry's face thoughtfully.

"Very well... As you know, the diary was dark magic, very dark magic indeed. In my communications with it I discovered several others of its type were planned — five, in fact."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "More diaries?"

"Most probably they will be different artifacts, Harry. You see, the diary contained a fragment of Voldemort himself. He employed a satanic ritual to split away part of his soul and contain it within the book. Such an artifact is called a Horcrux and it is one of the foulest of dark secrets. Do not share this with anyone."

"I have to, sir. My friends risked their lives for me; they have the right to know too."

Dumbledore paused before continuing. "On one condition..."

"Sir?"

"They can never return to Hogwarts nor—"

"They cannot anyway. They are all now at risk from Voldemort."

"—nor can they stay here," Dumbledore finished quietly. "There is a growing number of Order members. While they all can be trusted, it would be very unlikely that not one tongue of many might slip accidentally. If Voldemort knew that we knew, then it might be fatal — he might move the artifacts or add extra protections."

"Then...?"

"You must take your friends into your home, Harry; it is the safest place. No more than seven should ever know its whereabouts, and I pray that is not too many."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore remained silent, watching Harry.

"Sir... you mean eight, I think."

"No, Harry, I mean seven."

Now it was Harry's turn to study Dumbledore's expression.

"I am so very proud of you, Harry. Professor Snape has taught you well."

"You knew I was lying?"

"Yes... and no. I was unable to be certain which of it, even though I was aware of the possibility; your trembling, for instance, was very convincing."

"Erm... actually, that was real..."

Dumbledore smiled then continued, "But that address you wrote down was not, was It? You see, I also was in Hogsmeade the night before you — dare I say 'raided' — Thrust and Parry's. You never entered the shop and only Rowle and Selwyn were present. I would never have permitted you to proceed if I had suspected there would be others on the morrow, let alone the Dark Lord himself — and he, I felt positive, could not be there, not in the fullness of his powers."

"YOU KNEW MY PLANS!" Harry had leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair behind him. "You risked our lives! You knew there were other Death Eaters! You knew Voldemort might be there! We nearly died!"

"Calm yourself, Harry. I was convinced that those two Death Eaters were alone assigned to make reparations for their past mistakes."

"But you couldn't know for sure that Voldemort would not be there!"

"On the contrary, I was certain that he could not be, Harry. I have already spoken to you of the dark ritual that was to be performed with your blood to restore Voldemort — the blood that was taken from your arm when you were attacked in the corridors of Hogwarts last year." Harry nodded but Dumbledore did not pause. "Little is known of the ceremony but the knowledge I had obtained was that it must be performed at or around the summer solstice: the longest of days at the end of June. Your own dream confirmed that Pettigrew did not receive your blood until July, too late for that solstice and so condemning Voldemort, I believed, to wait until June of this year to perform the ritual."

"But you know we saw him in Parry's — Parry's was at the end of April!" cried Harry. "Believe me, he was solid and very powerful. I felt him probing my mind. He wasn't deceived by my ruse to get my friends out safely, but Professor Snape taught me how to hide one thought behind another more interesting one: I obscured my hex grenade from him by holding to the false notion that I was nobly sacrificing myself for their sake — and he was very happy to go with that, for me to give myself up." Harry sniggered at the memory. "He's quick to believe in that sort of thing because he regards it as a weakness."

"But it wasn't false was it?" said Dumbledore quietly, "you did sacrifice yourself — and that's what gave the deception its power."

Harry puzzled over that. "So how did Voldemort return? Pettigrew must have performed the ritual before the summer solstice."

"I now believe either solstice will do. I think it must have been carried out just before last Christmas, around the winter solstice."

"Just before my expulsion! He..." Harry's eyes turned inward, fitting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. "He timed that expulsion. He planned for his Death Eaters outside the gates to deliver me to him!"

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry sank back down, sensing, with the back of his leg, that his chair had toppled, and busied himself lifting it up again while he thought long and hard.

A gang of sparrows started squabbling over a crust on the ledge outside the bright window. The sun went behind a cloud and Harry shivered, though it wasn't cold.

"You said there were other... what did you call them?"

"Horcruxes. Yes, Tom Riddle's diary made it clear it was his intention to split his soul seven ways by creating six Horcruxes to contain the other parts. I believe he has succeeded."

"And what are they? Do you know where they are?"

"Alas, I know of only two and the whereabouts of only one of those — and it is beyond anyone's reach."

"And where is that?"

Dumbledore paused. "It would not be prudent for anyone else to know at this time. Someone's life may depend on it."

"Who? Sirius?"

Dumbledore did not answer.

"I ought to know! I'm in the firing line. I have the right!"

Dumbledore frowned. "If you tell me your information then I will tell you half the story; that is as much as I can do, Harry."

Harry breathed out hard down his nose and turned his head away. Dumbledore waited.

"Voldemort is alive." When Harry looked back at Dumbledore, the old wizard had his eyes closed. There was an expression of immense relief on his face.

"Did you hear what I said, sir? He's still alive."

"Yes, I heard you, Harry. Have you considered what might have happened if he had been dead?"

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. "He would have returned again, wouldn't he, Professor?"

"Yes, and who knows where or when and... in full vigour. Tell me, he was injured you said? Do you know any more?"

"Yes, sir. He is completely blind and... well, no doubt you saw his severed wand arm lying on the floor of Parry's?" Dumbledore nodded, and Harry continued, "His magic is much weakened — or rather his use of it. With his wand in his left hand he was only able to patch his right shoulder with a silver stump. He was in terrible pain when he regained consciousness; it took me a while to block it out but I can handle it reasonably well now. Anyway, he fell into unconsciousness again."

"Is there, perhaps, something else you can tell me?"

Harry smiled grimly. "I'm convinced that Professor Moody is alive, sir. He—"

Again, Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"That was the feeling I got from Voldemort anyway. He was... they were going to try to use Professor Moody's eye, sir."

"I feared as much," said Dumbledore. "But they will not succeed."

Harry looked quizzically at the headmaster.

"Professor Moody bewitched his magical eye; it will work for no one else." He sighed. "Yet their persuasions will not go well for him."

Dumbledore looked sad but it was not for Moody. "Harry, I may have led you into a misunderstanding."

"Sir?"

"You recall when I related the Prophecy to you that I told you the sword of Gryffindor might play a part?"

"Yes, sir. One of us must die at the other's hand. I wondered after if you meant by the sword?"

"That is one way of looking at it. Did you keep that secret well hidden when you confronted Lord Voldemort?"

Harry frowned and thought deeply. "I did not give it any special attention. It never came to my mind; I had other things to worry about."

"Quite. But was the thought buried deeply? It's not enough to have not thought of it in a while. Did you obscure it well, as you did your plan to use the enchanted Snitch?"

"The sword never came to my... No, I have not dwelt on it for so long... I... You think he might have...? He did, didn't he! I never thought I had any reason to shield it! He knows about the sword, you mean? From me!"

Again, Dumbledore closed his eyes and there was an unfathomable expression on his face.

"But this is terrible! If I try to use it against him now he may be prepared; know what to do to block it. And what if he..."

There was a blinding flash of light in his mind, a mental image of Moody entering Thrust and Parry's. Harry knew now what that dazzling shape had been at Moody's belt: a jewelled sword hilt, and below it... a discrete scabbard, dark in the sunlight.

"He was bringing it to me!" Harry's eyes bulged with fear. "Professor Moody was bringing me the sword! He knew? You knew?"

"Immediately Miss Tonks informed us that you had entered the shop with your friends and that she could not break down the wards, Professor Moody and I felt sure that very powerful magic was in use. I had previously instructed him to bring you the sword if there was any possibility of a confrontation with Lord Voldemort. He had been keeping it secure for that purpose."

"That's why it wasn't in your room that time!"

"Yes, Harry."

"But this is disastrous! We've lost the sword to him and now he knows what it's for!"

Dumbledore watched as Harry pondered what he had heard.

"Professor, my using the sword against him would not have helped anyway if he is immortal will it? How are we to find all the Horcruxes? You said you knew of two of them?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I know Riddle well enough that he will not have used mundane objects. Long ago, he stole two rare and unusual artifacts: a Hufflepuff's chalice and Slytherin's locket."

"A chalice? You mean for drinking out of?"

"Not an ordinary goblet, Harry. I am positive that it is Helga Hufflepuff's Cup."

"The Hogwarts' founder? Voldemort has made it into a Horcrux?"

"I am as sure of that as I can be."

"And you know where it is, don't you, sir?"

"Harry, I promised that I would only tell you half the tale."

"But I want to help! I ought to know... What if anything happened to you? Who then would know? The information would be lost! Who does know?"

"Apart from Lord Voldemort and at least one of his servants, I believe I am the only one who is cognisant of this because I Obliviated the one from whom I extracted the memory."

Harry's face paled. "So the secret would be lost forever if you were to..."

"Harry, perhaps it is important that one other person knows — but only one."

"No! I trust all my friends. What I know, they know. I must tell them."

"And if one of them should divulge this under the influence of Veritaserum or torments? And if someone else should die because of it, would you then feel the same way?"

Harry hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head.

"Harry, if I am to give you this information then I want your promise."

"I don't like keeping secrets from my friends."

"If all else fails — then you may tell them."

Harry felt a resistance within himself. He thought of Ron, and Hermione. He considered Neville and Luna. Then there was Ginny — all willing to risk death to help and protect him...

"Your word, Harry."

Harry sighed. "Right, fine! Have it your way. I won't tell any of them; I won't tell anyone — unless all is lost anyway."

"The Hufflepuff Cup resides in the Lestranges' vault in Gringotts Bank. It would be virtually impossible to retrieve it from there, and goblins cannot be easily bribed — not with gold at any rate. There is no reasonable hope of stealing it."

Harry frowned as an old memory surfaced. "Wasn't there a break-in long ago? I think I read something in the Daily Prophet when I first came to Hogwarts."

"There was — but that vault was empty and did not have the protections that the Lestranges enjoy. Even so, it must have been immensely difficult and required great magic."

Harry lapsed into deep thought. "If we..."

"Harry, you must not, under any circumstances, do anything reckless. You must not apply yourself to this task; too much is at stake. I have warned you that another life may be lost."

Harry stared. "You're already... Someone is already trying to... How? How can they, if you said it is impossible to steal? So, someone else does know where it is!"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, Harry. The one who is to perform this formidable task has no knowledge even of the Cup itself, let alone where it is; in fact, it would be fatal if they did."

"WHAT! But—"

There was a knock at the door and Harry twisted about in his seat to look back.

"Ah, Harry," It was Sirius. "everyone's ready. Portkeys have been made for your other friends. All they need is the secret address."

Harry stared in amazement. "How did you...?" He spun around — but Dumbledore was gone.

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~~~ Smoothing Things Over ~~~

"Oh, lovely!" squealed Luna. "I've always wanted to share a bed with someone!"

She flung herself down luxuriantly onto the orange and cream duvet and wiggled towards the enormous sunburst-patterned centre. Then she wiggled to the far edge and smoothed down the creases while she thought about the adventure.

"Oh, please may I sleep in the middle? It will be divine to have you on both sides."

Hermione sighed. "You don't still wear shoes in bed in case you sleepwalk do you?"

"No, that was when I used to be lonely," said Luna, rolling back to them over and over and finally falling onto the floor at their feet.

"That's six half-rolls and I wasn't even trying hard yet!" Her laughter tinkled up from the thick bedside carpet and she blamed her outburst on its tickly fluffiness. Ginny giggled and helped her up off the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighed again, then went out of the open doorway, across the landing and peeked into the crowded back bedroom. It boasted just enough space between two narrow single beds for Ron to stand in the sunshine and look out of the small window down to the overgrown yard below.

Hermione frowned. "How on earth are you all going to manage?"

"I'm sleeping downstairs," said Harry.

"I've told you, no way!" said Ron, turning around and folding his arms.

"But I'm used to not having a bed!"

"All the more reason," said Neville. "I will take the sofa."

Hermione let Neville pass and they listened to him clumping down the stair. The sound of Luna's lighter footsteps soon chased after him.

"I have to speak to her," said Harry.

When he entered the parlour, Neville was entrenched in the centre of the settee as if he planned to defend his claim until everyone had retired later that day. Luna sat by his side, squashed in but looking happy to do so.

Harry glared at them. "Neville, I'm not going to seize the settee from you, if that's what you're thinking," he snapped rather grumpily. "If you want to sleep there, you're welcome to it."

Neville visibly flinched and looked rather crestfallen. Harry flopped into the armchair nearest the window feeling mean. His gaze swept wildly around the ceiling and his arms and shoulders fidgeted.

Luna watched him for a while then turned to Neville. "Harry's sorry he snarled at you, Neville," she said in a whisper loud enough for Harry to hear. "He does appreciate that you did it because you care about him and want him to have a nice comfy bed."

"It's just that he had to sleep on the floor for over three years, Luna," Neville whispered back. "It was awful."

"Yes, it was very sad, " said Luna, still whispering loudly. "When Hermione and Ginny get tired of me, perhaps I can sleep down here for a bit and you sleep between them instead?"

Neville's eyes bulged. "Wh... But...?"

Harry struggled to suppress a smile. He rubbed his mouth with an open hand to hide it.

"But you're not allowed to wear shoes," said Luna, quite solemnly. "I'll get Hermione to ask you up when she's ready and she'll explain all the rules."

"How—! Wh—?" spluttered Neville.

Harry gripped the arms of his chair very tightly and turned his face away.

"Don't look now," whispered Luna, in the same audible murmur, "but Harry's trying really hard not to laugh. Pretend not to notice."

Harry burst into a long snigger and had to dig out a grubby handkerchief to wipe his nose.

Neville then saw the joke but Harry swore he still cringed nervously as Hermione entered the room half a minute later.

"What's really wrong, Harry?" she said. "What did Professor Dumbledore say?"

Harry growled within himself. Why did trouble chase him when all he wanted was a quiet life? Why hadn't Dumbledore warned him about concealing his knowledge about the importance of the sword?

"I've ruined everything, that's what!" he said. "I told you about the Prophecy, remember? How I'm supposed to kill You-know-who? Dumbledore thinks the Sword of Godric Gryffindor might be important."

"The what?" said Ron from the doorway.

"Is this the same sword we saw him carrying by the Forest?" said Hermione. "When they were going to hatch a Basilisk for its venom? End of second year, remember?"

Harry looked hard at Hermione. "I'd forgotten about that. Yes, I bet it was."

"So you're supposed to use it on You-know-who?" said Ron.

Ron's eyes turned to watch Hermione sink into the deeply-upholstered seat next to Harry's then he went over and sat on the arm of her chair. Ginny had followed her brother in and took up a position cross-legged on the carpet before Harry. She looked concerned, waiting for him to speak.

When they came, his words poured out in a rush of irritation. "Mad-eye was bringing me the sword when—"

"I saw it!" cried Hermione. "Oh, no!"

"What? What does it mean?" said Ginny.

"It means," said Harry, glumly, "that You-know-who has the sword and is likely to use it against me."

"Do you think, perhaps, he might not know?" said Luna.

"It's most likely he detected the idea deep within my mind," said Harry. He grimaced. "Why didn't Dumbledore tell me about the sword? I could have obscured the memory!"

"Occlumency! Of course! I wondered about that," cried Hermione. "Is that how you tricked him in the shop?"

"Yes, I was focused on hiding my plan from him — the Snitch — I never even considered the sword." He scowled suddenly. "Dumbledore should have warned me!"

They all looked at one another and, despite the sun streaming in the window, the atmosphere was gloomy.

"Harry, when he told you about the Prophecy, did Professor Dumbledore specifically say the sword of Gryffindor must be used to... uuh, vanquish You-know-who?" said Hermione

"Yes, he did... well... no... I mean, he said it might play a part."

"So he might have meant something else?"

"Well, what else could he have meant?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione.

The silence that followed was only broken when Luna spoke:

"Professor Dumbledore is very deep, don't you think?"

"What?" said Ron from Hermione's chair arm.

"Well, it seems very odd that he told Professor Moody to follow him in to face You-know-who when he knew he carried the sword — yet he also knew Harry was not there to wield it."

Harry's mouth gaped wide. He jumped to his feet, strode to the window and looked out at the disarray and clutter in the backyard while he tried to think. He could see the snowy-white shape of Hedwig at the far end, roosting in the one big tree that dominated the space.

A parting ripped across the thick tangled blanket of invasive undergrowth — it might have been the wind — revealing a rusting pipe embedded in spilled concrete showing between the dandelions. He wondered what it was. Imagination raced away to many possibilities from an old rifle barrel to an ancient blowpipe — but red paint that had once been bright had flaked away from it. Beside it was another twisted tube with a little bell attached. Realisation flashed across his mind: it was merely the remains of an old bike; simply a bicycle and nothing more.

"It's just a sword!" he cried turning around to face them all again. "It's just a ruddy sword!"

"What do you mean, Harry?" said Neville, who was still hogging the settee like a duty.

"Don't you see? Dumbledore intended Vold- You-know-who to attempt to use the sword against me — but it's only a sword! My wand can easily shield against a physical attack and it may buy me time to... kill him," Harry finished. "That's what it amounts to."

"You can't be sure of that, Harry!" said Hermione.

"If he raises that sword against me, I'm going to stand my ground and use my wand," said Harry.

"Can you afford to take that chance?" cried Hermione. "What if you're wrong? The sword might have special magical properties."

But Harry clung to his conviction. He was sure now that Dumbledore had some other agenda. He had not seemed distraught when he learned of Harry's lapse but his expression had been hard to read. Why does everyone try to twist things around?

"The truth." He declared it quietly as it had emerged to his thought, pushed up from where it had nagged him semi-consciously, as if a very busy man had, at last, acknowledged he suffered a headache. "Luna, I've been meaning to ask you, where can we get a printing press?"

Luna's eyes searched around unfocused as she balanced her thoughts against the sudden thrust of the unexpected question. "Carruthers in East London is where Daddy and I usually go. We get most of our equipment and supplies from them."

"Right, perhaps you and Neville might fancy a trip tomorrow?"

"What are we doing, Harry?" said Hermione.

"A broadsheet, just one page. Luna, would you be editor-in-chief?" For a moment, he hoped she might say no, but he knew it was necessary to engage one with knowledge of the day-to-day running of such an undertaking.

"Oh, wonderful!" Luna's delighted expression turned to puzzlement. "But of what?"

"A journal to tell everyone what's really happening," said Harry.

There was a growing excitement, a kind of buzz in the room at the prospect of some interesting and perhaps useful activity.

"We need a title: The Daily Profit... The Corrective Chronicle... The Facts Sheet... Reality Check... Anyway, someone think of something. It'll tell the wizarding news as it really happened! We'll give the Prophet a run for their money!"

"It'll be just like The Quibbler!" cried Luna with delight, jumping to her feet.

"Er... no, Luna," Harry said hastily, "not like The Quibbler. We can only print what we... erm..." — he thought furiously — "what we all agree on for sure. Anyway, we can't possibly compete with The Quibbler at what it does best." He glanced sideways at Luna and was pleased to see she accepted his excuse.

"Then please may I pick a new name?" she said.

"Of course, so long as it's—"

"Verity Sunbeam!" She bounced up and down on her heels. Ginny giggled.

"I meant the newspaper," said Harry. "It has to be something that says we're kind of mending the news so it doesn't mislead people all the time."

Hermione's face clouded. "Harry..."

"Luna, you need to speak to your dad, get his advice. Sooner or later he'll be at risk, printing the Quibbler so openly. Maybe he can feed us the dangerous inside stories instead and keep the Quibbler for non-contentious articles. That way, he'll stay safe."

"Harry..." said Hermione.

"And we just have to do a story on what really happened in Thrust and Parry's shop!" he exulted. "Tell it just as it really happened — and how Fudge tried to hush it up!"

"Harry!" cried Hermione.

"WHAT!"

"This is too big an operation! You can't possibly compete with the Prophet's circulation."

"Compete? We're going to exceed it. We're going to blow them out of the water. We'll have a copy of our news on every wizarding kitchen table in the land!"

"We'll never be able to cover enough events or interview enough people, Harry! I don't think you have any idea of how many staff you'd need for a start! Reporters and..."

"Reporters? We won't need reporters, Hermione! We're going to steal the stories."

There was a shocked silence. Ginny went to the window and opened it. The distant murmur of traffic and the cooing of a pigeon entered the parlour on a gentle breeze, but the atmosphere within the room was anything but calm.

"What's happened to you, Harry?" said Neville quietly. "This time last year you would run a mile from asking McGonagall for a bed."

"Now you're standing up to Dumbledore and..." Ron tailed off, not wishing to say the word.

"Thieving," Hermione finished for him with a scowl of disapproval.

"Yeah, well... being expelled for something you didn't do, people trying to kill you, and having your family exterminated — it puts a different perspective on things doesn't it? Fudge and the Daily Prophet, they're evil. People will die don't you see, if they don't know the truth and are not prepared."

He looked grimly at the others' faces but he had lived the whole of his early life without support or approval so he had resigned himself to it.

"Anyhow, how can you steal something that isn't true?" winked Harry. "We're not copying the text of the stories. We're going to take the stories we are sure are wrong and write them properly — investigate if we have to — but mainly challenge the claims; make readers think before blindly accepting the absurd deceptions that are spewed out by the Prophet."

Harry didn't seem too fazed by the doubts that had crept in to most of their expressions.

"Hermione, Ginny — you two with Luna are going to... erm... I mean, would you mind being the ones to rewrite those articles? It's a single news sheet remember; we don't need details of every cat up a tree but only the important stories — the lies that the Prophet is spreading. And as required, so it need not be every day. It's just a few hours work a week, I reckon."

"And just how are you—?"

"Luna, where do all the stories go before they are put together into a newspaper? Is there one central place?"

"Well, mostly they all go before the editor of course for final approval."

"That's what I thought." said Harry, smiling grimly to himself. "Ginny, you and I are going to the gadget shop later. We can do some other shopping while we're out."

Ginny sat on the deep window ledge and smiled.

Harry turned to Luna again. "My Hedwig and your owl found us here no problem. Do you think your Occamy might too?"

"Oh, Scribbles is here already. I said she could eat weeds and slugs and rats but not worms. Is that alright?"

Ron glanced towards the window.

"Oh, you can only see her when she wants you to," added Luna, "when she knows you're a friend."

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~~~ Time Alone ~~~

"You like the sea, don't you, Harry?" said Ginny, as they were passing the docks on their return from the market.

Harry turned from his gazing at the rolling waves for a few seconds to answer her. "I only saw it once before I came to Harby Port. Except in pictures, of course. The Dursleys used to dump me with Mrs Figg when they went on holiday."

"Really? Is that why you came here?"

"Partly — that and because Harby is so... well, it's a small, uninteresting town that nobody would ever think of looking for us. Plus, of course," — he grinned — "house prices are cheap, at this end of town especially. I bought it flat out. Honestly, you wouldn't believe how much gold my parents left... me." He looked away, embarrassed then said in a small voice, "Sorry, Ginny."

They walked on in silence.

"Let's sit for a while," Ginny said wearily as they approached a large bollard close to the water's edge.

"Yes, sorry, Ginny, here, let me carry that bag with the vegetables in it."

"No, it's not that, it's..." She paused. "It's just... Well, it's lovely having the others stay with us but..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Harry. They squeezed themselves together side by side onto the rounded top of the mooring block and looked at the waves with the wheeling seabirds high above and the boats swaying beside the cluttered quay. "We don't get much time alone these days, do we?"

"Perhaps we could get a boat one day," said Ginny.

"Not sure if I've got the legs," smiled Harry. "I'd dread to go out there very far except perhaps in a big ocean liner."

Ginny pointed. "What's that one?"

"Mmm... extra parts for an oil rig, I think. They tow them out on that barge, I suppose, during calm weather. That tugboat with all the contraptions on board probably does it."

"What are they, those things?"

"Uuh... looks like diving equipment." Harry stood up for a moment to see better. "They've got one of those mini subs as well. They use them for maintenance — you know, dive down to inspect and repair the rig supports and stuff. I seen a bit on telly once."

Ginny laughed. "So now you're an expert."

He sat down again and they huddled. A distant siren blasted across the bay and they looked out to sea. A small ship was passing the headland.

"Do you ever wonder where they're travelling to, Harry? You know, somewhere exotic? A far away paradise?"

"Erm... no."

Ginny grinned and snuggled up closer. "We've got our paradise right here, haven't we, Harry? Have you ever pondered if there's a couple in a far off place, and they're thinking this is exotic where we are?"

"Erm... no. I was just thinking my bum's going cold."

Ginny stirred herself and sighed. "Better get back. They'll be wondering where we've got to."

.

—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Harry is more confrontational now, and perhaps, more aggressive. The murder of the Dursleys, the injustice of Fudge and, to some extent, Dumbledore's isolating him, had a big effect, and his devious side has also been enhanced by Snape's Occlumency lessons. Those classes included much training in deception. All taken together, these changes have intoxicated Harry with a new perspective that he must learn to control.

I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Order of the Phoenix (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. :)

- Hippothestrowl

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