Author's Note: I've re-uploaded Chapter 35 as that has now been beta'd by Morbius. Just a few changes which enhance the flow of the story.

– CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX –

In the Pale Moonlight – Second Year

As Harry left the closing feast, he headed back up to the common room, pondering whether to pack up the few possessions that weren't already inside the Portkey box that evening, or wait until the following morning. As he entered the common room, he noticed seven students sitting near the fireplace, six of them looking... uncomfortable, while the last was sulking.

"Ah... Potter." Davies stood up, looking sheepish. "I... We were hoping to speak to you."

"Oh?" Harry, through a ruthless application of self-control, managed to suppress the smirk from forming on his face. It was a close thing, though. "And what could our illustrious Quidditch captain want to say to little old me?"

Hermione, along with the rest of Harry's friends, remembered the conversation they'd had previously, where Harry had told them that if he was kicked off the Quidditch team, that would be it. She nudged Susan, who nodded, before she waved her wand at the stairs to the girls dormitory, summoning some popcorn. Discretely, Blaise, Neville and Padma moved closer, so they could share the tasty treat and, more importantly, the top-notch entertainment that was about to begin.

Davies looked nervous and slightly nauseas. "Well, P-Potter... we wanted to talk to you about Quidditch."

"Did you?" Harry asked, sounding vaguely amused. "How lovely. Unfortunately, though, I'm not on the Quidditch team anymore, so surely this is something you should discuss with them. Don't you remember? The captain said that having someone like me playing would be bad for the team. Scandal, don't you know... So, I'm sorry, but I don't think we have a lot to talk about."

"We do." Davies said. "Remember, back when I took you off the team?"

"Of course."

"I said as soon as the whole... business with the Chamber of Secrets was over, you'd be back on the team, no questions asked. Well, the business is over, so you're back playing Seeker."

"Do you not remember what I said, Davies?"

"What?"

"I said that if you kicked me off the team, that'd be it. You kicked me off. I'm not a player... and I won't be."

"I refuse to accept that." Davies said stubbornly. "We picked you as our Seeker, and you will play as our Seeker, Potter. It's that simple."

Harry stood, allowing his power to flare. The flapping of wings announced the arrival of Hedwig, smoothly landing on Harry's shoulder. She, too, began glaring at Davies.

"Wait..." Sarah Fawcett, the Ravenclaw Keeper, stood up. "Potter... Harry, wait please."

"We have nothing further to talk about, Sarah." Harry said smoothly. "I suggest you don't waste your time."

"Please, let's talk about this." Sarah said, looking a little nervous but determined to discuss it like adults.

Harry glanced at Hermione, a slight smirk on his face, before nodding and sitting back down. "Speak."

Sarah cleared her throat. "Do you understand why we said that it wouldn't be a good idea for you to be on the Quidditch team in the first place?" She asked.

"I have a high IQ and an excellent memory." Harry said dismissively. "Of course I remember. I was told that the scandal of having someone involved in such a nasty business as petrified students and a Parselmouth-controlled monster would look very bad for the Ravenclaw team, and none of you felt that I could be trusted."

When put that way, it did sound... damning. Sarah sighed. "We were wrong, Potter. We know that, and we accept it."

"Yes. You were." Hermione said viciously, enjoying this uncomfortable encounter.

"I told you, at the time, that if you stopped me playing, it would be permanent. By my choice. You chose to carry on with those actions. And now, it's coming back to bite you in the arse."

"Why are we bothering with this?" Cho asked nastily. "He's clearly too afraid to come back."

"Think what you will, Chang." Harry replied. "We both know I'm a better seeker than you. That can be seen in the fact that we were in the lead for the Quidditch Cup after the first game, and we finished third, only managing to beat the Gryffindors! I refuse to come back because you stabbed me in the back with that decision. It's done."

Davies cleared his throat. "Potter, you're being childish, here. It's all over, and we know now that it wasn't you that was attacking the school. Next season, you'll be back at Seeker, and we won't say anything more about this nasty business, all right?"

"No, Davies." Harry said. "It's done. Game over. Now, fuck off and leave me alone."

Davies' eyes narrowed. "Or else... what?" Who does this arrogant little kid think he's dealing with?

Hedwig barked angrily on Harry's shoulder, making Davies flinch. "Be very careful, Roger." Harry said softly. "Me and my little lady here just killed an ancient basilisk... what hope do you think you have?"

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Roger led the Quidditch team away, heading for another area of the common room, muttering about how Dumbledore was right about Harry's immaturity.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Hermione asked, leaning closer to him as he flopped onto the couch. "I mean... you like Quidditch."

"Yeah..." Harry ran his hands through his hair, making both it, and Hermione's heart rate, spike. "Like I said at Christmas, Hermione; I like Quidditch, but it's not the be-all and end-all of my life. I wasn't exactly planning on becoming a Quidditch player at the end of school."

Padma nodded and grabbed another handful of popcorn. "What are you planning on doing after school? You chose Care, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as your electives. Logically, you're looking at something in research, spell-creation or running like buggery from something with more teeth than the Weasley family."

Harry just shrugged. "I don't have a clue. To me, those are the only subjects that aren't a waste of bloody time. I'm sure when I leave Hogwarts, I'll find something worthwhile to do. Maybe I'll get married, maybe I'll travel for a bit." As soon as he said 'married', five pairs of eyes swivelled to Hermione, who blushed but rested her hand on Harry's.

"Best not to think too far ahead, is it?" She asked. "Still a lot to go before we graduate."

You have no idea how right you are. Harry thought, turning his hand over and taking hers. So much to do... so little time.

"I don't get it." Hermione said.

"Get what?" Harry asked, wincing slightly as his back cracked. He'd pretty much ignored everyone bar his friends for the last day, heading for the train in near-silence. Once onboard, he'd waited until his friends had joined him in his compartment before sealing it up, allowing them relative peace and quiet for the journey home.

"That Chamber entrance in Myrtle's bathroom. How is it that no-one noticed it before?" She stared at him. "I mean, when they installed the indoor plumbing, how could people not notice a huge great tunnel."

"Indoor plumbing?" Harry asked. "What indoor plumbing?"

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "You can't be serious, Harry. Are you telling me that the Wizarding world has always had indoor plumbing?"

Blaise cleared his throat, a hint of a smile on his face. When Hermione looked at him, he shook his head slightly.

"No, I'm not. But the Wizarding world doesn't use plumbing the way you think. There aren't pipes for bringing water to each sink. There's just a conjuration rune on each tap. When the tap's turned on, it starts conjuring water. Just like in the plughole. There's another rune, which vanishes the waste water. Same for toilets and showers. Non-magic people didn't really have showers until the late nineteenth century. Wizards have had them for centuries."

"So... that's actually a really good idea." Hermione said, blinking as she thought about it.

"It's the same for my Portkey Box. Unless I wanted to install plumbing and a septic tank, and I really didn't, I had to use standard Wizarding techniques." Harry leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "Besides, it's clean and tidy. The water is always at the right temperature. No need to worry about all the embarrassing things that non-magicals need to worry about."

"Such as?" Padma asked, sounding intrigued.

"Well..." Harry frowned in thought. "I'll never need to call out Dyno-Rod."

"What's 'Dyno-Rod'?"

Harry grinned evilly. "It's a non-magical company that specialise in clearing blocked toilets."

Padma frowned in confusion. "But, how does a toilet..." She trailed off as realisation set in. "That's disgusting, Harry."

Hermione chortled. "Yes... yes, it is. But, we all know it happens. At least, in happens in non-magical households, anyway. We've had to call them out four times now. Thanks to my Dad and curry night..."

"Definitely TMI, Hermione." Harry said, wrinkling his nose slightly. "Still, wizards never have the problem of a blocked toilet. Even if you were to completely fill the bowl, it gets vanished when you flush." He quickly and correctly identified Hermione's next question. "As to how Myrtle flooded her bathroom, she blocked the plug holes with loo roll and turned the taps on. Because the plug is blocked, the mess can't be vanished."

"Oh... how did you know I was gonna ask that?"

"Because I know you, my dear." Harry said pompously, grinning at her. "Still... now we know how the Chamber of Secrets managed to stay hidden. I've sealed the entrance to the Chamber with a password. I seriously doubt anyone would be able to guess it."

Hermione nodded, then snuggled closer to him. "What are your plans for the summer, Harry?"

Quickly glancing at his mental checklist, Harry decided to soften the impact of what he'd actually be doing. "Well... I do have a couple of minor chores to get done, but they'll be relatively quick." I hope. "Apart from that, no plans, really. Why?"

"Just wondered." Hermione said. "Will you be around?"

"For you?" Harry asked, looking down at her, his heart beaming emotions through his eyes. "Always."

Padma and Susan both 'aww'd, looking at the couple with undisguised amusement. "You're both so sweet." Susan said softly.

In perfect unison, Harry and Hermione both stuck their tongues out, blowing gentle raspberries at their friends.

"Well, I know that my family has another trip to Italy." Blaise said. "However, when I spoke to my parents at Christmas, they did tell me to ask you if you'd be interested in meeting with them."

Harry looked at Blaise for a moment. "Spoken like a Slytherin, Blaise. So, like an iceberg, I'm sure there's more to that story than I can see."

"There is. I don't know if you're aware, but the Zabini family have been one of the principal suppliers of exotic potions ingredients for almost two hundred years. However, there are certain things that they're not able to supply. They believe that having the support of an Ancient and Noble house, not to mention the 'Boy-Who-Lived' aiding them, would be useful."

Hermione frowned. "They want to use him?"

Blaise cocked his head slightly. "In a manner of speaking, yes. However, it would not be attempting to manipulate him. It would be a business arrangement. They would get something they wanted, and Harry would be able to get something he wanted."

"And what do you think about this, Blaise?" Hermione asked. "I don't want the Zabini family line. I mean you, personally. What do you think Harry should do?"

Taking a moment to think, Blaise steepled his fingers together. "I believe that Harry is wise enough to enter negotiations with my family. They have connections to most of Europe and the Colonies." He turned to face Harry. "If there is something you require that you can't get on your own, it's possible they may be able to do so for you. However, I will caution you; my family is rather... well-known for getting what they want."

A slow smirk developed on Harry's face. "Tell me, Blaise; your family travels a lot. Do they pass through other Wizarding communities?"

"Naturally."

"Would they be able to obtain things for me that might be classed as... 'questionable' by the current Ministry of Magic?"

Blaise slowly raised an eyebrow. "That would depend entirely on the 'questionable' nature of these hypothetical articles."

Hermione leaned back slightly, looking into Harry's eyes. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well... there are things we'll undoubtedly need for the upcoming war. Things that, if I were to obtain them myself, could lead to questions being asked that I don't want to answer or, even worse, certain meddlesome old goats paying more attention than I'd like. However, certain things I need could be obtained through a potions supply company."

"They could." Blaise said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, graphorn thread springs to mind."

Hermione stared at him. "What's graphorn thread?"

It was Padma who answered. "My Dad's told me about this. It's a bit like cotton, except it's unsnappable and virtually indestructible. It's usually used to reinforce duelling robes, since it can be enchanted. It's also pricey as hell."

Harry nodded. "Yes... I could use about... thirty metres of it."

Blaise whistled. "That's expensive, Harry." He thought for a moment. "But it's not undoable."

Harry thought for a moment. "While I'm not opposed to the idea of meeting them, Blaise, I'm a little confused about what they think I can do for them. Until I claim my Wizengamot seat or open up other... opportunities, my powers are limited." He smirked. "Unless they're asking me to smuggle for them."

"I don't believe they are." Blaise said, before admitting a family secret. "The company does have... options in place to import 'questionable items', as I believe you called them. Items that could lead to questions being asked that people don't want to answer."

With a shrug, Harry said, "I'll meet them, Blaise." Harry stood up, reaching into his trouser pockets and pulling out a miniaturised backpack. "This is as good a time as any to hand these out, I suppose." He quickly enlarged the bag, reaching in and pulling out a bundle wrapped in pink cloth. He passed it across to Luna. He distributed the other bundles to his friends, red to Neville, black to Blaise, yellow to Padma, blue to Susan and a smaller, white bundle to Hermione.

"Inside each of these bundles is a communication mirror and headband." He explained. "I'd like each of you to put on the headband for a few moments, then pass them back."

Hermione looked at the headband, then at Harry. "Why?"

"It's... it's a bit like Madam Malkin's measuring tape. It measures you as you are now, but it also correctly predicts what you'll be physically when you stop growing."

"Are you making us clothes?" Susan asked, looking ready to 'squee' appropriately. She'd never admit it, but if Harry ever decided to open a lingerie store, she'd be the first to sign up for the frequent shopper discount.

"In a manner of speaking." Harry replied. "They'll be presents for each of you. I'm hopeful that I can get them to you by the end of the summer."

Hermione shrugged and slipped the headband on. She instantly gasped as a cool, tingling sensation ran up and down her body, culminating in her chest, before it faded away. She reached up, plucking the headband off and looking intently at it. It appeared to be just a plain, white headband. With a shrug, she passed it to Harry, who causally tossed it into his bag.

Susan was looking at hers, before she realised just what Harry had told them. "This'll tell us how big we'll be when we finish growing?"

Looking uncomfortable, Harry nodded.

"Cool!" Susan squeed before putting the headband on. Like Hermione, she gasped as she felt the magic measuring her completely. "Ooh..." She moaned as she pulled the band off. "That tickled like that time you measured me in the library."

"Yes... well..." Harry leaned forward, plucking the band out of Susan's hands and tossing it into the bag. Quickly following suit, the rest of Harry's friends let the headbands work their magic, before passing them over to him to toss away.

"Now, also in that bundle is a communication mirror, like Hermione's. They're on a private 'network', if you like, so they can only communicate with each other. Hermione's is a little different, since hers also connects to her parents' mirrors and the one in my flat. I keep mine with me all the time."

Neville quickly realised just what a great gift he'd been given. "So... we can communicate with each other, as any time. No Floo powder, no owls..."

"And no monitoring. Exactly. However, since most of us still have owls, we should use them. Wouldn't want them to feel left out now, would we?"

Hermione looked up. "That reminds me... where's Hedwig?"

Harry just grinned.

In another compartment further up the train, Ron Weasley sat perfectly still, feeling overwhelmed with fear. It was just him in this compartment... almost. On the seat opposite him, staring with immense yellow eyes, was that Potter bastard's owl, glaring at him. He'd been in the Great Hall when he'd heard the Chamber battle, and knew that this little bird had fought against a full-grown basilisk... and lived to tell the tale.

And now it was staring at him. Almost... hungry looking. As Hedwig snuffled, Ron flinched, then groaned as his bowels voided themselves. Satisfied with her work, Hedwig flung herself from the window, content to follow the Express until it pulled into London, where she'd reunite with her wizard.

As the train pulled into King's Cross, Harry miniaturised the bag, tucking it back into his pocket. He stood, holding out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help Hermione to her feet. Predictably, there were more 'aww' noises from the other girls, which were soundly ignored. He led them to the platform, glancing round for their family members.

As at Christmas, he felt a pang of longing when he saw Hermione rush into her parents' arms, Susan into her aunt's arms and Padma into a combined mother/father/Parvati hug. Neville gave him a watery smile as he made his way over to his Gran, tentatively reaching out for a hug of his own. He understood.

I truly have no family... He thought softly. For the moment, anyway... I have my friends, but there isn't anyone I can be a kid around. For just a fraction of a second, Harry released his emotions, allowing a surge of white-hot rage to fill him. Voldemort... it's all his fault! That moment caused half of the light-bulbs on the Muggle side of Platform 9¾ to explode violently. Shit... He groused, wiggling his finger slightly to repair them.

Hermione glanced over, seeing Harry staring at the family reunions with longing on his face. Her heart went out to him as she made her way back over, not saying anything, but just grabbing him in the tightest 'Hermi-hug' she could.

Susan saw what was happening and pulled Amelia over, both women quickly joining the impromptu pile-on. Emma Granger saw her daughter wrap her sort-of boyfriend into a hug, and could tell that he was feeling lonely. When the light bulbs had exploded, she remembered that it was similar to the accidental magic Hermione had performed when she was younger and feeling intense emotion, and knew that the poor boy had come close to losing control. She quickly joined her daughter and Amelia in trying to provide some maternal support.

Abhijat Patil was a proud man, a man who belonged to a pureblood wizard line that could be traced back almost six millennia in his native India. He, unlike most British purebloods, prized his traditional values, but was not averse to embracing something new, if it would benefit him or his family. When he saw one of his daughters dash away and join a group hug, he was understandably curious.

"What's going on?" He asked his wife.

Durga Patil shared her husband's values and ethics, making them a perfect match for each other. Like her husband, she didn't know, so she asked the one person left who'd know. "Parvati?"

"That's Harry Potter." The Gryffindor replied, sounding a little bored.

"Ah." Durga understood. The Wizarding world's most famous orphan, and a family reunion moment. "Have you spoken to him?"

Parvati shook her head. "He's more like Padma, a nerd. We don't have anything in common. He seems a bit childish, though."

"How so?" Abhijat asked.

"Well... this year at school, everyone thought he was opening the Chamber of Secrets and letting a monster loose. Just a couple days ago, we found out that it wasn't him, but someone being possessed by some weird enchanted object, after he killed the monster. The school tried to apologise to him, but he just blew it off. Wouldn't accept it. He was being dead childish. Even Headmaster Dumbledore said so, in front of the entire school."

"I see." Durga gave her husband a tiny glance, prompting him to nod slightly; both seemed to agree that belittling a child in front of his peers was very counterproductive. "Well, Padma doesn't seem to think that he's childish."

"Pfft." Parvati sniffed disdainfully. "Padma wouldn't notice if Gwenog Jones came up to her and offered an autograph. She's far too involved with her silly books."

With a raised eyebrow, Durga nodded. "Well, then... I believe we should arrange with Padma to meet this 'childish' young man. If he saved the school..."

"No." Parvati said, looking up at her mother. "He's a Parselmouth, Mother. Everyone knows they're Dark. We don't want the scandal."

"That will be up to your mother and me." Abhijat said firmly. "Have you collected your trunk yet?"

Parvati shook her head, then sighed dramatically as her father pointed to the baggage car, stomping over to collect her trunk. Honestly, parents know nothing!

Durga smiled. "You believe he can help us, husband?"

Abhijat shook his head. "I believe we can help him, wife. He's made Padma more alive than ever, despite Parvati's claims of childishness. Besides, I'm oddly intrigued. A 'monster'?"

Harry was beginning to have problems breathing after the mass pile-on, but he wouldn't be the first to break it... unless he passed out. That'd definitely put a crimp in things.

Hermione could feel other people crowding round, but she ignored them. Although Harry was by far the most mature twelve year old she knew (even more mature than herself!), there were times she could see a normal boy in there. Halloween sprang to mind, when he was quiet and subdued, and the same at Christmas, when he saw the families having small reunions. He was a good young man who'd had shit dropped on him from a great height.

"You okay?" She whispered into his ear, feeling him nod against her shoulder. "Okay, can we step back a bit?" Hermione called loudly, feeling the mass of bodies begin to pull back.

Harry looked up, seeing his friends and their female family members surrounding him. Emma was first, waiting until her daughter was out of the way before she offered her own maternal hug. "If you need us, Harry, we're there for you." She offered, ruffling his hair softly. "Call on us."

"I... will." Harry said, swallowing noisily. "Thank you, Emma."

"My pleasure." She said, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she stepped back.

Susan flung herself forward, her chest pressing up against him. She grinned as she felt him blush and try and move back. Fortunately, all of Harry's female friends were well aware of where his heart lay, and it wasn't with a large-chested redhead. "We all have those mirrors now, Harry." She said into his neck. "If you need us, we'll come running."

"Thanks, Sue." Harry replied, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, the only safe place he could think of. "I appreciate that."

"No problem." Susan replied as she pulled back, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Amelia stepped forward, placing an arm round her niece's shoulders. "I've heard from Susan that you stopped the attacks, Lord Potter."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And it was a basilisk?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remarkable... when you have time, would you be able to share the story with me?"

"Of course, ma'am. Although, Susan was listening in to pretty much the whole thing."

"We must be going, Lord Potter, although I'm sure Susan will be in touch soon." Amelia extended her hand, watching Harry slowly reach out and take it. "Take care of yourself, my lord."

"Ma'am." Harry said, grinning impishly at her. The two redheads left, leaving Padma to come up to him.

"You okay now, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah... it's just... whenever I see these reunions, I'm reminded that I'll never have that. It's... surprisingly painful sometimes."

Padma slowly raised an eyebrow. Harry rarely, if ever, communicated his feelings like this. At least, to no-one but Hermione. "One day, Harry, you'll be seeing your own family off from here. And you may not have your Mum and Dad, but you've got us." She smiled shyly.

Harry pulled her into a hug, feeling her squeak before relaxing into it. Unlike her sister, Padma was more reserved. "Thanks, Pad."

"No problem." Padma, like Susan, kissed the tip of Harry's nose before stepping back. "I think I can get my parents to extend an invite to dinner sometime, Harry. Would you be interested?"

"Er... sure?" Harry shrugged slightly. "They'd be aware that it wouldn't... er..."

Padma began giggling. "No, Harry, they'd know it wouldn't be a date. Like the Zabinis, they have extensive business connections that may benefit us in the upcoming war."

With a glance at Hermione, he nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem. Would I be able to bring a date?"

Padma didn't even need to look. "They would probably expect you to bring Hermione, Harry. I'll be in touch?" With that, she headed back to her parents, leaving Harry with Hermione and Emma.

"You have any plans for tonight, Harry?" Emma asked.

"Well... I was planning on speaking to the Blaise's parents before they do, but other than that, it's me, whatever I can be bothered cooking and a huge pile of washing."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Why not come and stay with us for a while?"

"Er..." Harry hesitated for a moment. "I'd like that, but there are some things I need to do this summer, Emma. Some of them are... uh... quite off the beaten track."

Hermione was the smartest witch of her generation for a reason. "That means he's got more of his secret stuff to do, Mum." She glanced pleadingly at Harry. "You can stay for some of it, can't you?"

"Of course." Harry said, taking her hand. "Just let me go and speak to the Zabinis, and then I'm all yours." He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand before walking away.

Emma glanced at her daughter, who was staring at her palm and blushing furiously. "Hmm..." Hermione looked up at her mother. "I think that we should have a talk, honey, when Harry's not around."

With a groan, Hermione realised exactly what 'talk' she'd be having. Again.

Harry stepped through the throngs of people, saying goodbye to the Weasley twins as they made their way towards their parents. Harry had no desire to be molested by one of Molly's hugs, since his ribs were still quite sore. It was worth the pain from Hermione, but not from someone he'd barely spoken to. After promising to write, (and making a mental note to create another mirror and pass it on), he saw the Zabinis waiting patiently near the coffee shop.

A small switch flicked in Harry's head, turning him from 'Harry' to 'Lord Potter, head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter'. He straightened up, near-marching up to his friend's parents.

"Mr. Zabini. Mrs. Zabini." He said, extending his hand to the patriarch. "It's an honour to meet you."

Michael Zabini looked at the child in front of him, deciding to wait until he'd spoken to him before coming to a conclusion. "Lord Potter, the honour is mine, I assure you." He took the hand, pumping twice before allowing it to drop. "May I introduce my wife, Alexandra?"

Harry took her extended hand, gently turning it over and kissing the back of her knuckles. "Charmed, ma'am."

Alexandra smiled gently. "You appear well-trained, Lord Potter."

"Has Blaise been telling tales?" Harry asked, discretely winking at his friend.

"Not at all. He simply said that you were very good." Michael said. "Did he pass along our request to you?"

"He did, sir." Harry replied politely. "I'd be honoured to accept an invitation from yourselves."

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Lord Potter." Michael replied.

"Forgive me, sir, but it's part of the way I was raised." He nodded once to the elder man, telling him that he'd continue to be polite and formal.

"I understand, my Lord, but there's really no need."

"My apologies again, sir."

"Well done, my Lord. You play the game well." Michael laughed. "Still, I believe we can dispense with the game, Lord Potter."

"Thank you. And please, call me 'Harry'. I detest all the 'Lord' bollocks."

"Very well, Harry. I'd prefer you use my name as well."

"Of course, Michael." He took a quick glance at Blaise, who shot him a discrete thumbs-up. "Well, I've given Blaise a communications device, so I'll be able to liaise with him when a convenient time would be."

"Of course, Harry." Michael replied. "We await your message. I believe this could be... profitable for both of us."

"I certainly hope so." Harry replied noncommittally. "Well, I can hear my transport arriving, so I must take my leave. Sir. Ma'am. Blaise."

"Speak to you soon, Harry." Blaise replied, extending his arm to his mother, who took it gently.

"Good fortune, Lord Potter." Alexandra replied before allowing her son to lead her away, Michael following them after nodding respectfully at Harry.

As he turned, he could see his Portkey box beginning to materialise on the far end of the platform. Damn... I just love how accurate that is. He quickly made his way back to the Grangers, spotting Dan waiting with his wife and daughter.

"Hey, Dan." Harry said politely. "How're you?"

"Much better now my wife's stopped me sleeping on the couch." Dan replied, extending his hand. "I trust you've recovered from our conversation at Christmas?"

Harry shuddered lightly. "For the most part, sir, yes. Still have occasional flashbacks, though."

"Daniel." Emma said sharply, raising an eyebrow in an obviously familiar gesture.

"I just wanted to apologise to you, Harry."

"Don't worry about it, Dan." Harry said, waving the comment away. "I know you mean well. Although it was scary as hell, it was oddly... comforting."

"Oh?"

"Well... it was a father/son chat. I've never had one of those before." Harry replied shyly, feeling Hermione's hand slip into his own. "So... thank you."

Dan felt a lump form in his throat. "You're welcome, Harry. It was almost worth six months on the couch."

Hermione smirked. "Please... I'll bet you were back in Mum's bed within a week."

"Two weeks, actually." Emma chimed up. "But, not the point. So, Harry, will you be coming to stay with us?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said. "There's just something I have to do tonight. Would it be okay if I came to stay tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Harry," Hermione moved a little closer, "do you need help with what you're gonna be doing tonight?"

Harry sighed. Hell, yes. He thought, but shook his head. "Shouldn't, really. I'm hoping it'll be a simple visit."

"Potter-Murphy Law?" She asked, remembering a conversation from a year ago. After all, 'whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, with as disastrous result as possible, in the most explosive and embarrassing way.' was certainly a part of Harry's life.

"Lord, I hope not."

After helping carry Hermione's trunk to the Grangers' car, Harry headed back to the box, setting the co-ordinates and dematerialising. It would only take a few minutes for him to arrive at his destination, and he had no desire to simply rush in like a brainless Gryffindor; that could turn costly, very quickly. What he was planning on facing was going to be almost as tough as the fight he'd been in just recently... and potentially, just as messy.

He stared at the central column on the console, the wheezing/groaning sound of the gyroscope oddly comforting to him. Just a minute later, he heard the sound of the gyroscope change and the floor trembled as the ship materialised.

His hand hovered over the door control. I'm not ready for this yet... even after all these years, I'm not ready to come back here... I'm so sorry... He moved his hand back, heading over to the laptop and putting in a new set of co-ordinates. Another control sent the ship hurtling back into the vortex.

The ship rematerialised outside Hermione's house, prompting the brunette to come dashing into the kitchen, peering through the window into the back garden. As soon as he opened the door, she came rushing over, checking him for injuries. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Harry assured her, closing the door behind him. "I couldn't go through with it tonight."

"Oh... can you tell me anything?"

It wouldn't make any sense without giving you entirely too much back-story. Harry thought to himself. "It's okay, Hermione. It's just... difficult."

"Okay." She began tugging on his arm gently. "Come on. We're just about to sit down to dinner. You're welcome to join us."

He followed her inside, knowing that there was a spot for him here... always.

After enjoying dinner, Harry sprawled next to Hermione on the Grangers' large couch, each of them relishing the aftermath of a fine meal. Harry could feel his eyes drifting closed... before a loud 'knock' on the door woke him up again. Bollocks...

Dan grunted as he hauled himself up, ambling into the hallway. A few moments later he came back, a person Harry really didn't want to see following him into the room.

"Harry, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to you both." Dan said emotionlessly.

"Joy..." Harry groused near-silently. He didn't bother getting up and even looking up. There was nothing Dumbledore could say or do at this precise moment in time that Harry wanted to see or hear.

The elderly Headmaster walked into the living room, his eyes lighting up when he spotted Harry. "Ah, excellent, my boy. I'm glad you decided to meet with me!"

"I didn't." Harry drawled. "You ambushed me during the summer. What do you want?"

Dumbledore helped himself to a chair, conjuring himself a cup of tea and some biscuits. "I wanted to carry on our conversation from Hogwarts. You left abruptly, even after I asked several times to speak to you."

"That's because I didn't see a need to carry on the conversation." Harry replied in a monotone. "And you then had the nerve to tell all the students that I was immature and childish. Not to mention you've been a royal arse recently. So, with all due respect, sir, leave me alone."

Dumbledore just waved the comment away. "We have things to discuss, Harry. Important things. Miss Granger, would you excuse us?"

"No." Hermione replied, folding her arms across her chest.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked, taken aback.

"I said 'no'." Hermione enunciated clearly, not bothering to look meek or pliant. "You've come into my house without permission, and begun berating my guest, even though he's told you that he doesn't want to speak to you. And now, you're bossing me about in my own home."

"Miss Granger, this is important, but not for your ears. I don't believe we shall be more than an hour or two."

"No." Harry cleared his throat. "Let me be perfectly clear, Dumbledore; I don't want to speak to you. I don't want to discuss what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, I don't want to give you the remains of the basilisk and I absolutely refuse to go into Divination next term. I also don't want to discuss turning the other cheek and forgiving all the sheep of the Wizarding world."

"My boy, you know that I..." Dumbledore trailed off as a pained expression came over his face.

"That pain" Harry said, smirking, "is the Unbreakable Vow, once again, reminding you that you're overstepping the boundaries that you agreed to last year. As this is Miss Granger's home, and she has asked you to leave, please feel free to let me show you the door."

"H-Harry..."

"I told you not to call me that." Harry said, standing, taking two steps forward and grabbing Dumbledore's arm, pulling the meddlesome old man to his feet. "Now, get out, before I say something I'll probably not regret.

Dumbledore allowed himself to be led to the door. "This isn't over, Mr. Potter. We have things that we'll need to discuss. Your continued immaturity will only hamper our discussions. You need to learn to forgive others, to ignore what people say about you in anger, and to work with me towards the Greater Good."

"And you need to learn that you don't always know everything." Harry said, still pulling the old man to the door. "And that you really aren't welcome here."

"I've been alive for a great many years, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore waved his wand, opening the door. "There are things I have learned that you will need to know. If you refuse to work with me, how will you be able to learn what you need?"

"I'll find a way." Harry said, pushing the dozy man out of the door. "Do not call on me again." He slammed the door, turning to find the elder Grangers stood in the doorway. "Sorry."

"Not your fault, Harry." Emma said, rubbing her hands on a towel. "Would you care to explain why he's after you so much?"

"I can't yet." Harry replied bluntly. "It'll take time, Emma. I wish I could share... but I can't. Too much depends on it."

Dan cleared his throat. "Will he come back?"

"Absolutely." Harry said. "I think it'd be appropriate to layer some defences around your house. Nothing too serious... for the moment."

"Where would we get these defences?" Emma asked, before turning to her husband. "Didn't Hermione say something about the goblins? They offer wards, I think she called them."

"They do. But, I can do them, too. Since I'm emancipated, I can layer the wards around the home." Harry drew his wand. "I can do them now, if you want."

"Will it be necessary tonight?"

Harry slowly shook his head. "I don't think so... I can get up early and do them tomorrow, if that's alright."

"Fine by us."

Harry had gone to bed, spending his first night at the Granger home in this timeline, and for the first time in just over a century. Like other portions of the UK, the Grangers' neighbourhood had been obliterated during the Blood War.

When he awoke the following morning, he quickly took a shower, charming the cold water pipe to always emit water at 60°c, so they'd never run out of hot water. He dressed and headed outside, quickly tracing his way around the perimeter of the house, creating an anti-apparition barrier that covered the block and got more concentrated the closer you got to the house. He also created a series of layered detection wards, the furthest one being a simple magical detection ward, while the closer two detected Death Eaters and wizards with hostile intentions. The fourth ward was designed to detect any offensive magic.

Hermione came out as she felt the magic settling over her home. She watched as Harry's wand flicked, swished and prodded as more and more wards were placed. Almost a quarter hour later, Harry was finished.

"What did you place?" She asked. "Oh, and 'good morning'."

"Morning, Hermione." Harry said, smiling as he saw her. "I love how you're so comfortable with me you can come outside in your dressing gown, with Garfield slippers, and not notice."

Hermione yelped and ran back inside, dashing up the stairs.

"Wonder why Crooks hasn't savaged those slippers? Always best to eliminate the competition..." Harry muttered as he carried on warding.

Once suitably dressed, and waking up her parents, Hermione tracked Harry down, finding him in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. "So, now that I'm not quite as embarrassed, will you tell me what you did?"

Harry expertly flicked the omelette, chopping up some bacon to toss on top. "I set a series of detection wards, which are tied into the mirrors I gave the three of you, and also an anti-apparition and anti-portkey ward, with the Portkey box obviously excluded from. There's also a defensive ward, designed to fire stunning spells at anyone who tries to launch offensive magic at the house."

Hermione nodded, absently getting plates out of the cupboard.

The smell of delicious food made the elder Grangers hurry with their dressing, dashing down to the kitchen to sample more of Harry's delicious cooking.

"Morning, honey." Emma said, kissing her daughter's check as she passed. "Morning, Harry." She gave him an identical kiss on the cheek, remembering the scene yesterday, when he'd blown half of the light bulbs up. "Smells lovely, Harry."

"Thanks, Emma." Harry said with a blush. "It should be ready in a couple minutes."

"Excellent." Dan came in, sitting at the table and grabbing a knife and fork. "Morning, kids."

"Morning, Dad."

"Good morning, Dan."

"So, that weird feeling this morning was..."

Harry tipped the omelette onto a plate, grabbing more bacon and a large platter of toast. "I set up some wards around the house. They're keyed to your mirrors. If they go off, you can see who's coming. If it's anyone suspicious or they attempt to attack the house, a stunner will knock them out. They're not war-wards, but they're good for peace-time circumstances."

Dan took a bite of omelette and groaned. "Damn, this is good! You sure you don't want to join us as the cook?" He swallowed and looked at Harry. "Will we need war-wards?"

"Eventually."

"And you can place those?"

"Yes." Harry took a bite of his omelette, and pronounced it 'acceptable'. "If I place them now, however, we'll get some curious visitors from the Ministry of Magic. They'll want to know why a non-magical house is warded so strongly. They'll ask questions we really don't want to answer."

Dan just nodded slowly. "So, aside from protecting the house and making another truly outstanding breakfast, what are your plans for the day?"

A big fight. "I need to go and visit a house in London for a bit, and possibly a trip to the Yorkshire Dales."

"Is this another one of those answers that technically answers the question, but doesn't actually tell us anything?" Hermione asked, grabbing more toast.

"Yes."

"Will you need help?"

"Possibly. However, I'd rather try and do it alone first."

"Won't that be dangerous?"

Hell, yes! "I'm hopeful that I'll be okay." Harry stood, grabbing the pot of tea he'd made. He quickly poured the four cups' worth, adding milk and sugar automatically. "I'll be okay, Hermione. Promise."

With a slow nod, Hermione returned to breakfast.

After clearing up the dishes, (and shooing the Grangers out of the kitchen), Harry headed into his Portkey box. Slowly, he set the co-ordinates, and dematerialised the ship. While he flight, he took a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry for what I let happen last time... I'll fix it. I promise..." He said slowly, knowing that it would only be a short time before he was back in a building he'd sworn never to return to.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.