A New Place To Stay

Chapter 38

The End Of Yet Another Year; Harry, Though, For Once Knew He Wasn't Alone

Harry sat on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, his fingers twirling the miniaturized basilisk fang. His thoughts were heavy, as he thought about what Voldemort could have in store for this year's meeting. It was a given, a tradition really: something always happened on Halloween and at the end of the year. It was Voldemort's twisted way at getting to him; after all, his parents had died on Halloween. Of course, the end-of-the-year thing had become a habit since Voldemort had first tried to come back. The only exception had been during Harry's third year, although he'd still been attacked by a bloody Death Eater: Pettigrew. Harry's lip curled in repugnance just thinking about the whining sack of shite. He was a rat whether he was human or an Animagus... he didn't have a spine.

The past month had been very quiet to say the least; it was a tranquility Harry had never really had before. He didn't bother getting stressed about when Voldemort was going to attack. He'd finally decided to take Hagrid's words to heart. What was going to happen would, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was meet it head on when the time came. Severus had said the same thing to him too, come to think of it. Now that their exams were starting, he was, unfortunately, beginning to falter. Old habits were beginning to reassert themselves. He was wondering what Voldemort was planning; there was never a reprieve from the snake-faced bastard.

Dumbledore had been cured a few days ago; his dad had given him a potion to counteract the oil in the poison ivy plant. Dumbledore was still in the hospital wing, though; he was weak and extremely injured by the itching he'd done over the past month. Harry didn't even realize what he had unconsciously called Severus; otherwise it would have scared him to the core, especially considering he didn't know how Severus felt regarding him.

"Harry, don't we have our History of Magic exam today?" Neville asked, bursting into the room and looking rattled. He might be rattled, but he wasn't out of breath in the slightest. Neville, much to Harry's pride, had kept running. He was very good now, and could almost keep up with him. The weight he'd lost was astonishing; poor Neville, though, couldn't handle the girls ogling him. He was either red or purple when attending classes now. What they didn't get was that Neville was already in a relationship; he was very happy with Luna, who had liked him the way he'd been before, not just because he looked better now.

"Yes," Harry calmly said, placing his fang back under his clothes. He didn't know why, but he liked to keep it a secret. It was the first true gift that meant a lot to him, other than Hagrid's. Hagrid had given him a photo album of his parents; it meant the world to him. It was even better than seeing them in the mirror of Erised. "In twenty minutes."

"Oh," Neville said, looking mighty relieved. "Well, that's all right then."

"You got any sweets left?" Harry asked curiously.

"Um, no; we finished them a week ago," Neville replied.

"Too bad; I'm starving, and it's ages until dinner," Harry sighed.

"You know where the kitchen is; go ask Dobby." Neville rolled his eyes. Harry had showed him the way in two weeks ago. He'd been shocked to say the least; Harry knew a lot of out-of-the-way places in Hogwarts. He'd thought for a while it was to do with all the adventures his friend had been on. Then he'd seen the map, and he had been blown away! It was an ingenious invention. And to think it had been made by Harry's dad, Professor Lupin, and Sirius Black. Well, there had been one other, but Harry had told him once in an angry, bitter, tone about that one. He understood all too well why Harry hated Pettigrew. He hated the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. with every fibre of his being. If he ever met them, he'd kill them, simply put. With all the new spells he was learning, it would be possible for him to do it, too. Neville sometimes wondered why he hadn't befriended Harry earlier; they had so much in common, mostly tragedy and anger with those who'd caused it, as well as the need for revenge at all costs.

"Good idea!" Harry chimed; his eyes were slightly shadowed though, and it told Neville that Harry's thoughts weren't entirely on food. He'd come to read Harry rather well over the past year.

"What are you thinking about?" Neville asked. Normally Harry didn't answer, but he was hoping for a day when he would, when he'd trust him to keep it a secret, to be able to help. That he wasn't Ron or Hermione, and he wouldn't go running to Dumbledore. Not that they did; they just relied on Dumbledore too much. Far too much for just students. It was wrong; no student should be close to Dumbledore like that, to listen to him, without question, and actually do as they were told, especially outside of school. He was just a teacher, the head teacher― so what? He certainly wouldn't have listened; if he'd known what was going on, he'd have written to Harry. Unfortunately, he'd not felt comfortable; Harry had only ever spoken to him a handful of times a year before this. They'd known each other, but they hadn't been proper friends until Harry had fallen out with Hermione and Ron. He didn't care about them; their loss was his gain.

"It's the end of the year," Harry said as if it explained everything. Maybe to Harry it did, but Neville just frowned.

"What does that mean exactly? You don't want to go home? You can come to Longbottom manor if you like. Gran's always got something to moan about; might as well really give her a reason." Neville grinned in wry amusement; he'd grown up with her, so it was all he knew.

"Thanks, Nev; I don't think Dumbledore would let me," Harry scowled darkly. Plus the Dursleys were still missing. Harry wanted to feel bad, he really did, but he couldn't care less. Their disappearance had made his year. Vernon was a bastard, and he was glad he and his bloody belt weren't in sight. "That wasn't what I was meaning anyway; you know something always happens."

"Oh, right," Neville said, understanding blooming across his now thin face. Of course, something always happened to Harry Potter at the end of the year. The stone; the Chamber and Ginny Weasley, then Sirius Black, and of course the Goblet and poor Cedric. He wasn't sure anything worse could happen. Harry had been devastated by the seventh-year's death. Neville wasn't sure why it mattered so much, but he reckoned it was survivor's guilt.

"Yeah," Harry grimly murmured, as both he and Neville headed down the staircase into the common room. Harry didn't even glance at Ron, Hermione, or Ginny, who were staring at him sadly and broodingly. They had books open in their laps, obviously studying for their exams. It seemed as though Hermione had toned down, in an effort to keep her last remaining friend. There was no diary or timetables out to keep track of their "study habits," as she had done all previous years.

They made their way through the castle until they reached the kitchen entrance and tickled the pear. It giggled at them as it granted them entrance into the huge kitchen before them. Inside was the biggest collection of house-elves a human would ever see.

The house-elves immediately surrounded them, all speaking at once; the elves further away began bringing forward food, trying to ply them with a lot of it. Harry and Neville only took a few cakes, grinning widely and thanking them.

"Where's Dobby?" Harry asked curiously.

"Right here, Harry sir," Dobby chimed, his small legs running toward them, passing his new friends to get to him.

"Hey, Dobby, you okay?" Harry grinned; he looked like a Christmas tree today. He had green and red clothes on, and a pair of old trainers― where he'd got them, Harry didn't have a clue.

"I'm fine, Harry, sir," Dobby beamed. He looked very happy, a lot happier than even when he'd first joined Hogwarts. Nothing would ever beat Dobby's look when he'd first been freed, though. Harry remembered it every single day, and always wondered if he'd looked that happy when Sirius offered to take him in, before the happiest day of his life had been destroyed by Pettigrew's escape. Which, of course, was his fault; if he'd just killed the bastard rather than being the Gryffindor Golden Boy he was supposed to be...

"Good," Harry said; he wanted to be happy, but his gut was churning in worry.

"Harry, we have to go," Neville said, around the food in his mouth. He was looking at his watch when Harry turned to face him.

"Yeah, thanks guys," Harry said to the elves, taking an extra cake and making his way out. They stuffed their faces with what they had before turning the corner. They didn't want their classmates wondering how they'd gotten their hands on food, especially since they'd been too nervous to eat at breakfast or lunch because of the exams.

"Let's get them over with," Harry said. He was glad it was their last exam, although he dreaded Hogwarts' finishing. Just where the hell was Dumbledore going to send him? It filled him with dread; he could imagine being sent to Moody's, or somewhere worse. He prayed, though, that Dumbledore would send him to Severus'. Hopefully their acting had been perfect, and the old fool still thought they hated one another. Dumbledore seemed to love placing him with people who hated his guts.

The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He couldn't understand it either; he'd had a normal amount of sleep. It was as if someone had given him a sleeping potion. It was impossible, of course; those worked right away.

"Turn over your papers," Professor Marchbanks directed from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. "You may begin."

Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer.

He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749, and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?), but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere. He'd read up on this― what the hell was going on? Had someone fed him a potion to stop him from concentrating? It was beginning to feel like it. Sure, he'd never liked History of Magic, and normally had a nap during that class... but this was an exam. Growling at himself, he creaked his neck from side to side, blinking his eyes and began again.

He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join. He could visualize a heading, in a book: The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards… he had read the book only this morning.

He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair.

'… The first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because -'

All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry knew it had to do with trolls… so he too began to scribble away. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights… but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls.

He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember… the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that…he thought about what he hadn't already added. Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted… he had written that, too…

And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come.

Harry was thinking, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers, and the sand trickled through the hourglass at the front.

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last… the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors…

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door, patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry. He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others.

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres; his heart was beating very fast now. He was going to get there this time, when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows. But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal; Harry's stomach contracted with fear and excitement.

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness.

"Take it for me, lift it down, now I cannot touch it, but you can," The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm, and heard the high, cold voice say "Crucio!" The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand, but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand; the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting,"

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain, yet rigid with defiance.

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius whispered.

"Undoubtedly I shall, in the end," the cold voice said. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black. You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again; we have hours ahead of us, and nobody to hear you scream."

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. Fuck, thought Harry to himself, how the hell had he fallen asleep? Fear exploded in him; did this mean that Voldemort could tamper with his thoughts, feelings, and emotions? He knew he hadn't been tired. His bloody shields had been up! Why hadn't they stopped this? His stomach sank to the pit of his stomach, containing the Horcrux was becoming harder to do. It was as though it was getting stronger each day.

"I'm not going… I don't need the hospital wing… I don't want..." He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.

"I'm - I'm fine, sir," Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. "Really… I just fell asleep… had a nightmare…"

"Pressure of examinations!" the old wizard said sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. "It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?"

"Yes," Harry said wildly. "I mean… no… I've finished it…"

"Very well, very well," the old wizard said gently. "I shall go and collect your examination paper, and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie-down."

"I'll do that," Harry said, nodding vigorously. "Thanks very much."

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ron demanded. He was grabbing at Harry, staring at his ex-best friend in alarm. Ron knew something had happened this time; he was rubbing viciously at his scar. It was a dead giveaway; he couldn't let Harry have an adventure without him. Perhaps if he joined in on one, then Harry would remember what good friends they were, forgive them for what they'd done, and things would go back to normal. Then Neville would go back to being insignificant and he…he'd go back to being Harry Potter's best friend.

"Get your arm off me, Weasley," Harry snarled as another stab of vicious pain assaulted him.

"Harry, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Neville asked coming forward, "I tried to help you in the hall, but they told us to sit back down."

"It's all right; come on, follow me," Harry said, jerking his head and arm, getting it out of Weasley's grip. "Don't bother following me again, Weasley, or I'll curse you," he said seriously, his green eyes flashing with anger.

They went to the Room of Requirement.

"So what is it?" Neville asked.

"Do you know about the connection I have with Voldemort through the scar?" Harry asked, knowing very well Neville didn't.

Neville gaped at him, shaking his head, completely shocked.

"Well I do. It started back in first year; it hurt when Quirrell had his turban to me. It hurt all year in Defence, and it started getting worse at the end of the year. I somehow knew it had to do with Voldemort. I didn't see or feel anything until just before the world cup. I saw Voldemort being fed venom from Nagini, by Pettigrew and Crouch." He winced at the deranged look in Neville's eyes at the mention of the man, who, by the way, was now dead. The Dementors had sucked out his soul.

"So you just had one?" Neville asked, absorbing this new information. He wasn't as shocked as he should have been. Did that mean he had unconsciously suspected it? Or had he gotten so used to Harry's always being full of surprises that he just couldn't be surprised anymore? It was probably somewhere between the two.

"Yeah," Harry said, sitting down and nursing his sore forehead.

"What did you see?" Neville asked.

Harry knew he had to watch what he said; Dumbledore wasn't above using Occlumency to get answers.

"Do you ever look Dumbledore in the eyes?" Harry asked seemingly at random.

"No, why?" Neville asked, completely baffled.

"Then you shouldn't. He knows Legilimency; he can read people's minds… If I tell you this and he finds out, then that's it. I'll never be able to tell you anything else… do you understand?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Neville said. He'd never been a confident person; he rarely looked anyone in the eye. "Harry I'm a pureblood, my gran and uncle made sure I knew Occlumency before Hogwarts its sort of a thing with old lines.

"All right. Voldemort's set up a trap; he wants me to think he has Sirius Black," Harry said. "He'll probably send Death Eaters, which means I have a chance at having the Ministry finally realizing Voldemort is back and capturing some of the Death Eaters."

"Why? I mean, I know he wants to kill you, but why do that?" Neville asked, confused.

"He wants me to collect something for him, something only he and I can touch," Harry confided.

"You just figured that out?" Neville asked, his eyes wide in surprise; he was impressed.

"No, not really…" Harry said, trying to figure out the best way to explain.

"So you, what? Want to set up a trap instead?" Neville asked, excitement thrumming through him. Was he finally going to get to go on an adventure with Harry? Ever since Harry had started, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had had some great adventures. Hearing about them had made him long for friends of his own. Was he going to get to boast about it, instead of Ronald Weasley?

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding his head.

"How? I doubt he'll just send one or two... we aren't good enough to fight three or more Death Eaters, Harry," Neville said bluntly. It was the truth; this mission sounded like suicide to him

"Who said we were going alone or unarmed?" Harry chucked wickedly. Severus was going to kill him, that was for sure, for doing what Dumbledore and Voldemort wanted, but he had to do this. He wanted the world finally to realize what he'd been telling them all year. Voldemort was back, and he wasn't about to disappear.

"All right; what do you have in mind?" Neville asked. Adrenaline was pumping through him; he wanted to prove himself to Harry. That he could be trusted, that he'd always have his back, no question asked.

"We need Fred and George," Harry said.

"Why?" Neville asked, frowning in confusion. How could the twins help?

"Their products," Harry elaborated. "The Swamp Thing, that they tested in the girls' toilets?"

"Okay; let's go find them, then," Neville agreed. "Let's hope they aren't in an exam."

"The Tower it is," Harry said. They both left the Room of Requirement quickly, running back towards Gryffindor tower. When they were almost there, they bumped into Luna. She was about to ask a question, when Neville grabbed her arm, and three of them began running. Or rather, Luna was being dragged, a look of bewilderment on her face.

"I'll wait here with Luna," Neville said as they skidded to a stop at the portrait. Harry said the password and disappeared inside.

"What's going on?" Luna asked, trying to catch her ragged breath. She'd just been pulled along through half the school.

"Harry is going to face Death Eaters, trap them; he knows where they're going… we're going to get there before them and set it up," Neville grinned, almost hopping up and down. He was off on an adventure, and he was super excited.

"You aren't going alone. I'm coming; it's what friends are for," she said before Neville could complain about her being in danger.

Neville smiled softly at her, before kissing her, turning red in the process. He nodded his head as he pulled away, pushing a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. He wondered if love would always be this potent. Or if it would wear off; if that was the case he didn't understand why people broke up.

"Ready to rock…" Fred said, coming out of the common room, his arms loaded with stuff.

"…and roll," George finished; their faces were identically ecstatic.

"How are we getting there? It will have to be fast to set a trap," Neville pointed out what he thought was a flaw in the plan.

"Floo'ing; our dad does it every day to get there," Fred said seriously as George grabbed a bag and began putting their products into it.

"He came in through a door the last time I saw him," Harry pointed out.

"He Apparates home if he's been on a job," George said, closing the bag, a smug smile on his face.

"Let's do this," Harry said, a vindictive look on his face. Nobody bothered commenting on how Slytherin it looked... because everyone was supporting one another right now.

"Wait, house-elves can go wherever they like; Dobby could take us where we wanted to be in seconds… we wouldn't need to Floo and go through corridors," Harry suddenly said, whacking his head in exasperation at never thinking of it sooner. "Dobby?" he called firmly.

"Yes, Harry sir?" Dobby squeaked, his huge green eyes staring adoringly into Harry's. He nodded at Harry, Wheezies, and Loony and Nevvy.

"Can you take us to the Department of Mysteries, the room of prophecies?" Harry demanded.

"Master won't like that, Harry sir," Dobby protested, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

"Who?" Luna asked in confusion, she thought Dobby was a free house-elf.

"Dumbledore?" Neville guessed, looking just as confused.

"Dobby, take us," Harry said more sternly. "Or we'll just find another way," he told the poor conflicted house-elf.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said solemnly. Touching them, he whisked them out of Hogwarts completely undetected. After a short whirling journey that had them all feeling sick, they landed exactly where Harry wanted them to, in the exact room he'd seen his vision and where he'd been months ago to retrieve the prophecy.

Dobby resolutely stayed where he was; he wasn't leaving them by themselves.

"Let's get it set up," Harry said, grabbing the bag from George, and quickly gathering up everything they needed. "How do you make them come out?" Harry asked, staring at the joke product curiously.

"Smash it," Fred shrugged.

"What if they don't Apparate into this room?" Neville asked, looking around nervously.

"They will," Harry confidently replied.

"Okay, when they get here, what do we do?" Neville asked, his face alight with anticipation.

"Remove their wands; they will be stuck in the swamp until others get here," Harry explained.

"So he can just get them out of Azkaban again?" Neville asked, his disgust evident.

"Here," Harry said, throwing everyone a portable swamp, then a firework. That would draw the workers right down there.

"It's completely empty here," Neville worried, looking out the door once more, keeping all eyes open.

"Yeah, that's why we're using the fireworks," Harry said. "If it doesn't work… then we're screwed."

"How long do you think they'll be?" Fred asked, curiously going down the rows of prophecies, looking at the names on them. Every single one he read was unknown to him.

"Well, how long do you think it would take if we hadn't Floo'ed, or Apparated like we did?" Harry asked. He was waiting patiently; Dobby was solemnly silent waiting in the corner.

"Well, I would have suggested the Thestrals; about an hour on them, I'd say," Luna said looking contemplative.

"Why do you assume HE wouldn't think you'd use the Floo?" Neville asked, still staring around nervously.

"Good question; I didn't," Harry said. "They might be here any second, Fred… how do you get rid of that stuff? I mean just from your own feet, because we're going to get covered in it too."

"Just use a spell on your shoes; it's what we did," George smugly told him.

"All right; do it to all of us," Harry said, now looking around cautiously.

Fred and George did as they were told, doing each other's feet first, then George did Harry's and Luna's, and Fred did Neville's and Dobby's. Nodding in satisfaction, they waited rather impatiently for them to arrive.

They didn't have to wait much longer.

The first pop they heard had Neville, Luna, Fred, George, and Harry all throwing the portable swamps. They smashed violently against the marble floor; the surprise on the Death Eaters' faces would have been amusing, to say the least, if the situation hadn't been so tense. The swamps came up well past their calves; in the space of a few seconds, spells were flying back and forth.

The most surprising sight of all was a house-elf, snapping his fingers, causing the wands of the Death Eaters to go flying out of their grips. They couldn't defend themselves against magic they couldn't see or understand. There was shouting and shrieking all around the room; if that didn't bring anyone down, fireworks wouldn't work. Regardless, Fred and George lit up their Dragon firework. As they ran from the room, trying to avoid the fireworks, the sight that met their eyes made them burst into peals of laughter.

Lucius Malfoy's hair was on fire, where a firework had got him. He was shrieking as his white hair burnt out in front of them. He was bald and singed before they knew it. Three of the Death Eaters had tried to get out, only ending up body-down in the swamp. Their wands were buried deeply in the swamp, with no hopes of being recovered.

They burst out of the room and along the corridor, only for Harry's scar to feel as if it were bursting into flames. Harry skidded to a halt, his face grim; he hadn't thought Voldemort would show up here, of all places. He swallowed thickly, staring at his friends. "He's here," he said, his voice apologetic.

Fred and George looked very nervous; drawing their wands, they moved forward. Luna did it without so much as a sign she was nervous. It was as if she were going to a party, not confronting Lord Voldemort.

"Where's Dobby?" Neville asked, realizing the house-elf wasn't there.

Harry's heart sank; he knew were Dobby was... telling Severus. He was in sooo much trouble. He had hoped nobody would have known he was behind this. That, unfortunately, was apparently too much to hope for.

"Back at Hogwarts," Harry nervously swallowed. In all honesty, he'd rather have to face a dragon and Voldemort than Severus when he was angry.

Then they saw him in all his glory, Voldemort standing there, glaring at him with his horrible disfigured snake-face.

Then the real battle began.

Thanks to Jake and Jordre for their dedication in editing this story :)