The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Fifty

Alan leaned against the back of the bookshelf in the secret passage to the sitting room, not bothering with any light. He was back in Spinner's End with his father, Severus, and he wasn't happy about it.

He wasn't eavesdropping; he was just keeping out of sight because he didn't want to talk. Severus had actually gotten a letter earlier while he'd been getting lunch, but as he had said nothing to Alan about it, Alan hadn't pried no matter how much he'd wanted to. Severus had looked thoroughly startled, though. Alan considered where he would look in order to find the correspondence after Severus finished reading through it. He wasn't too curious though; he hadn't been curious about much of anything recently.

Knocking sounded at the far end of the passage, and Severus irritably called down, "Alan, are you hiding in here again?"

If he didn't answer, Severus would shine light down and possibly invade. Alan sighed and called back, "No. I'm not."

"Don't you snipe at me, Alan, I'm not in the mood. You have a visitor."

"Tell them I'm not interested."

Severus murmured something out of the passage, and then called back down. "I don't think your visitor is going to listen."

"You're the Potions professor, pull off your bat impression." Alan snapped back. "I don't want to talk to anyone."

Severus simply went away, and Alan returned to brooding. He succeeded for about fifteen seconds before someone lightly ran down the stairs. Alan looked up, ready to give them a piece of his mind, and failed miserably as the thought derailed under an assault of warm, soft flesh and a questing tongue.

Vengeance got put on a back burner until his mind got back on track.

Luna brought that about several minutes later as she just as abruptly pulled back, licked his cheek and idly added, "You do need to stop brooding, you know. You get very boring that way and nothing gets done."

Alan sighed, leaning his head down to touch her crown. "Luna, I hate it when you do that."

"Get you worked up and rain on your parade?" She answered lightly, as though it hadn't been purposeful on her part.

"Quite." He returned, his tone just as pleasant as hers, but with an edge she'd never had promising painful death … to anyone but her, at least. "I really am not in the mood for company."

"Are you aware Harry is feeling more up to company recently?"

"No, despite my father's large part in healing him. He hasn't told me word one about Harry's condition and flatly refuses to do so." Alan growled.

"Probably because you're brooding."

Alan gritted his teeth. "Luna, I wouldn't be 'brooding' if someone would just tell me something."

Luna's voice became flat. "You were brooding before Harry got tortured, and you know it. What are you brooding about?"

Alan straightened. Luna didn't take a flat tone with him unless she was pissed off. Alan rubbed his neck and answered, perfectly willing to give as good as he got. "And is it any of your business, Luna?"

"Certainly, Mr. It's-My-Job-To-Save-The-World. Get off your pedestal and hobnob with the rest of us, rather than hailing your superior concerns as none of our business."

"I am not on a pedestal, Luna!" Alan snapped. "You just don't understand. You're not getting people killed!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, nobody's died yet!"

"There were plenty of bodies at the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes, in white masks. Who cares about them when none of your friends are dead?"

"Is torture any better?"

"Harry will be fine."

"Neville-"

"Is already getting over it. Blaise healed; Neville healed; Ginny got over it; Harry and James healed, Regulus is doing quite well considering." If he could see her, he could only imagine she'd have her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Why are you so concerned?"

"Luna, the war isn't over yet, and everyone is still a target because of me."

"That's the biggest load I've heard since the Ministry claimed to possess a collective brain that didn't work on Sbappurpod shit."

Alan couldn't help but snort. "Luna, you don't get it –" He didn't finish; Luna abruptly slapped him, and then turned around and stalked up several steps before stopping again; it was so dark he was more focused on sound, what little she made.

"Do not treat me like a child. Alan, does anyone's decision lie with you but your own?"

"No …" Alan answered quietly, trying to determine how angry he was at that. She'd slapped him, but it was Luna … He couldn't just hit Luna back, but Merlin was it tempting.

"Do you think you could have made anyone go along with you if they didn't want to?"

"I never made them do anything, Luna –"

"Hah!" She cheered. "You said it yourself! How is it your fault if you didn't do anything?"

"I let them near me –"

"Oh, we need your permission, do we?"

"No –"

"So you do control us."

"Luna," Alan growled, "I already said no to that."

"How is it your fault?"

"If you would just listen,"

"Fine." She shifted faintly in the sound of fabric; Alan suspected she'd sat down on the stairs. "Enlighten me." She was outright daring him, but he had to try. She just didn't get it …

"Luna, it's dangerous simply to be my friend. It's dangerous to know me, much less be close to me. Anyone around me is in danger, and I can't change that and I hate it." He sounded like he was whining as he finished, but, dammit, it was true.

"Okay." Luna cheerfully agreed. "Is that it?"

"Luna," Alan irritably ran his hand through his hair and felt himself swear under his breath again. "Luna, I don't want to be a liability."

Luna sighed lightly. "Alan, suppose you don't exist. Poof, you're gone. How many of your friends would still be in this war right now?"

Alan paused and tried to think for a moment. "Um, everyone, but Luna if I didn't exist thousands of things would be different, wouldn't they? There was so much dependent on me …"

"Most things wouldn't change; someone else would just take your place." Luna dismissed the notion casually. "As it stands, though, you said everyone would still be in trouble."

"Harry wouldn't have been tortured," Alan added waspishly.

"Wrong." Luna coldly announced. "Harry would. Department of Mysteries: Harry stood clean in Voldemort's face and wouldn't back down. That made him a target in and of himself." Alan opened his mouth to insist he'd led him there, but Luna poked him in the belly – he hadn't known she'd stood. "And secondly, his parents made him a target first by defying the Dark Lord. You remember – Harry was another candidate for that lovely prophecy. Same as Neville. Neville's a target without you as well, because of his parents and his sass. If nothing else, he is a target for his strength, same as Harry. Same as you would be, stripped of name and history and prophecy. You are not at fault."

Alan knew she was right, but he still didn't feel any better. "Luna, I'm still …"

"Hopeless, then." Luna finished airily, clearly exasperated. "Fine. I'll come back later. Bye, Alan!" She chirped, and skipped lightly up the stairs. Strangely enough, her leaving left Alan feeling more downtrodden than before, and he popped open the lower door to go sulk in his room. He'd glance over … whatever had held his attention before later. Much later, after his mind made more sense.

Alan snorted. Good luck with that.

IIII

Harry was standing in the front Hall, leaning against the new wall where Mrs. Black's portrait had been, and just waiting in silence as the meeting went on downstairs. The rest of the children were in the sitting room: Ginny had said something about talking Ron into challenging Alan to a game of chess again, and Nanna was probably upstairs talking with Melanie and Luna. Normally, he'd go cheer Alan on, but right now he wanted to be alone.

Absently, he rubbed his wrists, feeling the soft bandages over the remaining bruises. Severus had explained that one: it was one of several of the curses he'd been hit with. His blood wasn't clotting properly, so cuts and bruises took ages to stop bleeding, to stop spreading and finally heal. Severus had, with false optimism, told him it should go back to normal in a few weeks or so, provided he remembered to drink the potions on time. Harry didn't begrudge him his attitude. He hadn't been exactly agreeable once he'd stopped flinching every time someone addressed him. Four days…

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed, avoiding the strap holding the eye-patch in place. As he closed his free eye, his chest tightened and he began to gasp for air. Burning pain raced across his chest; his arms began to tingle and his gut twisted agonizingly. Someone reached around and grabbed his throat – his head was pulled back and he took breath to scream –

Harry fell to his knees and abruptly focused on the carpet. He swore, digging his fingers into the pile and gritting his teeth. Again. Another flashback. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't happen randomly, without warning, and if his limbs would just stop trembling. It was over.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Nanna trotted down the stairs and crouched next to him – after he'd cursed Severus several times for touching him when he was edgy, with his nerves so damn sensitive, no one else tried it – and Harry changed from whispering his curses to thinking them. He felt embarrassed and ashamed and fought back the feelings. She was only concerned. "I'm fine, Nanna. Just shaky. I'll get up in a minute."

Nanna made a soft agreeing noise and stood, stepping back up the stairs. Harry rocked onto his heels and watched her go, listening to her argue quietly with Ginny.

"… stupid idea, he's not up to it …"

"Have you asked … doubt that's going to affect anything. You're too soft …"

"Don't say that! … not a single word, you haven't seen …"

" … fine and dandy, girl, you don't coddle them …"

A wry smile twisted his lips, and finally Harry spoke up, "I can half hear you down here. If you're discussing me, it's more useful to actually ask before you speculate."

Ginny gave Nanna a triumphant look, and she trotted downstairs to stand nearby. Harry quickly levered himself to standing. He'd been short long enough to want to stand and enjoy the inch he'd put on over the summer. He'd had enough people towering over him…

Abruptly he had to put his hand on the wall to stop himself from swaying. His skin remembered being chafed by a large chest covered in thick, rough hair. He let the shudder wash over him, and sighed hard. "Okay, sorry about that."

"It's alright, Harry." Ginny softly answered. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Harry scoffed. "You weren't too concerned up there; I'm the one to judge what I feel up to or not." I am so glad I have little in the way of body hair. He could definitely live without that reminder. Fenrir had had enough to make a small animal out of. Then again, he was a werewolf. He found himself chuckling softly, and shook his head slowly. Yeah, laugh at it. Denial, denial – shut up, Harry. Ginny's talking. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Ginny gave him another worried look, and repeated herself. "Alan's been brooding for the past few days. Luna says he's convinced he's a liability and responsible for everything and all his friend's injuries."

"Brat, trying to take all the credit." Harry pouted. Ginny smiled awkwardly back, and continued,

"I was hoping you could tell him where to get off. Luna tried, but he stubbornly didn't listen to her. We were hoping he might listen to you better."

Harry shrugged, and nodded slowly. "Just give me a minute. Brain's feeling a bit scrambled again."

"Would you like a spoon?" Nanna asked cheerfully.

"Hardy har har." Harry chuckled out. "No, thank you. The pitchfork works just fine. Is Alan still losing to Ron?"

"Last I saw." Ginny nodded.

Harry nodded and strolled in, smiling wryly. It was something else to concentrate on, at least. Better than thinking. Thinking kept going back on itself, back to four days ago – "Alan, are you losing to a Gryffindor again?"

Alan glanced up, startled, and then back down. After regarding the board, he answered plainly, "Yeah. Ron's still winning."

"Good work, Ron." Harry cheered, and quickly pulled a chair over, sitting down to watch the last few moves of the game. When Ron checkmated Alan with the few remaining pieces, Harry stood up. "Hey, Alan, walk with me."

Alan looked at him curiously, but stood up and thanked Ron for the game. Ron grinned: Alan was the only challenge he knew. He followed Harry out and upstairs to Alan's room. Most of the rooms were empty, now, as the houses were warded again and everyone felt safe enough in their own homes. The children were brought so as to not leave them alone without an adult. Either way, it ensured privacy, as Harry didn't want to be lecturing Alan in front of everyone. He looked back over at his friend and found Alan's face twisted with regret. Irritably, Harry stood.

"What's eating you, Alan?" His tone was purposefully light.

"I'm just … I'm sorry." Alan quietly offered. He shuffled his feet and looked to the side.

"What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" Harry demanded, leaning back against the footboard. "What have you done?"

"They wouldn't have targeted you if you weren't my friend!" Alan growled. "I'm a liability, and I'm sick of it, but I can't change it, and now everyone's a target because of me!"

Harry glared at Alan; Alan abruptly stopped and looked confused before Harry growled out, "Fuck – Off – Alan. And get over yourself."

"What?"

"I said fuck off." Harry repeated carefully, his face hard. "Because you forgot your brain somewhere, and I'm not in the mood to listen to you whine."

"Excuse me?" Alan gaped. "I'm not whining, Harry."

"You are. You sound like a ruddy Gryffindor, Alan. How about I just take your dorm and you can listen to Ron snore all evening, hm?" Alan was silent now, but he looked ready to put his back up, so Harry shot him down again. "I'm sick and tired of people making excuses for what happened to me. 'It could happen to anyone', 'it was a fluke', 'it shouldn't have happened'." Harry grimaced. "Well, mate, it did happen. And you want to know why it happened?" Harry growled, pushing off and stalking up to stare up at Alan, ignoring the shiver down his back, glaring as best he could with one eye covered. "It's because Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov and Fenrir Greyback are all fucking sadists looking for a piece of meat to get off on and I just happened to be it. It's not your fault, it's not mine, and it's not my parents. Whatever blame exists lands firmly on them, and if I have to listen to someone say it's their fault again I'm going to throttle them."

He fought down the desire to tremble, and thought he'd lose until Alan opened his mouth again.

"Harry, I'm –"

Oh, that apologetic tone again. Harry stepped back and backhanded Alan, pulling himself straight out of the brink of another flashback, pulling Alan's attention back to him.

"Alan, shut up already. How many people are going to have to tell you it's not your fault? How many times do we need to remind you that you never had any influence on our decisions? Alan," Harry lowered his voice and just gave Alan a frustrated look. Alan had straightened, hand to his smarting cheek, but he wasn't as angry as Harry had expected and he waited on the end of the less reprimanding tone Harry had taken on. Heartened, Harry continued, "Alan, we're worried about you. You're taking on too much blame. It's not very Slytherin," Harry offered slyly, "and it's not going to serve you with the shit that got dumped on your shoulders. Stop trying to take on more responsibility than you have to. It's ridiculous."

Alan smiled weakly, and nodded without a word. Harry grinned happily and finished,

"Besides, if you kept on that vein, we'd have started cursing you in order to seriously get the point across."

Alan laughed, "Alright, alright. I'll remember that. I'm not allowed to take any credit for you and the rest of my friends being jackasses in their own right. After getting slapped three times, I think I get it."

"Three times?" Harry asked curiously. "Ginny only mentioned Luna slapping you."

"End of last year. I got pissed off and called the girls whores in a show of stupidity and Melanie slapped me. Of course, this was after I'd had a shoe thrown at me for the third time that day."

Harry blinked. "Okay, I guess I was slightly wrong. You are enough of an ass to have it leak out to those around you, but it's still not significant enough to make us that kind of target."

Alan smiled weakly. "Fair enough. Um," Alan moved and sat quietly on the bed, looking sidelong at Harry, "if you're done being pissed off can I ask how you're doing without making it worse again?"

Harry blinked and felt his face blank. "Hasn't Severus told you anything?"

"No." Alan growled, turning aside. "Not that was I welcoming it. I spent the last few days brooding."

"That would lead to that." Harry offered, nervous without reason. He sat down on the bed and smoothed the covers beside him. Moments later, Alan moved beside him, and then abruptly pulled his legs up and crossed them, facing him with as open an expression Harry had ever seen on his face. He was concerned, and Harry felt his lips quirking into a smile again as he struggled not to laugh. It would sound hysterical, and he'd found that it really made the people listening disturbed after he'd laughed for almost twenty minutes…

"Harry, what happened?"

"Are you recreating fourth year on purpose?" Harry mused.

Alan blinked. "This is much like it, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry quietly answered. "You were right about Dolohov, you know. He's a sadistic bastard; don't know how he kept out of Azkaban. Likes cutting a lot, but he's right terrible at sharing." Harry tilted his head to the side. "Voldemort kinda, 'gave' me to him, because he hauled me in there after the fight. Time feels odd when you're in pain, doesn't it?" Harry felt like he was babbling, and stared blankly at the wall, picking fitfully at the cover. Alan reached over and laid his hand over Harry's. The touch made his blood freeze; the sight of stone splashed with blood covered his vision, his own blood, and someone's hands were pressed painfully against his own, pinning them to the stone as the man, Fenrir, grunted and moaned, chest hair abrading against his already bloody back.

And just as quickly it was gone, he was trembling, and no time had passed. Harry pulled his hand out from Alan's touch and pressed it against his face, breathily continuing the only thought he could remember, "Yeah, time feels odd."

It took him a moment to remember he was answering himself, but Alan echoed him, "It does. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"It's fine, Alan, really." Harry lowered his hand and closed his eyes until he noticed he was seeing blood on stone against his eyelids, and he opened them again, backing onto the bed and turning to face Alan, leaning back against the footboard. "Everyone's so cautious."

"Do you want them inciting memories all the time just because your body can't forget the pain?" Alan asked lightly. Harry couldn't help but smile. "Harry, please. Have you told anyone what happened?"

"My mother and father. Poppy." Harry answered immediately.

"Did you really tell it, Harry?"

Harry looked down. He knew what Alan meant. "Not really." He whispered. "To mum, maybe, but to Poppy and dad … it was just a recitation."

"Please, Harry. Share it with me?"

Harry ducked his head. He'd asked the same of Alan. Alan knew what it was like. Hell, Alan knew what the Death Eaters liked even. Harry leaned his head back and sighed. "I'm surprised Narcissa allows Lucius to keep that cane in the house with what all he does with it." Harry offered calmly.

Alan winced. "He didn't …"

"He did."

"Oh, ow." Alan offered. After a moment, he continued, "Gross. How can he eat after touching that …"

"The blood must be Hell to get off." Harry offered, pushing away the self-disgust that tried to rise. Alan didn't mean it that way, and he knew it. "It's funny when the Death Eaters look so foiled when Voldemort tells them to back off. Dolohov pouted like a two year old when Fenrir walked by."

"Fenrir?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Harry asked incredulously. "He's a werewolf. He relishes blood; he places himself near a settlement every full moon. He probably takes wolfsbane just to be able to be more precise in his attacks, if he even does so." Harry shivered. "Voldemort was considering … giving me to him as payment for services rendered."

Alan blinked. "He wanted to turn you?"

"I think he was more interested in fucking me, actually." Harry spat. "Good thing Lycanthropy isn't sexually transmitted."

Alan paled and swallowed before he could speak, his voice weak. "That is always good... I know for a fact it isn't; there have been studies."

"Yeah, Remus knew the same. Although," Harry smiled, "he had to answer a half hour after he heard what Greyback did because he left to go destroy something." Harry shrugged. "He's apparently very territorial about me and my sister, and Neville and his too."

Alan chuckled. "I wouldn't want to be Greyback if Remus is half as creative as your father and godfather."

"He's worse." Harry offered. "He gets ideas from them and then actually manages to accomplish them perfectly because he's such a bookworm."

Alan smiled. "So, Dolohov and then Fenrir?"

"That was the night of. They left me alone around morning, gave me water I suspect was laced with sleeping and healing potions – I've been checked, Alan, stop panicking."

"What if there was poison?" Alan demanded.

"What do you think, Alan?" Harry asked bitterly back. Alan was silent for a long moment and then subsided. "I didn't think there would be, what with Voldemort's announcement of attempting to break the son of the Potters. Your father and Poppy checked for everything. I got off easy; there're only two or three curses I'm going to have to wait out. Haemophilia and hypersensitivity." Harry answered. "The other wore off yesterday or the day before, else I wouldn't be walking today."

"Hypersensitivity?" Alan asked cautiously. "I know haemophilia is a lack of blood clotting, but …"

Harry rubbed his arms cautiously. "It basically means I really don't want people touching me much. Sometimes it feels like normal, and sometimes it goes off the deep end and hurts, or … sometimes it feels really damn good for no reason, but if it's feeling like that it's one moment from feeling goddamn painful. Or maybe I'm getting the curse and the torture mixed up."

"Perfectly understandable." Alan nodded. Harry laughed quietly. "So, what happened after that?"

"I don't know what the timeframe was, but eventually I was hauled out again and … and it was a large meeting." Harry swallowed, trying to forget seeing rows of Death Eaters, rows of men standing around Voldemort's throne, the manacles hanging to the side, a large open space in front of Voldemort's chair. It didn't take much to figure out he was going to be the main entertainment. Unconsciously, he drew his legs up and folded his hands on his knees. "I don't know how many people there were. Thirty, fifty." He shrugged. "Voldemort just said he was most pleased with their actions that summer, picking everything up, joining him, etc., etc. And then they were all taking turns as he called them up. He'd told them to make an example, but to keep me in one piece." Harry chuckled and put his head on his knees. "You know, every time you start thinking the cruciatus is the worst, you suddenly find someone with an imagination. I suppose mass recruiting is bound to find a few men with brains and ideas. Every time the cruciatus started to feel numb someone would step up with something new that felt horrible on raw nerve endings."

Alan musingly murmured, "You'd think most of those purebloods wouldn't want to get their hands dirty."

Harry choked out a laugh. "You'd think, and, you know, you're probably right, but apparently fucking someone is fine if everyone else is doing it." Harry blinked the memories away and shook his head. "It … It wasn't a lot of them, though, really. It just felt like it, and not a lot actually did much hands on, either … there was just so many of them. And those just hurt so much …" He shook off the thoughts, trying to stop his voice sounding so weak. "Of course, Lucius got in on it too with his cane, but that … that was after the flunkies got sent away and it was just the inner circle. Lucius came out, and at one point I was blindfolded while … more of the same. I think it was someone new, or maybe they were just fucking with my head, but …" Harry blinked, overwhelmed with phantom pains. Inanely, he finished, "It just hurt so much."

Alan shifted on the bed and hesitantly sat next to him, close, but not touching. Harry was grateful and sent him a smile before cautiously leaning over and resting his head on Alan's shoulder. He didn't tend to get a random sensation if he initiated the contact. Severus said it would start to happen less and less as time went by, but that it was still inadvisable to be making out with anyone – erogenous zones were the worst. Harry had absolutely no intentions to test that anytime in the near future, no matter how pretty Susan and Daphne were. He had to deal with the risk of sparking a catfight between them, anyways.

"Your eye?" Alan asked softly, cautiously.

Harry stiffened slightly, and then shrugged. "Voldemort knew I was your friend, Alan. He was making a point, I think. Poppy's got it healing; it should be good in another few days."

Alan nodded, remaining silent for a long moment before he offered quietly, "You know, Harry, that Blaise sent out an invitation to all of us." Harry nodded against his shoulder, and Alan's voice took on the sound of a smile. "It's on the twentieth. Most everyone is planning on attending. Do you think you'll be up to it?"

"I'll go if it kills me." Harry smiled as he said it. "They're all going to need to know, anyways, if it wasn't in the paper."

"No details." Alan answered. "They'll know you were taken for a day, though." Alan frowned. "Harry, you know that … Theodore's father is in the inner circle, right?"

"And so are some of Raina's family." Harry finished quietly. "I don't know about them. The elder Nott didn't do much; he just cursed me several times. They weren't particularly strong. Any of the earlier 'party' could have been anyone. By the evening, when everyone had to leave suddenly … that was just the inner circle again. I … wasn't very coherent. They left Fenrir to chain me back up." Harry shuddered. "He wasn't needed amongst the call. I think they were just humouring him by including him. I know Voldemort is courting him for the cause."

Alan nodded slowly. "We should get back downstairs before someone starts to worry."

"About what, you ravishing me? I'm still sore, got that curse problem, and went up here ticked off." Harry grumbled good-naturedly. "Not to mention that Poppy would kill me."

Alan snorted. "Everyone knows make-up sex is the best, really. And some of them might worry about me getting cursed, you know."

"Worry about a Slytherin?" Harry asked. "Who would worry about a Slytherin? It's the Gryffindors everyone cares about."

"That's because everyone is worried about what the Slytherin will hex the Gryffindor with." Alan retorted, holding the door open.

"With good reason." Harry pointed out, nodding as he started down the stairs. Alan caught up easily. "You Slytherins know some downright nasty curses."

"Only for Gryffindors."

Alan aborted a motion towards him and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Harry gave him a brilliant smile and then ran down the stairs for the kitchen; honestly, the meeting should be over. He hit the door and pushed it open, laughing as Alan threw token protests as he tried to keep up without running Harry over. Once inside, however, every eye fell on him, and abruptly Arthur made a mad grab to gather the papers on the table. One fell to the floor, and Harry rolled his eyes as he picked it up.

"You know, you offered to let me sit in and I turned you down. You don't have to panic to put the stuff away; none of the girls are following quite yet." Harry straightened and found the panicked looks irritating. Harry stubbornly flipped the paper over – and froze.

Merlin, he hadn't thought that they could be so classless as to have a camera, much less a wizarding one. It was Lucius; the blond, straight hair couldn't be anyone else, and the flickering light was the torches. Harry could even remember the moment; the cane dropped carelessly, the silver snakehead red with blood, and being pulled off the floor to sate the arousal the torture had brought on. He hadn't been coherent then – his memory could have been one of many similar moments - and the only thought currently entertaining itself even now was, Lucius looks constipated in this, followed by the curious wonder at who on earth was holding the camera? At that point, everyone else had been at what Harry could only assume was a meal, everyone but Voldemort …

Oh dear.

Harry felt his shoulders begin to shake and he couldn't help but start chuckling, the sound thin with stress, but still the thought of Voldemort with a camera… The laughter got louder, and he groped for a chair before the mirth got so bad he fell over. If everyone was going to think he was losing it, he was going to maintain at least some dignity and not fall on his arse. Alan was the first to speak, and his dry voice just made Harry laugh harder.

"Okay, what on earth are those pictures of that you're all looking like you're choking now that he's laughing?"

"I don't believe laughter is the typical reaction to finding a picture of your own torture." Severus scathingly drawled. "But we all knew Potter was losing it."

Several complaints were raised, but Harry got himself under control enough to turn and rest his arms on the back of the chair he'd claimed – he was right behind Emmeline Vance, actually, much to her discomfort – and he grinned at Severus, which probably looked more than a little demented with his stress, eye patch, and current context.

"I'm not laughing because it was my torture. I'm laughing because when Lucius was getting his private jollies, the only other person in the room was Voldemort himself. I wasn't so out of it I wouldn't have noticed another person in the room, even if I was oblivious to the camera. So, excuse me but Voldemort using a camera …" Harry snorted and started laughing again. When he could see again, several moments of silence later, Alan was grinning slightly but still looking pained. Harry very maturely stuck out his tongue. "Oh, stop looking so constipated."

"Well excuse me if I find it extremely unsettling to think of Voldemort doing something so mundane as clicking a picture. What does that look like?" Alan held out his hand and Harry reluctantly handed over the picture. Laughing aside, it was disturbing …

"Were all those pictures in the same vein as that lovely one of Lucius?" Harry asked.

"Yes, they were." Snape snapped. "And denial is unhealthy, Potter. Stop hiding behind the façade of not caring or you'll never get over this."

Irritably, Harry snatched the picture back from Alan – he wasn't holding it very hard, and looked quite uneasy – and Harry glanced back down at it. Underneath Lucius' sweaty thrusting, Harry could see his own mop of black hair, his head rolling weakly and occasionally showing a glimpse of his eyes gleaming and far too wide as he panted and shuddered. Blood ran down his face; this was before his eye got cut, but he was drunk on pain or drugs. He didn't know which, and it didn't matter much either.

He threw the picture down on the table and smiled tightly. "Yeah, looks like the picture got it about right. I do look half-mad, but then again I doubt you could handle being that close to Lucius without going a little crazy, now wouldn't you, Severus? Of course, this was after he finished playing with that cane he's obsessed with. I'm just surprised he knows so many charms to use on it so I didn't get permanently harmed – it only felt like silly-putty getting shoved up my arse, rather than hard forged silver. Makes you wonder what he does with it in his spare time. Now," Harry slammed his fists down on the table and glared across at his Potions profession, "if you're done speculating on the state of my mind four days after I got out the company of your former acquaintances, I'll thank you to stop missing those fun little orgies and get back to focusing on the Order or sweetening that tongue of yours, because you bloody well suck at giving advice on holding onto sanity."

Harry stormed out before he said something else he was going to regret. That was a low blow, and he knew it, and chances are he'd probably scarred Molly for life with that little announcement, but honestly. If you ever needed a name for a smothering over-protective she-bear …

"Harry, are you alright?" Nanna asked. She was standing just inside the sitting room, talking with Ginny, Melanie, and, strangely enough, Luna. Harry hadn't known Luna could come into Grimmauld Place.

"You look like you saw a ghost." Luna lightly offered. "Did you get a ghost wedgie?"

"How … Nevermind. I'm alright. I just got an unexpected surprise downstairs."

"Ah." Luna smiled. "Ginny told me she asked you to speak to Alan about his brooding." Harry noticed her tone went flatter than normal, and he looked at her curiously. "Did you speak to him?"

"Yes, and it finally got through to him. I believe he said getting slapped three times helped." Tellingly, Melanie blushed slightly. "I also told him he'd probably have ended up hexed if he'd continued on that vein, so I suppose that had some merit too."

"Very true." Luna lilted again. "And you need to go lie down before a kuyptelli nests in your ear. You're off balance, so they're already flying around there. Best thing for it is a dose of sleep and sweet dreams."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Then I suppose I'm in a bit of trouble on that front. I don't have many of those in my future right now."

"Not even a lady friend might help?" Luna asked innocently.

"No." Harry's bitterness deepened. "Not for another few months at any rate. I've got this little problem with being hypersensitive. It won't go away for two or three months yet, and in the meantime I've got to deal with the haemophilia."

"Ah." Luna sighed. "What's the eyepatch for?"

Harry touched it and smiled again, another unpleasant smile. "That's for irony. Goodnight, Luna. Nanna, Melanie, and Ginny. Tell mum I'm kipping on Alan's old bed and raiding his books. I'm getting jumpy again."

Nanna nodded willingly, and drew Melanie, Ginny, and Luna into a conversation as Harry went back up the stairs. He was getting another headache, and his body ached despite being nearly healed. He couldn't tell the memories from the true feeling. Reading distracted him. It also made him forget to panic when he was stuck in a building with a number of people, including some he didn't know very well. Potter Mansion, at least, was filled with dozens of rooms, rare visitors, and brilliant windows. He'd been moved into a guest room for the rest of the summer simply for the floor-to-ceiling patio doors it possessed that had a splendid view of the sunset. After being trapped in an oubliette, light was a welcome counterpoint to his memories. Grimmauld, while lacking the ambience of stone, was dark and oppressive even with the work Kreacher had done. It was simply the natural atmosphere of the house.

Harry settled for sitting down and delving into the intricacies of venoms and poisons, the memories tapping a staccato beat against the back of his mind.

IIII

Harry was downstairs in the sitting room, waiting for the floo after he'd received his OWLs that morning. It had been a pleasant surprise to receive his letter – nine OWLs! Apparently his cramming sessions had worked as he'd managed to pass History with an Acceptable, quite a lot better than he had expected.

He broke out of his strange calm when Nanna bounced into the room and called out, "Harry, Neville and Alan are here. The Weasleys should be here as soon as Hermione gets to their house. C'mon, your friends are going to hex me if I don't bring you out there."

Harry stood up and gave Nanna a short smile and purposefully ruffled her hair. "Stop bugging me, brat. I'm coming."

"Sometimes you're lost in thought, Harry." Nanna pouted. "You look scary when you do that. It's worse than you glaring, if I take Parvati's word for it, but this is Parvati and she's habitually scared of you and Neville, despite her air-headed ability to forget it as soon as one of you turn around and smile insincerely at her."

"That's Parvati for you, though." Harry shrugged. "Are you going to tail me everywhere?"

"Yes." Nanna answered, surprisingly seriously. "Professor Snape threatened to fail me on every summer homework assignment if I didn't make sure you remembered your potions and didn't get yourself hurt. With dad at work and mum kept busy altering a few of the twins products the Order asked for, he said you needed supervision."

Harry growled, "He would."

"Harry, right now he's working on healing you and I don't want my brother getting more injured."

"I won't be, Nanna, and I'm sure Alan can remember all of that. Just come find me if I haven't come around when it's time for the potions. You know a point me spell."

Nanna frowned but nodded. "Fine. Please tell me that you've remembered it, alright?"

"I will Nanna." Harry slipped into the sitting room and smiled as Neville and Alan both shot him worried looks. "Hark, the ever brave Slythindor is still in one piece. You can stop looking like your dog is dying now."

"Hey, gimme a break." Neville crossed his arms. "I think turn about is fair play. You didn't let me out of your sight after I stopped being an ass in school."

"Au contraire." Harry scolded. "You didn't leave my sight on your own initiative, Neville."

Neville shrugged. "Mostly because I'd drawn the entire school body's ire."

"There is that." Harry nodded. "And you, Alan. What have I told you about feeling guilty, you Gryfferin?"

'Gryfferin?'Alan mouthed, before shrugging. "I'm not guilty. I'm concerned. You were concerned all fourth year; we've all got our turn about right now."

Harry laughed shortly and fell into the armchair across from the other two boy's places, Neville on the love seat, and Alan on the match to his armchair. "We do at that. What a group. All we need now is for someone to attack Blaise and Ron or Hermione, and the whole group is covered. Something unpleasant seems to happen to everyone around us."

"See!" Alan leaned forward with a mock serious expression. "I am bad luck."

"I hardly call Nanna getting together with Dillan bad luck." Neville drawled. "Although if you want to attach it to the family, it's bad luck for James …"

Harry snorted. "Dad's bad luck started when he decided to be prejudiced. Then I ended up being Slytherin, Nanna fell for Dillan, I got in with Alan and everything went downhill from there."

The disposition of the group resulted in laughter. Five minutes later, the floo flared, and the Weasleys came over. There was a supper planned for later that evening, and while the rest of the Longbottoms would be coming over later, the Weasleys had decided to all arrive now. Harry was surprised to see Bill come through, but the even bigger surprise came when Fleur stepped out of the fireplace. Molly shot a glare back at her, and then smiled at Harry.

"Harry, it's wonderful to see you doing well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I believe Lily is upstairs at the moment if you want to go visit with her. Bill, it's a pleasure to see you as well. Ms. Delacour, I-" Harry didn't get to finish before Fleur swept down on him and abruptly kissed his cheek. Fortunately, he didn't feel any reaction, but he still quickly pushed her off, "Fleur, sorry but please don't." He was blushing furiously now. Her charm wasn't lost on him, he'd just managed to ignore it with formality. "Really, it's this curse –"

"Oh my, 'arry!" Fleur gasped. "I'm so sorry, I deedn't know. Bill just told me about your ordeal, and I couldn't 'elp but feel so sorry for you and so impressed with your bravery!"

His blush had to be twice as bad now. "It was nothing. Really. Thank you for coming, I hadn't known you were in Britain."

"I took a job part-time with Gringotts to improve my Eenglish, so Bill brought me 'ere to meet 'is family. He 'ad not thought there would be such a get-together, but I am more than 'appy to meet the rest of his friends. You are all such brave young men."

Harry remembered there were others in the room finally, and flushed again. Awkwardly, he bowed. "I'm sure it will be a wonderful meal, then. I hope you won't be bored with the wait; there isn't going to be very many people here aside from the kids my age until much later. My mother is upstairs, working on a few charms, and, well, my friends are kind of expecting me to be with them so I can't very well show you around, nor is there a house elf with free time; those we have tend to schedule themselves pretty strictly on everything. Um, I could show you and Bill outside so you could look around the gardens?" He was beginning to feel rather tongue-tied. He hadn't been around Fleur much – the Beauxbatons students had kept to themselves or Ravenclaw, and when the tasks came around he'd pretty much stuck to watching Alan. Fleur hadn't affected him nearly so much then…

He missed her response when a sudden memory swept over him, Fenrir again, his wrists rubbing raw in the shackles he wore suspended from the ceiling, his claws digging into his lower back and thighs. Crashing out of it, Harry staggered, choked, and felt someone with small hands leading him aside until he was dropped into one of the chairs. He struggled to breath and the sudden intake of air cleared his vision again. Ginny was holding his shoulder, her hand holding up his fringe as Neville talked quickly and easily, something about these things happening and "I'll show you outside, I practically live here. It's no problem; he'll only get persnickety if you fuss anyways. You'll see him again at the meal, or if we decide to go flying. I'll be sure to lend you a broom…"

"Neville's a pretty fast talker, isn't he?" Harry offered weakly.

Ginny clucked her tongue and smiled. "Well, yes, he is that. Are you alright?"

"You know, Neville is right in saying I'll get pissy if you fuss." Harry smiled up at her, leaning back and stroking down his hair. Ginny just smiled.

"I'm not fussing. I'm asking if you're all right, and if we can go find somewhere for Hermione to pop without bothering anyone. She's been insistent on not sharing her OWL scores until she gets here."

Harry smiled and glanced up. Hermione was indeed bouncing in place, her eyes bright and mouth pursed. She also sent a glance down the hall Neville had left through. Harry kept himself to a small smile. Despite their break-up, Neville and Hermione were both still very interested in each other, something they tried to disguise as competitiveness and didn't fool anyone but themselves with, if even that. "The sitting room should be free. We could also go up to the guest room I've been staying in and sit out on the balcony. It's a gorgeous view out there, especially as the day wears on."

Several people nodded, and a general agreement occured. Suddenly, there was a loud clatter, and a horse poked its head out of the hall Neville had left down. Harry suppressed his desire to smile and merely raised his eyebrows. Neville changed back and rolled his shoulders. "Going up stairs as a horse sucks."

"Why'd you do it, then?" Harry asked.

"Curiosity." Neville shot. "So, I wanna know what everyone got on their OWLs."

"We're going up to the guest room with the large patio doors and talking on the balcony. Race you?"

"How are they going to find their way without you leading?" Neville asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Nanna's chatting with Ginny, she can lead them. Or they can keep up." Harry returned. "C'mon."

Neville laughed and started running. Alan, up ahead, jogged slightly and Harry led out of the room, turning abruptly and heading for the stairs, Alan just steps behind him. Neville caught up easily and had to stop as Harry got the stairs first, leading the way up on the too small staircase. Nobody could pass on it, mostly because it was a servants area and not for regular use. Due to its location, however, the boys used it as a straight shot into the upper levels and Harry's typical room. Due to his move, however, the hallway became a long, straight stretch, one that favoured Neville's stronger, longer legs. Harry greatly enjoyed stopping abruptly and opening the door halfway along – Neville had forgotten which room he was heading for and gotten ahead of himself. Harry threw open the doors and shouted, "Taa daa!"

Alan, beside him, panted lightly and glanced around. "Nice room. Is this typically a guest room?"

"Yeah." Harry answered. "My parents saved it for that, which is why I have a smaller room normally, but I'm thinking of making this a more permanent move for Christmas and next summer."

It was an opulent bedroom, with a small dais off to the left and three bookshelves opposite. The dais sported a four-poster-bed with hangings in a pale red, and a white and rose bedspread. Harry was a little embarrassed by the feminine array, but the light colours helped when he woke sweating in the night after a nightmare. The walls were similarly light – mostly white, with a white-on-cream patterned border. The bathroom was a simple wooden door red-orange in colour, and the patio doors were the same wood, edged in pale yellow, rose, and cream curtains. Alan gave Harry a moment's glance before simply walking across the light red carpet and pushing open the doors. Looking out, he whistled appreciatively.

"This is an excellent view, Harry. I'd take this room just for that. The sun would set just to your left, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry walked up behind him, hands tucked in his pockets. He knew everyone would find the room rather … curious. The view would distract them, though. He was just glad the twins weren't here, and wouldn't be arriving until much later due to their shop.

Coming up behind them, Harry heard the girls enter the room alongside a mildly confused Ron – he must have missed the staircase, or when they entered the room as he'd been trying to keep up – and Hermione immediately crooned, "Oh, this room is gorgeous."

Harry immediately winced. Behind him, he heard Nanna say something, and there was a soft, "Oh." It was only a few more moments before they joined them outside, and Ron whistled much as Alan had.

"I could definitely put up with a room like that for this." Harry didn't bother to correct him. The view was half the reason he'd taken the room. However, the soothing effect of the bright colours had left him disinclined to change the room any. Maybe next year he'd feel like it, if he kept the room. His old room was almost suffocating red and cream. It reminded him too much of blood, now, blood and bone. Or claws.

Harry turned around on the railing before his mind began to cycle again, and grinned at Hermione. "Alright, we're all here Hermione. Spill. What'd you get?"

Hermione bit her lip quietly. "I got straight Os. Eleven OWLs."

"Go Hermione!" Harry called. "That's fantastic!"

"How'd you do?" Hermione asked immediately.

"Nine OWLs." Harry happily answered. "I surprised myself, getting an Acceptable in History. It's all because of that freaking cramming, honestly. And I got four Os."

"Really?" Both Hermione and Neville asked. "What were they in?" Neville continued.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Neville scoffed immediately; that had been a given, "Defence, Transfiguration and Potions."

"Hah!" Alan laughed. "I knew you'd manage that one!"

"How'd you do, Alan?"

"Nine OWLs." Alan answered. "Four Os as well, in Ancient Runes rather than your Care, but otherwise the same. I flunked History – got a D."

"Unsurprising, considering you didn't even finish the exam." Harry laughed. "Neville, yours?"

"Nine." Neville answered succinctly. "One E, in History."

"And the rest Outstanding?" Harry grinned as Neville nodded curtly. "Ron, you do good on yours?"

"Yeah," Ron hesitantly answered. "Seven OWLs."

"Lemme guess, flunked Divination and History?" Alan asked. "Don't sweat those, they don't count for anyone but scholars and flakes or Luna. What were the rest of your grades, Es?"

"I got an A in Astronomy, but Es in everything else." Ron smiled hesitantly. "I'm really pleased with that."

"Not everyone is like Neville and Hermione, Ron." Harry gently reminded him. "Those two are insane. Don't compete with them. And you know Alan and I are overachievers – Transfiguration and Defence respond well to extreme force. It doesn't count for everything. And Alan's got a bloodline for Potions."

"Um," Ron scuffed his foot on the ground and coughed lightly. "I –I'm still not sure what to take for sixth year. You know, besides the obvious. I wanted to be an Auror, but Snape doesn't take anything less than an O."

Alan frowned thoughtfully. "I'd prevail upon him, but he told me to leave him alone about Potions this year. Whether he's just being surly or not, I don't know, but you may be able to get in. Put it down, at least. I could tutor you in what we cover if you think you're dedicated enough. Now the other core classes should be fine with Es – Charms, Transfiguration and Defence, but for an Auror..." He looked over to Harry and Neville. "Help?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "You'll need at least another class for Auror. Herbology is typically the choice, because it's counterpoint to Potions and you might run into a nasty bit of horticulture, but you could also take Care or Astronomy. Between the two, Care is probably the only one that can actually hold any merit aside from Herbology."

"I wouldn't want to be alone in the class," Ron started hesitantly.

"I'll be taking Care." Harry put in. "Probably alone in it, certainly, but that would mean I could talk Hagrid into showing me the animals I want to see in particular, or skiving off if I'm really stuck on my homework."

"Why are you taking Care?" Neville asked, curious.

"I plan on taking everything I qualify for that might be useful. I'm dropping Astronomy and History, but taking everything else."

Neville grunted. "Sounds about right. I'm pretty much doing the same."

Hermione's eyes gleamed almost frighteningly as she beamed at them. Harry turned away to keep his smile from being noticed and addressed Ginny, "Are you looking forward to your fifth year cram?"

Ginny shrugged. "If I have trouble, I'll just ask Dillan or Luna for some help. It can't be that hard; Ron passed."

Ron flushed slightly, but turned to smile at Ginny. "I got straight Es, how do you think you're gonna do?"

"I should be fine." Ginny smiled warmly at him, with an edge of malice. "I'm going to ask Blaise for Potions tutoring, at least. And Harry can show me how to pass Care and Defence. Hermione can get my grades up in History –"

"Woah, catfight!" Nanna called. "And look at that sun, I think that might indicate that we'll be seeing the Longbottoms soon and perhaps Fred and George as well. Shouldn't you get to the receiving room to make sure they don't break something?"

Visions of the twins wreaking havoc on the furniture came to mind, and Harry quickly walked past the others off the balcony. "Okay, scary images. C'mon Ginny, stop rubbing in your high connections and come help me ensure your brothers don't bring down the wrath of the Marauders on their heads. Besides, am I going to have to tell Blaise you were a bad girl and need spanked?" When Ginny perked, Harry turned a grin on her, "And then tell your mother as well?"

She deflated quickly and ran past him to the stairwell, "Fine, catch me if you can!"

Harry gleefully ran after her, almost beating her into the room. Nobody had arrived yet, thankfully, and the others caught up with little trouble. Not five minutes later, the twins did roll through in a cloud of colourful smoke. Alan immediately banished it, and the twins pouted.

"Who banished that? It was supposed to be resistant."

"I did." Alan returned, smiling. "I may have just overpowered it."

The twins exchanged looks and then shrugged. "There is that worry, Fred."

"Indeed George. We'll have to look into ways to counter that."

"Must ask that lovely resource we have. He'd know."

"He might, but we can't be sure."

"Ask first, worry later. And we have a meal to attend to, correct?"

"When James gets home." Harry clarified. "And the Longbottoms arrive. And if either of you tries something else in this house, you'll answer to the Marauders."

"Bring it on!" George pumped his fist in the air. Harry glared and clarified.

"Correction, you'll answer to my mum."

"Eh," Fred waved his hand. "She's not that scary."

"Would you rather answer to me, then?" Harry asked lightly. He expected them to just laugh it off. He did not expect them to fall silent and become thoughtful. They shared a look, and then shrugged and muttered,

"Fine, we won't do anything inside."

"Good." Harry stubbornly continued, determined not to be put off by that reaction. "Dad can clean up the lawn just fine, though. Don't you dare shoot anything towards the house, though." Harry smiled brightly at them and they quailed again. Really, did everyone have to act like he was scary?

"How did you all do on your OWLs? You got the letters today, right?" Fred asked.

"They did great." Ginny said. "Ron got more OWLs than the two of you combined. Me, I'm wondering why you didn't pass more because you both got Os on what you did take. I believe those were Defence, Charms, and Transfiguration, right?"

"Didn't you guys also take the Potions NEWT this year?" Neville abruptly asked. "Wasn't it a dare?"

Fred and George both abruptly focused on Neville. Harry had to agree; he hadn't heard that.

"Where did you hear that?"

Neville smiled innocently at them. "You were discussing it together in the common room early June. Debating your chances. Did you win?"

"We didn't take part in any such bet." Fred straightened and tugged his shirt straight. "And don't repeat that."

"Gonna lose if someone finds out?" Neville asked. "Because you bet Jonas?"

George flinched, but answered, "No, more that mum would kill us if she suspected we skived off the tests. Jonas lost when we passed. Silence wasn't part of the bargain."

"What was the bet?" Harry demanded, curiosity killing him. "You can't have talked with him all last term just over that one bet."

"Mostly, yeah, it was." Fred offered. "But … You gotta keep this quiet, okay?"

Everyone present nodded, most of them with a curious look.

"Can't have this getting back to mum, but the money Alan gave us is drying up and while we're doing good we can't expand right now and we really want to. Jonas was dreadfully curious about our products,"

"Dreadfully so, poor man." George agreed,

"So we talked and liked his interest, especially when he started mentioning partnerships and funding and further research." Fred nodded eagerly. "It was quite the healthy interest."

Harry had to bit his lip to keep from laughing or scoffing. Jonas' interest wasn't a healthy thing to have in his books, but he supposed a lucrative deal was a good mitigator.

"Well, Jonas was most disappointed as he'd somehow found out we had less than stellar OWLs. He was convinced,"

"And rightly so, I must admit,"

"That we'd tossed our tests on purpose with lack of interest. So, he dared us to pass one of our NEWTs we currently weren't taking classes in."

"His part of the bargain was something he was quite interested in doing anyways, funding our efforts with his family's money, as his uncles and brothers were very interested from what he'd said and a few items we let him send along."

"Our part was if we got less than Outstanding, we were to grant them free items and a controlling share in Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

Harry felt a chill run up his spine. He really needed to ask his father about the Hodges soon.

"But of course," Fred grinned, "we succeeded and now have funding and some very spectacular financial backers. We even granted them a small share in the company, not enough to control it, but significant none-the-less. We shouldn't be bothered by others if we have such intimidating investors, after all."

"But of course." Neville agreed, grinning wryly. "Who wants to mess with the Hodges?"

"Right you are." Fred nodded. He stepped quickly back as the floo flared again, and Melanie preceded her mother, father, brother, and grandmother. Everyone's backs straightened as Augusta came through the fire, and Harry stepped briskly forward to greet them properly. Madam Longbottom was scary.

"Madam Longbottom, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, it's a pleasure to have your company. My mother is busy upstairs on work for the Order, but she should be finished any minute. Should I show you to where she should be, or would you like to wait in the sitting room? My father, additionally, should be home any minute."

Augusta Longbottom straightened imperiously and nodded curtly. "The sitting room will do, darling Harry. Is Neville here as well? Doing well? He went along earlier, eager to share his excellent OWLs. I must say, he is a fine young man, probably outdid all of you, I dare say?"

Harry gritted his teeth. Augusta liked her grandson a little too much, and that green dress and vulture hat looked just a little odd – which, given her mood, became grating. It may have just been overcompensation – the Longbottoms weren't an old family, unlike the Potters, having only risen to a serious political presence in her father's time – but it still grated during social functions when she insisted on propriety and then bragged a little too much. Neville was cringing aside where he stood, and several of the others were looking elsewhere for any distraction. Harry, himself a little piqued and perfectly willing to use his current 'damaged' state as an excuse, smiled and added,

"He did wonderfully, Madame. Just as good as Ms. Granger, in fact – they both got straight Os. Hermione managed to outdo him in History, where he got an E, but I expect as a muggleborn History was a mite more interesting for her, when Neville knows so much of it already from your excellent lessons."

As she tried to determine where the insult was aside from his tone – Harry wasn't sure if he'd managed to remain polite through that himself – Harry tilted his head to the door and led Augusta out, Frank and Alice murmuring short apologies as they followed. Harry smiled, nodded some more, and then ran upstairs to tell his mother that the Longbottoms had arrived, and were downstairs. Molly smiled far more genuinely than she had earlier, and accepted for both of them before Harry was racing downstairs to find his friends. He passed the sitting room and found his father and Arthur had finally arrived and were talking readily with the Longbottoms. Arriving at his friends again, Harry grinned at them all and eagerly heard from Nanna that the meal should be ready in a half hour.

Thank god. Hopefully it would go smoothly.

He just feared that niggling doubt in the back of his mind wouldn't let it.

Oh well. After all, it was only family.


A/N: IT IS STILL THURSDAY! I SWEAR! Very sorry this is nearly late, but alas. It happens. And it is still Thursday here! (by half-an-hour...)
Exceitement, destruction, darling Harry, and OWLs. Very exciting. Absolutely wonderful. Alan getting slapped again - twice, even! And some irony. I do hope you enjoy; we have summer, and then we have school, and this is sixth year - and you must all be dying to see how far I diverge from canon. Or at the very least mildly interested... Well, I'm looking forward to what you think, and cheerio!

Fire & Napalm