Author's Note: I don't say much, but I did want to say thanks so much for the reviews so far! I know Harry Potter fanfiction is dying, but I just had to get this last story in. Please remember to drop a quick review! For those of you who aren't writers, you have no idea how invaluable the different kinds of feedback are! Both the positive and the negative. For those of you are ARE writers (you know who you are), shame on you if you don't review. You know better. ;-) I do hope my writing is to your liking.

SUMMON THE QUEEN

As they didn't have any classes on Sunday, it gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione the entire day to discuss everything Harry had learned the previous night. As soon as they had breakfast, they hurried over to an empty classroom as it would give them the most privacy.

Harry had got as far as what Dumbledore said about Grawp and Norberta when Hermione clucked.

"Well, of course! It makes so much more sense now," she said. "Most of what makes magical creatures 'magical' is their protective wards against predators—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Ron glumly. "I was so sure I was right."

Harry waved that aside. "But that's not all he said. Voldemort wants Hogwarts and that's what the attack on the train was about. Maybe he's trying to get into Hogwarts to use the magic, or maybe he's trying to destroy it, nobody knows. Anyway, Hogwarts is headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix now, but he wouldn't tell me when or where they're meeting, only that we shouldn't go looking for them."

"Ha!" Ron crowed. "I knew it had to be somewhere near Hogwarts. It's the safest place to have any sort of Anti-You-Know-Whatsit meeting."

Hermione, however, had concentrated on something else. "If Voldemort were to take control of Hogwarts," she said, "he would be almost as powerful as Dumbledore…and that's saying something. It's really no wonder we have all this protection and guards wandering about to make sure nothing suspicious goes on. What else did Dumbledore say?"

Harry told them about the Occlumency and Legilimency lessons he'd be receiving and the school-wide D.A. classes he'd be teaching. Ron and Hermione were both excited at this.

"Hey, if you know Legilimency, you could start teaching me and Hermione Occlumency too—!"

"And Moony will be helping with the classes? Just think, Harry, you'll be able to get so much done, and all the students will be able to do so much more—"

"—and then we'd be able to learn Legilimency! Dad doesn't even know how to do that!"

Harry grinned at his friends' enthusiasm. "That's not even the best part. I remembered what you wanted me to ask, Hermione, only Moony needed Dumbledore for something and I forgot. Then I saw the Sorting Hat in the corner and I put it on…"

He repeated everything he could remember the Hat telling him while Ron, who wasn't as interested, looked longingly out the window.

"Wait," Hermione interrupted. "You mean it said that it told us who the wizard was in the start-of-term song?"

"Yeah. But I can't even remember now what the song said. Just that—"

"You don't have to remember. I have it here," said Hermione, rummaging through her bag before she found a scroll, rolled it out, and showed it to Harry and Ron.

"Wait, is this—" said Harry.

"Blimey! When did you write this?" asked Ron.

"Last Sunday, before bed. After we heard the song, I just repeated it again in my head to commit it to memory and—" Hermione was saying.

"Wait, you did this from memory—?"

"Of course, Ron," she said rather irritably. "I have an eidetic memory, didn't you know? It means I can see things or hear things and remember them perfectly later on. It's why everyone says I sound like a textbook when I repeat information."

"Wicked! So all you had to do was hear the song and then—" he snapped his fingers "—like that, you just knew it?"

"Not necessarily. I had to repeat the entire thing to myself, but since it's in rhyme and meter and I just heard it, it was rather easy. Haven't you noticed how people can remember poems and songs much better than speeches or essays?" she said.

"Well, that's because essays are boring—"

"I don't understand, it isn't here," Harry broke in. He hadn't been following the conversation at all, he was instead reading the Sorting Hat's song, scouring through it to find mention of the old wizard's name. "All it says is he was strange and runic—whatever that means—"

"It means he wrote in runes that are still preserved today—" Hermione explained.

"—and that he lived at Hogwarts first and was the greatest wizard ever lived, but really old because he used to serve 'our first-loved king' and how he was dying or something…" Harry trailed off and looked up at them. "Does this sound familiar to either of you?"

"No," said Ron bluntly.

"I don't think—oh!" Hermione breathed, her eyes suddenly round. "I think I know now! It's—oh! Why didn't I think of it before? It's so obvious!"

"It is?" Harry and Ron both said, mystified.

"It is—of course it is! Both of you know it, I know you do! Just think!"

The two boys looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, come on!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Think! How many great wizards do we know?—I mean, not personally, but heard about?"

"Er…a lot?" asked Ron.

"No, no, think of your Chocolate Frog cards, Ron. Which ones do you have?"

"Dumbledore, Nicholas Flamel, Hengist of Woodcroft, Herpo the Foul, Andros the Invisible, Bertie Bott, Newt Scamander, Devlin Whitehorn, all the members of the Weird Sisters, Gwenog Jones—"

"Er…I think that's a girl," said Harry.

"Oh, you're right—"

"Ron!" Hermione complained.

"What?"

She sighed and turned to Harry. "You should know this, Harry! He's not just a wizard only our world knows about. Even Muggles know this one! All of England knows it—it only has to do with our 'first-loved king', after all—"

"Wait, you mean King Arthur and—oohhhh!" said Harry, slapping his forehead.

"Bloody Merlin, who are you two talking about?" snapped Ron.

To his frustration, the other two burst out laughing. It wasn't until they were able to stop when they explained to him that he'd said the answer already.

"This makes so much sense," said Hermione. "Of course it's Merlin, it all fits. I just had no idea that he lived in this castle before the Founders—that he was the one who had the idea to train witches and wizards at all. I thought he just advocated for wizards and Muggles working together—"

"And the Sorting Hat even told me that it's previous owner—Gryffindor, of course—wouldn't even dare light a candle to him. Of course Gryffindor wouldn't—Merlin was his teacher! The Founders were great, but Merlin was on another scale entirely—" said Harry.

"All right, so the weird wizard was Merlin. Big deal. What else did the Hat say?" said Ron grumpily.

Harry decided to skip the mention of his forefathers and what the Hat said about the Prophecy, and plunged right into the second riddle that the Hat gave them.

"Wow," said Hermione, reading over the copy Harry made. "So the other heirs are living to this day! I thought about it, but I was sure it wasn't possible…I mean, not that there are still some now, but that we'd be able to find them. It would take years and years of research into every single child born into each line. Do you know how many people that is? Hundreds, at least…"

"'And the gifts that they were given must be handed down the line,'" Ron read. "I suppose that means the heirs must have it now. Hang on! You were wrong, Hermione!"

Hermione blinked. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

Ron stood up and walked around their table, thinking. "Well, remember? You said that to your knowledge the Founders' gifts weren't around today, but you do know of one of them. In fact, you see it nearly every year! In Dumbledore's office!"

"Not the Hat, Ron—"

"No, I mean—"

"The sword!" Harry said aloud, nearly hitting himself again for being so stupid. Hadn't he held the sword in his hand in his second year? The name itself was marked on the very blade. "It's Gryffindor's sword!"

"Yeah. So does that mean—wait—" Ron stopped and looked at them. "Dumbledore is the Heir of Gryffindor?"

There was a silence at these words as they all digested them.

"He couldn't be…" said Harry.

"It's possible…" said Ron.

"Rather poetic justice, don't you think?" said Hermione. "The Heir of Slytherin and the Heir of Gryffindor…two of the greatest wizards of our time, and both mortal enemies…and the only ones who can defeat each other…"

Harry turned away at this. That's not true, he thought. Not anymore.

But he didn't say it aloud. The prophecy flitted across his mind yet again, and it struck him that now would be the perfect time to tell them.

They still didn't know about the prophecy.

He looked at them both, and he suddenly realized how old they seemed.

In many ways, Ron was the same boy he had met on the train. With his ginger hair down to his ears, his long nose, his sometimes clueless expression…but he was very different now as well. His feet used to be large for his frame, but now the rest of him had nicely caught up. He stood at just over six feet, his freckles were still there, but now almost invisible against the tan he'd gotten over the previous summers. And whereas before he had been rather lanky, over a year of rigorous Keeping and Defense training had buffed him up considerably. In short, Ron looked really rather fit.

And Hermione…well, she was…well, Hermione. Harry noticed, almost for the first time, just how much she had changed over the years as well. Her hair used to be curly to a fault, but now it had become much more manageable and she appeared to be trying different things with it—today she had drawn it away from her face into a loose plait, and it looked rather nice. Harry didn't even know when her figure started changing, it seemed so gradual, but now it was clear that she was no longer a little girl. Her skin had tanned over the years spent with the Weasleys and at Hogwarts, reading in the stands while the boys practiced Quidditch. She wasn't noticeably stunning, like Cho Chang—her beauty was much more quiet and it seemed rather to sneak up on people when they were least expecting it.

And all of this only told of how they had both grown physically, Harry noted. All three of them had changed a lot since their first year, intellectually, emotionally, mentally…even socially, Harry thought, remembering how bossy and unlikable Hermione used to be and how insecure and jealous Ron would always get.

They deserve it. Their friendship deserves to be told the truth about the future. About why they risked their lives in the Department of Mysteries...about why death and danger seem to follow me wherever I go...about what will happen if they still choose to be with me...especially why everything I do, everything I am, is going to be the death of them...

Memories flashed in his mind.

Hermione, lying on the floor, unconscious...panic and fear completely overflowing and spilling out of him at the thought that she was dead...Neville reaching over to see if she even had a pulse...

Then Ron, foolishly laughing at the brains in the tank...Harry could only watch in horror as they flew towards his best friend, attacking him, choking him, killing him...

And all summer long, Harry could hear Ron crying out at night. Even the potions Ron had been given to heal his arms didn't stop his nightmares. Harry tried to ask him several times about what he'd been dreaming about, but Ron just clammed up and changed the subject. Harry wasn't used to this...he was used to the roles being reversed...he wasn't used to Ron drawing away from others and acting like Harry'd had all those years previous.

But things with Hermione hadn't been much better. Harry couldn't forget the image of her lying in the hospital wing, looking pale and fragile. Madam Pomfrey had given her numerous bottles of things to take for whatever curse Dolohov had thrown at her, but even now she still didn't look as strong and healthy as her old self. Harry didn't think anyone else had even noticed, as good as she was at hiding things from him especially. He often saw her rubbing her chest when she thought nobody was looking...he knew that what had happened that night had scarred her...both physically and emotionally.

And it was all my fault. It all happened because of me. Hermione knew Voldemort had planted that vision in my mind...Hermione knew Sirius wasn't really there, that it was a trap...and still she came with me and risked her life. They both did. With everything we've been through...they trusted me enough to risk their lives for me...

I don't want to tell them about the prophecy. I don't want to add to all the pain I've caused them. But they deserve to hear it from me, rather than someone else. I don't want them to know, but they need to.

I need to tell them.

He stood up straighter and cleared his throat. His heart was racing, he was sure he had gotten paler—surely they would notice. He thought about how to tell them, what should be the first words out of his mouth—

"Well," said Ron, standing up. "As fun as this was, my stomach is killing me. What do you think they'll serve us for lunch?"

Hermione stood up as well and started walking. "Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop thinking about food?"

"No. Not really."

Harry sighed. For a moment he thought about calling out to them, and blurting it out before they left. But then he changed his mind, got up, and followed them out of the library.

I'll tell them later. Sometime this month when we all have a break.

But he never did have a later. For the rest of that week, they were so incredibly busy with the piling homework and schoolwork that they thought of little else. And when they did have cause to think of little else, it was always unpleasant—

"I can't believe it!" said Hermione one day at breakfast.

She spread the Daily Prophet out on the table and showed them. The headline blared:

THE SEARCH FOR DIGGLE CONTINUES

Harry and Ron leaned in and read the article. It was all about the disappearance of Dedalus Diggle since June and the Ministry's search to find him.

"Hey, I've heard something about that," said Neville, peering at it. "Who's Diggle anyway? And why's he on the news all the time?"

"Dedalus Diggle is—or was—a member of the Order," said Hermione.

"Bet it's 'was'," muttered Ron sullenly. "Bet you anything the Death Eaters captured him and killed him. Shame, too. I rather liked him."

"So did I," said Harry glumly. "He came up to me several times the first time I went to the Leaky Cauldron and shook my hand. He rather liked me. And when the Order came to pick me up last year, he was there. I remember once when I was seven, he came up to me in the middle of the street and shook my hand. Frightened me a bit…"

"Diggle…doesn't he have an odd hat? Rather short, always beaming, talks rather fast? Middle-aged bloke?" said Neville, scratching his head.

"He can't be more than forty," Hermione corrected. "I heard Professor Lupin talking about him. He was still in school when they were in their seventh year. He said Diggle had taken to following the Marauders around everywhere, and they used to make him fetch things and stand guard during their pranks and whatnot."

Ron cast a furtive look at Harry that had nothing to do with Diggle and everything to do with Hermione's mention of the Marauders.

"Er—anyway—see, what happened is, he went missing in June. The Order sent him off on a mission—I don't know what it was, no one's said—and he hasn't been seen since then. We all think the Death Eaters caught him, but the few that we've captured all say that they're trying to find him. Not that they're likely to be trusted," said Ron savagely.

"The Ministry's been using this new method to tell if someone's lying, Ron," said Hermione. "I don't know what it is, but it was Dumbledore's idea. I truly believe that neither Voldemort nor the Death Eaters have him. Besides, they've been looking for him too. Which means they can't know where he is. Which leaves, of course, everyone wondering what in heaven's name happened to him."

"But haven't there been other disappearances? Why's he so special?" said Neville.

Hermione shrugged. "Apart from nobody knowing what happened to him? I expect the Ministry's trying to keep the public happy knowing they're looking so hard for him, because that means they're looking just as hard for everyone else who's mysteriously gone missing. He's like their poster boy for missing persons."

"I still think Vol…You-Know-Him did it," said Ron, stubborn.

"And I still think there's a fishy reason as to why Voldemort wants him," said Harry.

"Voldewho?" said Seamus from behind him, feigning confusion.

They snorted.

"No, no, Seamus, you're quite mistaken," said Dean as he plopped down beside them. "I do believe they're talking about the one ugly bloke...Whodemort."

They laughed.

Livening up a bit, Harry finished his juice and said, "You know, if he had a twin, what that name would be, right? You-Know-Two."

"Oh, that's horrible, Harry. How about this. What's it called when he's on time to a meeting?" said Ron. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Late."

Sniggering, they all left for their next class.

Their next Defense Against the Dark Arts classes proved to be almost as good as the first, Harry found out. On Mondays during their two hours of class, they were beginning to learn more about Voldemort. Quite a bit of it Harry already knew, but there was still some that surprised him.

"That was really interesting," Hermione remarked as they were headed down for dinner. "Especially that bit about how his mother brewed that love potion to get the elder Tom Riddle to fall in love with her. It must have been horrible when he left her…"

"Fancy his family being so screwed up," said Ron.

Harry snorted. "Like mine," he said, thinking of the Dursleys.

"And that orphanage…I wonder what he did to that poor girl and boy…" Hermione said.

"I don't think you want to know," Ron stated in an undertone, just as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle rudely pushed their way past them.

Harry saw Malfoy's face as he passed, and was stunned by the unmasked fury.

"Wonder what's with him," he said quietly.

"It must be hard," Hermione mused, "finding out the hero you worship isn't all he's said he was. I don't think Malfoy knew that Voldemort's a half-blood. I don't think any of the Slytherins knew. It actually reminds me of Hitler."

Ron said, "You mean that one Muggle bloke that started that war? I remember my grandfather talking about it."

"Wait, where's the connection?" Harry asked.

"Well…they both have this long-standing vendetta against a certain type of people—Jews, Muggle-borns—but the thing that they're hiding from and don't want any of their followers to know is that they're hunting the very people they themselves are descended from. It's just…sad," she said.

"You may think it's sad," said Ron darkly. "I think it's just sick."

When they descended the marble staircase into the entrance hall, they saw a crowd of people beside a table near the doors.

"What's going—" started Hermione.

"Oy!" shouted Ron above the din. "Move over! Prefects coming through!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What? Percy did this all the time. It's rather fun," said Ron with a smile as the crowd parted for them.

"Huh," said Harry as they got to the table. There was a very long sign-up parchment that lined along it, underneath a sign that said DEFENSE ASSOCIATION in large letters.

"'…in the Great Hall every Sunday morning at nine o'clock by the founder, Harry Potter, and the joint-officiator, Remus Lupin,'" read Ron aloud. "Bloody hell, Harry! There's about five hundred signatures on here already!"

"It looks like everyone from the D.A. last year's signed up," Hermione beamed, reading through them. "Well, except for the ones that left last year…hmm…glad to see Marietta Edgecombe isn't on the list…"

Ron snorted. "Got enough sense, that one. She knows bloody well to stay well away from you, Hermione."

Harry wasn't listening—he couldn't believe his eyes. He grabbed the list from Hermione. It was so long that the end fell to the floor and rolled under the table.

Five hundred people…I have to teach five hundred people…he thought dazedly. All of a sudden, he felt everyone's eyes on him, and as he looked around the entrance hall, some people started to clap. It started with the old DA members from last year until all the students were clapping and cheering.

Harry got so red he was sure he'd melt right into the floor.

"Well!" said Ron, grinning. "Now that I know it's a success, could I have that back, Harry? I don't suppose you'll be needing to add your own name to it…if you really have to teach yourself, we'll be better off with Umbridge."

The hall erupted in snickers.

The sixth-years quickly found out why the N.E.W.T.s were so hard. They didn't have much of a break at all for the entire week. Schoolwork was beginning to catch up with them and any free breaks they might have had before turned into study breaks.

"I'll never get the hang of this," Ron moaned one evening as he threw his wand down on the Gryffindor common room table and leaned back in his chair.

"But you've done it before," said Harry, looking at him.

"That was different. I was really hungry then. I just can't remember what I was thinking when I said the spell to myself and it actually came."

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework.

"Perhaps that's the problem," she said. "When you do verbal spells, it's all about concentrating and saying the right words and doing the right movements. But non-verbal spells are different. Getting the right words and movements is habitual by then. So really, when you think about it, getting it perfected a second time has more to do with your emotions and desires than your head. Perhaps you're thinking about it too much. At the risk of sounding like a Muggle therapist—what were you feeling at the time, Ron?"

"That I was hungry. I know that my mouth was watering when I Summoned it," he remembered. "And what's a there-a-piss?"

"So it was your hunger that drove your desire!" said Hermione. "Not your thoughts, but your feelings. Have you been trying to focus on your feelings when Summoning something lately?"

"Er…no…" Ron said, feeling stupid.

"All right then, try this," Hermione said, standing up and putting one of Ron's chess pieces on her palm. "You love chess, so focus on that love and Summon this queen to you."

"Just like that?" he asked.

"Yeah, Ron, that's simple enough. Need me to Silence you?" said Harry, getting into it.

"No, thanks," said Ron acerbically. He sighed and concentrated on the white queen in Hermione's hand.

I can do this, he thought. I love chess. I love to play with the queen. Well, actually, not really. She just seems to cheat, she's too powerful. She goes in and takes what she wants, no matter who's in her way. I much prefer the knight, really.

"Come on, Ron, you're not concentrating hard enough," said Hermione. "I can't stand here forever."

Ron furrowed his brows. Concentrate…I can concentrate…

Think about how bossy that piece is. She knows what she wants and she takes it. She commands all the other pieces, she always has…and she always seems to know everything…no wonder they call her the know-it-all of the class…

"Do you want her or don't you?" asked Harry.

Of course I want her! I know she's a pain, but she's still my friend, and we've known each other for six years now…

Something wasn't quite right, but Ron was too busy focusing on Hermione and the little white thing in her hand to pay attention.

"She's waiting, Ron," said Harry.

I know I can't have her, but it doesn't matter. I just…I want her, is all…

"She's starting to put it down—"

And it just doesn't really matter that I can't have her, because lately I've been feeling that all I want to do—

"—You're running out of time, you know—"

—is say "To hell with it all!" and—

"—Ron—"

ACCIO!

It happened in an instant.

Ron was pointing his wand straight at Hermione, when the next thing he knew, she was flying through the air, straight towards him.

Hermione gave a shriek. Ron had barely enough time to throw up his arms and catch her before they were both thrown against the armchair. With both of their weights combined, the armchair fell back onto the floor, Hermione on top of Ron, and Ron on top of the forgotten chess piece.

"Ohhh, Ron…" Hermione moaned as she struggled to get up. "You really need to work on your aim."

By the time she had clambered off, Ron noticed that the entire Common Room was laughing at them.

"Perhaps his aim isn't the problem," sniggered Seamus.

Harry, still chuckling, offered Ron a hand up.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron, flushing.

"Perhaps one of these days you'll actually Summon what you're supposed to be Summoning. Just do me a favor, will you?" said Harry. "Next time you decide to try something like that, tell me first and I'll make sure Mr. Granger stays well away so he doesn't beat you to a bloody pulp."

That set off a new wave of laughter amongst the older students. Ron noticed Hermione had turned rather pink and was burying her face in a textbook in the corner.

He made his way over to her. "Look, Hermione, I really am sorry…"

"No, it's okay," she said from behind her book, her voice a bit higher than normal. "You didn't mean to."

Yeah, but that's the thing… Ron thought with a furrowed brow as he made his way up to the boy's dorm. I think I did…

But whether he meant it or not, Ron noticed that for the next few days Hermione rather avoided him.

When he voiced his concern to Harry during their next Potions class, however, Harry only chuckled. "I'd be avoiding you too if you made me fly across the room."

Ron made a rude hand gesture.