Harry absently patted his body as he and Sirius arrived at platform 9 ¾, sure he'd been splinched. How else could it feel like he had left such a large part of himself behind in France? His hand brushed the enchanted parchment in his pocket, its presence helping to settle his thoughts. The station was bustling, parents and students rushing towards the Express, trunks and familiars in hand as a warning whistle sounded. He stumbled as someone jostled him in passing, the crowd and noise of the platform becoming overwhelming.
"Even the Weasleys beat us here," Sirius griped, pointing towards a small crowd of red hair near the train. "Let's pretend we've been here for ages." Sirius grinned at Harry and set off. Harry grabbed his still floating trunk and followed.
"What took you so long?" Sirius asked as he approached the Weasley family, grinning from ear to ear.
"Sirius!" Arthur exclaimed, extending a hand. "Been here long have you?"
"We just got here, sir," Harry replied as he approached, greeting Ron with a wave.
Sirius looked over to Harry, a look of only partially feigned betrayal in his eyes.
"It's great to see you, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, "but if you don't hurry you'll miss the Express!"
The final warning whistle blew in agreement with Mrs. Weasley, spurring Harry and Ron towards the train.
"Hermione is already aboard I'd expect," Ron said as they ran. "Hopefully she's saved us a cabin."
Harry and Ron stepped onto the train seconds before it started moving, hauling their trunks onto the train behind them. Harry turned to wave to Sirius who was already eagerly waving goodbye.
"See you at Christmas!" Sirius shouted with a wolfish grin as the train pulled away from the station.
"How'd ya manage to get Sirius to bring you to the station?" Ron asked as they weaved through the mass of students making their way through the cars. Conversations flowed around them, the occasional excited shout of reunion sounding from a nearby cabin as they passed. "I'm surprised your relatives let him anywhere near their house, as much as you say they dislike anything magical."
"It's been a long summer," Harry muttered. The parchment in his pocket almost burned in a reminder of Fleur's words just before he had left their wonderful home.
They will understand. I am sure of it.
"I'll tell you later."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Sirius dropped his arm as the Express gave a final goodbye whistle, and turned back to Arthur and Molly.
"It's wonderful to see you both without the pressure of an upcoming trial looming over our heads," he said as the three slowly turned, and walked towards the barrier.
"I should say," Arthur said with a laugh. "Though it was because of your insistence that my son and I help with your case that we've been doing so well. I work with Amelia Bones now! Can you believe it?!"
"You deserve it, Arthur," said Molly, looking up at her husband. "You've put in more time at that place than any two other people in that department."
"Oh Molly," Arthur said, his ears turning pink, "that's not true and you know it. The DMLE is full of dedicated people. I just hope I'm up to the job."
"I'm sure you will be," said Sirius. "I picked you because I remember you being one of the few from the order who offered to testify under Veritaserum to my character before they locked me away. It was the very least I could do to return the favor. Plus, your son's almost encyclopedic knowledge of ministry procedure really helped us save a lot of time. You must be proud to see another Weasley in the ministry. We could use a lot more like you two."
Arthur waved the compliments away while Molly simply nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, at least let me treat you to a cuppa before we part. Would you like to come to the Burrow? I can side-along apparate you."
"I'd love to," Sirius said, nodding towards the barrier separating them from King's Cross Station, "but walking around in public is a pleasure I am still enjoying. Maybe we could get something nearby?"
Arthur thought for a moment, before snapping his fingers.
"There's a nice muggle shop just down the street from King's Cross that I enjoy visiting every now and again. One time I was there I saw a man pull a telley-phone out of a bag!"
"Lead the way!"
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry plopped heavily down in the seat across from Hermione. He apologized to the short blonde girl he jostled as he sat, though she said nothing in response.
"I was about to start looking out the window for a flying car," Hermione said, favoring Harry with a smile. "It's good to see you, Harry."
"And it's not good to see me?" Ron groused as he wrestled with getting his trunk onto the rack above their seat.
"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" Hermione asked with a grin, producing her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa."
Ron staggered forward as the trunk lifted from his arms, and settled gently onto the rack.
"Thanks," Ron mumbled as he sat, his ears vaguely pink.
"It's good to see you too, Ron," she said, slipping her wand back into a pocket. "How were your summers?"
"Not too bad," Ron answered. "Dad was pretty busy working on the whole Sirius Black case for the first part, then he's been busy after his transfer, but he seems happy. Mum has laid off Fred and George a bit, so the lack of yelling is nice."
"It was a…hectic summer," Harry said quietly, glancing over to the girl, who seemed engrossed in the magazine she was reading...upside down.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the deviation from his usual answer of 'fine.'
"How so?" she asked, curious.
"I'll...tell you later," answered Harry, grateful for the girl's presence. Despite the convenient timing, he wasn't sure he was ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with his friends.
A rustling of paper caught his attention as the girl closed her magazine and stood. Her odd silvery eyes focused briefly on each one of theirs before she spoke.
"This seems to be a private conversation," she said, her voice strangely tranquil. "I don't want to intrude, so I will find somewhere else to sit."
"You don't have to do that," Harry said quickly as she stepped between their legs and slid open the door.
"Thank you, Luna," Hermione interjected, shooting Harry a significant look.
Luna nodded serenely before closing the cabin door behind her.
"That was rude," Harry protested once they were alone.
"Luna is...odd, to put it lightly," Hermione explained, "and I assumed that 'hectic' and something you couldn't talk about around others meant it was related to Voldemort."
"Oh."
"You mean it's not?" Ron asked, surprised. "That's what I thought too."
Harry stared at his friends' confused faces as the greenery outside flashed by, the Express finally reaching its full speed.
"No," he said quietly, the word feeling as though he had to haul it from somewhere deep within himself. "It wasn't Voldemort."
"Well that's a relief," Hermione said, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. Her brows furrowed as she glanced at Harry's downcast face, the memory of his breakdown in the common room after the second task surfacing in her mind. "Is everything...okay?" she asked slowly. Ron sat quietly, staring at Harry for a moment before looking over to Hermione, concern paling his freckled face.
Silence suffused the cabin as seconds turned to minutes, the only sound that of the train speeding towards Hogwarts, and the occasional laugh from elsewhere in the car. Ron and Hermione sat quietly, unwilling to interrupt whatever thoughts were turning around inside their friend's head.
"It is now…" Harry finally said, his voice hitching before he could say anything more. He leaned back suddenly, taking in a deep shaking breath, and letting it out as he leaned his head against the back of the seat. His eyes unfocused as he stared off at a point somewhere above the top of Hermione's bushy hair.
"Harry?" Hermione asked delicately. "What do you mean?"
"I spent the last part of the summer with the Delacours in France," Harry said softly.
Hermione quickly looked to Ron, ready to quash any uncouth comment before it could start, but only saw serious concern in the redhead's features. She felt a soft glow of pride bloom inside her at her friend's newfound restraint, she turned back to Harry, who seemed unaware of anything happening inside the small cabin.
"They sort of...rescued me from the Dursleys."
"Rescued you?" Hermione prompted when Harry didn't continue.
He again sighed deeply and his gaze dropped to the floor.
"I suppose I can tell you like I told her," he whispered.
"Most of my life-" he began, his voice shaking and fragile. "Most of my life...they er...they would hurt me. To discipline me. Because I ran away to go to the World Cup...it was really bad this year. Mr. Delacour came and got me away from their house, and I stayed in France with them after that. A little over a week ago there was a hearing at the ministry, and the Dursleys are going to be tried in the muggle world too. Sirius is going to try to get his title back to he can take me in before the end of the year."
Hermione and Ron stared at each other, their eyes wide in disbelief. Hermione recovered first, her treacherous memory pulling hard on a seemingly innocent comment.
"At the world cup," she said slowly, her voice coming out far weaker than she had expected. "In the tent...you said you were worried because you hadn't told your relatives you were leaving. You were actually worried about..."
Harry nodded, the memory of even such small vulnerability still vivid.
"Oh my God," she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth. "Harry I told you that you shouldn't antagonize them. I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay," Harry answered immediately, looking up to his friend. "Really it is. You didn't know."
"That's why we had to come to get you at night," Ron said quietly, almost to himself. "Because you couldn't tell them where we were going. That's why your things were locked up."
Harry nodded, his eyes returning to the floor.
Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes as pieces of a puzzle she didn't realize she was assembling fell into place, flashes of memory dancing through her mind. Harry in their first potions class, flinching every time Snape raised his voice. His almost paralyzing fear of expulsion while they were solving the puzzles to the Philosopher's stone. His unusual deference to Lockhart, even after he'd been exposed as a fraud. The way he'd helped calm Ginny when she woke up in the hospital wing with nightmares while all three of them were under observation after he'd slayed the basilisk. His extreme reaction to the Dementors, and his stubborn unwillingness to face a Boggart. The way he'd talked with such hope about living with Sirius Black, a man who, at the time, they had just learned wasn't trying to kill him. The way he always came back to Hogwarts seemingly like half of himself, only returning to normal after the first few days of the new term.
"Harry, I-" Hermione said.
"I…" he cut in, trailing off almost instantly. "I don't want you to think badly of me...but I thought you should know."
"We would never!" Hermione said, horrified. "It's not your fault!"
"She's right," Ron said.
Harry smiled weakly up at his friends.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
"You don't have to tell us anything," Ron said quickly, surprising Hermione, who had been about to speak. "But you can, if you want."
He paused, steeling himself before continuing.
"Listen...I understand why you might've wanted to hide it, mate. Especially from me. I was a bad friend last year. Honestly, I'm a little surprised you're even telling me something so important."
Harry's head whirled to look at his friend, the automatic protest in the narrowing of his eyes.
Ron held up a hand with a wry smile.
"Hermione absolutely slaughtered me one evening when I was complaining about your luck getting into the tournament before you were burned. She made me swear not to repeat the words she used too," he grinned weakly over at Hermione, who could only stare at her two best friends. "She told me if I ever said I'd been a bad friend, that you'd tell me it's okay. But you deserve a better friend than that. So I've been trying to be better."
"You are a good friend," Harry said once Ron had finished.
"I'm not," Ron disagreed, "but I will be."
"You are," Harry pressed, a surprising amount of irritation coloring his tone. "I did not spend the summer convincing Fleur that you aren't a fairweather friend just to have to convince you too. I've thought about it a lot, and I am honestly okay with what happened. I'd rather us be friends than let one thing get in the way."
Ron nodded, though Hermione could see the disagreement in the set of his jaw.
"How did Mr. Delacour come to be the one to get you?" Hermione asked. "But you don't have to tell us any more if you don't want to!" She added quickly. "Only what you're comfortable with."
"I wrote letters to Fleur through muggle post. It was her idea so we could keep in touch after what happened in the graveyard."
Hermione frowned, frustrated that she'd never thought to use the post to keep in touch with Harry. Once she had learned Hedwig couldn't bring him letters, she had resigned herself to only talking to Harry at Hogwarts.
"She...er...mentioned that she thought something was wrong. I hadn't really planned on telling her what was going on, but I'd gotten down to my last piece of paper, and I just...wrote it down. I mean, I'm glad I did, but I don't know why I did it after keeping it a secret for so long."
"And then he came to get you?" asked Ron.
"It took a couple of weeks for them to get things in order since they were going to take me out of the country."
Neither spoke as the information settled into their minds, pulling a multitude of questions to the surface. Harry sat in anxious silence, the raw vulnerability putting him on edge. They hadn't reacted as he had feared, but it was still too early to see if they would treat him differently.
"Is there…" Ron said finally, making Harry and Hermione jump. "Is there anything we can do to help?"
Harry shook his head.
"It's all over now. They said I've been removed from their custody, so I don't ever have to go back."
Another heavy silence descended between the three friends as Harry finished speaking.
"So…" Hermione ventured, "did you have fun in France? Did you go to Paris?"
Harry and Ron looked to Hermione in surprise, though Harry felt a little of the tension coiled in his muscles relax at her simple question.
"We didn't go to Paris. I spent the whole time at the Ambassador's manor, with a couple of trips to the Ministry."
"If it's a 'manor,' then I bet it's pretty nice," said Ron. "I think I remember my dad mentioning that Britain's got one for their ambassador too, except it's some penthouse in London."
"What was it like?" asked Hermione.
"It was pretty big. Nice too. There's a big magically warmed lake, and trees on pretty much every other side. They're all connected in one big wooded area."
"A magically warmed lake?" Hermione asked, her interest piqued. "How was it warmed? Why was it warmed?"
"She didn't say how just that it was so her family could swim in it comfortably."
"Right," Hermione said, remembering her introduction to Fleur.
Ron looked between his two friends, confused.
"Veela have a fire-affinity," Hermione explained. "Cold water is extra cold to them, and warm water to us would still be chilly."
"That's a bummer. I bet that made the lake part of the tournament a nightmare for her," Ron said, wincing in sympathy.
"It did," Harry said quietly.
"Was her family nice?" Hermione asked quickly. "I barely saw them at the tournament."
Harry spent the rest of the trip telling his friends of his time with the Delacours. Of baking, chess, Gabrielle learning English, and his extremely rudimentary French. He told them of their walks in the woods, though he left out Fleur's 'secret' clearing, and how she had suddenly and permanently become able to sense him. He left out the nightmares of watching her being tortured or the ones where he begged Voldemort for death. He left out falling apart in their fancy kitchen, only to be brought back by Fleur to discover that deep down he desperately never wanted her to let him out of that embrace.
He told them of Sirius' trial, though Ron had gotten a quick rundown from his father, and he told them of Dumbledore's apology, just before his hearing.
"What'd you say to him?" Hermione asked as Harry finished.
"I didn't get the chance to say anything. We were interrupted by a ministry employee and he left." Harry shrugged. "I didn't see him after that."
Hermione frowned, her eyebrows drawn together in thought. "Maybe he'll talk to you once school starts?"
"At the end of last year..." Harry said, vaguely remembering his conversation with Dumbledore through the haze of Voldemort's Cruciatus, and the dreamless sleep potion he'd had to take, "he said he wanted to continue what Professor Moody started, so I might be a little more prepared if Voldemort comes after me again."
"Dumbledore wants to train you?" Ron asked, shocked. He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Do you think he'd train us too? Or that you could show us what he shows you?"
"Why would you want to study extra with the Headmaster if you don't even pay attention to your regular classes?" Hermione huffed.
"The regular classes are usually boring, but learning magic from the greatest wizard alive would be amazing."
"If I can, I'll show you what he shows me," Harry agreed, suppressing a smile when he saw Hermione's grateful look. "Sirius says he thinks this year's Defense class is going to be a bust. He even gave me a book from the Black library to read instead of the textbook."
"It is…rather dry," Hermione said slowly. It had been a struggle to read the assigned book before term started. Despite her best efforts, she found her mind wandering away after nearly every page.
"That's putting it mildly," Ron grumbled.
"You read over the summer?" Hermione asked, a bit of shock mixing into her teasing tone.
"I skim," Ron shot back defensively.
"The book he lent me is a lot more interesting," Harry cut in. "It's got a lot of curses and their counters, but it also talks about how the curses work."
"That sounds fascinating," Hermione said. "I've been able to find frustratingly little on the mechanics of magic."
"I'll bring it along when I show you what Dumbledore showed me," Harry said, steel entering his voice. "If defense is as bad as Sirius thinks it's going to be, we're going to have to do some work on our own. If Voldemort is really coming after me, then I need to be better, otherwise, the people around me will get hurt. I don't want to have to see that again."
"Don't want to-" Hermione began. "Harry, what happened in that graveyard? All you told us was that Crouch Jr. and Karkaroff brought Voldemort back and Dumbledore saved you." She paused, her face reddening beneath her bushy hair. "You don't have to tell us though. If it's really bad, I don't want to make you have to repeat it."
"It wasn't just me there," Harry said slowly, forcing his mind under control, denying the memories trying to surface. "Fleur and I grabbed the cup at the same time, so we were both taken."
Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "I thought she'd just been put in the hospital wing by something in the maze."
Harry shook his head.
"She transformed...in the maze," he said, watching Hermione's eyes widen as he spoke. "She turned back before we got to the cup, so she was exhausted." He took a deep breath, trying to get his ears to focus on the rhythm of the train on the tracks, rather than the phantom screams floating in the periphery.
"When Voldemort had his body back, he used the Cruciatus on me when I wouldn't duel him...then on her when I refused again."
"Harry," Hermione gasped over top of Ron's muttered, "Mate…"
"Are you...are both of you okay?" Ron asked, recovering first. "The Death Eaters used to use that curse to torture people into insanity back during the first war. It's no joke."
"You don't have to tell me," Harry replied, chuckling mirthlessly before calming. "Yeah. We're fine. Getting better might be more accurate."
"I can see why you would want to avoid that," Hermione said quietly. "Well, you know I won't say no to a study group, even if the stakes are a little higher than bad grades." She glanced over to Ron, who seemed to be wrestling with the deluge of depressing revelations that had been dropped at their feet. She turned back to Harry, who still sat tensed, his shoulders hunched as though he expected to be asked to leave at any second.
"Thank you for telling us," Hermione said, breaking both young men from their thoughts. Ron nodded in agreement.
Harry smiled shyly at his friends, before trying to discreetly wipe at the corners of his eyes.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
The brakes of the Express pierced the quiet air as the train came to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, the train cars alive with activity.
"It was nice to not have our annual visit from Malfoy," Hermione commented.
"You can say that again," said Ron. "I nearly swung at the berk last year, not sure I have it in me to hold back again."
"Violence is a poor solution," said Hermione, "no matter how big of a jerk he is being."
"Says the only one of us who's gotten to lay him out," grumbled Ron, earning him a smug smile from Hermione.
The students disembarked slowly from the train and out into the warm evening, the first-years congregating around the docks. Harry turned to wave to Hagrid, instead finding Professor McGonagall herding the first-years efficiently into the rickety boats. The trio turned, beginning their walk towards the horseless carriages. Harry stopped mid-stride when the carriages came into focus, no longer horseless. Large winged skeletal horses were tied to each one, trotting full carriages up the path to Hogwarts as they filled.
"What are those?" He asked, catching up to Ron and Hermione.
"What are what?" Ron asked, looking bewilderedly in the direction Harry was pointing.
"They're thestrals," a soft voice came from behind Harry, somehow cutting through the din of conversation all around them. "You can see them too? I've not met anybody else who could."
"Er...Luna, right?" Harry asked as the girl fell in stride with them, her magazine held in one hand.
"That's right," she said, a small smile curving her lips.
"I don't see anything either," Hermione said, squinting her eyes as she stared.
"You can only see them if you have seen, understood, and accepted death," Luna explained, her serene voice distinctly at odds with the subject matter.
"Accepted death?" Hermione echoed, her face paling. "That seems…"
Luna strode up to one of the thestrals, patting it on its flank, her hands ruffling the fine coat clinging to its boney frame.
"They're quite friendly," she said, removing her hand and turning to Hermione. "Some sort of metaphor, I expect. I think you have to see and accept death as part of life, in order to see them, not necessarily accept it presently for yourself."
The four of them climbed into a thestral drawn carriage, the mood decidedly somber. Luna pulled out her magazine, flipping through to a dog-eared page. They rode in silence for a time, the only sound the clattering of the wooden wheels as the bounced over half-buried rocks in the dirt path. It was eventually broken by Ron, whose voice cracked as he spoke.
"How can you read that upside down?" he blurted after Luna turned yet another page.
Luna looked up, startled. She turned the magazine around to reveal the article she was reading, the words printed right side up.
"This was a misprint," Luna said. "Daddy accidentally knocked this one over, then set it back on the pile backward before printing out this edition. He can't sell it, so I took it for some light reading on the way back to school."
The rest of the ride to the castle was quiet, each lost in their respective thoughts. Luna wished them well as they entered the great hall, the odd girl making a beeline for an empty seat at the very end of the Ravenclaw table.
"Well," Ron said as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. "She was a little odd."
"Some of the girls call her 'Loony Lovegood'," Hermione said, darting a glance over to where Luna sat, all the chairs near her completely empty.
"That's rude," Harry muttered.
Before they could talk further, the doors to the great hall opened, Professor McGonagall leading the first years in for the sorting.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
One song, sorting, and feast later, Dumbledore stood, his hands raised for quiet. Harry looked to the head table, his eyes drawn to the stout woman in pink sitting next to the Headmaster. They had agreed over dinner, that she had to be the new defense teacher that required that awful textbook. They had also noted Hagrid's absence, his place instead taken up by Professor Grubbly-Plank, a professor that had taught his class briefly the year previous.
"Welcome, welcome," Dumbledore said once the talking had died down to a bare murmur. "It is another year, another opportunity for growth and change. To make new friends, and to deepen the bonds with the ones you already have." He gestured to the woman in pink on his left. "And speaking of new, please join me in welcoming Dolores Umbridge as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Mild applause followed the statement, the rest of the student body seemingly just as wary of the woman as Harry felt. The woman stood following the applause and gave a long, empty speech that very nearly put Harry to sleep. When she finally finished to more sparse applause, Hermione was frowning, her leg bouncing nervously as she glared at the woman.
"What is it?" Harry asked, feeling his own heart rate jump.
"Weren't you listening?" Hermione chastised, looking between Harry and Ron's blank faces. "Of course you weren't. She's from the ministry, I don't know why she's here, but they're up to something."
"Do you suppose it has to do with Dumbledore trying to prove Voldemort is back?" Ron asked, alarmed.
"He did say he expected some opposition, but he also thought he'd have presented his case by now…" Harry added, trailing off.
His attention was cut off by sudden conversations springing up and the scrape of benches against the floor.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione gasped, jumping to her feet. "That's us!"
"What's you?" Harry asked, looking between his two friends.
"We were going to tell you on the train...but...well," Ron said, looking apologetic as he pulled a small golden prefects badge from inside his robes and pinned it to the front.
"You don't even have it on?" asked Hermione, horrified, her own golden prefect badge attached perfectly to the front of her robes.
Ron shrugged, "They're just little firsties, they don't even know what a prefect is yet."
Hermione shook her head in exasperation before calling down the Gryffindor table for the first years to follow her and Ron.
"We'll see you soon, Harry," she said as Ron gathered the new Gryffindors by the large doors to the Great Hall. "The password is Mimbulus mimbletonia."
"Ugh, I hope it gets changed soon," Harry griped as Hermione turned and joined Ron, leading the first years from the Great Hall. He turned to the head table, hoping to catch Dumbledore's eye, but found it empty.
"Trying out this year Harry?" Katie Bell asked, walking up alongside Fred, George, and Angelina.
Harry nodded, a grin of excitement spreading across his face. "I've got the broom situation all figured out, don't you worry."
"That's good," Fred said with a responding smile. "It would be much harder to keep the bludgers off you if you can't outfly them."
"Not that we wouldn't appreciate your faith in our skills," said George.
"So I'll see you at tryouts?" Angelina asked, her tone and narrowed eyes making it perfectly clear it wasn't a question.
Harry laughed and nodded again, waving goodbye to his teammates as he turned to leave the great hall.
He took the quickest path he knew up to Gryffindor tower, wanting to avoid any of the usual gawking at The-Boy-Who-Lived. He closed the door to his dorm to find it thankfully empty, most of the students preferring to catch up in the common room before settling in for the night. He walked over to his trunk, and opened it, shifting around the clothes Fleur had set inside. He paused as a faint touch of cinnamon reached his nose, causing something inside him to squirm uncomfortably. He was happy to be back at Hogwarts...but…
He grabbed the quill and ink he'd been searching for from the bottom, fixing the snapped feather with a muttered 'repairo'. He pulled the parchment from his pocket, unfolding it excitedly on his bedside table. He turned it over to find the original 'Happy Birthday' had been erased, already replaced by a new message.
You can do it. I believe in you.
Harry stared at the words, feeling a mix of warmth and loss. He'd never felt so torn in his life. He was back home, at Hogwarts, and all he wanted to do was to go back to France. He flipped the parchment over and dipped his quill in the ink.
You were right. They were really understanding. I told them on the train ride here.
He sat back, and couldn't help but notice how blocky his writing was compared to her smooth cursive. He flipped the parchment over again, surprised to see the old message already gone, a new one appearing in its place.
Good. See, no persuasion required. I am still at the ministry working through some files for the DMLE. Most of them seem to be in regards to the deaths from the graveyard. Hopefully, I am helping your Headmaster with his cause. Maybe they will accept our memories when the time comes?
I need to quit stalling and get back to work. This is not quite what I had expected the first steps on my road to the ICW to look like. I will talk to you soon. Let me know when your first Hogsmeade weekend is, and I will be there.
Harry smiled as he read the slowly appearing text, almost feeling as though she were in the room next to him. He flipped the paper over once she finished, clearing away his writing with a tap of his wand.
I'll find out tonight and let you know. Have fun!
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry didn't have to wait long for his summons from Professor Dumbledore. Hermione and Ron arrived with the first-years a half-hour after Harry did. Professor McGonagall stepped through the portrait hole last somehow looking even more stern than usual.
"The Headmaster wishes to see you, Mr. Potter," she said as he descended the stairs. The thin line of her mouth quirked up into a small smile before returning to normal. "And your package has arrived at my desk. I will ensure it is in the locker rooms in time for tryouts."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said earnestly, nodding to Ron and Hermione as he passed, their expressions that of matching worry.
Harry walked the halls at a leisurely pace, taking care to avoid any of the more frequented classrooms and broom closets as he went, as they tended to be a little more occupied than usual on the first week back to school. In the end, his path lead him to the familiar gargoyle statue that blocked the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
"Er...she didn't tell me the password," Harry said, staring blankly at the gargoyle.
To his surprise, it jumped aside, allowing Harry access to the stairs.
"Come in!" Dumbledore called when Harry knocked on the door. He swung it open, and stepped inside, taking the offered seat as the door closed on its own.
"I will attempt to be brief," Dumbledore said, leaning against the front of his large desk. "Most importantly, I hope the end of your summer holiday was enjoyable?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied.
"I am exceedingly glad to hear it. That is, however, the extent of the good news we will have for this evening." He sighed, the air blowing out his bushy whiskers. "I am still working hard to convince the ministry to allow me to address the Wizengamot regarding Voldemort. Minister Fudge is doing everything in his power to keep me from doing so, arguing instead that I should be brought to trial for the murder of Alastor, and the Death Eaters that died in the graveyard that night. He says he will not allow the "ravings of a has-been war hero" to stir the public into a frenzy, just so I can play hero once again."
Harry sat, dumbfounded as Dumbledore finished. He'd always thought Fudge seemed a little...slimy, but he had never expected something like this.
"Can't we show him our memories?" Harry asked, recalling Fleur's comment on the note in his pocket.
"I have tried," Dumbledore said with another tired sigh. "But the Minister claims, not untruthfully, that memories can be tampered with, and are unreliable."
"So what do we do?"
"We are currently determining the spells used to kill each Death Eater. If we can find one that we cannot identify or one that is on the list of unforgivables, we can escalate the situation to Amelia Bones, who has a much faster avenue to the Wizengamot. Your friend Miss Delacour is helping us sort through the autopsies for any sign of the killing curse, or any other significantly dark spell. I know one of the Death Eaters was killed by such a curse, but alas, his autopsy has been put behind an egregious amount of red tape in order for us to be allowed to review it."
"So Voldemort gets resurrected, we get tortured, and there's nothing we can do about it because the Minister doesn't want us to?"
"Not 'nothing', Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile that lifted the corners of his mustaches, "but not enough. I will explain later, as it is one of our lesson plans. One of the things that we can do, is prepare you, as I promised I would."
Harry sat up straighter, all his attention on the Headmaster. Finally, he'd be able to protect the people he cared about. His memory conjured images of Ron's unconscious form on the floor of the giant chess set, Hermione's petrified features in the Hospital Wing, and Fleur's motionless body in his arms as his shoulders screamed in agony.
"What do I have to do?" he asked fiercely.
"You will only have to do as I instruct. I have the utmost faith in your ability to learn what I will be teaching you. A belief only bolstered by the high praise Alastor had for you following your lessons together. Your determination to learn and unwillingness to give up endeared you to him."
Harry's eyes went wide, remembering only Moody's gruff shouts and admonitions to keep trying harder.
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together in front of him, "there is one final hurdle before we can begin."
"What is it?" Harry asked, crestfallen.
"It is your constitution. The neglect you have suffered at your relatives has left its mark in more ways than one, though none are irreversible. We will be working quite hard, and you will be pushing yourself to your limits. You are no stranger to this, but we must take steps to make sure you do not injure yourself doing so. I have instructed Poppy to provide you with a daily vial of a nutrient booster, and muscle and bone restorative. This will help your body grow quickly to where you are 'supposed' to be at fifteen. Once you are there, we can begin."
"How long will it take?" Harry asked.
"I do not know. A few weeks or a month or two, it depends on your body. Everyone is different. Poppy will check on you every week when you go to pick up your potions, and will keep me updated. I have not told her why you need the potions, though she may suspect. I leave it to you to decide whether to tell her or not."
Harry frowned, looking down at his hands. He didn't feel like he was smaller than he should be...but maybe if he had been where he 'should' be, he wouldn't have had to tear himself apart to save Fleur. Maybe he would have been faster and she wouldn't have had to suffer.
"Whatever it takes, sir," he said, setting his jaw and looking up into Dumbledore's serious blue eyes.
"I'm glad to hear it. I look forward to seeing you soon, Harry."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
"I expected you a little sooner," Madame Pomfrey said, setting a small bag of potions on the bed nearest the door as Harry entered. "Well, the Headmaster didn't say exactly when only that you would be here this evening."
"Sorry, ma'am," Harry replied dutifully.
"I'll see you back in one week then," she said, her voice all business as she started walking back to her office. "Please keep in mind that the nutrient booster will make you quite hungry. Be sure to get plenty to eat, or the potion will be useless, and you will be miserable."
Harry hesitated, his hand on the cloth handles of the small bag.
"Madam Pomfrey," he said slowly, freezing the medi-witch in her tracks. "He said you probably know why I need these."
Her voice softened considerably as she turned around to face him. "I know nothing, but yes, I suspect I can guess what you've been through. As I said before, I have been here for a long time."
"Well," Harry said, his mouth dry. "You, er, suspect...correctly."
She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back at him.
"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Potter. I am always here to help if you need anything."
"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, lifting the bag from where it sat.
"You're quite welcome."