April 1995

Harry whirled through space with a sickening yank as the Portkey hooked onto his magic around his navel. He arrived at the imposing silver and stone gates of Hogwarts with a splitting headache.

He was still getting his bearings when a masked Death Eater Apparated in next to him, and Harry was fumbling through his robe pockets in search of his wand when the Death Eater spoke.

"Potter, don't be a fool. Even one-on-one surrender remains your safest option."

Snape. Even with the slight muffling and distorting effect of the mask the care disguised under a sneer was unmistakeable.

"Sir. Thank you for the Portkey. And the 'Veritaserum', too."

Snape tapped his wand against his mask and it fell away into his hands, revealing his face. He looked exhausted.

"Hmph! Took your time, didn't you?" Snape said. "In the midst of a battle, you decided to dash into danger and play Healer. Of course you did."

Snape tiredly dragged a hand down his face. "Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all?"

"I was in disguise, I thought it would be… well not safe but alright. And I used the Portkey this time, didn't I?"

"That is something," Snape conceded. "Give it to me and I shall renew the charm on it and owl it back to you. Also, you should fix your face." He pushed open Hogwarts' gates and started shepherding Harry towards the castle.

"Oh! Yes, sir." Harry's hands shook slightly as he worked the stone disc off his fob chain. Not from nerves – he just couldn't stop their trembling.

"Tch. Idiot boy," Snape tutted. He drew a potion vial out of his pocket and passed it to Harry. "Drink this."

Harry glanced at the label, but it didn't say what the potion was, just when it was bottled, which was quite recently. "What is–?"

"A modified Calming Draught of my own devising, for your nerve damage and pain. It will ameliorate the worst of the symptoms. They should pass soon enough, with no permanent damage for such a small exposure to the Cruciatus."

"Could I have one for Sirius? Please? Do you think he'll be okay? And the others?"

Snape sighed in a put-upon manner. "I keep the Order supplied with all necessary potions, that one included. The Death Eaters are in retreat – have no fear for your friends."

"Okay. Um…Would you send me the recipe?"

"You will probably need it I suppose, you reckless Gryffindor!"

Harry drank the potion and gagged at the taste. "Ack! That's the worst."

"It's the Bubotuber pus mixed with the willow bark; a very bitter combination. It overwhelms the peppermint."

"That pus never mixes well with anything," Harry said, handing back the empty crystal vial. "Bleh!" He smacked his lips and made a face. His hands and legs felt a little better already, less shaky. He still had a splitting headache, though.

"Except with strongly ethereal ingredients like unicorn tears or dragon's blood," Snape corrected. "They negate the flavour of the pus as they overwhelm the grounded ingredients in a potion, giving a milky or spicy flavour, respectively."

"You could add some to this?" Harry suggested, as he concentrated on returning to his usual appearance as they jogged along. "Or do the properties clash too badly?"

"Are you unaware of the cost of unicorn tears and dragon's blood?" Snape asked incredulously. "Only the former would produce a palatable flavour without impacting the potion's efficacy, and the price would be astronomical."

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. "Um, are you sure everyone will be alright? I mean, I just left them… I didn't want to leave, but I'd promised myself I would this time if I got another chance to do so."

"Yes."

"I just left Neville and Hermione there, they were still fighting."

"Gryffindors," Snape sneered.

"I'm a Gryffindor. Maybe I should have stayed, I can fight!"

"You are an honorary Slytherin, too. Well done on formulating a disguise."

"Oh! Thank you!"

"Leaving was the right thing to do. You were an idiot to stick around in the first place. Even more so to go and heal someone in the midst of battle."

"I suppose I was. He was dying though… and I didn't know who it was. It could even have been you," Harry finished quietly.

"It was not."

"I didn't know that at the time."

"Obviously. Death Eaters… we don't deserve your pity, Harry. Our choices are our own. If I die, then I die. I would never wish for you to risk your life to help me."

"That's not how friendship works, though," Harry said. "It goes both ways. And you risked your life for me. I mean, just minutes ago, with the Veritaserum. If he finds out…"

Snape seemed to have no easy answer to that and walked in silence.

"You'll be okay, right?" Harry checked.

Snape gave a sharp nod. "Yes. I am still in favour with both my masters. For now."

"But not if they find out that Antares Black is Harry Potter," Harry fretted.

Snape stopped, and turned to face him. "The Dark Lord knows already. He knows about 'Antares Black' and what you look like."

"Malfoy, I suppose," Harry sighed. "Draco told his father, I think. I should've said something to him faster. Sworn him to secrecy. I got distracted, and well… I guess it didn't seem like a big deal."

"Yes, it was him," Snape said, and they resumed their walk. "I 'confirmed' the rumour for my Lord. It won Malfoy more favour than I, but the Dark Lord was pleased to learn that Dumbledore knew only the name you assume in History of Magic, and not that you are a Metamorphmagus. He too will know soon, of course."

Harry quietly filed away the rock-solid confirmation that Draco's father was a Death Eater. He'd thought so but hadn't known completely for sure. There was of course the possibility that he was under the Imperius. Probably not though.

"Pettig… um he doesn't know about what I can do though, does he? Not yet. Or he would have killed me."

"I believe your summation is correct. Your disguise saved your life today. As did the Dark Lord's inability to truly trust anyone… even himself. They are… communicating poorly, at the moment. My duties as a spy are an ever-increasing tangled web."

Harry got the feeling that 'communicating poorly' was a massive understatement, from Snape's pained look.

Snape halted again, as they were within sight of the castle. "This is where I leave you, you should be safe now. I must go, or I will be missed. Fare thee well. Stay away from Pettigrew, and be careful who you place your trust in."

"Wait! Um… about your letter… I'm sorry. That I was an idiot. With talking about werewolves."

Snape sighed. "Yes, you were. Inescapable, I suppose."

Harry hung his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that he'd do something like that."

"I was perhaps… overly… I could have stated things… He is a difficult man to predict, at times, and his actions are his own responsibility," Snape concluded, stumbling over what was perhaps the best apology for his harsh letter that he could manage. "I must go."

"Wait! What do you think I should do about… you know. Him. The truce. Writing letters."

"Survive," Snape said bleakly. "Do whatever you must. It is what she would have wanted for you. Nothing mattered more to her than your life. Even her own."

Harry opened his mouth to reply to that rather unhelpful advice, but with a muttered spell and a swish of his wand Snape transformed suddenly into a violently roiling mass of dark smoke and was whisked away as if by a strong gust of wind, blowing off into the sky over the forest and moving rapidly out of his sight.

After a moment to marvel at the sight, Harry shook off the wonder that was seeing magic and sprinted for the castle. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey could use him in the Hospital Wing or would have news of Sirius and his friends. He couldn't bear just standing around like a lump, or the thought of going to his dorm. He'd probably just start crying thinking about all the things he'd done wrong, and he didn't want to do that. Staying busy, doing something to help; that would be much better.

-000-

It took a while for Harry to realise why Madam Pomfrey hadn't fussed over him helping out in the Hospital Wing; she'd assumed he'd been safe in Hogwarts all along, and nowhere near Hogsmeade. None of the injured townsfolk who'd run to Hogwarts for safety – enormous castle fortress that it was – had seen Harry Potter involved in any fighting, and she was too distracted caring for people to notice the content of his discussions with injured friends. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall stopped by to search for him (and then upbraid him) that Madam Pomfrey realised her error. She told him off briefly for not alerting her that he should be considered a missing person who'd been located, then left the lecture to Professor McGonagall, who went on for some time.

"…You should have stayed inside!" McGonagall ranted at him. "Or at least stayed in a group where others could provide shielding while you went about your foolishness!" Harry bore her lecture stoically, with a touch of appreciation for her caring.

She ignored his explanation about his Portkey, and how he'd been sure he could escape if he really needed to.

"If your Portkey was known to be safe, you should have used it immediately," McGonagall insisted. "If it was not known to be so, then you should not have risked using it when you could see I was ready to Side-Along-Apparate you to safety!"

He smiled softly at her concern for his wellbeing, but it only lost him five points from Gryffindor for "thinking this was a grand adventure!"

"I didn't think that, ma'am," he tried to explain. "I would have left right away but Sirius told me to wait inside the shop and not use the Portkey. And then someone was dying. Right there in the street. I know they're the enemy, but I couldn't just stand there and watch someone else die! Not when I could do something. Obviously I didn't mean to get captured, and it wasn't at all fun or adventurous."

McGonagall looked exasperated as she shook her head. "Your kind heart is going to be the death of you one of these days, Mr. Potter! Have you learnt anything today?"

"Uhh… Portkeys are better as rings than charms, and I or someone else should Stun or bind enemies before I treat them and preferably get them out of sight first, and I need to figure out how to give potions to unconscious patients. And that I should check regularly that my Concealment Charm is still up when I'm sneaking around?" he offered hesitantly. "Oh, and that you can Disapparate in Animagus form and don't need to hold someone's arm to take them with you, touching them is enough. That was cool! I'm glad you got Sirius to Healers right away. Thank you."

McGonagall sighed, looking defeated rather than pleased. "You're welcome."

Obviously honesty hadn't been the best policy with her, Harry made a mental note to say what she wanted to hear next time.

Hermione had been brought in with partially healed cuts to her abdomen; they'd used Harry's Essence of Dittany and a vial of Blood Replenisher on her to stabilise her in Hogsmeade, after gratefully finding his Healer's bag during the fight. However, Madam Pomfrey had been worried about possible internal injuries and wanted to monitor her and do what she could to reduce scarring. On Dumbledore's orders (acting in loco parentis after he'd returned from a battle in London) she'd been kept overnight, and Madam Pomfrey got advice from a St. Mungo's Healer via the Floo about how to expel foreign matter from a sealed-over wound.

Hermione had been very impressed that Harry had used "accidental magic" to push his Healer's bag off his chest and onto the ground for them to find, but they didn't have much of a chance to chat before she was dosed up with a Sleeping Potion to keep her unaware while some uncomfortable charms and potions worked to heal her damaged body.

Susan Bones needed her broken arm completely reset and fast, before moonrise came and turned her into a snarling werewolf ready to rend apart friend and foe alike. No-one had said a word to anyone about Bones casting spells in the fight. When Bones left for her isolated night alone to await the moon, she was sobbing in fear of the possible consequences of having been seen casting spells in Hogsmeade; she was much less composed now the immediate threat from Death Eaters was over.

On Hermione's whispered suggestion Bones had sent off a confidential message via an owl for her aunt, asking for advice and help. Harry had cast the message-destroying hex on the letter for her, the one that would ensure the parchment destroyed itself after being read by the named recipient. He'd dodged Hermione's question about where he'd learnt it (which was in a letter from Voldemort over the summer) and simply promised to teach it to her later.

Prior to McGonagall's visit the Weasleys had all also passed through the Hospital Wing briefly – Ron, Ginny, and the twins. Most of them had sustained burns that were easily cured (thanks to the wondrously restorative powers of magical healing), but everyone looked shaken. Fred and George Weasley came in last, and mightn't have looked rattled to the casual eye, but their overly jovial act hadn't fooled Harry. They'd reportedly spent most of the fight fighting fires and Fred had rescued someone from a collapsing building. Ron and Ginny had also gotten bitten by one of the Cŵn Annwn while trying to save someone it was chasing.

"I'm not going to hesitate to hex the life out of something just because it looks cute next time," Ginny vowed fiercely.

Neville was the least injured of his close friends, with curse damage that had been easily reversed, and only a few minor cuts. He'd seemed proud but solemn as he'd looked around the Hospital Wing.

"Too many injured here," he murmured softly to Harry, who was quietly occupied restocking one of the smaller cabinets with replacement healing potions from the larger storeroom. "Why attack Hogsmeade? They are mad, I think. It cannot be only about blood purity, they must in truth want naught but to overthrow society. Some, I believe, just glory in the opportunity for slaughter. They laughed as they toyed with us, those Death Eaters who caught you. They could have defeated us any time, but they were having too much fun to stop early."

"Well I don't think that…" – Goyle – "the first Death Eater was playing games, I think he really struggled against your group, as well as not wanting to hurt kids. The other two, yes, they were holding back. Even the first one too, maybe, I could be wrong. I don't know, I couldn't see much all trussed up like a spider's snack, just hear things."

Harry fumbled with a large glass bottle of Calming Draught. It shook slightly in his hands as he decanted the blue potion into several smaller vials.

"Alright there, Harry?"

"Yes, fine," he replied, corking the vials and slowly and carefully affixing labels. He wanted to keep working. He wanted to be useful. He needed to.

"Harry…" Neville started hesitantly. "I was wondering… during the fight some people said…"

A fine tremble was building up in Harry's hands, and one of the vials slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.

"Damn. Sorry about that. Evanesco. What were you saying?" Harry asked.

Neville looked at Harry worriedly. "What's wrong with your hands? Did you get cursed?"

"Oh. Yes, a bit. But uh… someone gave me a potion for the nerve damage, it was fine until now. It should pass on its own."

"Madam Pomfrey gave you a potion? I might not be an aspirant Apprentice Healer like you, but you should not still be suffering hours later. What curse were you hit with? You should tell her you are still having after-effects," Neville said.

"Really, they're barely shaking at all, and my toes feel only a little tingly," Harry insisted. "I should be fine."

Neville ignored him as he called out, "Madam Pomfrey! Harry got hit with a curse and has some problems with his hands and feet!"

Harry frowned. "I said I was fine."

"Gran says Healers make horrible patients. I know you, Harry. Did you prescribe yourself a potion and not tell Madam Pomfrey you'd been cursed?"

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, casting a routine Cleansing Charm on her hands as she came over. "What's all this hubbub, then? What did you get hexed with? I thought you said you were fine."

"I was fine, but a potion I took is wearing off now, I guess," Harry said, conceding that he wasn't completely well. "My hands are shaking again and my feet are a bit tingly. Like when you fall asleep on your arm, that kind of feeling. It was the uh… Cruciatus Curse."

Neville looked suddenly wide-eyed and pale. He clutched onto a nearby cabinet for support for his suddenly weak legs, as Madam Pomfrey floated Harry over to a hospital bed, despite his protests that he was fine and could walk there.

"Sorry, Nev–" Harry started, before a flick of her wand snapped the curtains around his bed, cutting off his apology to Neville.

Madam Pomfrey soon had the story out of him, including Snape's presence since it was important she knew about the potion he'd taken. Worried about Snape's cover as a spy, Harry was cagey about why his former teacher had been at Hogwarts. "You'll have to ask him. Or Dumbledore. War business and I won't comment further," he said firmly.

The matron tutted disapprovingly but let it go. She did force another one of Snape's favourite vile-tasting but efficacious potions down his throat. Harry hadn't thought it was possible, but this one tasted even worse. Madam Pomfrey offered him an Acid Pop for "being brave" and Harry wasn't too proud to take it, desperate to get the taste out of his mouth.

"Now, you will have to stay there for a couple of hours, after which I shall let you go if the symptoms do not return," she warned.

Neville was permitted to return to Harry's side, still looking pale and worried.

"Sorry. I didn't want you or anyone to worry," Harry mumbled apologetically. "I felt fine. Not while it was happening, obviously… Afterwards, I mean. When I'd had the potion."

He stumbled in his explanation at the wide-eyed look on Neville's face. "Uh, did you want to talk about the fight, still? You were awesome, by the way. Sneaking up and taking cover in a house with a good line of fire? That was brilliant. I was just a trussed-up turkey for all of the fighting. Not very Gryffindor of me, I guess."

"N-no, we can talk later. You feel alright now? After another potion? You are going to be fine? Nothing p-permanent?"

"Definitely not, and Madam Pomfrey agreed. It was only ten seconds or so. Not enough to… not enough for anything permanent, I swear. I'm fine," Harry promised. "I'll recover properly soon, she said."

"Later," Neville repeated distractedly. "You just… just concentrate on getting better. Everything else… I suppose it can wait."

He hovered, after that, only briefly leaving Harry's side to fetch him a book from Madam Pomfrey's shelf to keep Harry occupied. Harry read up with focused intent on healing charms. Better ones, stronger ones. Ones that could save people. Neville, not wanting to chat about anything important, eventually succumbed to boredom (or curiosity) and selected a beginner's book on healing for his own amusement.

Later in the evening Dumbledore stopped by to hear accounts from those still present about the battle, and Neville moved politely out of earshot (but not out of sight) for their talk.

Harry wasn't the only one asked to recount the drama of the day. He thought others hadn't probably had to carefully edge around the truth in their retellings, however. Harry had edited his concern that the injured Death Eater might have been someone he knew, to it only possibly being Snape, or someone under the Imperius Curse. However, he'd included the part where a Death Eater (whom he left unnamed) had freed him from the Incarcerous Spell as repayment of his Life Debt in thanks for healing him. He also left out any mention of his truce with Lord Voldemort, and Bellatrix Lestrange's ramblings about him being the Heir, but did include a mention that he was pretty sure she'd been there, with a wary glance over at Neville.

It was a long day, which stretched into a long evening. Neville and the other healthy students and townsfolk were sent back to their own dorm rooms or dwellings, but Madam Pomfrey kept Harry around to fuss over a bit longer, concerned that he had a lingering pulsing headache. With Sirius at St. Mungo's under the care of expert Healers, in the end Harry (insisting he was fine to leave) had been sent up to his usual bed in the Gryffindor dorm. He summoned and dispatched Dobby to retrieve Storm and his belongings from the Grantown Den.

Storm had been pragmatically glad to have not been endangered by a battle, though he did insist that things would have gone better if he'd been there.

"If I had been taken along, I would have stayed with you, and I could have bitten or shocked sssomeone with my lightning and then you all would surely have won more easily. I am a better hunting companion than Dog-man."

-000-

When he woke up the next morning, Harry stared with bleary confusion at the pile of chocolate eggs in a big wicker basket at the foot of his bed, wondering for a minute where he was and what on earth was going on, before he remembered it was Easter Sunday, and he was in his dorm room.

The basket was overflowing with dark and milk chocolate eggs, brightly coloured ones wrapped in foil, white chocolate eggs with toffee specks in them, a brilliant bright red egg (that one looked to be a real dyed egg, not chocolate, but with wizarding sweets you could never be sure), a giant milk chocolate egg the size of a dragon's egg, and two small chocolate eggs that were wobbling slightly, rocking to and fro. Those last ones were enchanted for sure.

He wasn't in the mood for chocolate or celebrations and ignored the lot of them for now. After checking his watch, he realised he was late rising and should really get a move on. He wanted to check on how everyone was doing and find out any news about Sirius' condition.

"Do you want to come down for breakfast?" he asked Storm, giving him a poke.

"Sssleeping," his snake grumbled, burrowing back down under the substrate in his tank.

"I thought you sssaid things would always go better if you were with me?" he teased.

"Go away. Tired."

The breakfast tables in the Great Hall were almost deserted, partly as Harry was a latecomer, but also because some people had headed off to church for Easter services. Professor Flitwick was still seated at the Head Table, however, with a plate containing nothing but a hollowed-out eggshell in an egg cup and scraps of toast crust. He seemed engrossed in the morning's Daily Prophet.

Harry just had time to sit down and hungrily scarf down a couple of hot cross buns, warm and fluffy with a thick slather of pure butter melting into the warm bun, but he hadn't even touched his tea yet when Flitwick clearly spotted him and scurried over to greet him.

"Mr. Potter!" Flitwick piped excitedly. "So good to see you down here this morning. Happy Easter! I must admit I was rather concerned you might still be in the hospital wing, but your friend Mr. Longbottom assured me that you were simply still sleeping and needed your rest."

"Oh! Do you know where Neville is, sir?"

"I do in fact! He escorted your other friend Miss Granger and a few more students to church this morning. They decided to go as a group, as of course everyone's still all in a tizzy this morning. They asked me to relay their regards to you, Mr. Potter, when I enquired after your location. Miss Granger asked me to remind you to 'stay safe' and not go gallivanting off anywhere on your own today, just in case."

"No, sir. I won't. I'll stay in the castle."

But it was not to be a quiet day of study, for Professor Flitwick had other plans, which he shared as he fussed with his glasses, giving them an extra polish. "I thought we might take the Floo and visit your ah, guardian Mr. Black in hospital this morning," Flitwick suggested.

"That sounds good! Thank you, sir."

"Grab your bag, then! Professor Moody tried to insist on coming along too," Flitwick said, sounding rather put out. "Fine fellow, but I do have Masteries in both Charms and Duelling, you know! Not that there should be trouble; we shall Floo straight to St. Mungo's as a precaution since the streets are a mess right now. Dumbledore has let them know we are coming, and you have permission to leave Hogwarts but only in our company."

Harry wrapped a couple of spare hot cross buns in a clean handkerchief and tucked them away in his satchel. "Well I'd best go and get changed, then," he said.

"You are already dressed," Flitwick observed, looking Harry up and down. Harry had thrown on a school robe that morning, being in a hurry and not inclined to dress up when he wouldn't be going anywhere of note.

"Professor Lockhart said… he always used to say… that you should always be ready to show your best self to the cameras if there's a chance you might meet the press."

Flitwick's exasperated expression faded to a patient one. "Well then, I shall escort you to your dorm so you may change. After that we had best be off; they are expecting us before lunchtime."

Harry got changed into the black trousers and waistcoat with red trim and gold buttons from a formal robe set Sirius had given him for his birthday, minus the robe itself. He paired it with one of his puff-sleeved shirts with the embroidered cuffs he'd bought in Lutetia, and a pointed hat of course, with hawk feathers fastened to the hatband. No respectable gentleman should go out in public without a hat. He might end up holding it in his hand half the time, but he didn't want to go out into wizarding society without one.

They had no problems going in to see Sirius, in fact it was all a bit anticlimactic as Sirius was dead to the world in a deep, potions-drugged sleep. His lime-robed Healer explained that their patient would recover better that way.

"Do you think I could stay for a while? In case he wakes up soon?"

"Certainly, you may stay if you wish," the Healer said. "Visiting hours end at five o'clock."

"We can only stay a couple of hours, Potter," Flitwick warned, "as I have lessons to prepare and some essays to grade."

The two of them settled in plush armchairs near Sirius' hospital bed (which were more like actual beds than those you tended to get in Muggle hospitals but made up with similarly plain white sheets). Flitwick got out a copy of the Daily Prophet to help himself while away the time.

Sirius looked much better than he had in Hogsmeade, but… it looked like the damage to his ear was likely to be permanent, judging by how only half of it was there now, and the skin smooth and healed. He'd have to tell Sirius about plastic surgery when he woke up. Muggles might be able to help where wizards had failed.

"…'Goblin teacher'," Flitwick muttered to himself, tutting at the paper. "Tch. They didn't even mention my name. I am only half goblin, in any case, cives thank you very much! Decades of teaching and this is all I get."

"Is that an article about the Hogsmeade attack?" Harry asked. "Is it any good, apart from that bad bit? Does it ah, say anything about me?"

"Yes, you are in here. I hope you did not plan on keeping your Metamorphmagus abilities secret any longer, Potter, for your identity as 'Antares Black' made the front page."

"But how? I mean, yes I was there, but no-one actually heard me called 'Potter' for the entire fight!"

"Miss Skeeter doesn't say. 'Confidential sources' confirmed it. Professor Moody is the one who raised the alarm at Hogwarts, in case you were wondering. He received word via a deer Patronus message that you were in disguise and had been captured in an attack on Hogsmeade, and as Minerva and I were right there we of course leapt to assist as well."

"I did wonder!"

Flitwick turned another page of the paper. "Apart from sneering at yours truly a little, the article is actually rather good! Much better than her usual stuff, and accurate in almost all details! It is very damning of the Death Eaters' attack and Miss Skeeter's acid tongue has been turned to outright mocking of Pettigrew, which is braver than she is usually willing to be. She pokes fun at Pettigrew for letting you slip through his fingers."

"I hope she doesn't pay for it. Sirius says that Smudgley's probably dead, since no-one's seen him in months."

Flitwick sighed. "Dark times. No doubt it is obvious, but just in case do note that you should stay clear of Pettigrew if you possibly can, Potter. This article shan't help his temper. Sad to see a student turned so Dark. He always seemed well… not meek exactly, but more of a follower than a leader. He was less trouble in class than your father was, truth be told."

"Hmm. Can I have the paper when you're done?"

"Oh! Well, I already read it earlier this morning, so you can have it now if you like. I was just going over it again for something to do. Also because I find that if I read more carefully I can often glean a little more information about events."

Flitwick closed the paper and handed it over. "You really should read about the attacks in London, too. Very big news. Only a few deaths though, which I was pleased to hear. Page two onwards."

"Thank you, sir, I will. Would you like to borrow one of my books, since I'm taking your newspaper? I have the second volume of Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, a book about Muggle chemistry, or a book about magical paintings and statues and stuff called The Art and Architecture of Ancient Rome."

"The book on art, thank you." There weren't any snide remarks about how Harry was a walking library; as a Ravenclaw perhaps he approved of Harry stuffing his bag with books even during the holidays.

Harry handed it over and settled down with the paper. The coverage of Hogsmeade was refreshingly openly critical of the Death Eaters, instead of either downplaying them as thugs who'd soon be caught by the diligent efforts of the Ministry, or good people led tragically astray by a dangerous and powerful leader whom the wizarding world should dare not face openly in battle lest it spell their doom. The two Muggle residents of the village who'd been killed by the fairy hounds were even named (a privilege Muggles rarely received in the paper these days): Mrs. Helen Scribbulus, wife of the stationery shop owner and mother of two, and Robert Thomson, boyfriend of local resident and Potioneer, Penny Haywood.

The paper was kind to Harry in its depiction of him, albeit with Slytherin-friendly descriptors like calling him 'quick-witted and cunning' in employing a disguise to keep himself safe. The nature of his disguise was a 'shocking revelation' (Skeeter loved that phrase) about the rare talent he must have inherited from the pure-blooded Black family side of his lineage. She also described his actions in healing people at Mrs. Puddifoot's as due to him being 'an ambitious and remarkably talented young man driven to become a great Healer' rather than due to simply being kind or wanting to help. Hermione and Ron (but not Neville, oddly) got brief named mentions as 'brave and loyal friends', which was better than nothing, and a number of the other civilians who helped in the fight were also praised for their courage in facing the 'deranged madman, Mr. Pettigrew'. Harry bet that somewhere Pettigrew was fuming about his demotion from his publicly acknowledged self-proclaimed Lordship. It was fair, though. He wasn't really a lord, neither of the Voldemorts were.

Harry read through the rest of the article then flipped to next, eager to find out what had happened yesterday in London, which he knew nothing about except that that Dumbledore had fought Voldemort and Death Eaters there, presumably with the help of the Order of the Phoenix.

While Pettigrew had led the chaotic attack on Hogsmeade, there had simultaneously been two separate attacks by other Death Eaters in London.

Bones' forces had been distracted from instantly arriving to help in Hogsmeade by what Skeeter called a 'manufactured crisis' Dumbledore had reported, regarding an alleged planned attack on the royal family and some members of Parliament, with Fenrir leading a small number of Death Eaters. The Daily Prophet gave the rank of the actual werewolf leader as being Remus Lupin's 'loyal beta'. Reading between the lines, Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had gotten help only from Aurors who were already in their secret society, and had managed to thwart a rash of attacks intended either to kill or infect a large number of politically important Muggles. There weren't any serious injuries; it sounded like the Order had outnumbered the Death Eaters and foiled the attack very decisively, with no Muggles infected at all. The paper of course made it sound like Dumbledore had, in his senility, panicked over nothing and distracted the Aurors from real threats, and played down his success.

The Muggles had all been Obliviated afterwards, which had clearly left Dumbledore frustrated as he insisted that evidence of the Death Eaters crimes and possible identities was thereby erased, and that their erstwhile targets thus couldn't be properly forewarned and made ready to defend themselves against any future possible attacks. Minister Fudge, on the other hand, insisted that letting Muggles know about the wizarding world was exactly what the 'terrorists' wanted.

"We will not bow down to their demands or aid them in achieving their goals. The Statute of Secrecy is sacrosanct and not to be overthrown on some trifling incident that didn't even see anyone killed, unlike the last tragic werewolf rampage so bravely avenged by our Aurors, or the terrible attack on Hogsmeade today by Lord Missing Finger."

Harry thought both sides had good points there and wasn't sure of the best solution. Perhaps some kind of wizarding security team to protect the officials, without telling them about magic? He also worried guiltily about whether his own chatter about the transmission of the werewolf curse might have inspired Lord Voldemort's attempts to infect Muggles. Of course it was mostly Voldemort's fault, but he still felt bad about it, all the same.

While Dumbledore was busy stopping the royal family and British Ministers being infected with lycanthropy or being killed, and most Aurors were frantically rushing to Hogsmeade, Lord Voldemort and some hand-picked skilled Death Eaters went off on a third and more stealthy attack, which was carried out extremely successfully for their side. An endeavour that Harry suspected had been a major goal for the day.

Lord Voldemort wasn't named of course, the government and the paper still weren't admitting he was actually still alive, but an 'unnamed powerful Dark wizard with his face concealed' (rather than in a mask) had been sighted at the third location leading the group, and Harry had his suspicions.

That final group's target wasn't wizards or witches, or even Muggles, exactly. Though plenty of Muggles had been attacked they were in this case more like collateral damage. It was property that had been the target. Voldemort had dispatched some of his Death Eaters in an initially stealthy attack on a number of Muggle streets that adjoined the Diagon Alley shopping district. Buildings had been set on fire, or filled with magically-created smoke, to encourage Muggles to evacuate. Muggle-Repelling Charms had gone up around a half dozen streets adjoining Charing Cross Road in between the intersections with Oxford Street and Shaftesbury Avenue, cast en masse until the shops and streets were deserted. 'Muggle law-keepers' confusedly put up barricades to keep out people and traffic, some sure there were fires plaguing the area, while others thought buildings were being demolished.

It took hours for the wizarding world to notice anything was wrong, and it was a Muggle-born wizard who raised the alarm with the Ministry; Donaghan Tremlett, who played the bass for the Weird Sisters band. Skeeter had interviewed him for the article.

I didn't think much of it at first, when I tried to get to the Leaky Cauldron but the streets were blocked off. I was concerned, of course, because I was going to be late meeting my fiancé and there was too much of a crowd to just Disapparate away. They were saying it shouldn't be too long until the situation was under control and the road opened up again. But I didn't suspect anything was really wrong until I overheard a couple of coppers – Muggle Aurors, you know – arguing with each other. One was insisting he'd been watching with his binoculars and had seen a couple of blokes in 'weird black dresses' walking around in the cordoned-off area, going in and out of alleyways. The other copper told him they were with a specialist operations group or something, and they had orders to leave them to work. Well, that sounded bloody suss to me. Sure, maybe they were just wizards trying to get to the Cauldron same as me. But I thought maybe it was Death Eaters, up to no good. So, I nipped into a phone booth and rang the Ministry hotline to report it."

The Aurors had been, however, very busy with the attack on Hogsmeade and its aftermath by then, and some others had been called away to Parliament. The first two Aurors who had responded to Tremlett's call for help had been Stunned and Disillusioned, so their colleagues wouldn't see them to revive them. No-one even noticed they were missing for hours, with so much else going on elsewhere. Events were only reconstructed later from various witness reports, after the dramatic success of the Death Eaters had been revealed.

The Death Eaters had reclaimed several London streets for the wizarding world, and the Diagon Alley shopping and residential district had been almost doubled in size. The boundary wards preserving the bubble of 'wizard space' around the wizarding quarter of London were immensely complex, and Harry only barely understood the beginnings of the theory behind it all; you needed to be a Master of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Charms to build the kinds of wards that both expanded space outdoors, and hid it all from Muggle perception. The Ministry hadn't even considered it as an option for providing space for campers and visitors to the Quidditch World Cup, it was that much of an undertaking.

However, Lord Voldemort and some of his followers collectively had clearly had the necessary understanding to accomplish such a task. The boundary wards had been expanded, enclosing streets once buzzing with Muggle cars, and acquiring a large number of buildings that had until yesterday housed a lot of Muggle businesses, including a number of bookstores, restaurants, some offices, and a building site or two. Traffic had been rerouted around the area, while was made slightly easier by the acquisition being predominantly side streets while major roads such as Charing Cross road were relatively unaffected apart from properties on the corners of intersections.

Written in letters of fire on a couple of walls of the newly seized buildings were slogans left there by Death Eaters that the Daily Prophet quoted. They also showed a moving photo of the first slogan, the flames still flickering along the brickwork:

"We deserve MORE!"

All the other slogans quoted were similarly self-justifying, and were calls for public support.

"Wizards, witches, and Dark creatures unite!"

"Claim what rightfully belongs to us!"

"Death Eaters fight for the wizarding world!"

Part of London had effectively been conquered as wizarding territory, and the Ministry was doing lip service to outwardly decrying the move. However, it was extremely clear in Skeeter's report that they were in no hurry to give the new district back into Muggle hands. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Minister Fudge has spoken with Muggle Prime Minister John Major about the difficulties in undoing the mammoth change that has been made to our wards. While we do sympathise with the Muggles who have lost their properties, we must look after our own people first. To undo such intricate and sweeping changes to the wards is no easy business – one false step and they will fall entirely, exposing the entirety of Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Horizont Alley and Carkitt Market to Muggle eyes. I know our readers can easily imagine what a disaster that would be! There are apparently some concerns about curses woven cunningly into the new wards that may activate if the wards are not treated with kid gloves. What's done is done, and the Ministry has some very exciting development plans you must hear about!

"'We cannot just rush into this, and the Muggle authorities have proven surprisingly co-operative and understanding, even despite the two Muggle civilian deaths which occurred before our brave Aurors arrived on the scene and the Death Eaters were forced to flee,' Minister Fudge said.

"'A lot of Muggle politicians seemed to already be under the impression that there were some planned demolitions and roadworks underway, so our busy Obliviators have been able to concentrate on the shopkeepers and locals, with the full co-operation of their please-men [Muggle Aurors]. They have been working around the clock – twice in fact thanks to Time-Turners – and have ensured that whenever a Muggle reads a street sign anywhere in the area of Charing Cross Road that they'll entirely forget there used to be a few more streets around!'"

Skeeter listed the new streets that had now become part of the wizarding quarter: Rose Street, Hog Lane, Crown Street, Newport Market, and Little Compton Street. There was also an apologist explanation that some of those locations used to be wizarding territory before some bombs in the Blitz during 'the war with Grindlewald' had destroyed some key wardstones. Buildings reduced to rubble had been hastily evacuated by surviving witches and wizards terrified of the overwhelming aerial bombardment and possible attacks by Muggles. They'd abandoned multiple alleys which were later reclaimed by Muggles before wizards and witches could re-establish their wards.

After warning again about possible booby-traps embedded in the wards and strongly advising people not to try altering the new ward stones, the Ministry then waved the carrot to tempt the public to accept the changes without fuss.

"We invite wizarding Houses with historical claims on the newly enclosed areas to come forward with any evidence of familial ownership of the land in question. After historical entitlements are settled, we will then welcome citizens with an interest in purchasing buildings to also submit their applications to the Muggle Management Office, in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Priority sales will go to those planning to start up new businesses benefiting magical Britain."

Priority will allegedly go to entrepreneurs, Harry thought cynically. Influence from good connections to patrons and a pure-blood ancestry are going to win the day there. And bribes. I wonder if the Potter or Black families have any possible claims? I should write to Gringotts. Hmm. If I'm wondering if I can seize any property, probably everyone is. Smart move by the Ministry there; few people are going to want to argue about giving the land back to Muggles with those offers on the table.

"They're never going to give the land back, are they, professor?" Harry said out loud to Flitwick. "Not if the Ministry's already planning to give some it to pure-bloods and sell the rest off."

"People will scramble to claim their share, and the Muggles will be quite forgot in all the rush," Flitwick agreed. "The Minister makes some vague noises about 'compensating' the Muggle government somewhere in the article, but a bit of gold is the best I think they are likely to get unless they agitate for more, which they seem shockingly disinclined to do. Either they fear a war, or someone has hit key figures with the Imperius Curse, which is what Dumbledore suspects."

Flitwick sighed thoughtfully. "Yesterday was a multi-pronged attack. It was a danger to split their forces – which seem to have grown – but they appear to have succeeded in at least two of their objectives; enlarging Diagon Alley and terrorising Hogsmeade. Matters are likely to worsen unless the Ministry has a breakthrough soon."

"I think the thing with the buildings was the main attack," Harry said. "Maybe the werewolf one too, but it could have been the distraction and a bonus if it worked. I think expanding wizarding London was the main goal because it's great propaganda. It gives people who might be already wavering a reason to support them."

"The other attacks gave people reason to fear them; also a powerful motivator," Flitwick pointed out.

"Did you see the blood on the lintels of the doors in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked. "The paper didn't mention it. I think it was a code – don't attack here, we're supporters. Maybe with a blood magic charm added."

"Yes, I saw it. Ancient blood magic, I would wager. Not anything I know much about, though. Your guess is as good as mine, Potter."

Flitwick stood up and stretched, with a crack of his back. He looked over at Sirius' bed, where the injured wizard was still dead to the world. "Well, we must be off. Write him a short note he can read when he awakens."

Harry agreed that was a great idea and left a 'Get Well Soon' message for Sirius, along with a rambling apology for running into trouble, and some advice to Sirius to see Apprentice Healer Pye and a Muggle plastic surgeon about his ear, no matter what the other Healers said.

-000-

After their return to Hogwarts Harry spent the afternoon in the hospital wing, nibbling on his cached hot cross buns rather than going down to the Great Hall for lunch. He'd hoped for news of Hermione or to see Neville, but there was no sign of either of them. So, he visited with Susan Bones who was worn out from a tough full moon and who appreciated the support. Her aunt had advised her to just keep mum about her wand usage in Hogsmeade, so it was a stressful waiting game while she waited to find out if anyone had snitched on her.

"What if someone reports me," she whispered, eyes wide. "What if they come to arrest me? Do you think… do you think I deserve it? I mean, I don't think I do. I don't see why I have to lose my wand rights just because I am a werewolf now. It's not like I'm able to use a wand while in wolf form, and the rest of the time I am just how I always was!"

"I agree," Harry reassured her.

"What if Aurors come to the school?" she fretted. "What if someone tells – it's my second offence! – and my aunt can't stop it? It could be some people from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures; she has no say over that. Would anyone even try to stop them?"

"I'd help you," Harry promised impulsively. "You don't deserve to go to Azkaban just because you want to keep using a wand. You helped me in Hogsmeade, it would ill behove me not to return the favour."

Bones' eyes brimmed with tears. "You would? How? You'd fight Aurors for me?"

Harry hesitated. "Well… no. To be honest I'm not that good a Gryffindor sometimes. I expect they'd win. But I would help you, for sure! Just… more sneakily. And I would get you to safety; I have a couple of ideas. I won't tell you how, though. Not unless it comes to that."

"Why not?"

"Because some of it is secret, for starters. Also, because to help you would be illegal, and a Legilimens could pluck the thoughts out of your mind. I wouldn't want the plan to be given away and ruined before it could even be enacted," Harry explained.

Bones wiped her eyes and blew her nose on a yellow hanky with a loud honk. She gave him a watery smile as she extended one hand to him. "I would be honoured if you would consider me a friend and call me Susan."

Harry took her hand and gave it a polite peck, trying not to think about the possible germs on it and not wanting to ruin the moment by refusing her gesture. "The honour would be mine, Susan. Please, call me Harold or Harry, as you prefer."

-000-

Harry took his snake, some chocolate eggs, and his bag of books down to the Chamber of Secrets for a study session and to update Ambrosius about recent events. He rejoined the crowd at dinner time, eager to find his friends who he hadn't been able to catch sight of since the previous day, despite a couple of fruitless attempts wandering around the castle in search of them.

Harry also brought Storm into the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey. He'd eaten one of Harry's neglected chocolate Easter eggs, and was full of chocolate and regrets, as his digestion was all upset.

"It was not the colourful or brown ones you sssaid to avoid," Storm complained, when Harry chided him. "It was white and looked tasty."

"Not everything that lookss like an egg is sssafe for you!"

"I was hungry and bored and you were gone."

"No eating anything in the dorm that hasn't been put in your tank! I mean it, Ssstorm!"

Storm agreed with only a bit more complaining and negotiating; mice, non-magical rats, bugs, and fairies were all fair game should they stray into the dorm.

-000-

The tables at dinnertime were still very empty with the bulk of students expected to arrive Monday night, just in time for classes resuming the next day. Their Easter Sunday feast was lavish with a lot of options, despite the small numbers of students present, and featured some British classics as well as some less familiar fare. The table was decorated with vases overflowing with bright daffodils and displays of dyed eggs.

There was roast lamb with garlic and herbs, so tender it was falling apart, paired with carrots, peas with mint sauce, and whole baked potatoes roasted in goose fat. Harry served himself a generous portion of all of those, and a slice of baked ham with an apricot glaze.

Other options that Harry passed over included French onion soup, lamb stew, and cold asparagus spears. Harry tested Storm to see if he'd try eating one of the boiled eggs that had been dyed colours, which it turned out he absolutely would, if Harry said it was nice to eat.

"They're sssafer than chocolate eggs, but cooked dyed eggs aren't going to be as easy to digest as raw ones. Remember the one from the Chinese feast? You weren't so happy about it afterwards. Here, sssilly. I asked the house-elvess for some fairy eggs for you as a present. Happy Easter!"

"Mmm! I love these!" Storm said happily, snapping at the little pile of glimmering eggs in a dish. "Not as good as fairies, of course, but ssstill tasty."

"Have you seen Neville? Or Hermione?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron was leaning across the table to move a fish dish further away from himself; it looked like a plate of thick slices of smoked fish topped with rings of raw red onion, with a little dish of sour cream tucked in next to it.

"I saw Neville earlier," Ron said. "We had a chat about the Battle of Hogsmeade, and You-Know-Who and other heavy stuff. He's around. Do you know what this is? It smells bad. Like dirty socks. Maybe it's smoked salmon that's gone off."

Harry sniffed the air curiously, catching a whiff of what smelled like old cheese. Ron stood up to move the platter of mystery fish much further away down to an empty portion of the table.

Harry quizzed Ron about whether he'd seen Hermione, and they gossiped about the day's news in the paper and how he and his family were doing.

"As well as can be expected," Ron said. "All recovering well. Ginny's been practicing the Flame-Freezing Charm all day, but apart from that she's okay. Dad wasn't involved in that mess with werewolves in London, but I guess you knew that. Someone had the gall to try and recruit Bill, can you believe it? Of course, he's no coward; he told them where they could shove their offer and reported them, not that the Ministry really did anything about it. I guess they knew better than to try and recruit dad; everyone knows he likes Muggles."

Harry squashed down a pang of guilt, at both feeling partially responsible for the werewolf attack because of his talks with Voldemort, and because of Bill's easy refusal that put his own dithering to shame. "How's Percy doing?"

"Dunno. Fine, I guess. We should see him in a week for the next task, won't we, champion?!" Ron said cheerfully. "We are down an owl so mum can't nag everyone for letters all the time – Errol recently passed away. Too many overseas flights wore him out, I guess. He was pretty old."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Neville slid into place next to Ron, opposite Harry.

"There you are!" Harry exclaimed. "Thanks for your note this morning. I went looking for you a couple of times this afternoon, but when I couldn't find you I just went off and studied instead. Do you know how Hermione's doing? They wouldn't tell me anything at the hospital since I wasn't family – privacy, you know."

Neville ladled himself out some stew and popped a couple of crusty rolls on a plate to accompany it, focusing on what he was doing rather than looking at Harry as he answered. "Oh. I uh… did not know you were looking for me. I was just… thinking. Studying a bit. I needed a little quiet after… Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded. "I can understand that."

"I thought you said you wanted to talk to Harry?" Ron said, through a mouthful of food.

Neville shifted nervously in his seat. "It is nothing that cannot wait a little. I think. First I… Um. Professor Dumbledore sent an owl to Hermione's parents, by the way; he said she was fine. Her parents are taking her to see a Muggle doctor too, then she is coming back to school. Krum asked me about her too."

Harry tilted his head and gave Neville a considering look. He didn't want to push his friend to talk about whatever was bothering him when he clearly didn't want to. He had his own secrets; he wouldn't judge someone for wanting a bit of privacy.

"Are you recovered, Harry? From the ah… c-curse?"

Smiling reassuringly, Harry said, "Yes, all better, thank you. A little twitchy this morning still, but fine since lunch time, I think. Madam Pomfrey gave me the all-clear this afternoon. Say, did you see the paper about the attacks in London? Is your family going to try and claim any property?"

"It does not seem right to try. Are you hoping to claim some land?"

"Hmm. Well, someone is going to get their share, why not us?"

"That seems very selfish," Neville chided.

"I wonder if the Weasleys used to own land there a century ago…" Ron mused out loud. "It would be nice… Oh! Cake!"

The main course had disappeared – except for people's half-empty plates and bowls that didn't have the cutlery neatly lined up to show their dinner was finished – and had been replaced by dessert.

Next to Ron's elbow a Simnel cake had been popped into place, a richly spiced fruit cake topped with marzipan. The table was also covered in chocolate treats, of course. There were lots of chocolate eggs, and chocolate shaped like little bells with wings; they looked like bells doing an impersonation of a Snitch.

"So, you saw the Headmaster today?" Harry asked, avoiding using his name out of habit. "I wasn't game to approach him for news. Did he have anything interesting to say about the attacks or anything else?"

"He is not so scary when you get to know him, Harry," Neville chided gently. "We had a nice chat, which was very kind of him because he has had such a busy day trying to help sort out the mess Diagon Alley has become, and check on all the injured. Yet he still took time out to talk to a worried student about… things. You know, he said something really wise that I keep turning over in my head. He said that sometimes we have to make a choice between doing what is right and what is easy. He made it sound simple, but I think the tricky part is figuring out what 'right' is, and then being brave enough to do it."

"Lion like you, I'm sure you'll get it soon enough. Whatever's bothering you, I know you can do it," Harry encouraged. "Let me know if you need any help. Hey, have I told you yet how awesome you were yesterday?"

Neville sighed, looking lost in his own thoughts, and not as heartened as Harry had hoped for. "I suppose. I am part badger too, though, and friendship and loyalty sometimes vie with courage in my soul. It is… hard, sometimes, to do the right thing."

Up at the Head Table, some kind of hubbub had begun that had the handful of teachers suddenly neglecting their desserts to talk with each other in increasingly loud and worried voices. It had started when a silvery cat Patronus had been sent off from McGonagall's wand, and had grown worse after a return message had presumably been received, when a misty phoenix Patronus flew through the wall to speak quietly to her. Whatever the discussion had been, it had the teachers all astir. The handful of students and exchange students in the Great Hall all hushed to better overhear the drama.

"The rest of the students will be back tomorrow!" Flitwick fretted.

"You simply cannot keep this quiet and hope she will return safely!" Moody said, slamming a hand down on the table.

"We could wait until Friday. There is no need to start a needless panic yet; she could be found still," said Sprout.

Moody stood up. "I shall check her room in the tower – look for clues."

"But the wards!" Flitwick said.

"Insufficient to keep me out," Moody said.

He pushed away from the table with a loud scrape of his chair, and added loudly, "You had best tell the children, Minerva. One of them may have seen her. Find a witness, if you can, and I shall help question them."

With Dumbledore absent McGonagall was in charge, a burden which seemed to weigh heavily on her at the moment. She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, looking sorrowful and resigned. She cast the Sonorus Charm on her throat, and closed her eyes as she took a deep, calming breath.

Harry's heart fluttered in panic. This was bad news. He dreaded to hear who'd gone missing. His mind raced through his list of friends; had he neglected to bargain for someone's safety who'd been endangered, or worse?

"Students," McGonagall started, looking out at the hall, "I am sorry to tell you that in the wake of the attack on Hogsmeade it appears that one of our own has gone missing. If anyone has seen or heard from our former professor, Madam Trelawney, at any time since yesterday at breakfast, please come forward to speak with me."

Ralucam – Thanks for the inspiration for Harry to be a neutral Healer.

New wizarding streets near Diagon Alley – These are some of the historical streets lost or renamed with the development of Charing Cross Road. I've placed the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road near to Soho Square, around the intersection with Manette Street. For more historical info, see alondoninheritance do slash tag slash charing-cross-road

Fish dish – The pungent fish dish Ron wasn't game to try is a Norwegian delicacy called Rakfisk, which is salted and fermented trout or char. It is often served with raw onions, sour cream, potatoes, mustard sauce, and flatbread (lefse).