temporary author's note: My computer crashed, so I'll be a bit scarce for a while. Sorry.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six: When You Meet on Opposite Sides

As it turned out, the Drs. Granger had allowed for Hermione to come, too, which made the trip to Diagon Alley feel a bit of a chaperoned double date. Not that Harry minded, overmuch. There was still a large part of him that was just relieved that Sirius had survived the disaster at the end of last year. Although, he'd also managed to accomplish something then, so maybe it didn't quite qualify as a disaster, either.

Ginny and Ron had arrived via floo, as it was too dangerous to travel on foot, in these dangerous times. Sooner or later, Dumbledore was sure, the Ministry would fall, and the Order of the Phoenix were on high alert. Not that there was much they could do about that fact, except for appreciate every day of stability they had. Despite Moody's threats at the end of last year, Harry had seen neither hide nor hair of any of the Order members save for Sirius himself. Even Remus and Tonks were scarce.

Ron arrived first, crushing Harry in a hug, and then looking him over as if to ensure that Harry was still in one piece. In short: mother hen, again. Probably, to be expected, with Riddle returned to full power and free to act with impunity now that his cover was already blown. Still, infuriating. Maybe it was partly Harry's fault, for insisting that Ron stand watch for him at St. Mungo's, and then disappearing for a few weeks.

Harry quite forgot his resentment when Ginny appeared, looking beautiful even covered in ashes and soot. She glared at him half-heartedly for staring at her, and then made sure to rub as much soot as she could off on him when she wrapt him in a hug, leaning her head on his shoulder, which made him realise that he was finally taller than she was, mostly because she had to stretch up to accomplish this.

"Hello, Ginny," he said, trying not to smile too hard at her. She grinned and shook her head, sending her hair rippling around her face like living fire. "Did you miss me?"

She leant in to kiss him, perhaps as a reply. He decided that she'd missed him a lot. Sending letters was hardly the same as spending time with someone.

"You need to tell me everything I've missed out on. And explain everything, again," she said, withdrawing, but taking his hand. She hadn't missed much, really. He only hadn't sent any letters since they'd arrived at Grimmauld Place. Hedwig seemed glad of the reprieve.

"We need to go to Diagon Alley to pick up our supplies, first," Hermione interjected. Harry blinked. When had she arrived? Why wasn't she looking at them?

How many classes was she taking? When were they getting the results of their exams? Shouldn't that be the priority, for her? Hermione, the mystery.

She and Ron must have met up, earlier, because there was no reunited lovers moment for them. Hermione was glaring at Ron, for some reason. Harry resigned himself to never knowing quite what it was. It was probably unimportant.

That was when Ron mentioned that Fred and George were scouting premises in Diagon Alley, taking advantage of the sudden drop in popularity of real estate in Diagon Alley. What with the war coming, and all. Sirius had volunteered to help them scout out locations….

"Oh," Harry said. And Hermione would, perforce, be dragged along. She must be looking to get this over with. Harry knew that she disapproved of pranks of any sort. Rather unfortunate for her that she was one of his best friends (and future sister-in-law).

"Let's stick together, the three of us, and Sirius can go scout locations on his own, without even the Twins. I have a recommendation for him."

Ron groaned, burying his head in his hands. Hermione blinked as if stricken. Ginny, by contrast, just sort of nodded, and pushed Harry over in Sirius's direction, and let go of his hand. She left her own hanging in the air, as if she expected him to take it again shortly.

"I had the thought," Harry said, heeding her unspoken request that he make this brief by heading over to Sirius straightaway. "Have you and Professor Lupin told Fred and George that you're the Marauders?"

Sirius did not seem to quite follow how this was relevant to the conversation, although he clearly had inklings, at the very least. "No. And we don't intend to, either."

Harry considered asking why this was, but assumed that even the name of the Marauders must bring back some powerful memories of the Good Olde Days, and didn't ask for clarification. Remus, doubtless, did not like to be reminded of happier times any more than Sirius did.

Harry supposed that he could respect that. It worked with this suggestion, anyway.

"I only thought—you and Remus ought to scout locations ahead of the Twins, if you can. And if you see a place that seems particularly useful, you might leave a sort of calling card—references to the Marauders that they couldn't fail to recognise for what they were. That would catch their attention…they're still trying to figure out who the Marauders could have been, after all. Any clue…they might buy a property that seemed suitable just because they thought they were following in your footsteps."

Sirius stared at him, aghast. "They can't idolise us that much," he protested, and Harry gave an innocent smile, and a shrug, as he walked back over to Ginny, whose hand was still outstretched. Perhaps she, too, had the patience to outwait him.

Sirius seemed to have frozen in place, watching Harry with that horrified expression, as if hit by the impediment jinx. And people called Harry melodramatic.

That part of the trip seemed to turn out well. Remus had been called in on the sly, and Tonks, and Remus and Sirius each scouted locations on their own, making a very swift job of it—there weren't that many locations in Diagon Alley open, but they couldn't have done much more than glance inside, and perhaps cast a few spells. Not that Harry would know what location scouting entailed.

Tonks could not have made it clearer that she had come mostly as a favour to Remus. But, she seemed rather distracted and out-of-sorts anyway, so Harry was not inclined to pry. Her hair was an unusual dark brown, and there were bags under her eyes. "My ability isn't working right now," she'd said, and that terse explanation was the only one she gave, even when Hermione wheedled. Even when Ginny, who liked her better, and was therefore closer to her, begged. Something was clearly eating away at Tonks, and Harry suspected that it had something to do with the absent Remus. She seemed to be muttering the occasional imprecation against idiot werewolves under her breath, regardless.

Hmm.

All told, she was not as fun of an escort as Harry had expected when he'd first learnt who was accompanying them to Diagon Alley (or, rather, who had joined their troupe, last minute, in addition to Remus, who was already a tagalong). She glared around the alley, her look turning particularly fierce whenever it alit upon one of the many posters of Death Eaters hung up throughout the way. Harry had killed a couple of Death Eaters last year, but Bellatrix Lestrange, Riddle's right hand, had survived, and she was Tonks's aunt.

And the woman who'd sent the Longbottoms to St. Mungo's, but that was a thought for another time, unless he run into Neville Longbottom here.

They did not run into Neville Longbottom. Instead, Malfoy appeared in the corner of Harry's vision, heading into Knockturn Alley, and Harry made a swift decision to follow him.

He told Ginny of his intentions, because he knew that Ron would insist upon coming with him (Ron, who was the antithesis of stealth), Hermione would spend so long arguing with him over his choice of action that he'd miss his chance, and Tonks, in addition to her distraction, would doubtless take her job as bodyguard seriously and refuse to let him go. Ginny could provide cover for him, or inform the others of his plans once it was too late to stop him.

Of course, Ron also had that spell that would show him where Harry was. Harry mustn't forget that. He slipped away, casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself around the corner, and then waiting until he'd turned into Knockturn Alley before shrouding himself in a truer invisibility.

Useful. And good for practice.

He left an interminable time later, mind racing with his attempts to discover what Malfoy might be up to. The way he'd complained of the pain, the way he'd grabbed his upper arm… a brand, perhaps? Lucius Malfoy had failed to retrieve the prophecy at the end of last year. Perhaps, then, Voldemort was inclined to punish the son for the failures of the father, to paraphrase the better known saying?

Harry was well-aware that he was jumping to conclusions, but it struck him as a necessary habit, given his life, and the way things tended to go for him. He couldn't afford to assume that Malfoy's actions were innocuous. Besides…that cabinet looked familiar…and not just on account of having hidden in there in the summer before second year (how long ago that seemed! It should seem less long ago, given the fact that he had now accepted that he had over a millennium's life experience to draw from). A look into the cabinet's magic had his mind reeling, and he very nearly lost his balance, reeling physically as well as mentally. That would not have been good, to reveal himself, stumbling into things, with the Malfoys, or even "just" Mr. Borgin, around.

He couldn't place it. What did Malfoy mean, when he asked how to repair it? Or, was he trying to repair something else? Even Harry's complete invisibility did not give him the luxury of invading their personal space undetected. He'd had to keep his distance. Malfoy might have been holding something in his hand, but he'd seemed to be pointing at the cabinet.

Then, there was the Hand of Glory, which the Malfoys had bought….

A thief's best friend. What was Malfoy planning to steal?

He wanted to run these questions, and others, by Hermione, but now was not a good time. Ron gave him a reproachful frown as Harry returned, dropping the invisibility (both kinds of invisibility, stripping them off at the same time with the other kind of magic). Tonks did not seem quite aware that he'd wandered off, but nothing would stop Harry's overprotective big brother. Also, Ginny seemed to have informed Ron and Hermione the moment that Harry was far enough away, but had somehow managed to convince them both to remain silent on the matter, as well.

Harry suspected that Ron had made many protests as to how Harry might be ambushed by Death Eaters and perish in the ensuring battle, because Ginny glared at him when he returned. Then, she saw the look on his face, which must have been a great deal more troubled than he thought, because her look softened.

"That bad, huh?"

He glanced over at Hermione to try to draw her in to the discussion that was about to enfold, and told them all what little he'd been able to glean from the encounter.

"And Malfoy," he finished, "must be a Death Eater. He's doing You-Know-Who's work, and he has the mark. Well, Hermione?"

"You don't have proof—" she began, but he overrode her to make his point, which, naturally, he thought was far more important.

"Do you remember what I said, back in third year? What will you do, when you meet on opposite sides? There is no more clemency to be given. We are at war, and Malfoy has chosen his side."

"You don't know that—" Hermione said.

"He's probably only signed up under duress," Ginny said, poking at her chin with her finger. "It's too much effort and danger for him, otherwise—he's always been a 'what's in it for me?' sort."

"You mean 'a slytherin'," Harry said, nodding as if the Sorting Hat hadn't seriously considered sending him to that house. Why dwell on unrealised possibilities?

"Regardless," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes at him, "I think that changes the circumstances, don't you? I mean, if he's not doing it freely—"

"That's like saying that Pettigrew should be excused for his actions!" Harry cried, throwing his hands in the air. That was an unforgivable suggestion.

Ginny glanced over at Tonks, who remained as distracted as ever. She was no fun this way. Harry wished that Sirius and Remus would hurry up and join them. And, maybe, the Twins.

"I'm not saying that. Pettigrew could have, and should have, never joined the Death Eaters. His family wasn't in any greater threat than the rest of the pureblood families opposing You-Know-Who, and he was in the Order of the Phoenix. I'm not even sure that any of the Pettigrews opposed You-Know-Who. But, Malfoy…he's in a similar situation to Regulus—Death Eater politics in the family, and all. I'm not saying that he's a hero, as Regulus sort of is, either."

She'd cut off the protest Harry was about to make, before he could make it. Sometimes, he was sort of alarmed at the way that she seemed able to keep up with him.

He abandoned any attempts to handle Ginny's argument to return to Hermione, who seemed to have used Ginny and Harry's debate as a means of ducking out of answering Harry's far more important query.

"Well, Hermione?" he asked, to convey to her that she was not off the hook, no matter what she might have thought. He didn't need to look to see that Ron was radiating disapproval at Harry, for trying to force a response from Hermione. Well, this was better than how he'd tested her at the end of first year, surely. He couldn't very well wait until it came to a battle to see what Hermione would do. That was the sort of thing that idiots did.

Harry was not stupid. He needed to know that Hermione understood how important this all was. That she was committed.

Hermione gave a helpless shrug, and refused to meet his eyes. Peer pressure time it was, then.

"What about you, Ginny?" he asked. "What will you do if you have to fight Malfoy?"

She blinked over in his direction. "Whatever I have to, I guess," she said, looking down at the ground. "I don't want to have to kill or hurt anyone, but I can't just let him hurt other people, even if he doesn't want to. It's not like he's—"

She broke off so suddenly that Harry knew what the rest of that sentence was. He took her hand, and squeezed it, as if he could force a current of strength up through their joined hands, and she gave him a haunted smile.

Harry felt Ron's examination, as his gaze swept over Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. He seemed to understand what the rest of the sentence was, too, for he asked no clarification.

Hermione, on the other hand, did not understand. She could be stubbornly, obtusely, wilfully thick, when she felt like it. "It's not like he's what, Ginny?" she asked, and Harry sent her a cutting glare that would have had more power if she'd been looking at him. Ginny gripped his hand like a vise.

"He has a choice in his own actions, even if they're made under duress. No Imperius Curse involved," Harry said, shortly. "I should hope that you're willing to give him no quarter, regardless of his circumstances. He's the enemy, now."

She gave a thoughtful frown. "That's such a limited view of the world—"

"You can try to take prisoners, but there's no guarantee that you'll succeed. You might not have noticed it, Hermione, but this is war."

Ron seemed to finally get Harry's point. He whispered something quiet to Hermione, whose eyes filled with tears, but she nodded.

"I'll do whatever's necessary, Harry. It's like Ron said in first year: we're with you on this, to the very end."

Harry relaxed, without even consciously realising it. "That's all I wanted to know. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

That question required no response.

The results of their O.W.L. exams came a few days after their trip to Diagon Alley. Harry's were late, owing to the superlative defences surrounding Grimmauld Place. He'd discovered this only after conferring with Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. Sirius had expected it, and had known from Dumbledore, regardless, which books were assigned for the future courses. Apparently, last year had let Dumbledore know just how off-the-grid Grimmauld Place was.

The receipt of his results informed Harry of many things. The first was that his middle name was James. He had never had the opportunity of learning this fact before. He wondered whether it was a show of the arrogance Snape attributed to his dad, or whether they were both named after some more distant relative.

The second was that he didn't take his studies as seriously as he should: he should have had higher marks than this. Although he managed to get "O.W.L.s" in all of his classes save for the aborted History of Magic one, most of them were either Exceeds Expectations, or Acceptable. Divination was one of those acceptable grades. He was continuing on with the study this year, still hoping that he'd get the answers to the source of prophecy. Hope springs eternal, and all. Potions was, likewise, expected to be an "acceptable" grade.

But, he was now realising that he shouldn't just dismiss the importance of any of his subjects. His only true vindication came of the fact that he'd had no real opportunity, ever, to study his coursework. There'd always been something else, especially the past two years. He resolved to do better. Wizarding magic was fascinating. The problem was that he was trying to study too many things, build up too many skills, and all of them suffered as a result.

He'd stop training with Ron, and step up practice with Stephen in the future, to ensure that their friend, the doctor, didn't fall behind. That should free him up, somewhat. Dumbledore assured him that occlumency was no longer needed, as Riddle was now practising it, himself, warding out Harry (and who could blame him, after last year; he'd have to be smart enough to be wary, now, of picking a fight with Harry).

Harry rather thought he'd done as much with mind magic as he could, regardless. Just see his progress rescuing Frank and Alice Longbottom. He couldn't wait to hear the news from Neville.

He thought, however, that, despite being nominated captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, that he'd better tender his letter of resignation, so to speak. He didn't have time for sports—there was, as he'd made clear to Hermione, a war going on. Add onto that Dumbledore's private lessons, whatever those were, and a need to keep track of Malfoy…and maybe a continuation of the Defence Association….no, he had not enough time to spare for quidditch practice. He'd pick a new Seeker, and bow out. He knew his own limits.

His exam results proved that he was good at some of his subjects, despite how little attention he'd paid them. But he'd expected to get high marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts—part of the whole purpose of the Defence Association, after all. But, Charms and Transfiguration were also not unanticipated. Still…he remembered the courses that Professor McGonagall had said he'd need to become an auror, and decided that, regardless of Snape's need to play the perfect Death Eater, he needed to step up his work in potions. He didn't know quite how skilled Slughorn was, but Harry thought he might well resort to asking Snape for help…while he could. What was Dumbledore thinking, subjecting Snape to the curse on the Defence position?