Through Emerald Eyes Réupload

by FataliseMH4

It's a reuplod, I really liked this fanfiction but it was removed from the site, I repeat it does not belong to me, please be indulgent

1. Chapter 1

It was raining.

The storm outside was fierce – its winds beating against the magically reinforced windows of the castle. The interior of the Great Hall reflected the chaotic exterior of the castle quite well, or so Harry's thought. Spell fire drowned out the sounds of the rain rapping on the ceiling. Screams of terror and moans of pain meshed with the clashes of thunder in the skies. The only real difference Harry could find between the two settings was the lighting. While the storm clouds outside were dark and invisible against the night sky, save for the brief flashes of lightning, the Great Hall was vibrant with color. As spells and curses flew from wands - green, purple, and red in color; and the candles above the hall flickered in and out, Harry found the scene rather beautiful. He'd never been much of a photographer or even an artist for that matter, but he felt that if he had a camera at the moment, he'd likely give Colin a run for his money on his best of days.

What amazed Harry was that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He'd been in life threatening situations before but never had he seen time actually slow down for him. He'd describe the encounters in which he'd had to fight for his life, not unlike how he felt his life was in general, in that they tended to be fast-paced and 'cutty', often times leaving him with a severe case of whiplash. To actually witness a moment like this in surreal slow motion was a unique experience to the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew in reality that time wasn't actually moving slowly, but rather his mind and his senses were working extra fast; taking in the entire situation within a span of a few seconds. Though his breathing was elevated, his heart rate was steady, as it always was in these situations and he was able to notice everything and everything in the room once more.

Papers littered the air, seemingly suspended in mid-motion and clouding half of the hall from the candles above. They were what remained of the last few books they had left to read. Several upper year Slytherins were huddled behind tables and conjured barriers in a corner of the hall, firing at the majority of the halls occupants who in-turn were taking cover and returning spells of their own. The younger years were warned to stay down, many of them either growing hysterical or trying to hide their panic at the violent turn of events. The older students were casting the strongest defense shields and conjuring the thickest barriers they could to stop the lethal slew of Unforgiveable curses heading their way, while the third years to fifth years used their limited arsenal of offensive magic to repel the attackers. With absentmindedly noticed that the majority of the students taking out the attackers were DA members.

Over at the staff table, things weren't fairing much better. The Dumbledore brothers and the aurors were working efficiently to dispatch the remaining aurors who were actually Death Eaters, as well as several of the guests there. Among that group, unsurprisingly, were Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge. Harry gritted his teeth at the site of two of the people he hated most in this world, before a smile worked its way onto his face. It appeared his godfather and uncle figure were working in tandem against Malfoy Sr., and Harry was pleased to see that no taunts were being uttered by his usually witty godfather. He was glad to see that the reading had a positive effect on Sirius' mannerisms. Not too far from them, another smile worked its way onto his face as he saw Molly Weasley and Dolores Umbridge locked in a duel… or rather, a yelling match with random spell work thrown in. But at least someone was putting the frog-resembling women in her place. He was equally pleased and surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy, the beautiful and aristocratic woman who was unfortunately the wife of a certain blonde git, helping her older sister Andromeda in tending to the few wounded from the opening rounds of the battle. The rest of the staff were working on keeping the students safe, while the Weasley family joined the aurors and remaining order members in repelling the few remaining Death Eater combatants.

Harry unconsciously returned fire at one of the Slytherins that felt brave enough to try to get a shot in at him, and judging by the spell color it was a torture curse. Without batting an eye at the now stunned and bound seventh year, Harry turned his phoenix wand at the lone figure that didn't seem to be taking anyone's side at the moment, opting instead to stand in the corner of the hall and watch. Whoever they were (though Harry was almost sure that it was a women if the feminine curves were anything to go by), they had arrived with the Malfoy's at the beginning of the reading and had remained silent ever since. Add to the fact that the person wore a veil over their features, and it didn't give Harry much reason to trust them.

As he gripped his wand and made his way to the corner of the hall, dodging spell fire and returning it without breaking stride, he saw that the figure had spotted him and had drew their own wand. Absentmindedly, he acknowledged that the interval between spells being cast in the hall was growing longer, and that the majority of the screams and curses being uttered had dribbled down to a minimum. He correctly surmised that the little altercation between the two sides was coming to a close. By the time he'd reached the figure, the two had been staring each other down for what seemed like minutes. At least, Harry felt like he'd been staring them down, as he really had no way of knowing with the veil covering their face. Cautiously and slowly, so as not to startle them, Harry raised his wand and asked a simple question.

"Who are you?"

The figure seemed to stare stonily back at him for a few seconds, and just when Harry was about to repeat the question, they slowly pulled their hand up and grabbed the edge of the veil. As he/she seemed to hesitate, Harry had a guess as to what they were currently thinking. If this figure went through such lengths to hide their identity, they likely weren't anyone that was welcome in these halls. Hoping to allay the persons fears, Harry said, "I promise, unless you Voldemort, I won't attack you without provocation from yourself. I only want to know who you are for safety's sake."

The figure hesitated for a while longer before it gave a tight nod back, and went to unwind the magical veil hiding their features. As the material dropped away to reveal some of the most stunning eyes Harry had ever seen, he fell quiet in shock at the person standing before him. The woman stared stonily back at him, though a sense of nervousness, anger, and loneliness seemed to course through her eyes. Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, a voice behind him yelled in utter shock and anger.

"You!"

(One "Day" Earlier)

Headmasters Office, Hogwarts - 10:06pm – Thursday, February 19th, 1996

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in unfamiliar territory.

As both the long-standing Headmaster of Hogwarts as well as the former Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, not to mention hailed as one of the greatest wizards of all time, the man had grown quite accustomed to being in charge of situations; to knowing most if not all of what needed to be known, to giving out orders and having others follow them to the tee. He was, however, not accustomed to receiving orders and if today's experience was anything to go by, he'd likely never be a fan.

Still, here he was; sitting in his office and staring at a piece of parchment that he had written and duplicated many times. It was a note requesting the presence of some odd two dozen individuals, all of whom were related to the life of a rather unique young man. The request was for them come to Hogwarts on the morning of the upcoming Saturday for what was to be a very special occasion wherein things concerning the local political climate, the school, and most importantly – the war, would be discussed and information given. The letter also warned them to come prepared to spend the entire day. It seemed a bit ambiguous to say the least, he knew this. But what else could he say in the situation? It would be hard enough getting all of them there in the first place, let alone getting them to understand and believe the truth of the matter. To tell them the real reason why they were coming would be out of the question. And he needed them to come. So he stuck to what he did best and gave half or partial truths, without actually lying, in order to get people to do what he wanted.

The old wizard sighed to himself, knowing the upcoming weekend would be a trying one that would like. He just wanted it all to end. For the war to be finished, for peace to reign as long as it was allowed to in a world such as this. And most of all, he wished he could right the wrongs done to so many people for the "greater good", not least among them the boy who was the real reason for the upcoming event. He wondered briefly how it came to this, and whether or not he had it in him to follow through with what was planned. More importantly, he wondered if he was doing the right thing; if he'd ever done the right thing. Thinking back to how he'd first come to this decision, Albus Dumbledore looked over to his desk, where a stack of seven books lay, and recalled how they first came into his possession.

Headmasters Office, Hogwarts - 9:58pm – Thursday, February 19th, 1996

Dumbledore had been sitting at his desk, doing the two things he found himself doing quite often lately - sucking on a lemon drop and contemplating the enigma that was Harry Potter.

Contrary to popular belief, the boy was not as simple minded as he appeared. Dumbledore felt he was an extremely perceptive individual when it mattered most, and he steadily saw through the thin and thick emotional layers of the Boy-Who-Lived. He had a feeling that somewhere behind the boy's selfless and brave exterior, a slew of conflicting emotions raged for dominance in his troubled mind. Beneath those emotions lied a regressed genius, one that was slowly broken down over time by the tragic events of his life, until they were a mere memory hidden in the back of his sub-consciousness, only unleashed when needed most. What childhood the boy might have had in order to warrant such a complex mental shield, the man wasn't sure, and he didn't dare practice legillimincy on the child. Not in his current mental state, of all things, and not out of respect for the boy. Dumbledore was many things, but he was not a rapist of minds, unlike a certain potions master.

Truly, it pained the old man to see the boy whom he'd reluctantly come to see as a grandson so troubled and alone, but in his heart he knew he could do little more for him if his plans were to stay on track. This was all part of the plan he'd made many years ago whose inception was on a cold November morning, when Harry had taken his first step into his destiny; a plan that had been tweaked, added to, and perfected over the years to acclimate new developments… such as horcruxes. It was a plan that was fairly simple and fairly ideal when one looked at the big picture, and though it never felt fully right, Dumbledore never relented; viewing it as a necessity for "the greater good".

He hid the boy away from the magical world, so he would not be surrounded by the temptations that would befall such an iconic individual. As a symbol of victory, hope, and survival to the magical world, the boy would undoubtedly be exposed to the risks of fame and would end up prideful, arrogant, haughty, and even power hungry. For such a powerful wizard like Harry was bound to be (if the size of his early magical core was any indication), that would not be a good thing. Instead, Harry would need to be placed in a humble environment with a normal sized family in order to properly learn the principles of being a good man before re-entering the wizarding world. For Dumbledore, who already knew that Harry was destined for greater things, there was hardly even a choice. Harry would grow up as a muggle, in the only safe environment available for him: the Dursley's.

He knew that the muggle family would likely have a difficult time with the boy, and even more so vice versa, but he had faith that the boy would only be the better for it in the end. Or so he had hoped. Now that he thought about it, and from what information various staff and Order members had been able to give him, the boy had quite a few issues that were likely effects of his childhood, not the least of which were his instinct to blame himself for things beyond his control, his independent streak, and his lack of trust in authority figures. He'd have to work on breaking the boy of the latter two of those traits. Perhaps find him a girlfriend; someone to guide him towards authority and quench his more instinctual reactions, while still providing comfort and love to the boy who needs as much as he could get. But who? Perhaps he could convince the boy to like Molly's child, Ginevra. While rather hot-headed and emotional, he was sure that with a little talking to, she'd do nicely…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp screech and a startling increase of temperature in the room. He looked to the side of his office where his phoenix familiar sat, only to see Fawkes burning brightly; his entire body completely aflame. The old man was both confused and awed at the display before him, all thoughts about Harry Potter gone from his mind. It was far too early for Fawkes to have a burning day, and never before had it affected the room in such a way, nor had his familiar lit up so enchantingly. To say the Headmaster was intrigued was an understatement.

Fawkes' screech still continued, growing higher in decibels until all sound in the room was hardly audible at all. A strange quiet filled the room as the glow increased, almost as though the Headmasters office had become a vacuum. Then a powerful burst of magic pulsed from the blazing avian. Instantly, the sound returned, and with it all of the frail objects in the room were shattered and Dumbledore himself was found lying on the floor. He was bleeding from the ears and disoriented from both the incredible high pitch and the surprising spike of magical energy. Groaning and trying to wipe the blood from his ears, Dumbledore unsteadily found his way to his knees before finally looking up at the destruction.

His room was in complete disarray. Papers were scattered everywhere, while the articles of parchment closest to Fawkes were burned, leaving their ink-stained scent to linger in the air. All of the glass objects in the room were either shattered or cracked. The unique contraptions and frail gizmos he'd come to collect over the years were nowhere to be found in the debris, most likely obliterated. Dumbledore himself found what remained of a cracked mirror and looked over his current state. His pair of once impressive velvet robes were now sullied by streaks of green ink that had flown from the ink containers that were on his desk. His once white and ordered hair was now dirtied and chaotic, with his prized beard singed and stained black.

Gathering himself from the shock of the event, as well as absentmindedly casting a healing and numbing spell on his ears, the wise yet misguided wizard of legend turned to the area where his familiar had once sat. The cage was no longer there, seemingly burned to a state of non-existence. Dumbledore took a moment to thank Merlin for not allowing the heat to destroy the rest of his office, as normal physics would demand. His familiar was nowhere to be seen and he had absolutely no idea what just happened. This troubled the man who prided himself on knowing all there was to know about phoenixes. He was, after all, the first wizard in several hundred years to have one as a familiar.

Sighing to himself, Dumbledore was about to cast an advanced series of charms that would clean, repair, and reorder all of the objects in the room to the state they were in before the incident. However, he stopped mid-cast when he saw a new light appear over his desk, which was quickly followed by another magical blast. Managing to stay on his feet this time, Dumbledore shielded his eyes with his arm until the light had subsided. Cautiously lowering his arm and opening his eyes, Dumbledore was met by a view that he would remember for the remainder of his already lengthy life.

Sitting on his desk was Fawkes, purer and more vibrant than he'd ever seen him, bowing to a creature the likes of which Albus had never thought he'd see. It was undoubtedly a royal phoenix. It had the same build and design as the standard phoenix. However, the strange thing about it though, was... well, everything when compared to its inferior immortal cousins. It was at least twice as big as Fawkes, with wide purple feathers covering its body, as opposed to the standard reddish-orange. The trim around its spine, eyes, and tail were black, with dark green marring its wing tips and head. It held itself in a manner that spoke volumes. It was a being of sheer majesty and power, and the magical presence rolling off of it almost choked the aged wizard, which may or may not have been its intention as the bird seemed to smirk before withdrawing its power from the airwaves.

Struggling to get his amazement and terror under control, the old man took a deep breath before speaking. "May I help you?"

As soon as the words left his lips, the aged wizard felt an invisible force ghost against his Occlumency shields. When it struck, it was neither soft and slow like his own legillimincy probes, nor sharp and sensitive like most legilimens are. Instead it was as though it merely phased through Dumbledore's formidable shields, something that momentarily scared the now helpless wizard. Once past his defenses, the phoenix started flashing images into his mind. At first they were blurry and too quick to latch onto, but eventually they sharpened until they were utterly vivid, as though he were living them himself.

'Memories', the aged wizard thought. 'But whose are they?'

Time seemed to slow down for the aged wizard as he saw the image of a little boy, broken and alone in a small dark room. He recognized the child of no more than 8 as a young Harry Potter. He was currently crying and asking for a second chance. The old man tried to tear his eyes away from the personal memory. He now knew whose memories these were, but they brought him no answers. Only more questions.

Before he could focus too much on his thoughts, a force strengthened around his mental vision and turned him once again to the scene, as though forcing him to watch his mistakes stare him in the face with those haunting emerald eyes; so bright and so hopeful despite his situation, though eventually the headmaster could see that there was a dullness there that was well hidden underneath the hope. This went on for hours; brief flashes and quick cuts of memory of one Harry Potter's life throughout the years, both before and during his time at Hogwarts.

The visions eventually turned to an older Harry, one whose eyes were considerably duller. He watched as blurry figures fell through veils, over astronomy towers, in a massive battle and he always heard the muffled scream of the last remaining Potter follow. While the old man could not understand what he was seeing, he could feel the emotion from the memories, which was unusual for memories. It showed that they were extremely emotional times in the boys life, and judging by his unfamiliarity with them, they likely hadn't happened yet. This only added to the old man's confusion, which was now accompanied by a huge amount of sadness and guilt that he had no explanation for.

He was in the middle of viewing a particularly emotional memory wherein a person that Dumbledore could only assume was someone close to Harry, was lying dead on the floor, when the old man felt a presence at his side. Turning to the left he saw the grand phoenix beside him, looking the scene with what could only be described as utter remorse for the person suffering. Dumbledore stared at the immortal avian for a second, even as his eyes watered.

"Why?"

The bird didn't seem to hear him as it continued staring at the scene. Dumbledore grew frustrated with it and raised his voice and asked again. "Why? Why have you brought me here? Why are you showing me these things?" He was obviously hurting from the bleed over of the emotions memory-Harry was feeling with each loss. It was getting to the man who felt like he had all the answers that he needed to have. After a few minutes more of silence where the scene changed once more to a graveyard, the bird finally turned and regarded the wizard before him.

"Albus Dumbledore," it spoke in a voice that was neither male nor female. It was a voice that transcended genders and races, but was laced with a soft spoken power and an undercurrent of emotion that Dumbledore couldn't place. To say that the headmaster was startled was an understatement but he wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing the phoenix wasn't done.

"You have been responsible for many things in your life; some good, some bad. However, you particularly influenced and affected the life of one individual: my master. Care to take a guess?"

The headmaster seemed to think for a moment. Though he knew the likely answer right away, it just didn't make any sense. But he answered regardless of his doubts. "Harry Potter."

The bird, however, never confirmed or denied his response. Instead it continued in answering Dumbledore's earlier question. "What you see are the memories of one Harry Potter – a boy whose fate was written before he was ever conceived. It was a happiness that was denied him by individuals who sought to control his life. Among them was yourself." Dumbledore didn't bother denying the accusation and instead opted to listen, albeit more subdued manner than before.

"You've manipulated many things and affected many outcomes in your life. As I said before, some of those events and lives worked out for the best, but this case; his case, is not one of them." The two continued to state at the memory as it showed a now twenty-something Harry Potter fighting a dozen dark wizards single handedly, without pause for breath as he fluidly incapacitated the lot of them in a manner of a few seconds. Dumbledore himself was impressed by the display, and he wondered if it was something even he could have achieved back in the day. A smile worked its way onto the old man's face, glad to see the boy he'd come to see as a grandson was coping with his losses and advancing in his abilities. However, when he saw the lack of accomplishment in memory-Harry's eyes, his smile disappeared, and it turned into a frown when he saw memory-Harry walk away emotionless.

"The future is coming faster than you can imagine, Dumbledore. The chosen one's time is coming, and if your plans were to succeed, he would not be ready when that time came. We aren't talking about Voldemort or the current wizarding war on the horizon. That is taken care of, but at the cost of so many innocent lives that need not be lost, as well as the future of the wizarding world." The grand phoenix turned to stare directly into the shocked old man's eyes. "I've been sent back. As a grand phoenix I have special abilities, one of which is to traverse between times. I am here to offer you a chance at changing the future, in saving those you care about, and in regaining the humanity you seem to have lost in your strive for the 'greater good.'"

The words of the phoenix struck a deep cord within the wise old wizard. Could he truly take the chance of changing the future for the better? What would it cost and what would the outcomes be? He knew that if things stayed as they were that he would at least see the end of Voldemort, but what of the price? Not for the first time in his life, Dumbledore felt helpless and burdened by decisions to big for any one man. However, as he saw the memory of a Harry in his forties, leading a hopeless charge against an indefinable force and losing, he made up his mind. There was more out there than just Voldemort to deal with, and if there was even the slightest of chances that he could spare the few he still authentically cared for from going through hell to achieve his greater good, then so be it. But how would he change the future?

The phoenix seemed to sense his question as they were effectively pulled out of the memory, and then the mindscape. Once back in his office, Dumbledore shuck his head to loosen the cobwebs that had formed and to clear the wave of emotions he had been riding since entering his mindscape. The grand phoenix looked at him and spoke once more in his head.

"In order to change the future, you must first change those that will bring it about. And for that to happen, you must first start with the person who has the most effect on them, knowingly or not."

Without missing a beat, Dumbledore answered the unasked question. "Harry…"

The phoenix nodded. In a flash a series of books were laid out on the oak table it stood on. There were seven books in total. The first spine read "Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone", while the second was titled "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" and so on. Raising an eyebrow at the books, Dumbledore turned to the purple avian looking for an explanation.

"These books chronicle the life and thoughts of one Harry Potter from his entrance into the wizarding world to his graduating year. His thoughts, his actions; everything of importance has been documented in these books with nothing edited or left out. You will read these books with the rest of the student body and staff. I have left a list of people for you to contact as well, and they will also need to come to this reading. It will be hard for him, but he'll see the need for this eventually. And you must prove to them that this is the truth at any cost. Understood?"

Albus was at first stunned by this reveal, but he then picked up on the hiding meaning the phoenix was trying to convey. Nodding his head shakily, he responded. "I will do what you ask."

The avian nodded it's head at the man. "I will return when the meeting is to take place. Until then…" The phoenix turned to Fawkes who had been quiet the entire time and had remained in its bowed position. The grand phoenix nodded at the headmasters companion in thanks and respect before it disappeared in a flash of indigo fire, leaving behind a very shocked and emotionally drained headmaster and an excited familiar.

"Well, old friend," the recovered wizard spoke into the silence as he picked up the list of people he'd have to invite and whistled appreciatively, "…it looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys Dormitory, Hogwarts - 12:37am – Friday, February 20th, 1996

While Dumbledore set out to do the mysterious phoenixes bidding, Harry Potter was having trouble sleeping. This wasn't an unusual occurrence this year, as he'd been avoiding his sleep as much as possible lately, fearing that he may receive another vision. While the previous vision has saved the life of Arthur Weasley, a man he respected and admired as the father of his friends and a good man, Harry couldn't help the feeling of vulnerability he had during those visions. Seeing things happen to people as though he was the cause, despite not having any control over the visions happenings… it made him feel tainted, as though he were the one responsible.

With such thoughts on his mind, it wasn't much of a wonder that the usually alert boy missed the slight flash of indigo fire in the corner of the room. The rest of the dorms occupants were already asleep, so the newcomer's arrival went unnoticed by all.

At the same moment, Harry got a feeling that he'd never learned to like. It was a feeling he got when something in his life was about to change. He'd had the same feeling before his eleventh birthday, when he discovered he was a wizard, and the same feeling the night he'd discovered Sirius was his godfather. It wasn't a feeling of danger or anything like that, but rather the unknown; of a seemingly positive development that would soon turn into a questionable one at best. Being a wizard was an escape for him, but at the same time, it introduced him to a life filled with danger, loathing, and loss. Finding out that Sirius was his godfather and had been innocent was a high point in his life, but that quickly turned to regret when Sirius has to go into hiding after having spent 12 years in Azkaban for a crime he hadn't committed. Changes tended to be a bad thing for Harry Potter, and so he silently cursed the feeling and prayed that nothing came of it. The feeling of uncertainty was enough to drive an already sane person mad, and at the moment, Harry admitted that he wasn't necessarily running all on cylinders.

Fortunately, before his thoughts could turn to more negative matters, the phoenix hidden in the room began singing a soft and hardly audible song of peace, hope, and acceptance. While Harry could hardly hear the words nor pinpoint where it was coming from, the effect was still the same as it was had he been right next to the majestic creature. Harry's eyelids drooped, he breathed out a sigh of relief, and before he knew it, he had entered Morpheus. It would be the first pleasant night's sleep he'd had in nearly a year.

If the phoenix could smile, it would have. Instead it settled for a soft chirp of happiness at its success before a parcel appeared beneath its talons. Gliding to the nightstand by the green-eyed wizard, it set the package down and chirped contently at the sleeping form before flying outside of the window and disappearing in a silent flash of indigo to places unknown.

Across magical Britain, and over the course of several hours in the late evening and early morning, some odd two dozen individuals were contacted and notified about their presence being required at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the hour of the requests and the violent verbal exchanges that tended to take place after a particular contacted individual had been awoken from their sleep, the sense of urgency given off by the caller, one Albus Dumbledore, did not go missed by most. Soon enough plans were made and instructions given out (by pompous Minister, to Head of the DMLE, to Dark Lord alike), as their curiosity piqued. What did tomorrow have in store for them, and who else would be attending?

A young female auror with ever-changing hair and a beautiful heart shaped face got out of her clothes. She had just finished a night shift at the DoM and returned home. Despite the time of night it was, she felt like she could use a shower. Unfortunately, as soon as she entered her flat she had gotten a call from her boss Kingsley Shacklebolt that they've been given a mission to escort the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, to a meeting that's to take place at Hogwarts tomorrow. This came right after her other boss, Albus Dumbledore, leader of the light and the Order of the Phoenix's head, floo-called her to notify her that her presence was requested at Hogwarts tomorrow. Her interest was piqued to say the least.

Still, it wasn't everyday that she was given an escort mission, and she could use this as an opportunity to possibly see some of the brats that went to school there; chief among them a green-eyed wizard that she loved to tease. Smiling to herself, she stepped into the shower and prepared for what she felt would be an interesting day. In typical Tonks fashion however, she slipped on nothing and nearly ended up going headfirst into her shower wall. She smiled to herself at the fact that she didn't hit the wall this time. Yupp, tomorrow was going to be a good day.

A blonde haired young woman stood in silence outside of the Burrow, staring at the stars and contemplating her future. She had recently begun seeing a man that was a co-worker a few months ago. While she found the man charming, kind, and fairly resistant to her allure, and everything she felt she needed and wanted, she was still a young woman and thus was uncertain of the step she felt was soon coming up in their relationship. The entire relationship had come as a surprise to her and before she knew it she was being introduced to her redheaded boyfriend's parents, who were another matter entirely to the young veela. It was only a matter of time before things got quite serious, if they weren't already, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

So deep into her thoughts was she that she failed to notice the person walking up behind her until a pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her closely to a warm chest. Leaning her head back to look at the familiar face, she found a small smile working its way onto her face. The freckled face of Bill Weasley stared worriedly back at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking about some stuff," she replied, with hardly a sign of an accent. She had been learning how to properly speak English and control the influence of her native tongue by Bill, his family, and their co-workers.

Bill smiled back at her and tightened his hold of her as he rested his head on her shorter shoulders. He didn't ask what it was she was thinking about, certain that if it was important enough she'd offer the information herself. While fleur admired his acceptance of her words, a part of her wished he would ask her what was on her mind and show a little more concern for her. She was a complex women, she knew, but it didn't change the fact that she wanted to feel wanted; to feel sought after.

After a few moments of silence, bill broke it an announcement. "Dumbledore just floo-called. I don't know what the old man is doing up at this time of night, but he wants the two of us along with my parents and brother to come to the school tomorrow morning. Says it's important and has something to do with the war and the current state of things."

Fleur snorted at the "old man" comment, but grew curious and a bit concerned over the rest of the news. She had been inducted into the order after meeting William at Gringotts and remembering that he was from the same family that her co-competitor in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry Potter, had hung around. In a way the wizard that was three years her younger had been the one to bring her and Bill together as she remembered seeing the long haired ginger the day of the third task. Since their first meeting at Gringotts, the two quickly became friends and eventually she was approached by Bill and Dumbledore to join the Order – a group looking to "make a difference" in the world. She joined because she was one of the few who believed what Harry said about Voldemort's return. She saw his eyes that night and the raging emotions in them. Eyes she would likely never forget.

"Should we be concerned?" she asked her boyfriend steadily. He simply shook his head. She nodded against his chest and they stayed like that for a while before Bill went up to bed.

"Don't stay up to late love. We're likely to have a long day tomorrow."

She nodded back with a smile that soon disappeared into a look of melancholy as he disappeared. She turned to stare up at the skies in thought, not knowing how her life would change in the next few days.

A couple that appeared to be in their mid-forties in the northern parts of France stared into a fire with frowns on their faces. They'd just received a call from their long-time friend and protégé, Albus Dumbledore. He had informed them that their presence was required at Hogwarts the following morning. "Required", not "requested". Seems some things never can change, they thought. They had half a mind to turn down the 'offer' and even attempted to do so multiple times, but Albus would not relent. He insisted that it was a matter of most importance that would only benefit them and those attending. When asked for information, all he would reveal was that it had to do with their legendary creation, the war, and the future of the wizarding world. When that didn't seem to work, he uttered two words that made them stop – Harry Potter.

That brought them up short. The two had long been waiting for a chance to meet the young man who risked his life to protect something they didn't even have a need for simply out of moral obligation. It was a rare soul who did such things and when Albus told them of what he'd faced in order to do so, they wanted to personally thank the boy for his efforts and see if he measured up to their expectations, but were denied by their former pupil.

Now they were being given the chance to do so in person. It was an opportunity they couldn't pass up. However, that didn't make them lower their guard. They had secrets well worth protecting and they knew others would be coming to this mysterious meeting as well. They would have to be cautious.

"Come, Nicholas. Let's get some sleep before we travel tomorrow," the woman spoke. She was a tall woman that had blonde hair that reached down to her buttocks, with grey eyes and red lips. Her figure was well maintained for a woman seemingly in her mid-forties, and in even better shape for a woman who was over six hundred years old. The man she was speaking to, her husband was a mildly tanned man of slightly above average height. He sported dark grey hair with weaves of black and white intermixed. The both of them carried vast amounts of knowledge in their eyes alone, as though they knew everything and yet knew they knew nothing. Both had an aura of age and understanding around them.

"Maybe in a minute or so, Perenelle," the man absentmindedly replied. The women smiled at her husband's possessive antics and walked calmly and quietly to their bedroom, not bothering to wait up knowing her beloveds habits of contemplating things to oblivion. And true to her thoughts, her husband stayed up the rest of the night, having little need for sleep, contemplating on the sudden sense of change on the wind that he felt.

Aberforth Dumbledore set down another tankard of mead as he looked around his establishment; the Hogs Head. It was the perfect atmosphere for him to think things through. At this time of night hardly any patrons were up and about save one or two who usually couldn't sleep. Luck was on his side tonight as the only other person up in the bar was an old lady who had long since fallen asleep and was snoring peacefully. The fire was still on and the firewood was softly crackling and snapping. Aberforth never failed to marvel at how soft the wind blew outside and how the drips of the faucets and beer taps always seemed to combine into a natural lullaby. He was thankful for the solace of his home. Tonight was one of the nights where he really needed it.

He had been floo-called by his brother a few minutes ago. What the old goat was doing up at this time of night, he didn't concern himself over. What he was concerned over was the business in which his brother had called about. Apparently, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts requested his presence for a special meeting in the Great Hall the following morning. Aberforth quickly declined, much to his elder brother's ire. They got into yet another row over everything and nothing before Aberforth grew a brain and cut the connection. Talking to his brother was often times like talking to a wall. A wall he wanted to punch. A wall he wanted to demand answers from. A wall that he'd long since stopped missing.

Still, the meeting had caught his attention. From what little information was given before their little verbal battle began, the meeting concerned one Harry Potter and the future of the wizarding world. Why his brother would call him, he didn't know, but he said that the matter had involved him.

Aberforth sighed. He didn't know what to think. He stayed up all night contemplating his decision.

A woman in her early forties walked along the path of Malfoy manner. She had taken to walking a lot recently. She was angry, hurt, frustrated, and confused all at once. Her life of late could be considered a culture shock for her after long years… abroad. That's a term she felt could be used for imprisonment. After all, it was like a long holiday from real life, just not a pleasant one.

As the thought of the word "pleasant", both dark and immature thoughts came to the forefront of her mind. Thankfully, they were quickly batted away in annoyance. She'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since her release she'd been receiving more and more unbidden dark thoughts from places unknown. Every time she tried to think of an explanation for her current mental state, she closed off all thought on the matter a though refusing to acknowledge what her heart was telling her. Still, she acted on it, refusing to eat any of the food in front of her, and playing the part expected of her. Yet everyday er concerns grew and grew as the grip that held her loosened more and more.

She was angry and confused and that was not a good combination for a witch of her power and ability. Needless to say, she was surprised when a soft crow brought a sense of peace to her senses. Turning her heard she gasped at seeing what she could only assume was a phoenix, though a majestic and unusual one, perching on a tree not far from her.

"A phoenix", she questioned aloud. She'd been doing that a lot recently as well. "On these grounds?" She scoffed at the thought.

The sudden appearance of the legendary avian set her on high alert and she deftly brandished her wand at the creature. She sneered at it as a sign to leave but it just stared stonily back at her with emerald eyes demanding obedience and peace. Absentmindedly, she half-lowered her wand, never allowing herself to be fully unprepared no matter the situation.

A few seconds later a ghostly presence pushed against her barriers, and she immediately raised her defenses as she snarled at the avian in surprise and anger at its intrusion to her mind, but to no avail. The force just went through, bringing with it a sense of peace and comfort, and one of slight sorrow.

"Troubled one," an ethereal voice spoke softly in her head. "You have been called."

The student body, out of habit, woke groggily for breakfast, despite knowing there was to be no game today. Usually this would be the day on which the annual Gryffindor/Hufflepuff quidditch match would take place, but thanks to a certain toad-like High Inquisitor with a fetish for cats, the game between the Badgers and the Lions was cancelled, much to the ire of the two houses.

Yesterday, after receiving a floo call from the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge had discovered that a meeting was to take place in the Great Hall the following morning regarding the so called "war" Dumbledore constantly prattled on about, as well as certain matters at the school that he should be made aware of. The Minister was surprised that the she hadn't heard about it until just that moment, and quickly ended the call when she began using her super sickly sweet voice, knowing that it was a sign of an imminent emotional blow up from the DADA professor. The feline loving woman was so incensed by the thought of Dumbledore holding a meeting about such rubbish, that she was in a bad mood the rest of the day. The old fool hadn't even bothered forming her about the meeting, not to mention bringing the Minister into such matters as well. Hah! In her rage, she immediately and unrepentantly took her frustrations out on the only people she could: the students.

By the end of the day, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even Slytherin had lost a total of 125 points for anything and everything that further angered the anal-retentive woman. Of course, Gryffindor alone lost half of those points, further solidifying their place at the very bottom in the running for the House Cup. This was on top of the quidditch game for the following day being cancelled. She hadn't even bothered coming up with an excuse for it, but had rather awarded both teams with detention when they'd angrily asked her about it.

The foolish woman didn't even know that she was doing the Headmaster a favor, as he was going to cancel the quidditch game anyways. Still, rather that she gain the students ire for taking away their beloved pastime, than him. They'd have enough reason to resent him soon enough.

As the castle's occupants woke up, did their morning business, and proceeded to the Hall for breakfast, they were unaware of the guests the school would hose that morning. The first arrivals at the Great Hall instantly noticed the changes in the room. The staff table had been extended to nearly double its usual length, but it was bent into a perfect crescent shape, allowing anyone sitting at the raised table a clear view of anyone else in the hall, and vice versa. The Gryffindor table also underwent some changes, as another table was added to its length. The addition of some two dozen seats to the hall in the form of new furniture did not go unnoticed by any of the staff or students. The staff, however, had been informed that a meeting was to take place that day, and the students knew that whatever the cause of the change was, it would be revealed sooner or later.

As everyone went about their morning business and the visitors started trickling in, a certain emerald-eyed boy was just waking up from a phoenix induced sleep.

Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys Dormitory, Hogwarts - 8:37am – Saturday, February 21st, 1996

Harry awoke from a second nights worth of peaceful sleep, the likes of which he hadn't had since his first year at Hogwarts. Back when he didn't have dreams of dark lords, nightmares of giant snakes, thoughts on confronting a convicted murderer, restlessness over a dangerous tournament, and visions of a mysterious hall plaguing his mind. Instead, the slumber he'd just retreated from had been pleasant; dreamless and rejuvenating. Harry felt that the bags under his eyes had lessened substantially by now. It was almost as though life had slowly crept back into his being while he'd slept, though he didn't know the cause of this sudden turn of events. Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the eye. With a small but content smile, he blinked away the remaining effects of sleep and stared into the darkness of the ceiling, letting the moment of relative quiet last.

Sighing to himself, he swung his legs over the side of his bed with his head bowed, and wiped his eyes as his unruly black hair covered his peripheral view. Eventually, he looked up and around at the surprisingly quiet dorm room. He always was an early riser, and had grown accustomed to being the first of his bed mates to wake up. The absence of snoring struck him as odd, but he was to content with his sleep to question his dorm mate's absence. It was a nice change of pace for him to actually just enjoy the morning for once – listening to the rain rattling softly against the windows and basking in the small tendrils of light that was now seeping into the room through the cracks in the curtains.

Harry looked around and his eyes landed on the nightstand by his bed where he usually placed his glasses, only to see a blurry lump on top of the stand. Grasping the outline of his glasses and slipping them on over his eyes, he saw a dark package lying on his nightstand. His name was written neatly across the top, where a note was tied to the package. He hadn't remembered anyone delivering anything to his room the day prior, and if it was from one of his roommates, they would have simply given it to him in person. Not that he thought the package was from any of his roommates.

Ron hardly had any money to spare these days, and he doubted his best mate would have just given him something without an occasion, knowing full well the act would be reciprocated; something the red-headed boy hated about his raven-haired friend. It definitely wasn't from Seamus. Since the start of the year and the confrontation about what was being said in the prophet, the two boys had hardly spoken a few sentences to each other, and even then it was only in class or in passing to remain civil. Harry could tell Seamus was slowly coming around, but he doubted they were "good" just yet. For similar reasons, Harry doubted it was from Dean. Despite joining the DA and actually believing Harry about Voldemort's return, Dean wouldn't want to risk his friendship with the Irish boy by getting Harry a gift of all things. And Neville… well, he really had no reason to get Harry a gift. Besides, he would've just given it to him in person.

All this speculation was providing the package was a gift in the first place. But he hadn't loaned anyone anything and he didn't expect anything from anyone else either. The package wasn't there the night before, which meant someone had entered the room while he was sleeping, and Harry doubted it was a house elf's doing. Dumbledore hadn't looked him in the eye in months so he quickly discarded that idea, as the elves only answered to the Headmasters commands, with the exception of Dobby. That left one logical possibility: the package was from someone who'd snuck into their dorm room who didn't belong there, but had access nonetheless.

Now somewhat wary of the mysterious parcel, Harry drew his wand from beneath his pillow and pointed it at the package. With a muttered "wingardium leviosa" the box was levitated over to his bed. Harry took a breath and cautiously reached for the note that was tied to the top of the package, ready to pull his hand back at the first sign of danger. After all, it wouldn't be above the twins to try and prank Harry, and they had access to their dorm room since they were Gryffindors. He hadn't been on the receiving end of one of their pranks in his entire time at Hogwarts, something Ron was rather envious of, and perhaps it was past due. A part of him only hoped it was a prank. He knew it could be something much worse, as his thoughts drifted to a particular diary he'd found in his second year. Protected, Hogwarts may have been. But impenetrable and completely safe? Not in the least.

Though he may have been cautious, Harry was still a Gryffindor, and at the moment he was curious. So he snatched the parchment up and hurriedly inspected it with his eyes and hands for any trickery. Hoping it was safe and not carrying anything like bubotuber puss, he opened the letter and found that it was not only lacking of any immediate reaction, but rather crisp and clean. It featured a note written in deep blue ink and elegant writing, unlike his usual hurried scrawl. If he only looked closer, he would have seen the similarities. Sighing in temporary relief, he read the message silently.

Harry,

Let me start off by saying you don't know me - at least, not yet you don't. Perhaps in time you may, but until that time comes, "who" I am is not important. Just think of me as an honestly concerned third party who knows you not by mere reputation (I'm aware of the "Prophets" lies), but by your actions, which I have closely followed for some time now. Again, the "how" isn't important either. If I may be so bold, it's possible to say that I may know you better than you likely know yourself at the moment, but that sounds like something a certain snake-nosed bastard would say to fresh DE's in a recruitment ceremony, and the mere thought gives me pause and extreme nausea.

Now, in case you're wondering, I'm not associated with that bald, deformed, bigoted, lying, half-blood ponce, nor am I associated with the medaling old man. I can't prove any of this with a mere letter, so you'll just have to take my word for it until I can... or not. Trust your instinct like you always do. Soon enough these secrets and much more will be explained (far sooner than you think), but until then my advice is this – go along with it. You've made it this far on terms not set by yourself, so it's just a little longer until you can live your life as you see fit.

Enclosed in this package are a few gifts. Nothing fancy, just some things I felt you could use in the coming days – a few outfits that actually fit you (I'm well aware of your situation with the Dursley's and your lack of muggle income), a wand holster (you'll likely need it before the day's out), and a few hard-to-find books on advanced charms and a specific one on Occlumency. In regards to the clothes, I know you are not a vain person, Harry, but you'll be glad you had something decent to wear in the coming days. At the very least, a certain romantic interest of yours will be rather pleased by the change in your attire. Regardless of whether she is or not, you'll need to impress some important people real soon, as first appearances are the foundation for many relationships.

As for the books? Well, you've been so busy with the DA lately that you've hardly had time to teach yourself anything new during your private time. Yes, I know about that too and don't worry, you're secret is safe with me. Point is, you do exceedingly well with self-study, as proven by your out-of-this-world Defense scores. However, you neglect that talent by preoccupying yourself with recreational stuff. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, but you and I both know that there is going to come a time when you'll wish you had studied and bettered yourself instead of wasted time losing yet another game of wizarding chess to Ron. I mean, come on? Doesn't that get old sometime?

It may not seem fair to you. Well, trust me when I say it isn't… but it's the life you've been dealt. Define yourself in spite of these things; don't let them define you. You're stronger than you think Harry, even if you refuse to see it most of the time.

Aside from that, I have little else to offer you at this moment. Just a bit of parting advice regarding some upcoming things: Don't worry about it. Take it in stride. Breath. Things may seem bleak, but there is a silver lining to all situations. I wish to god I had had someone there to tell me this when I went through… similar situations. Just know that there's always hope (as cheesy as that sounds). Forget what you know about the world: light and dark, good and evil, and just remember that we have both lightness and darkness within us. We simply have to choose which path we'll follow more. I have the utmost faith in you that you'll choose the right path.

Until next time Harry. Sincerely,

A Friend

Harry's mind was blank for a moment. He didn't know what to think of the message or its sender. Whoever it was that had written him, he'd known far more about Harry than anyone else had a right to. He even spoke in a way that absentmindedly reminded Harry of himself - elusive at certain things, but to the point in general, and instinctually humorous about subjects he'd rather not talk about. The person had even nearly quoted what Sirius had said to him over the holiday break, word for word almost. Common sense screamed at him to question this persons intentions and to worry over how it was that he (Harry presumed it was a he) had found out all of the things he'd done recently. However, for some reason Harry chose to trust the letter and by extension its sender, and proceeded to cautiously open the parcel, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Inside he found exactly what the letter said he would. A few simple-but-elegant outfits that he had to admit looked rather nice were on the top of the pile of gifts. They were far better than the usual Hogwarts robes he wore, which covered practically everything for both female and male student alike. The school robes were definitely proffered over Dudley's hand-me-downs or the worn clothes his relatives grudgingly bought him from cheap thrift stores. Still, less formal attire would have been nice to wear on the weekends, instead of making do with his cousin's clothes.

In truth, Harry had always wanted clothes that fit him; clothes that were simple and good looking. It wasn't for his ego, as he rarely cared about what others thought of him, something he'd instilled in himself at a young age. Instead, it was rather from a need to make his parents proud by looking like something more than an embarrassingly dressed boy with poor taste. Unfortunately, the stores in Diagon Alley didn't sell muggle clothes and he hadn't discovered the ability to convert galleons into dollars until just this past year and hadn't had a chance to go shopping due to current circumstances. Now he didn't have to worry about any of that as he had enough clothes here to keep him going on weekends for the rest of the school year without their appearance growing old.

He did his best to feel around the smooth material of the outfits to make sure no side effects were activated upon touch. He definitely didn't want to turn into Moody, but he could never be too careful with something sent from a stranger. Since he didn't know any detection charms other than the basics, he cast them first and then followed it up with an overpowered "finite" on the whole lot. Going with his gut instinct, he deemed the clothes safe enough for use and set them aside to deal with later.

Next up was a black leather holster, with a slit on one side for a wand to be placed in, and three straps to secure the holster around his forearm. A small note on the side of the wand-holster told him how to attach it comfortably to his arm, as well as how to summon/retract his wand. Apparently it not only served as a wand holster, but thanks to runes etched on its side, it was both summon-proof and invisible upon activation. This was on top of the fact that the holster automatically shrunk the wand into a pocket dimension of sorts, because most wands were relatively too long to fit in a simple holster located on one's forearm, something most wizards took for granted. Harry was completely blown away by the possibilities of the runes placed on the simple contraption and once again regretted not taking Ancient Runes, despite learning what he could on the subject in his spare time.

He attached and activated the wand holster to his right forearm, and then proceeded to empty out the contents of the package. All that was left were four books: one on dueling tactics, one on Occlumency, and two on advanced charms including healing charms (something he'd wished he had studied earlier with all of the injuries he had received over the years). Satisfied that the books were what they claimed to be and nothing else, and thankful for the help from the mysterious stranger, Harry decided to hide the books away for the moment and placed his new clothes away save for an outfit he'd picked out to wear for the chilly day. With that done he decided a nice warm shower was in order, as he was in no hurry to get to breakfast, and he had a lot to think about. He wasn't aware of the pair of eyes that followed his path to the bathroom; eyes that had seen everything that morning before disappearing in a flash of indigo fire, content that his master was pleased with his own gift.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry stepped out of his shower feeling thoroughly clean for the first time in a long time. He usually took cold showers to force his oftentimes strained mind to wake, due to the lack of sleep he always got. Today, however, he was able to take a nice hot shower while contemplating on the letter and package he'd received. He decided to take the senders advice for now, and just take it all in stride as he always had, while still remaining cautious. He ended up leaving the shower feeling better than he had in months. A part of him felt that it was all too good to last, but he opted to ignore it in light of his current mood.

With a little reluctance, Harry changed into a plain, but smooth crimson long-sleeve that clung to his upper body in all the right places. He followed this up with a black thin zip-hoody, a silver scarf, a pair of comfortable semi-skinny jeans that were a dark navy blue, and his usual black trainers. It was a new feeling for Harry: having clothes that actually fit him that weren't school robes tailored for him by Madame Malkin, Mrs. Weasley's comfy but thick jumpers, or his god-awful cousin's overlarge hand me downs. The mirror in the bathroom presented him with a rather good-looking reflection, and Harry felt a sense of both pride in his appearance and gratitude towards the anonymous stranger who had sent him the helpful package. Stepping out of the bathroom, he dumped his old clothes and towel into the laundry bin, and left the room and the sounds of the rain pattering behind him.

His luck seemed to remain with him as he didn't find anyone present in the common room, which meant he would be able to avoid the aggravating looks of suspicion or pity sent to him from members of his own house. Outside of those on the Quidditch team or in the D.A., which were really the only group of people who'd ever taken the time to get to know him, the majority of his house was on the fence about Voldemort being back and decided to remain cautious of their currently questionable golden-boy. The Daily Prophets articles didn't do him any favors among those in his house, but he figured they were just sheep and couldn't blame them too much for following the word of the press without taking the time to get to know him themselves. He knew that there was a strong possibility of acting like they did were the roles reversed. Harry smiled to himself, knowing that soon enough he'd at least have a mouth of his own in the media thank to Luna and Rita's efforts.

Shaking his head at thoughts regarding his house's fickleness, he left the common room through the portrait of the fat lady, who he gave a cheery "good-morning" to. He didn't bother waiting up for his friends since they were likely the ones waiting for him by now. He hadn't known that he had slept in so late, as he had cast a quick tempus to reveal that breakfast had started a good fifty minutes ago. Still, it wasn't everyday that one slept so well and received such a surprising care package from a stranger, so he figured he was due a late morning for once. Unfortunately for him, he'd chosen the wrong day to show up late to breakfast.

Harry had arrived at the entrance hall in the span of a few minutes, already well accustomed to the layout of the school. He once again wondered why there were so many unused classrooms and wings in the school, but chalked it up to the population of the school dwindling over time. He'd heard from Hermione somewhere that the school was sued as a haven long ago, before it became an academy for magic. Still, that was a lot of unused space. So into his thoughts on this theory, as well as the events from earlier that morning that Harry failed to notice he'd arrived at the entrance hall until a chilly presence quickly drove all other thoughts from his mind. The Bloody Baron had just passed through the now freezing and awkward feeling teen, who quickly recognized the blood-soaked Slytherin ghost.

"Best hurry… they're waiting for you," came the raspy voice from the spectral form of the deceased wizard. Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but hurried into the hall nonetheless, not desiring to spend any more time with the usually fascinating ghost than was needed at the moment. Something about the way the ghost spoke sent shivers down the sole Potter heir's spine. It brought back the feelings of dread and change he'd felt two nights ago. Calming himself and drawing a breath for what he expected to be a mostly empty hall by now, Harry opened the doors to the Great Hall and promptly froze in shock and confusion.

Crowded. That was the first word that came to his mind when he saw the room before him. It was filled to the brim with students of all houses, as though the entire student body had shown up that morning. This was a peculiar site as there were usually some people absent from every meal for one reason or another aside from the welcoming and closing feasts. The next thing he noticed was the layout of the room; it had changed substantially. The staff table had lengthened to nearly twice its usual size, and it now formed a perfect half-circle on its expanded elevated platform. The Gryffindor table was also an extra table long, and it was only then that he noticed the additional occupants in the room.

Sitting at the middle of the additional Gryffindor table were (from clockwise around the table): Ron, Hermione, Neville, the Weasley twins, Lee Jordon, who sat across former Gryffindor captain and graduate Oliver Wood, who was next to Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Viktor Krum, Nymphadora Tonks (Tonks!?), Luna Lovegood, a beautiful girl that Harry had never seen before, Fleur Delacour, Hermione roommate Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, who sat across from Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and ended up back at Ron. There was an empty seat between Ron and Hermione, that Harry could only assume was intended for him.

At the staff table, from the left side to the right were: Molly Weasley and Arthur Weasley, followed by a man and woman whom Harry had never met before but seemed pleasant enough, a smiling Remus Lupin, Auror-Captain Kingsley Shacklebolt, a gruff and real (this time) Alastor Moody, the monocle-toting Amelia Bones, another couple seemingly in their forties that Harry had never seen before but gave off an aura of wisdom and power, followed by charms professor Filius Flitwick, Herbology professor Pomona Sprout, medi-witch Poppy Pomfrey, flight instructor Rolanda Hooch, transfiguration professor Minerva McGonagall, the Headmaster himself who was seated in the center of the crescent table, the bitch Dolores Umbridge, her idol Cornelius Fudge, a scowling Percy Weasley, muggle studies professor Charity Burbage, the librarian Irma Pince, Ancient Runes instructor Bathsheda Babbling, Austronomy Professor Aurora Sinestra, Arithmancy master Septima Vector, the ever creepy Garrick Ollivander, a comfy Rubeus Hagrid, a portly man Harry had never met who wore a smile and a calculating look, an empty seat, followed by Lucius Malfoy of all people, his wife Narcissa, an a stranger whose appearance was covered by a magical veil. It was quite the line-up to say the least.

All of this information was taken in over the span of a few seconds, but when he was done scanning the room Harry noticed that all eyes were on him. The hundreds of differing looks directed his way reminded him of the night his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and it was a feeling that made Harry feel like he was eight again, locked in a dark cupboard for three days. A feeling that made him feel small.

"Damn those bloody Hogwarts robes… they hide so much."

Though the last part was mumbled, the first half of the sentence was still audible enough for the people in the immediate vicinity to hear. Tracey Davis, Slytherin fifth year and best friend of Daphne Greengrass and Lily Moon, cursed the school's baggy uniform as she gazed at the object of her long-time secret affections. Her two friends agreed with her as verbally as they could, which was with the slightest of the head nods.

The three best friends had become friends over the course of their first year in the house of snakes, bonding due to their similar circumstances as being social outcasts in their prior lives. Daphne was the product of pitch-perfect pureblood upbringing; an experiment for the future for her parents to play with. She was untouchable to all but the most ancient and noble of houses. It drove her absolutely mad as well. Tracey was an open-minded and loud mouthed half-blood who only got into Slytherin due to her commons sense smarts and cunning. Lily was a quiet nymphomaniac who had come from a broken pureblood home from Japan. All in all, they were complete social pariahs until they met and eventually bonded with each other. Now they were inseparable, not unlike a certain golden-trio.

The long-time object of their collective affections had just walked into the Great Hall, completely oblivious to what he was getting himself into. The first thing the three girls had noticed about him was his new appearance, and even the stony-faced Slytherins were shocked at the affect it had on his body. Harry Potter was an enigma for many a girl at Hogwarts, who always wondered why he worse such poor clothing when he was likely one of the richest and most iconic wizards in the past century. For girls who were attracted to the boy, either through his actions committed while in school or out of lust for his fame, the bulky school robes and hand-me-downs that the boy wore were constantly the cause of much frustration, as they had never been given a shot at the famous B-W-L's physique.

Apparently, the robes and overlarge clothes had hidden more than anyone had thought possible. What no one knew was that Harry had taken up an exercise regiment since his third year, something few wizards, muggleborn or otherwise, hardly ever bothered doing. It was true when people said that magical peoples took a lot of things for granted: among that list of neglected items was their health. With magic being the ultimate clutch, muggleborns who entered the wizarding world quickly built a lazy complex that few ever fought off or broke, while purebloods or children raised in the wizarding world's culture found exercise either beneath them or were never exposed to its benefits. Thankfully, Harry wasn't among this group. Between his exercise routines from his third year onwards, and his usual quidditch training for five years straight, he'd developed quite the lean body that had previously hidden behind thick Weasley jumpers or overlarge clothing.

One might think that Harry would have been affected by the years of malnourishment at the hands of the Dursley's, stunting any real growth he'd ever stand to have. Thankfully, his pre-pubescent magic had reduced the majority of the damages done by his constant starving, and with three healthy meals a day for five years at Hogwarts, not counting the food he received over the summers from his friends or at their respective houses, and he'd filled out quite nicely in spite of his less than fulfilling childhood (pardon the pun). While he'd never be anything close to being a body-builder, he'd managed to become lean and edged in physical appearance, which was a strong improvement over the majority of the men in the wizarding world.

The thin red sweater that he wore clung to his chest and exposed his rather cut torso, while the unzipped thin black hoody bulged at his biceps and triceps. The style of clothing he worse screamed muggle, which screamed style to muggleborn girls and screamed rebellious to pureblood girls, while the half-bloods were on either side of the fence. It didn't really matter what they called it, as they all thought the same thing when they saw the oblivious green-eyed boy enter the room: hot.

The girls were shocked silly by their crushes appearance and drank it in as subtly as they could. Lily even went so far as to lick her lips, being the nymphomaniac she was, despite the purple-haired girl never having gotten further with a boy than a hug. Her friend Tracey had gotten a few snogs in, but nothing that lasted much longer than a few seconds and didn't end with a broken nose on the males side of things. The redheaded half-blood had a sharp wit and a deadly temper. Daphne was completely untouched, being the Ice Queen and pureblood parent project that she was. And they weren't the only ones in the room who were staring at Harry hungrily. Daphne scanned the room and found that the majority of the girls between third year and seventh, regardless of being in a relationship or not, were staring at the boy with some form of interest. Hell, even some of the younger professors were staring at him in wonder, as were a couple of the halls recent female guests. She briefly wondered if she'd ever have a chance with the last living Potter with all of that competition present, but quickly drowned those thoughts out.

She didn't let any thoughts on the boy get too far because she knew it was a hopeless case in every way. The three friends had come to like the Boy-Who-Lived for three reasons. First off, he was mysterious: he interested them by all by being so different to what people expected him to be, and not necessarily in a bad way. He wasn't strong, handsome (rather, he was cute), openly powerful, seemingly rich, or Merlin's second coming. Instead he was a shy but brave boy who'd quickly grown a name for himself outside of his fame as both the youngest and most talented seeker the schools seen in a century, as well as one of the nicest and most down to earth boys in the entire student body if rumors were to be believed, if you discounted Malfoy's bitter comments that is. Secondly, he was the final Potter heir, and that alone was worth any semi-decent scheming Slytherins attention. The Potter name was very old and very respected. While not as rich as a family like the Malfoy's or Black's may have been, it was still powerful in its own right, and came with a respected name rather than an infamous one. And lastly, Harry was just too far out of their reach for so many different reasons – meaning he was safe. Safe to dream about, to crush over with each other, because the odds of any of them ending up with him were nearly astronomical. Right then wasn't the first time that Daphne wished that wasn't the case.

She sighed at this. Even if she were to go after her secret crush's affections, it would instantly spark other girls into action, creating a lot of competition for a boy that they really knew nothing about. It sounded extremely ridiculous; like something from those smut-ridden novels that Lily loved to read all the time. If only she knew more about him - the real him…

These thoughts were being mirrored by several of the girls around the room. Cho Chang, Su Li and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw; Leanne Thomspon, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuf; Katie Bell, Demelza Robbins and Ginny Weasley from Gryffindor. A certain blonde-haired veela was nearly drooling at the sight of her savior and long-time crush. Her older sister was staring at the raven haired teen with a calculating expression that quickly turned to amusement upon seeing his blank face at the sight of the changes and additions to the hall. This look and more was similar to that of a certain rookie auror metamorphmagus. Some of the younger female professors were instantly reminded of a reborn James Potter and blushed at the implications. Even Amelia Bones noted her niece's calculating and aroused look and pondered on their relationship.

On the other hand, the majority of the men in the hall were simply shocked at the changes evident in "Potter". Some thought he'd taken a potion of a sort overnight, while others merely admired or sneered at his choice in clothing. An animagus dog whimpered at the ghost of his longtime friend, before yelping in pride at his godson when he noticed the looks being sent his way by the females. A certain werewolf was pleased to Harry coming into his own before he heard Sirius'/Padfoot's barking and quickly surmised what the dog at his feet was thinking, earning said mutt a smack on the head.

Snape, Lucius, Umbridge, and a few other people in the room sneered at the boy, though for all different reasons. The former did so out of disdain and loathing for the boy who reminded him every day of the pain he'd suffered at the hands of what he felt was a completely guilty James Potter, conveniently disregarding his part in all of their confrontations. The boy was also a walking reminder of what he lost to that man, with her eyes. The head of house Malfoy sneered out of hatred for the boy who had caused his master so much trouble in the past, and had delayed their once great plans. Not to mention he'd allowed the boy to better him at the mere age of twelve. The boy would pay, and the punishment he received in the graveyard last year would like mild in comparison. Umbridge just sneered because she hated the filthy lying half-blood, who was wearing disgusting muggle clothes. The rest merely sneered at the boy who they thought was a liar, an attention seeker, a delusional fame-ridden git, or the guy who kicked their ass at quidditch for five years running. They didn't know which reason to be most mad at, but most eventually went with the quidditch reason.

Meanwhile the elder professors and guests were reminded of a spitting image of James Potter, a boy who had once caused so much trouble in the halls and had always walked in with a look similar to the one the boy before them would wear when he was caught doing something. It wasn't the look of complete shock written on the boys at present, but just seeing the two dressed so similarly (Lily often dressed James in their seventh year) was too much for some. Meanwhile, the guests who had never met the boy in person before were rather intrigued by his appearance, though, judging from everyone else's reactions, it was a relative new look on him. The Flamels were especially excited to meet the boy and to thank him for his actions in his first year. The Black sisters in the hall (current last name aside) were both surprised at the boys appearance and infatuated with his eyes; greener than any of them had imagined possible. Even Narcissa, who'd met the boy before, didn't remember his eyes being so clear and powerful.

Dumbledore, ever the scrutinizing man that he was, saw that it was not only Harry's clothing that had changed, but also the way he carried himself. He seemed more upbeat, and stood straighter. The bags under his eyes had lessened considerably, and he even appeared to have had another growth spurt that year, now putting him at a healthy 5' 8" for a fifth year. The old wizard smiled at the boys change, chalking it up to a certain meddling phoenixes actions. The boy would need all the help he could get for what was to come.

Snape broke the long drag of silence that had descended upon the hall with Harry's entrance. He appeared next to Harry, apparently on his way out when the boy walked in. Sporting an ever more pronounced sneer than usual, he spoke. "Potter! How kind of you to burden yourself with joining us this morning."

Harry ignored the bitter man's usual taunts while the rest of the staff and the majority of the guests narrowed their eyes at the greasy haired mans comment. Instead Harry asked a question into the still relatively quiet hall. "What's going on here?"

"Like you don't know? Come now, you're clearly dressed for the occasion. Mind filling us in on why we're here, Potter," the voice of everyone's least favorite potions professor sounded once more. With every word he uttered, his sneer only became more pronounced, his voice dripping with a sardonic pleasure at singling out the 'hell-spawn' of his nemesis.

Harry, still taking in the situation, absentmindedly responded. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

A few of the students and guests snickered at his casual dismissal of the broody mans taunting. This only further angered the already inpatient Snape, who snapped a response back. "Do you mean to tell me that you have no idea about what's supposedly taking place today? No reason as to the meaning for this meeting?"

"No."

Snape gritted his teeth at the simple response and lack of respect from the brat. "No, sir."

"There's no need to call me sir, professor," came the reply from an amused Harry, who placed the same emphasis on the word professor as the man had on the word sir. He couldn't resist getting an easy shot in at the man who enjoyed making his life so miserable.

Harry temporarily feared that the sallow-skinned mans eyes might pop out of his head; they had gone so wide in incensed shock. Meanwhile, the rest of the students in the hall burst into laughter at their least favorite professor's expense. Even the Slytherins joined in, not willing to pass up the opportunity to laugh at their Head of House without being singled out. The guests were shocked by the altercation, but amused nonetheless, while Moody was damn near on the floor in laughter. It goes without saying that his one magical eye was constantly spinning, looking out for any suspicious movements despite his temporarily vulnerable state.

Before Snape could open his mouth to berate the boy, Harry had simply walked away, his eyes distracted by the appearance of a familiar large black dog sitting next to Professor Lupin's feet. Everything else was quickly put to the back of his mind at the sight of seeing his godfather there, in Hogwarts of all things, with aurors and ministry officials in the same room. When they got a minute alone, Harry was going to kick the mutt back into his senses before getting him the hell out of here. For now though he simply remained calm, not wanting to cause a scene and draw attention to his animagus godfather. He was very interested to know why he of all people was here, however, and who better to ask than Professor Lupin. The man was quickly approaching him with a sigh on his lips but a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"Harry, you know you shouldn't talk to Snape like that. It'll only make matters worse for you later," said the werewolf with his usual placating tone, not wanting to anger the recently angst-ridden teen.

"Then he shouldn't be such a git. Regardless, what are all of you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see any of you. I presume Dumbledore asked you all here for a reason?"

Remus was humored by Harry's directness. It reminded him so much of Lily when she was on a mission of similar importance: information retrieving. Cutting his thoughts short, he went to answer the boy he saw as a nephew figure when said boy was tackled to the floor by a yellow blur.

"Harry!" a very feminine and decidedly French voice squealed.

"Uhm… err, hello?" Harry looked down to the bundle of blonde hair lying on his chest and came face to face with a rather beautiful girl who was staring up at him with a now shy smile. She had blue eyes and curly blonde-silver hair, leaning closer to blonde, with soft features. Harry had never met the girl before in his life, but current publicly awkward position aside, he wasn't what he'd consider uncomfortable. Fortunately, or not, the girl was quickly pulled off of him by another silvery-blonde haired woman, one who Harry recognized instantly. "Fleur?"

"'Ello, 'Arry," came the soft and soothing greeting from the French veela. She frowned at her accent unknowingly slipping, something that Bill also caught and frowned at. She was making such good progress recently, too.

"Uhm, thanks," Harry offered, as he accepted the hand given to him by his fellow Triwizard champion, as he absentmindedly marveled at how soft yet strong her hands were. "How have you been doing lately? I never really got to talk to you after…" Harry trailed off at the reminder of the third task. Fleur sensed this and quickly continued the conversation while leading Harry towards their table and away from too many prying ears. The hall returned to their talking after that, though many decided to try and listen in on their conversation. Remus had returned to his seat, knowing that someone would explain the situation to Harry sooner or later.

"I have been doing well. I've gotten a job at your local branch of Gringotts. I figured it was a way for me to escape the duties at home for a while longer, and maybe see the world." Fleur now spoke in controlled English, and Harry was impressed by how far she'd come in less than a year. "I apologize for Gabrielle over here, she simply doesn't acknowledge physical boundaries when she gets excited. Especially when it comes to her savior, no?"

Harry turned towards the other girl next to Fleur, mouth agape. "You're Gabrielle? What happened to the sweet little girl from last year? You couldn't have been older than eight… could you?"

His shock and the way in which he referred to Gabrielle as caused said veela to pout and her older sister to give a melodic laugh that had all of the males in the area feeling light headed. As the younger veela went into a rant about how she wasn't little, and Fleur described the veela aging process, which Harry found rather interesting, he also took in the people sitting at his table. Directly across from him, and the person he was most wary of, was Tonks.

She was currently sporting cropped, spiky white hair that went down to just the base of her neck, giving her a rather tomboyish look that was definitely cute on her. She wore a pink "Weird Sisters" t-shirt underneath an opened black leather jacket that reached down to her calves; the kind often seen in muggle detective films. Her navy blue jeans and black boots finished off her lack rather well. Harry smiled at the thought; Tonks always did seem to have great taste in fashion for a younger person, and she was the only adult wizard in the room sporting muggle clothing… likely because she wasn't much of an adult but rather a kid herself, Harry mused.

Seeing him staring momentarily, Tonks, always the tease decided to strike up a conversation with the boy who'd caught her interest over the past summer. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Wotcher, Tonks. Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah, fancy that. Then again, I do make it a point to come here as often as I'm allowed. When Dumbledore and my boss Amelia Bones told me I had to drop by for some secret meeting, I just couldn't resist seeing you again in person. I've missed you so terribly, since it's been so long since we've held each other close," Tonks said all of this in a rather suggestive matter and a lean-in on Harry's side of the table, which quickly got the boy flustered. Aware of her teasing, he may have been, but immune to it… not for a while it would seem.

Tonks stared at him for what felt like hours, but was in fact hardly a minute. Green eyes and purple eyes meeting without blinking. Harry felt slightly warm under the collar, but ignored it and continued to stare, even as Tonks eyes began to change. Harry's eyes danced with both determination and amusement, while Tonks' lips twitched every now and then. The others at the table were lost as to what was going on, but to Tonks and Harry, who'd invented this game over the summer, the rules and purpose was simple: a staring match that quickly erased any and all awkwardness from a situation. Tonks had come up with it during a particularly awkward encounter in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place, involving a bathrobe, eggs, and a cup of tea.

Eventually, they both smiled and then broke into laughter, which only increased when the others asked them what was so funny. It wasn't funny in the sense that normal people used, but it was rather the reminder of that incident and the thought of their unique and new friendship that made them laugh aloud. When Hermione and Ron, who had been rather quiet since Harry's entrance, asked Harry what all that was about, as well as his clothes, he simply mouthed "later" and they nodded their heads in satisfaction. When it turned out that breakfast was done being served, Harry decided to go to the kitchens after whatever it was they were doing was done.

Surprisingly, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and even Luna (whom he'd been pleasantly surprised to see was sitting with them) each pulled out a sandwich or a cup of juice or a rasher of eggs on a napkin. It was all given to Harry who was told that Ron and Hermione had decided he'd be late and would likely need his food for today. Sending a grateful smile at his friends, and thanking the fates for his two best ones, Harry dug in while politely maintain conversation with the people on the table. It was amusing seeing Oliver rant about injustice when he was informed about Harry's and the twins recent bans from quidditch as well as the cancelation of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin game. Harry also kept seeing Katie, who was sitting next to an actually smiling Krum, sneaking glances at him every now and then. Krum and Fleur for their part simply caught up with one another, while the Weasley siblings spent their time catching up with each other as well. Apparently Fleur was dating Bill, something that surprised Harry and seemed to agitate Ginny. Ron himself was a bit miffed at the closeness shown between Viktor and Hermione, but didn't comment on it. Overall, it was a surprisingly pleasant breakfast for Harry, even if he was confused about what the hell was going on.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to last, as Dumbledore stood from his seat to address the once again quieted hall. They'd spent the last five minutes or so talking amongst themselves, waiting for an announcement of some sort. It seemed that Dumbledore was waiting for Harry to finish his meal, something that few failed to notice.

"Now that we are all here and prepared for the day, I would like to make an announcement. It has recently been given to me, information that could possibly affect us all. Information on events that have transpired over the course of the past few years here at this school, as well as a glimpse of what may yet come to pass in the future of the wizarding world. I was given a series of books detailing the life of one… Harry Potter, word for word, thought for thought, to be read to each and every one of you," Dumbledore spoke clearly and calmly into the silent crowd, knowing there was no beating around the bush of a topic like this.

However, he did not get the reaction he fully expected. Silence was what came first followed by laughter. The hall, as one, turned to the source of it, only to find the subject of the matter nearly in tears as he laughed. "Oh, that's good, Headmaster. If it's taken you all year to plan that joke, with the silent treatment and all, it may just have been worth it. Seriously, that's good. Probably in poor taste to some of these folk, but funny as hell to me."

When Dumbledore failed to laugh or show any signs of amusement, Harry's laughter ceased and a cold feeling surfaced in the pit of his gut. The Flamels faces had gone quite pale, and Umbridge's head snapped up at the announcement. The rest of the people in the hall were still in disbelief and were quickly about to voice their disapproval of this stupid and pointless joke from the now proven senile old man, when Dumbledore drew his wand. He had prepared for this, and while he hoped it wouldn't come to this, it was a step he was willing to take in order to get things moving. Placing his wand in the air for all to see, he spoke in a solemn voice laced with power and intent.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do solemnly swear upon my magic and my life that these seven books…" At this moment Fawkes flashed in carrying a parcel of seven books that landed on the table in front of the Headmaster. "…hold the complete and genuine truth concerning the life – past, present, and future – of one Harry James Potter, and his time spent here at Hogwarts. These books were given to me by a phoenix mage from places unknown in the future, which travelled back here to give us the gift of choice. A gift to change a future that may or may not doom us all. This, I swear with my entire being… So. Mote. It. Be."

A resounding clang was heard and a flash of magic expelled forth from Dumbledore's magical core, impacting with the cores of each and every person in the hall. When the light that had ignited upon Dumbledore's oath being completed had stopped, the crowd was silent.

What had just happened was a magical oath had been completed. It's the final measures of a witch or wizard willing to risk all in order to get it across to others that what they say is the truth. It requires the person to solemnly swear an oath with the fabric of magic itself, to be judged and ruled in complete scrutiny, with risk of death and loss of magic. If the force of magic itself actually find your words, thoughts, or deeds wholesome and honest, whether you're aware of it or not, it will allow you to use your core to send out the complete feelings of truth to everyone in the vicinity that the oath may concern. Once the oath is taken and the feelings settled, no matter how much a person may want to oppose the truth, they cannot, because they know within themselves that it's the truth; it's unbreakable and irrevocable. That's the wonder of the magical oath, though it's not used often in practice due to both the risk involved, as there was little you could not prove through other means such as veratisurum, and the magical strength needed to breach the cores of a crowd of this magnitude was hard to find. Even with Dumbledore's strength and the elder wands assistance in channeling hi power, he quickly took the pepper up potion he'd set aside for this very occasion.

To say the audience who had recently awoken from their stupor at the turn of events was surprised was an understatement. Murmurs started trickling around the hall, and before a quarter of a minute was out, most of the hall was out of their shock and voicing their vehement disapproval of the idea or their stern approval of finding out about "Potter's life". The subject of the matter himself was still stuck in a shock, something that concerned Luna who was the only one at their table not yelling insults at the others in the room who approved of the idea, or arguing with the Headmaster about how unethical it was. Had Harry not been so frozen, he would have felt an immense feeling of pride enter him as he saw how many people were sticking up for him.

Practically everyone on the staff table, sans Snape, Umbridge, Percy, Fudge, and Narcissa were yelling at the Headmaster about even considering such an unethical act. Delving into the personal life of a fifteen, then eleven year old boy wasn't something to be taken lightly. The Flamels were intrigued by the idea, as it would allow them to see whether the boy was a worthy successor or not, but it still went against their moral code. They decided to wait and see what was to happen. Moody was expecting to read about the lad's experiences, as well as see how good of an imposter that damned Barty Crouch Jr. was. Kingsley and Amelia were both unhappy with the decision, but knew that it would bring a lot of closure to certain topics surrounding the boy. Again, that didn't mean the liked it, or found it legal, and protested as such.

Aberforth remained silent, knowing his brother better than most, and he was able to see how much the act pained the old wizard. His brother must have felt it was worth it, which only brought up negative emotions for the youngest of the remaining Dumbledore brothers. He mused that perhaps karma would get his brother back by having someone write a detailed life story of himself and all of his secrets. He didn't know the half of it.

The rest of the adults were pissed: Molly was shifting from yelling at Dumbledore, to yelling at her kid for their language as they berated the wizard themselves. Arthur felt sorry for the boy whom he'd come to view as a son, knowing this likely wouldn't go over well with Harry. The Tonks' were shocked that Dumbledore was willing to reveal the life of one of his students to over five hundred people, on the whim of a legendary phoenix. Narcissa and the hooded figure remained silent, mulling over the positives and negatives of possibly reading about the boys past as well as their future. Lucius viewed this as a victory, knowing that he'd be able to report anything on the Potter boy to his master; his actions, his strengths, his weaknesses, his whereabouts and secrets – everything. Snape was split down the middle. He didn't know if he could stand reading about the spoiled brats life, though he was curious about certain things as well. As a man who valued privacy, he wasn't overly fond of this in theory, and his sentiments were shared by Slughorn and Ollivander.

The DA, surprisingly most of the Gryffindors, and some scattering of students in the other houses protested the action while a good deal of each of the remaining houses supported it for different reasons. The Hufflepuffs wanted closure on what happened during the events of the third night, not fully realizing (or in some cases caring) about their invasion of an innocent persons life. The Ravenclaws wanted answers as well, and what better way than from the source itself. And lastly, the Slytherins were able to finally get some dirt on both the Gryffindor golden boy, and the house he belonged to. Some of the students planning to be Death Eaters once they graduated saw this as an opportunity, not unlike Lucius Malfoy, to get on their Lords good side. Among this group was unsurprisingly Draco.

Meanwhile, Harry's friends and the girls who secretly crushed on him remained adamantly against the idea. Some of the may have been curious about him, and willing to get to know the Bow-Who-Lived better, but not under these circumstances. There was a line that just wasn't worth crossing. Even Seamus joined his house mates in protesting, knowing that Harry would do it for him in a heartbeat because that was just who he was.

Eventually the sound of a canon blat interrupted the hectic and undiscernibly noise in the hall, as Dumbledore launched a canon blast from his wand. The hall descended into silence, and Dumbledore opened his mouth to address the crowd, but was beaten to the punch by a hardly audible voice.

"This is my life…"

The voice was soft, but it rang in the silence of the Great Hall. It came from one Harry Potter, whose eyes were overcast with emotion. He continued on, far louder this time, a yell in the quiet of his surroundings. "This is my life!" The words were laced with anger, bitterness, but above all else – vulnerability. The look in his eyes when he finally looked up at the Headmaster spoke volumes about how he felt on the situation, and it nearly broke the hearts of everyone present. It was a look that never belonged on the face of a child; a look of absolute loneliness, hurt, and fear. In a word: fragile.

"I don't have a lot of things in this life. I've come to accept that at a young age. But one of the things I do have, and am entitled to, as are the rest of us, is my privacy. Or at least what's left of it. My thoughts, my deeds, my emotions - they're all written down in that series of books there. And by reading them to these people, people I don't even know… you're flailing me and stripping me naked for all to see. At a level that I hardly view myself in. I… you… I don't know about you, but I hate being naked, being cold and judged; weight and measured. And by these people, the people who've changed their minds about me more often than I care to count… I'm begging you not to do this."

Harry's emotional rant nearly broke Dumbledore's reserve at that moment, as well as most of the people who were looking to get some form of closure or dirt from the readings. Unfortunately, or not in the long run, Dolores Umbridge was not one of these people. She'd long since forgotten the feelings of emotion, and she saw this as nothing more than a means to an end: a chance to find something on Potter, the old fool, and all of their half-breed friends.

"Hem, hem," came the toad women's sickly sweet voice. It sent shivers up the spines of the adults guests who had not yet met the woman, while the younger students and guests simply felt disgusted when they saw the smile playing across her face. It was a smile that spoke doom for Harry, they all knew it. "Unfortunately, that is not for you to decide Mr. Potter. Since it has been proven that these books are indeed the complete truth, and you seem rather defensive of them, as a Ministry employee, I can't help but feel as though you may be hiding something… incriminating, perhaps, in here?"

Before Harry or anyone else could respond she turned to the Minister. "Minister, I think now is the perfect opportunity for us to get to the bottom of these preposterous lies the boy keeps sprouting. We will finally know what happened the night of the third task, as well as any other dark secrets the usurpers might have." The word usurpers had a profound effect on the formerly shaky Minister. His eyes seemed to darken and his face became set in troubled determination.

"Yes… yes, you're right Dolores. We'll get to the bottom of these events once and for all," the Minister spoke with a finality that told others that he would not budge on this. With the Minister backing the idea, they had little choice in the matter, though that didn't stop some of them from protesting weakly. The majority of them just stared at the Minister in incredulity; was he THAT easily swayed. With a mere mention of getting anyone who might threaten his power, he was willing to cross ethical lines in front of a voting (somewhat) public? The man didn't deserve to be Minister anymore than Harry deserved what was undoubtedly coming to him.

Back to Harry, he was struggling to his emotions under control. He knew that an outburst right now would do him no good, so instead he tried to breathe as he felt more disheartened than he had been since the night of the third task. However, a stray thought drifted to the forefront of his mind. The letter from this morning talked about coming events changing his life. Whoever sent the note knew what was going to happen. Before he could get to mad at the stranger for the lack of a heads up, he knew that he likely wouldn't have believed anything else from the letter had he been told his life was going to be read in a series of six books in front of the entire school. Instead, Harry focused on the device given to him in the letter: breathe.

And so he did. He breathed, and thought about the so-called "silver lining" the mysterious sender had told him was located in every situation. He thought about people reading about his past few years and future, and it didn't take him long to see the merit of it all. People would finally know that Sirius was innocent, that Voldemort was in fact back, everything. And then a glimpse of a future… he could use that to his advantage, to say the least. The only real concern was that everyone would see through his personal and possible home life in order to get to the things that mattered, but he thought about how Sirius was unjustly imprisoned for twelve years and was still hunted, and he thought about how Voldemort had murdered his parents. If he wanted to avenge their deaths and offer a new lease on life to his godfather, then he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Tightening his jaw and opening his eyes, Harry saw a few people staring at him in worry. He didn't bother giving a smile, knowing it'd come out more as a grimace if he tried. He didn't feel great about this, but the thought of getting his godfather free was enough to propel him into action. He stood up and talked over the voice of the hall. "Okay." People quieted down and turned to look at him. He took a deep breath and continued. "Okay… let's do this. Let's read about my life."

"Harry," came the concerned voice of his best friend Hermione. The worry and sympathy for him was evident in her watery eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah…" He turned to the staff table with a face of pained determination. "Yeah, I'm sure. If it means finding out the truth once and for all… it seems like a worth sacrifice; a crime of necessity, am I right Headmaster?"

"Yes, Harry… that's right." The Headmaster was both proud of the boy, and saddened at the turn of events. He knew he'd have a hard time getting back on the boys good side after this, but he'd sure as hell try, providing they found a way to win the war without Harry's death being a necessity.

The large black dog sitting by Remus the entire time, who had been growling at the Headmaster, Snape, Umbridge, the Minister, Lucius, and back again, now came bounding over to Harry. Sirius was hurting inside for his godson, but he knew this was the boys' decision. If it lead to his innocence being discovered, he'd be pleased, but he didn't want his freedom to come at the cost of his godsons privacy and secrets. Proud of Harry's actions and sad that he couldn't comfort the troubled boy in his human form, Padfoot settled for nuzzling his godsons knees in affection and support. He was awarded by a calloused hand rubbing the spot behind his ears gently.

"Very well, we will be reading the first of seven books now, titled Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I will read first, and then we will pass the book around for each chapter to whoever would like to read next. If time is with us, which I believe it is, we'll finish the first three of these books by the end of weekend. And before we get started, I'd like to say that everything spoken in this hall is being sealed away in only our heads. We will all be unable to tell anyone outside of this reading about the happenings in this story without the approval of Mr. Potter. I apologize if that puts a dent in any of your plans for the future."

Dumbledore smiled serenely at Harry, which Harry actually returned with shock. He'd forgotten about the possibilities of people reporting what they find to Voldemort or anyone else out to get him. He was thankful for the Headmasters thoughtfulness, and while he wasn't pleased with the man, he knew that the old man really did care for him in his own way. Harry had to hold back a laugh at the look on Lucius Malfoy's face, matched by his son and several other upper year Slytherins. Dumbledore also noted this, and was glad that the unnamed grand phoenix had returned the previous night and communicated with him on how to set up a barrier spell that sealed the secret of the reading into Harry.

"Very well, then, let's get on with it," came the impatient voice of Dolores Umbridge. She seemed to have missed the part about not being able to share what they learn with anyone else, as you could see the desire to oust Harry to the public shining in her eyes.

"Yes, okay. The first chapter of the book is called, "The Boy Who Lived."

Harry took a deep breath and readied himself.

Everything was going to be okay…