Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

Next chapter is up, sorry about the wait. The summer is starting.

Chapter 73

Whatever he had been dreaming about was lost instantly and he suddenly became aware that he was falling.

Harry's eyes flashed open just in time for his back to hit the floor with a solid thud. He groaned at the rude awakening and squeezed his eyes shut again, ignoring Fleur's light laughter from upstairs. She knew exactly what had happened. It happened every night, though normally only once around one o'clock. This was the second time it had happened this night, catching him by surprise, and he was not amused to find himself unexpectedly on the floor.

The sofa sat innocently against the wall, his wand lightly resting on top of the armrest. At some point in the last few moments it had clearly forgotten that it was meant to be a bed and his transfiguration had come undone.

'Tempus,' he grumbled, retrieving his wand and slumping onto the unfaithful furnishing.

It was early morning, but later than he had expected. The sun was up, throwing a pink and orange glow into the kitchen and across the far end of the room that was currently his temporary bedroom.

Fleur had wanted to acquire furnishings straight away, but Harry, less excited by the prospect had convinced her to wait until the Order had searched Diagon Alley and the obvious places he might stay. She'd accepted the excuse, grudgingly, and he'd managed to put off the shopping trip for a week, but it meant he had to sleep on the sofa downstairs and endure this. Fleur wasn't exactly sympathetic either, as her laughter from the much more comfortable, single bed indicated.

The water was running upstairs, Harry could hear the pipes humming, so Fleur had already found her into the bathroom before him. She would be leaving for Gringotts soon. He would be able to watch her hurried morning ritual of showering, dressing, eating and departing all within the span of a few minutes. Harry still wasn't quite sure how she managed it, but Fleur was adamant that getting up earlier to give herself more time was not an option and he knew better than to try and persuade her from sleeping.

Gingerly he poked a few parallel lines of points across his back, wincing when he came across a particularly painful bruise. There were more than a couple. The floor was hard. They would at least be gone in a few minutes, bruises faded swiftly with his magically altered healing.

No more love bites, Harry realised, both relieved and disappointed by the idea.

He quite liked being so obviously Fleur's, but at the same time it wasn't really worth all the remarks he got from Katie.

The sound of water had stopped and he judged it worth trying to get to the bathroom himself. Pushing himself up he patted the sofa back into some semblance of tidiness and drifted up the stairs. They creaked cheerfully underfoot, something Harry quite liked. It was nice to be able to walk around loudly with no fear of repercussions.

'Up already?' Fleur asked from the top of the stairs. She was already dressed, and cut a pulse-stirring figure even in her simple, formal work attire.

'My morning alert went off,' he replied dryly, pausing briefly on the top step to kiss her. Fleur, he had learnt, enjoyed being able to kiss him down the stairs. Kissing down to him was a novelty she cherished.

'So I can see,' a single finger traced its way lightly over Harry's fading bruises. 'Ready to go shopping yet?'

'Soon,' Harry relented. He could hardly change his mind now, not after listing all the reasons they should wait, and certainly not when she knew the real reasons for the delay, not least among which was Fleur's both daunting and exciting decision to get a double bed.

'Stubborn,' she admonished, kissing him again. 'Brush your teeth,' she smirked, wrinkling her nose. 'I will see you this evening.'

'Bye.' Harry shifted to one side to let her pass him on the stairs, watching as she swept gracefully down and out of sight with the same twinge of regret that always came when they separated.

He waited their on the top step, listening to her leave. Harry was never actually sure when she was gone, and Fleur took great pride in the fact that her achievement of silent apparition sometimes caught him out. Occasionally she would come back and steal another kiss before really departing, or, just as frequently, something sweet.

Nothing moved in the house.

Not this time, Harry thought sadly.

Shaking off the shadow of melancholy that threatened to settle he made his way into their bathroom and divested himself of his clothes and wand. The room was a small, tiled affair, with a wide sink underneath a small mirror, and an antiquated looking, highly temperamental shower.

The pipes hummed as he switched it on, carefully directing the water well away from him until its slightly delayed warming enchantment heated the water to something close to warm. He had about five minutes until the enchantment warmed the water to the point it became uncomfortably hot. Fleur had promised to fix it, but she'd been too busy working to get around to it. From what she had said it seemed everyone was trying to get all their business done before the conflict reignited and made it impossible.

The tepid water splashed over his back, and head, flattening his hair against his scalp, and Harry began to ponder what he would do.

There were a great many things he could and should be doing, but it was difficult to pick where to start. Studying for the NEWTs he intended to take early was a sound plan, but the exams seemed a great deal less important than anything else. He could be improving his strength, or beginning an attempt to locate the remaining horcruxes.

Steam began to cloud the windows and the mirror, which huffed irritatedly and voiced its disapproval in no uncertain terms.

A bit of all three, Harry decided.

Whichever felt most productive would become his preference.

The water abruptly turned scalding and he hissed, reflexively swivelling to wrench the tap closed and halt the flow. Fleur really needed to fix the enchantments.

Leaning out of the shower he found his wand and cast a few quick spells, drying himself and dispelling the cloud of steam.

The S.P.E.W. badge that doubled as the DA's method of communication was leant against the mirror where he would always notice it. Harry flipped it over to check, as he did every morning while brushing his teeth, whether the numbers had changed. They had.

Lunch. Today's date, Harry realised, thanks for the warning, Nev.

It would halve how productive he might have been today, but he couldn't claim to be annoyed, not when he'd already wasted several days avoiding returning to the chamber. Without going back he had no access to most of his things and time was being wasted. Salazar, Harry knew, would be disappointed, and that small, sharp pain he felt at letting his ancestor down had finally cut deep enough to force him back.

Best to get it over with.

Harry would go there, take what he needed, and return. Hopefully he wouldn't have to see the blank, quiet space that must now exist over the doorway from Salazar's study for more than a moment.

He dressed quickly, choosing to wear one of the few sets of casual robes that he owned, and slipping the soft, hide straps of the wand holster Neville had gifted him about his forearm. It would not be a good idea to visit Diagon Alley in muggle clothing. He'd draw every nearby eye and likely be found by either Voldemort or Dumbledore in a matter of minutes.

Fully clothed, with his wand safely holstered, and his determination to endure returning as great as it would ever get, he prepared to apparate. Harry wasn't hungry enough for breakfast. Fleur would be upset with him for not eating if she found out, and she would, because she always seemed to notice, but Harry would take his scolding later.

She'll probably force breakfast on me tomorrow, he smiled.

There were worse things than being made to eat croissant in the mornings by Fleur. He was quite happy to let her feed him if it made her smile.

Steeling himself he took a deep breath and apparated, closing his eyes until he felt his feet touch the floor of the chamber and heard the echo of his step surround him.

He almost called out. The normal greeting, with all its habitual, casual sarcasm and levity nearly slipped from his lips as he crossed the bridge to the study, but he caught them on the tip of his tongue. Harry was grateful for that. The silence that would have come in place of Salazar's reply would have hurt more than knowing he need to speak.

Standing in the doorway it was as if nothing had changed. The neat piles of books and objects on the desk remained the same, as did the lights, the shadows of the bookcases and the musty, dust coated tomes that lined them.

Harry strode round the edge of the desk, consciously avoiding looking up, and, in his distraction, knocked the slim, pale ring Fleur had gifted him against the desk edge. The wooden click made him jump and scan the shadows to make sure he was alone.

There was nothing, as he should really have known because the only living being capable of entering the chamber was himself, and it would remain that way until he had children.

Smiling at his own paranoia he ran a finger down the spines of the few piles of books that weren't laden with dust. These were the ones that he'd recovered from the Room of Requirement a year ago when he had requested things to help him study, and he suspected they had originally come from the Room of Hidden Things. Quite why anyone would want to hide their copies of the school's textbooks was beyond him, but it was good for him that they had.

There were quite a list of books that he needed to read over the summer. Despite being capable of performing a most of the magic in three of his five NEWTs there was two years of theory to cover as well. Fortunately Harry had chosen his NEWTs wisely. He had never been troubled in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and doubted he would be. Non-verbal spells were easy, and he was already intimately familiar with Dementors, the most complex dark creature they would study.

He left the Defence related books behind for the most part, selecting only a single tome on inferi, which he knew came up, from Salazar's own library. It appeared more an instruction to their creation and use than a guide to dealing with them, but it should still prove useful. Transfiguration required a slightly lengthier list. Untransfiguration wasn't something he had even begun to look at in its own right, though he had learnt a single spell from Salazar for the Triwizard Tournament, and his knowledge of human transfiguration wasn't particularly comprehensive either.

At least, he decided, I can likely perform all the spells from Charms already.

He'd already learnt the Water-Making Charm, and, similarly to Defence a lot of emphasis was placed upon non-verbal spell casting, something Harry had no trouble with.

Harry was feeling rather confident having selected only four books for his first three NEWTs, inferi, untransfiguration, human transfiguration, and a thick book about substance altering charms. He could read through these slowly and thoroughly and still be done in a month or so.

Potions and Arithmancy burst his bubble of confidence straight away. The former subject required almost a whole shelf, so Harry prudently decided to devote himself to that after he had returned. It was likely Snape wouldn't let him take it early anyway so there was no point getting ahead for no good reason. Advanced Arithmancy on the other hand needed only two books, unfortunately both of them were as thick as Harry's waist and written in progressively more indecipherable shorthand.

I'll need Fleur's help.

It stood to reason that Fleur would be good at Arithmancy if she was so gifted with and interested in warding, enchanting and their theory. If she wasn't then he was in trouble, because no more than twenty pages in to the Numerical Properties of Magical Ambiences all of the expressions and explanations were punctuated with odd unrecognisable characters and he couldn't make anything of it.

He gathered the books into a stack on the edge of the desk and considered whether he should take any other items with him, drumming his fingertips lightly on the surface of the top of the pile.

The book on rituals, Harry decided, climbing the ladder to retrieve it and placing on top of the pile. And maybe Voldemort's annotated copy of the Secrets of the Darkest Arts.

Harry opened the book, pulling out the sheafs of Riddle's notes from the back and skimming quickly though them again. The book would have no information on where the horcruxes might be, but if Voldemort had planned ahead then his annotations might.

There was nothing but a carefully, neatly inscribed intention to use objects and people of importance to create his anchors to immortality.

Perhaps not then.

Harry stuffed the sheets of parchment back into the book and discarded it. The book slid across the desk, knocking the time-turner over the surface to swing gently off the back of the chair. The sparkling, shining golden sand within its glass seemed oddly dull now, the obvious magic that had once saturated the object had diminished.

Harry ran the tip of his and over the hourglass. For all he knew this was the last time-turner in Britain, and its enchantments appeared to be fading, fraying away like a the end of a severed piece of rope.

It was bound to the wards of the Chamber, Harry remembered.

He ran his wand over it again, concentrating hard to check how swiftly the magic was disintegrating. The difference was imperceptible, so he repeated the action several times, waiting a few minutes between each attempt.

There was no noticeable difference at any point, whatever damage had been done to the time-turner had already happened. He span it once, blurring back fifteen minutes and disillusioning his body to avoid a complicated conversation with himself.

This time when he checked the magic had plummeted, almost a quarter of it had gone.

I'll have to save it, he realised, waiting he caught up with himself. It's no longer restricted to the Chamber of Secrets now I've altered the wards, but there's only about an hour's worth of travel left.

It could still be very useful once more, maybe even more useful than if it had remained bound now he could use it for something apart from practising magic, studying or sending himself messages.

For the first time since entering he allowed himself to look up above the door and see the faint, dusty outline of the painting that had hung there. Harry stared at it for a long moment, feeling for the first time in over a year, the creeping, consuming emptiness within.

I'll find a way, he promised the outline. I'll find a way, or I'll make one.

He scanned the shelves, running a fingertip over the dust covered books that began or were primarily related to a subject beginning with the letter P. Harry wasn't disappointed. Salazar had compiled a collection of heraldry studies that included the line of the Peverell family from its earliest recorded history in Britain to a few years before the founding of Hogwarts. Slytherin had been thorough. Harry took them all. If a descendant of the Peverell family still held the Resurrection Stone he would be able to find them by following the family tree to whomever had inherited their wealth. A thousand years of history had occurred since Salazar had failed, but he would succeed. Pure-bloods could be depended upon to record their illustrious ancestry. There would be other books that showed the family history of the Peverells since the tenth century, and he'd soon discover any living descendants if they existed. If they didn't exist then he would have to look further afield, following rumours and legends until he reached the grain of truth they had grown from.

The four musty tomes were added to his stack and he swept them off the desk into his arms, grabbing a decent handful of galleons at the same time for lunch in Diagon Alley.

There was nothing else he might need from the chamber worth risking. The Hallow, his invisibility cloak, he left behind. It was too valuable to keep at the Meadow, even with the Fidelius and the other wards Fleur had added. The ability to pass completely undetectable by magic or sight was too rare a gift to risk. He'd keep it here, where only he could come, and when he found the Resurrection Stone he'd bring that here too.

Harry quite liked that idea. It had a pleasing symmetry to it, a comforting familiarity. He would be coming down to the chamber to see Salazar again, like he had been before, and everything would be how he wanted it.

From behind closed eyes he saw himself, the cloak folded over one arm, Fleur and their green-eyed girl on the other, and Slytherin's shade beside him. He was free, so obviously, perfectly free of every constraint imaginable it made him giddy. Even death could not take what he wanted from him, and there was no reason he could not make this dream come true.

We will be free, Harry decided fervently, but he tempered his desire with caution.

There were many obstacles in his path and it would not do to look so far ahead down his path that he stumbled. His crucible remained.

He apparated back, appearing with a soft snapping sound in the kitchen and depositing the stack of books on the table. The four on the Peverell family tree he concealed under the sofa where Fleur was unlikely to stumble across them. She'd seemed less then happy about his decision to find the Resurrection Stone so he'd keep his research out of her sight until he could prove it was real. Fleur would help him once she knew it wasn't a fool's errand he was devoting himself to.

What to do until lunch? Harry wondered.

Spreading the remaining books across the table he resisted the urge to start tracing the Peverell family tree. That should wait until he had its entirety to hand. Transfiguration was a better idea, or the book about inferi, just because it was the only one he needed for a whole subject.

Perhaps I should start thinking about the Inner Circle Voldemort might have entrusted a horcrux to.

There were so many choices, but in the end he went with human transfiguration. It was one of the NEWTs he was likely to be able to take early given McGonagall was happy to have him helping her on a project, and Fleur would likely be quite put out with him if he started a horcrux hunt without her.

General human transfiguration was not as exciting as it had sounded and Harry had discarded the book after a few moments in favour of his book about inferi.

The Inferius is a re-animated corpse bound to the will of its creator. A macabre puppet of flesh that's greatest advantages lie in the horror and fear it inspires the Inferius can be a potent tool in the arsenal of any wizard or witch. They are best employed in ambushes or in great numbers to compensate for their lack of magic. A well cast animation may produce puppets with not only increased speed and strength but also capable of weathering grievous damage.

The book definitely sounded like more of a manual than a defence related textbook, but it was originally from Salazar's library and so it was probably never on Hogwarts' recommended reading list. It occurred to Harry that Slytherin might have bought this book and the other necromancy related tomes as part of his attempt to reclaim his wife from death. The though brought a lump to his throat and he turned back to the pages of the book.

The Inferius' greatest weakness is fire, Harry read, but severe physical damage will also destroy them.

The rest of the book went into rather too much detail about how to create an Inferius yourself, including a rather disturbingly specific section on their physical characteristics. Harry skimmed it curiously, but he had already absorbed what he needed to learn from the tome and he knew exactly what would happen should he ever come across any inferi. There would be fiendfyre, lots of it, and far fewer animated corpses afterwards.

He set the book aside, then, thinking better of leaving that lying around where someone might see it he tucked it and the book on rituals under the sofa as well. Harry was more concerned about Sirius or Gabrielle reading them than Fleur. He'd probably end up showing Fleur the book on rituals anyway, she knew far more about the magical plants and ingredients he might need than he did.

Gabrielle on the other hand, should not see it unless absolutely necessary . Fleur's little sister had already seen more of him than he wanted, and the nagging fear that she might decide that Harry was best avoided lingered, despite his best efforts to dispel it or her assurance that she approved.

Both unsettling and comforting, Harry remembered her telling him, and the words held true for his feelings as well.

Frowning to himself he began to write a list, etching the names of all the members of Voldemort's Inner Circle onto a spare piece of parchment with the tip of his wand.

Malfoy. Crabbe. Goyle. Nott. Avery. The Lestranges. The Carrows. Dolohov. Macnair. Yaxley. Travers.

Harry could already rule out most of the names as unsuitable. Malfoy had already been entrusted with one, the latter four lacked the power, wealth or prestige to keep a horcrux safe from the Ministry, and nobody in their right mind would give anything valuable to a Crabbe or a Goyle.

It still left six potential candidates, and those were only the ones that were currently alive. If Voldemort had entrusted a horcrux to one of the Death Eaters who had died in the last war then it would be very difficult to discover.

He holstered his wand with a frown. Harry had known it would not be an easy feat to find what was likely the last of Voldemort's three horcruxes, but he'd come across the first two so easily that he'd never really considered just how difficult it could be to get the last. If it had been he with three horcruxes to conceal and protect he would have kept one on his person, one in the chamber and placed one somewhere very secret and very safe. Voldemort had used the Room of Requirement rather than the Chamber of Secrets, a decision Harry could not understand given its relative accessibility, and chosen to entrust one to Malfoy, neither of which were particularly safe options despite the power of the horcruxes themselves. It stood to reason that the final horcrux was either similarly entrusted or somewhere very safe, and the only places Harry could imagine that were close to completely secure were Gringotts, a location only Voldemort knew of and could access, or on the Dark Lord's person. None of the three were particularly appealing. Breaking into Gringotts was widely considered as a particularly unwise form of suicide, finding and entering anywhere Voldemort had hidden and protected was certainly going to be hazardous, and the latter, while convenient should Harry manage to defeat Voldemort at the same time, would likely end up in him losing his third duel with Voldemort. Harry had lost the first two comprehensively and despite his improvement he had very little confidence in seizing victory himself.

I need to be stronger still.

There weren't many ways to improve his strength left except for practising over time, and he had precious little time to spare. Voldemort had completed every useful ritual in the book that Salazar had kept and then gone on to write several chapters of his own.

He pushed the books away from him, slipped the list of names inside the cover of the tome on untransfiguration and took a long, deep breath. This was when he needed Salazar. When he didn't know which course was wisest to pursue the portrait would have. He and Fleur would have to decide alone and hope for the best.

Lunch was almost upon him, and with it his reunion with Katie and Neville, or at least Katie, because Harry wasn't sure anyone had actually told Neville which café it was that Katie's parents owned. It would be nice to speak with them and put all this briefly to one side. They might even help him. Neville certainly would should Harry ever go after the remaining two Lestranges.

He stood up from the chair to apparate, then remembered he was hiding from the Order and Voldemort and couldn't go out looking like Harry Potter without finding himself back at Privet Drive, or worse, Little Hangleton or wherever Voldemort had taken up residence, in short order.

Harry knew enough human transfiguration to alter his face a little. It was probably one of the simplest pieces possible. A few tweaks to his bone structure, raising the cheekbones slightly, altering the tone of his skin, reshaping his nose a fraction.

It was almost disturbing how little he had to change to see Tom Riddle staring back at him from the kitchen window.

His eyes he couldn't tamper with; he didn't know enough to do so, but he could lighten his hair, colouring himself an unremarkable dark blonde and he could certainly conceal the scar on his forehead.

A young, blonde Tom Riddle smiled at his reflection.

Very few people knew of the boy who would become Voldemort, far fewer purebloods would follow him if they did, so unless Voldemort or Dumbledore themselves were walking through Diagon Alley's cafés and keeping an eye on the facial structure of everyone nearby he would pass undetected. The two wizards would both be furious if they knew whose face he had chosen to wear over his own.

The prospect quite amused him.

The kitchen swirled back behind him as he stepped from its floor into Diagon Alley, blinking in the sudden sunlight. Fleur would be having lunch around now, but Harry knew she preferred to remain within Gringotts and away from the crowd or any who might prove particularly vulnerable to her aura.

Third café on the left, Harry recalled, drifting slowly towards the southern side of the alley.

It was busier than he had ever seen Diagon Alley before. Every shop was full, even Ollivander's, and that was a risky venture given some of the wands more violent reactions to being tested.

Katie's parents' café had very appropriate red umbrellas outside, unfurled to shield the old, wooden tables from the sun, and Harry spied his friends chatting amicably in the sun just beyond the shadow of the last umbrella.

'You're starting to sunburn, Nev,' Harry warned, pulling a third chair across to the two table for two.

'I've been outside shopping with Gran all morning before her Wizengamot meeting about awarding Amelia Bones emergency powers,' Neville groaned, scrunching his slightly pink face into a scowl.

'Why are you in disguise?' Katie demanded, shielding her eyes to stare at his new appearance.

'Because I don't want to be recognised, of course,' Harry gave her a quizzical look, 'why else would anyone be in disguise?'

'Nice glamours,' Neville grinned, 'you make a good blonde.'

'They'e not glamours,' Katie mused, poking Harry gently on the cheek and running a hand through his already messy hair. 'Too detailed for glamours,' she tugged lightly and Harry winced, 'you transfigured your face.'

'I did,' Harry agreed, removing Katie's hand before she could tug again. 'I don't know enough about eyes to alter them though, so they had to stay the same and are still obviously mine.'

'You have quite distinctive eyes,' Katie smiled, fiddling with the white-hemmed collar of her robes. 'They're a very nice shade of green and they do the same thing Dumbledore's do.'

'My eyes do not twinkle,' Harry intervened.

'No,' Neville laughed, 'but they do have a bit of an aura. They're a bit more vivid and bright than anyone's eyes should naturally be.'

'It started when you began wearing those lenses Hermione told us about,' Katie added thoughtfully.

'What lenses?' Harry asked.

'Hermione told everyone you must have switched from glasses to muggle contact lenses and you never disagreed so we assumed she was right,' Neville explained.

'She's normally right,' Harry smiled.

'But not this time,' Katie realised.

A group of wizards wandered past their table, cutting out the sun that Katie was basking in and earning themselves a glare from the girl. Harry chuckled gently.

'Not this time,' he admitted. 'I fixed my eyesight magically, but it had a few side-effects. I prefer the lenses explanation to having to tell everyone about my solution.'

'Well whatever you did was a good idea,' Katie decided cheerfully, 'those glasses really didn't suit you.'

'Speaking of suiting things,' Neville cut in, 'have you seen Katie's work robes?'

'Do I want to?' Harry asked. Katie, who had turned as pink as Neville's sunburn, was wearing plain, slightly formal, black robes with a white hem, and Harry could see nothing wrong with them.

'Stand up, Katie,' Neville grinned.

'No,' Katie shook her head violently, 'not happening.'

'She spilt some old witch's potion on herself this morning when I arrived,' Neville sniggered, 'now there's a large, bleached patch down her leg.'

'Why didn't you transfigure them?' Harry inquired. Katie was easily good enough to alter the colour. Neville's laughter grew harder.

'It's magic resistant,' Katie sulked.

'She briefly tried to turn it black, but it went transparent instead,' Neville announced gleefully to Katie's consternation. Harry had the the briefest recollection of picturing her in the underwear she had accidentally revealed while packing before he flushed slightly and forced the image away. Katie appeared to be doing everything possible to avoid looking at Harry, and finally settled for glaring furiously at Neville.

'How's Hannah?' She asked sweetly.

Neville's laughter came to a halt.

'I'm taking good care of my cactus,' he answered with more nonchalance than Harry had ever seen him manage before.

'And what about that pretty, blonde girl I saw you talking to and staring after while you were out shopping this morning?' Katie smirked triumphantly and leant forwards. 'She looked quite put out that you said goodbye to her in order to come and meet me alone in a café.'

'She did?' Neville gulped, his bravado failing.

'Very put out,' Katie confirmed cheerfully. 'She probably thought it was a date and you were ditching her for me.'

Neville looked positively horrified.

'I might run into her later and be able to explain,' Neville said hopefully, fidgeting. 'She said she still had to things to buy too when she asked if I was going to here over lunch.'

'I think that was her trying to get you to ask her to have lunch,' Harry pointed out.

'It was?'

'Yes,' Katie beamed, 'and you wasted your chance.' It seemed she wasn't feeling particularly merciful to Neville after he had told Harry about her little accident.

'What about if I found her now?" Neville asked desperately. 'Do you think she would still want to go?'

'If you're lucky,' Katie smiled.

'I,' he glanced at the two of them pleadingly, 'I'll see you guys next time?'

'Good luck,' Harry grinned, pushing Neville's hastily abandoned chair next to the other table with his foot. 'Do you think she'll say yes?'

Katie gave him an incredulous look. 'Everyone knows that Hannah Abbot has the hots for Neville.'

'I didn't,' Harry shrugged.

'All the girls do,' Katie smirked, 'that's why it's so funny. He likes her, and she likes him, but they danced around each other nervously for a whole year instead of just getting together.'

'They weren't that bad,' Harry defended. 'None of the guys in Gryffindor knew anything about Hannah liking Neville too.'

'Neville could have been worse,' Katie agreed, smiling playfully, 'he could have gone to a ball with her, disappeared for the evening, pretended to hate her while moping, and then tried to keep his relationship a secret while hiding the bruises on his neck.'

'I never pretended to hate Fleur,' Harry disagreed, 'and I didn't mope either.'

'That's not what Neville said,' Katie smirked.

'Well you shouldn't listen to him,' Harry warned lightly. 'He's a malicious liar.'

'He's the sole of gentility and truth,' Katie countered, 'I danced with him at the ball just after you left with Fleur actually.'

'I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed,' Harry smiled.

'So do I,' Katie admitted softly.

'I'm sure I would have had one wonderful dance,' Harry continued cheerfully, 'and then Fleur would have probably immolated me for abandoning her.'

Katie giggled quietly.

'Is there any food?' Harry asked.

'It's a café, Harry,' Katie pointed out. 'We have food. Mainly sandwiches and cake,' she conceded, 'but the cake's good.'

I could bring Fleur here, Harry realised. She'd enjoy having cake here in the sun with me.

'Mum,' she called, waving at the short, brunette witch by the counter.

'Aren't you meant to be working?'

'I'm on my lunch break,' Katie beamed, 'so that means mum has to get my sandwich instead.'

'You're a terrible employee,' Harry remarked.

'Yes she is,' Katie's mother agreed warmly, reaching the table. A note-pad and quill reminiscent of Rita Skeeter hovered over her shoulder. It's feather was the same red as the umbrellas.

'This is Harry,' Katie introduced, evidently forgetting he was meant to be in disguise.

'Harry?' Her mother turned to look at him curiously, her eyes drifting over his hair and forehead in confusion.

'I'm in disguise,' Harry explained dryly, 'but Katie has forgotten.' The younger brunette looked faintly embarrassed.

'It's nice to finally meet you,' Katie's mum smiled kindly, extending a hand which Harry shook. 'I've heard so much about you,' she paused, 'from Katie, that is, not the rubbish in the Daily Prophet.'

'Thank you,' Harry responded cordially. He distinctly remembered the article about he and Katie that had made his friend cry, something Rita Skeeter had answered for, but it was a little awkward meeting her parents after such a first impression.

'What would you like, Katie?' Her mother asked. The quill perked up at the question, the feather snapping straight and the nib dipping towards the page.

'We'll just have two chicken and bacon sandwiches,' she decided, 'but without the tomato for me please.'

'Worried you'll make a mess of yourself again,' her mum laughed, patting a fuming Katie on the cheek in the exact same way Katie had used to do to him. 'Harry? My daughter often forgets that her friends like to choose their own food.'

'I don't mind. I'll go with it,' Harry smiled.

'Any drinks?' The quill bobbed.

'No thanks,' Katie shook her head. Harry nodded slightly in mute agreement.

'I'll bring them over in a minute, Katie,' her mother promised, 'you can have a bit of a longer break today than usual too.' Katie's mother threw another smile at Harry, then bounced cheerfully off to the next table.

'She's so like you,' Harry grinned.

'So everyone always tells me,' Katie grimaced. 'We even look like twins. I took an ageing potion once and Dad almost mistook me for her.'

'Awkward,' Harry commented.

'He realised as soon as he saw what I was wearing,' Katie shrugged. 'Mum's more concerned about her appearance than me. I don't really bother with pretty clothes and make-up.'

'It gets in the way of quidditch and it makes it harder to scare firsties,' Harry agreed.

'No self-respecting Dark Mistress wears pretty dresses and make-up,' Katie nodded happily, 'they'd get ruined by all the blood or torn on some nefarious deed.'

Katie's mother gave her daughter an odd look then slid their sandwiches onto the table. 'Here you are,' she beamed, 'I took the tomato out for you, Katie, so this time you won't spill it all over your lap like a baby.'

'Thanks, mum,' Katie growled. The older Bell smiled angelically back at her glaring daughter, but frowned darkly when two aurors strode past the table down the street.

'What was that about?' Harry asked, when Katie's mother had moved off towards the counter.

'Dad used to be a Hit Wizard for the Department of Law Enforcement,' Katie explained quietly. 'He fought in the war against,' Katie clenched her jaw, 'against Voldemort, and he was fairly accomplished. Amelia Bones has been trying to get every trained wizard or witch back into uniform now things are escalating and there are more and more attacks every week, but mum doesn't want him out fighting where he might get hurt.'

'He might not have a choice about fighting,' Harry warned gently. 'Even if he doesn't go back to law enforcement the war might come to him. Diagon Alley is a big target.'

'I know,' Katie took a bite of sandwich, chewing miserably. 'I'd still rather he was at home and a bit safer, even if it's selfish.' Harry didn't have the heart to remind her that by being friends with him she and her whole family were in more danger than most, so he took a few bites of the sandwich instead.

'It's going to be bad, isn't it,' Katie murmured. 'I've never seen Diagon Alley so busy, everyone's trying to get things done before the chaos begins, all the shops are packed.'

'It's going to be bad,' Harry told her, unwilling to lie, 'but you'll be fine. I promise.'

'And you,' Katie looked at him seriously, 'the Boy-Who-Lived, you'll be right in the middle. He'll be going after you himself.'

'I'll be fine,' he smiled, and he was surprised to find that he actually believed it. He would be fine. He would survive, and he would be free,

'You better be,' Katie warned. 'If you get yourself hurt Fleur won't get the chance to set you alight, I'll get you first.'

'I think Fleur will probably resent you stepping in line ahead of her,' Harry grinned. 'She'll set you alight too.'

'You'll be safe?' Katie demanded.

'I'll certainly try,' Harry assured her, 'though I suspect Voldemort may try quite hard to prevent that.'

'And Dumbledore,' Katie heard the name he had left unspoken. 'You don't trust him.'

'Do you?' Harry knew that Katie trusted him, but Albus Dumbledore was Albus Dumbledore.

'An awful lot of dangerous things have happened to you under his nose,' Katie pointed out with slight vehemence, 'it's clearly more than coincidence, and it's hard to completely trust anyone who allows things like that to happen.'

'I can't help but agree,' Harry nodded, 'he's known all these years that Voldemort was not dead, he must have a plan, but I can't see it, and I don't see it working.'

Especially not when I have to die for it.

'Then who will stop Voldemort?' Katie didn't even question his conclusion about Dumbledore.

'I don't know,' Harry answered, 'but someone will, maybe it will be you, maybe it will be me, or maybe it will even be Neville. I don't care. I just want myself and those I care about to survive.' Katie smiled weakly at him. She understood. He could tell.

A distinctive Snowy Owl came to land on the table, stealing the remaining part of Harry's sandwich.

'Hedwig,' he protested, reaching out to retrieve his meal. The owl gave him a cool, warning glare and hissed grumpily.

'She's mad at you,' Katie remarked.

'I left her in the Owlery because she can't find where I'm currently living,' Harry admitted. 'She appears to have taken in upon herself to find me.'

'And your sandwich.'

'And my sandwich,' Harry agreed.

Hedwig finished Harry's sandwich in a few, swift beakfuls, then hopped towards Katie, who hurriedly finished her own, stuffing it inelegantly into her mouth with a triumphant, if muffled cry. Hedwig hooted softly then hopped back across to indignantly peck his hands a few times.

'I shall have to take her back with me,' Harry decided.

'She might take a whole finger next time if you don't,' Katie laughed, eying his ravaged hands.

'Sorry, Katie,' her mother squeezed between two tables to take their plates, 'it's become really busy and I need your help.'

'I guess I'd better get back out there then,' Katie sighed, standing up. 'Sorry, Harry.'

'Don't worry,' he smiled, sliding out of his chair. 'I've got a few books about family history to find.'

Katie's mother turned away, twisting between chairs and tables, and followed by her floating pad and quill.

'Until next time,' Harry turned to say, but Katie was suddenly closer than he expected, throwing her arms round him in an impromptu hug. She was pleasantly warm and smelt of an odd combination of broom polish and coffee.

'You are a lot shorter than me now,' he noted, patting the top of her head that just neatly tucked under his chin, then wrapping his arms back around her.

'Hush,' Katie admonished, 'I remember when you were a midget back in first year, all skinny and tiny.'

'You're the tiny one now,' Harry chuckled, letting go of her and stepping back. Katie's mother was watching them with soft eyes from across the café, and Katie flushed when she followed his gaze across.

'I'm sorry if she gets the wrong idea,' Katie apologised in a small voice.

'Don't be,' Harry grinned, 'can't be any worse than the Daily Prophet.'

'You don't know my mother very well,' Katie laughed.

'True,' Harry conceded, 'if she's as much like you as she appears then maybe I should be worried.'

'Go,' Katie ordered playfully, 'and next time bring Fleur back with you so my mother works out what's really going on.'

'I will,' Harry promised, though he had the oddest feeling that introducing Fleur and Katie might come back to bite him. Neither showed any remorse for teasing him, least of all Katie, and they had far too much material to share with each other. 'Maybe Neville will bring Hannah,' he suggested cheerfully, ushering Hedwig up onto his arm.

'I hope so,' Katie beamed, 'think of all the herbology jokes we have to tell her about.'

'Katie,' her mother called.

'You have to go,' Harry reminded her.

'I know,' Katie's face fell, slipping back to the serious, sad countenance he so rarely saw from her. 'Stay safe, Harry.'

'I will,' he promised again, watching her walk away. She'd chosen his side already, without even considering the others. Neville would, once he realised that Dumbledore's mercy would only perpetuate the conflict, and he had his godfather, and Fleur too.

Hedwig nibbled impatiently at his ear from her perch upon his shoulder.

And you, girl, he agreed. And you.

AN: Please read and review, thanks to everyone that does!