A/N: I'm so sorry it took this long for a new chapter to be posted up! First of all, I lost all my work on the other disk I had, so that slowed me down considerably. Plus, school's been keeping me way too busy to write. Oh, yes! No one yell about possible mistakes and lack of characters. I don't have the HP books with me (still) and I'm spelling out all the names I DO remember from memory. And I read those books last summer. Oh yeah. Sorry this is short. But lots of new stuff! Okay, I'll stop giving you guys excuses so you can go on and read the next chapter! As always, please review!


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Chapter Ten
Family



The days rolled by quietly for Harry, and only Harry. The teachers had stopped tutoring him in favor of preparing for the new term and the new, upgraded security system being put into action in light of Voldemort's rebirth. It seemed all of Hogwarts was in a flurry of activity.

Harry got to use the week for much needed relaxation. While the teachers went about frantically re-arranging classrooms and preparing long lists of homework asignments, Harry took long, thought-filled walks about the grounds, though, due to Dumbledore's strong lectures, he never ventured beyond the gates. The fresh air and exercise afforded him a clearer head that he found useful in processing all the information of the past few weeks.

Harry, the day before the students enrolled in Hogwarts were due to arrive, was taking one such walk near the Quiditch fields, thinking of his friends. They still hadn't written him. "Did they want me to write first?" he wondered. He felt no fear for their safety, as Dumbledore had ensured him earlier that they were receiving round-the-clock protection. "After all, Harry," Dumbledore had said, "They're your friends, and Voldemort might try to get to you through them."

"Harry!" cried Madame Lafaydee. He grimaced. Madame Pomfrey, since her attack, had been confined to a bed in the infirmary, though Harry, owing to his frequent visits to the infirmary himself, thought Madame Pomfrey should've at least been walking about now. Madame Lafaydee was her replacement for the time-being, and was a sharp, wizened lady that reminded him uneasily of Aunt Petunia.

"What?" He asked. "Don't stray far from the field! If I catch you within fifty yards of those gates..." He frowned again. The new nurse, both scared and impressed by the near-death episodes Harry had been through, was following Dumbledore's orders down to the letter.

After deciding to ignore her, Harry returned to the thoughts the nurse had so rudely interrupted. "I suppose it isn't too far-fetched that Snape is Dumbledore's son..." he murmured. He still couldn't get over it. What would Ron and Hermione think? Should he tell them? Harry shook his head. He would decide when the time came... when he was actually face to face with his friends. And what about the whole business about being the Phoenix? Dumbledore had been so serious when he had told him not to tell anyone. No! He didn't want to blab that around. Remembering Ron's jealous spell over the Tri-Wizard Tournament only strengthened his resolve. This was probably a million times worse than having his name picked out of the Goblet of Fire.

Happy that he had finally gotten all his thoughts in order, he allowed Madame Lafaydee to lead him back to the castle.



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Dumbledore stared down at Madame Pomfrey's terrified face. She had been like this for days. She had been found a week before screaming about blood, but a quick glance around by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape found nothing. For some reason, Dumbledore couldn't enter the room without Madame Pomfey screaming louder than ever and shooting accusing glances in his general direction. But he was ready for some answers, and willing to risk deafness if it meant regaining Poppy's trust.

"Please, Poppy! Just tell me what happened in the forest!" She furiously shook her head "No." Looking up at his concerned face, she couldn't help but wonder how long Dumbledore would act this way til he eventually cracked and showed his *true* personality. And why couldn't anyone else see what she saw? She saw the most frightful things these days, things she had only thought she'd seen in nightmares. Yet no one saw them but her. "They're all in it together!" was the only explanation her feverish mind could come up with. "They're trying to drive me insane..."

Dumbledore turned sadly away. He had to prepare for the new school term. Even if it meant leaving Poppy behind.



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Harry stared intently through the window in the Gryffindor tower. The boats with the first-years were pulling to shore, and he saw, with amusement, that the first-years were gaping in awe of the castle, and shouting with delight when the giant squid makes its occasional appearance below the oars. "But how can I laugh?" he wondered. "It feels just like yesterday when I came here with the boats myself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a gangly mess of students in black robes rushing into the dining room. Two heads in particular, one a bright, orangey red, and the other, a bushy brown, caught his attention immediately. "Ron! Hermione!" he yelled. The prospect of seeing Ron and Hermione again propelled him quickly down the stairs, through the portrait hole, and out toward the dining room, once again elegantly arrayed for the feast held at the beginning of each year.

Hemione hugged Harry tightly while Ron shook Harry's limp hand energetically. "I missed you!" cried Hermione. "Why didn't you answer our letters?" "Letters?" Harry asked blankly. "Of course, letters! You think we forgot about you? We sent you letters almost daily. But Pig kept bringing them back!" "How did that happen?" said Harry. "Maybe I'll go ask Dumbledore about it..."

"I'm afraid that's my fault," inserted Professor McGonagall smoothly. They all gasped. She had crept quietly behind them as they talked, and none had noticed her till now. "Harry's life was in danger. We have suspended all his mail until we devise a fool-proof way of testing them for curses and hexes." Her voice came out cold and precise.

Hermione, who would've logically been the one to brightly answer, "I should've thought of that!" only frowned. Ron and Harry just nodded in agreement as McGonagall, after staring lengthily at Hermione, turned and left.

"What was that about, Hermione?" asked Harry. "I thought mail checks would be pretty smart." "I don't know, Harry." she replied. "Something's wrong. I just can't place it yet. Maybe I'll go to the library and check up on it."

"It's the first meal of the new term, Hermione! And a banquet at that. Just sit down and eat, and think about the library later. Harry's not going to drop dead anytime soon."
said Ron with an odd note in his voice.

Both Harry and Hermione stared at him for a second, before turning to their plates.

Harry found it especially easy to eat. In anticipation of upcoming classes with his old friends, he had started eating less and less over the last few days. His hunger came back to him now, especially with Ron and Hermione on either side of him, with Hermione chatting away, and Ron saying a few words every now and then.

He decided to settle on a slightly rarish beef steak. It literally fell apart at the touch of his fork. He wolfed this down so quickly that Draco Malfoy, sitting across the room at the Slytherin table, shouted above the mumble of the crowd, "Must be your last meal, Potter, for you to eat like that."

An immediate hush descended on the crowd, as if seeking an assurance from Harry himself that this was, ideed, NOT his last meal. Clearing his throat, he prepared a come-back, but was forestalled by Professor McGonagall detracting five points from Slytherin. The Slytherins and Gryffindors, under the watchful gaze of the teachers' table, decided that hard glaring was all that was required for the time-being.

Harry, determined that a single shot from Draco wouldn't upset his meal, continued to pile up delicacies upon his plate. He wouldn't want Malfoy to think he had any influence over his thoughts, even if it killed him. The heap upon his plate grew and grew... puddings, honey-basked turkey slices, mashed potatoes and butter, coleslaw, strawberries, pound cake.... until even Hermione broke her steady stream of words to remark, "Harry, think you can really finish all that?" And under the astonished eyes of the Gryffindors and Slytherins, he finished every single bite.




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"Lord Voldemort, what is to be done with the Order of the Phoenix?" asked Lucius Malfoy timidly.

"That group of insolent old hags?" Voldemort barked before laughing in a high-pitched, grotesque manner.

Lucius shuddered, but averted his eyes quickly so that Voldemort would not see the disgust written in his eyes.

"Master, I agree that they are worthless, but they might try something. Something unexpected."

After staring at Lucius with his cold, red eyes, he shrieked, "You do not agree! You follow! Now leave my presence at once!"

Lucius took one look at Voldemort's taunt white face, and did as he was told hastily.

Once he had left, Voldemort contemplated his words.

"He's right," he thought. "They may be stupid, but they do hold a certain amount of power in that petty institution they call a Ministry. "Maybe I'll have to take my chances and raid the building after all." He took another contemplative look at the space where Lucius Malfoy had stood. Malfoy was smart. Maybe a little *too* smart. Slowly, Voldemort weighed his options. Dare he kill off his right-hand man? Would that be too drastic? Voldemort was no fool. But Lucius Malfoy wasn't one, either. Maybe....maybe when he saw a hint too much arrogance and ambition in Malfoy's eyes....then he'd kill him. But for now, he was useful. And he understood that Lucius' son, Draco Malfoy, knew Harry Potter quite well...



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"What do we do, what?" cried Fudge to the group of solemn, robed witches and wizards assembled in a secret room in the Ministry. "Our Phoenix has arrived...but in such a strange vessel! Harry Potter is crazy...he believes Voldemort is back, and he has even influenced Dumbledore!"

"We must do what we can, but you are a fool if you continue to believe Vodlemort has not risen." came a clear, feminine voice.

It cut through the crowd like a knife. They parted in awe as Dianna DeBourgh walked with calm dignity into the heart of the crowd.

"You! What are you doing back?" demanded Fudge heatedly.

"Fudge, *darling,*" mocked Dianna. "Did you think I'd honor your decision to exile me? Especially with the Phoenix finally among us?"

To most, Dianna might have seemed a harmless, but beautiful, twenty-six year old woman, with a mass of glossy chestnut-brown hair, and deep emerald eyes. Those who had but heard of her would quiver in fear of the immense powers she was rumored to posess. The few that knew her personally would know of the fire and purity that burned in her spirit and the strength of her will.

"I absolutely refuse to not be a part of this. And what I have heard so far," she gazed coldly down at Fudge, who was beginning to sweat profusively, "I do not like."

"It does not concern you! Harry does not concern you!" Fudge blurted out quickly.

"In case you all have forgotten, Harry happens to be my nephew. The fact he is now also the Phoenix complicates things, I'll admit, but I am still his legal guardian, even if you "have" exiled me."

A couple of surprised gasps followed this statement from the few, new members of the Order. However, the majority remained unimpressed. They had known for years.

Dianna continued, her voice cool and soft, "I didn't contest the exile, because I knew, at the time, that Harry was safer without me. But now, times have changed. I have returned to claim my nephew as my heir and pupil, and you cannot stop me."

Now everyone was surprised. "What is she talking about?" Macnair whispered loudly to Fudge. "Oh...er..." stumbled the Minister of Magic.

Dianna smiled. Obviously, these witches and wizards had no clue what she was talking about. But all in due course. They'd know soon enough. at the moment, a bit of mystique seemed to be in order to keep this crowd in her grasp. She prided herself on her ability to assess the emotions of other people, and this was one such time that her rare talent was proving useful.