A/N: I hope you've enjoyed the story. Thanks for reading, and please review afterwards. –yamwam
Two days later Harry was able to leave the hospital wing. Alicia immediately hustled the Gryffindor team out on the pitch for practice, and repeated the action every day afterwards. Though they were somewhat rusty, they pulled themselves together quickly, and were soon prepared for the final match for the house Quidditch Cup.
Slytherin played exceptionally well, matching every goal that Gryffindor scored, until the houses were deadlocked at 90 points; but at last the Golden Snitch was spotted, and the two Seekers gave chase. The crowd screamed, gasped and cheered as Harry and Malfoy raced up and down the pitch in pursuit of the Snitch, striving with arms extended to push each other aside and catch the Snitch first.
Harry almost despaired; Malfoy had an excellent control of his broom, and had had more time to practice recently than Harry. They were both brilliant fliers, but Harry knew he had sharper eyes than Malfoy. Malfoy lagged somewhat because he relied on Harry to follow the Snitch while he followed Harry. Finally Harry, pretending he saw the Snitch, flew straight at the ground and then suddenly rolled over and wrenched himself hard upwards while Malfoy, unable to stop, smashed hard into the ground.
"Potter performs an amazing variation on that classic Seeker manoeuvre, the Wronski Feint!" shouted Lee Jordan. "Malfoy is out cold! Potter shoots forward- he's grabbing for it- he got the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the House Cup!"
Malfoy was livid when he woke up, and shortly afterwards had much more to be furious about. The Daily Prophet was given a (carefully edited) version of the other night's events, including the death of Arabella Figg, the capture of both Lestranges, Harry Potter's involvement, and the fact that all of these sordid proceedings had taken place in Malfoy Manor, though the exact room was not given. The students were flabbergasted: had Harry Potter been telling the truth all along? All signs now pointed to Harry not being completely mad, as Daily Prophet articles and Ministry statements had initially depicted him.
There were no overt apologies, but Draco Malfoy was clandestinely booed behind his back by all the other students, and Harry quietly extolled for his bravery. People hissed Malfoy when he passed them in the halls, and many grudgingly begged Harry to tell them what had happened down in the torture chamber. He was only able to avoid having to explain everything by pretending he was bound by higher authority (everyone guessed Dumbledore) not to breathe a word. But he put it into his Pensieve and reluctantly let Ron and Hermione wander through his memory so they would understand. When they emerged Hermione burst into tears, and Ron was white and shaking.
Not only did the Daily Prophet print those real facts, but they were also given a (carefully edited) account of Lord Voldemort's appearance in London on the same night. (Dumbledore would not reveal everything, not even to all the members of the Order. When Snape arrived at Hogwarts and alerted the Phoenixes to Voldemort's ambush plan, they had hastened to London in a trice, and found Diagon Alley almost utterly wrecked. It seemed like a hurricane, a tidal wave, and an earthquake had all passed through Diagon Alley at once, though most of the buildings were still standing. There was not a soul on the street, until the Phoenixes found Dumbledore sitting on the cracked steps of Gringott's Bank, Fawkes perched on the crumpled and scorched ruin of the Headmaster's pointed hat, both of them calmly eating lemon drops. Dumbledore had looked at the Phoenixes and said mildly, "What took you so long?")
The actual information provided to the newspaper only took three paragraphs, but the agitated editorial comments, letters to the editor, and backstory of Dumbledore and Voldemort's enmity took up seventeen pages.
But the wizarding community was staggered. After months of being spoon-fed Ministry propaganda, they were being bombarded with the honest, albeit incomplete, truth. Even Fudge reluctantly left off hiding in his office with the curtains drawn, to issue a (carefully worded) statement about the outstanding work of Ministry officials in chasing Voldemort away- though everyone who heard of the incident knew immediately that Dumbledore was the Dark wizard's only true opponent.
Few were given the full story, as Dumbledore wished to keep the details within a small circle; but he had agreeably related the entire tale of his duel with Voldemort to Cornelius Fudge and thus frightened the Minister of Magic into docile submission. Fudge was so afraid of losing his post to this wizard who was obviously infinitely more powerful than him that he agreed to everything Dumbledore requested. The Order of the Phoenix would be well-provided for until its voluntary disbandment.
Arabella Figg was buried in a grassy knoll at the northern end of Hogwarts property. The Daily Prophet ran a two-page article on her exploits and achievements, fortunately failing to notice that she had given birth to the vile Maldora Lestrange, now occupying Vault 697 far below Gringotts Bank. Fudge happily awarded Bella Figg a posthumous Order of Merlin, Second Class. Her funeral was meant to be private, but hundreds of students, Phoenixes, former Ministry colleagues, and fans showed up and demanded entry. Minerva McGonagall gave the eulogy, and spoke very movingly of her friend; but she broke down in tears mid-speech and had to be helped off the dais by Phyllida Spore.
The reading of the last will and testament was held a few days later. Arabella Figg's two oldest children were naturally heavily favoured, but Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter also received small fortunes. Ron was bequeathed the Feather-Light broomstick and a minor legacy; and Hermione got first pick of the witch's extensive library, with strict cautions not to forget that there were more important things in life than studying. Harry noticed that Hermione and Ron held hands for most of the interview.
In addition to a pile of gold, Harry was left the cottage in Hogsmeade, though since the law prohibited the ownership of property by minor wizards, he could only legally inherit the deed on his eighteenth birthday. Sirius Black, now completely cleared of all charges, agreed to appeal to the Ministry of Magical Territory to have the deed given to him. A clause in tiny letters running up the side of the will also warned Harry, rather embarrassedly, that control of his arrears fan mail would revert to him on her death. This explained, for Harry, why one morning in the hospital wing he had received a furious letter from Vernon Dursley raging about finding the postman trying to wedge thirty-seven huge sacks of letters and packages into the mail slot.
Lucius Malfoy was harshly rebuked by his master for his failure and left to fend for himself. He remained silent to the questions of the Daily Prophet, and refused to come to the Ministry offices to discuss his involvement; so a delegation of Phoenixes was dispatched to collect him, with force if necessary. Quentin Trimble headed the operation, and Harry had an opportunity to formally meet this old friend of Arabella Figg's, because Trimble decided to trap Malfoy in his own evidence and see how he reacted. He and Lupin took Harry to Malfoy Manor in northern Scotland, while Ron led Quintius Croaker, Cassius Egg, and Sirius Black, now a full-fledged Phoenix, down through the vanishing step (which had now been sealed off from use) and through the dark passageway.
When Lucius Malfoy opened his door and found two Aurors and Harry Potter standing on his front steps, Harry dearly wished he had thought to bring a camera. The look of apoplectic rage on Malfoy's face caused them all much delight.
"Get out of here," he barked, starting to shut the door, but Trimble whipped out his wand and barged his way in.
"Good morning to you too, Malfoy," he said pleasantly, clearly enjoying himself. He closed his eyes and twitched, then twitched again, and opened his eyes. "Just as I thought, an anti-Apparation zone, highly illegal of course..." He conjured a clipboard and ticked off a box, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You'd think a clever villain like you would at least think to hide the evidence! Or do you not know how to remove the spell?"
He held out a paper. "We have a warrant from the Minister of Magic to search these premises top to bottom. Seems Fudge has forsaken you, too. Forgot to pay him the weekly bribe, a pile of gold, a new wing at St. Mungo's?"
Malfoy snatched the paper and scanned it furiously. "This- this is an obvious forgery!" He tried to tear it up, but it had an Anti-Rip Charm on it.
"Don't you wish it were?" Trimble said amiably. He looked up as an imposing, snooty-looking blonde witch came to the top of the grand staircase behind Malfoy. She saw who stood in her foyer and tried to turn back, but Trimble called out, "Why, Mrs. Malfoy, how marvellous to find you at home! Would you be so good as to conduct us to the drawing room, or will I have to break a few lovely slender fingers?" He winked at Lupin.
Narcissa Malfoy, after casting a helpless glance at her furious husband, slowly descended and led all of them through red-carpeted hallways to the back of the house, stopping at a door that looked familiar to Harry. "Here it is," he said to Trimble.
They went in, the Malfoys included, and shut the door behind them. Lucius Malfoy protested about invasion of privacy and unfounded accusations, but was shocked into wide-eyed silence when Harry performed the secret spell on the door, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his white face when Ron popped his head out the door, followed by several Aurors. "Nice place," Ron said, looking round. "Does Draco Malfoy really live here? What a shame. He must really slime up the furniture."
At first Lucius Malfoy outright denied foreknowledge of the torture chamber; when that tack failed he tried to pretend he was only just shaking off an Imperius Curse from Voldemort. Ron and Lupin observed in mild astonishment, while Harry barely managed to keep from hexing Malfoy because Sirius was trodding warningly on his toes. Trimble thought the whole thing was fantastically banal, and told Malfoy so before springing a bunch of magical ropes on him and telling him he was under arrest. After Trimble had warned him that this damning evidence, added to the fact that his fellow Death Eaters had already sold his name to the Ministry, could mean a Dementor's Kiss if Malfoy refused to cooperate, the Death Eater finally surrendered, defiant and snobbish to the last as he gathered up the last shreds of his dignity.
"All right. I have been Voldemort's loyal servant for many years! I am not abashed. I am but one of his innumerable servants, and many will eagerly take my place if you try to destroy me!"
"You do know, don't you, that his ambush on Albus Dumbledore failed?" enquired Sirius. He smiled. "The duel was over almost as soon as it was begun. Voldemort fled at the mere sight of Dumbledore."
"As everyone expected," remarked Cassius Egg, placidly leaning on his cane.
"He'll try again!" shouted Malfoy. "And he will succeed! You will all be dead, you, and you- and especially you!" he hissed, glowering at Harry. "Harry Potter, you first, and the most horribly of all! I should have killed you myself when I had the chance, instead of waiting for the Dark Lord so he could do it personally!"
"Shut your filthy mouth, Malfoy," Sirius snapped, stepping in front of Harry.
"I can't believe anyone could even consider that you, Sirius Black, could be worthy of any association with the great and powerful Dark Lord," Malfoy sneered hatefully.
Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed Narcissa Malfoy's white hand creeping towards her pocket. "Hey!" he said, staring at her, and in an instant twelve wizards were pointing their wands at her.
"Expelliarmus," Cassius Egg said. Narcissa Malfoy shrieked as her wand flew from her hand, and she collapsed into a plush armchair, looking frightened.
"Stop it!" Malfoy snapped. His wife stared at him. Malfoy said quietly, "She was not involved in any of this. I acted alone of my family."
"We'll still need to ask her a few questions about her beloved spouse's appointments," Trimble said pleasantly. He raised his eyebrows and Cassius Egg took Narcissa out of the room.
"You're investigating my family?" Malfoy shouted. His pale eyes flashed. "What about your own precious Arabella Figg?"
"What about her?" Trimble asked calmly. Harry felt a twinge of panic, and was about to intervene, but Malfoy spoke quickly.
"Surely you know that she's the mother of the notorious Maldora Lestrange," he said. "Surprising that she was made a member of your Order, when she couldn't even stop her own daughter from joining our side!"
Trimble stiffened. He had not known this. Neither had Croaker or Lupin, from the looks on their faces. Heartened by their horrified reaction, Malfoy continued maliciously, "If I'm to go down, I'm taking her with me! I still have a powerful influence. By tomorrow the whole of wizarding Britain will know about Arabella Figg's sordid ties! Blood is everything in the magical world! I can see that Order of Merlin, Second Class flying out the window... Oh, how I shall relish defaming that old crone!"
"You will not," Harry said fiercely, pushing Sirius aside.
"Worm! Maggot! This does not concern you!" Malfoy hissed, straining against his magical bindings.
"Arabella Figg was my godmother, and I will not let you drag her name through the mud," Harry responded, fingers twitching toward his wand. "If you even try I'll do the same to you in a second, and it'll destroy your entire ancestry."
Malfoy laughed. "What could you possibly know about me, you pathetic half-blood lunatic?"
"Half-blood, am I?" Harry snapped. "What about your own son?"
"Draco? What about him?" Malfoy said scornfully, sounding like Trimble a moment before. "Going to accuse him of being a Squib?"
"Worse," Harry said. Ron and Sirius exchanged puzzled glances, while Lupin watched Harry closely, straining to hear the quiet exchange.
"Don't say you don't know what you married into," Harry said softly.
Malfoy went rigid. He knew Harry was referring to Narcissa Malfoy's vampire ancestry. "I do not know what you mean," Malfoy said coldly.
"Isn't it true Draco's blood isn't as pure as he says?" Harry said, and he saw Malfoy's aplomb waver. "Does your wife think the same way about blood being everything?"
"Stop!" Malfoy shouted, and Harry fell silent with a defiant smile. "You- you wouldn't dare," Malfoy snarled.
"Wouldn't I?" Harry said contemptuously. "Why wouldn't I want to use this to get revenge on the Malfoys, the family who since they found out I existed have done nothing but plot against me? Who've tried so many times to destroy me, both personally and indirectly?"
"He forgot to say they're the scourge of the earth," Sirius whispered to Lupin, who tried not to smile.
"What do you say to that?" Harry said to Malfoy, eyes narrowed. The Death Eater only glared at the floor in sullen silence. "You just keep your fat mouth shut then," Harry spat savagely.
Malfoy raised his head. "You little sh-"
Trimble brought up his wand and sealed Malfoy's lips with a zipping noise. "Well that's rather enough of that!" he said cheerfully. "Take him away!"
When Harry returned to his regular classes, he found several changes. Remus Lupin took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Lucius Malfoy having been the only person on the Board of Governors who objected to a werewolf teacher. But the real surprise awaited the students in Divination. The fifth-year Gryffindors entered their classroom cautiously and found it unchanged, so they seated themselves on the pouffes, just in time to scream when Professor Trelawney, see-through and silver, sailed up through the floor.
"Professor!" Lavender shrieked. "You're- you're-"
"A ghost," Professor Trelawney said dreamily. She floated round the room, passing through Neville and Dean, who shivered, half from the icy feeling that comes from touching ghosts and half from disappointment. "I could not pass on to the next world because I did not feel that my purpose in life had been fulfilled. I- I must admit that I was rather unhappy during my corporeal life. I was unsatisfied with my meagre triumphs. Perhaps it was that which led me to choose this silhouette of myself over death. I have an entire afterlife to perfect my art!" She spread her diaphanous arms and soared gleefully over their heads. Harry and Ron exchanged appalled looks.
"You see, I was right, wasn't it?" she crowed, stopping above Harry and peering down at them through his huge magnifying glasses, whose translucency now matched her skin. "Do you not recall my saying that one of our number would leave unexpectedly? And did I myself not die a precipitate death? But it could have been any one of you!" she cried, staring directly at Harry, who sighed.
Severus Snape carefully avoided speaking to or looking at Harry for the rest of the term. In class Harry refrained from answering questions, but silently seethed every time Snape's gold ring flashed in the dim dungeon light. Snape was also fairly cold towards Draco Malfoy. Snape's name had been withheld from the newspaper articles and few knew of his participation in that night's events or of his consequent induction into the Order. But Draco Malfoy knew whose testimony had been key in the incarceration of his father, and was torn between maintaing his toadying manner and declaring outright war on the wizard who was, after all, his Head of House. In the end he chose to comport himself with perfect, albeit icy, courtesy towards the Potions master; but there were times when Harry saw Malfoy's eyes flash dangerously at Snape, and knew that unless Draco's loyalty could be bought by the Order, their troubles with the Malfoys were far from over.
Four weeks after Bella Figg's death, the fifth-years sat their O.W.L. exams. The infirmary had recently been flooded with wailing fifth-years all complaining of the same symptoms: upset stomach, eye fatigue, excessive and inexplicable fright, occasional fainting; Madam Pomfrey simply laughed in their faces, labelled their mysterious disease O.W.L. anxiety, and sent them back to the library.
Harry found that not even a brush with death had diminished his fear of the O.W.L.'s; after all, if he was to study Defence Against the Dark Arts and become a real Auror so he could join the Order of the Phoenix, he would need as many of his O.W.L.'s as possible, probably even in Divination. But he came out quite well at the end, he thought. He managed to remember Summoning and Banishing Charms; he brewed a perfect Confusing Concoction but baffled his examiner into giving his marks to Neville Longbottom; he put a splint on the broken leg of a Hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatues, with minor injuries. He Transfigured an iguana into a flowery glass vase, but got points taken off when the O.W.L. official noticed the flower patterns were actually scales. He caused his Patronus stag to charge down his Defence Against the Dark Arts examiner, who exclaimed "Splendid!" and gave him bonus marks. He described in detail the calculation of the lunar parallax in Astronomy; and in trying to be as mysterious as possible in Divination, he predicted a gruesome and early death for his examiner, feeling very sly as he cited the cause as termites, and not noticing the two wooden legs attached to the unamused wizard's torso until it was too late to rearrange the Tarot cards.
Later that day, still in a panic about that incident, he forgot everything he'd ever learned about History of Magic, and only invented a few goblin rebellions and hoped they were as lenient as Professor Binns. When asked on that particular exam for two feet of parchment on the wizard in history whom he most admired, however, Harry did not hesitate to write a long essay on Albus Dumbledore. Later he found out that most of the others had chosen the exact same subject, though apparently not everyone thought Dumbledore was the most admirable wizard in history: Draco Malfoy had written at least three feet on the righteous principles upheld by Salazar Slytherin, Hermione reported (having "accidentally" glanced at Malfoy's essay while handing a pile of exams to the examiner).
"Honestly, he's taking this pureblood thing much too far," she sniffed to Harry and Ron. What Harry gleaned from this was that Draco still believed himself pureblood, and therefore still did not know of his deplorable lineage.
Some hours after their last exam, Harry and Ron were called to Dumbledore's office, where they found Mundungus Fletcher, looking pale and drawn, and somewhat grim.
"Hello Harry, hello Ron," he said, not without warmth; but he was not his usual booming jovial self. "I've come to say good-bye."
"Why, where're you going?" Ron demanded.
"What haven't you heard?" Fletch held up a Daily Prophet from two days ago. Harry had not been keeping up with the news recently, being preoccupied with his O.W.L. exams, so it came as a shock to see the headline 'DEATH EATER ESCAPES BY PLAYACTING' emblazoned on the front page, above a picture of a sombre-looking Dumbledore conferring with Cornelius Fudge, both impatiently waving away the photographer.
"Perdita Clemens' sister Emily has escaped," Dumbledore said quietly. "She somehow broke out of Gringotts Bank, where we were holding her in a high-security vault. She was to receive the Dementor's Kiss that afternoon, but in the morning the goblins heard her through the door, apparently speaking to another Death Eater. Fearing a breakout, they opened the door to check on her, only to find she had been acting the part of both voices. She overpowered them using wandless magic and escaped into the tunnels."
"There are very few passageways out of the underground tunnels, but it looks like she got lucky," Fletch said. "The dragons' bellies are empty and we've found no trace of her in the giant pits of lava or the various other traps. But I will find her, Albus, I promise you that. It's almost inconceivable that she was able to sneak under my nose for so long, the conniving little wretch. I'll be heading the search for Emily Clemens right after I go to Maldora Lestrange's trial tomorrow afternoon. I'm testifying," he added, forestalling Harry's next question. "My original wish, of course, was to throttle her in cold blood, since Snape's told me it was she who murdered Perdita. But now the Ministry's got her locked away from me, so the best I can try for is the Dementor's Kiss."
He gave a queer smile. "We've never had to put a Dementor on a Figg before. Don't know how well it'll go with her, the Figgs being somewhat immune to the Dementors. But if it does work- well, it's what she deserves, isn't it?" He emitted a short, quiet laugh that put a worried expression on Ron and Dumbledore's faces. But Harry knew exactly how Fletch felt; revenge was not an easy feeling to repress, even for the sake of public image. He smiled at Fletch.
"We were really sad about Perdita, Fletch," he said. "You didn't answer any of our owls."
"We were worried about you," said Ron. "Fred and George even sent you a letter of condolence- a sincere one! Fred and George were being sincere, Fletch!"
"I was wracked by guilt and sorrow," Fletch said testily. He sighed. "The days after her passing were dark indeed. I was constantly plagued by doubt. I wondered- what if I hadn't left her side that night? Would she be alive now? Or would I be dead too? It seemed like it was entirely my fault. For a while I considered really drinking a bottle of Skele-Gro, just to be with her again."
"Fletch," Dumbledore said, stunned.
"I know, Albus, that's the coward's way out. That's why I didn't do it. 'Look,' I said to myself, 'what if you really do meet Perdita on the other side and she doesn't want you anymore because you took the easy way out instead of facing your demons like a man?' So I'll do what she would have wanted of me. I'm keeping my job and my ring." He twisted, with his left thumb and index finger, the base of his right-hand little finger, which suddenly glowed gold as the Phoenix ring appeared.
"If I die in the line of duty, so be it- I'll die fighting." Fletch smiled sadly. "'Tis better to have have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,' right boys?" He shook hands with each of them in turn. Harry felt the missing finger as Fletch's large hands clasped his clammy one. "I'll be seeing you, Albus," Fletch said; and to Ron and Harry he said, "Listen, if the bloody both of you and that friend of yours Hermione don't all become Aurors, I'll hunt you down and wring your necks, you talented little buggers. So long." He walked out.
Only a few minutes after Fletch left, there was a sharp rapping on the door. "Come in," said Dumbledore.
Sirius Black burst into the room. "Today," he shouted, "I am a free man!" He ran in and hugged everyone in turn. "I have been officially cleared of all allegations!"
"Congratulations, Sirius," Dumbledore said warmly.
"Is this really happening?" Sirius asked. "I can't believe it. A little part of me is still seeing those slimy black walls in my old cell in Azkaban. Freedom is positively surreal."
"I know how you feel," Harry said. "It's almost too good to be true. I keep thinking Aunt Petunia's going to knock on the door of my cupboard and tell me to come cook the breakfast! I'm finally getting away from Privet Drive!" Ron and Harry laughed out loud, but Sirius and Dumbledore looked at each other in consternation.
"You didn't tell him?" Sirius said.
"I thought it best that the news come from you," Dumbledore said.
"What news?" Harry said slowly.
Sirius looked at him gravely. "I've just come from Privet Drive. I had a chat with your aunt and uncle. You- you won't be moving out of their house."
"What?" Harry said very loudly. Sirius looked helplessly at Dumbledore.
"Harry, the magic that protects you from Voldemort is a very special kind of magic," Dumbledore said. "Your mother's dying to save your life infused the blood in your veins, her blood, with this ancient magic. The magic in your blood is indeed what has made your survival thus far possible. We do not fully understand the effects of this magic, but what we do know about it is that since this same blood in you is in your mother's sister, it also protects her. But- and this is the crucial part- but the protective link exists only if you are together, calling the same place home. If you move away from Privet Drive and your aunt, the link will disappear and you will be as vulnerable to Voldemort as anyone else." A/N: Yeah, I took this directly from the book.
Harry looked at him, then at Sirius. "I can't leave Privet Drive? Ever? I'm stuck there for the rest of my life?"
"Not necessarily," Sirius said, glancing at Dumbledore again. "This blood magic is protecting you against Voldemort. If you eliminate him, then you wouldn't need the magic."
"So if Harry wants to get away from Privet Drive, he has to- eliminate- Voldemort?" Ron said. Sirius nodded. Ron gazed dispiritedly at Harry. "Looks like you're stuck there then."
"Ron's right! How am I supposed to kill an immortal wizard?" Harry demanded.
"We do not know for certain if Voldemort is immortal," Dumbledore said calmly. "But even if he is, there may yet be ways of destroying him." His blue eyes glinted with the same strange triumph Harry had seen there when he had been telling Dumbledore about Voldemort's resurrection.
"Where are you going to live then?" Ron asked Sirius. "Did you get Professor Figg's house in Hogsmeade?"
"No, I didn't want it," Sirius said. "Now that Bella's passed on, Harry will need his remaining godparent to stick close and watch out for him." He grinned broadly. "Didn't I say what I was doing at your aunt's house? I put on a new bedroom. I'm going to live there."
Harry stared at him for a full ten seconds before letting out a strangled scream. Sirius shouted in glee and grabbed Harry for a tight embrace, while Ron danced excitedly round the room. Even Dumbledore lost some of his gravity and conjured a shower of confetti and purple ribbons.
They were celebrating so loudly they missed the first knock at the door, but heard the second. "Ahem- come in," Dumbledore called, straightening his hat and Vanishing the confetti.
Marcus McCabe opened the door timidly, walking in ahead of Professor McGonagall, who looked like she had just downed a Confusing Concoction of her own. Marcus had undergone a massive transformation since the last time Harry had seen him. The red ink scar had been washed off his forehead and the glasses had been discarded, leaving a clear view of the wide brown eyes. His hair was blond now, suiting his face much better than the jet-black tangles that formerly topped his head.
"Headmaster, young Mr. McCabe has a very- unusual request," Professor McGonagall began, looking thoroughly rattled. "Perhaps you'd better repeat to Professor Dumbledore what you just asked me, Mr. McCabe."
"I- I'd like to switch houses," Marcus said nervously.
Dumbledore started and peered at Marcus through his half-moon spectacles in surprise. Sirius jumped and Harry and Ron exchanged stunned looks. There was a loud, vexed clamour from the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses on the walls.
"Now see here, you impertinent boy, no one's ever switched houses in all of Hogwarts' history!" shrilled a medieval witch draped in purple velvet.
"What is so wrong with our house, young man?" demanded a short wizard with an obvious comb-over, who was posed before a backdrop of the Gryffindor crest.
"Nothing!" Marcus said hastily. "I- I just don't belong in Gryffindor. I think I belong in Slytherin."
Harry was rendered momentarily speechless, but Ron yelled loud enough for both of them, "Slytherin? What do you want to go into Slytherin for? You're a Gryffindor!"
"Mr. Weasley is right, the Sorting Hat did place you in Gryffindor," Dumbledore agreed.
"Only because I begged it to put me with Harry Potter," Marcus said. "It really wanted to put me in Slytherin."
"It's true," spoke up the Sorting Hat suddenly from a nearby shelf. "McCabe had Slytherin in his heart, but Gryffindor in his head. I did what his mind asked me."
"This is an unprecendented request," Dumbledore said, placing the tips of his fingers together and fixing Marcus with his piercing stare. "Why do you want to change houses, and why now of all times? You will have to make new friends and learn about a whole new house."
"I haven't got any friends left in Gryffindor because I already have made friends in Slytherin," Marcus said desperately. "I think and act like them, not like Darius or Niamh. Spending a year following the real Harry Potter around made me realize how unlike him I am, and that I can't avoid my true nature by painting scars on my face or wearing stupid glasses- sorry Harry, no offence," he said quickly.
Seeing Dumbledore arch a skeptical eyebrow, Marcus pleaded, "Please Professor, doesn't the fact that I'm here asking for this show Slytherin ambition to better use my talents?"
"Perhaps it shows Gryffindor courage in the face of insuperable odds," replied Dumbledore.
"No please Professor, I haven't got much of that!" Marcus exclaimed.
Dumbledore was shaking his head. "If you switched, the number of students in each house would be unequal. It would be unfair to let Slytherin tip the balance."
"I knew you'd say that, I even found someone to switch with," Marcus said excitedly. "He's not in my year, I know, but he wants to change to Gryffindor quite badly, he-"
"Found someone to switch with?" Dumbledore interrupted, leaning forward in surprise. "Who?"
Suddenly the door banged open. Professor Snape stormed in, pushing Malcolm Baddock ahead of him. "Headmaster, you will not believe the absurd request that was just made to me by this insolent boy," Snape spat, shoving forward Malcolm, who stood unfaltering. "An impertinence worthy of Potter!" He paused, noticing the others gathered at the Headmaster's desk. "What?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Very well... Perhaps we can work something out." Malcolm and Marcus grinned joyfully at each other.
The celebrations at the Leaving Feast were slightly dampened by the recent deaths of two teachers, but only slightly. Professor Trelawney was after all still technically present; she attended the feast for the first time in several years, and quickly became engaged in excited conversation with the Fat Friar and Nearly Headless Nick. And Professor Figg's place at the teachers' table was offered to the guest of honour, a merry, somewhat portly old wizard who closely resembled his elder brother Albus Dumbledore. Aberforth Dumbledore was in high spirits, having been recently released from his makeshift prison cell far below Gringotts' Bank because of the confession of Derrick Lestrange that he had placed Imperius Curses on him and forced him to perform the Unforgivable Curses.
Harry was sitting with Neville, Dean and Seamus at the Gryffindor table. He was glaring at Professor Snape, who throughout the feast had been covering his mouth on fake yawns, scratching his nose, and making an elaborate show of drinking his tea, all to prominently display the gold ring on his little finger whenever possibly, simply to annoy Harry. Fortunately Ron distracted him by stomping over in great irritation.
"Women!" he grumbled, angrily grabbing a chicken leg. He did this rather awkwardly, as his hands appeared to have switched wrists, his thumbs facing the wrong way.
"Can't live with 'em, can't reproduce without 'em," Dean said philosophically.
"I don't think that's how it goes, Dean," said Harry, noticing Hermione storm into the Great Hall and and sit with Lavender and Parvati. The girls began to talk furiously.
"Hermione did that to you?" Seamus asked, looking at Ron's misplaced hands. "What did you do?"
Ron turned red and chewed madly; in the pause they heard Hermione's strident tones hissing to the othe girls key phrases like, "completely out of line," "no respect whatsoever," "we've been objectified," and "chauvinistic males."
Neville groaned. "Ron, you're ruining it for all of us!"
"Maybe if you apologize for whatever you did..." Harry said as he drew his wand and tried to fix Ron's hands.
"Apologize?" Ron thundered, pulling away. "Whose side are you on?"
"I'm not on anybody's side!" Harry protested with sigh. "Should I go talk to Hermione?"
"No Harry, you don't want to go over there," Seamus said. "Look, they're recruiting." Ginny Weasley, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and some of their friends had sat down and were also giggling and occasionally glowering darkly at the boys. "I've got two sisters, it's really best just to let this boil over," Seamus advised. "In twenty minutes they'll be batting their eyes and fluffing their hair again."
"She said I was moving too fast for her," Ron wailed, throwing up his backwards hands. "But I could have sworn she was sending me signals!"
"Seems to be a case of crossed wires," Dean said. Harry laughed, but Ron, Seamus and Neville all looked at them in bewilderment.
"Is that something to do with eclecktricity?" Ron asked.
"Girls are trouble," Dean clarified. "Hard to please and worse to understand! We're better off without them."
"Is that something I should tell your new girlfriend Sally-Anne?" Seamus teased, then paused and looked at Harry, who had sat up suddenly. "Er, sorry Harry, didn't you know Dean asked her out a couple weeks ago?"
"Is that all right with you?" Dean asked nervously.
"Yeah, of course," Harry said quickly, staring at Sally across the room. She had her blonde hair in very becoming ringlets again. She blew Dean a kiss and then waved at Harry, who waved back awkwardly and then hastily applied himself to his chips.
"Well, this isn't over, not by a long shot," Ron said darkly. "I got her once, I can do it again! Hermione will love me again."
"Again?" snickered Seamus, elbowing Dean.
"Pardon me," said a jovial voice behind Harry, "but do I have the exquisite pleasure of addressing Mr. Harry Potter?"
Harry turned and found Aberforth Dumbledore standing behind him with an ear-to-ear grin, resembling a plump but equally tall Headmaster. "Er," Harry said. "I guess so."
"How positively delightful!" cried Aberforth, shaking his hand briskly. "I am Aberforth Dumbledore, and I was just informed by Professor Snape that it was you who singlehandedly captured the Death Eater Lestrange, who later confessed to having framed me. It is therefore you I have to thank!"
Over the excited, "Did you really do that, Harry?" and "Wow! You captured Lestrange?" from his friends, Harry said loudly, "Er, no problem."
"That was no small feat," Aberforth said gravely, now becoming a better likeness of his more serious brother. "Albus speaks very highly of you and your parents, and I see that his compliments are justified." Harry grinned. At least someone was grateful for what he'd done. "If not for your audacity I would still be locked in a dark cell without so much as a Fizzing Whizzbee to amuse myself- oh, hello Albus," he said to the Headmaster, who had suddenly arrived at their table. "I'm meeting Harry Potter!"
"So you are," Albus Dumbledore said, smiling at his brother. "Aren't you coming back to the head table? The desserts have just appeared."
"Oh, certainly! Good-bye boys, and thanks again Harry!" The two brothers went back to their table. Dumbledore threw Harry a wink over his shoulder, so swift Harry thought he had imagined it.
"He was nice," Neville said.
"Not much like Professor Dumbledore though, is he?" Ron said, as he dug into a large chunk of trifle. "It's like me and Percy- completely different, even though we're brothers. I know how to have fun and he's a mad old biddy, that's the difference. Not that Professor Dumbledore's mad or a biddy- but you understand what I mean. Pass the sugarbowl, would you?" Seamus made the sugarbowl tap-dance its way across the table, but it fell over the side and spilt sugar all over the floor, inciting much hilarity at their end and making the girls throw them dirty looks for being raucous.
On the train home Harry's compartment was full of people. Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other, but all their other fifth-year friends were there to fill in the silences, plus the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ginny Weasley, Niamh Giffard, Darius Diggle, Lee Jordan, and Malcolm Baddock. Malcolm had been welcomed gladly by the Gryffindors, who were highly impressed by his courage in confronting Snape directly. Not even Harry, who had long epitomized suicidal audacity, would willingly have taken on Snape for such an impossible demand.
It was rather squished but no one minded. They were all jubilant because they had once again won the House Cup for having the most house points. Dumbledore had awarded Ron, Hermione, and Harry special fifty-, twenty-five-, and one hundred-point bonuses respectively for helping to catch the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy, though Professor McGonagall had then taken away twenty points from each of them. She had looked like she had mixed emotions about Gryffindor's win; she had had to give Harry, Ron and Hermione a strict lecture about leaving life-threatening situations to qualified authority, and felt that by rewarding them for half-fluke, half-skilled resolutions of problems, her work was being undone.
Fred and George had snuck out to Hogsmeade before the Leaving Feast and had several bags of sweets, practical jokes, and bottles of Butterbeer for the train ride home. In the middle of the festivities Ron stood up and waved for silence.
"It's great that we all got through another year alive, yeah, but a few really brave witches didn't, and they deserve to be honoured. We toasted them earlier in Dumbledore's Leaving Speech and we should toast them again now, because you can never thank someone enough for- for dying for you."
He glanced at Harry, who grinned encouragingly but with a pang of melancholy, thinking of his parents. Ron went on, "So raise your bottles high, in memory of Arabella Figg and Perdita Clemens. And," he added after a sharp look from Lavender Brown, "I suppose technically, Professor Trelawney."
They soberly lifted their Butterbeers and drank deeply. Harry was lowering his bottle when the compartment door slid open. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, wearing his customary sly smirk and flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, with several other Slytherins crowded in the hallway.
"Having a party?" Malfoy drawled, distastefully kicking an empty bottle at a pile of sweet wrappers. Was it Harry's imagination, or did Malfoy look paler? "What are you celebrating, that some of you may actually have passed this year?"
"I'm willing to bet a crate of Ton-Tongue Toffees that Hermione got more O.W.L.'s than you, Malfoy," snapped George.
"Who, the Mudblood, who hasn't got anything better to do with her time than study and prowl about with a disgraceful boyfriend?" Malfoy responded. Hermione sniffed sharply and her hand jerked towards her wand, but Malfoy was fully aware that as a prefect the last thing she would do was jinx another student. He probed more maliciously. "Oh, I'd forgotten, you dumped the Weasel, didn't you? What does that tell you, Weasley? Even pureblood, you can't keep a girlfriend?"
Ron opened his mouth to snap something back at him, but Hermione put her hand on his arm and he was too distracted to think of any good insults for Malfoy. "Get out of here," was all he came up with, though he said it quite vehemently.
"You're not wanted here, Draco," Malcolm Baddock said fiercely.
Malfoy's eyes flashed at his cousin. "I'll deal with you later," he snarled. Malcolm coloured but stood firm. Malfoy moved on to Harry.
"And Scarhead," he said softly, his pale eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have a little surprise for you. McCabe! Get in here."
Darius Diggle and Niamh Giffard exchanged tense looks. Crabbe moved aside and Marcus McCabe came in. Now his hair was slicked back like Malfoy's and he was affecting a peculiar swagger. He glanced round the compartment with a cool gaze, which only faltered when it fell on Harry.
"Marcus," Harry said coldly.
"Harry- I'm really sorry but Malf-" Marcus started to speak in a rush but halted when Malfoy laid a hand on his shoulder.
"McCabe, you show a lot of potential but you still have much to learn. Never let them speak first, and never apologize. And he's Scarhead-"
At that point Harry blew up and drew his wand, and a split second later Malfoy's eyebrows were on fire. The others followed his lead and the compartment fairly exploded with screams and curses. A hex hit Harry in the face, shattering his glasses, and he knocked his head as he fell backwards.
The shrill whistle of the engine as the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station woke them all. Upon waking, the Slytherins all scarpered with Malfoy in the lead, feeling his scorched forehead and trying to muster an angry expression.
After fixing his glasses, Harry walked off the train with a slight headache. The train was early, but most of the other students' parents were there, though the Dursleys and Sirius had not yet arrived to take Harry home. With a sigh he hauled his trunk down to the end of the platform out of everyone's way and sat on it to wait. Ron, Ginny and the twins went to locate the Weasleys and Hermione came and sat with Harry.
"I can't wait to get my O.W.L. results in July," she said excitedly. "Oh Harry, I don't think your aunt and uncle would like houseguests like Ron and I, especially with Sirius coming to live with them too, but won't you and Sirius come visit us? I'll be at the Burrow sometime in August. Even if Ron and I are on the outs," she went on stiffly, talking over Harry's half-formulated question, "I'm still friends with the twins and Ginny, aren't I? And my parents would love to have you at our house."
She surprised him with a sudden quick peck on his cheek. "Bye, Harry," she said breathlessly, and hurried off to find her parents. Harry was suddenly and bizarrely reminded of the Mirror of Erised. What would it reflect in Hermione?
"Harry!" Neville Longbottom hurried over, leading his parents behind him.
"Good to see you, Harry James Potter!" boomed Frank Longbottom, with a jovial ear-to-ear grin, seizing Harry's hand and pumping it vigourously. "I can't thank you enough for giving me my memory back. I remember you!" he shouted at Hannah Abbott's mother, who hurried away looking puzzled.
Louisa Longbottom looked enquiringly at Harry. "Hello...?"
"Mum's not doing quite so well as Dad," Neville said nervously to Harry. "But thanks for helping out my dad."
"Darling, this is Harry Potter, don't you remember him? He came to visit us at St. Mungo's a few months ago," Frank said to her.
Louisa thought a moment and shook her head apologetically. "I'm awfully sorry..." She brightened. "But I do remember where we parked the car!"
"Let's go find it then, shall we darling?" Frank turned to Harry with an earnest face. "Mr. Potter, I am deeply in your debt. If you are ever in a jam, if there's anything you ever need, don't hesitate to owl me immediately and I'll do whatever you need. I may have spent the last decade in a hospital, but I still have a lot of influence down at the Ministry! Let's get your trunk, Neville my boy."
"Yes Dad, 'bye Harry," Neville said, grinning. Harry smiled back dejectedly, feeling a pang in his chest. Neville had both his parents back, practically intact... But Harry would never have that joy. He stared determinedly at his shoes as the Longbottoms strolled away through the barrier, laughing, completely unaware of the wrenching pain in Harry's innards.
Then from a door on the last car came Sally-Anne Perks. Her golden curls bobbed round her head as she looked round frantically.
"Hi Sally," Harry called. She turned and saw him, and smiled ravishingly.
"Harry! I'm so glad I found you at last. I've been looking all over for you!"
"Why?" said Harry, moving over so she could sit on his trunk.
Sally paused, and said, "No reason. I'm- I'm waiting for my parents to get here. I guess they're late."
"No, the train was early."
Sally looked up at the clock above the platform. "So it was! How silly of me. Er..." She trailed off, watching people go out the barrier onto Platform Nine in the Muggle world.
"I heard you're going out with Dean," Harry said.
"What? Oh yes, Dean." The platform was quickly emptying. There were only a few people left. Draco Malfoy, walking with his snooty-looking mother Narcissa, scowled at Harry before leaving through the barrier.
"What did you want to talk to me for?" Harry asked curiously. "Is there something you want?"
"As a matter of fact, yes..." said Sally, watching Seamus Finnigan, the last student on the platform, leave with his parents. Harry was so puzzled that he was completely off his guard when she whipped out her wand and growled, "Revenge."
Harry stared at her in shock, highly bothered by the wandtip two inches from his nose. She laughed quietly. "Ah, the famous Harry Potter. Not so grand now, are you? Who will save you here?"
"Sally! What are you doing?" Harry reached for his wand but she grabbed both of his wrists with a surprising strength. Then Harry saw something that made his blood run cold... her sleeve had fallen to her elbow and on the exposed pale skin of her left forearm he saw a blossom of red, slowly spreading to form a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth like a tongue: the Dark Mark.
"It's not possible," Harry said in horror. "You can't be a Death Eater!"
"The time for talk is over," Sally whispered with a smile. "Now you will die, Harry Potter."
"No!" Harry wrenched his hands from her grip and in a split second had drawn his wand.
"Avada-" she began.
Suddenly Mundungus Fletcher launched his huge frame through the door Sally had come through. He brandished not one wand but three, and he levelled all of these at Sally as he and Harry simultaneously shouted, "STUPEFY!"
Their combined four red jets of light hit Sally in the face and she fainted in Harry's arms. He hurriedly pushed her away and she slid off his trunk onto the floor.
"Careful there, Harry, that witch is worth more than a new racing broom," warned Fletch as he approached. "Good work with the Stunner! You've got a lightning fast draw, you'd dazzle the crowds at a duelling championship!" Seeing that Harry was still white and stunned, he said quickly, "Don't worry about your friend, Harry, this isn't really her. We found her Stunned and locked in the conductor's cabin."
"What?"
"Look," said Fletch. Harry looked at the impostor at his feet. Sally's hair was getting straight and dark... her fine skin was becoming a dusky tan colour... she now vaguely resembled Perdita Clemens, though darker and less dainty.
"This is Emily Clemens," Fletch said, as he used his three wands to wrap her up in ropes and chains and conjured a giant iron box on which was stencilled ANTI-APPARATION ZONE, into which he shoved Emily Clemens. "That ought to hold her. There's four hundred Galleons on her head, did you know that? We tracked her to the station and only realized just in time what her target was. She kidnapped your friend and made a Polyjuice Potion of her. Listen, would you mind turning your head for a moment?" Without waiting for an answer he dealt the prone witch a swift kick. "Scheming harpy," he muttered savagely, then brightened. "I should give these two wands back. Sirius, Arthur, I found Potter! Out here!"
From the same car burst Sirius Black, who gave a tremendous gasp when he saw Harry, as if he had been holding his breath. Arthur Weasley was next, looking dreadfully panicked. He shouted in relief upon spying Harry, and enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thank heavens you're all right!"
Harry grinned weakly, having only just noticed the gold ring on Mr. Weasley's little finger. He felt a twinge of jealousy, which passed when Mrs. Weasley rushed out the same door after her husband and swooped down on Harry in fits of maternal feeling. She was closely followed by the frantic group of Ron, Ginny, and the twins. Fred and George were supporting the real Sally-Anne Perks between them, from whose head one bouncing golden curl had been snipped.
"Sally! What happened to you?" Harry exclaimed at the same time as she asked, "Harry! What happened to me?"
When they had sorted themselves out and Sally's parents had been located on Platform Nine, she gave Harry a quick kiss and said with a weak laugh before departing, "This, Harry, is why a girl would have to be mad to carry on a relationship with you!"
As the Weasleys busied themselves with arresting Emily Clemens, Harry collapsed on his trunk. Ginny Weasley approached him shyly, looking anxious. "Harry, are you all right?"
Harry smiled at her and said, "I think I'll be fine, Ginny."
Then Harry and Sirius walked through the barrier to the Dursleys.
