Chapter 5: Not Quite Friends but Not Quite Strangers

Harry found himself following Hermione and Ron into a cosy kitchen. It looked like it had been very recently done up. All around there were shiny marble effect work surfaces and rich beech cabinets and drawers. Small spot lights were set into the cupboards around the kitchen and it was these that were switched on, sending soft beams of light around the room. The place was spotlessly clean, and only the plates and cutlery drying by the sink gave away the fact that this kitchen was in every day use.

Harry looked round and shivered slightly. It almost reminded him of the Dursleys kitchen back in Little Whinging. Then he remembered that that kitchen had had a great deal more stainless steel and aluminium effect. It had never held any comfort for Harry.

"This is a really nice place you've got Hermione", said Harry, wondering how much of it was paid for by her parents.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" she looked around beaming. "Have a seat", she said indicating the circular table that stood in the corner nearest the curtained window, four seats arranged around it.

"So", said Harry, taking a seat, "How did you come about getting it?"

"Well it was a place that used to cause the ministry no end of trouble. I think Mr Weasley visited it on several occasions to sort out a vomiting toilet. Well that owner eventually left, and the ministry took the opportunity to buy it. It means that muggles can't move in again and cause trouble. I saw it advertised in the Daily Prophet and snapped it up. It is so convenient for ECAML."

"Err, the ECAML?" questioned Harry, suddenly reminded of a flashing badge with the word 'spew' written across it.

"Yes, the European Centre for Advanced Magical Learning, I am studying advanced Transfiguration."

"And whereabouts is that located?"

"Well, it is in a disused paint factory south of the river, but the only way to get to it is to catch a tube train from a station just south of here. The station is closed to muggles at certain times of the day – that is when the students arrive or leave."

"So, you are going to follow McGonagall then?"

"Professor McGonagall", Hermione reminded Harry, her face suddenly stern, "well, I'm not entirely sure yet. She certainly is keen for me to get to a standard whereby I can teach it at Hogwarts – she helped fill in the application forms for ECAML, discussed it with my parents, and helped me get the bursary that pays for this place."

"So," Harry started calmly, "you did well in your NEWTS?" sure of the answer he would get.

"Yes, I got Outstanding in all of them", Hermione said briskly, only a twinkling in her eyes giving away how delighted she was about this.

"That's great Hermione, congratulations, you definitely deserved it."

Ron was nodding in agreement, whilst Hermione turned an interesting shade of vermilion.

"How about you mate?" said Harry, turning to Ron.

"Oh, not as bad as I was expecting", replied Ron, nervously glancing at Hermione, "An Outstanding in Defence against the Dark Arts, an Exceeds Expectation in Transfiguration, and an Acceptable in Care of Magical Creatures. Not that it exactly matters, does it? Should have been an 'Outstanding, unless faced with You-know-who' really", he finished, gloomily.

Harry lost eye contact with Ron as he was saying this.

"Sorry, I forgot", Harry said, almost whispering.

"It's ok. I forget all the time – keep picking my wand up and trying to do things. When nothing happens it kind of makes me remember."

"Anyway", said Hermione, keen to steer the conversation away from Ron's problem, "How did you do Harry? Aren't you going to tell us?"

"Yeah", said Ron, looking up, "You went away before the results were released. Did you get yours?"

"Oh yeah", Harry remembered the moment bitterly, "this owl caught up with me as I was catching a lift with a truck driver. Scared him half to death I think, not that I understand swearing in Albanian, but I caught his drift. So he stopped the truck and shoved me out, leaving me in the middle of this forest, miles from anywhere."

"But did the owl bring good news?" Hermione pressed on, giving Ron, who was grinning, a determined look.

"Well, I got an Outstanding for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Naturally", said Hermione, a smile flickering across her face.

"But, I failed the rest", Harry said, resignedly, "P's in Transfiguration, Charms and a D in Potions."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. Are you going to re-sit them?" Hermione said, at the same time as Ron asked:

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Oh, good idea Ron" said Hermione, looking worriedly at Harry, "and how about some toast or something?"

"Yeah, tea and toast would be great, thanks", said Harry, remembering how hungry he had felt sitting in the restaurant with Rita and Colin. Harry had pushed his appalling NEWT results to the back of his mind, but now the feeling of disappointment was firmly back, accompanied by hollow laughter that had troubled his imaginings before.

Whilst he was thinking this, Hermione had stood up and started bustling around the kitchen. Her wand out, she soon had a kettle boiling merrily away on the stove and several slices of thick brown bread under the grill. Without looking over her shoulders she was sending plates and knives and jars of jam and marmalade flying out of cupboards and onto the table where Ron and Harry sat watching.

"So, are you going to appeal, Harry?" Hermione said, her face half in a cupboard that Harry could see was filled with various bottles and jars.

"When I go to the ministry I am going to go and see the Wizarding Exam Authority - explain about all the stuff that was going on. Dumbledore will have told them about the attack on Neville. I reckon they will understand."

"Of course they will Harry – Professor Dumbledore will back you all the way. It's not right that you had to sit those exams with that hanging over your head." said Hermione, giving him a reassuring smile as she set down a plate of toast in the centre of the table.

"Tuck in!"

There was a dignified silence as Harry, filled up his plate with toast and eagerly spread it with butter and marmalade. The other two were doing the same, and soon Hermione had brought a steaming teapot to the table as well.

As he ate Harry started to remember the events at Hogwarts that had had such a pronounced effect on his exams. All through the sixth year and most of the seventh year he had worked, with Hermione's help, incredibly hard at his studies. He was determined to get on a worthwhile career path and had consistently been graded E by all his teachers. It was two weeks before the exams that things started to go wrong.

…He was lying in bed in the round dormitory at the top of the Gryffindor tower. He was listening intently for a clue as to what the strange noise could be that had woken him.

"Harry", Ron's voice hissed through the deep curtains hung around the bed. His voice sounded small and frightened, "Harry", he repeated, slightly louder this time.

"What?" Harry whispered back, though he knew what the answer was going to be.

"Did, did you hear it?"

"Yeah". Harry had sat bolt up-right in bed now, determined to investigate. He flung the drapes away and stepped out into the darkened dormitory. "Lumos", he muttered, watching as his shaking wand tip lit up. He peered around, pausing as he waited for Ron, struggling with his drapes, to join him, his wand also lit.

"What do you reckon it was?" Ron's voice was still low and shaken.

"I don't know", replied Harry, scanning the room. Seamus' bed was silent, as was Dean's, the drapes still around the beds, but then Harry came to the fifth and final bed.

"Neville!" Harry had found his voice, and almost shouted in his anxiety to cross the room, but it was too late. The drapes around the bed had been torn down; there were signs of a struggle, strewn sheets, and here and there red flecks. Neville Longbottom was gone.

"Quick", Harry had regained control of his voice, and with a meaningful look to the other two beds whispered to Ron, "come on, let's go".

The two of them raced from the dormitory, down the staircase, through the common room and crawled out of the portrait hole.

As soon as they stepped into the corridor they knew something terribly wrong had happened. On the floor in front of them, face down, was the portrait of the Fat Lady that usually guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. It had been torn from the wall by, what Harry could only imagine as, a hugely powerful spell.

Urging Ron to help they lifted the portrait up and propped it against the wall. The Fat Lady was slumped in the bottom corner, a livid purple bruise prominent on her right cheek. It was already turning a repulsive green and it was obvious that she was out cold and could not give them any clue as to the perpetrator of this crime.

 They hurried away from the damaged portrait and into the deserted corridors, making their way as quickly as possible down to the entrance hall.

It wasn't long before Harry started to notice more strange things; a hidden passageway blocked, staircases changed, suits of armour and statues lying across their path. It took them nearly half an hour to get down to the entrance hall by which time they were sore and exhausted.

They ran out onto the first floor landing and were suddenly brought up short. Two figures were in the entrance hall below them. They stood silhouetted against the moonlight shining in through the great open doors of the castle. They were both hooded but instinct told Harry who they were.

The figure on the right was smaller, her hood barely concealing long hair that hung down her back.

"Bellatrix Black!" Harry whispered to Ron.

But it was the second, much taller figure on the right that really scared Harry.

"How can you be here?" Harry's voice was trembling again as he spoke. He didn't dare take his gaze away from that figure, but could sense that Ron was cowering beside him on the floor.

"Dear Albus is losing his touch I fear", a cool voice slithered its way across the hall to them. It was a voice that contained only hatred and malice. It was a voice of pure evil - the voice of Lord Voldemort.

"No!" Harry's voice carried no defiance, "Dumbledore is still headmaster".

"Soon the prophecy will be fulfilled", Lord Voldemort swept over Harry's stuttering talk, "my faithful servant here has helped me deal with the, err, anomaly". Here the woman started to rock with suppressed laughter. "Now the way is clear for you and I."

Harry could only stare back in silent horror.

"I will return, Harry Potter, at the time chosen, when our fates shall collide and only one shall remain. Watch for my coming when the sun seems to wane and die!"

Two weeks time – a partial solar eclipse was scheduled for two weeks time – the day of their final NEWT.

The hooded figures had turned and glided from the Entrance Hall. Harry was left staring down at the slit of moonlight, it was empty. Behind him, pandemonium set in. Teachers arrived, prefects and the head boy and girl came careering down the stairs, evidently held back until now by some unseen force.

Neville was discovered cowering under a statue of a startled looking witch. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him alive, but moving closer he noticed that Neville was twitching violently, and did not speak a word. Dumbledore moved in and had Neville taken from the school and immediately sent to St Mungo's.

"Just like Frank and Alice…" Harry heard Dumbledore say as they watched Neville depart. Harry looked at Dumbledore closely, the familiar sparkle in his eyes had gone, his once jovial face was contorted with stress and anger…

Harry pulled himself out of his horrific memories only to be confronted by a half eaten slice of cold toast he had half crushed in his hand. Hermione had pushed her plate away and had turned to face him, her eyes carefully scrutinising his face.

"Here, have another slice of toast, unless you aren't hungry of course."

"Thanks Hermione", said Harry talking a freshly slice from the stack in the centre. He took a large bite. The familiar taste seemed to sooth his mind somewhat, though this didn't seem to prevent Hermione from continuing her thorough scan of his face.

"You look terrible, Harry."

"I'b fine, fanks", said Harry through a mouthful of toast.

"Don't talk with your mouth full! You are as bad as Ron."

Harry looked at Ron who seemed to be about to say something in objection, then he realised that he was halfway through a mouthful of toast and thought better of it. He satisfied himself by chewing away on his food whilst scowling at Hermione. Harry let himself finish his mouthful before talking again.

"I'm fine. Honest. Nothing a long hot bath and bed can't cure."

"Are you going to tell us what you've been up to? You just mentioned Albania."

"Yeah, I took a little trip to Albania", said Harry, then glancing down at his tattered clothes, "A camping trip - I've just been sleeping rough for a while." But Hermione didn't appear to be appeased by this, "Can't it wait until tomorrow night? I promise I will tell you everything tomorrow."

Hermione continued to stare into his eyes, but eventually with a slight sigh she muttered, "Ok".

"So, what are you doing with yourself at the moment Ron?"

Ron had also finished his toast. He pushed the plate away and took a sip from his mug of tea before replying.

"Well, I have to stay at St Mungo's for the whole day when I go there, so it is a bit difficult to get a full time job at the moment. I have got a job in the records department at the Ministry – I think my dad put in a word for me, because without magic I work about ten times as slow as the other people there."

"So, what about in the future?"

"Well, I am hoping to get a job in Muggle relations. I guess I haven't really got the right NEWTs but having lived a totally wizarding life up until now…I should be able to do something. I'll be like Martin Miggs! If not I suppose I will have to get in touch with the Muggle Liaison office and see if I can get a muggle job."

"Do they have to do a lot of that?"

"Well, yeah, with squibs and people. There are a lot of people born into the magical world who can't do enough magic to make a living. I am just one of them now."

"What about Filch?"

"I don't want to be the school caretaker Harry!"

"Sorry - just a thought. So what is it like…?"

"You mean without magic?"

"Yeah" said Harry uncertainly. He kept hazarding glances at Hermione whose eyes were fixed on Ron, a frown etched across here forehead.

"I don't know, I guess it…I mean I - I just feel empty. It's like I'm missing something inside."

"Right", Harry mumbled, his insides seemed to have just disappeared.

"St Mungo's don't think it will be fatal", said Ron, a little too matter-of-factly.

"Of course it's not fatal", snapped Hermione.

"They reckon they should be able to find a counter-curse – I'm not like a squib, I do have the ability to channel magic – so they think they just need to do something and I will be right as rain, again."

"Well that sounds encouraging", Harry replied, his insides slowly returning, and then half to himself, "I should have got answers out of Voldemort before I killed him"

"What was that Harry?" Hermione had turned from Ron, and her eyes were now fixed on Harry.

"Oh, nothing. I said tomorrow - ok?"

But despite saying that, Harry felt that something important had just flashed across his vision. Suddenly taken by an urge he glanced around, but his eyes only came to rest on his cloak which he had thrown absently onto the work top behind him.

"Ok Harry", Hermione replied, following his gaze with a curious look.

"Anyway", Ron pushed his chair back and stood up. Both Harry and Hermione's attention was drawn back to the table and Ron who said, "If you don't mind, I have to be out of here by seven and so I am going to get some kip."

"Ok, Ron, goodnight", said Hermione, starting to send the dirty plates and things towards the sink where hot water was filling it up rapidly.

"It is really great to have you back Harry", said Ron, pausing to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's good to be back, Ron. See you tomorrow."

Hermione watched Ron leave the room before she turned back to the dishes. She seemed to have everything under control so Harry remained seated at the table, watching as their dirty plates quickly transferred themselves to the draining board, glistening with purple soapy bubbles.

"Ok Harry, do you want to go and sit in the living room?"

"Yeah, sure."

***

Harry walked back out of the kitchen and took the door to his left which led into the living room. He paused in astonishment at the sight that greeted him. Hermione had done the lounge up to resemble the Gryffindor common room. There was an imposing stone fireplace and around it were drawn two very dilapidated, but comfy looking maroon leather armchairs. On the far side of the fire sat an equally dilapidated sofa. In between the chairs and the sofa there was a coffee table, upon which Harry could see various issues of Witch Weekly, the Quibbler and pull out sections from the Sunday Prophet. On a shelf below this were a collection of neatly stacked books. In fact, Harry noticed, the room was filled with books. There was a bookcase behind the door, and another to the left of the fire, both crammed with books. The wallpaper was red with small golden wings and the red carpet finished off the Gryffindor theme.

"Hermione, I love this house."

"Thanks Harry", said Hermione following him into the room and taking a seat at the far end of the sofa. She drew her feet up under her and leant back. "I went back up to Hogwarts about three weeks after we had finished to borrow some books from Professor McGonagall – I met Mr Filch throwing some chairs from our common room out", She gestured to the chair Harry had just taken a seat in, "He said something about replacing them every few years. Well I asked if I could take them off his hands, and he agreed. I got them sent down and installed the next day."

"That's great – they are so comfy."

"Yes, they are", Hermione replied, resting her head on a cushion she had put behind it.

"You look tired Hermione; it's no problem if you just want to go to bed."

"Oh, don't worry; I don't have any lectures tomorrow."

Harry suddenly realised he didn't have any idea what day it was. He had a vague memory of seeing a date at the Post Office but couldn't remember what it could have been.

"What day is it Hermione?"

Hermione looked slightly put out for a second, "It is Wednesday, the 12th of August to be exact. No lectures on a Thursday and only a practical session on Friday morning. I love the second half of the week!"

"Bit better than your third year at Hogwarts?"

"Oh definitely, I never ever want to do anything like that again."

"I can imagine", but before Hermione could say anything further Harry had continued, anxious to get something off his chest, "Look Hermione, thanks for sending me that letter. I was honestly wondering whether anyone would want to talk to me at all after I just left like that."

"Of course we would Harry."

"How did you know I would go to the Post Office in Diagon Alley?"

Hermione shrugged, "I guessed that you would want to get in touch with Ron's dad. I thought you would probably try and arrange an inconspicuous meeting rather than march right on into the Ministry."

Harry laughed, "You know me too well."

"Yes I do."

"Oh, and speaking of people who know me too well. I met Rita Skeeter on my way here."

"She wrote an excellent article concerning Fudge's latest attempts to get back into the Ministry", said Hermione, whose voice to Harry's surprise, contained a hint of respect.

"Well, I don't think the article that will appear in tomorrows Prophet will be quite as truthful."

"She can't write anything derogatory about you Harry – I still have her secret to reveal, remember?"

"Well, I am not sure that is enough to stop her now. I guess she is on a roll after the Fudge story."

"At least you are out of the spotlight here; you won't have Malfoy quoting it behind your back every time you walk anywhere."

"That's true – I am just fed to the back teeth with the whole thing. Sometimes I wish Voldemort had come out on top."

"Harry", Hermione seemed stunned, "that is a dreadful thing to say."

"I know – that is how much I hate people poking and prying into my life."

"You are just going to have to accept it. It is a clichéd thing to say, but you did save the world. I wouldn't be surprised if we saw people across the world writing books and making films about your life."

"But", said Harry, exasperated by the conversation, "There are bigger things out there."

"What do you mean?"

"Come outside", said Harry, glancing at the French Windows at the back of the room, "I'll show you".

"Ok", said Hermione, uncurling herself from her comfy position and heading over to the doors, which she unlocked and stepped through.

Harry followed Hermione out through the French Windows and out onto the little patio behind the house. It was very dark considering they were still well within the city of London. For some reason the vague orange glow of the city was subdued tonight.

They walked down the garden, stepping on grass that crackled under their feet. It had been a long hot summer even here in England. At the end of the garden stood a dilapidated shed, with withered pot plants barely visible through a dusty window. Harry and Hermione stopped at the end, leaning on the fence and looking up at the immeasurable expanse above them.

Harry swept his arm across the sky, "There, that is what I mean - What does Harry Potter mean to the rest of this infinite universe?"

Hermione stared up at the stars. "I don't think that is quite the point Harry."

"It is – if a meteorite was suddenly deflected onto a collision course with the earth it would be irrelevant whether I defeated Voldemort or not."

"But that is something we can't control. Harry – you chose to defeat Voldemort, you chose to 'save the world' – that is what sets apart your achievement. You could have turned aside at any moment, but you kept true to your course and you won."

"I suppose you're right – as ever!"

"Of course I'm right!" Hermione replied playfully, "So what has brought about all this stargazing mumbo-jumbo?"

Harry laughed, "I forgot you don't have the 'Inner Eye'!"

"Hey, don't bring that up again!" said Hermione, also laughing.

"If you must know, I did quite a bit of star-gazing during my, err, holiday. I never thought about it before, but looking up, you can see the Black family tree"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it was a tradition in the Black family to name the children after celestial objects. I didn't pick it up during OWL astronomy that year, and then of course I dropped it at NEWT. I met an English astronomer who had gone to Albania to view that solar eclipse. We didn't talk for very long, but he did start naming a few objects he could see."

"Draco, Regulus, Bellatrix, Andromeda; they are all there. Although some of them you can only see in the southern sky."

"What about…?" Hermione started timidly.

But Harry could read Hermione.

"Yeah, Sirius is up there as well – you can't see him yet; it doesn't rise until the sun is up. Later in the year though. Strange star Sirius, it almost looks like it is winking at you when you see it"

"Harry…" and as he looked over to her he could see tiny pricks of light dancing on the tears swelling in her eyes, "…that's beautiful", she finished, her voice almost a whisper.

Hermione managed to tear her eyes away from the sky to look at Harry.

"I don't understand how you are acting so calm."

"What do you mean?" Harry kept his gaze firmly on Hermione.

"Well, I thought you would be so much angrier than this. After what happened, after what you have endured. That final year, well for you it must have been terrible."

"Hermione….", but here Harry hesitated unsure of what, or how much he should tell Hermione.

"You can tell me anything. You know that Harry?"

"Yes", Harry sighed, "The reason I survived was because I knew that everyone else was suffering."

Hermione was about to object but he waved her away.

"No, I don't mean everyone had to put up with what the things that I did. But Voldemort made everyone's life miserable. He affected us all, and when I was fighting Voldemort I didn't stand alone, you were all standing with me. That was our victory Hermione, it was Ron's, it was Dumbledore's, it was everyone's victory."

"And it took a trip to Albania for you to realise this?"

"Well, you know me."

"And, what about afterwards?"

"Afterwards?"

"Yes, how can you be so calm with Ron the way he is?"

"I guess I'm just thankful that nothing worse happened to you. Of all the things going on, the thing I most feared was losing one of you two."

"But you could have kept us better informed Harry!"

"I know", Harry sighed, "I understand now what Dumbledore was talking about that morning in his study after the battle at the Ministry of Magic."

"What did he say?"

"He said something about protecting me by only telling me stuff that was essential. He said he cared more for my happiness than for me knowing the truth."

"How does this apply to me Harry?"

"Don't you see", said Harry, "I acted exactly like Dumbledore did – I cared more for the happiness of you – and Ron – than I did for letting you know the truth. I thought I was protecting you from Voldemort, but I realise now I was playing into his hands."

"But Harry…."

"If I had told you", Harry was determined to finish, "about Voldemort, about his plans, his motives, you would never have chosen to help me in the Great Hall"

"Harry, we would have come no matter what."

"No you wouldn't, it was supposed to be between me and him. Somehow he figured out that if other people were there, it would be to his advantage, not mine. Dumbledore knew this and he told me, but I decided to keep you and Ron in the dark because I thought you wouldn't figure out in time, you would be too late and it would just be him and me, like it was supposed to be."

Harry turned away from her. He couldn't face her anymore, despite the fact that it was dark. His thoughts drifted to the shadowy places in Albania and a desire took him – he wanted to be in that cavern, lying on top of that dais, lying in the dark, in the silence, and alone. He would be next…

"Harry…."

A warm hand gripped his arm and pulled him round. For the second time that night he felt Hermione's body pushed against him, rocking gently with tears that didn't come to him, but poured from her.

In his mind Harry saw the cavern suddenly blaze with an iridescent light. The dais had cracked and fallen and a huge tear rent a hole in the roof of the cave. Jagged pointers of rock and stone fell all around and then there was sunlight, birds singing and a single, silent pile of rock and stones. One half of the jet black dais could be seen pointing upwards out of the pile like a withered finger rising out of a clenched and blackened fist.

Harry shuddered.

"Come on", Hermione sobbed, "let's go back inside."

His arm still around her shoulders, Harry led Hermione back up the parched lawn and in through the windows.

***

Some time later Harry found himself lying in a cold, unfamiliar bed, staring at the dappled beams of reflected moonlight that danced and played on the ceiling of the spare room he was sleeping in.

He had seen Hermione, still sobbing gently, to her room then returned downstairs to lock the doors and turn off lights. He felt entirely responsible for causing Hermione to break down like that, and it was this playing on his mind that was preventing him from sleeping. This was despite the exhaustion of his long evening that caused his body to feel weighted down, like it was carrying lead ballast.

As he lay there, the oppressive silence of suburbia drew in around him. In Albania, sleeping outdoors mostly, he had been always accompanied by birds in the trees, the wind playing through meadows of long grass. He had grown used to these nightly noises, and now deprived of them by double glazing and the ceaseless march of urbanisation he was forced to reflect on the tiny inner voices that had badgered him over the last few months.

He was glad he had started to get some of his feelings out in the open, but something about Hermione's reaction told him he hadn't approached it in quite the most appropriate way.

Tomorrow he would explain what he had been doing since they parted at Kings Cross at the end of June. He would try to put into words how he was feeling during his long search of Albania, and how, now it was over, he would try and bring some order to his life.

With these thoughts lapping against the shore of his mind, Harry Potter finally succumbed to the deep pull of sleep. As the silver moonshine rippled across the room, the quiet that had enveloped the street outside finally pervaded this little corner of the world, and the boy slept peacefully and undisturbed.