From the Ashes

Chapter One

Hermione looked nervously from Harry to the wall, and back again. His mischievous attitude and cynical nature was really starting to worry her. Back in grade school, Harry had always been somewhat of a rule-breaker and prankster (okay, well that was an understatement), but he had never seemed so evil before. His questions for her were mean-spirited, and they mocked everything that she had ever said and stood for. Hermione, though she was trying her hardest to maintain her famed composure, felt herself becoming more and more frazzled with every moment that passed between her and Harry.

"So, Miss Granger," Harry said, stressing the 'miss' in her name, "Why have you remained alone and husbandless all these lonely years? Surely a woman such as yourself would have been able to charm a man somewhere."

Hermione chose to ignore the insult to her character and ethics. "I haven't met the right man, Harry. And I could say the same for you! Why has a bachelor such as you remained holed up in his manor without a woman for so long? That isn't proper, you know."

Harry snickered. "I haven't had time for a wife, Granger. I've been working on far more important things over the past three years. I haven't been completely idle, you know. I've been working on a project that you could only dream of. And I'm close to completion."

"Oh really," Hermione said sarcastically, "And what exactly is this 'project' of yours? Is it something to make every person in the world a complete selfish bastard, Harry, because that is exactly what you have become over the past three years."

For a long moment, Harry stared at her angrily. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione felt her hand drop down automatically to her wand, where it was hidden beneath the folds of her black robes. They remained in that uneasy limbo for a long while, until Harry began to laugh quietly.

"If I've been a selfish bastard to you, Hermione, it is only because you deserved it. You have never done anything kind or sweet for me in the past few years, you have never even tried to see me. And you coming here makes it obvious that you knew all along where I lived. There is no reason for you shunning me for all these years. The act of leaving me alone has made you a selfish bitch, not me a bastard."

Hermione sat still, shocked. She had no idea what to say in response to that. It was true, she hadn't sought Harry out for three years. She had assumed that he wanted his space, after taking off like he had. Never in a million years had Hermione though that Harry actually missed her company. After their angry parting, she had assumed that he would never want to see her again.

"I didn't know you looked for me, Harry."

The Boy-Who-Lived got up from his chair, and paced angrily around the room, running a hand through his black hair. "Of course I missed you Hermione! You've been the biggest part of my life since I was eleven-years-old. When you were gone, I didn't know how to deal with myself. I think I might have gone a little crazy." Harry laughed insanely for a moment, and then quieted. "In all honesty, I missed you a lot, Granger."

Tears welled up at the back of Hermione's eyes, but she reminded herself that she had to keep her composure. There was still something about this new Harry that she did not trust, something her instinct told her was amiss. She had yet to pinpoint what was wrong, however. "I apologize for my indecent behavior towards you, Harry, and I hope that I can make up any pain that I have caused you. Before we have time to speak on those matters, however, I have something truly important to ask you."

Harry sat back down, and lounged in his chair. He snapped his fingers, and a pina coloda, complete with a green umbrella, appeared in his right hand. He serenely took a sip. "Fire away."

"There is something wrong in the Wizarding World, Harry. There is some dark magic lurking beneath the surface that has yet to show its face. The Order's intelligence has been picking up on secret meetings, but they have yet to penetrate the lairs of the dark wizards. We do not know who is good, and who is evil anymore. No one can trust anyone. Though the spread of dark magic isn't widely known, an uneasy sort of panic has fallen across the world. If we don't act quickly, the dark magic might spread, and it threatens already to take over the world. We are in over our heads."

Harry took another sip of his drink. "I still don't see how this involves me."

Hermione groaned exasperatedly. "Seriously, Harry, you can be the thickest git in the world sometimes. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone respects you, they all look up to you."

"Even if I'm crazy."

She glanced into Harry's eyes again, feeling intense pain at his words. Harry seemed then to be saner than he had for the rest of the evening. Hermione instantly dropped her eyes as he raised his pupils up to make eye contact with her. There were some things she just wasn't ready for yet.

"Harry, I don't believe that you're crazy. A bit unhinged, yes, but not crazy. We need your help, the world needs your help. If we have the Boy-Who-Lived on our side, then the fighting won't be so bad. We might even scare off the bad guys before anyone gets hurt."

Harry groaned in anger, and threw his drink across the room. It crashed against the wood paneling, the contents of the glass smearing against the wall and window. "Don't you understand, Hermione? I don't care about anyone getting hurt. I've been the hero for too long! I can't go on saving everybody; I'm nothing but a normal human! There is absolutely nothing special about me. You have a better chance of succeeding without me on your side. I'm just a liability to you."

That was the final straw. Hermione stood up from her chair, and crossed quickly over to where Harry sat. She dropped to her knees beside his chair, ignoring the incessant butterflies in her stomach. She laid a gentle hand on Harry's right forearm, gently running her fingertips across his smooth skin. "You never were a liability, Harry, and you never will be. I am asking for your help because I honestly and truly need it. I couldn't… I can't do this without you. The world cannot save itself without your help! We need you Harry, more than we've ever needed you before."

Harry glanced down at where her hand rested on his arm. He smiled weakly, and then laughed. "Where the hell do I sign, Granger?"

--

Luna Weasley, previously known as Luna Lovegood, sucked on the end of her quill. Her husband, Ron, was forever telling her what a bad habit that was, as the ink traveled straight to her brain and eliminated many brain cells. However, Luna was finding it quite hard to drop the age-old habit, and had taken to sucking on her quill whenever Ron was not around to admonish her.

She was currently stuck in the midst of finishing an article for the Daily Prophet. Straight out of school, Luna had been hired as a gossip reporter for the famous newspaper. She had worked quite hard on her column, and was one of the better-known writers amidst the paper. But her reputation for writing about the obscene and astounding things of the world had prevented her from rising any higher in her position. Not that Luna minded, of course. She preferred to write about the truth of Horn-skinned Wingbats than about the boring news of society.

Of course, working for the Prophet, Luna had to meet many deadlines. She often found this hard and annoying however, as her beloved Daddy's paper was based solely on the quality of articles, not the quantity. The Prophet was exactly the opposite. Luna had had many a disagreement with her boss over this trivial issue. At that moment, she was late yet again on finishing an article. This one was especially dear to Luna, however, and she had insisted on taking a long time to finish it. She was writing about the sightings of a Crumple-skinned Snorelack in north Surrey. Her father had had an obsession with those creatures at one time, and had dragged Luna into it as well. She was taking the opportunity to show the world that the CSS (as Luna liked to call them) truly did exist.

A knock sounded on Luna's door. She took the quill out of her mouth impatiently. "Come in!" she called, staring transfixed at the unfinished article in front of her.

The door opened to reveal Ginny Weasley and Amanda Schack standing in the frame. The former was smiling widely, clutching a long parchment in her left hand. In her right was a black leather bag, containing Merlin knew what. Luna, as much as she liked her husband's sister, could never understand why Ginny had to carry so many dangerous-looking beauty products with her wherever she went.

"Luna, dearest sister-in-law," Ginny chirped good-naturedly, "I have the best of news for you!"

"Unless it is about another sighting of Crumple-skinned Snorelacks, I honestly do not want to hear about it."

Amanda laughed, and walked into the room. "I think you'll want to hear about this, Luna," she said in her strong Boston accent. Amanda was an American witch, who had reported for the Witching Hour in Salem, Massachusetts, before transferring over to the Daily Prophet. She was very good at Charms, and extremely intelligent. She got on well with Hermione Granger.

"I've got a letter here. And it's from Hermione." Ginny smiled wider. "She says Harry's coming back with her! They should be to your house by six o'clock tonight! We've got to prepare some sort of welcome for them!"

Luna sighed. "I have to finish this, ladies. Feel free to overrun my house, however. Ronald is always the one to clean up anyways," she said dreamily.

Ginny and Amanda exchanged glances. "Just be home by six, Luna," Amanda said, "And be sure to bring some of your work with you. I'm sure Harry Potter would love to read about the various projects you've been working on over the years. He's got to catch up with you someway, eh?"

"If you say so."

Amanda laughed, and pulled Ginny with her out of the door. "Come on Gin, we've got tons of work to do. See you later, Luna."

Luna waved good-bye distractedly, she had already returned to her article. So, she mused thoughtfully, Harry Potter is returning to London. I wonder if I can speak to him about the creatures he saw near his home. He lived in the wilderness; he must have spotted at least one Horn-skinned Wingbat.

--

Ronald Weasley was bored. He had been sitting inside his cramped office for six hours, doing absolutely nothing. There was little work to be done in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, if truth were told. Since the last war, many more Muggles had been aware of the presence of wizards. In fact, in America, there were few Muggles who didn't know what a witch or a wizard was. Due to the revelation of such things, the gap between the two worlds had closed considerably. Less and less wizards were charming objects to torture Muggles, because the Muggles now knew better than to be frightened by cheap magic tricks.

He had had little to do over the past few weeks, as it was the summer and the days were long and easy. He hated being cooped up in his office, though, when he could have been outside playing Quidditch, or spending time with his wife. Ron hated being still.

Searching for some form of distraction, Ron shifted through his stack of papers and owls one last time. He hadn't received any fresh news in over a week. He hadn't gotten an assignment in a week. Hell, he hadn't even gotten his paycheck in a week. Things were caught in such a dreadful limbo that Ron was often afraid of dying of boredom.

There was some dark magic stirring about his world, but Ron felt powerless to stop it. In his opinion, he was neither the brain nor the brawn of his infamous trio. Hermione and Harry could have gotten along much better without him. After all, he was a burden on all of their missions. It was him who fell through into the Devils' Snare, and him who slowed everyone down when they were trying to catch Peter Pettigrew in their third year. If he hadn't been quite so stupid or slow, the entire course of events might have been much easier.

Because of his lack of ability, Ron had sent Hermione off on a crazy mission to find Harry Potter and bring him back into contact with the Wizarding World. If there was one thing he was quite good at, it was recognizing that he was in over his head. As a co-leader of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army, Ron was quick to call in backup when it was needed. As soon as he got wind of the severity of the problems with the dark world, Ron knew that Harry had to come back. There was no way they could win without him.

The problem was more severe than even Hermione knew. Albus Dumbledore had confided in Ron, and Ron alone, that the problem had been steadily growing more and more out of hand. It had started as a meeting between a few old Voldemort supporters. Quickly, the meetings became more frequent, and grew from a group of few bitter old men to a huge gathering of evildoers. They had some new "Golden Boy", but no one knew who this was, or where to find them. Even the famed intelligence of the Order of the Phoenix could not pick up on this information. That scared Ron more than anything. These weren't just any evildoers. These evildoers were smart, and knew what they were doing.

Ron took out his wand, and conjured up a ham sandwich and bottle of pumpkin juice. He tore into the sandwich hungrily, attempting to distract himself from such dark thoughts. As he chewed the fresh meat and bread, Ron became more and more aware of the noises just outside of his room.

Someone was walking outside of his door, pacing back and forth. They were doing so quietly, as if they did not want to be heard. There were soft voices in the hallway as well, and Ron could not recognize either voice. From their tone, they seemed to be angry and arguing. But Ron, whose ears were not the sharpest, could not make out a word of what they were saying.

Dropping the sandwich onto its plate, forgotten, Ron picked up his wand and walked towards the door slowly. Holding his wand in front of him like a dagger, Ron threw open the door very suddenly. What he saw beyond the doorframe caused him to gasp and stumble in shock.

"I can see that you're following in your father's footsteps, Weasley. Who knows, you might even have a huge, redheaded and freckle-faced family one-day. I bet that's what you've always dreamed of."

"Bloody hell," said Ron, dropping his wand to his side. "If it isn't Harry Potter. And my, what an insolent bastard you've become."