Vasi Extremi

by AijouSakura

He had needed more time. But time was not his to have, and so the plans had to be set in motion. Led by their child protegy, the children would fight and die. For he would dominate. The Boy Who Lived would Die. Vires Incommitatus Redone!

3. et ab integro vita incipit

And Life Begins Again

et ab integro vita incipit

It tasted rather like it looked; an airy combination of candy floss, chewing gum, salmon, and shoelaces, and on the whole the taste could have been worse. It was also remarkably potent. Harry was barely able to set down the cup before he felt a wave of fatigue sweep over him, and the cup had only contained a few drops.

On the first night, when the glass had been completely full, Harry had fallen asleep instantly, and had found that not only was he fully aware that he was dreaming, he also had complete control over the dream. That control would disappear, Dumbledore had told him, and indeed it was true. On the second night, the amount of pink liquid had dropped slightly, and Harry had struggled to keep himself in control, to prevent himself from getting swept away with the "current" of the dream. And he could no longer fly.

On the third night he consumed the same amount of the potion, and learned once again how to control the new world he found himself in. By the time he woke in the morning, he was once more the albeit flightless master of his dream. The next night the level in the cup had dropped once more, and by the time Harry adjusted he could no longer create plants.

Thus the nights settled into a pattern. Dumbledore, or whoever filled the mysterious cup, always gave Harry two nights to adjust to the reduction of potion before dropping the quantity, and with each change Harry lost a part of his ability.

Now, on the last night of summer holidays - and therefore of the potion, Harry drank the few drops that clung to the bottom of the glass and watched with mild amazement as this time the cup blurred for a moment and then vanished completely. His next thoughts were covered in a sleepy haze and he quickly lay down on the bed as his consciousness slipped away. When his awareness returned he found himself in a dream, and was painfully conscious that for the life of him he could do no more than walk around and, with intense concentration, teleport to another visible location in the dream. He could wake up when he wished, of course, and when he blinked twice the flagstones would glow neon and play a strange techno song, but Harry strongly suspected that he would lose the latter talent the next day, when he stopped taking the potion altogether.

When the dream began to lose its interest Harry woke himself, and then sent himself back to sleep. The potion was still strong in his blood, and Harry had no difficulty maintaining his control, although he noticed quickly that he now had to blink three times to activate the flagstones, confirming his decision. By the end of the evening, although he retained his motor skills, he could no longer 'play the funky music', or however it went. The loss saddened him slightly.

Finally Harry looked down at his watch, which strangely enough tended to be rather accurate whenever he managed to dream it, and saw that it was half- past nine. He woke himself with a yawn and got out of bed as the silver snakes on his headboard hissed greetings in his ear.

One of the disadvantages of Dreamwalking, he reflected as he pulled on his clothes, was that if he tried to maintain control he always woke feeling drained and tired. Part of him wondered if he would ever be able to get a decent night's sleep again, for although Dumbledore had indicated that it was a distinct possibility, with Dumbledore one could never quite be sure.

Harry spent the next twenty minutes completing his packing, shoving everything he could find into his chest. His skill at packing apparently had not increased, for although everything had fit nicely at one point, he found himself reduced to sitting on the trunk until he heard the locks click into place. He jammed on the safety catches, and then left it sitting in the corner where he would be able to find it later on while he went to breakfast.

As on the first night, most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were at the table when Harry came down, including Emmuline Vance, whom he hadn't seen since she had come to escort him at the beginning of his fifth year, and Elphias Dodge, who had also vanished since that day. They greeted him warmly before returning to the conversation they appeared to be having with Kinsley Shacklebolt. Harry caught words in disapproving tones about "Diggle and his hat," and maintained his straight face with some difficulty.

Ron and Hermione had saved a seat for him with Fred, George, and Bill, Charlie having left two days previously to attend to his dragons. The five of them appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation, which the rest of the table was studiously ignoring.

".officially opening on Tuesday," Fred was saying loudly as Harry sat down. He flashed him a grin before continuing. "But, you know, we'll probably end up delivering as of Monday, what with so many orders and all."

Bill was slowly shaking his head in amazement.

"I don't know how you do it," he confessed with a wry smile. "Really, I mean . you didn't even finish school!"

Fred and George exchanged looks of triumph. At exactly the same moment, Mrs. Weasley huffed very loudly at the other end of the table.

"We've been saying it all along, haven't we?" George pointed out. "School . it doesn't matter. When you've got it you've got it, and no NEWTs are going to change anything."

"Anyways," Fred added. "We've both got our OWLs in Muggle Studies, so no matter what else happens we can always fall back on Muggle Relations."

Hermione instantly shot Harry a superior look. Harry raised one eyebrow, trying his hardest to convey the expression of indifference and superiority that everyone else seemed to have mastered. Whether or not it worked, Hermione turned her attention to Ron.

"But it'll never come to that," George finished off with a dramatic flourish.

In what appeared to be an attempt to ignore Hermione, Ron leaned forwards on his elbows.

"So," he said. "Do we get any discounts for being fellow Weasleys?" Down the table, Ginny stopped talking to Mundungus and echoed her agreement.

Fred and George looked at each other and grinned wickedly.

"A'course not!" George exclaimed. "You pay extra."

"For hindering us on the path to true comedic excellence." Fred beamed.

Ginny's expression turned suddenly to mirror their own, and she pointed an accusatory fork at her brothers. "But without the trials and tribulations of family life you would have never had to resort to practical jokes," she protested fervently. "Why, without us you might both have gone into Arithmancical Finances!"

Everyone shuddered, except for Hermione, who looked torn between being offended and amused. She took a defensive bite of scrambled eggs. At the other end of the table, Mrs. Weasley looked wistful.

Suddenly Mr. Weasley rose from his seat at the end of the table. "You know, we had better hurry up," he called down. "The express leaves at eleven, and - Merlin, it's already ten, and Ron, are you packed yet?"

"Yea-no," Ron replied, shoving a forkful of sausage into his mouth and swallowing quickly. "I'll go do that now, why don't I?"

"Brilliant plan." Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked appealingly over at Harry, Muggle Studies apparently forgotten. "You're packed too, aren't you? Ginny packed this morning, and I've been ready for ages."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I did it a little while ago."

"Oh, good." She looked very relieved.

Harry spent the next half-hour talking with Hermione - or, rather, listening as she talked very quickly about all of the courses she planned to take, all the homework she expected to have, and how the introduction of the new Order teachers would impact the pedagogy of the school. He had initially tried to enter the conversation, but discovered early on that she didn't actually notice whether or not he spoke. It was easier in the long run to keep quiet, inserting appreciative nods and murmurs of agreement.

Eventually Ron came rushing down the stairs, a piece of toast still hanging out of his mouth. Harry and Hermione got up from the breakfast table, followed by the rest of the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley instantly erupted in a burst of energy, and her wooden spoon appeared in her hand. She whirled it around, shouting out orders as she pointed.

"Fred, George, be dears and get Harry's trunk, will you? And Hermione's, of course. Bill, could you see to Ginny? And make sure that she hasn't forgotten her - Ginny! Of course I'm not embarrassing you, dear. He won't really be going through your trunk, anyway. Just - all right, never mind. FRED! GEORGE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING STILL STANDING THERE? Shoo! Ah, Harry, dear, I think that was your trunk that just came sailing down the stairs? You should move it, or it'll crash with Hermione's, and what a mess THAT would be. Oh, and Arthur! There you are. Is everything ready?"

Mr. Weasley, who had wisely chosen to stand inconspicuously at the far edge of the room, straightened quickly.

"Yes, dear," he replied. "There are two cars waiting out front, as soon as we're ready for them."

"Well then?" Mrs. Weasley raised her arms in exasperation. "What are we waiting for? The train leaves in just under a half hour, doesn't it? We can't have them being late." She cast a fond look at the children. "Come, come, we have no time to waste. Children in the first car, is it?"

Mr. Weasley nodded silently. He crossed the hall and opened the front door, beckoning.

"All trunks and such should go in first," he said. "Stand away, if you would? I wouldn't want to summon any of you by accident. Perfect. Now, accio."

With a flick of his wrist, all of the trunks and bags suddenly lifted off of the ground and sped towards the man. He stood his ground as they approached him, and then stepped back at the last moment, redirecting the luggage with a wave of his wand. They soared through the open door and vanished with a faint *pop*. Harry blinked.

"All right," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, come on, let's go. And Bill? Would you come with them? I think it should be safe, but you never know." Bill nodded with a smile and walked over to the door. "Come on," Mr. Weasley beckoned. "Just go through the door."

Shrugging, the four of them approached the front door. When he looked out, however, Harry could no longer see the street in front of the house. Instead, the space had become dark, and slightly musty. Hermione, standing ahead of him, hesitated slightly, but Mr. Weasley gave her a reassuring smile and she swallowed and stepped through the doorway. Again the soft popping noise echoed, and before he could consider the implications of such, Harry followed Hermione through the door.

In the manner of all magical passages, everything became rather foggy and unclear, and then suddenly Harry found himself landing unceremoniously - on the seat of an extremely spacious car. Beside him, Hermione was struggling to do up the seatbelt, which kept trying to slip into the plush upholstery. Harry righted himself and did the same. There were two other seats to his left, he noticed, and the car door was open, revealing a familiar musty blackness. Through the door he could hear voices.

"No, Ginny, not you next. Go on, Bill." The *pop* again, and then Bill came flying headfirst through the open door, landing directly beside Harry. Seconds later Ron followed, and then the door closed.

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked Bill, who was now seated properly and trying to help Ron. "Wasn't she supposed to come with us?"

Bill nodded, digging into the cushioning for the seatbelt.

"She's sitting up front with Dad," he answered distractedly, glaring at the silver buckle. "Bloody contraption, no good sense." Harry laughed.

Indeed, almost instantly the passenger-side door opened and Ginny appeared. She managed to remain poised, and looked back at Ron with the cheeky grin that was the trademark of the Weasley family. He glared at her.

On the other side, Mr. Weasley stuck his head in.

"Everyone all set?" he asked. "Not missing anything?" There was a collective murmur of assent, and he nodded happily. "Good," he said. The rest of his body followed his head, and then he pulled the door of the car shut. "If that's it, then, I think I should be able to get this started." He touched the steering wheel of the car with his wand and muttered something. Suddenly the front windshield, which had been a dull black before, turned clear, revealing a street filled with houses. Behind, Harry could now see another car.

Mr. Weasley turned around with a conspiratorial wink.

"It took a while," he said in a low voice, "but I finally got the Ministry to let me use one of their special cars." He waved a hand around the interior of the vehicle, indicating many knobs that Harry did not normally see in an automobile. "It's not much, certainly not compared with the old Ford, but it's still something, isn't it?"

Bill chuckled. "Someday you'll get in trouble, you know," he said. His father grinned. He touched his wand to the ignition and the car rumbled to a start.

"Let's be off then," he said cheerfully, as the vehicle began to move.

~*~*~*~

Getting onto the Hogwarts Express had actually been more simple than Harry had anticipated. Mrs. Weasley had offered to remain at home to look after Grimmauld place, the two Ministry cars had pulled up to Kings Cross station at seven minutes before eleven, which considerably reduced the number of goodbyes. In fact, for some reason having to do with a varied magical signature and barrier-control mechanisms, all of the Order members save Moody and the three teaching professors remained in the car, waving cheerfully from the windows and wishing him the best of luck this next year.

There were no wizards on the Muggle platform so Harry, along with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, loaded their trunks onto carts and sped through the magical barrier, relieved to see the scarlet engine waiting patiently for them to arrive. The platform manager, a balding man with a garish orange uniform, took their carts with a smile and a wave of his wand.

"Well, we're not late, then," Ginny observed in a satisfied tone. Hermione gave her a look of pure horror. "Not -" she added quickly, "that there was any chance of it, of course. Just . pointing out a fact. Stop glaring at me!"

Hermione sniffed and turned away, stopping just before the door of the train. She bounced slightly, beckoning to Ron.

"Come on," she called. "We're still prefects, remember? We have to meet with Professor Snape about our duties."

Ron, standing with his father and Bill, turned and gave a loud groan.

"I'd been trying to forget that," he complained. "Why does it have to be Snape, of all people? Why not . someone else?"

Hermione shrugged slightly. "It just isn't, I guess. Maybe he's the best one qualified? Who knows. But, he definitely won't be happy if we're late. And if the train leaves without us, you won't be happy either."

"I don't know," Ron protested, coming up to join her. "I could probably get used to it if I really needed to." Hermione stared at him pointedly and he coloured. "All right, fine. Bye, Dad!"

The two of them waved quickly and disappeared into the Hogwarts Express.

Harry looked over at Lupin. He was talking quietly to Hestia and Mundungus, and appeared to be gathering his bags together. The other two also picked up their belongings, and together they began to walk down the platform.

"The teacher's car is this way," Hestia explained. "I'll see the two of you soon, of course, dears." She smiled warmly at Mr. Weasley and Moody. "Arthur, Alistair, I'll let you both know how this new life suits as soon as I've settled in, and I'm sure I'll see you soon."

It appeared that blushing was a family trait, Harry noted, as the tips of Mr. Weasley's ears turned a very faint shade of red. Beside him, Ginny giggled.

"Dad," she exclaimed. Her father coughed awkwardly.

"Virginia, Harry," he said, trying to regain his dignity. "I think you should get on the train now, it's bound to be leaving soon, and Hermione did make a good point. I'll keep in touch with both of you." He smiled. "Have a wonderful year . and do be safe."

To his left, Moody took a large step forwards. His magical eye spun around feverishly in his head.

"Have a great time," he said gruffly. "And remember, you can never be too careful. These are dangerous times, and even Hogwarts isn't perfectly safe. I'm sure you're smart enough to understand that, both of you. So, you look out for the younger ones. And the older ones too. And if you ever have any problems, well just talk to Remus or Hestia. Or Dung. And owl us if anything comes up. I've got your words?"

He looked at them suspiciously, and for an instant the electric blue orb stopped spinning, fixing itself directly on Harry, who swallowed nervously.

"Yeah," he replied. "Of course. Thanks for everything, Mr. Weasley."

With that he turned away and boarded the steps to the Hogwarts Express.

~*~*~

"Harry!" a voice called as he walked by a compartment. Ginny had abandoned him earlier for a group of the Gryffindor girls, and Harry had been mildly afraid that he'd end up spending the duration of the ride with the Third-
Year Slytherins. He smiled in relief when the door slid open and Dean
beckoned to him.

He was there, along with Seamus, Neville, and Colin, who was sliding over to make room on the seat. Harry fell into the space as the door closed behind him. He looked around the compartment.

"What about Ron and Hermione?" he asked. The others looked mildly apologetic, but Seamus grinned.

"With their duties as prefects they'll be busy for most of the trip anyways," he said. "At any rate, we did the best we could. Ron could probably fit in here, and Hermione can sit with the girls just this once."

Colin shuddered.

"The girls," he repeated. The others grinned.

"Well, she is a girl, isn't she?" Seamus replied. "I mean, she shares a dorm with them, doesn't she? She'll survive."

Harry nudged Colin to the side slightly, trying to get the door hinge away from his shoulder.

"So," he said, trying to break the silence that came up, "what did you guys do over the summer?"

Instantly Dean beamed, and Seamus gave a huge grin. Even Neville seemed to cheer himself slightly, although Colin frowned.

"Oh, it was brilliant," Dean exclaimed. "My Mum decided that she wanted to learn more about Magic, so we took rooms in the Leaky Cauldron for two weeks. She pretended to be a squib - and did you know that Muggles can actually ride on broomsticks?" Harry sat up, intrigued. Dean nodded. "Yeah," he continued. "Apparently all of the magic's already built into the broom, so anybody can use them. Of course it works better if you're a Wizard, because you can interact with the broom, but it was so cool!"

Instantly, the image of the Dursleys on broomsticks came into Harry's head. He shuddered at the thought of Dudley playing Quidditch with Uncle Vernon and pushed it aside, tuning back into what Dean was saying.

"Then," the black boy was saying, "she and my Dad had to go off to the States on a business trip, so I spent the rest of the summer with Seamus. His dad's a Muggle!"

"What was he like?" Neville asked. "You never talk about him, Seamus."

Seamus ducked his head slightly.

"Well, he kind of stays in the background," he said. "Me Mum can get ... well, forceful, sometimes, especially about Magic, and he loves her, so he just goes along with what she says most of the time."

"He's really cool, though," Dean added. "I mean, he's a complete Muggle, and he has no problem with living with a witch. That doesn't happen very often. And he's nice."

Slowly the conversation died. Neville, it seemed, had actually managed to convince his Gran that he was worth something over the summer, although he grew pink and stuttered when Colin had asked him what he'd done. However, regardless of the actual events, he held his head a little higher, and Harry thought that this year might go better for him.

Colin, on the other hand, was now on the verge of giving up photography forever, and while on one hand Harry was utterly relieved, the decent part of him realised that this probably was not the best thing for the younger Gryffindor. The problem, in the end, was something that everyone had seen coming, whether or not they admitted it. Colin's father was apparently not the most organised man in the world, and had accidentally shown his neighbour the wrong picture early in the summer. The result had the neighbour screaming about 'moving pictures', and Ministry Obliviators had to come in to correct the situation.

Still, Harry reflected, no one was blamed, and perhaps Colin would see sense on his own. Or perhaps not.

Eventually, everyone in the compartment had picked up some sort of book or magazine, and the scenery seemed to fly by as the light grew gradually dimmer, until suddenly the entire compartment was lit with the bright golden light that emanated from globes hanging from the ceiling. At that precise moment, the door slid open and the trolley witch stuck her head through.

"Anything I can get you, dears?" she asked in a cheery voice. The trolley she pushed seemed to be a bit emptier than it had been on previous years. "Oh, but you mustn't get the Long-Lasting Liquorice, there simply isn't time anymore.

After final consideration, Harry shook his head. Neville ordered pumpkin cakes, and Colin was immediately intrigued by a new item that had appeared this year - Chocolate Salamanders. He bought five, and unwrapped the package eagerly.

A long, brown salamander immediately scurried out from the box. Colin snatched it back again and bit of its head, immobilising it, before looking in the box again.

"What're you looking for?" Dean asked curiously. Colin continued to look for a moment, then held up a small card with a grin of triumph.

"I heard the cards for this are brilliant," he replied, his mouth full of chocolate. "Here, take a look." He passed the card across.

Dean took the scrap of shiny paper and examined it for a moment. His eyebrows came together sharply in a frown, and he looked up at Colin.

"Bulvar the Brutal," he said in a flat voice. "Troll cards?"

Colin beamed. "Well, Famous Wizards are already taken, aren't they? So they had to do something. Here, give it back."

Dean hurriedly passed the card back and shuddered slightly, with a small grin. Colin didn't appear to notice. He began opening up the other packages, decapitating his lizards and leaving the bodies in a little pile in front of him as he went in search of the cards. It looked rather morbid, actually, Harry reflected.

"Isn't this lovely," a voice drawled suddenly. Harry looked up sharply to see Malfoy standing in the doorway, with Crabbe and Goyle behind him, filling up the passageway. The familiar cruel gleam was in Malfoy's eyes. "The only way it would be more perfect would be if it were the Weasel, but we can't have everything, now can we?"

"No, you certainly can't," Dean shot out suddenly.

"Pity you chose wealth and evil and left out brains and friends," Harry added with a smirk. He looked critically at Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, unless you count apes, I suppose. And you certainly have enough of those."

A strange look crossed Malfoy's face, suddenly, a mix of distaste and something else, before reverting to his typical scornful expression.

"What would you know?" he asked. "Hanging out with gutter rats and leprechauns?" he gestured to Neville and Colin. "Not to mention the toad and the shutter-bug. Hardly one to lecture me on human companions."

He seemed to be warming to the topic. Harry felt himself growing bored, and let it show on his face. Malfoy glared.

"And then there's the Mudblood," he continued. Much to his apparent surprise, Harry chuckled.

Behind him, it sounded as if Neville was struggling to remain still, which was to his benefit. Confidence or no, he was still no match for Crabbe and Goyle. Harry kept his attention on Malfoy.

"Is that all you can do?" he taunted. "Insult my friends? You haven't even said a word about me yet, which is out of style. Don't you want to insult my glasses? Or my parents? Go right ahead. But, you might want to know - that is a teacher behind you."

Malfoy spun around quickly, to find himself staring face to face with Hestia Jones, who stood with her arms crossed, index finger tapping. Malfoy swallowed quickly.

"Professor ... Jones?" he asked. Hestia nodded, one eyebrow raised in a motion that looked startlingly like Malfoy's usual sneer.

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy," she replied. "Your memory is as good as it ever was, I see. I trust that will extend to my class as well."

"Of .. course, Professor," Malfoy replied. Briskly he turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who stood behind him, staring stupidly at the walls.

"Come on," he ordered. "Let's get out of here."

Harry watched with amazement as the three Slytherins turned and walked away down the train and into the connecting car. He looked over at Hestia, who gave him a small smile, before turning and leaving in the opposite direction.

"What just happened?" Seamus asked. Harry looked at him and shrugged. "He didn't even sneer at her or anything!"

"Of course not."

The quiet reply came from Neville, squashed between Colin and the window. He looked mildly embarrassed.

"What?"

"Well, he wouldn't be ... Malfoy ... to anyone he respects. You know, how he's always polite to Snape, and even the Bloody Baron."

"Yeah," Colin interrupted with his classic exuberance, "but why does he respect her? He's never seen her before."

"Yes he has," Neville answered quietly. "She was a Slytherin. My Gran knew her parents when she was first in Hogwarts. And she was friends with Narcissa Black, before she married Lucius. Narcissa made her an unofficial godmother to Draco, but Lucius didn't approve. And she never liked him. Still, it makes sense that Draco would respect her."

Seamus chuckled.

"Doesn't look like she likes him too much," he said gleefully. "You know, that would really suck for him. Having to respect someone who obviously dislikes him."

Dean gave him a mildly reproachful look, but couldn't stop the small smile that crept across his face. Seamus grinned at him.

The conversation soon turned away from Malfoy's unofficial godmother, to the entire compartment grilling Harry as to who the new teachers would be, and what they were like, and what they were teaching, and eventually Harry had to plead fatigue and diverted to talk to Quidditch, where he could sit quietly, inserting only a few comments.

It was perhaps an hour later that Hermione and Ron both appeared in the doorway, dressed in their robes, badges gleaming, to announce that if they expected to be allowed into Hogwarts they'd better all get changed, because the train was due to reach Hogsmeade in approximately seven minutes.

~*~*~

The carriages that took the older students to the castle were still pulled by the magnificent Thestrals Harry had seen last year, he noted with a sad smile. His gaze found Neville's, and they both realised that they had another death to add to their list, but that was beyond the point now. They found Hermione and Ron quickly enough, spared from their duties as Prefects for the moment. Together in the carriage the three talked, Neville sharing information about his summer and listening eagerly as Harry sat silent, having heard it all before.

Soon enough they had made their way up the winding way to the castle, and found themselves standing once again in front of the gigantic doors to the great hall. They opened for the group of students ahead of them, and the four hurried in behind before they slid gently shut again. Professor McGonagall stood on the stairway to the left, waiting for the First Years to come though for their briefing, and Harry gave her a small smile as he passed. He was shocked to see her return it, nodding her head before looking away. Some things do change, Harry reflected as he followed Hermione and Ron into the Great Hall. Neville stayed back, beside him, and looked quiet and reflective.

They made their way quickly over to the Gryffindor table and sat down beside Seamus, Dean, and Colin, who appeared to have found seats before the Hall began to get crowded. They talked about trivialities as seats opposite and around them began to be filled with excited faces. Ten minutes later, a Second-Year to Harry's left jumped with surprise, overturning an empty golden goblet, and pointed to the seat opposite her.

The pale man who had suddenly appeared smiled warmly and extended a translucent hand.

"Dreadfully sorry, my dear Kaitlyn," he said in a warm voice. "It's been a long summer without anyone alive to even notice when and where I come and go. I'll be certain to be more careful next time."

Kaitlyn smiled nervously, and then relaxed and nodded. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington grinned back at her and adjusted his ruffle before turning to Harry.

"Harry, my boy," he said. "It's been far too long. You've grown, haven't you? And how were you kept over the summer? It's been horrid without you here."

Harry coughed nervously.

"I've been fine," he answered. "I mean . everything's pretty much the same, except . well," he paused, unsure how to continue. Sir Nick peered at him anxiously for a moment.

"So . you're all right about what happened last year, then?" he prompted. "I know it's hard, sometimes, but-"

Harry suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that many eyes were turning towards him. He blocked out the uncomfortable sensation of being watched and turned one of his most sincere smiles on Nick, allowing some of his pain to show through.

"Really," he insisted. "I'm all right. There's no point in dwelling on the past."

"Precisely, my boy," Nick agreed heartily. "I'm so glad you can see reason. Not that I wouldn't expect that from you, of course. It's just that . erm, nevermind."

Harry nodded. Beside him, he heard Ron sigh, and turned to see him staring longingly at the empty golden plate in front of him. He chuckled. Hermione, seated opposite them, gave Ron an exasperated glare.

"Is that all you can think about?" she asked, clicking her tongue. "This is the only time in the year that we get to see a Sorting, and you're stuck in your stomach. You'd think with the number you've missed over the years you'd be excited to see it for once."

Ron shrugged.

"I would, if I could have eaten something on the train to hold me over." He turned appealingly to Harry. "We didn't even get a snack. Snape had us patrolling the train for the whole trip, and we didn't get any sort of break, did we? Malfoy and Zabini got to sit and chat with their cronies, but not us."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "They paid us a visit."

Ron glowered.

" 'Using time wisely' my arse," he fumed. "I'll show them how I'd use my time wisely."

"Oh, don't bother," Hermione interjected quickly. "You'd only end up getting in trouble from Snape, you know how bad he is. And anyway, look. The First Years are coming in. Get your mind off your stomach and watch!"

They turned to look at the doors to the Great Hall, which had just swung open to reveal McGonagall and Hagrid leading a troop of students to the open space. They looked smaller this year than they had before, Harry noticed, and more afraid. He watched as they gathered in a cluster before McGonagall, who had moved over to the single stool placed in the centre of the opening. From behind the stool she took a tattered looking hat, and set it down so that the rip in the brim was clearly visible.

"Now," she said crisply. "I have explained to you all what will happen. If there are no questions, I believe we can proceed with the Sorting. But first," she paused, and all eyes turned from her to the hat on the stool. It sat motionless for a moment, and then the rip by the brim opened and the hat began to sing.

"Welcome, welcome, colleagues all, and children young and old, New students to discover now, if you be sly or bold, Or smart or true, well never fear, your heads will show the way, And I'll sort you into Houses, as I always do this day.

We all be long in Houses, here - well, all of you but me, And I'm a hat, so really I've no need for family; But you all need your mentors, or those little ones to show What's right and wrong; you all pitch in and help each other grow.

Each House, of course, is different, and it's my job to find The qualities of one of them from deep inside your mind. For Houses sort by temperament, and strengths and values dear, And also show your weaknesses and help you face your fear.

In Gryffindors their courage is as famous as their might, With hearts of gold and lions' will they strive for what is right. But Gryffindors be warned, the world is more than black and white - You must learn to see the shades of grey before you rush to fight.

The Slytherins are cunning so that some might think them cruel. Their sly ideals will often strive to circumvent a rule. Slytherins remember, though, that power can entwine; Dark and evil aren't the same, so never cross that line.

Ravenclaw's intelligence is what sets them apart, They value wit and knowledge, and pursue it full of heart. Ravenclaws, however, must be taught to curb their pride; Their wit does not imply a lacking on the other side.

The Hufflepuffs have many virtues, dedication one, They've loyalty and skills at working hard and having fun. But Hufflepuffs must sometimes be told to check their fear, And strangers bearing gifts and smiles don't always hold you dear.

A warning now I send to you, to students young and old: Be careful of your prejudice, for as the story's told, When differences were seen as wrong and friendship turned to strife, The tale of Hogwarts' founders sadly closed with Helga's life.

But, now's a time for merriment, so don't dwell in the past, Simply learn so you don't make the same mistakes as happened last. You've all got years ahead of you, and this one soonest yet, With trials and hardships now in store, and wondrous things I'll bet.

So when you're name is called and you come up to take the stand, Don't be afraid, I never bite. I've got you well in hand, Except of course, I really don't, but even so you win; I'll sort you true, so never fear, and let the fun begin!"

The Hall was silent for a moment, and then whispers began to run wild around the tables. On Harry's left, Ron was fuming.

"Shades of grey?" he stuttered. "Shades of grey? I can see plenty of shades! And Malfoy's an evil one. That's all there is to it." The other Gryffindors seemed to agree, and around him Harry could see people protesting that they were open minded.

The Hufflepuffs seemed worried, looking at each other with hints of fear in their eyes. The Ravenclaws had their eyes fixed instead on the other Houses, evaluating, or so it seemed. Many looked sceptical, and Harry overheard one girl protest in a high voice,

"But we're here because we're smarter, aren't we?"

The Grey Lady, whose appearance was rare enough to be noticed by almost everyone, leaned over to table to rest translucent hands on the wood, speaking softly into the girl's ear, but Harry couldn't tell whether she was reinforcing the belief or disputing it.

The only table silent was the Slytherin table. They all sat, seeming utterly unaffected by the controversial song. If anything, they seemed smug. Malfoy turned his head once and, catching Harry's eye, gave him a small smirk before turning back to his House.

At the Head Table, Professor Dumbledore straightened in his chair. He picked up his wand from where it rested beside his plate and touched it twice to his crystal goblet. The chime rang throughout the hall, and slowly the conversation at the House tables died down. Professor McGonagall shot the Headmaster a grateful look and cleared her throat.

"Thank you, everyone," she said in a clear voice. "That will be enough idle chatter, if you please. You will have more than enough time for that in your common rooms after the meal is over. At this point, you may have noticed, it has not even begun, and some people appear to be anxious." She gave a pointed look to Ron, whose ears began to turn a faint shade of pink. McGonagall turned back to the students, and pulled a long sheet of parchment from her robes.

"Now," she continued. "When I call out your name, you will sit down on the stool and place the hat on your head. When your house is called, you will put the hat back onto the stool and go and join your housemates. Is that clear?" There was a nervous silence. Professor McGonagall nodded. "Good. Then, if I can have Atchet, Danielle!"

A tall girl with straight black hair stepped forwards. She approached the stool slowly and sat down as if she thought it would collapse underneath her. Finally, she put the hat on her head and sat nervously for a moment. Very slowly the rip in the brim opened, and then the voice was once again echoing through the hall.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The girl got up and placed the hat back on the stool, then ran quickly over to an empty seat at the Gryffindor table. Nearly Headless Nick beamed.

"The first one of the year is a Gryffindor," he stated. "That's always a good sign. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and introduce myself."

With that he floated gracefully backwards through his chair and drifted down the table to where Danielle, along with three other new Gryffindors, were gathered. He made and extravagant bow and began to speak with large hand motions. Hermione giggled.

"Everett, Michael!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Fresco, Veronica!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table grinned, and students slid over to make room for the girl. Many Gryffindors groaned. The pattern continued, nervous children approaching the stool and disappearing under the ancient headpiece, emerging with shaky grins to sit with their new Houses. Finally,

"Zachrios, Robin," became a Hufflepuff, and the hat fell silent.

Slowly, at the Staff Table, the Headmaster rose. He once again touched his wand to his goblet, and waited patiently as conversation died. When utter silence filled the Hall, he spoke.

"Welcome, my new students," he said clearly. "and a thanks to my older ones. You have all undoubtedly been waiting for a chance to eat something, and so I will put my speech on pause until a more opportune time, shall I?"

The great hall erupted into cheers. Dumbledore sat down slowly as platters of meat and vegetables, puddings and pies, appeared on the five long tables. Harry pulled a plate of roasted chicken towards him and selected a drumstick, helping himself to potatoes and vegetables. Around him, the conversation had risen once more.

"But, why would the Hat be so mean this time?" Neville was asking those around him. Further down the table, Nearly Headless Nick perked up, and drifted back to sit between Parvati Patil and Sarah Armstrong, another girl in Harry's year.

"Well," he said eagerly, "it did try to give a warning last year. But we didn't listen very well, now did we? It wouldn't have done any harm to focus on working together as a school, and saying 'to hell with it' to house rivalries. Except for sports, of course. But no, the hatred between the houses is as strong as ever, and so I suppose the Hat had to take more drastic means of action.

"But," Ron objected, "we can't just be all chummy with the Slytherins. They're . well, evil! And we're good. That's why we're Gryffindors, isn't it?"

"So you're saying, then, that one quarter of the wizarding world should be sent to Azkaban simply because of what house they were placed in as a child?" Sir Nick asked calmly, giving Ron a critical look. "And all Hufflepuffs are unworthy of doing anything because they're too afraid? I would very much like to hear you say that to Ernie Macmillan, or Zacharias Smith. I'm certain that they would be thrilled to find out that they are cowards.

"And don't you do dear Hermione a disservice by assuming that only Ravenclaws are intelligent?"

Ron quickly swallowed a mouthful very quickly and held up his hands.

"All right!" he exclaimed. "All right, I'm sorry. I've just never had any reason to trust a Slytherin, and I don't know anyone else who has. That's not exactly a great track record, is it?"

Sir Nick shrugged slightly.

"I heard something along the same lines in the beginning," he said grimly. "Godric never did trust Salazar, you know. He accepted him because of Helga and Rowena, but after Helga died and Rowena gave up -"

"Helga died?" Seamus gasped. His eyebrows shot up towards the brilliant sapphire sky shown through the ceiling of the Great Hall. "Helga Hufflepuff?"

"Steady on," Dean said quickly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't faint on us."

Seamus shot him a withering glare.

"I'm not going to faint," he retorted. Anything else he might have said was cut off abruptly as he took a large bite of potato and exploded in a fit of coughing.

"So much better." Dean rolled his eyes and slapped him sharply on the back. Hermione looked horrified.

"Don't hit him, Dean," she exclaimed. "Like as not you'll just force it down his throat and then where would we be? Here, give him this."

She filled a goblet with pumpkin juice and passed it across the table.

"But, how can he drink if his throat's stuck?" Ron asked. Hermione shot him a withering glare and then turned away from him.

"The liquid will break up the potato," she exclaimed, attention focussed on Seamus, who was now grinning sheepishly. "It'll help to clear away the problem."

Ron waved a hand at her.

"Right," he shrugged. "What was that Sir Nick just said?"

The ghost turned around and opened his mouth, and then, suddenly, a silvery sound filled the Great Hall and all conversation died. Food vanished from the plates and Harry turned back to the Staff Table, where Professor Dumbledore had risen once more.

"It gives me great joy to greet you all," he said warmly. "I realise that you must all be anxious to return to your dorms, but there are things that must be addressed beforehand. Now that we have all of our new students settled in," the Headmaster continued, "it is my pleasure to introduce three new staff members today. Teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, in replacement of Professor Umbrage, is Professor Hestia Jones."

Professor Jones stood in a fluid motion and smiled warmly. She gave a little wave and then sat down once more.

"As I am sure you are all aware, Professor Salen has long reached retirement age, and has finally chosen to take what is rightfully hers. Consequentially, Professor Fletcher will be taking her place teaching Magical Wards and Protections. As well, we are pleased to welcome back Professor Lupin, who will be teaching Muggle Studies."

A gasp ran around the room. At the Slytherin table, Malfoy looked shocked. Harry felt a certain satisfaction in knowing more than his rival. He sent the blond a smug grin and turned back to Dumbledore.

"Of course, there now follows the inevitable announcements," he said with a grin, "so I do hope you bear with me. First, Mister Filch has asked me to remind you that the list of forbidden objects is still posted outside of his office. It has grown considerably over the summer to include Portable Swamps and Glowing Gobbers, so I suggest that even older students look at it in the next few days. We would hardly want you to accidentally use something you aren't supposed to, after all."

Students chuckled, and Harry saw Ginny shoot a worried glance across the table to another younger girl. It seemed that the Weasley legacy would continue he thought, watching her.

"As a second note, I must state for all of you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students unless accompanied by a staff member. There are no exceptions to this rule, and punishment will not be light. There is a reason for this, of course, once that I will tell you, because I do not believe in keeping people ignorant. Minister Fudge would have me shield you from the truth, for fear of causing trauma, but I do not think that this will help you. "

He looked suddenly serious, and the subtle shifting of movement and quiet whispers died instantly.

"There are rumours that will circulate, and they will continue to spread if the truth is not addressed. You may have heard stories over the summer as to the return of Lord Voldemort." A shudder ran through the Hall. "I will not say that they are all true, but this is; over the summer a small, Muggle town was destroyed. We have reason to believe that Lord Voldemort will make his return. It is for this reason that we request that you do not leave the school grounds at any point, save on Hogsmeade weekends. Students are also not permitted to wander the grounds after dark unless accompanied by a teacher, will only be allowed outside after sunrise although, I can see no reason for anyone to be out even that early."

He paused and looked out at the sea of students.

"I will speak no more of this tonight," he said finally. "If you have any questions, you may speak with Professor McGonagall or myself and we will tell you as much as we can. And now, because you must all be tired, I will ask the prefects to show the First-Years to their dorms. And, if I could speak with Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Ernie Macmillan, Stewart Ackerly, Draco Malfoy, and Stephen Cornfoot before they go? I will meet them at the door to my office. Good Night, all."

All around Harry, students were rising to their feet. Hermione moved away quickly, calling for the First years to follow her, with the help of the Fifth-Year prefects. Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"What do you reckon he wants us about?" Ron asked as they rose. Harry shrugged and began to follow the stream of children moving out of the Great Hall. As he passed through the doors, he turned left and began to make his way to the Headmaster's office.

"No idea," he said. "You and Malfoy are both prefects, and so is Ernie, but no one else, so it can't be that. I'm certainly no prefect. Maybe it's Quidditch?"

"I guess," Ron answered dubiously. "But, why would Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have two representatives?

"Anyone who says they understand Dumbledore needs to get his head examined," Harry replied.

The paintings all around him were empty. Ahead, he saw a large and ornate gold frame, filled with so many figures that they seemed to be almost bursting out into the corridor. The Pink Lady's friend, Violet, waved cheerily and nearly spilled her champagne.

There was already small group of people gathered at the stone gargoyle, which looked rather irritated at having so many children near it. Stewart Ackerly was trying to persuade it to talk, tapping it on the head with his wand. From the look on its face, the gargoyle was using most of its self- control not to bite his hand off.

When Dumbledore appeared at the end of the corridor, the beast looked relieved. Ackerly jumped backwards, his wand vanishing up into his sleeve, and grinned sheepishly. Dumbledore gave him an understanding look and turned to the group.

"I'm glad that you have all been prompt," he said. "While I certainly enjoy the opportunity to speak with you, I'm sure that you all have much better things to do with your time. Therefore, I will try and make each meeting as brief as possible, starting with you, Harry. If you will follow me upstairs?"

He said a soft word to the gargoyle, which sprang aside, and led Harry up the winding staircase to his office.

"Sherbet Lemon?" he asked, waving a hand towards a silver bowl that sat on the desk. Harry shook his head. Dumbledore shrugged and took one of the little yellow candies. "It will be your loss, then." He sat down slowly and crossed his hands in front of him. He stared at Harry for a moment, until the boy was certain he was going to squirm soon, and then he smiled.

"Last year you had a rather interesting club," he said, and Harry felt his eyebrows raising.

"Yes," he said dubiously.

"Well, I was creating the timetable for co-curricular activities this year, and found that the Empty Air club has been disbanded. It seems to me a good thing, too," he confided, a twinkle in his eyes. "A group of children sitting inside on a beautiful summer's day just staring at the air - foolishness has its place, make no mistake, but I think that there are limits. At any rate, there is now a rather large space in the schedule, and I was wondering if you would like to fill it."

"Sir?" Harry asked, not quite certain what he was hearing.

"Your Defence club was most practical," Dumbledore continued. "Never have I seen Mister Longbottom more confident than when I found him at the Ministry last year, and teachers have been noting an improvement in other students work as well. I would strongly urge you to continue with your club this year. Not in secret, of course."

Harry frowned. He was taking fewer courses this year, which would give him more time, but NEWT courses were supposed to be significantly harder than anything he'd done, and he wouldn't look forward to something else cutting into his time. Still, it had been an experience, having people look up to him and acknowledge what he knew. And if he taught people what to do, maybe he wouldn't be alone in the future. And Dumbledore was looking at him very intensely, so Harry spread his hands and shrugged.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it."

Dumbledore beamed.

"I hoped you would," he said. "Now, perhaps you might want to consider renaming it - I'm not certain that Dumbledore's Army is quite appropriate, however flattering it may be. I will let you make that decision. You might want to consult with Miss Granger; she played a rather large role in its creation, as I recall."

Harry nodded and got to his feet.

"Is that it, sir?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded.

"If you could let me know what you decide sometime this week it would be appreciated. You can tell Mister Weasley that he should come up after you; I'll let the Gryffindors return to their common room."

Harry nodded again and made his way across the Headmaster's office. He had his hand on the doorknob, and the door halfway open, when a voice behind him stopped him.

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore added. "I had wanted to tell you. The password to my office is 'ice mice'. If you ever need to speak with me, I will tell the gargoyle to let you pass."

Harry paused. This was not something he had expected.

"Um, thank you, sir," he answered. He waited, expecting some sort of further explanation from the headmaster, but the old man simply smiled warmly at him and said nothing. Harry shrugged, mumbled another brief thank you, and made his way down the stairs.

Because Ron was talking with Dumbledore, and because Ron didn't trust the Fifth-Year prefect to do a proper job of explaining things, the task fell onto Harry's shoulders. He made his way quickly to the Gryffindor Tower, just in time to hear a group of Third-years saying that the password was 'jellybungle', and hurried in after them. In the Common Room, Hermione was standing in front of the fireplace with the First-Year girls, explaining things to them while the other prefects watched and talked among themselves. The First-Year boys were huddled on another side of the room, and Hermione shot Harry a glance as he entered. He nodded and approached the boys.

"Hey," he called, and heads turned towards him. "I'm not a Prefect," he began, "but Ron's talking to Professor Dumbledore, so I'll just explain things briefly and then if you have any other questions you can ask him, all right?" There were nods from the group, and Harry continued. "The door right there leads to the male dorms. On the first flight up is the First Year dorms, which is for you guys. The next floor has the Second Years, and so on and so forth." He quickly scanned the group. "You guys won't have to worry about choosing dorms; the house Elves have put your trunks by a bed, so you'll have to look around until you find it. There are two dorm rooms, so there will be enough beds for you all." He paused and looked at the faces in front of him, looking for some sort of comprehension. When he found it, he continued.

"That door there leads to the female dorms," he went on. Ahead of him, smiles turned into mischievous smirks. "Don't even think about going up there," he warned. "The staircase looks normal, but it finds interesting ways of dumping you back down if you try and go up. Ron will tell you - he found himself sliding all the way down. And the staircase has to be manually reset by a teacher, so the girls will all be pretty pissed at you until it happens.

"So, if you have any questions you can ask me, or you can wait until Ron shows up and then you can as- Ron!"

The redhead stepped through the portrait hall and stopped, a worried look on his face.

"You're not done yet?" he asked. Harry shook his head with a grin.

"You can finish this up," he said. "I've gone over dorms, that's about it. I'm sure they have lots of questions, don't you?"

There were a number of nods, and Ron groaned softly.

"All right, mites," he said grimly. "What do you want to know?" Harry waved at them and went up to the Sixth-Year dorm.

There he found Dean, Seamus, and Neville, all in the middle of unpacking their belongings, and the room was beginning to return to its normal state of mild chaos. Dean had found a way to charm his Football posters, and their games joined the pandemonium of Seamus's Quidditch flyers on the walls. Neville had only one picture; a group of musicians, playing behind a woman in brilliant white robes. A flying banner proclaimed them to be Crypt, which would explain the vaguely Egyptian theme that he saw in the background, and Neville confessed that he had a rather large crush on the lead singer, Cleo. Harry absorbed this information with a faintly encouraging smile and began to unpack his own trunk into the chest of drawers beside his bed.

Ron came in a few minutes later, wearing a cross between a smile and a scowl, and promising quite warmly to murder Harry in his sleep later on that night. Hermione followed him up, stuck her head in, and then left, and Harry decided that she was becoming ever so slightly weird. He set his magic eight-ball down on the dresser beside his dragon and his wand, looked down at his trunk, and found that it was empty except for his supplies. The rest of his dorm-mates were settling in, so he put on his pyjamas, said good night to the room, threw himself onto his new bed, and went to sleep.

~*~*~

He woke the next morning to a shrill beeping noise. The pillow he threw over his head didn't help, and he sat up to find a very sheepish looking Neville trying to do something with a strange-looking blue box that sat beside his bed.

"Alarm clock," he muttered. "Except that I can't remember how to turn it off! Everything has code words. I'm horrible at that."

The beeping stopped. Neville looked astonished. Then an enlightened smile came across his face. He rolled sharply out of bed and fumbled in his trunk for a quill and a piece of parchment and emerged scribbling madly.

"What's the password?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Neville replied. "But I'll just write down everything I said, and part of it has to be right!"

Harry laughed and began to get changed into his robes.

The first breakfast of school was always mandatory; a chance to hand out schedules and make any last-minute announcements that didn't manage to make their way into the Banquet Speech. Harry and the rest of the students all managed to arrive at eight o'clock and sat down at the long tables, talking quietly. The staff appeared more slowly, with Professor Snape arriving last of all, and looking thoroughly miserable at being forced to make his appearance. Professor Jones gave him a sympathetic look, which he perhaps accepted, perhaps rejected, with a wave of his hand.

When he was properly settled, Dumbledore stood and once more tapped his glass with his wand. As the echoes of sound faded from the room, he spoke.

"I have little to say today," he began. "Mister Filch would like me to say that Exploding Earfuls have been added to his list as of last night, which would lead me to remind you that there is a curfew and that you would all be wise to obey it. Your schedules should be at your tables, but if they are not please ask your Head of House. And now, to breakfast."

The tables were once more laden with food, and this time something else; to the right of each plate was a folded roll of parchment. Harry examined his, and found it to contain his schedule, as well as a list of clubs, and a third paper listing the times and locations of the make-up examinations. Potions, it appeared, was directly after lunch that afternoon.

He saw Ron look at the list and grimace, before turning to a fourth sheet.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"What?" Ron looked over, then back down at the parchment, and then blushed. "Well, it's nothing, really, just that . well, I've been made Quidditch Captain."

"Of course you did," Harry replied. Ron blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, who else would it be?" Ron frowned for a moment and then shrugged.

"I don't know," he answered. "Anyways, you have to try out tomorrow evening. It says here that your lifetime ban was reduced to one year by the Ministry - bloody kind of them, eh? - but you'll have to try out for Seeker again this year if you want to play." He indicated the parchment.

Harry grinned.

"Are you recruiting anyone else?" he asked. Ron shrugged.

"There are a couple of Third Years who were thinking of trying out for some minor positions, and some other people in the older years, I hope. Otherwise we're kind of screwed. Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia all gone in one year." He shook his head.

Harry nodded sympathetically.

"And I've got a Divination make-up before potions!" Ron wailed. Harry grinned.

"Better you than me," he answered, and began to eat.

~*~*~

The dungeon was always dark and cold, but it seemed even worse now, with Snape standing at the head of the class, looking as if he was doing them all an enormous favour. Harry looked around and saw Seamus and Neville, Terry Boot, and an assortment of other students. In the Slytherin section of the room, Blaise Zabini sat calmly combing her long black hair with her fingers. She shot Harry a smirk when he looked over, and then turned her attention back to herself.

Suddenly, the door at the back of the room slammed shut. Snape stood straighter, and all conversation stopped.

"You are hear because you are not good enough," he said very slowly, voice like liquid ice. "You are going to try and convince me that I was wrong; that you are, in fact, moderately capable, and I assure you that it is not easy. I dislike being proved wrong, and my judgements are founded on a meticulous observation. Today I will accept nothing short of perfection. Your potions are on the board." He flicked his wand backwards and three columns appeared. Names were written at the top, followed by instructions. "The ingredients are all in the cupboard, and you have two hours. If I hear a word of conversation every person within a three desk radius of the sound will fail." With that, he took a scroll of parchment from his desk and began to read.

Harry swallowed for a moment and then looked up at the board. His name was written in the first column, along with Seamus, Blaise, and a handful of others. The ingredients were listed carefully, and Harry kept his eyes on the board as he gathered them. The potion he was making was a Mutation potion that would give the drinker a pair of wings for a three-hour period of time. It was one of the most difficult potions Harry had ever seen.

Eyes constantly flicking upwards, Harry measured and weighed precisely 5.72 ounces of dried mungwart, ground it into a fine powder, and sifted it into a cauldron of boiling water. He stirred three times anticlockwise and increased the heat of the flames by seven degrees before proceeding to the next step.

Five minutes later, Harry was half way through chopping a Lionfish whisker when the first three steps disappeared from the board to reveal another three. Professor Snape, firmly engrossed in his reading, didn't move.

From then on, Harry found himself in a constant race with the blackboard, and it took all of his concentration not to rush and make stupid mistakes. The current words stated that, following the careful insertion of three whole liquorice roots, the potion should turn a shimmering violet colour. Harry released them slowly and crossed his fingers, praying. He opened them again to a glint of purple, and very nearly knocked his cauldron over with excitement. He froze the flames and allowed the potion to cool for fourteen and a half minutes, watching the people around him.

Ernie Macmillan was working on a potion from the second column, and Harry saw instantly that this was a much more difficult one to prepare. His cauldron was currently giving off a shower of silver sparks, which didn't appear to be anywhere on the instructions, and Harry could almost see him sweating. He was suddenly very grateful for the amount of work he did put in the year before.

Finally, after what somehow seemed like and instant and an eternity at the same time, the instructions on the board vanished to leave the final step as well as a flashing sign that proclaimed 'five more minutes'. Harry blinked and dumped a handful of beetle eyes into his cauldron. He waited two minutes, stirred once clockwise, waited another minute, and then extinguished the flames beneath the vessel.

A small phial appeared beside his cauldron. Harry ladled some of his potion into it and stoppered it, visions of the previous year floating through his memory. He then sat, staring nervously at the back of someone's head, until Snape stood.

"Your time is up," he said, and the instructions vanished. "Although I highly doubt that any of you will have managed to create anything useful, you may bring your potions up and put them neatly on my desk. You will receive the results of this examination within the next few days. Regular classes begin on Monday."

Harry did as he was told, watching carefully to make sure that nothing went wrong, and then took his leave of the Dungeon and it's master.

By the second evening, things were beginning to fall into a more normal pattern. The results to Harry's potion makeup had come in the form of a scrap of parchment with the words 'tolerably acceptable' written in what seemed to be a distinctively resentful scrawl. Harry had been astounded, dropping his fork into his eggs without realising it, and the paper now sat firmly beneath the statuette of the dragon.

Ron had yet to receive his results. He took this as a sign of his immediate failure, and had been beaming broadly, when Hermione had politely told him that only the A test potions were marked yet, and that he stood a perfectly decent chance of having passed. He was no longer speaking to Hermione.

"I'm only taking it for my Mum," he explained to Harry on the way down to the Quidditch pitch. "I don't need it for anything, I'm sure, and if I have to spend another year with Snape I'm going to go bloody mad. He'd better not pass me."

Quidditch trials themselves had been less interesting than Harry had expected. He had forgone this procedure the first time, having been appointed directly to the position of Seeker by McGonagall. Now, he found himself forced to fly after round golf ball-like objects, and navigate a completely pointless course in the required amount of time. There were no other applicants for Seeker, since everyone knew Harry would be accepted, and on the whole Harry thought it was all rather a waste of time.

He had been about to tell Ron this, but the look of paternal pride on his friends face put him off enough to hold his mouth shut. Instead he smiled warmly when Ron insisted on conducting a play-by-play of his trials, and hoped that he'd get over it by the time the season started.

There had been other additions to the team, which Harry found much more interesting. Because the majority of the team had graduated the previous year, Harry found himself working with almost a completely different group of people. Seamus, Ginny, and Andrew Kirke took over for the girls as chasers, and Colin and Dennis Creevy replaced the Weasley twins as beaters. Despite Harry's initial misgivings about this, he discovered early on that the brothers' destructive powers were easy to harness, and the two worked almost seamlessly. Natalie Macdonald, a girl in her third year, was being kept in reserve, and was training now for every position, just in case of emergency.

Despite the fact that today had been another day of make-up exams, and therefore a day where Harry had to do absolutely nothing, he found himself tired at the end of it. Therefore, after dinner and two games of chess with Ron, he left the common room and went up to his bed. He put his glasses and wand away, changed into his pyjamas, and got into the large bed.

Slowly, as now he always did, he emptied his mind of all thoughts, and focussed on trying to control the world he was about to enter.

~*~*~

Draco was not a dreamer. In the waking world he knew them to be foolish things not worthy of him, and if he dreamt while he was asleep he certainly never remembered it later on. It was with some surprise, therefore, that soon after falling asleep Draco found himself in a small, stone room. It was quite dark, to the point where he could only just make out the boundaries of the cell-like space. Then, slowly, the room seemed to grow.

He could now see the outline of three men standing in the centre of the room, growing clearer as he watched. He instantly recognised the figure of his father, and then the short, squat man behind him. When the third figure spoke, there was no doubt as to his identity.

"Lucius, my toy. You have promised me many great things. As yet, you have done what you said you would do, and I am pleased. Now there is only one thing left. Let us see how well you keep your word."

Lucius Malfoy straightened.

"I have fulfilled my vow to you, my Lord," he replied smoothly, a subtle arrogance on his tongue. The figure of the Dark Lord straightened slightly. "You will see it for yourself in my Son."

This time Draco stiffened as the room was thrown into a brilliant clarity. Wormtail, quivering slightly, stared at him with those beady eyes. His father's glare was haughty, commanding. The third man did not yet look at him, staring instead at the older Malfoy. The gaze remained there for a moment, and the hooded head nodded. The eyes moved from father to son.

"Young Malfoy." The words were cold. "Your father has a promise to keep, and he says that it is done. He has told me that you are strong, wilful, but obedient. He says that you believe in me and in what I value, and that you will serve me as he has served me. He claims that you are everything I could ever wish from you. That is, of course the reason that you are here. And when I look at you, I am inclined to believe him. However." The phrase faded off, and the Snake Lord's gaze became pensive. "I will not leave a matter this important upon the words of your father. Your life is yours, and you must be the one to say what you make of it. So, Young Malfoy. What have you to say? You may look away."

Free, Draco blinked and looked down at the floor. His thoughts raced, and he cast his eyes wildly around the stones at his feet. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of gold-lined black. The fabric moved slightly, and Draco did not need to look closer to know what it was.

Potter.

For some reason, impossibly, Potter was here. He, the irritating brat of a boy, the one thing tarnishing Draco's otherwise perfect existence, had managed to infiltrate this most sacred gathering, and was watching. Draco was furious. This was not his place, he had no right to be here. It was that, more than anything, that gave him the courage to look up again in to the smouldering eyes of the Dark Lord.

"I live to serve you," he said, bending one knee in front of the man.

Two icy fingers were placed under his chin, and he felt himself rise to his feet.

"You are eager, Young Malfoy. That is dangerous. It can mean one of two things." The Snake Lord was silent for a moment, contemplating. Then the serpentine face morphed into a semblance of a smile. It was cruel. "Very well, Eager One. I will take you at your word. You will serve me well at Hogwarts."

The hand left Draco's neck, moved to his left arm. The sleeve of his school robe was pulled up, and the shirt under it, revealing perfect, pale skin. Then, gently, the Dark Lord touched his index finger to Draco's arm.

Pain exploded through his body, starting from the point of contact and radiating throughout him, as if searching for a means of exit, finding none, bouncing back. Pain amplified off of pain, taking over his entire existence. As Draco watched, a black point appeared. Slowly, the Dark Lord began to draw his Mark with his finger.

Then, suddenly, something broke. With the last bit of concentration he had, Draco pulled back. Lord Voldemort looked surprised for a moment, and then the face became unreadable.

"Too eager," he said softly. "I suspected as much. But you were eager too, my Toy. Perhaps it should come as no surprise. Ah well, no matter." His gaze turned from Draco to his father, turned deadly. "You promised me that he would be perfect," he pronounced. "And I told you then what would happen if you failed."

For the first time in his life, Draco saw fear on his father's face.

"Please, my Lord!" Lucius pleaded, and Draco watched as he grovelled and begged like a worthless Muggle. "Spare my life! His behaviour is no fault of mine!" His mouth opened once more, but what emerged was a shriek of agony as Voldemort's wand appeared fixed on the blond man, and the words of the curse echoed through the small room.

Finally the screams died, and the arched body crumpled and fell. Voldemort's gaze returned to Draco.

"That is the price of failure," he said simply. "I will give you this warning, because I am fair. Your father disobeyed me, and he thought to hide it from me, to pass the guilt to you, his own kin. You have not yet done that, for I have given you no command, and I will give you no command. You will not join me if you do not wish to. I do not have the time to bend you to my will. But your rejection of me was as impulsive as your acceptance was. Do you truly wish it? You can still serve me."

The tone was completely open, honest, trustworthy. Draco felt something inside himself twist, trying to return to the safety of submission. But the rest has been unleashed, and he couldn't turn back.

The Dark Lord smiled again, his cold smile, and nodded his head.

"I thought as much. Your father would not have been pleased."

Suddenly, a blow to the head sent Draco reeling. He fell backwards, catching his elbow on the floor, and looked up to find his father staring down at him.

"You pathetic, weak boy," the man sneered. "You were given a chance for power and you turned it away. Coward. You are no son of mine."

Draco struggled to sit up, but was knocked down again by a sharp kick between his ribs. He sank back with a groan.

"But you died," he gasped weakly, turning to look towards the centre of the room. Voldemort was gone; only the crumpled figure remained. Lucius laughed.

"You think that I would put myself there?" he asked with a deprecating gesture. "No, that is where you belong, not me."

He turned and vanished in a swirl of black robes, and then there was another face at the edge of Draco's vision.

"I'm sorry," Potter murmured, and then Draco was falling.