A/N: Right, next chapter up. There's some action here, but I'm not impressed with it. Still, I hope you might enjoy it. School has started, so my updates might get sporadic now, but, there aren't that many of you who care anyway, so...

Harry sat down quietly at his place between Hermione and Ron; Lupin seated across from him, flanked by Moody and Bill. The others had already taken their seats around the huge table, though Podmore, Shacklebolt, Diggle and Fletcher where nowhere to be found. Harry looked down at the plate in front of him, staring nauseously at the tuna on toast with crisps. Perhaps he could pocket some of it to make it look like he'd eaten something...

As everyone began eating, he sat in silence, wary of the eyes that kept passing over him. He

occasionally picked up a crisp, putting it to his lips before nonchalantly setting it back down on his plate.Talk at lunch was light, everyone laughing and joking rather jovially, although Harry was mostly an observer. Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their standard argument about his hair, though it appeared to be growing steadily more heated as time went by. Harry waited until he was sure all the adults were immersed in chatter, before asking Ron quietly, "So, what about Percy?"

At the mention of their older brother, the twins, who sat next to Hermione, and Ginny on the other side of Ron, turned their gaze toward Harry. Ron shook his head in a depressed fashion, and muttered, "He hasn't contacted us since Fudge made it public."

"We did see him once, in Diagon Alley, and he looked almost afraid to speak. HE might have, but then Dad," Ginny paused hesitantly. "Well, Dad said something loudly about the kind of people who don't believe Dumbledore, much less family." She finished this with a miserable glance at her plate.

"Stupid stuck-up git deserved it," Fred snarled in a low tone.

"Asinine buffoon, preferring to kiss up to his beloved Ministry than trust us," George added darkly.

"Poor Mum, it's tearing her up. She leaves the room if anyone even mentions it," Ginny remarked this with a sigh, as she nibbled on a crisp.

Harry was quiet, having no response for that. He had been considering Percy a lot lately. Wondering about his motives and his reasoning. He was determined to make a name for himself, a boy in a family of 9, all red-headed and freckle-faced, all poor and well known as kind-hearted muggle-lovers. But he wanted to be Percy, as Harry saw it, not another Weasley. He wanted to make a name for himself and could only see a way to do that by become as clean, and prim and distant from his roots as possible, looking down on all his ties to the past. Deep down, Harry thought maybe they were more alike than he had ever given credit to. After all, that's all Harry himself wanted now, not to break ties with the people around him, but to become Harry. Just Harry.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley, having apparently given up with her fight over Bill's hair, said loudly, "Where on earth is the mail? It should have arrived by now."

As though waiting for the signal, three owls swooped out of the fireplace into the kitchen, Harry the only one at all surprised by this. He was about to comment on it, when one of the owls, a snowy white one, landed on his shoulder with a soft hoot. "Hedwig!" Her amber eyes studied him, seemingly anxious. She pecked him on the ear affectionately, showing no signs of leaving her roost on his shoulder.

"It must be a letter from Dumbledore," Tonks said, twirling a curly blue lock around her finger

thoughtfully. "He's probably confirming the meeting tonight."

"Which reminds me, Harry, Dumbledore said she'd been staying with him since the beginning of the holidays, and had been quite depressed. Why'd you send her off?" Mr. Weasley easily, reaching over and taking the parchment off of Hedwig's leg.

Harry hesitated a moment, the winds of paranoia making him wonder just how innocent that potentially packed question was. He assessed for the barest of instants, then answered quickly, "She was really restless, and it was bothering the neighbors with her swooping in and out at all times, so I told her to go and find someplace more comfortable for the summer. She was probably just peeved at me." HE waited tensely a moment to see if his lie was questioned, but Mr. Weasley just nodded in understanding. Harry stroked Hedwig, and gently shooed her off his shoulder. She went, disappearing into the house.

"I'd like to do that with Pig," Grumbled Ron, fishing his little owl, Pigwidgeon out of his glass of water.

"But Ginny threatened to hex me. He doesn't even deliver mail, just flies around with Errol, annoying him. Stupid git."

"Ron!" Ginny snapped, scowling. "Don't be mean! He's just playful."

"More like awful. Annoying fluff-ball. A lot like you, actually, Gin." Ginny just grinned at him, and stuck her tongue out impishly.

"Ah, yes, Dumbledore will be here with...oh my, Molly, dear, you are going to need quite a bit of food tonight..." Mr. Weasley said, slightly unsettled.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "How many is he bringing?"

"He's arriving at four o'clock with the whole lot. Most likely by the front door, as group apparation would be a bit too hazardous."

Mrs. Weasley tsked. "Oh for heavens sake, I'll have to start cooking now! It's already half past one, and they'll be starved by six!"

"I'll help Molly," Tonks said eagerly, knocking over her glass. Harry felt a sad sort of joy at seeing her energy. HE could vaguely remember such a feeling.

Mrs. Weasley looked at the young witch dubiously. "Er, well, Tonks-"

"Fudge wants to see us this afternoon," Moody broke in abruptly. Tonks just blinked, making eye-contact with him for a moment, before nodding.

"Thank you anyway, dear," said Molly, a fond little smile on her lips. She then turned to Hermione and Ginny. "Girls, I would appreciate your help. We'll be cooking for about thirty, perhaps more if anyone else drops by early."

Hermione and Ginny gaped. "But where are they all going to fit Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked, looking flustered, like the night before a paper was due.

"Well, this house has a good bit of magic in it, Hermione," Mr. Weasley answered.

"Expandable rooms, you see," Bill added.

"Right, the kitchen table does it too. We fit fifty around it once," Charlie said, crunching lazily on a crisp.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, turning to Fred, George, and Ron. "Boys, the house hasn't been properly

straightened in a while. I want you to go through a quick clean of all the rooms, alright?"

"Aw, but Mum-" Fred began. She shot him such a venomous look that the entire table fell silent. "Er, right."

She turned away from them, looking at Harry. Her mouth opened to speak, but she suddenly caught sight of his untouched plate. "Why, dear, you haven't touched a thing on your plate! Are you ill?" She looked ready to go into full-fledged mother hen mode, and Harry knew there would be no easy answers then. He shook his head quickly.

"No Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine. I just had a really large breakfast, and I'm not that hungry." Amazing how normal and light he could make his voice sound, over the constant scream of terror in his ears. His own yell of fear, his mind overwhelmed by ordinary tasks. He smiled at her.

She nodded, a small bit of concern remaining, but did not press the matter. "Well, Harry dear, I thought you could work on your homework until Dumbledore comes. Ron's told me your...family doesn't really like you having our sort of stuff about."

Harry was careful to meet her eyes with a carefully shuttered gaze. 'doesn't really like...' that was certainly a mild way of putting it. "Yeah, well, they have trouble understanding the magical world, and it sort of upsets them that they don't really get it, so I just like to keep it out their way if I can help it." The lie went down smoothly, and Mrs. Figg was not there to see through it. Even Mrs. Weasley did not seem as ruffled as she usually did when Harry mentioned the Dursleys. He was getting better at it, then.

"Yes well, this will be a good opportunity, then," she replied, smiling at him, and rising from her seat,clearing the table with a wave of her wand. Bill looked slightly put out, having still been nibbling at his crisps. She paid no mind, calling to Ginny and Hermione over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen, "come on, then girls, we have a lot to do! And you boys had better get on it! I want this place to gleam!"

Everyone at the table dispersed, Harry and Ron sharing bracing looks as they went of to their respective tortures, though Harry was secretly glad he was given this opportunity without having to actually complete his summer work voluntarily. He retrieved his schoolbooks, spreading out parchment and quills over the kitchen table, and beginning to work.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Harry had completed his final divination assignment an hour later, positive that telling the exam inspector that she should have died a week before he gave her the palm reading signaled his ultimate failure in divination. Not that he much cared. It was likely he wouldn't even graduate.

He was at a loss on his Transfigurations essay an hour after that, pondering the fact that he had

homework for classes he might not even have again, and cursing the fact that he couldn't seem to

accomplish anything, even when he struggled as hard as he could. Some savior he was.

He smirked at that thought, no humor in the cold smile. Savior? honest to god, someone had gotten turned around somewhere. Harry? A savior? HE felt the very idea was extremely foolish and utterly hopeless. The fact that even Dumbledore was depending on him to pull through and fulfill his destiny, prevailing for the light, was not only nerve-wracking, but caused a little something to die in Harry. The weak flame that was left inside his heart diminished at the consideration. HE knew he would fail. He was not strong enough to win the war. He was no hero. HE couldn't be the Savior they all wanted.

HE couldn't even do a Transfigurations essay, apparently. Frustration built within him, a helplessness he felt when dealing with his uncle, perhaps without the cold terror that usually filled him. "Hermione!" he called loudly, ashamed at himself for the irritation that leaked into his voice. He struggled to calm himself, balling up the piece of parchment he had been writing on, and tossing it up into the air, incinerating it before it began to fall back down.

Hermione came in through the door then, holding a cup of scalding tea, obviously prepared for him."What is it, Harry?" She said distractedly, pausing in the doorway, her eyes still on the activity in the kitchen.

"Hermione, how in the hell can I have four suitable animagus forms?" He asked, throwing down his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. If he couldn't get past something so simple, how was he supposed to overcome anything remotely significant?

Hermione actually gave a giggle, still not looking towards him. "Well, you can't Harry." There was a crash in the kitchen, and she winced, but did not go to Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's aid. "Here let me help." She started towards him, her gaze gravitating to his form. "Mrs. Weasley made you some-" And the teacup suddenly tumbled out of her hands, landing with an impressive crash, and she let out terrified, shriek, her face going pale. Her eyes were focused behind Harry, wide and full of fear.

Harry turned quickly, the adrenaline already stirring inside him, to see before him, at least a dozen

figures in dark cloaks, their faces hooded. He couldn't focus on anything, couldn't seem to point out a single detail about the looming, deadly figures invading the kitchen. And then he saw it. On one of their arms, the sleeve of their robes pulled up, the Dark Mark, black and evil. He did not have his glasses on, but even the blurred image was unmistakable.

Without thinking, Harry threw himself backwards out of his chair, landing awkwardly on his back, the chair toppling as he drew his wand, shouting the first spell that came to mind. Again, Hermione gave a cry, though it was not loud enough to drown out Harry's yell of "PROTEGO!" Aa a giant Silver wall of mist sprang up between himself and the cloaked figures with a loud bang.

And then, after the flurry of movement and noise and light that had happened in the barest of instants, all was silent. No one moved. Harry held his breath, willing his muscles to respond to him again, praying something, anything would happen.

After a frozen moment, the spell was broken, footsteps came pounding in from every direction, voices shouting worriedly. All the Weasley's were suddenly crowded into the kitchen, looking severely panicked. All had there wands drawn. Harry noticed Lupin was not present.

Still, no spells were cast. Harry's hearing was dulled by the sound of his own heart thudding wildly in his brain. And then, suddenly, Hermione let out a loud gasp, and a small peal of laughter. Harry did not turn his head from staring at the blurry figures, who were moving now, lowering their hoods, but his mouth dropped open in appalled shock at her giggles.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred's voice asked, as Harry's legs finally listened to his commands, and he scrambled to his feet, the silver wall of light still in place.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Weasley said, sounding irritated. Harry wondered bewilderedly what he'd done. There were death-eaters in the kitchen. Why was no one fighting?

"What is all the trouble about?" Charlie asked, sounding confused. "And why is there a shield up?"

"Because Harry apparently deemed it fit to put it there." Harry froze at hearing the voice, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. The person who had spoken was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Wha-?" He asked dazedly, a sense of foolishness creeping up on him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, still laughing in a relieved sort of way, as Harry grabbed frantically for his glasses, setting them back on his face to look bewilderedly around at everyone.

"What in the bloody hell did you Do, mate?" Ron asked him, looking very confused. Harry could not blame him. After all, his shield was now preventing almost the entire staff of Hogwarts from proceeding further into the kitchen.

Wonderful. Another opportunity to make himself look like a first-class ass. That he had accomplished beautifully.

"It was my fault," Hermione said from the chair where she was now seated, her giggles subsiding slightly. "I screamed when I saw them, and startled Harry." He didn't find any humor in the situation.

"And no wonder!" Said Mrs. Weasley, sounding very severe, but her glare was not directed at Harry or Hermione, but the group of teachers. "Apparating into the house in black hooded robes! Looking like a bunch of Death-Eaters! It's no surprise you gave him such a turn."

Dumbledore tapped Harry's shield with his wand, and it dissolved completely, allowing all of them to move further into the kitchen. "Ah, a slight miscalculation on my part, Molly. I apologize."

"Although perhaps it could have been avoided if Potter had bothered to look before he cursed,"

Severus Snape sneered, his left sleeve still pushed up.

"He didn't have his glasses on, Professor!" Hermione said.

"I looked long enough to see your arm," Harry replied coldly, his gaze boring into Snape, as he felt himself shake slightly from his former fear. HE had come to terms with accepting that Snape was not to blame for the death of Sirius, and that that fault lay entirely with him, but he still despised the man. Harry deserved a chance to be his own person, not his father's son. That conviction had not yet been beaten out of him.

There was a very nasty silence. A cold bit of satisfaction came to Harry, as Snape quickly rolled down his sleeve, looking carefully nonchalant. He did not look away from the Potions Master, until Mr. Weasley suddenly cleared his throat, looking uneasy. "Well, hello, everyone!"

And the unnaturalness ended, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley at once moving in to greet the large group of Hogwarts staff members, accompanied by Bill and Charlie. Harry stepped back quietly beside Fred, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, all watching rather uncomfortably as he tried to still his trembling limbs. It is never a pleasant experience to have your teacher in your home, and to have a large majority of them? All were reluctant to breath too loudly.

Harry studied the mass, watching their interactions with the Weasleys. Odd how different they were from their time at Hogwarts, and how they did not change at all. Such was the human nature.

"You're a bit earlier than expected, Professor Dumbledore, so I'm afraid we're not quite ready for you," Mrs. Weasley said, when everyone had been greeted respectively.

"That's quite alright, Molly, I'm sure we can all help," Professor McGonagall said, and Harry noticed she was still leaning on a walking stick for support. Anger rushed through him, the memory of the night Umbridge had set the Ministry lackeys on Hagrid still fresh in his mind.

Mrs. Weasley suddenly rounded on them all. "Well? Aren't you going to say hello?" The children all stared at her as though she had grown a second head, their gazes swinging simultaneously to their teachers. No one spoke.

It was Hermione who came to her senses first. "Hello, Professors!" She said brightly, though her voice was a bit fast. All the others quickly followed suit, accompanied by much stuttering. Harry slipped his own greeting in quietly, sure that many had not heard him. His claustrophobia was suddenly growing on him, the people seeming to close in on him. He could almost feel his air disappearing. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the messy mop in distress. A shiver ran though him.

At that instant, Ginny gave a slight yelp, having been sniffing the air. A burning aroma was filling the room. "Mum! The sauce!" She cried, before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. Hermione hurried after her.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed. She turned to follow them, stopping for a moment to look at Ron, Fred, George, and Harry. "Harry dear, will you and the others set the table please? Might as well do it now."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, trying to keep his breathing even.

To his surprise, she glared at him. "Harry, what did Arthur tell you?"

Of course, he had forgotten. He cursed himself mentally. "Er...r-right. Of course...M-Molly." He stumbled over the word, distinctly uncomfortable with treating her as an equal. She was the closest thing to a mother he had ever had, and he admired her entire family with such intensity, it sometimes frightened him.

Mrs. Weasley nodded at him. "Thank you, dear."

"Just a moment, Molly, we'll come and help!" Called Camille Sprout, her flyaway gray hair as wild as ever. The female professors followed her into the kitchen.

After a moment's silence, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, looking at the few remaining teachers,

including Dumbledore. "Perhaps we ought to go and look at-" he began, and all of them immediately knew what he was talking about. Soon, only the four boys were left. Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

" Molly?" Ron asked, giving Harry a strange look.

"Order policy, Ron," George said, moving to get silverware from a corner cupboard.

"Yeah, even we have to call her Molly during meetings," Fred said with a sigh.

Harry felt a sudden need to escape them all, if only for a moment. The barrier that seemed to separate him from the rest of the world sometimes had suddenly reared up twenty meters tall, and three yards thick. The fleeting sense of inclusion he had felt disappeared like a whisper in the wind. "I'll, uh, just go put my stuff away," he said quietly, grabbing up his homework from the table. The three brothers nodded at him absently, and he slipped quickly out of the kitchen, up to his room.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It took no more than a minute to dump his stuff on his bed, with a vague realization that the bedcovers and the draperies had all been changed, a fresh coat of paint thrown on the room. Another part of his Godfather slipping quietly out of memory. Gone forever, never to return. He pushed down the sudden tears that threatened, making his way, instead to the w.c.

That was the way it had worked all summer. Harry would be fine one moment- well, as fine as he ever seemed to be these days- and suddenly his vision would blur with hot, salty moisture that he had not let fall since that one night at the Hogwarts lake last spring.

When he got to the bathroom, he pulled the door to, turning to examine himself in the mirror. He looked rather unwell, his face the same sort of unnatural white that Snape's possessed. That idea was more repulsive than the actual state of his complexion.

His eyes were probably the most different, he conceded after a moment of personal deliberation. They were still his mother's eyes, almond and delicate in shape, the irises a rather stunning shade of jade, but they were not the eyes he has been born with. There had been a sparkle there once, he remembered, perhaps more like a flame. They seemed cold and clouded now, unaware of what they were seeing. A direct reflection of his soul, as everyone always said.

HE felt it was almost a pity they were not as blind as they appeared. Then he would not have to face the mornings anymore, would not have to awaken to the warm, bathing light that only made the darkness in his spirit feel that much colder. That much more alone. He had never really considered the fact before, but the idea came to him suddenly that he was suicidal. He marveled at the lack of fear this realization invoked in him. It's only accomplishment was to racket up his self-loathing another meager notch in the peg.

His hair had not changed, he mused reflectively. It never seemed to grow any longer, nor would it stay short for a very long time. Harry counted it as a blessing for the moment, as it covered the dark area on his temple created by his uncle. Luck on his part, perhaps? Or another damning hint that he was not worth the trouble of discovery?

The door behind him opened suddenly, and in stepped Remus, his eyes blood-shot. " 'lo, Harry," he said softly, his voice cracking. Harry took a step away from the sink to let him move in. He turned the spigot on and began to rise his face in cold water.

There was silence as he dried his face off, before he suddenly turned to Harry, his lids no longer

red-rimmed. "What was the commotion downstairs?"

Harry smiled thinly. "Just me, Remus, making an ass of myself."

"Oh? What did you do?" HE seemed a little more together now, intrigued. That had been Harry's plan. He would not let this man suffer more grief than he had to. He felt his list of blames might never cease.

"The teachers got here early, dressed in black robes and hooded cloaks of all things. Hermione screamed and I turned around -without my glasses on- and saw them as well. The only other thing I noticed was the Dark Mark on Snape's arm before I panicked."

"He probably did that on purpose," Remus said darkly. "What did you do? Try to knock the whole lot out?"

"No, thank God. I just put up a shield. It was a mess," Harry said, expecting a sort of poking laughter from his former professor.

To his surprise, Lupin just put a hand on his shoulder. "At least you protected yourself. Now everyone knows how you'd react if the situation actually arose. Your quick thinking is something to be proud of, not embarrassed about, even if it was a false alarm."

Harry shrugged, a horrible feeling welling up within him that Lupin was commending him instead of condemning him. The boy who had been responsible for the murders of three of his closest friends did not deserve praise. That dead, hollow space inside him seemed to widen, and Harry had the wild sense for an instant that he might collapse in on it, letting it swallow him down from the inside out.

"Well, I've...got to go help Ron and the twins set the table. Uh, Mr. Weasley and some other Professors have disappeared somewhere to....discuss something." He said, desperate to fill up the emptiness with anything tangible.

"Ah, well, I suppose I'd better go join them, then," Lupin said, turning to look at himself again in he mirror. He sighed at the grief-stricken face he saw, and Harry felt his throat close up, the word guilty seemingly being burned into his brain by a hot iron.

"Right, well, see you at dinner, then," Harry sad quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady as he turned to leave.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He hesitantly turned his head back to look at the wizard. Remus was silent for a moment, looking at him with such an intensity that Harry had a fleeting and horrifying thought that he suspected something. But then, Lupin spoke. "We'll get through this you know."

Harry felt like screaming. No we won't!I won't! I can't! I'm not strong enough...He just nodded solemnly, and proceeded downstairs.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Now, for my few remaining reviewers, whom I love dearly.

FSI: Uhm, this fic may eventually be a H/Hr or H/G, but firstly, Cho Chang should die, and secondly, that's not really what this fic is about. It's more about an introspective look on Harry and how sucky his world has gotten, but how people are there who are going to help him through. So, sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations, but thanks for your review.

Krys: I don't know how to tell me how much your reviews have always meant to me! I don't think anyone is in on Harry's (Or is it Vernon's) secret yet, but they will be, and that sorry sack of goat poop will get got good. And I think Harry's in for a return trip, but not for long, and I promise to rescue him! Thanks for all the ideas, and just reading my fic in general!

Mara: I'm so glad you think I qualify! Sorry this chappie took so long! I don't know if romance is going to fit in, because I don't know if Harry can handle that at this point in his life, but It may be H/Hr or H/G at one point, or may at least end up pointing in that direction.

Goldilocks: Angst is what I'm going for. This was your chappie for a lil action, though it wasn't much, and I am gonna try for some romance, though it ma not be key in this story. I'm also thinking about throwing in a little RL/NT on the side, because I love 'em both. Thanks for the review!

Right, well, I am running out of the story that's already been written (I Had about thirty or forty pages) And if I don't get a good response for this chappie, I may abandon it. Tell you what, if I get a good number of Reviews, I make Snape do a dance for you! With a hula skirt and everything! (This is me being pathetically desperate) Snapie does a mean macarena! (Spelling?)

Ok, I didn't want to have to do this, but ::kneels down and clasps hands:: PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am beggin, pleading, doing cartwheels, whatever the hell will work! I don't care if it's flames and you hate my story, just so long as I know people have read it! I put out my longest chapter yet for you this time! My ego has been diagnosed with the horrible "Nobody Cares" disease, and can only be saved by your reviews! (Hey, it worked for TinkerBell, or was that clapping...)

REVIEW!

NOW!

I'm not kidding.....