It only goes to show you,
how many ways you don't know you.
When the bad sets in,
I could use some sleep.
Resting, falling,
falling deeper than deep.

August 24th 11AM Wednesday

"Secret agent man…secret agent man…" I softly sung to myself as I snuck down the hallway toward Ron's bedroom. Even though each of the Weasley children, except Ginny, had their own homes in London, their bedrooms remained almost exactly as they were when they used to live at the Burrow. This gave me a golden opportunity to do some extra investigating while everyone was out and Molly was busy downstairs in the kitchen.

When I finally stood outside Ron's room I found the door locked. I couldn't help but grin. This was the perfect opportunity to try out a little magic. "Alohamora," I said with confidence as I waved my father's wand in the direction of the lock. I punched a fist through the air in victory as I heard a click and the door swung open slowly.

Ron's room looked just as I had imagined it would. The color orange was overwhelming and the Chudley Cannons were featured everywhere from the posters on the walls to the sheets on the bed. There seemed to be no method to Ron's madness and I don't know if I'd ever seen any room so disorganized. My father had always been organized to the point of being obsessive-compulsive and he would've had a fit if he would've seen this place.

I began my search with the messiest spot in the room, Ron's desk. It was overrun with photos, books, old newspaper clippings, and a lot of candy wrappers. I sifted through the photos and found that most of them were pictures of Ron and Hermione and were of little interest. The books were old schoolbooks and I pushed those off to the side as well. The newspaper clippings piqued my interest somewhat and I spent a few minutes scanning the headlines.

'STUDENTS, AURORS KILLED IN ATTACK AT HOGSMEADE', proclaimed the first clipping that I picked off the desk. I assumed that it was an article about the attack that Hermione had told me about. The next headline said, 'BOY-WHO-LIVED SAVES DAY DURING HOGSMEADE ATTACK'. I was beginning to see a pattern in the clippings and after glancing through a few more I figured out that most of them mentioned Harry Potter in some way or another.

Before moving away from the desk to investigate the rest of Ron's room two articles caught my eye. They were lying side by side on the desk.

HARRY POTTER, BOY-WHO-LIVED TO DEFEAT THE DARK LORD, MISSING

By Colin Creevey

A little more than a year ago, at the age of eighteen, Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. Now, three months after turning nineteen it seems that the Boy-Who-Lived has disappeared. The last time Mr. Potter was reported to be seen was August 2nd, two days after his nineteenth birthday when a young witch spotted him leaving his childhood home in Surrey by taxi.

The eyewitness confirmed that the man she spotted was indeed Harry Potter when he turned to her for a moment and she noticed not only his legendary scar, but also the more noticeable large, jagged scar on the right side of his face. In an interview she told me that the only things he had with him were his old school trunk and an empty birdcage.

After speaking to some of Harry Potter's closest friends and the last of his family, this reporter has come to a startling conclusion. The Savior of the Wizarding World seems to have vanished into thin air. Has Harry Potter abandoned the wizarding world or did he decide that his work was done and is in the process of taking a much deserved break?

Although no one seems to know what happened to the Boy-Who-Lived, everyone here at the Daily Prophet and this reporter personally, hope that no matter where he may be and whatever he may be doing, he is happy and healthy. And, if darkness should ever attempt to strike fear into the hearts of good witches and wizards, we can only hope that Harry Potter will return once again to fight on the side of the light.

I couldn't help but snort derisively at the article. What kind of society puts all of their hopes and dreams on the shoulders of one young boy? Or perhaps a better question would be how has a society that depended on a teenager to save them, survived as long as they have? Plus, the article was horribly written. I picked up the second article and began to read.

CHARLES SMITH, INVENTOR OF LIGHTNING BOLT BROOMSTICK, DISAPPEARS WITHOUT TRACE

By Pansy Parkinson

Ministry officials were stunned on Saturday when a search of Charles Smith's workshop in Diagon Alley and his apartment above the shop, found the two completely empty. Charles Smith, the inventor of the Lightning Bolt line of Broomsticks, was scheduled to meet with Oliver Wood, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports concerning safety issues on the newest racing broom but Mr. Smith failed to show up for the meeting.

After a search of Mr. Smith's residence one Ministry employee made the following comment, "If anyone ever lived in that apartment, or worked in that shop, they did it a long time ago. There were cobwebs everywhere and at least a year's worth of dust."

A few rumors have circulated suggesting that Smith's disappearance might have something to do with the disappearance of Harry Potter, who was last seen seven months ago leaving Surrey in a taxi. Justin Finch-Fletchley, a spokesperson for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, dispelled the rumor at a press conference which took place yesterday morning at one p.m.

"We have been unable to find any evidence linking the disappearance of Harry Potter to the disappearance of Charles Smith. While it seems that they may have disappeared around the same time, no one has seen Charles Smith for almost a year and although there was some correspondence between Mr. Smith and the Ministry, we do not have any idea where the correspondence may have been sent from which means that Charles Smith may have left London at any time during the year."

When asked about the obvious connection between Smith's broomstick line and Harry Potter, he had this to say, "The Ministry is well aware that the Lightning Bolt line of broomsticks was created for Harry Potter and that Mr. Smith did allow Harry Potter to have the first Lightning Bolt broom to use during the second war against You-Know-Who. But we can find no personal or financial connections between Mr. Potter and Mr. Smith."

What an odd article. It certainly raised more questions then it answered, that's for sure. Obviously Ron had noticed the obvious connection between the two disappearances; why else would he have those two articles lying next to one another.

I dug once more through the articles looking to see if any of them mentioned Charles Smith. When I was unable to find any, I placed the two articles back on the desk and decided I would ask Ron about Charles Smith later. I wouldn't tell him about snooping through his room of course, but Severus and Draco had mentioned Smith before so I would bring it up using that pretense.

I moved away from the desk and stood in the middle of the room. "Now if I was going to hide something from prying eyes, where would I put it…?" I said softly to myself as I tapped a finger to my chin. The closet was too obvious and I'd already searched the desk. My eyes continued to scan the room until…BINGO!

Where does any normal young boy or young man put things that he doesn't want anyone to find? Under the mattress of his bed, of course!

Without even thinking about the fact that I was clearly invading Ron's privacy, I knelt down by the bed and pushed one arm in between the mattress and the wooden bed frame. I slid my hand towards the center and then began to sweep back and forth as my fingertips stretched for anything they could find. After a minute or two I felt one finger brush up against something. I tried to run my hand across the same spot but pulled back quickly when I felt something cut my hand.

One look at my palm and I knew what I had brushed up against. It had to be thick paper because I was now sporting a very nasty looking paper cut. It was deep but not so bad that I wouldn't live.

I lifted up the mattress on Ron's bed slightly so that I could look underneath. In the middle of the bed I could see what looked to be four or five pieces of parchment. I reached a hand underneath the mattress again and carefully pulled out the pieces of parchment one by one, making sure I used the hand without the bleeding cut.

The pieces of parchment were letters, but not just any letters. As I studied the letters closely I could see, "Dear Ron," written across the top of each page and across the bottom was "Your Friend, Harry."

For a moment I found myself torn between reading the letters and slipping them back underneath the mattress. Looking at old photos and newspaper clippings was one thing, reading someone's personal letters was quite another. My curiosity finally won out though and I sat down on Ron's bed and began to read.

None of the letters were dated so I had no idea in what order I should read them. I decided to begin with the one on top and work my way down.

Dear Ron,

I'm not actually allowed to write to anyone due to security reasons so DO NOT write back.

I just wanted to tell you and Hermione not to worry about me. All of the people here are helping me train and I'm well protected.

I also wanted to wish you luck in your sixth year. I wish I could be there, but this is something I have to do. And besides, the school will be much safer without me there.

Stay safe, and make sure you remember what Malfoy's face looks like when Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup once again!

Your friend,

Harry Potter

Obviously Harry must've written the letter at the end of the summer after his fifth year. I wondered briefly how he sent a letter from Grimmauld Place when he had so many people watching him. Suddenly I heard Molly moving around downstairs and decided that I would come back and read the rest of the letters at a better time.

I was in the process of pushing the letters back underneath the mattress when one of the pieces of parchment fell from my hand onto the floor. I looked down and gasped in surprise at the large, uneven writing glaring up at me.

I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT RON PLEASE BELIEVE ME I DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL HIM PLEASE BELIEVE ME PLEASE RON IT WAS AN ACCIDENT O GOD RON IT WAS ALL MY FAULT WHAT CAN I DO RON WHAT SHOULD I DO I DIDN'T MEAN TO I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO ALL MY FAULT JUST AN ACCIDENT ALL MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT IT WAS ALL MY FAULT

I'M DROWNING I CAN FEEL I'M DROWNING PLEASE RON BELIEVE ME DON'T WANT TO KILL I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM KILLER MURDERER PLEASE RON tell me I'm not a murderer

The rest of the letter trailed off into an unintelligible mess. Suddenly I could hear footsteps ascending the steps and I quickly picked up the fallen parchment and shoved it under the mattress. I quietly left Ron's room, closed the door behind me and snuck into my bedroom.

I plopped down on the bed and tried to catch my breath. There was definitely something in Harry's past that I wasn't being told and I questioned whether I even wanted to know after reading that letter.

I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT RON PLEASE BELIEVE ME I DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL HIM

Who did my father kill? Or did he just think he killed someone? Everyone told me that he had felt guilty for what happened to Sirius but this seemed entirely different. In the letter it seemed as if he was feeling responsible for someone's death directly, as if he cast the killing curse himself. It was also obvious that he was torn between thinking it was his fault and that it was an accident. Or perhaps he knew it was his fault but wanted to make himself believe that it had been an accident.

I'M DROWNING I CAN FEEL I'M DROWNING PLEASE RON BELIEVE ME DON'T WANT TO KILL

What did the words mean? Was he drowning in guilt? Drowning in sorrow? Depression maybe? Obviously he had killed someone that he didn't think he should have and he also said he didn't want to kill. All of the killing must have caught up to him and he lost it. But when was the letter written and who was it written about? Those were the real questions that I needed answered. But who could I ask?

The Weasleys were out because then I would have to admit that I had not only broken into Ron's bedroom but I had looked through his personal things as well. Remus was too loyal to Dumbledore to be totally truthful about anything that happened back then. Severus seemed to be avoiding the Burrow as much as possible and Draco was always busy as well.

I sighed in frustration and took my notebook out of my backpack. I wrote down as much of the letter as I could remember and decided to look into it later. Besides, once I get to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will be able to open my father's trunk and then all of my questions might be answered. I pulled out my photo album and flipped to the ripped photograph of my father.

"Or I could just have a hundred brand new questions to ask," I said sadly as I stared down at my father. The image of my father in the picture glanced over to the missing side of the photograph where Dumbledore once stood and then looked back at me for a moment before doing something completely unexpected, even for a magical photo.

He pointed his wand at the missing half of the photo and his mouth moved as he spoke silently. Suddenly a small glow erupted from his wand and the picture began to change. The half of the photo that I had torn off was back but Dumbledore was still missing. The background of the picture changed and shifted until I recognized a house in the distance. It wasn't just any house though; it was my house, our house, the home I had grown up in.

My father turned toward the house, looked back for a moment and gave me a sad smile and then slowly walked off toward the house. His image became smaller and smaller as he neared the image of our house in the distance. Once he reached the front door he didn't even hesitate before turning the knob and going inside. The door shut behind him and I just stared at the photo in shock. I watched the photo for close to an hour before I realized that my father wasn't coming back.