Chapter 2b: Regarding Reflections

And so we shall begin from the beginning…

In the blazing hot month of June, a one Harry Potter lay unmoving on his bed. He slept not, nor did he think he could. His ever-present nightmares plagued him even when he closed his eyes for brief moments, let alone a few hours of sleep. Sighing dejectedly, he sat up, his head resting in his hands.

He'd only been at Privet Drive for two weeks, but it'd seemed much longer. On the bright side of things, the Dursleys didn't even so much as look at him unless it was absolutely necessary. Harry thought this to be a God-send compared to his usual treatment, but it did nothing to alleviate his loneliness.

Despite how things may have seemed at the end of the year, he missed his best friends and house mates terribly. Even now, he felt that unavoidable pang of guilt at being the reason all their lives were in danger. All of them could have been killed because of him… just like Sirius…

No, he would not cry… He'd shed enough tears since it happened, and enough was enough. Sirius wouldn't have wanted him moping about and feeling sorry for himself just because he felt the need to protect those he cared for.

He just wished he could get out and do something other than be cooped up with the muggles the whole summer.

Just then, Harry heard a tapping sound coming from his window. He was up from the bed and to the window in an instant, hoping for a letter from one of his friends.

He was a little disappointed when an unfamiliar looking barn owl flew in through the open window. It was, however, erased by his curiosity as the owl landed on his shoulder, poking it's leg out to display the letter attached. In appreciation, he fed it an owl treat and let it drink from Hedwig's bowl before it was on it's way again.

As Harry began opening the letter, he vaguely noted that it was sealed with the Hogwart's crest. He thought it was odd but didn't pay any mind to it in favor of the letter; which read as follows:

Dear Harry,

First and foremost, I would like to express my deepest, sincerest apologies for all that has happened in the previous year. A great deal of these happenings occurred because of my own blind-sightedness and boorish stubbornness in keeping the truth from you. I regret my actions, and I always will, for it has cost me the precious gift of your trust, something which will be doubly difficult to gain back.

Let me start by offering you a chance to do what I should have inspired sooner; to train. I realize that at this point in your life, your studies at Hogwarts are progressing too slowly for the events that will be unfolding in the near future. That is why, starting at exactly 12pm tomorrow, this letter will become an activated portkey to the desired location where your training will begin.

Please understand, Harry, that you don't have to go through with this. I know you don't trust me as you once did, but please also understand that this isn't about me. This is all about you and the lives of your friends. You really do need to train to become the best you can be, and you can't do that sitting within the walls of those who care nothing of your existence. I understand that now.

So I'm asking you, Harry, please forgive an old man of his mistakes and let us begin anew.

Awaiting your answer,

Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster-- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

To say Harry was shocked was a bit of an understatement. He was absolutely dumbfounded, so much so that he read the words etched onto the expensive parchment at least twice.

Instead of the elated joy he should've been feeling at that moment, though, a scowl was slowly settling on the features of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Just bloody wonderful… NOW he wants to start this… this smarmy boot camp when all of last year, Harry was up to his eyeballs in the crap Voldemort'd set out for him.

Dumbledore was definitely playing the part of a general of war, playing up his troops. Hell, he probably even switched Harry's OWL scores to all O's just so he'd have no room to disagree with this little 'proposition.'

Another piece of parchment fell out of the envelope. Harry picked it up and scanned the contents.

"How convenient," he muttered. "Now they raise the ban on Underage Magic. Bet Dumbledore had something to do with that, too."

Harry knew he was being snarky, but really, could anyone blame him? After watching Sirius die and Hermione nearly killed, how the hell was he supposed to act? Oh but he was going to accept bloody Dumblydearest's invitation, if for nothing else than to better prepare himself and his friends. He would be no one's tool, not anymore.

Grabbing a piece of parchment and something to write with from his trunk, Harry jotted down a brief response.

I'll do it.

Rolling up the small piece of parchment, he tied it to Hedwig's leg and sent her off with instructions to stay with Dumbledore.

The next day was uneventful enough. Harry was up at 6am, showered, and in the kitchen making an early breakfast for himself and his 'family.' It was Monday, so he was sure his uncle and aunt would be up bustling about the house or getting ready for work. He couldn't really say the same for Dudley though. Lately the cheeky git only got up when it suited him best, which was always around noon or so. Of course, this was just fine for Harry as he'd be out of the house at that time anyway.

Once done with his meal, he set about cleaning his room and packing up his trunk. It really wasn't that much of a task, since his room was so small and he practically lived out of his trunk. Afterward, he settled down to get some of his homework out of the way, which wasn't much since they'd taken O.W.Ls the year before.

He briefly wondered how his scores came out. The only sure O was DADA since he'd had extensive practice in that particular field last year. Everything else was a big 'if' at the moment. He cracked a smile, thinking of Hermione and how he was sure she'd gotten all O's in each of her exams. He didn't know why worried and agonized over any of it, it was practically in the bag.

Not for the first time that summer, he wondered how she was doing. He did, of course, miss both his best friends but not quite as much Ron as he did Hermione. Not to mention that he and Ron hadn't exactly left on the best of terms last year. His red-headed friend seemed to have formulated the idea that he was the reason for the failure in his and Hermione's 'relationship.' Truth be told, Harry'd had no idea they were even dating until they actually broke up. He was so wrapped up in his own grief at loosing Sirius and the trauma of being possessed by Voldemort that he had been in his own world for days. That was, of course, until Hermione had come to pull him out of it…

God how he missed her… She always seemed to know what he needed and when he needed it. She took care of him, looked after him, and he felt like the biggest prat in the world for taking her for granted. It cut him deeper to know that he had been a complete smarmy bastard to her the whole year, and she continued to steadfastly stay by his side.

He regretted taking her for granted all these years. When he saw her again, he would make sure she knew how much he really appreciated her.

Come to think of it, Hermione was one of the reasons he was even excepting Dumbledore's offer, aside from the fact that he really did need training. He didn't want what happened in the Department of Mysteries to happen again. He wanted to be better prepared for any and all situations that might arise. If that meant taking up Occlumency with Snape again, he would endure and maybe even excel.

Harry was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he almost didn't notice that it was a minute to noon. The portkey was set to activate any second.

Grabbing the portkey, he hurried over to his trunk, and not a second too soon as he began to feel that familiar pull at his navel. It felt as though the world was upside down for mere moments, the floor had become the ceiling, and the ceiling was the floor.

In a matter of seconds Harry found himself within the familiar confines of the Headmaster's office. His eyes roamed about the expansive space for any sign of the older man, but he was no where in sight. He did, however, find himself settled on the sight of bright orange and red feathers. Immediately a smile swept Harry's entire expression.

"Fawkes!" he exclaimed gleefully as he eagerly made his way to where the phoenix perched. The magical bird cooed musically as the boy began stroking his feathers.

Although, the motion seemed to soothe Harry more than the fowl to whom he gave his attentions. The soothing sounds of Fawke's musical voice seemed to settle his apprehensive nerves, quell his trepidation a bit.

Despite his still-present anger at the Hogwart's Headmaster, he still found himself a bit on edge at the thought of the upcoming, inevitable conversation. He knew that now would be the time of their confrontation, the time to either resolve or rekindle his issues with the old wizard.

Before Harry could get any further in his musings, there was the sound of a door opening and a swish of robes.

"Ah, Harry, I see you've made it safely. Please, have a seat," said Dumbledore as he took his own seat behind the large, elegant desk. "Lemon drop?" he asked as Harry took his seat in front of the desk. He replied in the negative, his expression pensive. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off instantaneously.

"I know what you're going to say, Professor, and with all do respect, I'll ask you to save it. I don't need a repeat of what was written in your letter. Right now, all I need you to do is listen. Can you do that for me?"

Albus Dumbledore was, indeed, taken aback at that moment. Harry was taking charge for the first time, not so content to sit back and let others handle his business for him. He was finally realizing that this was his life, and no one could govern it but him. Dare he say, Harry Potter was growing into a fine young man, despite all the odds against him.

Dumbledore merely gave a nod of consent, that familiar twinkle beginning weasel it's way back within deep blue of his eyes.

"First, I want you to know that I've decided to forgive you. However, this doesn't mean that things are entirely back to normal between us. I'll admit, my attitude last year didn't much help matters at all, but your secrecy didn't either. I expect that this year, you and the others will keep me informed as to what is happening with the Order and otherwise. This is my life we're talking about here, as well as the lives of my friends and every other student in this school. The more secrets you keep for fear of panic, the more panic there will be when all hell breaks loose," Harry stated firmly, though he paused to breathe deep, willing himself to calm down and use his head for once.

"Look, Professor, I'm not saying any of this to hurt you, or place blame. I just want you to understand that keeping everybody happy by letting them remain ignorant of the dangers around them isn't a very good idea. It'll only cause chaos in the end, and last year's freakshow is a really good example."

'Merlin…That sounded like something Hermione would've said to me.' Without even realizing, a grin set about his features. 'That girl's more of an influence on me than I thought. Either that or I really am growing up…'

Dumbledore sat back in his chair. His eyes were twinkling a bit beyond their usual sparkle as he watched the play of expressions across Harry's face. The Boy-Who-Lived had surprised him with his heartened speech, and consequently, it actually worked in both their favors.

"Very well." He said quietly. "You have grown up far sooner than imagined, and you've proved many times that you are indeed capable of protecting yourself and those you care for. You are no longer an eleven year old boy, but a young man in control of his own destiny. It's time we started treating you like one.

"In a nutshell, Harry, I agree with your terms and expressly thank you for your forgiveness; it means more to me than you know," spoke the older man, his long fingered hand held out towards his pupil.

Harry took it with only a moment's hesitation, that grin widening a fraction or so.

"Now, I'm sure you'd like to know about the training I mentioned before," said Dumbledore, peering at the raven-haired young man over his now interlaced fingers.

Harry nodded eagerly; the anticipation of finding just exactly what sort of training he'd receive was getting to him.

"Very well. There will be Occlumency, which I will be instructing, conjuring, advanced charms and transfiguration, and last but certainly not least will be animagus training."

"Animagus training? Doesn't that take years of practice and preparation?"

"Indeed, it does at that, Harry. But your father and Sirius were able to fully transform in a matter of months; I am almost sure they were around the same age-group as you. Furthermore, it is my belief that you will be able to do same as well, if not sooner."

"I don't think I understand. I mean, is there even a reason I should become an animagus so quickly?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily at Harry's inquiries. He had hoped he wouldn't have to divulge this newest development to the young man, knowing he was probably still blaming himself for the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. However, the old wizard had just promised he wouldn't keep anything else from him. Besides, if Dumbledore's suspicions were correct, telling the boy what he was planning could prove to have smashing results.

"Harry, in being completely honest with you, your training here so soon isn't quite as simple as put before. In a month from now, I will be sending you on a mission; your training should be at least marginally completed by then."

Harry's already luminous green eyes became impossibly brighter. He hadn't expected to be involved so soon, but it appeared Dumbledore had been counting on him for this particular assignment since he sent that letter. "What sort of mission?"

"Well, it seems your friends, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, are oblivious as to just how much danger they're really in. At this point, it seems Ms. Granger falls at the sort end of the stick. Not only has she been a major part in foiling Voldemort's plans, but she is also Muggle-born. While Mr. Weasley's family surrounds him in a formidable amount of protection, Ms. Granger is not quite so blessed.

"Naturally, there are wards around her home, and someone is on guard at all times in the area, but it isn't enough." The Headmaster of Hogwarts watched with more than a passing interest as Harry's expression fell from gleeful to solemn in a manner of seconds; if the old wizard had to guess, he would say Harry's mind trailed back to events that happened not more than 3 months ago.

"And… where do I come in?"

"We need someone for the inside job, someone who can be by Hermione's side constantly without her actually knowing she's being protected. That someone is you, Harry."

"You didn't even have to ask," a small smirk found it's way to the young man's lips, "I'm pretty sure you knew I wouldn't hesitate to protect her."

"Perhaps, but I thought it best to inquire about it first, as I am not making the decisions involving your fate anymore."

"It's settled then. One question, though. Exactly how am I supposed to do this without her knowing? Surely you don't expect me to use the invisibility cloak; it's almost impossible to hide from her in that thing. It's like she sees right through it, or at least, when I'm wearing it."

"Not quite, Harry. You see, when you are in her home, you won't exactly be yourself. Or at least, not the way she remembers you. You will be in your animagus form."

"Oh! Okay, I get it now. That's why I need the training so soon, right?" Dumbledore nodded and could definitely see the expressed clarity in the young man's facial features, regarding the current situation. To his amusement, he could also see that excitement returning to emerald orbs. "Wicked…"

"I thought you might like that. Not to mention, it also gives you a chance to spend time in the company of a close friend."

Albus was more than pleased that Harry had accepted this assignment so eagerly. Not only would it help him prepare for events to come, but also he wouldn't have to be alone and grieving the entire summer.

Present day…

At the hour of 2am July16th, Harry Potter, or should I say 'Bast' made his way back up the stairs to Hermione's room. This time, however, he was met with some resistance.

Crookshanks, who had been absent up until now, stood in the doorway, blocking the larger feline's passage. The ginger cat's fur stood on end, his body poised to pounce at any given moment, clearly trying to protect his territory from the other male.

Bast didn't feel at all threatened, for obvious reasons, and sat back calmly looking down at the smaller feline, his meter-long tail swaying back-n-forth lazily.

"Crookshanks, what're you doing?" he questioned, though if human ears were listening in, one might hear a series of low growls instead of words.

"I should be asking you the same question," came the response in the form of a simple 'Meow.'

"I'm trying to get into Hermione's room, but you're in my way."

"That's very observant of you, my friend; I had not pegged you to be so brilliant." Ah, but sarcasm is a lovely tool.

"Oi, Crookshanks, would you just move so I can go in? I don't think Mione would be too happy if she saw us standing in the door way staring at one another. Besides, I'd like to sleep sometime this century." Bast sighed, as only a predatory cat could, wondering not for the first time in the last three minutes why he hadn't anticipated something like this happening.

"And what makes you think you can sleep in here?" Crookshanks replied snarkily.

"Mione invited me in," was the simple reply

"Oh… Well… that's different then," meowed the ginger feline quietly. "But you remember one thing; she's my human, and your presence here doesn't change that!" As if to prove his point, Crookshanks left from blocking the bigger cat's way and made a bee-line for Hermione's bed where he jumped up on the mattress and curled up near her feet.

If Bast could have rolled his eyes, he may have done so several times over. Instead, he leisurely made his way to where his 'mistress' slept. With a wide yawn that displayed huge, deadly canines, he settled on the rug beside the bed, emerald orbs slipping closed in slumber.