Harry Potter and the Path of War

by Anduril666

A year has passed since the Dark Lord's return, and the wizarding world is living in fear. The war that began over 15 years ago is picking up pace again, and Harry must come to terms with both the war and the prophecy before he can end it.

7. Chapter seven: Return to Hogwarts

Harry Potter and the Path of War

Chapter seven: Return to Hogwarts

"Glad to be back?" Ron asked, as Harry joined him, Ginny, Luna, Hermione and Neville on the stone steps leading up to the large oak doors of Hogwarts. Harry smiled.

"Definitely." They entered through the open doors, the warmth of Hogwarts hitting them immediately, and Ron, Hermione and Neville breathed deep, contented sighs.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his wet hair vigorously, making Hermione yelp and jump away from him, "why did it have to rain today?"

"Because they said it should rain today," said Luna, walking beside Ginny. Hermione turned to her, a curious expression on her face.

"Who are. ." she began, before shaking her head suddenly and saying, "actually, forget it," irritably. Clearly, Harry thought, Hermione had finally given up on trying to understand Luna, and the strange things that she said continuinally. Ginny was trying not to giggle, and Neville just looked lost.

The six of them made their way through the Entrance Hall and to the double doors on their right, that led to the Great Hall and the Hogwarts Welcoming Feast. As they entered, Harry saw that the enchanted ceiling that showed the night sky outside was a starless black tonight, rain falling from it and disappearing before it reached the candles that floated in midair above the four house tables, and lightning was frequently flashing across the ceiling, making students jump and briefly illuminating the Great Hall even more. Distant rumbles of thunder could also be heard.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville made their way over to the Gryffindor table, and Luna dreamily drifted away from them to the Ravenclaw table. Harry shouted goodbye after her, and she turned and smiled at him before carrying on her way. Neville gave Harry a strange look that Harry could not discern.

As they walked towards the Gryffindor table, Harry heard snippets of whispers and hushed conversations as he passed, all about him.

"Jumped out of the train, he did!"

"No he didn't, someone blasted the door and pulled him off!"

"No they didn't, he jumped off it!"

"Yeah right!"

"He did too! You-Know-Who was there as well, and Potter went to fight him!"

"Look, there he is, Harry Potter. He jumped off the train, trying to act like a hero, what an idiot."

"Shut up, David! He did it to help save people's lives!"

"Yeah, okay then."

"He did! Stacey said that he scared You-Know-Who off as well!"

"What? You-Know-Who was there?"

"Why's Potter always trying to be the hero?"

"Oooh, look, there he is, Joanne, Harry Potter!"

"Did he really jump off the train? I think that they pulled him off it with a spell."

"I don't know, they might have done. . ."

Harry kept his head down and focused on Ron's large feet in front of him as he walked, trying desperately to stop the comments affecting him.

After what seemed like a lifetime to Harry the five of them reached the Gryffindor table, and Ginny left them to go and sit with her fifth-year friends further down the table, while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville sat down at the first opening they could find that would fit them all. As soon as he had taken his seat, Harry immediately turned to the front of the Hall, to look at the staff table. He immediately noticed Dumbledore, sitting at the centre of the table with dark green robes decorated with yellow moons, one of his hands stroking his long white beard absent- mindedly. To Dumbledore's right, he saw a wizard that he had never seen before. He had wavy black hair that reached down past his shouders, a rather tanned complexion, and was wearing jet black robes that were covered in small, silver stars. However, his most distinguishing feature was a gruesome-looking scar on his face, that started above his left eye and diagonally went down over his eye and mouth to the middle of his chin. He was talking quietly to Dumbledore, who seemed to be nodding in agreement with whatever it was that the man was saying.

"Reckon that's the new Defence teacher, Harry?" came Ron's voice from Harry's right, who was still staring at the new wizard. Harry nodded, pulling his eyes away from the man and turning to Ron. "Yeah, must be, that's where the new one usually sits," he said to Ron. Ron nodded, and looked closely up at the man, and his eyes widened suddenly.

"Blimey, look at that scar!" he exclaimed loudly, gaping at the man, and Hermione turned from her scanning of the staff table to glare at him.

"Ron!" she hissed, "don't say things like that so loud!" Ron didn't seem to hear her; he was still gaping at the man. "And don't stare!" she added. Ron tore his eyes away from the new wizard, and turned to Harry.

"Makes your scar look quite nice, dosen't it?" he said to Harry, who laughed. "Still, neither of you's nothing compared to Mad-Eye, I suppose," he said, and Harry agreed, and went back to scanning the staff table. He could see Snape glaring across the table at the scarred man, but it did not seem to be any different a glare that he usually gave to the new DADA teachers, so Harry didn't bother thinking about that. Looking past Snape, his eyes swept over Professor Sinistra, Professor Sprout, and tiny Professor Flitwick (who was, as usual, sitting on a large pile of cushions so that he could reach the table), and on to another wizard who he did not recognize, wearing pure black robes. The man had red hair that extended all the way down his back, a bushy red moustache and beard, and piercing blue eyes, and was staring down at the students with a hard and serious look on his face. Harry thought he looked slightly familiar.

"Have you seen that other bloke, next to Flitwick?" he said to Ron and Hermione, who quickly turned to look in Flitwick's direction, their eyes widening as they saw who Harry was talking about. "What do you reckon he's doing here?"

"What, that one that looks like a viking? Bit scary looking, in' e? Dunno what he's doing here though," Ron said, frowning, his eyes quickly flicking over the staff table from left to right, "all the other teachers are here." Hermione sighed.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" she said to them, and Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks, making Hermione give another sigh. "He's the Spell Construction teacher, isn't he? That's the only new subject being taught this year. I hope. ."

"What?" Harry interrupted sharply, looking hard at Hermione, "Spell Construction's a new subject? They've never taught it before?" Hermione shook her head.

"Well, yes, it has been taught before, but it was taken off of the NEWT list twenty three years ago, and they haven't had it as a subject you could take since. Didn't you talk to Professor McGonagall about this? Oh, we had a very interesting conversation about Spell Construction, apparently the last teacher only had one arm, and her eye was. ."

Harry tuned Hermione's voice out, as his thoughts took over his mind. He reckoned he had a pretty good idea exactly why Spell Construction was suddenly being brought back after twenty three years: because of him, because of the Line of the Protectors. What was it Dumbledore had said? That he would gain experience in Spell Construction of learning how to create spells? That's why it's being brought back, he thought to himself, so it can help me defeat Voldemort. He felt a strange sense of betrayal at thinking this, like he had been manipulated into doing something unwillingly, and he decided he would bring it up with Dumbledore at their meeting after the feast. He was brought back to the real world when the doors of the Great Hall suddenly opened, and Professor McGonagall marched in holding a stool with a battered, ancient wizard's hat perched on it and leading a line of terrified-looking first-years up to the Hall to the staff table, where they all lined up. Professor McGonagall set the stool with the battered hat in front of them, and stood back, waiting.

As he and the rest of the school waited for the Sorting Hat to begin it's song, Harry looked closely at the first-years, and his stomach churned horribly. Stan Thornley, Steven Blacklock, Emma Watson, and Simon Adams. Four first-years had been killed already. He looked at them, wondering how many of them had just lost a childhood friend, or maybe a brother, or a sister. He wondered what houses the four who had died would have been in. He wondered if Steven Blacklock would have been an excellent Quidditch player for Hufflepuff, if Emma Watson would have been a smart, popular Ravenclaw, if Stan Thornley and Simon Adams would have been mischievous Gryffindors, playing pranks and causing Hermione even more trouble than Fred and George had. His stomach churned again.

He had no more time to think such dark thoughts however, as the rip near the brim of the hat suddenly opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began it's song:

Another year has passed, and some are back, and some are gone,
And new tests and challenges must now be begun.
Last year I warned you; unite, or fall,
And you paid no heed to my warning
For our fair school.
But time is running out, it is near high noon,
And with every breath
Our Hogwarts moves closer to doom.
Now you may be thinking that my words are all of woe,
But look closer and you will see the counsel I give,
The counsel that will save our Hogwarts from this woe.
I say to you again: Unite! For too long have the houses been split,
And discord and enmity been master of us,
And to unite is the only way we will survive the storm ahead.
Unite! For the founders four created the houses for this purpose,
And to stay divided is to pronounce the doom of Hogwarts,
And the victory of those who would have our school fall into ruins.
I will not sing this year of the merits of each house,
For this is no longer needed,
For you must see past the traditional traits of each house,
In order to unite in partnerships of trust and equality.
This warning I again have given,
And this I say as my final word:
The storm that is almost upon us
Is less dangerous than the disunity
That is master of these halls,
And if we and our Hogwarts falls to these deadly, external foes,
It will not be because of our enemy's strength over us, But because of our own weakenesses, because we are not united in defiance
Of those that would have us defeated, of those that would
Cover our Hogwarts in darkness. This I have told you again, and if my warning is again not taken heed of,
No Sorting next year will be heard of.
But, for now, let the Sorting begin.

The Sorting Hat became motionless once again, and slumped down into the stool. There was some scattered, unenthusiastic applause, as most students just looked puzzled, the first-years looking very confused, and in no time at all there was a quick outburst of muttering and whispering, as students debated what the Sorting Hat had meant with it's song. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. Ron was the first to speak.

"That was pretty cryptic, wasn't it? No Sorting next year will be heard of? What does it mean by that? That it's not going to Sort any students next year or something?"

"Precisely," said Hermione quietly, "it's saying that if we ignore it's warning and don't become united with the other houses this year, next year it won't Sort students at all, it'll probably just chuck them in randomly into different houses. I have to say, maybe that is the best way to do things, even the Hat said it itself last year, that it was having doubts about the Sorting process. Maybe it's time for a change."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, and the whispers died down immediately. She pulled a long piece of parchment from a deep pocket in her robes, and read aloud the first name. The Sorting had begun.

"Auxris, Harriet."

A small girl with long red hair approached the stool apprehensively, looking terrified. She placed the Sorting Hat on her head, which covered all of her face down to her small chin, which could be seen trembling from the opening of the Hat. After a moment's pause, the brim at the bottom of the Hat opened like a mouth and shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl ran off to the Hufflepuff table with the Hat still on her head, and Harry snickered, remembering when Neville had done the same thing at their Sorting. Evidently Neville was remembering as well, because when Harry turned to him, he was the colour of a tomato.

'Audley, Sarah' and 'Bryony, Daniel" were both sorted before 'Colieus, Cole' became the first Gryffindor. As the Sorting continued and the line of first-years lessened, clapping automatically when one was Sorted into Gryffindor, Harry found himself staring at the two new teachers frequently, wondering who they were, and where they had come from. Could they be trusted? He wondered. Was one of them a Death Eater in disguise, like Crouch had been? Was either of them members of the Order? Or was one of them from the Ministry, here to keep an eye on Hogwarts and Dumbledore, like Umbridge had been last year?

Finally, 'Yale, Phillipa' became a Slytherin, and Professor McGonagall took away the Sorting Hat and stool, and Dumbledore got to his feet, his arms stretched wide as they always were at the Welcoming Feast. Harry felt a number of emotions within himself as he looked at Dumbledore, remembering their conversation about the Line of the Protectors only last night. Dumbledore had gone through what he was going through as well, Harry remembered.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore cried, a wide smile on his face as he stood facing them all, "welcome to another year at Hogwarts! And, in fear of risking your wrath so early in the school year, I will wait until after the feast to bore you with a long speech. Tuck in!"

The school applauded and laughed gratefully as Dumbledore sat back down, and food suddenly appeared out of thin air on the five long tables. The applause for Dumbledore died down as people dug in, and conversations broke out across the Hall.

As Harry reached for the roast potatoes that Ron had already eaten most of, Hermione looked around quickly and then said quietly to Harry, "I think the Sorting Hat was talking about the DA, Harry." Harry and Ron gave her puzzled looks.

"What?" said Harry quickly, forgetting the roast potatoes. Ron turned his attention away from the food and to their conversation as well. "It's talking about the DA? What do you mean? You said it was talking about Hogwarts! There's no disunity in the DA." Ron nodded in agreement, and Hermione gave them both a withering look.

"Don't be stupid. I think it was saying that we should have Slytherins in the DA. You know, it was talking about the houses being united, and, at the moment, what other way is there to unite the houses other than the DA?" Harry looked incredulously at her.

"Hermione, you agreed with me on the train that the DA needs to stay secret! How can it stay secret if we start letting Slytherins in?" he asked. Hermione stood her ground.

"Not all Slytherins are bad, Harry," she said, with the tone of explaining something simple to a small child, "we'll just have to be careful which ones to trust."

"And how will we know which ones to trust?" Ron said, glaring across the Hall at the Slytherin table, "any of them could be spies, for Malfoy or for You-Know-Who or something, no matter how genuine they seem. I'm with Harry, we shouldn't risk the DA just because a hat said all the houses should be friends and be 'united'."

Hermione, instead of coming up with a quick comeback, merely looked thoughtful, and Harry could tell by looking at her that her brain was going a hundred miles an hour, probably trying to come up with solutions to what Ron had said. At length, she spoke.

"I'm going to see if I can find any spells that prevent people from telling others certain things," she said slowly, "that way, even if there are traitors in the DA, they won't be able to do anything about it. And maybe I can find some sort of truth spell as well, so we know who the traitors are, even if they can't do anything about it. Well, they won't be able to do anything for a while, there's bound to be a counter-curse to the spells we use, so it's better to be safe than sorry, catch them before they've done any damage. . ." she trailed off, staring at the enchanted ceiling and clearly thinking hard, and Harry and Ron turned to eachother.

"So Harry, what do you reckon about the new teachers?" said Ron, nodding towards the staff table, "reckon that scarred bloke's alright?" Harry shrugged.

"Who knows? He might be." Ron nodded.

"Well, Dumbledore hired him, so I doubt he's a Death Eater or anything. I doubt he's going to make the same mistake twice. Then again, it was Dumbledore who hired Lockhart. ." Ron trailed off as well, and Harry looked at the two new teachers again. There was definitely something about the one that was presumably the Spell Construction teacher, something familiar, like he had met him before. . . . who was he? Harry wondered.

At length, Harry stopped staring at the new teachers and wondering about who they were and brang himself back to earth, and in doing so found himself smack bang in the middle of a classic Ron and Hermione argument.

"Well, you should have revised more thoroughly for your OWLs Ron," Hermione was saying, "you've only got yourself to blame." Ron frowned.

"But Harry still got in, didn't he? And he only got Exceeds Expectations as well, same as me."

"Yes, well, that's different."

"What are you two talking about?" interrupted Harry, although he reckoned he already knew. Ron turned to him.

"Potions. Just saying that it's not fair that you got in while I didn't, even though we got the same scores. Bang out of order, don't you think?" Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I reckon so. .but maybe we can get McGonagall to get Snape to let you in as well! I mean, if they changed the rules for me, they can change the rules for you as well." Ron laughed.

"Nah, I'm not as important as you, they wouldn't change the rules just for me," he said, and he looked sadly and sympathetically at him. This totally threw Harry, who had expected Ron to give him the look of jealously that he had become all too familiar with when he had something that Ron didn't. Maybe he's finally figured out that being me isn't great, he thought bitterly, and this time it was Harry who was jealous, for not being able to lead a relatively normal life like Ron.

"Still," Ron was now saying, "I can never be an Auror now, unlike you, Harry." The sympathetic look he had looked at Harry at a moment ago was now gone, replaced with one of jealously, and slight bitterness. Harry snorted.

"You've still got a better chance of becoming an Auror than me, it'll be a miracle if I even live long enough to leave Hogwarts." Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as both Ron and Hermione gave him angry looks, the jealous and bitter look leaving Ron's face immediately.

"Don't say that, Harry!" Hermione said fiercely, and Harry could see sudden tears in her eyes, and Ron nodded.

"Yeah, don't talk like a prat Harry. I mean, you just scared You-Know- Who off of the platform at King's Cross, didn't you? I reckon it's getting less and less likely that he's gonna do you in, it'll end up you going after him in the end," he said, looking at Harry in awe, as if he was going to stand up at any moment and go hunt for Voldemort. Harry snorted.

"Yeah, right. . ." he mumbled, and turned away from Ron and Hermione to stare at the stormy sky above. It'll end up you going after him in the end. He supposed Ron was right, even if he didn't like it; if Voldemort did stop attempting to kill him, through fear of him or because of something else, Harry supposed that he would have to go after Voldemort eventually, after he and Dumbledore had invented and perfected the spell he needed to defeat him with. Harry sighed, feeling a sudden weight on his shoulders as he thought of both the Prophecy and the Line of the Protectors: he had absolutely no intention of telling either of these secrets to Ron or Hermione, or anyone else close to him at that matter; they were in danger enough as it is, being so close to him, and if Voldemort found out that one of them knew the prophecy or about another secret that could perhaps benefit him, their lives would surely be in as much, if not more, danger than his own. No, he would not tell them anything. Dumbledore knew, and he understood what he was going through, and that would have to be enough.

At length, after the students had polished off the last of the desserts, the last crumbs and scraps of food vanished from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean again, and Dumbledore got to his feet, the Hall falling silent immediately as they waited for their Headmaster to speak, a sombre expression on his face. Harry had noticed throughout the feast that the conversation and noise level was much quieter than usual, and that many faces were pale, many students subdued and not eating anything. Harry did not have to wonder why; his thoughts too had been with the murdered students and parents at King's Cross.

"Well, as we are all now comfortable, warm, fed and watered, I request a few minutes of your time and your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore, suddenly smiling happily down at them all from his position at the centre of the staff table, although Harry thought his smile looked forced. "However, I must speak of one other matter before I do so." Harry swallowed, knowing what Dumbledore was going to talk about, as the smile disappeared from his face again, to be replaced by the sombre expression he had worn previously. From the looks of the other students, they all seemed to know what he was going to say as well. Harry hoped that he would not say anything about Voldemort himself being on the platform; that would really make people panic.

"As you all know, the Hogwarts Express and platform nine and three- quarters were both attacked today, as you all prepared to journey here at eleven o'clock this morning, and I must inform you all that this attack was indeed the work of Lord Voldemort and his servants, more formerly known as Death Eaters." There was a sudden outbreak of gasps and frightened shrieks across the Great Hall, and Harry remembered the same type of reaction two years ago, when Dumbledore had announced that Cedric Diggory had been murdered by Voldemort. This time however, there was not one look of disbelief directed at Dumbledore, only looks of horror and fear.

"Twenty eight people were murdered by Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters at platform nine and three-quarters today. Seventeen were students here at Hogwarts, and the remaining eleven were proud parents, there to see their children off to school for another year. Their murders are a tragedy to us all, even to those of us who did not personally know any of those whose lives were so brutally taken away. None of these people had done anything whatsoever to deserve their death, and all will be remembered in great honour, memory and reverence, by those of us who sit in this Hall today, and by those in the greater wizarding community who oppose Lord Voldemort, his followers, and everything that they stands for."

Dumbledore had now picked up his glass, and was holding it above his head to the enchanted ceiling, a strange look on his face as he gazed up at the stormy sky. In a clear voice, he said, "please raise your glasses, and honour those who lost their lives today."

There was a sudden scraping of the benches as every student and teacher in the Great Hall stood, all following Dumbledore's lead and holding their glasses above their heads and to the reflected night sky above them. Harry did not look at the Slytherin table, not knowing if he would be able to control himself if he saw that some of them had not stood to honour those that had been killed.

"Rest in peace," said Dumbledore loudly and clearly, his eyes set on the sky, a far-away look on his face.

"Rest in peace," murmured the rest of the school, their eyes on the sky, and everyone sat back down, as Dumbledore did so. The Hall was now in a state of grief, and Harry could hear the sound of girl's sobbing all around him. Looking at Hermione, Harry could see her upper lip trembling, trying to hold in her tears, and, just down from them, Lavender Brown had her head rested on Parvati Patil's shoulder, and there were tears streaming down both of their faces. Ginny was hugging one of her friends, who was crying into her neck. Many of the new first-years were being comforted by older students. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the grief-stricken students and looked up at Dumbledore, who he was suprised to see was looking back at him. Dumbledore nodded at him in understanding, and Harry nodded back quickly and turned his eyes towards the floor. Ron, he noticed, now seemed to be trying to comfort Hermione, but clearly not knowing how to; Harry didn't think that Ron patting her on the top of her head and saying "there there" was going to make her feel any better.

After many of the students had regained their composure (and after Hermione had stopped sobbing uncontrollably into the shoulder of a clearly terrified Ron) Dumbledore stood again, and after apologising for such a terrible start to the year, began to read the start-of-term notices.

"I would like to remind you all, and to inform first-years, that the village of Hogsmeade is out-of-bounds to all students below third-year, as is the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds, hence the name Forbidden, a name which a few of you seem to conveniently forget at times." Harry saw that Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down fondly at him, Ron and Hermione, and he felt slightly better, as he smiled weakly back at Dumbledore.

"The caretaker, Mr Filch, has asked me to remind you all that magic is strictly forbidden in the corridors between lessons, and that a number of things have been added to the list of items that are not allowed inside the castle, including the entire line of products of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." The coners of Dumbledore's mouth curled up, and his mouth twitched, before he regained control of himself, and a disapproving Profesor McGonagall stopped frowning at him. Hermione, Harry noted, had a similar disapproving look. Harry and Ron looked at eachother, both unable to stop a smile as they shared a look. Harry was looking forward to telling Fred and George about the newest items to be banned in products; if he knew them, they would see their products being made illegal in Hogwarts as a definite sign that they were now successful. The atmosphere in the Hall among the students seemed to be improving again now at this news, and many students were grinning in spite of themselves, many of them no doubt remembering Fred and George's pranks and toys, and their "escape" from Umbridge last year.

"Mr Filch has also requested," Dumbledore was now saying, "that I inform you that anyone caught in possession of any product of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will serve at least a month's worth of dententions, and that you will never be able to look at neither your own hands or the school lavatories the same way again." There was a collective grimace and wincing across the Hall at these words, and Dumbledore nodded commiserately down at them.

"I know, I know, nasty business altogether. But don't say you haven't been warned. Moving on, we have two new teachers with us this year. For Defence Against the Dark Arts, it is my pleasure to anonunce that the vacancy for the job will be filled by Professor Vanya," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the man to his right, who stood up quickly and bowed to the students, and sat back down. There was lukewarm applause as he took his seat again, and a few gasps sounded across the Hall, as those who had not yet seen the gruesome scar on his face did so. Harry wondered how he had got it. . .

"And as for our second new appointment," Dumbledore was now saying, "I am pleased to announce that Professor Thorlaug will be joining us to teach the wonderful subject of Spell Construction, which is returning to Hogwarts after a twenty-three years and eight months absence." The man that Harry had thought to look familiar, with long red hair and piercing blue eyes, stood, but did not bow to the students like the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor had done. There was again a lukewarm, hesitant applause, many of the students looking quite scared of the new Professor, and he sat back down. Dumbledore continued.

"Now, as usual, Quidditch tryouts will be held. . ."

Harry started. Quidditch! He had completely forgotten about Quidditch, and if he was going to be allowed to play it now. Did his lifelong ban still count, now that Umbridge had been sacked? He wondered. Where was his Firebolt now? The last he had heard of it, it had been in the dungeons, guarded by a security troll. . .he turned to Ron to talk to him about it, who for some reason was now grinning widely, a stupid smile on his face. Harry opened his mouth to ask him what he was so happy about, when Dumbledore suddenly spoke up, in a loud and joyful voice.

"And now, before you all run off to your nice warm beds," said Dumbledore, and at these words there was a long, deep groaning throughout the Hall, and Dumbledore chuckled. "As I was saying, before you all run off to bed, let us all sing the school song!"

Dumbledore flicked his wand silghtly, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, flew high above the house tables, and twisted itself into words, the first line of the Hogwarts school song appearing. Harry wondered why Dumbledore was making them sing the school song this year; to his recollection, he had not sung it since first-year.

"Everybody pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, looking younger than Harry had seen him in a while, "and off we go!"

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling,
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains are all rot.

As in Harry's first year, everyone finished the song at different times, but this time, there was no Fred and George singing to a slow funeral march after everyone else had finished. As Harry clapped along with the others as the last singers finished, he wondered for the first time how different Hogwarts would be now that Fred and George were gone. He realised just how funny the two of them had made Hogwarts for him, with their new inventions, their jokes, and their pranks. And how they had been part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team all the time he had been on it, and that they had been part of the team with him that had won the Quidditch Cup back in his third year, and how it had been them who had given him the Marauder's Map. . . . Hogwarts would definitely feel different without them, Harry thought.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore was now saying, "a truly excellent way to enter the new school year. And now, off to those warm, comfortable beds of yours!" There was another appreciative laugh around the Hall, the atmosphere of gloom seemingly having disappeared, and there was a sudden scraping of the tables on the stone floor as everyone hurried to carry out Dumbledore's instructions, of going straight up to their nice warm beds.

Harry, however, had other plans. He had a meeting to go to, and he had promised Hermione that he would go to the hospital wing to sort out his split knuckles, only temporarily healed after he had hit Malfoy. That memory brought a smile to his face, and he quickly looked around the Hall for Malfoy, remembering Ron's words that he would look like a right twat now, with one of his front teeth missing.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen in the thick crowd moving slowly towards the Entrance Hall, and Harry reckoned he'd be trying to keep a low profile anyway. Ah well, Harry thought, he can't keep that much of a low profile when he's got classes to go to, he thought with a smirk.

"Budge it, Harry," said Ron's voice from his side, "you're holding up the whole table." Harry shook himself, and started moving slowly towards the doors of the Great Hall. When he, Ron and Hermione had reached the Entrance Hall, he took the two of them aside and explained to them that he had a meeting with Dumbledore. Ron looked puzzled.

"What's this meeting about, then?" he asked, and Harry shrugged.

"No idea, he hasn't told me," he lied, and Ron nodded.

"Fair enough, hope it dosen't take long. Want me to wait up for you?" he asked, and Harry shook his head.

"Nah, it's alright, go to bed if you're tired." But Ron waved an impatient hand.

"It's fine, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I don't have to take the first-years up this year."

"Why not?" Harry questioned, and Ron grinned.

"That jobs reserved for the fifth-year prefects."

"Don't you two stay up too long!" Hermione scolded, "we've got lessons first thing in the morning, and it's the start of our NEWT courses, you don't want to be tired." Ron laughed.

"Oh no, that would simply be terrible."

"Well, some of us actually care about our futures, Ron," said Hermione, and Ron made an indignant noise.

"So because I want to wait up for my best friend, I don't care about my future?"

"No, all I'm saying is. . ."

"Er, guys, I've, er, got to go," Harry said, and Ron and Hermione dropped their argument and walked with Harry up the marble steps in the Entrance Hall, taking separate directions when they reached the top. As Harry walked alone along the corridor leading away from Gryffindor Tower, he heard Ron and Hermione start another argument, their voices echoing in the stone corridors. Some things never change, he thought with a smile.

He walked the now-familiar route through Hogwarts to Dumbledore's office, arriving in front of the ugly stone gargoyle in less than five minutes.

"Pumpkin Juice!" he said clearly, and the gargoyle hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two, and Harry jumped on to the spiral staircase, moving slowly upwards to Dumbledore's tower office. When he reached the top he jumped off immediately and knocked the large griffon-shaped brass knocker. There was no answer from inside, and, after waiting for a minute, Harry opened the door hesitantly, revealing Dumbledore's office, but no Dumbledore. Probably still down at the feast, Harry thought, and he leant against a table to wait for him.

Looking around the office, he felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered completely trashing it at the end of last year. Seems to have made a full recovery he noted, looking down at the spindle-legged table he was leaning against, complete with the small, delicate silver instrument he remembered hurling against the wall last year, along with the table itself. He noticed that Fawkes was not on his perch in the office, and he wondered where he was. Looking around the walls, he saw that all the portraits of former Headmasters were asleep, some breathing lightly, some snoring so loudly Harry was suprised that he had not heard them before now. However, one of the occupants was awake in his portrait, and was eyeing Harry from the opposite wall, one hand stroking his pointed beard as he stared at him.

"Well well well, it's you again," Phineas Nigellus drawled, looking lazily at Harry, "the tragic hero. How are you, then?" Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"How am I?" Harry questioned, looking suspiciously at Phineas Nigellus as he moved towards his portrait, "what do you care how I am?"

"On the contrary," Phineas Nigellus exclaimed, "I care rather a lot about how you are. Indeed, after what I learned in this office at the end of last year, I think everyone should care about how you are."

At the mention of the prophecy, Harry felt suddenly overwhelmed with anger and pressure, and turned abruptly away from Phineas Nigellus's portrait, ignoring his cries of how much of a juvenile delinquent Harry was, and how he had no respect for those "who were superior to him in every way." He leant against Dumbledore's desk, trying to calm himself down and to block the prophecy from his mind, remembering from his Occlumency lessons to clear his mind.

After he had regained his composure, something that Phineas Nigellus had said made him think of something, and he turned back to his portrait.

"So, all you portraits know about the, uh, about the. . . .prophecy, now then?" he said shakily. Phineas Nigellus opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to change his mind about saying it, and merely nodded somberly, actually looking serious for once. Harry swallowed.

"And can any of you tell anyone else, like other portraits or other people, about it?" Harry asked, and Phineas Nigellus shook his head.

"No, we cannot," he said, "we are bound by more than just honour to serving the present Headmaster of Hogwarts, and thus are unable to go against anything he has specifically told us not to do. Makes life quite boring, actually. ." he drawled, regaining his sneering attitude, his serious expression fading quickly away. Harry nodded at him, and turned away.

Looking around again, something caught his eye on Dumbledore's desk, and he turned his head fully to look at it; the Sorting Hat. Harry wondered how, if Dumbledore was not even here yet, it had got here so quick, but he couldn't be bothered to really think about it. Instead, a new thought suddenly came to him. The Sorting Hat's song this year had been very cryptic and dark, and Harry wanted more of an explanation to it. And, he thought, what better way to get an explanation than to talk to the one who had come up with the song? He looked around the office anxiously.

Dumbledore won't be back for ages he assured himself, looking quickly around the office again anyway, but there was no one there; Phineas Nigellus seemed to have left his portrait, and the rest of the portraits were still asleep. Hesitantly, Harry picked up the Sorting Hat and set it lightly on his head, noticing that it was no longer too big for him, and indeed was quite small on him now. He braced himself, waiting for the sly, intelligent voice to start speaking in his ear.

It never came. He waited over a minute, but there was no voice at all. Harry was puzzled. Why won't it talk to me? He wondered, taking off the Hat and inspecting it, seeing if it was broken or something. Setting it back on his head, he waited again for the voice, but again, there was nothing.

Harry took the Hat off and placed it back on the desk, annoyed. The one chance he got to talk to the Sorting Hat, to ask it about the meaning of it's song, and it wouldn't talk to him. Typical.

"Ah, Harry, nice and early, aren't you?"

Harry jumped and whirled round, startled by the voice.

"I thought you'd already be here, sir," Harry said to the smiling Albus Dumbledore, who had just entered the office and was now walking towards Harry and his desk, which Harry was still next to. Harry noticed he was carrying a copy of the Evening Prophet under his arm.

"Oh, I apologise, I had to have a talk with our new Spell Construction teacher," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "he should be along any minute now." Harry was puzzled.

"I thought this meeting was just about you telling me if you were going to let me start working on this spell straight away?" Harry said, and Dumbledore sighed.

"That will be one of the issues discussed, yes," he said, "but only when the others have all left."

"Others?" repeated Harry, "how many more are coming?"

His question was answered when the office door suddenly opened, and several people came in. In the lead was Professor Thorlaug, the new Spell Construction teacher, who was followed by a few people Harry did not recognise (who all stared at his scar, Harry noticed irritably) and, behind them, at the back of the line, walked a scowling-as-usual Snape. Snape, when he noticed Harry, glared hatefully at him. Back to normal then, thought Harry dryly.

Dumbledore was now conjuring chairs for the (Harry counted, including himself) six of them around his desk, and he expanded the desk itself slightly to allow them all to sit comfortably in front of his desk. Harry took a seat next to Professor Thorlaug and a witch with long red hair, who smiled at him. Harry smiled uncertainly back.

"Well!" said Dumbledore, dropping the Evening Prophet on his desk, placing the Sorting Hat on it's shelf, and sitting down in the high-backed chair behind his desk, "isn't this a nice gathering! It's such a shame that it's for such a serious meeting, otherwise we could have had a very pleasant time." Harry smiled uncertainly at Dumbledore, not sure whether he should be smiling or not at what Dumbledore had said, whose pleasant face had now changed into one of utmost seriousness.

"Now, to business. Firstly, I would like to introduce those of you are unfamiliar with him to Harry Potter." Dumbledore gestured with his hand to Harry and smiled at him, who was now feeling slightly uncomfortable. The witches and wizards Harry did not know turned to look at him, although it seemed to Harry that they had never looked away in the first place.

"Harry, this is Fiona Trout," said Dumbledore, gesturing to a plump, round faced pleasant-looking woman sitting a few seats away, who reminded Harry slightly of Mrs Weasley, but more formidable. She smiled at him, and Harry smiled back.

"This is Lillian Birch," he continued, gesturing to the young, pretty red-haired woman with warm blue eyes sitting next to him, who also smiled at him. He smiled weakly back.

"And this is Roderick Bodmin," he said finally, gesturing to a tall man with a shaven head and a small scar on his forehead, who leaned over the red-haired witch called Lillian Birch to shake Harry's hand with a smile. Harry noticed that Dumbledore seemed to be under the impression that he had introduced Harry to everyone now, but Harry realised that he had not yet introduced him to the viking-like Spell Construction teacher, who was looking intensely at Dumbledore with a serious expression.

"And now," Dumbledore was now saying, "I feel it is important for you to know, Harry, and for the rest of you to be reminded, that every witch and wizard in this room is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and that anything discussed in this room will not leave this room. Agreed?" There was a general murmur of agreement, and Harry glanced at Professor Thorlaug, the new Spell Construction teacher, glad that there would now be another member of the Order at Hogwarts, remembering last year when McGonagall had been in St Mungos and he had forgotten that Snape was a member of the Order.

Dumbledore noticed Harry's gaze directed at Professor Thorlaug, and suddenly tapped his hand lightly on his forehead.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about that," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Professor, would you please reveal yourself?" Professor Thorlaug stood up, pointed his wand at himself, and muttered, "Finite Incantatem."

The man's face slowly changed, the bushy beard and moustache fading away, and the red hair shortening up to his shoulders, which turned blonde, wavy and dirty-looking. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same, and Harry realized that it was his eyes that had made him look so familiar to him.

"Nate!" Harry cried, glad to see his Duelling Techniques teacher again, "you're the Spell Construction teacher? How come you're in disguise?"

"Nice to see you as well, Harry," said Nate Gonzales, smiling at Harry from the chair next to him, and shaking his hand. It was Dumbledore who answered Harry's question.

"Nate is a Hitwizard, Harry," said Dumbledore simply, "he is wanted by the Ministry. Do you think that it would be safe for him to teach here under his true identity? He'd be arrested before he even began teaching."

Harry nodded, remembering now. He and Nate had had several conversations during the summer about his job as a self-employed Hitwizard. Nate had explained that he only took on jobs that he was completely sure were for people who deserved what they were getting, at least in his opinion anyway. Harry had accepted this, but he doubted he would ever agree with what Nate did at all. In his opinion, almost everyone deserved to live, except for a select few of course, such as Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestragne. . .Harry fought down the sudden surge of hatred and anger, remembering about clearing his mind, forced a smile at Nate, and turned back to Dumbledore, who was speaking again.

"So, now we are all accquainted with eachother, let us begin our meeting. Firstly, the matter of Professor Vanya, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, needs to be adressed. For those of you who are unaware, Mahan Vanya is an Auror, working for the Ministry of Magic."

Harry groaned inwardly. Another Ministry spy, he thought, it's Umbridge all over again.

"His position here is a compromise between myself, the Ministry and the Wizengamot," Dumbledore was now saying. "He has no authority whatsoever over anything in Hogwarts other than the students in his classes, and he cannot interfere with other teacher's in any way. However, he can report anything he believes is not acceptable to the Ministry, and thus to Fudge. Essentially, he is only here to ensure that Hogwarts is behaving, according to the Ministry's standards." Dumbledore looked like he was thinking the same thing as Harry: what standards?

"What kind of a person is he?" Nate said, "is he a Fudge supporter? Is he going to report false information so Fudge can get involved?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, I do not think so. In fact, he does not seem to agree with Fudge in any aspect at all." Harry was puzzled, and by the looks of the few of the others, he was not the only one.

"But why would Fudge would trust such an important position as this to him then?" said Snape, "surely Hogwarts is one of his top priorities at the moment?"

"Maybe he is one of Fudge's most loyal supporters, and this apparent disagreement is just an act, so that we all think he is harmless," said Nate, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, I have it from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who has known him as a fellow Auror for many years, that he is most definitely not a Fudge supporter. And it was not Fudge who appointed him for the position as the Ministry representative at Hogwarts, it was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Allow me to make something clear. Minister Fudge and Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have practically been at war against eachother since the Ministry's announcement in June that Lord Voldemort has returned. Madam Bones is attacking Fudge for the time it took him to announce Voldemort's return, and is now, following an intense period of arguments, debates and compromises, running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement outside of Ministry control, and is now accountable primarily to the Wizengamot, and thus primarily accountable to me, as head of the Wizengamot. However, the Ministry does still hold a certain power over the Department, because of a oath that every employee of the Ministry of Magic has to swear to, so although it has no authority over the Magical Law Enforcement Department as a whole, the Ministry of Magic itself can give orders and instructions to members of the Department, such as Aurors, provided of course that it does not clash in any way with their orders from the Department itself, and thus Professor Vanya has no choice but to report anything suspicious to the Ministry, as Fudge has given him an order to do. However, I do not believe he will be reporting much at all."

"Do you think there's a chance of recruiting him for the Order?" said the young red-haired witch named Lillian Birch, "he's an Auror, isn't he? We need more Order members in the Auror ranks." But Dumbledore frowned, and shook his head.

"Yes, I do believe there is a good chance that we could recruit him to the Order, but, for the moment, we will not risk it. It would be a very dangerous thing to attempt, and if he refused us, Fudge would have an excellent reason for taking control of Hogwarts, and we cannot afford for that to happen."

"What about his actual lessons?" said Harry, before he lost his nerve at speaking in front of all these people, who now all turned to him. "Will the Ministry have given him an order to teach the lessons the way Umbridge did, with just theory? Do they still believe that you're trying to build up an army, Sir?" he said, looking at Dumbledore, who was looking at him with an odd expression on his face. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Nate was smiling at him, and wondered why. Dumbledore answered him.

"No Harry, they do not still believe I am trying to organize an overthrowing of the Ministry, that rumor has been successfully proved to be false. And no, to the best of my knowledge the Ministry has given Professor Vanya no instructions whatsoever on the content or teaching conduct of his lessons, and from what I have seen of his lesson plans, his lessons seem more than appropriate for the current situation."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the students would have more than just the DA to teach them how to defend themselves, which could only do so much.

"And what about the chance of him being an actual Death Eater?" said Roderick Bodmin, the tall man with the shaven head, "we can't forget who the real enemy is. This fighting amongst ourselves is ridiculous when we have a common foe to fight." There was a murmur of agreement throughout the room, Harry included, and Dumbledore spoke.

"I agree, this is ridiculous, and indeed nothing shows Lord Voldemort's power more than the disunity he creates within those fighting against him. However, we need the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix cannot fight this war alone. And with regards to concerns about whether Professor Vanya is a Death Eater, Severus," (Dumbledore gestured to Snape, who scowled) "as a member of lord Voldemort's circle, has his ways of discovering many of the new recruits to the Death Eaters, and the name of Professor Vanya has never been mentioned. There is a very slim chance that Mahan Vanya is a Death Eater. Still, I will be using Veritaserum on him, even if he is not a Death Eater or a supporter of Fudge, to find out exactly where his loyalties lie. I will obliviate him afterwards of course, and he will be none the wiser, but Hogwarts will be much safer. I will tell each of you the results of my testing in a week's time, as well as the rest of the Order."

Everyone nodded in agreement with this, and Harry in particular was pleased that Dumbledore was doing this, having had enough bad experiences with Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers in the past.

"Now then, the next item. Ah yes, this one concerns you, Harry."

Harry perked up at this, and watched Dumbledore as he stood up and strode quickly over to a bookcase next to his fireplace, where he took a large, leather bound book off of the top shelf. He brang it back to the desk and set it down on it, and, opening it slowly, plunged his hand inside the book, his arm disappearing up to his shoulder. Harry thought down the instinctive cry of alarm, and shook his head. Even after five years in the wizarding world, some magical things still suprised him.

Dumbledore appeared to be rummaging around inside the book now, and, after a minute or two, he emerged triumphantly with a small blue box. He turned back to Harry and the others. Harry noticed that Snape was glaring at him again, and seemed to be fighting the urge to say something. Harry glared back at him, but his concentration was broken when Dumbledore fixed them both with a frown, and when he had Harry's attention, he passed him the small box, who took it uncertainly, looking questionly at Dumbledore, who smiled at him, seeming to know the question that Harry was thinking.

"In this box," said Dumbledore, "is a means for you to communicate with members of the Order of the Phoenix, and for members of the Order to contact you. I daresay it will come in useful in the future," he said grimly, and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore gestured to the box, and said, "open it."

Harry placed the box delicately on the table in front of him and unfastened the catch holding it shut. Opening the lid fully, Harry found a small, delicate silver ring inside. He took it out to inspect it, and was amazed at the weight of it. Although it had looked like a delicate and light ring, it was deceptively heavy in his palm, and seemed to be emitting a slight buzzing noise.

"Every member of the Order of the Phoenix bears one of these rings, and by wearing one, you have the ability to communicate with any member of the Order you so wish. To communicate with a member of the Order, simply raise the ring to your mouth and say the incantation Narro followed by the name of the person with whom you wish to speak with. You will then hear the person who you wish to communicate with's voice in your ear, and from then on you can simply speak out loud at any volume, and they will hear you clearly. For example, to speak to Remus, you would say Narro, followed by Remus Lupin. Narro Remus Lupin. If you wish to communicate with more than just one Order member, simply say the incantation Narro followed by Multiplus, for example Narro Multiplus, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt. When someone is attempting to contact you through your ring, you will feel the ring grow warm on your finger, and it will turn light blue. To answer, simply tap the ring with your finger. To not answer the call for whatever reason, simply tap it two times in quick succession.

"I must also warn you that you will not always get an answer when attempting to communicate with Order members, as they will not always be in the best position to answer. Do you understand all this, Harry?"

Harry noticed Snape sneering at him, looking as if he doubted that he understood anything at all, and Harry resisted the urge to glare at him, instead nodding professionally at Dumbledore, who smiled at him. He gestured to the ring.

"Put it on, Harry," he said, and Harry hesitantly slipped it on to the finger of his right hand that was closest to his thumb. He was suprised at how well it fitted him. He could have sworn it was smaller than that when he was holding it, but ah well. Harry inspected it on his finger, thinking that it looked kind of nice, noticing that the buzzing noise that the ring had been emitting a minute ago had now stopped. When he looked up again from inspecting the ring, he saw that Dumbledore had drawn his wand.

"Harry, I am going to put a powerful Invisibility Spell on the ring, to ensure that it cannot be seen by anyone else besides yourself. Anyone else seeing it could have very serious effects." Harry didn't bother to ask how anyone seeing a seemingly-harmless silver ring on his finger could have serious effects; he reckoned Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

Dumbledore pointed his wand accurately at the ring on Harry's finger, and muttered, "velius." The ring glowed ice blue for a second, before, at least to Harry's eyes, it returned to it's usual state. Dumbledore, however, did not seem to be able to see it any more.

"Harry, I must tell you that it is essential that you never take this ring off. It will ensure that we can contact you if there is. . .if there is a situation, or in an emergency, and it is also for Order members to contact you, as well as for you to contact them. It is water-proof, and you can wear it in the shower, and is impossible to be broken or damaged in any way. Do you understand?" Harry nodded, and Dumbledore smiled at him, before addressing everyone together.

"Now then," he said Dumbledore briskly, "on to the next item, which concerns you, Harry, you, Severus, and Lillian, Roderick and Fiona." Harry turned in his chair to look at the four of them, wondering what could involve all four of them together, especially him and Snape; he had had enough of him over the summer.

"Lillian, Roderick and Fiona are going to be in control of monitoring Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, answering Harry's unspoken question, "they will be spending the majority of their time under Invisibility Cloaks, monitoring the boundaries of Hogwarts, such as the Forbidden Forest, strengthening the school's defences, and ensuring that nothing suspicious is happening on the school grounds, for example if there any spies in the school, be they people or creatures. Severus, your role is to ensure that they are equipped with any magical items, potions, and anything else they need in order to do their job. You will be meeting with them on every friday night, to see what they need for the following week. Harry, firstly, as a student, you are in a prime position to hear plenty of things that us Professors would never find out about, and I want you to list down all the rumors, gossip and chinese whispers that you hear, no matter how trivial it may sound, and report it to these three. Secondly, there is something else that you four will be working on together, which I believe Hagrid will be telling Harry about tomorrow. I assume that Hagrid has told you he wishes to speak with you tommorow, Harry?" said Dumbledore, and Harry nodded. "Good. And thirdly, Harry, I want you to keep a close look-out for anyone you suspect of being a spy for Lord Voldemort."

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry immediately, turning to the three of them, "he's Lucius Malfoy's son, he's definitely a spy, you've got to look out for him." The man, Roderick Bodmin, nodded.

"We already know about him, and believe me, we will be keeping a very close eye on him, one slip and he'll be out. Are there any others that spring to mind as possible spies?" he asked politely, his eyes flicking to Harry's scar every so often. Harry thought about it.

"Hmmm. . .well, I suppose Crabbe and Goyle are too, I mean their fathers are Death Eaters, it makes sense that they'd be spies, but they're a bit too thick to be really dangerous. Anyone else? Hmmm. . .not any that I can think of off the top of my head. . . I'll probably think of some more tomorrow. Want me to do you a list?" said Harry, and the witch named Fiona nodded.

"Yes please, that would be excellent."

"Harry," said Dumbledore, "whenever you have concerns over the coming year of potential spies in Hogwarts, or if you have any concerns, or indeed suggestions, about the strength of Hogwart's defences, Lillian, Roderick and Fiona will be who you need to talk to. Simply contact them when you have a concern or suggestion, and the four of you can arrange a meeting to discuss it."

Harry nodded, and then, plucking up his courage, said, "actually, I already have a suggestion." Lillian, Fiona and Roderick leaned forwards in their seats to peer more closely at him. Lillian prompted him to carry on with a smile, and Harry, heartened, did so.

"Well, what we need is our own spy, in Slytherin," he said, and he saw Snape's face twist into a even more hateful expression, as he glared at Harry. Ignoring him, he continued, "if we can get a spy in Slytherin, where, lets face it, the majority of future Death Eaters are going to come from," (Snape looked like he was itching for a chance to pull his wand on Harry now) "we'll have access to the rumors and things that go on in Slytherin house. I mean, I'm sure there are things that happen in that house that they don't share with the rest of the school, and if we can get a spy in, we'll have hit a goldmine. I bet we could easily figure out who is a Death Eater in Slytherin if we did that. If you want, I could try and find one."

The three of them nodded in agreement, looking impressed, and Dumbledore and Nate smiled at Harry, who felt quite uncomfortable now, with everyone looking at him like he'd just come up with a way to end the war. Well, not everyone. Snape was glaring at Harry, the loathing on his face startling Harry as it still did at times, and he could see Snape's hand hovering near his robe pocket, no doubt longing to pull out his wand and curse Harry into oblivion. Can always count on Snape to bring me back to earth, he thought stupidly.

"Harry," said Nate, "if you're going to try and get a spy in Slytherin, be very careful on who you use, it's going to be extremely hard to find a Slytherin who is brave enough to do this."

"Brave?" repeated Harry, puzzled. "Why would they need to be brave?"

"Because, Potter," interrupted Snape with a sneer, "if they were found out to be a spy, their life may be in danger, as may their family's lives." Harry nodded, feeling a bit of an idiot for not thinking of that before, and Snape's sneer grew even more pronounced.

"Do you know of anyone who would perhaps be willing to be a spy for us in Slytherin?" asked Nate politely to Snape, who turned his head slowly to look at him, "you're their head of house, aren't you?"

Snape gave a small nod, and said, "the majority of the Slytherins are dominated by the house politics of Slytherin House, and are not stupid enough to actively show any disagreement with the general opinions of the rest of the house, so it will be hard to find someone both stupid enough to do it, and someone intelligent enough to pull it off."

"Severus," said Dumbledore, "if you do have any suggestions about who would make a good spy in Slytherin, please inform Harry here," (Dumbledore gestured to Harry, and Snape glared at him), "and he will inform Lillian, Fiona and Roderick."

Snape looked like someone had just given him a bowl of Stinksap to drink, as he looked through his thick, dirty curtains of hair at Harry. After glaring at him for a while, in which Harry glared right back, he said icily, "if I have any suggestions, I will contact Birch, Trout and Bodmin myself. I will not go through Potter, a mere child, in any circumstances," he said, sneering. Nate glared at Snape, suprising Harry, and opened his mouth to say something, as did Harry himself, prepared to tell Snape how much of a greasy git he was, but he was cut off by Dumbledore.

"That's enough Severus," said Dumbledore sharply, "you may leave now, as may Nate, Lillian, Fiona and Roderick," he said, adressing the other three, "I thank you for your presence here this evening. Remember, we have a meeting tomorrow morning at seven o'clock sharp to discuss today's attack of platform nine and three-quarters. I have notified the others."

Lillian, Roderick, Fiona and Nate nodded as they stood, and, after shaking Harry's hand again, left the office, Nate concealing himself again as Professor Thorlaug. Snape had already stormed out and slammed the door behind him. It was now only Dumbledore and Harry left in the office.

"Now then Harry," said Dumbledore, "I believe that we have a few things to discuss." Harry nodded, and spoke up.

"So, can we start the Spell Construction for the spell against Voldemort now?" he said immediately, prepared almost fully for Dumbledore to refuse. Dumbledore sighed wearily.

"Yes, Harry we can. But," he added quickly, stopping Harry from thanking him straight away, "I must impress upon you the fact that it is doubtful we will achieve much to begin with. You have no experience with Spell Construction whatsoever, and so will be overcome by the complications of it."

"No, I won't," insisted Harry, relieved beyond belief that Dumbledore was allowing him to start now, "I'll look up books on the subject, I'll see if Nate can give me extra lessons, I'll do anything I can. There is no way I am waiting another year to begin this. I mean, can you imagine how many more people will die, while I'm sitting here not doing anything about it? I can't deal with that." Dumbledore sighed again.

"Very well then, Harry. We will have our first lesson on wednesday night, three days from now, and we will see how it goes then. You have until then to prepare for our lesson, and I advise you do some intensive reading and research on this subject, and by all means enlist Mr Gonzales' help if you wish. But, remember, under no circumstances must you tell him why you are so interested in Spell Construction. Understand?"

Harry nodded, insulted slightly that Dumbledore felt the need to say that to him, and Dumbledore stood. "Well Harry, I think it's time you were off into your nice warm bed," he said smiling, and Harry stood. Dumbledore shook his hand for some reason, puzzling Harry, as he never usually did that, and said, "goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Sir," said Harry, and made his way towards Dumbledore's office door, when a sudden thought from earlier came to the front of his mind. He turned back to Dumbledore, who was vanishing the small blue box that had contained Harry's ring.

"Um, Sir?" said Harry, and Dumbledore looked up, frowning.

"Yes, Harry?" he said, looking anxiously at him. Harry suddenly felt nervous for what he was about to say, but took a deep breath and said it anyway.

"Um, well, when I was waiting for you to get back from the feast, I uh, tried on the Sorting Hat," he said, feeling embarassed, "but it wouldn't talk to me. I just wondered if you knew why it wouldn't talk to me."

Dumbledore smiled, then frowned, and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He seemed to be pondering his answer, and it was a good few minutes before he answered.

"I believe that it is because of your Occlumency training," he said finally, and Harry was suprised to find out it was something to do with him; he had just thought the Hat didn't want to talk to him, or something. But it made sense, he supposed.

"The Sorting Hat does Legilimency," said Harry slowly, "it reads the student's minds, it looks in their minds to see what they're thinking and what kind of a person they are, so it knows where to put them." Dumbledore nodded.

"Exactly, Harry. And you have spent an entire summer perfecting the ability to block people from reading your mind, and I am sure you know the risks of opening a perfected Occlumen's mind to Legilimency?" Harry nodded, remembering suffering a half an hour lecture by Snape about the risks of it. Dumbledore continued. "You can see then, Harry, why the Sorting Hat did not talk to you; it is because you are not letting it speak to you, your mind is blocked from invasion, and thus it cannot see your thoughts and talk to you. It was silent because it can't speak to you, not because it dosen't want to."

Harry nodded, glad he'd gotten that cleared up, and strangely glad that it wasn't because the Sorting Hat didn't want to talk to him, like it didn't like him or something.

"Also sir, there was one more thing."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Um, are you done with reading the Evening Prophet? I don't get that delivered." Dumbledore seemed suprised at Harry's question, probably at how trivial it was, and smiled.

"Certainly Harry," he said, taking the newspaper off of his desk and handing it to him with a smile, "here you go. And Harry?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Remember that what happened today was not your fault."

Harry sighed, thanked Dumbledore, said goodnight again and left his office.

* * * * * * * *

As he walked along the corridors after leaving Dumbledore's office, Harry reflected on the "meeting" he had just had, with Dumbledore, Snape, Nate, Fiona, Roderick and Lillian. He was amazed that Dumbledore had allowed him to be so involved in the meeting, to even allow him to be there at all, a very sudden change from last year, when he had been kept well away from any business of the Order of the Phoenix. But then, at that meeting, Dumbledore and the others, except Snape of course, were almost treating him like he was a member himself. They had even listened to his suggestions! It didn't make sense to Harry, and he shook his head to stop thinking about it.

He stopped off at the hospital wing on the way back to the Gryffindor common room to get his split knuckles healed, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's tutting and disapproving comments ("Muggle duelling on the Hogwarts Express, I ask you!"), and reached Gryffindor house a few minutes later. As he approached the guardian portrait of Gryffindor, the Fat Lady, he realised that he didn't know the password.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, and said to the Fat Lady, "um, let me in?" She gave him a lofty, superior look.

"Password?" she said, and Harry groaned.

"I haven't been told it yet, I've been at a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."

"Password?"

"Oh come on," Harry wheedled, "you know who I am, it's the first day of school, can't you just let me in this one time?"

"Young man, I am under strict orders from Hogwarts itself!" the Fat Lady cried, looking outraged, "I could not possibly do that!" Harry sighed.

"Fine," he said, and rapped hard on the portrait, hoping someone would hear him. There was nothing for a few minutes, so Harry rapped hard again, and this time the portrait swung open, revealing Ginny Weasley. She smiled when she saw Harry on the other side.

"Oh, Harry, it's you! Where've you been, then?" she asked curiously.

"Oh," he said, trying to sound casual, "just had a meeting with Dumbledore. Nothing special." She nodded, giving him a strange look, and retreated to a small cluster of armchairs, where she was sitting alone with Dean Thomas, Harry noted, remembering what she had said on the train home last year. Looking round, Harry saw Ron and Hermione standing by the fireplace; they seemed to be having another argument, and Harry sighed and walked towards them, determined to get them to stop arguing about whatever stupid thing they were arguing about now, so that he could tell them some of the things he had found out in the meeting.

It turned out they were arguing about Ginny, who was now apparently going out with Dean, and that it was a very big argument, and try as he might, Harry could not get a word in edgeways.

"Uh, Ron. . ." he began, but. . .

"It's disgusting!" said Ron, his face scrunched up, "she's only fourteen, she shouldn't be going out with boys yet, it's not right!"

"Ron, calm down, Hermione, stop . . ."

"Ron, fourteen is a perfectly acceptable age for girls to start becoming interested in boys, I mean, look at me and Viktor, I was fourteen when he took me to the Yule Ball." She flushed pink as she said this, and Harry was amused to see the sudden emotions evident on Ron's face, and how quickly his ears went red, a sure fire sign he was now very angry. He looked ready to explode, suprising Harry, as he didn't think the argument was that intense, but apparently to Ron, it was. Or maybe it was Hermione's mentioning of "Viktor" that had set him off.

"And when did I ever say that was acceptable?" he ground out, gritting his teeth, and clearly holding in a angry outburst. "In fact," he continued, "I've just found a word for that: perverted. Did you know that it was illegal for him to. . .for him to. . .you know, go out with you? He was of age, he can get put in Azkaban for that."

Hermione looked completely stung by Ron's remark, and looked at him with such a hurt look on her face that Ron swallowed guiltily, all the anger leaving his face instantly, and mumbled sorry at her, looking down at his feet. Harry had to agree that Ron had gone way too far, even though he agreed wholeheartedly with what he had said, and had done for a while. Hermione got to her feet and ran up the girl's stairs, and Harry heard her dormitory door slam loudly. Ron collapsed backwards into the armchair he was sitting on, and put his head in his hands.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said to him, trying to be comforting, "she'll come round, she always does." Ron looked up, looking suprised.

"Harry? When did you get here?" Harry laughed.

"About a minute ago. I don't think Hermione saw me, either."

At the mention of Hermione Ron groaned loudly, putting his head back in his hands, and it was obvious to Harry that he was feeling very guilty. He clapped Ron on the shoulder.

"Come on mate, bed," he said firmly, and Ron stood up dazedly. In a way, Harry was glad that the two of them had had an argument, as he couldn't really be bothered to explain to them anymore about everything that they had talked about in the meeting, which they would surely like to know about. Ah well, I'll tell them in the morning, he figured, and led Ron up the boy's stairs to their dormitory. Harry noticed that Dean seemed to have left Ginny now and gone to bed, as Ginny was sitting by herself, looking miffed. Harry saw her glaring at Ron as he walked with him slowly up the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs however, Harry found that Ron at least had not forgotton about his meeting with Dumbledore, as halfway through a mumbled comment about how "Viktor" needed a good kick in the Gobstones, he turned to Harry and asked eagerly what had happened, and what he had found out. But Harry did not tell him.

"I'll tell you and Hermione in the morning, okay? It's not exactly the right time now." Ron just nodded.

When the two of them entered their dormitory, they saw that Dean's curtains were closed. Ron glared at them. Seamus and Neville were walking around Harry's bed, talking to eachother, and Harry went over to them, wondering what they were doing by his bed. Ron dragged his eyes away from Dean's bedcurtains and followed.

"Hey Harry, what's all this?" said Seamus, moving to the side and pointing to the wall to the right of Harry's bed. A large punchbag hung from the ceiling, and there was a non-electric cycling machine on the floor next to it, along with a flat bench that had iron bars and weights on a stand beside it. Harry remembered Thomas Anderson, his Physical Combat teacher from the summer, saying that he had arranged for some weights and exercise machines to be installed in his dormitory in Hogwarts, so he could continue with his exercises when he returned to Hogwarts, but he had completely forgotten about them.

"It's my exercise stuff, I, uh, got it in the summer." Ron's eyes lit up, his guilty expression fading away.

"Brilliant! Can I use it all?" he asked, "you know, toughen myself up?" Harry nodded.

"Sure, course you can. You two can as well," he said to Seamus and Neville, who smiled, "and Dean, if he wants. Only let me teach you some stretches first, otherwise you're going to mess yourselves up, you know, pull muscles and stuff." Seamus shrugged.

"Okay, cheers. Can I have a go right now?" he said excitedly, and Harry shook his head.

"Now? No, I'm going to bed now, I'll teach you the stretches tommorow, if you remind me." Seamus nodded and thanked Harry again, before suddenly becoming sober.

"Listen, Harry. . ." he started, but Harry guessed what he was going to say and held up his hand to stop him.

"Forget it, it's in the past," he said, even though he still felt quite bitter that, at this time last year, Seamus had suddenly started thinking he was an attention-seeking nutcase, when he had known him for five years previously and should have known better. Obviously, Seamus now felt that Harry deserved a real apology, rather than a small mumbled comment in the corridor.

Seamus looked relieved that Harry had forgiven him properly, and called goodnight happily to them all, as did Neville and Ron. No sound came from behind Dean's bedcurtains, and Ron shot one last venomous look at them before wrenching his own shut. Harry called goodnight back to everyone and began to get undressed for bed, pulling off his robes, but stopped when he felt the rolled up copy of the Evening Prophet srunched up in his trouser pocket. After he could clearly hear Ron's, Dean's, Seamus' and Neville's snores resounding loudly around the room, he pulled his school robes back on, and tiptoed back down to the common room. It was almost empty now, the only occupants being a small group of girls in the corner, giggling over something. Probably boys or make up, Harry reckoned.

Harry settled himself in his favourite armchair in front of the fireplace, pulled the Evening Prophet out of his pocket, and looked at the front page, which was decorated with a large picture of the Hogwarts Express at platform nine and three-quarters. It did not seem to be a photo of the actual attack, however, just a normal photo of the Hogwarts Express at the platform. Harry looked at the article below it:

You-Know-Who attacks platform nine and three-quarters,
Massacre as twenty eight die in attack of Hogwarts Express.
Article by Antis Goodsbody At eleven o'clock this morning, as the many students of Hogwarts prepared
to travel to school aboard the Hogwarts Express, approximately twelve followers of
You-Know-Who, more commonly known as Death Eaters, appeared on platform nine and three-quarters, led by none other than You-Know-Who himself, whose
appearance on the platform. . .

Harry tried as hard as he could to keep his mind blank as he read the main article (which was four pages long, one and a half of them dedicated solely to praising Harry for jumping off the train to fight Voldemort) about the battle and the accompanying articles, as he knew that if he let did not keep his mind blank, he would lose it in a fit of anger and probably burn the paper to shreds. The main article basically talked about the main events of the battle (some that Harry didn't know about, having been knocked out before the end), the fact that Voldemort himself had appeared on the platform, the body count, and angry comments about the Ministry, who were apparently in charge of protecting Hogwarts students until they got off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade. The accompanying articles were numerous; interviews with witnesses to the battles, small articles on those that had fought against the Death Eaters (including very complimentary articles on Tonks and Kingsley), a statement from Fudge and the Ministry, and various comments from "prominent members of the wizarding community," all crying in outrage at the Ministry's lack of defences in place at platform nine and three-quarters. There was also an article talking about the significance of Harry "causing He Who Must Not Be Named to flee the scene," and praising him even more for his role in the battle. Harry was outraged that there was more stupid information about him than there was about those that had actually suffered and died in the attack, and the names of those that had died were scrunched into a small article at the bottom of page five, which Harry stared at for a long time, even though he already knew the names off by heart.

In what felt like days later, but what was only an hour and fifteen minutes, Harry tore his eyes away from the article naming the murdered victims of the Death Eaters, and looked around the common room. The small group of girls had left now, and Harry was the only one left in the common room. The fire in the large fireplace had nearly gone out entirely.

Harry sighed heavily and got slowly to his feet, picking up the Evening Prophet and chucking it in the bin as he passed it, which thanked him in a squeakly high voice for not littering. He walked dazedly up the stairs and into the dormitory, not bothering to be quiet, and undressed for bed, pulling on his pyjamas and collapsing into his bed, all comforting feelings of being back at Hogwarts gone completely, as he sank into an uneasy sleep, the names of the people that had died at King's Cross sounding continuinally in his head.

* * * * * * * *

"Both of us."

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time."

"You're on."

"Kill the spare."

A green light.

"Where's Sirius, Kreacher?"

"Master has gone out, Harry Potter."

"Where's he gone?"

"Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries!"

Frustration, panic.

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dreamed was twoo."

Anger.

"Come on, you can do better than that!"

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry."

"HE - IS -NOT -DEAD! SIRIUS!"

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS! SHE KILLED HIM - I'LL KILL HER!

Hatred, death, murder.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."

"Then - it might not be me?"

"I am afraid, that there is no doubt that it is you."

Pressure, pressure, pressure. . .

"Potter, I am giving you one last chance. The choice is yours."

"I will fight you, Riddle, and you will not touch any of my friends. Not if you value your life."

"So be it."

Defiance.

"Not every student was on the train when it left the station. Seventeen are. .are dead."

"How many parents were killed?"

"Eleven lost their lives."

Grief, loss.

"Three second year Slytherins, Alastair Scrimgeour, Francus Murray, and Tom Ford."

"Four Ravenclaws, three third years, Joanne Methven, Rose Usilar and Janeeta Depitt, and a second year, David Scone."

"Four Hufflepuffs, two fourth years, Janey Quagmire and Maria Goudge, and two seventh years, Toby Reeves and Eric Tyler, who both joined us in fighting the Death Eaters.

"Two Gryffindor second years, Robert Jones and Edward Westwick."

"Four first years, Stan Thornley, Steven Blacklock, Emma Watson and Simon Adams."

Massacre.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."

"He will have power the Dark lord knows not. . ."

"Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . ."

Pressure, pressure, pressure.

"SIRIUS!"

"HE - IS -NOT -DEAD! SIRIUS!"

Anger, hatred, death, murder, pain.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."

"He will have power the Dark lord knows not. . ."

"Either must die at the hand of the other for niether can live while the other survives. . ."

Pressure, pressure, anger, hatred, death, murder, pressure, grief, loss, panic.

Pressure, pressure, so much pressure. . .

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."

Harry jumped up in his bed, panting heavily, completely drenched in cold sweat. He dimly noticed that his scar did not hurt at all, before he vomitted over the side of his bed on to the floor, and lay breathing heavily on the side of his bed. After five minutes, in which he tried furiously to clear his mind but was unable to, he sat up and walked shakily over to the water pitcher, and splashed water all over his face, the cold sweat now turning into irritable hot sweat.

After he had drank a largely unsatisifying cup of water, Harry walked over to the window and opened it fully, breathing in the fresh, cold air outside. The storm had stopped now, and the world outside the window was still. It looked like a wonderful night, Harry thought, and he wished he was outside in the fresh air, away from the stifling dormitory, where the air was still thick with the words of his nightmare.

Suddenly, a thought occured to Harry. Why couldn't he be outside? He was at Hogwarts now, he was safe, and he had his Invisibility Cloak, just in case. Quickly, he got dressed in his clothes from the previous day and pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk, and, pulling it over himself snugly (he was tall enough now that it fitted almost perfectly), exited the Gryffindor sixth-year boys dormitory. Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus did not stir.

Upon entering the common room he was not suprised to find it empty, as he had been in it only a short while ago alone, and he strode quickly to the portrait hole. Ignoring the Fat Lady ("who's there? You're going to get caught, you know!"), Harry climbed quickly through the portrait hole into the corridor, and made his way quickly through them, his mind playing the scenes of his nightmare continuinally in his head. The school seemed deserted, and he met no one whatsoever as he made his way quickly towards the Entrance Hall, descended the marble steps of the Entrance Hall when he reached them, and slipped quietly out of the large oak doors, shutting them quietly after him, and turning on the top step to face the outside world, which made him gasp at the beauty of it.

The grounds were bathed in white moonlight, the Quidditch Pitch silent and thick of memories at the bottom of the lawn below him, the lake still and quiet, shimmering peacefully with the reflection of the moonlight. The Forbidden Forest stood dark and brooding overlooking them both, and the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts shone white in the moonlight as they stretched up into the star-strewn velvet night sky. Harry breathed in the fresh air and freedom, and made his way down the stone steps and set off across the lawn, making for the lake. When he reached the lake, he sat down on the grassy shore beside it, ignoring the wetness of the grass, and stared unseeingly at it's silent waters, dark and motionless in the calm night.

Harry sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the clear night sky. He had had nightmares like this frequently throughout the summer, and he had always found that a nightime walk helped, ever since he had gone to the park in Little Whinging where he had finally admitted that Sirius was really gone. Snape had explained during one of his Occlumency lessons that no matter how skilled Harry became at Occlumency, there was no way he could block simple nightmares, except with dreamless sleep potion, which became dangerous after a while if taken all the time. He sighed again, putting his head in his hands and trying to forget the memories that the nightmare had brought back so freshly to his mind.

* * * * * * * *

After a while, after he had felt strong feelings of anger, pain, hatred, love, jealously and friendship, Harry felt ready to go back to his dormitory, and risk sleep again. Checking the black and silver watch that Remus had given him for his birthday, Harry realised that it was only half past two in the morning. I can still get some sleep he thought, and pulled himself to his feet, feeling rather sad that he had to leave the calmness of the lake and the Hogwarts grounds, which he found had helped him immensely.

However, as Harry turned towards the castle and began to walk back, he stopped short, a new thought entering his head.

Maybe I can sleep out here.

Harry thought about it. He had only slept outside once in his whole life, and that was when Uncle Vernon had completely lost it when Harry was nine (following a incident involving Harry, Dudley, magic, and a painfully placed wooden spoon) and chucked him out, telling him never to come back, if he knew what was good for him. Harry had slept at the bottom of the back garden in his Aunt's rose bushes all night, terrified that the Dursley's would not take him back, and that he would end up starving to death. Thankfully, the next day Uncle Vernon had gone back on his decision to chuck Harry out, but nevertheless the memory had stayed with him as one of his most painful recollections of his childhood at the Dursley's.

But this was nothing like that, he decided. He was safe at Hogwarts, covered in an Invisibility Cloak, and there was no chance, unless Fudge found another reason, he was going to be chucked out because of it.

It was alright he decided, and he lowered himself slowly on to the wet grass, making sure he was completely covered by the Invisibility Cloak, laying down with his back on the grass and his face to the stars.

After a while, despite his fears of what he would find there, Harry drifted off to sleep, his face still facing towards the stars. He did not know that the thoughts of hundreds of people were with him as he did so, wishing him good health and praying that he would protect and save them from Voldemort, or that Sirius, the Dog Star, twinkled directly above him, looking over him protectively as he slept.