A hot shower and a change of clothes later, Harry arrived at the Great Hall, and scanned the table for Ron and Hermione. They were easy to find – they were sitting completely alone. Even Ginny, Neville, and Luna had given them a wide berth this morning, and Harry could immediately tell why. Hermione was hissing over the table top, while Ron staunchly ignored her and methodically shoveled porridge into his mouth.

"Good," Harry thought savagely, "Let them argue about it."

He immediately felt disgusted with himself. Ginny was right, he had to stop being a prat about this, no matter how uncomfortable. He forced himself to don a neutral expression, and walked over to join them.

"...being completely idiotic about this, Ron, this is far more important than—Harry!"

Ron's head jerked up, his face stricken. Hermione recovered from her initial shock and slid over a bit.

"Good morning," she said politely, but Harry could hear the strain of holding back a hundred choice words in her voice.

"Morning," he said, sitting down.

"You've had mail," Ron said, his voice strangely high as Ginny's had been. He pushed a letter across the table.

Harry frowned. Who'd be writing to him? Certainly not the Dursleys...

He opened the letter, and found it was from Dumbledore.

"Oh!" he said hurriedly to Hermione, the letter jogging his memory, "Did Viktor—"

"Yes," Hermione interrupted, "He found me. Read the letter first, though."

Harry noticed for the first time that Ron and Hermione had similar envelopes, already opened, lying next to their breakfast plates. He turned his eyes to Dumbledore's loopy cursive:

Dear Harry,

As per your request last night, the Order has discussed your potential involvement in certain preparations for March. All of these (at Mrs. Weasley's outraged insistence) may be carried out here, at Hogwarts.

The most important thing you can do is to continue the DA. Professor Lupin recommends that you check in with him every now and again to compare notes, in order to best help each student. You will also need to practice your Occlumency quite strenuously now, as it is vital that Lord Voldemort gain no access to our plans and preparations.

In addition to continuing these efforts, however, comes another task for you...or rather, a plethora of tasks, to be precise. All of us in the Order and many of your close friends are now working on "projects," if you will. It is an unfortunate side-effect of your fame that their individual projects will all benefit greatly from your support. As much as you hate being in the limelight, Harry, you have become a kind of symbol of this upcoming war – your involvement will be an infinite help to them. I know you will do the right thing.

Mr. Weasley (Ron) will most likely require your help regarding inter-house relations. Miss Granger will be working with the House Elf Regulation and Relocation office and with our own house elves – your prior relationship with Dobby and the trust you have established will make your experience invaluable in that arena. Mr. Weasley (Bill) and Miss Delacour require research assistants. You will be helping Miss Weasley (Ginevra) there, in conjunction with Professor Binns.

With regards to Muggle Relations, you will be working with Mr. Weasley (Arthur), who is currently butting heads with Minister Fudge and Mr. Weasley (Percy), as to Muggle Notificiation and Defense. I will let him explain this to you in greater detail.

I regret, as always, the heavy burden that falls to you, Harry...my only comfort in this circumstance, is that this time you did, in fact, ask for it.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry sighed deeply, and folded the letter again.

"Well?" Hermione asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I'm supposed to keep up the DA and my Occlumency, and other than that, help you two, pretty much."

"Ah. I expected as much," Hermione said briskly. Her voice was efficient and guarded, and Ron wouldn't (or couldn't) even meet his eye. Harry felt miserable – perhaps he'd finally gone and ruined their friendship. Why did Hermione have to look so...resigned?

She handed him several sheafs of parchment, all scribbled full of her neat handwriting. Some items were labeled with stars, or boxed, to emphasize their importance.

"Here you are," she said, "These are instructions, and some important background information. Important names are boxed, and tasks are asterisked...Sorry Harry, but you'll have to make a bit of headway while I'm gone. I already made some progress over the summer – most of them know me, so just mention my name in passing, and –"

"Gone?" Harry asked, both bewildered, and grateful that she was addressing him directly, "Where are you going?"

"Bulgaria, of course," Ron muttered, "With Vicky."

"Ron," hissed Hermione, "It's not as if I want to go. This is business."

Ron simply jabbed at his porridge sullenly. Hermione's face seemed to melt a bit. For a moment she seemed as though she were going to reach a hand across the table to touch Ron's face, but her eyes darted towards Harry, and she diverted the gesture to push her hair behind her ear.

"Her-mi-o-ne," Krum voice came from behind Harry. He whipped around, startled – Krum must have walked up behind them. He accented each syllable very clearly, evidently determined to get her name right in front of Harry, and had his customary scowl pasted over his features. Harry noticed that in addition to his clothing he wore a traveling cloak, and carried a suitcase in each hand.

"Yes, I know," she said, standing distractedly.

She paused for a moment, seeming to decide what to say.

"Well, err...I'll only be there a day, but there's traveling, so...I probably won't see you until quite late tomorrow..."

Neither of them knew what to say.

"Bye," Ron said, simply, not looking up from his plate.

Hermione's eyes were sparkling, though with tears or temper, Harry couldn't say.

"Bye," she replied callously, and stalked off ahead of Viktor, who scowled at Harry ("What did I do?" he thought, irritably) and duck-footed after her.

Harry and Ron didn't say anything for a while. Ron looked torn between anger and extreme discomfort and continued to shovel porridge methodically. Harry himself was feeling quite angry with Ron – he had no right to make her cry like that. Why did he have to be so unfeeling?

"You know –" Harry started.

"So would –" Ron started at the same time.

"You first," Ron said, lowering his eyes to his bowl again.

"No, you," Harry replied, struggling to stay even-tempered.

"So would you care to explain to me why we're preparing for a war?" Ron asked, jutting his chin at Harry by way of a challenge.

"Well, I was going to tell both of you, but if you'll recall, you were indisposed last night," Harry replied in an angry whisper. He'd noticed several of the nearby Gryffindors were quite a bit quieter than usual, and seemed to have an almost unnatural focus on their breakfast.

Ron's face turned beet red to match his ears.

"It's none of your—"

"Business, I know," Harry interrupted, "Do you want to know what happened or not?"

Ron apparently wrestled with this decision for a moment, toying with his spoon with long fingers. It was obvious he that he really did want to know what the hell was happening, but was unwilling to ask Harry for anything he had the power to withhold.

"How do you like it, then?" Harry thought viciously, remembering last summer when Ron and Hermione had kept him in the dark for months.

But another nagging voice in his head (an oddly familiar, feminine one) reminded him that they hadn't had a choice. They were under strict orders from Dumbledore.

"Besides," the voice continued testily, "You know that's not what you're really mad about."

"I told you," Harry argued stubbornly with the voice, "All anyone wants me for is the scar on my head. Even Ron – he doesn't even want to talk about last night. He's just told me it's none of my business. All he wants to know about is the bloody war."

"Oh, Harry," said the voice, sadly, and Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He knew it was wrong of him to doubt their friendship, but still...didn't he have a right to?

"Oi! Harry!" Ron said, sharply.

"Hmm?" Harry jerked back to the present moment.

"I've only asked you what happened about a hundred bloody times," Ron muttered, angrily mashing his remaining porridge, "You could at least say that you don't want to tell me, instead of staring off into space ignoring me. Drives me up a wall."

"I didn't hear you," Harry snapped, "I was thinking about...other stuff."

There was another silence, and Harry felt the waves of anger and irritation emanate across the table from Ron. And something else – sadness?

"Why do you have to win at everything?" came a small, sad voice in Harry's head, and he realized with a shock that he was hearing Ron's thoughts, much the same as he'd heard Snape's before. But he sounded so young...

Harry, an only child, suddenly felt the burden of being surrounded by superiors, people who were like you, but would always be better than you...people who were so incredible, you couldn't help but love and admire them just the same as everyone else did...a miniature army of tall, freckled, red-headed demigods...

...and one black-haired one.

"So are you going to tell me?" Ron asked, sulkily.

"I had another vision," Harry said cautiously, "With Snape."

He felt another surge of irritation come from Ron. Another vision. Lovely. The prophet speaks. All bow before The Boy Who–

"I saw Hogwarts burning," Harry said, trying to impress upon Ron just how horrible it had been, "People were dying...my scar – it was like my head split open. I...saw you. Dead. It was terrible."

A jolt of fear, and wonder...Anger turning to pain. Hardened wounds reopening...

"And then Professor Trelawney came in, and added a second part to the prophecy."

Ron's eyes shot open, and Harry didn't need Occlumency to interpret Ron's shock.

"What did she say?" he whispered, all pretense of anger forgotten.

"It's happening in March," Harry said, sighing heavily, as he felt the weight of it press his elbows into the wood table, "The Prophecy is going to be fulfilled in March."

"So that means..." Ron said, slowly. He leaned back, and ran a hand absentmindedly through his red hair, ruffling it. Harry smiled, despite himself, and then remembered that they were still mad at each other.

"Blimey," Ron said simply.

"Well," Harry said, straightening up after a pause, "I told you my secret..."

"Err," Ron said, loosening his tie a bit.

Harry waited a moment for Ron to reply, the anger seeping back in through the cracks. But watching Ron squirm this way wasn't providing him any satisfaction.

"There's nothing to tell," Harry realized, sadly, "You know everything you need to know. What's he going to say that'll make it all okay?"

"What's in the letter," Harry prompted, as though that were what he'd been asking all along.

"Oh!" Ron said, and Harry felt another surge of annoyance at his obvious relief, which he hid by taking another bite of breakfast.

"Well," Ron continued, "Dumbledore probably told you about as much as he told me. You and I are meant to work together to try and bring the houses together."

"Good luck there," Harry said wryly, watching the tall Slytherin boy who had confronted him in the Great Hall saunter over to his table, and take his seat with Blaise Zabini and Pansy.

"Well, we've got to try anyway. Dumbledore reckons we should try to expand the D.A. I thought a good place to start would be the Quidditch teams. I thought maybe we could have a sort of unofficial game – you know, like an All-Star game. Have members on each team from all four houses..."

"Like a scrimmage," Harry added, absentmindedly watching Ginny chat with Luna and Neville. She'd be a great Chaser for an All-star team.

"A what?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose, "Scrimitch?"

"Never mind," Harry said, "I think it's a great idea. A Goodwill Game."

"'Goodwill Game'...that's rather good, actually. I like it!" Ron said, and his blue eyes lit up and met Harry's for a moment, until he realized they were still mad at one another, and slumped back down in his chair.

"Come on," Harry said, "We're due in Charms."