Chapter 5: Unspeakable Truth

"Drooling Drops," Harry said in a rush.

The stone gargoyles shifted, freeing the way to Dumbledore's office.

He was angry. How could they? It had been his father's, and Harry's since third year. One of the last threads to James and Sirius' life. Taken away. Stolen.

He'd been rummaging through his trunks, throwing his clothes and other possessions out, flinging them to the floor in rage.

"What's going on?" Ron had asked tiredly from his bed. He'd just woken up at Harry's ruffling and cursing.

"They've taken it. They brought my trunk to Hogwarts… it can't have disappeared. I left it in here. I'm sure." It was all nonsense rambling to Ron. "It can't be anyone else but them."

"Who? What has been stolen?"

"I'm going to see Dumbledore. I'll be down for breakfast," he'd said, throwing his things back in trunk without a second glance, leaving out Hermione's present on his bed. With these last words he had left Ron in the Gryffindor dormitories for the Headmaster's office. He'd sped through the corridors, his nerves tingling in an uncomfortable way.

And now he climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office two by two. Only last night he'd been here. Dumbledore had wanted to know everything; Harry had pushed it away until farther notice. "Don't let it rest for too long," the Headmaster had told Harry advisedly.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he heard raised tones; Moody's and the Battle Wizard's angry voices. Fawkes, the Phoenix was no where in sight, his perch empty.

"Now you did what you wanted with the boy, prepare him to face Voldermort with your conjurer tricks, you might as well disappear from Hogwarts and leave Potter. Take your ghost army with you."

"Aurelius- Alastor. Now is not the time."

"We won't depart Hogwarts, you can't force us to leave. If Potter is the saviour, we will protect him."

Harry had paused behind the door, ready to run in… But they were talking about him. After the hard year training, restless dreaming, the numerous aches in his limbs after a days' of workout, the energy drenching spells, the meditation, always driven by the idea of vanquishing the Dark Lord, to be finally be free, to just be able to live… But something more had changed in him, he'd been broken, and fixed up, his spirit angered to blind rage. But it was worth it, for Ron, for Hermione, for the Weasleys and the tired Lupin. For James, Lily and Sirius…

"You speak of him like some kind of divine person, like some muggle God. He's only human!"

"Hardly anymore. Maybe you should revise that eye of yours, it's getting blind to the most obvious of things."

"Let's see what the boy has to say to this," Moody had declared gruffly. "Harry, stop gawking at the door and enter."

Harry pushed open the door his anger nearly forgotten. Dumbledore sat at his desk, a calm but grave expression on his face while Aurelius and Moody were facing each other off. The battle wizard was gripping his black staff so tight his knuckles had turned to a very pale white.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked between a mouthful of scrambled eggs, looking up at Hermione who was prowling over a 'very' long roll of parchment, its end falling off the side of the table. She had it beside her bowl of cereals. She had her hand raised with her spoon full, while followed the writing with the tip of her wand.

"Huh?" Hermione asked, slowly taking her attention away from the roll. She put down her spoon and turned around to face Ron.

"What are you reading? We haven't even got our time tables yet," Ron told her. "You're not studying, are you?" He snatched a piece of bread and wiped his plate, ready to take some more scrambled leggs.

"Oh, it's a list of books," Hermione explained. "As Head Girl, I have price reductions on Flourish and Blotts, they're almost free. I was just taking a peek before class." Ron rolled his eyes at this. "When did Harry say he was coming down?"

"He's in with Dumbledore, at the moment. He should soon be here. Or he'll miss breakfast." Ron eyed the last piece of Turtle Pastries.

Hermione rolled up her list, placing it in her bag before going back to finishing her breakfast.

The Great Hall was buzzing with life, as if no one had really remembered, or had just decided to forget about the Sorting Hat's song. However, the attack on the Hogwarts Express was still fresh on everyone's mind. Some were actually saying they'd seen a fire spitting dragon. Hermione snorted loudly at this. Dragons absolutely hate storms and prefer to stay under brush or in caverns, with a preference for warm spaces, such as volcanos...

Hermione was taken out of her thoughts as Professor McGonagall finally handed out the schedule.

"You must be kidding!" Ron exclaimed when he got his. "We can't have class on Saturday morning!"

"Do I look like someone who kids, Mr Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked him sternly, before continuing her way around the Gryffindor table.

"Hermione! Our weekend as been eaten up! Can't you talk to-"

"Ron, I think it's because of the added Defence Against the Dark Arts hours," she said looking down at hers. "We have triple Defence this afternoon with professor Xio Zong. Wednesday morning and Friday afternoon too."

Ron asked to have a peek at a Fifth year's timetable that was sitting beside him. "They've got a little less than us, but we didn't have as much in Fifth year either."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other knowingly. This wasn't a good sign.

"I've got a meeting tonight with Professor McGonagall, at eight, and another Saturday afternoon with the other Head Boys and Girls," Hermione told him already taking out coloured pens and filling her timetable with different symbols and colours for each class. "And patrolling from ten o'clock to midnight every two days." Ron looked at her dumbstruck.

Ron grinned anyhow. "At least I don't have ANY potions ANY more." Instead he had taken 'Advanced Quidditch Sudies'. "Can't wait for Advanced DADA. There's loads of holes where I don't have much… oh well, it seems pretty okay."

When he finally had a glimpse of Hermione's schedule, he decided that Hermione had finally reached the limits of sanity. "How are you going to survive all that?" he cried out!

Hermione didn't answer, her schedule was 'rather' heavy. Plus Head Girl responsibilities and approaching N.E.W.T.s, she didn't seem to have much time fore something else than work. Maybe she shouldn't have taken extra classes after all. She'd chosen every Advanced class possible, without leaving Social Studies on the Magical Community out or Ancient Runes (or arythmancy for that matter.) She'd decided she'd leave Astronomy out, and well, there was no use for Divination, was there?

A couple of heads followed Harry as he entered the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron might have been the only ones to notice a couple of aurors sneak in at the same time

"Hey, Harry, here's your schedule," Hermione said handing over the timetable.

He took it and sat down without a word, grabbing a toast in the process and biting it furiously. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. He had his glasses on this morning, unlike the previous night, and he looked, maybe to their relief, more, well, let's say Potterish.

"What put your pants in a twist this morning?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Harry snapped back. But he soon felt guilty and excused himself. "Sorry, Ron. I'm just… angry." Something was wrong as he said this, as if it wasn't the kind of angry he was used to. "We have class this Saturday?"

"Right on Harry, they can't do this to us! Have a look at Hermione's schedule!"

"Oh, it's nothing too bad. We need the extra training anyway," Hermione said. "And I just feel that can't let anything down."

"You're joking! You can't seriously take all that!" Ron exclaimed, sincerely concerned about his friend. "You have to let something down. Didn't you learn your lesson in third year?" He was clearly getting a little angry about Hermione's stubbornness. "I swear you'll kill yourself!" It wasn't the thing to say: the Fourth year girls beside them jumped and made a couple of shrieking sounds.

"Honestly, Ron. It's not that bad."

"You'll see," Ron spat at her. He got up, throwing his knife and fork down with a clatter, and marched out of the Great Hall positively fuming, leaving Harry and Hermione behind. Hermione looked down at her schedule.

"Can I see?" asked Harry, readjusting his glasses on his nose. Hermione gave it him. He went over it. Where Ron, Hermione and he were had the same clas was already marked in blue, orange where there where just he and Hermione. "Advanced Herbology? What good is that?"

"It completes Advanced Potions," Hermione replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Introduction to Spell Making?"

"Well, yes. If I want to get in…" Hermione realised she had never talked about this to either Ron or Harry. She'd been so rapped up in all her studies, and well, she'd finally made up her mind that summer… and since there was no more time for anything. "I want to become an Unspeakable." Harry gave her a black stare. "I've been thinking it over for some time, and well, maybe because it's the most challenging thing I came up with... " She said all this very quickly.

"Oh," was all Harry could say for a while. "But to become Unspeakable you surely don't have to take 'everything'."

"Well, no. But it just gives me a larger choice to branch off after I get into the Department. Silly really, but they won't talk about what they actually 'do' there. But I have my ideas, when we… euh…" Hermione was getting more and more uncomfortable with the subject. "Well, you know, when we went down there in Fifth year."

Harry hadn't really thought about what he would do after NEWTs. He had never thought really about an after Hogwarts, except maybe about the Auror career. And Hermione wanted to become an Unspeakable… In the Departments of Mysteries, where… Sirius had passed through the veil. He gulped slightly. And here she was, her whole life nearly all planned out. And nowhere in her mapping had she planned to die. She wasn't wasting any time at anything. What was his use at planning a life he probably wouldn't being able to live through?

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes full of concern.

"I hope you get in," Harry said honestly as he gave her schedule back.

Harry and Hermione met Ron in Charms. He was still a little upset with Hermione, but he couldn't stay mad at her for long, plus, he needed her advice.

"How do you say it?" Ron asked. A pack of cards were clustered over the table.

"It's just 'Pack', Ron. It's the wrist movement you're doing wrong." Hermione demonstrated. "Pack!" she said in a bossy tone doing some sort of zigzag with her wand, followed by a sharp flick. The cards turned over and rearranged themselves in a perfect pack. "You slant off to the right instead of going straight up."

"Ok, ok…" Ron concentrated on his own messy mob of cards. "Pack!" He shook his wand, flicking upwards at the last moment. The cards were frown off the table, Jack of Spades actually catching fire. Harry stomped on it to put the flame out- Jack gave a slight yell as he did so. He then placed the card back on the table, the card figure now sobbing.

"Okay, here we go again…" Ron concentrated, the figures pleading him to stop at once. "Shut up! You're aren't making it any easier!"

"Pack!" Hermione told her own cards. They shuffled together, and when she inspected them, she found them arranged from Ace to King and by colour. The figures clapped at her, Hermione blushed.

"Yours actually like you!" Ron accused glaring at his own whining cards.

"Let me see," Professor Flitwick said, approaching the trio's table.

Harry sighed. "Pack!" He mistakenly gave a flick down instead of up. The cards became a blur as they reorganised themselves, only stopping when… They'd actually formed a pyramid with all 52 cards.

"Excellent!" Professor Flitwick squeaked.

One figure yawned as if it had been just natural occurrence, and slipped, the whole pyramid tumbling back to the desk's surface. The bell rang to Ron's relief.

"See you guys at lunch time," Ron said, putting his things away and leaving Charms Class as a couple of Ravenclaw seventh years entered for Advanced Charms. Harry and Hermione kept to the same table.

"By the way, thanks for the present. I found it this morning in my trunk." He'd been surprised to stumble over a wrapped parcel between his school uniforms, something Tonks had forgot to mention to him about the trip. He'd actually left it on his bed, without opening it, heading straight to Dumbledore. And then, truthfully, he'd then forgotten about it.

"Oh," Hermione said, taken a bit by surprise. "I just thought… well, I just thought… you would like it. I don't think it's healthy being fatalist, and it's something I think everybody should have." Hermione Granger finished by saying resolutely. "If you ask Colin Creevy, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"Eurh… thanks" Harry said, not wanting to hurt her feelings and say that he actually hadn't opened it yet, just seen the parcel. Now, what had it got to do with Colin Creevy? He started imagining what it could possibly be. Hermione had acted all kind of shippish.

"Well, hello to this year's class of Advanced Charms," Professor Flitwick piped up from the pile of books he was standing on. "This will be difficult, and I don't expect everyone to manage on their first try, so don't get desperate if anything we learn won't come straight away."

However, other things were also on Harry's mind at that precise moment. Like Hermione's decision to become Unspeakable. Of course she would be good at it. But how good? Would she get herself involved with the prophecies kept in the Department of Mysteries? No, divination wasn't her interest. Developing new spells maybe. Search a counter curse to the Avada Kedavra?

"Now, until end of October, we'll be studying Fraudiger Vivus charms, as in giving 'life' to a simple picture. These charms are used to achieve live paintings." Saying this, he waved his wand at the blackboard and 'Fraudiger Vivus charms' was inscribed with a floating white chalk.

Harry wasn't paying mush attention. Would Hermione studie the veil? Harry remembered the whispers, souls calling out from behind the arch. His godfather, Sirius had fallen through it the day the Ministry was attacked. Was there any chance that Hermione could understand its mysteries?

Harry felt as if his godfather was just behind it, his arm raised waiting for someone to pull him out.

Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow to make sure he paid attention - his dark thoughts melted away. She already had a parchment out and notes had already been scribbled down.

"Let's start then." Professor Flitwick pulled a curtain open revealing Sir Knight Cadogan with a clash of armour riding his scruffy mount in a landscape that resembled the English Moors, all this inside a large canvas framed of wood.

"Stand guard you Errant Flap-Mouthed Hedge-Pig! The West post is under attack! Level bows!" he cried out, swinging his sword over his head, missing his plump poney's ears by inches.

"I made him myself," Professor Flitwick said with pride. "Note the humorist side to his personality…" Harry took his attention away from Hermione's own scribbling, and dipped his quill in the ink pot. "Now, Fraudiger Vivus from the Latin etymology…"

Harry and Hermione descended the marble staircase to the Great Hall, where they joined up with Ron once more.

"Got some Quidditch practice in while you were in Charms," Ron told them as they sat down. "There were actually a couple of Gargoyles out there too. They give me the creeps."

"I know what you mean," Harry said. He told them about his rather rough landing the previous night on Hogwarts roof with the gargoyles that had started attacking him.

Hermione had taken her list of books out once more and was going over it again attentively.

"So, what does the Quidditch Captain have to say?" Ron asked Harry. "When do we start official training? Need a new chaser, we could organise the tryouts in two weeks' time," Ron rumbled on, without touching his food once, too caught up in the Quidditch affairs.

Harry munched on his Spiked Chicken thoughtfully. Of course he'd thought of Quidditch. They'd won the Cup the previous year, Harry being Captain. They'd replaced a couple players then, but their chaser Emily Dickinson had graduated from her seventh year last term, leaving the spot empty. They'd established new strategies, all with Ron's help. However, this year was different, and Harry felt it couldn't go on anymore. "I can't be Captain."

Ron's face fell. "Why?" he asked. Hermione had looked up from her list.

"Ron, because!" Harry searched for words that would fit. He couldn't talk about it out loud, right in the middle of the Great Hall. "I can't. You can be Captain, you're the one taking Advanced Quidditch Studies!"

"You're quitting the team?" Ron asked, worry struck.

"No, I want to stay Seeker, but, I won't have as much time for Quidditch as before…"

"Harry, you can't abandon us…"

"I'm not abandoning you," Harry started, trying to find a way to express what he felt. "Drop it, Ron. I can't. That's all."

Ron was about to say something, but Hermione spoke up first. "Haven't you got an hour of strategy course, Ron? If you're Captain, you might have more chance at getting into a National Team." Ron grumbled something under his breath and picked up a Spiked Chicken of his own, knowing that Hermione was right, again.

"Well, I'm off," Hermione declared getting up. "I need to go to the Library. Start out the Charms' Essay. Can't wait for Defence this afternoon."

"What Charms' Essay?" Ron asked as Hermione left. "We've just come back from summer holidays!"

"We got a ten inch essay on some kind of animation charm for Friday," Harry sighed, dreading what Professor McGonagall would give them that afternoon as homework.

"Have you seen Hermione's schedule?" Ron asked Harry after have made sure Hermione had well and truly left.

"Yeah, a bit packed."

"A bit? You mean she nearly doesn't have time for anything else? Even Percy didn't take that much stuff. I give her two weeks before she loses a subject."

"Don't know, Ron, she seems pretty caught up in her stuff," Harry said taking some Caramelised Cockroaches from a nearby dish.

Later that afternoon, when Harry and Ron went up to Defence, they found Hermione already there, over her book list again, sitting on the far right. Ron looked over her shoulder.

"Simple Principals of Complexity," he read a title aloud. However, Ron had to keep his questions for later, because the small professor Xio Zong decided to enter the classroom at that precise moment.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Seventh Year Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'm Professor Xio Zong." Her name appeared on the black board. "And I'll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

Xio Zong had short black cropped hair and sported the famous expression of You- Shall -Not -Try-and-Mess-With-Me-At-Any-Moment about her, the one that made McGonagall popular. Professor Zong's small mouth crisped

"Don't expect me to give you any favours-" she shot a look at Harry, making him feel angry. "Or leave you any slack." There were a couple of confused expression at the muggle word 'slack', but Xio Zong did not explain. "Mondays and Fridays will be taught in this classroom. Wednesday mornings, we will meet down in front of the Marble Staircases to train out on Hogwart's grounds, giving extra attention at performing magical Defence on the 'terrain'.

"Each Friday, you'll have a quiz, and with the Essays given out in the week, I will be able to make sure of your progress. If you reply to less than half of the questions, or do not give your essays back on time, I'll be forced to give you detention. Is everything clear?"

The class was completely silent to her answer. Hermione put her hand up in the air, making Ron jump in cheer surprise.

"Miss…?" Professor Zong asked.

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione. "In 'Defence on the Terrain', do you count endurance?"

Professor Zong gave a small, twisted smile. "Miss Granger -in fact- I do." This brought an uneasy frown to Neville's face and an exited air to Dean and Seamus. Parvati and Lavender looked more than put out at the mention of physical exercise. Defence Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday did take up nearly the whole morning after all.

After Defence, Harry and Hermione made their way to the First Floor for Advanced Transfiguration, Ron had gone off with Dean and Seamus talking about Wednesday with some kind of thrill in his eyes.

McGonagall gave Advanced Transfiguration class a half an hour stern speech on the year' programme. They would start Animagi studies, and by Halloween Professor McGonagall told them she would be able to discern those who were potential Animagus. Hermione didn't seem too keen on the idea, but her eyes sparkled when McGonagall spoke about Conjuring and transfigurating things into the most complex vertebrate living beings.

They found Ron out in the corridor after class waiting for them eagerly.

"When are you taking us to see your Head Girl room and stuff?" Stuff being private bathroom and study. "Percy never let us in his, not that he was ever very interesting, so it didn't really matter." It might have been Ron's use of word 'interesting' that convinced Hermione the most to lead her friends up to her Head Girl quarters on the Tenth Floor.

They were led down a medieval corridor, small statues hidden in niches of the wall, while the ceiling was made of series of different sized arches, without any indication of symmetry at all. Ron looked at these dubiously, wondering if they was any fat chance, even with all the magic of Hogwarts that they would just fall on them out of lack of construction co-ordination. "Never come down here before," he said.

"They're just brilliant. I have so much space on my desk, and there are loads shelves to put mèy books …"

They were now standing in front of a Saint-like statue, a peaceful look on her face, her two hands joined. "Mathilda the Meditateful," Hermione told them. "Lisibonus Fraterni," she said to the statue which was then magically pushed aside, leaving way to a straight staircase. They climbed up.

The staircase gave way to a perfect round room. Large windows let the last rays of sunlight in, casting long shadows on the furniture. In its centre stood dark, round oak desk. Papers and new rolls of parchment had been laid down there. Hermione approached these and put a couple into her folder and out of sight.

The wall (there were no corners) was covered with shelves, and where there were no shelves, there hung rich tapestries. Two dozen books had already been set up in the bookcase. On the right hand side was a fireplace -Hermione's cauldron sat near. And by it's side was small couch, looking as if it had been there since the making of Hogwarts.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked, a delighted smile on her face. "Isn't it just, perfect?"

"Yeah, I wish I had a Head Boy room… but there's no place for posters-" Hermione gave Ron a reproachful look. "What do you think Harry? … Harry?"

"Coming!" Harry said suddenly coming up the stairs in a hurry.

"Why didn't you come up?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Mh… looking about the corridor." It was a poor excuse, but Ron dismissed the event quickly. "That leads to your room?" Harry asked, pointing at the forged winding staircase. Hermione nodded and led the way.

"Your- your bed!" Ron babbled when they had finally reached her bedroom. "It's enormous!" And indeed, it was rather large. It could contain half a dozen people or even a large hypogriff. "This is so unfair! Do you think that all the other Heads have a large rooms like this?" He jumped on the mattress and stretched out his arms, his fingers still inches away from each side of the bed.

"I don't know… These are the usual Head Girl quarters," Hermione told them. "Look." She pulled back a curtain from the side of a window. Behind had been hidden, engraved on the stone wall in neat writing, a list of names; going from the dome like ceiling down to the floor. "Every Head Girl's name since the Bogie Wars. Here's Penelope Clearwater-" she pointed at a name near the bottom. "And your mum's here, Harry," she showed higher up.

Harry approached the wall, standing by the side of Hermione. Next to her finger was the elegant written name 'Lilly Evans', a date inscribed by it's side.

He starred at it, his green eyes intent on the name. He didn't know how he should react to it. Envy Hermione? Wish that his mother was still alive? Wish that he be Head Boy?

"What are you waiting for?" Ron asked, joining them beside the list. "Put your name down Hermione."

"Oh, well… Why not." Hermione crouched down and placed the tip of her wand under 'Susan Seefar.' "Signatus Hermione Granger." Letters itched themselves across the wall, as if the stone had turned to butter at that instant while an invisible hand carved out Hermione's name.

She took a step back to admire the handiwork.. She owned that piece of wall in a sense, and the stone owned her name. How could she put her feelings into words?

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed. Ron was looking at a very still, rather unusual unmoving picture of Mathilda the Meditateful. He was about to ask what was wrong with the portrait, but Harry spoke up first. "The Order of the Phoenix isn't at Sirius' place anymore."

This got the attention of Ron and Hermione. "Where is it?" Ron asked.

"Could it be…" Hermione started thoughtfully. "There's more than tight on the security this year…"

"The Headquarters are here, at Hogwarts." It'd come out in a rush, hoping that his friends would understand the meaning of this, the danger that would soon wash over them.

Hermione stood still, her face pensive.

"Well then," Ron said, plopping down on the bed next to Harry's side, "We can get the Marauder's map out tonight, with your invisibility cloak and find out were they're hiding."

No, they didn't seem to understand. The Order is where it's needed most. The Final Battle, it would be at Hogwarts.

"I don't think we should," Hermione said briskly. "Maybe it's best if..."

"Oh come on, no that 'I-respect-rules' again," Ron complained. "We have the right to know."

"No, I seriously don't think we should find them," Hermione hissed back. "Someone might be able to force the information out of us." Her mind was drifting off, thinking about the parchment she'd signed. If only she could hint them what she had done. Aurors might not think twice about obliviating them, for Security. Secrecy was crucial.

Harry sighed, they didn't understand, and he… he just couldn't tell them everything just yet. "We can't find the Headquarters anyway," Harry told them. "They've taken the Marauders map."

"So that's what you were searching for this morning…" Ron trailed off remembering Harry when he'd just woken up. His friend had been angry, yelling that someone had 'stolen' something from him. "So that's what you were raving about this morning, waking up the whole dormitory."

"It's logic!" Hermione declared. "They're using it, don't you see?" She dropped down next to Ron. "The map will show the true nature of anyone that enters Hogwarts. No one can hide in the Castle. They're watching everything we're doing, every step."

Ron seemed troubled. "Well, I hope thy didn't mind me, Seamus and Dean visiting the Dungbomb store this morning."

Later that evening, after supper, Ron and Harry made their way slowly towards the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione had left for her meeting with Professor McGonagall.

"Wish Dad could give us titbits about the Order," Ron said. "But s'pose Mum is breathing down his neck. But I know Charlie and Bill were off on a mission this summer, haven't returned yet, in fact." He was watching Harry from the corner of his eye. "We could always join the Order when we graduate, what do you think?"

"Mh… Maybe."

Harry hadn't spoken much since they'd gone up to see Hermione's Head Girl quarters, and each time Ron tried to speak or come up with a conversation, Harry would reply with the strict minimum.

They went through the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady (password had been changed Gorgias Gorgoroth) passed next to screaming excitedly First Year girls, and Harry and Ron, being to tired to face them off, went to they dormitory.

"What's that?"

Harry picked up Hermione's present from his bed, where he'd left it. It had been wrapped up in orange and red paper. Sitting down, he ripped it off.

It sat in Harry's hands, plain green and obviously new. He turned the pages and found them white and blank from all writing.

"A photo album," Harry told himself more than to Ron. "From Hermione." It's not healthy being fatalist. Harry tried to push the dream he'd had that summer away, just before his birthday. Someone in the darkness of the Dungeons had declared he would be destroyed. Harry had dismissed it as a trick from Voldermort's to make his spirits hit undiscovered depths. But after that morning's conversation in Dumbledore's office, he couldn't push the truth away anymore.

This album represented what he wished he could have. Blank pages that still had to be filled, a whole load of them. Here there were so many that they could probably hold his whole life, if he ever got to live it.

Harry fished out a photo from his trunk, and placed it on the first page. Ink swirls started framing it as he gazed down at it. Collin Creevy had taken it in second year. They used to be Lockheart on it, but he had finally left the frame two years ago, leaving Ron Hermione and himself, with Hagrid behind them. they were now all smiling.

Even if it wasn't sure he would live until old age, he could at least try.

Thanks for the reviews once more. I'm continuing along slowly, and well, I'm having fun writing it. So I'll probably be continuing this no matter what. But REVIEWS are constructive, so advice and/or criticism are always welcome. Hey, readers are always right, aren't they?