It's almost over...

Chapter 17: Eyes Like Yours


Harry examined the yellow envelope for one last brief moment and then slid his finger under the seal and began to slit it open with his index finger. Suddenly an intense pain seared through him, starting in his fingertip and spreading through to the rest of his hand and up his arm, through his shoulder and into his head. Yanking his finger away and spitting out swear words, Harry threw the envelope aside.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, looking bewildered.

"It cut me! Or it felt like it cut me," Harry looked frantically at the envelope, half expecting it to be transfigured into a vicious blade or set of fangs, suddenly reminded of that vicious Monster Book of Monsters from Hagrid three years before.

Ron was looking suspiciously at the envelope.

"It cut you, mate?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Well, I'm not bleeding," Harry said, gesturing to his hand, which appeared to be perfectly normal. "But it hurt like hell--still does."

Ron cautiously picked up the envelope and held it up to the light.

"Dung," he muttered.

"Beg pardon?" Harry asked, looking confusedly at Ron. "There's cutting dung in there?"

"No, you prat," Ron said, setting the envelope aside. "But I think I know what it is. Dad's talked about these envelopes before." Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for Ron to continue. "These are like Ministry security envelopes. They can only be read by certified Ministry personnel, or by those directly associated with contents of whatever's in the envelope. At least, that's my guess," Ron said. "I think that's what Dad said…"

Harry reflected for a moment. "Maybe," he suddenly said, "Maybe this has nothing to do with the whole eye color thing. Maybe we're wasting time trying to open it."

"Maybe," Ron agreed. "But then again, maybe it'll blow the whole case open."

"Or maybe it'll blow me up if I try again," Harry joked, but as he said it he wondered, with a sudden jolt of terror, if indeed that were possible.

There was a knock on the door. The two boys turned to see the doorknob turn slowly, and Hermione poked her face in.

"What are you two up to?" she asked, looking around. "And why are you on the floor, Ron?"

Harry and Ron's eyes darted from the envelope Harry held a complete arm span from his chest to each other to Hermione, and then Harry hastily brought his arm down to a normal level and tossed the envelope away. Ron scrambled to his feet and gave Harry a quick questioning look, but Harry ignored it, and said,

"Ron tripped over some of my stuff I left out. I was just about to start cleaning up in here." Hermione accepted this and looked at Ron.

"You're mum wants to talk to you," she said. "She's in the kitchen."

"What for?" Ron grunted.

"I don't know. She just asked me to tell you."

Grumbling, Ron stalked out of the room, leaving Hermione to turn her questioning brown eyes to Harry.

"What's in the envelope?"

"I don't know," he said grudgingly. "Why don't you try to open it?"

Obligingly, Hermione bent to retrieve the envelope, but Harry quickly cut in,

"Actually, I take that back. Don't open it."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," Harry said sharply.

Hermione looked startled at first, but her face quickly steeled over.

"Well too bad, Harry. Just because you're PMS-ey again doesn't mean you can boss me around." And she snatched the envelope up and stuck her index finger under the seal.

"Ouch!" she cried, pulling back her finger in pain and dropping the envelope to the ground.

"Told you," Harry said, irritated with his friend for some reason he wasn't quite sure of himself.

"What's your problem?" Hermione snapped. "You're acting like you were at the beginning of summer, and it's really bugging me."

"What's bugging you?" Ginny asked, stepping into the room with Ron at her heels.

"Nothing," Hermione said, casting Harry one last annoyed look.

"Mum said she wants all our laundry to her today, and she wants us to start packing for school, so she doesn't need help cleaning the downstairs bathroom," Ron announced.

"Thank Merlin," Ginny added. Indeed, the Weasley's downstairs bathroom had been a prime dueling spot when the Death Eaters attacked the Burrow, and odd bugs were still emerging from cracks in the tile and strange noises kept erupting from the lavatory.

"Yeah, I think we should just burn that bathroom and start over fresh," Ron said frankly. "It's completely screwed up." Hermione and Harry nodded in agreement.

"And we've got the whole day to pack," Ginny said happily. "I can finally have time to myself."

"If you want time to yourself so bad, you can leave my room," Ron said pointedly.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Not until we talk more about Harry's mum's eyes and this amber breakthrough," she said. "Did anything else come to you Hermione?"

"Kind of," Hermione said slowly. "I got to thinking. And I think I know why Harry's eyes are green." Everyone's jaws dropped at this off-hand comment.

"Tell us then," Ron commanded.

Hermione grinned excitedly, enjoying the suspense she knew she had her friends in.

"Alright. But it's just a theory--remember that."

"Yeah, whatever," Ginny said, irritated. "Will you just say it?"

Hermione's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Alright. So I found this newspaper clipping in my book. It was really random- just a clip from some paper called the Weekly Quibbler. And-"

"The Weekly Quibbler?" Ron repeated, interrupting her.

"Quibbler? Like Luna Lovegood's dad's magazine?" Harry said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently. "It was owned by Luna's mum, I think. And the editor-in-chief was her dad. That's why it doesn't exist anymore. I'm guessing her dad couldn't stand having the paper remind him of Mrs. Lovegood every week it came out. So it's a magazine now, and only comes out every month. And it's just the Quibbler."

"Wasn't her mum some Chemist or Potion Madam or something?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said.

"Well fine, then. Maybe it was owned by Luna's grandmother. But that's not important- well, it's not really relevant. Alright, so as I was saying," Hermione said.

"Sorry," Ron quipped quickly. Hermione shrugged and quickly continued.

"So the paper clipping was about a man who possessed one of the rare amber gemstones- it said there are only 37 stones on earth,- and he was a political leader in Bulgaria, and he was assassinated. The article said he passed the stone down to his daughter. It was really weird- talked about some special, very powerful magic that he used on the stone while he was alive, so when he died he'd be able to go to the next world without looming back and forth, like most people who posses magical stones. So this man performed a charm on the amber to just move on to her after he died. His little girl was about three at the time. The night he was assassinated, she screamed while she was in her bed, and her mother came in to her room to find a gash on her arm. It later turned into a scar. Nobody knew why or how it got there. And then, when the girl was about our age, she was murdered-"

"Bloody hell, that family's got rotten luck," Ron breathed-

"-and the man who killed her actually saw her scar open up, and the stone came out of her skin and just vanished. And so did her scar." Hermione paused, letting the new information seep in.

"Weird," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"You can see why the Quibbler is such rubbish--guess it's always been that way," Ron said.

"Do you believe it, Hermione?" Harry asked softly. She turned to look at him.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I think it's an interesting idea. Imagine. Everyone's always thought your scar came from Voldemort. But what if it didn't? The only way you could get a scar like that is from being hit with a very powerful curse. Or so everyone thinks. But what if you got it from being hit with a very powerful, complex charm, cast on you and that amber pendent by your mother? Remember what the book said?- Legend has it that Amber provides sorcerers with special enhanced powers. You lived through Avada Kedavra because the amber was transmitted to you by your mother. It happened so fast, Voldemort didn't even notice. But the amber went into you, you got that lightning bolt cut, Voldemort tried to kill you, failed because the amber saved you, and Voldemort scurried off, ruined by the strangely powerful infant."

Everyone stared at Hermione in silence.

"Well?" she asked tentatively. "What do you guys think?"

There was a long, empty silence.

"I think we need to open that envelope," Ron finally said. "If that envelope is some confidential file about Lily's amber necklace, then your theory must be wrong, because Harry can't open it."

Ginny looked thoroughly perplexed, not knowing anything about this strange envelope. Hermione caught on, however, and nodded vigorously.

"Harry, I want you to try to open it," Hermione announced. "But I want to do something first."

Taking her wand out from her jeans back pocket, Hermione tapped the envelope, and muttered something nobody quite caught. She then handed it to Harry, who reluctantly took it.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"I did this charm that tells the envelope what year it is. Magical files need to stay updated, or they may malfunction," she said. Ginny and Ron exchanged bewildered looks.

Holding the yellowing envelope a complete arm span from his chest, as if afraid it would hex him, Harry slowly took his index finger and slid it under the seal. And then he pried it open effortlessly.

It was as if the world had stopped spinning. Everyone sat in complete shock, staring at the envelope in awe.

"See what it is!" Hermione said in excitement. She looked very much like a little girl on Christmas morning. Harry was so thankful that he hadn't been invisibly cut again, he very nearly wet himself in relief.

Turning the envelope over and quickly pulling out the folded parchment from within, Harry glanced around at his friends, who sat with batted breath, eagerly watching him. And then, without another word, he unfolded the paper. In an instant, Hermione, Ginny and Ron were crowded around him, looking over his shoulders.


"This official Ministry of Magic document is to verify Mr. Harry James Potter as the protector of amber pendent #25.

"Protecting amber is a task which one cannot volunteer for. Lack in obeying the requirements for protectors will lead to immediate removal of the stone from the protector's protection. If the stone is removed from one's possession, they will most likely die, due to the shock sent through the body when the stone is extrapolated, even if it is not stored within the body.

"Requirements for the stone's protector are as follows:

"1: Cannot not tell anyone about his/ her possession of the stone,

"2: Cannot seek illegal or immoral power through the stone's strength,

"3: Must consider the welfare of other above the welfare of him/ herself.

"Amber pendent #25 was passed down to Mr. Potter from Mrs. Lily Evans Potter on October 31, 1981. Mrs. Potter received the gemstone from Miss Margaret Marietta McGonagall on September 30, 1970, who received the stone from Mr. Gail Nicholas Knightly on June 1, 1968.

"After Mr. Potter's death, amber pendent #25 will select its next protector. However, the future protector cannot be revealed until Mr. Potter's death.

"Signed, H.R. Fitzkrikolot, Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Stones."


"Well, I guess now that you know, you can't tell us you have the stone, aye Harry?" Ron said, valiantly attempting to lighten the mood.

"That's it," Ginny whispered. "It was the amber necklace, after all! The necklace made your mum's eyes change from blue to green. And it was the amber that made your eyes green, too, Harry. And even-" Ginny paused, trying to comprehend the new wisdom the four had just acquired. "Even your scar," she finally said, her voice soft and her eyes misting over with tears that caught Harry by surprise. Her eyes traveled slowly from Harry's eyes to his forehead, and then back to his emerald green eyes. "Even your scar came from the amber."

"Margaret McGonagall," Hermione whispered. "She was the one who gave the amber to your mum, Harry. It all makes sense."

"Incredible," Ron marveled.

"It's amazing what you can learn when you're friends with Hermione, isn't it?" Harry said with a sardonic grin.

"Yes, this girl is astonishingly clever," Ron said with a grin as he draped his lanky arm over Hermione's shoulders. "That's for sure."

Suddenly he seemed to realize what an awkward situation he'd just put himself into. Jolting his arm back, Ron's hand immediately flew up to his hair, which nearly matched his face at the moment, and ruffled it in a rather windswept manner.

"I'm starved," he announced swiftly. "Anyone up for a sandwich? Or maybe some fish and chips?"

"We ate just barely ate breakfast," Harry laughed, rolling his eyes at his best friend.

"You're such a pig, Ronnie," Ginny said provocatively to her brother.

"Er, Gin? Why don't we go pack?" Hermione cut in swiftly before Ron could decide whether to retort smartly or smack his sister upside the head. "I need to talk to you. Girl stuff."

The girls exchanged significant looks and immediately departed.

"Sure you're not hungry, mate?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'd better clean up, before you trip over more of my dung and find a new mystery for us to solve," he said with a somber expression.

"Good thinking. I'll see you, then," and Ron left Harry alone, the letter in his hands.

How long he sat there he never knew, but it was an odd period of time.

Harry just sat with the envelope in his hands, absent-mindedly rubbing the edges, remembering things:

His mother's first diary entry, talking about Jimmy Hartford nonstop. She'd been so carefree and silly. Her wonder and awe when she got her letter. The train ride, where she met Narcissa Black and Natalie Thomas. And Sirius Black, who took Jimmy Hartford's place in her heart. What would she have said if she knew he would one day be her son's godfather?

And Janna Carter, her future cousin-in-law. And James Potter, the boy she couldn't believe she kissed, who she thought was arrogant and mean and obnoxious, but for some reason eventually married her.

Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed her and her family.

Margaret McGonagall, the good-goody teacher's pet, who was destined to become Head Girl and whatever else she wanted to be, until she died, leaving that amber pendant to Lily.

His mum had struggled her first month of school, performing poorly in class and not enjoying Hogwarts at all. And then Margaret died, and everything changed. Even her eye color.

As Harry mused over this, he found it remarkable how Professor McGonagall and he were connected.

Strange…

And then a queer new thought struck him. Who would get the amber after he died?

A friend, like Ron or Hermione?

A classmate, like Hannah Abbott or Susan Bones?

A total stranger?

A dark wizard?

An enemy?


When he was finally uprooted from his extremely deep thoughts, Harry remembered what he needed to do, now that the mystery of his mum's eyes was solved. And so he found a quill and a short scrap of parchment.
As he sealed the letter, Ron barged back into his room, satisfied with his latest meal, and flopped back onto his bed.

"Can I borrow Pig? Hedwig's out hunting, I think," Harry said, holding up his letter.

"Sure," Ron said, gesturing toward Pig's cage, where the little owl was nearly hyperventilating with the exciting premonition that she was about to get a letter to deliver. "Whose it to?" he asked curiously, his eyes closed and his hands behind his head.

"My aunt," Harry replied. Ron's eyes shot open, and he watched Harry closely for a long moment. And then he nodded curtly.

"Did she know about your mum, how her eyes changed?" he asked.

"Yeah. She always wondered how, so I'm telling her," Harry said, tying the letter to Pig's leg and checking to make sure it was secure. "She'll probably wet herself when this mad owl comes zooming into her house. She told me to tell her in a "normal way." But I don't care. I just wish I could go with Pig to see her have a panic attack at having an owl in the house."

Grinning at the picture he was painting himself, Harry laughed heartily. "See if she ever asks me to write to her again."


Mrs. Weasley invited Fred and George over for dinner that night. Bill came, too, making the affair an almost-complete Weasley family reunion, with the exceptions of Charlie, who was swamped with work in Romania now that Voldemort was known to be back, and Percy, who hadn't spoken to the family in over six months, even with news of Voldemort and the attack on the Burrow.

Mr. Weasley eagerly volunteered to cook a Muggle dinner for the family, using a barbeque grill he acquired from work.

Harry had to help him to ensure that the hamburgers and Polish sausages were cooked properly, and Hermione seemed especially worried that he'd somehow blow-up the back yard or wreck some other form of havoc, and kept her wand handy all night.

However, everything went smoothly.


"Not bad, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said after polishing off her second hamburger. "You should cook dinner more often."

"Yeah Dad," Bill said with a grin. "Not too shabby."

"Speaking of shabby, Bill, darling," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes darkening dangerously. "Your hair is really getting outrageous." Mrs. Weasley then began her routine critique of her eldest son's long red ponytail, and Harry and Ginny exchanged bemused looks from across the table.


After dinner, the family went inside to show Bill and the twins the strange new inhabitants of the downstairs bathroom, and spent the next two hours lazing around the living room, talking about politics, war and the Order.

Mrs. Weasley served blackberry pie with raspberry tea as a late dessert, and the conversation turned to Fred and George's latest merchandise at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The conversation finally slowed down around nine-thirty.


"Excellent food tonight," Ron announced, standing and stretching widely after he finished his pie. "I need to go pack some more. I'll see you all later," and he headed up the stairs. Hermione made similar excuses and left soon after.

"Ginny, dear, will you go take down the laundry? I left it outside to dry, and forgot to take it down," Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny shrugged and trudged outside.

"Well, I need to get back to my pad and get some sleep. I need to be at Gringotts at four tomorrow morning," Bill announced.

As he said good night to his parents, Harry noticed Fred and George furtively slip up the staircase, no doubt to harass Ron and Hermione. After Bill Apparated, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley began gathering dishes and filled the sink with hot, soapy water. Harry stacked the plates near him and carried them to the sink, but Mrs. Weasley had a different chore in mind for him.

"Harry, dear, thank you. But Arthur and I will do the dishes. Could you go outside and help Ginny with the laundry? I'm sure she's fine, but I worry about her being out alone at night…"


As he stepped out the back door and into the warm, breezy night, Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and reveled for a moment in the loveliness of it all.

The stars were the sole source of light tonight, as it was a new moon, but they were so bountiful in the black sky that it wasn't overwhelmingly dark.

The sweet August smell, of campfires and flowers and nearly worn out dry air, meshed into a delicate breeze that made Harry wish he could just stand and breath this air in and out forever.

Looking around for Ginny, he finally saw her, probably about 50 yards away.

She was unclipping a large towel from the clothesline, her back to him.

He couldn't help but stand and stare at her for a moment. Her mother had absent-mindedly braided her red hair while the family talked, and it now hung in a single braid a little past her shoulder blades, a few stray wisps escaping the vibrant red rope.

She had changed into her pajamas right after dinner, and Harry had to admit she looked pretty fetching in the white ribbed tank top and the loose-fitting pajama bottoms that hung teasingly at her hips. He vaguely recognized the PJ bottoms as hand-me-downs from one of the twins.

Even from a distance, in the dim lighting, he could see the freckles splashed on her arms, and he suddenly found himself speculating over whether or not the rest of her body was freckled similarly.

He stood there for a long moment, just drinking in the pure innocence and beauty of her as she tossed the towel into a large, woven basket.

Taking a deep breath, he had to force his feet to move toward her, remembering his mission was not to stand around gaping at her.

"Oh, hello Harry! I didn't hear you."

She grinned at him as she threw a pair of jeans into the laundry basket.

"Sorry. Your mum asked me to come help you."

Ginny laughed at this.

"Let me guess- to protect me from the night monsters?"

"Something like that." Harry grinned at her as she shook her head ruefully.

"Mum…she just doesn't think I'll ever grow up and be independent."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just unclipped a tablecloth from the line and wrestled the billowing fabric into the basket.

'Say something!' his mind screamed at him.

"So, you and Dean are over," he said offhandedly. 'Wow, you git. That was pretty bad.'

"Duh. We've been over for like, a week, Harry."

"Ah, I know. I was just checking."

"And why were you checking?" Ginny raised an impish eyebrow at him.

'Dung.'

"I dunno…I think I know someone whose might be interested in asking you out," he replied, ignoring the agonized groaning of his brain ('WHAT IN MAGIC ARE YOU SAYING!').

"Oh really. Well, I probably wouldn't be interested in him," Ginny replied, smirking playfully.

"No?" Harry tried to look uninterested, but failed miserably.

"No. I have my eyes set on someone else right now."

"Maybe it's the same someone."

"Maybe. Describe this friend of yours."

"I never said we were friends. He's a real git, actually."

"Describe him," Ginny demanded, a sly smile creeping from her mouth to her eyes.

"Er…well, he's in my year. And he's tall--"

"How tall?"

"About my height."

"Oh, alright. That's a good height."

"Thanks," Harry said, taken aback slightly by the comment. "And this bloke has rather ugly hair,"

"Let me guess--like yours?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess?"

"Ah, I see."

"Does he wear glasses?"

"I believe so."

"Hmmm….Well, he sounds alright. I think I'd go for him on one condition."

"And what's that?"

"He has to have eyes like yours."

"Like mine?"

"Yeah. I'm a real sucker for emerald green eyes."

"Hmm, that's interesting. What about ugly scars? Do you like men with lightning bolts on their heads?" Harry asked.

"Hmmm, strange that you should ask. Do you really want to know what I like in a guy?" Ginny asked, smiling flirtatiously up at him.

"Tell me."

Harry unconsciously stepped closer to her- so close, he could feel her breath on his face as she looked up at him.

"Okay. For one," and then Ginny began to hum a very familiar sounding tune. And then she softly sang, her brown eyes laughing as she looked up at Harry, who looked astonished at the sudden outburst of music, and her husky, slightly off-tune voice sang quietly:

"His eyes are as green, as fresh pickled toad. His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he were mine, he's really divine--"

Before she could finish, Harry's mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her, first softly, shyly, and then harder.

It was as if the world had stopped spinning, and at the same time like it was spinning a hundred times faster, as Ginny kissed him back.

Just as she felt Harry trying to deepen the kiss, the sound of the backdoor slamming open and Fred and George's chortles hit, and the two pulled away from each other, Ginny blushing and Harry gasping a bit.

The two stood awkwardly for a moment, expecting the twins to tease them dauntlessly.

"Er, I think we'd better go back inside," George said loudly. "You know, I think I just saw a night monster, Fred."

The two sniggered a bit, and the backdoor slammed again as they went back inside.

"So, where were we? You were saying--or rather singing, I believe?" Harry said.

Ginny grinned.

"I was, but then you made me stop."

"You sounded awful. It was the first solution that came to mind."

"Ah. Well, it worked alright. Shall I sing the rest?"

"I'll make you stop."

"Good."

And the two leaned toward each other, eager to feel the euphoria of being close to each other and taste one another's mouths once more.


Half an hour later, Ron and Harry were packing their trunks silently.

It was a comfortable silence, the sort that only good friends can find comfortable. And then Ron jerked backwards.

"Bloody hell, Harry, those ugly bronze spiders keep appearing! It's like you brought a basket full of them over here for the summer holiday!"

Harry looked at the spider, and arched an eyebrow. Could it have anything to do with the amber stone he possessed?

"They all come from your trunk, mate. Why don't you look for yourself?" Ron was backing away in terror.

Just then, Fred and George marched into the room

"Spider problems, little brother?" Fred asked, a coy grin in place.

Harry looked at him suspiciously.

"Maybe you should try our special new product: Spider-Be-Gone," George quipped. "Sixteen sickles, an exceptional price and great value."

""I already bought some, and it's rubbish, of course," Ron snarled.

"When did you buy it?" Harry asked.

"Back in June. But I tossed it. It was garbage."

"You didn't toss it in my trunk, by any chance, did you, mate?" Harry asked. "Because I've had a strange spider problem ever since about June…They've just been following me."

Fred and George tried to look innocent, and Ron looked honestly perplexed.

"I thought I threw it away," he said.

"Ah, but alas, it's indispensable, until all the spiders get out," George said sadly.

"What?" Ron and Harry asked in unison.

"That's were all the effing spiders were coming from!" Ron said angrily.

George and Fred exchanged quick looks, and opted for a subject change.

"Well, Harry, looked like you were helpful with the laundry," Fred said smugly.

Harry felt his face burn.

"Indeed," George joined in merrily. "We've been crossing our fingers for you, mate."

"Yep. We knew you and our darling little sister were a match made in the heavens from the start," Fred said dreamily.

"Er…" Harry wasn't sure what to say. Ron looked very interested, however.

"I mean, how could she resist you?" Fred continued. "With that blackboard head of yours," (George sniggered) "And those Potion Master spectacles- very sexy, my friend." (George nodded solemnly.)

"What are you guys talking about?" Ron piped up excitedly. "What about Harry and Ginny? I knew it! I-"

"Keep your britches on, Ronnie-kins," Fred chided. "We'll let Harry tell you all about the exciting laundry."

"Yes," George added. "It's a good story. Ginny's crazy about Harry here. And how could she not be? I mean, with pickled toad eyes, you're one delicacy to feast eyes upon." He winked playfully at Harry, who scowled at him.

"Yes, Harry," Fred said dramatically as he and George approached the door, ready to return to their shop for the night. "I think all of us men wish we had eyes like yours."


The End (almost: there's still an epilogue)


Reviewers, Reviewers,

I thank you a ton

Your sweet, happy words

Are ever so fun.

This story's near o'er

And for this I am sad

As your amazing support's

Made me ever so glad.

Thanks to you all

You're wonderful, really.

And I shall miss you,

Each of you, dearly.

But please keep in-touch

Perhaps read my new story

Then all the joy you've brought

Can be recycled in glory.

And even if not,

I still owe you a bunch

You've made writing this story

Taste as good as brunch.

And as there's just one chapter left,

I want you Reviewers to know

How much I cherish your kind

Enthusiastic, supportive flow.


Yeah, now you know why I'm not a poet.


Thanks a whole bunch to everyone who reviewed chapter 16! And I'm sorry about the wait. I really am.

Nightwing 509 : Thanks! I'm glad you liked it, and I'm sorry I was as slow as a slug updating.

kiwiblue: Depends. Right now I'm unable to update often because I'm taking a hardcore schedule, being my school newspaper editor in chief, working after school and trying to find a house over 1000 miles from home for next fall. Sorry : (

weselan: Thank you for the review!

WolfMoon: Thanks! Hope the spiders didn't disappoint you. I don't think there's much to continue off of, especially after the epilogue.

The Wolf's Pen : Aww! I hope you still have fingers! Sorry about the wait, and thanks for the review! You've been a great reviewer.

Lady Urquentha: Ahh, that was a good idea. Would've worked well, I wager. Thanks for the review!

bahjcb :Well thanks much! Harry's not much of a detective, is he?

SweetSouthernGal: Thank you! I like your pen name, btw : )

Red-head Hufflepuff attack : Ahh, sorry about the cliffy. Thanks for reading!

HecateDeMort : Stellar! Thanks
megan7: Er…(embarrassed silence) Thanks for the review!

KMK : Thank you! Yeah, I'm one of the losers who laughs at her own jokes much too often, and I'm afraid that title struck me as pretty funny. Glad it wasn't just me.

fire-icecat: Dying. Thanks!

Lil Lillian : Thank you! Hope you like this chappie

tina7610813: Thank you!
MsMissProngs : Thanks!

Fawna: Thanks for the review

Annonymous: Aw, thank you! I'm glad you liked it

Insertgoodnamehere: It'll be in the epilogue. Thanks!

Sillymonkey25: Wow, you didn't have to review every single chapter, but thank you!


There's still one big question that hasn't been answered--why was Hermione practically obsessed with the whole eye mystery? Don't worry--I'll tell you soon.

Okay, so one chapter left, although it's the epilogue, not really a normal chapter. And I know what I was planning on writing, but it's very sad, and I was considering something a little less sad, but I'm not sure.

So review and tell me what you think would be better, sad or not-so-sad, and I'll get this wrapped up soon.

Thanks for reading!