Harry found that his sixth year was, in fact, his hardest year. Every teacher seemed to think that he was only taking on class. He regularly had hours of homework and the threat of Quidditch was coming. A month had passed since his fist day back; he yearned for the carefree summer.

McGonagall had them trying to learn how to transfigure a part of there body into something else. Harry thought of Krum, and his submarine like take on the second task, whenever he had to think about that. Hermione was still the only one to succeed in turning her own arm into a club.

Harry, who had always fared rather well in Defense against the Dark Arts, found that class especially hard. They were currently learning the spell conjoiners. They were supposed to mix two spells to create something larger; Harry found this particularly hard. Ron did as well, although he tried to not to show. Neither of them had yet perfected the mix of the Impediementa Jinx and the Incarcerous Spell-which was supposed to slow and subdue any enemy.

Oddly, Harry found that potions was quickly becoming his easiest class. Snape had still not returned and Trelawney was still teaching them. She proved not to be a fraud at all-her lack of homework was making her very popular-, she knew a lot about potions. Hermione couldn't deny that. They were learning how to put together the Confusion Concoction. Harry and Hermione received to top scores, when they handed in a bright, acid green potion.

Harry had been right when he had said that Hagrid would get more difficult creatures. The class had shown up, not to find a peaceful bird but very large, pale palomino horses with large wings on either side. "Abraxan," Hagrid had said. They had been made to ride them, and then feed them steak dripping in single-malt whiskey.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not faring any better in Charms. Flitwick had them learning the Entrancing Enchantments. Even Hermione found these hard to prefect, she did however. She made Ron jump up and down like a frog, on her sixth try.

He was quite happy that it was the weekend, and that he, Ron, Hermione had spent all last night finishing up homework. They would have a free weekend! The three of them were on there way down to the Great Hall for Breakfast.

"I don't think I can handle this much longer," Harry said as they entered the Great Hall. There were many people sitting around, Harry could see Dumbledore, in bright yellow robes, speaking to Flitwick in a small voice.

"Handle what?" Said a gruff voice from behind them. They turned slowly; Professor Reid was standing behind them.

"Uh…nothing," Harry said.

He stalked off to the staff table. Ron and Hermione laughed loudly, once Reid was out of earshot. Harry wasn't sure why, but he liked Professor Reid. There was something about his attitude. The way he walked and talked. His ethereal being, so like that of the Sirius he had met in his third year.

"What do you guys want to do today?" Ron asked as he lathered a scone up with butter.

"I'm up for something fun. We have been so busy this year, that we haven't broken any rules," Harry said. Hermione looked shocked. "Just kidding."

"I want to go visit Hagrid and ask him…." Hermione was cutoff by a flutter of owls. The morning post was coming in. An ocher brown owl came down and dropped off the Daily Prophet. Hermione played the owl and gave him a portion of beard before his departure. She unraveled the paper…and dropped it instantly.

"What?" Ron asked in shock. Harry and Ron stared down; beaming up at them was a large picture of Harry.

"What has the cow written now?" Harry asked picking the paper up.

Harry Potter and the Supreme Ego

By: Rita Skeeter

This writer has seen many inflated egos over the ear-and bruised a few, but never before have I seen one as large as that of Harry Potter.

Mr. Potter seems to think that because of his lucky encounter with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, we owe him something. That his scar makes him some type of royalty. I have a scar on my head…someone should bow to me!

In a report, I did with him during his infamous Tri-Wizard Tournament entry; he refused to answer any of my questions.

"He has been crossing lines, ever since he got here," Says Serverus Snape, his attractive and wondrous Potion's Professor.

Harry's ego goes as far as matters of the heart. He is of course always in the party of a Miss. Hermione Granger. However, Miss. Granger is also carousing around with Viktor Krum, and may be the reason behind his leaving Quidditch.

"They had an argument, not a few weeks ago. Harry stormed off…I think it was a lovers quarrel," Says one very handsome Slytherin boy.

(Cont'd on page 7)

Harry dropped the paper as well. He couldn't believe that one woman could be so dumb; he laughed. Hermione picked the paper up and threw it into her bag.

"Harry…." Ron said, quietly. Harry kept laughing, it was all so funny.

"I'm sorry…but it's all so funny. I mean she doesn't even have anything on me. It really is funny," Harry said slowly. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, and then began to laugh. They laughed for all the things they couldn't see; they laughed for the lives they would never know; carefree lives.

"Hermione, why are we going to see Hagrid," Ron asked. He was tired from the homework, and really wanted to sleep.

"I want to see how are even-larger friend is doing. You don't have to come," Hermione said quietly as the went down the sloping hill. They could see Hagrid from here. He was with someone; a woman.

"You mean Gwarp?" Harry asked. Ron was still stalking behind them, sleepily. Harry's face burned. What right did he have to be sloppy? I took more classes.

"Yes, I want to visit him. He did help us," Hermione spoke quietly. Harry thought for a moment, of the large, hairy creature that was Hagrid's half-brother; he thought of how he had attacked Umbridge; tears almost came to his eyes.

They walked faster, only stopping when the began to hear voices. Harry was sure that the woman was McGonagall.

"Dumbledore wants us to meet in his office tonight, a few others are coming," Said the strict voice of Professor McGonagall, there was a small tremor in her voice.

"What's all this 'bout?" Hagrid asked. He seemed alarmed. Hermione was listening intently, next to Ron.

"There was an attack last night," Came McGonagall's response. The color from Ron's face faded, as he toke hold of Hermione's hand.

"Magic?" Hagrid said. His voice was sluggish and slow.

"No, it was a muggle attack. It happened in Edinburgh; they used the Cruciatus Curse on them."

Harry began to remember that long ago night; the Quidditch World Cup. He could still hear there screams, and the benevolent laughter of the Death Eaters. His heart began to sink.

"What do the muggles think?" Hagrid asked, his voice had a solemn tone to it.

"They think they just went crazy. They are being treated at St. Mungo's, the ministry called the families and told them it was a good clinic for the mentally ill," There was a moment of silence. Harry was sure that the conversation was over. "Come up to Dumbledore's office around nine."

She began to walk toward them; they could hear the click of her heels. She turned the corner, and saw them. Her eyes went wide and her mouth thin.

"Of course. I suppose you three would be here, and no you may not attend the meeting."

She stalked off slowly. They resumed their walk.

"Weasley, follow me," She said turning around. Ron gulped and followed her slowly. Hermione and Harry waved, and continued toward Hagrid's Hut.

"How's Gwarp?" Hermione asked, taking a piece of rock cake from Hagrid-who seemed happy, and not affected by the news. Harry knew he was putting on an act.

"Oh, he's great. I found him a mate and his got himself a kid and another on the way."

Every thought faded. There were mini-Gwarp's in the forest. Harry looked over at Hermione; she seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"What are we studying on Monday?" Hermione asked. She clearly wanted to change the subject. It was clear she had wanted to see that Hagrid had given up on Gwarp.

"Were going down to the lake, were goin' to start water creatures nex'" Hagrid said.

Hermione and Hagrid began to talk of the creatures they had studied. Harry found it hard to concentrate; he kept thinking of those poor muggles.

Voldemort, everything evil in this world is cause by you. Did you even have a reason to kill them? Of course not!

I wonder what they'll say in that meeting. Will my name be mentioned? Of course, was Dumbledore trying to figure some way to stop the Prophecy? I wish…I wish…I wish that I was not alive.

"Hermione, we have to go," Harry said swiftly. He got up and said goodbye to Hagrid.

"Why?" She asked, getting up from her chair and following Harry to the door.

"See ya, Hagrid," They said walking from the hut closely. Hermione looked around, a bewildered look on her face.

"Harry, what is up with you?" She said in a worried tone. Harry swung around slowly, and stared at her. Her bushy brown hair held back, with a glistening green string.

"I am going to that meeting tonight; I have to," He said moving up the steps. Hermione seemed to be confused no longer, she was livid.

"What! Harry, you can't," She said trying to keep up with his pace. They reached the front door of the school, when Hermione finally caught up with Harry, completely.

"How. How do you plan to do this?" She asked. Her voice was determined and cool, her face no longer red. For a moment, Harry was glad that Hermione Granger was his friend. Her face was a mixture of determination and concern. She would help him.

"It's time for me to get out my dad's old cloak."

Ron still was not back. It was seven o' clock, and Harry was ready to depart. Hermione kept reminding him to calm down and do some reading ("The meeting isn't for another two hours."). Harry found it hard to think of anything besides putting the cloak over his head and running to Dumbledore's office.

The clock hit eight thirty with a melancholy boom. Harry turned to Hermione, whom was reading from her book.

"Alright let's go," She said slamming the book closed. "We can fill Ron in, when we get back."

Harry ran quickly up the steps, knocking over Seamus on his way up. He opened the trunk at the foot of his bed, and saw it instantly. The soft, shiny, silvery grey cloak that his father had given him. A shining remnant of a life forgotten. He picked it up and felt the odd texture; like touching concentrated water.

He ran back down the steps, the cloak under his arm. The room was empty; the faint smell of dungbombs filled the room. Harry's face contorted.

"I had to get rid of the people somehow," Hermione said as she slipped the cloak over her, and they pushed the portrait of the Fat Lady open and closed it back.

They walked slowly, the cloak didn't protect you from noise, and Mrs. Norris-the Caretaker's cat-was sure to be on the prowl.

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to do this. He knew, however, that he had to be in that office. They reached the gargoyle that protected the door with ease.

"What do we do know?" Harry asked. He was sure that Hermione was going to say, that this was his plan and he should have thought it out.

"Quiet I here someone coming, we can go up when they do," Hermione said quietly.

Harry looked around. His eyes were blurred like he was seeing life through a cracked mirror. Coming toward them was a man. His face was pale and sunken, his hair dark brown. Professor Reid was in the order!

"Merlin's beard," Rang his low voice, the gargoyle coming to life at his words. They moved in closer-careful not to make a noise. They sat still on the gargoyle and waited for it to begin to move. "Hello."

For a moment, they didn't move. Was he speaking to himself? Hermione had gone as pale as Professor Reid.

"I can secret," He said as the gargoyle stopped and they were ushered into the office. He moved toward the office, Harry walked them into the office and sat in a small corner. A lunascope sat behind them. He looked around; Hagrid, Kingsley, McGonagall, Reid, Lupin, and Dumbledore. He could barely see them, the office was dimly lit.

"Aww…We may begin, now that Professor Reid has joined us," Sang the calm voice of Dumbledore. A small hatred came up in Harry, a hatred of that eternally calm voice.

"Any question, this meeting is just to address any questions. As leader, I would hate for anyone to be in the order and not understand what is going on. After all, ignorance, regardless of what is popularly said, is not bliss; it's just ignorance?" Dumbledore said again. Harry wished he could see his face. The hatred faded; a desire to jump through the doors and pronounce his being was coming on.

"How many were hurt?" Said a simple voice, Harry was sure that Lupin was there.

"Three muggles and a junior Auror were hurt," Said the solemn voice of Dumbledore.

"Which ones did this?" Came the fiery brusque of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He seemed outraged at the entire affair.

"It has the style of Lucius Malfoy although, one could not rule out Ms. Lestrange and her husband," Came the inevitable answer.

"Dumbledore, why don't you begin?" Asked Professor Reid.

"Yes, I think that would be for the best," He paused. It was as if time stood still. There was not a sound. "I believe that Voldemort is still after the Prophecy. Although, the attacks arte unrelated. The only place that he can get this now if from Madame Trelawney, Harry, or I. Of course, he will go for Harry."

There was another pause. What had Dumbledore said: I expect that he still thinks of it? Although, he could only get the prophecy from the manufacturer now.

"Either way, I believe that Voldemort is outraged at his failure. A recent dream of Harry's has-"

"His still having dreams?" Lupin asked. His voice was hard and scared.

"Yes, there is a link between Harry and Voldemort-at any time Harry could slip into his mind, and vice-versa. However, Voldemort could do more than just see what Harry is doing, he could manipulate."

"Then Harry should continue to learn Occulmency," Provided Lupin, it was clear he thought that this was the answer.

"That was my mistake. I have-after much deliberation-found that Harry cannot sever his tie with Voldemort. It is in him, as much as Lily's eyes are. As I was saying, the dream displayed Voldemort torturing Lucius Malfoy. I think that he still wishes to hear the Prophecy; he was torturing him for his failure in the Department of Mysteries. He desires an end to his cosmic unknowing."

There was another silence; Harry looked over to Hermione, she looked worried and fascinated.

"Where's Serverus?" Asked the gruff and faded voice of Hagrid.

"No one has heard from him. The last we heard was that Voldemort was, in fact, beginning to suspect a traitor," Dumbledore answered. Did he ever tire of answering questions?

"Could he be dead?" Reid asked.

"No, you have not been in the order long enough, but if he was dead we would know."

There was another silence.

"Now, I am asking that we all begin to prepare for battle. I fear that it is coming, and we must be prepared-for anything," Dumbledore said. There was a final type of tone in his voice.

"At this instant, I must ask you all to depart. Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger need to be attended to."

Harry stood jaw-open and flabbergasted; he had forgotten that Dumbledore could see through his invisibility cloak.

Harry had never been so afraid. He and Hermione were sitting if front of Dumbledore's desk. McGonagall had taken twenty points from Gryffindor, and yelled for what seemed forever. However, Dumbledore saw them out and had yet to return. Hermione had her head down in silence.

Harry surveyed the office slowly, letting his eyes stop over every thing. He stopped, first, on the large perch hanging over, Dumbledore's desk. In it, sat a large, scarlet red bird, with a long golden beak and slightly orange tail feathers. It was Fawkes, the phoenix. He got up and walked over to Fawkes's perch. He put his hand on the head of the bird. He felt the cool, velvety feathers.

Suddenly, it let out a small cry. It was deep and melodious, warmth filled Harry. He hadn't felt that Happy all day. For a moment, the peril faded.

"Thank's Fawkes," Harry said in a high tone as he sat down. Hermione was looking up at the bird, a look of amazement on her face.

"I guess the phoenix song really does help the heart," Hermione said.

"Yes, he hasn't sung for a while. It does help the heart."

Dumbledore was moving toward them. He sat down, and for the first time Harry realized how old he was. Harry could see every line in his face, so dark and ancient. His eyes seemed weary. There was a faint smile on his face, and his eyes still twinkled brightly.

"Fawkes, could you please deliver this," Dumbledore said. He tied it around the leg of the majestic bird, and with a loud boom and a flash of flame he was gone, a small tail feather the only thing left to show that he had ever been there. Dumbledore carefully picked it up and placed it in his desk.

"Careful not leave those around," There was a slight twinkle in his eye. "Any questions?"

Harry and Hermione were thoroughly shocked. They had at least expected some type of punishment.

"Sir, I don't mean to be presmobtous, but shouldn't Harry continue his Occulmency classes." Hermione stopped; she seemed to be searching for the words. Dumbledore seemed to understand this and remained quite. Harry was looking at her, anxiously. "I mean Harry's vision's, or dreams, are getting worse."

"Yes they are. I suppose that they will continue to get worse, while Voldemort is still in power."

"Why? Why any of it? Why me?" Harry screamed. Hermione turned away from him. Dumbledore calm's gaze still held. "Tell me. You give me some Prophecy, and expect me to just deal with it."

He stopped for a moment. It seemed like all the things that had bothered him were coming out.

"What have you given me?" Harry got up from the chair. Hermione's eyes were soaked with tears. "Nothing, but half answers, and then you keep from this."

He paused again. Dumbledore remained calm, and unmoved. He began again.

"You know what? It is your fault, all of it…Sirius's death, my parent's death, Voldemort coming back, even those muggles who were tortured. You did it all; you didn't take one step to stop it. You…you…you who sit here, with all your knowledge, and wait for something to happen, so you can step in and save the day. Why don't you do something?"

There was a long, and ghostly silence. Hermione's tear socked eyes, were staring up at him in sadness. He didn't bother to stare at her. Dumbledore stood up, and walked toward them.

Harry thought, for a moment, that Dumbledore would strike him. Hadn't he just screamed out evils? Something told him that what he said was wrong, but another voice was telling him to say more, to strike him before he could strike me.

"Ms. Granger please leave," His voice remained calm, so like the song of the Phoenix, so clear and bright. Harry wanted to say that he was sorry, but the words wouldn't come to him. Hermione walked slowly from the room, Dumbledore walked with her toward the door. He stoped when he reached the large stone cuboard, and pulled the door open. Out of it came a large silver object, old runes decorated the sides. Harry knew, as Dumbledore laid it in front of him, that it was the pensive.

"Put your hand in," Dumbledore said as the pensive began to grow a bright silver color. Harry, apprehensivly, placed his hand in; it felt like solid wind, as he began to disappear into the mist….

It was a large stone room. Harry had never before felt so cold, as if he was standing in water. There were green lamps and furniture all around. He sensed that he had been there before. He was standing in the Slytherin common room, and Albus Dumbledore was next to him.

A bright light, a light that Harry had seen so many times in his dreams, began to fill the room. He turned to look at Dumbledore, his long fingers pointed to a dark corner.

"Avada Kedavra," Screamed a cold and malevolent voice. Harry winced his eyes. There was an awkardly tall boy, his hair jet black, and messy. His eyes were bright black and beady. Harry rememebered him, like you remember someone from a dream. He was Tom Riddle.

"Professor, is that-" Harry could hardly contain his shock when Dumbledore, put his hand to his mouth to silence him.

"Listen, for only with understanding can acceptance be achieved," Dumbledore spoke in his solemn voice.

"Look boys," Said a boy coming down a long flight of steps. The boy was blonde and had a slightly drawl voice, he reminded Harry of Malfoy-instantly. "If it isn't the orphan. What are you working on, orphan?"

"Nothing that concerns you Malfoy," Said Riddle defaintly. Harry couldn't belive what he was seeing; Dumbledeore's stare remained on the young boy. "Although, I wouldn't mind showing you a thing or two."

There was a pause. Both boys were going for there wands, Riddle grabed his first. He pulled it up and bellowed.

"Stupefy," He screamed, his wand erupting with a red light. It jetted toward the blond man, and he fell down siftly. Riddle walked over to the boy on the floor. "If you ever wish to fell more pain…you know where to find me."

He stalked up the steps.

"What was that?" Harry asked. He couldn't understand, what it all meant…did it mean that Voldemort had always been evil.

"This is the first night Tom asserted himself. It also marks the first time he gained any respect. The next day he was very popular. He would remain that way for the rest of his school days-this is during his second year," Dumbledore's voice had more emotion to it.

"How did he act when he first got to the school," Harry asked. He yearned to no more…to know more about the man who had ruined his life.

"He was timid, and very much insecure. He didn't understand much about the magical world-his mother was never around, and his father never cared for him. He arrived knowing nothing. However, having no friends he thre himself into his schoolwork. There was not a day that I didn't see him in the library. He did very well in my class. After a while, the other students began to abhor him, due to his knowledge. He began to work harder. It was his work that led to his downfall."

"What do you mean?" Harry spoke, the other boys were picking up the hexed young man.

"In his research he found that he was, in fact, the last descendant of Slytherin. He began to search for the Chamber of Secrets, and studying the dark arts. As you saw, he began practicing the unforgivable curses."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment; Harry joined him in it. What was there to say? He had just learned so much? So, he had not always been evil. He had once been like…me!

"Harry it is time to go," Dumbledore said. The common room began to fade into mist, as Dumbledore's office filled in.

There were no words. Harry sat in silence; he thought of the irony of it all. The one man who he had hated, for all of his qualities, was nothing more than himself. Would he turn out the same? Was that his inevitable fate? Hadn't Rita already said it, was he showing signs of being the next dark lord? Would someone, one day, be afraid to say his name?

"Why did you show me that?" Harry asked, his words came out slowly and eleqouently.

"So that you could understand," He paused. His eyes began to survey Harry's, as if he expected something to come from them. "You know what you have to do, is there any reason to deny it. In the end, you must be killed or be killed."

Harry was stuned; he had thought about that all year, and yet now it seemed real. Now, it seemed to hold some harrowing truth.

"I'm sorry."

"There is no need for apoligies, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "However, there is a need for sleep, so I must ask you to depart."

Harry got up without words; he wanted to say more. He wanted to say, that he hadn't really meant any of it. But, he just walked away.