A/N: This chapter is the 'finally we get a few answers and action' chapter. It's one of my favourites, so I hope you like it. I also wanted to just mention the fact that the last chapter was supposed to take place in late February. This one is just getting into March, despite what the date on the Goblin's letter said. I just figure that they decided to give Harry a year, and a couple of weeks to think abouthis letter. I'm sorry for not making that a little clearer. It was one of those things I forgot to add in at the last second.

Winky Disclaimer: 'Hic' Winky is normally a very good house-elf! Winky 'hic' must have done something very very naughty 'hic' to have been asked to give up all 'hic' rights to my 'hic' story. OH POOR MISTER CROUCH! HE IS SO BADLY NEEDING HIS WINKY!!!! (Passes out)

Chapter Thirty-two –

The Hogsameade Historical Society

"Ron, I'm impressed."

"Huh?"

Harry pointed to the mark at the top of Ron's potions assignment which was sticking out of the top of his bag.

"Eighty-nine percent is a pretty good score for any class. In potions, it's near to impossible." Harry commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, that." Ron shrugged. "Hermione helped me with it a bit,thenI had a bit of time in the library yesterday."

"A bit? You were in there from nine until four in the afternoon! On your birthday!"

"I wanted to get a good mark all right!" Ron blushed.

"Yeah, but on your birthday?" Hermioine griped. "We had a big party for you in the common room, and you never even showed up!"

"Well, next time let me know, and I'll be there." Ron went even redder in the face. "At least I had some cake."

Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "Yeah, stale cake."

"Just stop bringing it up all right? I felt bad enough missing my birthday to begin with. Sheesh! I finally get around to doing all of my homework properly, and you, of all people, tell me I need to stop and have a party!"

Hermione wrinkled her nose a bit in embarassment. "I guess I see your point." She mumbled.

"It's all right." Harry laughed. "Ever since that letter from mister Abercrombie, I can't think of anything except schoolwork and getting a good mark either. It's been crazy, and this isn't even NEWT year!"

The letter had indeed arrived from Rudolph Abercrombie the week before, telling Harry all of the credentials that he would need in order to be a liscenced independent detective. Harry had discovered that all of the things Fudge had told Harry were not only recommended, they were necessary. There were witches and wizards all over Britain who called themselves 'detectives' with absolutely no formal training whatsoever, but their businesses were usually quite basic and boring. Financial investigations and animal detectives and the like. If you wanted to get into the real deal, with murders, spies, dark wizards, corruption, and saving people's lives, you needed to have the proper credentials to get on to any of the crime scenes, or to access any of the old paper stacks at the ministry. He also said that often enough, a detective would be called upon to research facts in dark wizard trials. They didn't usually do the actual arresting, but the job was dangerous enough when every Death-Eater in town knew what sort of business you had. He said the danger usually followed him around a bit, and Harry thoughtthatwas brilliant. He'd always been on someone's hit list, but it would be nice if there was actually a reason for it.

Abercrombie himself had quite a booming business, and was allowed to pick and choose which investigations he wanted to pursue, but he said he would be retiring in five years, and no one in Britain had yet showed interest in the job. There would be no one there to replace him. He explained that people like him were necessary todo internal investigations for corruption at the ministry because in his opinion, the ministry shouldn't be allowed to investigate their own affairs.

Harry understood that if Abercrombie were to retire, and no one to come up behind him, the ministry wouldn't have any non partisan person watching them anymore, and the corruption would likely go off the scale. Abercrombie was very pleased to hear that the famous Harry Potter wanted to follow his line of work, and wished him luck. He even went so far as to offer him a few interesting details of a case he'd solved which involved a crazy witch from Birmingham using dark spells in the nearby cemetery, where she apparently had been reviving the dead corpses of muggles. He'd gone in undercover, and ended up battling twelve corpses, who he hadn't known had been given certain magical powers by the witch. It sounded incredibly gruesome and dangerous, but strangely enough, right up the threesome's alley. He'd finished off the letter by telling Harry to say hello to his grandson, Euan, who was a second-year Gryffindor. When Harry, Ron and Hermione had searched him out, they'd found him to be a very likeable person, so they hadinvited him to join the DA.

Since the owl had arrived, Ron, Hermione and Harry had been working like crazy, trying to better their knowledge of investigative techniques and study their brains out for tests. The results of their studiousness had paid off, and Ron had alarmingly lifted his average up from eighty to eighty-five percent, just over the last few days. All of his professors were commenting on his papers, and some were even dubious that he had actually done the work himself, though none of them could prove it. The eighty-nine percent paper he'd written for Snape also had a large red 'SEE ME" written in the corner. Ron had seen him, and Snape had quizzed him thoroughly on the material, hoping to catch him cheating. He hadn't been able to.

It was alarming that Snape had corrected everyone's papers so quickly, especially with him looking so ill for the past week. Harry had to wonder if he'd even bothered to try marking the Gryffindor students down the way he normally did. Usually the papers he turned back to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had questionably low marks, but not this time. Harry had even gotten an eighty-four percent on his work. Hermione had achieved what must have been an all time high of any Gryffindor student in Potions. She'd gotten ninety-eight percent.

"We'll be in the auror academy before you know it." Hermione commented as the three of them made their way down to breakfast that Tuesday morning, Ron trying to shove his admired potions paper further down into his bag.

"But is it enough to get us into the top thirty percent of the Auror Academy?" Ron asked, sounding very much like Hermione as he did.

"I don't know." Harry answered honestly. "At least we have a little time to figure it all out."

They entered the great hall, and took their seats just as the flapping of wings announced the arrival of the mail owls.

Hedwig brought a letter for Harry, and he gave her an owl treat. "Thanks Hedwig!" She didn't hurry back off to the owlery, but stuck around, obviously looking for affection, and maybe a scrap of food or two.

Another large brown owl brought the prophet for Hermione, and she let it take a sip of her pumkin juice before it sailed back out one of the high windows of the great hall.

"Who's the letter from, Harry?" Ron asked, as Hermione settled herself in to read the paper. The article about Sirius had been out a week and a half earlier, and much to Harry's surprise, it had been very complimentary, even though the name 'Harry Potter' had been bandied about a little too much for his liking. He was only just getting over the stares.

"Remus." Harry answered. "He says he's going to be in Hogsmeade on the thirtieth."

They cracked grins at each other and Hedwig chirruped excitedly. "Yes, of course you can come too." Harry told her. "And Pig, and Crookshanks, but only if you stay quiet about it, and find your own way there"

She hooted indignantly.

"I know, of course you'll be able to find your own way there. I was just making conversation." He petted her ruffled feathers, and she nipped him affectionately on the wrist.

"Er…" Hermione interrupted, and put the paper down, her eyes filled with confusion. "I think I just found something."

"What is it?" Ron asked, leaning over her shoulder, to take a look for himself.

"It's not really anything big, it's just that there's an article here that looks a little suspicious."

"A little suspicious how?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's all about the Hogsmeade hunt. You should probably read it, then you'll understand."

The Rebuilding of Three Centuries; A Joke

By Angela Downfish

The infamous Hogsmeade Hunt, which occurred just over three months ago utterly destroyed over three hundred years of wizarding history. In some instances, it even destroyed buildings and monuments older than that. An antique art exhibit had been taking place at the Hogsmeade Galleries, and seventeen priceless thousand-year-old pieces were lost when the building burned.

Now that the rebuilding of Main Street is reaching its end, many people are skeptical about the town's record for keeping its citizens safe. As any member of the Hogsmeade historical society could tell you, the town was completely destroyed before, just over three hundred years ago in the goblin rebellion of 1678, and half demolished again during the rise of Grindelwald sixty-four years ago.

Needless to say, the people of Hogsmeade are a little nervous.

"Why are we building it all up now when we know it's just going to collapse again in the next hundred years?" asks Hogsmeade Historical Society president Jiggory Poeky. "Did you know that the only part of Hogsmeade that hasn't been demolished at leastsix times or more is Hogwarts itself?"

Many people who've lived in the town all their lives aredistrustful of the town's proximity to the Wizarding school since this attack was originally supposed to be centered on the school itself. "It's just not safe to have a town so close to abuilding that many Dark wizards consider the centre of the United Kingdom wizarding society." Poekycomments, offhand.

Minister Fudge tells us that the town has been entirely safe for consumers and townspeople since a month ago, but is it? With the return of you-know-who, many people feel that labelling Hogsmeade as an entirelywizarding town, only paints a bullseye on the map for hostile Death-Eaters.

I for one, don't see the benefits of visiting a dying town, and will be staying safely in London, where I can be certain the Aurors are nearby.

Harry looked up from the article, and eyed Hermione. "How'd she know the hunt was supposed to happen at Hogwarts?"

"Not only that" Hermione pointed out, "but how did she even know to call it the 'Hogsmeade Hunt'? That name, as far as I know, is only used by Death-Eaters and Order members. In fact, we should probably pay attention to our own use of the name. The wrong people might wonder who our contacts are if we aren't careful."

"Could this Angela Downfish be a member of either group?" Ron asked.

"She might, but I don't think she's a Death-Eater. She wouldn't be calling them 'hostile' if she were. It might be a way to mislead people, but I don't think so. It sounds almost accidental that she used that word."

"She sounds like she's a real history buff." Ron pointed out. "She wouldn't destroy all of those things bherself if she's that crazy about them, and Voldemort would have killed her for this type of talk if she were really a Death-Eater. It's sort of insulting to him isn't it?"

"Then she'san Order member?" Harry asked, trying to sort it all out in his mind.

"Possibly. I don't thinkshe should be telling everyone about this if that's true. Dumbledore should givehera warning." Hermione answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I think we would have known ifthisDownfish ladywas a member. It's more likely that she's getting her information from someone else.Probably someone in this Hogsmeade Historical Society."

Harry's eyes darted around the great hall. "Hermione, do you mind if I cut this up?" he asked, holding up the paper.

"No, go ahead."

Harry took his wand, and cast a silent severing charm to the paper. Ron laughed at the look of indignation he got from the witch on the opposite side of the page, whose advert for hair potion had now been chopped in half.

Harry spread the clipped article out before him, and pulled his quill, some blue ink, and an envelope out of his bag. He quickly underlined the important sections, and wrote, 'Member Info' in the margin. He folded up the article, and slipped it into the envelope.

"Hedwig? Can you take this to professor Dumbledore at some point when he's alone? Or maybe just leave it on his desk. Make sure no one else sees it."

She cooed, and stuck out her leg. Harry tied the note to her, and she made a sort of nodding salute, stole a piece of bacon –obviously this is what she had been waiting for all along– and flew off.

0 0 0 0 0

After classes for the day were over, Harry, Ron and Hermione tromped down the hill to Hagrid's hut once more to get an update on the Order's activities, and to ask him about the article in the prophet.

As they walked, Ron pointed towards the lake, where four students were playing a raucus game of evasion. None of them were in the DA, but they looked like they knew what they were doing. It was obvious that this was not the first time that they had played.

"Looks like your game has caught on." Harry commented, and Ron grinned proudly. He looked furtively at Hermione to see if she had noticed the game, but Hermione's attention was elsewhere. She seemed to be looking out into Hagrid's garden, and Harry couldn't quite see what had caught her eyes.

As soon as they were inside Hagrid's hut, Harry put a silencing charm up around the cabin.

"Hallo every one." Hagrid greeted, sounding quite pleased with something. "Come for some tea? Right then, come on."

"Hagrid? Was that Buckbeak I saw out in the yard? Hermione asked, sounding suspicious. Harry's eyebrows raised, and he and Ron went to go look out the window. The tall grey Hippogriff was indeed sunning himself out in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

Hagrid grinned broadly. "Minister Fudge gave him a full pardon. He says you showed him in a pensieve or sommat." He gestured to Harry. "Said he wasn't as violent as they'd thought. Especially since Malfoy was the one who convinced them he was dangerous, and he's shown himself to be a Death-Eater."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I did." Harry said, feeling relieved, and pleased that Hagrid had his 'pet' back.

"Malfoy's not going to like this." Ron said, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Right then, what did you want to know?" Hagrid asked.

"Hasn't professor Dumbledore spoken to you about the article in the prophet?" Harry asked, confused.

"How'd you know about that?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, 'how did we know'? We were the ones who sent it!"

Hagrid's eyes widened. "Oh! That makes sense now! I'll have to tell the headmaster!"

"What?" Harry asked. "He didn't know who it was from? Didn't he recognize Hedwig?"

"I didn't ask him about the owl that delivered the letter, that mighta told us a wee more. I'm not even sure he saw the owl. I think she must've just left it on his desk or sommat. We thought someone was threatenin' us!"

"You thought it was a threat?" Hermione said, beginning to laugh.

"Sorry Hagrid." Harry said, grinning sheepishly.

"Well, what were we supposed to think?" Hagrid asked, putting the kettle over the fire. "We're sent an unmarked letter, that has an article with important Order information underlined like someone was tellin'us 'we know everything you know, and we know who you are,' or sommat." He shook his bushy head, and rolled his eyes. "Makes me breathe a little easier now knowing it was just you lot."

"Except," Hermione interrupted, "for that little bit about some writer for the prophet having information about when the attack was supposed to happen, and what the Death-Eaters are calling it."

"That's only to be expected." Hagrid explained. "A person tells another person something that they don't think is important, and soon the whole world knows."

"Yes, but if there's a person leaking Order information to the prophet, don't you think we have a right to know who it is?" Hermione complained.

"Sure," Hagrid mumbled, pulling the boiling kettle back up off the hearth, "but that lady, Downfish, isn't a member, and without asking her outright, there's no way of knowing where she got her information."

"I guess as long as people don't know who she's talked to, then it can't hurt."

"There's no other obvious connection between the Order of the Phoenix and the Prophet is there?"

"Not that I know. I'll double check with Dumbledore." Hagrid promised.

"That's all we ask." Harry nodded, and sipped at his tea.

"So, Harry. Stick around for awhile afterwards, and we'll have another go ay?"

Harry noticeably shrunk in his seat. "I don't think-"

"Come on, Harry." Hagrid interrupted. "You need to keep up your practice. Dumbledore wants you to be completely able to control it."

"I know, I just don't feel comfortable trying to break into your mind all the time like this. Don't you ever get a headache?"

"Nope. Mostly it's just a tired feeling, like I've had a really long and stressful day. But there's no pain."

That didn't reallymatch with Harry's experience of Legilimency, but he assumed that because of his scar, he had something about him that made the comparison impossible. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Hagrid wavedthe comment off."Not at all."

"We'll just go back to the Gryffindor common room." Hermione said, taking Ron by the arm, and depositing her half-empty tea. "We'll just let you two practice by yourselves."

They left Harry and Hagrid alone in the hut.

0 0 0 0 0

"I don't think it's doing what it's supposed to do." Harry blinked and looked up at Hagrid in frustration.

"Wha?" Hagrid grumbled. "You're not doing it right or something?"

"Well, every time I've done this with you, I get the same results." Harry griped. "I get inside your head, and I can sense who you are as a person, but I can't seem to pick up any of your memories. I'm almost certain that there's another way to do this."

Hagrid wrinkled his nose, completely unfazed by Harry's posession of him not moments before.

"What am I doing wrong?" Harry asked aloud to the cabin walls, but Hagrid seemed to think that Harry was asking him.

"I'm prob'ly not the best one for you to ask, Harry. Best to see professor Snape about this." He shook his head sadly. "You've got me stumped. I don't think I can help you any more than I just have."

Harry felt a twinge of regret go through him about the sort of magic he had just performed on his friend. "Thanks anyhow Hagrid. I know it's not nice to be forgetting some of the things you've done, or even losing a certain amount of time in your memories. You've been a real help."

Hagrid grinned. "Any time. You just let me know when you find out the answer."

"I will."

"Right, best go on and find professor Snape as soon as possible then. Just don't let anyone see that you're talking to him. He's in enough hot water as it is without the wrong people thinking you're on speaking terms."

"All right, I will. Thanks."

Harry scurried out the door to catch up to his friends.

He was reluctant to approach Snape at dinner that night, and Ron and Hermione seemed to sense that there was something going on with him.

"You nervous for a reason, Harry? Or do we have some sort of test coming up that I haven't heard about?" Ron poked him in the arm, and Harry jumped back in alarm. Ron gave him a funny look.

Harry looked furtively at the staff table.

Snape was looking paler than usual, and the only dish he had before him was a bowl of chicken soup. The liquid splashed from his spoon as his hand shook.

He avoided looking at the students, and especially the Gryffindor table.

"No, No test." Harry answered. "I just have something to do that I'm not really looking forward to."

"Well, you know what to do mate."

"Huh?"

Ron's gaze flitted between Harry and Snape. "Get it over with. The sooner you deal with it, the sooner it'll be out of your mind."

Harry had to grin. "Fat lot you know." He teased.

Ron shrugged. "He's not looking like he's ready to argue with anyone."

"He's certainly going to try."

The rest of the students slowly filed out of the hall, and Harry saw Snape push back his chair, using the backrest to balance himself as he stood.

It was now, or never.

Harry quickly slipped out of his chair, and up past the staff table, where Snape stood, looking very uncomfortable and glassy eyed.

Harry just mumbled his request as he walked past the table. "Professor Snape, I need to ask you a question regarding my kneadwort essay." He lifted his head, and looked over at the Gryffindor table, as though he was distracted.

Snape didn't even have the strength to snarl, so he just followed Harry placidly out of the hall at a slight distance.

This time most of the students didn't see what was happening, since Snape was so far behind, and Harry was mixed up with a large group of Hufflepuffs that had stood up at the same time. Only Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to grasp the intricate arrangement.

Professor Firenze pretended not to see either of them as they walked into his classroom, and he walked out, looking absently up at the stars of his ceiling.

Harry closed the door, and turned toSanpe. "Sir, I need to know how to look into people's minds properly."

Snape smirked, his posture greatly improved from that of just a moment before. "From what I've heard, that wasn't supposed to be too difficult for you."

"No, I mean I need to learn how to look into people's pasts." Harry mumbled. "I can occupy someone's mind, and see what sorts of things they feel, but I can't see their pasts."

"I should have thought the way would be obvious, but perhaps I can see why you would have missed the point."

Harry began to get a little frustrated. "Why would it be obvious, sir?"

"Because that is the little thingof which I spent so many wasted hours trying to show you last year."

"Didn't do a very good job now, did you?"

"Pardon me, Potter?" Snape snapped, looking as thought he very much wanted to wring Harry's neck, but hadn't the stomach or the energy for it.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to have a rational conversation. "And what was the 'little thing' that you seem to think that I have missed?"

"The obvious 'little thing' that your absolutely dense mind has overlooked, is the spoken spell."

"Pardon?" Harry asked, trying not to react to being called 'dense'.

"The spoken spell Potter! The act of calling out your intentions to your wand!"

"Is it necessary?" Harry asked, confused. "I've never used it."

"In order to look into past experiences, it is! Otherwise you just get the result you've mentioned! How absolutely typical of you."

Harry's anger flared, and he desperately tried to tamp it down within himself. This was no time to fly off the handle.

Snape continued, oblivious to Harry's boiling rage. "Whenever I wanted to read into someone's past, I say the word 'Legilimens' while pointing my wand. To protect myself from the same, I use the counter shield-"

"Occlumens." Harry answered, the whole idea and simplicity of it falling into his mind, and drowning him with silent rage. "Why didn't you tell me this last year, when I was trying to actually learn this?"

Snape looked at him pityingly. "So you could let your poor insufficient brain work out the obvious rules on their own."

"They were not obvious!" Harry nearly shrieked. "If I had known the counter charm way back then, I could have understood something about it, and Sirius would still be alive!"

"All the more reason for you to have practiced more often, and paid attention to what I was trying to show you."

Harry felt all of the anger leave him very suddenly, as if his brain had been filled with a noisily tuning orchestra, and suddenly it was completely silent before the real performance came. He didn't really know what was happening or why, but he knew what he wanted to do with it.

He gazed directly into Snape's confident eyes, and without pointing his wand, he muttered, "Legilimens." A strange sensation of power fell over him, and in the back of his mind, Harry realized that he had just performed wandless magic without a single emotional thought, since he knew that Legilimency worked best when he distanced himself from his emotions. Remus was correct in saying that it got easier with time.

Snape's suddenly blank eyes flashed with millions of images, and Harry could pick and choose which one he wanted to observe.

He chose ruthlessly, only then realizing how Snape had taken it easy on him last year by picking relatively pointless things to spy on during occlumency lessons, even though Harry hadn't exactly thought they were pointless back then.

He stood in the middle of the torture room in Death-Eater headquarters.

An old man lay before him on the floor, and and he was groaning and crying out in pain. Harry had his wand out, and was ready to attack the poor muggle once more.

Torture on muggles was something anyone could do. It was imperative that he not cause irreparable harm to this man, or else the obliviators wouldn't have much of a job left. So far, he'd been easy on him. Too easy for the Dark Lord's liking.

Harry still shook quite a bit as he drove metaphorical thumbtacks deep into the fleshy part of his victim's feet. The man was growing hoarse from screaming.

A disembodied creaking voice rose from his left. "I have your word that you didn't take down those wards, butthis is all that I have from you. If you are telling the truth, then you will show me how loyal a servant you are, how honest a servant. You will kill him."

Whatever there was left of Harry's heart wilted, but he strove not to show his grief to his master. He did not want to kill ever again. Killing was for monsters like his master, and for the poor innocent sods who mistakenly gave him their allegiance. Poor sods like the one he had once been twenty years ago. Murder was not as appealing for a grown man who taught young children how to mix up potions. It was not expected of a professor.

The man didn't deserve this, but unfortunately, this one life was incredibly insubstantial to the cause. Although he hated killing, he would do whatever was needed to regain the Dark lord's favour. People were counting on him to do this. They ought to know that as long as he was 'officially' working for the dark side, he was a danger to both the good and the bad. He would do what was necessary. Then later, when the war was over and Voldemort dead, he could kill himself, or hope that someone else would perform the deed. He wouldn't really mind being killed by Lucius...

At least it wasn't a wizard he was torturing. As much as he hated to admit it, Muggles were easier. At least, that was the excuse he had used twenty years previous. The excuse had significantly less effect on his strength of will now than it had before.

"Are you afraid?" The horrible voice asked, sensing his hesitation.

"No, my lord. I simply dislike the idea of death." Harry answered.

A crack of pain sliced into his cheek, andhe brought his hands to his face to investigate. Blood covered his hands, and he felt some trickle down his chin and into his robes. His master had only moved his wand an inch, yet it felt like he was being stabbed in the face over and over again with hot pokers.

He felt like laughing, even through his pain. How appropriate that he should now have blood on his hands.

How very amusing that it was his own.

"Death is nothing to a filthy muggle! They are hardly alive to begin with! Kill him!" His master ordered, more forcefully this time, his wand twitching again. Harry knew a kill or be killed scenario when he saw one. He thought longingly of the hidden phoenix portkey chain he had around his neck, but he could not use it here and now. Not before the Dark Lord. He could expose everything the Order stood for, and get himself killed in the process.

That must not happen until the war was over.

So he lifted his wand, summoned open the long-locked vault of hate he hid within himself, and called out the curse, may dementors take his rotting soul.

"Avada-"

"Occlumens!"