Most chapters usually won't come this often… especially when school starts back up.

Also, reviews. If I wanted to thank all of you in person, it would take up the next page or so, but know that I read all of your reviews, and I thank you all very much for them. There's nothing a reader loves more than knowing that people enjoyed their works.

If you ask a question in a review, I will do everything I can to get it answered. isn't being wonderful with reviews right now, though, so I'm sorry if I missed any. A few questions that need answering:
Cwam: No, I very much enjoyed HBP, so much that I was eager to continue it.
Flopsy: No, as far as I can tell, no middle name for Regulus was ever given.
Duj: The mention of the locket in OotP can be found on page 116 of the US Hardback version, in the chapter "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ("The found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument… also a heavy locket that none of them could open…")
T: You naughty woman!

Thanks to Hannah for beta'ing.

Fact and Mystery
By: Aya

"I know who has it," Harry said, standing and setting the book he still held on the desk. "Who else would have taken something like that? Someone who would sell it for a few sickles, for his own gain. Someone who was known to have stolen things from that house. Mundungus Fletcher."

Six years of knowing Harry Potter and being his best friends meant that Ron and Hermione knew, with only a quickly exchanged look, exactly what was about to happen. As though rehearsed, Ron was on his feet and blocking the door while Hermione stood and grabbed Harry's arm before he could move forward.

"Let me go!" he all but shouted, pulling against Hermione's grip and glaring at Ron. "We need to find that thief before he sells it!"

Hermione, always the voice of reason, gave one firm tug on his shirt sleeve to get his attention before speaking. "Listen to yourself, Harry!" she said. "You sound like a first year, off to save the world. You don't even know were Mundungus is, and besides, it's after midnight! Let's get some sleep now, you definitely need it, and in the morning we can send and owl to Professor McGonagall and see what she knows, alright?"

Ron moved from the door, swinging an arm around Harry's shoulders and guiding him to the bed. A flick of his wand, and the three trunk were levitating in the air before landing softly in the space the three teenagers had just occupied. "Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, mate, haven't forgotten yet!" Both grinned, though Harry's was slightly dimmer, and Hermione made an exasperated noise from the bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Harry. Ron. And don't stay up too late," Hermione stated.

Ron sniggered and whispered "Yes, mum," under his breath while Harry, still smiling a bit, said, "G'night Mione," and climbed onto the bed. A whispered Nox later, and the house plunged into darkness.

Green eyes stayed open, though, focused on the ceiling and the shadows of moonlight flickering across it, while his friend began to snore softly.

It came as no surprise that Harry, true Gryffindor, as usual, was up only a little after the sun rose, sitting at the desk and chewing on the end of a quill as he wrote the letter to McGonagall. By the time Ron was awake, his green eyes were focused on tying the post to Hedwig's leg. The owl gave a chirp, nipped his finger, and took off through the open window.

"Did you even sleep at all?" Ron asked, sitting up in bed but still not awake enough to stand.

He only needed Harry's silence for an answer, but the shake of his head confirmed it. "Can't. Nightmares, you know, didn't want to wake you up."

Ron sighed, pushed the covers back, and stretched his arms up over his head, making a content noise as the cracking of his spine echoed in the room. "Oh, that felt nice," he said, half to himself. He slowly, stood, stretching again and yawning, before finally turning to Harry to reply to his statement. "You need to sleep, mate. You're going to collapse on us someday, if you keep this up. Is the cauldron of Sleeping Draught done yet?"

Harry shook his head again, and stood from the chair. "Tomorrow, I think, it's gotta simmer for another ten hours or so, then we need to let it cool overnight. I'll check The Book after breakfast, though."

The book in mention, Harry's Potions text from the previous year, had been rescued on the last day of the previous school year. Even Hermione, as much as she disliked it, had to admit that it was dead useful, and they needed all of the help they could get. At the moment, thanks to the book and another of Hermione's brilliant ideas, there were four cauldrons of varying potions simmering in the attic of Four Privet Drive. The Sleeping Potion, the most difficult to make, was the only one Harry had done from start to finish. The other three were Hermione's: Pepperup, Wit-sharpening, and one that neither boy had figured out yet but gave off a smell not unlike copper and was very dark red in color.

Pushing any thoughts of Potions from their minds, Ron and Harry left the bedroom and followed the scent of bacon down to the kitchen, where Hermione was already awake and using her wand to scramble eggs and toast slices of bread. She'd taken it upon herself the first day of vacation to cook meals, claiming Molly Weasely had given her all sorts of tips on how to cook with magic, and neither boy could cook to save their lives. There was a kettle steaming happily on the stove, and Harry made a beeline for a mug of tea while Ron set the table.

They were like any normal family, Harry realized as he blew on the hot liquid in his cup, that they could have been any group of Witches and Wizards, up to enjoy just a normal day. He voiced this thought aloud and got a raised eyebrow from Hermione and a grin from Ron.

They sat down to eat, Ron digging enthusiastically into his small mountain of food, and any resemblance to normality vanished. Ron, between bites, Accio'ed a set of Muggle and Wizarding maps and spread them out on the table between their plates, using cups and mugs to weigh down the edges. Both maps were drawn all over, lines of black ink and scrawled words covering certain places, and arrows pointing to others.

"If that story the Prophet printed four days ago is correct," Ron said, swallowing a forkful of eggs, "then the Death Eaters are sticking mostly to London, and northwards. That's not our problem for now, though it's going to be if we go straight to Godric's Hollow from the Burrow." He tapped a circled point on the map, in Devon, and then another starred one between Glasgow and Edinburgh. "They getting closer to Hogwarts, little by little, so it's not going to be easy, especially since we can't Apparate there." That had been the biggest problem the trio had faced; as none of them had ever been to Godric's Hollow (except Harry, and he didn't remember), they had no idea where they would be Apparating to.

Harry nodded, running a finger over the red dot that marked Hogwarts' approximant location (as it was Unplottable), and the small black dots that were scattered to the south, the location of Death Eater attacks. "What if we took Muggle transportation there? Better than flying, especially since Hermione can't stay on a broom very well," he ignored the dirty look he was sent, "and we can blend in more easily that way."

"That would work," Ron said, scratching something onto a corner of the map. "I'll get right on that, see if we can take the train and avoid any of the Death Eater hotspots. They haven't seriously attacked Muggle transportation, except for that bridge last year, but it's only a matter of time before they do."

That seemed to be the cue to end breakfast, and Harry pushed his plate aside, still half-full though he'd taken only a bit of eggs and some toast, and rose. "I'll get dishes today, Mione, if you could check on the Sleeping Draught for me?" At her nod, he took Ron's empty plate (and when had he managed to eat so much, in such a short time, while talking so much?) and the mugs, allowing his friend to roll the maps back up, and headed for the sink.

Hermione stood as well, taking her cup of tea with her, and headed up stairs to the attic. Harry waited for both of them to go, then rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and began flicking his wand at the dishes with a silent Scourgify, practicing his wordless spells. He was getting better and better, and had mastered many of the easier spells, but several of the harder spells, like the Patronus, were proving difficult to master without speaking the words.

An owl flew in through the half-opened window over the sink, startling Harry and causing him to reflexively train his wand on the creature before realizing what it was. A moment of hope went through him when he saw that it was a white own, but was quashed when he realized it was just a news owl, with that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. He slipped a few knuts into its leg pouch and tossed the paper on the counter to read later. I bet Hedwig hasn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet, he thought. McGonagall won't write back until at least tomorrow.

He finished the rest of the dishes and put them away, pocketed his wand, and headed upstairs to join Hermione in the attic.

The attic was dark, with only a few streaks of sunlight piercing the roof and boarded-up window, and filled with dust. Hermione and Ron had cleaned a great deal while he was gone, Harry noted, but he still sneezed as he walked up the rickety pull-down staircase. Hermione glanced up from her squinting over The Book and waved him to come closer.

"I can't read a thing in this book, Harry, I don't know how you do it," she said, idly stirring the Pepperup. "What's this part say, here?" She pointed to a corner of the page, where one of the final steps in making the potion has been crossed off.

It was hard to see in the dim light, and Harry almost had to press his nose against the paper to see it. "Um, looks like, 'sprinkle dried pepper in while stirring counter-clockwise, less steam results' I think, though it's a bit smudged," he said.

"Sounds right," she said. There was a moment of silence as she worked, and Harry moved around the cauldron to help her lift it off of the magical fire and set it gently on the floor. "Your Sleeping Draft needs nine hours still, to simmer, and the wormwood needs to be added in seven, followed by ten minutes of constant stirring. Then we leave it to sit overnight."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. "But I came up here to see if you were interested in going to the back yard and working on that nonverbal Expelliarmus. And I'm hoping to try out that Blinding Hex from the Defense text."

Hermione put the ladle down and dusted off her jeans. "That sounds like a plan. Ron and I were planning to work more on the Anti-Disapparation Jinx, but he's immersed in War and Strategy, and Merlin forbid I stop him when he's reading a book on his own free will. Give me a moment to double check on something here, and I'll join you outside.

It took only a few minutes for Hermione to emerge from the house, and Harry had already fixed every protective spell he could think over the yard. It was an exhilarating feeling, using his magic over the summer holidays without getting a letter from the Ministry, and he used it to his every advantage, even though Hermione frowned on his illegal usage at first. 'You're almost seventeen, Harry, can't you wait another month?' she'd said at the beginning of the break. She didn't say anything anymore, knowing the severity of the situation, and knowing he was using her and Ron's legal magic to mask his own Defense practice, but he still caught her frowning in his direction occasionally.

"I was thinking," Hermione said as she kicked off her sandals and dug her toes into the grass, ignoring Harry's loud whisper of 'What else is new?', "that something is up with that Potion."

Harry shot a silent Jelly-Legs Jinx at her, which she easily blocked with a silent Protego, before speaking. "Which Potion? That red one you're working on?" He almost missed her Bat-Bogey Hex, and grimaced at his distracted state, though he knew she was talking on purpose. They'd started using distractions during duels almost immediately, but Harry still had trouble, especially when he was tired.

"No," Hermione replied, trying to summon his wand and failing. "The potion that the locket was submerged in. Expelliarmus!" Her attempt at a verbal disarming spell was dodged.

Another nonverbal spell, Rictusempra, was not avoided by Hermione. "Finite Incantatem," Harry said after a moment of watching her laugh from the tickling charm. "What about the Potion?"

"Well, I was thinking that it's not the original one, now, is it? Flagrate," she called. "Otherwise, how'd he get the locket out in the first place?"

A quick Flame-freezing Charm was cast, and Harry shrugged. "Furnunculus, how did who get the locket out? Regulus Black?"

"Yes, him," Hermione said, stepping aside so the hex flew past her and hit one of Petunia Dursley's rose bushes. "Oh, we're going to have to fix that," she said, wincing at the boil-covered roses.

A silent spell was sent towards him, and Harry only had a moment to put a shield up before the streak of color hit him, and bounced off to hit a rabbit, Petrifying it. He returned it with a Leg-locker curse, before un-freezing the rabbit. "So, maybe he didn't drink it, then? Or maybe he put a new potion into the bowl, you think?"

"Relashio," Hermione replied. "Well, it was just a thought." She seemed content to drop the conversation, and Harry, easily distracted and not all that fond of being hit with a hex, didn't hesitate to comply. Hermione might have been onto something, but he didn't particularly see any use for knowing what Potion was there. All he knew was that it was deadly, and that was more than enough for him.

The backyard fell to silence for the next hour, occasionally punctured by spells that had not yet been mastered without words, and the occasional shout of pain, surprise, or laughter as a spell hit its target.

That was how Ron found them mid-morning. He emerged from the house with his strategy book under one arm (he'd turned out the be a genius at it, due probably to his chess skills), and the most recent Daily Prophet in his hands. The look on his face caused Harry and Hermione to stop their practice duel and pocket there wands as they joined him by the door.

"Don't suppose you've seen this yet, have you?" Ron held the paper out, folded around one story on the bottom of the first page. "They buried it beneath the announcement that Scrimgeour caught two more 'suspected Dark Wizards'. Look," and he handed the paper to Hermione to read out loud.

"Severus Snape Kills One Auror, Injures Others!" she read, pausing to gasp in shock. "Oh, my, this is horrible. Harry, it says they cornered him outside his home in a run-down Muggle town, and he killed one Auror and injured five more before vanishing once again."

Harry pulled the paper closer, so he could read along with her. "I can't believe this… suspected of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, well of course he did it, and this just makes him more guilty, right?"

"But look at the end paragraph," Ron said. "The Auror he killed had threatened him, says one of the injured Aurors, and had drawn his wand to cast something-or-other on him, when Snape got him first. Says he threw him across the front yard, into a tree, and the force was so strong that it killed him. Doesn't sound much like a murderer… why didn't he kill the others, too, instead of just knocking them all out?"

"You're defending him?" Harry asked angrily. "That… that murderer? You're defending him?"

Ron raised both hands in defense, dropping the book he'd tucked beneath one of them. "I'm just pointing it out, Harry! It was strange, what happened, that's all. I don't like the greasy bastard anymore than you do, but even the Ministry will have to see that it was self-defense and accidental death, here."

All of the anger drained from Harry, and he sighed. "It's just too soon, and… he's an evil bastard. A murderer. He killed Dumbledore, I saw it with my own two eyes. Maybe he did kill that Auror on purpose, and just made it look like an accident.

"Or maybe," Hermione said, and suddenly both men were looking at her instead of the newspaper. "Maybe what you thought you saw isn't what really happened."

Silence followed that statement, before Ron spoke. "What do you mean by that, Mione?"

"I mean, what if Snape really is innocent."

Harry responded to this statement by dropping the paper at his feet and turning to stare, incredulous, at his friend. "You're joking, right?"

Ron nodded, just as shocked. "I mean, Snape did it, we know he did. Harry saw him shoot that Avada Kedavra, and there's Dumbledore, as much as we hate it, isn't alive still."

"Listen, just listen," Hermione insisted. She bent down and picked up the paper, smoothing it out and clearing her throat. "The Auror report says that Snape seemed to know why the team was there before the Auror opened his mouth, "As though he'd read my mind!" team leader Nathan Brickholm told the Prophet," she read. At their blank looks, she rolled her eyes and, taking on the pose both boys secretly called 'Lecture Mode'. "Snape is an accomplished Legilimens. So is Dumbledore. And Harry's told us every detail of that encounter, over and over. Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look, and then Snape had that look of disgust and hate on his face? And Dumbledore was pleading with him."

"Where are you going with this, Hermione?" Harry asked, face white with the memory.

"Maybe you didn't see everything that was happening, Harry!" she said loudly. "That's what I'm saying. Isn't it possible that Snape and Dumbledore used Legilimency, and Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him? He was dying anyways, from that Potion, you said so yourself! And Snape was under that vow, remember? It makes so much sense!"

"You mean…" but Ron never finished that though.

"Yes, exactly. If Dumbledore knew he would die anyways, at least this way he kept Snape as a spy. He said he trusted Snape, always, no matter what he was confronted with." Hermione folded the paper, covering the story with Snape, and patted Harry on the arm. He'd closed his eyes, and was totally pale now. "I know you hate him, Harry, but could you really continue to hate him if he's innocent. This story in the paper just shows that maybe he's not the cold-blooded Death Eater that everyone thinks he is."

Harry shook her hand off and pushed past Ron. "I need to think," he said. "This is too much, too soon." He was in the house before either could respond or stop him.

Hermione made to follow, and Ron stopped her. "Let him go, 'Mione," he said. "He'll be fine. He's just been faced with the realization that the man he blames for murdering the Headmaster might be totally innocent. He needs time to think, alone. If he's not back downstairs by dinner, we'll go up and say something, okay?"

"Alright," she said, sadly. She glanced down at the paper in her hands and sighed, walking slowly behind Ron back inside.

Next chapter, which may be tomorrow, or Tuesday, will have Pensive!Harry, Bossy!Hermione, packing, and The Burrow! And, again, a single-word review is nice, if just to say "Good" or "Bad". Thanks!