Something was bothering me as I pondered this chapter. Two somethings, actually. Both concern reviews. The first is the Stats feature that has, which shows the number of reviews and the number of views per story. This story has a ratio of about 1 review for every 15 people who read it. That really surprised me; I'm more than ecstatic to have so many reviews, I'm not complaining (trust me, I'm not:D), it just shocks me that so few people review. The other something concerns a few reviews that I got for this fic. One, in particular, bothers me quite a bit.
It reads, word for word: harry can cook! he has had to cook for the dursleys since he was able to reach the stove! Dont say he cant cook to save his life! other than that error its all good. except for smape not bieng guilty. snape is an evil bastard and i hope an auror or harry kills him in a brutal and painful way.
This didn't bother me because she pointed out a 'mistake' that I made. It bothered me because I was told, by someone who isn't me isn't JK Rowling, that I was certainly wrong. As far as I know, this is fiction. In my world, unless JKR says otherwise, Harry will never enjoy cooking because he was forced to, and probably isn't a very good cook because of this. Also, Snape isn't guilty, in my mind, and that's just an opinion. While everyone is allowed to have their own, I really find it annoying that someone insisted on pushing their opinion onto me, saying that I was wrong, that Snape is an "evil bastard". Until JKR says specifically that he is, that it was a murder in cold blood, etc, my opinion is just as correct as everyone else's. Tell me you disagree, fine, I enjoy seeing other people's theories. But don't tell me that I'm wrong, please, unless there is specific canonical evidence to back you up, or unless you're JK Rowling herself.

Sorry for my incredibly long author's note. It was something I had on my chest for a while, while plotting out this chapter, and I needed to get it out. I'll answer review questions at the end of the chapter.

Also, I apologize for chapter lengths… I'll try to make them longer in the future, though real life is starting to cut into my writing time.

Fact and Mystery
By: Aya

Four things of significance occurred on the eleventh of July, in Harry's mind, and resulted in the day being utterly boring on the whole. There were no extreme revelations, no new ideas turned up in their hunt for the Horcruxes. Instead, the day passed slowly, dragging by, as though the clock on the mantle was made of molasses. The fact that they day was hot and humid didn't help, and the house's air conditioning seemed to be struggling to keep up with the heat.

The first notable thing to happen was Hedwig's return. This caused a small flurry of activity when she almost landed in Hermione's glass of cola during lunch, until they realized that she had no reply from the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Unsure as to what this meant, Harry gave her a bit of crust from his sandwich and some water, then carried her up to his room to rest in her cage for a while.

The second thing that happened— or rather, didn't— was the Daily Prophet's complete lack of anything of interest. Not even a suspected Death Eater sighting showed up, and any news of Snape or anything else was suspiciously absent. Ron immediately pointed out that the Death Eater's were up to something, though none of them had a clue where to begin looking for answers.

By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had determined that the day couldn't drag out any more. He was proven wrong, much to his dismay, when Hermione declared they were leaving tomorrow morning for the Burrow, and the entire house needed to be returned to normal and all of their belongings packed up. Four long hours were spent gathering up all of the books and papers scattered in just about every room of the house, organizing them under Hermione's strict gaze, and shrinking them down to put into already bursting school trunks. By the time the trunks, too, were shrunk down and covered with a charm to make them lighter, the midnight hour had come and gone, and the furniture in the house had been enlarged and put back to normal. By one-thirty in the morning, the three teenagers were done, and practically collapsed into bed.

It was as Harry's eyes were struggling to stay open and he was uncorking the vial of Sleeping Potion (which had been completed that morning), that the fourth significant event occurred. As the glass touched his lips, fierce pains ripped through his skull. He cried out at the unexpected shock and burning, and dropped the vial to the ground, vaguely aware of it shattering on the wooden floorboards. As quickly as it had started, the pain stopped, leaving Harry gasping and dry-retching over the side of the bed. He felt the bed shift, felt Ron patting him on the back and helping him to lie back against the headboard, and could hear the door open as Hermione burst in, worried. All traces of pain fled as numbness took over, and Harry slumped in Ron's arms.

"Voldemort," he said, voice tight, "is really unhappy about something. Bloody hell, that hurt." He passed out a moment later, forehead scrunched with the memory of pain and his scar red and raw-looking.

Hermione was hesitant to wake Harry up the next morning. Despite the events of that night, he looked infinitely better after having gotten a full night's sleep. Still, they needed to go before the Dursley's got home, whenever that would be; none of the three had any desire to encounter Vernon and Petunia Dursley, not to mention their whale of a son. She shook his shoulder lightly, making sure her voice was cheerful when she said "Wake up, Harry, breakfast is ready", and found herself on the receiving end of a wand, a curse ready on Harry's lips. He blinked, realized who it was, and set the wand on the bedside table with a sigh.

"Morning," he said, yawning.

As though it were an everyday occurrence to have a wand pointed in her face, Hermione simply smiled and returned the greeting. At least, she noted, his reflexes had improved and he wasn't so each to catch off-guard. She repeated her previous statement, thrust a mug of coffee in his hands, and left him to dress for the morning.

He came down several minutes later, still sipping slowly at the hot drink, and slid into a chair with a groan. "I don't know where you found coffee in this house, Hermione," he said with another yawn, "but this is fantastic."

"Coffee?" Ron sounded scandalized. "You're British, mate! Tea is practically our national beverage!"

There was another groan, this time of thanks as Hermione levitated the coffee pot over to the table. "Tea's all good and well," he said, blowing on the steam and contemplating adding sugar, "but the Caffeine level in this stuff beats tea any day. Even if the taste is appalling."

Even Ron couldn't argue with that, and they settled down to breakfast without any further talk until the Daily Prophet was delivered. The tension level in the room rose noticeably, as Hermione tried to remain calm while she scanned the paper for any signs of death or attack. They'd avoided mentioning it so far, but it was the unspoken rule that Harry's scar hurting equaled Bad Things. Therefore, it was with great confusion and relief that Hermione set the paper back down on the table, folded perfectly.

"Nothing," she stated. "Not a thing. I don't suppose…" but she trailed off, not sure what to say.

Harry finished his second mug, tossed the remains of the orange he's been dissecting into the bin, and rubbed his forehead. "Even a failed attempt at something should have made the papers. It doesn't make sense, I guess. It hasn't hurt badly in months, and now it bursts into extreme pain suddenly, and nothing happens. I mean, it's not that I'm thankful, it's just, you know."

"Yeah, we know. Too weird, mate. Hope for the best, though? Maybe it was nothing." Ron didn't sound so sure, but it didn't matter. They knew that something had happened, and that whatever it was wouldn't result in anything good. Someone had been punished for failing, or something had gone wrong, and Voldemort would retaliate sooner or later.

Silence fell once more, until Hermione clapped her hands and rose. "Well, we should get going then, right? Ron, you're sure that we're all going to be able to Apparate straight into your garden? I don't want to hit any wards and end up splinched somewhere in the middle of Devon. And hopefully Mrs. Weasley doesn't hex us the moment we appear; we are a day early, after all." She spoke quickly, trying to fill the uncomfortable quiet.

She summoned their trunks to the kitchen, Ron's almost hitting him in the head as it flew into the room, and levitated their dishes away, cleaning them with a quick flick of the wrist. By the time Harry had slipped his trunk, now the size of a deck of cards, into his pocket, the kitchen was as spotless as the rest of the house. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway startled all of them, and they smiled before Apparating away, thankful to be gone before having to face the Dursley's.

After a long moment of blackness and pressure squeezing in on all sides of him, Harry found himself spit out into bright sunshine and dew-covered grass. Ron appeared a few feet away, followed only a split-second later by Hermione. He shuddered, shaking off the feeling of being bound and unable to breath, and followed Ron up to the front door of the house. His friend knocked, and there was a long period before a suspicious voice called out from the other side.

"Who's there," came the distinctive voice of Molly Weasley.

"It's me mum, Ron," came the reply.

Another moment followed, then another suspicious question filtered through the wooden door. "How do I know it's you?" she asked. "I know… how many posters of the Cannons do you have on your wall?"

Ron didn't even hesitate before saying, "Seven, mum, and it would have been eight except Fred blew up the one commemorating the championship win of 1982." He sounded very bitter at this reminder. "Can we come in now, please?"

"Of course, dear," she said, opening the door wide enough to usher all three teenagers into the house. "Sorry, you know how your father is about security, and I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning at the earliest." Her voice dropped a bit, and she added, "Don't tell your father that I didn't make you ask me a question, alright? Now," her voice went back to normal, and she focused on each young adult in turn. "You all look good, I'm happy to see, though much too thin, all of you. Come inside and we'll catch up. You missed breakfast, but I can heat you something up if you'd like."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look as Ron grinned happily and headed for the kitchen. "Nothing's changed here," Hermione murmured.

"Nope," Harry agreed. It was a nice feeling, knowing that the stability of the Weasley house hadn't changed at all. They followed Ron at a slower pace, entering the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley in full mother-hen mode, putting a stack of waffles in front of her youngest son.

"Now, how have you three been since the f… since school got out, then? You've changed so much, it seems as though it's been months instead of just a couple of weeks." She tugged gently on one of Hermione's curls that came to a stop just below her ear. "And you cut your hair, darling, it's a nice change."

Hermione shrugged. "It was too long, kept getting in my eyes when we dueled," she said, and Mrs. Weasley frowned, changing subjects immediately. All three of them knew Molly's views on their training; she wasn't happy that they were the ones who had to train, and fight in the end, and she'd made the usual protests about Aurors and the Ministry and how they were too young, but in the end she'd accepted it and moved on.

"Well, then," she dusted her hands on her skirt. "Are you two hungry? You look like you aren't eating enough, certainly, and you," she turned on Harry, who squirmed under her gaze, "you look horrible, young man, much too thin and pale. We'll put some meat on those bones while you're here, mark my words."

"We've already had breakfast, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, politely. "But thank you."

"So polite. I've told you to call me Molly, Harry, and I wish you would." She returned to fluttering about the kitchen, pouring Ron a glass of juice and motioning the still standing teens to have a seat. "Well, it will be nice to have you two here tomorrow morning," she said. "So much to do to set it up, and three more sets of hands will make a difference. You should see Fleur's dress, she's such a darling in it, and with Great-Auntie Muriel's tiara, well… she's going to make Bill very happy."

"How is Bill?" Ron asked, pushing his now empty plate aside. "Doing better?"

Molly nodded. "Much better, he's up and about as though the whole thing never happened. That's our Bill, though. He's been back and forth between here and Gringott's like a madman every day, helping them out in his free time, you know."

Footsteps on the stairs were heard, and the youngest Weasley stuck her head through the door seconds later, a smile on her face. "Harry! Ron, Hermione! I thought I heard voices from down here!" She seemed pleased to see Harry, her eyes lingering over his face, though he did all that he could to avoid meeting her gaze. "Are you here for long?"

"Nah," Ron answered. "We'll stay for Bill and Fleur's wedding, then we've got somewhere to be."

This seemed to disappoint Molly and Ginny both, though it was Molly who tried to persuade them otherwise. "Surely you can stay for a while longer, Ron? Maybe a week after the wedding, at the very least? It can't hurt, now, can it, and you brothers and father would be glad to see you again."

But Ron seemed set, glancing at his two best friends and sharing a small nod with them. "We need to get some things done, mum. We'll be back, I'm sure, maybe even again before the end of the summer."

Ginny squirmed on her seat, mouth firmly clenched shut, as though afraid that what she wanted to say would burst out and she was trying to stop it. Her mother noticed and the infamous Weasley temper appeared. "Ginerva Weasley, don't even think about it?"

"But, mum, I'm almost sixteen. I can help them!"

Ron and Harry seemed rather startled by this outburst, and Hermione had an amused look in her eyes, though she managed to keep her face composed. "Ginny," Harry said, trying to calm the situation, "you need to go back to Hogwarts this fall with the rest of the students. It's not safe, where we're going."

"Safe enough for you three," came the prompt reply, followed by, "And besides, you're not even sure if the school's going to reopen at all. And even if it does, why do I need to go there and you don't?"

Ron glared at his younger sister. "You're too young!" he exclaimed. "You can't even Apparate yet!"

"Not a good idea, Ron," Hermione said in a loud whisper that Ginny, growing as red as her hair and practically radiating anger, failed to hear.

"Too young?" she cried. "I'm sixteen, you prat! You lot were off on all sorts of adventures long before you were sixteen. And Harry's still sixteen, too!"

"Ginny," Harry cut in, voice calm. "Ginny, just—

But she was gone, storming out of the room in a blur of fiery hair. Her bedroom door slammed loudly a moment later, leaving the kitchen silent.

"Way to go, Ron." Hermione glared at him, then shot a look to Molly and Harry. "I'll go take care of this and calm her down," she said, heading for the stairs.

She brushed past a familiar blond on her way out. "What eez going on?" Fleur said curiously, not noticing Ron straightening abruptly in his seat. She did notice Harry, though, leaning lightly against the kitchen table. "Oh, 'allo 'Arry, I deed not see you zere."

"Fleur," Harry nodded in greeting. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I am très bien, very good," came the enthusiastic reply. "We 'ave been so beesy here, preparing for ze big day! But you are so early, 'ave you come to help? Zere is so much to do."

Ron smoothed back his hair and pushed his chair back. "Sure, we'll help you out," he said.

Molly gave him a look and motioned them out of the room. "Of course they're here to help, darling," she said sweetly to Fleur. Harry was surprised at how much they had bonded in the last few weeks, but he put it down to Bill's injury and Fleur's support for him. "In fact," now her eyes moved to Ron, and the look she gave him was definitely not sweet, "they were just going to go upstairs to put their things away before going into the back yard to help Arthur and the twins. Weren't you?"

Harry smiled and grabbed Ron's arm. "Of course, Molly, we'll just head upstairs for a few moments to put our things down and grab Hermione, and then we'll be in the backyard if you need us," he said, dragging a protesting Ron out of the room.

Thanks for reading :)! Over 1100 hits, that's amazing! I hope everyone's enjoying. And I'd prompt for reviews, but it does little good. But, to those who did review and had questions!

the muggle marauder: Do they even know what the potion was? When Regulus took the locket, couldn't he have made a new potion of the same kind? No, they don't yet. Yet! I'm working on that, based on a theory that I read. You'll see!
nerd2006: Regarding Regulus: I wasn't aware that I had implied (or written) that Regulus was in the same year as Voldemort. To clarify, no, he was not. Regulus Black was in school 1972, I believe (with Sirius in 1971), and Tom Riddle 1938. However, Slughorn taught Riddle and formed his Slug Club back then, and it's implied that Regulus, decades later, was also in the Club.
Kalista Turner: Each book? Um… too many:D I've read the sixth one twice so far, working on a third soon (though I feel like I've missed so much!)
Saliorv: I am not JK Rowling, I promise (and I doubt I'll ever write as well as she does). I had the plot thought out about thirty seconds after finishing the last page the first time I read it, though. Started writing as I re-read the second time.

Chapter Four (which will be full of Veelas and Weddings) will be out… by Friday, I hope, maybe Saturday. My writing time is limited between now and then. Thanks for reading! And thanks, as usual, to my Most Amazing beta, Hannah.