Well I'm both bummed and pissed off. The "opt-in" feature for email alerts went live the day I uploaded chapter 24 and its default setting was to "off". I was not aware of this. I didn't get an email alert when the chapter went up, so I thought maybe alerts weren't working. I obviously didn't get any review alerts either. After eight hours I deleted the chapter and re-uploaded it, but still nothing. It wasn't until eighteen hours after that that I finally found out what was going on. Sadly, this means that if you read the previous chapter and left a review within that first eight hours, I never saw it. I'm inordinately sad and disappointed about this.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The thing about an all day quidditch match was that very few people had bothered to have anything to eat for lunch. As such, after all the congratulations were over with, almost everyone in the entire school traveled as one to the Great Hall for dinner. Everyone eating at once was something that didn't typically happen except for the few major feasts dotted throughout the school calendar, and the celebratory mood of the greatest quidditch match in living Hogwarts memory made sure no one was in any hurry to be anywhere else. It really felt like a feast.

Dumbledore, who rarely failed to pick up on things of this nature and was furthermore always in the mood for a party, essentially turned it into one. He must have sent word ahead to the kitchens, because as soon as everyone began sitting down at their house tables, the food magically appeared all at once as it always did during feasts. And there were a few more options than just an ordinary, everyday dinner, too.

With everyone in such a good mood, there was no way Lockhart wouldn't try to insert himself into the center of attention, and sure enough, Harry hadn't even finished loading food onto his plate when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Harry!' Lockhart boomed, making sure people knew he was there. His robes were a glossy shade of pastel green today. 'A splendid match! Reminded me of a few I played in during my days here!' He beamed his great toothy grin. 'You'll forgive me for siding with my old house, of course, but I can't say I was surprised when you snatched it out from under us. Ah, if only I were a few years younger. I expect you'd have been a worthy opponent! Though all the same I'd hate to be responsible for breaking your perfect winning streak.' He winked, and Harry forced himself not to gag, maintaining instead an expression of mild if polite interest.

'Were you able to watch the whole match, sir?' he asked.

'Indeed!' said Lockhart. 'I couldn't miss a spectacle like that. I expect I'm not the only one who nearly cheered myself hoarse, eh?' He looked around at the other Gryffindors, who were feeling buoyant enough to tolerate his presence and so nodded along.

'You should have something to drink, sir,' Ginny offered, handing him a goblet of pumpkin juice. 'It helps.'

Meanwhile, Harry surreptitiously (and somewhat guiltily) cast the most mild Confundus charm he could manage on his friends under the table so that they wouldn't register this later and connect it with what was about to happen.

'Thank you very much, Miss Weasley,' he said, taking it from her. 'Don't mind if I do.'

He took a healthy swig from the goblet. Ginny caught Harry's eye. Now was the moment of truth. So to speak.

'Did you play in many tense matches, sir?' Harry asked.

'Oh, no,' said Lockhart, in the same cheery, confident tone he always used. 'I was only ever a reserve, you know. But telling people you're a seeker never fails to impress.'

There was a clang. Ron's fork had dropped from his hand and clattered onto his plate. Fred and George were gaping at Lockhart open mouthed; George had a fork full of mashed potatoes halfway into his mouth that was dribbling back down onto his plate. Hermione looked as if someone had slapped her across the face. They weren't the only ones; everyone within hearing of Harry and Lockhart's conversation had stopped talking – stopped moving – and were staring at the professor in utter disbelief.

Lockhart, for his part, didn't seem to realize what he'd said. He was still just as blustery and jovial as ever.

'Well, I must be off!,' he said. 'I need to go pretend to give advice to the Ravenclaws. Have to keep up appearances! Congratulations again, Harry!' And he sauntered off, oblivious to half the Gryffindor table (and several of the Hufflepuffs) gawking at him.

'What...just happened?' Fred asked.

'Did he say what I think he said?' asked Dean.

'He must have been joking,' said Hermione, though she sounded and looked as if she were trying to convince herself.

'Bloke never seemed like he had much of a sense of humor,' said Seamus. 'Definitely not the kind that would make fun of himself.'

'Unless he was pretending to be humble,' George pointed our. 'What's his angle, you reckon?'

'No idea,' said Harry. 'But I kind of want to see if he keeps it up, to be honest.'

Aletheialixer worked differently from Veritaserum in that it didn't so much force people to tell the truth as it disallowed them from committing deception. The mental filter that most people have that separates what one says from what they are really thinking is stripped away, and one will find themselves revealing anything and everything they would normally keep concealed without even realizing it.

Strategic omissions, half-truths, careful wording, and outright lies – none of these were possible while under the influence of Aletheialixer. And because it made a person voice what they were already thinking anyway, most people didn't tend to notice they were suffering its effects until the reactions of the people around them gave it away. Most people tended to pick up on this rather quickly, but if you were someone who was entirely fixated on yourself and never truly gave a care to what other people were thinking or feeling, it might well go unnoticed completely until the effects began to wear off naturally.

The reason Veritaserum was preferred over Aletheialixer in interrogations and most other important situations was partly because of this, but also because once one realized they had been dosed with Aletheialixer, its effects were easy to counter even without an antidote. Unlike Veritaserum, which compelled its victims to answer direct questions, there was no such compulsion with Aletheialixer. The easiest way to avoid revealing something you'd rather not was to simply stop talking.

Fortunately for Harry and Ginny, they knew perfectly well that this was the one thing Gilderoy Lockhart was absolutely incapable of doing.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Harry had been telling George the truth. He really did want to follow Lockhart around and hear everything he unwittingly confessed to, but knew that if he did, people would wonder why. He looked over a Ginny, and she gave him the slightest of nods; the remains of the pumpkin juice that Lockhart hadn't finished had been vanished. No point getting anyone else caught up in this who didn't need to be.

Whatever Lockhart was saying to the Ravenclaws was causing quite a stir. Plenty of faces at that table were looking just as gobsmacked as the Gryffindors, and by the looks of it a few more Hufflepuffs had overheard, and even a few Slytherins. The chaos was spreading.

A minute or so later, Lockhart swaggered back up to the staff table, and it was all Harry could do not to keep his gaze locked on the charlatan while he ate. He was satisfied from the few glances he managed to sneak in: McGonagall looked aghast at whatever he was saying, Snape looked suspicious (when did he not?) and Dumbledore looked...amused.

Wily old bastard, Harry thought. You were hoping for something like this to happen, weren't you? It made him pause and wonder what Dumbledore would have done if something hadn't happened to force Lockhart out into the open. Or perhaps the old wizard's faith in the effectiveness of Voldemort's jinx was that strong.

As dinner wore on, most students seemed to have put Lockhart's strange behavior out of their minds. Hermione, for her part, looked as though she were painfully struggling with something, and Ron, who had of course pegged Lockhart for a fraud right from the start, appeared to have forgotten about the incident completely. Or it could be that he was simply really enjoying his roast chicken.

The food eventually eventually began to disappear, as it always did at feasts, but the house elves must not have had time to prepare because it was much slower than usual, only a few dishes vanishing at a time. While this was going on and before the puddings arrived, Dumbledore stood as if to make a speech. The Great Hall quieted.

'What a remarkable day it has been!' Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide and beaming his great smile. 'A quidditch final for the ages, and an impromptu feast to cap the celebration! I am certain none of you will thank me for reminding you, but I cannot imagine a better mood with which to begin exams.'

There was some mild booing and muttering, but Dumbledore just waved his hands patiently for silence.

'Now now,' he said. 'Exams are a necessary part of schooling, after all. But I want you all to remember the excitement and the optimism you experienced today. That wonderful sense of ebullience. Take that with you and finish the school year with a surge of confidence and vivacity! Nothing is ever as terrible as what we imagine it to be; I know you will all acquit yourselves marvelously, and we will celebrate again at the end of term.'

This time the mutterings did manage to sound a bit lighter, and there were even a few small cheers, though they died out quickly.

'And now, to keep you in the right set of mind, my I introduce the very embodiment of confidence and vivacity, our dear Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!'

Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull and his nose almost burst from trying to hold in his laughter. When he and Ginny had come up with the idea to have Lockhart build his own gibbet, they hadn't expected Dumbledore to do half the work for him, but this was working out better than they'd ever imagined. Their previous best case scenarios had involved Dumbledore learning enough to have no choice but to sack the man, and for enough rumors to circulate and reach the press that it would make selling any more books exceptionally difficult for him. Rita Skeeter would certainly have a field day. But this… this could actually get him arrested.

Harry caught Ginny's eye and knew at once that she didn't have any more qualms about that possibility than he did.

Lockhart stood and beamed at them all, basking as he always did at the attention he was receiving. There was a smattering of applause, though far less than he'd received at any point earlier in the year. It had become harder and harder for people – particularly the older students – to continue to ignore or explain away his obvious inadequacies as a teacher.

'Thank you very much, Headmaster!' he intoned. 'I do so love speaking in front of so many people. It makes me feel important and validated.'

Even Harry blinked, startled. He hadn't realized the effects of the potion would be so...blunt. Maybe they'd given him too much? The recommended dosage had been rather unclear.

'First of all, I want you all to see me congratulating the Gryffindor team,' Lockhart went on. 'I need you all to think of me as gracious and charitable. This is also the part when I would relate to you a vague story regarding my own quidditch prowess, fudging the details of course so as to allow you to draw your own conclusions.'

Harry eyed Ginny intensely, trying to communicate his question with just his eyes: How much did you give him?

Ginny just shrugged, looking as gobsmacked as he felt. Fortunately everyone else's attention was so fixated on Lockhart that no one noticed their exchange.

'What are you talking about?' someone yelled. It sounded as though it had come from the Slytherin table. Harry wondered what would happen now. The plan had been for Lockhart to just keep talking and dig his own grave – something he'd been accomplishing tremendously – but having people question him directly could backfire. It could make him start to wonder why they wanted to know and he might start to realize what was going on.

'What am I talking about?' Lockhart repeated. 'Why, I am merely promoting myself, as I always do.'

I shouldn't have worried, Harry thought. Of course he won't catch on. It was unnerving, really, how normally he was behaving. Well, normal for him anyway. Like he truly had no idea the actual words that were coming out of his mouth. What was more, it seemed to be affecting him more and more strongly as time went on.

'You're already famous,' said a Ravenclaw. 'Why do you need to promote yourself? I thought you came here to teach.'

'As if I could teach anyone!' Lockhart laughed. 'Except perhaps memory charms. Yes, I'd be very good at teaching those, though I never would, it might lead to awkward questions about why I'm so gifted with them. I came here to boost my image, of course. Fame isn't something you can obtain once and then just keep forever. It needs to be maintained. Curated. Cultivated. And it's not enough to be well-known, no no. People need to think highly of me or there's no point.' Fe said this all as if he were teaching a class on how to lead one's life.

'No point to what?' yelled someone from the Gryffindor table.

'To what? To anything! Without the adoration of others, what is the purpose of even living?'

Harry idly wondered about the potential for practical applications of Aletheialixer in a therapy setting.

'But I'm getting off subject,' said Lockhart. 'I need to talk more about me and convince you all how exceptional I am.'

'What is happening?' Ron asked emphatically. He wasn't the only one, either. Up and down the Gryffindor table, students were gaping in disbelief or utter confusion at the erstwhile Defense professor. By the sounds of it, the other tables were much the same.

'Either he's gone mad or he's been dosed with something,' said Fred, the grin on his face indicating it didn't matter to him which was the case.

'Dosed with what?' Hermione asked fretfully.

'Some kind ot truth potion, maybe?' said George, enjoying himself as much as Fred. 'Or maybe it's a spell. Like some kind of tongue loosening jinx.'

'Quiet, I'm trying to listen!' hushed Lee Jordan, who was leaning forward on the bench, trying to catch every word. Lockhart was now explaining to them how skilled he was at inserting himself into minor crises to make him look more reliable than the other professors in the students' eyes.

This went on for a few minutes longer – Lockhart had already said enough to ruin his career forever if even a quarter of the people listening believed what they were hearing – before Dumbledore stood up.

'I'm so sorry to interrupt you, Professor Lockhart,' he said. 'but I'm afraid I must advise you that I believe you may have been bamboozled.'

'Bamboozled?' asked Lockhart, genially. 'Whatever do you meant? Don't you realize how that's going to make me look? And also, even if you're the headmaster, I can't stand it when people talk over me or try to take attention off of me.' He said this as cheerfully and politely as if he'd instead said, 'Not at all, Headmaster, this is your school after all; I shall of course happily step aside for you.' Indeed his body language seemed to indicate he somehow still believed that was what he was saying.

'It would appear someone has managed to force you to reveal secrets I assume you would much rather keep to yourself, said Dumbledore. 'I believe it would be unconscionable to allow you to continue without making you aware of this.'

After letting him carry on just long enough, of course, Harry thought with a laugh.

'Secrets?' Asked Lockhart. 'What kind of secrets? Someone hasn't found out the truth about my books, have they?'

'I must advise you again to stop speaking, Professor Lockhart,' said Dumbledore. Harry could tell form his expression that the aged professor knew as well as he and Ginny did that Lockhart would never do any such thing.

'I mean, if word got out that I never actually did any of the things I wrote about, I'd never sell another book! I'd be ruined!' Lockhart wailed.

There was an outcry. This was finally too much for the student body, who all seemed to start yelling at once. Some were expressing their disgust, some were demanding an explanation, and some had resorted to throwing things at him.

'Oh come on, there's no call for that!' Lockhart yelled somewhat angrily as he dodged a jacket potato. 'People would much rather read about me than the people who really did those things! The were the least photogenic lot you've ever laid eyes on! I was doing the public a favor, really!'

Harry wondered if the potion was starting to wear off or if Lockhart really believed that. If he were honest, he suspected the latter.

More boos and jeers followed, and Lockhart was unable to dodge out of the way of all the food that was now being thrown at him.

'Stop it! This isn't right! I'm famous! I'm good looking! You're all supposed to love me!'

A banana cream tart hit him square in the face.

Laughter was now joining in with the boos, but Harry's enjoyment was muted somewhat when he chanced a glimpse at Hermione. She was sitting stock still, a devastated, heartbroken look on her face. She looked on the verge of tears. Harry felt a little bit guilty, but it wasn't as if he and Ron hadn't been trying to show her the truth all year.

There was a loud bang. Everyone jumped and the noise stopped instantly. There was a squelching sound as a blob of mashed potatoes dripped off of Lockhart's collar and onto the floor. Dumbledore had gotten to his feet and was replacing his wand in his sleeve.

'That's quite enough, I think,' he said calmly but firmly. 'Gilderoy, I did warn you. I am afraid I am now going to have to inform the Ministry of what you have said to us here this evening.'

Lockhart, who looked on the verge of panic, nevertheless managed to rally. 'I'll talk my way out of it. I always do. People are remarkably easy to fool if you know what you're doing.'

'Severus,' said Dumbledore, ignoring Lockhart completely and turning to Snape, 'I would like you to examine Gilderoy as soon as possible. I believe I know what has caused this surprising forthrightness, but we will need confirmation if it is to be given as evidence to the Ministry.'

'Of course, Headmaster,' said Snape, rising and looking as though he'd just gotten everything he ever wanted. Well, short of Harry being expelled, of course.

'Hagrid, if you would accompany them and ensure Professor Lockhart is cooperative?'

Make sure he doesn't try to do a bunk, you mean, thought Harry. Though he rather thought the chances of Lockhart pulling one over on Snape were just about zero.

Lockhart was still babbling as Hagrid and Snape took him out of the Great Hall. Harry had been sure Dumbledore (and Snape) would recognized the effects of Aletheialixer, and this all but confirmed it. As long as no one ever found out where it came from, they were home free.

'Now then,' said Dumbledore. He waved his wand and the food that had been thrown at Lockhart vanished instantly (the house elves had finally finished with the rest of it on the tables). 'I realize we have all just experienced a great shock. I hope that Professor Snape is able to provide Professor Lockhart with the help that he clearly so desperately needs. In light of these events however, I must sadly inform you all that final exams for Defense Against the Dark Arts may well have to be canceled. I know how devastating this must be for all of you who have worked so hard to prepare for them. Rest assured that your marks in the course thus far will still be counted, and O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s will proceed as usual. And now, without further ado, pudding!'

At his word, the puddings appeared, and he sat back down as though he'd announced nothing out of the ordinary, and one of his professors hadn't just had a complete meltdown in front of the entire school.

'I really do think he's a bit mad,' Harry said, helping himself to some treacle tart. He was one of the first to recover and start tucking in to the spread.

'Who, Dumbledore?' asked Ron, coming to his senses and serving himself some spotted dick. 'We knew that, didn't we? Can you believe Lockhart, though? Always knew he was a fraud; never thought he was a crook on top of it. How do you think he got away with taking credit for a bunch of stuff other people did?'

'Memory charms,' said Hermione softly, as though just now waking from an unpleasant dream. 'Don't you remember? One of the things he said when he was...rambling...was that he would be very good at teaching memory charms. He must have cast them on the people who really did all the things he wrote about so that he could take the credit.'

'That makes sense,' said Ginny, feeding the conversation, even though it didn't really need their help at this point.

'He'd have to charm more than just them,' said Seamus, listening in. 'What about all the people that were saved? They'd know it wasn't him that did it.'

'And he'd need to get all the particulars right or someone reading the books might be able to tell it was a made up story,' put in Lavender. 'He probably interviewed everyone first so he knew exactly what happened; it's why his books always seemed so detailed.'

Hermione nodded. 'It really was very clever of him after all, if awful,' she said, looking angry but also said. 'Why would he put so much work into pretending to be a hero when he could expend the same amount of effort and actually help people?'

'Because he didn't care about helping people, Hermione,' said Ron between bites of his dessert. 'You heard him. It was all about being famous, making people think he was special.'

'All the things Snape accuses me of, in other words,' quipped Harry.

'Explains why Snape looked like Christmas had come again when he carted the tosser off,' said Seamus.

'You all knew all along, didn't you?' Hermione said, as if just realizing it. She was addressing them all, but she was looking specifically at Harry and Ron. 'You kept trying to tell me all year and I wouldn't listen. I feel so stupid.'

'Hey, come on, don't do that to yourself,' said Harry. 'It's not often we're right about something and you're not; how were you supposed to know?'

'Maybe next time put some faith in that big brain of yours instead of just trusting anything that's in a book, yeah?' said Ron, though his tone wasn't harsh; he was clearly taking the mickey.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Harry and Ginny celebrated the culmination of their plans for the year that night in the Room of Requirement. They didn't eat much, having gorged themselves at the impromptu feast, but enjoyed each other's company and the feeling of a great weight being lifted off their shoulders.

'It feels like we've been working toward this forever,' Ginny said, leaning against him in a big, squashy armchair that fit them both comfortably, small as they were.

'I know what you mean,' said Harry. 'Sometimes it felt like that potion would never be ready.'

'I wasn't expecting it to make him be so...frank,' Ginny said. 'I mean, we knew it would make him reveal his secrets, but I didn't expect him to psychoanalyse himself like that.'

'Maybe it had a stronger effect on him because he keeps so many secrets,' Harry mused. 'I mean, he almost literally never says what he means or what he's thinking, so when the pendulum swung the other way...'

'That's as good a theory as any,' said Ginny. 'It's also possible we made the potion too strong or gave him too much.'

'Just as likely, I'd say,' admitted Harry. 'Well, it worked, in any case. That's the important thing.'

'Hmm.'

They sat for a while, Harry almost drifting off to sleep as the exhaustion of the day caught up with him. Then Ginny spoke again suddenly.

'I have a confession, Harry,' she said.

'What is it?'

'Watching you play today, flying around with Cho...I was jealous. Not that I think you fancy her again or something!' she was quick to add. 'I just...you two were having so much fun; it was obvious to everyone. And I never wanted to be the girl who doesn't like her man spending time with other women – I hate people like that – but still, it...it hurt a little. And maybe I shouldn't tell you because now you're going to feel guilty and that's not what I want. You didn't do anything wrong; this is my problem. It's just...I don't like feeling that way and...well, think of this is kind of a confession.'

'A confession?' Harry asked, confused.

'For being a crazy jealous girlfriend.'

Harry almost succeeded in not laughing.

'Okay, first of all, calmly explaining it to me while feeling guilty about it is about as far removed from "crazy" as you can get,' he said. 'Second, I think feeling jealous and acting jealous are two different things. We're allowed to feel whatever we want. It's normal, I think, to feel a little left out when someone we love is having fun without us, or with someone else. Especially when it's something you normally do together.' He was making this up as he went, but it sounded right to him.

It must have sounded right to Ginny too, because she suddenly looked very much like she wanted to kiss him, immature bodies be damned.

'Thirdly,' he pressed on, trying not to think about that, 'have we devolved back into boyfriend and girlfriend?'

Now it was Ginny's turn to laugh. 'As far as everyone else is going to be concerned, that's what we'll be,' she said. 'We're in school, so we might as well get used to the idea.'

Harry affected a frown. 'All right, I accept that,' he said. 'But I don't like it. You're supposed to be my wife by now.'

'I know,' she said, sighing and leaning against him again. He was entirely too comfortable. The situation was dangerous and he knew it.

'Listen, this is the absolute last thing I want to do right now, but we need to go,' he said. 'If we sit here for another minute – another thirty seconds – I'm going to fall asleep and we'll be missed in the morning.'

Ginny grunted in annoyance, but after a few seconds she nodded and sat up.

'You're right,' she said. 'Let's go. And Harry?'

'Yeah?'

'You're amazing. Whatever you do, don't stop being friends with Cho just because of me, okay?'

A little surprised at this demand seemingly out of nowhere, Harry agreed.

'We'll be able to fly together next year anyway, so I won't have anything to whinge about at all then,' she added. The two of them left the Room of Requirement and sneaked back to Gryffindor Tower under the invisibility cloak.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

On Monday morning, it was announced that Professor Lockhart had been sacked following his breakdown after the quidditch match. There were also rumors flying around that he'd been arrested; people claimed to have seen MLES agents calling at the school on Sunday afternoon. As a result of this, all Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were canceled for the remainder of term. Most people supposed Dumbledore didn't see any point in trying to set up a new teacher with only a couple of weeks left to go.

'He could have spread it out amongst the other teachers, like he did last year,' Hermione lamented.

'But what would they teach, Hermione?' Ron pointed out, tucking into a kipper. 'It's not like he had a syllabus they could follow on from. Blimey, whoever our teacher turns out to be next year, they've got their work cut out for them. I just feel sorry for people who had to take their examinations this year.'

'We're due for a good one,' said Harry, thinking excitedly of Lupin.

'Don't go jinxing it,' said Seamus from across the table.

'If you'd told me last year that we could do worse than someone possessed by You-Know-Who himself, I'd have said you were mad,' said Dean.

The end of term came quietly, for a marvel. Despite the fifty points Gryffindor had received for winning the final quidditch match, Ravenclaw ended up winning the House Cup. Harry supposed this was what would have happened before except for his and Ron's last minute four hundred points for finding and neutralizing the Chamber of Secrets. Slytherin, he was delighted to see, came in dead last. He didn't recall ever seeing that before, but couldn't be bothered to wonder what had happened differently to cause it this time. The look on Malfoy's face was worth whatever it was.

The night before they were to board the Hogwarts Express, there were only two final things to take care of. He had to wait until everyone was asleep, and then he crept out of bed and down the stairs into the common room. He could do what he needed to here, but there was still a chance someone might come down unexpectedly. They were too far along to start getting careless now.

Safe in the Room of Requirement, Harry pulled out the photo Colin had given him – the one he'd taken of them all after the victorious quidditch final. He'd made a dozen or so copies because a lot of people wanted one, which was all the better as no one would question where one more might have come from.

He duplicated it, returned the original to his pocket (it really was a nice photo, after all), and asked the room for a quill and some ink. Taking care to disguise his handwriting, he penned his message, folded up the photo, and called for Dobby.

There was a small pop, and Dobby appeared, looking eager as ever.

'Master is calling Dobby?' he asked excitedly.

'Call me by my name, Dobby; it feels awkward otherwise.'

'Of course, Master Harry!' said Dobby. That wasn't what he'd meant, but he didn't want to make the elf feel uncomfortable either, so he resigned himself to it.

'I need you to do something, Dobby,' he said. 'Take this, but don't look at it. I want you to find the most nondescript owl you can find and have this delivered anonymously to inmate number 2491 in Azkaban prison. Don't let anyone know what you're doing and make sure this can't be traced back to you or me. Have you got all that?'

Dobby clicked his heels and saluted. 'Dobby understands, Master Harry! Inmate number 2491, sir. Dobby will not forget! Master Harry can always count on Dobby!'

'I know I can,' said Harry. The elf beamed. 'Get going, and get some rest when you're finished.'

Dobby saluted again and then disappeared as suddenly as he'd come.

Harry let out a huge breath. The next phase of the plan was officially in motion; there was no turning back now. He only hoped they'd managed to spot all the potential problems and missteps and prepare for them. There were still a few loose ends left hanging from this year, but only one he had any idea what to do about at the moment. That was his next stop.

He and Ginny had debated the necessity of this step back and forth many times. Strictly speaking it wasn't essential to any later events, but it was a kindness and there wasn't any real reason not to do it. He still felt a little guilty though, even though he'd knew Ron would thank him in the end if he knew the whole story.

Creeping back into his dormitory, he listened carefully to make sure everyone was asleep. He stepped into the toilet for a few minutes for plausible deniability just in case, then came back out and listened again. No movement; everyone's breathing was steady. Wondering if silencing his own feet was a good idea, he tiptoed over to Ron's bed to carry out the last task in the plan book for year two.

Once it was done, he took another deep breath. There had been so much sitting and waiting this year that actually getting things done – even minor things like this – always felt momentous. Sincerely hoping that some of Ginny's acting ability had rubbed off on him (and considering himself lucky that it was dark in case it hadn't), he shook Ron awake, putting on an air of panic.

'Ron! Ron!' he whispered urgently. Ron rolled over and grumbled.

'Erg, what is it, Harry?' he asked grumpily, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

'I'm sorry, it was an accident!' Harry wailed (quietly; he didn't want to wake everyone up).

'What was an accident?' Ron asked, looking a little more awake now. Harry held up the two pieces of Ron's broken wand.

'What happened!' Ron hissed angrily, though he too had the presence of mind to keep his voice down. That was a good sign, Harry thought.

'I was coming back from the toilet and I tripped in the dark,' Harry lied. 'I caught myself on your nightstand, but your wand must have been hanging over the edge or something because it snapped. I'm sorry! I'll pay to replace it!'

Harry could tell Ron wanted to be angry with him but was forcing it down, which he appreciated.

'Why didn't you cast lumos or something?' he growled.

'I didn't think to,' Harry said. 'I walk to and from the toilet in the dark all the time and I've never tripped before. I told you, it was an accident!'

'Yeah, yeah,' grumbled Ron. 'Well, at least it's the end of the year. I can't imagine trying to do lessons with a broken wand would be very much fun.'

'Let me get you some gold now so you can replace it as soon as you get a chance,' Harry said. 'That way you won't have to wait for me or something.'

'No, Harry, don't worry about it, really,' Ron started, but Harry bowled right over him.

'No, Ron, I broke it and I'm going to pay for it. End of story.' He set his face firmly, letting Ron know he would brook no argument. Ron visibly waffled for a few moments – he was always touchy about accepting what he perceived as charity of any kind – but eventually acceded.

'All right, fine,' said Ron reluctantly. 'If it'll make you feel better.'

'It will,' said Harry. He went to his trunk and dug out his money pouch. 'I don't remember how much Ollivander wands cost,' he lied,' but ten galleons should probably cover it. If it's more, let me know, but I doubt it will be.'

'I don't think it's that much,' said Ron, trying to push some of the gold back on Harry.

'If there's some left over, put it toward your school books,' said Harry. 'Consider it part of my apology for being a clumsy git.'

Ron grit his teeth, but did not argue. Harry was sure he still going to get some of that money back whatever he said.

The end of the school year was the reverse of how it began. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rode a carriage to Hogsmeade Station with Stephen Cornfoot and Natalie Moon, talking about all the bizarre events that had taken place that year (if only they knew, thought Harry), and then found themselves in a compartment on the train with Ginny and Luna. They talked of their summer plans (Luna and her father were going to visit Greenland in search of the triple-finned gammock (some kind of precursor to the crumple-horned snorkack?), and Hermione would be visiting France with her parents. Harry knew that, in his original timeline, this was the last holiday she ever went on with her parents until after the war. This time would be different for her, at least.

Ron and Ginny did not yet know what their summer had in store for them. They of course had gone to Egypt to visit Bill before, but as Ginny reminded Harry, that was only because Mr Weasley had won the Daily Prophet's galleon draw. The chances of that happening again were slim to none unless the two of them somehow successfully rigged it, and their chances of getting caught if they tried were exceedingly high. Definitely not worth it.

Harry knew what his summer would entail: sitting in his room and trying to avoid the Dursleys as much as possible. He remembered, too, that Vernon's sister Marge would be visiting this summer. Well, let her try any of her bollocks now; he didn't have the Trace on him anymore, he thought savagely.

When the train came to a stop, they all piled out onto the platform, and with promises to see each other as soon as possible (Harry's mirror was already burning a hole in his pocket), they crossed back into the muggle world and went their separate ways.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

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That's year two in the bag. There's an Easter egg in here, for anyone clever enough to spot it. Let me know if you think you've figured it out, yeah?

Leave a review or something too. With luck I'll actually be able to read them this time instead of accidentally deleting them like an idiot.