I'm not JK Rowlings, I don't own any of these characters, this was written purely for fun.

Chapter 3, Reverends and Night Clubs

Nights in certain sections of Muggle London were alive with the sounds of modern Punk Rock, Techno, or Dance Music emanating from the many night clubs along the most popular stretches of the city. The streets were lined with obviously underage teenagers, a class in which, to their gratefulness, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Ron did not fit. Though they were only seventeen at most, all four of them could pass for being eighteen, which was exactly how old their fake muggle ID cards said they were. Though, Hermione still was shaking all the way to the Night Club they would visit.

"What if we're caught?" She asked before they left. "This is illegal; we could spend the night in jail."

She went on reluctantly; her nerves were strained to the breaking point as they walked the streets of Muggle London. Though, her comfort came from Ron who walked beside her, holding her hand, confidently pressing on. Whatever happened would happen to Ron as well, so she told herself. Harry and Ginny did not hold hands, nor did they speak to each other. Harry walked behind the group, Ginny walked ahead of Ron and Hermione, just behind Fred and George.

"Here we are kids!" Came Fred as they came to an open door out of which blasted loud techno music, which came unexpected to Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny who shuttered at first but quickly got used to it.

They had finally arrived and, as George promised, had no trouble with their fake Identification cards, which the persons checking ID's passed as real. The atmosphere of the club was unlike anything they had ever experienced, it was dark, even… scary. Music blasted emanating from huge unknown black boxes across a large open space in which a crowd of muggles, mostly teenagers, danced wildly.

Before they arrived at the dance floor, they had to cross a sea of tables and chairs, at which assorted people sat, laughed, joked, played cards, and drank. The one thing that everyone in the place had in common is that all of them had some form of alcohol. To the left of the tables was a bar. Before the six dispersed, Fred handed all of them fifty pounds worth of muggle currency, no one asked where they had obtained it or how they had obtained so much.

Harry went strait to the bar, ordered a Boddingtons and drank. Harry was not used to drinking, and after only two, his coordination was gone. The others danced, except Ginny, who sat alone at one of the tables. The twins danced wildly with two unknown muggle girls who were probably quite intoxicated.

After seeing the inside of the club, hearing the sounds, feeling the atmosphere a sudden inspiration came over Hermione, and for the first time in her life she… didn't care about anything! Ron had no clue exactly how, when the right buttons were pushed, Hermione could be. The two danced together so intensely that Ron sweat profusely, his stamina drained after only a few minutes, he could no longer keep up with his girlfriend who had apparently thrown her many inhibitions to the wind.

In midst of dancing to a particularly intense German techno piece, he stopped leaned over preventing his fall by grabbing his knees with his palms.

Hermione laughed as she noticed this. After catching his breath, he grabbed both of her hands.

"Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend!"

"WHAT?" Cried Hermione as Ron's voice was drowned out by the sound. At that moment, the music cut off abruptly, leaving a loud ringing in both of their ears.

"I said who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"

Hermione laughed and brought Ron's lips to hers for a soft peck.

"I've got to sit down and have a drink!" Ron proclaimed.

"Me too"

Hermione sat at the table with Ginny who was drinking a glass of Rum, while Ron walked to the bar next to Harry. Ron had noticed Harry sitting alone, this had interrupted his last few minutes of bliss—yet increasing utter exhaustion—enjoyed with Hermione. Noticing the three empty beer bottles next to Harry and the one that he was drinking, worry came to Ron, but he did not express it openly as he sat next to Harry.

"Boddingtons, and a Smirnov Twisted." Ron said to the bartender, he then turned to Harry. "Thank God that Fred and George know their muggle alcohol."

"Yeah thank God indeed," Harry said taking another sip of his beer while the bartender placed a bottle of Boddingtons's and Smirnov twisted on the bar for Ron.

"I swear I have no clue what came over Hermione," Ron began. "I had no clue that she could dance like that."

"Yeah," Harry said faintly, his voice distant, his mind was clearly not present, lost to the alcohol or the confusion of the strange reactions of his friends to his desire for revenge, probably both.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked, trying to mask most of his concern in order to prevent from angering Harry, who he figured probably did not want any comfort or words of wisdom, but rather to drink, and sulk, and pout, torturing Ginny and all of his friends until they went home. Ron had taken it upon himself to do something, at the very least to show him that he was still their friend.

"I think Ginny and I are finally breaking up."

Ron did not expect him to open up that quickly but he couldn't rightly complain, he took a quick drink from his Boddingtons and shuttered at the surprisingly awful, yet addictive taste.

"I'm sorry Harry."

Harry let out a sigh revealing to his best friend his utter depression and confusion to which he did not know how to respond. He knew of Dumbledore's wisdom which would utterly reject his desire and plans for revenge, yet he could not dismiss what had become a fundamental part of himself. Even if he decided that he did not want these feelings of hatred and rage, they had become to him a comfort, a security blanket which he took to bed with him every night; he could not, he felt, function without them.

He also knew that Ron probably could not offer any help, at least none that he would readily accept but something in his soul was longing, begging, hoping, crying out for… for what though? He could only define the desire as an intense longing for detachment, as if his feelings entrapped him in a deadly cage from which he must break or succumb to everlasting despair. He had to tell someone…

"I don't know how to deal with my feelings Ron," He began, he looked in Ron's eyes revealing to him the formation of tears. "I hate Malfoy and Snape, I know Dumbledore would not want it this way but I cannot help it."

Ron finally realized that prudence probably would have demanded that he should have left Harry alone, what could he say, how could he respond to this? A sense of, not duty nor friendship, but compulsion as if from an unknown outside force had brought him to try and reason with his friend. He now realized that this would be quite impossible.

"I don't really know what to say Harry," Ron replied. "Except that Hermione is right, Revenge is not the answer."

"I know," Harry responded to Ron's great surprise, perhaps this wouldn't be as hard as Ron had originally thought. "But I don't know what to do."

"You have to do something about it, but something that won't hurt anyone. Ginny is right, you'll tear yourself apart."

Harry let out a breath of frustration, Ron's worry increased. Did he just push one of his unknown buttons? Harry, who for one moment seemed almost open to receive Ron's suggestions, now returned to sulking.

"Just leave me alone alright," Harry said in a calm voice of despair.

"Harry please!"

"I said leave me alone."

A tear fell from Ron's eyes, he took in one hand his Boddingtons's, with Hermione's Smirnov in the other, and went to the table at which Hermione now sat alone. Harry didn't think too much of the fact that Ginny had disappeared, before he could fully comprehend this an unusual, American voice entered his ears.

"Your friend is right," The voice said. "Revenge is not the answer."

Harry spun to the side at which Ron had not been sitting, he came face to face with perhaps the least likely person to run into at a night-club. Sitting at the stool beside him, enjoying a Boddingtons's beer was a middle aged man with a goatee and light brown hair, the collar he wore signified that he was a minister or priest. An insatiable curiosity came over Harry as he wondered what the hell an individual such as this would be doing in the place at which he currently was. Yet his curiosity was overshadowed by his anger at the man's presumptuousness.

"Yeah what do you know about it?" Harry replied.

"I may know more than you give me credit for," The man responded.

Harry laughed, he was clearly a muggle, how could he have any idea what Harry had been through and Harry was not about to explain it to him.

"I don't think so Reverend," Harry began. "Sorry, are you a priest or a minister?"

"Reverend will do my young friend," the Minister responded.

"Well, whoever you are," Harry said trying to be as polite to a well-meaning stranger as his frustrations would allow. "I know what the Christian religion teaches with regards to revenge, but I'm not a Christian."

"You don't have to be," The minister came back. "'An eye for an eye will make the world go blind,' Gandhi said that, he was no Christian. And there were plenty more people who the Mahatma could have had a grudge against than you."

This statement infuriated Harry, this man probably thought that Harry was some inexperienced little teenager who did not truly know of revenge, or pain, or death, or battle. The man clearly was a muggle who had no clue who or what Harry was. Harry, or rather Harry's alcohol let his frustrations blow.

"Who the hell do you think you are! And what the hell makes you think that you know anything about my life!"

"I know for instance that you are underage."

Harry looked confused at how he could possess such knowledge, the minister noticed this.

"Please," he said. "I can spot an underage drinker a mile away, don't worry I won't tell anyone. Look, no one is perfect, all have sinned and all have fallen short of the Glory of God."

Harry finally had enough, but before he could engage the well-intentioned reverend any further, what was left of his better judgment got the best of him.

"You're not leaving just yet Harry."

At this, Harry stared back at the minister confused, making eye contact with the Minister's fierce, determined, Emerald Green eyes.

"How did you know my name?"

"What makes you think that you are perfect," The Minister began. "Or free of sin, or qualified to judge those whom you do."

The minister's voice sounded almost offended at Harry's refusal to listen to him, Harry noticed this and was equally offended at the fact that the Minister presumed that Harry had a religious duty to sit and listen, when he clearly was no Christian.

"I asked you a question sir, how do you know my name?"

"Your friend just called you Harry," The minister replied, to which Harry's eyes gave a twitch of 'duh,' while the minister continued. "Like I said though, I might know more than you give me credit for."

A new feeling came over Harry which he tried to ignore, a faint glimmer of… trust. For an instant, Harry wanted to open up to this man, as if he may have a better understanding of Harry's unique circumstances than Harry gave him credit. Though, this cognition was quickly dismissed as simply the alcohol talking. The man was clearly a muggle, he couldn't tell him anything, even if he wanted to. The feeling was quickly replaced with rage.

"Look, Reverend, Father, Minister, whoever you are or whatever religion you come from." Harry stood, the minister remained quite calm and finished his Boddingtons, he had almost a smirk on his lips, a glimmer of laughter in his eye as Harry continued. "You do not know me, and I don't believe in your God, now stop judging me!"

To add further insults, at this the minister openly chuckled, which enraged Harry.

"Like I said," The minister replied. "We all have sinned, you have judged certain people guilty of wronging you, and thus deserving of your understanding of retribution, in the like manner I have judged you without even knowing you." The minister paused and leaned in toward Harry, his eyes giving a convincing gaze that penetrated Harry's very heart. "But how can you justly ask me to stop judging you, and not stop judging those whom you do? Like I said, all have sinned. As far as my God is concerned, you will believe in him one day. And we will meet again, God bless you Harry."

The minister stood up and paid for his drink, and left. Harry spun around to view the dance floor, what he saw next utterly broke whatever self-control remained in him. Hermione and Ron enjoying a drink together at the table at which Ginny had been sitting, the twins still dancing with God knows who, and Ginny… dancing with… with a stranger! His face reddened, his teeth grit, he stood up without putting his bottle down. He crossed the dance floor not noticing the unsuspecting muggles he ran into.

Ginny and the boy with whom he danced didn't even see him coming, with a clench of his fist and a jolt of his arm and shoulder, Harry sent the young man to the floor with a bloody nose.

"HARRY!" cried Ginny, who stood back covering her mouth with her hands in shock.

Harry started to charge the young man, "If you ever come near my girlfriend again…" before he could finish the job, several hands held him back, the young man also came to his feet and started a charge of his own but was held back by several muggles. Harry fought against the hands holding him back, in midst of this came the voice of Ron.

"Harry what the hell are you doing!"

Another unknown voice came over Ron's.

"You know this guy?" The voice asked.

"Yeah," Replied Ron. "He's with us, a little drunk."

"I'm afraid you and all your friends are going to have to leave."

"What!" Came George's voice from behind Harry's

"That's Horse Shit!" Came Fred's.

Harry's eyes were fixed on Ginny's who was crying openly, Hermione came and put her arms around Ginny; not even bothering to look at Harry with contempt. Harry's rage did not waver, he did not back off from his powerful stance, he merely stood firm, his gaze adding even more fear to an already startled Ginny.

Five minutes later the six were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron through the London night. Ginny was crying in Ron's arms as she walked, Fred and George were openly complaining about being thrown out, while Harry walked several feet ahead of them all, the look of rage had finally faltered into one of mixed guilt and anger.

"Harry!" Cried Hermione in an almost sympathetic voice.

Harry did not respond, Hermione rushed to catch up with him, grabbing his arm as if to spin him around, he jerked it away from her violently. Hermione caught his eyes in which formed the beginnings of tears not yet fallen.

"Leave me alone," he said quietly and walked on.