Disclaimer: So, I'm sorry, JKR, but my brain is asleep and I can't think of a clever way to explain to the rest of the world that I own none of this genius (except the plot and certain characters), that it is all yours, and I sit humbly in your shadow. You -- and they -- will have to check the previous chapters.

Author's Notes: First of all, I apologize for how long this chapter took to finish. It turned out I had other things to concentrate on, and couldn't devote enough time to concentrate on this as I wanted to. That, and my plotbunny farm experienced a oneshot epidemic -- I understand those aren't looked on very highly by the epic-reader community. Hehe. :P

A big thank you, of course, to all of the FOUR people who reviewed the last chapter. Also, the same kind of thank you to all of the people who have this story on their favorite list, their alert list, or who have put it in their C2.

Without further useless author-raving, here's the chapter.

o.o.o.o

The Unexpected Arrival

'... And he's going to have Nagini kill her,' Severus Snape spat, his hands shaking slightly. 'He wants me to be there. What am I supposed to do, Albus?'

'As you're told, of course,' replied the Headmaster. He looked rather thoughtful, but not apparently concerned.

Severus paled considerably, which was quite a feat, given how pale he'd been to begin with. 'Albus?'

'Go through with it.'

Severus stopped breathing for a moment, he was so shocked.

'What?' he exclaimed, sounding honestly horrified. 'Are you insane? I can't do this! I simply can't!'

'Oh?' prompted Albus, as if he really couldn't figure out why not.

'I can't... I mean, it's Granger, and...' Severus, on the verge of a minor nervous breakdown, was barely managing to bite the words out, and he was absolutely positive that they were making no sense whatsoever. 'It would just... Be so... Come on, Albus, it's Granger.'

'Severus,' murmured the other wizard, sounding just a little amused. 'Some people might think this meant you cared.'

Severus almost rolled his eyes. 'I dislike Granger -- as well as Potter's other friend -- but I'd have to be stupid to not see that she's intelligent. Insultingly intelligent, and disgustingly clever. She's going to be an enormous asset to the Order and the side of Light one day, when she's an adult and has outgrown this silliness... this silliness that is her addiction to Potter and Weasley.'

'For you, that was almost poetic, Severus,' Albus said with an indulgent smile.

'... Well, if you're done humiliating me, Albus, then please, could we be serious now?'

The Headmaster's smile faded. 'I was being serious when I told you to go through with it.'

Severus's face fell. He sat down very heavily, not even noticing that he was in the large, cushy chair behind the Headmaster's desk. 'But, why would you want me to? If Granger dies...'

'Severus,' the old man said quietly, looking his age. 'You have to do this. A dozen Hermiones would not be worth the Order losing such a valuable and trusted spy as you. I cannot let you endanger your position with Voldemort, which means that you must go tonight.

'And besides, I hardly intend to just let the girl be killed.'

Hearing this, Severus spirits lifted slightly. He sat up a little, the better to look at his friend. 'Then, you have a plan?'

'Indeed,' Albus averred reassuringly. Though he was unsmiling, the statement still managed to make Severus feel somewhat better.

Then Severus opened his mouth to inquire about what the Headmaster intended to do, but Albus raised a hand for silence. 'Please, Severus,' he practically whispered. 'I know you'd like to hear something slightly more definite. However, I'm fairly certain that to tell you would be a mistake.'

'I... don't understand.' Severus's jaw worked. There were implications with this that he didn't like at all. 'Is this... some kind of test? Don't you trust me?'

Albus came around and placed a gentle hand on Severus's shoulder. 'There are few I would trust more.'

'Then why keep it from me?' asked Severus, looking up at Albus imploringly. 'Surely I have a right to know.'

Albus did not actually want to explain himself. But he realised that if wanted Severus to have a chance at being capable to perform, he would have to say at least something. 'And if Voldemort decided to invade your mind again? Does he have a right to know, as well?'

There was silence. After a moment, Severus sighed.

'You're right,' he muttered. Then, grudgingly, 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' Patting the Potion Master's shoulder, Albus turned back to his daily office-putter.

As Severus was leaving, Albus added, 'Oh, and it would probably be best if you pretended that this conversation never took place.'

Severus nodded.

o.o.o.o

The last several hours before he could expect to be summoned to meet Bellatrix, Severus spent in wretched suspense, dreading his mission. He usually managed to stay well away from the more twisted aspects of serving the Dark Lord, but he'd been singled out for this. Supposedly, it was a privilege. This should have made Severus at least professionally proud of a job done well, given the trust this selection implied.

But, he couldn't seem to take comfort in it. He was not happy about anything, for those few hours. Because if Dumbledore's plan -- whatever it was -- failed, and Granger was killed...

Well, for one thing, Ron Weasley would kill him.

(If Severus had been in a less generous mood, he probably would have dignified that worry with at least a "try to", but as things were, it really didn't matter. A fact was a fact and he was a dead man.)

Severus, at one point, even tried puttering, to ease his nerves. Unfortunately, there really wasn't anything in his home worth a putter, and he gave it up after only a few minutes. What a bother. He didn't know how Dumbledore could stand it.

By the time the Dark Lord's summons came and his Dark Mark burned, Severus had fallen so far that he'd begun seriously considering taking a bath, just to pass the time. He donned his mask and robes with even greater reluctance than usual, and Apparated to join his Master. Immediately that he appeared, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

'My lord,' he intoned in a suitably reverent whisper.

'Ah, Snape,' hissed Voldemort in mock pleasantry. 'Prompter than usual, I see. Well, well. I dare say, you're more eager for this mission than I had expected.'

Severus managed to resist making any noise of disgust, but it was a gigantic struggle. He calmed -- if you could call it that -- himself by imagining various ways in which he fully expected to be killed by Weasley, should the night go as Voldemort planned.

He had just come to the conclusion that Weasley would probably have several brothers willing to assist in rendering him deceased, when he noticed that Nagini was winding herself around Bellatrix's neck. Voldemort was hissing encouragingly at the snake. Severus unhappily lifted his head to look at the Dark Lord. Bellatrix kept her eyes on the ground, in an unexpectedly servile position.

'The Granger girl is to be killed by Nagini. I don't care what you do to the Mudblood's parents,' instructed Voldemort quite gleefully. 'But they must remain... alive.' He smirked his reptilian smirk.

Lupin will probably help the Weasleys kill me.

'Yes, my lord,' responded Severus. He was rather surprised when Bellatrix remained silent, but apparently it wasn't important.

'Go,' instructed the Dark Lord, waving a hand. As he spoke, he implanted the location of their destination in their minds. Severus didn't do anything to indicate that he knew it already. 'Enjoy yourselves.'

Severus shuddered. He wished he didn't have to go through with this, that Dumbledore would have agreed that it was too much a risk. Anything, just that he wouldn't be standing and preparing his wand to Apparate.

He wished it even more fervently, when they were standing in the middle of a street, facing the dark living room window of Granger's house.

Beside him, Bellatrix gave hushed sigh of what sounded like relief. Severus glanced at her and saw that she indeed had a relieved look to her face, but there was an absurdly pleased, guilty smiled starting to break over it.

'Bellatrix?' he asked quietly. She waved a hand to shush him and crept toward the house. Nagini slid from her shoulders and slithered ahead of them.

The snake had just reached the grass, when there was a quickly silenced shrieking noise, and a light went on in an upper story window. A silhouette appeared briefly against the shade, then disappeared, and the light went out again.

There was no way they hadn't been spotted.

Cursing silently, the two Death Eaters hurried to the front door. Bellatrix looked honestly peeved, but Severus could feel the tiniest grain of hope starting to flower within him. Someone knew they were there! Possibly, possibly, Granger would have a way to alert the rest of the Order and then any intervention would be legitimate and--

Severus's hope almost died completely when he heard a sequence of loud cracks, and the street filled suddenly with at least half a dozen masked and hooded figures. Bellatrix nearly purred, looking slightly aggravated. 'Finally!'

She charmed the door open and pushed him through it into the hall. She waved for the other Death Eaters to follow, then joined Severus inside the house. They inched ahead quietly, Bellatrix in the lead, and started up the steps.

Overhead, suddenly, there was a thump and a pair of screams, followed by a whooshing noise. Then there was the same heavy silence as before.

'What was that?' demanded Severus in a tense whisper. To him, the whooshing had sounded almost exactly like a Portkey -- but what had that thud been?

'It sounded like a Portkey,' said Bellatrix in tones of disgust, echoing his thoughts. 'The other noise, though...'

She turned, facing the Death Eaters who'd entered in their wake, and motioned for them to begin searching the first floor. They fanned out.

Bellatrix herself turned back around and cautiously proceeded up the rest of the stairs. Severus had no choice but to follow her and Nagini, if he wanted to have any chance of preventing Granger's intended death. (That was, if Granger was even still there.) They reached the upper landing, and Bellatrix hesitated.

All of a sudden, there was a small, hastily muffled gasp from the room on the right; if any of their targets were still in the house, that was where they would be. Bellatrix grinned gleefully. Looking very pleased with herself, she began to unwind Nagini from her neck. The instant the gigantic snake touched the floor, it headed straight for the room, and Bellatrix followed.

For an instant, Severus stood paralysed, before his brain caught up to things, and he hurried after them.

It was dark. The room was a bedroom, filled with books -- Granger's, and not her parents' -- and there were, literally, books on every available surface. Severus had never seen so many books in a person's private rooms before, except perhaps his own or Dumbledore's.

He looked around.

Bellatrix had opened the closet, which was very close to the hall door, and was poking in between the clothes with her wand. Nagini was in the process of slithering under the bed, another of the likely hiding spots.

A yowl and a stifled yelp later, Hermione Granger appeared on the other side of the bed. She was dressed in nightclothes, and looked very rumpled, but her wand was in her hand. She pointed it at the nearest of the two Death Eaters -- Bellatrix, thankfully -- and fired a hex, the words to which Severus didn't catch.

With a triumphant cackle, Bellatrix blocked the curse and prepared to fire back one of her own. Severus, desperate, hastily pretended to trip while firing his own curse, and it flew obediently at Bellatrix. She was forced to dodge, cursing, which gave Granger time to duck around the corner of her wardrobe. It also established him, unfortunately, as the least dangerous of her opponents -- Granger would probably try and incapacitate him first, to give herself a better environment in which to dispatch Bellatrix.

The large piece of furniture blocked Granger from their view, and Bellatrix cursed again.

Nagini came out from under the bed, hissing violently; for a moment it looked as if she was chasing Granger, but then -- as an orange shape darted after the snake -- it became apparent that she was the mouse, rather than the cat, in this particular situation. And, indeed, it was a cat pursuing Nagini. A very large, very angry, very orange cat. It pounced on the snake with claws extended, ripping and biting.

Severus and Bellatrix had more pressing concerns.

A door on the opposite side of the wardrobe opened, just wide enough for a person to slip through, and closed again. Severus and Bellatrix had gotten just enough of a glimpse of the room, through the six inches visible over the top of the wardrobe, to realize that it was a bathroom.

Granger could have been trying to trick them into exposing themselves. But Bellatrix edged around the room, and determined that she had indeed entered the bathroom. 'Stupid little Mudblood thinks she can run away,' she snarled contemptuously.

Without looking away from the bathroom, she pointed imperiously, commanding in a whisper, 'Go make sure there's not another way into that bathroom.'

Severus was just about to comply, mostly because it would give him a legitimate excuse to be out of her presence, when he noticed that she wasn't pointing at him. She was pointing past him, to the bedroom door. He glanced over and saw several of the other Death Eaters; the sounds of commotion must have alerted them that all the action was on the upper level.

Two of the Death Eaters disappeared immediately.

Severus made his way over to the door, where he could watch both Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters. After having decided that Granger wasn't coming back out of the bathroom any time soon, Bellatrix crouched next to the Dark Lord's wounded, unmoving snake. Severus noted, with curiosity, that the cat had disappeared.

'Capture the Mudblood!' Bellatrix shrieked to the Death Eaters in the hall and downstairs. She sounded strangely pleased. 'Don't kill her; the Dark Lord will want to do that for himself!'

There was a disturbance in the hall. One of the Death Eaters had gone down. Severus looked out, in time to see a second Death Eater get hit by a curse. The curse light, however, had come from a bedroom on the other side of the hall.

It seemed that Granger had managed to slip past the wizards standing outside the bathroom's second door -- Severus couldn't have expressed how relieved he was to hear this. But it also seemed as if she was determined to fight back, even while she was in a previously undetected hiding place.

Why couldn't she have just snuck out, damn it all?

Granger was probably expecting the Order to arrive at any moment, of course, which could inspire her to behave more rashly than she normally would while outside the influence of Potter and Weasley.

Please let them be coming, and please let them get here soon. I really would rather Weasley didn't kill me.

Bellatrix was next to him in the doorway as the third, confused Death Eater was put out of action. Granger was getting very lucky, at the moment, but the rest of the Death Eaters were undoubtedly on their way upstairs.

And then there was Bellatrix to deal with.

'Mudblood bitch,' snarled Bellatrix. Severus fought the urge to slap her, because irrationally he was afraid Weasley would hear her. They waited for a moment, but no further spells were fired.

Bellatrix stuck out her wand and muttered a hex, blasting a hole in the wall across the hall.

An orange blur streaked out between their legs, headed for the bedroom where Granger was hiding. It was Granger's cat. There was a strangled cry of fear from the other room. A couple of curses flew out over the cat's head in rapid succession; Bellatrix and Severus were forced to duck back into the room to avoid them. Just before they lost sight of the hall, however, they spotted Granger leap out of the bedroom and scoop the cat into her arms.

There were the rest of the Death Eaters, cresting the top of the stairs. Granger's curses impacted on walls and dissipated harmlessly.

Growing impatient with the exchange of petty spells, Bellatrix stepped from behind the wall, shrieking the Killing Curse. Her wand was pointed directly toward the last place they'd seen Granger.

Severus's heart rate flew out of control -- he was quite sure he was about to have some kind of a coronary. Weasley and Lupin wouldn't even have to kill him. Bellatrix and her bright ideas would do it for them.

Thankfully, Granger had dodged at the last moment, ducking behind a Death Eater who'd tried to sneak up on her. The green light impacted on unfortunate dark wizard, who toppled over. Granger dove behind the rumble that had once been a wall.

Without being told to, the Death Eaters fanned out and took up positions surrounding her cover as best they could.

Things looked rather hopeless.

Desperately, Severus considered leaping over the rumble and whipping back his mask so that Granger could see it was him, and essentially declaring to all and sundry that he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, because surely being killed by Death Eaters was more favorable than facing Weasley and the rest if he let Granger die.

Fortunately for Severus, it turned out he didn't have to do either.

Several loud, consecutive pops indicated the arrival of more wizards. These turned out to be Order members and one, his vibrant red hair proclaiming him a Weasley, made a beeline for Granger. Severus barely saw it, but the Weasley pressed something into Granger's hand. A few moments later, she disappeared -- it had been a Portkey.

Oh, thank Merlin.

Now all he had to do was not get in the way of any of the nasty jinxes being fired by the irate Order members, and he'd be all right.

o.o.o.o

'What happened?' demanded Voldemort, in his most vicious hiss. 'I sent you -- two of you -- on a simple, trivial little mission to take out a Mudblood and her Muggle parents. And what happened?'

'Well,' one of the lower level Death Eaters, the only one who'd escaped unscathed, began unwisely.

Voldemort whirled and slashed at the wizard with his wand. 'You do not speak!'

'Yes,' squeaked the wizard, and winced as he was hit again with Voldemort's spell. Severus pitied the fool.

'I do not want excuses!' screamed the Dark Lord, when he had complete quiet again. 'Excuses are weak; I will not have weakness in my followers.'

Everyone stayed silent, as they were expected to, though most of them cowered away from their master's ire. The Dark Lord rounded on the unfortunate soul who'd been selected to look after his snake. 'How is she?'

Because the man couldn't think of a single positive thing to say about the state of Nagini, he said nothing. Voldemort bared his teeth with a hiss, and Crucio-ed the fool.

Then, he turned with deliberate slowness to Bellatrix. In a suddenly, frighteningly controlled voice, he ordered everyone else to leave. They went, as quickly as they could. They were all off the hook for the moment. Voldemort had somewhere better to focus his wrathful torture.

Bellatrix was about to be punished.

o.o.o.o

The moment Ron saw Hermione, his arms were wrapped around her and he'd said something unprintable.

'Ron,' she gasped into his chest, considering a halfhearted reprimand.

'I was so worried,' he muttered, his face pressed against her bushy hair. 'Oh, Merlin, I was so worried. The minute that alarm went off, I was just sure --'

She finally remembered to wrap her arms around him in return, to show she was all right, and assured him, 'I'm fine.'

He didn't seem to believe her. But he hadn't let go of her yet, so it didn't matter. 'I feel like I never want to let you out of my sight again,' he informed her, in quiet voice so that his brothers, who were watching, couldn't hear him.

'Oh, Ron,' she said, with a little laugh. 'I'm fine.'

'Still.' He pulled away, put hung on to her arms. He looked down at her critically, something very hard in his blue eyes. 'You could have been--'

'She's not, though, Ron,' Ginny muttered loudly, interrupting her youngest brother.

Fred and George had looks on their faces that suggested they wanted to snicker, but were thinking better of it. Hermione shot her best female friend a curious, slightly aggravated glance, but couldn't stand to look away from Ron for very long.

'I really am fine, Ron,' she assured him smilingly.

Before Ron could respond to this, Hermione's parents appeared in the doorway with Dumbledore, effectively cutting off the conversation. With a quick look, Dumbledore took in the situation, and determined that Hermione was fine. 'Excellent.'

Hermione looked over. 'Oh. Professor!'

'Miss Granger,' said Dumbledore, with a slight smile. He nodded slightly toward her parents. 'I'm going to be sending some people to retrieve your parents' things from your house. Is there anything specific you'd like them to bring back, in addition to your school things?'

Hermione's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

'What do you mean, Professor?' asked Ron, frowning slightly. 'Is... will Hermione be staying here again?'

'And her parents, yes,' Dumbledore nodded. 'At least until September 1st. I can't be sure how long it will take to erect the appropriate wards around their home; her parents may have to stay here even longer than that.'

'Really?' Ron pressed, gripping Hermione's upper arms excitedly. Startled, Hermione clutched at his arms in return, as they stared at the Headmaster. A twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore nodded again.

Ron beamed delightedly.

Rolling her slightly red eyes and snorting expressively, Ginny turned and left the room. Too caught up in what else was happening, nobody noticed.

There went Voldemort's chance of getting to the brats before the next Hogwarts term started.

o.o.o.o

'... Ready to go, lad?'

'You better believe it, Cain.'

o.o.o.o

It was with sad faces that Ron and Hermione went to platform nine-and-three-quarters on September 1st. For somebody who should have been with them was missing. In more ways than one.

Harry was gone. Utterly gone; even his body was gone.

'Look, it's no use thinking about it,' said Fred bracingly, noting the downcast looks being sported by the two younger teens (Ginny, of course, being blank-faced). He glanced to George for support, but the other boy merely shrugged.

Charlie, who was guarding the students for the Order, along with the Twins and Tonks, glared at him sternly. 'What kind of talk is that?'

Defensive on the part of his twin, George broke in loudly, 'And what was that for?' His overly loud tone attracted the attention of some of the others gathered on the platform. Also, it allowed the reporters, previously huddled together near the archway, to spot the group at last.

This Tonks noticed.

Under normal circumstances, the word she uttered would have earned a gasp of disapproval from Hermione. But those weren't normal circumstances. All Hermione did was mumble something to herself.

Charlie -- with an almost panicked glance at the members of the press, now making their way through the crowd to the "friends of the late boy hero" --began ushering the three onboard the train.

Ginny, in the lead (Voldemort had no time for reporters, either), had just put her foot on the runner and was stepping up with the other, when an even greater disturbance took place back under the archway.

This piqued the Dark Lord's interest, ever so slightly.

Tonks groaned loudly, pulling out her wand. 'What is that, now?'

Suspicious, Charlie frowned. 'George, Fred, you two go look. Make it quick, please?' eagerly, the Twins set off.

Their yells, heard after several minutes of tense, inactive waiting, were of such a nature as to turn Ginny's blood cold. Shock was in those voices, and fear also. Each of them heard the unmistakable tones and each one knew what they meant; something was not right, very not right. (And that was enough to make Voldemort's unblood run hot with excitement.)

'What do we do?' asked Hermione, speaking first, immediately -- Ron would have but he was too busy trying to figure out how to make Charlie let him help, which was what he wanted and knew he ought to do.

Steeling himself, Charlie pushed Tonks up with Ginny. He prepared to push his way through the milling, chaotic masses, his wand gripped tightly in his left hand. 'What you do, Hermione, is you get on that train and you stay there, no matter what.' His voice was grim and firm, leaving no room for argument. 'I'm going to he-- see about the Twins.'

Tonks opened her mouth to say something, but Charlie stopped her with a squeeze of the hand no-one else had realised he was holding.

'Stay with Ginny and Ron and Hermione,' he instructed in a gentler, but no less hurried, tone. 'This is just like the last time.'

'God, I hope not,' snorted Tonks. Charlie chuckled darkly and gave her a little nudge further onto the train. 'Go.'

Though none of the teens understood this (and Voldemort very much would have liked to), Tonks nodded obediently, climbing into the train. She reached to pull Ginny in also, as she was the closest, but the redhead jumped down. Glancing at Ron (though Voldemort really didn't care what the Weasley thought), she went after the fast disappearing back of their elder brother.

Hermione took two quick steps and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. 'No, don't, he's right, we should just get onboard.'

Voldemort wanted to growl, but he managed to stop it in time. All that escaped Ginny was an impatient tch-ing.

Storming past Hermione, Ron grabbed Ginny's hand and kept walking. 'Those are our brothers,' he protested, ignoring the indignant reprimands of Tonks, who was back on the station floor again.

'Right,' agreed Ginny forcefully. (Of course, Voldemort didn't really give a crap about anyone's brother... But he was a master manipulator. He got what he wanted. And right then, he wanted to see what was causing such a fuss.) 'We've got a right. I'm not going to risk losing them like we did Harry.'

(Oh, that'll get her, that'll definitely get her.)

The words must have struck something in Hermione, for the brunette quickly nodded her acquiescence. She drew her wand and reached for Ginny's arm, already beginning to push and shove her way through the crowd.

Dismayed, Tonks followed them.

Somehow along the way, the small chain of friends seemed to absorb others. Neville was there, and Luna with him. Katie Bell appeared. The two Creevy boys, Terry Boot, Ernie McMillian...

Soon they comprised almost every single returning member of the D.A., it didn't seem to matter much that most of them hadn't seen each other all summer, or that the group had been disbanded long before the end of term. Something was going on and they were not about to stand blindly by and let it.

(Bloody Potter, inspiring loyalty even after he was dead. Stupid Potter.)

As their numbers swelled, they began to move faster and faster, picking up speed as their band cut a larger and large swathe through the onlookers. Tonks, on her own in a sea of hundreds and already well back, was swallowed up and left behind.

The leaders of the little group stopped short, however, when they came to the edge of the crowd, a full ten yards from the entrance to the platform. Standing just inside was a young black-haired man, the wands of three Weasleys already trained on his chest. A little ways over lay a pile of motionless wizards and witches -- the reporters.

The crowd, it seemed, was keeping a safe distance. Surveying the damage that the man had apparently done on his own and in a very short time, Ron could see why they might. And that was to say nothing of the otherwise-ordinary-looking man himself. Ron and the other D.A. members took a closer look at him. A double take. Even Voldemort was not immune to shock, it seemed.

(... What the...)

'My God,' exclaimed Justin Finch-Fletchly. 'He's supposed to be dead.'

Indeed, Harry Potter was supposed to be dead.

But he was also standing right in front of them with his arms crossed, looking smug and almost... evil.

(This could mean trouble.)

'That's a strange kind of welcome, Justin,' the Harry commented in a would-be-casual voice. 'I was actually kind of under the impression that the wizarding world didn't like me being dead.'

Unthinking, Ron dropped Ginny's hand and almost ran forward to embrace his friend. Numbly, Hermione caught his arm before he could take more than a few steps.

'No, Ron,' barked Charlie, his eyes narrowed fiercely. 'Harry's dead. This isn't him.'

The Harry threw up his hands in irritation. Turning his head, he rhetorically asked the pile of paparazzi, 'Why does everyone keep saying that, do you think?' There was something of an edge to his voice that inexplicably made everyone uneasy.

Ginny broke through her brothers' guard, looking as scared as Voldemort could manage while he was still inside her mind. As soon as she came out from behind Ron, Harry's head whipped around and he fixed his gaze on her.

'We saw your body,' she accused, pointing a quavering finger at him. 'Saw it. You didn't even breath for six days -- six bloody days! You're dead, damn it!'

(There. He should fall for that, I should think.)

Harry raised his eyebrows bemusedly. 'While I could easily fix it otherwise, should you want it so much, I am very much alive at this moment and would like to keep it that way.'

Ron stared. 'Who the bloody hell are you?' Ginny screamed angrily, struggling against the hold the Twins suddenly had on her shoulders. Voldemort thought the question was a little weak, so he made her add, 'And why are you doing this to us?'

'Hm?' Harry tilted his head to the side, apparently considering her. His eyes looked rather angry. It was starting to make Voldemort a tiny bit nervous, not that the Dark Lord would ever admit it.

Charlie's wand twitched just a fraction, drawing the bright green gaze for a fraction of a second. 'What my little sister meant to say,' he corrected, a touch of impatience coming through in his tone, 'Is, who the bloody hell are you, why are you pretending to be Harry, and why must you do it right now?'

Harry smiled. It was the Harry smile, the one that was uniquely and completely his own. No-one had thought they'd ever see it again. 'My name is Harry Potter, I'm not pretending to be anyone, and the only thing I'm doing right now is try to get on that big scarlet train you see over there so that I may attend my school this year.' He paused, looking around at the surprisingly silent crowd of people amassed on the platform. '... Is there a problem with that?'

'Stop it,' commanded the voice of Nymphadora Tonks, swiftly followed by her body, pushing through the crowd to the front.

'Yes,' agreed Hermione, less sternly. 'You're not even acting like the Harry we all know-- knew.'

Harry looked her up and down with an appraising, accusing stare. 'Did you ever know Harry?'

Ron flushed darkly, as Hermione paled. (Ginny paled, as well, but that was mostly because Voldemort hadn't realised anyone could use Harry's body to be this... this cold.) 'What does --' Ron started to snap, but he was interrupted.

'Enough!' yelled Charlie, beckoning with his free hand for Tonks to approach him. His eyes never left Harry, much the way Harry's were fixed on Ginny. 'You know what needs to be done, Tonks. Hurry, before this impostor does any serious damage.'

'Look, I am Harry Potter, Charlie,' Harry insisted, as Tonks Disapparated, obviously bound for Headquarters. 'The Real Deal. I swear.'

The muscles in Charlie's neck seemed to tighten, and all those that knew him saw it and became slightly nervous -- it was a well known fact that Charlie Weasley had a temper to equal the dragons he loved so much. Harry seemed not to have even noticed.

'Harry Potter,' said Charlie with extreme slowness, stressing every syllable individually, 'is dead.'

'Yeah,' agreed George, supported by Fred adding, 'We saw had--have proof.'

The Harry in front of them smiled blandly. 'Very good. But that, I believe, is the key.'

'Exactly,' averred Hermione with a perplexed frown, vaguely confused about why this man was agreeing that he couldn't possibly be Harry, even as he insisted that he was Harry. Besides, he was too old! 'Harry's dead, you're alive.'

'Quite alive. How very observant of you, Hermione.' Still with his infuriatingly untroubled little smile, the man who should have been a boy looked away from Ginny long enough to sweep the crowd with a glance. Something seemed to occur to him, and he brought his head back around to look the youngest Weasley in the eye. 'Mm, Ginny. Would you tell me, do I look like Harry?'

The girl swallowed slowly and licked her lips before answering, giving the Dark Lord in her mind more time to correctly word his response. It was an easy question, really... Except for being rather taller, broader, more well-built, and unbelievably paler, the man looked exactly like the Harry that had been lying in a casket in the cellar of 12 Grimmauld Place the last time Ginny'd seen him. Green eyes, black hair, thin face, lighting bolt scar for Merlin's sake, even the ears that Ginny had always found quirky somehow.

(Oh, how ridiculously pathetic.)

Then again, there was they way he looked, and sounded, about twenty-two.

'Well, mostly, yes, I think,' she admitted at length. The otherwise silent crowd seemed to murmur its collective agreement. But the three Weasleys with their wands pointed at Harry only gripped them all the tighter.

'Excuse us...' George interrupted before Harry could say anything else. There were decidedly hostile expressions on the Twins faces (and in the tones of their voices) as they spoke. '... but we fail to see the significance of this,' stated Fred.

Harry held up an appeasing hand, still disturbingly calm. 'I'm getting to that, if you'd let me.'

'And if we don't let you explain yourself?' asked Charlie, in a falsely speculative tone. Nervously, Hermione sent Ron a confused and pleading look. She didn't want to have to see them attack this person who was so very like Harry, even if he couldn't possibly be their deceased best friend.

Ron seemed to agree with her. This was painful enough, without it turning into a real fight. 'Charlie! Can't we just... take him to Professor Dumbledore, or something?'

'No,' snapped Charlie. He repeated his question to Harry. Clearly, he'd long ago lost his patience.

Harry seemed to consider it for a minute longer, the eyes of everyone else on him. At last, he said, 'If you don't let me...' He gave an unconcerned shrug. 'I'll do it anyway.' He gave no-one a chance to react, but continued on directly, 'I look like Harry Potter. I have Harry Potter's voice. I am Harry Potter. You've no reason to think I'm not Harry Potter. Well, apart from a body that you don't have anymore... But other than that, what's to say that I can't be who I am; Harry Potter?'

There was a renewed outburst of mutters and whispers in the crowd.

Hermione stared. 'But you've just admitted that Harry's dead and you're not!' she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, unlike her own.

'Yes, I'm not dead -- not anymore.'

The whispers stopped so abruptly that some wondered if they'd ever happened at all. Every member of their audience wore very similar shocked expressions on their faces.

After several moments of this silence, a loud, sneering voice demanded, 'Is the im-Potty-ster trying to tell us he's been brought back to life? Doing the impossible again?'

'I've learned some very interesting philosophy recently, that could tidy up that comment quite nicely, Malfoy. But, I won't waste my time refining you,' Harry shot back calmly, not even looking in the direction of the blond Slytherin. 'In future, please at least pretend to have some decency, and address me directly when I am within hearing distance, instead of asking your groupies questions that you can't possibly expect them to be able to answer.'

Draco Malfoy was almost too surprised to be furious, though the thought would doubtlessly occur to him later. Covering her mouth with her hands, Ginny started laughing. (Voldemort had never really like the Malfoy brat. Much too uppity and self-righteous.) Her shoulders heaved silently, gaining strength with every tic of the veins in Malfoy's temple and clenching of his jaw. She couldn't help herself. (Voldemort had been dying for another chance to publicly humiliate one of the Malfoy males.)

'Stop it!' demanded Malfoy, staring at her, aghast. 'This instant.'

'Going to turn her into a ferret otherwise?' questioned Harry with a surprisingly believable air of innocence.

Ginny cackled in a most evil fashion. (Oh, yes, Voldemort had heard about that incident.)

Malfoy's brain had apparently remembered what it was supposed to be doing. 'Ten points from Gryffindor, Weaslette,' he ordered, puffing out his chest and glowering at her. Apparently, he thought that a large enough show of arrogance would make people forget that he wasn't allowed to take any points, and that the term hadn't officially started, anyway.

'Come on, for laughing?' protested Ron, grimacing in disgust. Someone in the crowd twittered, and Malfoy flushed. He was completely furious. Ron was sure they'd pay for this, with the Slytherin's usual vindictive style, over the entirety of the school year.

'That'll be ten more, for arguing with a prefect,' he said officiously.

Harry snorted in mildly-annoyed amusement. 'Don't make me laugh, Malfoy. How d'you plan on explaining the loss of those points to their head of house?' His manner was unquestionably patronising. And Malfoy unquestionably hated it.

He didn't get to respond, though, because Charlie had judged it time to intervene.

'Entertaining as this is, I'm going to have to ask you all to shut up.' He stopped for a moment, taking his eyes off of Harry for the first time since he'd arrived on the scene. 'Actually, if you'd all please continue to go about your business, that would be even better.'

There was a scattering of protest, particularly from those students whose parents had left already. No-one moved. The three adult Weasleys shot them all glares.

'You can't order us around,' a large woman reminded Charlie demurely. It was the same woman who'd spoken at Harry's memorial service, Madam Bones. Charlie's neck muscles, loosened slightly by the distracting verbal conflict with Malfoy, tightened again.

Smiling slightly, Harry interceded, 'Excuse me, Madam Bones. But I really think you ought to go along with his request.'

There was a slightly startled pause. Harry looked around and chuckled.

'I really think you ought to.'

Madam Bones stiffened. It was probably more a reaction to Harry's tone than his actual words, but either way Hermione felt certain that things were about to get ugly.

'Young man,' began the woman, in an unmistakable tone of authority, but stopped to stare at Harry. The green-eyed young man had just shaken his head and tsked.

'I hate to use force on good people,' he muttered, though he didn't appear to be directing the comment at any of them specifically. He sighed almost sadly. 'Very well then, if that's how you-- what was that?'

Ron and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks. Harry was looking over the pile of reporters, apparently listening to something. He stayed that way for several minutes, wand in his hand -- where had that come from? -- and attention raptly focused to his left. At first, for some reason they wouldn't have liked to admit, nobody had dared disturb him. A heavy, mostly uncomfortable silence had developed.

Then, Malfoy smirked. At last he seemed to have thought up something that Potter couldn't make everyone laugh at him for. 'Hearing things?' he suggested silkily, masking the sneer in his voice with surprising grace. 'There's nothing over there.'

Harry turned his head back. The outwardly pleasant smile with which he graced Malfoy would have sent chills down almost any spine but Voldemort's.

The Dark Lord was abruptly and secretly glad that the man was no longer looking at Ginny.

Harry sighed again, resignedly. The wand he'd been holding had disappeared again, but nobody would entirely trust themselves to say that it had gone. 'Oh well,' he muttered, as if he was expecting something horrible to happen. And then it did, and Harry had all his fun ruined.

There was a faint pop, which went mostly unheard by those in the crowd. However, everyone heard when Dumbledore spoke.

'Who are you?' demanded the Headmaster, approaching Harry through the crowd that hadn't noticed him arrive. 'What are you doing here?'

Harry smiled benignly. 'I'm Harry Potter. And I'm trying to get to school.'

'Very well. Mr. Potter,' said Dumbledore, accepting with very little fuss that it was indeed Harry Potter. 'If you'd come with me, please.' He held out one of his old, wrinkled hands. With a sidelong glance to his left once again, and a pointed look at Ginny, Harry took it.

A loud bang and a shower of sparks later, the two had disappeared.

There were a few minutes of confused, discordant silence, as everyone tried to figure out what to focus on, now that Harry was gone.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were dragged to the Express by the older Weasleys (and Tonks, who had reappeared with Dumbledore). They settled into a compartment with Neville and Luna, where they spent the entire train ride speculating on the sudden and disturbing appearance of the man who looked so much like Harry.

Ginny was silent; Voldemort was absorbed in considering the implications that Harry Potter could come back to life.

o.o.o.o

Harry hated the hospital wing. Yet he somehow always managed to end up there.

This was a new record, though; the very beginning of term and he was already confined to one of the beds in the place. Nevermind that he was perfectly healthy...

He exhaled grumpily and shot a glare at Madam Pomfrey's office, but of course she wasn't there. She was in the Great Hall.

If he really wanted to, he could sneak out, as everyone was up at the Welcoming Feast, but he had nowhere to go. He could hardly go join everyone in the Great Hall, and he didn't know the password to Gryffindor Tower.

Were he not being kept in the hospital wing against his will, he might actually have enjoyed being there. After all, to him, it felt like he'd been gone for six years. As opposed to the six days -- er, one month -- that everyone else thought. Madam Pomfrey must certainly have been getting tired of him.

Oh, he desperately, desperately wanted to see people. Well, people who weren't gawking at him and accusing him of not being the person that he knew he was.

Which, at the moment, essentially meant Cain. But Cain wasn't at Hogwarts yet, and wouldn't be until midday September 3rd. Harry had to wait.

Harry had recently learned how to wait, and patiently too, but he still didn't like it.

o.o.o.o

When Ron, Hermione and Ginny entered the Gryffindor common room, the first thing they noticed was the twenty-two year old Harry lounging on the nearest sofa, apparently waiting for them. As they appeared, his eyes narrowed and fastened on Ginny. One corner of his mouth twitched upward, making him look rather malicious.

'Well, there you are. Hello,' he called as they approached. He appeared to only be speaking to Ginny. 'Miss me? Glad to see me back?'

While Ron and Hermione were plainly shocked by this cold treatment of their friend, and of themselves, Ginny affect a very badly done hurt expression (foreign territory for Voldemort, admittedly), even managing a tiny lip-quiver. '... Harry?'

Smirking not at all pleasantly, Harry got to his feet. 'Oh, let's not play games, hm? We're hardly children.'

'Harry,' interrupted Ron, startled. His hand was on Ginny's shoulder, comfortingly. 'What do you think you're playing at?'

'I wouldn't touch her, if I were you,' murmured the man before them. 'It would be a very, very, surprisingly bad idea.'

'Harry, what's going on?' demanded Hermione, clutching at Ron's arm because she didn't trust herself to not break down without the physical contact. 'Why are you acting like this?'

'I'll tell you later,' he said, without moving his eyes. It was obvious to them that what he really meant was, Not in front of her. Given that Ginny had been more a part of their trio in the past month than Harry had, this understandably made Ron and Hermione somewhat angry.

'Oh, come off it,' snapped Ron, moving closer to Ginny. 'What can you say to us that you can't say to her?'

Harry shifted his eyes just slightly and stared at Ron levelly. 'How long have her eyes been red, then?'

'Wha--' Hermione gasped, staring. Ginny had taken an angry step forward at Harry's words, and was glaring menacingly.

Harry looked remarkably smug. 'Oh, you mean you hadn't noticed?'

'Shut up, boy,' the red-haired girl hissed. Her lip was curled back in a sneer that her brother and his unofficial girlfriend wouldn't have supposed her capable of.

'Do you really expect me to listen to you?' inquired Harry almost casually. He looked for all the world as if he was having a conversation with no-one but an ordinary Ginny.

'You don't know who you're playing with, Potter.'

'No, you don't know who you're playing with,' Harry retorted. His eyes went cold and he got right up in Ginny's face. 'Leave, Tom.'

For a brief moment, Ginny's eyes glowed bright red, then they rolled back so only the whites were visible. She began convulsing, hissing angry things that weren't English. She bared her teeth, though she obviously could not see him, right at Harry.

'Ha-- what's happening to her?' Ron demanded, taking an involuntary step back. His voice was breathy and quick with shock. Beside him, Hermione'd gone pale and trembly. 'What did you do?'

Harry didn't answer. He grabbed Ginny's arms and forced her torso away, causing her spine to bend at an angle which looked decidedly unnatural. Voldemort spat out something that was probably a curse in Parseltongue.

'Tom,' repeated Harry, his tone impatient and startlingly angry. He tilted his head far to the side, like he was trying to get a better look at the monster within Ginny. 'Leave.'

With a last, all-mighty shake that should have snapped Ginny's neck, Voldemort was forced out. Her body went still, and her eyes rolled back down. She stared with them, unfocused, straight ahead. They started to water. She began shaking again, only this time not with the struggle to exorcise an unnatural being.

'H...Har...?' she gasped weakly. She couldn't manage anything else; her eyes slipped closed and she slid forward as her knees gave out. Though he'd been holding her arms, Harry still barely managed to catch her in such a way that he could actually support her weight.

Ginny's head lolled back, but it was apparent that she'd simply passed out.

As Harry eased her over to the sofa he'd been sitting on, Ron and Hermione approached them cautiously. Hermione was still trembling, clutching Ron's hand. Ron himself was greenish beneath his freckles.

Carefully, Harry pulled his arms from under Ginny's body and stepped away. There was a vaguely disgusted expression on his face as he watched her body settle in.

'What did you?' asked Hermione. She'd started looking around and was astounded to realise that no-one else in the common room had reacted at all to the incident. In fact, it seemed as if they'd not even noticed it taking place.

Ron was staring at Ginny, his forehead creased with obvious concern. 'Is she all right?'

'She's fine,' Harry assured them, but even his tone carried trace amounts of disgust. 'Her body's just gone into shock, that's all; it's not used to being under its own control anymore.'

He frowned down at the prone 5th year on the scarlet cushions. Then he turned his back on her, to face Ron and Hermione. His frown got deeper as he looked at them, observing the hand-holding and how very close together they were standing.

He did not look happy.

'You know, given how strong a reaction this is, I'd have to say that Voldemort'd probably had complete control over her for well more a week,' he said conversationally, despite the way he was looking down his nose at the two. He paused, then added, 'I wouldn't have thought a 70-something, nefarious and intrinsically evil spirit could so believably counterfeit the personality of a 15 year old girl.'

Ron noticed the rebuke without being told to look for it. Stung, he blurted without thinking, 'We've had a lot on our minds, all right?'

'And that justifies not noticing that your only sister had been possessed -- again -- by Voldemort?' Harry retorted scathingly. He scoffed, dismissing the paltry excuse. 'Oh, good show, Ron.'

Hermione, feeling guilty and very close to tears, stepped in before the two could start their row in earnest. She wanted some answers -- and besides, Ron would already be feeling badly enough about this, without Harry adding to his guilt.

'Harry,' she said forcefully, drawing his gaze. 'Shouldn't people have started rushing over for explanations by now? Why... why hasn't anyone paid any attention to this?'

Harry looked at her for a second. It seemed he was wondering why she'd needed to ask such a revoltingly simple question. Then he shrugged, utterly unconcerned. 'Just a little notice-me-not field around the general area of this sofa,' he muttered, as if he was suggesting that she should have realised that by now.

Her mouth falling open in disbelief, Hermione shook her head. She aborted the motion in favour of staring at Harry.

'Nonsense,' she whispered, a slight edge to her voice. 'A spell of that kind, strong enough to prevent people from noticing the expenditure of as much magical energy as your battle of minds with Voldemort took, would have to be...'

She trailed off. Ron blinked.

'... Wickedly powerful,' he finished for her, drawing her closer to his side. He looked around for himself, and quite clearly, nobody had noticed anything amiss. 'Blimey.'

There was an awed light in Hermione's eyes. 'Harry--'

'I don't want to talk about it right now,' the black-haired man cut her off. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ginny was still breathing, then waved two fingers at the sofa in a gesture of clear dismissal.

A ripple of invisible magic passed through the room, and the noise from the rest of the common room went up an almost imperceptible notch. Also, people began glancing curiously at the small group.

'You guys are probably ridiculously tired,' remarked Harry, not at all concerned that he'd just done casual wandless magic. 'You should probably get some sleep.'

'But--' insisted Ron, who seemed bemused by this turn of events.

'We'll talk in the morning, okay?'

Harry sidestepped them smoothly and was out the portrait hole before they could stop him.