A/N: Yay! I'm going to a Potter party, then I'm going to pick up my copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince today. I'm all a-twiddle!

Half-Blood Prince Disclaimer: I'm not sure who I am, but I'll let you know when JK Rowling tells me. She's in charge after all.

Chapter Two –

The Portkey

Harry was flying on his broomstick, and his broom's tail was flaming green and letting off purple trails of smoke.

A huge serpent flew by, clutching the black shaft of a twisted and mangled broom. The snake hissed something unintelligible at Harry, but was cut off mid-sentence when Sirius flew in and batted a bludger at it. The bludger smashed the handle of the broom. (Good riddance, thought Harry) Unfortunately, the bludger immediately rebounded in his direction, smashing the handle of his own as well. He heard Sirius scream and gasp his name. He felt weightless, and out of control, plummeting a few feet, only to be caught by the shoulders and lifted back up in the talons of a beautiful golden phoenix.

This time the feeling of weightlessness had a measure of ease and control to it, and Harry laughed with the relief and delight of it. It was wonderful.

The phoenix slowly lowered him to the ground, where Sirius already stood waiting for him. He handed Harry a flower with his right hand, and a silver sword with his left. "He went that way." He instructed, pointing, and his godfather changed into a big shaggy black dog and disappeared. The phoenix also gave one last affectionate battle cry and vanished into the mist.

Harry tucked the flower into his lapel, hefted the sword, and went into the mists, searching for the snake.

"Harry?"

"Mmmmph." Harry mumbled.

"Harry, wake up. It's over."

"Wha?" his tongue felt heavy, and he was pulled carefully into a sitting position. "Hmmm? Remus?" he asked.

"Nice to hear you speaking with your own voice again." He heard Remus laugh, and he forced his eyes open to look at his guardian.

Remus was sitting beside his bed, half holding him up. Harry smiled. "Hey, Remus," he muttered. "What happened?"

Remus laughed and blushed, letting go of Harry's arm now that he looked strong enough to sit up on his own. "Your agoramorphosis happened," he answered, looking a little uncomfortable.

Harry's brain started to kick in a little, and his eyes widened. "D'I kill anyone?" he asked carefully, trying to get his glasses-free eyes to adjust to the sudden excess of blurry light.

"No, but I came pretty close to being murdered when Madam Pomfrey heard what I'd done."

"Er…" Harry felt a bit woozy, and he didn't want to think up any sort of response to that. As far as he could tell, there was a much longer explanation coming.

"Apparently you're not supposed to stun someone who is going through a powerful magical change of that sort."

"Er…" said Harry again, "why not?"

"Because it renders the morphing person unconscious, but not their magic. The person who is going through the change sometimes has quite a bit of that magic well under their control while they are awake, and they have to let it go completely wild when they are stunned. Apparently I should have only allowed you to consume appropriate magic inhibiting or anaesthetic potions. Above all, I should not have hit you with a stunner." It sounded as if Remus was quoting Madam Pomfrey, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I feel the need to apologize. I'm afraid the wizarding world tends to keep these sort of rules quiet."

"You're telling me. What happened?"

"Well… The house sort of… caught fire."

"No!" Harry nearly leapt to his feet, feeling incredibly guilty that he'd actually wanted that to happen for a few seconds. "Real fire? Did it actually burn? What happened to everyone-"

"Everyone is fine. I cast a flame freezing charm, and was able to get the Dursleys out in time for the fire brigade to arrive. The Dursley's front hall is a bit of a mess, but it's all right. Young mister Polkiss had a few small burns, but I set them to right before anyone saw him or he woke up. The muggles thought he'd just inhaled too much smoke. I got everyone out quickly by levitation, and I sent you here through Mrs. Figg's fireplace. Mrs. Figg's house had to quietly have a few repairs done too by the way, but it was nothing the magical reversal squad couldn't handle.

Oh, and don't worry about the Dursleys front hallway. The muggles think that the fire started in a faulty electric wire in the cupboard underneath the stairs."

"Er…" Harry said again. "Why did I-"

"Mister Potter! Good to see you awake at last!"

He saw madam Pomfrey, the school nurse come bustling at him, clutching a bottle of potion and it was only then that he realized where he actually was. He was at Hogwarts in the school infirmary. The thought made him feel very comfortable, since he'd always thought of Hogwarts as his home. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here during the summer, so he wondered how it had been arranged.

Harry patted the nightstand beside the bed. "Where are my glasses?"

Madam Pomfrey put his hand to her apron pocket, but didn't reach in. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to hang on to these for a few more hours yet. Just until we can be sure you won't blow anything up. Wouldn't do to have you blast tiny shards of glass into your eyes or something. Just wait a moment for precaution's sake."

"Okay." Harry refrained from reminding her that he'd been wearing them before, and if they hadn't broken by now, then they were probably safe. He knew from experience not to argue with madam Pomfrey. She would probably make him stay longer just to spite him.

"Drink this down now, that's a good lad. I've got three more of these to give you. You'll only be another fifteen minutes, then you can head off. To rest!" she emphasized the last word with a poke of her finger, then once he'd drained it, she thrust a second cup of the same potion at him and sauntered back into her office.

"Why did you bring me here and not St. Mungos?" Harry asked Remus.

"I realized that the Death-Eaters might be searching St. Mungo's for you after seeing the fire at Privet Drive. They like to keep tabs on you, and I didn't want to put you in that sort of danger. Here, at least it's relatively safe. I had to call Poppy away from her vacation, but I don't think she minds for you."

"Right." Harry responded. "Good thinking." He had heard the sort of emphasis Remus had put on the words 'relatively safe', and tried not to think about it.

Last year, the Headmaster of the school, a teacher and a few students had been killed when the school was breached by Voldemort and his Death-Eater supporters. It had all happened only a floor below where he now sat. The wards had been reinforced and altered since then, but the school was still far from adequately protected.

Ever since the second dark war had broken out in earnest over a year ago, people close to Harry had been dying. It was terrible for him, and he missed them all horribly, but often they felt like just another tragic series of events in Harry's nothing-but-tragic life. He was no longer prone to blame throwing, namely at himself, but it did not lessen the pain of their loss any. The most disquieting aspect of it was that since Sirius' death, he hadn't actually cried for anyone. There was only so many ways that he could react to the losses, and he'd become quite familiar with silently coping.

"What day is it?" Harry asked cautiously. "How long did it last?"

"July the thirtieth. Your agoramorphosis lasted about eight days."

"Really?" Harry was stunned. Not many people in the wizarding world liked to talk of it, but Harry knew the 'normal' amount of time to be somewhere around five days or less. Now that he analyzed it, he might have even been feeling the effects for a good couple of weeks before it had really started in earnest. It certainly explained all the blown light bulbs and the micro.

"Do you know why I… er…" Harry pointed generally at his mouth, unsure of how to explain his question without sounding silly.

"Barked like a dog? Crowed like a phoenix? All of that?" Remus asked, smiling nervously. "I've an idea, but only you can tell me if I'm correct. To be honest, I've never heard of anyone having quite the reaction you've had, but then again, you are rather unique, and of course, everyone's agoramorphosis is supposed to be different. It's sort of when your magic decides to bare itself."

"Go on then." Harry encouraged. "what's your theory?

"When a wizard dies, Harry, they sometimes leave bits of themselves behind as memory. We don't often realize what we are doing, but even our subconscious may tell us very convincing truths without our understanding. Most of those animals, you've built associations from them to people who have died. I think you just really missed them, and your magic wanted to reveal that in some tangible way."

"So you believe that my magic was… er… honouring them… subconsciously?"

Remus nodded. "That is what I think, yes."

Harry held out the palms of his hands, and cupped them the way they had while holding the flower. He could feel the thrum of its roots still embedded into his bones, and he smiled, remembering the feel of it. He did indeed feel quite happy with his magic now.

Harry jumped when the flower flashed into existence once again. It was a bit like accidental magic, but with a certain element of control. He wondered if he'd be getting in trouble for this, or if the ministry of magic was too busy to bother with him today. This time the plant was made up of the same finely crackling blue and green lightning, not fire. At the appearance of the flower, Remus leapt up and away, knocking over his chair in alarm.

"Hmmm… Maybe…" Harry said, as if he were not performing the magic at all. "I think there might be more to it than that. I definitely wouldn't honour Voldemort. The parseltongue must have been something to do with him." Harry told him distractedly. He concentrated on the flower, not really sure of what he was trying to accomplish with it, and watched curiously as it solidified. The three crackling blue and green petals turned a dark velvety red, and the stem went a solid pale green. He released the stem from its still lightning shaped roots, and pulled his hands away, watching the very real flower that was floating and rotating in the air before him.

He touched it hesitantly, and grasped the stem, feeling the flower come to rest comfortably in his hand.

"It's… It's a lily." Remus whispered.

"Yeah." Harry said, putting the flower close to his nose. It smelled sweet, and vaguely… nostalgic.

"How do you feel?" Remus asked, sitting carefully in his chair once more.

"Pretty good actually." Harry told him, placing the lily on the table by his bedside. "A little woozy still, but sort of like I do when I first wake up. I just feel… I don't know… Hermione said she felt more connected somehow. It's just…I'm not really…" Harry trailed off a bit, not quite sure how to explain it. "I feel strong." He finally muttered, but he knew it was an inadequate description. "Just…"

"I know what you mean." Remus told him, looking like he did in fact understand completely. Remus must have gone through this as well.

Harry was grateful. "You don't mind talking about it?"

Remus shook his head, looking a little uncertain. "Not with you right now, at any rate. I'm just glad I don't have to explain the whole thing to you like I did your father."

Harry laughed. "You had to explain the whole thing to my dad?"

"Yes, I was seventeen. Sirius and he had decided to fly off together on a bit of a jaunt into the forbidden forest. I still don't know why, but when they got back, Sirius was pretty much dragging James and his broomstick, and you could see a little line of trees burning in their wake. Sirius didn't know what was happening either, and they were terrified. I'd already had mine that summer, so I sort of explained it to them. None of us ever had to be sedated, but all three of us had to take potions to help control the various magical outbursts. I ended up having to be secluded though, werewolf and all that."

"My dad set the forbidden forest on fire?" Harry asked, laughing.

"He also blew up a bludger at one point when it came at him while he was playing quidditch."

Harry snorted. "Must've been a good game then."

"Nope, unfortunately it was just a practice, but it ended up being funny anyhow. Some of the shrapnel bits got lodged in Samuel Kenney's… er… posterior. He was captain of the team at the time. A beater."

Harry was laughing quite hard by the end of Remus' explanation, and he felt himself sort of sink back into normal. Or at least, as normal as his life had ever been. He sighed contentedly, and settled deeper into his pillows.

They just smiled at each other for a moment, and Remus ruffled his fingers in Harry's hair in a surprisingly paternal fashion. Harry felt giddy and warm for the first time in months.

"So, how have you been? Other than all of this…"

Harry shrugged. "Same old. Dudley's a great prat, but… you know…I'm alive." He smiled weakly, and Remus understood. Harry had always been the sort of person for whom survival had never really been enough. He would much rather have been with his friends at a time like this. However, there were dangers in the wizarding world these days that made anything beyond simple survival a difficult prospect. He was technically the safest when he was living with his aunt. His mother's blood having protective forces and all of that unfortunate rot.

"Are all my things okay?" Harry asked nervously, hoping that his aunt hadn't followed through with her unspeakable threat to break his beloved broomstick.

"Yeah, Fawkes and I went over and pick everything up right away. Everything's safe."

"Fawkes went to Privet Drive?" Harry asked in amusement. "On your orders?"

Remus blushed slightly. "He's an independent bird, Harry. He doesn't really take orders."

"Yeah, I know, but he did as you asked?"

"Well, yes. I guess he's decided I need him as a companion. Hagrid tells me that phoenixes are light magic seekers. They choose their new human companion based on their loyalty to their previous companion. They don't usually like werewolves, but perhaps that's just because most other werewolves have sort of… questionable… loyalties." He seemed embarrassed. Both due to the untrusting nature of his kind, but also from the apparent revelation that he was someone actually worthy of a phoenix' company.

Harry smiled. "I'm glad he's chosen you then."

Remus grinned "I'm honoured, to put it mildly. He's a beautiful creature."

Harry had a question that he wasn't sure he should be asking, but it had been scrabbling at the edges of his brain all summer. He hadn't felt comfortable discussing anything in front of Mrs. Figg, so whenever Remus had come for tutoring, they'd stuck to mundane subjects. Mostly they'd just gone straight to defense practice.

Besides which, Mrs. Figg's house wasn't exactly a safe haven. Anyone could have been listening. The wards there were less solid than at the Dursleys. "How is everyone doing without… er… Is the Order coping?"

Remus' smile faded. "It's hit us pretty hard, Harry. No one knows who to trust anymore. None of us have any way of deciding who to admit and who to evict, where to look, and what sort of provisions we'll need. It's chaotic. We've missed having a good leadership. Moody and Shacklebolt have taken over as co-presidents, but we've discovered that they can't really agree with each other about anything. We've had to change all of the warding for the majority of our safe-houses, and that's taken up most of our time. They couldn't really decide which houses to save, and which houses to let go of."

"Grimmauld Place?"

"That one was the first one to be dealt with, but in the meantime, we lost one other place to an attack while it was vulnerable. Dumbledore had been the secret keeper or the ward watcher for many of the places, and now that he's gone, we need to find people who are willing to take over the jobs. Not too many are willing. It's quite a dangerous position to be in."

"Ward watcher?" Harry asked, confused.

"Just someone whose power holds the wards stable, and regulates the amount of magic." Remus answered. "Some of the funny instruments in his office showed him what has happened in some of the places he wards. He could check up on his houses regularly by looking at the instruments."

Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He'd smashed a lot of Dumbledore's funny whirring instruments once when he was mad, and Dumbledore had just sat there waiting for him to finish.

He must have ruined many of the wards the headmaster had carefully built up for his safe houses. Harry fervently hoped that no one had suffered for his mistake that day. He'd apologized afterwards, and Dumbledore had accepted the apology, and told him that they had all been repaired. Harry felt even more guilty now that he knew the importance of what he had broken. What an idiot he had been.

"Professor Dumbledore did all that?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

"He did, and more. Without him, we're pretty well lost. Headquarters is mayhem these days. Professor McGonagall has done what she can, but she's not quite as erm… flexible with her power as Albus was. The Death-Eaters know this, and have been taking advantage of the situation. We've recruited like crazy, but we've already lost six of those recruits since the beginning of July."

Harry's heart sank.

He missed the Headmaster's guidance in these moments more than anything. He'd already realized how much professor Dumbledore had done for him, but he'd forgotten simply how wise and powerful the old sorcerer had been, and how often Harry's happiness seemed to revolve around his approval and his guidance. He'd once been called Albus Dumbledore's apprentice, but Harry knew the bond had been far stronger than that. It had been like grandfather and grandson, and he missed the old wizard terribly.

Sure, Albus Dumbledore had made his mistakes. Since he'd been not only headmaster of Hogwarts and a few other very notable titles, he'd also been the head of a very secret organization called 'The Order of the Phoenix', and had sometimes been responsible for many tragic losses and great gains. One particularly grievous mistake of his had sent Harry into a whirling anger, hence smashing all of the warding instruments in his office.

For the past hundred and fifty years, Dumbledore had been silently behind nearly everything of import in wizarding society. He'd had fingers in what seemed like every pie, but was very quiet about it. He always looked like he was in control from a distance.

He'd been a hands-off sort of manipulator and Harry had often hated him for it.

The longer Harry knew him, the more Harry came to learn that Dumbledore had been in charge of almost every part of Harry's life; from the home where he and his parents had hidden from Voldemort, to his life with the Dursleys when the aforementioned hiding place was fatally revealed by Wormtail the traitor.

Dumbledore, being headmaster of his school, kept track of his education; how much he learned, which people he met, and which clothes he wore. Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore had actually kept track of what foods he ate, or didn't, as the case often was when living with the Dursleys during the summers. He'd seemed to know everything, and yet keep himself separate enough to not seem as if he was spying. Silently, Harry had been more frustrated in discovering that the wizard had known all about his home life, and done nothing to resolve it.

Despite the headmaster's meddlesome attitude about his life, Harry had understood quite plainly that Dumbledore was one of the few adults that he could really trust, even though the trust had walked a fine line.

"So, are you excited?" Remus broke through his thoughts, changing the subject.

"Hmmm? About what?"

Remus looked like he wanted to chastise Harry, but thought better of it. "About tomorrow."

Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow? Harry thought, then it clicked. If today was July thirtieth, then tomorrow was his birthday.

Harry's expression went immediately from confused to jubilant.

"It's going to be great!"

Anyone else would have been thinking of how many presents they would be getting, how many people would be coming to their party, or how large the cake would have to be to hold so many candles.

Harry was thinking about the ministry, and how he and five of his best friends would be going there for animagus and apparition testing. After that, if they were successful in their apparition tests, he, Ron and Hermione were going to meet with the head of the Auror division to begin secret Auror training. The orientation was supposed to last all day, but Harry didn't mind. He had only ever had one actual birthday party, so he wasn't really all that disappointed that he'd have to miss another one.

"You know the animagus test won't mean as much as we had hoped." Remus said quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I know, I'll already be seventeen by the time you're allowed to be my guardian, but it doesn't matter. I've never really had a proper guardian, so we can pretend. It's just too bad Fudge had to wait this long to set up the test. Even a few months with you as my proper guardian would have been nice. I really hate the fact that they wouldn't let me be your charge unless I became an animagus. Bureaucracy really stinks sometimes."

Remus huffed in agreement. "You're telling me. I'm the one who can't get a job because of it."

"Hermione was right about the treatment of werewolves. It's really horrible."

"So is everything else the ministry does these days." Remus commented. "I don't mind pretending if you don't."

Harry smiled ruefully. It was just his luck that they would let him have a real father only once it was too late.

"Fudge should be out of office soon, so hopefully all of this can stop once we have a new minister."

"Preferably one on our side." Harry said, scowling.

Remus looked to be considering the comment. "You know, that's not a bad idea."

"Huh? What's not?"

"We should try and push the election –totally aboveboard of course, so that someone from the order is chosen as a candidate to go against Fudge. It might set us up in the right way."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "And who would that be? I see few likely candidates."

"Well… It'd have to be someone with connections. Meaning they'd need to already have a job in the ministry."

"Yeah. It'd be difficult for everyone to accept someone if they didn't have the basic bureaucratic experience."

Remus nodded. "That gives us… six possible candidates." He counted them off on his fingers. "Arthur, Kingsley, Tonks, Percy, Madam Bones, and what's-her-name, that quiet lady from the international magical secrecy bureau."

"Isn't Dung a janitor there too?" Harry asked innocently.

Remus looked suddenly horrified. "Could you imagine Mundungus Fletcher as Minister of Magic! The ministry wouldn't hold up even a week against Voldemort!"

"Well, at least he'd get the sleazy drunkards' vote."

"I think we'd be better off with Arthur." Remus insisted.

Harry shook his head. "You can put it to him, but I'm certain he'd never take the job. He's too happy where he is."

"In the 'misusing' muggle artifacts division?"

Harry laughed. It was well known that even though Arthur Weasley was in charge of making sure muggle artifacts didn't get hexed or charmed, it was in fact he who was the one most often hexing and charming muggle items. "Don't let anyone catch you calling it that." Harry insisted.

"I won't." Remus promised.

"It was bad enough that Ron and I crashed his flying car in second year. He doesn't need any more trouble from his boss."

"I'd heard about that…" Remus trailed off as the school matron came bustling back into the room.

Madam Pomfrey ran her wand around him once and handed Harry two bottles of potion. "These are your last two, then you can head home."

He drank the potions, then reached out for the pile of Dudley's old cast offs. He noticed that not only were the rags cleaned and pressed, but the pair of flamboyantly mismatched socks were delicately laid across everything, showing off the knitted pictures of a snitch and a dragon as if they were on display.

"Tell Dobby 'thanks' for cleaning my clothes!" Harry called to the retreating matron.

"How did you know it was him?" Madam Pomfrey looked worried for a second. No one knew, of course, which magical advances Harry might display for the next few days. She looked as if she were afraid that omniscience might be one of them.

Harry smiled, holding up his socks. "Just a hunch. I think it's to do with the socks. He's got a fetish." Dobby the house-elf had actually made these socks for him a few years ago. He must have been very pleased to note that Harry was wearing them when he was brought in. No need to tell the elf that they were practically his last pair without gaping holes in the toes.

"Right." Remus said, helping Harry stand up. "We've got to get you home quickly."

"Er…" Harry realized suddenly that he wasn't quite sure where 'home' was. "Am I supposed to go back to the Dursleys?" he asked Remus, trying to make the question sound innocent. He grabbed the clothes and began to dress.

"No, you'll be coming straight to headquarters with me."

Harry's heart leapt, and he stopped abruptly in the middle of putting on Dudley's old tee shirt, so his eyes were gaping in wonder out the slitted neck hole. "So… Is that it then? Do I ever have to go back?" he muffled.

"No, I don't believe you do."

Harry gulped, and dragged Dudley's grey shirt off his head once more, staring at it. "Are there any robes around here that I can use then?"

Remus looked at him, astonished. "Why? Those clothes are perfectly good."

Harry held the billowing fabric between pinched fingers as though it were insulting. It might be good enough, as in it hadn't yet been patched or frayed, but there was more to it than that. "I'm never going back to the muggles." He explained to Remus. "I'll always be a part of the wizarding world now. I don't hate muggles, but I don't want to be reminded…" he trailed off.

"Maybe we can head in to Diagon Alley early tomorrow morning, and get you a few things. We'll take a bit of time tomorrow night, and celebrate by burning these." He plucked disgustedly at Harry's loose fitting tee-shirt. He must have known from Harry's expression that it had once belonged to Dudley.

Harry felt like laughing and crying all at once.

"For now, you need to get home and rest."

Harry nodded, and swept the tee shirt over his head for what he swore would be only the second from last time.

"Harry!"

He heard the excited feminine squeal, saw a flash of fiery red, and felt a weight slam into him. The sudden impact propelled him backwards a few steps, and Remus placed a comforting hand out to stop him flying back down the front stoop of number twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

"Hey, Ginny." Harry grunted, and pushed her away a little to get a good look at her.

He felt as if he actually had gone tumbling down the steps, and he suspected that he looked it too.

Ginny Weasley was absolutely gorgeous. Her eyes were twinkling with excitement, and her face was flushed from running to greet him.

To greet him.

He'd written to her a few times earlier that summer; once to only remind her that she shouldn't even try her animagus form, since he'd discovered that the underage magic detectors and Mafalda Hopkirk, who was in charge of monitoring them, could still sense the underage wandless magic. He got the feeling from what minister Fudge had said to him last year, that they couldn't tell what sort of magic it was, and that it was almost on the edge of accidental, since it was wandless, but he didn't want her to risk it either way. The other letters to her had been more open and friendly, once she had written back, berating him for trying to coddle her. She said she was going to hex him if he tried to turn into another brother. She said she had enough of those already.

Since being her brother was quite possibly the last thing he wanted, he decided to humour her. It was just like Ginny Weasley to threaten someone if she didn't get her way the first time.

And now she was standing in front of him, looking decidedly yummier than he'd expected.

And she'd just hugged him.

He stood and stared at her for a moment while Remus shuffled his things past him and into the entryway, before his brain slowly chugged into gear again. "Er… It's nice to see you." 'Nice to see you' indeed. He thought, wondering how on earth he'd suddenly become so perverted.

"You too, Harry! We heard you were ill? What happened? Are you all right?"

Harry let himself be led into the front hallway by the powerful redhead.

"Yeah, it was my agoramorphosis." Harry told her nonchalantly.

"Eeep!" Ginny squeaked, bringing her hand to her mouth in surprise. Her lovely pale skin turned a bright shade of tomato to match her hair. It was only then that Harry remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk about that sort of thing in polite society.

He sighed, "Oh, come off it, Gin. It's not something to be feared! Don't allow this to become some sort of 'occasion-that-should-not-be-named.' It's not like the agoramorphosis is as bad as Voldemort you know!"

"Eep!" Ginny squeaked again, and Harry wasn't sure if she was squeaking because of the word 'agoramorphosis' or the name 'Voldemort', since the Dark Lord's name was often the subject of many a gasp.

Ginny caught herself, and took a deep breath, looking carefully everywhere except at Harry. "I know the ago… agoramorphosis isn't anything like that. You're right." She looked suddenly very proud of herself for actually saying the word out loud, and she looked defiantly into Harry's eyes. "Yes, you're entirely right. I'm not going to be afraid of it."

"Good." Harry nodded, smiling broadly, pleased that she hadn't seemed to notice the name of the darkest wizard in a thousand years. He hadn't really thought she was afraid of Voldemort's name anyhow. So many witches and wizards were, but Ginny Weasley was not one of them.

"I'm going out." Remus said going past them again, towards the door. "I suspect there's something available in the kitchen if you're hungry. I promised Elphias I'd go and check something out at his store tonight. Get some rest, Harry."

"All right." Harry mumbled. "See you later."

"Hey, Mate!" a slightly detached looking Ron Weasley greeted him as he sauntered casually down the steps. "I didn't know it was you coming in. Where've you been all this week? They told us you were ill, and that you had to be taken somewhere for treatment. What happened?" Ron sounded as if he were trying his best to be enthusiastic or worried, but couldn't work up the energy. He looked even a bit ill himself, or as if he had just woken up.

Harry's mouth quirked to the side at his best friend's question though, and he resigned himself to listening to the squeaks and gasps of alarm when he mentioned the nature of his 'illness'.

Indeed, Ron did turn embarrassingly red, but not all of his rouge was from his own embarrassment. Apparently he had some sense of decorum when it came to his sister. "Harry! What… But… Ginny's here!" he sputtered, looking desperately as if he wanted to cover her ears.

"Yes, and I've already told her."

Ron rolled his eyes, looking scandalized. "I should have known you'd do something like that."

"So where's Hermione?" Harry asked. "Is she staying with her folks? Does she have enough protection?"

Ron's momentary smile vanished, and his face went white as a sheet.

"What? Nothing's happened to her, has it? Oh god, No! What's happened? Is she all right?" Harry started to panic, knowing that of all people besides himself, Hermione was one of the next most targeted people on Voldemort's hit list. She was a muggleborn, and Voldemort had spent most of his life trying to kill off people like her. The fact that she was one of Harry's friends made her death all that much more tempting for him.

Ron shook his head, still not looking all that pleased. "She's all right, nothing's happened. Well, nothing like that, anyhow."

"What is it?" Harry asked, hoping Ron wasn't going to avoid the question.

The two redheads were silent for a second, and Ron didn't look like he wanted to talk.

"Hermione's parents found out." Ginny finally mumbled.

"Huh?" Harry asked, at a complete loss to what she meant by those words.

"Hermione's parents. They found out about her involvement in the war." Ginny continued. "I guess you didn't notice how quiet she's always gotten whenever her parents ask about it. They knew that the wizarding world was at war, but she's never really told them everything. They didn't know she had gotten herself onto the list. They didn't even know that this place was a Headquarters for an order of fighters. Hermione told them that it was a safe house; a sort of wizarding community centre for displaced people. They said that if she's living with fighters and dangerous folks like us, then she's nothing but a warmonger."

"They found out about Hogsmeade." Ron added, holding up a piece of parchment. "It's all in this letter. I only got it from her an hour ago. They didn't know she'd been there when the fight started. They didn't know how much she's made herself a target. We think my parents might have told them something, not realizing that they were giving the whole thing away."

"Oh no." Harry mumbled, remembering the stress of the moment that Voldemort's Death-Eaters had blown the front door in at the Three Broomsticks pub. Hermione hadn't really been a part of the battle, but she'd still been there just as the Death-Eaters had arrived, and she'd definitely played an important role in relaying the message to the rest of the Order.

"They also know about everything that happened in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry's composure withered before their eyes. That had likely been the day that he and his friends had brought the most attention to themselves, eventually making the Death-Eaters go after each of them, and Hermione in particular had had a harrowing experience the summer before. Ron's brother had been tortured, and Hermione and her family had been attacked. Harry had the suspicion that Hermione had only told them the bare essentials about why they'd been targeted. "They wouldn't have taken that well at all would they?" Harry shuddered. "What did they do?"

"Well," Ginny explained, "It was more the fact that she'd been lying to them about it. They weren't happy that she'd been telling all of those half truths."

"You can't blame her for it really," Ron interjected. "I probably would've done the same."

"But Ron, they're her parents!" Ginny burst out. "She can't lie to them!"

"And they're also Muggles!" Ron spat in return. "She can't just go telling them everything!"

"Muggle or not," Harry interjected, noticing that a sibling argument was bound to crop up, "Hermione knows things about the war that most people shouldn't. She knows things that other wizards don't even know. People who are not a part of the Order are not privy to Order secrets. Yes, she probably should have been a little more forthright, but she's still got to be a careful about what she says sometimes, or-"

"They won't let her come back." Ron's words ground Harry's arguments to a stop.

"They what?"

"They won't let her come back to Hogwarts this year. They say being a witch is too dangerous for her. They're sending her to the local comprehensive."

Harry looked back at Ron, feeling alarmed, and slightly faint. "But…" He noticed that Ron seemed to be having difficulty holding in tears. "But she's brilliant at magic!"

"She wrote to me just now, saying I couldn't try and contact her anymore, and that she wouldn't be back at Hogwarts. She said it was for the best."

"What would possess them to think that their denial will be enough to keep her away from it? That's a bit gullible for them to believe that sort of thing, isn't it? She's stronger than that."

Ron brightened slightly at that. "You're right!"

"She's too smart to let their disdain slow her down, Ron. She'll be there, don't you worry."

Ron darkened again. "But what about tomorrow? What about the training? She won't be able to join us! She'll be trapped! Urgh! This is exactly what we always went through with YOU every year! I thought we'd be done with it today!"

Harry had to think about that one a bit. If her parents were against Hogwarts, there was no way they would let her train with the Aurors for the next month. "Come to think of it," he muttered, "why would her parents act so Dursleyish? They seemed very nice when we met them last Christmas. Mrs. Granger wouldn't leave your mum alone, she was thrilled to see all the sorts of things your mum could do with her wand. Why would she suddenly be so afraid of magic?"

"I dunno." Said Ron, looking frustrated.

"Are there any papers that need signing for any of you to do this Auror training thing?" Ginny piped up, changing the subject.

"I think so," Ron said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe just a few temporary things. Nothing substantial yet, I don't think. I don't think they've ever had to deal with an underaged witch signing on for it before."

"Well you need to find out. If there's nothing important, she could just sneak away and come to the ministry, couldn't she?"

"If her parents found out…" Harry shook his head.

"They'd have kittens about it." Ron agreed.

"Well, maybe we'll just have to help her with it a bit." Ginny said. "She's seventeen this September, so after that, she won't need to sneak out anymore. She'll be of age, and it'll be her choice of what to do."

"But what will we do until then?" Ron asked, looking bereft. "Her parents won't let her get any owl post without them reading it first. We can't find out what's going on at her end, and she won't know what we've been thinking over here. Ugh!" Ron stamped his foot in frustration. "This is just like trying to talk to you in the summers, and I hate it!"

Ginny grinned, looking as if she had just recalled something important. "Then we'll just have to go and see her, won't we?

"How?" Ron asked, looking disheartened.

"You're of age, and able to do magic aren't you, dear brother?" She asked, sounding a bit naughty. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound. He had a feeling he could get to appreciate Ginny's sense of adventure.

"Well duh, I've only been hexing you every chance I get." Ron said, shaking his head. He'd been seventeen since March. Ginny would only be turning sixteen in August.

"Fine, I'll only show you this if and only if you promise to stop with all of that. I'm not of age yet, so I can't defend myself from you."

Much to Harry's surprise, Ron bent himself to his knees, and put his clasped hands up under his sister's chin in pleading prayer. "Never again, I swear it."

"Right then, now that I have your word, there's a certain book upstairs that describes the making of and how to get around the ministry tracking of portkeys…"

"Brilliant!" Ron yelled, and raced away up the stairs. "C'mon Gin! Show me! We're going tonight!" he yelled over his shoulder.

After settling himself in, and heading to the library to join the youngest Weasleys, Harry realized that Grimmauld Place was quieter than Harry had ever seen it. All of the Weasleys other than Ginny and Ron had been spending a few days out at the Burrow, and Harry deeply regretted the fact that he wasn't able to visit. The Weasley house was always so much more inviting than Sirius' old house. What with so many people, and so much happening, it was usually easy for Harry to just feel like one of the family. Grimmauld Place more often than not, felt like a tomb.

Remus had gone off in search of Elphias Doge, who Ron said had apparently discovered a clever way to charm a wand holster, and was showing off all of its tricks to at least four other Order members this evening at his combat shop. Doge had promised to send one to both Ron and Ginny after they'd been tested properly.

So it seemed that now Harry, Ron and Ginny were alone in the house.

The gloomy atmosphere of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters was difficult to quench, even beneath multiple layers of fresh paint. Fresh carpets had replaced the old mouldy ones, and most of the dark artifacts from the reign of Sirius' mother were long since gone, but the house still felt barren, as if Sirius had never really lived there at all. No pictures adorned the walls other than those few whose wandering subjects were trustworthy, and might have access to other useful places. Very few times had Harry been in a place that looked so forlorn.

Grimmauld place was a spot people came to fight, so it almost seemed useless to pretend that sometimes this was not the last place some of them ever saw. Its previous owner, Sirius Black, had died just after leaving these rooms, and so had four or five others, who had committed themselves to the war cause.

Harry hated this house. Too bad for him, since his godfather had left the horrid place to him in his will. He had the feeling that the house would never really feel as if it belonged to him.

Ron and Ginny were only here today because they were in danger, and Grimmauld Place had certain enchantments in place that made it more secure than most other wizarding homes. The Burrow had apparently been charmed up too, but number twelve Grimmauld Place was hidden underneath centuries of security alarms and decade old safety charms. It was so old that a lot of the charms hiding the house were quite obscure, and not so easily broken as modern charms.

Harry realized that the fidelius charm must have been replaced. The charm required a trustworthy person to keep the secret of where the house was hidden. Only that one person could reveal the secret if they so chose, and Professor Dumbledore had been that person before. Now, Harry realized it was likely Remus who was the new secret keeper, since Harry would never have even been able to see the house if he weren't.

The three of them spent the evening in the old library, studying the charm to create a portkey. A few of the books seemed to have gone missing, since they had obviously been dark arts books, but the rest although they could be a little dangerous, were still sitting happily on the shelves, awaiting their perusal.

Harry had doubted that Ron could pull together enough information and learn the incantation in just under a few hours. But there they were, in his and Ron's room at around midnight that evening, getting ready to cast a very illegal charm on a stuffed frog that had once belonged to Ginny.

"Are you ready?" Ron asked, looking slightly peaked. His palms were obviously sweaty, and he rubbed them nervously on his jeans. He still appeared to be quite determined, despite his nerves.

"Last chance mate." Harry insisted. "Only one thing goes wonky, and you'll probably be in big trouble."

Ron nodded. "Let's get it over with." He turned to the stuffed frog, pulled out his wand and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, his hands were steady and his voice firm. "Portus"

The three just sat and stared at each other for a while, and after a minute had passed, Harry began to feel the trepidation leak away from him.

After five whole minutes had gone by, and no owls had flown through the open window, Ron let out a tense breath of air that he hadn't known he was holding. "Just my luck, that when I can finally do magic away from school, I start to use it for illegal charms," he finally said, chuckling morbidly. "Some light wizard I am."

"So the ministry hasn't noticed?" Harry asked dumbly. "We're safe to go?"

Ron's face broke into a wide grin. "Looks that way mate."

"All right then, let's see if this sucker works." Ginny said, placing one finger on the stuffed frog's back.

Ron and Harry did the same.

"Three… Two… One…" Ron muttered.

Harry felt a jerk behind his navel, and he was suddenly flying through the air, Ron and Ginny bumping against him and wind and colours flying around them whipping their hair every which way. Ginny looked like a little fireball as she flew beside him.

In a moment of madness, Harry hoped Ron had the right address. He wouldn't want to be arriving at some cranky muggle neighbour's house in the middle of the night.

They all landed with a thump, and collapsed in a heap on a pink and grey flowered carpet in the middle of what must have been Hermione's family room.

Harry had less than five seconds to absorb the feeling of having Ginny collapsed half on top of him before a horrible rasping screeching sound rent the air, and all three of them leapt to their feet in surprise.

"What's that horrible noise!" Ron yelled, putting his hands up to his ears and scuttling behind a flower patterned sofa for protection.

Harry stared in abject horror at the blank expressions on his friends' faces. They really didn't know what it was?

"Stop right there, whoever you are!" A booming voice commanded above the horrible wails.

They'd forgotten about the Muggle burglar alarms.