The day after Harry and Dumbledore had been released from the Hospital Wing they both settled down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Most of the seats at the High Table were filled as the teachers were coming back to the castle to prepare for the new school year, so Harry was left to eat by himself at the Gryffindor table.

It didn't bother him. One of the few chairs left open was Snape's and Harry would rather eat with a semblance of privacy than sit in a seat he couldn't convince himself was entirely free of grease, regardless of how unlikely any staining might be after the elves had cleaned it.

Despite how relatively comfortable his time with Dumbledore had been over the summer, being the only student facing the staff was a little intimidating, so Harry was perfectly happy to see the Headmaster getting up to leave the hall. He leapt to his feet and fell into step beside the older man. "Are we heading down right away, sir? Or do you need to get something?"

"I believe that I am sufficiently prepared for a shopping trip," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "I just need to stop by the Gringotts' counter in the Post Office to get the money I'll need."

"A most logical choice, Harry," the Headmaster agreed, pulling on his beard. "Perhaps I should take the time to stock up on necessities at Honeydukes while we're-"

"Albus!"

Harry and Dumbledore turned around to see that Professor McGonagall had caught up to them. "Minerva, was there something we might pick up for you on our trip down to Hogsmeade?"

"No, Albus, I have prepared everything I shall be needing to start the year." Harry thought that his Transfiguration teacher sounded like she was a little offended that Dumbledore might have expected anything less of her. "I do need a few moments of your time this evening."

Dumbledore's eyes darted over to Harry for a second. "I believe that there is a matter that Mr. Potter and I will be attending to this evening, Minerva. Is the discussion urgent?"

"Unless your matter with Mr. Potter is going to lead to us finding a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, it grows more urgent by the day."

"Oh, well in that case we really should reschedule for tomorrow since I have every hope that Mr. Potter will be helping me resolve our staffing crisis this evening. Was that all, Minerva?"

Harry could feel the muscles in his face straining against the force of a laugh wanting to break out. His Head of House looked more gob-smacked than he'd ever seen her. "You aren't serious, Albus."

"Quite serious, my dear."

"I-... I see," McGonagall responded hesitantly. Harry felt a stab of sympathy for his teacher. After a full summer in the company of Dumbledore, he'd gained a healthy respect for how difficult it could be to regain your footing once the Headmaster had disrupted it like that. "I suppose I will hear the outcome of tonight's events tomorrow then. I had also intended to take the opportunity this evening to update you about the visit I will be paying Miss Granger today, but I suppose that we can discuss that tomorrow as well."

"Excellent. I leave it to you," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Harry? Shall we?"

"... Yeah. Let's go." Harry dearly wanted to stay and interrogate McGonagall on the chances that Hermione would be returning, but reason managed to restrain emotion. She just said that she's going to go find out the answer. Since she doesn't have it yet asking now won't get me what I want. I'll just have to wait.

The walk down to Hogsmeade passed in comfortable silence, both Harry and Dumbledore content to take in the world around them without commenting on it. When they made it to the only village that lay entirely in the wizarding world, they stopped by the Post Office as Harry had planned so that he could make a withdrawal.

Outside of the Post Office, Harry looked around for the best place to start his shopping and stopped as something occurred to him. "Sir, do you know which supplies I'm supposed to be getting?"

"I had wondered when you might ask," Dumbledore said happily, pulling a parchment envelope from his robe pocket and holding it out.

Harry accepted the letter and tried to hide his annoyance. "Couldn't you have given me that earlier?"

"I could, but then you would not have experienced the joys of discovering the right question to ask and, equally, the rewards of having it answered."

Taking a deliberate breath in through his nose, Harry swallowed his next words. Instead he opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. As he opened it, something small fell out and bounced on the ground. Stooping down, Harry picked up the small, silver object and turned it over in his hands until he realised that he was holding a badge with a C on it.

"Ah, I see that Professor McGonagall has elected to have you lead her Quidditch team this year," Dumbledore said. "I believe that your father would have been very proud in this moment."

Harry nodded absently, his eyes tracing the grooves and contours of the badge. Forcing his mind back to the present he secured it to his jumper and looked at the pages he still held, now a little more crumpled than they had been before being crushed up against his body during the pinning of his badge.

The first page contained a letter welcoming him back to Hogwarts, the second contained his OWL scores and the last contained his book list. "Sir, you know what marks the professors demand for a NEWT course, right?"

"Indeed I do, though I will have to make some assumptions in gauging our prospective Professor Slughorn's preferences."

"Would he take me with an Exceeds Expectations?"

"That was always his policy before his retirement and I do not believe there is reason to assume he will change if we convince him to return to us."

Harry nodded, comparing his scores to what McGonagall had told him would be required. "Books first and potions ingredients second?"

"I believe you are forgetting your rather pressing need for new robes, my boy."

I keep forgetting about that. Pushing aside the way his image of himself seemed to have drifted from how he actually looked, Harry ordered the tasks that lay ahead. "Robes, then books, then the apothecary."

"Might I suggest robes, books, lunch, apothecary?" Dumbledore asked with a chortle. "I find that my appetite is generally better when I have not yet handled pickled Doxy eggs."

Harry felt a grin twitch the corners of his mouth up slightly. "Fine. I suppose you'll also want to get some candy before we get the icky ingredients?" he asked as he began to walk in the direction of Gladrags.

"Why, now that you mention it, that would be a most pleasant diversion."

Inside Gladrags, Harry was measured by a rather nervous-looking man with a particularly impressive, bushy moustache and a pair of glasses that made his eyes look several sizes too large for his narrow face. Harry was also sure that at least part of the reason Dumbledore was picking up a collection of increasingly garish socks, staying constantly in sight, was the hope that Harry would comment on it. He didn't.

After Gladrags, the two wizards stopped by Tomes and Scrolls so that Harry could pick up his textbooks for the coming year. There was some commotion at the counter when the clerk discovered that Harry had added in a few extra books; or rather one particular book was causing the problem.

"I shan't sell the Codex Eichstätt to anyone who isn't either an auror or otherwise permitted to buy such dangerous works. You're not even of age yet."

"Perhaps you would sell it to me?" Dumbledore interrupted smoothly.

The clerk's face twisted into an expression of frustration. "Professor Dumbledore, I know that you are allowed to purchase such materials, but I cannot sell it to you if you simply intend to pass it on to a child."

"Samuel, I commend you for your diligence, but will you not trust my judgement of my own students?"

The clerk was clearly running up against the problem of not wanting to disagree with a man whose judgement he obviously respected while simultaneously sticking to the letter of his policy. "Well… I mean, I suppose that you never did come in here with a student before, but the law…"

"I promise you, young Mr. Potter here is both responsible and appropriately cautious in his use of magic. Unfortunately with the times being what they are, there is much he must learn that he would otherwise patiently delay."

Samuel flinched slightly. "But the Ministry said…"

"I know what the Ministry have said. They are unfortunately mistaken, though I am unsure when they will be announcing a rectification." For several heartbeats, Dumbledore just studied the clerk over his half-moon glasses.

The man caved. "Alright. Alright, I'll sell the book, but I want it known that I am selling it to you, Professor."

"Of course," Dumbledore said magnanimously. "Would you prefer to settle up before or after you finish with Mr. Potter's purchase?"

The clerk finished up with Harry before he reluctantly took Dumbledore's money. He held on to the book for a moment as Dumbledore tried to take it. "Sir… if what you said is true, I-… what do I do if he shows up in Hogsmeade. I cannot afford wards on my salary and my family…"

"If worse should come to worst, find the proprietor at the Hog's Head. He will help you gain access to Hogwarts, though he will grumble mightily about it and roundly curse my name."

Samuel looked a little stunned at that pronouncement, but nodded and let the book go. Dumbledore smiled at him and slipped the book into his pocket so that the other man could see it and left the store so that Harry could finish up with his own purchase without the reminder of what had just happened.

Given that they had agreed to eat lunch before heading to the apothecary, Harry decided to indulge his curiosity. "Where would you like to have lunch? The Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head?"

The look his teacher gave him told Harry that he wasn't fooling anyone. "I believe you will have heard me mention that the owner of that second establishment is not overly fond of me in the same sentence that aroused your curiosity, Harry?"

"He hates you, but he'll help people if you send them to him? Just what is your relationship with this guy?" Harry wondered.

"He will help people because it is the right thing to do, not because I ask it of him," Dumbledore said. His tone convinced Harry that he wasn't going to get anywhere by questioning the man; at least not out here on the street. "I am sure that Rosemerta will be glad of our patronage, so perhaps it is best we make our way over to her fine establishment to sample her excellent cooking."

Taking the hint, Harry fell into step with his teacher as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks. They settled in for a lunch of gammon, mashed potatoes and peas while avoiding mentioning anything serious. Harry felt like Dumbledore was being especially cautious, though Harry himself had decided that he wasn't bringing up a single potentially controversial subject until they were back inside the castle.

After lunch, the two stopped by Honeydukes where Dumbledore cheerfully loaded up on more candy than Harry thought his entire dorm ate in a month. Throughout it all, the Headmaster was unflappably cheerful and Harry's suspicion that he was watching an act only grew. He didn't comment on it even once and instead tried to join in and match Dumbledore's ebullience.

The visit to the apothecary was the shortest of the day. The store had prepared a package for incoming NEWT students that included a new cauldron, knife, all the ingredients that would be needed for the first several potions and a few order forms to facilitate restocking. Harry only had to hand over his money and stuff the neatly wrapped box in his bookbag. The space-expanding charms were already stretched to their limit so it really resulted in the potions equipment sitting awkwardly, half in and half out of the bag.

Harry didn't bother suggesting they stop by any more stores and neither did Dumbledore. By silent accord, the two turned their steps back up to the castle. The whole way back they never spoke a word, each occupied with his own thoughts.

Just before they could pass the winged boars guarding the gates of the school, Dumbledore came to a stop, causing Harry to look back in curiosity. "Here," Dumbledore said, holding out the book he'd bought at Tomes and Scrolls. "I trust you will be cautious with this book, Harry. As Samuel made admirably clear, this text is on a restricted list by Ministry law, and for good reason. It was used to train a corps of devastating warriors only a few decades ago."

Harry reached out and gingerly took the book, realising that Dumbledore probably had a reason for giving him this just before they were officially on school property. "Are you sure, sir?"

"I believe you have demonstrated that you are both trustworthy and in need of its instruction. To be sure though, I shall be severely disappointed if I find you using the contents on any fellow student, not to mention that I would be forced to take action."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. Then why don't you take some time to organise your purchases into a more comfortable sprawl in your dorm? We will be visiting Horace after dinner."

"Yes, sir. Um, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"How much do I owe you for the book?"

Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment before shaking his head. "Consider it a birthday present. I did not mark the day itself, and after spending a whole summer with you that may rightly be considered a neglect. All the more so because I managed to convince Molly Weasley to keep any letters from being dispatched from Number Twelve."

Harry was stunned. He'd barely remembered his own birthday this year, caught up as he'd been in the newness of life without the Dursleys. He'd noticed a few days later that Ron hadn't sent him anything, but after two summers where external pressures had kept his mate from writing, he'd adopted a wait-and-see position. "I- I see. At least the Weasleys were able to use that place to stay safe."

Dumbledore's beard quirked into a smile. "With reactions like that, I feel reassured of my choice to pass this book to you."

Harry felt his cheeks warming slightly and hoped that he wasn't blushing visibly. He gave his teacher a nod and carried his book, his present, the rest of the way up to the castle. In the entrance hall, Dumbledore and Harry parted ways. Harry made his way up to his dorm to do as Dumbledore had asked and deposit his purchases.

By the time he was back up in his dorm he felt more in control of himself and set about packing his things into his trunk so that he would be able to find them throughout the year and so that it wouldn't look too much like he had spent the whole summer here when his friends returned. After he was done, he spent some time with Hedwig before heading down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Dinner was an uncomfortable experience with McGonagall's eyes on him half the time. He knew that his teacher would be wondering why the Headmaster was taking a student along to solve a staffing problem and couldn't blame her for it. He just wished she'd stop trying to read the answer off his forehead.

Harry finished his meal as quickly as he could and headed out to the Entry Hall to wait for Dumbledore in peace.

The Headmaster exited the Hall an interminable fifteen minutes later. He smiled genially at Harry. "Do you have everything you might need for a quick recruiting visit?"

"Yeah, I reckon so."

"Good. Then if you would follow me? We will have to leave Hogwarts' grounds for this."

Harry followed Dumbledore across the lawns to the tall gates, flanked as ever by the winged boar statues. Once they were clear of the gates, Dumbledore looked around approvingly. He held out an arm to Harry and said "take hold of my arm and do not eschew a firm grip."

Harry reached out and grabbed Dumbledore's forearm as firmly as he could, wondering where this was going.

"Now then, Harry, we are about to apparate. You will learn more about apparation later this year if you choose to take the Ministry sponsored course. I must ask you to make sure you do not waver in your grip, even if the next few moments may turn out to be a bit uncomfortable."

Before Harry could formulate a question or response, he was uncomfortably squeezed from every angle. His eardrums stung, his chest couldn't expand against whatever force was pressing on it and he felt the beginnings of panic.

In almost the same instant that the sensation registered in his mind, it stopped and Harry was gulping down breaths as his body revelled in being free to breathe. He wiggled his jaw in an attempt to get his ears to pop after the uncomfortable journey and found the energy to spare a glare at the serene and unruffled appearance Dumbledore was showing the world. "A bit uncomfortable, huh?"

"I believe that you will find in your lessons this year that the sensation is greatly ameliorated for the one controlling the magic," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Harry managed to smother his retort down to an unintelligible grumble. Taking a deep breath to calm down he looked around at the very muggle neighbourhood. "You sure we're in the right place?"

"Quite sure, Harry. It would appear that Horace has taken to hiding among muggles in an effort to make it harder for Tom to track him down." Dumbledore turned and began walking down the street.

"But if you managed to find him here, doesn't that mean that others could too?"

Dumbledore turned a slightly amused look on his pupil. "Yes, that is quite possible. As it is, I believe that this is hardly his first hiding place and that he does not intend it to be his last."

Harry nodded to show that he'd heard and turned his attention to trying to figure out how to get this old wizard to consider coming back to Hogwarts. He was drawn from his thoughts when he almost ran into Dumbledore who had drawn to a stop ahead of him. Peering past the Headmaster, Harry saw that they had arrived at a muggle house with the door blown off its hinges. "Perhaps someone else already found him after all."

"Let's find out," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand.

Harry followed suit and stepped into the house behind his teacher, his wand moving to cover the space around them, though he didn't light it the way Dumbledore had. Bringing the Ministry down on our heads right now would not end well.

As they moved through the house, signs of a desperate battle were everywhere. There were holes in the dry-wall, the furniture was in splinters, the lights were flickering where they clung on to the wall or ceiling and there was a suspicious red splatter on one of the walls. Something doesn't feel right about this Harry thought to himself. "How did no one hear anything from whatever caused this?" he murmured.

"A good question, Harry," Dumbledore responded in a similar tone. "I believe I know where we can find an answer." With that he sharply poked the only chair that wasn't in little pieces.

Harry jumped back into a duelling stance when he heard the chair let out a very human yelp. He watched in astonishment as the chair shifted, the upholstery becoming a very tautly strained nightshirt, while the stuffing resolved itself into a short, fat man with a bristling walrus moustache that Uncle Vernon would have been justifiably envious of.

"Horace!" Dumbledore called out jovially as if they had simply run into each other on the street. "I didn't know that we would be playing Hide and Seek. Shall I go next?"

"Give it a rest, Albus," the other man puffed out as he worked his way up to his feet. "If even the boy caught on, then you're not exceptionally clever, I'm just slipping."

"Perish the thought, Horace," Dumbledore said with a genial smile that seemed to be shading into dopey. "Would you like some help with cleaning the place up?"

"Alright, yes, yes," the fat wizard muttered in agitation. "You get the furniture and floor and I'll get the walls, the ceiling and those finicky muggle lamps."

Standing back to back the two wizards moved their wands in identical sweeping motions. Harry just tried to stay out of the way of any flying debris as it rearranged itself into furniture and knick-knacks. As he dodged splinters he tried to think about the way Dumbledore was acting. While the Headmaster could be inexplicably off beat at the strangest times, Harry had more or less gotten used to a base level of eccentricity over the summer. For some reason it's turned up to eleven, which probably means he's doing it on purpose. Why though? What is he hoping to gain from putting on this act?

No answer presented itself, so Harry resolved to simply play along as best he could with Dumbledore's lead. Around him the storm soon settled as the last lamp screwed itself back into its fixture. With a loud exhalation, the fat wizard dropped into an armchair which creaked so loudly in protest that Harry worried it would break again.

"Alright then, Albus," the man said, clearly unhappy to have them there, "let's hear it. Offer me the job so I can tell you that I want nothing to do with it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Horace, but perhaps we might start with introductions?" Dumbledore said, still showing nothing but absent, airy cheerfulness. "Harry, this is Horace Slughorn, an old friend and former teacher at Hogwarts. Horace, this is Harry Potter."

Slughorn's eyes performed the familiar flick up to Harry's hairline.

"As you have guessed, quite correctly, I was hoping that you would trade this life of stealing muggles homes for a return to tenure behind Hogwarts' sheltering walls."

"No. And I am not stealing," Slughorn said in a huff, his eyes narrowed in displeasure. "The muggles that own this place are off on holiday in some other country and asked me to keep the place tidy for them."

"This is your friends' house?" Harry asked, surprised that someone who referred to electrical lamps as 'finicky muggle lamps' would have muggle friends.

"No, no, dear me, no. I paid for the holiday and a Compulsion Charm did the rest," Slughorn said grandly, waving one hand in the air as if to chivvy away any accusations of being more permanently friendly with the homeowners.

"My, my, such generosity," Dumbledore said, happily bobbing his head in a nod. "I had hoped to tempt you back with a salary, but if you have wealth to spare in this manner, I admit defeat. Before you send us on our way, could you just point me to the toilet? It's poor form to get distracted by your bladder when apparating."

Slughorn looked like he had just bitten in to a lemon, but pointed at one of the doors. "Out into the hallway and to the right."

"Thank you, Horace. I won't be a moment."

As Dumbledore left the room, Harry sank down on the edge of the couch to wait. He felt uncomfortable with the way Slughorn was studying him and just wanted to get out of here. Whatever Dumbledore had been hoping for, clearly wasn't going to happen. I don't know why he wanted me along. Maybe if this bloke was open to negotiations I could have helped, but this? No.

"I know why he brought you here, you know," Slughorn said suddenly, startling Harry from his thoughts. "It's not going to work though."

Harry shrugged, not wanting to admit to anything and frankly not all that sure anymore himself why he was there. "I just came along because he told me that you knew my mother when she was at Hogwarts. I was hoping you'd tell me something about her," he improvised.

Slughorn actually brightened a bit. "Ah, yes, Lily… she was one of my absolute favourites. Spirited she was, cheeky too, never too worried about talking back to me. She got away with it too, clever as anything, especially for a muggleborn."

Harry felt the muscles in his face pull back as his instincts tried to bare his teeth in a snarl. "The best student at Hogwarts for the past five years has been a muggleborn," he said coldly.

"Hmm? Oh! Oh, no m'boy, no, you mustn't think that I set any store by that blood purity nonsense. Ability is what counts, ability and ambition. Besides, I just said that your mother was one of my favourites, one of my absolute favourites." Slughorn said in a rush. "Here, come, come." The corpulent man heaved himself out of his chair and made his way through the archway that separated the seating area from the dining area.

Since Dumbledore didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get back, Harry got up and followed the old Potions teacher. In the dining area he found what he could only describe as a shrine of photos. He did his best not to show any strong reactions.

"Here, m'boy," Slughorn said eagerly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and poking a stubby finger at one of the photos.

Harry leaned in and politely looked at the group of students, arrayed in what looked like the same circle of chairs in the Potions classroom that he'd seen in that fateful memory. Nearest to the camera was a girl with dark red hair and a familiar face. Mum.

His heart ached as he tried to drink in the way his mother had looked when she was around his age. It was clear from the way she was acting in the picture that she was posing deliberately and it didn't carry the same joy that some of the photos in his album did, but it was still a wonderful thing just to see her. "Thank you," he murmured as he straightened back up.

"Of course, m'boy. Of course," Slughorn said with a mournful nod. "A terrible day, when I heard she'd died; terrible."

"Yeah," Harry agreed unenthusiastically.

"You know, your mother wasn't the only promising student I had. Why, look over here, Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies, still sends me tickets for her matches whenever I want them." Slughorn's finger moved from an autographed picture of a woman on a broom to one of him and another man raising their glasses at the camera. "Ambrosius Flume, went on to open Honeydukes, don't you know. Still sends me a box of candied pineapple and his famous chocolate every year for my birthday."

Something about the cheerful bragging rubbed Harry the wrong way. "Isn't that risky? I mean, you don't want to be found right?"

"I-… it's been a while, I should say."

While Harry had been hoping to puncture Slughorn's bubble a little, he hadn't expected the man to lapse into sombre silence. It left him at a loss for a way to continue the conversation. Come on, Potter. You know how important it is to have this guy… well, his memory at least. No matter how he racked his brain though, Harry couldn't come up with a single convincing argument that he could just drop on the former teacher who now seemed to be thoroughly lost in his own world.

The sound of a door opening back in the sitting area broke the silence that had grown up between Harry and Slughorn. As Harry turned to look, he caught Slughorn doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

Dumbledore was playing his role as a cheerful kook to the hilt. "Ah, Horace, I found a rather interesting set of knitting patterns on the toilet. Do you mind if I take a copy?"

"No." Slughorn sounded distracted and wistful and seemed to realise it as he heard the sound of his own voice because he shook his head like a walrus shedding seawater. "No, of course not, Albus," he said more firmly.

"Wonderful. Well, Harry, I think that means we have put enough of a strain on Horace's hospitality," Dumbledore said cheerfully, beckoning Harry over. "I am sorry to have disturbed you, old friend, and I will be hoping that you stay clear of those pursuing you."

Without waiting for Slughorn to reply, Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and began guiding him out of the house.

Harry considered protesting, but after having been unable to come up with a single argument while standing there next to Slughorn, he decided that he was probably better off following the Headmaster's lead and hoping the old man had a plan.

They made it to the garden gate before they heard it. "I'll do it!"

Harry turned back to look at the house and saw Slughorn standing in the open doorway, his chest heaving and his eyes burning with a feverish light.

"Are you certain, Horace? I would not want to deprive you of this life you've built for yourself if you are not," Dumbledore asked in apparent concern.

"Yes, damn it, Albus, I'm sure. If I'm going to be working for you you'd better keep your promise too. I'll be safe at Hogwarts; you said it yourself."

"Indeed I did and that promise stands."

Slughorn nodded with a huff. "I'll pack up and be there in a few days."

"I shall be looking forward to it, Horace. You may owl Minerva for the particulars. We have already sent out the letters, though if you feel any of the recommended texts are insufficient, Hogwarts will speak to the suppliers about exchanging for your preferences."

Slughorn gave another nod, which Dumbledore returned before leaving. Harry looked between the two men for a moment. "I'll look forward to seeing you in September, Professor," he said to Slughorn, hurrying after Dumbledore. The sight of the man puffing up like a self-satisfied toad made his scalp itch, but Harry knew that he would have to get close to his newest teacher in the coming year unless Dumbledore had some truly revolutionary plan for getting a hold of that unedited memory.

As the two wizards walked, Harry found that he couldn't keep from asking "Professor? Are you sure about what you said? About Hogwarts replacing students' Potions texts?"

Dumbledore let out a tired sigh. "It will be an unfortunate expense if it comes to that, true," he said without a trace of the kookiness he'd kept up in the house. "It is also unavoidable given how close we have gotten to the start of term. We cannot allow the burden to fall on students and their families. No matter how difficult the task has become in recent years, it is the school's duty to provide sufficient staff to see to your educations. Let us just hope that we will not be pushed to similar lengths next year."

Dumbledore stopped and held out his arm. "Though perhaps we should attempt to see the good in the situation. If we do have this difficulty next year it will mean that destruction has been staved off, Hogwarts still stands and that you and I have not been defeated in our mission."

"Some bright side," Harry muttered, trying to mentally prepare his stomach for what was about to come as he took the offered arm. The uncomfortable squeeze wasn't as bad as it had been the first time. I wonder if that's because I've experienced it before or if Dumbledore's doing something different.

They landed in front of the gates, looking up at a mostly dark castle. By silent agreement they began to walk to the one destination where they could properly speak about what had just happened.

When they entered the Headmaster's office, Harry, out of habit, took his usual seat while Dumbledore took his place behind the desk. "That was very well done, Harry," the elder wizard said once he had gotten comfortable.

"I'm not sure I deserve that, sir. I couldn't come up with a single thing to say to him after I'd mentioned my mother."

"Perhaps not, but your curiosity about your mother did steer the conversation on to what Professor Slughorn values most: his position in our society; a society he had removed himself from. You opened his eyes to that self-inflicted pain and now our staffing problems are solved for another year."

Harry hesitated for a moment before confirming his earlier suspicions. "You want me to keep talking to him this year don't you?"

Dumbledore sat quietly for a moment. "I will not ask any particular action of you, Harry. Instead, I will leave it to you to approach this problem however you see fit. Horace knows my methods of persuasion well and is doubtlessly preparing to rebut me at every turn. I do not doubt that he would extend that suspicion to you if he detects my guidance in any of your actions."

"In other words: I'm to do whatever it takes to get that memory as long as it can't be traced back to you?" Harry asked, only half joking.

"I believe you know well enough that I have no particular problem with matters being traced back to me. I am only suggesting that invoking my name with Horace is more likely to be a detriment than a benefit to our quest."

"Right. I'll just get on figuring out how to outsmart someone in a way even you couldn't. Easy."

"I think that you do not give yourself enough credit, my boy," Dumbledore said, sounding as serious as Harry had ever heard him. "While I may have been more academically inclined at your age, I do not recall having your ability to understand tactical situations on such short notice. I believe that experience will bridge the gap between the two abilities for you as it has done for me."

"I-… if you say so, sir." It was strange, but Harry did feel heartened by his teacher's words. Maybe he's right. I already know that I'm going to have my work cut out for me this year if I want to pass my classes since I won't have Hermione's help, but… if he's right, maybe I can do it.

"I think, Harry, that we have had a long enough day. Go. Enjoy the quiet of Gryffindor Tower before it inevitably turns back into the noise of Gryffindor Tower."

"I think that might be a good idea, sir. Good night."

"And to you, my boy."

:-:-:-:-:

The last week of the summer holidays passed more quickly than Harry would have thought possible. He kept himself active with flying (which had now taken on a new significance as he tried to work out how he would build a quidditch team), studying, training and helping Hagrid set up for the arrival of the students. Harry's ability to see thestrals was particularly helpful in that last task, and helping Hagrid also helped soothe the half-giant's upset that Harry would not be taking NEWT level Care of Magical Creatures.

All in all it seemed like the 31st of August arrived in no more than the blink of an eye. The last morning of the holiday was the first time Harry saw the high table filled with all the members of staff, Snape and Slughorn having arrived at the last possible moment. The new Defence professor scowled profusely at having to spend any more meals than strictly necessary faced with his least favourite student while the new Potions teacher waved and smiled jovially.

After breakfast, Slughorn actually came down to the Gryffindor table to talk with Harry for a moment. "Harry! M'boy!" the rotund man chortled as he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Good to see you, good to see you. Availing yourself of Albus' protection over the summer?"

"Something like that, sir," Harry said, not wanting to give too much away. "Professor Dumbledore brought me here right after he took me to see you."

"No need to be embarrassed, not at all," Slughorn boomed, patting Harry's shoulder some more. "A downright sensible decision. Still, that is not what I was hoping to speak to you about."

"What can I do for you, Professor?" Harry asked politely.

"Oho, no, m'boy, no, I do not need a favour. I was merely considering organising a few get togethers throughout the year. You know, a cup of tea or a mug of butterbeer and some good conversation. Your mother used to be quite fond of them and I was hoping you would attend as well."

Harry's spirit bristled at the blatant manipulation, so much less subtle than Dumbledore's small nudges, but he kept it under control. "I think I'd like that, sir."

"Excellent, excellent. Well, I must be off. Lots to prepare for the coming year, don't you know. We'll speak more later, m'boy."

"Of course, sir." Harry watched Slughorn leave and, when he turned back to survey the rest of the Great Hall, caught Dumbledore's eyes for only a moment. A brief nod was enough to convey the message: Dumbledore had made a note to himself that the campaign for Slughorn's memory had started in earnest.

For the rest of the day, Harry wandered around the castle, mostly just trying to make sure that no one could accuse him of being underfoot. He felt he was doing quite well until he was approached by Nearly Headless Nick's silvery form. "Harry Potter, good day."

"Good day to you too, Sir Nicholas. Ready for the new school year?"

"My word, yes. It is always good to see Gryffindor house grow with another group of youngsters who will uphold her honour and glory."

"I agree," Harry said with a smile. He was getting better at hiding his thoughts, which seemed to have the unfortunate consequence of drawing him into more and more pompous conversations that he would just as soon do without.

"Ah, but I digress. The Headmaster himself asked me to summon you to his office."

"Oh. Thanks for that, Sir Nicholas. I'll go and see him right away."

Nearly Headless Nick gave a courtly bow, causing his head to flop out of the ruff he wore. Snapping back up straight, the clearly embarrassed ghost hauled his head on straight and dove through a wall.

Well, just another day at Hogwarts, isn't it? Harry thought to himself in amusement as he began making his way down to the Headmaster's Office. As he said the password to the gargoyle he wondered if he would be told the next one when Dumbledore inevitably changed it.

He put the thought out of mind as he climbed the spiralling staircase. Either he will or he won't, but he'll have to continue my Occlumency classes if he wants his secrets kept, especially now that Snape's back. The thought gave him a sense of calm as he knocked on the door.

"Enter," came the call from inside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked as he opened the door.

Dumbledore looked up with a smile and waved Harry in. "Indeed I did, my boy. I had a thought about your arrival at school tomorrow."

"You want me to take the Express?" Harry asked curiously.

"I think it would be both a useful ruse to suggest that you spent the summer at some unknown location and an excellent opportunity to spend some time with your friends before you get caught up in the usual drudgery of the school year."

"Is something changing at Hogwarts? I'd love some drudgery," Harry retorted with a smile, winning a chuckle from the Headmaster. "How am I getting down to London?"

"Precisely the reason I called you here." One of Dumbledore's long fingers tapped a package wrapped in brown paper. "I have here a portkey to Platform 9¾. I leave your departure time to you, but I would suggest that you keep in mind that a portkey will not allow you to arrive before you leave."

"Understood, sir." Harry picked up the package noticing that it was floppy. Dumbledore's demeanour made it clear that their meeting was done, but Harry hesitated to leave.

"Was there something else, Harry?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but in the end curiosity won out as it often did. "I was just wondering what the result of Professor McGonagall's discussion with the Grangers was. Do you know if Hermione's coming back to Hogwarts this year?"

Dumbledore arched a particularly bushy eyebrow and his gaze sharpened to the point that Harry began to fidget. "You seem particularly concerned with Miss Granger's attendance, Harry," Dumbledore said, touching his fingertips together.

Harry stayed silent.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment longer. "If I agree to share this information with you, will you answer a question of mine?"

Harry considered it. "What's the question?"

"Why, only an inquiry into why you have suddenly latched onto Miss Granger."

Harry contemplated the question for a moment and then shrugged. "It's not really all that sudden, is it?"

"My boy, you haven't exchanged two words with Miss Granger in five years and yet now you are on tenterhooks wondering whether she will attend. Such a change is noticeable and, considering how interested I have become in the way your mind works out of recent necessity, I thought I would inquire."

Talk to me or I'll just find out during our next occlumency lesson, Harry translated in his own mind. "You really aren't going to let this lie?"

Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment. "Harry, I am not suggesting that you do not have a right to the privacy of your own thoughts. Unlikely as it is that there is anything nefarious going on here, the times force us to consider the reasons for sudden changes in the behaviour of those nearest to us more closely than we otherwise would."

The cool air filling his mouth informed Harry that his jaw had dropped open and he snapped it closed. "Hermione is not some agent of Riddle's," he growled out.

"I did not claim that she is."

Harry glared at his teacher for a moment longer before coming to a decision. Oh, what the hell. He'll just go looking for it in my thoughts if I don't tell him and I'm not good enough to protect a secret from him yet. "Fine. Like I said: I don't have a 'sudden' interest in Hermione at all."

Harry saw the way Dumbledore's bushy brows drew down and held up a hand to forestall the interruption they portended. "It's part of the deal I struck with the Oak King. The payment for restoring Hermione's memories was-" A lump in Harry's throat made it difficult to continue. He swallowed and forced the words out. "She'll never remember that we've been best friends these past five years and I will. That was the price."

Dumbledore's eyes widened in realization and he visibly paled. "Harry-"

The old wizard didn't get a chance to say more than that. As soon as Harry's name had passed his lips, Dumbledore collapsed onto his desk, screaming in pain.

"Sir!" Harry raced around the desk, grabbing frail old shoulders before the Headmaster slipped out of his chair. Dumbledore's hands were clutching at the sides of his head as if it might fly apart at any moment. "Sir!" Harry was almost yelling in the man's ear by now, but there was no reaction from the aged wizard. Looking around for any kind of help, Harry's eyes landed on the portraits of Dumbledore's predecessors that weren't even pretending to sleep any more. "One of you go get Pomfrey! Quickly!"

It was not nearly as comforting as Harry might have hoped to see three different figures sprint out of their frames without a single word about how inappropriate it might be to take orders from a student.

The greatest downside to having the portraits head off to find Madam Pomfrey was that Harry was left with nothing that he could do, except for holding his Headmaster as screams turned to whimpers.

The stress of waiting made it seem like it took hours for the Hogwarts Healer to arrive. Harry was so focused on the door that his heart took a split-second tour of his throat when Pomfrey finally erupted into the room from the fire with a furious scowl on her face. "What have you been doing this time?!" she demanded shrilly.

"Nothing," Harry protested as he was bustled out of the way. "We were just talking."

"A likely story. If I am to properly treat the Headmaster, then I need-"

"The boy speaks the truth, Poppy," a former headmistress interrupted. "We can all attest that they were doing no more than discussing the upcoming school year when Albus collapsed, screaming."

Madam Pomfrey's face was caught in an expression of frustration and confusion. "But-… surely there was some reason?"

"Isn't finding that reason your job, Healer?" the portrait of Phineas Nigellus asked with a sneer. "Just as it seems to be the Headmaster's job these days to entertain the petulant whining of children about which classes they may attend."

Harry felt his ears twitch as the old Headmaster spoke an obvious lie to no reaction from anyone else.

"Locomotor Mortis," Pomfrey said, oblivious to the heightened awareness with which the room was being observed.

Harry noticed that she moved her wand in a pattern he'd never seen before and that Dumbledore's body rose into the air in a horizontal position that made it look like he was lying on an invisible bed rather than hanging like a limp puppet as Snape had done under the same spell from Sirius. Dumbledore's unconscious form led the way out of the office while Pomfrey glared Harry out after him.

Once they were clear of the gargoyle, Madam Pomfrey rushed off in the direction of the Hospital Wing without more than a quick, unintelligible mutter in Harry's direction. He didn't mind being ignored.

Ever since the portrait of Phineas Nigellus had spoken up, Harry had been hearing an echo of a warning in his memories.

No human will remember these times, but you.

Not even if I tell them?

That will only cause them pain when the memories are once again ripped from their minds. The price for my interference is not light, Child of Man; you should not mistake that.

Why didn't I listen to that warning? Harry wondered to himself. Reminding himself that he didn't know enough occlumency to keep Dumbledore from finding out one way or the other didn't help.

The sensation of helplessness was made worse by the fact that history seemed to be repeating itself in the Hospital Wing. Harry knew that the portraits' dig about it being a Healer's job to discover what was wrong with a patient must have stung Madam Pomfrey, but now that he had a guess about what had happened, Harry understood that telling the matron about it would be counter-productive to say the least. It was like the universe was laughing at the frustration he'd felt when he discovered that he could have helped Madam Pomfrey reach a diagnosis so much earlier.

Feeling thoroughly deflated, Harry stuffed the portkey package into one of his pockets and trudged up to Gryffindor Tower. The entire way, he found the Oak King's warning dogging his steps, whispering accusations in the silence of his thoughts.

AN:

Gammon, for those who have never lived in the UK, is basically a cured ham. You fry it up like bacon or cook it and it's pretty common as a pub food. It's also a slur directed at the uneducated, but that is beside the point.

Okay, this is going to take few steps, but: the Codex Eichstätt. First thing to know is that there are fencing manuals that were written in Europe from the 13th to the 19th century. These are literally textbooks used to teach people how to fight. One of the older known works is the Codex Wallerstein, named for a Bavarian village. Next, Grindelwald's Knights of Walpurgis are presumably named for Walpurgisnacht (or Walpurga's Night). This is a festival that grew from several pagan traditions like the celtic Beltaine and the Vikings remembering Odin's sacrificing himself to himself to learn the secrets of the runes of wisdom. It is also a night like Samhain/Halloween where spirits cross over into our world and cause mischief. There's a lot of bonfires, maypoles and, ahem, fertility rituals. The Christians then turned it into Saint Walburga's Night which commemorates that saint's canonization and the movement of her relics to Eichstätt, and slapped a date on that sucker so it now takes place on the night between the 30th of April and the first of May (which you may note is around the spring equinox, when the Oak King's power really gets larger than the Holly King's, even if it would have begun to strengthen at the winter solstice). So, medieval sword-fighting textbook named after a German town + (K)nights of Walpurgis + Saint Walburga's relics in another German town = magical dueling book. Don't overthink it; I certainly didn't…

For those of you who doubt that it's possible to forget your own birthday… my family will tell you that some people manage.

I didn't mess with the scene where Harry meets Slughorn too much, mostly because I really like it as JKR wrote it. It shows Dumbledore dancing rings around everyone else in terms of understanding the situation, Harry standing up for his beliefs when there is no personal gain in it for him and I just hope that I didn't nerf that too much since I had to accommodate at least a little for Harry knowing more about what's going on than he did in the canon depiction of that moment.

That's all our ducks in a row, on to the actual school year.