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Part ii—Chapter 20.

The Boy Who Lived becomes the Boy Who Lies?

September.

The summer of 1995 turned out to be one of the hottest ever recorded in the United Kingdom. A heatwave swept across the country, bringing with it barbeques and inflatable paddling pools, dug out of sheds and garages for the sweltering population to enjoy. Even the North East, which was infamous for its bad weather, enjoyed weeks of a blistering sun and little rainfall. At first, the good weather was celebrated and relished, but as the weeks went by people became more and more fed-up. Clothes sticking to skin and sweaty hair pulled away from faces, the population took to complaining loudly whenever they saw fit.

"It's boiling," people would say, slightly harassed and red in the face. "How are we supposed to work in these conditions?"

It may have been a good point, for electric fans and air conditioning could only do so much, but it fell upon deaf ears. Daily life continued, albeit slower and more frustrated than before, and a drought warning was issued across the country (except for the North East, where droughts were rarely a problem thanks to Derwent Reservoir).

The Wizarding World of Britain did not fare much better. Lacking in electrical components to keep the air cool, the Ministry relied on the fact that they were underground to keep the workers happy. It worked…for a while. But, slowly, the air became thick and clammy, people began to huff and puff, annoyed and too hot with their surroundings.

The strict 'professional attire only' was quickly discredited; wizards and witches of all ages disregarded their long, billowing robes and appeared in thin garments, most of which were particularly see-through. At least half a dozen times, the members of the Department of Magical Games and Sports took to lying in the Atrium on the wooden floor, foreheads pressed against the cool ground. Whenever someone tried to move them, they'd receive a loud, animalistic growl which even the Auror's didn't want to mess with—so that was how the Sports Department ended up with an ice dispenser in their office.

Lara Culpepper began her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures during this unruly and chaotic time. Exactly one week after graduating from Hogwarts—and at the very beginning of the heatwave—Lara went to the Ministry with her brother, to whom she was an assistant to. She spent the next two weeks at his side, looking after magical creatures and dealing with animal disturbances. After these two weeks, the Ministry began to resemble the inside of an oven, so when Lara was called away to France with her brother to look for graphorns, she was over the moon.

France was also experiencing a warm summer, but Lara spent most of her time out in the open, among the mountains and the trees, and with fresh air filling her lungs she didn't mind the blazing sun on her back. She camped in the wild in the same tent she'd used at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before, she picked berries and weeds (using the book her friend, Amanda, had given her for her eighteenth birthday, which told her what plants she could eat and which she definitely could not) and she bathed in creeks and rivers, looking up at the clear blue sky and thanking her lucky stars that she was no longer in the stuffy Ministry.

"How long do you think we'll be here for?" Lara asked weeks later as she sat around a campfire, eating peaches from a tin.

Walter grinned at her from over the flames. "Why? Sick of me already?"

"I'm always sick of you," she replied casually. "But I was wondering if there's a time limit on these things. Surely the Ministry doesn't let you trail around countries for weeks on end without hearing anything."

"They do when you're a qualified Magizoologist. Plus, I'm well fancy now 'cause I have an assistant."

Lara snorted and stretched out across the grass, glancing towards the sky. Away from the florescent lights of towns and cities, the sky was pitch-black and littered with glittering stars. She couldn't see them now, but Lara knew that in the distance, mountains criss-crossed each other for miles and miles to come, the peaks covered in thick white snow, the rest a vivid green and masked with thousands of trees. In a few places, large bodies of clear blue lakes were visible, which was just as well because graphorns were known to gravitate to water.

Despite it all, despite the fact that she was probably in one of the most beautiful places on earth, Lara longed to hear from England. With her and Walter moving around all the time, owls just weren't possible. They hadn't heard from the Ministry, their co-workers, their boss and, most importantly (to her at least), their friends and family. When they left in the third week of July, the Daily Prophet were turning against Harry Potter and the Ministry was aggressively denying that Voldemort was back.

Now, several weeks later, who knew what was going on? She and Walter had no sense of real time out here, though they guessed at least six weeks had passed. That would make it…early-to-mid September now. Anything could have happened during that time; her brain ached thinking of all the possibilities. And, she couldn't help but think, the Hogwarts students would be back at school…including all her sixth year friends—now seventh years—including Fred.

Fred Weasley, her sort-of-but-not-really-maybe-one-day boyfriend, who she hadn't actually seen since the day she left school. For the first three weeks, they exchanged numerous letters and tried to meet up, but it just wasn't possible. Fred had family things going on and Lara had to work. Then, suddenly, she had to leave and their letters stopped.

At least, her letters stopped. Fred said he would continue to write to her and await her reply when she got back—Lara was not looking forward to seeing how many envelopes that waited for her at home. Not just from Fred, but from all of her friends; George, Angelina, Alicia, Erin, Amanda, Stan, Omar—she'd regularly corresponded with them all before she left for her graphorn mission. If they'd all took a leaf from Fred's book and persisted with their letters, she'd have hundreds waiting for her upon her return.

"We normally stay out about three months," Walter continued, bringing Lara's attention back to him. "And if we don't find anything, we come back out later on."

"So we've got another six weeks to find the graphorns," nodded Lara. "No pressure."

As it turned out, they wouldn't need another six weeks, but merely a few days. After deciding the graphorns probably weren't in France, they turned their attentions to Switzerland. They were deep in the mountains, nothing but trees around them, when they suddenly came across a gigantic clearing. Filled with a multitude of flowers, rocks and a still lake, Lara was about to ask Walter to stop for a breather when she spotted something across the water.

"Walt," she whispered, snatching his elbow quickly. "Look."

Across the clearing, a colony of graphorns were milling about the water and grazing on the weeds. There were two adults, large and hump-backed, with greyish-purple skin. Their golden horns shone under the rays of the sun. As Lara watched, one of them reached down to eat something, the tentacles around its mouth wiggling and twisting with the effort.

Then, suddenly, four baby graphorns appeared, dancing around their parents' feet. One of them confidently dived into the water, while the other three watched with a look of hesitation upon their faces.

"Aww," Lara murmured, smiling. "There's six—didn't you say there were only three last time?"

"There was," agreed Walter. "This is amazing. Three more graphorns. Do you know what that means for the breeding population?"

He began to walk towards the creatures. Her eyes widening slightly, Lara raced after him until they were only about twenty feet away from the graphorn family. Placing his backpack onto the ground and telling Lara to stay put, Walter stepped towards the animals.

The two adults whipped their heads around to look at him. One of them crouched down and hissed, while the other jumped in front of the three land-babies, scraping its paws threateningly against the ground. The graphorn in the water looked confused.

Lara's heart thudded in her chest, but she knew Walter had to check they were in good condition to report back to the Ministry. Before her very eyes, Walter began to stomp around the ground, making strange noises and whining in a high-pitched tune. Finishing off his elaborate dancing ritual, he collapsed onto his stomach and rolled onto his back, his legs in the air like a dead fly.

Slowly, uncertainly (Lara holding her breath the entire time), one of the baby graphorns walked towards Walter. The adult creatures grunted with apprehension, ready to attack if anything went wrong. They needn't worry; the baby graphorn sniffed Walter and, deciding he smelt rather tasty, began to jump around like an excitable puppy. Walter reached into his pocket and gave the creature a slab of meat. Seeing this, the other three babies scrambled towards him and the adults shared an almost resigned look as they watched their children fawn over the food.

"Get your food out," Walter called over his shoulder.

Lara reached into her over-the-shoulder bag, where she'd stashed red meat for the creatures. Two of the graphorns sniffed the air, realised there was more food around the area and scarpered towards Lara. Smiling welcomingly, Lara bent down and allowed the graphorns to take the meat from her hand. Their small, thin mouth tentacles tickled her palm.

"They're adorable," Lara sighed as one rolled onto its back, throwing the meat into the air before catching it again and swallowing the food whole.

She tried to remember what she knew about the species; they loved eating, they were heavily family-orientated, and they hated loud noises. Their golden horns were valuable in some potions, such as the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons, which meant they were hunted regularly and almost put into extinction years ago. Newt Scamander had repopulated the breed and spread them across the European mountains with the idea that hunters wouldn't be able to find them as easily.

"We should cast some protection charms on them," said Lara, taking more meat from her purse to feed them. "To make it even more awkward for hunters to see them."

"Damn, good idea," Walter grumbled from the floor. "We usually just cast concealment charms on their habitats."

"We can do that, too. But the babies need extra protection."

Watching the four babies pounce on each other and fall to the ground, their bums wiggling in the air, their mouth tentacles squirming happily, Walter whole-heartedly agreed.

The siblings spent an hour with the creatures, for they'd spent nearly seven weeks looking for them and thought they deserved a bonding moment. Then, having ran out of food, Lara stood and cast spells on the habitat and the graphorns, every protection and concealment charm she could think of. By the time she was finished, Walter was grabbing his backpack from the floor.

"Ready to head back to England?" he grinned widely.

"Yeah," Lara nodded eagerly. "Yeah, let's go."

They had to check-in with their boss first, to tell him they'd found the graphorns and documented their progression, so they made their way to the closest town and Walter set up a Portkey with an old beer can. They landed—rather heavily—in the Department of Magical Transportation, where they had a landing-zone dedicated to Ministry Officials travelling via Portkey.

Dirt-ridden, their hands smelling of red meat and tanned to the extreme, Lara and Walter made their way to the Beast Division Department. It was a large, circular room on the 4th Level of the Ministry of Magic. Filled with desks, chairs, a 'practical work area' (which was actually just a rubber matt on the floor that the employees stood on to hex each other and claim they were 'practising') and hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of creatures, it was one of the busiest offices in the Ministry.

Lara and Walter headed for the door at the back, upon which a golden plaque with the words 'Hayden Crane' was stuck. Their boss was sat behind his desk scribbling on parchment as Walter handed over their documents. He looked up only to congratulate them before going back to work.

"He missed us," Walter chirped once the door was closed. "I can tell. Normally he doesn't even look up from his work."

"Must be my dazzling influence," grinned Lara. "Let's get home, I desperately need a shower—"

"Culpepper's!" a voice interrupted Lara, making the siblings turn. "Come 'ere!"

Far down the office, a bunch of Lara's co-workers had gathered around a desk. A few of them seemed to be reading something. Glancing at each other, Walter and Lara made their way over.

"Alright, guys?" Walter said. "Missed us?"

"Terribly," responded Olivia Poole, eyeing them up and down. "Nice tans."

"Aye." Alan Sweeny smirked before continuing, "So do you know what's going on around here?"

Lara instantly straightened. "No, but we're desperate to know—"

"Dumbledore's been thrown off Wizengamot," Hudson Kemp said, leaning back in his seat, for the group had gathered around his desk. "Late July, I think it was."

"Well, he actually stepped down," Corey Wilcox corrected haughtily.

"He was forced to step down," snapped Melanie Terry. "Everyone knows it."

"I—are you serious?" Walter cried incredulously. "Why would they do that—"

"Well, you know the Prophet had it out for Harry Potter—"

"Which is a disgrace, by the way. He's fifteen."

"—they quickly escalated after you left," Hudson said, throwing Olivia an annoyed look for butting in. She rolled her eyes in response. "So now they're cursing Dumbledore to hell and back, too."

"Saying he's a crazy old bat that's losing his mind," Corey sighed. "And he shouldn't have any power anymore because he's dangerous to society."

"That's ridiculous," scoffed Lara. "He's old, sure, but he's as sharp as a whip."

"He's always been old though, hasn't he?" Melanie had a look of confusion upon her face. "Even when I was in school—which is a while ago, let me tell you—he was considered old. But all of a sudden they have a problem with it."

"They have a problem that he's saying You-Know-Who is back," Alan shrugged simply. "That's the root of it, isn't it? He's making them look bad, so they're making him look bad."

Olivia sighed loudly. "I just don't get it. Even if you don't believe You-Know-Who's back, people have to remember that Harry Potter is just a child. It doesn't matter what he's done in the past or whatever he might do in the future—he's fifteen. The Prophet should be done for child endangerment the way they're going on."

Several of her co-workers reached out and nudged her, their eyes wide as they subtly shook their heads. Unfortunately for them, Lara and Walter caught onto the shared looks and elusive flinches.

"What?" Walter demanded sharply. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Melanie said, glaring at Olivia. "Don't worry about it, Walt—"

"No, tell us," Lara said softly. "What's going on?"

Hudson, who had always been the most out-spoken and blunt of the Beast Division, leant forward on the table. "When we say the Prophets being horrible," he said slowly, glancing around his co-workers for help. They remained awkwardly silent. "The…the Politics section is being particularly…impolite."

Lara suddenly felt ill; that was her dad's section.

"Show me." Walter snapped, and Olivia handed over a paper.

Lara read over her brother's arm;

The Boy Who Lived becomes the Boy Who Lies?

Harry Potter may have saved the world on Halloween night over fifteen years ago, but it seems his supremacy is quickly dying off. After declaring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back (and miraculously come back from the dead), Mr Potter has not been seen all summer.

Many are accusing Mr Potter of pulling off a rather elaborate prank; after all, declaring the most evil wizard of all time is back and running off into the sunset may seem rather hilarious to fifteen-year-old who, despite having defeated You-Know-Who all those years ago, didn't actually live through the First Wizarding War. He, therefore, does not know the horror we all suffered from, the years we have spent rebuilding the Wizarding World and Ministry. Sick of being called The Boy Who Lived, did Mr Potter decide to say You-Know-Who is back, to be disassociated from his trouble past? To cause mayhem in the Wizarding World that have loved and adored him for so many years?

Or, as others are saying, has he simply lost his mind and really does believe that You-Know-Who is back? And, therefore, should we be admitting Mr Potter to an asylum to be treated?

And while he's there, should Albus Dumbledore be sent with him—many witches and wizards seem to think so. Dumbledore, who was first a Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts before being promoted to Headmaster, had stated on multiple occasions that he fully supports Mr Potter's claims that You-Know-Who is back. The public are, quite reasonably, beginning to question his sanity and, therefore, his power in the Wizarding World. Once a highly respected wizard with powerful ties across the globe, Dumbledore now seems like nothing more than an old fool.

Lara's jaw clenched; she didn't need to read anymore…except…her eyes scanned to the bottom of the article, where, in a large, proud font, were the words; Written and edited by Homer Culpepper.

Cringing into her shoulder, Lara inhaled before breathing out slowly. Of all the things she'd expected upon her return home, this hadn't been one of them. Her dad had always spoken highly of Dumbledore, who had been his Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. In fact, Lara remembered her dad being part of the campaign team to try and get Dumbledore to run as Minister for Magic.

Beside her, Walter read the whole article, word for word, before placing the paper onto Hudson's desk. His face was one of uncontrollable fury. "Thanks for showing us," he growled towards his co-workers. "Now, if you excuse me."

He marched out of the office, Lara racing after him, and didn't stop until he got to the floo network, where he climbed into the fireplace and said, "The Culpepper house, Durham, England," before disappearing in a burst of green flames.

Lara cursed and rushed to do the same. She didn't even want to imagine what Walter would do if she wasn't there to mediate between him and their dad. They got into horrible arguments anyway, about stupid things like what paper they read and what career Walter should have gone into, but this…this was going to be the worst one ever. Not only did Walter adore Dumbledore, he'd been saying for years that You-Know-Who would come back purely off his own intuition. He'd always said You-Know-Who's death had been too 'simple' and he'd be back, one day, somehow, and cause havoc across the world again.

Within seconds, Lara landed in her living room, stumbling forward and into the coffee table. Letting out a hiss of pain, she dropped her backpack onto the floor and looked up; Walter and her dad were already fighting. Her mam stood off to the side, looking between her husband and son as if watching a tennis match. None of them noticed Lara's arrival.

"I don't know what makes you think you can speak to me like this!" Homer roared, pointing his finger in Walter's face. "I'm your dad—"

"A sorry excuse of one!" yelled Walter. Behind him, Pamela put her head into her hands. "How dare you write those things about Dumbledore! He's a better wizard than you can even dream of being—"

"He's a crazy old fool," scoffed Homer. "How can You-Know-Who be back, Walter? It's physically impossible. He was killed over fifteen years ago."

"He was injured fifteen years ago. His body must have lived on somehow—"

"Even if that was true—which is isn't—then why would he chose now to come back? Why not five years ago? Ten? Twelve?"

"Because he OBVIOUSLY WASN'T STRONG ENOUGH—"

"Now you sound like a lunatic," Homer spat, prodding Walter in the chest. "I don't know where we went wrong—as soon as you started school, everything went downhill. You became obsessed with dragons and weird animals and The Quibbler—then you go into the Beast Division! Worst of all, you dragged Lara down with you—"

"Excuse me!" Lara yelped, turning every head towards her in surprise. "I liked dragons and animal's way before Walter went to school. Don't you remember Goober? He was my best friend growing up."

"That stupid old crup your grandparents had—"

"Stupid? STUPID?" Lara squealed and her dad blanched. He was used to Walter back-talking him, but Lara had always been rather level-headed towards her parents. "How dare you! You're stupid!"

It was a rather half-arsed insult, but she was so angry she felt like spitting fire and it was the best she could come up with.

"She's right," Walter chirped, giving Lara a proud grin before looking to his dad again. "You are stupid."

"Now wait just a minute—"

"You know he's back, dad," Walter's voice lowered to an almost pleading tone. "Deep down, you can feel it. There's so many signs, you're just ignoring them because you're scared."

"Of course I'm bloody scared," Homer snapped, his voice slightly shaky. "You don't know what it was like before—the constant fear you'd come home from work and find your family dead. Do you know how many people that happened to? How many people I knew personally that lost everything? He can't…he can't be back."

"We won before," Walter gulped. "We can win again—"

"We won out of sheer dumb luck!"

"Dad—"

"He's not back," Homer breathed, shaking his head slowly. "He's not, Walter. He's not. You-Know-Who died—"

"Voldemort." Walter said calmly, lifting his chin into the air defiantly. "Say his name, dad. Be brave."

Far from gaining courage, Homer looked absolutely gob-smacked. "Don't say that name," he whispered, horrified. "You don't know how much suffering that name caused—"

"Looks like Lara and I get our nerve from the MacMillan side of the family," Walter spat. Even with all the fights they'd had, Lara had never seen Walter look at their dad the way he was now; a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

"Boys, please," Pamela suddenly spoke, reaching towards her son pleadingly. "We can't fall out at a time like this—"

"We can when dad's being a complete prat," Walter snipped, stepping away from his parents.

"He's scared," Pamela said, close to tears. "We all are. If You-Know-Who is back—"

"Voldemort."

Pamela flinched dramatically. "I—yes. If he's back, it…it changes everything. The whole world in in danger. It's terrifying—"

"DON'T YOU THINK WE'RE ALL SCARED?" Walter exploded, so suddenly even Lara jumped. "EVERYONE'S FRIGHTENED! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU'RE SCARED? YOU FIGHT. YOU DON'T SIT AROUND AND DO NOTHING."

"Or disgrace the names of people fighting on your behalf," Lara said, throwing Walter a warning look. He huffed and began to take deep, calming breaths. "Why would Harry Potter and Dumbledore put themselves into the firing line like this? Why would they risk their reputations if they didn't believe in what they were saying? They're fighting for freedom, for your freedom, and all you're doing is slandering their name to make yourself feel better."

Homer looked utterly stunned and he was staring at Lara as if he'd never seen her before. She couldn't blame him; she'd spent her whole life being the peacekeeper of the family. Things she was passionate about, like the treatment of animals and muggle-born rights, she spoke up about, but with silly things she usually spent her time telling her dad and her brother they needed to listen to each other more. It never worked, of course, but she was always respectful.

This was different. This—Harry, Dumbledore, Walter—she believed in it so much she ached. Like Walter had said, she was scared, utterly terrified, especially after Cedric's death, but she wanted to fight. She wanted change. She wanted to make the boy with the crooked smile proud, to make his death worth something.

"You're a joke," Walter spat towards his parents. "Both of you. And I'm done."

He stormed upstairs without looking back. For a moment, Lara stared at her parents; her dad looked dazed and her mam had begun to cry. Not out of sadness, but because she knew, deep down, that Walter was right. Homer's articles may seem superficial, but if people were actually listening to them and Voldemort returned, they'd have a population of underprepared wizards and, therefore, more fatalities than there needed to be. The Ministry needed to prepare people, they needed to make a population of warriors ready to defend themselves against the worst kind of evil, and instead people were at home thinking they were safe while evil hid in the shadows, waiting for them, anticipating the moment they put their guards down…

Lara sighed and turned on her heels, following her brother up the stairs. She expected to find him laid on his bed or pacing his bedroom, but instead he was rumbling around and throwing things into a trunk. He'd obviously magically altered the luggage, as he was throwing in not only clothes, but lamps, chairs and other furniture.

"What are you doing?" Lara gasped.

Walter didn't stop moving as he replied, "I'm packing. I'm leaving this place."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I didn't tell you 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise, but I bought a place near the lakes. I got it for a steal 'cause it's pretty run down, but it's habitable."

Lara sucked in a sharp, hurt breath. She knew this day would come eventually—Walter had been saving up for years to get his own place—but she hadn't expected it now, especially after that argument. How was she going to live here alone with her parents, with all the awkwardness hanging over them and the elephant in the room, with her dad looking at her like she was a Blast-Ended Skrewt—

"Well?" Walter suddenly said, turning to Lara with raised eyebrows.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gunna pack?"

"For what?"

Walter stared at her in confusion, but Lara couldn't help him—she was confused, too.

"You think I'm going to leave you here?" he suddenly laughed. "The place is two bedroomed, idiot. Go get your stuff."

"But…" Lara began, despite the fact she felt excitement building in her chest. "I can't afford a place in the lakes—"

"On an assistant's salary? Of course you can't. But you can afford ten galleons a week, which is all I'm asking for."

"Are you sure?"

"Course I am. I worked out all the finance stuff ages ago," he shrugged. "Plus, living alone won't be as much fun. So go pack!"

Beaming at her brother, Lara rushed off towards her bedroom and opened her trunk, which she magically altered before throwing her stuff inside. After ten minutes, the only things left in her bedroom were the large furniture items and the walls. She grabbed her luggage, and her owl, Fudge, before stepping onto the landing, where Walter was already waiting.

"Ready?" he asked.

Lara nodded and they headed downstairs. Their parents were sat at the dining table now, near the doorway to the kitchen, and Pamela leapt to her feet instantly. "What's going on?" she asked shakily.

"We're moving out," Walter responded calmly. "I've got a place near the Lake's."

"Since when?"

"Since last year," Walter barely reacted to his dad's scandalised tone. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd just complain about it. But I don't care anymore, so I'll see you around, I guess."

He stepped into the fireplace with some floo powder, throwing it to the floor as he said, "Fuchsia Cottage, Kendal, Lake District," and disappeared.

Lara sighed once he was gone. "He'll calm down…eventually," she said. "Just give him some time."

"B-but you're leaving with him?" Pamela cried.

"Yeah," Lara replied evenly. "Of course I am."

"You don't have to," Homer spoke up from the table, where he sat with bloodshot eyes. "You can stay here, save up for your own place."

"I don't disagree with what he said, dad," Lara replied. "He just didn't put it across the way he should have, but I don't blame him. He's been saying for years that Voldemort would come back and he's prepared himself for the fight."

Her parents flinched simultaneously at the name. Lara sighed again and walked towards the fireplace with her trunk.

"The Ministry has too much power," Homer blurted out, standing up to stare at his daughter. "They're destroying anyone that doesn't agree with them. They fired three of my co-workers the other day because they refused to write articles about Dumbledore. I have to be smart, Lara. I can't lose my job or the house or—"

"It's not what you're writing, dad. It's that you believe what you're writing. If we came here demanding an explanation and you said you had to do it or you'd lose your job, we'd understand," Lara tiredly ran a hand through her hair. "But you're choosing to believe the Ministry instead. And if you believe the Ministry, you don't believe Harry and Dumbledore, which means you don't believe Walter, which means…you don't believe me, either."

"But he's being completely illogical—"

"Maybe," Lara agreed with a shrug. "Maybe he's being dramatic. Maybe he needs to think about it from your point of view. But…that doesn't matter. Nothing does. I'm always going to be on Walter's side."

Because he was more than her brother—he was her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, her biggest supporter, her voice of reason. He was the one that taught her blood-purity didn't matter, that all lives mattered, even the smallest, least understood ones, that looking stupid and being loud didn't matter if it was for the right reasons. She dreaded to think what she'd be without him; would be like David Brentford, so big-headed about her heritage and so caught up in other people's opinions that she forgot how to be a decent human-being?

She floo'ed to Walter's (and her) house, landing in a relatively small fireplace and placing the owl cage onto the floor. In front of her was a rectangular room with a wooden floor and unpainted walls, no furniture in sight. To her right, she could see an archway leading to a rectangular kitchen and a glass door leading to a back garden. In front of her, an open door led to a staircase, which she decided to go up to find Walter.

She came to a bare landing with a door on her immediate left. There were two more doors down the corridor behind her, one on the back wall, the other on the right-hand wall. The door on the back wall was open, showing a medium-sized bedroom painted in a dark red. Walter was stood in the middle already unpacking his things. Figuring the other door must be her bedroom, she opened it and stepped inside.

Like the rooms downstairs, it was longer than it was wide. At the end of the bedroom was a double bed pressed against the right wall, a bedside table tucked into the small space on the left. An oak wardrobe was set along the other wall, just behind the door. The walls were painted a light pink, like her bedroom at home, but everything else was bare.

Dumping her trunk in the room, she walked over to Walter's door and leant against the frame. Walter looked up and grinned.

"We need to go shopping," Lara said, smirking.

"For food?"

"For everything," Lara replied. "But for now I'll settle for food and bedding. Come on."

They found themselves at a muggle store called Asda, where they stocked up on tinned goods, the everyday basics, such as deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, etc, and they also got some luxuries, including bedding, plates, cups and a handful of cutlery. Having walked to the store, they had to carry everything back to the house in plastic bags and Lara realised for the first time why is was called Fuchsia Cottage.

"It's very pink," she said, looking at the semi-detached cottage. Next to it, there was an identical house, though that one was painted yellow.

"I thought you liked pink."

"I do," she eyed the cottage wearily. "I just feel like there should be a limit."

Walter laughed as he pushed open the front door. They dropped the bags into the living room, and Walter used magic to dispense everything around the house. With no furniture to sit on, Lara collapsed onto the ground, pulled out her wand and muttered, "Accio letters."

This turned out to be a mistake; at least a hundred letters raced down the stairs and at Lara, who squealed and held up her arms to protect her face. In the background, Walter was letting Fudge out of his cage and walking into the kitchen, probably to feed the owl.

Lara began to search through her mail. They were from her friends, though most were signed in messy handwriting with signs off such as; Smell ya later, Fred. This letter will self-destruct in 10 seconds, Fred. P.s Joking! Your favourite prankster, Fred. Your best ever snog partner, Fred. Lara grinned as she began to read his first letter, sent only three days after she left England. He talked mostly about his family, most obviously George, though Ginny was mentioned a lot, too. Lara was barely at the end of the letter when the fireplace suddenly glowed green.

"Bloody hell, look at your tan!" Erin Goodwin squeaked, appearing before Lara and staring down at her with wide blue eyes.

"Erin?" Lara said in confusion. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, mate. Yeah, I missed you. Yes, I've been busy, thanks for asking—"

Erin's sarcastic ranting was cut off by the fire, which glowed again. This time, Omar Shafiq stepped out, quickly followed by Stanley Thruston.

"Bloody hell, when you say you have nothing here, you really have nothing here," Stan whistled as he glanced around the room. His eyes landed on Lara and he smiled widely. "Hey La! Been a while!"

"Stan," Lara almost choked on the air in shock. "Omar, holy crap."

Coming to her senses, Lara got up and brought her three friends into a hug. She hadn't seen them since the 1st of July, where they said goodbye to each other on Platform 9 ¾. After spending everyday with them for seven years at school, it had been weird to be away from them for so long.

"Walter invited us," Erin answered Lara's previous question. "Just sent us all a letter. He said you needed cheering up."

"Me cheering up? He argued with our parents, too."

"Yeah, but you know what Walt's like. He won't feel bad for weeks, but you'll instantly feel guilty," Omar said, sinking to the hardwood floor.

He was right, of course. Lara already felt hideous for the way she'd left things with her parents. Walter, however, wouldn't feel anything for at least a month, at which point he'd get a gnawing feeling in his gut and apologise…at least, that was normally what happened. Lara wasn't so sure he was going to say sorry this time. She wasn't sure if even she would say sorry.

"This was a different kind of fight," Lara said, falling cross-legged beside Omar. "This was about Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Have you seen my dad's articles?"

Her three friends exchanged looks and Lara knew the answer.

"Well, yeah," Stan said eventually, shrugging. "But we didn't take much notice. He's not the only one jumping on the bandwagon. Most people who remember the First War are refusing to believe he's back."

"My parents think it's a load of tosh," Omar said. "Think Dumbledore's gone mad, believing a fifteen-year-old. I've tried to talk to them, but…"

Stan looked slightly sheepish. "My parents believe Dumbledore, but that's only because my grandma's on good terms with McGonagall, who's a Dumbledore supporter all the way. What my grandma says goes in my family."

"And my parents don't even know who Dumbledore is," smirked Erin. "So nothing to worry about there."

Walter returned from the kitchen with a large bag of crisps. Handing the food over to Lara, he sat on the floor and said, "What we talking about?"

"Dumbledore," answered Lara. "And people from the First War. Omar's parents don't believe Dumbledore, either."

She said this in an accusing way, hoping her 'so go easy on mam and dad' point would sink into his brain. Walter, however, just nodded.

"I can't believe the Prophet are being so awful to Harry," Erin said, reaching into the crisps bag. "He's only a kid and they're saying some awful things about him. If it happened in the muggle world, people would be kicking up a right fuss about his treatment."

"The wizarding world thinks they own Harry, though," Stan shrugged. "Like; oh you saved us, so you're ours to judge and talk about now."

"We've heard about him for so long that everyone feels like they know him," Omar said. "Like he's part of the family. My mum talks about him like he's a distant cousin or something, all disappointed and shit. It's weird."

"Talking of weird shit," Lara said through a mouthful of crisps. "Where's Mandy? Did you invite her?"

"Of course I invited her!" Walter responded indignantly.

Erin, Stan and Omar shared another one of their secretive looks. Lara rolled her eyes and said, "Stop doing that. What's happened to Amanda?"

"She's depressed," Erin blurted out, as if she'd been waiting months to say something, which, to be fair, she probably had. "We hardly see her anymore."

"She stopped coming to the pub about a month ago," Stan mumbled in agreement. "We started to meet every Friday after you left, 'cause we realised it was the only way we'd see each other. She was proper into it at first, but then she got quieter and quieter, then she stopped turning up all together."

Omar looked slightly angry as he said, "She doesn't really reply to letters, either. I've sent at least three that she hasn't replied to."

"I think it's because she was struggling to find a job," Erin murmured, awkwardly lacing her fingers together. "I think she felt weird when we talked about what we were doing and stuff."

"What do you mean she's struggling to find a job?" Lara asked. "Didn't she get good N.E.W.T.S. results?"

"No, she got great results," replied Stan. "She just doesn't know what she wants to go into."

"She had a job at Flourish and Blotts, then Madam Malkin's, then the Cauldron Shop. She kept leaving them after about three weeks. Said none of them felt right."

"Her latest one was becoming a broom maker," Erin said. "But she left about two weeks in—said the polish gave her a headache."

"So, now I think she's not doing anything," Stan shrugged. "She just hides herself in her bedroom at home and refuses to come out."

Lara frowned. "Do you think she'd come out if I sent her a letter?"

"Oh, yeah!" Erin cried, clapping her hands together. "Ask her to come to the pub next Friday as a 'welcome home' thing. She'll definitely make the effort."

Omar looked uncertain. "I mean, it's worth a shot."

"I'll send her one tomorrow."

"Great," Stan grinned and reached for the bag of crisps. "So anyway, apart from getting disowned by relatives and moving into houses without furniture, what's everyone been up to?"

The start of OotP! This part of the story will focus more on Lara and the start of the war away from Hogwarts-with some Fred here and there.

I've also been reading your reviews (which are wonderful, by the way, thank you so much!) and there was one that hit me-the world is a very crappy place right now and this website is my escape, too. So, like, as much as it goes against my nature...screw canon. Fred lives. We're all getting the ending we want and deserve. It doesn't change anything except the ending, and I get to write a nice one so I'm happy. If people want the sad ending I can still write both, somehow. I'll figure it out.

Also! Fic recs: anything by BlueKat is a masterpiece (still being updated). Just Another Slytherin by Carolina Flint (finished). Breezy by NeroLieto (still being updated) if you prefer something a little more non-canon, but still sticks to the main structure of HP. Unconditionally by chocolatecheesecakes (unfinished). lol I could go on for hours, there's so many amazing stories out there. let me know when you want more to keep you busy.