CHAPTER 15: Two Sides to a Coin

After Mrs Chang had finished her questionnaire with Harry he went downstairs to find Hagrid. It didn't take him long to find him in the visitor's lounge, reading up on a magazine called Fiercest Creatures.

"All right Harry? Whatcha think?" Hagrid asked excitedly, pointing out a page. Harry took the magazine and looked at it. He frowned.

"What is it supposed to be?" He asked, looking at multi-tailed Liger with wings.

"It's a Chimaera, Harry, don't you know tha'? She's a beauty, ain't she? Lookit those wings!"

"Er…"

"Natural predator of the Hippogryph- but even more intelligent and well behaved than a threstral!" Hagrid beamed. "She's in heat, or so they say, so soon there gonna be some young 'uns on the market, and I'm sure I could slip a couple of 'em in on Hogwarts' N.E.W.T. budget- they're goin' to be a great addition to my- er..." Hagrid cut himself off, seeing Harry's expression- "For study, o' course."

"Wait a moment- it says here she stands at nine feet tall crown to paw- and fourteen feet long nose to flank, with an additional six feet in tail! She's huge!"

"Aww- that's nothing! The male the ministry Beastmasters are currently tracking in Nigeria is twelve feet tall and nearly twenty feet – he's the prize bull they've been tryin' to line her with! Imagine the cubs! Beautiful!"

"But, aren't they-" he pointed, "the 'fiercest' mammals alive? You sure it's safe?" Harry queried a bit fearfully.

"Come on lad, have I ever showed you anything that we can't handle?"

"Well…er.." Harry shook his head a bit uncertainly.

"That's what N.E.W.T. levels are for! Time to have some fun! Don't want to see the same old boring specimens, do we? Time for a challenge!" Hagrid patted Harry on the back, who almost fell over with the blow. Hagrid laughed in anticipation. Harry grimaced as he straightened up.

Definitely not taking that class this year…

"Oh Harry, I'm going to drop you off by Hermione for a lil bit while I go pick up your stuff . Ye migh' have to stay there for a while until we find a way to secure Sirius' house again."

"Okay..I guess." Harry wasn't too keen on going back there now anyway. Hagrid got up and both of them made their way out.

"Her place is already charmed, and because her parents are muggles they won't even know a thing about them. I don' like shuffling you 'round like this one bit, but we ain't got no choice."

Harry nodded as they took their seats on the bike. Soon they were off, the motorbike flying at incredible speeds, concealed by the invisibility charm. In a matter of minutes, they were at Hermione's street and Hagrid landed the bike at corner.

"I'll be back in a couple o' days. Remus will be guarding the house in shifts with the Charlie, Bill and Sturgis," Hagrid smiled reassuringly. "Oh- I've dug up on my old medallion from the original members of the Order so I will be in touch. Charlie should be here any moment now- maybe he is, I dunno- but as you can- er, can't see, they gonna wear invisibility cloaks so you won't even know he's here. Remember to tell Hermione hello for me," he nodded and left.

Harry watched him walk to the opposite corner, stick out his umbrella, and immediately the Knight Bus came screaming down at him. It screeched to a halt. Hagrid got on, and just like that, he was gone. Hermione's house was lower down on the street. From where he stood, he could see her front lawn. He hopped back on the bike, started it up, and rumbled his way down to the front gate.

Roger Granger was sitting in his living room, drinking tea and reading the dailies. He had a day off today, his wife and daughter was home with him, there was a great match between Chelsea and Arsenal on the box, plus it was a great day outside. What more can a man ask for? Everything was perfect. He was taking another sip when he heard the familiar, masculine sound of one of those big American Harley Davidson engines he had as a young man . It brought back fond memories; he was a wild one in his youth. The vehicle drew near, and appeared to have stopped right in front of his house. He got up and looked out his front window, and to confirm his suspicions, there was someone on a huge motorbike on the curb.

"Who is that young man?" His face was turned away from him. Apparently, he was checking something near the pedal. All Mr Granger could see was a mass of black hair and a black thing strapped unto his back. Hermione came down the stairs in a hurry. She had felt his presence nearby, but that couldn't be- he was supposed to be at Grimmauld Place. Could it be a coincidence that she was writing a letter to him and now he was outside her front door? She definitely felt the connection between them become stronger suddenly.

"Hermione," Roger called her. "Come and see a motorbike that your father once had when he was younger. Ah, I remember those great days…"

"What are you talking about? What bike?" Hermione queried.

"Oh some fellow seems to have come across a problem on his bike and he stopped for a bit outside- Look," he pointed out the window. "That's a Harley, brilliant piece of machinery it is."

"It's not just a Harley, that's Harry!" she opened the door and went outside.

"Harry? " her father repeated, following her outside. "Harry could drive a motorbike?" he asked himself.

Harry was kicking at the stand, getting mildly irritated that it wasn't coming down as it should. His head snapped around when he heard his name being called out. Hermione was half running- half walking towards him, her face full of concern. "

"What's wrong? Why are you wearing a St Mungo's shirt?"

"Oh. Hi, Hermione," he smiled, and her heart melted. Hermione couldn't explain it, his smile affected her much stronger now even though they've been apart for only a few days. She itched to move away the lock of hair that always seemed to be falling into his eyes. She walked up to the gate and opened it for him. "Thanks," he said. He took the bike into the garage, and saw Roger Granger staring at him from the doorway, dumbstruck. He waved at him, "Hullo Mr. Granger!" Roger waved back, smiling back at him.

"Hey Harry, nice to see you again!"

Harry (feeling embarrassed he couldn't operate the kickstand) tried to lean the motorbike on the garage wall, but as soon as he let it go, the kickstand automatically came down for itself. Curious, he held it upright once again, and the kickstand went back up. Smiling, he released it suddenly, letting it fall. Instead of tipping over precariously, the bike casually leaned to one side, and the stand came down once again.

"I love this bike already," he grinned, and turned to face Hermione. "Whatcha think?"

"Harry, aren't you a bit young to be driving?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, but who cares? I don't. Wheels are wheels, and this used to belong to Sirius…" Harry explained. "Really wicked, it has an invisibility charm, replenishing fuel tank,a homing device, voice activation ignition and remote, kick ass chrome exhaust- genuine leather finish, original gauges, smooth suspension, plus a geo- balancer for when-"

Hermione cut him off by abruptly taking his hand into hers and leading him to the front door. Harry meekly followed. He looked at her small hand holding his. That strange feeling that rose up in his stomach was happening again…

"Come on, let's go inside, so you could tell me about what happened," said Hermione. Harry walked up to Mr. Granger nervously, Hermione at his side.

"Good afternoon, sir." A slight pause, and a bit of shuffling of feet later, Harry didn't know what to say. They just dumped him here, with no explanation whatsoever. He looked at Hermione for support, who in turn was looking back at him, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. No help there. "Er, did the professor contact you recently?" he asked, not sure how to explain the situation.

"Uh- no. Why?" said Mr. Granger. Just then a beautiful owl came swooping low, and dropped a letter into his hands. Mr Granger caught it reflexively, he was getting quite used to it by now. "Hey, this is from Professor Dumbledore! What extraordinary timing!" Harry just smiled; he half expected this to happen. "Come in, come in! Let's see what the Professor has to say," he turned back inside, opening the envelope as he went.

They sat in the living area, Harry and Hermione on the couch, Roger in his favourite recliner. Harry noticed (a bit uncomfortably) that Hermione did not let him go as yet. She sat next to him, quite oblivious to their interlocked fingers, one leg tucked under her, her bare knee brushing his jeans. Her father read through the letter, and looked up at Harry a couple of times. Harry waited with baited breath; he ahd no clue what thye might have told him.

"Hmmm…" Mr Granger mused, looking down through his reading glasses. "Interesting…." he said, reading the letter again. Hermione couldn't stand it, what was in that letter and why was Harry here?

"What does it say?" she blurted out.

"Well, it says that basically, for Harry's safety, you two should be close together," he eyed their proximity on the couch- "Well, be in the same house." Harry turned towards her, and she was looking at him strangely. Why is she doing that? "It says something about Occlumency; what in blazes is that? And also, it seems Harry's house needs to be fixed so Dumbledore is kindly asking me to let him stay for a little while until a trial? Right- the trial. Oh, it says here that not to worry about Harry's sword- it's a gift, A sword? You have a trial, you fly on brooms for England, a Harley, now you have a sword? I must say, you're full of surprises."

"Er-"

"But I would be glad for you to stay, mi casa es su casa and all of that. Where's your stuff?" Harry thought quickly.

"Oh, Hagrid's bringing it, soon, I think. By the way Hermione, Hagrid says 'Hi'," he said, smiling at her.

"Hagrid? Hermione's told me about him, he's your teacher for Care of Magical creatures right?" he ventured. " I can't seem to remember all these names sometimes," he said jokingly.

"Yes, he is, and he's a good friend of ours," she answered happily. Hermione's touch and her knee brushing his was distracting, and Harry was trying not to look at her bare legs; she was wearing one of those short pants again. Harry shifted his attention off of her and unto her father.

"So I can stay then?"

"Sure! You know where the guest room is, and I'm sure you and Hermione could talk about the OWL results, Hermione got hers a few days ago," he smiled at her, and she pinked slightly under her father's praise. Hermione was already getting up, tugging Harry along with her.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs." She knew that the letter was not letting on all that transpired, she didn't need Occlumency to sense that Harry's uneasiness pouring out of him. Also, not for one moment, she noticed that did he let go of the sword hidden under that black cloth. Hermione trotted up the stairs and led him into her room, which was very girly, excepting the piles of books on her desk and on the shelves. "You're hiding something, come on now, out with it," she commanded. Harry watched her as if she was a mind reader, which in a way, he reminded himself, she was.

"It's a long story," he said flatly. Hermione gave him that look she had when she was determined to get information, and Harry sighed. It was inevitable. She plopped down on the bed, and patted the space next to her. He sat down, kicking off his shoes wearily. Propping his arms behind his back, he closed his eyes briefly, feeling that magic burn behind his eyes once more. It was happening more often recently…

He reopened them, and for a moment, he just stared at a picture of Crookshanks on the wall, lost in his thoughts. This room, Hermione's scent, her whole presence- was invading his senses, and deep down, he felt that she was maybe the only person who he could talk to on a level where he was able to say everything on his mind, without freaking her out.

"Moody's in the hospital," he began, talking in a low monotone. "We were fighting- well, no... running from this convict- actually a warlock, yesterday- who waltzed into the mansion with this huge sword, and guess what? He's impervious to magic."

"A warlock? You sure? They were supposed to be wiped out!"

"You're the third person to tell me that. How do you know about them?"

"History of Magic essay- the death of Kurkle the Gnoll and Mandarin the Magnificient- two heroes for either side killed by a Warlock, which led to the end of the Goblin War and the persecution of those with the Hunter's insignia-"

"See? Can't always trust a book. They obviously weren't all killed, now were they? I'm special- there's one who dropped by for a spot of tea yesterday…" Harry said in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

"Harry-" Hermione began.

"Now the Quibbler has the trial all over the papers. I don't know Hermione, everything seems to be happening all at once, everyone seems to want a piece of me. Look- I've got a sword that only responds to me, supposedly Gryffindor's weapon." He laughed with the incongruity of such a notion. "Hermione, don't you think this is way over my head? Until a month all the name Gryffindor meant to me is the house I'm in at Hogwarts- oh and play Quidditch for. Now I'm holding his sword and there's this Solidus legend and I can control fire and some psycho who's impervious to magic is after me…" he fell back unto the mattress, splaying his arms high above him. He closed his eyes, and dreamt that he was flying away from it all. "I don't know anymore. Wish it will all go away." He felt his muscles relax as he stretched his legs. "Ahh... that feels much better, that motorbike really does a number on you." He spread his arms wide like a snow angel, rubbing his palms on the soft sheets until his left arm accidentally touched something soft. It was her backside. He didn't mean to, but it happened. "Woops..." he said in a quick apology, his eyes still closed. Hermione playfully smacked him on his arm. The bed smelt strongly of Hermione's perfume, and Harry took in a deep breath, soaking it in.

"Harry, you're lucky to be alive! So what happened to Mad Eye? Is he going to be okay?" she sat on the bed, leaning over him. Even though his eyes were closed and he appeared relaxed, she could sense his anxiety and fear lurking in the corner of his mind. Searching deep into his face, she felt her Occlumens training taking over once again. Flashes of a sword and an old man with a staff, another image of grey eyes and white hair- numerous doors shutting closed, running desperately through the manor- the futility of being helpless -and then-

Hermione flinched as Harry shouted Moody's name- and a tingling sensation coursed through her mind as the unnamed assailant was blasted away from him. Her eyes opened immediately. What was that?

"He got seriously hurt, the doc is trying to fix him up." He opened his eyes and looked into hers. This is something that has been bothering him some time now. It wasn't a game anymore, in the real world, the bad guys played for keeps. "It was really close this time, it's being getting closer and closer ever since Voldemort's return two years ago. Y'know, now I don't think even Dumbledore could help me. I can't explain it, you won't know how it feels Hermione, but I'm glad I'm here, just being around you seems to keep me going, and just for being my friend, thanks. You do mean a lot to me." Without thinking, his fingers came up and he caressed her hair. As his eyes searched hers, he really took the time to look at her. Only once before did he actually scrutinize her features, and that was when she was cursed at the Department of Mysteries. Now, as he lay there in her bed, looking up at her, he realised how his life had changed that day. How easily he could have lost her forever. Her cute little nose, that little quirk she had when she smiled, those light freckles that was so adorable- she really was quite pretty; and now in hindsight, how could he have not noticed? His hand stopped teasing the hair at her temple, and his palm lowered so that he could softly caress the side of her face.

Hermione closed her eyes as his touch reminded her of something that was building up inside of her ever since the day they treated Harry for his burn, and now, she couldn't keep it in any longer. She had to ask him, but she didn't want him to stop touching her. She gently covered his hand with hers, pressing it to her cheek.

"Umm- Harry?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"That day, y'know, when we fixed your burn, do you remember?"

"I remember…" he answered noncommittally.

"Do you remember what happened when we went into the kitchen?" she ventured. "And you took my hand and we snuck off when the twins were shooting rounds with Cho, trying to get her drunk?" she continued. He looked at her now, where was she going with this?

"I..."

"I've been thinking about that kiss ever since, I've never felt anything like that, and it sort of, I don't know... made me, I don't know, really think twice...y'know…" She ducked her eyes for a moment then looked back at him. "Harry, you made me feel more alive than I've ever felt, maybe it's the connection we have or the magical side effects you had, but...but..."

Her eyes focused on his lips for a moment, then back up to his, telling him what she was going to do, and giving him the chance to stop her, but also begging him not to do so. If he did, she would almost die of embarrassment…

She dipped her head slowly, and kissed him gently; their lips barely making contact. A sudden rush of sensation rushed Harry, both physical and emotional. Images scrambled to get inside his head, not only his thoughts, but also snippets of Hermione's memories and innermost fears, and in all the rush of emotions and thoughts he felt, there was one dominating theme, that she was absolutely terrified that something would happen to him, and would have no idea what to do if it did. She pulled back from him slightly and opened her eyes. Her hand came up, and gently shifted away the lock of hair that threatened to go into his eye. Hermione blinked once, and her eyes moistened.

"If anything...if anything ever happened to you…" A sole tear formed on her eyelashes, and she tried to blink it away.

"Shhh...It's okay, nothing is going to happen," he said wiping the tear from her cheek. "Everything is going to be fine." He pulled her close in a hug, and she rest her head on his shoulder. He held her in a soft embrace and stroked her hair, holding her safe. She was flush at his side, and her hand came up and touched his cheek, and once again moved away the hair that fell into his eyes.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Yea?"

"Promise me," she paused, trying to get out the words, " Promise me that you're going to be okay, and that you'll keep your wits about you, no matter what happens…"

He did not really believe that he'd come out of this unscathed, but he couldn't tell her that. It was inevitable. He and Voldemort will settle things, once and for all.

"I promise," he said softly. She looked deeply into his green eyes, and the gentle contact their minds had intensified. It was the most incredible feeling. Once again her lips met his, and she gently rubbed her lips against his bottom one, before deepening the kiss so that her pulse began to race and a warm, gentle feeling was spreading downwards…

"Hermione, no, don't, don't do what I know you're doing," he said gruffly. "I can feel it, sense that there's something…you-"

"Harry, I'm not doing anything," she said quietly.

"Don't do this, anyone who gets too close- Voldemort knows- he knows…always have…and I can't bear anything ever happening to you," he turned his face away from hers, and stopped touching her hair. He did not expect her to use her finger to turn his face back to hers. Hermione looked deeply into his eyes, and Harry felt that she was the only one who could really see what he was going through. Many older wizards and witches have given him advice, and told him things that have had an impact on his young life. Hagrid- when he told him he was a wizard, Mr Ollivander- who told him of his magical connection to the Dark Lord. Remus- who was the first one to relate to him about his parents and their connection to Sirius; Dumbledore, who explained the circumstances of his life, his scar and now the prophecy.

But nothing could prepare him for what his best friend was going to tell him.

"It's too late for that, Harry. But I don't care, I am not scared, I don't care, he'd have to kill me to stop me from loving you," she said softly into his ear.

Harry froze, those words burning deep into him. He closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, then opened them; staring at the ceiling. He looked at her face, her cute little nose, the shape of her eyes and lips. Would he risk it? He couldn't. She was more than just a friend, she was...she was…

The one he wanted.

After all these years, he now knew that what he was looking for was in front of him all the time. Someone to love him unconditionally, and without hesitation.

But- those who did: his parents, and for a short while; Sirius- ended up dead. He could not risk it.

"Don't say those things, even though I think, I think that probably the best thing anyone's ever said to me. And I mean that."

Hermione smiled sweetly at him, and kissed him tenderly on his cheek. She braced both hands on either side of his head, and looked directly into his face, her hair forming a curtain around them. "Whatever you're going through, you're not alone. I'm here, and I will always be here. Never forget that. " She caressed his brow again, and ran her index finger lightly over the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Reluctantly, she got off the bed.

"You must be dead tired, you can nap here if you want. Dad and I have to go out for a short while. I'll talk to you again when we get back. See you soon," she said softly. And with that, she left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

The Weasley brothers had found Ginny and persuaded her to join them to go and check on Harry. They floo networked back home, only to see their parents having a very intense conversation with Shacklebolt and Tonks. They entered the room, and the talking suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, not taking the hint. His parents looked meaningfully at each other, and Molly Weasley nodded in defeat.

"Kids, there's been bad news. He-who-must-not-be-named sent an assassin to Grimmauld yesterday. And it wasn't a wizard- someone, no something far worse. A warlock," he said grimly, rubbing his shaven cheek. "Moody's in St Mungo's fighting for his life."

"What!" Ginny screamed.

The twin brothers asked in unison: "What's a 'Warlock!"

"They are wizard hunters, known only as fables and legends from a time past. It's a miracle Harry pulled thru and saved Moody, without him around we would lose his experience and battle tactics, but it seems that he's not out of the fire yet."

"Is Harry okay?" George asked.

"Yeah, he took off to Hogwarts last night to contact the Professor, but he's gone again this morning and we don't know where he is. His house is in a mess, and we need to re-charm the security and put some more practical locks and so on, apparently Warlocks also aren't fooled by illusions, it's part of their invulnerability to magic."

"So you're saying that Harry and Moody fought off someone who cannot be touched by magic?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Arthur sighed. "Take this as a lesson. It's sometimes useful not to depend on magic all the time."

"Damn, I wonder how Harry is taking all of this, he must be really freaked out," Fred said. The others murmured in agreement.

"Well, right now we don't know where he is, we're trying to contact the professor but he has not been by the fireplace for the day- I guess Pigwidgeon would just have to send it by post."

"I think I know where he is," Ron said.

"Where?" everyone asked him.

"He's by Hermione."

The Grangers came back later that afternoon. Hermione immediately went upstairs to check on their guest, only to find him sleeping, half on, half off her bed. She giggled at his comical position, and went to take the sword off the bed. Harry did not stir when she walked past, and only mumbled when she hefted his leg onto the mattress. She picked up the velvet-wrapped sword from his side. Even though it was not any of her business, she was intrigued, she couldn't help it, the gleam and workmanship on it was amazing. Taking off the cloth, she examined it in all its glory. It really was beautiful; her fingers running along the intricate design of the Hyppogriff on the sheath. Gripping the hilt and the sheath in her hands, she tried to open the blade. It did not budge.

"Told you it won't open," Harry's voice said behind her. She jumped. His eyes were closed.

"I thought you were asleep," she breathed.

"I was, but when you moved the sword I felt something, and I woke up. " She looked down at the weapon, then back at him.

"Can you show it to me?"

"Sure," he said, getting up. He took it from her, and drew the blade slowly from its sheath.

The steel blade slide its way out, revealing the letters G O D R I C G R Y F F I N D O R. Harry's pupils had suddenly changed colour, they now glowed blue, and she felt a ringing in her ears. The energy coursed through her strongly, however, it felt more controlled this time.

"Harry, you've gone all charged up again," she remarked. Harry shut his eyes, and clenched his jaw, forcing it back down.

"I know, and that's what scares me." He closed back the blade. "What if I lose control again? Like with Malfoy or Dudley? With this in my hands I could really hurt someone, maybe even…"

…Kill someone?

Harry froze for a second, that strange impulse he got there…what was that? He wrapped back the blade in its cloth, and propped it against the dresser.

"That's it! What if you could control the energy when you have the sword, huh? Maybe Solidus only had the power when he drew the sword!"

"I never thought of it like that, you might be on to something," said Harry.

"Come on, let's go outside and see," she grabbed his hand, and pulled him along down the corridor and out the back door. He remembered here, he sat thinking about things for a few hours when he first came for the summer. It was a nice private spot; the shrubs creating a little enclosed patch of grass, with a large tree spotting the ground with the sunshine that poked through the leafy canopy.

"Okay Harry, relax, and try to think of happy thoughts, we shouldn't try anything too drastic yet. Draw the sword and see what happens." He gave her a 'I-don't-think-this-is-a-good-idea" look but stepped into the center of the lawn. Taking a deep breath, he extended his two arms parallel to his eyes and drew the blade in a fluid motion. A loud note of singing steel rang through the air. Taking it in a two-handed grip, Harry stood there in the circular clearing for a full ten seconds, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing happened.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing."

"Do you feel any different?"

"No. Not yet."

"But just a while ago-"

"Yeah, I know."

"Is it because you are now ...well, wielding it, instead of just, er...holding it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you drew it out to use it, right? Before you were just looking at it."

"Huh?" Harry turned to talk to her, letting go of his double handed grip. He held it loosely with his right, letting it hang by his side. At that moment, Hermione noticed that the reflection in the blade came alive. "That doesn't make any senssssse- " Harry's voice suddenly changed.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, a tinge of fear in her voice.

"I don't know w-," he grabbed the weapon again, holding it steadily in his grasp. "-What happened-" Slowly, he felt his eyes beginnign to burn once again. "Oh- now I feel it…" he held the sword at the ready, feeling it's magic seeping into him.

Hermione backed away as Harry's hair began to rustle in an unfelt breeze, and his eyes began to glow. The fallen leaves around him began to dance in a circle around his feet, and gradually the light faded under the shade of the trees. Hermione's hair tingled and her face felt the now familiar sense of power emanating from Harry. Light seemed to bend slightly around him and the few streams of light that poked through the leaf cover refracted and danced, making Harry seem as if he were radiating visible energy waves. Harry smiled, closing his eyes as his surroundings became almost pitch black.

"Hermione, I can feel it! And I think- I think I have some control now!" He swung the blade in a diagonal arc. It whistled as it cut through the air. "No, that's not how to do it…" he murmured to himself, "More like this-" his eyes half closed, he let the sword guide him. He changed his stance slightly, placing his feet in a new position as to maintain the best balance. He gripped the blade slightly differently as well; and with a smooth step forward he raised it above his head and brought it down smoothly and swiftly, cutting thru the air in a blur of steel.

"Now," he said, light glowing eerily from his eyes. "Lets try something-" He sheathed the weapon and stepped back. The power hidden in the sword channelled itself thru him. For a few moments he stood completely still, his left hand holding the sheath, his right gripping the blade. Hermione was getting frightened, and she took a few paces back.

"Harry?" she squeaked.

"It's all right," he said, not turning to face her. "Do what?" he said, apparently talking to himself.

"What are you babbling about?" Hermione said, very much at unease.

He drew the sword and charged forward with two slashes at an invisible foe, crisscrossing the two strikes. In the next movement he gracefully sheathed his sword and returned to a neutral stance. It was so fast Hermione barely saw him move. The bushes in front of him crumpled, and leaves fell to the ground, shredded into fine pieces. Now that he sheathed the sword and was no longer holding it, the energy receded, and light flooded back into the enclosure.

A few seconds later, a young tree to his far left toppled over, a clean cut visible a few feet up from the ground. Hermione marvelled at that. Harry didn't move anywhere close to that tree…

He turned to her, "Well you did seem to be on the right track, did you see that!" he asked excitedly." Like it was telling me what to do!"

"I don't know, that was ...scary," she stammered.

"I was in control! There's nothing to worry about!" he chided her.

"Usually when things go all dark and you start speaking in tongues that generally is not a good sign," she added, sort of wishing she hadn't proposed this idea.

"Yeah well, I will need all the help I could get when that prophecy does come to pass. This may just give me a fighting chance," He said reluctantly.

"Don't talk like that! It's so… so... negative!"

"Negative? Come on 'mione, I tell it as it is," he said roughly.

"Yeah, but a bit of optimism never hurt anybody," she countered.

"Yeah?" he asked, glowering at her. "Well you could sit there and say the glass is half full anytime you want, I see it as let's try and survive for the next couple of years!" he said darkly, his temper rising.

She opened her mouth, then stopped. It sounded so much more serious when heard aloud, especially from him. No one has really mentioned that Harry may have to fight for his life in a duel with Voldemort, but in his eyes that must be the only thing that he could think of. They both stood there, staring at each other for a heated moment. He shook his head in disappointment and stormed pass her into the house.

Great Hermione, she thought to herself. Now you've gone and pissed him off, you of all people should know better. Let him blow off some steam. She knew he was under a lot of pressure, and that his fuse will get shorter up and until the day of his court hearing. But still, chills ran up her spine just now, that sword had something to do with it. Maybe Dumbledore would lend her the book he had about all of this. She decided to write him a letter, not knowing that she would have thought more seriously about if she had spent a little time to notice that all the slashed leaves, and the stump of the tree- were already turning grey with death.

Meanwhile, Harry was upstairs in the guest room. He closed the door, and sat down on the bed, angry at himself. How could he have blown up with Hermione like that? Was he always this aggressive? First Cho, now Hermione, and both of them were only looking out for him. He slapped his forehead a few times, trying to knock some sense into himself.

"Harry," he said aloud to himself, "you're a real stupid git , you know that?" he sighed loudly and plopped down on he bed. He felt awful, treating her like that. He wished he had his trunk, these clothes were no longer clean from travelling all over England. Why was he acting so strange? Maybe he should go apologise. He didn't want her to think he was really angry with her. He got up, and went to find her, the sword of Gryffindor lying there harmlessly on the ground.