Disclaimer: I told you all before, I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise nor am I making any money off of this fic.

Chapter 11:

Recovery

Or

A Series of Conversations

Draco Malfoy was, to put it bluntly, in a state of shock. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the events of the evening. He wanted to figure out how he had gone from polishing his Nimbus broom and generally lounging around back at the Malfoy Manor to being locked in an Auror's office, answering questions about his father's activities and the events of the night. In the end, it all came back to Potter, and the attack on his home. Draco told the Auror questioning him everything he knew about the attack, as it would get him nowhere except Azkaban to withhold information. After he had been questioned, his mother escorted him back to the Manor, where he had found himself staring at the ceiling, going over the events of the night.

He had known quite a few of the Death Eaters that had entered Potter's house, either personally or just in passing. He had sat there, listening to the yells and curses being fired within the small home. It had bothered him that he could not hear his father's distinguishable voice among the shouting. He had known Potter would put up a fight, but assumed that he would die or get captured in the end. It was to his utter surprise that the entire bloody house seemed to explode, raining debris down on him, only to look up and see Potter stumble out from the devastation.

He had watched his school rival in amazement and, if he were honest with himself, also a little fear, as Potter not only laughed off the Killing Curse but then plunged his knife into Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco watched as his rival struggled to stand and, in the end, rode away on some demonic monstrosity. The thought of capturing The-Boy-Who-Lived had briefly flickered through his mind, but the idea of going up against both Potter, though he was gravely injured, and that monstrosity quickly dissuaded him of that idea. When he saw Potter's form fade into the black, wet night, he rushed into #4 Privet Drive to find his father. The trek was treacherous, as the house groaned and creaked in protest to his weight. On his way up he had to flatten himself against the wall to get past the rubble that had fallen into the hallway. When Draco came to the top of the stairs, he collapsed to his knees. Lying there, cold and lifeless, was his father, Lucius Malfoy, with a massive, gaping whole in his chest. He crawled over to his father's corpse and cradled his father's head in his arms.

As he held the lifeless body, he felt overwhelmed by sadness. As he thought about it again all these hours later, the same sadness tried to overtake him again. He had never heard the Aurors approach him until one of them placed their hand on his shoulder and led him away.

No, his father was not a nice man, but he was a respectable man, someone Draco could look up to. And now he was gone, killed by a filthy half-blood! It wasn't right! His father deserved to live! It was his right by blood. The more the pale haired boy had thought, the more his sadness gave way to anger and rage. Rage at a green-eyed teen with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He laid there, seething against his school rival, until his anger had drained away his energy and he fell into a fitful sleep.

R-o-t-G-L-

"You gave him what?" Hermione practically yelled at Remus, who had joined the three females a few minutes after Dumbledore had left. The grey-haired man was now looking thoroughly regretful for even speaking. Hermione seemed to have a knack for yelling at people tonight, as apparently the stress of the day's events was really getting to her. 'Dear god," Remus thought. 'Harry is going to kill me, if Hermione doesn't kill him first.' McGonagall was just giving the old werewolf a disapproving glare while Anne Granger was watching the argument looking slightly confused.

The conversation had been innocent enough, with Hermione asking Remus about what he knew of Harry's summer training and he, foolishly, had innocently mentioned some of the ingredients he had acquired for Harry or what Harry had requested that he couldn't get. Apparently, Hermione didn't think too highly of him getting Harry rare ingredients that were only used in dark magic.

"Now calm down Hermione, they were just some innocent potions ingredients. What is the harm in that?" Remus dearly hoped Hermione didn't know too much about Dark Rituals and their requirements.

"What is the harm?" The bushy-haired girl was practically screaming at him now. "The harm is that he has enough people trying to destroy him without you assisting him in dangerous rituals!"" Remus winced at the last statement. Apparently the girl was very well versed in the primary uses of most potion ingredients. Looking at his old transfiguration professor, he figured the old woman was too. Sighing, he tried to defend himself.

"I didn't so much as assist him, but helped him gather supplies for what he said was an experiment. How was I to know that his so-called 'experiments' were actually rituals? Besides, he said Albus had given him permission."

"Well then I will take it up with him as well! It was absolutely irresponsible of both you and him to allow Harry to perform any form of rituals!" Hermione seemed absolutely beside herself in rage. "Let's not forget the other consequences. What if this got out to the public? Or worse, what if he failed? I have read only the basics, but I know that the consequences of a failed ritual are always terrible!"

Anne watched Hermione in understanding. Her daughter wasn't truly angry. Well, she was, but it was because she cared about Harry, probably more than the girl even realized, and was afraid of what could have happened to him. Hermione had mentioned magical rituals briefly and the risks they entailed when she was briefing the rest of her family on the magical world and Voldemort, so Anne had a pretty good idea of what could have happened to Harry Potter. And she thought that her daughter was most likely justified in her anger. Watching he girl, she almost felt sorry for the lecture Harry was in for when he woke up.

"Really, Remus," McGonagall spoke up, "even if you weren't aware of what he was using those ingredients for, you should not have gotten them for him. I would assume that you had to go through Fletcher to get them?" Remus looked a bit sheepish, which basically confirmed the woman's accusations. It looked as if Remus was going to get another dose of Hermione's anger when the door to the kitchen opened to allow Madame Pomfrey in.

All the heads in the room turned to the Hogwarts nurse expectantly.

"Tea, Poppy?" McGonagall asked kindly.

"Yes Minerva, thank you." She said as a fresh cup of tea was pushed in her direction. The others allowed her a few minutes to relax before jumping into questions.

"How is he Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked.

"Well Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter will be fine, in a few days anyway." The school healer took another sip of tea before continuing. "I had to remove most of his leg bones and some ribs and gave him Skele-grow. I'm going to keep him under for at least a day, since rib bones are particularly painful to re-grow. Otherwise, he had some severe lacerations, but nothing life threatening. He may have some scarring, especially on his arm, but that was taken care of quickly." The woman seemed to frown for a moment. "His wounds are healing at a much faster rate than is natural, even with healing magic. In my opinion, he should have bled to death a while ago, but he is alive and his blood levels are at a safe level. He also slightly overdosed on pepper-up potions, so he will be a bit weak for a few days as it gets flushed out of his system. I expect him to be awake in two or three days at the latest, and I want him to stay in bed for the rest of the week."

"I don't think he is going to like that ma'am." Hermione, who had calmed down significantly once she was assured her friend would be okay, spoke up. "You know how Harry hates to stay in the hospital wing longer than he thinks necessary."

"Don't you worry. Ms. Granger," The healer replied, "when I was a healer apprentice, I also picked up a few good immobilizing spells for the more, er, difficult patients." Hermione just nodded.

"Can I go up and see him?" The girl asked. Madame Pomfrey seemed to consider this request for a moment before responding.

"You may, Ms. Granger, though don't expect him to be awake, and don't try to wake him either. Even if he wasn't in a magically induced sleep, his body is suffering from exhaustion."

Hermione tipped her head in understanding and rose to get up, with her mom and Remus following suit.

"Professor McGonagall, will you be coming up?"

"Not right now Ms. Granger, but I will pay Mr. Potter a visit tomorrow. I want to discuss some things with Madame Pomfrey here." Hermione just nodded in understanding and led the other two adults out of the kitchen and up to Harry's room.

Harry's room, unlike the rest of the house, had actually been repainted. The walls were a deep red with gold trim. The carpet, unfortunately, was still that hideous pink.

Even though Hermione had seen Harry when he first arrived, she couldn't hold back a small sob as she entered the room. Harry had been cleaned up, but his many lacerations that had already scabbed over (due to Harry's enhanced healing) stood out as bright red lines on his far too pale flesh while other injuries, such as his arm, were wrapped in sterile gauze. Also prevalent were the red welts that Hermione had noticed earlier on his chest, though by now they were clearly starting to fade. Separating herself from the two adults, Hermione slowly approached the bed to get a better look at her friend.

She grabbed a chair that was near the desk in the room and sat down next to the bed. Hermione's father joined Remus and Anne Granger in the doorway as he had just come back from cleaning himself up. They watched in silence as Hermione gently grabbed Harry's hand and merely held, as if to physically re-affirm to herself that Harry was still there. The three adults were about to leave the two of them alone when the silence was broken by a tapping at the window.

All the heads turned to the window as Remus rushed over to let whatever owl it that was tapping in. As soon as the window was opened, the sound of flapping wings filled the room. The disillusioned owl flew straight to Hermione and landed on the back of her chair. Though disillusioned, the owl was easy to see as the rain water dripped off of the bird's body. Remus, who had pulled out his wand, tapped the head of the bird, dispelling the illusionment charm and revealing Harry's snowy owl.

"Hedwig!" Hermione called out softly. The very disgruntled bird hooted in acknowledgement and stuck out her leg, determined to deliver her letter. Hermione untied the message from the bird's leg and unrolled it.

Death Eaters attacking Privet Drive. Send help.

-Harry

"What does it say Hermione?" Remus asked. Hermione just handed him the message and resumed her seat next to Harry. Hedwig had also taken up position on the headboard of Harry's bed. Remus read the note and then put it in his pocket. He nodded to Hermione, who had turned her attention back to Harry, and left the room. John and Anne just nodded at each other and headed to their room.

R-o-t-G-L-

Phillip Fairbanks was absolutely bored, as usual. He was head of a small, secret, five-person department which, by necessity, had to remain both secret and small. They, that is his department, were the liaisons between the British Government and the so-called Ministry of Magic. Sounded important, but couldn't have been more useless. It's not like they ever had much do to, as the wizards only contacted his department if they somehow screwed up. Like that Sirius Black incident. Apparently, the wand-waver's "inescapable" prison wasn't as inescapable as they claimed. Since that incident three years ago, things had been going down hill. Especially over the past year.

First it was the escape of not one, but twelve witches and wizards from their prison. Now, a little over a month ago, this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named character, who apparently has a grudge against all the non-magical people and even a large part of the magical citizens, has been declared alive and kicking. Of course, apparently the wizards had been warned of the Dark Lord's return well over a year ago, but they had ignored it like the incompetent clowns they were. He didn't know the details of who warned them and how, nor did he care. It really wasn't that important to him.

It would be more than sufficient to say that Phil didn't think too highly of the wizarding people or their government. The representatives from the Ministry of Magic he had to deal with were either incompetent, ridiculously arrogant, or both. Either way, he hated dealing with them and he hated his job. What good was it? It's not like he could put it on his resume and he certainly didn't feel like he was doing something with his life.

It was an early Monday morning and he was currently reclining in his office chair, sipping some coffee and reading a magazine when the door to his office was thrown open. Phil didn't even bat an eye. His employees were always making dramatic entrances. It was the running joke of the office, grandly throwing the doors open and pretending that whatever they were doing was of some great importance.

"What is it, Adam?" Phil said to the person who had thrown open his door.

"Phil, there's a wizard here to see you. He says it's urgent."

"They always say what they want is urgent. Ask him what he needs and send him away." Phil hadn't even looked up from his magazine as he spoke.

"Sure Phil, but if he hexes me or something, I'm blaming you." Phil just waved his hand idly in dismissal and re-focused on his magazine.

It was silent for a few minutes so Phil quietly hoped that whatever the wizard wanted wasn't really important. Apparently that was not the case as his door was once again thrown open, but instead of one of his employees, a man wearing a suit that looked at least thirty years out of date and had a horrible plaid pattern strutted into his office.

"What do you want? Did you let another convict out?" Phil asked in a bored tone, never taking his eyes off of his magazine.

"Actually, muggle, there was an attack we feel your government should be made aware of." Phil set his magazine down and looked up at the wizard, an extremely bored look to match his voice on his face. The wizard seemed to hesitate at seeing the muggle's complete lack of interest in the wizard.

"Fine." Phil spoke, and after a long pause continued. "What happened."

"Last night there was an attack by supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on a neighborhood in Surrey," he stated pompously, tossing a stack of parchment onto Phil's desk. "The road is Privet Drive and the neighborhood is Little Whinging or something like that. Muggle casualties are over one hundred. Right now, there are some anti-muggle wards up around the neighborhood, but we don't know how long they will stay there. I suggest you inform your Minister as soon as possible so you can come up with a cover story."

"I see." Phil said, still looking at the wizard. The news depressed him greatly as he always hated to hear about innocent people getting dragged into these wand-wavers problems, but he wasn't going to let it show. Luckily, it also angered him, an emotion he had no problem expressing to the stupid wizards. "So, when are you people going to show some competency in dealing with your own people? What the heck is the point of hiding your 'society'" he said in a mocking tone "if you can't keep your wars secret?"

"Maybe if you muggles weren't so weak, you could defend yourselves!" The wizard replied testily.

"Please, at least us our citizens don't have to walk armed wherever we go. Perhaps, instead of us getting more paranoid and aggressive, perhaps your society should be less hostile and medieval. Maybe then you could finally catch up with the rest of the country. Now, if you have nothing else to say, get out of my office." While he was talking, he had stood up and had finished practically yelling in the wizards face. The wizard, for that matter, merely glared at him, and with a loud pop, disappeared.

Phil sighed as he sat back in his seat. He rested his head in his hand for a few minutes before picking up the receiver for his phone. He waited a few moments as it rang and then someone on the other end picked up.

"Hello, this is Phillip Fairbanks from the internal relations department. I need to talk to the Minister."

R-o-t-G-L-

The next three days were subdued in Grimmauld Place. Hermione, after explaining to her family that Harry had been attacked, had spent most of her free time, accompanied by her cat Crookshanks, around Mr. Potter. She had practically set up camp next to Harry's bed and had barely moved from the room, spending much of her time reading from a large stack of books that she had accumulated the morning after the attacks.

Deciding to make herself useful, she had also taken to wearing Harry's amulet that allowed him to use underage magic, therefore allowing her to practice what she read and cast the occasional cleaning spell on Harry. While she, Hermione, was not in the habit of breaking the law (she really just preferred to bend the rules, and only if it was necessary), she reasoned to herself that if Harry could pull off what he had done for over a month without being caught, surely using it for a few days wasn't that bad.

It was the third day, or more precisely morning, after the attack on Privet Drive that Harry finally woke up. It was still dark when he finally opened his eyes, feeling a warm weight on his chest. Moving his head, he took in his surroundings. Noticing that he was not in the hospital wing and currently not in any physical pain, he felt he could safely conclude that he had made it back to Headquarters. As he looked around some more, he noticed three important things. The first was that it was currently 3:30 in the morning, at least according to the clock. The second was that the weight on his chest was none other than the sleeping form of Hermione's half-kneezle Crookshanks. The third was that Hermione Granger, the person he considered his best friend, was sleeping rather peacefully in a chair next to his bed. This brought a smile to his face, knowing that she had been there, though he rolled his eyes when he saw the stack of books piled next to her chair. He lay there for a few moments, looking at his friend in the darknesss. She didn't really look different from the last time he saw her, but he rationalized that while he hadn't seen her in five months, it really had only been about a month and a half since she had seen him. As he stared at her, he thought that she was actually kind of cute, in a Hermione sort of way, when she was asleep. He pushed these thoughts out of his head as his stomach growled, reminding him that it was time to get out of bed.

'Just how long have I been out,' he thought tiredly. With a groan, Harry tried to roll himself out off of the bed, only to find that he couldn't move anything below his neck. He started to panic, his neck squirming vainly as he tried to move the rest of his body. Fear flooded his mind as the possibility that he might have been paralyzed by one of the spell that had hit him. After a few moments, he stopped struggling and tried to reason through it. If it was a spell that had damaged him, then there may be a way to reverse it. Reaching out with his magic, he tried to pick see if he could sense if any spells were affecting him. He let out a sigh of relief when he found that it was only some form of restraining magic was immobilizing him and not some dark curse.

Summoning his power, something that actually came easier than it had before the attack, he broke the restraining spells Pomfrey had put on him. He grabbed the sleeping cat and placed it on the bed. Quickly conjuring a walking cane and one of his robes wandlessly, he ambled out of his room, glancing back only once to make sure he hadn't disturbed Hermione's sleep. He made his way down the stairs, leaning against the wall for support every now and then, and headed for the kitchen.

As he expected, the kitchen was dark and empty. Feeling completely refreshed, except for his aching muscles, he decided to make breakfast in about an hour. Right now, however, his throat was a bit sore from disuse and the potions Madame Pomfrey had undoubtedly forced into him, so he lit the stove and had begun boiling water for tea when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Madame Pomfrey said you would have to remain in bed for at least a week, Harry. I also thought she had put some restraining charms on you." Harry immediately stopped what he was doing as he heard the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"How long have I been asleep?" He asked.

"Almost three days," the old man replied calmly.

"And how long have you been standing there?"

"I just came in."

"You did tell Madame Pomfrey that I would heal up faster than normal, right?"

"I am sorry Harry, but I did not want to divulge that you had used illegal magical rituals or even hint that there was more going on with you than what is known. There is a bit of a stigma attached to the magics you used and there are some in the Order who would not understand." The old man explained.

"Good." Harry sighed in relief and continued to work on preparing tea.

"Harry, why don't you conjure a cup of tea rather than making one?"

"I want to make it by hand. Besides, I have time to kill. There is also that pesky under-aged magic law, and you know how that goes." Harry paused for a moment and a frown formed on his face. "I conjured a walking cane, why hasn't an owl arrived yet?"

"Well my boy, when I was busy at the ministry, I was able to get a month-long suspension of the Restriction for Underage magic for you." Harry frowned when Dumbledore said that. "You see Harry, it seems that after your impressive display of magic and the public sympathy that the death of your relatives brought, the Ministry was quite eager to accommodate your needs, including your need to use magic."

"I see." Harry shook his head at the blatant brown-nosing the ministry was doing for him. "So Headmaster, how did you explain everything to the Order about what happened? I mean, it's not like you could tell them everything."

"Well…" Dumbledore trailed off. Harry, froze again and then looked at Albus in shock.

"You didn't, did you?" Harry was almost pleading.

"Don't worry Harry, only a select few and not everything." The old wizard tried to pacify Harry, who had obviously become irritated.

"Only a select few?" Harry slightly mocked, his voice rising slightly. "And who are these select few and how much is 'not everything'?"

"Only people you can trust Harry, and they needed to know."

"Headmaster," Harry said, apparently ignoring the old man's last statement, "I will ask you again. Who?"

"Just Miss and Misses Granger and Professor McGonagall." Albus replied hesitantly.

"You told them?" Harry glared at the old man as he said this. "Did it not occur to you that I didn't want them to know, or anyone for that matter? That it is safer with them not knowing?" He would have been shouting at Albus if his throat weren't so sore.

"I am truly sorry you feel that way, Harry. I did only what I thought was best. Ms. Granger deserved to know, if only so she could give you the help you need. She is, after all, the smartest student of your year. You know as well as I do that much of the wizarding world would look down on you if they learned the steps you have taken to defeat Voldemort. You will need the support of your friends." He seemed to slump a little before continuing. "I knew you wouldn't tell your friends, if only to protect them, or perhaps because you fear what they would think of you. Maybe you might think they would pity you, as I know you are a proud person and would not want that sort of attention. But the reality is that you need to share your burden and you need people to understand you, and the only way they can do that is if they know what you know. As for the Minerva, I also trust her completely and know that they would never divulge such information."

"And Mrs. Granger? Is there a particular reason she needed to know?"

"You have to understand Harry, young Hermione was quite distraught when you showed up that night. Her home had been attacked earlier and…"

"Hermione's home was attacked?" Concern quickly replaced the anger in Harry's voice as he interrupted Dumbledore.

"Don't worry Harry. Ms. Granger and her family are fine, if not a little confused. They were here when you arrived."

"Oh." Harry really couldn't remember too much after the Death Eaters had port-keyed away, much less who was present at his less than graceful return to headquarters.

"As I was saying, Ms. Granger was quite distraught when you showed up. After Madame Pomfrey had arrived, I took Ms. Granger aside along with Professor McGonagall. When I explained the situation to them, I allowed Mrs. Granger to stay as moral support for Ms. Granger." Harry merely nodded and went back to silently making tea. It was after a few moments that he spoke up.

"You're doing it again Headmaster." Harry said with a sigh.

"I don't understand Harry. What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that the same reasons you gave me for keeping the prophecy from me in the first place are practically the same reasons you are giving me for sharing the prophecy."

"I realize that Harry. I am just concerned about you, especially after spending so much time with yourself this summer. I fear that you would not open up to your friends."

"I know what that you fear me becoming isolated and perhaps becoming evil. I also know that you think you are looking out for my best interests. But what about Hermione's parents and their best interests? What about Professor McGonagall? I trust them to keep their word and you may have a valid point about why you told them, but what if they were captured, hmm? How will we keep it secret then? This prophecy is beyond my happiness and health, it is about the outcome of this war."

"First of all, I only told them the first part, the part that Voldemort heard, and the part that confirms you as the prophecy's recipient. So no major harm has been done in that regard. Professor McGonagall has some skill at Occlumency and is perfectly capable of defending herself. Besides, most Order members also have at least some rudimentary skill or knowledge in Occlumency, at least those that have vital and dangerous knowledge. I have no doubt your friend Hermione can easily pick up Occlumency, especially with your help. As far as Mrs. Granger is concerned, while being a muggle she can't pickup Occlumency, she can be obliviated."

"Obliviation has be broken with enough torture." Harry replied flatly.

"But she can only be tortured if she is caught. We will increase the protection around her and the rest of her family. I am quite sure that if you agree to help Harry, I can almost guarantee you that we can make the Granger family practically untouchable. As a safety, we can also try to remove that memory from Anne Granger and place it in a pensieve. She can not disclose a memory if it is no longer there. There are, of course, some complications with that solution, as she can not use a wand, but I already have formulated some theories on how to overcome that obstacle." Harry was still glaring at Dumbledore, though less intensely as before. "Remember Harry, don't think that I make these decisions lightly."

"I know." He sighed in defeat. "I just wish you would stop trying to be a 'master manipulator.' And stop making so many assumptions about my life and me. I don't have the energy to be upset with you so it would be extremely helpful if you stopped giving me reasons to be angry."

"I will try Harry, but old habits are hard to break." This elicited a small chuckle from Harry, which was quickly joined by Albus. Grinning, Harry looked back up at Dumbledore.

"Well, at least you acknowledge you have a problem. I recall reading somewhere that that is the first step to recovery." The two of them shared another chuckle before Harry's face turned serious again. "I'm still upset at you, but what is done is done, and like I told you earlier, it is impractical and an inefficient use of my time for me to be angry at you. Next time, consult with me first." Harry paused, and seemed to think for a moment, before continuing. "Consider this a warning sir. Next time, I will also not be as forgiving."

"I will Harry, and I wanted to consult you about it, but you happened to be incapacitated at the time." He paused before continuing. "Do not worry Harry, I am not considered a, what did you call me, a 'master manipulator?' for nothing. I know what I am doing."

Harry brought over the tea and the two of them sat down to talk. Harry had wanted to discuss the attack on the Grangers and what was to be done about Privet Drive.

"Harry, tomorrow I will be holding an Order meeting to discuss these issues. We had a preliminary one yesterday when Professor Snape arrived and informed us of what had happened. However, now that you are conscious and the Ministry's investigation is complete, I feel it is prudent to re-evaluate the situation. I would like to invite you to attend. Not as an Order member of course, but as a guest." Harry thought about it for only a few moments.

"I agree sir."

"Now, you realize that I can not allow you to attend the part of the meeting where we discuss the situation of out operatives and such, but there is no question that you deserve to know all we know about the attacks." Harry understood and accepted the terms. As he and Dumbledore had discussed earlier, the only information Harry needed to know were Voldemort's plans concerning him.

"Harry," Albus said suddenly, if a bit cautiously, "I have a suggestion I think you should consider." This immediately put Harry on edge, but he nodded his head for Albus to continue.

"I think you should inform Ms. Granger, and perhaps Mr. Weasley of the last two lines of the prophecy."

"Umm, why?" he asked cautiously. Harry, after all, thought that that was a terrible idea, but wanted to hear Albus's reasoning.

"Well, first of all, I think that it might help you to have someone to confide in. After all, having the task of saving the wizarding world placed on your shoulders can be very stressing. Now, I don't want to tell you what you should think, but those two have, for the most part, stuck by you for so many years and have helped you with your battles. They may, in my opinion, like to know just why they have been fighting." Harry pondered that idea for a moment before reaching a decision.

"You may have a point sir, and I will take it under consideration, but," he said warningly, "I promise nothing." Albus agreed, happy that Harry would at least consider it.

The two of talked idly for a few minutes while Harry had started to make breakfast for the house until they heard a steady 'clunk clunk' coming down the stairs. Both of their heads turned to face the door as Alastor Moody, the retired Auror, entered the room.

"Well, Potter, you will be happy to know you've left the Ministry in quite an uproar. Half the people there are praising you for your 'decisive and effective' actions against the Death Eaters. Some are calling you a cold hearted killer, mind you those tend to be the purebloods with questionable reputations and loyalties as it is, and the rest are just scared of you." The old Auror actually seemed quite amused at the chaos Harry had brought to the bureaucrats.

"You did do well my boy." Dumbledore added. "There are not many who would have been able to pull off what you did. And I think you will be hard pressed to find someone who will truly find your actions unacceptable given the circumstances."

"I appreciate the sentiments, but I screwed up Albus." Neither of the two wizards registered that Harry had used Dumbledore's first name. Meanwhile, Harry was still talking while he dumped eggs in a bowl. "I should not have been caught off guard. I was weak, unaware, and in no condition for a fight. It is more of a miracle than anything else that I survived!"

"Really Harry?" Dumbledore said, "If it was not skill and power, how did you escape the house?"

"Hah! Skill and power! I used up most of the power I had gathered during the battle to cast the Hammer of the Witches. I was practically defenseless afterwards! Had I been prepared, if I hadn't spent so much energy on exercises that day I could have ended it sooner, without having to test the boundaries of the prophecy." This last statement seemed to confuse Moody.

"What do you mean by 'test the boundaries' Potter?" The old Auror asked.

"Now who is revealing secrets?" Dumbledore said idly. Harry glared at Albus, mumbling something about it being 'his secret to share', while the aging headmaster merely nodded for him to continue. With one more glance at the Headmaster, Harry continued.

"What I am talking about Mr. Moody, it taking a killing curse point blank to the chest and living, that's what I'm talking about."

"Potter, you were hit with a killing curse? Again?" Harry might have found the grizzled ex-auror's shocked expression amusing had he not been upset.

"Yeah, I did. I suppose that would mean I was right about the prophecy." Albus just shrugged his shoulders while Moody's eye was swiveling between the two of them, looking absolutely confused.

"Harry, I know that in the past, it seems as if fate had intervened on your behalf. And yes, it appears it might have intervened again, but you did not take out over ten Death Eaters by chance. If it had only been luck, you may have been able to escape. As it is, you have now put fear into the Dark Lord's forces. In the end, it was power, skill, and resolve that brought you through."

"Albus is right Potter. The odds were stacked against you, but you persevered. This time you didn't run, you were the victor. Yes, lives were lost. Yes, you got torn up. Morally, we suffered a loss. Strategically, you have seriously damaged the Dark Lords forces, re-asserted yourself as an icon of hope, and you have undoubtedly made the Dark Lord very hesitant about fighting you."

"I would have preferred that we had a victory on all fronts, not just the strategic one Professor." Harry replied as he started to make waffles.

"We can't always have it both ways Potter. And how many times must I tell you to not call me Professor? I wasn't your teacher for a day in my life. It's Moody, or Alastor if you prefer."

"Okay Prof… I mean Alastor." Harry said. Suddenly, an odd look came across Harry's face, confusing the two adults until they saw what Harry was doing. Harry had grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled it down so he could see the part of his flesh right above his heart. Sitting there on his skin was a partially healed, odd-shaped wound that seemed to spread out from a central point.

"Headmaster, why isn't that wound like the one on my head? Or better yet, why is it there a wound at all?"

"Well Harry," Dumbledore replied, "I have given that careful consideration and I have come up with an idea. First of all, the reason that it marked your body at all is that it did not kill you. The killing curse tears your life-force away. When it did not work on you, the energy that would have been used to snuff out your life had to go somewhere. You see the same thing when the curse hits an inanimate object. I believe that your body actually absorbed most of it, but not all of it, meaning that it left a mark."

Harry just looked at him in confusion for a few moments before it seemed that something dawned on him.

"I get it. There was more energy than I could handle so the excess had to do something, and since it is destructive in nature, it wounded me. But that still doesn't explain why it is different from the scar on my head."

"Well first of all Harry, the one on your head it smaller because much of the energy from the curse that Voldemort sent at you was reflected back at him. And it is also of a different nature than the wound on your chest. And to answer the question that is no doubt going through your mind right now, no, I do not believe you have a connection to Bellatrix Lestrange through your new wound." Harry looked at Albus questionaly as he said that. "Yes Harry, Severus has told us what happened. As it is, I do believe that your wound will not scar. As to why this is and why it did not rebound upon the caster, I feel it has something to do with your mothers blood protection. By the time Bellatrix cast the curse, the protection was completely gone."

"So," Harry said, "do I have to ask how I survived or were you going to get to that?"

"Well Harry, I don't know. Perhaps the killing curse is like one of those illnesses, such as the chicken pox, that once you have suffered from it, it can't hurt you again. Maybe because of the fact that you posses some of Voldemorts power and he now has some of your blood, coupled with your connection, you share a part of your life force with him and therefore can only be killed by him and him by you. The only true answer I can give you is that I don't know. Anything that I can tell you is purely speculation since we are still unsure about how the killing curse works."

"How can no one know how it works, sir?"

"Potter," Alastor chimed in, "the killing curse is one of the oldest spells in the magical world. It is one of those things where we know how to use it, just now how it works or who made it and when."

"Harry," Albus asked seriously, "during your training did you ever practice any of the unforgivables over your summer?"

"Yes Headmaster," Harry replied, "but it was one of the spells that I could only perform with a wand."

"How come?" the old man asked curiously. "What made it so difficult?"

"It wasn't the power of the spell, but I could never get a good feel of the magic." At Moddy's questioning gaze, he continued. "All my wandless magic is mostly performed by intention alone, sort of a controlled accidental magic. However, for more complex spells, the magic needs to be manipulated in very specific ways, hence all the different forms of wand waving. When I cast one of these complex spells with my wand, I can feel how the magic behaves and how it is manipulated, and, with that feeling in mind, I can try and emulate the spell wandlessly. Now, I can't always do it, due to complexity and power issues, but the killing curse is different from most other spells. Even with the ones I can't do wandlessly, I can get some sort of weak result. I can't get any results with Killing Curse though, no matter how much I try. I just can't get a good 'feel' of its magic." When Harry had finished, Moody was looking at Harry with something akin to respect, while Dumbledore merely looked pensive,

"Thank you Harry, that is most interesting and it does gives me something to dwell on." Albus said, "Now, enough of this depressing talk. We need to finish making breakfast."

"We make breakfast, sir?" Harry eyed Dumbledore skeptically.

"Of course Harry! I never have actually cooked before, but it looks quite entertaining."

"That's what you said about the tent, sir. Why don't you just leave the breakfast to me and you can experiment later." Dumbledore's face fell a little but accepted that Harry was probably right. Harry continued cooking, mumbling things about 'incompetent purebloods' and 'meddling old fools.'

Harry was setting the table while he waited for the sausage to finish cooking when the door to kitchen opened, admitting into the room five people who Harry didn't recognize. Well, mostly. There was a woman who had bushy hair that was very similar to Hermione's though darker, so he made the logical conclusion that the woman was Hermione's mother. There was a man, about the same age as the woman, an older couple, and a woman who was probably in her early twenties.

They stopped in their tracks when they saw Harry. Noticing the newcomers (which made Harry quite proud of himself considering he had failed to notice when Dumbledore had entered the room), he looked them in the eyes, a smile forming on his face.

"I would guess that you are Hermione's family, correct?" Harry asked the assembled group.

"Yes, my name is Anne Granger, and this is my husband John," the bushy haired woman said. These are my parents and this is my niece Melissa. You must be Harry Potter." Harry shook each of their hands as they were introduced and nodded to indicate that she was correct in her assumption of who he was.

"It's nice to meet all of you." Harry said.

"The pleasure is all ours. Hermione has told us a lot about you. And I must say, you look surprisingly well considering the state you were in when you arrived."

"Oh, you saw that?" Harry felt a bit awkward at being seen in such a state of weakness in front of his friend's parents. Apparently the Granger's picked up on this.

"Its okay dear, Hermione explained to us what happened and I must say, I am quite impressed, and so is my daughter." Anne said to Harry, with what Harry thought was a hint of pride.

"Are you staying around for breakfast?" Harry asked, looking for a more comfortable topic than the attack. "It will be ready in a few minutes."

"Yes, Mr. Dumbledore said it won't be safe at our home for a few more days, so we will be staying here." It had been John Granger who had spoken this time. "Is Hermione down yet?"

"No sir," Harry replied "she was still sleeping when I got up." With that Harry gripped his walking stick and moved back over to the stove.

"Are you sure you should be up and about right now?" Anne said worriedly, watching the young man hobble about. "You don't look like you're healed yet."

"I will be fine ma'am." Harry replied as he started to put food out onto the table. "I just need to work the soreness out of the muscles." Surprisingly, at least as far as Harry was concerned, both Alastor and Albus had remained quiet during his discourse with Hermione's family. 'Must be becoming common for all of them to eat together,' he thought.

They had all just sat down to eat when hurried footsteps were heard descending the stairs into the kitchen. Harry lowered his head as he took a guess on who would be rushing around this early in the morning. Hermione burst into the kitchen, confirming Harry's prediction.

"Mom! Headmaster, sir! Have you seen Harry?" She sounded a little panicked, Harry thought. "He wasn't in his bed when I woke up and I know he doesn't have his wand! What if he went missing?"

"I'm fine Hermione. I just needed to stretch my legs a bit." Apparently, that was not the right thing to say as Hermione turned to glare at Harry, though he did not see anger in her eyes, only concern.

"Harry, what are you doing out of bed? You had me worried! You're really shouldn't be moving around just yet, that is why Madame Pomphrey but those restraining spells on you."

"Like I said Hermione, I'm fine." Harry then gestured to the table, "Sit, I made breakfast."

"You made breakfast?" Harry just nodded. "Harry, you really shouldn't be exerting yourself like this." Just from the tone of her voice Harry knew Hermione was genuinely concerned about him, so he decided to put her mind at ease.

"How about this Hermione; after breakfast I promise that I will go back up to my room and rest. Does that work for you?" She seemed to want to argue her point more just for the sake of working of her stress, but seeing as how stubborn Harry could be and just being happy that he had finally woken up, she acquiesced.

"That's fine, Harry."

"Good." Harry grinned. "Now sit down and eat. I didn't cook this meal for my own health." 'Well, not completely' he added under his breath. Both Harry and Hermione failed to notice the knowing glances that had been shared between the adults as the two teens spoke.

Once breakfast had been finished, Dumbledore tried to help Harry get back up to his room while Hermione and her parents had agreed to clean the dishes. Harry was going to clean up himself, but Hermione, being just as stubborn as Harry at times, had held him to his promise of going straight to bed and had argued that if he could drag himself out of bed to cook the breakfast, the least she could do was help clean up.

Harry had settled himself down on the bed was busy reading the day's Daily Prophet. The headline was some nonsense about the 'Brave Boy Who Lived' and it made him sick. 'These are the same people who called me a lunatic last year, deranged and dangerous. Now they sing my praise because the Ministry has changed its position on Voldemort. Idiots.' He had just chucked the paper across the room when the door to his room opened. He looked up to see Hermione standing in the doorway. He gave her a quick smile and beckoned her to come in before turning back to his paper, forgetting for a moment he had thrown it across the room.

"How are you doing Harry?" Hermione asked cautiosly, trying to make sure she didn't ignite Harry's unpredictable temper. She did just see him chuck the paper across the room after all.

"I'm fine Hermione. A bit sore, but ok." He replied lightly.

"Oh. Are you sure? If you want to talk or anything, just know that I am here to listen." The softness in her voice caused Harry to turn his attention fully on Hermione and saw the concern in her face.

"Hermione, I'm fine. Really. I'm just tired and sore."

"Are you sure, Harry?" At this he frowned at her. "You didn't seem to happy when I came in. I thought you might need to talk about what happened during the attack." Harry looked at her, a slight bit of confusion showing on his face.

"I was just mad at the paper Hermione, as I am sure you can understand. As for the rest of your concerns, I'm not sure what there is to talk about. I mean, the facts are pretty straight forward."

"What is there to talk about Harry?" She almost sounded indignant. "You show up one night, battered and bloody, having slain quite a few Death Eaters and seen far too many people die and you ask 'what is there to talk about'! Lets not forget the fact that you have a prophecy hanging over your head!" In those last few words she went from indignant to almost hysterical. Harry's face dawned in comprehension as he realized what Hermione was getting at.

"Actually Hermione, I'm okay with what my actions, and the Prophecy for that matter, though I have had a little chat with the Headmaster about his revealing it to you." This seemed to shock her into silence. Seeing this, he continued.

"You see Hermione, earlier this summer I realized I had two choices. The first was that I could sit around and do nothing, moping about how I had neither the power nor skill to defeat Voldemort. I could sit in my room and waste away while I mourned Sirius. And I did, for a few days at least, but eventually I chose my second option. Instead of drowning in self-pity about my inability to accomplish the daunting task ahead of me, I chose to do something about it. Did I go about it in the best way? I don't know. Were my actions legal?" He shook his head in amusement as he said that. "Most definitely not. But effective? Very." Hermione just stood there, listening and trying to get a good bearing on this new Harry.

"I once felt guilty about Sirius's death, that is was somehow my fault that he died. And, in a sense, it was. But to be so thick, so naïve to believe it was purely my fault or that even a majority of the fault rested on my shoulders was ludicrous. There were so many factors that led to his death, so many variables that were outside my control. Yes, I should have listened to you, but I didn't. And there are reasons I didn't that I will explain to you later." He took a breath to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Do you know, Hermione, that when I think back upon that night a few days ago, I feel absolutely no guilt? True, I feel sorry for the innocent muggles who were killed only because they lived in the same neighborhood as me. But the Death Eaters? There is no guilt because, in a sense, I don't feel that I was the one who killed them." At this he held up his hand to stall whatever comment Hermione was likely to make. "The fact that I was the instrument of their death is not relevant. They sealed their fate when they took the Dark Mark and chose to side with Voldemort. I saw what they did to my aunt and uncle. I saw the destruction they wrought upon my neighborhood and I heard the screams of the innocent as they were killed. I also the saw they joy they got out of their work. The Death Eaters deserved what they got and, perhaps, they were even let off easy for their crimes."

"I- I don't want to question your judgment Harry, but why not just stun them so they could face trial?"

"Why? So their fellows could revive them with a quick enervate? So that if they were captured, Voldemort could break them out again? It was a lesson we learned in the Department of Mysteries." She looked at him slightly perplexed, waiting for him to explain his statement. "I would say, Hermione, that at the Ministry, we hit the Death Eaters more often than they hit us. The problem is, they aimed to kill, so when we got hit, we stayed down." The bushy haired girl just nodded in acceptance before she spoke up.

"I suppose that makes sense Harry, and I won't criticize your decisions or your actions. I don't know if I would have done the same, but I guess I won't know until I am in such a situation. And," She seemed to hesitate a little, "and, I am proud of you. I am proud of how you handled the news of the prophecy and I am proud that you have taken the responsibility of it gracefully."

"Thank you Hermione, that means a lot coming from you. Though, to be honest, I didn't handle it that well at first. I sort of attempted to trash Dumbledore's office." Hermione gasped.

"Harry! You didn't!"

"I did," he replied, a small smirk playing upon his face.

"I suppose I shouldn't lecture you too much," Hermione said. "After all, I did yell at the Headmaster when he told us about the prophecy."

"Aww," he cooed proudly. "My Hermione is growing up, what with yelling at powerful wizards and such." Harry said, his lips forming a slight smirk.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. Harry just chuckled as his friend settled on glaring at him (something he thought Hermione was becoming far too good at).

A comfortable silence descended upon the room, giving Hermione some time to observe Harry. He had definitely changed both physically and mentally. He looked as if he might be taller, though it was hard to tell while he was lying down. While he was healed up and Madame Pomfrey had said he was as healthy as he had been at school, if not more so, he was still extraordinarily pale. It then occurred to her that she had no idea how long Harry had been using the time turner she had found around his neck.

"Harry?"

"Yes Hermione?"

"How long were you using the time turner?" He froze up as he heard her say that last phrase.

"I don't know what you're talking about Hermione." He said in a very deadpan tone. She merely raised an eyebrow at him and reached into her pocket.

"Really? Than why was this hanging around your neck?" With that she pulled the broken remains of the time turner out of her pocket and dangled it in front of him.

"Err, yeah." Now he was looking a bit sheepish. "That, well, yeah." He sighed, obviously unable to think of a good excuse. He had thought Dumbledore had removed it from his possession, but apparently that was not the case. It did not surprise him, however, that it was broken. His torso had, after all, taken quite a beating. Keeping his eyes on the broken magical item, he spoke. "Well, you caught me. I suppose you also have the other thing?" She just nodded and moved the collar of her shirt with her free hand, showing that she was currently wearing it. At his confused expression, she explained.

"I figured that since it was here, and no one was using it, I might as well put it to use."

"Really?" He chuckled. "I would have never of thought that Hermione Granger, top student and Gryffindor prefect, would ever stoop to using an illegal magical item."

"Like you're one to talk, Harry. You, who illegally bought a time turner, who has performed massive amounts of underage magic, and is the owner of this illegal magical trinket, has no business criticizing me if I happen to want to use it for a few days. Now, answer my question. How long did you use it?"

"Well, I usually repeated a week five times." He shrunk a little under the glare Hermione threw him.

"And how many weeks did you do this?"

"Well, I think it was about four weeks, might have been fice, give or take a few days. It really is hard to remember sometimes."

"So, as far as you're concerned, it has been well over five months since school we got back from Hogwarts." He merely nodded. "Where did you spend all of your time?"

"I was around, here and there." Apparently that was the second wrong answer of the day, as Hermione again decided to glare at him.

"Harry…" Hermione said in a tone that was clearly a warning.

"Hermione," he said, starting to get a little miffed. "It's not important what and where I did what I did, just that I did it and it paid off. The rest is not important."

"Harry, do you remember what you wrote in one of your letters earlier this summer?"

"Well, not exactly, I mean, as far as I'm concerned it was a few months ago."

"Well," she smirked as she said this "you had told me that you will, and I quote, 'always listen to Hermione.' Now, I am going to hold you to that Harry. So, that said, I want you to tell me what you have been up to this summer and you are going to tell me today. If you don't, I may have to hex you!"

"Really Hermione," he said, a smirk forming, "are threats necessary?"

"Yes Harry, they are." She said in a dead serious tone. "One of the things I have learned about you over the years is that you can be irrationally stubborn and you won't do or say anything without a reason to. I could try and convince you that I want to help you and that my knowing what you have done will help me help you. Perhaps I could point out that I am your friend and I just want to know what my best friend has been up to over his summer. I could also tell you that I am really curious academically about what you have done, learned, and how you did what you did. But I also know you can be insufferably stubborn, hardheaded, and proud. You also won't ask for help, even when you need it. So yes, hexing you may become necessary."

Harry just stared at her for a few moments, slightly surprised at what she had said. 'Am I really that secretive? She may have a point. It's not like I go out of my way to talk about my life.'

"Fine, Hermione. You made your point. You're smarter than me and you care about me. I should therefore tell you what I know so you can figure out what more I need to do." He sighed for a moment. "That does seem to be what your good at."

"That's right Harry. I need to help you, and I can only do that with your cooperation."

"Very well Hermione." He said, sounding slightly defeated. He had decided that he was going to follow through on his decision to listen to the girl. He had made a commitment to pay more attention to his friend and listen to her, so, being a man of his word, he would. Besides, she already knew all the important parts, what was the harm in some details? "Where do you want me to start?"

"Why don't you start at the beginning of your summer, just after you left the train station?"

He proceeded to tell Hermione about his summer training and his replicates. He left out the information on the rituals, hoping Hermione didn't know about them. Hermione, meanwhile, allowed him go on believing she didn't know about them. She had picked up from both observing Harry and his behavior and her conversations with the Headmaster that Harry had become even more stubborn and perhaps even more secretive. She had a feeling that Dumbledore was right when he had said that Harry's friends would have to be on guard to keep him from pulling away from them. She figured that, if worse came to worse, she could hold that information over his head. Would he like it? No. But she would do it if the situation called for it. It was always better to do what was best for the people you love than to do what they want. After Harry had finished his tale of summer training, he had started answering Hermione's questions.

"So you spent all your time in a magical tent? No wonder you're so pale." Hermione shook her head. "Really Harry, you need to learn to take better care of yourself."

"Don't worry Hermione, I took steps to ensure my health. Besides, I hear the pale, dark-lord look is in these days." He said with a grin. Hermione just gazed at him, thinking that the isolation might have effected his mind. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and asked Harry another question.

"Harry, Professor Snape said that some creature had defended you at Privet Drive. What was that thing that attacked the Death Eaters?"

"Oh that?" Harry replied with pride in his voice. "Those are magical constructs, I call them Frankensteins. The one that attacked the Death Eaters was one I called Ted and…" Harry trailed off as a look of dread came across his face.

"Harry!" Hermione nearly shouted as she saw the fear in his features. "What is it? What's wrong?" Harry had to take a moment to calm himself before he replied.

"I forgot about Ted. We need to find him."