Posted 3/11/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Twenty-Six – From School to Home

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Once Harry passed the blank strip of wall a third time, the door appeared, just as expected. Hermione was the first to it and opened it, glancing inside at the mounds of treasures and trash.

"I still can't believe it's really here," she commented, walking inside eagerly. Ron followed her a bit more reluctantly. Neville and Luna were next, with Harry bringing up the rear.

"All right," he said, drawing the attention of his friends once the door had closed behind them, shutting out the beautiful spring day, "glad you could all make it, and thanks for sacrificing your time. I appreciate it. Welcome to the Room of Trash or whatever you want to call it. Now to get our final two... err, helpers. Dobby, Kreacher!" As commanded, both elves appeared, one enthusiastic, the other scowling at everyone. "Nice of you to join us," Harry told them with just enough kindness and sarcasm to stop both elves from retorting. "As you can see, there is a lot to go through, and we're not entirely sure whether it's all safe. We'll form two teams led by Hermione and me, respectively. We will fling every detection spell we can find at everything we come across, but you should still be careful. Dobby, you will be assisting Hermione, and I'd like you to help her with everything you can, alright? Oh, and it'd be nice if you wouldn't mention our little excursion to anyone later, alright?"

"Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will help Miss Grangy," the elf announced puffing out his chest, "and he will never say a word to anyone."

"Meanwhile, Kreacher will be under my watchful eye. Kreacher, I order you to help me and the people standing in this room right now, warning us of every curse or danger you will either notice or honestly suspect. You will not abandon us until you are dismissed from this task, and you are also forbidden from informing anyone not in this group of this endeavour or this room and its contents until I tell you otherwise. Oh, and you are also forbidden from telling anyone not in this group what we will remove from the room. Furthermore, you are also forbidden to put anything we take back to its original place or hide anything you feel we might want to take."

Kreacher twisted his gnarled hands, but after a moment, growled, "If Master orders poor Kreacher to, he will have to do it."

"Don't worry, Kreacher," Luna piped up, smiling serenely at the elf, "I'll come with you and keep an eye on Harry so he isn't mean to you."

Kreacher stared at her, halfway between distrust and puzzlement.

Harry cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Err, thank you, Luna. Now then, thanks to Hermione's brilliant idea, we have these handy bags," he pointed to Hermione, who was busy pulling them out of one she had been carrying, "that she saw fit to extend quite a bit with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

"What will we be looking for? Well, anything useful or dangerous, but most importantly, things with unique value. We don't need to drag twenty old brooms out of here," he glanced tiredly at Ron who was too busy eyeing a pile lying in a corner, "but we could do with Secrecy Scanners and the like –things we cannot buy without drawing attention. If you come across a spell book you don't know, bag it. If you come across trinkets of unknown purpose, bag them. If you come across... I don't know... let's say wands, for example, take them. But most importantly, whatever you find, always let it be checked for curses first. That's the job of Kreacher, Dobby, Hermione, and me.

"Now it's time to form our teams," Harry told them. "Luna's already volunteered to join me..."

"I'm going with Hermione," Ginny interrupted. "I know I can trust her," she added with a pointed look, albeit avoiding Harry's eye.

"Then I'll stick with Harry," Ron said and went to join his best friend. "'cause someone's got to look out for him."

Neville wordlessly joined Hermione, but the glance he threw Kreacher showed he wasn't unhappy about it.

"Fine," Harry told them. "So, you know what to do and what to look for. Books you don't know, anything unique, anything useful, wands. We'll sort later, just don't take everything. I'd say we go down nearby alleys. Hermione?"

She glanced around, but nodded curtly. "Since we're looking for smaller things mostly, how about... how about those two over there?" She pointed in the direction. Harry had little doubt she meant at least the row with the huge bookshelf at the beginning.

"Dobby," Harry asked, "and Kreacher as well, does either of you know how this room is sorted?"

Kreacher's growled, "No, Master," mixed with Dobby's "Dobby doesn't know, Harry Potter, sir," emphasized by his frantic shaking of his head.

"Well, fine, then," Harry agreed. "But Hermione, we want to be finished some time, alright? No getting sidetracked. You can always return later and dig through anything you deem interesting."

"I can focus very well, Harry," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "And I know why we're here."

The moment they had entered their alleys, Harry heard her team get to work, and pulled out his wand, casting the first batch of diagnostic spells at a cabinet. "Ron, you check that one," he said once he was reasonably sure there was no dangerous curse to be found there. "Luna, the next one, if you please." He ran his diagnostic spells over the next few cabinets on both sides of the alley. Kreacher meanwhile busied himself with poking at a few broken items half-heartedly. At least he wasn't slowing them down, Harry thought, already half regretting getting the elves to help.

"How about this?" Ron asked, lifting what appeared to be a painting of a regal looking witch glaring at the group. Before Harry could ask, Ron turned the painting on its head. The witch stayed in place, curiously, but her robes didn't. A short gasp later, the colours in the painting formed a whirlwind and settled into what seemed to be an empty room of drab stone. To demonstrate, Ron reached inside the painting.

"A hidden storage. Sweet, huh?" he asked. Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded. Before Ron put the painting in his bag, Luna apologized to the ruffled witch.

The next item they found intrigued Harry more. It was a bust or, as Luna happily identified, a Parroting Head, repeating everything it had heard. Harry guessed it was broken as it refused to learn anything useful, but Ron was happy to learn and teach a few choice swearwords. A while later, Luna came upon what Harry guessed to be an earlier version of the mirrors the Marauders had used. It was considerably larger, true, and the glass was cracked, but it was also active the whole time, which clued them in on its function, and showed what looked like another corridor, but no clue about its location. At the same time, Ron had dumped a collection of old books into his bag with a face of utter disgust and no explanation. Even Kreacher proved to be useful, pointing out a leeching ring –while it did not leave any visible mark, it drained a victim's blood, ultimately killing whoever wore the ring. Harry bagged it mostly to remove it from the room.

Hermione seemed to have found something to entertain herself as well, judging from the occasional comments and exchanges drifting over to Harry.

When they were searching a pile of discarded, likely broken instruments, Ron drew Harry's attention. "Hey, what's that? Looks-" The moment he picked the item, a delicate golden chain, up, his words stopped abruptly, but his mouth kept on moving.

"A silencing device?" Harry guessed, but Ron looked at him oddly, putting his hand to his ear. Only after he put the device back down did Ron's voice return.

"So you really couldn't hear me?" he asked, frowning. "Weird. I couldn't hear a thing. Not you, not Kreacher, nothing."

"Probably some experiment," Harry guessed. "Or maybe someone wanted their peace and quiet for studying; it's too elaborate."

Ron glanced at it. "Harry, err, you wouldn't mind terribly if I, you know, took it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, having a good idea what Hermione would get for her next birthday. "Just remember to wrap it. Oh, and perhaps have it cleaned first."

As the hours passed, they found a surprising amount of unique items no one had heard about, but only very few wands. They only finished their search for the day when dinner approached, reconvening afterwards to sort their findings.

"You know, Harry," Hermione told him, leafing through a book written in what appeared to be runes, "even if we ignore all the clearly broken things in there, that room is a veritable treasure trove. You should have seen some of the books. Hogwarts: A History, second edition. Don't ask me how it ended up there, but..." She blinked at whatever she had seen in the book, and commented, "Oh, that sounds useful. Not to us, but... hmm." With a last glance, she placed a blue bookmark and turned the page.

Neville was equally busy studying a book he had picked up, one with faded pictures of nasty looking plants Harry was glad Professor Sprout didn't have at school. Anything that had instant liquification of internal organs as one of the side-effects of its poisons was better off nowhere near the school. Neville had disagreed.

Ron amused himself with the Parroting Head, which had begun spouting the most ridiculous nonsense. Interestingly, its face had begun to slowly change, no longer looking like a stern witch and resembling more Ron himself. Whoever had done the spellwork had been a genius, Harry guessed, wondering when Ron would notice.

Luna was busy flinging spells at the glass of a tall mirror, which seemed to take a surprising amount of abuse, occasionally forming waves wherever it was hit, but not breaking. An enchanted teapot was on the table next to her. Although it still didn't whistle, after some creative tinkering from Luna, it now cursed violently instead of randomly spewing waves of fire as it had done before.

Harry took it upon himself to check the wands they had collected, sorting them into two piles according to their state of damage.

"You know," Ron spoke up, watching Harry conjure a slightly misshaped wooden toy horse out of the corner of his eye, "I'm feeling oddly better, knowing I'm not the only one who broke their wand at school."

Harry vanished the toy, shrugging. "Well, it's not that surprising," he said, putting the wand on one of the three piles, "but I'm more worried about so many children finding the same room, yet apparently not taking anything from it over the years. –Ouch!" He dropped the wand he had tried to pick up, glaring at it. "Or the nasty personalities of some of the wands." He tried again, this time more carefully. "Makes you wonder just who had used them originally. Hmm." Examining it, he shrugged after a while, waving it around. A snake burst from the wand in an explosion, startling Ron. Only a moment later, it writhed and fell over, dead.

"Not your best attempt, Harry," Ginny pointed out, looking up from a spindle-legged trinket resembling a cross between a spider and a crab that guarded one of the books, stabbing at anything that tried to come close.

"It's the wand," he claimed tiredly. Maybe he should skip the memory integration for the evening? He'd already done something in preparation for the war, hadn't he? "I honestly don't know what it's made of, but it's off, simple as that." His attempt to vanish the remains of the snake resulted in a yellowish smoke smelling of rotten eggs. "Whatever it is, it's not a wand I would let anyone use."

"I'll trust your expertise on that," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes.

"Daddy said wands were once made with all kinds of odd cores," Luna spoke up, firing a spell that made the mirror sound almost like a bell upon impact. "He also said one of his great-grandmothers had a wand with a core of pixie droppings. He said she was really bad at magic."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, but both managed to keep the laugh in.


"Honestly, Harry," Hermione began, "you need to pay better attention. Any other teacher and you might be in deep trouble."

"Flitwick likes me, though," her friend reasoned, scribbling on the parchment in front of him.

"He likes everyone if they do their work," she countered. "Which, incidentally, you don't. You don't work in class and you don't learn like everyone else..."

"I am learning, Hermione," Harry told her, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. "Just a bit faster than most."

"Three years each month, Harry, and you're not learning, you're just remembering!"

"Not my fault if I've learned it before," Harry said, knowing very well he'd won that argument before. So did she, for that matter.

"But you haven't... You," she broke off as an ugly look crossed her face. Finally, she spat, "But he still doesn't like you dozing off, which you do."

"I can do the spells in my sleep, I think I have proven as much," Harry pointed out. "And really, it was only a short nap. You make it sound as if I were constantly disrupting class or something."

She bit her lip. "You don't, that is true, and you get your work done easily now which leaves me more time to check on Ron..."

"Thanks for that, mate," the redhead said from Harry's other side.

"... but your short nap is another issue. You need to take better care of yourself. I know how important it is, and I'm also aware I'm a hypocrite after everything I've done in third year, but you cannot continue like that forever. You will tire yourself out before you get to the bottom of it. And I know you don't sleep that well lately in the first place. You need to slow down or you'll drive yourself mad before long."

"I have a lot to search through," Harry replied with a shrug instead of the tired sigh he suppressed. It was true that he had a lot to search through, but it was not the whole truth. With each passing day, he was aware of his time running out. With each passing day, he integrated yet another moment of cruelty. With each passing day, he continued despite the growing reluctance.

"Well, maybe look into some happy memories from time to time, then," Hermione argued, likely guessing what Harry had thought. "Even in his life, there has to be something he enjoyed aside from killing and torture."

"Funny you mention that," he began, with a roll of his eyes, starting the next line on the parchment.

"This isn't one of those stories of yours where he found something nice and then destroyed it, is it?" Ron asked wearily. "'cause I hate those."

"Actually, no, he didn't kill her. He met a girl he didn't kill on the spot and even kept his powers at bay, finding it too amusing to play with her. She liked his charm..."

"Please don't tell me more," Ron groaned. "That might actually turn out worse!"

"Well, long story short, her house burned down with her family inside. When he learned about it, Tom found it hilarious."

Hermione blanched. "He... why would he find that...?"

"Simple really. He suddenly realized she had held him back. Amusing or not, she had kept him from reaching his purpose. With how much time and effort he had invested in trying to break her without magic, she had cost him valuable days. But although he hadn't seen it, Fate had intervened and gotten rid of the interference. Tom saw it as a sign –he wasn't meant to be tied down by people or hold back, and why should he? He would be immortal, after all. In time, everyone would die, and only he would remain, so why bother with people?"

"Harry," Hermione began hesitantly, "please do me a favour. Don't misunderstand me, I love you dearly, but please –never try to tell any of our children bedtime stories."

"Didn't plan to. It'd be too grim." He told her with a wave of his hand.

When Hermione groaned, Ron just rolled with his eyes. "Could you two stop it? I'm kind of busy here and don't need you two flaunting your amazing skill of mindless chatter." Before they could answer him, he had turned back to his essay.

"Back to topic, then." Hermione was determined. "You should try to take better care of yourself or you'll make some mistake and harm yourself. Harry, I worry about you. Ron does too, and you know it. You're tiring yourself out before you can face him. It's no use if you're nothing more than a wreck by the time you have to take part in the war. Please think about it, and please really do it this time."

He was about to answer when the door to the Common Room opened and Professor McGonagall walked in. She locked eyes with him, and he got a strange sense of foreboding. Hermione seemed to have understood, and with Ron busy anyway, they dropped the subject without another word.

"Mr. Potter," their Head of House said bristling. She kept her voice low, but her aura still caused the students to look away and busy themselves elsewhere. "The headmaster wished to invite you to a talk and a bit of... tea." She pursed her lips disapprovingly, and Harry couldn't fault her. To her, it must have been ridiculous to have to deliver a trivial message to a student. But Harry had gathered more from it than she had, or so he assumed.

"Yeah, sure," he said with a nod, pushing his notes on his latest discoveries from the memories towards Hermione. "Ron, Hermione, I'll see you later. Thanks, Professor." He rose to his feet and left. But he was still only halfway to the stone gargoyle, when the brisk steps of the transfiguration mistress joined his.

"I have decided to bring up some topics of importance with our Headmaster," she told him.

Harry very much wanted to tell her how unwise it would be, but decided against it. He had no business to tell her anything, and a part of him was curious how it would play out. They continued silently on their journey. The few students who passed their way sent Harry pitying looks, thinking he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have tried.

It was funny in a way how people seemed to associate with him more since the news about his unplanned marriage had been made public. Before, he had been the Chosen One and the Boy-Who-Lived, but after the few days it took them to get used to the thought, they had warmed up to him and had accepted him as one of their own. Oddly enough, after the first week, some of the braver boys had told him how lucky he should consider himself to be, considering who his betrothed was. Harry merely shrugged and told everyone who would listen the same cover story.

Professor McGonagall gave the password and the guardian to the Headmaster's study jumped aside. She stormed up the steps, new-found energy driving her, and knocked with more force than Harry would have expected her to use. Dumbledore told his visitor to enter.

"Ah, Minerva," he said to her. "Thank you for bringing him to me. I am sure you have urgent business to attend to, though..."

"Actually, I have. With you, Headmaster." She glared at him. "How come Mr. Potter is invited to your little study just like that? I wasn't aware of any business he had with you? And there is something far more important. You are aware, I'm sure, of his predicament? Why haven't you done anything about it? A young boy like him! Or is it another of your little schemes?"

Dumbledore looked at her. "I had no hand in the predicament you think of. I only learned about it after it had happened."

"But surely there is something that can be done to put a stop to it? Now, please do not get me wrong, Miss Greengrass is... not a bad person, but..."

"Unfortunately, Minerva, there is nothing to be done for either of the two. But you will be delighted to hear steps are being discussed to prevent it from happening again."

"And what steps will that be?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Wizengamot is thinking about changing the law to require comparably closer blood status to inherit old titles through anything but blood itself. For the Blacks, that would mean a pureblood."

"So they are fixing at the wrong end," Harry surmised.

"Naturally. They call it the Potter Initiative." Dumbledore smiled at his student. "That is pureblood logic for you."

"But you could surely pull some strings, Headmaster," Professor McGonagall tried.

"Even if I could, it would not be my place to step in."

"But..."

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry told her, "it's alright. I'm not sure what my parents would say about it, but I guess Sirius would laugh himself silly if he had known what he set into motion. And at least the underprivileged students will get some nice books out of it, won't they?"

She looked at him for maybe the first time in months, and suddenly her expression changed. "Lily would have been delighted to watch her son take the step into his own life," she told him in a thick voice.

"Now that you mention her," Harry said, and turned to Dumbledore, "any plans for my summer? We should probably go over the security details before it's too late."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "Mr. Potter is almost an adult now. He will marry, no matter how much it displeases everyone. Surely you will set him up with some from the Order?"

The Headmaster stroked his beard. "I don't think so," he said after a moment. "Although I cannot force or order you anymore, I would like for you to return to your family..."

"The Dursleys, you mean –aunt, uncle and cousin," Harry corrected.

"I meant them, yes. I would like for you to return to them for about two weeks at least. I considered having Moody plan it as he can react to short-term changes on the spot. However, I cannot expect you to sit around their house for months and I also think it is time for you to make your own decisions concerning your living arrangements, which is why I'm asking you to think about it."

Harry nodded. "I already have something in mind, Headmaster. I guess I can live with the Dursleys for two weeks as long as I'm rid of them after that. It'd feel odd abandoning that job so close to the finish. I think I owe it my past self to see this to a proper end. I've lived with them this long and kept the wards in place, I want to end it on my terms. And there is of course the matter of Greengrass to consider. I will have to come up with some form of communication in case something happens later on - once we go our seperate ways, I mean. I know I would target her as soon as she missteps and appears to sympathise with our cause, so Voldemort will as well. I know he wouldn't mind seeing her getting hurt as long as his arch-enemy is defeated. He didnt care for the lives of bystanders in the past, he won't in the future. I don't want to see Greengrass getting hurt just because she was close to me. She needn't become collateral damage."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Very thoughtful, Harry." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but didn't say anything. Dumbledore continued, "Yes, I agree with you on that account, some protection has to be put in place. Has she made any comment about the summer?"

"She wants to stay as far away from me as she can manage, I think. As I've just pointed out, that would suit me just fine. The less indication there is to assume she means anything to me or I to her, the less likely she will be targeted. She also mentioned protecting the family as an issue to consider when I last talked to her."

"Well, that coincides with my thoughts of the last weeks," Dumbledore said.

"So that is what you have been doing?" Professor McGonagall demanded. "Locked up, thinking about these possibilities? I had assumed you had been busy preparing for the war. You assured me you had important business to deal with."

"And I had business I couldn't risk delaying. But I wonder... Well, why not?" Dumbledore said. "It might be wise to tell you, knowing what I will demand of you. The time might be right. Please take a seat." He indicated a chair in front of his desk. When she had sat down, he smiled at her. "What I'm telling you now is only known to a handful of people at the moment, and I intend to keep it that way. But you are the Deputy Headmistress, and more importantly, I consider you a god friend as well. I think you should know." He made a small pause to arrange his robes. "I'm dying," he told her.

She spluttered. "Albus, what a thing to say!"

"It is true though. I know it, Severus and young Harry do as well. With good reason have I refused to visit Poppy or any healer. I'm slowly dying, little by little. There is nothing to stop it, and by the end of the summer, I will very likely be too weak to do anything at all. Of course, that means in September, it will be your school, and you will have to assign a new Transfiguration professor. It might be a good idea to think about possible candidates already. Since I cannot allow myself to wither away in public, I plan to keep my fate a secret until it is too late, which is part of the reason I avoided being seen in the past weeks.

"Officially, I have been busy, and it is true. About a month ago, I woke up from a very pleasant dream about pies and realized what I had to do. And so, after a slice of blueberry pie, I began with the task set before me. I busied myself over the last weeks to do what I had failed to do for years –I sat down and wrote down every bit of magic I could think of, everything I had never shared before. Most of it concerns very advanced theories about magic, and I am sure you will be delighted to have my insights, Minerva, since some of them leave the boundaries of common magic behind them. Unfortunately, I didn't do it for entertainment, and I am far from done. Some of it required the invention of a completely new system of runes; it took more time than I had anticipated, but I also found the time for the actually important matters - the ones that had me start this project. I wrote about both offensive and defensive magic you will not find in any book, most of them of my own design. Harry, those are for you, once I'm finished with them. I trust you will know what to do with them."

"Albus! You cannot possibly..."

"Minerva," the Headmaster continued with a raised hand to ward off this deputy, "I trust you to make sure he gets these notes – for obvious reasons I cannot mention them in my will. The Ministry would never allow such valuable secrets to pass under their noses, and I do not want that knowledge to become widely known. There are precious few people I would trust with them. Over the school year, I have prepared Mr. Potter for the upcoming confrontation, knowing I would not be there to see it myself, but I regret not starting sooner. This is my way of giving him the help I owe him. I also hope you will offer him your guidance –should he ask for it –in my stead."

She looked overwhelmed for a moment. But then, she shook her head to clear her mind. "Naturally. I will offer any help I can think of, and I will personally assist in any way to help end this battle. I hope it will not come to that, though."

"I doubt you will have much to do, really," Dumbledore told her with a smile. "You do see why I told you now, but kept quiet earlier? To ensure the quality of teaching at Hogwarts, you will have to be prepared to take over as my successor and transfer your responsibilities to someone else at a moment's notice. However, telling you sooner would have done nothing but cause you grief."

"So it will be my responsibility to keep this school running despite all the madness? Will I also have to take over your other duties? Will I have to make the decisions concerning Mr. Potter's placement with Lily's sister? Because you know what I thought about that idea from the start and I haven't changed my mind. I've voiced my thoughts about that earlier, didn't I?"

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry told her with a smile. "I won't be there long enough to be in any serious trouble this time. And even if I am, I'm more than prepared to take it on. It's just a few weeks at the worst, and then, with the mission accomplished, I'll leave that place and the Dursleys behind. It's nothing to worry about."

"And you will not have to take part in the war if you do not wish to," Dumbledore added to his deputy. "In fact, I am confident Harry will be perfectly capable of dealing with it, should the need arise. He already knows what to do; all he needs is time to figure it all out."

Professor McGonagall eyed both of them wearily. The Headmaster looked surprisingly calm at the thought of one of his still under-aged students knowing how to win the war that had the wizarding world divided. Said student simply nodded and gazed to the window.

"Surely you don't mean for Mr. Potter," she sent Dumbledore a pointed look, "to take any part in the upcoming struggle? He is far too young and has his education to finish! You didn't allow James or Lily to join before their graduation, and you were hesitant to let Sirius join even after that. I assumed your preparation was meant for a time when Mr. Potter will be ready a few years from now."

Dumbledore smiled at her, and replied with a small nod, "Mr. Potter is unlike his parents, Minerva. I'm sure he will be an asset for our side, and I have no doubt no force we can come up with will keep him from the fight anyway. For better or for worse, he is more mature than any of the other students that have passed our halls in decades. Now then, Minerva, are all your questions answered for the moment?"

She blinked, closely reminding the onlookers of her alternate shape. "I believe so. But make no mistake, I will return at a later date." She left as gracefully as her state allowed her to.

Once the door was closed, Harry sent his Headmaster a pointed look. "Guilt tripping Professor McGonagall into trusting me?"

"I told her a version of the truth she would find preferable - namely, that you can be trusted due to the instructions I gave you, and that it will be my hand that is moving the pieces on the board."

"Chess?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"Our tea then, Harry?" Dumbledore said, changing the topic and pulling out the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff.

"I figured you got it. It looks genuine," Harry said, inspecting the artefact. "How did you manage that, though?"

"Ah, another thrilling tale," Dumbledore replied with a mischievous smile. "Suffice to say I managed to get a hold of it, and apart from us two, no one will know the whole story about it. I bought it, simple as that. Twice, in fact, once from the goblins and once from the Smiths, even if the latter don't remember the details anymore. We have the Cup and the means to destroy it. If you would not mind, I would like to take care of this one. It did take a fair amount of work, dedication, and gold to get it, and it was my accomplishment that we have it now."

Harry nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. Your work to get it, your job to finish it. I'll still have the snake, won't I? And after a while, destroying Horcruxes gets a bit boring."


May ended on a high note for Harry and his friends. After the destruction of the Cup, it had been hidden in a secret space along with the other Horcruxes, protected by very powerful spells. They couldn't risk Voldemort learning about the Horcruxes' fate, which in turn meant they had to hide their remains. Afterwards, Harry had talked with the Headmaster about different possible escape scenarios from Privet Drive, mainly for the purpose of having Dumbledore-ish back-up plans. They had also talked about ideas of how to get the snake as well as the proposed attacks on the Death Eaters. As expected, Dumbledore had been very much against using the magic of the Dark Mark against them, mainly because he had disliked showing their hand for such insignificant matters. Harry had agreed reluctantly.

Between his schoolwork and the longer sleep Hermione had made him promise, he found it more difficult to go over the newly-gained knowledge. But it wouldn't matter, he reasoned at the beginning of June, as he would have the whole summer to dig through them. It helped him relax a bit, and his improving mood seemed to put his friends at ease as well.

The exams proved to be fairly easy for him, a completely new experience, and all thanks to his excursions into Riddle's memories. He had always been average, apart from Defence against the Dark Arts. Interestingly, Harry had begun to dislike the actual class.

"Well," he had told his friends, "it is really difficult for me to sit there and have Snape insult or taunt me. I was the best in our year before everything, but now I could easily wipe the floor with everyone in the room with the exception of Snape himself –for now. I could teach the class without any problem in a few months; I could write the books, but I still have to sit there and act like an ignorant idiot."

"As one of the idiots," Ron had replied with a grin, "I think I should feel insulted." Hermione had pursed her lips, but had kept quiet.

Over time, the school had returned to the normal state of gossip. His upcoming wedding had been a topic for a while, but the closer to the holidays they were, the more the students started thinking about the outside world again. Harry was no exception. The suspicious lack of attacks troubled him. Sure there were the occasional murders, and quite a few Muggles had been found turned inside out, but apart from that background noise, Voldemort seemed to have kept back.

Once the last few weeks, Harry had done the best he could think of to prepare and had gathered his friends in the Room of Requirement to teach them some of the more advanced spells in his repertoire. Naturally, Hermione had found it ridiculously easy to learn them and had been most impressed with the modification of spells to stop easy counters. Ron had struggled more and instead concentrated on a few curses that had proven to be very effective. Neville and Luna had done what they could, but each of them had some spells that simply didn't work right for them. Neville had therefore concentrated on defensive spells and improved shields, Luna on quirky hexes that kept the enemy off-balance. Ginny had proven to be as vicious as Harry had suspected, and he was very happy he had kept any hint of dark magic well away from her. Apart from them, hardly anyone from the DA found the time to join them for any of his lessons.

He had also given Professor McGonagall a nasty shock when he had returned the Captain's badge and turned in his resignation from the team, claiming increased interest in his classes. He hadn't been sure what had been more difficult for her to grasp –a Harry Potter who didn't want to stay on the team or one who wanted to concentrate on his school work. From the reactions of the team when he had confided in them, it might have been the former.

During their final dinner of the school year, Harry had felt very uneasy.

"It's just nerves," Hermione had tried to convince him, but she too had kept glancing around. Naturally, Ron had paid more attention to the food, but even he had shifted every few minutes to kepp an eye on their surroundings.

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell myself," Harry had replied. "But that's not it. This year is missing something. First year, we had the Stone, second year, the Chamber, then Sirius and the Dementors, then the Triwizard Cup, followed by our trip to the Ministry. But this year is still missing the one final fight. It's not a Hogwarts year without some big event at the end. I constantly expect something to happen, and it would be fitting, wouldn't it? On the final day of the school year we are suddenly attacked?"

"True," Ron had agreed. "I had kind of hoped we'd have something to do to keep us busy, but I guess the war is enough thrill for the year."

"You had a lot to deal with," Hermione had supplied. "Do you really want more?"

No attack came, and the next morning, the students scrambled all over school to get their belongings to the train. With a bit of creative thinking, Harry had sent Kreacher with a lot of his possessions to Grimmauld Place. In the past, Harry had always carried everything he owned with him, including the school books from previous years as well as the school robes. But with his own house, he finally had somewhere to store them that wasn't a bank. Unlike Hermione, he didn't think the school books should be placed in a vault as priceless artefacts, but he also didn't follow Ron's suggestion to burn them.

"No," he had told his friends. "I've lived with them for a whole school year. I've even written my name in them. It feels wrong to destroy signed copies of my school book. Who knows what those'll be worth in the future?"

And so, he only carried the more important possessions with him when they left for the summer. The Marauder's Map and the mirror Sirius had left him were tucked away between some of his clothes. Much to both Ron's and Hermione's dissatisfaction, he had also packed the Half-blood Prince's book into his travelling bag. Ron had been appalled at his best friend carrying a book with him, Hermione still disliked it for the many hints it contained. Harry however knew he would like having something with him at Privet Drive that wasn't his own, alien memories, yet could teach him something.

The train ride was mostly unremarkable. Neville and Luna joined them for a while, but both left before they were halfway to London. Neville wanted to discuss some Herbology project with Macmillan; Luna wanted to visit Ginny. The redhead had joined Dean, much to Ron's dislike.

Seamus dropped in for a while, wishing Harry a good holiday and demanding he return with some nice stories from his honeymoon. From his expression, he found the hexes Hermione had sent at him well-deserved and not at all enough to make him regret his words.

On his way to fetch some sweets, he ran into Romilda Vane trying to charm him with her feminine wiles. He had passed her without trouble, and on his way back, he had seen the girl in a headlock by Demelza Robins. The chaser had developed quite nicely over the year, gaining courage above all, and Harry had no doubt she had no trouble handling her year mate.

About an hour before their arrival in London, Draco Malfoy showed his face. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle were anywhere in sight, but instead, Pansy Parkinson tried to have his back. Harry wasn't sure whether she had joined him with that intention, but from the amount of time she spent staring at Malfoy's butt, he doubted she really paid any attention to the conversation.

"Well, Potter, it looks as if you will improve yourself over the summer? Or is it you will drag someone else down to your level? A shame I have heard many call it."

"Not my choice, and you know it," Harry countered with a shrug.

"Well, it got me out of a tight spot," Malfoy replied. "I merely wanted to warn you."

"Warn me? About what?" Harry chuckled, but he still prepared to draw his wand at a moment's notice. He couldn't allow himself to be as foolish as he had been in the past.

Malfoy leaned forward, and his face lost all expression. "You will represent the noble House of Black. Be sure to act the part, Potter, and act it well or I will personally make you pay."

Harry bit back a laugh. He really didn't want to oppose Malfoy anymore, his mind already on the coming weeks. Why should he care about the school rival of his past life? There just was no challenge left. "Understood. Consider your warning heard. You can tell me in September whether you are pleased or not. I would like to hear another opinion from a pureblood, I'm sure." Hermione snorted, but Harry kept his mask on. "Until then, I'll just do as I think the previous Head of House would have wanted."

Hermione jumped in her seat. "Please don't!" She looked downright shocked at the thought.

Malfoy didn't pay her any attention. "We will see," he said and shut the door.

"'Work on your performance?' 'You can tell me whether you are pleased or not?'" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I doubt I will be the Head of House in reality, it's just a role I'll play." Harry shrugged. "I could care less about the Black inheritance, it's what Sirius left me; he thought I should have it. Well, if he thought so, then I will try to give the family a new direction. It's about time someone puts a stop to these pureblood Black traditions, don't you think? And anyway, I don't think he understood the hidden meaning anyway, so where's the problem?"

As the train pulled into the railway station, Harry quickly grabbed his bag and glanced out of the window. The platform wasn't nearly as crowded as he was used to, but he had guessed so already. In the past, families came to meet their children after the school year, and everyone who could showed up. In a way, it had probably been a tradition of its own and a welcome opportunity to see old friends. But with the war going on, they came to fetch their offspring and left as soon as possible. The return from school made an excellent target for the Death Eaters. And apparently Harry wasn't the only one who had been thinking along those lines. Even from his spot on the train, he could see the Aurors carefully keeping an eye on the people.

"Well," Hermione said uncomfortably, "I guess we'll see each other soon?"

Harry chuckled. "Oh, I don't plan to stay with the Dursleys for long. As soon as I'm confident I have arranged everything, I will leave them for good. I can practically smell them through the barrier."

"You know, the offer still stands," Hermione said. "You could always come and visit me. My parents wouldn't mind and..." She broke off, sighing. "And you won't change your mind, am I right?"

"I've made my decision," Harry told her. "Don't worry too much, it's the last time I'll see them in my life. A few weeks at most."

"You'll have to come visit us, Harry," Ron threw in, "as soon as you're away from your... relatives."

"I planned to, yes. Your mum would never let me be anywhere else, for one."

"That too, yes," Ron grinned and grabbed his trunk, "but you'll also turn seventeen and I would never let you stay anywhere else for that. You know, this is perhaps the best summer of my life. Magic whenever I want."

"And a Dark Lord in the open," Harry pointed out, checking the second wand he had salvaged during their second weekly excursion into the Room of Requirements, which was currently hidden in his sock. "All right, let's go." Without waiting for an answer, he stepped out of the compartment and onto the platform. Years of practice allowed him to get lost among the people. He saw Mrs. Malfoy waiting for her son, but Harry avoided her eye. He also saw Mr. Greengrass and was careful to stay away from him. He had little against the man, but Harry still had no interest in lingering since the only connection with the older man was the upcoming wedding to his first-born daughter. And knowing his luck, he just knew someone would make a picture of the meeting.

After a few words with the Weasleys, Harry headed for the barrier and left, for perhaps the last time in his life, for the Muggle world. Just as he had expected, he met his scowling uncle on the other side, and Harry wondered why the fat man who had nothing but contempt for his nephew still showed up year after year. But ultimately, Harry realized, it didn't matter. In just a few short weeks he'd be gone and he would never have to see his relatives again.


It had taken Harry all of two hours to enrage his uncle again, and bad enough that the older man still fumed weeks later. But unlike the past times, he had weathered the shouting with a bored face. Harry might have been intimidated by the fat man in his childhood, and he might have tried to gain his relatives' approval back then. But the last year had changed him. The knowledge that he would have to fight a war and possibly die in it had been a shock, yes, but the realization that he could very well survive it and have a life of his own afterwards had opened his eyes to completely new paths. Additionally, the scheming with Greengrass and the subsequent plan had also done wonders. Why should Harry care what his uncle thought? Even without magic Harry was still a young, exceedingly fit man and would have easily been able to stand his ground in a fight. The merging with Tom had also done its part; Harry had always been reasonably smart, but years of staying unnoticed had made him idle. After all, if he wasn't allowed to outperform a boy who, at eleven, couldn't count to forty, why apply himself? Tom had been the contrary. He had wanted to show his exceptional talents and to stand out. It had been something of a wakeup call in that he had realized just what he could do if he put his mind to it. And lastly, the merging had also given Harry a new point of view. He wasn't the mistreated boy who had lived with the Dursleys for years. In just a few weeks time, Harry would be on his own, and he really liked the thought of his freedom.

And so, Harry had weathered the shouting, and once Vernon Dursley had taken a breath, his nephew had pointed out that no matter what the Dursleys did, they would be in danger. If they threw Harry out the protection would vanish and they would be easy targets. If they dawdled, then the protection would fail as well, only later. Their last and, as Harry told his uncle and aunt in a low voice as to not have Dudley hear who had retreated upstairs, only option was to plan for a quiet getaway for some remote location, ideally under a different name. After he had made that statement, Harry had left. Maybe that was why Vernon had been so angry; Harry had ignored the unwritten rules set for him in the past for misbehaviour, namely to accept any and all punishment as well as the guilt.

A knock on the door brought Harry out of his reverie, and he turned, shocked that someone in the house had shown that courtesy as well as someone willingly coming near the freak's room. On the threshold stood Dudley looking very uncomfortable, and Harry was reminded again just how much the other boy had changed over the last years.

"I'd allow you in," Harry said, forcing himself to smile, "but I doubt you'd want to."

Dudley glanced over his shoulder at something Harry couldn't see. But he didn't have to, he could hear his uncle and aunt talking downstairs. Dudley turned back and, taking a breath as if to steel himself for a tremendous task, stepped into the room.

"Even if I wouldn't want to, I think I need to," he said, standing awkwardly in the room with his jaw set. Harry was surprised he could actually see the muscles working, but then, the other boy had lost weight considerably, and while still heavy, had developed surprisingly well, especially considering his parentage.

"Well, fine. So you think you need to. I'll just skip the taunts about you thinking if you don't mind," Harry spoke, not sure how to act around his cousin, "and ask why you might think you need to come in here."

Dudley glanced towards the door, but shook his head, again troubled by the conflict he was facing. "I don't mind. Well, it's about Mum and Dad. And you, I guess. I'm not stupid, and no, that wasn't an invitation for new insults. Something happened when you came this summer, I think. Dad is furious, more than usual. Mum is... I don't know. There is something no one's told me."

Harry looked at his cousin. "And that's why you came to me?" He turned to the window and looked towards the darkening sky.

"And you are different," Dudley said. "Like, the way you're acting and talking. And you are packing, Harry. Packing and unpacking." He pointed to the bag on the floor as well as the few items strewn about the room.

"Well, that shouldn't surprise you, Dudley. Did you really expect me to stay with you lot any longer than I feel necessary? Do you honestly think I like any of you?" Harry asked with a shrug.

Dudley flinched as if hit. "Well... no, I guess not. We were awful to you, weren't we? I..." He broke off and glanced towards the wand in Harry's pocket. Then, he shook his head. "Why would you feel your stay here is necessary? I thought you were here because... err..." Dudley screwed up his face. In the past, Harry might have assumed the other boy had no idea for Harry's stay with them, but he guessed Dudley's behaviour had more to do with him realizing his tactlessness as both boys –young men, really –knew the comment had originally headed to Harry's parents.

"I was placed here, Dudley, because of a special protection my Headmaster invoked. As long as I stay with blood relatives of my mother, both they and I are somewhat safe from attacks from... well, from the bad guys, I guess you could call them. The people who killed my parents. That is why I had to return each summer for a few weeks at least - so you'd be protected. But once I turn seventeen or stop living with said blood relatives that protection can no longer be recharged and will crumble into nothingness over time. That is why I will be leaving. If I cannot strengthen the protection, I have no reason to stay here. Your parents know this. Dumbledore told them last year."

"That old man who showed up? Yes, I remember," Dudley replied, rubbing his head in remembrance of the glass that had bounced off of it.

"That one, yes. Your parents were told back then to get their things in order to move. Once the protection fails, you will be a target. Your parents know this; your mother lost her sister to these people. They had a year to prepare. I will leave in a few days. If they are smart, they will have plans in place to get out of here."

"But," Dudley frowned as he thought about what he had heard, "but I can't remember them doing anything."

"I know, but it is not my responsibility."

"But you could help us, couldn't you? You could defend us?"

"I could, yes. But why should I?" Harry moved a bit away from his cousin. "You'd only slow me down. I tolerate you, but putting my life on the line and burdening me with you is not smart. If my enemies want to kill me, I shouldn't seek them out on their terms. Not to mention, protecting you would be a bad use of my time. Why care about three ungrateful Muggles when I could save dozens of other people? And even if I stay here and manage to protect your family until the end of summer, what then? Should I go with you to your school? Or stay here and keep an eye on your parents? You cannot expect me to take on such a responsibility for people who don't want my help. I warned them about my plans on the night I returned. I delayed my departure in hopes of them coming to their senses. But I will leave. I have my own family to take care of, Dudley."

"You're abandoning us?" Dudley sounded surprisingly calm, and Harry thought he saw something similar to understanding shimmer in his cousin's eyes.

"I'm letting your fate be determined by someone else's decisions."

"And you are packing," Dudley pointed out. "I would have thought you had more stuff."

"I do have a bit more. Some I already had stored elsewhere. You know how your parents are with my belongings. But yes, I'm packing. I'm preparing to leave for good; I need to think it through."

Dudley stared around the room. His eyes fell on a small package in the corner. "What's that? A present?"

"Not one you'd enjoy," Harry chuckled. "It is my getaway plan, and one I'm very unwilling to share or tell you about. I cannot risk the knowledge being taken from you."

"I wouldn't tell," Dudley stated and puffed out his chest. "You saved my life, Harry, and I'd protect your secret." It was startling how courageous and upright the childhood bully looked all of a sudden, as if a new light shone within him.

Harry sighed and shook his head slowly. "No offence, Dudley, but you aren't thinking like..."

"What, a wizard?" the other boy interrupted indignantly.

"Like a criminal," Harry finished. "If you are lucky, they'd kill you quickly." Dudley rolled his eyes, and Harry continued. "It's true. These are people like Peter Pettigrew who betrayed his friends and later killed twelve people just so he could evade capture and justice and who, just two years ago, killed a schoolboy without hesitation because he wasn't needed –or a spare, as he was called."

"Cedric," Dudley muttered, paling drastically.

"Or Bellatrix Lestrange, who is exceptionally gifted in battle, enough so that unofficial order for all security personnel is to only approach her with at least two others helping, just to have a fighting chance of taking her down. She also loves torturing people into insanity if given the chance. Two of her victims still don't recognize their child after over fourteen years of continuous care by specialists. She doesn't hesitate to kill, either, and is very knowledgable in the darkest and most harmful spells. Or people like Barty Crouch Junior who happily killed his father to keep a secret, who at the tender age of twenty helped aforementioned torture. We are talking about Lucius Malfoy who used his money to buy himself out of punishment and who endangered every student in school including his son for his own political manoeuvring to either get rid of the Headmaster of the school or stop a minor law protecting Muggles –non-magicals to you –a law he merely he didn't like and could have stopped by other means. He chose to risk death to the students because he doesn't care about human life. We are talking about their master who had no qualms to kill a fifteen month old child, the same master who earned himself the support of the Dementors just by showing up on their front door."

"Dementors?" Dudley groaned, swaying on the spot.

"Like the two that we met, yes, and they are breeding. This mist? The sudden spike in brain deaths? Their work. The spike in deaths up and down the country? The catastrophes happening all year? That's their master's. He secured himself the giant's support..."

"Giants?" Dudley's voice rose considerably, but Harry pushed on.

"... and he already has Fenrir Greyback riling up his kind –the werewolves."

"Werewolves?"

"And boy do they love their blood," Harry said with a shake of his head. "Should the Death Eaters get you, will you manage to withstand them? And even if you do, even if you have the bravery to endure seeing your family tortured, even if you would rather die than betray me –which I doubt, no offence –I know for a fact the enemy has the necessary skills to simply enter your mind and take the knowledge in the blink of an eye without any chance of you stopping them. Because, yes, even your thoughts aren't safe im my world. Or, for that matter, why not use that handy spell that forces you to do their bidding, kill your parents if the Death Eaters tell you to? Because it has happened, of that I have little doubt. Or the many truth potions? Just a few drops and you'll tell them everything they want to know. And don't forget how efficient torture is. A few short moments of feeling like your nerves are on fire and you might just break. Dudley, I cannot possibly ask or trust you to face all that. I cannot trust you with my plans."

Dudley blinked. It seemed like hard work, but he still thought about what he had heard. "And that is your life?"

"That is what I have been dealing with for years; that is what I will be facing in the near future, and that is what I will be fighting. This is war, Dudley."

Silence fell between the two. Harry busied himself with shifting some books absent-mindedly while Dudley looked out of the window.

"I get it," he finally said. "You cannot trust me enough. I wouldn't trust myself either. I get it." He sounded like it, and Harry had half a mind to change his plans and prepare some escape for his cousin as well. "I didn't know. If Mum and Dad knew all that..."

"Your mother lost her sister to them. She at least should understand the consequences. I wouldn't be surprised if she had secretly planned something for you. I may not like her, but she does have a kind of intelligence about her and might have accepted the reality. I have given them another warning two weeks ago. I have delayed my departure to give them more time."

Dudley nodded slowly. The sun had almost completely set, and its light cast his face in harsh shadows. "I wish someone would have told me. I wish I had come to you earlier." He turned on his heels and walked to the door. "Good luck, Harry."


Six down, one to go. It's also oddly fitting that at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry witnesses the destruction of the sixth Horcrux, leaving the seventh for his last year.

For the sake of argument, let's assume it took a while for Harry to get all of his friends together for their little excursion.

Lastly, I liked the idea of Dudley slowly understanding just what is going on around him and ultimately reaching out to Harry in his own way. Even the books hint at him slowly changing for the better.

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Added a mention of a wand Harry has found in the Room of Requirements. Also used slightly more contractions for slightly more natural dialogue.