Author's Note: Thanks so much reading everyone. Hope you like the next chapter. There may be some time in the next one to answer some of the queries about spell usage people have had. Let me know in the reviews what you think and if you have any suggestions. Enjoy!

Chapter 12: The Price of Change

"Be careful what you wish for, they say. An incomplete statement if ever there was one, because when you think about it, what you're wishing for matters little compared to why you're wishing for it." Excerpt from an interview in The Daily Prophet with Albert Golpalott, May 1920.

The next day dawned all too quickly; birds sang happily in the early morning sun and the fresh scents of autumn, awakened by last night's storm, drifted peacefully through the open dorm room window. Perfect conditions for flying, Harry thought, surfacing his head briefly, before burying it deep under his pillow once more. He'd skipped his normal routine in favour of sleeping in, knowing in a few short hours all eyes would be on him as he led his Gryffindor Quidditch team against Slytherin.

Even Ron was up before him, "Harry, -come on," He said, an unmistakable quiver in his voice as he yanked back Harry's curtains, "We've got a match to-, Blimey, Harry! You look awful."

"Yeah, rough night," he said groggily, attempting to throw the pillow at Ron but failing miserably. Forcing himself to sit up, he noticed his side was still tender, but as long as he didn't overexert himself he should be alright to play. However, a cursory glance at Ron was enough to conclude who looked worse.

"What's your excuse?"Harry replied. Ron simply turned a shade of green and shot for the bathroom.

Neville, who was already dressed in his Gryffindor outfit with flag in hand, said, "That's the second time this morning he's done that."

"Great," Harry said humourlessly, "any ideas?"

The faint sound of Ron retching reached their ears. "Well, I could grab him some doxy roots, which will help settle his stomach," Neville offered. A moment later, Ron emerged from the bathroom looking, if possible, paler than Nearly Headless Nick. "…On second thought, I don't think I have enough roots in the greenhouse."

Harry nodded, wishing there was something he could do to help his friend with his nerves; Ron perched nervously on the end of his bed, head in his hands and shoulders sinking as if a troll had just sat on them. "Look mate, we'll get you down to breakfast and get some food in you, then you'll feel ready to kick some Slytherin butt." Apparently, food was not the right thing to mention as Ron's eyes bulged and he shot straight back to the bathroom.

He was so on edge that when Peeves jumped out at them on their way down to the Great Hall, he let out a wail akin to what Dudley did when Hagrid gave him a pigs tail. And just when Harry thought it couldn't get worse for his friend, they entered the Great hall to a sea of red and gold cheering on one side and silver and green jeering on the other. Ron ducked his head and plonked down next to Hermione, who was already halfway through her breakfast.

"There you all are, I was worried you'd miss -Ron, are you alright?" She asked, Ron simply stared at the plethora of food prepared before him and gulped.

Despite the mood in the hall being the most energetic it had been so far this year, the next few minutes passed in relative, if not tense, silence as they ate breakfast: Harry taking it slow due to his injury and Ron barely managing half a piece of toast as Hermione cast worrying looks his way.

Harry couldn't help but pay attention to the Slytherin table, most of whom chatted conspiratorially, pointing in his direction. However, Malfoy, who would usually be the band leader corralling such taunts, was nowhere to be seen. Harry half wished he could throw on his cloak, grab the Marauder's Map and find out what the blonde Slytherin was up to. But at the sight of Mclaggen, who strutted by winking at Hermione, he thought his team rather needed him right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Daphne sitting, as usual, with Tracy Davis. Similar to the rest of her house, she was wearing her most colourful Slytherin outfit but otherwise appeared as if nothing had happened last night.

"Heck of a storm last night, ay Harry?" Neville asked, catching the direction of Harry's gaze. "You get much sleep?"

"Er-not much, Nev, no." Harry managed, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach where less than 12 hours earlier glass had been sticking out. Neville nodded with a surreptitiously knowing smile. Turns out his friend wasn't quite as asleep as Harry had thought last night.

"Me either," Ron said, unintentionally coming to Harry's rescue, "hardly a bloody wink." His eyes looked dazed, focusing on something far off. "Post is here." He said dejectedly, the morning mail flying by and dropping a copy of the daily prophet in Hermione's lap.

"Any news?" Harry said hastily, curious for details from yesterday.

She gasped. "Hogsmeade was attacked last night."

"What?" Ron and Neville intoned at the same time.

"3 people died," she continued, scanning the front page. "-and some of the town burnt down, including Madam Puddifoots and Zonko's…Mad-eye Moody was there too, but was only minorly injured…At least there's that. -It goes onto say that because of the dangers posed, The Minister will be recommending to Dumbledore that the regular student visits be suspended…" Harry noticed the headmaster's chair at the head table was still vacant and vowed to ask him about his disappearance at their next meeting.

"…Did they at least capture any Death Eaters?" His fingers crossing under the table.

"Yes, they got 6 of them. They're being interrogated by the ministry now." Harry just hoped the one's he'd caught and bound were among them.

"…Well, this has been a cheery breakfast," Ron said bitterly into the silence.

"Guys!" Ginny came running up to them, "Malfoy's not playing."

"What?" All of them said at once.

"Yeah, he resigned from the team yesterday apparently. Can you believe it! This means they've had to shuffle their team around, so we now have the advantage." She then caught Mclaggen cracking his knuckles in front of his friends a little way down their table. "-well, some of one," she finished.

"Yeah, anyway, if you're not eating Ron, let's go and get ready," Harry said and led them out of the great hall and down to the quidditch pitch.

Half an hour later, the team emerged to a thunderous roar from the Gryffindor's, helped on by Luna's animated Lion's head. 'Weasley is our king' was now being taken up by the Slytherin's to mock Ron, who rose shakily to the goalposts. Harry prayed to whatever magical gods watching that his friend just kept it together enough to save a few goals.

Harry met Madam Hooch in the centre who stood next to Urquhart, the new Slytherin Captain.

"I've been looking forward to this, Potter!" The broad-chested seventh year said smirking, and squeezing Harry's hand as if crushing it would help him catch the snitch.

"Alright, Gentlemen." Madam Hooch said cutting between them, "Mount your brooms. Ready and one…two…three…"

She blew her whistle and the snitch, quaffle and bludgers all shot up, with Harry hot on the chase.

"And we're off!" Echoed, much to Harry's delight, the distinctly accented voice of Seamus Finnigan. "Here we are ladies and gentlemen, the most hotly anticipated quidditch match of the year, as Gryffindor snatches the quaffle early. Blimey that Demelza's athletic…check 'er out as she goes…"

"Finnigan!" McGonagall reprimanded from behind him.

"-Er, excuse me, professor. And the chasers are battling back and forth in the middle of the pitch..."

Harry chuckled while circling, eyes peeled for the telltale glisten of the snitch in sunlight. He was distracted moments later when he caught Mclaggen dictating instructions to Ginny and the chasers, completely missing the bludger that flew right past him.

"Mclaggen! Focus on the bludger!" Harry ordered the quaffle now in Slytherin's hands. They juggled it deftly between them, dodged an attack from Ginny, then threw it at the far posts. Ron went the wrong way and the quaffle sailed through.

"Ah, sh…ugar. That's 10 to zero for Slytherin."Seamus said embittered. "Com'an Weasley, pull yourself togethe'!"

Harry gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts to look for the Snitch. Over the next half an hour, the quaffle flew back and forth with Slytherin remaining dominant, going up 120 to 70. Ron was balancing on the edge, making a great save in one moment then dodging the quaffle in the next. Ginny, Demelza and Katie were doing their utmost to score against a tough keeper. Then, Demelza got clocked on the arm by one of the bludgers and all of a sudden the chasers were on the defence.

Ten minutes later, Seamus yelled, "Damn, that makes 80 to 160. Come on Gryffindor!" Harry knew he was running out of time, if he didn't catch the snitch soon, Slytherin would be too far ahead. All the while Urquhart circled him sneering and throwing snide comments like they were dung bombs.

Harry was distracted by Mclaggen yet again, who had abandoned beating entirely instead taking it upon himself to berate Ron.

"Mclaggen!" Seamus yelled over the speaker, beating Harry to it. "Focus on Beating, those Chasers are killing us out there. Oh, wait.."

The crowd gave a collective gasp, and Harry realised Urquhart was no longer with him. He'd dived down for the snitch, which glinted near the grassy pitch floor. Harry shot after him, taking a shortcut and diving right through the chasers who wrestled for the quaffle. He could see the snitch a little ahead of Urquhart and pulled up so they were almost side by side.

"It's neck and neck."Seamus' voice was muffled by the cheering crowd. Harry reached out his hand.

"-Not likely, Potter," Urquhart said, and smashed into him, throwing him off balance. The snitch zoomed upwards oblivious. Harry corrected himself.

"…Come on then snake, let's see what you got." He taunted, both of them climbing fast after it. Urquhart gritted his teeth and went to smash into him again, but harry flipped his broom, riding upside down, making Urquhart veer off and giving Harry a few precious seconds to close in on the snitch. It was within reach, it was so close….CRACK!

Harry couldn't help but yell as something that felt like a cannon ball struck his already injured side, sending a smattering of pain so great the tips of his teeth shook. His grip involuntarily loosened and before he knew it he was sliding off the broom; his forward momentum coming to a stark standstill. For a painfully long second, he hung in midair like a bird reaching the height of its suspension; only to watch Urquhart race by a moment later and close in on the snitch. Then as his momentum began to shift, Harry began to plummet. Reaching out with the tips of his fingers, he just managed to grab his spiralling broom tail. But he wasn't able to pull the rest of it back to him. His side was throbbing and the ground was now approaching dangerously fast, the wind whipping by so loudly he barely registered the audience gasp.

The ground fast approaching. In a few seconds he'd meet it head on. Harry's heart hammering and his side smashed in pain. He needed to do something. With his free hand, he reached out and wandessly summoned the rest of the broom to his feet. Not caring about which direction he pulled, he yanked back on the broom handle with all his strength. The firebolt cut through the fingertips of grass lining the pitch and scraped along the ground, before catching itself on it entirely and flinging him off to land unceremoniously a few feet away. He finally came to rest on his back facing up.

Letting in a sigh of deep relief, Harry opened his eyes, which he hadn't realised he'd shut, and cast them directly up in the sky. Urquhart was hovering far above holding out something small and glistening in his hand….Shit!

"Potter's pulls up in the nick o' time, but it looks like Slytherin has won," Seamus announced through gritted teeth. Slytherin fans around the stadium exploded in applause. "Although everyone better believe, I'll be havin' words with Mclaggen afterwards."

"Finnigan!" Harry barely heard McGonagall shout.

Ginny was by his side half a second later, "Harry! Are you okay? Can you move?" With a groan, he sat up. The rest of his team hurriedly landed near him.

"Yeah, I'm alright." he squeezed out. His scar from last night hadn't opened up, but it still hurt like hell "Lemme guess, -Mclaggen was the one responsible for the bludger that hit me." He couldn't help but notice the seventh year's convenient absence.

"Yeah," Ginny replied through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, Harry. You were so close as well." Katie said between pants. Harry couldn't help but notice Ron was not there either. Turning, he saw his friend square up to Mclaggen over by changing rooms, shouting something discernibly unsportsmanlike. Slytherin fans cheered in the crowd at the sight of another spectacle. Madam Hooch managed to shout them down and Mclaggen sped off for into the changing rooms, with a face that resembled a beetroot.

"You alright mate," Ron said, running over in time to help pick Harry up. "I swear you were that close to being a pancake."

"-We should take you to the hospital wing, Harry," Ginny added, supporting him from the side. As much as Harry wanted her help, he couldn't let anyone inspect his injury, knowing if Madam Pomfrey saw it, she'd be able to tell it was recent and then the lid of last night's caper would be blown. McGonagall strode over in the next moment, concern evident in her usually stoic demeanour and her large witches hat slightly askew.

"I have to agree with Miss Weasley, Potter," she said, "a fine save it may have been, but Madam Pomfrey will want to take a look at you regardless."

"There's really no need professor, I'll be fine…honestly, " he added when his words were met with disbelieving faces. "I just got the wind knocked out of me…." With his hand over his side, he cast a quick numbing charm. Its effects were immediate and in order to quell the long stares, he stretched his side and shook it off as convincingly as he could.

McGonagall looked far from placated, but acquiesced nonetheless, "Yes, well, all the same, make sure you pop by and see Madam Pomfrey at some point, Potter. We can't have our captain injured if we still want to win the cup now…." Her words were a bitter reminder of the loss and their faces sunk under the midday sun. "-Unlucky today Gryffindors. It was a hard loss, and normally I would be worried, but I have faith your captain can turn things around in time for the next match….perhaps, a reshuffling of a certain team member." She finished pointedly, offering a rare smile at Harry before walking off.

"C'mon, we may as well face the music." He said to his team, leading them towards the changing rooms, all efforts now going into walking normally.

Mclaggen had gone by the time they arrived. No surprise there. Harry was glad to avoid another shouting match, as he didn't think he had the energy to stop Ron and Ginny from plastering the boy. Nevertheless, after the energy that had been floating in the air, when they were on the cusp of victory not 10 minutes ago, the mood was a sombre one: Ron held his head in hands, Ginny punched her locker while the other girls moped behind her and Peakes slumped in a dispirited pile in the corner not taking his eyes off the ground. Harry's side hurt, the adrenaline was rapidly wearing off and he desperately wanted privacy so he could try a healing spell, but looking around at his team told him his team needed him now more than ever. Especially if they were ever going to have a hope of still winning the championship.

"Listen everyone…I know losing to Slytherin isn't the easiest-."

"-Stating the obvious there, Harry." Ginny chuckled humourlessly.

"-But," he continued, "there was so much out there that makes me believe we can not only beat both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw but still win the Quidditch Cup. Forget about Mclaggen: Peakes you were great, keep that up in the future and we'll get you a new more reliable beating partner to work with. Demelza, its bad luck you got hit in the arm, but you three were matching Slytherin play by play out there up to that point, no matter what the scoreline says. And Ron, you should have seen yourself. Half of them you completely missed, the other half you completely nailed. All we need to do is work on your nerves, and when it comes to our next game, Ravenclaw won't know what hit them….There's more to take away from today's loss than is obvious right now, and you're not going to like hearing it, but in some ways losing is better," Ron looked at his as though Harry had just declared his undying love for Snape. "… because we can learn from our mistakes and come back stronger next time." He finished, his thoughts finding words that talked of the match, but echoed of last night's attack. No matter what he did, now that he'd stepped down the road of responsibility to fight where possible, he would have to start understanding that there would always be consequences, and if he was going to carry on doing this - keeping secrets and sneaking around - he would need to work harder to make sure those consequences didn't mean people's lives.

"…Besides, we've got a celebration to attend," he said, shaking himself and adding some much-needed levity to the air.

"And just what are we celebrating?" Katie asked incredulously.

"The fact that Mclaggen is no longer on the team, and Malfoy wasn't present, so none of us had to see his smug face…."

"And that you're not in the hospital wing, Harry…." Peakes added smiling finally and standing from his sullen corner.

"Oh yeah, that too." He said…thankful in more ways than one.

By the time his team had changed and were ready to leave the mood was a much lighter one, with Ron even cracking a smile at one of Ginny's jokes as she dramatically recreated one of his spectacular saves with the top of his head.

"Coming, Harry?" She asked, spying him still in his Quidditch outfit. Similarly, Ron clapped him on the back and offered to wait.

"You guys go ahead, I'm a little slow. I'll see you up there."

"…You sure you're alright, Harry?" She said, concern deep in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Gin. Just taking my time." He reassured as best as he could with a smile. She returned it with a look that suggested she wasn't buying it but left him alone anyway. As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry collapsed on the bench. The numbing charm had ended in a rasp of renewed pain and he delicately removed his top to see the scar was a mix of bright purple and dark red, the bludger looking like it had dented his torso. He only knew one healing spell, but this would require something more intricate. If only he'd asked what spells Daphne has used last-.

"-Nice speech, Potter," said a voice behind him coming from the tent entrance. Like lightning Harry's hand was outstretched and a spell on the tip of his tongue, when he recognised was who it was. "Woo, easy there. I come in peace," his assailant said raising her hands, smile half on her lips.

"Daphne! Jeez, you scared the hell out of me." He squeezed out before wincing in pain at his exertion. Daphne's smugness faltered and she came over to his side. "-What are you doing here?" She seemed to be staring at something on his chest and at that moment, Harry realised he didn't have a top on and was still very sweaty, not to mention, smelly. Great, in my wildest dreams this was definitely not how I pictured this moment happening.

"Er, -I'm not blind, Potter." Daphne said, recovering herself a second later, "I saw how hard that bludger hit you, you're lucky to be here and not in the hospital wing. I figured you'd need a little patching up if you want to keep last night under wraps…And judging by your place on the floor, let alone the fact the scar looks like it wants to explode from the inside, I'd say you could use my help." Then without waiting for his permission, she concentrated on the spell and started waving her wand over his side.

"Hard to deny," he said, a cooling sensation descending over the wounded area. "How did you get back here?"

"Hid outside under a disillusionment charm until they left…piece of cake." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Thank you." He said, and he meant it. Without her, he'd be in serious trouble right now. He resolved to research healing spells if this injury would be the first of many he'd need to repair.

Daphne worked in silence for a few minutes, muttering to herself as she had done last night. Only this time, Harry found it hard to look at her, embarrassment at being half-naked and needing help once again, wrestled for the top spot. Yet, he couldn't deny, he was very glad she was here, and not just because of her healing spell. He'd never seen her this up close in her own clothes before. She was draped in typical Slytherin colours, with black jeans and cloak which was hiding a form-fitting dark green jumper underneath. A traditional green and silver scarf mingled with her silky brown hair to top it off.

"Hell of a save, Potter," she said, pulling her hair out of her face, concentration still on her wand work. "I thought you were a goner."

"Me too for a second there. I don't think I've ever cut it that close before…still I'm sure you're happy Slytherin won." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm sure they'll be singing about it the dungeon for the next week. The party's already in full swing." Daphne replied nonchalantly.

"And you're not there…" Harry said questioningly, "-won't anyone notice you're missing?"

"…just be glad I'm here, Potter."

"I am," Harry said quickly, his side looked massively better already, "but isn't it risky for you?"

"Being in Slytherin is already a risk, now more than ever…the way I see it if anyone there found out about last night or Diagon Alley…well, let's just say I can't let that happen. And if you're patched up and not having to answer hard questions to teachers, then the less likely I will too." Ah, Harry thought, so she's doing this to cover for herself. Something sunk through his body, that had nothing to do with his injury, like an anchor falling and hitting every nerve on the way down.

"Well, thanks for risking it anyway, -Daphne." Their eyes met for a brief second, and Harry thought he could see a tenderness there, but in the next second she looked away and resumed the spell. For the next minute, she worked in silence, leaving Harry to watch and wonder. He couldn't escape the feeling of longing, yet couldn't seem to think of anything to say, his mind becoming as tongue-tied as if the curse had afflicted his head instead.

"Okay, that's the best I can do. There's only a minor cut left now." She said, looking down at her handiwork. To Harry's amazement, not only was the scar almost completely gone but so too was most of his pain. He could even stand up now, rising and releasing a huge sigh of relief.

"Holy hell! How did you do this?" He said, testing and prodding his side. It was a bit raw, but otherwise a thousand times better than 10 minutes ago.

"Fortunately for you, I looked up a more advanced healing spell we could use, just in case."

"You're amazing…" he said before he could help himself. Her cheeks went ever so faintly red at the praise.

"Thanks, I… learnt from the best. Anyway, here." She said throwing him his top. "Better put this on, wouldn't want your Potter fangirls fainting on your way back."

"Yeah," he couldn't help but chuckle, happy to cover up, this time with ease.

"Anyway, I better be going, before it becomes too obvious I'm gone," Daphne said, her trademark smirk back in place.

"Right…" She turned to leave and in a moment of hesitation he hadn't even experienced in the battle last night, Harry felt the urge to reach out, grab her hand and pull her back. He couldn't explain it, but just like his new wand buzzed when it perceived danger, somehow his body hummed with anticipation whenever she was near.

"Er-'' was all he managed, making her halt by the exit flap.

"Yes?" Was there a note of excitement in her face or was it just curiosity?

"…Well, look I kinda owe you one, so, -so I was wondering if you wanted to train together at some point." He said trying to regain some composure. "I mean, I could use a training partner and I could give you a few tips on duelling that you could use if by chance you need to fightagain." His thoughts swirling on Dolohov, whom she'd refused to talk about.

Daphne raised an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical stare as if deciding if he was mocking her or not. Then in the next second, her gaze softened. "An interesting offer, Potter…I'd be stupid to deny your duelling skills are a step above my own. But if a training partner is all you want, why not ask one of your friends? I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help…"

All of a sudden her arms folded over her chest in front of him, inspecting him like a detective might a crime scene. Harry contemplated several answers, but in the end, decided to go with the truth; not just because it was easier, but because he had a feeling she would see through any half-truth he'd utter. "Well I could…but honestly you need my help. I'd be just as stupid not to notice that, for whatever reason, you were there last night to fight Dolohov, and he outmatched you…easily." Daphne tore her eyes away, shame casting a shadow over her otherwise angelic face. "So, if you want to be able to beat him and others, who have a hell of a head start, you're gonna to need my help. I can train you…And in return-,"

"Here it is," she adopted an almost disappointed look.

"-just keep passing me any information you might hear about where the next attack is or if you hear anything about Malfoy." Harry finished. She said nothing for a few moments, happy to contemplate him; Harry just hoped the pros outweighed the cons in her mind.

"You really think Malfoy's up to something, don't you." She asked as much as stated.

"I know he is. I haven't got proof yet, but I've no doubt his aunt gave him some kind of a task this year."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Same thing as you: his behaviour. Take today for example, where was he? Slytherin just beat us. If the past 5 years have taught me anything about Malfoy, it's that he wouldn't have missed this day for anything. The chance to rub victory in my face is what he lives for. Or did. Now, something else has come over him, like he's cursed."

"Or afraid…" Daphne supplied.

"Exactly." They stood considering each other, unmoving as the wind whistled through the cracks in the fabric of the tent. Then Daphne shook her head and a smile warmed her face.

"I don't believe I'm even considering this, and from you of all people…I must be crazy. -you know you're more trouble than you're worth, Potter."

Harry had no choice but to smile. "Yeah, but I promise I'll help you in any way I can. So, that's a yes?"

"Hold your thestrals. I'm not saying I'll give you information on any Slytherin…but if I hear of future attacks...Yes. I'll let you know." Harry tried to squelch his stomach from somersaulting. "And in return," she continued, "you'll teach me how to fight like you? No, better than you?"

Harry walked over to her and held out his hand, "Deal."

She looked him up and down, brown hair flowing down her black cloak. "Deal." She said shaking his hand. "Just one question, what will you do with the information I give you?-providing there will be any, that is."

That was a good question. The answer reverberated deep within him, ringing true in every organ it touched and when he spoke, he knew he would answer the same for the rest of his life. "Whatever I have to do to protect people."

Daphne rolled her eyes. Regardless she left with the faint traces of a smile, the tent flaps falling back into place behind her. Finally, alone and feeling a hell of a lot better, Harry let out a sigh of pure relief. He had no idea where this current course would take him, nor even if helping Daphne would prove to be useful to her, but he'd try nonetheless. And if he picked up a few warnings from her along the way, then all the better. For now, though, he had a mini-celebration to attend.

—-HP—

The leaves shifted from vibrant yellows and reds to browns as October became November and the late Autumn frosts settled over the Hogwarts grounds. A few days after the Hogsmeade attack and just in time for the Halloween Feast, Dumbledore returned to put on a spread worthy of kings. The animation in the hall that night was one Harry would never forget; hundreds of carved pumpkins with candles inside hovered below the dark ceiling, painting a chilling portrait of the night sky; the house-elves had even gone so far as to place candles inside the suits of armour that aligned the walls of the corridors, giving an eery life to the motionless metal. In the hall, the students, professors and ghosts all chatted, gossiped and joked almost as if celebrating some unknown event. For one night, it seemed people were pretending that there was no war: that they could have fun and not worry about the how and the why. Harry found it hard to argue; simply spending time messing around with his friends and housemates that night gave him a strange energy, one he hadn't realised he'd been missing. It was almost a relief to let go, even if for a brief flicker, of the responsibilities of training and just be a teenager, goofing off and trying to catch the eyes of pretty girls around the room.

A renewed sense of vigour greeted Harry when he awoke the next morning. That combined with the memory of Hogsmeade echoing in the back of his mind, and the itch to train had never been greater. If that wasn't enough, incentive arrived promptly every morning in the form of the Prophet, where attacks were becoming the common daily headline. Hermione would try to read as delicately as possible; the dementors, it seemed, were becoming one of Voldemort's key weapon's against the unsuspecting population of Britain, regularly leaving a trail of soulless bodies behind that had the Ministry scrambling. What enraged Harry almost as much was for every attack detailed, there seemed to be little to no response coming from the Ministry to counter it. Harry knew Fudge was incompetent, but he hadn't thought that would carry over to Scrimgeour. With each new headline bringing more frustration, Harry found solace in bottling the energy to use against the dummies later.

Ever since Hogsmeade, Harry had snuck off to the Room of Requirement as often as he could. Sometimes every day he would make his way down and engage as many dummies as he could handle, until sometime later he found himself covered in sweat and surrounded by bested dummies. He was now fighting against four of them at once. They were still locked on medium difficulty, and at times acted robotically, but nevertheless, Harry felt himself getting faster and stronger each time.

Thankfully his wound, leftover from the glass and Mclaggen's cheapshot, had healed nicely leaving barely a mark and satisfying the critical eye of Madam Pomfrey. Something he'd have to thank Daphne for when they had their first lesson…meeting, thing. Mclaggen, despite suffering the heckling wrath of almost the entire Gryffindor house, still maintained his pompous attitude and threw a hissy fit when Harry unflinchingly cut him from the team.

"I can't believe this, you fly into my bludger and I'm the one who has to suffer?" Ridiculous!" He said indignantly, storming off and creating a scene in front of the whole common room. Harry was only too obliged not to care, informing the team - to much cheers and banter - that their performance during the next practice was the best Harry had ever seen. Even Ron, played well, saving some of the best shots Ginny and the girls could throw at him. Indeed, his mood in general since that last game had improved greatly.

"I dunno," his ginger-haired friend suggested sagely when Harry questioned him about it after practice. "I guess, you were right, Harry. Even though we lost to Slytherin, I've never felt better about our chances. Probably because I know it can't get any worse than that," he finished with a wink. And Harry had to agree. They were playing like a weight they didn't know they'd been carrying had been lifted; joking around between practices and working better as a team.

"It's because of you, Harry," Ginny said sidling up to him on their way back to the castle.

"What is?"

"Everyone's playing better, because of you. I mean don't get me wrong we've got talented players, but it took you to bring it out of us."

"You think?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"You really are dense sometimes, Harry," she said and nudged him playfully. "You inspire them. You inspire all of us. It's the same thing in the DA. Just look at how many people came this year. How many people want to learn from you every week. The mood you've created in class and the way the team is bonding together since our last match makes me think that if we replayed Slytherin right now, we'd beat them hands down.

Harry was sure he was blushing a shade darker than Ginny's hair right now. "Er….wow, thanks Gin. I feel like I should be complimenting you back."

"Well, you wouldn't have a hard time doing that, Potter. There are simply too many things to choose from." She said in mock haughtiness, swishing her hair over her shoulder and strutting ahead of him. He caught up and nudged her back. They continued to tease each other all the way back to the castle.

In the days following the match, another piece of news took on a life of its own and consumed the student population like wildfire: Slughorn's Christmas party. It was an event only a few dozen of Slugclub's finest were invited to, which meant attaining an invite by virtue of being someone's date had shot to the top of the school's priority list. And if Harry thought he was popular before, he was sorely mistaken, experiencing a string of attention that was unprecedented even for him. Every time he entered the common room, Romilda Vane and a collection of girls would materialise out of nowhere ready to chorus a 'Hi Harry,' with battling eyelids and suspicious chocolate gifts. All of which lead Harry to dodge as though he were under a hail of spellfire and beat a hasty retreat.

"Are you mental?" Ron said gobsmacked when Harry joined his friends in a secluded corner. "Harry, you've got some of the best girls in the school after you. And you're complaining it's too much."

"Ron!" Hermione said behind him scandalised.

"I'm not complaining," Harry made to say, "I just-"

"Oh, no, my goblin made shoes are too tight and I've got so many galleons in my pockets my trousers are falling down." Ron joked, earning a hidden snigger from Neville and a glare from a incensed Hermione.

"Look, I-"

"Why haven't you picked anyone yet?" Ron accosted him. "If I was invited, I'd have asked one of them by now." Hermione's eyes sought the floor and she shrunk back against the pillows.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," Ron said confidently.

"Then how come two years ago, you were blubbering and blustering around, and didn't ask anyone until I got us the dates with the Patils?" Harry said, thinking he had him cornered.

"That was two years ago. Besides, you could ask literally anyone and they would say yes to you." Probably not anyone, Harry thought with no small amount of bitterness. "Hell, some of them who've already got dates would probably ditch theirs just to go with you." Harry rolled his eyes, beginning to feel wary of the topic.

"As much as I dislike his tone, Harry. Ron does have a point. You probably should choose someone soon…perhaps just to let the rest of them off the hook…." Hermione said, nodding to a coterie of admirers who eyed him from the opposite corner while reading their potions books upside down.

"On second thought, Harry, don't listen to me," Ron said as a smile shot to Hermione's face, "…play the field a little bit, you know. You are the chosen one, after all. Live for the rest of us." He finished with a mischievous glint in his eye. The smile had vanished from Hermione's face along with the momentary and unmistakable hope in her eyes. Flinging on her cloak, she picked up her things and made for the exit.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ron called after her.

"Library, I think I'll leave the boy talk to you lot." She said over her shoulder and left the common room, her robes swishing like a whip behind her.

A stunned silence followed, "…was that me?" Ron exclaimed.

"Finally catching on are you, mate," Neville replied candidly. Ron leaned back and didn't talk for the rest of the night. He even lost at chess to Neville, who jumped for joy having finally bested him.

"I've finally found his weakness," Neville muttered to Harry with a wink. Hermione continued to hold them at a distance for the next few days, even sitting with Ginny and the girls for meals and only talking to Harry when Ron wasn't with him. For his part, Ron had adopted a new pensive attitude, and Harry caught him staring at Hermione a few times, but not once did he try to speak to her.

In light of this, Harry found himself spending more time with Neville who was rapidly becoming as close to him as Ron and Hermione were. Especially in times like these when his two best friends were at odds, he was glad he had an escape in his formerly shy friend. They chatted mostly about DA and classes and stayed away from any topic related to Slughorn or his party. However, there was one topic Harry was keen to hear Neville's take on.

"-you think he's what?" Neville said, his voice echoing around the empty Greenhouse. They had come down just before lunch on Saturday, as Neville usually did, to tend to his various Herbology interests.

"Malfoy's been acting weird all term, even for him. You know this as well as I do." Harry had kept his eye out for Malfoy ever since he'd seen him all googly-eyed in front of the Room of Requirement, but so far hadn't been able to catch him doing anything else and the Room hadn't admitted him when someone was already inside.

"Sure, but that Voldemort would order Malfoy to sneak him into Hogwarts…is a bit of a stretch. I mean he would never trust someone like Malfoy to do this for him. Surely, Voldemort's Death Eaters are far more capable."

"Yeah, but that's the thing. Lucius Malfoy failed to capture us as well as the prophecy last year, and if Voldemort wants to punish him, why not task his son to do something he knows he'll never be able to accomplish."

"I mean, I guess." Neville said with a distinct lack of certainty, "Although, I seriously doubt Malfoy is capable, I mean you've seen him, these days his attitude is more in line with Ron's wilting Knotgrass than a convincing Death Eater." Indicating Ron's current Herbology project, sulking miserably in the sun.

"Yeah, that's what worries me," Harry said thoughtfully, "if he's desperate then there's no telling what he'll do…" Neville conceded but kept on watering his Venomous Tentacula.

In the next second, the door opened to emit Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. His friend immediately stiffened beside him.

"Oh hey, Neville," Hannah said shyly, taking a workbench near them.

"Hey, Hannah." He replied, nerves creeping into his voice. For once, Harry knew what it was like to feel invisible. Susan followed behind her friend, a knowing smirk on her face.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Harry decided to try and help his friend out. "Neville, you obviously want to," he whispered, "so, why don't you just ask her to the party."

Neville dropped the watering can on the table, giving off a loud clatter. He laughed it off awkwardly before turning his back on the girls. "Merlin, Harry. It's not that easy," he said under his breath and hastily mopping up the water.

"Why not?" Harry pulled out his wand and siphoned the water off the floor.

"She's never alone. It's already awkward enough, without having an audience…plus what if she says no." Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Susan whispering to a bashful looking Hannah just like he was to Neville.

"Look, you clearly like her right?"

He nodded firmly, "how could I not, she's amazing."

"Okay, then. It's settled."

"What is, wait-,, Harry what-." But Harry already risen.

"Susan, can I talk to you outside for a second?"

She raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised before catching his eye. "Ah, of course, Harry." He walked over and held the door open for her, winking at Neville as they left.

"Thanks," he said once they were out of earshot of the door, "I think Neville just needed a bit of a push to finally ask her."

"It was a good idea, Harry, if you didn't think of it I'm sure I would have." She said smirking at their friend's plight. The next few seconds passed a little awkwardly and he suddenly found himself in a similar position to Neville.

"Er, so-" He began, only to be cut off by Susan's giggling.

"No pressure, Harry. I know everyone's been talking about wanting to go with you. But you should go with someone you want to go with, not because everyone tells you you should." She said with a smile.

Harry laughed and released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Although he couldn't deny it, simply looking at the pretty redhead in front of him made him want to ask her, he decided to go with her advise instead. "Thanks, Susan. Good advise…bit of a relief actually. Feels like life over the past week has been dominated by the party and dates."

"Yeah, well don't worry, Harry. There's more to life than a party. You and I both know that." She said, her eyes trailing off to look at something across the lake. They had only briefly talked about her Aunt's death since the summer and she seemed to be doing much better now than the beginning of term, but Harry knew all too well that didn't mean she missed her any less. Sirius' laugh rang through his mind until it tugged at his heartstrings. Then a smile came to his lips, knowing Sirius would chastise, then tease him mercilessly if he could see him standing dateless next to his vibrant companion. Don't worry Sirius, I'm working on it, he said to himself as much as to quell his godfather's barking laughter in his head.

They were interrupted when Neville opened the door, a smile wider than the McGonagall's hat plastered on his face. "Everything alright, mate?" Harry asked rather redundantly.

"Yeah…brilliant. C'mon Harry." He said marching up the hill with a bounce in his step.

"Thanks, Susan. See you in the DA later."

"Sure thing, Harry." A knowing smirk in place, as she went back into the Greenhouse.

Harry caught up to Neville but had no need to ask him for details. His sheepish grin told a tall tale and stayed with them all the way back to the castle. They made their way over to their friends, who were already tucking into their lunch when McGonagall strode over and handed Harry a note. Dumbledore's next lesson would be tonight.

Later that evening, Harry found himself walking towards the headmaster's office, rehearsing his story of the vision he hadn't had. It was like balancing precariously on the tip of a double-edged sword, if he didn't sound convincing Dumbledore would start asking awkward questions. But if he appeared as if he was trying too hard then it wouldn't take a skilled legillimens to slice through the lies. He rapped once on the door and it opened almost immediately to let him in. As always, Dumbledore sat behind his desk stroking Fawkes affectionately with his unblemished hand. The Pensieve lay ready on the desk in front of him, the clear swirling liquid within acting as a portentous portal to the past.

"Good evening, Harry." The headmaster greeted in his normal jovial manner.

"Good evening, professor. How are you?"

"Very well thank you. I trust you are in good health too…" Harry nodded. "-No more visions, I hope?" Dumbledore inquired.

"None, since Hogsmeade."

"I see." He replied, appearing deep in thought.

"How was your trip, sir? Did you find what you were looking for?" Harry said before the headmaster could ask him a follow-up.

Dumbledore's lips grew into a thin kindly smile and one of the portrait's behind him muttered something about impudence. "Alas, you seem to have guessed the intention of my trip's away. Suffice it to say I am gathering information that will be of great importance to us later on. For now, Harry, I think further pleasantries should be saved until after we have journeyed into our next memory."

Rising, Dumbledore tipped the dark contents of another glass vial into the Pensieve. It seeped through the clear water as if it were poison until it had greedily consumed the entire basin, and the memory began to form.

"After you, Harry." Harry nodded, apprehensive to see where this new memory would take them. He plunged his face into the cool water and a moment later was descending through darkness…

What felt like hours, but may well have only been minutes later, Harry and Dumbledore emerged from the Pensieve. They sat down facing one another across the oak desk. Dumbledore regarded Harry while he processed the memories of Morfin and Dumbledore himself.

"What do you think, Harry?" He said after some moments regathering their breath and bearings. The portraits adorning the walls were quiet now, leaning in with their ears.

"I think, -I think he showed signs of the wizard he would become… and that even before he attended Hogwarts, he seemed to be learning how he could bend magic to his will." An eery shiver ran up his spine witnessing Voldemort wielding magic so ruthlessly, so innately at such a young age. It was as frightening as it was daunting, Harry thought.

"Yes, quite. Even then Voldemort demonstrated an unusually instinctive grasp of magic," Dumbledore said. "What I would like to draw your attention to, Harry is that the young Tom Riddle, even before he knew he was a wizard, saw himself as separate and unique and part of that belief led him to covet two things: trophies and knowledge."

"-The trinkets or prizes he kept from the other children."

"Yes, indeed. Perhaps symbols of his conquests, even at that age. And secondly, you will notice that as soon as I validated what he already believed to be true, the young Tom Riddle used that knowledge to justify his own means: he believed he was special, and the realisation he was a wizard only reinforced that further."

Harry nodded, the details of what they had just learnt couldn't be denied as intriguing, but he still failed to see how they could be applied. A question he posed to the Headmaster.

"Ah," Dumbledore began, seeming to debate his next words with care, "all will be revealed in the course of our lessons, Harry. For now, that is all I will offer you."

"I see." Harry couldn't keep the resentment from his voice nor the bitter taste that entered his mouth; knowledge, according to the headmaster, was to be shared, but only when he deemed you ready.

"Harry, I realise in my excitement to uncover this information with you, I had not stopped to think, who indeed you are choosing to share it with." The headmaster said, deftly changing the topic and peering over his half-moon spectacles.

Harry shuffled not without awkwardness,"…I haven't told anyone yet, sir."

"Not even, or Miss Granger?" He raising an eyebrow.

"No."

"Hmm," Dumbledore muttered as he considered this and steepled his fingers in front of him. "Is there a particular reason why you have chosen to not yet bring them into your confidence?"

True enough, Harry had felt guilty about not telling his friends the contents of his meetings with Dumbledore or even the prophecy, which is not to say Hermione hadn't badgered him constantly about it. But after everything he'd been put through by Voldemort last year and, after everything he'd witnessed Voldemort capable of to gain access to the prophecy, Harry decided he wasn't willing to risk their lives for their curiosity.

Looking over at the headmaster whose gaze was fixed deeply on Harry, as though trying to unravel a riddle with his mind, he brought his Occlumency shields up just in case.

"Honestly, it hurts not to tell them, and I almost wish I could. -But after everything that happened last year, and knowing now how much Voldemort covets information, I thought it best not to tell anyone yet. They're already in enough danger being friends with me…let alone if they knew the prophecy."

Dumbledore seemed to grow pensive at that and stroked his long beard. "I apologise, Harry. It has never been, nor will it ever be my wish to alienate you from your friends." Was it Harry, or were the wrinkles on Dumbledores face deeper than ever?

"They'll understand," Harry said as much as hoped, thinking back to the promise Hermione had made him commit to.

"I see…And if we may touch upon your vision once more." Dumbledore continued, "Minerva tells me you knew of the attack in Hogsmeade because of what you saw. Can you describe it to me?"

Harry mentally gulped. "Well, I occasionally have dreams about Voldemort. Sometimes, when I wake I know they've been my own dreams…others I'm not quite sure."

Dumbledore intertwined his fingers once more, collecting information as a librarian does books, and gestured for Harry to go on. "-This one was intense…like when Mr Weaslet was attacked last year. I just glimpsed bits of dialogue really. When I awoke, I knew I had to tell someone, just in case."

"And good that you did, Harry."

"…I did knock on your door, sir. But you weren't here." Dumbledore nodded but offered no explanation. It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to inquire further where the headmaster had been, but the question died along with an answer Harry knew would not come. A short silence lapsed between them, in which Harry had the distinct impression of being wordlessly appeased as if being handed one of the Headmaster's famous Sherbert Lemons. He stood to go when Dumbledore, spoke once more.

"May I offer some advice before you leave, Harry." He waited for Harry's nod before continuing. "I would never presume to tell you what to do with your life, but I believe it to be the wise choice to open up with your friends about our meetings and even the prophecy; you do them a great disservice by not confiding in them, and while I realise there are inherent dangers in the possession of such information, I believe the far greater danger would be to hold your friends at arm's length, leaving you alone to bear the burden."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, not expecting such a forthright suggestion by his headmaster. He wondered at his own course of actions, Dumbledore's words somehow touching a deep longing in him; one that made his heart both ache and yearn to confide in his friends and ease the pressure of the task he would ultimately have to face alone. In the end, the problem wasn't not wanting to tell them, it was not being able to.

"Thanks, professor and trust me, there's nothing more I want than to be able to tell them everything…but," he continued delicately, "I've given this a lot of thought and I honestly don't see how I can give them something as dangerous as this. We both know if Voldemort finds out that they know, then they become almost as greater target as me. I mean, he was willing to risk revealing himself for the prophecy last year, and something tells me that what we're uncovering in our lessons he may well value even more. With that in mind, I can't reveal the details of what we're getting into. They mean too much to me to risk."

For his part Dumbledore appeared to truly consider Harry's point before responding, his voice now reflecting every bit his age. "I'm not sure I agree, Harry. However, I understand your decision and do not begrudge you it. Once again I am left wishing that I could remove this burden from your shoulders and allow you to embrace your life as you wish. To live as freely as any normal student would." He looked over at Harry sadly, the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye.

A strange feeling of righteousness swelled in Harry in that moment, and when he spoke it was with a conviction that punctuated his every word, "I don't wish that at all, sir. If it wasn't me, then it would have been someone else, and then they would have lost their parents….I wouldn't wish that on anyone.-It's funny, it took a little while after hearing the prophecy, until I realised I already am living the life I wish. Since coming back to school this year, I've worked so hard to prepare myself and the students in DA, that I don't have any regrets…I can't. I don't even fear where I'm going, because I already know what I'm doing is right. It just feels that way." He said, somehow relieved to be telling the headmaster this. "I guess, the greatest thing I've ever done is to accept who I am, and when you know that, you can do anything." Dumbledore's weary eyes laid heavily upon him before he broke into a beaming smile.

"Your parents would be very proud of you, Harry." Every one of Harry's muscles, bones and joints seemed to hum at once, as Dumbledore's words carried meaning too great to define; especially knowing it was coming from the man his parents respected so highly. It was a profound moment, standing there, face to face with Dumbledore, the Pensieve laying like a map on the table between them, drying ink from the past hinting at the future's precarious path. It was a moment Harry would never forget. No matter the future that awaited them both.

"I say, well said, ol' boy," One of the portraits added from behind him to a smatter of applause.

"Natural for a Gryffindor." Someone else said. Harry let out an involuntary chuckle, the tension slipping away like water down a stream.

"Goodnight, Professor." He said finally.

"Goodnight, Harry." Fawkes trilled an encouraging tune as the door closed behind him and Harry couldn't help but feel that for the first time since he began his adventure that he'd placed his foot firmly on land, ready to go forwards and explore the world he was creating.