Author's Note: Okay, I know it has been a long time, but I've been in the middle of Turn, a week of torture where I do nothing but clean. I was going to update before this, but somehow my arms were just too sore to do so. This chapter is a little longer than most, to make up for it. This hasn't been beta-ed, so please point out typos, etc.Enjoy!

Dear Professor Lupin,

I know that you asked me to call you Remus, and I have several times, but I am writing to you to ask an educational question, and I thought you might like the title again.

I was reading about some theory on wandless magic and mind magic. A phrase, "force of will", reminded me of your lecture on boggarts and I was wondering if force of mind and force of will is the same thing. Are they the same thing? If they are not, what is the difference?

I've asked other teachers, and all (including Professor McGonagall) looked at me like I was a bit mad…Any help you send would be greatly appreciated.

Your Student,

Hermione Granger

Hermione rolled up the parchment and tied it off to take to the Owlery later. If anyone could answer that question after the reaction of the Hogwarts faculty (besides Snape and Dumbledore) it would be her former Defense professor. She pulled her Transfiguration book towards her and sighed. The second day of school did seem an odd day to be asking such questions, but she had thought they'd be used to seeing her hard at work, regardless of how far they were into the term. "Hermione Granger?" Hermione looked up to see a first year student from Gryffindor standing at her elbow. Sophie Matthews.

"Yes, Sophie? Is there something you need?" Hermione knew that Sophie was a Muggle-born student like herself and that some of the pureblood students and half-blood students had told rather frightening tales of Voldemort on the train. Sophie shook her head so hard her braid swirled around her face. Hermione smiled kindly at the girl and waited for the reason she had sought out Hermione in the library.

"No, I was asked to ask you to go to Professor McGonagall's office." Hermione nodded and gathered up her books and started to shove them into her book bag.

"Thank you, Sophie. I'll go right now." Sophie gave a bright smile and rushed away towards the library stacks. Hermione waved good-bye to Madame Pince, left her sanctuary and set her steps towards Professor McGonagall's office. She had a fairly good idea of the topic for the meeting and she knew what she would have to do. Lie to people she respected. She nodded absently to Nearly Headless Nick and turned the corner.

She presented herself to the portrait, said her name and waited for entry. "Ah, Miss Granger! Come in, come in." Professor Dumbledore was in McGonagall's office. Hermione smiled in his general direction, immediately turning away to wrestle her already massive book bag through the doorframe. McGonagall motioned her to a seat, which Hermione took, her book bag safely through the door and placed at her side.

"You must be wondering why you've been asked here." McGonagall said as she poured out tea for the three of them.

"Yes, Professor. Have I done something wrong?" Hermione relaxed when McGonagall shook her head.

"No, Miss Granger. You have done nothing wrong." Dumbledore interrupted by scooting his chair closer to Hermione and turning into an affable grandfather just presented with his favorite granddaughter.

"We have just a few questions, Hermione. Is that all right?" Hermione looked between the two of them, carefully avoiding Dumbledore's eyes, as Harry suggested, before nodding carefully to the room in general.

"Of course." She almost gagged at the eagerness in her voice. What if she messed up? "What do you want to know?" She asked with a slight frown. This was a dangerous game she was playing and if she didn't play it right, Harry would be found.

"You and Mr. Potter exchanged mail over the summer, correct?" Hermione tilted her head to the side.

"Yes…at first, anyway." She told the professors. "Harry stopped writing to me after two letters or so." Dumbledore frowned while McGonagall's expression didn't change. "His last letter said that he needed some time to sort things out on his own. He quit writing to me after that." Dumbledore nodded and sat back a bit in his chair. McGonagall took up the questioning.

"Have you had any communication with him at all since then?" McGonagall asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No, he said that he would see me on the train on September first, just like we do every year." Hermione looked at McGonagall. "I was hoping that his family made him miss the train, but I haven't seen him here." She studied her hands for a few seconds before raising tear-filled eyes to McGonagall. "He's missing, isn't he?" She asked quietly, as though she was afraid to hear the answer. She hid her face in her hands when the teachers did not answer her. "It's all my fault! I told him to just be patient, that you would let him go to the Weasleys' and we could all spend some time together, but he's not here! He must think I'm a horrible person!" Hermione knew that she could not bring better tears up at this point and let herself go.

"Minerva, why don't you take Miss Granger down to Poppy for a calming draught?" Dumbledore helped McGonagall hoisted the hysterical teenager from the chair and waited until he was alone before turning to the corner. "Well, Severus?" The Potions Master stepped out from under the invisibility cloak and glared at the older man while he folded the garment.

"If she ever finds out I was hiding out in her office to do some spying on one of her precious little lion cubs, I'll spend the rest of my days as a footstool." Severus complained as he straightened his robes. Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow in a silent request for information. "Very well. Those were sincere tears, Headmaster. Granger seems to be genuinely concerned for Potter's well-being. As for her reaction, she is emotionally involved with him somehow, though I will refrain from musing on the complexities of Gryffindor mating rituals." Severus paused and shook his head. "I highly doubt that she knows where he is at the moment. Weasley is a more likely option. Try him, if you think his brain can take it." Severus sneered. "If that is all, I have a potion about ready for the next ingredient." Dumbledore turned to the window and waved the man away with a polite "thank you."

Severus turned and left the office. He ducked into one of Salazar's passageways and returned to his rooms. Draco Malfoy was seated at the table, diligently working on his homework assignments. Severus shrugged off his heavy outer robe and hung it on the hook just inside the door. "What did you think of Miss Granger, Draco?" Draco jerked and dragged his quill across his essay. He gave a colorful curse Severus knew he could only learn in Knockturn Alley and raised his wand to repair the damage. "Language, Draco." Severus sank into his armchair and conjured a cup of tea.

"How did you know I was watching?" Draco asked as he put his wand away. Severus glanced at the empty space on the wall he was sure had up until recently held a mirror. The mirror was currently lying on the table beneath the empty spot, spell still active, showing the interior of McGonagall's office.

"You left the spell up and you forgot to set the room to rights." Severus explained as he gestured to the mirror. Draco scowled and flicked his wand, ending the spell and returning the mirror to its rightful place. "Your thoughts on Miss Granger?" He prompted.

"I think she knows something." Draco told him as he put away his books. Severus motioned for him to continue. "I've used that crying trick with my mother far too many times to get what I wanted." Draco told him with a slight hint of disgust. "The only reason she got away with it now is that no one suspects her of doing anything like that." Draco moved from the table and sat down next to his mentor.

"I agree. She must be aware of Dumbledore's Legillimency skills, for she would not look him in the eye." Severus stared into the fire for a few seconds before returning his attention to Draco. "What can you tell me?" He asked Draco. The boy shrugged and bit his lips.

"Not much to tell, really. The Protectors are the Protectors. Sworn to school and duty. Miss Granger has a bit more information. She is polite, ambitious in her studies, and eager to prove that she's just as good as everyone else here." Draco sank further into his seat. "I think everyone underestimates her." He confided. Severus only nodded.

"That could be true." He confirmed with a weary voice. "I trust that you know what you need to do." Draco was already nodding before Severus finished his statement.

"I've already laid foundations in that direction. I'll let you know whatever I find out from her." He stopped and shrugged on his Hogwarts robe. "If she has kept something to herself, I'll find it and let you know." He shouldered his books and went to leave when he stopped in front of the door and turned to Severus with an astonished look. "I've just discovered something you can't do!"

"Brat." Severus told the boy. Draco smiled and left the room. He had a training session scheduled in Hermione's handwriting.

End of September…

Harry had relaxed a bit since September 1st when no one had appeared to take him back to his school. Fawkes' continuing visits seemed to reassure Harry that he was safely hidden, though why that was, Paul would never know. Paul stood at the window and looked out at his charge with no small amount of frustration. Every time he felt like he was making some progress with Harry, something would happen that made Paul feel like he did not know Harry at all. Harry had just left a session with him and Paul was ready to open the boy's skull somehow and look inside. It had to be easier than chipping away at the defenses like he was doing at the moment. Harry was so well-guarded that learning anything at all was taking longer than he would have liked. When the committee had asked him to take the case, he had been hoping to have Harry back home by Christmas. Now, it seemed like Harry was going to be staying for a much longer time. Paul returned to his desk and pulled out his tape recorder and notes from earlier. Paul had started the session asking about primary school and what Harry had liked about it. His answer had surprised Paul. Paul rewound the tape and played it.

"'I liked being there. Seeing what other kids were like.'" Harry had told him. Paul listened to his own response about having a cousin. "'Yeah, Dudley was there, too. We didn't get along. And he made sure that no one else could get along with me, either." Harry had tried to change the subject to Zen, but Paul had stayed on the subject. He had asked Harry why Dudley had not allowed other children around Harry. "'I don't know. He's Dudley. He did what he wanted.'" Harry had closed his mouth on the subject and refused to talk further about his cousin. Paul then asked about the aunt and uncle while Harry was younger. Harry's response was less than encouraging. "'They were there.'" Harry shrugged as though to say, "so what?"

"'Did they help you with your homework?'" Paul winced at the sound of his own voice. He hated the way he sounded on machines.

"'No. I didn't need much help.'" Harry had played with his pillow for a few seconds before continuing. ""I did really well.'"

"'They must have been proud of you.'" Paul stared at the recorder as though it held the answers he was looking for.

"'No, I was nothing special.'" Paul knew the way Harry had said that meant that Harry had been told that and believed it. Paul had wanted to continue along that line, but Harry interrupted. "'Can we talk about something else?'" Paul had allowed it. Harry was obviously uncomfortable with the topic and did not like discussing his family. Paul pulled out the night nurses' reports and frowned. Harry had stayed up through the night until two that morning, and he was the first on his floor to report for breakfast. True, last night was a scheduled sleeping pill free night, but Harry knew that he was allowed to ask for one if he had any trouble sleeping or nightmares. The reports said that he had been caught reading several times until he turned in at two, and had declined both a sleeping pill and Paul.

Sensei Leonard had come to him that morning, worried about Harry and some scars that seemed to have manifested some two weeks before his visit that had not been there before. Sensei had said that he had thought that Harry would have told Paul, but it seemed that Harry had decided not to tell Paul, or anyone else, for that matter. Sensei said that even he had found out by a convenient accident. Paul turned his chair back to his window and stared at the sky. Why hadn't Harry told him? More important, how had the scars appeared, and did it have anything to do with Voldemort? A knock on his door startled him a few minutes later. "Come." The door opened to admit Harry's art teacher. "Mr. Watt? What can I do for you?" Please don't ask for answers about Harry. I'm looking for them myself. Paul gestured for the man to have a seat and turned off the recorder. Paul did not have much contact with this man and when he and the other managed to cross paths, the teacher could only rave about Harry's talent as an artist. The man looked uncomfortable and fumbled with the portfolio he held.

"Normally, I allow my students to discard their work at their discretion, but Evan's work is different. It shows more passion than I've seen in a long time. It's very real, very alive. I couldn't bear to see him continue to throw out wonderful work. I've been collecting what he rejected and holding it. I was looking through it just now, and I noticed a few things." He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Just look through them, and tell me what you see." Paul took the drawings and paged through them. Some showed Harry and the Dursleys, others of Harry in a classroom, riding a broom, facing some weird people (Paul knew they were wizards, most likely Death Eaters from what Harry had described before) and Harry against a red-eyed man that looked a bit like a snake. That must have been Voldemort.

"He has an active imagination." Paul said as he held up a drawing of Harry facing a dragon. Surely he did not have to do that as a part of school examinations? How old was he in that image? Thirteen? Fourteen? They would not do that to their students, would they? Dragons? Mr. Watt shook his head.

"That's not what I meant." He took the drawings back and looked through them, changing the order of a few of them. He handed them back to Paul. Paul took them back and shrugged when he didn't understand what Mr. Watt wanted him to see. "There's two of him in these pictures." Mr. Watt was right. Some pictures had a rather young and tattered looking Harry while the others showed a different, world-weary young man. There were no Harry's in between. "I have one more that I think you should see." Mr. Watt removed a rolled up paper from the portfolio and handed it to Paul.

"What is this?" Paul asked in wonder. He had never seen anything so intricate by such a young student. Harry said that he had only started drawing when he came to St. Jude's. Had the same person managed this drawing?

"Something I found pitched into the waste-basket just yesterday." Paul moved his eyes back to the image. The main image was a crystal ball with something written around it. Paul picked up his pen and scribbled the message on a scrap of paper. Luos ruoy slaever that llab latsyrc eht. Paul held up the image to the mirror and smiled. The crystal ball that reveals your soul. The ball itself had many cracks through it, although it still retained its ball shape. Inside each fragment was a different version of Harry. One was a huddled ball in a cupboard of some kind. Another was on a broom. One was facing Voldemort in a graveyard. Another was a wide-eyed child surrounded by people in a crowded pub. One had a bleeding scar. Two images caught Paul's eye. Harry was leaning against the wall, bloody lashes showing through his torn shirt. That explained Sensei's visit. The other image was Harry with slightly Voldemort-like characteristics. "What does it mean?" Mr. Watt asked. Paul did not look up from the picture.

"It could mean almost anything. It might be a work of imagination, or something more." The man would have to be satisfied with that explanation. Paul could not explain further, not without allowing something about Harry to slip out. Paul could not do that to his patient. "May I keep this for a while?"

"Certainly. As long as I get it back. It's beautiful, even if a trifle disturbing." Paul nodded and smiled. Only an artist could say something was beautiful and disturbing. Mr. Watt stood to leave. "Do you ever think that boy comes from a different place?" He asked with a little question in his eyes.

"Every once in a while, but then he reminds me that he is a normal kid." Mr. Watt smiled and left. Paul turned back to the picture and studied it. There were different and conflicting images of Harry. One made Paul look at it and study it for a long while. It was Harry, in battle-armour remniscent of the Middle Ages. He had an odd look in his eyes, a sword clutched in his hand, and a determined air about him. His scar was bleeding and he was pressing his other hand to his side as if trying to hide a serious wound. Which of the images was the real Harry?

-I miss your visits, Mi. Just knowing that you were there.

-I miss visiting. You hanging in there?

-I guess. Paul's a bit frustrated with me, but I don't know why.

-What makes you say that?

-I…huh. He wanted to talk about the Dursleys and I didn't want to.

-How do you know he's frustrated?

-shrug No idea. I just do.

-How's force of will coming?

-Fine. Who knew it was that simple?

-That's what Professor Lupin said. It was simple once you got it, but you had to get it first. Force of will and force of mind are interconnected. If you can manage a Patronus the way you do, I guessed you could handle really demanding that something happen. How's Occlumency coming now?

-Not quite there. It's like I'm blocked.

-You're blocking yourself. Open your mind to the infinite, clear it, and shield.

-I suppose you've already managed to do it?

-Mm, yes. I don't have a psycho with a link to my mind though. Are you angry with me?

-No. Now you can couch me.

-It is a lot like meditation, just faster, or more intense. You just need to speed up the steps.

-I'll give it a try. How's everyone at school?

-Well, the first years were hoping to meet you and every one is disappointed that you are not here. There is one, a Muggle-born who is having some trouble adjusting. Her name is Sophie Matthews. The others in her year keep telling her that Voldemort will kill her first. Malfoy, oh, excuse me, Drake, stays far away from the Slytherins. Neville says that when he is not with Professor Snape, he is in the Protector dorm, just like Ron. Ron seems to have forgotten that he has another house. All he talks about is becoming an Auror and saving the world. Did he always have such an ego?

-Once in a while. Though I don't think it was this bad before.

-Oh, well. I try my best to avoid him. Most of the other students do, too. Um, Neville and Luna are dating.

-What? That's great!

-Yes. They do seem suited to each other, don't they? Ginny keeps trying to hex Ron. I don't stop her. Dumbledore has asked me to "inform" him should I hear from you. He has every magical government the world over looking for you, and I'm sure Voldemort knows you're not at Hogwarts by now.

-Too bad I'm in the Muggle world.

-Harry, how do you feel like being a Slytherin?

-What?

-I had a thought. Misdirection. We need to keep everyone thinking that you want to be here. I've had my ear to the ground (or next to Ron's boasting, you pick), and I've found that Dumbledore thinks you're trying to come here. What if we set up a story that you do manage to get away from your school, but get caught and taken back?

-How would that help?

-It would let Dumbledore think that you are still his student, and safe from Voldemort's evil influence.

-Um, Mi? I would never go to Voldemort.

-One of the rumors that the other students are passing around says that you have.

-I can never win, can I?

-Guess not.

-After Voldemort is dead, I'm turning Muggle.

-I wouldn't blame you. You could watch Star Wars when ever you wanted.

-There is that. So, how would this plan work? I would have to be in a Muggle school, because there I would have no way to send an owl or contact anyone, and I can't exactly pull out my wand. It would have to be a boarding school.

-Oh, Skywalker! It's perfect! I know just the place!

-?

-St. Ignatius! It's a Jesuit boarding school for boys. My dad's best friend from school became a Jesuit and teaches there. It's here in England, but Dad says it's a strict place. If your aunt told them to watch you, they would!

-Okay, so I'm an unwilling student at this Jesuit boarding school. Mi, what's a Jesuit?

-A type of Catholic priest. I'll ask my dad to send you the book I have on Jesuits. Some of their lives are really interesting.

-Not another book! I'm already swamped with work.

-You'll need it. If Dumbledore finds you and you tell him that story, then you'll need to know something of the Jesuits. Trust me.

-Okay. So, how does the story get out?

-You can send a letter to my house, because it's in the Muggle world. Just keep the messages vague, because "they" are checking mail. Send it to my parents and they'll make sure I get it.

-Sounds good. How about I draft one now?

-Go ahead.

-Dear Hermione,

I'm finally allowed to write to you! Sorry I missed you, but my aunt thought that this school was better for me. I'm not allowed to tell you where I am for security reasons. You already know why.

The teachers here are very patient with me and are tutoring me to get me to form level. It's a very secluded school and the grounds are beautiful. I have a lot of time to think. Oh, there's the bell. I need to get to lunch. Say hi to the old crowd for me.

Miss you all!

Evan H. P. Smith

-How's that?

-Is someone reading over your shoulder, because that is perfect! It sounds like a call for help. Nice name change.

-Thought it was appropriate. I'll send it out tonight.

-Sounds good. I'll write them in two days and tell them to forward it.

-Great. Ugh. Sore.

-Sensei again?

-YES! Everything hurts. I spend an hour with him every morning, and two hours on Saturday. I also attend the daily classes with everyone else. Add both of my school assignments, classes, art club, play practice, tutoring sessions, and therapy. How did you survive third year?

-I had a Time-Turner. You need to drop something, Skywalker.

-I can't! If I don't keep up with the Hogwarts' assignments…

-I wasn't talking about that! How many martial arts classes do you need?

-I don't want to disappoint Sensei.

-How much do you learn in the regular, daily classes?

-Not much. I'm a bit ahead of everyone else.

-My point exactly. That would free up how much time?

-Um, about two hours or so.

-So, talk to Paul and have him rearrange your schedule.

-That's a good idea. I didn't know how much longer I could last.

-Good ideas are what I'm here for. Go talk to him now. I'll chat with you later.

-Okay. Mi? How's Snape?

-Prancing about like Christmas came early and he received an entire basilisk under the tree.

-There's one in the Chamber of Secrets. It's dead.

-Ew! Go talk to Paul.

-Going, Mi.

Harry reached out and knocked on Paul's door. "Hang on a second." He heard Paul's voice say. "Come in!" Harry opened the door and poked his head in. Paul waved into the room with one hand while he held the phone to his ear with the other. "That sounds great, Joe. Uh-huh. I'll see you Saturday. Uh-huh. Bye." Paul hung up the phone, scribbled something down, and turned to Harry with a smile. "Hey, buddy. What's up?"

"Um, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something." Harry said as he sat down on the couch. Paul gave him another smile. Harry had come to him! He wanted to dance a little, but was afraid of scaring Harry away. He put in a fresh tape and hit the record button.

"You know that you can. What's up?" He asked.

"Well, you know what my schedule is like, and I've been trying to keep up with my Hogwarts work through Hermione, but between the two workloads, and classes, play practice, art club, meals, two lessons a day with Sensei, and then again on Saturday…" Paul held up a hand to stop Harry.

"Are you trying to say that you have too much to do and need to change your schedule?" Paul asked. Harry smiled and nodded a bit. "We can do that."

"That's great." Harry said as he leaned back on the couch. He picked up his pillow and sighed.

"What would you like to drop?" Paul asked as he pulled out Harry's schedule and picked up his pen.

"The regular martial arts lessons. I'm already ahead in them and I'm not learning much." Paul nodded and crossed out the lessons. Paul tossed down the pen and turned to Harry.

"I'm glad you came to me, Harry." He told the boy. "This is what we've been talking about, isn't it?" Harry nodded, giving him a sheepish smile. Paul knew that Harry was uncomfortable talking about or acknowledging when he did something Paul had asked him to try. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about, too. You saw me on the phone earlier. That was Joe and your Aunt Petunia, not necessarily in that order. They're ready for this Saturday. Are you?" Harry studied his feet and toed the floor.

"You're going to be there, right?" He asked as he looked back up at Paul. Paul smiled and reached out to hold Harry's shoulder.

"Right there the entire time." Paul smiled and pushed back to his desk. Harry relaxed on the couch. "I like that look on you. 'Relaxed teenager'. You should do that more often." Paul told him.

"'Relaxed teenager?'" Harry asked. "Me?" He shrugged and closed his eyes. "I want to relax for the rest of my life once Voldemort is dead." Harry missed the look Paul gave him and sighed. "I was thinking the States. I don't think anyone knows me there."

"You want to leave home?" Harry shrugged again.

"I'm just thinking about it. I'm not really sure." A flash of flames announced their visitor. "Fawkes!" Harry held up his arm and allowed the phoenix to land on it. "How are you?" The bird gave a magical trill and held out his leg towards Harry. "What's this?" Harry reached out and untied the parchment wrapped around the leg. "Is it from Dumbledore?" Harry unrolled the parchment and saw a familiar crest at the top.

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

Harry,

If you're reading this, that means I've done something incredibly stupid and left you alone. I'm sorry. I never think. It's my biggest fault. I admit it. I'm sorry I left you alone, kiddo.

Since you are not of legal age, Gringotts will wait a bit before contacting you to go over my will. This letter is just to give you a heads-up.

I'm leaving everything to you, Harry. The house, my vault, my motorcycle (your mum would have kittens…must be why I'm doing it.), my house elf (you can kill him if you want to, but I wouldn't recommend it); you get everything. I know how much you'll have and I want you to have FUN! Note the capital letters. Pranks, women, vacations, cars, dragons, Quidditch teams, Fudge's job. Use your imagination. Just make sure it is fun. Don't you dare give it all away! If charity is your thing, that's okay, make some donations, but don't give it all away. That's one of my final wishes. I want you well-provided for if I can't be there.

This paragraph is important, Harry, so please don't skip it. I've named Remus Lupin (that's right…Moony) your advisor and mentor. He can't be your guardian, because of some prejudiced laws (stupid Ministry!), but he'll now have the authority to do some really wicked things like sign permission slips for school, oversee your estate (yes, estate. You'll learn about that later.), act as a legal representative, and so many other things that I'll run out of parchment to list them all. The Powers that Be should have included some reading material about advisors/mentors and how it all works. If they haven't, contact Moony or ask a teacher (not Snape). They'll know what to tell you. I don't want you to be alone. The Dursleys don't count. The arrangement between you and Moony can be as formal or informal as you want. You'll call the shots.

Please stay in contact with him, regardless of your decision. He is the last Marauder and he can be trusted. Take care of him.

I hope I had a good death; my only regret is leaving you. I can only hope this helps. I'm in a better place now, I'm sure, and I'm with your parents. There are two Marauders here and the afterlife will never be the same! Take care, have lots of fun (you'd better!) and stay safe. I'm so proud of you. Remember, I love you and I'll be with you in your heart.

Your Godfather,

Sirius Black

"Padfoot"

Harry looked up from the letter and smiled at Paul. Paul eyed him. "Harry, you okay?" Harry nodded and then shook his head.

"It's from Sirius, my godfather." He looked down at the paper again and laughed a bit. "He wants me to have fun. He wrote to say that, he, uh, left me everything." The letter fell from his hands as his hands opened and closed, as though searching for something to hold. Paul knew that gesture by now and moved next to him on the couch, pulling Harry to him as he sat down. Harry didn't cry, but seemed content to just sit there, holding onto something solid next to him. "I miss him." He told Paul.

"You will always miss him." Paul told him. "He is with you, as long as you remember him." Harry nodded.

"That's what he said about my parents." Paul smiled.

"He's right. You'll always have someone with you so long as you remember them." Harry pulled away after a few more minutes.

"Thanks, Paul." Paul only nodded. He knew what Harry meant with those words. "He told me that I need to have fun. He even mentioned Fudge's job." Paul tried to remember who Fudge was.

"The Minister?" He asked and stood up. He returned to his file where he kept all of his information on the different people Harry had mentioned in their sessions. He had needed to use it more than once to figure out who was who and what they meant to Harry.

"The one and incompetent. He didn't tell anyone in the wizarding world that Voldemort was back. No one was prepared. Now, he's scrambling to make up for it." Paul sat back down and faced Harry.

"Sounds like you're pretty upset about it." Harry nodded. "Want to tell me why?" Paul let Harry think it over for a few minutes. It didn't look like Harry was willing to talk.

"I'm the reason Voldemort's back." He told Paul. Harry pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them as he hid his face. "The whole Triwizard Tournament thing was a setup he made to get to me." Harry said. Paul did not answer him, hoping that Harry would continue without a prompt. "He knew that I would somehow be near the trophy at the end. He expected me to win. I found out later that he had a spy in the school that was sort of helping me along, masquerading as my teacher. He took my blood and he came back. It's my fault."

"Did you hear what you just said?" Paul asked. Harry looked up from his knees.

"Of course I know what I just said." Harry stood up and went over to Zen's cage and gave a quick look to ask if he could remove Zen. Paul nodded to let him know that it was okay. Paul allowed the tape to record, hoping that he could someday decipher what Harry was saying to the snake. "I said that it was my fault." Harry stood with his back to the window as he petted Zen. The snake seemed more than happy to curl around Harry's wrist and rest his head on Harry's chest.

"Before that. Here, let me play it back for you." Paul rewound the tape and pushed the button. Paul allowed the tape to play and watched Harry.

"So?" Paul wanted to groan in frustration. He supposed that he had heard it because he was the listener.

"You kept saying 'he'." He made the setup, he expected you to win, he had a spy, he took your blood, he came back." Paul waited for Harry to understand what he was trying to say. Harry raised an eyebrow. Oh, great. Harry missed it. "It's his fault, because he did everything. It was nothing you did. Only him." Harry dropped his eyes to Zen and started to stroke the snake's head. Did he not understand, or was he too happy with the way things were, with him blaming himself?

"Zen says you're right. That it was his fault. What about the blood of an enemy he needed to come back? If I hadn't been there…" Paul shook his head.

"He did not need a specific enemy, did he? He could have used almost anyone. It all depends on how you define enemy. I could be that enemy now. Sensei, oh Voldemort definitely has an enemy there. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, the kitten he kicked when he was a child, the bug he smashed, the cabbie he did not pay. Understand?" Harry nodded slowly as he reached up a hand to stroke Zen again.

"Zen is his enemy with that reasoning." Paul nodded. Harry got his point.

"That's right. Anyone could be his enemy. It all depends on definition."

Author's Note: Like? No like? Totally confused?