Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed. I love reviews. And the well-wishers about my grades. I plan to continue studying, though I have a paper due in two weeks. And another one two weeks after that. Yeah, it'll kill me. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I don't know if you all noticed the review responses, but I'll be using that to answer questions! Expect some answers soon!

Harry had been with Bleys a period of a week. Mere seconds passed for days in his mind and he had started to enjoy learning what the man had to teach, though he still hated the necessity of making him young again. He tripped over his feet daily, which caused Bleys an inordinate amount of amusement. Harry had been stretching his new abilities by catching fish outside in the nearby creek when Bleys called him back to the cottage. It felt like a vacation here. Bleys made everything into a game with Harry and Harry often didn't realize the fact that he was actually working until he collapsed into his bed that night.

Harry had been wary of Bleys the first few "days" they had spent together. Bleys was, after all, an unknown and Harry was not sure if he could trust something that came from a book, no matter how nice it seemed. Ginny Weasley's experiences were always in the back of his mind, just waiting for Harry to look over them and try to compare the two. The only thing that allowed Harry to relax was the fact that they were in his mind and not Bleys. Snape had told him that lies could not exist here and that Harry controlled everything. Harry had found that to be true. He had turned Bleys's hair pink once while the man was sleeping, just to prove that he was in control. The man had not been happy when he woke up, but understood Harry's need for safety confirmation.

Time was what really concerned Harry, but Bleys promised that only a few hours would pass for the required number of weeks Harry needed to complete his lessons. Eleven hours, to be precise, for eleven weeks. He could still go to the dance and he would make the play. Somehow, they seemed far away from Harry's mind. It didn't really matter. What did matter was learning how to control this power he felt twitching behind his hands and eyes at odd moments. Bleys had been right. Now that he had opened himself to what he could really accomplish, the power wouldn't leave him alone. It tugged on him and wore him out, but each day taught Harry a new skill that helped to reign in the power, direct it, and give his mind a rest. He could cast without a wand. He only needed hand gestures. His favorite was snapping his fingers. He had left incantations behind a long time ago.

"Ah, there you are. Come here, Harry." Harry dropped his basket of fish just outside the door and went over to Bleys. The man was watching something on the table. "Do you know what this is, child?" Harry glared at the man, whom returned the glare with a fond smile. Bleys knew Harry hated being called a child. Harry looked down at the object.

"A scrying mirror?" He asked. Bleys gave him that pleased smile Harry had earned many times since he had first allowed the man to teach him something his second day in the cottage. That had been a frightening experience. Bleys had shown him how easy it was to focus on his magic, but had forgotten to tell Harry how to shut it off. Bleys had sat through some rather terrifying minutes while Harry made objects fly about the little cottage. Once Harry had worked out how to stop it, Bleys had smiled. He told Harry that he had been just like Merlin. Harry had returned with a threat to hide under the bed for the man's neglect in giving some vital instructions. Bleys's answer to his earlier response pulled Harry from his thoughts.

"That's right. A scrying mirror. I think it's time you learned how to use one." Bleys told him. "Have you any of the basics?" He asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'm useless at Divination." He told Bleys. It was true. Even Professor Firenze told Harry that Sight did not favor him. Harry said as much to Bleys.

"Yes, the centaur had it right. The Sight does not favor you. It belongs to you. I thought you read my notes?" He asked Harry, giving the boy a slight cuff to the head. Harry smoothed his hair back as Bleys motioned a chair over for Harry.

"I did." Harry told him. "I don't see what that has to do with my skills at Divination." Harry sat down in the chair as it nudged against his legs. It had taken him two days to get used to furniture that acted as though it had a life of its own (it was the chairs, mostly, though his bed had hugged him that morning before he was released to dress).

"Everything." Bleys' exasperated voice said from behind his hands, where he had hidden his face in a calming technique. "'Magic is only limited by your limitations. You need no wand; therefore, you have no need of limitations. Do not allow yourself to accept limitations. They are false boundaries.'" Bleys gave Harry a sardonic smile after he quoted his own notes. "Sound familiar?" He asked.

"Yes, actually." There was no need to be sarcastic! "So, if I decide that I can use Divination…"

"You can. Precisely right." Bleys told him. "Now, scry." Harry closed his eyes to concentrate and felt his magic gather and question his intent. This had been the scariest thing to feel when he had started with Bleys. Wandless magic before had rushed through him. This was a slow congregation of his magic that asked what he wanted to happen before anything could happen outside him. Harry had been terrified, at first, of the feeling of power at his fingertips (and had collapsed in fear in Bleys's arms before he mastered this necessary skill) but now he found it soothing. Familiar, in a way.

Harry opened his eyes and turned them down to the mirror. An image formed, surprising him to no little end. He had managed to use something from Divination! There were truly no limitations. He looked down at his Aunt Petunia as she sat next to his hospital bed. He missed his sixteen year old body. Bleys refused to allow him to grow, annoying the teenager to moody silence common among those his age. He did, however, retain his mind and used it to annoy the other man. "Aunt Petunia's here, Harry. I'm not going to leave you to go through this alone." Harry watched as she stroked his hair and squeezed his hand. "Aunt Petunia is here, dear." Harry froze as he watched her face, unconsciously nudging his magic to change the view to see her instead of his body. "I'm right here."

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. His aunt looked so different from what he was used to. Was this what she was like when he was asleep? When he had been little? He felt an ache in his chest as he watched her stroke his hair. Vernon Dursley came up behind her. "Any change?" His voice asked.

"None." Petunia told him. Vernon looked awkward, but patted her shoulder in a manner meant to soothe her. "I'm so worried, Vernon."

"I know, Petunia. You say he's been through things before. I'm sure he'll come through this. It'd be like him to do so." His voice held the slightest bit of contempt. Petunia shook her head.

"You promised me you'd try." Petunia told him.

"I am. I don't understand all of this," He waved a vague hand about. "stuff and nonsense. I'll be civil to the boy if it'll make you happy. I promise you that. At least he's polite." Vernon told her as he patted Harry's foot. "I do like that about him." Vernon told his wife that he was going to get something for her to drink.

"He is trying, Harry." Petunia whispered to the boy in front of her. "He promised me that he would try." She sounded almost desperate. "I have a bit of a surprise when you come home, dear." She told him. "I think you'll like it. Hermione gave me the idea. She told me that you liked to fly on your broomstick." Harry couldn't watch anymore. He wiped his hand across the surface of the mirror, dissipating the image like an image on water. He wrapped his hands around his legs more securely and buried his face. Bleys had forbidden any suppression of emotions, so Harry was prepared to show the man just how much of an emotional roller coaster he was. Bleys stood and picked up Harry from his chair and settled onto the couch-like object. Bleys called it a couch, but it was not like any couch Harry had ever seen.

"What is wrong, child?" He asked Harry as the boy wrapped his arms around Bleys neck and allowed himself to cry on the larger man's chest. Harry shook his head and rested against Bleys. He felt safe and that's all that was important at the moment. "Hmm?"

"She really does…" Harry took a shuddering breath. "does love me."

Bleys raised both eyebrows before cradling Harry to his chest. He had been able to view a few memories of Harry's before the boy had appeared for him. Some of them disturbed him, while others made him smile. The most confusing ones were those that contained any of his relatives. Harry had had mixed feelings about the trio since he was a little child. There was a yearning for acceptance and love, a desperate shield constructed against them, and a deep seated dislike of anything to do with them. Bleys had worked out what it all meant and was only starting to make sense of it. How could anyone do such things to a boy for his own "protection"? Bleys decided that only those who loved a child could do something so against their nature to keep him safe. He had to remind himself that the Dursley males had taken it a bit far. Petunia, however, was the main mystery. He stroked Harry's hair and nodded against the boy's head. "That she does." Bleys said quietly as he rubbed Harry's back.

"She never told me when I was younger." Harry mumbled from under Bleys's robe. The sorcerer wondered how Harry had managed to bury himself so effectively. He dug the boy out and replaced him on his chest before wrapping the robe about the boy as well. Harry relaxed, drinking in the physical affection the man was giving him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to have a father. Would his own have held him this way? Bleys reached out and brushed the tears away from Harry's face.

"I have no doubt that she has loved you all your life." Bleys told the boy. "She was just afraid of what would happen if she showed that she loved you, when she knew that you belonged to a different world. It's so hard to see the child that you raised go off into a world entirely separate from your own." Harry nodded and looked up. Bleys must have had an experience or two similar to what Petunia was going through. He understood that. He had read all of Petunia's journals and understood his aunt's reasoning, as odd as it was. It made sense. He just wished it had been unnecessary. So much had been wasted. "However, you must concern yourself with neither the past nor the future. Focus only on the present. The past shaped you, yes, but it does not control who you are now." He told Harry. "The past will control you if you allow it." Harry sat up and nodded. "Are you a bit calmer now?" He asked. Harry nodded again. "Good. Go wash your face before the mirror starts to scream." Harry clambered down from the couch and went over towards the washstand. The mirror badgered both of them about their looks, Harry more than Bleys, and screamed when it thought Harry was looking particularly unkempt.

He poured water into the basin and thought about his past. True, it had not been a very good one, but it had been better than some might have been. He could have grown up with a pureblood family, like the Malfoys. He shuddered. He was eternally grateful a wizard had not been able to adopt him. He realized that the Dursleys had only done what they thought was right, no matter how misguided they actually had been in his upbringing.

Remus had given him a list of all the people who had wanted to adopt Harry when his parents died. Almost every wizarding family he knew of, including some he had only heard of but never met had petitioned to become his guardians. Yes, even the Malfoys and the Notts. That would have been a frightening childhood, no matter how pampered and spoiled he would have been, because that was what he would have received. The wizarding world would have demanded it. He guessed it was better to be a little neglected than fawned over. He did not have a big head and he was not spoiled. He knew that he was not better than anyone else, and did not expect favors of any kind for his celebrity status. He didn't use his celebrity status unless he had to and even then, did not enjoy doing it. He was as normal as he could hope to be. As normal as he could be. The Dursleys had been right, partly, in the way they had raised him. He could have used a bit of self-esteem building, though. Hindsight was not useful.

He finished washing his face and went back outside to retrieve the fish he had caught earlier. Bleys had promised fish for dinner that night, and since Harry was 'eating him out of house and home', he had taught Harry ways to catch fish. Using magic, of course. "Light the fire." Bleys told him as he accepted the fish from Harry. Harry nodded and moved over to the fireplace. Harry snapped his fingers at the logs and watched them spring to life. He tilted his head to the side and smiled. That was easy. The flames suddenly went out. "I thought I asked you to light a fire?" Bleys said from the table was he was preparing the fish. Harry frowned and snapped his fingers again. The logs were lit once more. He started to turn when he heard the fire go out. "Is the wood wet?" Bleys said innocently. Harry narrowed his eyes and turned back to the fireplace. This was one of Bleys's games. He was sure of that. He was missing something. Bleys was trying to make a point. What was it?

Harry watched Bleys for a few minutes as he moved utensils around with magic to cut the fish and vegetables. A bowl came towards Bleys without an outward appearance of a hand gesture or word. Show off. Doing spells without words or snapping his fingers or a wand…OH! That's what Bleys wanted him to do! Harry sank down on his heels in front of the fireplace and stared at the logs. He felt the feeling again as his magic gathered and asked his intention. He imagined the flames back on the logs. He was surprised when Bleys grabbed him from the floor and pulled him away from the flames that had threatened his robe.

"A little too much power there." He told Harry with a proud smile. "That was well done for a first try. We're going to have to practice that." He set Harry on his feet once the flames had returned to normal.

"I hate being little." Harry grumbled to any force willing to listen.

"You're so cute this way!" Bleys told him as he messed up Harry's hair…again. Harry had quit wishing for hair gel. It would never last with Bleys around. "Get the bread, would you?" He asked Harry as he moved back to the vegetables. Harry took a towel and maneuvered the bread pans out of the little stove Bleys had built. He burned himself slightly, enough to make him jerk, but not enough to be concerned about. He shook his hand as he placed the bread on the table, far away from the vegetables. "Thank you, Harry." Harry nodded and watched Bleys for a few seconds. A scratch at the door made Harry jump. "Could you get the door, please?" Bleys asked with a small smile.

"We're in my mind, and there's somebody at the door?" He asked as he started for the door.

"I've brought a few friends along. My owl, for instance. And…"

"Argh!" Harry shouted as a gigantic dog leapt onto him the minute the door was open. The animal immediately started licking his face and neck, tickling him in the process. "Help!" Harry squealed from under the dog. "He's trying to eat me!" Harry was sure that the call for help would have been taken more seriously had he not been laughing at the time.

"Alden, down boy." Bleys told the dog. The newly named Alden wagged his tail and left Harry alone. The boy sat up and scrubbed at his face as he nudged the dog away from him.

"You forgot to mention that you had a dog." Harry said dryly. Bleys only smirked. "I've been here a week and haven't seen him."

"He disappears so often that I sometimes forget he exists." Bleys explained to Harry as the dog started circling Bleys. "Did you have a good time out causing mischief?" Bleys asked the animal. The dog barked once and wagged his tail.

"What kind of dog is he?" Harry asked as he looked over the animal.

"Mm. Not sure. He's a mix of everything, I think. He was the runt of the litter when I received him. I wad advised to drown him but his eyes told me a different story. He's a familiar and a very nice companion." Alden barked and wagged his tail once.

"Mental." Harry muttered as he helped Bleys assemble their soup for the evening. Variety did not happen here. The meals were pretty much all the same. Soups and stews with bread. Fresh fruit and raw vegetables often accompanied the meal, and milk appeared from somewhere (Harry was sure that Bleys had a cow stored in secret) that Harry was forced to drink…with every meal. Breakfast was usually simple. Harry devoured a large piece of cheese, a hard roll, an apple or pear and a cup of milk every morning at Bleys's instructions. Lunch and dinner were often the same type of food, though Harry had taught Bleys about dumplings. He hoped that they would be included on the menu sometime soon. Harry had yet to see meat, besides fish, of any kind. He vowed that he would never eat fish again once he returned to his body.

Bleys told stories throughout dinner about some of his adventures and several of his students' as well. They kept Harry entertained while they were eating. He often asked about Merlin, as the two of them sounded very similar in personality. Merlin had wanted nothing more than to be "just Merlin" and Harry had been fighting for it since he entered the wizarding world. It scared him to see the adoring looks on the younger years' faces when they arrived at Hogwarts. It was even worse when the same look appeared on the faces of adults. It made him want to hide and never come out. He jumped as he felt something cold touch his hand. He looked down to see Alden next to his chair, wagging his tail. What did the dog want?

"He can sense your mood, you know." Bleys told him nonchalantly. "What were you thinking about?" Bleys asked.

"Wizards." That was the truth.

"A certain group of wizards, or in general?" Bleys tore off a piece of bread and used it to sop up some gravy. Harry studied his own bowl. "Don't suppress it!" Bleys snapped. That habit had to stop.

"Keep your shirt on." Harry told him. "I was getting there." Bleys only raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking about the wizards that stare at me because of what my mum did for me."

"Ah, I see. What about them?"

Harry shrugged as he tried to put his feelings into words. "They think I'm so special for it. I'm not." He told Bleys.

"People see what they want to see." Bleys said as he patted Harry's hand to make the boy unclench it. "It is up to you to allow them to see such things, or shatter their illusions." Bleys kept an eye on Harry as he took a sip from his cup.

Harry bit his bottom lip and pushed his hair back. "I know. The mask is so convenient sometimes." Harry explained. "It's easier to let them see what they want to see, rather than try to change their minds." Harry was reminded of the mask in his dream. That had been an unpleasant experience. Alden rubbed against his leg, causing Harry to reach down and scratch the dog behind his ears.

"Yes, it is easy. I think Paul would call it a persona. Mask, no matter what language you use. It is a necessary item for survival. We all have them." Bleys's bowl and cup disappeared. "The important thing to remember, something you forgot, is where you begin and the mask stops." Bleys stared into the flames and gave a smile in Harry's direction. "Do not become the mask. You use the mask. Not the other way around."

Harry nodded as he pushed away his bowl. Bleys glanced at it and shook his head. "Three more bites, and finish your bread and milk." He told the boy.

"I'm not hungry anymore." Harry said quietly.

"Just the milk. You're still growing." Harry glared.

"That's your fault." Harry said as he picked up his cup. "I was sixteen."

"You still are. There's no reason not to add a bit to your height while you're here."

Harry stared at his teacher, completely horrified. "The costume crew will kill me! I can't grow anymore!"

Bleys chuckled at his distress. "You're already managing to add some height. A side effect from the de-aging, I'm afraid. Did you finish?" He took Harry's cup from him and inspected it. "Ah, good."

"They're going to kill me." Harry said in a whisper as he stared at the table.

"This from the boy who faced Voldemort and won?" He asked. Harry glared at him and tossed a roll at his head.

Hermione snatched her second Mini Messenger and opened it. It had flashed once, indicating that she had a new message from Remus. Perhaps he could explain why Harry wasn't answering…

Mi:

Harry is in some kind of magical coma. He is currently possessed by a book I thought was a simple history book. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy are here. They are to be trusted. Both are PPs now. I will notify you the moment there is a change.

-Moony

Hermione shut the Messenger and sighed. It looked like she would be getting any sleep tonight. She would only worry once the lights went out. She moved over to a corner and settled at the table there to study. She may as well use the time to her advantage. She could get a little further ahead in her studies. PPs took up a lot of her time and she had no excuse if she fell behind. She was halfway into her Potions assignment when she heard a noise. What was that?

"Shh!" a voice came from the girls' tower. "You'll wake everyone." Hermione decided her corner was sufficiently hidden and waited to see who this was.

"Where are we meeting tonight?" Another voice whispered.

"Ravenclaw." The first answered. Hermione recognized the form of Sophie Matthews.

"Oh." The second voice was Sybill Vane, another Gryffindor in her year. A boy came from the boys' stairwell and yawned.

"Alright, let's go." Sophie said as she led her two classmates to the portrait. Hermione stood and followed them. She cast a Disillusionment charm on her self and watched as the first years started towards Ravenclaw. What could that mean? Were they really going to the Ravenclaw dorm, or was the word code for something else? They stopped at the appropriate space. "Experience gives wisdom." They were going to the dorm! The door opened from them. Hermione stood in shock as the students entered. Why would first year students give each other passwords to the other dormitories? They were guarded as jealous secrets.

She made her decision and walked up to the entrance. "Experience gives wisdom." The door opened. Hermione stepped in and looked around. There were students from every house and mostly the younger years. The entire group fell silent as they realized who she was. "I don't know how you did it, or why, but I am impressed." She told the group. Everyone seemed to relax the slightest bit. Sophie stood up and waved at Hermione. "Hi, Sophie."

"You followed me, huh?" The younger girl said. Hermione only raised an eyebrow. "I knew I should have looked up stealth charms." She told herself.

"Why are you all meeting?" Hermione asked. Everyone glanced around to the others.

"We're a society. A dramatists' society. We become characters." Sophie explained.

"A theatre group?" Hermione asked. Sophie squinted one eye and nodded slightly.

"Something like that. We do what is needed." Sophie told her. "Acting is a hobby." Hermione took another glance around and realized something.

"My goodness, you're organized." She gasped. Sophie giggled the slightest bit.

"Yes, we are. Just like you, Miss Head PP." Hermione blanched and turned fully to stare at Sophie.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked. Many of the kids laughed, making Hermione glance towards the hallways were the rest of the Ravenclaw dorm was asleep. Sophie saw her look and smiled.

"The Spell Casters took care of that. Dumbledore himself can't hear us." Sophie told her. "We know about your group. You know where Harry Potter is. You also head up the newspaper. We all have copies by the way." Several of the students lifted the newspapers into the air.

"What, precisely, do you do, Sophie?" Hermione asked. Sophie winked at a Ravenclaw boy who stood and introduced himself.

"My name is Alan Wiggins. We are training ourselves. The Protectors all told us stories in our DADA classes and we wanted to be prepared. We can do a lot of things now, but we don't have a lot of guidance. The Dramatists' Soceity is our cover. We're really a group like the Protectors, without some of their attitudes. We can't let Vol-, ah, the Dark Lord-"

"Say his name." Hermione interrupted. "He's not going to come and grab you. Voldemort!" Hermione looked around and shrugged. "Voldemort!"

"Right. Voldemort. We can't let Voldemort win." Alan continued. "He doesn't deserve to win." The second year finished. Applause scattered around the room. "We do whatever is needed. We're young, but we're strong. If we're needed to fight, we'll fight. If we're needed to run errands, we'll do that. We'll do whatever is needed. We just don't want to be pushed aside when our assistance may help in saving lives."

Hermione looked around at the gathered students. These children had succeeded where the older years had failed. They had truly united for one cause. They had united against Voldemort. Hermione felt like she was going to cry. "I think I can help you." She told them. "Sophie, meet me first thing in the common room. Before breakfast." Hermione smiled and nodded to the entire group. "Have a good meeting." She turned and left them alone. She made her way back to Gryffindor in a thoughtful mood. The children of Hogwarts had united, not for someone, but against someone. She could not be happier.

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! I'll see you all again soon!