I know the last part was super short. Sorry! But it just seems like this is a logical new chapter.

And of course, just as I'm posting, FF upgrades their servers. The delay is Their fault, not Mine! So I had a commenter who liked that my Dumbledore is good and bad. Perhaps that's how I see him, good and bad both. Of course, he weighs more one way than the other to me. As do the Weasleys, unfortunately.

Off To Hoggywarty! On to the forthcoming part (7)!

~~ this is a scene break ~~

Harry and Hermione flooed into platform 9 and ¾ from the Grange. It was nice to not have to deal with London traffic and worry if they would be late. As they stood before the scarlet engine, Hermione heaved a great sigh.

"Are you ready, then?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"As I'll ever be, I suppose," Hermione answered. The summer had been such a welcome respite from the politics of British magical society. No war. No taunts of 'scarhead' or 'mudblood'. No demands on their time or talents aside from their own.

No "friends" that they'd have to treat as such, just to keep a low profile, even though those people had seriously declared themselves enemies.

The time in Greece, after they'd decided to become a couple, had been a haven that would have to keep them warm through the long Scots winter. Though they would not deny their new association, with the undue attention paid to Harry, he thought Hermione might fare better if she was just his "best friend" except upon close inspection. So, although he wanted to have his arm around her just then, he didn't.

After helping Hermione board the train, Harry lifted his new (to him) trunk and Hermione's trunk to the car. Crookshanks had opted to come by elf delivery when given the option. And Hedwig was flying ahead to the castle. Hermione started to wheel her trunk behind her and Harry followed.

They found Neville first, sitting with Susan, Hannah, and Ernie. Harry and Hermione stopped by to say hi, to congratulate Neville, and to express their relief to Susan that her aunt had escaped from Voldemort and his death eaters. Susan smiled. Her aunt was a good woman, and a good fighter. But she also was a smart cookie and had a tunnel out from her basement that went beyond the wards. That allowed her to portkey away and self-destruct her house. A bunch of death eaters were killed in that particular attack. Harry shared a wicked grin with the proud niece. Excusing themselves (Harry stated that they knew the Weasleys would be late; they also knew the Weasleys would expect to sit with them.) they continued down the train.

Traveling midway down the second car, they found Luna sitting alone. Harry smiled.

"Hey, Luna, mind if we sit here?"

Luna looked up from her perusal of an upside-down version of the quibbler. She had strange spectacles on her face – they almost looked like the free 3-D glasses that came with a comic book Dudley had once upon a time.

Luna gasped.

"You've got rid of all the nargles! How did you do that?"

"Had them surgically removed at hospital," Hermione not-quite-snarked as Harry put their trunks on the shelf above the seat across from Luna. The two of them sat on that same bench. "How was your summer?"

"Daddy and I scoured Sweden for the crumple-horned snorcack, but to no avail. The fun, however, is in the searching, not the finding. I think we may have even found them once, but daddy removed the memory so that we could continue searching."

Harry grinned. Luna was such a breath of fresh air. Sometimes she drove Hermione a bit distracted with her oblique manner of speech, but Harry adored her. They sat mostly chatting until it was just about time for the train to leave. As the whistle blew, a commotion was heard in their car. The door opened to two breathless, discombobulated Weasleys.

Hermione prided herself on her acting skills, and she merely looked resigned at the Weasleys. Her utter disgust and disdain didn't show at all.

They stood, shaking hands, hugging (as girls are wont to do) and putting up the trunks. Hermione and Luna resumed their seats next to the window, and Ginny quickly took a seat next to Luna while Ron sat across from Ginny.

Harry resumed his seat next to Hermione.

"Tight fit, mate. Why don't you go over next to Gin?" Ron asked.

"I could say the same, mate, as I was here first." Harry grinned, and Hermione could see the menace in it, even if Ronald was oblivious.

"Well, it's not as though this needs resolution now. We have the prefect meeting, Ron."

"Nah, Hermione, you do. I gave it up. Want to concentrate on quidditch." He sounded so certain and Hermione would never have believed he was fired except she knew his tells. The reddening of his ears showed he was lying. But she didn't really care.

"All right then. I'll be back." "Where's the monster, then?" Ron asked, wondering about Hermione's familiar.

"Coming later by elf," Harry answered. "Pig?" he asked quickly, hoping to move away from the idea that Hermione had an elf. He was sure Ron would give her no end of grief for being "wrong" about SPEW.

"Flying to the castle. Mum wanted to use him for something this morning." Harry nodded. "What were you doing that you were too busy to come visit at the burrow, then?"

"Hermione's folks invited me to go to Greece with them. It was amazing."

"Greece? I've never been. I understand that there's a native herd of Eliyaphage there. Did you see any?"

"Olive eaters? Well, certainly ate a few. Maybe I'm one now?" Harry shared a laugh with Luna and she went on to describe the pest that attacked olive groves in the past but was found to have skin with unusual healing properties.

Harry hadn't seen any of them but did describe many of the things he had seen, as Ron had done a few years prior when he'd visited Egypt. Ron even ventured some comments about how the climate seemed similar, though Egypt was much drier.

Ginny studied Harry as he spoke.

"You look good, Harry," she said, almost as a non-sequitur. He looked over at her, his eyes (behind the now-unnecessary glasses – though they often came in handy for their magical additions and to mislead any enemies) glimmering with power.

"I'm going to assume you mean healthy, as if you meant anything else, Dean might have words with me." Harry grinned as Ginny blushed and Luna laughed. Ron just grunted.

"Dean and me are having words, mate. Bet on it. But nah, Gin's just saying you look like you actually ate a meal this summer." With that, Ronald, king of tact that he was, casually blamed Harry's mistreatment by the Dursleys on Harry.

Harry wondered why he had ever been friends with the git. And then he remembered the loyalty hex. And the potions. And then he double checked for his new bracelet and necklace surreptitiously.

But none of this showed on his face.

"Well, a summer of nutrition and rest and a growth spurt didn't hurt," Harry explained. "But I suppose the intensive program the healer put me through is really what tells the tale. They cleaned so many curses and potions and hexes and whatnot from me," he pretended not to see the startled glance Ron and Ginny shared at that, "and they fixed all the malnutrition issues the Dursleys saddled me with. I have to say being away from the Dursleys and knowing I don't ever have to go back there is enough to give me a second lease on life. Having mortal enemies in every corner is a little tiring for a bloke." The semi-joke fell mostly flat.

"Well, you have friends at Hogwarts, and the Blushing Maladingus will eventually migrate away now that you've rid yourself of the nargles," Luna stated with certainty. Ron huffed and Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry smiled with genuine warmth at Luna, and she winked at him.

He had a feeling that Maladingus would be his new codename for Ron. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione.

They chatted about the Weasley family. The twins' new shop was described in heavy detail while they speculated on who the silent partner could be. Percy was apparently still being a major prat, and Ron was coming up with all sorts of curses for the git. Charlie apparently had a serious girlfriend, but not as serious as Bill. That man was apparently engaged to Fleur Delacour.

"I always thought Bill was a sensible guy, but to saddle himself with a foreign woman. Oh, Beel, I em so beautiful. You may wuh-ship me. Phlegm." Ginny mocked, disgusted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're just jealous. Fleur's great."

"You just want to get into her pants. I swear, you lost a stone in drool every time she came in the room."

Ron's eyes got glassy, whether it was memories or Ginny's unfortunate wording, Harry didn't care. This was prime entertainment.

"Fleur from the triwizard? How did they meet up?" Harry asked.

"She works for Gringotts now."

"Whoa!" Harry's eyebrows went up. "Didn't you say Bill's a curse breaker? I mean, I knew Fleur was talented, but to be working with your brother?"

"Not you, too! Seduced by a blonde haired, blue eyed, strumpet!" Ginny ranted.

"Who was top of her class, tri-wizard champion, and has been hired by Gringotts as a curse breaker?" Harry rejoined.

"Who are we talking about?" Hermione asked as she re-entered the car, but didn't take her seat.

"Ron's brother Bill is dating Fleur Delacour."

"Vraiment? Good for them. The world needs good news about good people. Speaking of. Harry, we've been…er… invited? To a party. One of the new professors has commandeered a large section of one of the cars and is… entertaining."

Harry scrunched up his nose. Another Lockhart.

"I am so glad we are not taking defense."

"Not taking defense? You need to take defense!" Ron demanded.

"And take the chance we'll get another Umbridge? I mean, look at the track record. I got decent enough OWLS without a teacher for most of the last five years. I'm just going to self-study, like I did with runes for OWLS. Anyway, shall we go?"

Ron got up, and Hermione bit her lip. "Sorry, Ron. He specifically asked me to bring Harry. Not Harry and friends."

"Then why are you going?"

"Because he found out he knew my grandfather, Hector Dagworth-Granger," Hermione quipped, watching Ginny's face fall. "We'll be back; hopefully it won't be too long."

"Don't you have to do a prefect round?" Harry asked as they closed the door behind them.

Hermione shook her head, "Not til fourth hour. Harry," she pulled him into an empty compartment. "The new professor is Slughorn. He was a friend of my grand-dad's, I saw he was mentioned in the will. He was utterly floored when I told him I was Dagworth-Granger's granddaughter."

"Like he didn't expect the line to continue?"

"No, like he didn't expect me to know the relation. I told him it had been a surprise to me as well, I'd only found out through testing at Gringotts this summer. He stuttered and stammered and then he… he apologized. Harry, he was best friends with my grandfather. Apparently, Daddy, like a lot of squibs, was really, really bitter that he didn't have magic. Though he was educated and put on the path to a good job, my granddad didn't believe he'd ever be happy. He asked this Slughorn to, after Granddad died, put a memory cap on Daddy, making him forget about magic."

Harry thought about it. It was a logical explanation, to be sure, and he wasn't enough of a conspiracy theorist to believe that the Weasleys or Dumbledore would have this guy fall on his sword for them.

"But still, that wouldn't explain the bachelor curse. Or the potions."

"No, it wouldn't. My guess is that Molly put that on him after she was named alternate heir to the magical estate. It falls in with her actions. She doesn't actively hurt me, but she wouldn't mind if I was out of the way. When I am not going to get out of the way, she plots to have me marry her son, knowing that I have much more to offer than a big brain and bossy attitude."

"Hey, I happen to love every deviant thought out of that big brain, and don't get me started on what the attitude does to me," Harry pulled her to him, not caring if someone saw him from the hall. This keeping things on the downlow was not going to last long.

Hermione grinned at Harry, appreciating him.

"Seriously, though," he continued, "I've been thinking about those potions. I could understand attraction, because that's the only way you'd even tolerate Ron. Maybe even loyalty,"

"To overlook his glaring faults?" Hermione interjected. Harry smiled and nodded shortly, swaying with her.

"But the antipathy potion... They wanted you to hate someone. And from the potions in my system, I'm guessing it was me. If you weren't friends with me…"

"Stop right there. They had my family's money in their sights long before troll night; I'd wager the whole of the vault on it. It's not your fault. Not everything is, despite what the dreadful Dursleys tried to make you believe."

"Oh, Snape reinforces that Potter Culpability at pretty much every turn."

Hermione smacked him on the butt for interrupting her. And because she could. His butt was right there, after all.

"I have a deal for you. I won't blame the Weasleys for everything if you don't blame yourself for everything. Fair?"

"Fair." He smiled and lowered his nose to her hair, just inhaling her. It brought him such a measure of peace. Then she started to pull away, sighing.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" she asked, cancelling her privacy charm and opening the door.

"I don't know. I'd almost rather a sycophant party than sit and chat with Ickle GinGin and the Maladingus."

They walked into the hall as Hermione demanded an explanation for Maladingus, and she continued to giggle as they made their way into the sanctum of the Slughorn.

There were several Hogwarts students already in the cabin. Susan Bones (niece of the new minister) and Neville Longbottom (son of war heroes and grandson of the new chief witch – apparently Dumbledore hadn't gotten that title back), Morag McDougal (granddaughter of a powerful clan-chief), Stephan Blather (whose uncle was a host on WWN) … Most, Harry assumed, were here because of who they knew or were related to.

Harry was here because Slughorn wanted to know him.

"And here he is, Lily's son."

Wait… what?

"Sir?"

"Oh, my boy. Your mother was absolutely my most favorite student. She was gifted in charms, to be sure, but her real talents lay in potions. I so looked forward to what she would do…" his voice trailed off as he thought on the loss. "But now we have you. You are taking potions this year, are you not?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. If this was the new potions professor, what happened to Snape?

"I am. I found my mother's journals over the summer and revised seriously."

"I would guess you would have to. I am not sure what Severus was thinking, pulling the Basics of Brewing off the required list for first years. I believe he wanted to advance students faster, but I am sure he lost many beginners along the way. I foresee much reteaching on my part. I'll be teaching NEWT students only, so it will be quite the challenge," the man heaved a great sigh as he imbibed on a candied pineapple. "Well, well, then. This is not the time for such melodrama. I simply wanted to get to know some of the brilliant of the next generation without the encumbrance of the classroom."

"Miss Granger, your OWLS scores are surpassed only by your reputation. Minerva certainly sings your praises. Please tell me you are taking potions as a NEWT subject?"

Taking a drink from a passing tray, Hermione smiled, "Yes, sir. I had planned to."

"Miss Bones, we are all so relieved to have your aunt taking the minister's chair. Finally some sense in that office. How does your father feel about his elder sister being his boss, then, eh?"

Susan swallowed her bite of cake as she blushed, "Daddy says the Aunt Melia always bossed him his whole life, now it's just formalized." The professor let out a great guffaw and it seemed to set the mood. He had a musical CD player going with what Harry didn't recognize as big band, but Harry was relieved to see that his player wouldn't be contraband in the UK or at Hogwarts.

The party wended on and before Harry realized it, Hermione was excusing herself and Neville for their rounds. Harry excused himself at the same time, realizing that the longer he put back returning to the Weasley cabin, the more he would pay.

He followed along, chatting with Neville and Hermione as they checked the cabins, discussing their summers.

"Well, here's me," Harry sighed.

"I'll be back in a few, Harry," Hermione answered, and her eyes smiled at him. Safety in numbers.

He wondered if Ron had tried to get into his trunk. He'd pulled his dad's trunk from the bank as the marauder had some fairly nifty locks and traps included. His own, beat up, practically muggle trunk was given to charity.

He opened the door to see Ron asleep, drooling on the wall of the compartment. Ginny was reading a magazine while Luna looked out the window into the wild landscape of Northern Scotland.

Harry sat next to Ron, who woke with a start. "Hermione will be along any minute now. She and Neville are finishing their rounds."

"Wot? They replaced me with a squib?" Ron was aghast.

"Neville's at least as magically powerful as you, Ron, and wrestling with biting rosebushes makes him a hell of a lot stronger, physically. I'd watch your mouth," Harry warned with cold eyes. Ron leaned back against the wall.

"Nev's a mate. He wouldn't mind me poking fun," he shrugged it off.

Harry wanted to say something about being poor or eating like a pig or… but Hermione opened the door. And his temper disappeared.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," she smiled back, sitting gracefully next to him. Ginny watched them narrowly. Luna smiled.

"So, Luna, what exactly is a heliopath?" Hermione asked, and they talked of strange creatures until it was time to change.

~~ this is a scene break ~~

The sorting proceeded as sortings do. Harry sat next to Hermione, across from Dean, who sat between Ron and Ginny.

He felt bad for Dean.

When all the littlest of the students had been sorted, all turned to the head table where this generation's Merlin stood, resplendent in cobalt blue robes with the pattern of the night sky at Hogwarts very slowly whirling around Polaris, in the middle of the headmaster's right shoulder.

Sinistra-approved robes, to be sure.

"Yes, yes announcements," the man smiled genially, but it seemed emptier. It was then that Harry noticed the hand. It wasn't skin he was seeing, but a glove. And the appendage itself did not move a bit, not even in reflex. He tapped Hermione's leg and spelled out hand on her thigh. Her eyes narrowed and she nodded. Something was… afoot.

"First, changes in faculty. Our school is delighted to welcome Healer Apollo Panakos as our new school healer. Please note, all students will be going through a full physical diagnosis unless parents can demonstrate recent medical treatments. Please contact the Professor McGonagall if you have such documentation," Looking over his glasses at his deputy head, he received a nod.

"Continuing, we would like to welcome Master of Law Theodore Tonks as professor of history. Master Tonks also has a mastery in history, but I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of a solicitor by neglecting his Law title." He waited out the short laughter and applause before proceeding.

"Potions Master Horace Slughorn is our new – or rather returning - potions professor. He will be teaching the NEWT level Potions class," a concession he'd wrung from Albus - full salary but a two-class load.

"Splitting potions duties with Master Slughorn, we would like to welcome Potions Mistress Andromeda Tonks as our new professor of potions for years one through five. Our esteemed Potions Master Snape has agreed to take on the Defense class, as he also has a mastery in Defense."

The applause continued – defense had always been terrible; at least potions would be good now! But Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"Our own Professor McGonagall has decided to dedicate her time as Deputy Headmistress and is taking an apprentice who will help in the teaching of lower year transfiguration classes, Mister Adelbert Harfang. Please welcome our new and returning faculty and staff." Dumbledore stepped back from the podium, nodding as the students applauded enthusiastically.

On word that Snape would be teaching defense – and didn't he look smug at that revelation? – Harry and Hermione grinned at each other. She held up her hand, and he slapped it with a high five. Ron, meanwhile, understood why they were celebrating as the horror of Snape as a defense teacher fully settled in. The greasy git would be free to curse and hex Gryffs on a whim. Ron lowered his head and banged it lightly on the table as the other lions chuckled. Lavender, who sat on his other side, patted his back in a gesture of commiseration.

"I wonder what happened to Binns and Pomphrey?" Seamus asked. Neville and Harry exchanged curious glances, showing they didn't know.

"I wonder how someone managed to get rid of Binns? I mean, Fred and George couldn't do it! I can't believe someone scooped them," Ginny continued along the same lines, but did manage to get the conversation turned. Hermione noticed this and wondered with narrowed eyes how Pomphrey was in on the Weasley plot, no matter that it was not as thick as she had first thought it to be.

"Merlin, did you see their store front? U No Poo?" Cormac McLaggan chortled as he kept up the topic of the terrible twins.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore finished his regular beginning of term announcements and declared the close of the feast. The heads of house approached the tables as the students were dismissed.

"Miss Granger," the chatter at Gryffindor stopped as Professor McGonagall spoke, "I would like to speak with you in the guest receiving room. Mister Longbottom, you and the rest of the prefects should take the Gryffindors back to the tower. Make sure not to lose any first years. Mister Potter, the headmaster would like to see you in his office immediately."

Harry shook his head and chuckled as Neville slapped him on the back.

"Starting the entertainment early this year, mate?" Seamus laughed.

A first-year girl sighed loudly as Harry ran his hand through his hair and grinned abashedly. "Sure, why not. Tickets won't be cheap and they'll go fast so, stay tuned!" He shook his hands in the air like an old-time hawker, and the rest of the students chuckled as they began to get up from the feast.

Hogwarts entertained.

As Harry turned to meander to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's realm, he listened to the prefects of the different houses as they explained to first years about their home for the next seven years. Hermione followed her mentor to the ante-chamber where Harry had been given the tri-wizard instructions. She waited patiently while her professor locked the door and muttered several privacy spells.

"Miss Granger… Hermione. I didn't thank you for tea this summer. I…" She sighed. This was harder than she'd expected. "For several years, I have been doing too many jobs. Pulled in so many directions, I could never quite give any single job the dedication it needed. And I owe any number of lions my apologies.

"First, to you, though, I believe I owe the most. Well, perhaps to Mister Potter, but Albus claimed him. Hermione, I am so sorry. I didn't realize that Ronald was not doing his job and was putting you in a bad light by his complete dereliction of duty as a prefect."

"It's quite alright, ma'am."

"No, it truly isn't. I am not unaware of what really transpired with the troll in your first year. Likewise, I know that he faked his own injury when the three of you went after Professor Quirrell. Which you would not have done, had I listened to you.

"I know that he has consistently denigrated your background and your work ethic, that he was more than problematic both when you got your familiar and when you remained loyal to Mister Potter during the Triwizard fiasco," she paused again. "But I had no idea, honestly, that Poppy was in on a Weasley plot to defraud you of your inheritance."

Hermione sat down then, and Professor McGonagall followed that action. Her face was ashen.

"When you met with me this summer, I had a number of truths pushed into my face. As many a Gryffindor does, when cornered, I pushed the blame. I've been working on getting Madame Umbridge questioned about her actions here at Hogwarts, aside from the quill. I expect Mr. Potter's unfair ban will be overturned this week when that toad is finally imprisoned, as it seems she is the one who set dementors on him. Then I cornered Poppy.

"She was under a vow, you see," McGonagall looked directly at Hermione then. "When she and Molly were in school together, Poppy had a terrible time in potions, and one that she made almost killed her and another student. Molly Prewitt saved them, at risk to Molly's own life."

"A life debt," Hermione breathed. Minerva nodded.

"Yes. She called in this life debt when you came to Hogwarts. Poppy was not to interfere with you. If you were to need higher levels of healing, Poppy would not be able to request it. If she found potions in your system, she was not to address them. It's why she didn't heal you when you confused Miss Bulstrode's cat hair with her own hair. She had to get Molly's permission to fix your teeth in fourth year, and she only did so because Ronald would accept you better if you were prettier. It was by Molly's insistence that Poppy didn't reveal she knew where else to get mandrakes or that the potion would not fix all your ills from petrification. Of course, Severus and Albus didn't help, either, but Severus hates students, and Albus has never been a muggleborn champion, no matter how much he pretends."

"You turned her in?" Hermione asked. Minerva shook her head.

"No. MAC USA eventually processed the complaints of their own DMLE and child services who, at first, tried to go the route of dealing with DMLE here. But knowing your blood status, they then called upon the college of healers. Poppy was declared oath-breaker. It didn't matter that she had been forced into her actions, she had caused harm."

"She's a squib?" Hermione grimly asked, horrified for the healer.

"She is. She's been found work in a muggle nursing home. And she had enough saved to have a decent home. But she has no magic. She didn't even tell the college panel to whom she had given the oath of non-interference. And they didn't ask. They didn't care."

Hermione sat, stunned.

"You know, sometimes I forget what a barbaric world you magicals have built. Then, something reminds me."

There was a beat of silence.

"The Weasleys…" the professor began.

"Are my enemies," Hermione interrupted. "Did you see the potions they'd started giving me?"

"Yes. Again, I am so sorry. But I will be alert, and my eyes have been truly opened."

"Have they? You know that Harry had basically the same potions in his system? As well as countless other instances of magic meant to hurt him? Are you aware that he suffered severe malnutrition? He was in that hospital wing every year, Professor. And your friend never addressed any of that. Did you ask her why?"

"I did. And I got no real answer, at least not one that I can give you. I suspect many things, but without an answer, it would be naught but gossip mongering. All I can say is that Healer Panakos will not let himself be swayed by vows or promises or life debts."

Hermione studied the older woman quietly for a moment before nodding.

"I suppose that's the most one can ask for. If you'll excuse me, it's been a long day. I want to go cuddle with Crooks before I sleep on this."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," the professor answered before taking down all of the privacy spells.

~~ this is a scene break~~

Meanwhile, Dumbledore met Harry at the gargoyle and wasted no time getting Harry into his office. The door was barely closed and Dumbledore barely behind his desk before he whirled in anger.

Pointing to the silent instruments on his side table, Dumbledore growled at Harry. "I never thought you to be a selfish child. Alas, time has proven me wrong. These monitors were for the wards on your aunt's home. You disappeared from Privet Drive too soon. The wards have fallen and your relatives' home was burned by death eaters."

"Are they…" Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"They're alive, no thanks to you and your self-centered actions of the summer."

A year ago, being called selfish by Dumbledore would have crushed Harry. Now? Not so much.

"The wards didn't fall because I left, Headmaster. They fell because I'm seventeen."

The wind of fury fell out of Dumbledore's sails, leaving the man rather flat. "W-what?" He stammered

"Oh for heavens' sake," Harry spit out. "Check! Check my age!"

Dumbledore did the analysis then looked, dumbfounded, at the lad in front of him.

"What have you done?" He asked quietly, confused.

"I got major healing in a time chamber. The Dursleys lost a year of protection, and their home, but they're the ones who caused my health to be so bad, so I figure that's a fair deal."

Dumbledore sighed heavily and sat in his chair.

"I know it wasn't an ideal situation," Dumbledore began, and Harry snorted at the understatement, "but there were reasons."

"Oh, yes, I know," Harry agreed, finally sitting in one of the guest chairs. "The obliviations are gone, sir. I remember three separate death eaters being fried by those wards, you cleaning up the mess and obliviating me. I imagine there were more?" Dumbledore nodded and relaxed slightly, but only momentarily. Harry's next words put the shame (real or feigned) back onto his visage, "But you could have assured that I had food to eat, a bed to sleep in," he let the accusation sink in as the headmaster refused to meet his eyes before continuing. "The Dursleys did have some reason for their anger. According to my father's will, my guardians were supposed to receive money for my care, but you diverted that to your friend, Mrs. Figg, instead. The Dursleys already resented having to take in a magical ward. The lack of fiscal compensation put them over the edge. Oh, and a word of advice: if you want to avoid being labeled a thief by the goblin nation, you'd best rectify that accounting out of your own pocket. I think they're giving you a few weeks to do so?"

Albus looked pale. "I don't have the funds. I used what I had to purchase Arabella's home…"

"Well, I hope you never have need to step in Gringott's again, sir. Fair warning."

Dumbledore decided to change tack. "I understand from Professor McGonagall that you are not taking defense this year?"

"I have a full class schedule with core and elective subjects, family business to attend to, and I'm going to self-study defense. I'm still planning on taking the NEWT. But, to be honest, of the five years I've been here, I've had to self-study four of them. I need that class time to work on other things."

"I noticed that you are taking much more intense classes, Mr. Potter. I was amazed to see your revised OWL scores. You scored very well, even in classes you did not attend here at Hogwarts. I am not at all sure that you have the resources to excel at your chosen schedule in school, however."

The OWLs scores indicated Harry had settled into his intellect, but they were an anomaly. Harry's exam results from muggle primary through his fifth year at Hogwarts had underscored that the lad was not especially bright or sensible. He didn't work hard. If he were allowed to take harder classes, Albus would be forced to allow the child humiliating failures or Albus would have to intervene as Severus did so often for his own intellectually challenged charges.

Harry had no idea the rationale behind this train of reason. Why on Earth, he wondered, was the headmaster of his school trying to dumb down his schedule?

"Though I wasn't allowed, for some unknown reason, to switch from divination to runes in third year, I self-studied. I agree, I am taking hard classes, but I'm not allowed to play quidditch so far as I know, so I'll have extra time from that."

"I apologize that we couldn't reinstate your quidditch position. I would attempt to remove the ban, but, despite Cornelius being ousted, Madame Umbridge still has some pull – or perhaps blackmail material. I can't justify using collateral for something as mundane as quidditch, my boy. I'm sure you understand. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick did retrieve broom and deliver it to Gringotts as you asked."

Harry shrugged. "I understand the goblins confiscated half of Umbridge's vaults for her misdeeds with the blood quills last year. They found out about those because of me. I suppose she's got yet another axe to grind with me, besides me getting her beloved Fudgie fired. So long as I have my broom back, I'm good. I do need to let you know that I will be leaving school regularly for a standing appointment with healers – to ensure my physical health continues to improve and to deal with some mental health issues I've had."

"Mental health? You've engaged a mind healer? You're fine! There's no need for that. You'd be much safer in school."

"Beyond the fact that it's really not your position to say if I'm fine or not: I was subjected to substantial emotional and mental cruelty – beyond the physical abuse - before I even came to Hogwarts. And here? I killed a man under this roof when I was eleven! Not to mention basilisks, dementors, and necromantic rituals. It's a wonder, sir, I'm not a gibbering mess. Yes, I need a mind healer and have scheduled appointments with him and a regular healer every-other Saturday morning for the entire term. I won't be missing them."

Dumbledore listened to the solid strength in the voice, noticed how the eyes didn't waver. The child had grown when he wasn't looking; the young man was guarding his future. It was a sad turn of events, given the direction they must finally go. But he would have to tread carefully.

"I suppose you do have a full plate. And I'm afraid, my boy, that I must add to it. I wanted to give you instruction to help you fulfill your destiny."

"What kind of instruction?"

"I have gathered information…" he spread his hand in a grandiose gesture, half of which was lost because his other hand did not move. "information on Tom Riddle that is paramount to your successful endeavor."

"Well," Harry sat back and crossed his ankle on his knee, being deliberately at ease, "let's have it, then."

The headmaster looked startled. "I hadn't thought to begin so soon."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sooner begun, sooner done, sir."

Dumbledore nodded briefly. Perhaps acquiescing on this just slightly would win him back some ground from young Harry.

Dumbledore pulled out his pensieve and poured a memory into it. "This memory I pulled from Robert Ogden. Mr. Ogden worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – the DMLE if you would. He is visiting the house of Marvolo Gaunt."

"Marvolo?" Harry asked, surprised and Dumbledore smiled humorlessly.

"Indeed. If you would join me in viewing this memory…"

The two men bent over the pensieve and viewed the memory supplied by Bob Ogden. Harry was startled by the abject poverty and outright bigotry displayed. The mixture of parseltongue and English did not phase Harry; he understood the parsel without issue. Focusing on the main person in his opinion: Marvolo Gaunt, Harry felt a memory stirring in his well-organized mind.

The two wizards exited the pensieve, and as Dumbledore gathered the memory back into a vial, he began his explanations.

"You see, Mr. Potter..."

"Hang on," Harry interrupted. "Just stop for a moment…. I've seen that necklace," he muttered, using his hard-won occlumency skills to sort through his memories. "Where have I seen that necklace?"

Dumbledore remained quiet. If Harry had an idea where the necklace was, it could save them months of work. Closing his eyes, Harry sorted through his memories.

"Grimmauld Place!" he stated briskly, snapping is fingers. "The necklace none of us could open!"

"Are you sure…" Albus asked dubiously. He in no way believed a horcrux could have been in headquarters without his knowledge. He would have felt it!

Harry wasn't fazed by the headmaster's disbelief. His mind organization was quite robust. He shrugged. "One way to tell. Kreacher!"

The elf, part of Harry's inheritance from Sirius, popped in, staring at Harry with a gimlet eye. "There was a necklace at Grimmauld; one that none of us could get open. It had been in a cabinet in the library. It was a locket, with a fancy S shape on it. I order you to bring it here."

"Yes, master." The elf grumbled resentfully, then popped out.

"I know that Molly – Mrs. Weasley – discarded several dark items from Grimmauld Place. It mightn't be there," Dumbledore cautioned.

"Yeah, and your man Fletcher tried to steal quite a bit of stuff from the place, too. Heard his fingers were burnt off this summer when he tried to get back in?" Harry chucked without humor. "The first order I gave to Kreacher, when I accepted my inheritance from Sirius, was to raise the wards on the house to lethal level and make it so only I can get in there. The second was to track down everything that he could find that Mrs. Weasley or Dung removed from the house and return it to where it had been. They had no right to pilfer Black heirlooms. If I decide to toss them, that's my right. Not theirs."

The elf popped back in, putting an end to any rebuttal the Headmaster would make.

"Put the necklace down on the Headmaster's desk carefully, Kreacher," Harry ordered.

Dumbledore looked down, his eyes narrowed, his magic feeling the echo of Tom's magic. "It is Slytherin's locket. Well, this is a wonder."

"Kreacher how did house Black come to have this? I command you to tell."

The elf lost some of his defiant stature as he told the tragic tale of Regulus Black. Harry turned to Dumbledore at the end of the tale.

"How do we destroy it? If it was Voldemort's we should destroy it. And Regulus wanted Kreacher to destroy it. Not being able to has hurt Kreacher. Do you have any idea how to destroy it?"

The elf looked up at his new master with a bit of wonder in his eyes. This half-blood master cared that Kreacher had been hurt? He would help Kreacher fulfill beloved Master Regulus's orders?

Dumbledore, however, stood from his seat and turned to a display cabinet.

"The sword of Gryffindor is here. You've used it before, as I recall, on a certain serpent of lore? Goblin-made blades have a sort of wicked intelligence – they can emulate the characteristics of particularly vile nemeses that they have defeated. It stands to reason that this particular blade is now permanently imbued with basilisk venom. So very few things are able to withstand that vile toxin. Indeed, this weapon should be able to overcome the necklace is, especially if you can get it open first."

"We tried everything…" Harry slumped, studying the evil necklace.

"Everything?" Dumbledore posited. "Look more closely at the motif. Do you see the snake? Do you recall the memory?"

Harry inhaled sharply with understanding. "It can be opened by me… since I'm a parselmouth. Can Kreacher use the sword?"

Dumbledore hesitated then nodded. He conjured a slab of wood to put between his desk and the necklace.

"Kreacher, you may not hurt either the Professor or me purposefully. You may only use the sword to destroy the locket. Are you willing to do so?"

The little elf stood straighter, his eyes more determined and less angry than Harry'd ever seen them. "Yes, Master Harry," he stated in a stalwart voice.

Harry handed Kreacher the sword, then stared at the snake on the locket. Harry commanded the locket: ~~Open~~ in parseltnogue.

It opened and the voice of Tom Riddle came out. "Kreacher, you are a bad elf. You let your good master die…"

Kreacher snarled at the bad necklace and brought the sword down on the open face. The sword passed through the locket and imbedded slightly into the wood beneath.

The necklace screamed as a black cloud flew from it. They had destroyed the necklace. Kreacher let go of the sword and just looked at the evidence, stunned that he was finally free of the task set upon him that dark night so many years prior.

"Is it clean?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore waved his wand, not even whispering his diagnostic spells. Then he holstered his wand again and nodded. "It is safe."

"Kreacher, this locket is now yours in honor of Master Regulus, if you want it," Harry looked at the elf who now looked at him with respect.

"Kreacher no wants bad necklace, Master Harry. Kreacher has found all heirlooms and possessions of Black that bad guests took. What would Master Harry have Kreacher do now?"

Harry looked to the Headmaster. "Can he work in the kitchens sometimes, Sir?"

"Yes, of course."

"OK, Kreacher. I want you to clean up the house but not all of the time. You need to be around other elves. Perhaps three days at the house and four days here per week? You must always make sure you have enough to eat and enough rest. You must tell me if you need anything or want anything. You may never punish yourself without my permission. You may wear a uniform of your choice; I'd like you to put the Potter and Black crests on it. Are all of those rules clear and fair?"

"Yes, Master Harry," the elf nodded with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Report to me daily," Harry continued, "at, shall we say, between seven and eight in the morning and evening. Try to make sure I'm alone when you do so."

The elf nodded.

"Off you go, then," Harry finished and Kreacher popped away.

"I am surprised, Mr. Potter, at your care with that elf, considering your last interaction with him?" Dumbledore asked.

"Part of the mental counseling I've had, sir. Sirius, and all of the Black family, really, abused Kreacher. Living in that house alone, with that poisonous portrait… I really couldn't hold him to his actions. He was following the order of a Black. Of course, now he only follows my orders. I was pretty clear about that."

Dumbledore kept to himself the observation that Harry had obviously given orders like that before. He'd bonded at least one other elf. That would explain why that former Malfoy elf, Dobby, had resigned. And the Crouch elf had disappeared, also, according to Tilly. But the orders the boy gave made Albus proud. He was a good lad, despite what had been done to him.

Albus filled with regret knowing he'd made mistakes. At least they hadn't been unrecoverable.

"That scream… I've heard it before." Harry interrupted his train of thought.

"Yes?"

"When I destroyed the diary. And when they took the piece of Voldemort out of my scar."

The headmaster's startled eyes tracked to the scar, noting it was practically gone at this point. And yet, the boy was still a parselmouth? There must still be some of the taint there, no matter what the healers told the child. Sad they told him anything at all, really.

He sat back in his chair, unsure of what to say.

"So these are all pieces of that twat's soul, yeah?" Harry concluded.

"Language, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore reprimanded, though his eyes twinkled despite the seriousness of the topic.

"He murdered my parents," Harry said in a flat voice, all the more menacing for its lack of emotion. "He's tried to kill me like six times now. I get to call him whatever I want. So. Pieces of the twat's soul?"

Dumbledore hesitated, breathing deeply, all humor gone. "Yes," he confirmed gravely.

"Are there more?" Harry asked, a sick feeling of dread deep in his gut.

"Yes. I was going to… well, it's neither here nor there. I believe that we have killed the majority of them – you with the three you've done and me with a ring, the very same ring that was in that memory. I came across it a few weeks ago…"

Harry looked down at Dumbledore's obviously dead hand, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, this was my own basilisk bite, if you will. To answer your question, though, I believe there to be at least three more." Dumbledore got up, removed and bottled the Gaunt memory and then, choosing another bottle carefully, he poured the fog into the basin. "Let me show you another memory. This is from an elf, the personal elf of Hepzibah Smith, the last of the Hufflepuff line."

Once again, Dumbledore poured a memory into the pensieve. Once again, the two men viewed the memory in tandem, Dumbledore giving information where he felt it needed to be given.

Harry came out, dumbfounded.

"He used to have a nose. Wasn't a bad looking bloke, really, but even then, he had an air of evil-doer about him. Or is that just me projecting?"

"Projecting? The terms you children come up with. No, I agree that he had – how did you put it? – an air of evil-doer. He had killed Miss Warren already, creating the diary that so poisoned young Miss Weasley a few years ago. But I believe the diary is perhaps the lowliest of the objects. You'll note that Miss Smith had in her possession the locket," he indicated the now defunct locket on his desk, "and Hufflepuff's cup. So, as you see, I believe that the cup also is one of Tom's treasures."

"And he hid them…" Harry questioned.

"The ring was hidden in his ancestral home, that very shack from the first memory. The Gaunt girl, Merope, was his mother. The rich neighbor, Tom Riddle…"

"His father!" Harry interrupted, clarity and understanding coming to him suddenly. "That's why his name is Tom Riddle, and why he hates his name! Not just because it's muggle, but because the muggles thought they were better than his magical family!" he ended with a startled laugh.

"Correct." For the first time, Dumbledore's famous twinkle came back into his eye.

"The locket he hid in the cave your elf spoke of… I have reason to believe that cave was of importance to him in his youth. So far, we have two of his treasures hidden in places of import to him."

Harry's eyes narrowed in thought, and he struggled to put his own ideas in order.

"But the diary was in Malfoy's manor. And he used Regulus Black to hide the necklace. Places of importance to him and people in his inner circle: that's the key to finding these things." Harry said, nodding confidently at his insight.

"Treasures. We shall call them treasures," Dumbledore stated.

"Do they have another name?" Harry asked.

"They do, but that name is not spoken, as the magic to create them is forbidden, not just among humans, but among the goblins and centaurs also. We shall refer to them as treasures. They are treasures – at least to him – because they guard his immortality. Each time you destroy one, he is closer to being mortal. Mr. Potter, are you paying attention?" Harry was nodding absently, but his mind was obviously elsewhere.

"I'm thinking. Places of importance to him. Headmaster, if his mother was so poor… what was his childhood like?"

"His mother died in childbirth; he was raised in a muggle orphanage. Indeed, it was I who introduced him to the magical world. I have that memory…"

"Hang on," Harry interrupted again, his face pensive. "Dobby, Kreacher, please come."

The two elves popped in.

"Hey guys, I want to ask a question, may I?"

Two nods.

"Dobby do you remember the diary, what it felt like before I killed it with the snake fang?" Dobby nodded again, his eyes wide and solemn.

"Kreacher, the same question about the locket. Do you remember what it felt like before you cleaned it?" Kreacher nodded emphatically.

"I think there might be something like the diary or the necklace here in Hogwarts. Maybe in the come and go room. Do you think you guys could spend time searching the room for something like that? If you find it, don't touch it! Either put it in a container and bring it to the Headmaster or bring the Headmaster to it. OK? And I expect you to rest when necessary and eat when you are hungry. Understood?"

They nodded frantically. "Go ahead then," Harry commanded, and they popped out.

"That was a very innovative idea," Dumbledore nodded in appreciation. "I do believe that you have an insight there?"

"My upbringing couldn't have been much different than his: being an orphan, being ostracized. Most muggleborn complain that their accidental magic makes them outcast. If he didn't even have a safe home to go to? He'd see Hogwarts as a haven, just as I did. He found the chamber of secrets – I'll assume you searched that when you harvested the basilisk?"

Dumbledore had the grace to look embarrassed. "The money went into the Hogwarts trust, Harry, and has allowed me to expand the faculty. You can't complain about that."

"You're awfully free with my family's money, Headmaster. And that stops, now. By the way, I had my elf search your things, since you'd had my dad's cloak, and he found a number of my family's possessions, including the Potter Grimoire. If you're wondering where they went, I had Dobby liberate them and bring them back to me." Dumbledore had the grace to look a bit ashamed. "I do wonder if I'm the only orphan you've stolen from? But back to Riddle," he continued, overriding the stupid protests the headmaster would try to make. "You didn't find a treasure in the chamber?" Albus shook his head in denial, still stunned from the slap young Potter had given him. He wasn't a thief! But how could he protest that he was doing it all for good reason? He had cleaned out Potter Cottage so that others wouldn't pilfer Harry's belongings! Arabella had been his first line of defense and she needed to be paid. Vernon and Petunia got the state stipend! Harry's perspective wouldn't allow him to understand any of that. But Harry was still talking, and Albus bent his mind to the younger wizard's insight. "Then I'll bet there's one in the come and go room. He's enough of a git to believe only he would be able to find it, never mind that it's full of junk somebody else stuck in there."

The headmaster sat, dumbfounded. It was a leap of logic that made absolute sense. Harry had made more progress in the horcrux hunt in one evening that Albus had done in three years! Of course, he was building on the memories that Albus had found, but still…

"So that makes, what, five? The owl-level arithmancy I know says he'd go for a three- or seven- part soul."

"My mastery-level arithmancy concurs," Dumbledore added with a smile

"But he couldn't have known about me; he never would have tried to kill me if he did."

Albus nodded sagely. "I believe you are correct. To wit: the ring, locket, and diary have been destroyed. We assume he turned the cup into one - at least we know what that looks like. That makes four."

"How sure are you that he was close to finished? That he had six before he attacked us?"

"Alas, I am not at all sure. However, he must have performed the ritual several times for his soul to be so unstable as to splinch automatically, as it did, when he first attempted to kill you."

Harry nodded. "The ring, diary, necklace, cup, and two other things," he counted off on his fingers. "Any idea what they could be?"

Dumbledore hesitated, then stroked his beard before speaking. "I believe that your visions from the last few years were the telling, there. You recall how, when Arthur Weasley was attacked, you felt as though you were seeing it from the attacker's point of view? You said it was like you had attacked him? As though you were the snake?"

Harry nodded, thinking back to another vision of some poor old man, the first specter who had appeared in the golden cage in the cemetery. That man had also been killed in his vision, and he had most likely seen it from the snake's point of view.

"Do you recall how the snake seems to utterly understand Tom? How Tom can communicate with her? That is not normal, even for a familiar. I can communicate slightly with Fawkes, but not to that level, and phoenix are the most intelligent creatures known to man."

"He made the snake a treasure?" Harry asked with revulsion… to do that to another living creature was beastly.

"Yes. And that, Mr. Potter, brings us to five of the six treasures for a seven-piece soul."

They were interrupted by two elves popping into the room. A bag was levitated onto the wood piece on the headmaster's desk. Gently opening the bag, Albus's eyes widened.

"Dirty crown smell like dirty book," Dobby stated. Kreacher nodded emphatically in agreement.

Dumbledore levitated the treasure from the bag, gently setting it on the wood. He studied the tiara, regret and triumph warring within him. As he reached for it, Harry brought the sword down on the main jewel. The aged headmaster fell back in shock as another of Voldemort's shade screeched in destruction.

"Wouldn't want you to lose the other hand, yeah? Good thing we left my sword out. Handy thing, that."

Kreacher cackled while Dobby lowered his head, trying to hide his elf amusement.

"Of course, my boy, of course. Tilly," a Hogwarts elf popped in, "tea please."

The tea service came in, and Dumbledore lifted his cup with a shaking hand.

"And with that, we're down to the cup and the snake," Harry murmured, purposefully ignoring the shock of seeing Dumbledore's fallibility first-hand. Harry's own past told of mistakes Dumbledore had made that were so huge they baffled the imagination. Harry supposed, deep down, that if a wizard could make grand magic, he could make grand mistakes. Just look at Riddle, finding the lost treasures of the wizarding world and corrupting them with his foulness. Corrupting them in a way that was so easy to correct, so long as the person wanting to correct Riddle's mistakes could get his hands on the objects.

In fact, why would he use these notable objects? Shouldn't he just have used plain, easily overlooked objects? Hufflepuff's cup, the last of the suspected treasures, was very obviously a treasure. Anyone who saw it would covet it, even without Riddle's befoulment. The only place it would be safe from theft…

Safe from theft…

"Kreacher?" Harry asked the elf who had yet to leave the room, basking in the triumph of more of the bad wizard who killed Master Regulus being stabbed by his new, good master.

"Yes master?"

"Do you have access to the Gringotts vault of Bellatrix LeStrange?"

Hesitantly, the elf answered, "Yes, Master. She is still under house Black." He didn't want to remind his new master that he had used that knowledge to help Mistress Bella kill Master Sirius. It still ached in his magics.

"As Reagent of House Black, I order you to carefully search her vault, and the Black vault, since we claimed back half the LeStrange vault for what she did to Sirius. If there is an object that smells like the necklace, just as you did with that crown thing, get it here. Do this only if you won't be harmed. Don't get hurt, okay?"

"Yes, master." The elf popped out. Harry took the time to tell Dobby to go back to his work and let Winky know what was going on. She would tell Hermione directly.

Dumbledore looked up from his tea.

"To store one of these monstrous objects in the bank is to court the ire of the Goblin Nation. I don't believe anyone would do that, Mr. Potter."

"No one sane would, Headmaster. Have you met Bellatrix LeStrange?"

Dumbledore looked as though to argue, but then nodded. "Perhaps you are correct. Your insights tonight have been, I must admit, extremely accurate."

Five minutes told the tale that Harry was, indeed, correct. The cup lay, split assunder, on the desk.

Albus looked at the smoking, wretched ruins around him. The diadem, the necklace, the diary, the cup, the ring (that he had retrieved from his desk). The grandiose horcrux hunt that he had hoped to entice Harry into was done. Young Harry did not seem to need any of Albus's instruction to understand Tom. Looking down at his own hand, Albus wondered how much time he would have had if he had worked with Harry instead of around him. And now, all that was left was the snake and the man himself. Neither, of course, was an easy task, but hope, that often nebulous emotion, was burgeoning bright in Albus's eyes.

He might see the end of this war himself, after all. He was sure that young Harry wouldn't judge too harshly in the afterlife. They would both sacrifice their lives for the greater good.

As the young lad had excused himself after the cup had been destroyed, Albus sat, alone, contemplating. He called Severus. Perhaps it was time to fully put his cards on the table.

~ ~ this is a scene break ~ ~

In a manor in Devonshire, a wicked wizard felt a horrendous tearing pain deep in himself. He didn't know what it was, but it mirrored a similar pang he'd felt earlier in the summer when Potter had disappeared from the country. What was the boy doing? And how was it harming he who had overcome death itself, the Lord Voldemort? His magic levels were lowered and took longer to recover. What had that brat done? What could Voldemort do to reverse it? That wizard bent his prodigious mind to the problem as he sipped a truly excellent wine.

He would prevail. This time, he would prevail.