I neither own nor profit from the world of Harry Potter.

Author's note - sorry for the rather erratic posting... I've got exams coming up and this has pretty much fallen by the wayside. Hopefully after those I'll have more time!

Also, I am absolutely planning on continuing this for a while. I'm not sure exactly how long it's going to be (I've mapped out where I expect each chapter to go but can't account for unexpected detours) but it's nowhere near done I'm afraid. For those who want a little more info (no big spoilers) : this isn't going to turn into smut, and it will (I expect) mostly take place from the perspectives of Harry and Severus, but obviously others (e.g. Minerva) will make an appearance. I don't really want to say much more than that.

Any more questions, ping them my way and I'll try my best to respond!

Harry sighed as he felt the magic wash over him. It was subtle and felt slightly cool, and he could sense the sheen over his skin as he passed through the barrier. The train platform was almost empty this early. Two men with auror badges were speaking quietly a few metres away, joined by the pair who had escorted him, and one nodded politely at him while the other looked curiously at his face, his face shadowed beneath his hood.

Harry didn't greet them, but he did pull out his wand and wave a loud featherlight charm over his trunk.

The taller auror, dark haired and bearded, gave him a small smile, and waved his apology away.

"Don't worry Potter, we've got you covered." He said. Harry wasn't even sure whether it was intended to be condescending, but he'd got what he wanted and so, without turning his head fully he gave a cheerfully respectful "thank you sir" and pulled his trunk and owl cage into the train.

It was only when sat inside an empty compartment, door fully closed and blinds drawn, that he allowed himself to relax. Hedwig gave a low hoot from outside the window and he opened the glass to let her in. She pecked his ear gently, and settled in her cage, her eyes wary.

"I'm sorry girl" he said softly. "It was better for you away though, you know that." She turned her head away.

Sighing, Harry pulled a small paperback from his trunk. The Complexities of Complexion. He'd noticed it apparently abandoned on a shelf in the Gryffindor common room, and when it was unclaimed at year end he'd pocketed it. All summer he'd studied, wandless, and now here was his chance.

Rehearsing the incantation one last time, he pointed his wand at the skin just to the left of his scar. As he whispered, he felt his face tingle as his wand brushed over each section.

There was a long mirror behind each bench of the carriage, and Harry studied his reflection. The main difference was that he looked healthier. The pallor was gone, and his bones no longer stood out quite so much. There was a problem though. His bruises were completely gone, and even the scrapes weren't visible, but his face almost looked more wrong without the blemishes. It was subtle, Harry hoped, but his face was almost too smooth. There was no colour to his cheeks, no blemishes, no real definition...

He groaned. The book had warned about this. Intended for beautification, it had written at length about the importance of emphasising face shape with different shades and techniques.

He muttered a quick finite and started over, watching his reflection carefully in the mirror this time. He certainly didn't know more than the one spell - and all of the rest seemed too complicated to cast for the first time on his own face.

He tried again and looked critically at his own reflection. This, he thought, looked a lot better. It was true that somebody looking closely would see the odd scrape or bruise, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary this time. And his complexion was – to put it in the book's terms – more complex. His face was less unnaturally smooth and his cheekbones retained more of their definition.

He sighed. The concentration and the magic had taken a bit out of him and he wouldn't have anything to eat until the trolley arrived that afternoon.

The door slid open and the shorter taller auror – the one who had spoken on the platform – poked his head through.

"Everything okay in here Potter?" He asked, his tone friendly. "We've had a couple of alerts for underage magic. Some kind of –" he coughed, covering a smirk – "make-up charm?"

Harry didn't have to feign his embarrassment, but allowed himself a grin.

"Guilty." He said. "I've got a few spots, you know, and what with everyone staring at me…" he trailed off, grimacing internally at having to play up to his image.

The auror chuckled, looking suddenly sympathetic.

"I remember those years." He actually still had a pimple on his chin, but Harry didn't point it out. "Couldn't be arsed with charms though, not for those. Fiddly things glamours."

He saluted, to which Harry shifted uncomfortably, and shut the door behind him.

By the time his friends arrived, Harry had been asleep for an hour. Luna and Neville spoke quietly as the train took off, obviously trying not to wake him, but Ron and Hermione were already bickering halfway down the corridor, and Harry sat up with a groan as the door banged. Clearly the prefect meeting was over.

"Honestly Ron, waiting on the other side of the barrier wouldn't help at all! I'm sure they sent aurors with him for safety!"

"When have they ever done anything that sensible?"

"Well-"

"Harry!"

Hermione was cut off as Ron spotted his friend, reaching down to clap him painfully on the back. Harry covered a wince, and then Hermione was on him, a shock of hair in his face and strong arms bracketing him in.

He laughed and pretended to choke, and she let him go, eyes narrowing as she examined his face.

"You're too thin." She told him matter-of-factly. "Also, is that a bruise on your cheek?"

"Dudley." He muttered. She pursed her lips, but didn't say anything else.

Neville coughed. "I've got some bruise cream if you want it Harry. Gran always sends me off with a tub." He dug in his bag, sending scraps of parchment flying, and pulled out a small tin.

Harry took it gratefully, a little embarrassed, and dabbed a little on his cheek, where he knew the magic hadn't fully covered the bruising. It felt better almost at once.

"Thanks mate". He looked wistfully at the tub as he handed it back. If only he had enough of that to bathe in.

Ron was telling Neville and Hermione about the family trip to Romania – "You should have seen Ginny in the nursery. Did a Harry and tried to teach them all to fly herself!" – but Harry looked up to see Luna's eyes on him.

She smiled serenely.

"A sphynx never stops thinking." She said. "If she knew all the answers she wouldn't have to ask." Luna's hand reached out to his for a moment, and her finger traced the scars left there. Her voice was suddenly a lot less vague. "You should ask, Harry."

Harry frowned, swallowing down his anger at the scars. I must not tell lies. "Ask what, Luna?"

She smiled at him rather vaguely. He watched her as she tucked her arm into Neville's and pulled a transfiguration textbook out of her satchel. Her eyes moved along the page steadily and her pinky finger of her left hand seemed to be tracing the wand movement for the particular flick that resulted in silver.

Hermione turned to him.

"How was your summer Harry?" He could hear the concern in her voice.

"It was summer." He said dully. "It's over now."

She tried to press him. "Really, are you-"

Ron hushed her. "Hermione, leave it won't you? Summer's over." He turned to Harry. "Charlie said to say hi. We saw Norbert again too and you won't believe how big she is! Hagrid could probably ride her if she'd let him, she's that huge. 'Cor can you imagine?"

Neville laughed. "I still can't believe after all that crap in first year that there actually was a dragon you know. I thought you were just saying it to wind Malfoy up, or to top the whole troll thing."

Ron scoffed "I wish. She's still got a taste for my blood too, I swear! Every time I went near she'd snap at me, and I had to spend ages in the hospital wing that time, missed all the fun in the forest with ferret-face."

They were all laughing when the door slid open.

"Potter." It was a girl with smooth dark blonde hair that Harry thought was called Daphne Greengrass. She'd never spoken to him before. Beside her was Nott. Ron's wand was out at once.

"Er, hi?" Harry's voice was wary.

Everybody in the compartment drew their wand, except for Luna, who simply said "Hello Theo." Theodore Nott nodded to her awkwardly, then warily met Harry's eyes, hands empty.

"Potter." His voice was smooth and cultured. "I hope your summer was enjoyable."

Ron made and angry sound and Hermione huffed. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"What do you want Nott?" Ron asked.

It was Daphne who answered, her hands twisting nervously. "As Nott said, we wanted to know whether Potter had had a... productive summer." Her voice softened slightly. "It must have been hard."

Harry's temper flared. "My godfather dying? Thanks a fucking bunch for your thoughts and prayers."

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I don't pray."

He glared at her and Nott intervened. "Last year was a difficult one. I hope we are all better prepared for what comes now."

Hermione was frowning at the Slytherins, and she looked as though she were about to speak, but through the open door Malfoy's voice was carrying along the train corridor.

"Leave me, Goyle. Go and find the trolley or something. I'm going to-"

With a wide-eyed glance at Nott, Daphne left the compartment and hurried away. Nott gave Harry another assessing look and then, with a nod to Luna and a short bow to the compartment as a whole, left too, closing the door behind him.

"That was odd." said Neville.

"You think?" Said Ron incredulously. "What the hell did they want?"

Luna frowned at him. "It sounded like they wanted to know how Harry's summer was, Ron."

He rolled his eyes and turned to Harry and Hermione.

She spoke slowly. "I don't know what else... unless they wanted information? Nott's father was definitely a Death Eater, right Harry?"

He gave a short nod and rubbed his head, his earlier good mood forgotten. He slipped a book from his satchel. He'd received a note from the Headmaster asking him to Owl-order his textbooks this year. It had been a blow but also a relief. While he'd have loved a reprieve from Privet Drive he wouldn't have been able to disguise his appearance, and Diagon Alley was always crowded before the start of term.

There had been another benefit too. The catalogue that Dumbledore had provided from Flourish and Blotts was comprehensive, and for the first time Harry looked at more than just his course texts. Specifically, for a number of subjects the catalogue advertised reference texts. He hadn't bought too many, but there were a few that jumped out at him. There was a reference text that combined Herbology, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures, and another that brought together and cross-referenced Charms and Transfiguration primarily. He knew that Hermione used both religiously and regularly pointed him to them for homework. There was another for Runes and Arithmancy that he wouldn't need, but he'd got the first two.

They were, perhaps unsurprisingly, very interesting, and he realised that Hermione's efficiency at doing homework might be less down to overwhelming intelligence and more due to having good resources and a strong understanding of theory. He'd also realised, when perusing the catalogue, quite how limited his knowledge of spells truly was. He and Hermione had trained the DA well, but they'd only really explored spells that she had researched from the syllabus - spells that would come up in OWL or NEWT exams. Yet Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort in the atrium, as well as his own fight for his life, had shown Harry quite how limited his understanding of magic was. He'd need to do better.

It was the Wandlore reference book that he took out now, disguised as one of the Defence textbooks that Sirius had given him last year. He knew that nobody would question his reading it, and he wasn't anywhere near ready for Hermione to gloat over his improved study habits.

Sure enough, Hermione glanced at the book and Ron just huffed at him, turning back to the others.

"Wasn't Daphne's sister there on-" Hermione said suddenly, but Ron shushed her. He gestured at Harry. Harry pretended he hadn't noticed. So they'd been together. It figured.

"He's reading." Ron said quietly. "Plus, you know..." Harry saw Ron gesture awkwardly at Luna and Neville, and Hermione acquiesce.

"It's okay." Luna's voice was floaty. "I have a very interesting conversation starter about Triffids. Would you like to hear it?"

"Alright."

"They supposedly went extinct a couple of decades ago when the termination programme was rolled out, but some muggle scient-sists have found some old pods and are trying to re-cultivate them." She said. "They think it's just a joke experiment because a squib wrote a cautionary tale about them but daddy says that the Russian magical government is getting quite worried." She turned to Ron. "What do you think the government should do?"

Harry had to hand it to Luna. That was a much better conversation starter than he'd been expecting. Ron began to stumble an answer and Hermione interjected by asking Luna about her father's sources, and Harry turned back to his book. Most of the things he was reading related to very basic spells that they'd learned in first year through to third year, but the theory behind them made up the building blocks of the more complex spells, and he figured he might as well start reading at the beginning.

It was early afternoon by the time he engaged with his friends again. Luna and Neville were building a card tower out of chocolate-frog cards and Ron and Hermione were talking quietly together. Harry slipped out to use the toilet, and as he returned to the carriage he paused beside an open door, listening unseen to Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy.

"Something big is being planned, you know." Nott's voice was languid. "Father's had a lot of visitors recently, and he's obviously angry about the Ministry becoming more alert."

"Of course they're planning something." Malfoy's voice sounded impatient. "When is he not planning something? And don't act like you're all high and mighty Theo, having visitors." His voice twisted into a sneer. "Do they even know you exist?"

"Do they know you exist?"

There was a short silence from inside the compartment.

"Did you know?" Nott's voice was quiet. "About, you know, last year? Was it his plan?"

There was a thud and a pause. "No." Malfoy's voice was quiet. "It wasn't his idea, though he certainly approves. And I didn't know. If I'd known that she was being hurt I'd have... my father could have done something at least."

"Yeah." There was a silence, and more shuffling. Realising that the conversation was over, Harry returned to his compartment.

"Malfoy and Nott are up to something." He said as soon as he was sure that the compartment door was sealed.

Ron looked wary. "What?"

Harry was frustrated. "I don't know. But they were talking about - it must have been Death Eater stuff, and someone being hurt last year?"

"I don't think that's about Death Eaters mate."

"Why not? It sounded like Malfoy really had an in with them."

"Well yeah but we already knew that, didn't we?"

"But-"

"Harry, every year we suspect Snape and we suspect Malfoy." Hermione was almost pleading with him. "Every single year. And when have we ever been right?"

He turned to her, betrayed. "Hermione I know what I heard!"

"If you just think logically-"

"Logically!"

"We'll keep an ear out Harry." Neville's voice was gentle. "I'll let you know if I see something suspicious."

It wasn't the same as having his friends beside him, but he latched onto the support gratefully. "Thanks." His voice was dull.

"Harry-"

"I'm tired Hermione."

Harry curled up against the window, which felt cool against his cheek. The lurching of the train was regular, and as he concentrated on it, blocking out his friends' voices, he found himself falling back into a deep sleep.

It had been an awkward afternoon all round. The worst moment had been when they had left the train and found the carriages. Harry reached out to touch a thestral, almost leaning on it for support as he saw once more Sirius' laughing face falling through the veil. Luna's hand grasped his and guided him up to the carriage, which was still empty. He realised that Ron, Hermione and Neville were all still outside, devastation on their faces as they started at the winged horses.

"I half thought he wasn't gone, you know." Ron said quietly as he took his seat. There were tear tracks down Hermione's cheeks. "It was just a veil. Surely Dumbledore could find a way to get him back? But I guess that confirms it."

Harry looked away, his heart aching. He too had hoped that, somehow, his friends wouldn't see the thestrals. For a moment he was angry with them for doing so. He knew it was irrational, but that knowledge didn't suppress the resentment.

The glum mood had endured even the arrival of the Feast, though Harry gradually began to realise that people were staring at him even more than usual.

"You'd think they'd have someone new to gawk at." He whispered. "It's not like there hasn't been other news this summer. Wasn't there a werewolf attack in Leeds? And at least three major 'disappearances' at the ministry, last I checked."

Ron gave him an odd look, picking up his cutlery as the sorting hat and stool were removed.

Katie Bell leaned down the table. "When are tryouts Harry?"

"What makes you think I made captain?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and Ron rounded on him. "You never said! Oh that's so cool-"

"You'll be able to use the Prefects' bathroom now Harry!"

"- I mean I hope I make it again-"

Harry grinned at Katie. "Give it a week maybe? Need to give the firsties a chance to have their first flying lesson."

She smiled at him and nodded, turning back to her friends. It was odd seeing her without Angeline or Alicia, and he realised that it would be a pretty new team this year.

Ron was still talking about making the team again, but Hermione turned back to Harry.

"Has anyone else been in contact with you, Harry?"

He was distracted by the sight of a couple of fourth year Ravenclaws outright pointing at him. Caught, one turned pink but the other just waved.

"Erm, what?"

"Have you had, you know, any visitors?"

Harry was confused. "You guys know that the only person who ever wrote to me was Sirius and you two. Ginny and Neville both sent the odd letter this summer, and Luna sent me a lot of seeds that made painted flowers grow up Aunt Petunia's wallpaper when I spilled them, but that was about it. No visitors at all." He was pretty annoyed at her for asking. Surely she knew that he'd been at Privet Drive all summer.

"I- well Harry" she looked at Ron for support. "Have you been getting the Prophet?"

He shrugged. "Nah, I stopped last year. It's all rubbish anyway, and the Quibbler covers the important stuff." He nibbled at his potatoes, which had filled him up quickly. "Why? Has anything big happened in the last week?"

"The last week?"

"Next edition of the Quibbler is due tomorrow - but given that I'm at Privet Drive whatever happens it doesn't seem to matter when I get my news."

"Harry!"

"Hermione what difference does it make if I know about a disappearance the day after it happens or four days later? I can't do anything-"

"That's not what I meant."

The wind was knocked from his sails. "What then?"

Ron had gone quite pale, the tips of his ears an angry red, and Hermione's mouth was open in shock.

"Umbridge was sent to Azkaban last week, mate." Ron's voice was quiet. "She'd been using a blood quill in detentions." The fork in Harry's hand suddenly burned red hot and he dropped it with a gasp.

Ron looked at him warily. "Keep it together, yeah?" Harry nodded jerkily. "She's got life."

Hermione had tears in her eyes. "There was a compulsion charm so that you- we - couldn't tell anyone about it Harry."

It was as though a waterfall was filling Harry's head, twisting and turning and splashing off his thoughts, the sound blocking out even Hermione's voice. They knew - she'd been sent to Askaban - and-

"We?" His voice croaked out.

Hermione stopped mid sentence. "What?" She looked guilty for a moment. "Harry, can we talk about this later?"

He looked around. Everyone within around a two meter radius had gone quiet - to the point that Ginny and Demelza were looking at him warily and little Colin Creevey even had his wand out. The goblets were vibrating. Harry shoved the thoughts to the back of his head and gave an awkward grin.

"Quidditch tryouts next Sunday!" He said. It seemed to work. The table erupted in congratulations and speculation. Only Ginny and Demelza frowned at him, Ginny's eyes narrowing as they met his. He looked away.

The rest of the meal was tense. Ron talked incessantly about the Chudley Cannon's season thus far and Hermione seemed unwilling to speak at all. Harry's temper was boiling close to the surface. He mechanically moved food around his plate and into his mouth, thoughts whirling. Other people had had those detentions? Ron and Hermione had too? And how did they know that Umbridge had gone to Azkaban when he, Harry, didn't? Hadn't he endured months of line-writing?

He supposed glumly that Mrs Weasley had figured it out somehow when Ron had returned. Or perhaps Hermione had found some way to break that - what was it, compulsion charm? But if she'd managed it, if Ron had told his parents, why couldn't he have done so sooner? He could have stopped them from having to-"

With some effort Harry reigned in his temper. He couldn't afford even more accidental magic. Sitting here though was too much. Without glancing at his friends he slipped out of the mercifully nearby doors and started to climb.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice called after him, echoing in the empty space.

"Mate, couldn't you have waited for the treacle tart at least?"

"Ron!"

Harry just moved faster. "You need to tell me what's going on, Hermione."

"Just wait up Harry! Not all of us are athletes."

The moving staircases had transported them up and up and suddenly they were on the seventh floor. Harry was almost shouting.

"Hermione!"

"Okay."

He stopped. "What?"

"Just open the door, Harry."

He stared at the blank stretch of wall that they'd arrived beside.

"I don't know..." His mind was panicked, full of rushing thoughts. What was he supposed to ask for?

Hermione came up beside him, putting a hand on his elbow, very gently. Ron was looking on in concern.

"Try saying it out loud Harry." She said firmly. "Say what you need - what the room can give you."

He thought for a moment. He wanted to feel safe, but he didn't know how the room was supposed to give him that though. He wanted control - but if he knew what would give him that then he'd already have taken it.

"I want the truth." He said out loud. Hermione let go of him and he started pacing. "I want the answers. I want to know the truth."

A door popped into existence in front of him, plain and unassuming. He stepped forward, calmer now, and the three of them entered a small sitting room. Three large armchairs encircled a small table.

"A pensive." Breathed Hermione. "I've never seen one before, have you?"

"Dumbledore has one." A thought occurred to Harry. "Do you know how to use it?"

Hermione shook her head, and Ron picked up a small book. Hermione took it from him and Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. There was silence for a moment before Hermione let out a small 'oh' of disappointment. She looked devastated.

"It says here that only people skilled in mind magics can extract memories from themselves or from others." She said. Her eyes were wide as they looked up at Harry. "I'm so sorry! Unless you can-?"

"No" he said. He sat down in an armchair and a fire burst to life beside him.

She perched awkwardly. "I suppose I could study this, but it might take some time..."

"Or you could just tell me what happened?" Harry's voice was weary. "We're supposed to be friends, guys. Why don't I know about this?"

Ron sat down. "We were kind of wondering that ourselves. We didn't realise you weren't getting the Prophet, see, and none of us knew how to ask you about it." His cheeks had gone a little pink. "Dad gave me a right bollocking, you know. Ginny got one too. He pointed out that only you had been cursed not to tell anyone about it."

Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. "Harry I'm so sorry that we never told anyone. Just because you couldn't didn't mean we shouldn't have got you out of the situation."

Harry frowned. "I told you not to, remember?"

"That was the curse though."

Harry wasn't so sure, but he let it drop.

"So how did they find out?"

Ron answered. "It was Snape!" You'll never believe this, but Dumbledore's given him the Defence job!"

"What!"

"I know! He found all the line's in Umbridge's old office and figured out that they were written in blood. Fred and George said the Order was furious and got the law department involved. Snape even testified at the trial - a few Slytherins were targeted too, see."

"Figures he'd care about that."

"Yeah. So the heads of houses visited the students who'd had detentions and then she was put on trial in front of the Wizengamot. We went to watch, and some of the older students testified. Lee Jordan, the twins..."

Harry felt a hollowness open up inside him. "McGonagall visited all the Gryffindors who had detention?"

"We asked about you." Hermione's voice was soft. "And she looked really angry and muttered about security. Harry grunted.

"I'm sure they'll talk to you soon though." Ron's voice was supposed to be comforting.

Harry shrugged listlessly. "I guess." He actually hoped they wouldn't. While he was glad that Umbridge was out of the way, he was almost more glad that he hadn't needed to be involved. Reliving that? Really, thinking about it, this was the best outcome. At least he hadn't had to go back to that stupid courtroom.

His mind was back on Ron and Hermione's detentions. "I didn't know you guys had lines with her too."

"After Dumbledore's Army was caught, you know, we had to write a few lines."

"A few?"

"Only one evening." Hermione's voice was quiet. "I think she realised that people would notice if all of us were too bloodied. But Harry, you had so many-"

"Why didn't I notice? You saw my hand?"

Ron looked at Hermione a little nervously. "We didn't want you to know." He said quietly. "You had enough to deal with, and our detentions weren't anywhere near as bad as yours."

Harry rubbed his forehead, pressure building behind his temples. How had he missed that his friends were hurting? Had he really been that wrapped up in himself last year?

"I'm sorry." Hermione's voice was quiet. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, and I'm sorry that we didn't tell anyone, whether or not you wanted us to." She reached out and took his hand. She didn't have any scar, he noted with relief, but her finger traced his own. He swallowed hard.

"It's like with the stone." Ron said. "I got hurt in that chess game because of a risk I took to win the game. I made the decision, and it was Voldemort and Dumbledore who put us in that situation." Hermione looked at him sharply, but Harry nodded at him to continue. "We were with you, sure, but you didn't get me hurt. This is the same. Yeah in both situations we all could have gone to the adults sooner, but we didn't. We took risks and the fucking mental adults around us made us pay."

Harry gave a shaky laugh, pulling away from Hermione.

"Tell me about this trial then."