Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

by angela bretagne

This is my take on the seventh book, based on clues scattered all through the other six books. I can't wait for the real book to come out to see if I'm close. ASL please.

11. Chapter 11: Fulstrum and Capsworth

Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER ELEVEN –

Fulstrum and Capsworth

Harry stared up at the most beautiful sight in the world: Hogwarts castle. Having Apparated to outside the school gates, both he and Madam Capsworth were being escorted across the grounds by a very disgruntled Mr Filch, who muttered something about routines being disrupted.

When they got inside, Harry understood what he meant. They had somehow managed to arrive before the students.

'Ah, good, Potter,' McGonagall was descending upon them rapidly. 'You've arrived safely. Granger sent an owl ahead to say you had missed the train. Oh, hello, Patricia,' she said to the woman beside Harry. 'The rest of the staff are making themselves comfortable in the Great Hall. If you would like to join them, I shall be with you shortly. I just need to see Potter about a few things first.'

Madam Capsworth's manners were considerably better than McGonagall's as she bowed her head slightly at the headmistress, flashed a very lovely smile at Harry and disappeared through the doors to their right.

'Come with me, Potter.' McGonagall exuded an air which did not invite one to argue with her.

Trotting after her up the marble staircase, Harry was left feeling rather bewildered, wondering what was going on.

When they finally entered through the door with the griffin knocker, he was surprised by the sight of two men standing before the fireplace.

'Dedalus Diggle, isn't it?' Deliberately ignoring the second man, Harry held a hand out to one wearing a purple top hat; he recognised him from the Order of the Phoenix. 'What are you doing here?'

'It's high time you got here,' snapped Horatio Plaxton as Dedalus got all excited that Harry remembered him, plainly not happy that Harry was trying to pretend he wasn't there.

'That's what I wanted to speak to you about, Potter.' McGonagall settled herself behind her desk. 'I have appointed Mr Diggle here as your bodyguard. I understand from Mr Plaxton that the Minister has also appointed him to the same position. Is that correct?'

'According to Umbridge.' Harry continued to glare at Plaxton. 'But I don't need a bodyguard. Any bodyguard.'

'Now, Harry,' McGonagall smiled indulgently. 'You must admit you have managed to get yourself into quite a bit of trouble with You-Know-Who and his followers in the past. As your employer, headmistress and, I would hope, friend, I wouldn't be doing you a very good service if I didn't provide top security for you to make certain you are protected for your final year here. That way you will have the best chance to become a fully qualified wizard. You'll need to do that if you want to be an Auror. Only then will you be in the best possible position to do something about He Who Must Not Be Named if you insist upon continuing with whatever it was you were getting up to with Professor Dumbledore the night he – that night. So, to ensure that you safely make it to that stage – though, with luck, You-Know-Who will have been dealt with by better wizards by then – Alastor Moody shall protect you during the day and Dedalus, here, shall watch over you at night.'

Harry couldn't believe he was hearing this; this was going from bad to worse.

'There shall be absolutely no need for the Ministry to also look out for Harry.' McGonagall turned to Plaxton. 'Both the staff here at Hogwarts and other parties who have Potter's best interests at heart shall manage, between us, to keep him safe. So you may return to the Minister and tell him that Potter no longer has need of your services.'

'I'm afraid you are not in a position to dismiss me. Only the Minister can do that, and it is his wish that his people continue to watch the subject.' said Plaxton smugly.

Subject? Harry felt like he was about to boil.

'I do have a name, you know,' he growled, pleased to see Plaxton jump slightly at the harshness in his voice. 'Harry Potter! You know, the Boy who Lived, the Chosen One, all that sort of stuff? And despite what you both think, I don't need either of you; not the Ministry, not the Order of the Phoenix and definitely not you!' he snapped at McGonagall.

'This year is going to be hectic enough with both studying and teaching, irrespective of what Voldemort's –' (Dedalus gave a small squeak) '–plans for me might be and the last thing I'm going to need will be you lot getting under my feet and constantly tripping me up.'

'But we've been assigned to protect you –'

'Real bang up job you're doing so far.' Harry rounded on Plaxton. 'You haven't even been at it twelve hours and Malfoy already managed to kidnap me from right under your noses and take me straight to Voldemort.'

Plaxton stiffened 'Lucius Malfoy is in – '

'I'm talking about Draco Malfoy.'

'Oh. Oh, yes. Him.' Plaxton at least had the grace to look embarrassed.

'Yeah, him. You did get him off to Azkaban, didn't you? Or is your boss as incompetent and corrupt as Fudge was and letting Death Eaters off left right and centre?' Harry was breathing heavily.

Plaxton's expression turned black at the insult to Scrimgeour but, before he could say anything in response, Harry continued.

'Now, if you two are finished trying to run my life for me, I'm going to go get something to eat. I haven't had anything since before Malfoy dragged me off to Voldemort and I'm absolutely starving.'

'How did you manage to get away from your captor?' Plaxton gazed at Harry as though he thought he might be Voldemort in disguise.

'That's none of your business.' Harry felt like he was back before the Wizangamot. 'You aren't running my life for me, remember, or do I go down to the gates right now, Disapparate to God knows where and leave you lot to try to clean up the mess Voldemort is making? Because that's all you'll be able to do – try to clean the mess up. You won't beat him. You don't know how.'

'You mean, because of the prophecy you claimed Dumbledore told you about in the middle of a hurricane, of all things.'

'Yeah, I mean that.'

'Potter,' McGonagall cut in. 'I really don't think you should be discussing this matter with someone from …'

'If you interfere with this investigation any further, Headmistress, I shall have no choice but to arrest you. This is a Ministry matter which has got nothing to do with Hogwarts.' Plaxton glared at McGonagall.

'Investigation?' McGonagall's brows rose. 'I thought you were supposed to be providing security? And besides, the Ministry has no jurisdiction here; you can't arrest either myself or Potter, especially not for refusing to abide by the Minister's wishes.

'As long as Potter is here, he falls under my jurisdiction and my protection. Now, like I said, you may return to Rufus Scrimgeour and inform him that he may rest assured, Potter is quite safe, and shall be until he completes his examinations next June. The Minister will be able to reassign his staff to far more important tasks than breathing down the neck of a mere schoolboy. And, given the times we are presently living in, I'm certain he could use every man he has.'

'The Minister will have something to say about your attitude.' Plaxton didn't look at all happy about the fact that he was being dismissed.

'I'm certain he shall.' McGonagall opened a drawer and removed a small crystal bell, which she rang once before setting it down upon the desk. 'And you may tell the Minister that I look forward to discussing his interference with him.' She looked up as Filch walked in.

'Mr Filch, would you please escort Mr Plaxton down to the gates?'

The old caretaker bowed as low as his rheumatism allowed and held the door for a very irate looking Plaxton.

'Oh, and Argus,' McGonagall continued, 'make certain you lock the gates securely after him. We do not need any more unwanted guests this evening.'

Once the door closed behind them, she turned to Harry. 'Right, now that he is gone, Potter, you may finally do something about that rumbling stomach. And I need to address the students. Dedalus?'

Dedalus took up his post by Harry's right shoulder. Harry, despite being desperate for some food, refused to move.

'I meant what I said before.' Harry glared at McGonagall as she held the door for them. 'I don't want bodyguards from either you or the Ministry. I don't need them. Enough people have died because they got between Voldemort and me. Do you really want me to get more blood on my hands?'

Dedalus Diggle looked slightly alarmed that this job could get him killed.

'Potter –'

'I mean it. I'll leave right now and never come back. And you and Scrimgeour can fight it out between yourselves as to which one of you is more responsible for condemning the wizarding world to an eternity of hell.'

Pushing past McGonagall, Harry ran down the spiralling staircase two steps at a time and raced along the corridor away from the gargoyle, trying to put as much distance between himself and McGonagall as possible. She would probably do her nut later about his behaviour but, hopefully, she would think it was solely because of his reluctance to have even one bodyguard, let alone four, and not because he really wanted to get to Dumbledore's tomb.

The new moon meant that the grounds were totally dark as Harry burst out the front doors and ran towards the lake. Tendrils of mist stretched up the bank, curling around his feet as he collapsed, panting, against the empty white, marble box which was pretending to be Albus Dumbledore's final resting place. He didn't even stop to properly examine the carved bird adorning the cold slab as he wrenched the ruby ring from his finger. With a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching, Harry stuffed the ring into the sharp-edged socket and activated the Portkey.

x

'Professor … Professor ...'

When Harry arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, he found it deserted, and so went leaping up the stairs leading to the entrance hall, calling Dumbledore's name. He had just passed the first landing when Snape stuck his nose out from the drawing room.

'Could you possibly make any more noise, Potter?'

Harry skidded to a halt and glared back at the hateful face. 'What are you doing here?'

The dark eyes roved over Harry. 'I see you have suffered no serious effects from your little … sojourn … today.'

'No serious –'

'The headmaster wishes to speak to you.' Ignoring Harry's protests that the ordeal had been anything but serious, he stepped back. 'After you, Potter.'

There was no way Harry was going to have Snape standing behind him, especially not when the last time the two men had been in the same room, Snape had had his wand pointed at Harry, performing the Imperius curse upon him.

'Oh no. After you. This is my house, so you go first.'

Snape's glare grew darker but a faint 'Do as he says, Severus,' from the room behind him saw him obeying Harry's request.

'I'm fine.' Harry answered the question in Dumbledore's eyes before he had a chance to voice it. 'Thanks to a really good Healer at St Mungo's, though I was lucky to survive the Keystone cops in the Rambleance.'

Dumbledore chuckled softly.

'Look, I don't mean to be abrupt,' Harry continued, 'but I need to get back before McGonagall starts searching the grounds for me. I just came to tell you that we could have trouble. Both McGonagall and the Ministry want to put bodyguards on me.'

Dumbledore's brows rose. 'Who?'

'Nigel Blackthorn during the day and Horatio Plaxton at night for the Ministry, Alastor Moody, days and Dedalus Diggle, nights for McGonagall. She's already told Plaxton to get lost but I doubt Scrimgeour will take no for an answer.'

'How long would they be intending to maintain their protection?'

'McGonagall until I finish school, Scrimgeour for the rest of my life.'

'The rest of your life?' Snape sneered. 'Do not flatter yourself that you are that important, Potter. Now, how long does the Minister truly wish to keep you protected from the Dark Lord, or do you wish to make it necessary for me to coax the truth out of you?'

'That will do, Severus,' said Dumbledore softly.

Snape stiffened at the rebuke, but still glared dangerously at Harry.

'OK, Scrimgeour didn't say he was going to keep his people on me for the rest of my life.' Harry returned Snape's glare. 'Just until Voldemort has been destroyed, which amounts to the same thing. The question is what are we going to do about it?' He glanced at Dumbledore, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

'Headmaster, if I may?' Snape sounded calculating; Harry suddenly felt nervous.

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

'Does Professor Slughorn still present sixth-year students with several cauldrons of potions at the start of their first class?' Snape's eyes bored into Harry.

'He did last year.'

'And was Polyjuice one of those potions?'

'Yes.' Harry frowned slightly.

'Then you shall do this. Tomorrow, whilst Professor Slughorn is in the Great Hall eating his lunch, you will pay a visit to the dungeons. Unnoticed.' The dark eyes flashed. 'There, you will extract several pints of potion.' He waved his wand and a large bottle, split into layers, appeared in midair. Snape pointed his wand at the lip of the bottle and black sludge squirted from the end of the wand, filling the bottle, each layer swelling until Harry was certain the glass would break, but it held firm. When the bottle was full, Snape held it out to Harry. 'Replace what you take with this, that way Horace won't notice any missing.'

'He wouldn't notice anyway,' said Harry bitterly. 'Malfoy nicked a whole heap of it last year and he never twigged. Besides, I don't need that. Hermione gave me a bottle of it for my birthday.'

Snape froze. 'Granger successfully brewed Polyjuice?'

'Well, she managed to make it in second year, so it was probably quite simple second time round.'

'Second year?' Snape's lips didn't seem to move.

'Don't sound so surprised, Severus; you know what she's like.' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled up at Snape.

'How will Polyjuice help with the bodyguards?' Harry dragged the conversation back to the matter at hand.

'Use it to get Weasley or Granger to trade places with you when you need to leave Hogwarts unobserved. I'll leave you to work out the finer details between yourselves.'

'And how long do we keep that up?'

'The whole year, if necessary.' Snape smiled grimly. 'So you will need every drop you can lay your hands on.' He forced the bottle into Harry's hands. 'Now, you need to stop wasting the headmaster's time and return to Hogwarts before your absence is noticed.'

x

'I thought you said you were hungry.' McGonagall was waiting at the top of the steps leading up to the front door.

'I needed some air.' Harry was still feeling pretty grumpy.

McGonagall's lips thinned. 'Well, you really need to come into dinner now. I have some messages to give out, and your appointment is one of them.' She stepped back to allow him to pass. As they crossed the Entrance Hall, Flitwick came out from the Great Hall carrying a small three-legged stool and an old patched hat.

'Oh, I missed the Sorting.'

McGonagall arched a brow. 'You're the one who chose to go wandering about the grounds, Potter. Nobody held a wand to your head.'

As soon as they entered the Great Hall, Dedalus Diggle immediately crossed the room to Harry's side, so quickly it was like McGonagall had Summoned him. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As he took his seat next to a beaming Hagrid, he noticed Hermione, seated at the Gryffindor table, poke Ron in the ribs and point towards the staff table. Both of them looked extremely relieved.

As expected, McGonagall's announcement that Harry would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts raised several jeers from the Slytherin table, but even the other tables didn't applaud all that loudly. The only ones who seemed to be thrilled about McGonagall's staff choice were former members of the DA, but since Dennis Creevey was the only one who wasn't in sixth or seventh year, Harry wouldn't be teaching them.

One announcement which did surprise Harry was the appointment of a new Transfigurations professor: Patricia Capsworth. That explained why she had been on the Hogwarts Express. Harry had thought she might have been sent by the Ministry to watch him. He wouldn't have minded if she had been a bodyguard; he felt she could have been trusted with secrets.

'So, Harry.' Hagrid clapped Harry so hard on the back he was sure he heard several bones crunch. 'Yer a teacher. Who'da thought?'

'Yeah.' Harry wiped mashed potato from his face as he surfaced from his plate. 'Who'da thought.'

'Now Harry,' Hagrid leant in close, 'jus' a couple o' tips. With the Slytherins. If they try ter cause trouble in class, don' bite. Show yer better than them. Take off points, but only if they actually cheek yeh, no' if they cause strife with th'other kids. An' only give detention as a last resort. Remember, yeh have ter supervise, an' there's heaps better things ter do with yeh time 'an watch that lot.'

Harry thought it was a bit rich, Hagrid giving him advice about how to handle Slytherins, especially when he had allowed himself to be knocked off-centre by a Slytherin in his very first class. Preferring to focus on his meal, he concentrated on what Hagrid was saying just enough to be able to grunt and nod at the right intervals and fool Hagrid into believing he was still listening properly, though he did notice that there seemed to be something metal rattling under the table. It was only when the word 'present' filtered through, making him choke on his pudding, that Harry finally gave Hagrid his full attention.

'What?' he sputtered, trying to clear his throat. 'What present?'

Hagrid reached under the table and pulled out a rusty cage full of small blue creatures.

'Aren' they beau'iful?' Hagrid's beetle-black eyes misted behind the tangle of hair and beard 'They'll be perfect fer givin' yeh second years summat ter practise on.' He didn't seem to notice the look of pure revulsion on Harry's face as he plonked the large cage in the middle of Harry's dessert just as everybody started to get up from their seats, ready to head upstairs.

'Hagrid!' Harry had to raise his voice to get Hagrid to hear him through his own talking. 'I need to go now, OK?'

Hagrid broke off, a hurt expression on his face. 'Don' yeh like 'em?'

Harry tried to keep all traces of disgust out of his voice as he held the cage at arms length. 'They're great, Hagrid; the perfect gift.'

'Then why d'you have ter go?'

'Ron and Hermione?' Harry nodded towards the door. Hagrid turned in time to see them disappear out to the Entrance Hall.

'Oh.' Hagrid seemed unable to come up with an argument as to why Harry shouldn't chase after his friends, though he still looked crestfallen that Harry didn't want to keep learning teaching tips from him.

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, Harry joined the crowd slowly pressing its way through the door.

'Potter, what on earth have you got there?'

Harry pulled up at the sound of McGonagall's voice.

'Cornish pixies.' He grimaced at her over the cage. 'Hagrid gave them to me as a present.'

'Cornish pixies?' McGonagall looked aghast. 'Aren't they the creatures Professor Lockhart let loose in one of his classes years ago?'

Harry nodded sadly. McGonagall eyed the cage with increased horror and disgust.

'Well, I don't care if Hagrid gave them to you or not, you are not keeping them!' She waved her wand and both pixies and cage vanished.

Past McGonagall's shoulder, Harry saw Hagrid stop mid-stride; he had been making his way over to them, no doubt to rhapsodise upon the advantages of Harry owning such 'beau'iful' creatures, but now his proud grin rapidly changed through stunned shock to thunderous anger as he pushed past McGonagall so hard she almost knocked Harry over.

Wanting to avoid any further delays as several teachers rushed to their aid, Harry quickly excused himself and finally escaped to the Entrance Hall just as Filch locked the front doors behind Hagrid.

Not quite sure how he was going to get rid of Dedalus, Harry tiredly made his way up to Gryffindor Tower. It was when he finally saw the Fat Lady grinning at him slyly, that he finally thought of a way, for tonight at least.

'So, who's moving up in the world, eh, Professor Potter?'

'Remind me how that works with regards to you, please?' Harry threw her his most winning smile, anxious to get her very much on his side.

'Even though I set the password, as a professor, you can change it at any time, providing you notify the Head of House within twenty-four hours.'

'And what about the headmistress?'

'Oh, that goes without saying. Of course she is kept updated at all times.'

Harry frowned, thinking. If McGonagall was made aware of any change the instant it happened, it would counteract the reason for the change. 'Can you stop people from getting in, even if they do know the password?'

'What, you mean like that trouble with Sirius Black a few years back?'

'Yeah, something like that?'

'No. Why, who were you wanting to keep out?'

Harry stepped right up to the portrait so that his nose was almost touching the canvas.

'See the man standing behind me?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering?'

'Because I don't want him to hear what we're saying.'

'Oh, all right. Yes, I see …' Her eyes widened. 'What's he doing here?'

'Do you know him?'

'Know him? He tried to set fire to Violet years ago as a prank. He lost Hufflepuff a lot of points because of it and was in detention for over a month but Dumbledore wouldn't expel him, though.' The colour in her face grew red as she glared murderously over Harry's shoulder at the person who had tried to damage the portrait of a wizened witch which hung in a room behind the staff table in the Great Hall; the Fat Lady and Violet were long-time friends.

'So does that mean you won't let him into the common room, even if he knows the password?' Harry felt a small tingle of hope.

'I wouldn't let him in even if he knew every password ever set,' the Fat Lady growled. 'Even without the fact that he's not a Gryffindor and never has been, there's still the matter of Violet.'

'Good.' Harry grinned.

'What's he doing here anyway?' she asked, still eyeing Dedalus.

'He's supposed to be guarding me for McGonagall, but I don't need guarding. McGonagall won't listen, though.'

'But if Professor McGonagall thinks you need –'

'Look, it's going to be bad enough tripping over bodyguards through the rest of the school, this is one place I'd like a bit of space for myself, to be myself. McGonagall may have given me a teaching job, but I'm still a student underneath it all. I'd like to be able to act like one. Understand?'

The Fat Lady gave him a knowing wink. 'I've seen enough students come through this door to know that they have their own particular style when it comes to letting their hair down. I quite like to do that myself from time to time … Christmas and such, you know.'

Harry knew only too well, remembering the hangover she had suffered after she and Violet drank their way through several vats of wine in a five hundred year old portrait of some monks.

'Very well, Professor,' she said. 'This tower is definitely off limits to that one.' She winked again as she swung open. Harry wasn't sure how she was going to stop Dedalus Diggle following him, but he had barely stepped through the opening when the portrait slammed shut against his back with a loud bang, making both himself and everyone still in the common room jump at the noise.

It wasn't until he had collapsed into an armchair in front of the fire and glanced around that Harry realised someone was missing.

'Where's Hermione?' Harry was surprised she wasn't busily bossing students around like Ron.

'She said she needed to get something from outside.' At least Ginny seemed concerned.

'Don't worry about her,' Ron seemed to be relishing being Head Boy as he bundled the first-years off to bed. 'She'll be back in minute.'

'No, she won't.' Harry informed him. 'Filch just locked the doors.' He leaned close to Ginny and spoke softly. 'Can you nick up to Hermione's dorm? She's got the Marauder's Map in her trunk. I need it. Now.'

'Why can't you get it?' Ron wanted to know as Ginny disappeared through the door leading upstairs.

Harry frowned up at him. 'Because it's on the girls' side. Remember what happened last time we tried to go up to her room?' he said, reminding Ron of the helter-skelter which the stairs had turned into.

When Ginny returned downstairs with the Marauders' Map, Harry examined it closely, then strode over to the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of glittery powder from a jar on the mantel.

'Hey, only the Head Boy and Girl can use that!'

'And teachers.' Harry stopped Ron's approach as he tossed the powder into the fire.

'Hagrid, could you tell Hermione I want a word?' he shouted.

A moment later, a large, spinning shape appeared in the flames, then Hermione stepped out onto the hearthrug.

'What did you want to see Hagrid about?' Ron demanded before she barely had a chance to draw breath.

'I didn't specifically go to see him.' Hermione sighed as she collapsed into an armchair. 'I only went to his hut because Filch locked the doors and I didn't know what else to do.'

'So why did you go outside?' asked Harry as he folded up the Map.

'To get this,' she said, pulling out a very old wand. 'McGonagall told me I'd have to turn in my badge if I didn't get one … and fast. She apparently didn't realise that mine had been broken until Professor Capsworth told her over dinner.'

'But Harry fixed your wand with one of his wishes,' said Ron.

'Yeah,' Ginny was watching them, puzzled, 'I gave it to you when you were at Headquarters, remember?'

'And it promptly got broken when we were trying to fight off Dementors in Godric's Hollow,' said Hermione.

Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances.

'And that's what you were doing outside, getting yourself a … well, it's not exactly a new wand, is it?' Ginny struggled not to laugh at Hermione's choice of equipment.

'Yes.'

'What, Hagrid just happened to have a spare wand lying around?'

'I told you, Ron; I didn't go outside to see Hagrid,' fumed Hermione. 'I went out to search the grounds.'

'Huh?'

'So where did you find the wand?' Ginny eyed it curiously.

'Near the base of the Astronomy Tower.'

'No.'

Hermione grinned as she nodded at Harry.

'What is it?' Ginny was watching Harry, clearly wondering what was significant about a lost wand.

'It's Dumbledore's wand.' Harry reached out a hand to reverently touch it.

'What?' yelled Ron, earning a reproachful glare from Hermione. 'No. No way. McGonagall'll never let you keep it. She'll want to store it in the trophy room or something.'

'Only if she realises whose it is. I'd say she's forgotten all about it or she would have collected it herself by now. It has been nearly three months, after all.'

'I'm surprised Hagrid didn't find it.' Ginny stared at the wand.

'I don't think he's been doing his job very well,' Hermione explained. 'It looked almost wild outside. And there are several empty barrels outside his hut. I think Dumbledore's death hit him pretty hard,' she sighed as she stood up, jerking her head ever so slightly towards Ginny.

Ron had obviously been about to say something, but visibly back-pedalled as he remembered his sister. 'Er … yeah … he would be pretty emotional, wouldn't he.'

'So, have you checked out your new room yet, Harry?' Hermione asked as she stowed the wand inside her robes.

Harry frowned at her. 'What new room? We've been in the same one for the past six years,' he said, referring to the dormitory he had shared with Ron, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. 'They just keep changing the number on it.'

'That's the seventh-year dorm, sure. But you've got your own room now.'

'Why?'

'Because you're a teacher. Don't worry, you're not unique; Ron and I get our own rooms too because we're Head Boy and Girl.'

Ron beamed appreciatively in the background.

Harry barely had a chance to ask, 'OK, so where are these new rooms?' before he found himself being dragged upstairs, Ron and Hermione each pulling an arm as he followed in confusion, Ginny bringing up the rear.

'That's my room there.' Hermione pointed at one of three doors at the top of the stairs.

'And this is my room.' Ron dragged Harry through a second door, proudly showing off his room. Although it was smaller than their dormitory had been, the bed looked like it was twice the size of the ones they had spent six years sleeping in. The bedding was also much better, with silk sheets instead of cotton. The quilt was twice as thick and when Ron pushed Harry onto the bed, instead of bouncing, he sank into what felt like a real feather bed made of the finest, softest feathers available.

'Leave him alone, Ron,' Hermione scolded. 'Let him see his own room.

Finally making it to the third door, Harry stepped across the threshold … and almost sank back against the door in shock. This … this couldn't be his. It just couldn't be.

Larger than Ron's room, although the bed seemed to be the same size, it contained everything Harry could possibly wish for. To one side was a small kitchenette so he could make late night snacks without disturbing the house-elves, three of the walls were lined with shelves full of what looked like every book every written about fighting the Dark Arts (Hermione was gazing towards them covetously), an antique desk stood beside the window, stocked with a ready supply of parchment, quills and ink, and the bed …

Harry took a running leap and landed in the middle of the bed's cushioned warmth. It was like diving into a heated swimming pool. If this was how the teachers lived, then he just might consider a change of profession. Aurors couldn't possibly live better than this.

After Ron had sent Ginny to bed ('I love being Head Boy'), the three friends talked long into the night. The first thing Ron wanted to know was what had happened to Hermione's wand that she needed to use Dumbledore's.

'I gave mine to Dumbledore the night we went to Godric's Hollow,' Hermione explained almost dismissively, as if she considered the matter of no consequence; there were far more important things to discuss. Four of them. They all agreed that, of all of the bodyguards, Moody would be the hardest to get around and Hermione even went so far as to suggest they not even try.

'Why on earth would Harry want to play along with all of this?' Ron stared at her, aghast.

'Because if he doesn't, he'll only make Professor McGonagall and the Minister work twice as hard to find out what he's up to.' Hermione stared back. 'And really, when you think about it, for the most part it's not even a problem. It's only when Harry wants to do something about the Horcruxes that it's going to be less than convenient having a shadow glued to his back.'

Ron glanced across at Harry and gave a weak laugh. 'Less than convenient, she says.' He gazed back at Hermione. 'It's going to be a lot worse than less than convenient!' he almost shouted, making her jump. 'You managed to get all those Outstandings in your OWLs and the only idea you can come up with is for Harry to play along?' He stood up angrily.

'It's OK, Ron.' Harry grabbed his leg and dragged him back down. 'She's right. This is feasible. We just need to plan it right.'

'OK,' Ron gazed at them expectantly, 'how do we do this?'

'Well, first, we need to get the extra Polyjuice potion like Professor Snape said.'

Ron stared at Hermione. 'You really want to do what Snape said?'

She ignored him.

'Obviously, I'm out,' said Harry. 'Moody will definitely be watching me.'

'With one eye at least,' agreed Ron. 'Do you think he'll watch us too?' He looked anxious.

'If not, we can always make him.'

Ron's expression grew more incredulous. 'Why would we want him watching us as well?'

Hermione sighed patiently. 'How many eyes does Professor Moody have?'

'Two.' Ron looked like he couldn't believe Hermione would ask so obvious a question.

'And how many of us are there?' she continued.

'Three.'

'Exactly! So we keep Moody's eyes focused on two of us while the third person sneaks down to the dungeons.'

It was an idea which just might work, thought Harry, nodding slowly as Ron's face started to return to its normal colour. Some more nutting it out between them and it was a plan. As Harry said goodnight to the others and climbed into bed, he finally felt like he would be able to get the better of Umbridge and McGonagall.

At seven o'clock next morning, he was woken by McGonagall's voice echoing from his fireplace.

'Potter, meet me in my office immediately.' She didn't sound pleased. Harry took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was time to face the music.

'You wanted to see me, Professor?' Harry asked after McGonagall bid him enter. Despite the early hour, she already had company. Harry glared coldly at both Blackthorn and Moody.

'Why did you order the Fat Lady to bar Dedalus entry to Gryffindor Tower?' McGonagall began without preamble.

'I didn't order her; she did that herself!'

'Why would she do something like that?'

'Because he's a Hufflepuff.' Harry would have thought that was obvious.

'He's not a student!'

'He used to be.' Harry stubbornly stared her down. 'And that's good enough for the Fat Lady.'

McGonagall continued to stare at him with a penetrating look but seemed, after a moment, to realise that she would need to take the matter up with the Fat Lady rather than Harry because she changed the subject.

'And Mr Blackthorn here apparently has a warrant for your arrest.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'What for?'

'Refusing to allow appointed Ministry officials to guard you against malicious attacks.' stated Blackthorn smugly.

'You mean like the malicious attack yesterday?'

Blackthorn flushed angrily.

'Anyway,' Harry continued, 'I'm not the one who sent Plaxton home; McGonagall did that.'

Blackthorn looked at the headmistress.

'As I told Plaxton to tell the Minister,' McGonagall explained, 'there is no need for four people to watch over Harry; the two whom I have assigned shall be sufficient.'

Blackthorn bristled. 'Irrespective of whether you believe your people are up to the task or not, an order has been issued by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement which states that if Plaxton and myself are prevented from executing our duty, then the subject shall be immediately incarcerated.'

'That's only if I stop you. McGonagall's the one who's telling you to get lost, not me!' Harry glared at Umbridge's lapdog.

Blackthorn didn't seem at all bothered by this fact. 'Nevertheless, I have the warrant here …' He waved a sheet of parchment in Harry's face.

'May I see that, please?' McGonagall held out a hand. For a moment, Harry thought Blackthorn was going to refuse but, with a scowl, he allowed the parchment to change hands. McGonagall spent a couple of minutes reading over the warrant, the line which was her mouth growing thinner as each second ticked by. Finally, she closed her eyes and gave a small sigh of defeat.

'Very well. I'm sorry, Potter, but they stay. I would rather have you here where I know you're safe than in Azkaban where You-Know-Who can easily gain access to you.'

'He Who Must Not Be Named can't get into Azkaban!' Blackthorn cried indignantly. 'It's a prison. He wouldn't dare, he'd be too afraid.'

'That's why he managed to remove ten top-security prisoners from right under your noses.' Moody's grizzly-looking mouth stretched in a gruesome grin.

'Get one thing straight right now,' Harry shouted. 'Voldemort isn't afraid of you or Scrimgeour or anybody at the Ministry. He practically owned the Ministry for years. The only – and I mean only – person Voldemort was ever afraid of was Dumbledore. Now he's dead, do you really think he's going to find somebody new to be scared of? He's not even afraid of me!'

'That will do, Potter,' McGonagall ordered. 'Now, if you gentlemen wouldn't mind waiting outside for a minute, I'd like to have a word with Harry about his timetable.'

Moody started to move towards the door but, when Blackthorn didn't move, he stopped.

'Come on; Potter's not in any danger from McGonagall.'

Blackthorn still refused to budge. Moody gave an angry growl, grabbed Blackthorn by the shoulder and roughly shoved him through the door, slamming it behind them.

'Now, Harry, about your timetable.' McGonagall took a sheet of parchment out of the top drawer of her desk and passed it to him. 'As you can see, as well as your teaching duties, I have also arranged for you to take Potions with the regular seventh-year class. I think you would be safer in a group.' She leaned closer and lowered her voice. 'Personally, I would prefer you didn't do Potions at all but, since you are determined to be an Auror, you need to study it.'

'What,' Harry stared at her in disbelief, 'you think Professor Slughorn wants to poison me?'

'Poison you, no. But I don't think it would be wise for you to be alone with Horace – he has been champing at the bit, eager to be seen as your friend and confidant, no doubt to raise his own status, as well as enticing profitable information and gossip out of you. He does have some expensive habits to support.'

When she put it that way, it would be better to have company when dealing with the portly professor.

'Even with bodyguards in the background,' she continued. 'I don't doubt that Horace would spend any time alone with you boasting about all of the famous people he has known as well as attempting to glean information from you concerning your plans. Very little, if any, actual teaching would get done. No, you will definitely be safer if you study that subject, at least, with the actual class. That way you might learn something. Since it would reflect badly on his reputation, Horace wouldn't risk having the entire class fail.

'As for your other subjects, which you can see marked on the page there, you will do them as two-hour tutorials, one each night from Monday to Friday, starting next Monday. That way you have a week to get settled into half of your routine before you have to handle the whole lot.'

'Does that include Potions?'

'Yes.'

Harry gazed at the page doubtfully. It didn't leave him much time for homework or correcting. And as for Quidditch …

'I know it's a very tight schedule, Potter, but I'm certain you will manage it. If, come next June, you do not feel you are adequately prepared for your N.E.W.T. examinations, I have made arrangements with the examiners for you to delay sitting them until the end of August, so you can continue intensive studies over the summer, if you need to.' McGonagall spared him a rare smile before straightening up further.

'As for the Minister's guards, just try to endure them. If you don't do anything untoward, and give them nothing to use against you, you should have no trouble with them. Do that and you will find that they are no more than a slight inconvenience.'

Harry needed to ask McGonagall for the definition of the term 'slight inconvenience'. On his way downstairs, he was alarmed when both men followed him into the bathroom though, fortunately, they didn't join him in the cubicle. (Blackthorn had insisted that Harry sing the Hogwarts school song at the top of his voice to let them know he was still safe behind the locked door and hadn't been spirited away by Death Eaters.)

In the Great Hall, Blackthorn caused further problems by trying to search every student sitting at the Gryffindor table until McGonagall intervened and told Harry to move to the teachers' table. Things didn't improve there because Blackthorn then tried to arrest Hagrid as a potential threat to Harry's safety because he was part giant. Once again, McGonagall stepped in and said it might be best if Harry no longer ate meals in the Great Hall, making a point of asking Blackthorn very loudly (so everybody could hear her) if her office would be considered a safe enough environment for Harry to eat in or would he prefer Harry not eat at all, thereby doing You-Know-Who a favour by starving Harry to death. As Blackthorn demanded to know if she had just accused him of being in league with Voldemort while Moody smirked in the background, Harry sighed exasperatedly and pushed his chair back from the table.

His stomach growling steadily louder with each step, he trudged his way back up to McGonagall's office where he only got to eat a small amount of all the food which magically appeared on a tray on McGonagall's desk. Moody seemed satisfied that a small sample of each dish was sufficient for him to sample for poisons (Harry was surprised he would place himself in such potential danger) but, partly not to be outdone by Moody and partly because he believed Moody was deliberately trying to trick Harry, Blackthorn insisted on eating everything which remained after Moody's taste tests, leaving Harry with nothing to eat. It was only after Blackthorn had eaten so much he was almost sick that Harry was finally able to get a look in.

Unfortunately, the bell rang for class a moment later so, stomach still rumbling, he found himself being almost dragged to his feet by the two men, each of whom seemed determined to prove that he was the better bodyguard by being the one to get Harry to class on time.

Harry took a couple of deep, calming breaths as he gazed at the group of Hufflepuffs in front of him. Since he had entered the room, not one eye had been focused on him. Every one of them was staring in fear at the two men constantly bumping against each other in an effort to be between their opponent and Harry. Because they were first-years, none of the students had seen Moody before and, understandably, found his appearance quite alarming, with his mismatched eyes, wooden leg and half-missing nose.

Clearing his throat nervously, Harry struggled to drag his students' attention away from his bodyguards and back to where it should be … on him.

He began by taking the register, trying to remember which faces belonged to which names, then set to work going through the first chapter of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. The good thing about teaching first-years, he didn't have to worry about repeating previously learnt work or missing gaps caused by previous, incompetent teachers. They were all blank canvasses waiting to be turned into masterpieces, entirely trusting that Harry would guide them through this new and (apparently) alarming world, ensuring that when they set foot outside Hogwarts, they would be able to defend themselves against any and all dark magic which they stumbled upon.

Eagerly pouring over the textbook (though the occasional eye did glance furtively towards Moody and Blackthorn), they began to work their way through Harry's first lesson as an official teacher.

He wished he could say his second lesson was just as successful. A fourth-year class of Ravenclaws, Harry found himself very much challenged to keep his students minds from wandering. Remus had warned him that Ravenclaw would keep him on his toes, but he hadn't really believed it until now. It was like teaching a roomful of Hermiones.

Almost from the beginning of the class, the girls let him know he was covering old ground by spending their time passing notes back and forth under the desks. Harry didn't notice what was going on until a third of the way through the lesson.

Lesson number three – a group of second-year Slytherins – was the worst of the day, helped greatly by an unexpected and very unwelcome interruption. Three quarters of the way through the double period, a loud noise outside the door snatched everyone's attention away from the lesson. Moody exchanged an uncertain glance with Blackthorn and started to move towards the door, his wand suddenly in his hand. While he was grateful for the extra protection, Harry's first concern was the safety of his students, even if they were Slytherins, and quietly told them to stand and move away from their desks, but before he could get any further instructions out, the door slammed open with a loud bang. Moody quickly got off a hex but, just as quickly, it was deflected, sending him flying into the wall. Harry blinked. Unless he needed new glasses, it was Blackthorn who had just fired that shield charm. Why was Blackthorn attacking Moody? And why wasn't he protecting Harry?

Rushing to Moody's aid, Harry tried to keep his wand pointed at both Blackthorn and the newcomer as his eyes roved over the stranger who had just given the Slytherins the distraction they craved.

A middle-aged man of medium height, he had fair hair which looked like he had tried to wash it with mud, a deep scar down one side of his face, tracing down his neck (very close to his jugular) and disappearing beneath the collar of his cloak, unshaven bristles sprouting around his chin, and a small snout of a nose. His clothes looked like they had come straight out of a Charles Dickens movie, though the lace cuffs didn't hide the fact that his left hand was missing. His eyes glanced blearily around the room before settling on the young man pointing a wand at him. The hatred filling the two very bloodshot eyes was akin to that which filled Voldemort's eyes every time he looked at Harry. As the man stepped into the room, dragging his left foot slightly, Harry screwed up his nose at the reek of cigar smoke and oranges.

'What are you doing here?' Moody was also glaring with hatred, but at the unknown intruder. 'I didn't think you could make it until after lunch.'

It seemed a very strange thing to say.

'What?' Harry risked taking his eyes off the stranger to glance down at Moody. 'Who is he?'

'Someone who doesn't like to do his job properly,' growled Moody, still glaring at the man who could almost have been his double. 'Stanwick Fulstrum.'

'So you're Dumbledore's little darling, are you?' Harry thought Fulstrum must have swallowed a file, his voice rasped so hard. He cast a scathing eye over Moody as he scraped his foot across the wooden floorboards, but mostly his attention was taken by Harry.

As Moody finished struggling to an upright position, Harry frowned at Fulstrum, wondering what he had done to earn this particular Ministry employee's antagonism.

'So you're the one who thinks he's so much smarter than the Ministry because you saw You-Know-Who come back and nobody else did.' The sneer seemed to be permanently fixed to his face. 'Didn't do a very good job stopping him, did you?' He continued to pace around Harry, the foot dragging across the floorboards.

'Achieved a lot in your short life, haven't you?' Harry couldn't understand why Blackthorn didn't try to prove he was a better bodyguard than Moody and shut this chap up. 'You got Amos Diggory's son killed, saw He Who Must Not Be Named come back to life, or so you say, and made us look bad at our jobs,' he jabbed his chest with his thumb, 'because you managed to lure You-Know-Who's most loyal supporter – a mass murderer – out of hiding. Surely all of that would be plenty for the average schoolboy. But not you. Not the Chosen One. No, you have to go and get the Minister fired as well. All the while bleating about how you were the one who was hard done by.

'Look at you, standing there, stupid scar on your head. Think that makes you special? Well think again, boy. There's nothing special about someone who can't even walk two steps without others making sure your path is clear. Bodyguards. Who do you think you are, the lead singer of the Weird Sisters?'

The Slytherin students cheered and gave a round of applause at this assessment of Harry's achievements.

Harry had to work very hard not to throw a dozen of Vindictus Viridian's best hexes at Fulstrum as his hatred of the grotesque man circling him rapidly matched that of the Auror.

Fulstrum sneered at Moody again. 'Still getting in the way of official business, I see. Though I have to admit I'm surprised you let yourself be roped into this job. Definitely puts you in the firing line if all the stories are true about You-Know-Who being after this one. Would've thought you'd be too chicken for that, Mad-Eye.'

'What did you call me?' growled Moody; Harry fought to hold him back. 'How dare you call me chicken? I'm not the one who's been going around arresting the weakest people he can find and passing them off as Death Eaters to make himself look big and brave. I'm not the one who's landed himself a second job so he'll only have time for administrative duties rather than being out there in the field, fighting the hard fight. And I'm not the one who's so scared of Harry that he can only attack him verbally … and only with backup.' The artificial electric-blue eye swivelled to glare straight at Blackthorn hovering behind Fulstrum.

More cheers from the Slytherins. It seemed they weren't completely supportive of Fulstrum, just his opinion of Harry. He was a teacher, he wasn't Snape and he wasn't taking off marks. The Slytherins were in mischief heaven.

But even if Fulstrum wasn't in a hurry to lessen Slytherin's chance of winning the House Cup, Harry felt no such reluctance.

'Sit down and be quiet, all of you!' he shouted at the class, still watching Fulstrum closely. 'And five points from each of you for demonstrating your belief that teachers don't deserve respect.'

This led to another outburst, as they didn't believe Harry had the right to deduct points.

'And any more noise and it will be detention.'

'Oh, excellent demonstration, Professor Prima Donna. Picking on students because they're not in your house,' said Fulstrum smugly, trying to bait Harry. 'Now, let's see if you can top it off by overdoing it with their homework.'

Harry was hating this man more and more with each passing second. He was very tempted to take him up on his offer of heaps of really hard homework, but he would only be giving Fulstrum exactly what he wanted. And this bloke didn't deserve that.

'Don't bite, lad,' Moody's voice muttered in Harry's ear.

Harry's head was throbbing as he stared at this hateful man in front of him, the scar shining slightly in the light. He was very tempted to give the Slytherins what they deserved, but then he would have to correct it all. Why should he punish himself?

Making up his mind to give the class the original homework he had planned for after this lesson, he walked away from Fulstrum and began writing the essay topic on the blackboard, but before he could finish, the bell rang for lunch.

'Too late.' Fulstrum gave a raspy chuckle. It was one of the least amusing sounds Harry had ever heard. 'Shouldn't have let your shadow get into lengthy discussions on how much better than me he reckons he is.'

He began to drag his foot towards the door, allowing the jeering, homework-free Slytherins to follow him down to lunch.

On their way back up to McGonagall's office to have yet another extremely light meal, they had just passed the staircase leading up to Gryffindor Tower when Harry noticed Moody's eye swivel back into his head as if looking at something at the top of the stairs.

'What?' Blackthorn glared at Moody as his step faltered. He followed Moody's gaze up the stairs. 'There's nothing there!' he snapped. 'Keep jumping at every shadow you see and people will start to think you're a toad. Now come on, I'm hungry.'

He roughly shoved Harry ahead of him. Harry couldn't help notice that was twice now that there had been a possible danger and both times Blackthorn had put Harry between himself and that danger. He probably should have been worried about it, but he was too busy worrying about what Moody had seen. With any luck, it had been Ron hidden under Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

They had planned it last night. Ron would walk up and down the seventh-floor corridor, looking to someone who could see through Invisibility Cloaks as though he was trying to open the Room of Requirement, occasionally stamping his foot in frustration as the Room remained hidden. It was sure to intrigue Moody and keep his artificial eye focused in that direction. The other eye would, of course, be watching Blackthorn as he ate all of Harry's lunch on him.

Which meant that, with luck, nobody would notice Hermione wander down to the dungeons. Even though she wasn't invisible, if she was seen, she could easily say she was missing an ingredient from her kit and was going to replace it from the store cupboard. A perfectly legitimate reason to be in the Potions classroom and, being Head Girl and a model student, nobody would suspect otherwise.

Or so Harry hoped. He wouldn't find out if they managed to pull it off until after lunch. He had arranged for Hermione to have a certain book on top of the stack she was working from when he went to the library after lunch, since his last two periods were free. Thank goodness. He needed to correct the mini tests he had given the Ravenclaws to try to find out what they did and didn't know.

So, once again starving after what should have been a very filling meal, he led his entourage down to the library. As he entered, his eyes scanned the tables for his partner in crime, spotting her near the end of the fifth row. Hermione glanced up as he moved towards her.

'You haven't got any homework back yet, surely?' She sounded almost hurt at the idea that another student could get their homework done faster that she could.

'Not exactly,' Harry replied. 'I gave the Ravenclaws a test to find out where they're up too.'

A wicked grin spread across her face. 'Foolish.'

'Tell me about it,' said Harry, casting a quick eye over the stack of books beside her and working hard to hide his delight; she had gotten the potion. 'Though I don't look like I've got as much to do as you.'

'Oh, this isn't homework,' she assured him. 'I just wanted to look up something Professor Vector mentioned. He was rather light on details.'

Blackthorn picked up the top book and examined the cover. 'Where did you get this book?' He eyed Hermione suspiciously.

'Over there.' Hermione pointed a finger over her shoulder. She could have been pointing at any one of three rows of shelves. 'Madam Pince got it for me.'

Blackthorn's eyes narrowed as they sought the offending librarian. 'We'll see about this.'

'What was wrong with that book?' Harry asked uncertainly as Blackthorn stalked over to an unsuspecting Madam Pince.

'It was one of the ones which Umbridge tried to ban last year.'

'What ones?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's ignorance. 'It was in the Prophet about six months ago. Umbridge compiled a list of books which mention you as a hero and tried to ban them but the Minister voted against her. I think it was because he's still hoping that you'll come over to his way of thinking one day and he probably saw banning those books as a surefire way to stop that from ever happening.' She shrugged. 'Whatever the reason, I thought it would be a good way to get your mate over there in strife with Madam Pince and get himself banned from the library. At least then you'll have one place you can go without him glued to your elbow.' She grinned as, in the background, Blackthorn found himself being unceremoniously dragged from the library, Madam Pince's harsh shriek making the shelves shake.

Harry winked at her as he headed over to a window seat to begin an afternoon of correction, silently wondering if there was anything Hermione could do to get rid of Moody as well.

Unfortunately for Harry, despite the setback of the library, his two daytime guards seemed to have taken it upon themselves to not only protect him from possible attacks by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but also each other. Highly suspicious of the Ministry's motives for keeping such a close watch on Harry (as well as taking it as a personal insult that Scrimgeour didn't think he could do his job properly) Moody had all but glued himself to Harry, determined to keep himself between Harry and Blackthorn who, in turn, was just as adamant that Moody was a Death Eater in disguise and tried to arrest him.

Blackthorn further impeded Harry's efforts when it came to teaching by claiming the students were not permitted, under Ministry Law, to learn the defensive charms Harry had outlined in his lesson plans and kept shouting at the students each time one of their hands so much as twitched in the direction of their wands, threatening them with arrest. It was worse than having Umbridge back.

Thanks to the Slytherins spreading what Fulstrum had said about the Weird Sisters, the presence of bodyguards raised Harry to a level resembling that of a rock star and life became very difficult to live. Dozens of giggling, camera-bearing students (all of them female) had taken to following him around between classes, giving Harry more feet to negotiate his way through. Apparently, there was a competition going with a first prize of a romantic candlelit dinner with him for the one who could get a photograph of Harry kissing them (at least, according to Ginny who heard it from Hermione who heard it from Lavender Brown who heard it from Luna Lovegood who heard it from Moaning Myrtle who overheard it in the girls' bathroom on the fourth floor).

The Slytherins took things a step further by establishing a pool, the entire contents of which would go to the Slytherin student who managed to curse Harry without being cursed in return by one of the bodyguards. The pot was reputed to be worth over twelve hundred galleons, more than Harry had won in the Triwizard. With the promise of fame and fortune, it was no wonder the students were throwing themselves into it with such enthusiasm. Harry's increased attractiveness did mean he got to see Moody perform some pretty spectacular counter-curses which he probably never would have learnt about otherwise but, other than that, he couldn't see any benefit to the constant traffic jams in the corridors.

The nights were only slightly better. Even though the Fat Lady was still refusing to let 'that Hufflepuff' into Gryffindor Tower, she fell far short of extending that courtesy to Plaxton, who had not only been in Gryffindor when he had attended Hogwarts himself, but had also been a prefect.

Loathe to allow a Ministry spy to eavesdrop on their conversations, no matter how innocent, Harry, Ron and Hermione adopted a silent approach to the problem, not saying a word to each other or indeed anybody, except in class. Even though he had no idea what effect no longer being able to discuss answers with Hermione was having on Ron's schoolwork, Harry imagined it wasn't good.

For three days, Harry stumbled his way through the new routine of his life, suffering countless bruises as Moody roughly pushed him out of the way of hexes, being constantly contradicted and abused by Blackthorn in front of his students and studying in brooding silence with Ron and Hermione while Plaxton breathed down their necks. What it would all be like next week when he started his one-on-one tutorials, he didn't know.

Not that it got that far.

On Thursday night, Harry decided he needed a long soak in a soothing hot bath to try to relax the tight knot which used to be his neck muscles so, during the changing of the guard, he headed for the prefects' bathroom. Once the bath was filled with a variety of scents and bubbles, he started to undress.

'Pool party?'

'Myrtle!' Jumping a mile, Harry snatched up a towel and quickly wrapped its warm softness around himself. 'What have I told you about spying on me when I'm in here?'

The ghost of a young girl with pearly spectacles and lank hair forced her face into a hurt expression, though her eyes continued to stare at Harry as though she could see through the towel.

'Then how come he's allowed to watch?' She peered past Harry towards the door.

'What?' Harry frowned at her, then glanced back over his shoulder. His jaw dropped in horror at the sight of Plaxton standing behind him.

'THAT'S IT!' Harry grabbed his robes and pulled them over his head, almost tearing the fabric in his haste. Roughly pushing Plaxton aside, he stormed from the bathroom, bubbles quietly popping as he slammed the door.

'ALBUS!' Harry shouted at the gargoyle as he fumed towards the spiralling staircase leading up to McGonagall's office. He didn't wait for her to reply to his heavy-handed knock but stormed straight in.

'Potter –?'

'That idiot just tried to watch me take a bath!' he roared at the headmistress as she stared at him in bewildered shock. 'You can find yourself a new teacher. I quit!' And before McGonagall could do anything more than blink at him, stunned, he wheeled around and marched angrily from her office, slamming yet another door behind him.

'Harry!' Hermione jumped up as soon as he got back to the Gryffindor common room. 'McGonagall said you just –'

Ignoring her, Harry swept past her up the stairs to his room, slammed that door as well, then collapsed against it, shaking and breathing heavily. He was probably going to get into a lot of trouble for what he was about to do, but he couldn't see any other way around it. Despite Snape's plan that Harry play along, using Polyjuice to get around his guards, he didn't think his temper would take the strain much longer. He really needed to do something about the situation before it got any worse and the only way he could think of was to force both McGonagall and Scrimgeour's hands. He just hoped he didn't get Ron and Hermione into trouble with him.

Giving his wand a quick flick, Harry watched as his possessions quickly packed themselves into his trunk, his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map, which had been hidden in Hermione's room, sliding under the door and landing on his bed. Just as Hermione started banging on his door, Harry gave the Map a quick glance, levitated his trunk and tied it to his Firebolt, grabbed his Cloak and opened the window.

Flying straight down the side of the tower, he skimmed a few feet above the ground, keeping to the shadows. With the moon only just starting to wax, he had no difficulty reaching his destination unseen.

x

Dumbledore didn't seem very surprised when Harry suddenly appeared in front of him just as he was starting to eat his supper.

'At least you're still in one piece,' he commented, taking in Harry's hurried appearance. 'I take it you didn't get to have that bath after all.'

Harry's jaw dropped as he stared at Dumbledore, his ragged breathing almost stopping in shock. 'I … what … how did you know about the bath?'

'Oh, I like to keep an ear out for interesting news,' said Dumbledore, pouring a cup of tea. He glanced up at Harry as he slid the cup across the table. 'You look like you could use a good night's rest, no stress or hassles. This will help.'

Eyeing the teacup uncertainly, Harry asked, 'What's in it?'

'Just tea. I don't think it would be wise for you to take anything stronger whilst in your present mood; it would only serve to keep you up all night. So, drink up.' The blue eyes twinkled up at him.

Still feeling as though his life was definitely not his own anymore, Harry sat down and took a small sip, watching Dumbledore over the rim the whole time.

The moustache stretched in an encouraging smile. 'So, what do you intend to do now that you have left your students without a teacher?' asked Dumbledore.

Harry flushed. 'That's not why I left,' he said defensively. 'Besides, I wasn't teaching them. That idiot from the Ministry wouldn't let me. Every time I tried to show the students a spell, he'd jump up and start telling me off – in front of the class – and go on about how it's illegal for them to learn it because Ministry Law says they can't. At this rate, they'll never be able to defend themselves against anything.'

'So you thought the wisest course was to leave them in the hands of Ministry officials who are receiving their instructions from Dolores Umbridge?'

'I told you, that's not why I left.' Harry could feel his temper starting to rise again. 'I finally got sick of not being able to go anywhere or do anything without tripping over five million people.' He took a gulp of tea and spilled half of it down his front.

'So what are your plans now?' Dumbledore asked again, the blue eyes watching Harry closely over the top of the half-moon glasses.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know. Hang out here, I guess. I don't know how long it will take Scrimgeour and McGonagall to see sense, so you could have me around for a while. I hope you don't mind,' he said, not caring if Dumbledore minded or not.

'Not at all.' The moustache twitched. 'I can always do with some welcome company. Now,' he glanced at Harry's cup, 'if you've finished your tea, I suggest you go upstairs and get started on that good night's sleep. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise.'

x

'You're in a lot of trouble.'

Harry had been hiding at Grimmauld Place for three days when Remus Lupin called by for a visit. Being the second half of the lunar month, he was starting to look peaky again.

'I'm sure both McGonagall and Scrimgeour will find someone better to focus their anger on than me,' Harry grinned at him.

'I wasn't talking about them.' Remus folded his patched cloak and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

Harry frowned. 'Then who am I in a lot of trouble with?'

'Molly.' Remus accepted a cup of tea from Dumbledore. 'She's been on the rampage since Thursday night. Arthur's had his hands full trying to keep her from tearing the Ministry apart in an attempt to get them to do something about it.'

'So they aren't looking for me?' Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or mad.

'Not like they're supposed to. Rather than panicking that you could be abducted by Voldemort again, they seem to be more concerned about the fact that you managed to get away from one of their guards.'

'So they're still insisting that I have bodyguards?'

'Scrimgeour, at any rate. McGonagall seems to be thinking that it may not have been the greatest idea, after all, but still hasn't said they're definitely out yet.' Remus sipped his tea.

'Well as soon as both of them remove all four guards, let me know,' said Harry.

'Why, is that when you'll suddenly be found wandering around Hogwarts' grounds?'

Harry just grinned as he twisted the ring on his finger.

It took until eleven o'clock on the Sunday night before Harry got the agreement he wanted. Dumbledore warned him that it was probably only a token gesture and that both parties would no doubt still keep an eye on him, but at least he would be able to take a bath alone. He'd deal with the rest if and when it happened.

Upon his return to school – McGonagall had not been pleased when he refused to explain how he had gotten through the school's security – he had spent the next hour convincing a very grumpy Slughorn to do something about the competition the Slytherins were running (the one featuring the date with Harry had died a very quick death when Hermione pointed out that the lucky girl would become famous to the extent that Voldemort would probably try to use her as a way to trap Harry). The Potions professor had felt anything but co-operative, especially since he was losing precious beauty sleep ('I do have a class first up tomorrow morning.') but Harry had managed to charm a reasonably enthusiastic agreement out of him when he pointed out that Slughorn, as Head of House, would get to keep the pot. Leaving Slughorn to shuffle back off to bed while visions of crystallised pineapple danced in his head, Harry tiredly made his way up to his own bed.

Without a constant blanket of people thronging around him, he was able to start his second week far more successfully than the first had begun and started to think that this teaching caper just might be worth it after all.

x

At seven o'clock on Monday night, Harry gathered up his things and headed down to McGonagall's old office, now home to the new Transfigurations professor. Patricia Capsworth's pleasant voice answered his knock, bidding him to enter.

Harry glanced around appreciatively. The room certainly looked a lot more homely and inviting than when McGonagall had occupied it.

'How do you like your tea?' Professor Capsworth pointed her wand at a bone china teapot perched near the end of her desk.

'Er –' Harry glanced at her uncertainly. She calmly met his gaze, waiting. 'Milk and sugar?' He took out his copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Once they were both settled with cups of tea, Professor Capsworth began.

'What do you know about the Animagus Charm?'

'Not much. Professor McGonagall gave us a brief rundown on it back in third year, then she turned into a cat. Not that any of us took much notice. We'd just had our first Divination lesson and Professor Trelawney had tried to impress us by telling everybody I was going to die soon. I've know some Animagi, most of them illegal. And my dad was one.'

'Yes, I did hear something to that effect.' Professor Capsworth took another sip of her tea. 'A stag, wasn't it?'

'Prongs.' A sad smile slowly spread across Harry's face, pride in his father's ability mingling with heartache and sorrow that he would never get the chance to tell him exactly how proud he was of him. 'He must have done brilliantly in his OWLs doing what he did in fifth year.' He didn't realise that he sighed. 'There was so much I could have learnt from him.' He glanced up and discovered that Professor Capsworth was watching him closely. His face started to grow warm.

'Were you speaking about your father just now?'

'Who else would I have been talking about?'

'Oh,' another sip, 'for a minute, I thought you were talking about my Transfigurations teacher.'

'Who, McGonagall?'

'No, the one before her.'

Harry frowned. 'What, you mean … Dumbledore?'

Capsworth nodded, her eyes suddenly misty. 'He was … brilliant … even when he was still at school. Some of the stories my grandfather told about the things he got up to when he was here …'

Harry waited with bated breath but she merely shook her head, remembering.

'Everyone expressed surprise when he chose teaching over a career with the Ministry – I think they thought the school might toss him straight back – but he was a brilliant teacher. He'll be sadly missed.' She sighed into her teacup as a small tear trickled down her cheek. It had almost reached her jaw when she suddenly pulled out a lace-trimmed handkerchief and blew her nose.

'I'm sorry,' she said from behind the linen square. 'That wasn't very professional of me.' She blinked her eyes rapidly. 'Well, enough reminiscing; we have a lesson to get through.'

Harry felt terrible. Since term had started, he had been confronted with signs of people still very much in mourning for Dumbledore and he wanted to shout from the top of the Astronomy Tower that their sorrow was unnecessary, but knew that he couldn't. And now, seeing someone who had been more than just a student at the school he had run; she had been one of his actual students … Harry's heart squeezed tighter as he felt like a complete heel.