The Apparition Point was, quite literally, right around the corner. Harry and Mr. Weasley, both concealed under their Invisibility Cloaks (Mr. Weasley had kept hold of Harry's arm so he'd know where they were headed), walked to the end of Privet Drive and came to a stop almost exactly where Harry and Dumbledore had Disapparated that previous summer. It made Harry's stomach clench unpleasantly. Mr. Weasley must have felt Harry stiffen beside him, for he asked, quietly, "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, his mouth going dry yet again. It was starting to become some kind of nervous habit. I really ought to invest in some cough drops, he thought. He readjusted his cloak to make sure his trunk wasn't showing. Both he and Mr. Weasley had had to stoop uncomfortably to avoid being seen as they walked down the street. "No. I'm fine. Just a bit nervous, I guess. I've only done Side-Long Apparition a few times before with Dumbledore. It's a lot harder with a trunk."

Mr. Weasley laughed softly. "I completely understand. Just, try to relax and hold on tight, okay?"

Harry nodded, realized that Mr. Weasley couldn't see him, and answered, "Okay."

"Brace yourself, now."

Harry felt Mr. Weasley's grip on him tighten, and he held onto his trunk for dear life as they both turned on the spot and Harry felt the all too familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being stuffed in a tube. Just as Harry thought his lungs would burst, they reappeared in the lane that lead to the Burrow. Harry felt happier than he had in weeks at the sight of the crooked, many storied home of his favorite family. He and Mr. Weasley removed their Invisibility Cloaks and headed up the small, dirt path.

"Is Ron back from his Apparition Test?" Harry asked, remembering his friend's letter.

"No, no, not yet, I would expect. He was supposed to leave a little after me. Charlie offered to take him down to the Ministry this morning," Mr. Weasley answered.

"That reminds me . . . why aren't you at work?"

"Vacation," Mr. Weasley answered. "I know, not really the time for one, but they offered me a few days off for the big event. Molly insisted that I just go ahead and take it, there's no telling when they'll offer me another."

Harry was inclined to agree. As they got closer to the Burrow, Harry noticed with a great deal of surprise that it was decorated with sparkly gold banners. A golden wreath hung on the door. Lilies lined the path that they had walked up that Harry was sure hadn't been there any time he'd visited before. And a white sign was sticking out of the ground, also adorned with ribbons and such, that read "Weasley-DeLacour Ceremony" in loopy gold lettering. Harry stared. Mr. Weasley grinned at him.

"Looks nice, eh? Prettiest, crooked old house in all of Britain," he said, winking.

"What happened to it?" Harry asked, indignantly. Realizing he had just sounded horribly rude, he turned to Mr. Weasley: "I'm sorry, Sir, it really does look nice, honestly, but . . . "

"It's just not the same? I completely understand."

"Are you holding the reception here, or-"

"Reception? God, no! The whole thing's being held at the house! Didn't Ron say?"

Harry blinked and looked around the golden Burrow again. From everything he'd seen and heard from Fleur DeLacour, holding her wedding at the Weasley's home didn't seem like something she'd be too inclined to agree to. "Has Fleur been feeling all right?" he asked.

Mr. Weasley laughed and lead the way inside. Harry sighed thankfully as he saw the interior of the Burrow remained the same and hadn't been subjected to Fleur's coloration of choice. "Actually," Mr. Weasley continued. "Fleur's changed quite a bit. Oh, she's still, well . . . you know Fleur, but after what happened to Bill . . . " Mr. Weasley paused for a moment and Harry respectfully looked the other way until he could continue. "Well, anyway, she remembered that earlier on Bill said he'd always wanted to get married at home, but Fleur's family had wanted something grander. I think the attack kind of woke her up to less materialistic issues. She completely changed the wedding plans to have it at the Burrow for Bill. Molly's ecstatic about it, of course. And I think they both realized that it would be safer as well, because we already have our own wards and protections here. Now they won't have to go out of their way to find a secure location and go about the bother of setting up the necessary spells and whatnot. As you probably imagined, the Weasley family has drawn more attention to themselves this time around."

Harry felt an unwelcome pang of guilt at this last comment. "I can imagine. I'm sorry."

Mr. Weasley blinked. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry! Molly, Bill, Charlie, and I joined the Order of our own volition. And we couldn't be happier that you and Ron are such good friends." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have a big enough chip on your shoulder, my boy. No need to add things you have no control over onto it. Okay?"

Harry nodded, but that didn't stop him from feeling that some of the Weasley's troubles were his fault. If he wasn't friends with Ron . . .

Mr. Weasley gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Good. Now, I'll just take your trunk upstairs,

and-"

"HARRY!"

Suddenly, Harry was knocked to the floor by a squealing something with a mass of bushy, brown hair.

"'Lo, Hermione," Harry managed to get out as he found his breath. Hermione finally let him up, grinning broadly. "When did you get here?" he asked her.

"Last night," Hermione said, breathlessly. "It's so good to see you! Are you doing all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, I guess the fact that I never have to set foot in the Dursley's again still hasn't hit me yet. If I start screaming my head off and start dancing around the room a few hours from now, you'll know why."

Hermione laughed. "Come on upstairs, I've got loads to show you! Oh, I'll take that Mr. Weasley," she said, taking Harry's trunk. "I'm sure you're really busy."

"Thank you, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said. "Is Molly still out back?" At Hermione's nod, he sighed: "Back to the decorating then. You two go ahead and catch up, I'm sure Ron will be home soon."

Hermione waved her wand and Harry's trunk began to float its way up the stairs to Ron's bedroom. The two of them clambered up behind it, Harry once again carrying Hedwig and her cage. Once in the room, Hermione deposited the trunk at the foot of one of the beds that had been jammed in there and shut the door. Harry unlocked Hedwig and she soared out the open window.

"I've brought the books you asked for," she said. "I hid them under Ron's bed."

Harry stooped to retrieve them. He pulled out Hermione's bag, jammed full of books as usual, only these weren't textbooks. He dumped them onto Ron's bed and his mouth fell open. He knew Hermione wouldn't let him down, but this was unreal. Magick Most Revered volumes one, two, and three were there, along with A Guide to Barrier Spells, Ancient Spellwork for the New Age Wizard, Protection and Barrier Spells Unleashed, Ancient Protections (That You've Always Wanted to Try and Now You Can), and A Compendium of Defensive Spellwork. There were some others about simple barriers and wards as well. These, combined with all of Harry's schoolbooks from the past six years and the books that Lupin and Sirius had given him his fifth year, gave Harry his own little miniature library.

"Hermione . . . " he began, but found that he was speechless. "I don't . . . I don't know what to say. This is amazing!"

Hermione beamed at him. "I haven't gotten a chance to read all of them, of course, but of the ones I read I think they're going to be a big help at showing you and preparing you for some of the shielding charms and protections you might be up against. I, er, also took out an order for some books from Knockturn Alley," she added in a whisper, even though they were quite alone. "I mean, I know these will help you, Harry, but this is Voldemort we're talking about. Any kind of barrier he put up will most likely be Dark Magic."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. What did you get?"

Hermione grimaced. "Nasty sounding stuff. You'll see when it arrives." She bit her lip. "I hate to be a pessimist, Harry, but . . . you should be prepared for the unexpected. Voldemort could have put up protections that no book can help you with. Things that people might not even know exist. He may be evil, but he's also a genius. I wouldn't be surprised if he invented some of his own spells,

like-"

Hermione immediately stopped talking and looked down. Harry knew she was about to say "like Snape." His jaw clenched.

"Yeah, well . . . like Master, like Death Eater," he spat.

Hermione started playing with a piece of fuzz on Ron's bed covers. "Did you see the Prophet a couple weeks ago?"

Harry thought back. "Er . . . "

"It was the one that came out the same day that Snape appeared in the Muggle paper."

Harry shook his head. "No. Didn't bother . . . just the same old junk."

Hermione gasped. "Then you don't know! Harry, they put- Hold on, I'll be right back! I kept it. Historical purposes, you know."

Harry blinked and stared after her as she ran out the door. She returned moments later clutching something in her hands. "I can't believe you didn't read . . . " she was muttering. Sitting back down on the bed, she handed the paper to Harry. "They released his Ministry record, Harry," she explained in a small voice. "They hadn't done so before, during the first war, because he had turned spy and Dumbledore spoke for him. It was part of the terms Dumbledore and the Ministry set up. But now . . . well . . . "

Harry stared at the piece of paper that held the article detailing Snape's activities as a Death Eater, outlined in a confession written by Snape himself. In it, he freely admitted to the capture and torture of "dozens" of Muggles and Muggle-borns, saying he and a number of other Voldemort supporters terrorized them by the means of the Cruciatus curse, and by Legilimency. "I forced my way into their minds, making them relieve their worst and most terrifying memories over and over again," Snape's confessional read. Harry felt sick. He's like a Dementor, he thought, angrily. He also admitted to brewing a number of deadly and gruesome potions at Voldemort's command, including one that sounded like it turned the drinker inside-out upon consumption. And then the part Harry had been looking for: murders. Once Harry had seen Snape kill Dumbledore, saw him make his allegiance with Voldemort known, he knew, somewhere deep down, that Snape had done it before. He was a Death Eater. And you can't stay a Death Eater as long as Snape had and not have killed anyone. Voldemort himself had committed too many murders to even count. Only five names were listed, however: an unknown Muggle that he had killed to prove himself to Voldemort and receive his Mark, and four names that Harry immediately recognized. One, of course, was Albus Dumbledore. Seeing it in words seemed to make it even worse, and pain and anger rolled over Harry in waves. The others...

"Mrs. Weasley was devastated," Hermione said quietly. "No one had ever known who else had . . . they were her brothers, you know. And Dumbledore had kept it a secret . . . "

Harry blanched as he read two names: Gideon Prewett and Fabian Prewett.

"He was . . . Snape was one of the five Death Eaters that killed them?" he asked, horrified. "Who were the others?"

Hermione nodded to the article. Snape's confession also pointed blame on Antonin Dolohov and Lucius Malfoy, but he said that he had not known the identity of the other two assigned to the "mission" of the Prewett murders. "We did not know who our fellow Death Eaters were most of the time," it read. "Our identities were kept secret from each other . . . we were always to appear before him masked. I was fortunate enough to recognize some of them." Harry remembered reading in his fifth year that Dolohov had been sent to Azkaban for the murders, but Lucius Malfoy had walked free due to the claim of being under the Imperious Curse.

"Well," said Harry, "I guess that's kind of good news. The two of them are in Azkaban now. . . On second thought, I guess it doesn't make a damn bit of difference, does it? God, and she offered to make him dinner!"

Hermione nodded. "She feels horribly guilty."

"What! Why should she feel guilty? She didn't know! And him," Harry yelled angrily. "How he could just sit there, in all those Order meetings . . . teach classes to her children . . . knowing what he did . . . " Something in the corner of Ron's room exploded. Harry and Hermione both jumped. Harry felt his face getting hot. It had been a long time since he lost control like that. "Why didn't Dumbledore . . . I mean, he . . . " Harry didn't know what felt worse: knowing that Snape had killed two members of the family he'd come to think of as his own, or the fact that Dumbledore had kept it not only from Mrs. Weasley, but the entire Wizarding population. "That doesn't seem like Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded. "I know . . . part of me doesn't know what to think, either. But . . . it was part of the terms. Dumbledore promised that Snape would receive a full pardon for turning spy, and that included not letting the Ministry print his record. He probably just didn't want to hurt Mrs. Weasley . . . or Bill, Charlie, and Percy either. They were all alive when it happened. Percy was only four, I think, so he doesn't remember them too well, but Bill and Charlie... Bill said they were the coolest uncles. He was very angry. So was Charlie. And you know how easy going they are. Keep reading. There's, er . . . there's one more."

Harry was beginning to wonder why Hermione hadn't just told him the whole bloody thing instead of making him read it, but he turned back to the article anyway and read the final name:

Regulus Black.

Regulus Black . . . Sirius' brother . . .

Harry remembered Sirius' words when he had asked about the name next to his on the tapestry in Grimmauld Place: He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more like, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out.

"Son of a bitch," Harry muttered before he could stop himself. "His brother. Regulus was Sirius' little brother." Hermione said nothing. If she was offended at all from his colorful outburst, she made no mention of it.

Harry was resisting the sudden upsurge of anger that would surely make something explode again. Voldemort was the cause for everything... all the devastation, sadness, anger, hate, death. Voldemort and Snape. My parents are dead because of Snape, Wormtail and Voldemort, he thought, seething. The Longbottoms . . . tortured till they were crazy because of Voldemort and nut-jobs like Bellatrix Lestrange . . . Mrs. Weasley's brothers are dead because of Snape and Malfoy and . . . GOD DAMMIT!

Hermione jumped, and Harry realized he must have shouted that last part out. Brilliant. Now I'm thinking out loud?

"All of this - all of it - it's just so pointless!" Harry yelled, curling the article from the Prophet into a ball and hurling it across the room. He slumped down onto Ron's bed, his face buried in the pillow. When he turned around to face Hermione again, he mumbled, "He didn't like him."

Hermione shot him an odd look. "What?"

Harry sighed. "Regulus. From what it sounded like, he and Sirius didn't get along too well."

Hermione sniffed. "Well, from what we saw of his house and those portraits..."

"He didn't like him. But... but he was still his brother. I'm sure it had hurt. He didn't want him dead. And Snape had the gall to get angry when Sirius called him Snivellus that day in the kitchen." He realized Hermione had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn't care. This was just beyond his ability to fathom. Snape had killed his godfather's brother. Snape had been in the Black's house... had taunted Sirius about having to stay there and help clean...

What if it had been Dudley? Harry thought. His cousin had been nothing but a bully and tormentor for ten years. He hated him. But if anything had ever happened to him . . . if Voldemort swooped down on Privet Drive tomorrow and murdered everyone inside, he would care. He'd feel sad and he'd feel guilty. And he'd want to hurt the people responsible, no matter what the Dursley's had done to him. They were still his family. He knew that's what Sirius would have felt about Regulus.

And Dumbledore kept it secret. He kept Snape safe. Harry felt another upsurge of anger, but this time it was directed at his former mentor. Once he realized it he felt sickened. He thought Snape was reformed, he argued with himself. He thought he was on our side. It had been part of the deal.

Deal? You don't make deals with people like that! his mind argued back.

He thought he was on our side, Harry repeated to himself firmly. He thought Snape was out there, risking his life every day for the Order! He probably thought he ought to repay him or something.

By keeping Regulus' murderer safe? By not telling Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, who had the right to know, who killed their brothers? that little voice argued back, snarkily.

Snarkily? He was beginning to sound like...

Harry immediately shut off the argument in his head and repressed a shudder. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"No," he answered, sitting up. "But it'll do, I guess." He gave her a small smile, which she returned. But then she frowned, a guilty look in her eyes.

"I probably should have warned you," she began, but Harry waved her off.

"You didn't have one, either," he pointed out. "The owl just dropped it off and went on its merry way, you know?"

Hermione actually laughed at that. They sat in silence for a while, both absorbed in their own thoughts. The sound of whooping and a crash from downstairs broke them out of their reverie, however. Harry grinned.

"Ron's back."

They rushed down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Ron was doing a sort of victory cheer, while Charlie leaned against the counter, shaking his head and smiling. Harry grinned back.

"I take it you passed your test?" he asked Ron, who whirled around in surprise.

"Harry! I didn't even hear you two come down!" he exclaimed, bounding over to greet them. "And, yes, I passed my test! Eyebrows and all!" He wiggled them at Harry and Hermione as proof, which, for some odd reason, made Hermione go a bit pink.

"That's great, Ron!" she said.

Harry congratulated him as well, as Charlie excused himself and headed into the back garden. Ron asked about Harry's stay with the Dursley's as he rummaged around for something to eat, and Harry started to tell the both of them of the boredom that was Privet Drive when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Without even bothering to turn around, he recognized who they belonged to and his heart gave a small lurch. "Hey, Ginny," he said softly as she came up beside him.

He turned to face her then. Her long, red hair was pulled back into a loose pony-tail, her bangs in her eyes, which were looking anywhere but at him. "Hello, Harry," she said back, giving him a half-smile. Harry could tell that both Ron and Hermione were watching them earnestly. "How was your trip?"

Harry laughed. "All ten seconds of it? Fantastic. You know I love feeling like I've gotten stuck in a tire."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and Harry could see then that they looked a bit red. It's because I'm here, he thought, sadly. I bet she's been okay up until today.

Hermione had started badgering Ron about his test, which gave Harry an opportunity to ask, quietly, "How are you?"

Ginny looked blankly back at him. "Our house has been Phlegm-ified."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I saw. I meant-"

She sighed. "I know what you meant."

Harry opened his mouth, and then, realizing he couldn't think of anything to say back to that, shut it again. He couldn't stand to see her look so . . . distant. Not sad, really, more . . .

Lonely, Harry realized, because he was feeling the same way. He resisted the urge to grab her, hold her, cry into her shoulder until he couldn't cry anymore, and tell her all the things he couldn't tell anyone else . . . to tell her how he really felt about her . . . to tell her what he'd realized since he'd been away . . .

"Harry," she began, and he looked at her, hopefully. "I...I need to go back upstairs," she finished, glumly.

His heart sank, and then he chastised himself. You broke up with her, idiot, he thought. Now you're looking at her like you want her to propose or something! You're confusing the hell out of her!

"I'm confusing the hell out of myself," he muttered, absent-mindedly.

"What?" Ron asked, mouth full of chicken. Both he and Hermione were staring at him.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

"Oh. Where'd Ginny go? She didn't even tell me 'congratulations'."

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said he was being ridiculously unsympathetic. "She said she had to go back upstairs," Harry said. He sighed. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy."

He figured that Ginny had filled Hermione in at least about what had transpired after Dumbledore's funeral. Ron, it seemed, just knew that they were no longer seeing each other. He shot him a weird look, and then went back to eating his chicken. This is why you don't date your best mate's sister, because if you break her heart, her brother won't know whose side to be on, Harry thought, ruefully.

"Listen, mate," Ron began, "whatever happened between you and Ginny is between you and Ginny. I just . . . I thought you were happy."

Harry scowled in spite of himself. "I was."

"Well, then-"

"I thought you said it was between me and Ginny," Harry snapped. Ron's ears went red.

"It is. But, she is my sister."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I know. Look . . . just think for a moment about who I am, exactly. That's why I can't be with Ginny." No matter how much I want to.

Ron stared blankly. "You're Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The one Voldemort will stop at nothing to destroy."

"Well, yeah, but . . ." he gestured wildly. "Who cares? You're not 'breaking up' with me and Hermione, are you? We're your friends. We know about the horcruxes," he said quietly. "If You-Know-Who . . . if Voldemort . . . is going to come after anybody, it'd be us."

"Don't you think I know that!" yelled Harry, making the two of them jump. He wasn't remotely sorry. "I think about it every day! I don't know what I would do if you two got hurt or- or worse. Dumbledore's gone. There's five horcruxes out there that I've somehow got to destroy. I just... I just don't know what to do."

A noise from outside made them remember where they were. "Um, maybe we should talk upstairs?" Hermione suggested.

"Right," agreed Ron, and Harry nodded. With a crack, Ron disappeared. Hermione scowled.

"You know, I really thought he was going to be a grown-up about this," she said as the two of them trudged back up the stairs. Even though she'd never admit it, Harry could tell she was trying not to smile.

Ron was laying in his bed waiting for them. "What took you so long?" he said, grinning, as Harry joined him and Hermione shut the door.

"Unlike some people," Hermione said, scathingly, "I don't feel the need to Apparate every five minutes. And Harry can't yet, remember?"

"True," said Ron. "You should really get down to the Ministry some time before your birthday and make an appointment."

Harry could tell he was trying to change the subject and part of him was relieved. The other part, the part that wanted alternatively to scream in fury and agony at the top of his lungs and huddle in the corner and cry like a five-year-old, was begging him to talk to his friends. "I'm afraid," he said, finally.

Hermione came and put her arm around him. "We know, Harry. We're scared, too."

"It's just... what happened to worrying about if someone was going to catch us brewing Polyjuice Potion? Or finding a meeting place for the DA? Or whether we passed our OWLs? Now we have to worry about the war and whether or not we're all going to be alive tomorrow," Harry said, almost in a whisper. "When did it all change? How did it get to be like this?"

Hermione motioned for Ron to scoot over, and she sat down on the other side, so that Harry was in the middle of his two friends. "I don't know," she said, pulling him close. "But we just have to keep on going, like everything's going to be okay. Because it will be okay, Harry."

Harry gripped the locket around his neck. "Yeah . . . but how long before that's actually true?"

As he put his head on Hermione's shoulder, Ron put his arm around both him and Hermione, and the three of them sat huddled there together on Ron's bed, in no hurry to return to the world which had suddenly become so chaotic.

The wedding was to be held at midday in the field behind the Burrow that Harry, Ron, Fred and George used to play Quidditch in. Harry woke up at around seven due to another nightmare. He had been back in the cave, only he had been watching the scene instead of taking part in it. In place of Harry had been Snape, and Harry had watched as Snape forced Dumbledore to drink goblet after goblet of that horrible potion. But it had looked like Snape didn't want to do it. He kept pleading, saying, "I can't, I can't, don't make me do this." But Dumbledore just kept muttering, "You promised..." And then they were back on the Astronomy Tower, and Dumbledore was speaking and the Death Eaters were jeering, and Harry was once again powerless to stop it.

"Severus . . . please . . ."

"Avada Kedavra!"

He had woken with a jerk, his face wet with tears. He sat in his bed until his breathing had returned to normal, checked to make sure his nightmare hadn't woken Ron, and then headed downstairs. No use trying to get back to sleep now, he thought, angrily.

He arrived in the kitchen and saw that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Ginny were already awake. There was someone else in the kitchen with them, but Harry didn't recognize who it was. Must be a wedding guest, he thought. He made brief eye-contact with Ginny, but she quickly turned away and became very interested in her eggs and toast. Harry sighed.

"Good morning, Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said, tiredly but cheerfully. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Harry shrugged. "Just toast would be great, thank you." He sat down next to the stranger and turned to introduce himself when he realized with a jolt that it was Bill. He still had the long hair pulled back in a ponytail and the dragon-tooth earring, but his face... Greyback had taken most of Bill's good looks. There were horrible scars running down his face, and Harry thought his eyes looked a bit different. He remembered that Madam Pomfrey had said that he might take on some wolfish features due to the attack. He grinned at Harry, and the "wolfishness" became even more pronounced.

"Hey, Harry," he greeted him. Harry tried very hard not to stare or look sad. Bill laughed. "I know. I look like complete hell. But thanks for not mentioning it." He winked.

Harry smiled back and tried to make it look convincing. "Big day today. Nervous?"

Bill shrugged. "Nah. She loves me, even if I have this ugly mugg. I don't think I have anything to worry about."

Harry laughed. "I see Greyback didn't manage to ruin your sense of humor."

Bill's eyes hardened a little at the mention of that name. "Never," he said, firmly. "You can't let it affect you, you know?"

I know how that feels, Harry thought as Mrs. Weasley put a plate in front of him full of not only toast, but pancakes, sausage, and bacon. Bill raised his eyebrows.

"Funny... usually when I ask for toast I just get toast. And usually I have to make it myself."

Harry grinned and poured himself some orange juice.

"You're up early, Harry," Mr. Weasley said from the other side of the table.

Harry, mouthful of sausage, swallowed quickly and answered: "Yeah... rough night."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances. Harry shook his head. "No, no nothing like that," he assured them, figuring they were thinking about the dreams that had plagued him all through his fifth year. "No Voldemort in my head, no snakes. Honest."

Mr. Weasley nodded, but Mrs. Weasley still looked worried. "Well... I'm sure it must be hard on you, dear. After everything that's happened. Nightmares are to be expected."

Harry felt his face getting hot and saw Mr. Weasley send his wife an admonishing look. "Not now, Molly," he said to her, softly.

"What was it about?" Ginny asked, suddenly, surprising him. Mrs. Weasley looked horrified.

"Ginevra Weasley!" she began. "Don't ask him-"

"Snape," Harry answered, flatly. Everyone turned to stare at him. "It wasn't a nightmare, really... well, the first dream wasn't. That one was just annoying." Everyone continued to stare at him and he realized he wasn't making much sense. "I had a dream about Snape a few weeks ago . . . the day he appeared in the Muggle paper, actually. He had the . . . um . . . he had something I wanted. Something I needed. And I couldn't get it and it was really frustrating. Then I had another right before I woke up . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to have to try and explain that one. "It was, um, odd," he finished, lamely.

"Do you think it might be You-Know-Who again, Dad?" Charlie asked, but Harry shook his head.

"My scar doesn't hurt," he said, simply. "And Dumbledore told me beginning of last year that Voldemort was using Occlumency against me. I can't even feel him when he's angry or happy anymore. Which, in a way, isn't necessarily a good thing. At least when I was getting some of his feelings, we kind of had an idea that something was about to happen."

"Occlumency," Mr. Weasley whispered, softly. It seemed he was speaking more to himself than everyone else. But then he said, more loudly, "You said these two dreams involved Snape?" Harry nodded. "Perhaps it's not Voldemort who's sending you these dreams, Harry. We know how powerful Snape is." The room tensed. "Then again," Mr. Weasley added, "they could be just that. Dreams."

Harry hoped to God it was the latter. The thought that Snape was invading his mind was somehow worse than when Voldemort was doing it. At least then, it was sort of out of Harry's control. He and Voldemort had an unexplained link. But Snape was someone that Harry could ward himself against. Someone he should be able to keep out. He didn't want to think about it. Luckily, a distraction arrived. A very loud distraction.

"What the devil is that?" Bill asked, loudly, covering his ears. The rest of the kitchen had done the same, shielding themselves against the sudden tumult of what sounded like a brass marching band. The Weasley parents rolled their eyes.

"They're early!" shouted Mr. Weasley. "I knew there was a reason they said they didn't want to arrive last night!"

Harry stared, confused, until he saw that Mrs. Weasley was glaring out the nearest window. He turned his gaze to follow hers and saw, to his great surprise, that the noise was coming from a marching band. Well... the instruments, at least. Harry could see no sign of an actual band.

"Those sneaky little liars!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, but there was a touch of amusement in her voice. "They told us they'd get here an hour before the ceremony!"

Harry realized imeadiately who they were talking about. He grinned and ran to the window, followed closely by Ginny, and saw, with no amount of surprise this time, the floating instruments being lead and conducted by twins Fred and George.

"Aw, they got me a present," Bill said, barely heard over the noise. "They really shouldn't have."

Harry laughed. "Well, now you know why they're early."

Charlie grimaced and pushed his hands to his ears harder. "For God's sake, Bill, go tell them 'thanks' so they'll turn it the hell off!"

Bill shot him a look. "I'm the groom! I shouldn't have to do anything today. Besides," he added, grinning wolfishly at his brother. "It wouldn't be polite to tell them I didn't like their gift."

Charlie looked at him murderously. Bill sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you and your sensitive ears. For someone who works with roaring dragons for a living, you're a bit of a whiner!" he shouted over the noise, but ran to the door anyway, barely missing a potted plant that Charlie had sent flying at him. He went outside and closed the door. Harry could barely hear muffled voices coming from the outside. One sounded like Bill, and then another, sounding vaguely insulted, that was either Fred or George. Suddenly there was a loud yelp, followed by crashing noises. Harry, Ginny, Charlie, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all ran outside. Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at the scene before them. It looked as though Bill had tried to grab George's wand, which he had been using has a conductor's baton, and the instruments had retaliated. Bill was running around the front yard while a par of symbols chased him, crashing together above his head. Charlie and Ginny were both doubled over in hysterics. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rolled their eyes, and with an air that said they were quite used to this sort of thing, pulled out their wands and yelled, "Finite Incantatum!" The instruments all fell lifelessly to the ground. Fred and George whirled on the spot and gave their parents a reprimanding look that didn't quite meet their eyes.

"Now, see here, you can't just go around destroying people's wedding gifts!" Fred said with a false look of annoyance.

"What, exactly, was the present?" Bill asked, angrily, shooting the fallen symbols a filthy look. "Deafness?"

Charlie and Ginny were still on the ground laughing. Mrs. Weasley sighed and began trying to pull them up. "Thanks for the help, you two." She glared at the twins. "What a fine thing to do! You've probably woken up Ron and Hermione, and half the countryside as well! I really thought we'd seen the end of this rubbish once you two moved out of the house. As if we don't have enough to do today!"

"Oh, we didn't mean to wake up poor ickle Ronnikins," George said. Fred made gagging noises behind him. "I'm sure the future Head Boy needs his beauty sleep." He winked at Harry. Mrs. Weasley's glare darkened. The twins sighed.

"Fine," they said, exhasperatedly. They waved their wands and the instruments disappeared. Then they turned to Bill and pounced on him in a humungous hug. "Congratulations, big brother!" they shouted, ruffling his hair out of his ponytail. Then they turned to the rest of the family, and Fred said, with mock surprise, "Oh, Mum, Dad! Didn't see you there! How are you this morning? Lovely day to marry a part Veela, wouldn't you say?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley just gave each other knowing looks and told them to go inside. Fred and George obliged, and were followed by Ginny, a now hiccuping Charlie, and a still grumbling Bill. Harry shrugged at the remaining Weasleys. "At least everyone's tongue is still the same length," he said, grinning. "Besides, it wouldn't be a wedding without Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "No. It wouldn't be a wedding in our family without Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

At around 11:30, the guests started to arrive and were lead to the field by Charlie and Mr. Weasley. It was mainly a family event, and for good reason - Fleur's family would, of course, be traveling from France. Due to the dangers the war with Voldemort now presented, they would not be taking a direct Apparition route, but instead Apparating to different points along the way, as to cover their trails, as was the extended Weasley family. When Harry had asked why they were going about it that way, he had been unnerved when Hermione informed him that Apparition could be tracked. This was going to make keeping his hunt for the horcruxes a secret a more difficult.

"How do you think the Ministry knows when someone is Apparating without a license, Harry?" she had asked, exhasperatedly. She was being more snippy than usual, and had hardly been seen all morning. It took her three hours to get ready for the Yule Ball, Harry reminded himself. If that's how long she takes to get ready for a dance . . . Ron echoed his sentiments.

"I doubt we'll ever see her again," he said with a mock sigh.

At a quarter to twelve, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George started making their way to the ceremony, the twins in their dragon-hide suites, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione in their dress robes. It was very hot and sticky out, and Harry began to wish he had been one of those guys who wore cologne. Ron didn't seem to mind, however, and Harry was sure that his friend was enjoying finally being able to show off a decent set of dress robes, which were a dark blue to match his eyes. Hermione looked as beautiful as she had at the Yule Ball, in her new dress robes of light pink, and her hair straightened and pulled back in a long braid down her back. Harry noticed that Ron kept glancing at her as they walked up the hill, and that he kept trying to smooth wrinkles that weren't there out of his robes. Harry sighed.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to look at him. Harry gave him a half-smile.

"Nothing, just . . . when are you going to wake up?" he asked.

Ron frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Harry very much wanted to say "About Hermione, you idiot!", but they arrived in the field before he had the chance. Plus, he didn't think such a blunt remark would go over very well. The field, unlike the Burrow, had not been decorated at all, and the guests had formed a circle around what looked like an altar. It was surrounded by a flowered arch, and had three candles upon it: a large one in the middle, and a smaller one on either side. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances; neither had ever been to a wedding in the magical world and weren't exactly sure what to do. But Ron, Fred, and George all joined the circle, which had widened to create a space for them, so, giving Hermione a shrug, Harry followed suite, taking the place next to George. Hermione did as well, and took the place between Ron and a very large, intimidating red-haired woman. Ron gave a small shudder and mouthed at Harry: Aunt Tessy. Harry bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. Hermione shot them both admonishing glares. There was a man behind the altar who wore dress robes of deep purple. He looked very old indeed, and seemed rather bored. Bill was standing with him, only in front of the altar. He was barefoot, and his hair had been taken out of his pony tail. He wore long dress robes of white and gold. The older man cleared his throat, and began:

"We gather here today, in the presence of nature, the elements, and family, to join Willem Arthur Weasley to Fleur Marjorie DeLacour in marriage by the ceremony of hand fasting."

Suddenly, some of the guests made a gap in the circle, and Mr. Weasley, dressed in white, passed through it, holding what looked like a wooden bowl filled with water. Next, came Charlie, also in white and who also held a wooden bowl, which contained a lit candle. After Charlie . . .

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Oh, my god, he thought, his heart beginning to beat faster. She looks gorgeous.

Ginny had followed her brother into the circle, wearing flowing, gold dress robes that came off her shoulders. Her red hair was down and wavy, framing her face. There were white and yellow flowers in it. She was barefoot, like Bill, Mr. Weasley, and Charlie, and also carried a bowl, but Harry couldn't see what was inside. He figured it was some sort of incense, because the smell of roses and ginger wafted by him as Ginny made her way into the center of the circle. Fleur's sister Gabrielle, also dressed in the same golden robes as Ginny, followed, and held a bowl filled with soil. Everyone turned their head in anticipation of the last to enter, and were not disappointed. Fleur stepped into the circle, the color of her robes matching that of her husband-to-be, but cut in the same style as the other two girls. She had asilver tiaraon her head, her long, wispy blond hair blowing behind her as if caught in an invisible wind. Harry glanced at Ron, and was surprised to see that he didn't look at all embarrassed or put off. Must have finally gotten used to her, thought Harry. She smiled at Bill as she made her way toward the altar. The circle closed again, and everyone remained perfectly still and silent. The old man began again:

"I humbly call forth the elements of life."

Mr. Weasley stepped forward, holding his bowl above his head, and said, "Hear me, powers of water. Bless this couple, and wash them in a richness of body, soul, and spirit." He then walked toward the eastern part of the circle, placing the bowl on the ground, and then took a place inside the circle.

Charlie was next. He stepped forward, held his bowl above his head, and said, "Hear me, powers of fire. Ignite within this pair passion and love." Charlie placed his bowl in the southern part of the circle and joined it as well.

Then Ginny stepped forward. Holding her bowl above her head, she said, "Hear me, powers of air. Weave tight the bonds of heart, spirit, and love between Bill and Fleur, and let no one undo the fabric of their love." She glanced at Harry before turning and placing the bowl at the western part of the circle, and then taking her place inside of it.

Last was Gabrielle. She had grown up quite a bit since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and now resembled a miniature version of her older sister. She held her bowl above her head, and said, "Hear me, powerz of ze earth. Bless zis man and woman with your strength and wizdom." Then she turned, placed her bowl at the northern part of the circle, and then also took her place inside of it. Now there were no more gaps, and the circle was complete.

The older man turned now to regard Bill and Fleur. "We gather here on this blessed day in a ritual of love. Fleur and Willem stand here before their family, friends, and nature to join themselves and their families together. Willem, what do you offer to Fleur?"

Bill took Fleur's hand in his, smiling brightly. "I offer her my love, and I pledge to never knowingly or willingly cause her harm or grief in any form."

The priest then turned to regard Fleur. "Fleur, what do you offer in exchange?"

"I offer him my love, and zis pledge also: That I may never knowingly or willingly cause him 'arm or grief in any form," she answered. Bill squeezed her hand.

The older man then held up two rings. "Your vows have now been heard by all. Like your vows, these rings know no beginning, and no end." He handed one to Bill, and the other to Fleur. They took each took their turn placing it on the other's finger. Then, taking out their wands, they each lit one of the smaller candles on the altar. Fleur took her candle, and Bill took his, and they both lit the candle in the center. The old man smiled and gestured to the circle.

"I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Willem Weasley."

The circle applauded and then laughed as Bill took Fleur in a low dip and kissed her. They look so happy, Harry thought, as the circle broke and began making their way toward the couple, offering their congratulations.

"That was very interesting," said Hermione, coming to stand next to him. "I've never been to a hand fasting before."

"I think my parents must have had a traditional Muggle wedding," Harry mused out loud. "My dad only had one best man and it was Sirius. And I think they wore suits." Harry laughed inwardly at the thought of Sirius in a suit. Thinking of his parents wedding made him remember something else as well.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you when I got here," he began, but was cut short by Ron's hurried, "Look out!" as he all but ran by Harry and toward his oldest brother. It seemed he was trying to escape the large woman known as Aunt Tessy.

They spent the rest of the afternoon giving congratulations to Bill and Fleur and mingling with the other guests. Fleur's mother and father were there of course, and also a great many aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some of Mrs. Weasley's family, the Prewetts, were there, as well as almost every relation of Mr. Weasleys. All, Harry noticed, but one.

"Er . . . Ron? Where's Percy?"

Ron's face darkened. "Not here, obviously," he said, shortly. His ears had gone red.

"Are you serious? I can't believe he's still being so stupid! He was at Dumbledore's funeral, I thought he would have talked to your parents . . . " Harry trailed off as he realized this was not helping Ron's mood.

Hermione had gone off to talk with Ginny, and Harry had not dared ventured over to the two girls to retrieve her. Ron was staring at the two of them.

"I still don't understand you," he said. Harry looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Ron gave him a pointed look. Harry scowled.

"No offense or anything, but you're not exactly the right person to be giving me 'love advice', considering you spent the better half of last year sucking face with-"

"I think they're starting lunch now," Ron interrupted, blushing furiously. He took off toward the house. Harry shook his head and glanced back over at the two girls to find that Hermione had gone and Ginny was walking toward him. Harry blanched.

Oh no oh no oh no . . .

"Hey, Harry," she greeted him, brushing her hair out of her face.

Harry gulped. "Hey," he croaked out. Oh my GOD! I sound like Umbridge. "You look . . . you look amazing, Ginny. Really."

She grinned. "Yeah? It's a right side better than a Quidditch uniform, I guess."

Harry laughed. "I'd like to see you try and Chase wearing that."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow, and the two of them began walking back to the Burrow. "Are you trying to lure me into a bet, Mr. Potter?"

"Er . . . I think I'll leave the gambling to Ludo Bagman. Besides, I know you'll fly better than ever just to spite me, and take all my money."

It felt like old times. Harry was beginning to feel comfortable around her again, when her eyes widened. "Uh, oh."

"What?" Harry asked, but was hugged from behind. He let out a yelp and turned to see the infamous great-Aunt Tessy. Behind him, Ginny was giggling hysterically.

"Now where do you think you're going?" she asked. "You're not leaving without a dance, Harry Potter." She gave him a twirl.

"Um . . . no music . . . " he began, but was hauled off across the field. Ginny waved, still laughing, and ran down the hill back toward the reception.

Harry spent his time at the Burrow studying out of the books Hermione had brought him, taking notes, filing away anything he, Ron, and Hermione thought was useful information. The books that Hermione had ordered from Knockturn Alley had arrived later the same week that Harry had. Being of age, Ron and Hermione had even started practicing some of the protective spells, mainly in the backyard. Harry, however, was still confined to theory and wand movements. Hermione was very proud of his resilience, and said she'd never seen him work so hard. In truth, Harry would have liked nothing better than to toss the books outside, grab his Firebolt, and go out into the field and play Quidditch. But there had been a supreme change wrought in Harry after the events in June. It was all up to him now; Dumbledore had been injured, and then died while searching for the horcruxes, and Harry knew he would never be as powerful or brilliant as Dumbledore, at least not in this short span of time. Probably not ever. But he had to do what he could. Besides, this wasn't like doing homework; he didn't need to study for exams or for a grade. He needed this to survive.

About a week before Harry's birthday - Ron in the middle of his daily teasing about how Harry was slowly turning into a male Hermione - the Daily Prophet arrived and announced that Hogwarts would indeed be reopening.

"I bet you half of the students won't be coming back," Ron said. "Remember those idiotic parents last year, taking them out halfway through? Even with Dumbledore gone, Hogwarts is probably the safest place. They've probably destroyed that Vanishing Cabinet . . . "

Hermione bit her lip. "When our booklists arrive, Harry, you should think about getting them anyway. There'll be more spells and things that you can learn."

Ron stared at her. "What do you mean, when our booklists arrive? We're going with, Harry, remember?"

Harry tried to tune them out and went back to focusing on his book. He was trying to get the wand movement down for a slicing hex, much to Hermione's disapproval. I have to learn to defend myself, Hermione, he had told her. And that might have to include some spells that we wouldn't normally think about using.

"We said we'd help him, Ron," Hermione argued. "But . . . I don't know if I'm ready to give up my education . . . "

"Oh, bloody hell!" Ron yelled. "This is about the war with Voldemort, Hermione! This is about Harry! Our best friend!"

"I know that!" Hermione snapped back. "I said I didn't know! My parents weren't happy when I left . . . "

Ron grumbled something that Harry couldn't hear. The truth was, he didn't know whether he wanted his friends to sacrifice their last year at Hogwarts either. He didn't want to be the cause of that kind of decision. Hermione was getting ready to say something snippy back, so Harry quickly changed the subject.

"Where did Bill and Fleur go on their honeymoon again?" he asked, waving his wand in the air in imitation of the book's diagram.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him as if they forget he was there. "Oh, er . . . Canada, I think. Fleur's got some relatives there, second cousins or something. I'm surprised they even went on a honeymoon."

"It's going to be short, though, right? Shouldn't they be back soon?" Harry ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

Ron gave him an odd look. "You know . . . you're in a wizarding house now, mate. If you, er, you know . . . wanted to get in some real practicing . . . "

"Ron," warned Hermione.

"What? The Ministry wouldn't be able to tell, they leave it to the parents to make sure their kids aren't doing magic. Go on, Harry, you look horrible. Look at your eyes! Those books are going to give you brain damage or something."

Hermione snorted. Harry was very tempted to follow Ron's suggestion.

"Well . . . I do need to start practicing nonverbal spells," he said.

"No, Harry," Hermione said, firmly. "It's against the law."

"Oh, who cares?" asked Ron. "Hermione, he doesn't have time for this! Remember what Snape said before he ran off-" Ron stopped talking imeadiately after seeing the look on Harry's face. "I, er, I just meant-"

"About how I need to close my mind and keep my mouth shut?" Harry snapped.

"Well . . . yeah," Ron said, softly.

Harry sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Ron - and Snape - had a point. Damn Snape, anyway, Harry thought, vehemently.

"Look, I agree with you, Ron. I really do," Hermione said. "But, Harry also doesn't need the Ministry anymore involved than they already are. If there's even the slightest chance that they might be able to detect Harry using magic, it will mean another hearing, or perhaps something more severe."

"I doubt it," Harry interjected. "Scrimgeour wants me to be his Ministry poster boy, remember?" He sighed and rubbed his temples. I want to sleeeeeeeep.

"Scrimgeour's not above the law, Harry," Hermione reminded him with an air of finality about the subject. Ron huffed and stared out the window. It was a beautiful day outside.

"Who do you think they'll get to be Quidditch captain since you're leaving?" he asked. Hermione made a huffing noise of her own, and muttered something about boys and Quidditch.

Harry had an idea who they would be picking, but didn't voice it out loud, because it would just spawn a different kind of discussion that he really didn't want to get into at the moment.

"What was that thing you wanted to tell us about, Harry?" Hermione asked, suddenly.

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron exclaimed, turning to face the other two. "About your mum and dad's wedding?"

Harry stared. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, you mentioned Bill and Fleur's honeymoon and it just reminded me," Hermione said.

"Oh, um . . . " Harry began, shutting his book. "Yeah, it was really weird. That day that Snape was in the Muggle paper, my Aunt recognized him."

Both Hermione and Ron's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, she seemed to really understand what Dumbledore being dead meant, but she was, like, I dunno surprised that Snape was the one to do it," Harry continued.

Ron made a face. "Why?"

"She said . . . she said that she recognized him because . . . well, because he was at my parents wedding."

Hermione gasped and Ron's mouth fell open. "No way!" he exclaimed. "Why would he . . .?"

Harry shrugged. "That's just it. I don't know. She says he wasn't invited. He just sort of showed up wanting to talk to my mum."

Hermione was looking at him very strangely. "He wanted to see your mother?"

"Yeah, that's what Aunt Petunia said. She said he was greasy and rude, so I don't doubt it was him. Er . . . she said from what she could hear he was trying to talk her out of marrying my dad." He shrugged again. "That's all. Weird, huh?"

Ron was shaking his head, but Hermione still had that odd look on her face. "That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I said," Harry assured her. "But Aunt Petunia didn't say anything else about it, so I don't see what the big deal is. I just thought you guys would like to know about it, you know?"

There was a pause before Hermione blurted out: "You need to go back to your aunt and uncle's, Harry."

"What?" Harry asked her, incredulously. "Are you mad? I'm never setting foot in that house again!"

"Yeah, what gives, Hermione?" Ron demanded.

She sighed. "Don't you think Snape showing up at your parents wedding is a bit . . . odd?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Well, yeah, but-"

"From everything we've heard about Snape, he hated your father. And Sirius. All of them, actually. So, why would he show up at a place where all four Marauders would be? And why would he be there to talk to your mum?"

"I told you, Aunt Petunia said he was trying to talk her out of marrying-"

"Yes, but why? Why would he bother?" Hermione asked him.

"Uh, because he's a wanker?" Ron said, sarcastically. Hermione ignored him.

"Beats me, and frankly, I really could care less," Harry said. "Look, I only told you because you're my friends and I knew you'd think it was about as crazy as I do."

"It might be important," Hermione pressed.

"How?" Ron asked. "Voldemort's not going to be quizzing Harry on proper wedding etiquette, Hermione."

She glared at him. "In case you forgot, Harry's going to have to face Snape as well, sooner or later. And him showing up at his parents wedding is not only odd, but something that I don't think we should overlook. It's insight into his past, Harry. Other than that book, and those little things you saw during your Occlumency training, it's all you've got."

"Why the hell do I need to know anything about Snape's past to go up against him?" Harry asked, angrily. "I hate him, I can barely speak his name without wanting to blow something up-"

"Exactly," Hermione interrupted, calmly. "He gets to you. Even more so than Voldemort."

"And with good reason! He told him about the prophecy! We all trusted him! Dumbledore trusted him!" Harry felt blood pounding in his ears, and he reflexively gripped the locket around his neck. "Dumbledore's dead because of him," he finished, quietly.

"I know, Harry. But Snape's powerful. You can't deny it," Hermione said loudly, holding up her hand as Harry started to speak, "so don't even try. You said it yourself, Ron. 'The Prince is a genius'. He's an enigma. Voldemort is easy enough to understand. He's power-hungry and evil, and cares about nothing else than chaos and destruction and prolonging his own life. I don't think anyone understands Snape. Not even Dumbledore understood him, apparently."

"And you think finding out why he was at my parents wedding and then maybe going and flipping through his yearbooks is somehow going to give me the understanding necessary to defeat him?" Harry asked, scathingly. "I don't care why Snape was there. I don't care what he did or who he was while he was at Hogwarts-"

"Well, maybe that's the problem!" Hermione shouted. "If we knew who he was before, when he was at school, maybe there'd be some hints about why he turned out the way he did."

"Oh, my God, Hermione!" Ron said, suddenly. "You're still trying to find good, aren't you? Trying to find out 'what went wrong'."

"I'm not sticking up for him, or trying to find good in him, Ron! But, yes . . . I think, if we found out 'what went wrong', then we'd be able to-"

"Nothing went wrong, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "He was mean and spiteful from the beginning. You heard Sirius - he knew more Dark curses his first year than half of the seventh years. He hung around all the people who became Death Eaters. He invented Sectumsempra! If you want a good look into what Snape was like while he was at school, why don't you go to Hogwarts and take another read through that book!"

"As I recall, you used to swear up and down by that book," Hermione told him. He glared at her murderously. "What did Dumbledore do all last year, Harry? What were his private lessons with you?" she argued.

Harry sighed aggravatedly. "He was teaching me about Voldemort. About Voldemort's past, and how he got to be the way he is now . . . " Hermione was giving him a pointed look. "But . . . but that was completely different. Dumbledore was showing me about some of the horcruxes and what they might be. Showing me how dominating Voldemort was, even when he was a kid. That he liked pain."

"He was showing you images, memories, that he and others had of Voldemort's past, to help you understand him. To prepare you for him. How is that different? Because it's Snape?"

Harry glared at her again. Ron looked back and forth from one to the other. "I'm really going to regret saying this, because I know she'll never let me live it down," he started, and Harry turned to him. "But . . . I think she's kind of got a point, mate. Don't get me wrong, I hate the old bat as much as you do." Harry gave him a look that said he strongly doubted it, but Ron ignored him. "But, Dumbledore said that what he was showing you was important. Maybe it wasn't important just because of the horcruxes. He could have told you that himself, right? He wanted you to see it for yourself. To see Voldemort. I know you don't want to hear it, but Hermione's right. You should go back to your aunt and uncle's . . . make your aunt explain. Maybe she's not telling you everything."

Harry remembered the odd looks that his Aunt was sending him the day that he left Number Four, and how she had looked like she had wanted to say something to him. She wouldn't have been getting all bent out of shape over that, would she? Harry thought.

"You need to talk to her," Hermione encouraged him. "Not just about Snape, but about Dumbledore. You said that Howler he sent her said 'Remember my last'? Well, doesn't that mean that there had to have been more letters before that?" Harry wondered vaguely how she remembered all this stuff. "She was in correspondence with Dumbledore, Harry, I just know she was. Your Aunt knows more than she's telling, whether out of hate and nonacceptance of her sister, or fear. Who knows? But it's something you need to find out. You need to talk to her."

Harry looked at Ron, as if searching for support, but he had already said that he agreed with Hermione. Ron shrugged. "I'm sorry, mate, but I think she's right. Must be coming down with something." Hermione glared, and Harry grinned in spite of the situation. His two friends looked at him expectantly.

"Fine," he gave in. "The day before my birthday, we'll go back. All three of us. I don't know how much good it will do, though. Uncle Vernon pretty much told me never to come back ever again, and I wasn't exactly the Prince of Politeness while I was there, either. Do you know what he said to me? He said I should be grateful to them! That they took me in and I should thank them."

Ron rolled his eyes scoffingly, but Hermione averted hers and instead looked at the floor.

"What, you agree with him?" First she wants me to study Snape, and now this? Harry thought, angrily. "What did they ever do for me besides treat me like trash they picked up off the side of the road?"

"What you just said," she told him. "They took you in. Look, Harry, I don't agree with the way they treated you and I don't think your Uncle is a very nice person, but he's got a point. They didn't have to do anything that they did."

"From what Dumbledore said last summer it seems as though they did. I mean . . . they didn't do anything for me that any other wizarding family wouldn't have done." He gestured at Ron. "For God's sake, your mum would have definitely treated me better than they did! She would have wanted me-"

"Yes, and you might have turned out quite different," Hermione interrupted. "Don't you see, Harry? Dumbledore placed you there for a reason, and not just because of the protection you get from your Aunt being your mum's sister. It's made you who you are."

She picked up the book that Harry had put aside and started flipping through it, and Harry was left with nothing but his own inner struggles. Hermione had, as usual, given him a lot to think about.

A/N: Giving credit where credit is due: I got the specifications and the wording for the handfasting ceremony from these two sites: http/ and http/

Sorry this was so long; there was actually supposed to be a lot more. This chapter was supposed to follow all the way to when he went back to the Dursleys until he turned seventeen, but it was just way too much information for one chapter.

Part of the scene from Harry's dream was, obviously, taken from "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" Chapter 27, pg 595-596, and Harry remembering what Sirius said about Regulus was taken from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", Chapter Six, page 112