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Chapter 15

"So then what happened?" Salazar asked, chuckling slightly.

"Well, this morning, I got up earlier than the other boys in my dorm. I cast a little charm to make sure they'd all stay asleep until I was finished. I found Trevor underneath Seamus' bed, and I put him in this box," Harry began, gesturing at a cardboard box poked with holes to allow the animal inside to breathe. "Then I Silenced him and put him under my bed, with a Notice-Me-Not charm just to be safe. I Transfigured a beetle into a substitute toad, and left the fake Trevor on top of Neville's trunk."

"And then?"

"Later this afternoon, I used the Imperious curse on Hermione's cat, a part-Kneazle named Crookshanks. When the moment was right, I made Crookshanks eat the fake Trevor. It wasn't very hard—the cat wanted to do it, anyway."

Salazar frowned. "Won't your friends cat hate you now? Kneazles are known for their sense of untrustworthy people."

Harry shook his head. "No. I made sure to cast the Imperious underneath my Invisibility Cloak and from around a corner. The cat has no idea it was me. Besides, I've done nothing to make myself untrustworthy to Hermione. If Kneazles hated everyone who was untrustworthy to some people some of the time, they wouldn't like anyone."

Salazar snickered. "Yes, this one is definitely a Slytherin. So, you are now in possession of a stolen toad, and no one has any reason to suspect that you were involved, or that the toad is even missing. Excellently done, lion cub."

"Thank you. I do feel a little bad for Neville, but not too much. Trevor probably doesn't have a lot longer left, anyway. Besides, based on how he acted after it happened, I don't think Neville really liked having a pet toad. I'll get him a new pet, and that should make sure that everyone forgets about Trevor entirely."

"And because you are a caring friend. Don't feel that you have to hide your noble side. It does you credit."

"Really?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Truly. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it may also cause your enemies to underestimate you as 'soft-hearted.'"

Harry snickered. "Well, let's get basilisk experiment number two underway, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, he settled Trevor the toad comfortably over a fresh chicken egg and cast all the necessary spells. "Now that that's done with, I'm afraid I have other appointments."

"Who could possibly be more important than me?" Salazar said, raising his nose snobbishly.

"Helga," Harry replied. "I promised to visit her again before I left, and it can't be tomorrow night, because I have to meet with Dumbledore then. I leave Saturday morning."

"Yes…to spend one week with your friend, and the next week with your…other friend," Salazar said, smirking.

Harry blushed. "Yes, well…I'm leaving now."

"Be safe, lion cub. And enjoy yourself."

It was Harry's turn to smirk. "I will. I'll see you in two weeks." With a final wink, Harry disappeared from the Chamber, instantly reappearing in Helga's kitchen.

"Harry!" a voice exclaimed. "I was just starting to wonder if you'd forgotten about me!"

"How could I forget you? Besides, you know if I did you'd just kidnap me again," Harry replied jauntily.

"So, what's the latest gossip?" Helga asked, as a rocking chair appeared next to her.

Harry sat. "Well, for starters, he isn't angry with me anymore."

Helga gave him a death glare. "I could have guessed that. What else?"

"We've spent lots of time plotting ways to nettle Professor Slughorn."

"He deserves it. Go on."

"I'm going to visit him for one week of the spring holidays."

"Getting better…come on, Harry, I know there's more."

"He sent me a valentine?"

Helga smiled. "Yes, I heard the story from Sal. It was terribly sweet. But there's still more you're not telling me."

"How do you know?" Harry asked stubbornly.

"Aw, you haven't figured out what my Gift is yet?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," Harry said, a little off put by the sudden change of topic.

"I might be offended if I didn't know that you've had other things on your mind lately. Speaking of which, what else haven't you told me yet?"

"Do I have to?" Harry whined.

"Only if you ever want to leave," Helga replied sweetly.

Harry sighed. "Fine. Er…hekissedmeandIkissedhimbackandthenwediditagain. A lot," he added quietly.

Helga giggled and clapped. "I knew it! I would ask you how you feel about it, but there's no need, happiness is coming off of you like the scent from a loaf of fresh bread. Now, I'm sure you'd like to go so you can get some sleep tonight, but before you do, I have something for you." She reached down into the large canvas bag at her feet and pulled out two scarves. "I don't usually do this for anyone but my Hufflepuffs, but in the case of you and Tom, I can make an exception. Here."

Harry took the scarves, one in Gryffindor red and gold, and the other in Slytherin green and silver. They were similar to the ones Harry had seen her make before, but these didn't just radiate warmth. They radiated magic. "Helga, I can sense some sort of spells in these. What are they?"

"Oh, just a few protection charms, a charm to make them lightweight, one to be unbreakable, one that keeps you from losing it…nothing too special."

"Thank you, Helga," Harry said sincerely, hugging the matronly woman.

"Don't mention it. Now, you'd best get to bed. Have a wonderful holiday, with Hermione and with Tom, and get some rest! Don't forget to come see me when you get back!"

"Of course," Harry replied. "Thanks again Helga! Goodbye!" With those words, Harry left the old kitchen.

The next evening was Friday. Harry was terribly excited for both of the two weeks. It would be interesting meeting Hermione's parents, and he looked forward to the time with his friend. And then, of course, would be his week with Tom. He was excited for that, of course, but also a little bit nervous. He'd actually be working with Tom, helping him with real missions. What if he screwed it up?

Well, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he had one last Occlumency "lesson" with Dumbledore to get through.

"Good evening, Harry," he was greeted as he passed through the door to the Headmaster's office.

"Good evening, sir" he replied politely. And then, an immediate attack came on Harry's mental shields. He struggled for a moment, not to keep the man out—he was always prepared for a mental invasion, these days—but to keep up the appearance that he was still learning. After a month of lessons, he didn't have to pretend to be quite so bad, but he obviously couldn't seem to be proficient, either. After a few minutes of struggle, he "gave up," and let the old professor see a few harmless memories.

"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I do apologize for the unexpected attack, however, I wished to see how you would handle it. You did well."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, complete with a fake blush. "I'm really trying."

"And I have seen that you are really trying to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory, as well. Have you made any progress?"

"No sir," Harry answered, hanging his head. "I think I've gotten close, but every time I think I might get him to give me the memory, he changes the subject, or he has someone else to talk to, or something else to do! He's just so—so—"

"Slytherin?" the old man suggested in an amused voice.

"Yes!" Harry yelled.

"Do not lose patience, Harry. I believe that you will find a way, in time."

"Thank you, sir. I won't stop trying." More like I won't start trying, Harry thought wryly.

"Now then, let us continue our lesson for today. I believe we can move past shielding. You're not quite proficient, but that will come with time and practice, not further lessoning. For today, let us discuss misdirection—that is, guiding an attacking Legilimencer to those memories that you wish for him to see."

And the 'lesson' continued, with Harry keeping up the façade of ignorance. When it was finally over, he went to bed, tired, but looking forward to the next day.

He wasn't expecting to see Tom that evening, but he found himself there anyway soon after falling asleep.

"Tom!" Harry exclaimed. "What brings you here? Or rather, me here?"

"You cannot perform magic while visiting your muggle friend's home."

"That's true. What does that have to do with seeing you tonight?"

Tom sighed. "Which means, of course, that you will be unable to create any sort of magical privacy barrier."

Harry, cottoning on, chimed in, "And when we talk like this, my body's in sort of a coma. So if something happened, Hermione and her family might get really worried when they couldn't wake me up."

Tom smiled. "Indeed. So, this being our last night together until we meet in person, I thought we might go over the plan once more."

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "Tom, we've been over the plan every night this week. I know it. You know it. You know I know it."

"What is that muggle aphorism? Oh, yes, better to be safe than sorry."

"Fine," Harry pouted. "Next Saturday, at around 1:00 pm, I leave Hermione's house by the Knight Bus. I take the Knight Bus to London, and get off at Trafalgar square. I check into that muggle hotel where you made a reservation for me for six nights, and leave my luggage there. Don't bring anything but my wand; you'll provide me with clothes and anything else I need. In the hotel room, there will be a basket of fruit and wine. That basket will be a portkey. To activate the portkey, I will need to say "§Open sesame--§" Harry stopped to roll his eyes at Tom--"and the portkey will take me to the outskirts of your manor, wherever that is. You will meet me there and bring me inside the wards."

Tom nodded his head. "All seems to be in order. Just one thing—what have you told your friends? They must be curious about where you are spending the second week of your holiday."

Harry's cheeks turned just the slightest bit pink. "Well, I told almost everyone that I'm spending both weeks at Hermione's house."

Tom's eyebrow rose in its habitual manner. "Then what, pray tell, did you say to Miss Granger?"

The slight tinge of rose on Harry's cheeks turned to a deep scarlet. "I…er…said I was spending the week with my boyfriend."

Tom smirked predatorily. "Am I your boyfriend, Harry?" he asked silkily.

Harry's cheeks became a shade of red previously only seen on tomatoes. He couldn't answer.

Tom, finding the blush oddly endearing, leaned over to kiss Harry's cheek. "I suppose I must be. I know you would never lie to Miss Granger."

When the next morning arrived, Harry and Hermione were chatting in the common room, excited for the upcoming visit. They were watching their house mates rushing around in preparation to leave with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Hermione, of course, had packed her things well in advance, and had insisted that Harry do the same. As a soon to be guest in Hermione's home, Harry really couldn't refuse.

Ron and Ginny were travelling to France for the holiday. They were staying with the Delacours, at that family's insistence, so that the two families could get to know each other before the upcoming wedding. Ron was uncertain whether to be excited about seeing Fleur again or peeved to be spending two weeks with 'stuffy French snobs,' as he put it, but Harry and Hermione had been greatly relieved to hear it. Though they were still friends, neither one really wanted to invite Ron for the week, nor would they want to so obviously leave him out.

The train ride to London had been going quite well, marked only by games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. And then, the food trolley passed by. Harry, generous as always, bought a good amount of chocolate frogs to be shared among his friends. A game of wizard's chess was about to begin when suddenly, Ginny burst out in hysterical laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked, looking at Ginny like she'd suddenly gone off the deep end.

Ginny, however, couldn't talk—she was far too busy laughing. Instead, she held up the wizard card that had come with her chocolate frog. Hermione plucked it out of Ginny's hand and scanned it quickly.

"Oh," she said quietly. "It's…erm…not really that funny. How about that game of chess now, Ron?"

"Wait a minute," Ron said. "She's still laughing, it must be something good." He snatched the card away from Hermione.

"Harry Potter," he read from the shiny card. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

For a moment, the compartment was completely silent. No one dared to move. Ginny stopped laughing instantly. Everyone held his or her breath, looking at Harry to see how he would react.

Ron was the singular exception. He didn't seem aware that Harry might take offense. He kept reading. "Harry Potter is known for his defeat of You-Know-Who in October of 1981. He survived the killing curse—the only person known to have done so—and was only one year old when it happened."

The air in the compartment had gotten impossibly tenser. Now, even Ron was aware of Harry's discomfort. He made awkward stuttering noises, and managed to get out something that sounded like "sorry…I didn't think…" before he fell silent.

Harry let out a breath. Finally, he took the card from Ron, looked at the picture of himself at eleven years old, and smiled. "It's a bit out of date, isn't it?" he said.

Everyone else relaxed and laughed. "Maybe we should write them a letter," Neville suggested. "I'm sure Colin has a more recent picture."

Harry groaned. "Can we just get back to the wizard chess, please?"

"Oh, but Harry, I was hoping you'd sign the card for me," Ginny teased, batting her eyes at him.

Harry smirked. He Conjured a quill and some ink, and signed the back of the card. He Banished the conjured objects, and handed the card back to Ginny.

She squealed, and then yelled "Harry!" while punching him in the arm.

Across the top of his own face, Harry had drawn in a moustache, goatee, and devil horns. He had signed it, "Wayne Kerr."

"At least we know fame hasn't gone to his head," Hermione muttered.

The train ride came to a close, and Harry prepared to get off. It was rather strange, looking forward to the moment the train would pull into the station. Usually, Harry dreaded that moment with all his heart. He felt a brief stab of remorse, thinking about having parents of his own who would meet him at the station and be happy to see him again. Well, he had Hermione's parents, and he had Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't his own parents, but it was still something that made Harry immensely happy.

After disembarking, he found himself scooped into the usual hug from Mrs. Weasley, being squeezed for all he was worth. He smiled and said hello to her and Mr. Weasley, and the twins, who had come along for the ride. Then he saw Hermione talking quietly with her parents. He said his goodbyes to the Weasleys and made his way over.

Hermione's features were a blending of her two parents. Her father was exceptionally tall and her mother was quite short, while Hermione was in the middle. Her father's hair was dark brown, and it fell in small, tight curls, and her mother's hair was a long, straight blonde.

"Dr. Granger and Dr. Granger," Harry said, nodding politely at each adult in turn. "I know we've met before, but it's been a long time. I'm Harry Potter, Hermione's friend from school."

Hermione's mother shook Harry's offered hand first, then Hermione's father. "Please, Harry, call us Mike and Rhonda. It could get confusing otherwise, with two Dr. Grangers in the house!"

Harry laughed. They loaded their trunks onto trolleys, since they weren't able to use magic, and headed toward the car. Harry began a conversation with Mike about school, and some of the tamer adventures they'd had together, while Hermione talked with her mother about the upcoming NEWT exams. Hermione caught Harry's eye for a moment, and they both smiled. The visit had been a good idea.

For the first two days of the week, they all toured London together. Harry, of course, had never been taken anywhere by the Dursleys, so the sights were all new to him. Hermione's family all loved history, and so the visits to the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and all the old cathedrals were all very informative. It wasn't really his cup of tea, but the obvious enthusiasm of all three Grangers made it enjoyable nonetheless. Hermione had also gotten better at picking out the bits of history that would be interesting to the average person, and she would make sure to tell Harry some of those.

On Tuesday, they returned to the Granger's home in Leeds. It was quite large, with five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a parlour, a living room, and two studies. The decoration was mostly simple, but in good taste. It was a place that said 'home.' Harry was led to an upstairs guest bedroom. The family would be going out to dinner at a nice restaurant and then a show at the community theatre, so they were all taking a chance to freshen up. Harry, on Hermione's advise, had ordered some nicer muggle clothing from a catalogue, so he did have something to wear. Unfortunately, he still had one problem—he had no idea how to tie a tie. Uncle Vernon had certainly never taken the time to show him.

As he sat on his bed trying to work it out, he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," he called. Hermione, wearing a knee-length light blue dress, opened the door. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Harry was a little embarrassed at having to ask for help getting dressed like some little kid. But there was nothing for it. "I…er…don't know how to do this," he mumbled, holding up the tie.

"Oh!" she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that. I should've known." She slipped the tie over his head and brought both ends around to the front. Tying a basic half-Windsor knot, she then pulled it tight and tucked it under his collar. She stepped back to assess her work. "Lovely," she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Neither teen was aware of Hermione's parents, watching and smiling from just outside the room.

Friday night had arrived, the last night of Harry's stay with the Grangers. He and Hermione had had a wonderful holiday, alternately studying and relaxing. He also enjoyed the company of the adult Grangers. Just as Harry was about to go to sleep, someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he said, expecting Hermione.

But instead it was Mike who opened the door. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked.

Harry, sensing that this might not be a comfortable conversation, considered claiming to be too tired. But that would be incredibly rude, and Mike had been very friendly and hospitable. "Sure, Mike," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "What can I do for you?"

Mike was also obviously uncomfortable. "Well, um…you see, you and Hermione seem very…um…comfortable together. And Rhonda and I think you're a very sweet and polite young man, but…we'd like to know what your intentions are toward our daughter."

Harry blinked. Was he hearing this correctly? "I'm sorry sir…you think…Hermione and I are…well…together?"

"Maybe not yet, but you will be someday. The signs are all there, Harry. A parent knows."

"I'm gay," Harry blurted out, stunned into simple honesty.

"What?" Mike asked.

"I'm…er…I said…that is…well, gay," Harry repeated, realizing that that might not have been the best thing to blurt out.

Mike continued staring at him in shock.

"Hermione is like a sister to me. We do love each other very much, but not…er…in that way," he continued, trying to 'dig up.'

"Oh!" comprehension dawned on Mark's face. "I see. I suppose Rhonda wins that one."

"What?" Harry asked dumbly.

"We had a bet. I thought you were Hermione's boyfriend. Rhonda was absolutely certain you were gay. Woman's intuition, I suppose." He smiled wryly. "Well, in any case, Rhonda and I want to thank you for taking care of Hermione at school. She's always had such a hard time making friends. We thought things would be better when she went to Hogwarts. But for the first two months she was there, she was desperately unhappy. Oh, she enjoyed the learning, of course, but she still couldn't make friends, and she was away from us, and everything that had ever been familiar to her. And what did we know about her world? We couldn't do anything to help. But after she became friends with you—well, it made all the difference in the world. So—thank you, Harry."

Mike held out his hand, and Harry took it, somewhat benumbed. "You're welcome, sir, but really, you don't have to thank me for being friends with Hermione! Her friendship has been everything to me. I don't know exactly how much Hermione has told you about me, or about our times at school, but there have been a couple of times when she was basically the only person who didn't turn on me. I never could have made it without her."

"I'm glad we got to meet you, Harry," Mike replied. "You're always welcome here. Rhonda and I really hope that we'll see you again sometime."

With those words, Mike let himself out of the room. Harry smiled. He and Hermione, together? Even if he hadn't been gay, he didn't think that would have happened. Hermione was like his sister. She had been since they were eleven years old.

His thoughts turned to what awaited him on the following day. He would be travelling to see Tom. He couldn't wait. Even using Occlumency to organize his thoughts and calm himself, it still took him a long time to fall asleep.

Next week...Harry's visit with Tom!