Posted: 25 March, 2010

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

Chapter 11 - End of School Year

Thursday, 4 June, 1992

It was Thursday, the last day of their exam week, and Harry and Neville had just finished their last test, for History of Magic. They were both sprawled sideways on Harry's bed, staring across the room at their roommates, who seemed determine to make as much noise as possible in celebration. Eventually though, Percy stomped up to the room to tell them off for their ruckus.

"Not all of us have finished our exams you know," he said tersely, looking frazzled, which was explained by the fact that it was his O.W.L. year. "Some of us are busy trying to study. As a prefect, I must insist that you all simmer down or else take yourselves outside, so that we can have some peace."

In the end the three decided to head down to the lawns, though only after some grumbling and petulant words from Ron that made Percy deduct a point from Gryffindor for 'disrespect to a prefect'.

As the room emptied (Harry and Neville had declined the invitation to join the three others), Harry looked over at his companion, noticing the weariness in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the paleness of his face. Unlike Harry, who had breezed through the week, the stress of his first year exams had not been nice to Neville.

"You look done in," he said.

Neville groaned. "I know. I'm so glad it's finally over, but I'm worried I failed."

"I'm sure you did fine."

"But my Forgetfulness Potion didn't thicken enough, and the colour was off. And in Transfiguration, my snuffbox still had patches of fur and whiskers," he said fretfully.

"Look, there's no point worrying yourself about it now," said Harry. "It's done and over with, so thinking about it before we get our results back is pointless."

"Maybe you're right," Neville said, but he sounded unconvinced.

Harry looked over and stared at his weary form once more.

"Why don't you take a kip? You look like you could use it. Go on, I'll wake you for dinner."

Really needing the sleep and recuperation, Neville agreed, and soon disappeared behind his bed curtains. Once he was sure his friend was out for the night, Harry drug two items out of his trunk and returned to his bed, pulling his own curtains tight.

Sitting before him were two things: his invisibility cloak, and a bit of worn parchment. The second was something he had put together a couple of weeks ago. He'd taken a clean piece of parchment and charmed it aged, then enchanted it to perform certain functions. Deciding one last test was in order, he tapped it with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Instantly, ink began to appear on the page, lines spreading out to form words. 'Mr Prongs regrets to inform a mischief-maker that the Marauder's Map is currently unavailable.' 'Mr Wormtail says it's about time they took a break. Being a map is hard work.' 'Mr Moony says that if the mischief-maker has a problem with this, they should contact our union.' 'Mr Padfoot reminds Mr Moony that we have no union, and strongly suggests the mischief-maker not let our time off discourage them from causing havoc.' 'Mr Prongs is still regretful that he cannot be of help at this time, but promises that we will be back to work soon.'

Harry smiled and nodded. The personalities in the parchment were very limited, since he had not the original people to extract them from, but he thought they would serve their purpose nicely. If Fred and George activated this parchment, they should be bewildered, but not suspicious.

Tucking it into his pocket, he donned his cloak then sneaked from the room. Creeping down the stairs till he came to the door for the third year boys' dorm (he had one close call where he had to flatten himself to the wall as a seventh year headed up in the opposite direction), Harry drew his wand.

After carefully disabling the traps set in the door – it was the Weasley twin's dorm after all: such pranks were only to be expected – he crept into the room, relieved to find it empty. He hurried over to the battered trunk labelled with a 'G'. Not finding what he was searching for, he moved to the trunk at the foot of the next bed, labelled with an 'F'. This time he found what he sought, and left his charmed parchment behind.

Back in his own room a minute later, hidden once more behind his curtains, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map that he had purloined. It would be of great use to him tonight, the night that Quirrell was to go after the Philosopher's Stone. Assuming that the timeline hadn't altered too much of course.

He had decided, after great consideration, not to go after Quirrell/Voldemort this time. Unlike last time, he knew the man did not have all the clues. Quirrell didn't know how to get the stone from within Dumbledore's rather ingenious protection of the mirror. Not alone, at least. If Harry himself went down to confront Quirrell however, he could be used to acquire the stone like last time, only putting it at greater risk.

And so, he was planning to stay put, though that wasn't to say he was going to stand back and do nothing. He had borrowed the Marauder's Map for a reason after all. Instead, he intended to keep a close eye on Quirrell's movements. The moment the Professor entered the forbidden third floor corridor, Harry had an anonymous letter penned, which he would send off with one of the school owls. The letter was to Dumbledore, explaining that Quirrell had gone after the stone.

In the original timeline, Dumbledore had told Harry he abruptly realised, halfway to London, that he ought to be back at Hogwarts. That was a suspicious story and he rather suspected that in truth someone had tripped an alert ward. So, just in case it was he and his friends who had done so, and Quirrell was skilled enough to avoid any such magics, the letter would alert Dumbledore to return and investigate. Harry was sure the old wizard was the best one to confront Quirrell/Voldemort.

..ooOOoo..

Things that night went of without a hitch, and the next morning Professor Dumbledore stood up at breakfast to make an announcement.

"If I could have your attention students," he said, and everyone quietened. "I have very grave news for you all. I am saddened to inform you all that Professor Quirrell suffered from an accident yesterday evening, and perished. For those students who have yet to have their DADA examination with the Professor, please note that your tests will still stand, but will be administered instead by myself. Thank you."

Short and vague, Harry thought, as the Headmaster retook his seat and worried questions and gossip spread across the hall.

"I wonder what happened to him," Neville said beside him, looking concerned.

"I don't know," Harry lied.

Personally, he suspected that when Dumbledore confronted the possessed Quirrell, Voldemort was forced to flee, leaving Quirrell for dead. His theory was supported by what he'd witnessed on the Marauder's Map; the dot labelled Quirrell had faded shortly after Dumbledore entered the mirror chamber with him.

Speaking of the map, he would return it sometime today, before the twins got suspicious. He didn't feel right just stealing it from them, even if was his father and friends' legacy. He would have to instead arrange some way to legitimately get ownership of it at a later date.

..ooOOoo..

The last Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was held on Saturday. Ravenclaw won by a fair margin, the Gryffindor seeker – a seventh year girl – being really rather useless. The Quidditch Cup went to Slytherin once again, to most of the school's disappointment. Then on Monday the end of year feast was held, and again, to the other three houses' disappointment, Slytherin continued their several year long trend by taking out the House Cup also.

The rest of the holidays passed by quickly, especially since the first years had finished exams and classes and only had free time on their hands. Neville and Harry spent their days just hanging around, playing Gobstones and Exploding Snap, and occasionally indulging Ron with a game of chess, when the boy was having trouble finding opponents.

More importantly however, he and Neville slipped away to practice Occlumency. Neville was really coming along. Their standard yardstick of progress was to measure how quickly Neville started blocking, and how long it took him to hold shields for a five second stretch. The blonde boy could now start defending within ten seconds, and it only took him another thirty before he could raise his Occlumency shields for five seconds straight. The way it was going, Harry hoped to be able to reveal his secrets to the boy by Christmas at the latest.

On the Thursday after Quirrell's untimely demise, exam results were finally released. As expected, Harry had scored O's in most of his classes, except Astronomy and History in which he only got A's. Neville was just happy to have passed everything, receiving an A in Potions and Transfiguration and, to his delight, an O in Herbology and Charms.

..ooOOoo..

Friday, 20 June, 1992

As the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters, Harry suddenly cursed and stood up, hastily tugging his robes off.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, just almost forgot I was heading out to the Muggle world. Uncle Vernon'd probably be torn between yelling at me and pretending he didn't know me if I came out wearing wizarding clothes," Harry said, pulling down his trunk and opening it just long enough to stuff the robe away.

"Oh," said Neville nervously, standing to pull down his own trunk, now that train was coming to a stop. "You will be alright with them, won't you?" he asked. Harry had told some of what they were like and it didn't sound good. "I know you went back for Christmas, but that wasn't for long."

"I'll be fine," Harry assured him.

"Well, okay. If you're sure."

Both boys then made their way off the train.

"Remember to keep practicing your Occlumency. You're really coming along. I think you'll definitely have it down by Christmas."

"A-And then you'll be able to tell me your s-secrets?" Neville said, quietly.

Harry halted in surprise, causing another student walking behind them to run into him. He apologised then grabbed Neville's arm, dragging him to a shadowy corner of the platform.

"Secrets?" he finally asked, staring appraisingly at his friend.

"Well," Neville ducked his head, "it's just that I've n-noticed- that is to say-"

"It's okay Nev. I'm not mad. Just explain what you mean."

"Well, I've sorta noticed you seem to be keeping s-secrets. You're very mysterious you know, and sometimes you- you skirt topics, or else want to say things but stop yourself. I figured maybe there was more to wanting me to learn Occlumency than just keeping Snape out my head."

Harry resisted the urge to gape stupidly. Inwardly he cursed himself for underestimating his friend so. He may be innocent and eleven, but Neville had always been observant. He read people well, for all that he was sometimes nervous communicating with them. Harry wondered what to say.

"I-"

"It's alright Harry, I'm not mad. A-And I'm not expecting anything. If you want to keep your secrets, even after I learn to shield my mind, that's okay," Neville said, looking completely honest.

"No," Harry shook his head. "No, you're right, I have secrets. And yes, that was an ulterior motive for teaching you Occlumency. Actually it was the main one. Because I do want to tell you them. I want to tell you everything."

"Really?" said Neville, looking hopefully, and Harry knew that for all that he'd calmly accept being kept in the dark, the blond really did want to know.

"Really," Harry said, nodding and smiling. Then he sobered. "But I warn you now," he said seriously, "that it's going to be big, what I have to tell you. And I mean huge. And you'll have to keep it secret too."

Neville drew himself up in a dignified manner. "You can count on me Harry."

And he smiled again. "Never doubted it," he said, clasping the other boy's shoulder firmly. Then he released it and looked back over at the crowd. "Now come on, we better get going before your Gran comes looking for us. That's one intimidating witch."

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