It did not take long to get used to living without his wand. He had learned enough over the years that he could manage easily enough on his own. In fact, he got on better without the wand than he had with it. It was like he had been freed of some oppressive burden. He could really breathe now, enjoy the world for what it was.

He stayed camped out side the small town near the Thames where he had lived for several weeks. It was too soon to go back to his house, to collect his belongings. Most of it he could do without, but all of his money, clothes and weapons were all stocked safely away in the recesses of his house.

He would have to get to it soon, but his house was being watched closely. He spent several days recording their patrol patterns, spotting the weaknesses in their surveillance. It was quiet thorough, more so than he had ever seen. It was still flawed though, that he could see. It was only a matter of time before the opportunity to break in would arise. Then he could grab his gear, and truly leave his magic past behind.

"Well, what did he do?" Ron asked as Harry walked down the stairwell.

Harry walked past him and kept going, eyes focused ahead of him, still digesting what had happened back in Dumbledore's office. He did not hear Ron, nor did he see Ron's exasperated look as Harry reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Harry!"

Ron grabbed Harry by the shoulder and spun him around. "Wake up."

"Oh, what, sorry." Harry looked around as if noticing Ron for the first time. "I was thinking about something."

"I noticed." Ron let go of his shoulder and pointed back towards the office. "So, what happened."

"He fixed the problem." Harry bit his tongue when Ron eyed him disbelievingly. His answer had come out a little too fast.

"And…"

"He... flipped out when I told him about the dream."

"What?"

"Yeah. I told him that, in the dream, he was looking for a girl and he went berserk. He grabbed me and shouted in my face."

Ron gave Harry a worried look. "Did he hit you or anything?"

"No. When he heard it was about Mrs. Longbottom, he calmed down immediately. Refused to explain it."

Ron looked at Harry as if expecting an explanation anyway. When Harry did not speak, he huffed and continued walking down the hall back to the Gryffindor common room. They walked in silence most of the way.

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" Ron asked as the door came in sight.

Harry stopped and stared at the floor. He mulled over the question uncertainly. "I don't think so."

Ron raised an eyebrow and put a hand on Harry's forehead. He frowned and patted Harry on the back. "No fever. You sure that he didn't whack you on the head or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why would you not tell Dumbledore? Vandermine assaulted you! What if he does it again?"

"He won't."

"How can you be sure?"

Harry avoided Ron's eyes and shrugged. "Dumbledore wouldn't help."

"What? How do you know that? You haven't asked him yet."

Harry looked over at Ron and exhaled sharply. He was so tired. "Vandermine said that Dumbledore already knew about it, and that he would not tell anyone."

"Knew about what? Him shouting at you?"

"No, he knows about whatever it was that made Vandermine do that."

"And he promised not to tell?"

"Yeah."

"That's a bummer."

"Uh-huh." Harry stopped before the portrait and held up his hand to keep Ron from the door. "Ron, wait a second."

"What is it Harry?"

Harry searched his memory for something he had seen during the meeting. He thought back to when Vandermine had grabbed him. What was it about his eyes? Fear, wasn't it?

"Whatever it was that he thought I had seen," Harry chose his words carefully, not wanting to unduly upset Ron. "it scared him. Scared him really bad."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I told you, when I mentioned that he was looking for a girl, that was when he went crazy."

"Who do you think he was thinking of?"

"I have no idea, but I want to find out. Where would be a good place to look up his history?"

"The library, maybe." Ron scratched his head. "I'm not so sure about that though. Most books and such about him were purged from the Wizarding community by the Ministry after he was arrested."

"What?" Harry turned to face Ron, his eyes widening. "Why would they do that? They couldn't have. That's illegal, isn't it?"

"Evidently not. Anyway, if there is anything in there, we'd need a genius to find it. The only surviving material would be in broader books, like general history or famous people. I can guarantee you that there won't be a single book with more than a dozen pages on him."

Harry groaned and leaned against the wall. "Then it'll take ages to find anything."

"Yep. Unless we get the librarian to help, or someone just as smart. Someone like…"

"…Hermione."

"Yeah." Ron bit his lip and looked away from Harry. "That'll be a bit of a problem."

"Sure will be." Harry shrugged and turned back to the portrait. "I'll try and talk to her tomorrow. Maybe I can smooth things out."

"Good luck on that."

Harry turned sharply to look at Ron, a sarcastic comeback already forming on his tongue. But when he saw that Ron had truly meant it, that it was not a biting remark, he bit his tongue and rushed into the room. He felt his cheeks reddening in shame. That was stupid, really stupid. Harry tried to forget about his almost-retort as he climbed under his sheets. He shook his head roughly, trying to clear away the negative thought.

Come on, Harry, he thought, you're not that stupid. Did it really sound like a taunt, or was I just looking for an excuse? He banished the thought to the remotest corner of his mind and closed his eyes. The bed felt softer than usual. Maybe it was because he was exhausted. Whatever it was, Harry fell asleep in minutes. His sleep was pleasantly dreamless.

Morning came soon, too soon for Harry's liking. He crawled out of bed with dread. He vaguely remembered something about a Potions paper and a bad dream, but he felt so tired that he could not place the memories. He brushed off the thoughts and shuffled over to his wardrobe and threw on his school robes, not caring if they were clean or not. Judging from the looks that he got as he descended the stairs, they were dirty. Really dirty.

He did not care. He edged through the crowd to where Ron was sitting, comfortably resting on the chair nearest the fireplace. Ron turned his head slowly as Harry sat down beside him. His eyes flicked briefly to Harry's robes, but he kept his comments to himself. Harry nodded in thanks at his silence and blinked several times. His vision was blurry and he couldn't think why. He raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. When he stopped, he was still seeing only blurry images.

"Try putting your glasses on," called a voice from behind him.

Harry slapped himself on the forehead and mentally berated himself. How could he have forgotten his glasses? He had only been wearing them for six years. He cast Ron an accusing look, forcing himself not to grin as Ron laughed.

"Thanks for telling me, Ron. Great help, you are."

Ron shrugged and gave Harry a goofy smile. "You didn't look like you wanted help."

Harry started to reply, but thought better of it and shut his mouth. He looked over his shoulder to see who had helped, but whoever it was had disappeared in the sea of Gryffindors milling in the common room. Harry scanned the face of each student, searching for a clue as to the identity of his helper. Seeing nothing, he gave up and turned towards the stairs.

"I'll be right back." He told Ron. Ron waved him in acknowledgement and started up a conversation with a nearby third-year Gryffindor student.

Harry hurried back to his room. He rushed over to his bed and found his glasses right where he always put them. Full awake now, Harry searched his wardrobe his for cleaner robes. He put them on quickly and, putting his glasses on, ran down to the common room. It had cleared out for the most part by the time Harry got back down, but Ron was still waiting for him. They left the common room and headed for the Great Hall for breakfast.

Neville joined them as they entered the Hall. Amazingly enough, a spot was available near the doors, so they grabbed it. The meal was delicious, as usual, and they tore into it like wolves. The hour flew by as they exchanged stories and gossip about the school. Neville had heard that Vandermine was tightening up security in the grounds. At least two members of his team were patrolling at all times. Harry and Ron listened patiently as Neville described the set up of the school's security. Harry was astonished at how much security there was. He knew that the dementors and Vandermine's team were there, but he had not realized all of what they did. The school had hundreds of spells protecting its borders alone, not too mention the myriad of spells cast minefield-like across the areas just inside the walls. From the way Neville described it, Hogwarts protection spells alone could defeat an entire army of wizards.

"If there is so much security then how did Sirius Black get in?" he wondered aloud once Neville finished.

"Vandermine thinks that, since he is an ex-student, many of the protection spells don't cover him. The spells were placed mainly to prevent sabotage from other schools, as well as any foreign threats. To a former resident, the spells are as easy to get by as a knife through butter."

"So, you're telling us that Sirius Black had only to slip pas the dementors to get in."

"Yeah. But how he got past Vandermine's team, that's what I cannot figure out."

Harry frowned and pounded a fist on the table. "What's the point of all this security if they can't even keep him out!"

Neville bristled at that, but Harry held his hands up placatingly. "I'm not insulting Vandermine, believe me. It's just that… well…"

"You want him caught."

Harry nodded seriously. "I want him caught and beaten." A shiver ran up his spine as he thought about what he said. "I want him to pay for what he did. I want him to feel the pain that I have to live with."

"So do we, Harry." Ron patted him on the back and pointed across the hall to the teachers' table. "Look, there's Vandermine. What is he doing?"

Harry jerked his head towards the teachers' table. Vandermine was there, in Muggle body-armor with what looked like a full backpack and two duffel bags, both loaded with equipment. A dozen detonators and pistols were strapped to various parts of his body. He looked like a walking armory.

The most impressive thing that Vandermine was carrying was his definitely his rifle. Harry recognized that the Muggle weapon was a sniper rifle by the lengthy barrel. The weapon was almost five feet long, of which over half was the barrel. Harry had seen that particular rifle on the cover of one of Dudley's sporting magazines. Barret something. Supposed to be pretty powerful.

"What's that he's holding?" Ron asked, straining to get a better look at the weapon. He had obviously never seen a Muggle rifle before, because his next question was completely off the mark. "Is that some kind of Muggle spear? How does it work?"

Harry laughed quietly at his friend's confusion, but he honestly knew just a little more than Ron did.

"No, Ron. That's a sniper rifle."

"A what?" several Gryffindors turned to face him, eager to hear more about the foreign object. Harry blushed slightly at the sudden attention.

"It's… well, a rifle is what the Muggles use to fight with now."

"How does it work?" Lee Jordan leaned in closer, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What does it do?"

"You pull the trigger-"

"What's a trigger?"

Harry inhaled deeply and forced himself to calm down. "This'll take forever to explain." He said matter-of-factly. "All that I'll say is that with a rifle, people can kill other people from great distances."

Most of the Gryffindors scowled in disgust and went back to their meals, no longer interested in the topic. A handful were even more interested though, and Harry found himself barraged with questions about the way that the Muggles did this.

"How can it kill someone? What does it do?"

"Well, it shoots a bullet, that is a small metal object" he added when he got curious looks, "at very high speeds. The bullets are fired fast enough to punch through skin, clothes, and even other metals sometimes."

One of the Gryffindors snorted in disbelief. "You're making that up. It's impossible."

"No, it isn't. They can do this from far away, even a mile."

"A mile and a half, actually."

Harry jumped in his seat as Vandermine's hand descended on his shoulder. He had not heard him approaching. Neville and Ron looked up at him questioningly, wanting to hear more about the rifle.

"The longest recorded kill was from over a mile and a half."

Harry nodded absently and brushed off his hand. "Where are you going?" he asked, wishing to change the subject.

"Afghanistan." Vandermine answered. "We got a contract to hunt down some terrorists, and we don't have enough people to send a team without lightening security too much. So I'm going in solo. I'll be gone for a week tops."

"A week?"

Vandermine chuckled softly and shrugged. "I've only got five targets."

Harry and Ron exchanged surprised looks. One week to find five men?

"So are you going to capture them?"

Harry looked into Vandermine's eyes and got all the answer he needed. Shuddering slightly, he turned back to the table, his face going pale. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. The food that he had just eaten felt like it was jumping in his stomach, threatening to escape at a moment's notice.

"What's a terrorist?" Ron asked the question innocently, not comprehending what the term meant.

Vandermine's face hardened and his lip curled in anger. "They are scum. Radicals and fanatics, so obsessed with one goal that they will do anything to see it accomplished."

"Is that so bad? What's the worst they could do?"

"They could strap bombs to themselves and blow up in the middle of a crowded store."

Ron's face whitened and he sagged in his seat. His mouth opened to form a surprised 'O,' but Vandermine cut him off.

"They murder innocent people by the hundreds just to satisfy their bloody dreams."

Harry shuddered and looked down at his plate, feeling queasy.

"So, you're going out to kill them."

"Eventually. Once I'm done with them, I'll kill them." His voice was so cold, so emotionless that Harry nearly gagged.

"What do you mean, 'once you're done with them?'"

"I mean just that." Vandermine hefted the sniper rifle and smiled. The smile was not a happy smile though, but more like a smile of anticipation. "This baby is great for pain shots. One through the kidney or liver should do just right. Give'em an hour or so to die. Just long enough for me to climb over to them and finish them off on my own. Nice and slow, so they can have a long time to see the results of their actions."

Ron choked on his food, his face turning green. Harry glared at Vandermine's callous smile and turned away, anger burning in his eyes. His voice shook when he spoke, so disgusted was he by Vandermine's words.

"That's inhuman."

Vandermine shrugged again, dismissing the accusation with an uncaring sigh. "It's not my fault. They started this, and I'm ending it. I want them to pay for what they did, or would do if they aren't stopped."

Harry stiffened as he said that. A cold feeling gripped his stomach as he thought about those same words that he had said not five minutes ago. He gripped the edges of the table tighter and ducked his head low, avoiding the stares of his friends.

"Anyway," Vandermine said after an awkward silence. "I'll be gone for a while. Judder will be in charge of the dueling club while I'm out. Talk to him if you have any questions."

Vandermine spun on his heel and left the Hall, exiting through the massive doors quieter than a man carrying all that gear should. Harry watched him go, ignoring the retching sounds coming from Ron's place at the table. When he turned back, he met Ron and Neville's stares. They looked worried.

"Remind me not to get on his bad side," Ron said, smiling feebly as he attempted to lighten the mood.

Harry almost grinned, but any happy thoughts were immediately squashed as he thought of what Vandermine had said. He shuddered in horror and tried to clear his mind. It did not work though, and he too vomited his lunch onto his plate. His throat burned for a long time after that, but that pain would be nothing compared to what Vandermine had planned for his targets. Harry tried to drive the thoughts away, but they stayed with through his classes, haunting his every step.

He hardly noticed as he and Ron got up from their last class. They walked silently across the school, both too immersed in their own thoughts to say anything. Neither of them noticed when they turned into the wrong hallway. Instead of going back to their dorm, they unconsciously moved towards the library. Harry did not realize this until he collided with another student as he entered the library. He instinctively dropped down to his knees to get the dropped materials, scooping them up while muttering apologies. When he rose to hand them back to their owner though, he dropped them again, his mouth opening wide in shock.

Hermione just stood there, glaring angrily at him.