Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he received the small scroll of parchment from one to the school owls almost a week later at breakfast. He recognised Dumbledore's messages anywhere, the deep purple ribbon tied neatly around the fresh parchment giving it away in an instant. Having filled in Ron and Hermione on the details they weren't surprised, but all it took was Neville exclaiming 'What's that Harry?' to have the rest of Gryffindor's attention placed on him.

Brilliant.

"Give him a minute," said Ron, the words coming out slightly harsher than they would normally have. Sure enough Neville shrank back a little, but it was a testament to how far he had come along from the stuttering young boy in First Year that he never dropped it.

Harry was relieved that Ron intervened. Hungrily his fingers unfurled the scroll, Dumbledore's writing that used to cause such excitement in him, now making him want to drop the letter as if it was diseased.

Harry,

I would like to start our Private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your studies.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore
PS. I enjoy Acid Pops.

Harry tossed the scroll back onto the table, running his fingers through his hair in a way he hoped looked calm. Ron snatched it up, scanning the contents, his expression thankfully remaining neutral, but Harry could see his normally open brown eyes harden a little. When Ron Weasley was nervous, then something was very, very wrong.

"He just wants me to get some extra training," said Harry to Neville, the boy's face looking more sombre as he realised the meaning behind this.

"Why does he always make his passwords the names of sweets?" asked Ron randomly, the rest of the Gryffindors chuckling at this.

"I dunno, he always offers me lemon drops as well, maybe he thinks the names will make pupils a little more at ease going into his office," mused Harry.

"And that does not sound dodgy in the slightest," came the teasing voice of Lysander.

"What is the 'Wise Ravenclaw' doing gracing our table?" asked Harry, holding his nose in the air in a manner scarily like Malfoy, and putting on an accent that would make a Pureblood cringe.

"I believe I should gives others an example of true brilliance once in a while," replied Lysander, not missing a beat.

"Where's Blaise?" asked Hermione, "Got him tied up somewhere?"

"I wish," Lysander looked wistfully towards one of the cupboards at the top of the Hall. Ron shuddered slightly.

"Dumbledore's gonna give me private lessons," said Harry, seeing Lysander's eyes move to the letter.

"Are you really that thick?" the Frenchman's eyes looked too delighted, and Harry realised that he could probably make an extremely good actor one day.

"No, I'm so wise that I need extra teaching so my time here isn't entirely wasted," retorted Harry.

"Says the boy who cannot evaporate water in a heat wave," snickered Lysander, "Anyway, as much as I love to insult you, I came over here to ask if you want to join us on the Quidditch pitch after class. Malfoy got a new broom and he wants to show it off. I figured you would be excited by this," Lysander's expression was one of disdain at the end.

"Uh, sure, that actually sounds quite fun," Harry was surprised, but the thought of riding his Firebolt again was too good to resist. The Quidditch matches were due to start soon, and training was due to commence next week. For the first time in his life, Harry had totally forgotten about it.

"Knew you'd say that. I better return to my table, I don't want to be contaminated by your Gryffindor-ness," and with that, Lysander was gone.

"I don't know what it is about him, but despite being an ass, I like him," muttered Ron, shaking his head slowly.

"He's got that way about him," said Harry, stuffing Dumbledore's letter into his pocket.

"We should probably get to class. Potions is first, and judging by the look on Snape's face, it's going to be brutal," said Hermione, and Ron and Harry groaned when they looked up to see the surly face of the Potions Master.

"This is going to be hell," groaned Ron, and Harry felt like he couldn't have expressed it better himself.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to see them all come out of Potions alive. Thanks to the warning, they had expected Snape to be bad, but whatever it was that had annoyed him, they had never seen him quite that moody before. Neville was still recovering from having his Draught of Living Death tried out on Trevor. Thankfully he was so inept at Potions, the toad was merely a little dazed.

After that the day seemed to breeze by. As always in DADA Demeter kept her large watchful eyes on him, but other than that she kept her distance - unless she was delivering a message from Tom saying their training was cancelled for some reason or another. Their training had been cancelled for a few weeks, Tom having to go to the other kingdoms of the Midnight Realm and inspect their troops. If that never spelled a war was coming, then Harry never knew what did. Hastily he penned a note explaining Dumbledore's lesson conflicted with their training, and at the end when no one was looking he knocked his bag, spilling the contents over the carpet.

Sure enough, when everyone was gone and he was trying to find everything, Demeter floated over to him.

"Tom has sent me no messages for you today, Harry," she said gently, her voice a mere whisper.

"I know, but I was wondering if you could pass this to him," Harry handed her the scroll, and she scanned it quickly, checking it for any traps - one couldn't be too careful.

"I had heard of your lessons with the Headmaster. Are you sufficiently prepared?" asked the elf, her full lips forming a slight frown.

"Yes," said Harry, not quite knowing how he could prepare himself.

"Well if you require assistance, just think the word hippogriff. He was talking about setting up a psychic link between yourself, himself and I, and if you are in danger this will let us know."

"That was nice of him to tell me," said Harry, feeling a little hurt that Tom had not told him about this idea.

"Hush Childe, he only thought of it a few nights ago, and given his duties and responsibilities, you are fortunate you see him as much as you do," scolded Demeter, her normally kind eyes flashing slightly.

"Could you please deliver it to him?" asked Harry, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and really wanting to leave the classroom.

"Of course," Demeter was back to her cool self, and Harry felt relived, "I shall do so right away."

"Thank you... Er, I better be going now." The elf's stare had became more intense in the past few moments, and grabbing his back, he made his way out of the classroom.

"One last thing," said Demeter, just as Harry was at the door, "Good luck, Harry."

By the time Harry made it to the Quidditch pitch Firebolt in hand, he felt calmer than he had in ages. Even the prospect of flying soothed him. He jumped on his broom, flying the rest of the way down to the pitch. Flying faster, he felt exhilaration course through his veins, and it only hit him now how much he missed this.

It was strange to think he had only been at Hogwarts for almost a month. In that time so much had changed, and it physically hurt his brain to think back over it all. Part of him marvelled at how much you could cram into a small period of time, and the other wondered vaguely how much longer he could keep it up.

Right now, however, all of that was behind him. Up here he was free. If he wanted to he could fly away and no one could catch him. Here he could do what he wanted, he was in control. All of the feelings he had over flying were strengthened just that little bit because of everything he had been through over the Summer. He wished Tom never hated flying, that way he could feel this way too and they could share the experience together.

Feeling his feet skim the long grass, he sighed happily, shooting up higher so as to not crash into the stands. Everything seemed so much smaller from up here, and seeing Ron, Hermione, Draco, Lysander and Blaise standing in the centre of the pitch only amplified that. Aiming, he zoomed down towards them, pulling up at the last minute in a spontaneous Wronski Feint.

"Always has to make an entrance," grumbled Lysander loudly.

"You're hardly any better," laughed Blaise.

"Sorry I'm late, had to speak to Demeter," said Harry, by way of explanation.

"Letting Tom know about Saturday?" asked Lysander, and Harry was struck by how quickly he could go from mocking to serious.

"Yep, I don't want him besieging the castle to look for me when I don't show," laughed Harry.

"Why can I actually see Riddle doing that?" asked Ron to no one in particular.

"Because he is madly, irrevocably, and nonsensically in love with Potter here," sneered Draco, and Harry felt himself blush just a little.

"I think it's sweet," said Hermione, and it was all Harry could do not to vomit at the sappy look that had entered her eyes.

Clearing his throat, he saw Ron was holding enough broom from the broom cupboard for them all, and Lysander had the chest of balls by his feet. "I suggest us Gryffindors go against you Slytherins and your one wannabe Slytherin. Best of three?"

"Deal," said Blaise, elbowing Lysander as he complained rather vocally about being called a 'wannabe Slytherin.'

The games never lasted long. Ron had improved considerably over the Summer, but Hermione was rather lacking in Quidditch talent, so it was basically him and Ron against the other three. Somehow they managed to win the first game, but were trounced in the second, and it was only Harry's quick thinking that led to them winning the third.

When they landed, they were all feeling a little sore and sweaty, but Harry hadn't felt more alive than when he first drank Tom's blood. Trudging up to the castle, they couldn't stop laughing at how Ron had almost scored a goal for the other team, and it was only when Harry shot sparks at him that he remembered they had swapped sides. Ron blushed heavily throughout the teasing, but took it good naturedly.

The week passed in much the same fashion, and it was only on Friday evening that Harry realised his meeting with Dumbledore was the following night. He was sitting in the library when this happened, working on his DADA essay on how muggle views on Dark creatures had bled into the Wizarding World when this dawned on him.

"You'll be alright, Harry," came the calm voice of Luna. Turning, he saw she was right behind him.

"Sweet Merlin, Luna! Don't do that!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice low so that he wouldn't get thrown out. Madam Pince glared at him anyway, and he wondered for a moment if that woman's ideal world was one where the vocal chords didn't exist. Probably.

"I was merely fascinated by the Wrackspurts that are above your head. They told me to come to you," said Luna vaguely.

"Er, that was nice of them," was all Harry could think to say. He as still having a hard time believing they actually existed let alone they were above his head.

"I thought so," replied Luna dreamily, "They were right, your aura is almost like a muddy blue colour."

"And that means...?" asked Harry wearily. He loved Luna, he really did, but he wished she could get to the point a little quicker.

"You're worried, and my guess is about that note from the Headmaster stuffed in your pocket," her silver eyes had a rare moment of clarity, and Harry vowed he would never again doubt her power.

"Uh, yeah. I really don't know what to expect," voiced Harry, feeling a wave of hopelessness engulf him.

"We can only know ourselves by our reaction to the unknown," said Luna dreamily.

"If this is my reaction, then I am not fit to be a Lord," sighed Harry, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly.

"You were given that gift because you deserved it. Tom would not trust someone blindly, and ever since you two have gotten together your auras have practically glowed. It really makes a difference from the other auras around here," Luna looked around the library sadly, "You are competent you know. You never went to find the Philosophers Stone knowing what to expect, you never found the Chamber of Secrets knowing what would be inside, you managed to save your Godfather from the Dementors, you managed to bring back Cedric's body from the Graveyard and get away from Voldemort without harming anyone... You never knew what would happen in any of those situations, no one would, but your reactions show that you are competent and powerful. This situation is no different."

Harry blinked, feeling heat rise up into his face. That was the longest and most impassioned speech he had ever heard Luna give.

"I don't know what to say... Thank you," stammered Harry, feeling all powers of speech slipping away from him.

"It's true. If you can handle Tom, then you can handle Dumbledore. The Wrackspurts are telling me my work is done, and that you need to get on with your essay. Goodnight, Harry," Luna kissed him on the cheek before wandering away, looking for all intents and purposes that she had no idea where she was going.

Harry knew differently now, however. She was incredibly smart and perceptive, he just hoped she was right about him. Feeling the knot in his stomach unravel a little, he went back to his work.

A/N: Thank you for the feedback, it's nice to know I still have some readers out there! :D This chapter was meant to be the start of Dumbledore's lessons, but then the characters wanted to play Quidditch. *sigh* So Dumbledore will be in the next chapter and that should be up within the next week. I hope you've enjoyed this one, and I would really appreciate it if you review!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. *sigh*