4 in 1

by Joshua The Evil Guy

AU Book 7. A mysterious stranger interferes in the timeline and in Harry's life, splitting the young wizard into four and giving each a different magical education. Wizard, Warrior, Mage, and Spy. HP/GW, RW/HG Spoilers for HP Deathly Hallows.

7. Parties: Happy Birthday!

Title: Harry Potter: Four In One

Author:Joshua

Disclaimer:J.K. Rowling created Harry James Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Hogwarts, the whole gosh-darn HP-universe and wrote the 7 "Harry Potter" books that we all love and enjoy. Spoilers for Book 1, and Book 7. In fact there may even be some direct quotes from Book 7, so be warned. I'm not writing this for profit, I may not even let anybody but my dearest and closest friends even read this and they'll get it for free, so thankfully this won't get me sued or anything. Everything AFTER Chapter Nine in Book 7 is going to be changed anyway and even those chapters that I do quote, they won't be quoted very well or for very long as I'm changing EVERYTHING after those points. Assume, for Wizard-Harry, that everything between the stated timelines in Book 1 and Book 7 is identical to what happened in the rest of the Books and the HP-universe. Tamora Pierce is the awesome author of the "Circle of Magic" books that 'Mage-Harry' is taken from, and of course I don't own Winding Circle nor the concepts of Academic and Ambient Magic. Any future Spy-Magic you might see is going to be exactly like the Battle Magic so far, an amalgamation of numerous sources that might not even be 'magic' on their own, but have been twisted in such a way by me. You have been warned.

Summary:A mysterious stranger interferes in the timeline and in Harry's life, splitting the young wizard into four and giving each a different magical education. Wizard, Warrior, Mage, and Spy.

AN: Sorry about being so late with this week's update, even if it's just by one day. Not sure yet, but given the way that my writing has started to slow down here, I may even, unfortunately, miss next week's update entirely. We'll just have to see, I guess. Anyway, Enjoy, Read, Review!

Story:

The next morning, Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. It was odd. In some ways, he was actually four different people fused together into one. In the only way that mattered to him, he had been split and kept apart for his entire life and only now was truly himself. Whatever that means.

He had a lot to think about, and judging from the first couple of times... from the fusions of his four parts into two halves, he knew that his magical energy had received another tremendous boost and his magic control was completely shot all over again. Furthermore, his accidental magic incidents would increase once more until he managed to get at least a portion of his control back.

Glancing out the window, he saw that it was dawn, the sun only just beginning to light the sky, not yet over the hills even. Realizing he had a few hours, and no longer had to give a crap about the Trace at all, he remained on his bed and sat cross-legged and began to meditate. Breathing in to the count of seven, holding to the count of seven, breathing out to the count of seven, holding to the count of seven, breathing in, holding, breathing out, holding, and so forth.

As he did so, he felt within and without for all of his magic and began his exercises to regain control once more. Some of his exercises were from his Battle magic training. Some from his Special Field training. Most came from the exercises and meditation techniques he had been taught and trained in since he was a young child when they had marked him as a Mage. That it was discovered shortly after he entered puberty that he had an affinity for both Academic Magic and Ambient Elemental Magic had merely increased his study and use of such techniques. As both a Licensed Master and an Accredited Mage, Harry had been forced to learn how to control ones magic at all times, in all circumstances, no matter what had changed.

By the time Ron came bursting into his room, he had completed his basic meditations and was assured that there would be no instances of accidental magic happening. Of course his established paths and forms for Battle Magic would need to be rebuilt yet again, but he had no reason to anticipate another battle like the one a week ago against Voldemort and almost fifty Death Eaters. There was also a new fusion to process, instead of just two minds and personalities, there were now four that were slowly merging.

"Morning," greeted Ron as he walked in. "Already up?"

"Yeah."

Ron frowned a bit at the quiet response, and was a bit concerned over how Harry was just sitting there like he had something serious on his mind. Or when he'd just had a nightmare about Voldemort.

"Everything OK?" he asked.

Slowly, Harry shook his head. "No. Things are not OK right now."

"What?! Why? What happened?" Ron began to panic.

Harry just sat there and took a deep, slow breath. "I'll tell you later. Let's just say... I had an interesting night, and leave it at that, for the moment."

"Harry," growled Ron, "I thought you said, no more secrets. That you'd be completely honest with us!"

"Ron... I wasn't split into two," said Harry. "I was split into four. And I just merged with my other two pieces last night. Things are just... complicated right now. I can barely think well enough to know whose thoughts I have in my head right now. I'm not up to a question and answer session, not right now. It took me more than a week to recover from the last time, and that was just two 16-year-olds being put back together. Now I've got four 17-year-olds, all screaming in my brain, all of them their own person and different individuals, and in some cases even polar opposites, and I need time to sort things out, all right?"

Ron was just standing there, gob smacked. His mouth wide open and his eyes a bit glazed over. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he slowly fell forward, on his face, to the floor with a dull thud. Harry blinked and stared at his friend for a moment or two, before finally shrugging and quickly went back to meditating and organizing his now chaotic mind, not to mention his magic!

An hour later, he felt much better, as meditating always helped him in organizing his thoughts, just as much as his magic. Surprisingly, Ron was still passed out on the floor, which might have concerned him, if he hadn't realized he needed peace and quiet and then a few minutes after he'd fainted, silently 'stunned' Ron and left him in a more comfortable position while he meditated.

Quickly getting ready, he made sure that Ron was up before heading down for breakfast. It might've been a touch cruel to only Rennervate him as he was stepping out the door, but Harry knew his friend would be OK with it. After he stopped laughing that is.

Stepping down into the new, Great Hall sized modern kitchen, Harry greeted the rest of the household with a pleasant smile and a cheery disposition. Most of them seemed to still be in shock over how the Burrow had changed, and the older members were even starting to wonder if they hadn't come home to the wrong address somehow.

"Morning everyone!" said Harry as he walked into the kitchen and helped himself to some of the available breakfast. Mrs. Weasley might've still been surprised by what all Harry had done for them, but she was still a mother of over seven children and she made sure to have breakfast waiting for them when they woke up. That it was able to be prepared in a kitchen that was beyond her wildest dreams simply made the experience even more enjoyable than it ever had been before.

"Good morning Harry," a few of the other breakfast-goers returned individually.

"Good morning, dear!" Mrs. Weasley took the time to kiss Harry on both cheeks before going back to her cooking. "Oh, could you pass the bacon, please?"

"Sure," he commented off-handedly while walking away. Behind his back, the bacon floated over from the cold box to within reach of the Weasley matriarch. She didn't even notice as she thanked him and prepared more bacon for the morning meal.

"Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday Harry," said Bill from the breakfast table. A table that could rival any of the long tables at Hogwarts in it's Great Hall.

"Thanks," replied Harry, distractedly.

Nobody really noticed as they all assumed that Harry had plenty to be distracted over, from the new powers he had been displaying recently, to Voldemort, Dumbledore's death, and who knows what else. Not to mention, turning 17, for a wizard is a very big deal, and not just that you can do magic anywhere, anytime, for almost anything you want. Whereas before the only time one could use magic was at school, for study and homework. For many, it could be a heady experience.

What Harry was really thinking about, however, had nothing to do with any of that, not even the events that had given him his new powers. He was actually thinking about the next step of the training he was giving his friends, and how far he would take that training. If it was just Battle Magic, then he could give them the basics and let them work out the details at a later time. If, however, he were to give them more...

He was ultimately broken out of his reverie by Ron bungling down the stairs into the dining room/hall, and giving the black-haired green-eyed mage an ugly look as he sat down beside him with his own large breakfast. "That wasn't funny, mate," the red haired wizard hissed at him. Harry just grinned at his friend, clearly holding back his own laughter.

That, Harry thought as he went back to his private thoughts, was the biggest change of turning seventeen for him. Harry no longer thought of himself as a Wizard. He was most definitely still and always would be a magic-user, but the title Wizard no longer applied to who he now was. Neither did Warrior, Master Battle Mage, Sorcerer, Magician, Mage, or any of all those fancy titles.

Supposedly, he could just pick any one of those and nobody would contest his use of such, no matter how outlandish or mythological the name might turn out to be. Nor was he entirely unique that he needed to come up with a completely original name for himself either. There were other Fused-Beings that existed, there were also beings, creatures, and even humans out there that were considerably stronger than he was, even now.

A name for what he was could wait until later, he supposed. For right now, he had to continue with his plans, and make new ones. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron's training came first and foremost, and he needed to see how far he could take them. They would never be able to match him in power or strength, not within any reasonable amount of time, but there might be other ways of training, ways he knew about, yet never focused on himself. For starters, he'd always been a front-line kind of fighter, no matter which side you looked at. Might be nice to have a few others that worked better from the back and sides too.

He finished breakfast rather quickly, soon enough that Ron was only a few bites behind him, and not because he wanted to talk with Harry, but because the youngest Weasley son really ate that fast.

They went back to Harry's room, or at least Harry went back to his room, to get changed and ready for the day's training. Ron joined him about two minutes after, when he was already dressed, carrying a wrapped gift with him. "Here's your present, mate. Best if you unwrap it up here, it's not for my mother's eyes."

Frowning at the odd statement, Harry accepted the gift and tore off the wrapping, and asked, "A book? Bit of a departure from tradition, isn't it?"

"This isn't your average book," said Ron. "It's pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I'd had this last year I'd have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would've known how to get going with... Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I've learned a lot. You'd be surprised, it's not all about wandwork, either."

Harry was bringing the full unstoppable force of four indomitable wills to bear upon the urge to keep from laughing in Ron's face. While the Harry Potter that had grown up alongside Ron Weasley had once been in much the same boat, with hardly any experience in dealing with the fairer sex beyond the classroom environment, and would've found the gift useful and insightful, three other Harry Potters that were now sharing the psyche of the young man sitting before him had been privileged to be allowed to explore his sexuality and social situations with girls and women far more often during their individual educations.

The other three could've given a full lecture to Ron on how to woo women that could fill an entire encyclopedia, rather than just a slim hardback book. The one that had grown up with Ron, had known since forever that his two best friends had a 'thing' for each other, and exactly when he and Hermione had started dating, not to mention having spent the first 10 years of his life living in the Muggle world, albeit with the Dursleys, he still recognized a cheap 'Self-Help' book when he saw it, and likewise knew that only a Wizard would think that the title of such a book would in anyway at all have anything to do with waving a wand.

So, all four sides of Harry's psyche had ample reason to fall laughing to the floor at Ron, but likewise all four sides knew that would devastate his friend and were doing their best not to do so now. Once he'd felt he'd mastered the impulse, he grinned, struggling to keep from laughing despite it all, he commented, "Uh, thanks Ron. I appreciate it. I..." he quickly coughed to cover up a snicker that almost escaped, "I'm sure it will come in handy some day. Let's, uh, let's go down and find the girls, shall we? We've got some more training to do."

Clearly surprised, Ron asked as they walked downstairs and outside, "Wha...? You can't be serious mate! I mean, the past few days have been great and all... except for all the running, and I know why you're helping us and all, but today's your birthday! You can't be wanting to work all day and hide out on your birthday!"

Grinning back at his friend, he answered, "Well, that's just it. The training isn't for me, it's for you. Secondly, I get to spend time with my friends, and that's the most that I could ever ask for, birthday or not. Lastly, in case you've forgotten, we're leaving after the wedding tomorrow. And given that the wedding is tomorrow, we won't have any time for training during all the preparation, the ceremony, the celebration... We need to get in as much as we can, as soon as we can. Good news is, I spoke with you mother last night, and she's become considerably more agreeable. We don't have to go back to the Training Grotto to work in secret while a bunch of copies are running around here doing chores. We can workout in the front yard if we want to."

At that last bit, Ron's face went from reserved and cautious, to an excited grin matching Harry's as he replied with, "Wicked."

"Hey girls," Harry popped his head into the kitchen, "Ron and I are going out to warm-up, we'll be in the front yard instead of the Grotto. Join us after you've eaten and changed." Then he lead Ron out to the front for a quick warm-up run, that actually ended up being an all-out chase that went the entire diameter of the property.

Fifteen minutes later, just as Ron was about to collapse from heavy breathing, the girls jogged out in T-shirts and knee-length cotton shorts, and while the boys stared for a few moments, the girls were staring for longer due to the shock of no longer needing to sneak around. Shortly, they were all running around the property, even extending the run back into the orchard and coming back around to the front a few times.

None of them could keep up with Harry still, but now by the time they were rolling on the ground gasping for breath, so was he as between the longer distance and the faster pace he was using, he was getting even more of a workout from it. After running, they worked on basic agility and strength enhancing exercises for another two hours, and then a cool-down run, where Harry made them run all-out for one lap and then jog for five more. By then, it was lunch time, and Mrs. Weasley, while confused over the sudden exercising, simply asked what Harry wanted since it was his birthday, and so they had a few of Harry's favorite dishes for lunch.

After lunch, they went into the garden and Harry started coaching them through meditation. Unlike what he'd had them working on so far, though, he now had additional magical training to fall back on beyond Battle Magic, techniques that would work much better for them than simple breath-control and mental focusing.

Once they were all seated, he had them start by counting their heartbeats, not doing much else, just listening and counting. Once they were safely relaxed, Harry took a quick look around and seeing nobody else interested in their activities, he silently got up and walked a complete circuit around the garden. In his trail, he left behind a circle of the same glowing blue fairy fire that ignited when he'd powered up to fight Voldemort a week ago. Once his circuit was complete, he stepped inside and sat back down where he'd been sitting and concentrated a bit of his magic into the circle, igniting the most powerful ward that anyone in the Wizarding world had ever seen or heard of.

Glad that none of them had seen him, he began coaching them in the new meditation, breathing in as they counted out seven heartbeats, holding their breath to the count of seven heartbeats, breathing out for seven beats, holding it out for seven counts, and repeating the process. He slowly counted with them to help them out, his voice soothing and soft, until they were fully relaxed and immersed in the meditation.

Taking a few meditating breaths himself, he waited a few more moments and then activated his aura-sight, although since his merger last night he'd been able to see small amounts of magic in everything around him, it was vague and wispy enough that he could not see it clearly without the Sight. Once he was able to see the magical auras of his friends, he began speaking to them.

"Good, you've all done very good. Keep breathing, keep counting it out, keep it going. Now. I'd like you to feel out, try and sense if there is something within yourselves that you could not sense before."

"Like the pulse of our magic?" Ginny asked, instantly falling back into meditation after asking her question.

"Similar, but it should actually be what is giving out that pulse. If you feel that pulse now, as it is keeping time with your breathing, see if you might be able to follow it to where it came from. Fall deep within yourselves, find the source, the core of your magic. There..." Harry had to squint and shield his eyes a bit as first Ginny, then Ron, and finally Hermione all shone with the pure fire of magic exploding out of their still bodies. It wasn't actually visible, except to him with his aura-sight, but another wizard or witch would be able to feel the sudden pressure that they were giving out.

"Do you feel that?" he asked them.

"I feel... something," said Ron, hesitantly. "I... I... I can't describe it."

"Like raw magic," Ginny supplied.

"Good. Now, go ahead and slowly let go of that feeling, and open your eyes," ordered Harry. He had been momentarily tempted to take them on to the next step, but that was for much later, when they knew what it was they were feeling and knew exactly how to reach for it without even trying for it.

Because they were already trained in how to handle magic, they would progress through this meditation much faster than almost anyone else that would use this, combined with what he'd already had them learn of Battle magic basics, they would soon begin to progress at a rate that many would think of as extraordinary. Still, he did not want to push them too far, too fast.

"Wow, that was amazing," exclaimed Ginny once they had released themselves from meditation.

"I'm glad you think so," Harry grinned down at them, as he was sitting on a stool and they were cross-legged on the ground in a circle. "That, without putting too fine a point on it, was your Magical Core, the source of your magic. Now, without me doing anything, except maybe counting for you, I'd like you all to meditate once more and do it all over again. We'll do this twice more, and it should be easier for you each time. After that, we'll move on to the next step in your training."

"You're going to teach us one of those cool spells you used against You-Know-Who?" asked Ron, excitedly.

"No," he answered immediately, "but I can promise that it won't be more meditation. Sound good?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Ron

"Well?" Harry looked at them all expectantly. They immediately got back into their positions and closed their eyes and started to breathe.

He let them fall in and out of meditation for the next hour. At some points, they managed to find and ignite their cores almost in unison. Other times, it was erratic and they could barely maintain their hold on it long enough for their cores to do little more than flicker, while still others, there were points when each of them managed to burn their magic at levels higher than he ever could. Well... higher than he ever would anyway.

That was the big reason for him putting up the ward before they really started meditating. Honestly, he was a bit galled that such precautions weren't put into place whenever magic was being done! Except for cases where a child was unknown to have magic, all of those that were not accredited mages or licensed to perform such magic, they were always placed within a protective circle so as to prevent magical pollution from messing with the environment. Especially when learning and being trained in magic!

Of course, knowing the quirks behind your standard wizard's mind, he realized they probably thought of such pollution as amusing and did nothing more than identify it and think of it as a quirk of whatever spell had been done, rather than residue that had built up and was messing with the very nature of the environment. It would certainly explain Hogwarts, between all of the residue and instances of "accidental magic", the place was soaked in magic and beyond the anti-apparition barrier, among others, the place was almost alive.

Philosophy was for later. For right now, he needed to teach them how to control their magic, and not just how to let it flow through their bodies freely and to be focused through their minds, but to make sure they were not wasting magic and pouring it out all over the place and polluting everything around them.

By the end of the hour, they had finally, all three of them, gotten the hang of what the meditations were supposed to teach them, and they could all reach and tap into their magic cores at will. Still with a bit of effort, and they tended to fall back into the meditation breathing pattern when they did, but they could do it. Rather than move them on into maintaining control, and not leaking magic everywhere, he did as promised and moved on to the next step in their training.

"OK, you can all get up now, work out any kinks you might have, walk around a bit, get the blood flowing," he announced. As they did so, he quietly went around the garden in the opposite direction from when he had first done so, this time absorbing up the magic of the ward he had put in place, and taking down the protection circle.

"So, Harry, what's next?" asked Ron, a bit enthusiastic about the next step.

"Well..." he hesitated for a moment, before coming to an abrupt decision, "That's actually up to you all. If you want, we can stop early, have a few extra hours to get ready for the party tonight. Or we can keep going until your mother calls us in."

"What the...? Have you gone daft?!" shouted Ron. "After all of this, you're suddenly cutting us off, especially with the way you mentioned that we were short enough on time as it is!"

"I have two things that I can teach you, Ron," said Harry, giving them all a sobering look. "Thing is, we only really have time for me to teach you one of them. One... the sooner you get started on it, the better. The other, I've given you the premise and we can work on it later without much detriment to your training. Problem is... this isn't like what I've been teaching you so far, that was a lot like our Fifth Year at Hogwarts, with the DA and everything. What I'll be going into next, it's the next level up."

"Like that Auror-training-level exercises you had us do a few days ago?" asked Ginny.

Harry shook his head.

"Like twenty-year-old veteran Aurors would have trouble keeping up with this kind of training," he explained. "We're moving past the comfort zone of new spells and new ways of using magic. We're getting into what Battle Magic is supposed to be. About fighting. Not dueling, I never want any of you to make that mistake!" he suddenly shouted.

"Battle Magic is not for dueling, where there are rules and ways of doing things and turns at striking at one another. What I'm teaching you here is for the battlefield and wartime use only, which we just so happen to be in the middle of. That means that you don't declare your intentions, you don't face your opponent like a man, you don't defend first and attack after. You kill your enemy with the first shot, you strike him in the back, you do what you have to do to win, no matter what. We're not kids anymore guys, we can't afford to be."

"I'm not backing down," Ron insisted.

"I'm with you all the way, Harry," Ginny was only a beat behind her brother, Weasley stubbornness at its finest, or worst, depending on your point of view.

They all three turned to look at Hermione, who had been quiet so far.

"I... I... I," she stuttered, unable to make up her mind.

"That's fine, Hermione," said Harry with a gentle tone. "You need to take a break for the moment anyway. Ron, since you're so eager, we'll start with you, then I'll work with Ginny until it's time to head in, all right?"

"What? Why can't we all learn together, like we have been?" whined Ginny.

"Several reasons," the suddenly serious Harry answered, "One, what I'm teaching you next is how to fight physically. Muggles, or mortals as I've started to think of them, call it Martial Arts. There are, quite literally, thousands of different forms and styles of martial arts. I'm going to teach you exactly five forms, under a single style. My style."

He grinned savagely at them all of a sudden, making them think of a crazed wild animal that was about to attack them just because. "Doesn't really have a name, and I'm not giving it one. The five forms I'll eventually teach you, I've named after the primary elements, mostly because of the attributes of those elements the forms reflect."

He stepped a bit away and then spread his feet apart, bent his knees only slightly and brought his arms and fists to his side, tucked in at right angles. "This is commonly known as the Horse stance, a good starting point for many martial arts, and somewhat central to my style. Hermione, my favorite book worm," he paused as she part-glared, part-blushed at him, "you'll probably recognize this, probably won't since you don't seem to be all that interested in martial arts yourself, but this is all strongly based on the muggle martial art of Tai Chi Chuan, or just Tai Chi."

"First form," he said with a commanding voice, "Water." Then he began to move. He actually didn't so much move as he flowed from one position to the next, his whole body moving like he had no bones and was filled only with liquid, his arms and legs snapping out like waves against a beach shore, yet absorbing of anything that might move against him.

Ron was fascinated, and Harry thought his friend didn't so much as blink for the entire presentation. The redheaded boy began to feel a passion the likes of which he'd only ever felt about three things in his life. Quidditch, Chess, and the people he cared about it, be they friends or family. Harry's talk of having to kill and fight were scary, but Ron had been faced by scary before, ever since he was eleven years old actually. Still, he couldn't help himself as he recognized that his friend could teach him and show him things that no other wizard had ever even heard of, let alone could do. Ever since he was a child, he'd been overshadowed by his brothers' accomplishments, no matter if they applied to academics, friends, or even pranking. For a while, he thought being the best friend of the Chosen One would be enough, but Harry himself was another obstacle that he fell beneath.

Needless to say, Ron had largely gotten over that, especially with what had happened to his friend recently and just how powerful he had become! Not even V...V... You-Know-Who could stand against him anymore! And now Harry was just... offering all that power to him, freely and without hesitation. Harry would undoubtedly be stronger than him no matter what he did, but still... To be one of only two wizards that could do stuff like this? It was mighty tempting.

Ginny could only stare at her boyfriend and try not to drool all over herself. Once upon a time, a little girl had dreamed of being a princess to marry and live happily ever after with the Boy Who Lived. Then the little girl got mind-raped by the one that made him the Boy Who Lived, grew up with seven brothers, and witnessed the start of another wizarding war on par with what she had only heard about in old horrific war stories before. She never stopped caring about him of course, but the illusion had been wiped away after her years at school.

Now she just saw the Man the Boy had become, saw his true strength, his heart, and the fact that after whatever had happened to him, this... fusion, it had made him hotter than ever, looking as though he were built like some ancient hero out of the old stories, aka ancient myths. Not to mention this martial art he was showing them, really made his muscles stand out, hence why she was trying not to drool on herself.

Harry finished up the first form, taking in their observations privately, not prying or anything, but seeing each reaction to what he was doing. He barely managed to suppress the cocky smirk from his face when he saw Ginny openly staring at his body. Oh yeah, he had it all right.

Hermione, however, was the real problem. He didn't even need magical psychic powers to see the conflict within her, not that he used them at all, but it was clear how confused she was over being trained to fight like this from the look on her face. Even after everything they'd been through, you can't just ignore years of schooling that told her that killing was bad and fighting dirty was also not good. He hoped she could adapt before it was too late, for her and for them.

"Water," he continued his lecture as soon as he finished the form, "as you can probably tell, is my Initial Defensive form. Allowing me to strike, block, absorb, and redirect any and all attacks against me, while still able to counter-attack and even attack first if I so desired. It's pretty basic, once you learn how it flows, but that makes it no less difficult to learn, nor weak to use in a fight."

"Next," he said, returning to the Horse stance, "Earth. My Primary Defensive form."

Where water flowed, earth slammed! The moves were blocky and direct, but that just made it all the more devastating when viewed that the punches, kicks, blocks, and sweeps were meant to be used against another human being, and just how much damage Harry could do against someone else. After he finished, he continued his lecture about the Earth form.

"Water is all about absorbing the blow and redirecting it, always moving, never stopping or pausing for even a moment. Earth, is both the same, and the opposite. Earth allows you to absorb the blow, but you don't move, you stop it, and it breaks against you. Same with the attacks, as you put your full strength behind every single blow. There are also no jumps in the Earth form, which is important to remember, and you rarely dodge or redirect. You take it head on and then channel the energy right back into your enemy."

"Next, my Initial Attack form, Fire." Harry noticed Ron's grin suddenly went from 'Cool!' to 'Cackling Out Loud and Screaming Wicked Every Few Seconds'. Although obviously he wasn't cackling just yet, he could easily see the excitement in his best friend's eyes.

Fire, much like Earth, was very direct, although there were many more kicks and punches. Unlike with Earth, however, Fire had you jumping a lot more, to add more power to each blow. The defensive moves, for the few that there were in this form, consisted more of avoiding the blows or parrying them for a counter-attack, so they all could easily see why Harry called this his Initial Attack form.

Afterwards, he moved right along, barely noticing the sweat that soaked his brow. "Air, as you probably guessed by now, is my Evasive form. You can still attack and strike with it, but first and foremost you learn to dodge, evade, and avoid. It's a lot like Water, a bit like Fire, the total opposite of Earth, yet just as important and it is also the first form that I'll be teaching all of you. You can't beat what you can't hit. Double-edged sword, but one that I want to deal against the Death Eaters before they try dealing it against us."

He quickly moved into the demonstration, and he was right, Air was much like Water and Fire, as he just seemed to flow through the motions, from jumping, spinning, kicking, striking, and even blocking and parrying, but he never stopped moving, even once. They could now, also see why Harry had them exercising in agility-exercises and aerobics as much as running and strength-exercises. They would need the conditioning before they even started to learn this form, especially if he was starting them off on it.

Once he had concluded showing them the Air form, he rested back in the Horse stance for a few moments, catching his breath and showing how much of a work out those demonstrations had been just by themselves. Once he'd controlled his breathing, he spoke, "The Final form, is called Lightning. It is my Primary Attack form, because, quite simply, it has no defensive moves whatsoever. From the very start, you attack your enemy with everything that you have, and you do not stop until he is dead, defeated, or running away. You attack all out and you attack first. You do not give them so much as a chance to breathe."

He suddenly straightened from the Horse stance, and looked at them sternly. "I'm not going to teach you Lightning."

"WH—!" Ron started to protest, but was silenced by Harry's glare.

"The only way I will ever teach any of you the Lightning form is if you can defeat me in battle," he told them, speaking mostly to Ron though. "Besides, you need the basics that are taught in the other forms before you can even start learning anything of Lightning. And just to clarify, Ron, when I mean defeat me in battle, I mean no magic, just pure martial arts."

His friend acknowledged that and nodded his head, accepting the challenge.

After having remained silent for most of this, it was startling when Hermione asked Harry a question. "Harry? How... how many martial art styles do you know, besides your style I mean?"

Tilting his head in thought over the interesting question, he pondered it only for a few seconds, before replying casually with, "Oh, between my Wizard and Mage parts, I'd say I know a general to fair amount of street fighting, which is a style all it's own, however undisciplined. Then there are the two different styles that I learned from the Guards and Duke's Soldiers... I also picked up basic defensive work, so, all in all, that's about five styles right there, counting weapons-training as individual styles."

He scratched his chin in thought for another few seconds before continuing, "Then there are they styles that Joshua taught my Warrior part, which included the elemental forms I just told you, but he mainly focused in on what I now recognize as Asian martial arts. Tai Chi, Karate, little bit of Kung Fu, and while I'm not supposed to, he also taught me some Muyi Thai. Then he taught me a little bit of everything to my last part... And I do mean a little bit of everything. Mostly boiled down to the most direct forms pieced together for maximum damage over little effort, mixed with everything else. So, I guess... the answer to your question, Hermione, is... a lot."

"Oh," was all the wide-eyed girl could say.

"Let's get started then!" Ron excitedly got to his feet.

"OK," Harry agreed, "Except that I'm not teaching you forms or an art here Ron, I'm teaching you to fight. So, we'll cover forms later, for right now..." Harry snapped out and punched his friend in the face.

"AAAOOOWWWW!" Ron screamed out as he flew back a few feet and landed on his but before falling to the ground, painfully. "What was that for?!" Thankfully his nose hadn't been broken, instead just his whole face was bruised!

"This is why I offered you the choice to quit early, Ron. And after we're done, or I should say, after I'm done with you, I'll offer Ginny the choice to stop early once more, same with Hermione. But you've made your choice, and now you live with the consequences." Seeing that his rather thick friend wasn't catching on, even as the girls had scrambled out of the way, Harry simplified his statement. "We're fighting Ron, and think about it, if you go ahead and beat me now, I'll teach you the Lightning form right off the bat. But we are fighting, as I said before, the sooner I start you all on this, the better off you'll be in the long run."

"Harry! You can't mean that! Just stop it!" Hermione screamed, hysterical.

He turned to look over at her while Ron was getting up, then glanced at Ginny, who was by her side. The warm brown eyes stared back into hardened green emeralds, then she nodded her head. He was mildly surprised, but grateful all the same. She still understood, and her stubbornness still wouldn't let her quit. Well, he'd have to see just how far that could take her, after she saw what condition Ron ended up in.

"Do you understand yet, Ron?" he asked. "This isn't school anymore. And I'm not your precious, brittle as glass Harry Potter anymore. I want you all to live, but Tom and his Death Eaters are not going to make that any easier, as they will be aiming to kill every single one of us. I aim to make sure that we make that as damn near hard as we can until it becomes an impossibility for them. Besides, think of it this way, would anybody expect you or me to suddenly get physical with a bunch of wand-wavers?"

Ron paused in his next protest as he realized the concept did have merit, however little, as there had still been fist-fights at school, so it wasn't like physical confrontation was anathema to wizards, so much as not their first reaction when going into a fight with another wizard.

"To further entice you, allow me to construct a metaphor you can understand," said Harry. "In Chess, each piece can only move a certain way, you can only move one piece per turn, and the objective is to capture or remove your opponent's pieces from the board, right?"

"Well, yeah," shrugged Ron, not understanding just yet.

"What piece can move virtually anywhere on the board, so long as there are no obstructions or the King isn't in jeopardy?" asked Harry.

Again, Ron shrugged, then answered, "The Queen, of course."

"Well, Ron, right now... you're the King," said Harry. "You can only move a single space at a time, once per turn, and all the other pieces can't move until you're either out of danger or until the next turn. In fact," he turned to the girls, "You're all Kings. So far, we have only been able to react. I can't even call us Pawns at the moment, seeing as a Pawn can move over two spaces away and can attack. You all can't even do that yet."

Ron was frowning, struggling to understand the point that Harry was trying to make.

"What I'm doing now, Ron, Ginny, Hermione... With this training, with the meditation, the exercises, the conditioning, even with this fight right here and now... I'm turning you all into Queens."

Ron almost burst out in indignant refusal, until he understood the metaphor all of a sudden. From the most limited and defensive piece on the board, the playing field, to the most powerful, feared, and even dangerous piece. That convinced Ron all the more of his conviction to do this. But... to fight Harry?

"There's no other way, is there?" he whimpered.

"Look at it this way," Harry said back with a cocky grin, "No matter what happens, you're going to be beat black and blue here, as I'm just plain better than you now. And this isn't about me beating you up either. It's about letting you understand what a fight is really supposed to be about, win or lose."

"You mean pain, injury, and stupid machoism!!" Hermione screeched, unable to hold back any longer.

"That," Harry grinned over at her, "and then the little things. Like pride. Adrenaline. Conviction. Fight or Flight. Vindication. Release. Stress. And even a bit of that whole 'talk with your fists, not with your words' mentality that a lot of fighters talk about. If I could've, I would have found some way to go back in time and start every single one of us on martial arts before we even went to Hogwarts! Now, ready or not Ron, we're done talking, and it's time to fight!"

Harry stalked forward, leading with his fist. Ron, not wanting to get knocked on his arse all over again, side-stepped and then threw his first punch at his best friend. Harry's leading fist angled back into a simple wave, blocking the punch and throwing Ron off-balance a bit. A simple shove from Harry's other hand put the redhead back on his now very sore butt in short order.

Harry paused as Ron slowly got back to his feet. "There's a reason that you hear in movies, TV shows, books, and other fiction, where a fighter is telling the guy he's fighting to stop holding back and fight him for real. The way you're moving now, you couldn't hit a fly. I understand that you don't want to hurt me Ron, but all the same, you need to move and act and react the same way you would in a real fight. You don't have to kill me, in fact I'd rather you didn't. But we all know healing spells, and for those of us who don't, we'll teach you. So no permanent harm done, all right? Now, seriously this time, again!"

Ron hesitated one last time, thinking over Harry's words, and realizing the truth behind them. He wouldn't go up against Malfoy like he just had been, he'd strike hard, fast, and without mercy. He was just finding it a bit hard to think of Harry as Malfoy... until he remembered the mock-dueling that was done in the DA during Fifth Year. Some of those spells could've been used maliciously, and he even had used the same spells he used against Hermione and Neville against Crabbe and Goyle. So why not the same thing, but with fists instead of wands?

Ron nodded once, to signal to his friend that he now understood, and as a result he shifted his footing, so he was no longer standing, but coiled and tensed to spring at any moment. He did a moment later, lashing out with wild and uncoordinated fists at Harry.

No more words were spoken as the fight finally started. Not that it was really a fight, but that's how Hermione saw it, and she was doing all she could not to chew her lip bloody and pull out all her frizzing hair.

Moving much more surely, Ron advanced this time and threw a basic straight punch at Harry's head, only to have the shorter youth duck under the punch, side-step to the left and shove with his right hand against Ron's shoulder. The redhead stumbled a bit, but managed to keep his footing so he didn't fall on his arse all over again.

Frowning, he thought over his actions and Harry's reactions. Adjusting his footing to a wider stance and stepping on the balls of his feet for further balance, he struck out again, moving a bit faster this time. Harry ducked again, but this time it was Ron who side-stepped and jumped back a little. He wasn't about to get caught by the same move three times in a row!

Smiling that his friend was adapting and learning quickly, Harry nodded back at him, then moved in on the offensive. Unlike Ron however, he did not attack with a straight punch, but a roundhouse two-fist combo. The first punch, Ron tried to mimic Harry by ducking underneath it, only to be slammed to the ground by the second that caught him full out.

"Shoulda seen that coming," Ron mumbled, slowly getting back to his feet, his face throbbing in sheer agony. He shook his head to clear any cobwebs and raised his fists in the classic boxer pose, choosing to stay on the offensive for as long as Harry would let him.

He kept mostly to straight punches, but he also kept in mind to not let Harry catch him in the side anymore, and to not retreat more than a single step, as that seemed to indicate to his opponent that they were switching positions in the fight, and every single time that Harry went on the offensive, Ron wound up on the ground with a new sore.

Off to the side, watching this with both interest and mounting dread, Hermione and Ginny stared at the fighting boys, although both of them were slowly beginning to realize that this was not, in truth, a fight of any sort. Hermione, while not extremely interested in the martial arts, was familiar enough to know some terms associated with it. One of those terms that came to mind at the moment was the word spar. When sparring, two martial artists would sort of play-act a fight. Usually this was done with padding, but the hits were real and injuries such as bruises and scrapes were bound to happen.

After Harry knocked Ron to the ground for the twelfth time in a row, their bushy-haired bossy friend slowly began to relax her tension. They weren't fighting, not really. Not at all in fact, she finally realized. They were just sparring. Harry was teaching Ron how to fight, and while that was abhorrent to Hermione's sensibilities, it dawned on her that it was a necessity in the war they were now involved in.

Then she remembered that Harry would be teaching her how to fight as well, and her tension mounted.

Harry and Ron's sparring match went on for the better part of the next hour, and by the end of it, Ron had almost as many bruises as freckles on his body, not to mention all the dust from getting knocked to the ground all the time.

"First thing, Ron," Harry announced after he'd called an end to the bout, "is I teach you how to fall right. Most of what hurt you there was when you hit the ground. In fact, here, all of you pay attention," he gathered them all around him, "This will only take a few minutes to show you and while I'm sparring with Ginny, Ron, you and Hermione can be practicing this." He then proceeded to show them how to fall to the ground without injuring themselves further during a fight. Or even just when tripped or falling over by other means.

After explaining and then a few rounds of demonstrations from him, he had them all practice it at least twice before he turned to Ginny and offered her the opportunity to quit early for the day. "So, Ginny, after seeing how bad I beat your brother black, blue, and red all over, you still want to do this? If you want, we can move on to the next phase of magical training."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny gushed, excited, "I'm so going to kick your arse, Potter!" She then jumped up and proceeded with a high jump kick, which Harry knocked to the side, throwing Ginny to the ground, where she immediately demonstrated how well she had learned how to fall.

"Lesson number two," Harry commented with a grin, accepting Ginny's willingness to spar, "Don't try anything that you aren't ready for. Pushing yourself is good, but only after you're firmly grounded in what you already know. Stick to punching, like Ron, or if you want to use kicks, try not to jump too often. You leave lots of holes in your defense when you do that, and that is not a good thing."

Nodding, the red haired girl accepted the criticism and assumed a similar boxing stance to what Ron had displayed earlier. Raising an eyebrow at the familiar form, he turned briefly to Hermione and commented, "Street fighting. Or as the rest of us learned it, School Brawling."

He caught Ginny's fist that had been coming in at his face while he was looking at the other girl. "Good Ginny, you were paying attention earlier," he said, looking back at her. "Lesson number three, don't attack unless you're defenses will stop the counter-attack. Or, if it's worth it, make sure that your attack does more damage than the one you let slip through." He then twisted her arm and backhanded her with his other fist.

Crying out at the impact, and then at the pain of having her arm twisted in a way it was not meant to go, Ginny struggled for a moment before finally wrenching her caught arm out of Harry's grasp and spinning away from him. As she did so, she cocked and fired a roundhouse kick into his gut that actually made the more experienced fighter retreat a step or two while she recovered.

Growling, more to herself than him, she grimaced and faced him once more, this time with a scowl that would intimidate Snape into backing off. Harry merely grinned back at her and waited, his stance casual and his arms by his sides, the sign of a very experienced fighter in Ginny's experience. They may not talk about it, but the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin went a lot further than Quidditch and Malfoy and Harry. Catfights in bathrooms were not all that uncommon, and the uglier and bulkier girls of Slytherin tended to gang up on the younger or smaller girls more often than not.

After her Second Year, without her brothers ever having suspected a thing, Ginny had very quickly become proficient in melee fighting. At first she was limited to the whole catfight cliché, pulling hair, gouging pressure points, ripping clothes, scratching, biting, that kind of thing. When the opponents became too numerous, or too skilled for that to work any longer, Ginny had turned to other means. So she now turned her considerable skills, which she'd acquired over the years, against her boyfriend to demonstrate.

Moving in low and fast, she tried some basic sweeps, which Harry casually stepped over. When he tried to "take advantage of" her dropped guard, her hand snapped up and grabbed his wrist, digging in with her nails, she pulled down on him, while likewise pulling herself up to drive her knee home to the sweet spot. Doesn't matter if it's male or female, though males have a bigger target, a shot to the legs always near-paralyzes the victim with pain.

Surprisingly, Harry didn't seem affected by her nails digging into his flesh, and he almost casually used his other arm to block her knee, while he brought his right leg up, cocked and kicked her right in the gut, flinging her back off of him and rolling along the ground, painfully trying not to puke up her last three or four meals. Coughing and gasping, she rolled onto her knees and checked what damage, if any, she had done.

Staring in wide-eyed amazement, they all saw blood dripping from Harry's right hand, where she had gouged her fingernails as a handhold, and apparently had gone deeper than she'd thought. Yet still, he just stood there impassively, in the same pose he'd been in when they started!

"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "You're bleeding!"

Frowning, Harry glanced down, then over at his friend before sighing and holding up the bleeding appendage as though showing her something. They couldn't stop staring when they saw the long scratches heal up before their very eyes! It wasn't instantaneous, it took a full minute before the progress was even noticed, and he did keep bleeding, but it was clearly healing a lot faster than it should've!

"Like I said earlier, those of us that know healing spells will be teaching those that don't," was all he said to their stunned expressions. "C'mon Ginny, we're not through yet. But nice job. You've already done more than Ron could after his turn!"

"Oi!" the mentioned Weasley exclaimed, even as he continued to practice his falling.

Shrugging and sighing about self-conscious siblings, Ginny got back to her feet and ran back for more punishment. She didn't let Harry quit until they'd actually gone over an hour, even after he kept telling her that they should stop before she got hurt even worse that a few bruises.

"What's the matter... Potter?" she gasped, breathing heavily, sweating, and wavering on her feet a little. "Fraid to get beat by a... girl? Huh?"

Harry just sighed and shrugged, not even sweating anymore. She'd gotten hits off of him, but nothing she could do would send him tumbling to the ground, while just about every hit he threw had that result against her. "Stop... holding... back!!" she finally screamed, running in as fast as she could with a punch-kick-punch combo.

He sighed again, as though she were moving in slow motion it seemed, he replied back to her, "You want me to stop holding back? OK, I'll stop holding back." Then he drew back his left fist and moving faster than she'd ever seen anything move before, he blurred forward and she felt like she'd just been hit with the Bludgeoning Hex at point blank range, right before she found herself flying through the air.

From Ron and Hermione's point of view, Ginny screamed some nonsense, then started staggering forward, right before Harry moved so fast that there were after-images of him against their retinas, and the next thing they knew, Ginny was shooting back almost all the way to the hills like somebody had shot her out of a cannon! She rag-dolled against the ground for a few meters before coming to a skidding halt.

They all stared, too stunned to do anything at first, but finally, Ron snapped out of it, getting to his feet and screaming, "GINNY!" Only to be stopped by Harry, putting his arm out to stop them from moving.

"Wait," was all he said.

"What are you talking about?! Are you daft?! How could you do something like that! That's my little sister! You can't do something like that, mate, I don't care who you think you are...!"

"I said, wait," repeated Harry with a hard look.

While they were arguing, which was less than a few seconds really, Ginny had regained sense of herself and was already pulling herself back to her feet and walking back towards them. "GINNY!" exclaimed Ron, as he tried to race forward again, but Harry still held him back.

When she was within speaking range, Harry asked her, "You all right, Ginny?"

"Yeah," she called, grumbling about her sores. "You still held back, didn't you?"

"I'm not going to kill you guys while I'm training you to survive," he shot back with a grin. "Still, you were begging for me to show you just how much stronger I am now."

"How much further do you think you could've thrown me?" she asked him.

"I didn't throw you, I pushed you, same as I was doing with Ron earlier," he answered. "And actually I could've pushed you all the way to the village without seriously injuring you, but I figured that probably would've been a bit much, huh?"

"Yeah, probably," she giggled a bit.

"Are you two mental or something?" Ron asked, staring incredulously at his friend and sister.

"Hermione?" Harry asked rather than answer Ron's rhetorical question.

"Uh..."

"I promise not to push you?" he offered.

"I'll wait, but I will keep practicing how to fall and all that," she promised.

"Fair enough," he said with a shrug. "Now hold still Ginny while I heal you up, all right?"

"Fine," she grumbled again, although the smile she gave him sort of ruined it.

Half an hour later, they all went in for lunch, and everyone revealed their presents for Harry's birthday to him, many having used the training that had occupied his time to finish preparing them and putting them all in place. It also gave time for Hagrid, Remus and "Tonks" Lupin, and a few other guests to finally arrive, including the second oldest Weasley son, Charlie, who'd Floo'd in from Romania for the occasion.

Rather than sneaking them off for even more training, they all used the rest of the afternoon to prepare for the birthday party that would soon be starting. Pulling out his Firebolt, with Charlie, Bill, Ginny, Ron, and Fred and George, they all played an impromptu game of Quidditch that lasted much of the day. After the game, they had just enough time for everybody to grab a shower and then get dressed and ready and then out to the garden for the party.

Oh, the new "dining hall" would have been more than sufficient, but as large as it was, it was also a bit spartan, and the garden had a far more pleasant atmosphere, with the setting sun, the fresh breezes, and the pleasant aromas spreading from all the plant life around them. The sun was low on the horizon and the party was going splendidly, with Harry thanking everyone for their gifts.

The first gift, happened to be from Mrs. Weasley. She handed it to him and explained, beaming at him all the while, "Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry. He had to leave early for work, but he'll be back for dinner, soon I hope."

Harry sat down, took the square parcel she had given him, and unwrapped it. Inside was a watch very like the one Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given Ron for his seventeenth; it was gold, with stars circling around the face instead of hands.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age," said Mrs. Weasley, watching him anxiously from the side. "I'm afraid that one isn't new like Ron's, it was actually my brother Fabian's and he wasn't terribly careful with his possessions, it's a bit dented on the back, but—"

The rest of her speech was lost; Harry had got up and hugged her. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them, because she patted his cheek clumsily when he released her, almost on the verge of tears all over again.

"Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. "Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?"

"Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up at the half-giant. "Didn't you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig's tail, and tell me I was a wizard?"

"I forge' the details," Hagrid chortled. "All righ', Ron, Hermione?"

"We're fine," said Hermione. "How are you?"

"Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns, I'll show yeh when yeh get back—" Harry shared a knowing grin with his friends, while Hagrid rummaged in his pockets. "Here, Harry—couldn' think what ter get yeh, but then I remembered this." He pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're rare, them."

"Thanks, Hagrid!" he knew a few items already that would be going into this little present.

"'S'nothin'," said Hargid with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. "An' there's Charlie! Always liked him. Hey! Charlie!" Rather than listen to that rather interesting conversation, Harry merely turned back to and opened the remainder of his presents.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" wished Hermione for what felt like the dozenth time that day.

"Come on, then, open Hermione's!" said Ron, practically shoving the gift into his hands. Boy really needed to learn tact, although it was clear he was just trying to get on Hermione's good side.

She had bought him a new Sneakoscope. The other packages contained an enchanted razor from Bill and Fleur, that he was very reluctant to ever use! Some rare European Chocolates from the Delacours, and an enormous box of the latest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes merchandise from Fred and George. Surprisingly, it was Ginny's gift that Harry appreciated the most, but it wasn't something one opened in the middle of the backyard garden, let alone during his birthday party. coughSnog-festcough

It was getting a bit late, and Mrs. Weasley was starting to get noticeably edgy. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate. "I think we'd better start without Arthur," she finally called out to them after a moment or two. "He must have been held up at—oh!"

They all saw it at the same time; a streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr. Weasley's voice. "Minister of Magic coming with me!" The Patronus then dissolved into thin air, leaving everyone peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished.

"We shouldn't be here," said Lupin at once. "Harry... I'm sorry... I'll explain another time, but..."

He seized Tonks' wrist and pulled her away, but Harry reached them first. He whispered hurried instructions, the gist of which was, "You don't have to leave just yet Mooney. Hurry inside the house, you can hid out in one of the sitting rooms. You just go—" he then proceeded to give them detailed instructions on where to hide in the renovated house and what signal he would use to tell them the coast was clear.

Lupin was clearly reluctant, but they were short on time as it was, and this time it was Tonks grabbing his wrist and dragging him off towards the spot Harry told them to go to. "Hagrid, you'd better join them, just in case," Harry reluctantly suggested as well. The half-giant nodded, equally reluctant, but followed after the Last Marauder and his wife.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was halfway to a meltdown, "The Minister—but why? I don't understand—"

Unfortunately, there was no time to discuss the matter further, as a second later, Mr. Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair.

The two newcomers marched across the yard toward the garden and the lantern-lit table, where everybody sat in silence, watching them draw closer. As Scrimgeour came within range of the lantern light, Harry saw that he looked much older than the last time they had met, even more scraggy and grim too.

"Sorry to intrude," said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table. "Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party. Many happy returns," he added with a look in Harry's direction.

Harry was instantly suspicious, enough so that he threw away common politeness and reached out with his Mind Magic to determine the duly-appointed Minister of Magic's true motives for his sudden arrival. Harry had his answers forthwith.

Smiling pleasantly at the battle-scarred old wizard, he greeted him warmly, "Thank you very much Minister, and you're not intruding at all. In fact, if your invitation was lost at some point, I would like to offer my most humblest apologies on the error."

Scrimgeour stared at the seventeen-year-old for a few moments, before twisting his smirk up at one edge. "Sarcasm does not become you, Mister Potter," he commented.

"I require a private word with you," Scrimgeour went on. "Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Us?" said Ron, sounding surprised. "Why us?"

"I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," said Scrimgeour. "Is there such a place?" he demanded of Mr. Weasley.

"Yes, of course," replied Mr. Weasley, who looked rather nervous. "The, er, sitting room, why don't you use that?"

"Nah," interrupted Harry before anymore could be said. "I know the perfect place. Meeting Room number twelve! C'mon, follow me, I'll show you where it is." He then lead his two friends and the Minister of Magic into the transformed Burrow, by-passing the remodeled kitchen and dining hall, and taking them up a few flights of stairs before down multiple intersecting halls and through three separate rooms before finally stopping in what appeared, for all appearance sake, to be a corporate meeting room, complete with long table and comfortable chairs. If they all didn't know better, they'd swear they could've been in some muggle high-rise building and never would've known the difference.

"Sorry about the long walk, Magical Elevators haven't been put in yet," he apologized to the wheezing Scrimgeour and his two out-of-breath friends.

"How—? No, never mind, not my department," Scrimgeour just shook his head at the clearly impossible changes that had been performed on the Burrow, and took a seat at the head of the table. Ron and Hermione, at Harry's insistence, sat down at the table as well, but Harry chose to remain standing.

"I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually If you two," he pointed at Harry and Hermione, "can wait outside, I will start with Ronald."

"I'm very sorry, Minister Scrimgeour, but I'm afraid that simply won't do. We're not going anywhere," said Harry, while Hermione nodded vigorously, and Ron looked like he'd swallowed a frog, "You can speak to us together, or not at all. And seeing as it is my birthday, and you did come up to us out of the blue with this, the choice is yours to ask your questions, or give us our property and leave." He then gave the Minister a rather cheeky grin with twinkling eyes.

Scrimgeour gave Harry a cold, appraising look. Harry had the brief impression that the Minister was wondering whether it was worthwhile opening hostilities this early, but he knew outright the man was too much of a politician to do that, and they only opened outright hostilities either when they were attacked first, or had their opponent outflanked at every turn, which he did not in this case.

"Very well then, together," he said, shrugging. He cleared his throat. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, whom did not take his gaze off the Minister for a second. He was standing across from the older lion-maned man with his arms crossed and a slight smile on his face. Scrimgeour grunted and just jerkily nodded his head, accepting that, Harry at least, did know about the will.

"A-all of us?" said Ron after several moments silence. "Me and Hermione too?"

"Yes, all of you," answered Scrimgeour. Before he could continue, however, Harry spoke up.

"Tell me Minister," he said, "Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione with a tone of accusation, staring right at Scrimgeour, getting angrier with every word she spoke. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right," said Scrimgeour dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will—" Hermione interrupted him out of the blue, nearly shouting the poor man down.

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts," she yelled at him, "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you honestly telling me that you really thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour with a scowl.

Before Hermione could answer, Harry laughed and leaned forward on the table, resting his arms on his fists, "She's going to have your job before too long here Minister. After all, somebody's got to reverse all those laws and start doing what the job was created for, taking a stand and protecting the citizens of the magical community. You know, do some good in the world, for a change."

Ron laughed. Scrimgeour's eyes flickered toward him and away again as Harry spoke.

"So why have you decided to let us have out things now? Can't think of a pretext to keep them?"

"No, it'll be because the thirty-one days are up," said Hermione at once. "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they're dangerous. Right?"

Scrimgeour squirmed in his seat a little. He was not expecting to be one upped like this.

"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" asked Scrimgeour, ignoring Hermione and Harry. Ron looked startled. Panicked for a moment, he glanced over at Harry, who just winked and smirked at him, reminding the youngest Weasley son of a few of his older brothers. The Twins in particular.

"Me?" he flustered for a moment. "Well... not really... as well as some other students, but he was a nice old coot. Always offered me a Lemon Sherbert whenever I came to his office. He also made me a Prefect my Fifth Year, so he must've liked something about me, I suppose. Besides, it was always Harry who..." Ron glanced around at his friends, to see Hermione giving him a stop-talking-now! sort of look, but the damage had been done; Scrimgeour looked as though he had finally heard exactly what he had wanted to hear. He swooped like a bird of prey upon Ron's answer.

"So you say you were not as close to Dumbledore as some other students, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions, his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects, were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

"I... dunno," said Ron after a healthy pause. "How the hell am I supposed to know what was going through the crazy coot's old mind? He was brilliant, but a weird sort of brilliant, y'know? For all I know, he might've thought I would find a bit of fun with whatever he left for me, whether it be one of his old socks, or that really cool Pensieve he left behind!"

Hermione was stunned at Ron's reaction, which was actually close to how his reaction might be if one of his brothers might've asked the same question. As it was, she didn't stop him when she should've, her mouth hanging open at his brash and unbiased response. However, Scrimgeour did not seem to see it as such, instead a look of mild disappointment flitted across his face, as he put his hand inside his cloak and drew out a drawstring pouch much larger than the one Hagrid had given Harry. From it, he removed a scroll of parchment which he unrolled and read aloud.

"'The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' ... Yes, here we are... 'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'" Scrimgeour took from the bag an object that Harry had seen before: It looked something like a silver cigarette lighter, but it had, he knew, the power to suck all light from a place, and restore it, with a simple click. Scrimgeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Ron, who took it and turned it over in his fingers, looking stunned. Harry was trying to hold in his laughter at first, but when his aura-sight took note of exactly what the Deluminator had been charmed to do, he quickly schooled his features.

"That is a valuable object," said Scrimgeour, watching Ron. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"

Ron shook his head, looking bewildered.

"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," Scrimgeour persevered. "Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Dunno," Ron admitted. "Like I said, probably thought I might have a bit of fun with it. As for what I'd do with it... put out lights, I s'pose. What else could I do with it?"

Evidently Scrimgeour had no suggestions. After squinting at Ron for a moment or two, he turned back to Dumbledore's will.

"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard', in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'" Scrimgeour now pulled out of the bag a small book that looked as ancient as the copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art that she had in her expanded bag, which she'd taken to learn of Horcruxes and how to destroy them. Its binding was stained as peeling in places. Hermione took it from Scrimgeour without a word. She held the book in her lap and gazed at it. Harry saw that the title was in runes; saying simply "The Tales of Beedle the Bard (First Edition)" and a faded out space for the author. As they all stared, a tear splashed onto the embossed symbols.

"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.

"He... he knew I liked books," said Hermione in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.

"But why that particular book?"

"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."

"That," Harry suddenly interrupted the Minister, "or that she needed to learn a few lessons that are printed out on it. Hermione's always been somewhat of a head case, always believing what books tell her," he ignored the glare she sent him then, "and not letting herself absorb the lessons of life. Any other questions, Minister?"

Trying not to growl, Scrimgeour just turned back to Hermione and asked, "Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

"No, I didn't," said Hermione, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "And if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will."

She suppressed a sob. Ron reached across the table and took Hermione's hand in his and squeezed, offering his support. Harry came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders for a bit as a means of showing the same support, but he moved back to his position on the other side of the table, facing the Minister afterwards. Scrimgeour turned back to the will.

"'To Harry James Potter,'" he read, and Harry's insides contracted with a sudden excitement, though he was careful that outwardly he looked rather bored, "'I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'" As Scrimgeour pulled out the tiny, walnut-sized golden ball, its silver wings fluttered feebly, and Harry could not help the smirk that crossed his features when he saw it. For several reasons, but the one he wanted to convey to Scrimgeour was of fond remembrance and the weird gifts of an old grandfather.

"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?" asked Scrimgeour.

"No idea," said Harry. "For the reasons you just read out, I suppose . . . to remind me what you can get if you . . . persevere and whatever it was. And there's the fact that it was the first ever Snitch that I ever caught, and it would help me remember . . . better times . . . at Hogwarts, to offset any adult memories that might depress me. Actually, I should be thanking you for coming here, Minister, as this so far has been the best birthday present I've gotten yet."

"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"Sure," said Harry. "What else could it be?"

"I'm asking the questions," growled Scrimgeour, shifting his chair a little. "I noticed that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch," he said to Harry, "Why is that?"

Hermione and Harry both laughed, rather derisively.

"I like Quidditch," was all Harry said while Hermione added, "Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious. There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!" She laughed some more.

"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing!" exclaimed Scrimgeour, "But a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

Harry just shrugged. Hermione however, no longer laughing, answered. Privately, Harry thought that answering questions correctly was such a deeply ingrained habit that she could not suppress the urge. "Because Snitches have flesh memories," she said.

"What?" said Harry and Ron together; neither having considered Hermione to know that much about Quidditch, let alone be able to answer a question they couldn't.

"Correct," said Scrimgeour. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch," he held up the tiny golden ball, "will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you."

Harry just stared at Scrimgeour, not reacting, though internally his heart was racing a bit.

"You don't say anything," said Scrimgeour. "Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"

He did, but he wasn't about to give any hints to the suspicious old man. "No," he said finally.

"Take it," said Scrimgeour quietly.

Harry met the Minister's yellow eyes and knew he had no option but to obey. He walked around the table, on Ron's side, held out his hand, and Scrimgeour leaned forward again and placed the Snitch, slowly and deliberately, into Harry's palm.

Nothing happened. As Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, its tired wings fluttered and were still. Scrimgeour, Ron, and Hermione continued to gaze avidly at the now partially concealed ball, as if still hoping it might transform in some way.

"That was dramatic," said Harry coolly. Both Ron and Hermione laughed.

"That's all, then, is it?" asked Hermione, making to get up from her office chair.

"Not quite," said Scrimgeour, who looked bad-tempered now. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"Oh? What is it?" he asked, still sounding outwardly bored.

Scrimgeour did not bother to read from the will this time.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," he said.

Hermione and Ron both stiffened. Harry looked around for a sign of the ruby-encrusted hilt, but Scrimgeour did not pull the sword from the leather pouch, which in any case looked much too small to contain it. That was OK though, as Harry knew exactly where he could get it from any time he really needed it. The same place he got it from in the first place.

"So where is it?" Harry asked to fulfill Scrimgeor's suspicions.

"Unfortunately," said Scrimgeour, "that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such belongs—"

"It belongs to Har—!" Hermione began to say, but Harry interrupted her.

"It actually belongs to Hogwarts, as part of it's history, but as I understand a few lessons from History class, the sword of Godric Gryffindor was forged and given to him by the goblins, correct? According to their laws, anything they make for us, we're renting until we die, and seeing how Gryffindor is very much dead, the sword should be returned to them. And even if you had brought it here for me, I would probably go ahead and give it to them as a personal favor. It's always nice to have a goblin indebted to you for something like that."

"This is not a joke, Potter!" growled Scrimgeour, rising to his feet. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Interesting theory," said Harry. "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that. Just like they always do. Just like they put some people into looking for Sirius Black when he escaped. Or when they put some people on locating Voldemort's current whereabouts. Maybe like the time they put some people on a case of underage magic use and controlling Hogwarts! People are dying, Minister. Muggles, Purebloods, and other Magicals alike. Voldemort and a score of Death Eaters attacked over Surrey England and not a single Auror showed up, not even for the fact that I was forced to use magic on the premises, let alone the real reason they should've been there. You're not doing a damn thing in this war, you and the Ministry. And you still expect us to cooperate with you?"

"You go too far!" shouted Scrimgeour, and jabbed Harry hard in the chest with the point of his wand: It singed a hold in Harry's T-shirt like a lit cigarette, but the real surprise came in that the tip of the wand, not Harry's chest, but just the wand, began to smoke like somebody had lit it on fire.

"Oi!" Ron jumped up, raising his own wand, but Harry waved him off, not moving.

"No! Don't give him an excuse to arrest us, or misuse any of his power any more than he already has."

"Remembered you're not at school, have you?" said Scrimgeour, breathing hard into Harry's face. "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scare like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it," said Harry with a dead voice and a cold look in his eyes.

Scrimgeour glared back hard, but then happened to glance down and saw that it was not Harry's skin that was smoking, but his very own wand, the tip now charred and turning to ash at every contact with the youth's skin. He took a couple steps back from Harry, glancing back at the hole he had made in Harry's T-shirt. He almost seemed to regret his loss of temper, but was also confused over what he'd just seen.

After a lengthy moment, he looked Harry full in the face once more, saying, "I... regret your attitude. You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you—what Dumbledore—desired. We ought to be working together to defeat out common enemy."

"I happen to agree with you there," Harry admitted. "But your ways of going about this... war, leave much to be desired. I don't like your methods, Minister," he said point blank. "Remember?"

Harry raised his right fist and displayed to Scrimgeour the scars that still showed white on the back of it, spelling I must not tell lies. Scrimgeour's expression hardened. He turned away without another word and limped from the room.

"Minister!" he called Scrimgeour back. "I'll walk you out, but first, I have something to offer you."

"Oh?" the lion-maned man growled back.

"I'll kill Voldemort, that's not a problem. What I want from you... is the right to prosecute, judge, and execute any and all suspected or proven Death Eaters, as well as immunity from likewise prosecution by the Wizengamot. Meaning that from now until long after I'm dead, you cannot imprison, hold, or make accusations that me, or my friends here, are guilty of any crime, no matter how small or how large. In exchange, you get to still be Minister of Magic after this war is over with."

Scrimgeour just snarled and left the room, not coming back. Harry sighed, and turned to his friends. "Well, I had to try. C'mon, let's go get him before he accidentally stumbles across Remus and Tonks. I'll explain everything else later on tonight, all right?"

Hermione and Ron both nodded, grabbed their 'gifts' and followed Harry out. Shortly, after they'd escorted the Minister out of the Burrow, and he hurriedly went beyond the wards and immediately Disapparated away. After that, Harry's birthday party was much more pleasant.

Later that night

The Burrow

Harry's Room

Harry's party had been a success, everybody had fun, even Lupin and Tonks, who'd they had found snogging in a broom closet instead of in the room Harry had directed them to. Everybody had had a grand time and when they finally left at around 11:30, they'd all but forgotten the Minister's unannounced visit and the whole war with Voldemort in fact. The clean up had gone faster than expected, especially when Harry employed about a dozen copies to help Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour, so everyone was in bed by around midnight.

Except for, of course, himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry had changed shirts much earlier, but he was now in a loose shirt and sweat pants for sleeping in, while the girls had put on nightgowns and Ron was in shorts and T-shirt. They were there in his room to talk about the Minister's visit, as well as the items left by Dumbledore to them.

Once they were all inside, Hermione waved her wand in the direction of the door, whispering, "Muffliato."

"Thought you didn't approve of that spell?" said Ron.

"Times change," was all she said. "Now, show us that Deluminator." Harry tuned them out for a time, as he already had a strong suspicion on what the Deluminator really was for, but now was not the time, and he had more plans to be making.

What kept the focus of his thoughts, however, was his own gift from Dumbledore. The Snitch from his very first Quidditch game at school. He was suddenly brought out of his musings when Hermione responded to Ron's comment about Dumbledore leaving it to him.

"I've no idea," said Hermione. "When Scrmigeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"

"Yeah, well," said Harry, his pulse quickening as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. "I wasn't going to try too hard in front of the Minister, now was I?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match?" he said. "Don't you remember?"

Hermione looked simply bemused. Ron, however, gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice. "That was the one you nearly swallowed!"

"Exactly," said Harry, and with his heart beating fast, he pressed his mouth to the Snitch.

It did not open.

He allowed himself a moment of frustrated disappointment, but then Hermione cried out, "Writing! There's writing on it, quick, look!"

Turning it around quickly, he looked and saw that she was quite right. Engraved upon the smooth golden surface, where seconds before there had been nothing, were five words written in the thin, slanting handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore's; I open at the close.

He had barely read them when the words vanished again.

"I open at the close... What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny asked for all of them.

Hermione and Ron shook their heads, looking blank.

Harry repeated the words a few times to himself, "I open at the close... at the close... I open at the... close..." His head was racing with the minds of four intellects racing the words back and forth, until finally it was his 'Spy' part that realized that Dumbledore had already mapped everything out, long before his death atop the Astronomy Tower, perhaps even before his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry itself. The man was meticulous if not well-intentioned. The Close, in this singular case, would be the close of the chapter, close of the book... close of the adventure.

Putting the Snitch back to his lips, he whispered so only those closest could hear, "I am about to die."

The metal shell broke open. The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. Nobody else knew exactly what it was, but Harry somehow already knew that this was a one-of-a-kind magical object that had no equal and no copy throughout the entire world.

"Wh-what is that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Frowning with thought, Harry just shrugged and pulled out the Mokeskin pouch Hagrid had given him and put the cracked stone into it and sealed it tight. "Don't know. Figure it out later. Hermione, you put the book with all the others, right?"

"Um, yes, although I was tempted to bring it here, but..."

"That's fine," he said. "I'll be wanting a look at it after we're off, but for now keep it safe. Now, about tomorrow, or I guess today," he glanced at the clock. "We'll go to the wedding, participate and have fun and celebrate Bill and Fleur's nuptials, all right?"

"Then," he took a deep breath and let out a slow sigh, "Then we're off, as soon as the reception is over with, we're gone. Hermione, keep that pouch of yours with you at all times, understand. Ron, Ginny, keep your wands handy, and just to be on the safe side, Ginny, keep a change of clothes on hand, maybe even wear something under the dress. Hermione, same goes for you."

"And what are you going to be doing?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, no offense to your 'cousin', Ron, but I'm not going to be using any Polyjuice potion, and while I noticed you sneaking all of Mad-Eye's supply out from under his nose earlier, Hermione, I'll be teaching you lot a much easier way of hiding your appearance. And like I said, we'll all be going to the wedding and doing our part. It's afterwards where things get tricky."

"Tricky how?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed again.

He could tell them his suspicions, but that might just make them worry for nothing. Still, it might be nice to have a sounding board...

"Tom is just one man, and while he's a bully, he cares more about learning more magic and averting death for as long as possible, than personal power or even approval from the masses. Tom doesn't give one shite about becoming Minister of Magic, nor about taking control of the Ministry. Maybe once upon a time, he did, but that was before he got wasted by a one-year-old."

"Unfortunately, Tom is just one man in control of an army, and to maintain that control he has to give them things that they want," said Harry. "For the Dark Creatures, a little bit of mayhem, a spot of violence, maybe a few dozen human souls for the Dementors, easy enough when you're after social upheaval. But for the Death Eaters themselves? For the wizards that care about blood purity, money, and power?"

"They'll want him to take over the Ministry," Ginny gasped.

"More like he'll allow them to execute plans to take over the Ministry, under the illusion that he's telling them to do so. And he might be, but he'll only be giving them enough input so that they see him at the reigns, while they'll all be doing the hard work and taking care of the details. So long as he can still control the beast, the Death Eater horse will march wherever it damn well pleases."

"Killing V-V-V... You-Know-Who won't be enough, will it?" asked Ron, after some hesitation.

"Not anymore," Harry answered.

"Just look at what happened the last time he was 'defeated'," Hermione pointed out. "Most of them just managed to go into hiding or bought their way out of Azkaban. It would just be a repeat of 15 years ago. Is that why you offered that... deal to Scrimgeour?"

Harry shrugged, "Seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, if he'd have gone for it, I could've just created a massive Copy army and tracked down every 'Marked' Death Eater and tortured them for information on everybody that was under their control, or otherwise allied with the Dark Lord before tracking down the Dork of Darkness himself and ending this once and for all. Course we don't need to be dodging the Ministry along with Death Eaters this soon, so I made it seem more like a joke than really try to convince him."

"But Harry," said Ginny, "if you're right, and the Death Eaters are planning to take over the Ministry, with his support or not, we might end up having to anyway."

Harry frowned, but had to concede the point.

"I'm working on some ideas, plans for what we'll be doing once we're off, but it's all still in the preliminary stages, and nothing much than concepts. If only we had more time to figure everything out! Tom is the central mass, but he's not the bulk of the problem, and we need to focus on how to flush out every Death Eater, either all at once, or in a way where we can handle and contain them. I'd prefer killing them outright, but I'm not going to win the war just to wind up in prison for murder."

"Well, what are some of your ideas, maybe I can help?" Hermione offered.

Harry just shook his head. "Still too early for that. Once I have something plausible, then I'll explain it. Right now my ideas are along the lines of individual memories, passages I read from books, maps, locations, addresses, nothing that actually puts it to any use, just the information."

"Oh, well if you need any help, just ask, I'm here, Harry," she said.

"Thanks Hermione."

"Anything us Weasleys can do?" offered Ginny.

Harry smirked, but nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow, during the reception, and I'm probably making something out of nothing here, but Ginny, you stay next to Hermione, no matter what. Ron, you stick next to me. Don't get separated, and Ron, if I run off, join up with Hermione and Ginny."

"You're not having one of those... 'bad feelings', are ya, Harry?" asked Ron with a grimace.

"I hope not," was the only reply his friend could offer. "I hope not."

After a little bit more small talk, they finally all went to bed, all of them going back to their rooms and going straight to sleep. Harry stayed up for another two hours, meditating and trying to organize his thoughts.