Note: So, it has come to this. Chapter 8. I don't really have anything to announce up here. Maybe there'll be an important note at the bottom. I doubt it, but check it out. Chapter wise, there's some Luna, some angst, a good bit of plot, and maybe a fight scene or two. You know, business as usual.

This is where I say something like, "Let's go.". So I'll just say that.

CHAPTER EIGHT: GHOSTS OF MEN, III

Harry was beginning to wonder if there would be anything left of him by the time Hogwarts was done. He didn't mean physically. Madam Pomfrey could do wonders with magic. No, he meant emotionally. Before he came to this school he didn't know anything about himself. He didn't know about magic, or his fame, or why his parents died. He didn't know what it was like to take a life. Now he knew all of these things, and didn't want any of it.

It had brought some of the best parts of his life to him. His friends, a purpose. Knowledge of who he was. Now, though...he wanted nothing more to do with the magical world. He wished he'd never gotten that letter. He wished none of this had ever happened and he could go back to being a kid with funny eyes and an unusual gift.

That, he knew, was not in the cards. There was no going back. There were spells to remove memories, and he'd read about them, but they were all-encompassing mind wipes. He wanted a surgical strike, something that would sneak in and take the memories of this place away from him. Such a spell did not exist. He wasn't smart enough to invent it, either. Hermione wouldn't help him. Neville wouldn't help him. Luna...

She threw a hitch into his plan just by existing. Every time he thought about running he remembered her face. Every time he thought about abandoning Hogwarts and the world of magic he thought about how she would have died without him there to save her. He knew, unequivocally, that the world would be worse off without her in it.

If he'd have left, how many others would have died? How many people would the wraith have killed before it was stopped? Who would have stopped the homunculi in the Chamber from massacring half the school? When he looked at it like that, when he thought about the people who were still walking and laughing and smiling because of him...it became less of a burden to bear.

So that's what he did. Whenever the urge to run hit him, he'd look at the people around him. They were here because he'd fought. Because he refused to die, they still lived. He hated it. Every minute of it. He hated how people had to die so he could stay alive. Harry wanted to live. He wanted his friends to live. He wanted to die of old age a long, long time from now. If that meant he had to fight...

Then he would. God help him, but he would with all he had.

"Hello, Harry Potter."

"You know, Luna, one day you're going to greet me with just my first name."

She wrinkled her face in an appearance of genuine confusion. "Now why would I do that? There's a lot of Harry's out there, but there's only one you. Why shouldn't I call you who you are?"

"Well, when you put it like that I suppose you've got a point."

"I know I do. Now what are you doing here?"

"I like it here."

"It's the owlrey. I'm fair certain the owls don't like it here. Plus, it's cold, and-"

"You don't like the cold, I know." he grinned at her. She smiled back, then shivered.

"Here, let me try something." he drew power into his palm. The air around his hand shimmered. She placed a hand on his. He looked up at her to see a curious look on her face. "What?"

"I want to see what it feels like." she said softly. "Go ahead."

Oddly flattered and red-faced, he pushed the shimmer into the air around them and whispered, "Warmth."

The air around them warmed noticeably. Luna shivered again. "Oh, my." she said. "That's very nice. I'm starting to see why you like it here."

He shrugged. "It's quiet. Most of the time. I come here to think."

They were up in the owlrey in mid-October shortly after sunset, which Harry had gone up there to watch. Overhead the owls were just starting to wake up, rustling and hooting to each other in a dull roar. He had claimed the lowest window's ledge as his own perch early on, and it was now somewhat cramped with the addition of Luna.

Not that he minded. She was warm and soft and fun to talk to. When she put her head on his shoulder he went very still. Until she poked him in the stomach. "Relax, I'm not going to bite you." she told him, and with a great effort, he did. "What did you come here to think about?" she asked quietly a few minutes of silence later.

He shrugged, causing her head to bob in an interesting way. "Nothing."

"Harry..."

"Okay, fine." he sighed. "I was thinking about Carrow again."

"She's the one you-"

"I killed, yeah."

She wrapped her arms around his and hugged it. "How are you doing?"

He sighed again. "I...I don't know. I mean, I know she was bad, right? She was a Death Eater, bad as they come, but..." he shook his head. "I still feel like I should have done something. Anything."

Luna was quiet for a long time. "What could you have done?"

"That's the thing, I don't know! I've been sitting up here thinking about what I could have done and I can't think of anything! I've gone over everything that happened so many times that I see it in my sleep and...there's nothing. If I had done anything else..." he trailed off.

"You'd be dead." she finished.

"I'd be dead." he agreed.

"But you still feel like you should have done something different."

"Yeah, and it's driving me up the damn wall. But I can't stop."

"Do you blame yourself?"

"No." he said decisively. "She was going to kill me. That wasn't my fault. I feel bad for killing her, but I'm glad she's dead and I'm not. Does that make me a bad person?"

Luna kissed him on the cheek. "No. It makes you one of the best."

Harry couldn't help or explain the smile her words created. His cheek burned where she'd kissed it and he fought the temptation to touch it. The knot in his chest that he'd been feeling for days loosened, leaving behind a feeling of warmth.

Words failed him, utterly and completely. Instead he covered her hands with one of his and squeezed. They watched the moon rise in silence together before Luna slid down from the ledge and silently offered him her hand, before leading him back to Gryffindor tower. She left him with a warm smile and a quiet "Good night, Harry Potter."

"'Night, Luna." he said, then he turned and entered the common room. All in all, she was right. Tonight hadn't been all that bad.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Hmm? I'm smiling?"

"Yeah. For about two days now. It's starting to get spooky, mate."

"Can't I just be happy?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"Harry, you haven't smiled in weeks, and now you haven't stopped. You have to admit, it's a bit of a shift."

"Okay fine. You might have a point."

"So what gives?"

"Um. Uh. Lunakissedme."

"Who did what?"

"Luna. Kissed. Me."

"Tell me everything."

"No."

"Harry. Tell me. Now."

So he did. If only to make Neville stop glaring like that.

Harry found himself yet again in the Headmaster's office. This time, though, there was more than the Headmaster there. The old wizard sat behind his desk as usual. The new person paced by the fireplace. She was a strong featured woman with an honest to God monocle dangling from her cloak pocket by a silver chain. He caught the tail end of what she was saying as he entered the office.

"...and what was that imbecile thinking, ordering Dementors- Dementors- to guard the school? He knows that the Ministry's hold on them is tenuous at best. And then, to make matters worse, they act true to their nature and attack not only you, but Harry. The savior of our world gets attacked by the creatures assigned to protect him!" she sighed and fell into a seat. "I don't what we're going to do. This whole thing has been a disaster from start to finish and this incident with Carrow hasn't helped at all."

As had become the norm in recent weeks, Harry felt a twinge when he heard the name. He pushed the mire of feelings he had about it away and knocked on the door. The angry woman whirled about. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Harry. What can I do for you?"

"You wanted to see me, sir." he answered.

"Ah, yes. Do come in. I don't believe you've met Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"I should hope not." Bones stood and held out her hand. He took it and received a firm shake. He sat in the chair opposite her and she continued. "There are no good reasons for you to meet me, Mr. Potter, and I'm afraid today is no exception."

"Why?" he looked between the grave adults and felt the beginnings of worry. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid that the Minister, in his wisdom," she growled, clearly meaning something less polite. "has decided that because of the attack on you, a full scale investigation into the security of the school must take place. And that I am to run it."

Harry frowned. "This is a bad thing?"

"Think, Harry!" Dumbledore scolded. So he did. And then his frown deepened.

"Shouldn't you be tracking down the escaped prisoners?"

"Yes!" Bones exploded. "And now I can't do my bloody job because I have to turn this whole school upside down to figure out what we already knew!" she sighed, and polished her monocle on her robe sleeve. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. The reason I had Headmaster Dumbledore call you up here was so that I can interview you on the events surrounding your...encounter with the fugitive Alecto Carrow."

He took a deep breath and nodded. Once again the ball of emotion surrounding that woman's name swirled up and lumped his throat. He had to swallow to force the words past it. "Tell me what you want to know."

"Start at the beginning." Dumbledore said gently. Bones took out a scroll of parchment and a quill. She set the parchment on a free bit of Dumbledore's desk and the quill on top of the parchment. It quivered and, when Harry began speaking, transcribed his words directly onto the paper.

"I was going to class when I see this red flash, and everything goes dark. Next thing I know I'm in the forest, and she is staring down at me..."

Harry was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been days since Bones' investigation had started, and it was the only thing anyone could talk about. Even Hermione, the one person he could count on to stay above the rumor mongering, had started theorizing about what she was looking for and why she was looking there at Hogwarts. It had only gotten worse since he'd accidentally let slip his conversation with Bones and Dumbledore in his office.

Now she wanted to include him in her investigations. It was driving him up the wall. All he wanted was to forget it. All she wanted was to know everything about it. It was starting to make him a little...testy. What's worse, he couldn't use any of his usual hiding spots because she knew about them and would seek him out there. He'd never seen her this single minded before. Even final exams hadn't aroused this kind of focus in her.

Finally, after three days of hide and seek, he'd had enough. She had cornered him in the library and was hitting him with theory after theory about why Bones was here and who she was looking for. Something inside him just snapped.

"Hermione. Shut up!"

"...and I-what?"

"You've been bothering me about this crap for days! I can't take it anymore! Why does this matter so much to you?"

He saw a flash of hurt in Hermione's eyes, quickly swallowed by anger. "Why does it matter so little to you? This people want to kill you, Harry, and you're treating it like it's a homework assignment! Why aren't you more afraid?"

"Afraid?" Harry scoffed. "I've never been more scared in my life! Every time I come to this damn school something crawls out of Hell to try and kill me and I'm sick of it! I'm tired of being scared and hunted by lunatics who think killing me will bring their dead master back!"

"I-" she tried to say, but there was no stopping him now.

"And another thing; why does it matter why Bones is here? For three days it's all anyone can talk about. Like there's nothing else in the world that matters apart from this. So let's sum up, just in case you're not sure I'm scared enough. I've got a homicidal school, Malfoy, the Dementors, Voldemort's lunatics, and let's not forget the Minister who keeps the only person that can do anything from doing anything! So yes, Hermione. I'm scared. I'm terrified. And I want nothing more than for it to go away. So please, just...leave me alone."

Harry was running on a cocktail of emotion. All of the suppressed anger, fear, worry, and anxiety that he'd been feeling for days had burst the dam and were smashing through him. His heart pounded, his breath came in great gasps. He felt like he'd just run a mile at full tilt. He was so wound up in his own emotions he missed the play of them across Hermione's face. He barely noticed her fleeing the library, or that about eleven people had been witness to their argument.

Once he'd cooled down a little he realized exactly who it was he'd just snapped at. His stomach twisted in guilt as he remembered the expression on Hermione's face as he yelled at her. He sat heavily at the recently vacated table and let his head thunk onto the wood. "Damn it." he mumbled. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

Hermione wasn't at dinner. Neither was Neville. Some of the other Gryffindors, along with the other students who'd overheard their argument, were giving him odd looks for sitting alone. He didn't pay them much attention, he just pushed food around on his plate until dinner ended. He needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"Harry?"

He whipped around. A red eyed Hermione was wringing her hands and looking anywhere but at him. Knowing that he'd hurt her wrenched his heart. "Hey." he said quietly.

"Luna told me you'd be up here." she said.

"Smart girl, Luna." he said, looking at his lap.

"I-" she sighed and visibly screwed up her courage. "I want to say something, and I want you to let me finish before you say anything, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Okay." he scooted over on the ledge to make room for her and wasn't really surprised when she stayed where she was. Hermione didn't say anything for a long minute, and he wondered if she'd maybe changed her mind. "Um, Hermione?"

"I just- I don't know where to start." she confessed. "Alright. Well, I guess I want to start with 'I'm sorry'. Ah ah ah!" she held up her hand. "You promised to let me finish. I am sorry. Really. I got so worried about you and how you were going to deal with this that I didn't actually think to ask you. So I'm sorry for that. And I'm sorry for yelling at you. And...I'm just sorry in general, I guess." she let out a long breath, before nodding firmly. "Okay, I'm done. What were you going to say?"

"That I was sorry. I thought I'd handled this whole thing, but...you just wouldn't stop reminding me how many of them were out there. And there was that thing with Carrow and...it just kind of built up, I guess. And I just kept pushing it down and pushing it down and I just blew up on you and I'm sorry about that."

Hermione laughed. "Look at the two of us. I'm sorry, and you're sorry. We make a sorry pair, don't we?"

He smiled. "I guess so. Forgiven?"

"Yeah. Forgive me?"

"There was never anything to forgive." he said.

Hermione looked like she wanted to disagree, but didn't want to break their newly forged peace. So she nodded and held out her hand. "Come on, it's cold and late and I'm pretty sure we have a Potions exam tomorrow."

Harry let her pull him to his feet before he threw an arm around her shoulder. "And you haven't been studying? The horror."

"Of course I have been." she said with an air of superiority. "Have you?"

"Nope." he admitted cheerfully.

"..."

"What?"

"I think you try to drive me crazy on purpose."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Prat."

Harry was especially wary of his temper ever since he'd exploded at Hermione. Vernon and Petunia had warned him, time and again, about the consequences of losing his temper. It had never been real, though. The consequence had always been some intangible thing: privileges or responsibilities or even the much spoken of respect. But he had never been able to see it unfold in front of him. Consequence, until then a word almost synonymous with punishment or grounding, had become heavier. Real.

Choice. Action. Consequence. An even, unbroken line that no one could see but everyone could feel.

He was feeling it now. Because Hermione was now wary of him.

It was nothing overt. She was much too clever and compassionate for that. But Harry could see how she held herself back. He saw her fight the tendency to nag him and Neville to do their homework, or in how she visibly struggled to not correct them when they swore or used improper grammar. She was changing because of what had happened between them. So was he. Trouble was, he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. What he did know was that there was no going back.

He didn't know what was going to happen next. And if there was one thing Harry didn't like, it was not knowing. That was something he was going to fix. As soon as he could.

November was colder than October. Much colder. Winter had been tickling Hogwarts during October. Playing with it until the Monday they went home for Christmas break. Then it punched the school in the stomach. Harry couldn't see the carriage in front of them and it was a noticeable strain on his power to keep the snow out of their windows. The wind howled like a thing possessed and blew snowdrifts across the road to Hogsmeade.

He, Hermione, Neville, and Luna had opted to survive the ride to the Express and bundled into one carriage together. Even with three warming charms and a free floating globe of flame they still shivered as the biting wind found a gap in their spells...there. "Y-you'd think that wizards w-would have a w-way to control the weather!" Harry stammered.

"I told you they can!" Luna said from beside him. She'd burrowed as far as possible into his side and had kindly wrapped her scarf around his neck as well. He was very aware of this, and of the feel of her against him. "The Ministry has been working on a spell to control the weather for decades!"

"Oh, not this again." Hermione grumbled. Neville laughed.

"Come on, Hermione!" he gestured at the canvas of white the outside world had become. "How else could you explain this?"

As Hermione began an in-depth explanation of weather Luna tugged Harry's ear down closer to her lips. When she whispered in his ear he felt her breath wash against his skin. Either because of the warmth or because it was her, he shivered. "You believe me, right?

He grinned. "Course I do. What else could it be but a test gone wrong?"

She nodded, smiling. "Exactly my point! I knew there was a keen mind in there somewhere." she rapped him on the forehead.

"Hey!" he protested, before joining her in laughter.

"Harry! You're just making her worse!" Hermione broke off from lecturing Neville to scold him. To which he smiled.

"Yep!" He jumped, then turned an accusatory look on Luna. "Did you do that?"

Her face was the picture or innocence. "Do what?"

Harry just sighed and looked out the window. They should be at the station soon. It had better be warm on the train. Otherwise there would be a large number of digits lost to frostbite. Or gangrene. Or both.

Yeah, he thought, probably both. Wait. What's that?

'That' being a shape in the blowing snow. It flickered in and out between the drifts, so quickly that Harry wasn't sure he was seeing it. He'd just caught a glimpse of something, the barest outline of a shape, when the carriage lurched to a halt. He couldn't see past the carriage in front of him. Dean Thomas stuck his head out of that one and shouted back, "We aren't there yet, are we?"

"No, I don't think so!" Harry shouted back.

"Great!" was the sarcastic reply. "We'll just freeze to death until these useless things get a move on!"

Harry was about to rejoin the relative warmth of the inside carriage when he saw...it again. It was large. Very, very large. And, rather worryingly, coming towards them. He stuck his snow covered head back into the carriage. "Guys," he said, "I don't want to alarm anybody, but I think something's out there."

"Something?" Neville asked. "What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea. We're about to find out, though."

"Right." Hermione took charge. "Wands out. Harry, drop a shield over the carriage, please."

With a frown and a grunt of effort, Harry did. The sound of the wind died. Snow pelted into the shimmering air and melted.

"Oh, that's much better." Luna said. He strained his eyes to see through the shield and felt a surge of relief when the shape split into several more shapes and resolved into thickly robed people. He blew out a misted breath and sat back heavily.

"It's okay, it's Aurors." he said.

"Aurors? Are you sure?" When he nodded Hermione frowned. "I wonder what they're doing here?"

Harry was going to say "no idea" when a gloved hand knocked on the carriage door and a purple haired woman with a heart shaped face stuck her head into their carriage. "Wotcher," she said brightly. "you lot haven't got any Death Eaters in here, have you?"

Harry blinked. "Eh?"

"Forgive him, the cold's rotted his brain." Neville said. "No, we haven't got any Death Eaters. Sorry."

"Right." the purple haired woman said, grinning. "Well, off you trot. Have a lovely break, try not to freeze to death."

Then as quickly as she was there, she was gone. Harry settled back into his seat, making a face when he found that all his built up body heat had leeched away in the short minute he'd been away. Luna tucked herself back under his arm. It warmed up rather quickly after that.

"Who was that?" Neville wondered. Harry shrugged.

"No idea."

"Her name's Nymphadora Tonks, although she prefers Tonks." Luna supplied. Hermione had a look of comic bewilderment on her face that made Harry look away before he started laughing.

"How do you know that?" she asked. Luna shrugged.

"A snowflake whispered it into my ear."

There was a long silence in which Hermione's mouth opened and closed. The resemblance to a fish was too much for Harry, and he burst into laughter. She glared at him. Beside her Neville bit down on his scarf to muffle his chuckles.

"Or," Luna continued over the sounds of Neville trying not to laugh and Harry failing to stop. "She used to date Charlie Weasley, and they're my neighbors. Whichever you prefer."

"I...you...what?" Hermione managed to kick her brain into gear around the time Luna lost her composure and joined the boys in laughing. In short order, Harry received a kick to the shin, Neville a punch to the arm, and Luna a very confused and angry glare. "You're all evil." she declared, crossing her arms and huffing.

"Maybe," Harry conceded. "but that doesn't matter." he pointed out the window. "Salvation awaits."

Hogsmeade station, and the promise of warmth, appeared out of the snow in all its glory. He had never been happier to see a place in his entire life.

"Wouldn't it be funny if the train was broken down or delayed?"

"Why would you say that?!"

Luckily for Neville's continued existence, the Express was both running and on time. It was a wet and shivering quartet that staggered on board. They shed wet scarves and outer robes, making a pile of them in the center of the compartment. Hermione promised to dry them as soon as her teeth stopped chattering. Harry concentrated and touched her shoulder. She shivered again at the feeling of warmth trickling down her spine.

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled at him, then drew her wand. "Right, who's first?"

Harry laughed at the sudden clamor to garner Hermione's attention. There was nothing for it, though. She turned her wand on Neville first, cheeks slightly pink, before drying Luna.

"Now that that's done," Neville said as they sat down. Through some mystical contrivance, Harry wasn't sure how, he ended up next to Luna. "holiday plans, people, who's doing what."

"I'm staying at home," Luna announced. "Normally we go to Sweden in the winter, but I think I can get Dad to make an exception. There's plenty enough snow here."

"My parents are taking me to France," Hermione dug through her bag for her most recent book. "Said if they had to deal with one more English winter, they'd go mad. Neville?"

"Oh, nothing." Neville looked out the window. "My gran's back played up, so we're stuck in London. How about you, Harry?"

Harry frowned at Neville's statement. It didn't sound...entirely right. Too fast. He put it aside and tried to remember what Petunia had said they'd be doing in her last letter. Something about... "Visiting my Aunt Marge in Kent, I think." he made a face. "We don't get on."

"What happens?"

"Well, it's not me and her so much," Harry explained. "it's her dogs. They hate me. Think I taste good. Ow!" He gave a bewildered look to Luna, who had just bitten him. "What'd you do that for?"

She shrugged. "Wanted to see if they were right."

"Were they?" Hermione asked over Neville's laughter.

"No."

Harry blinked. "I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not."

Neville stopped laughing long enough to say, "Me neither."

"Huh." Luna smacked her lips in a thoughtful manner. "You taste like snow. Did you know that?"

Harry glanced out the window, then back at her. "I can't possibly imagine why."

He sighed morosely as the car pulled up outside a long, low house in a neighborhood in Kent. From out here, over the sounds of Dudley's snores, Vernon's argument with the radio, and the running engine, Harry could still hear barking. He sighed again.

I really, really, really don't want to be here.

And yet, he was. No amount of arguing or insisting that he was fine at home, really, would change his parents' mind. Even after he sulked for an hour. Dudley was no help. He actually liked Aunt Marge, and she him. Whenever she looked at Harry for some reason all she could see was strange eyes and secrets. Two things Marjorie Dursley didn't like were strangeness and things she didn't know.

It was sheer bad luck that he fell squarely into both categories.

That, and her dogs didn't like him.

So he could be forgiven for getting out of the car with slightly less enthusiasm than his brother.

"Come on, Harry, it's just for the evening." Petunia tried to cheer him up.

"I don't want to stay for an hour, let alone all night." he said, allowing her to steer him towards the front door. "Why does she hate me so much?"

Petunia could only shrug helplessly. Vernon stepped in and said, "She doesn't hate you son. You and her just...don't get on. Your aunt loves you and Dudley." He moved ahead with the bags, missing Harry's eye roll. It was probably for the best. He didn't want to be grounded on top of being here.

He might have exploded if that were the case.

Just as Dudley reached the front door it opened and emitted a woman as large as Vernon without any of his muscle and a pack of yipping, barking, slavering, hungry, bulldogs.

"There's my Duddykins!" Marge shrieked, engulfing his brother in a hug and planting wet kisses on both his cheeks. These were wiped off as soon as she moved on to greet Vernon and Petunia. Harry, she ignored. Not that he minded. "Vernon, Petunia! Oh, I've been looking forward to this for weeks! Mrs. Bornmouth, you know her, the widow in Number Six? She and I have cooking up a storm just for your visit! Oh, I'm all aflutter. Come in, come in!"

And with that, he thought, it begins.

He followed his mother inside, accepting her apologetic look with a smile. He swung the door shut behind him, quite purposefully shutting every single bulldog out of the house.

Entirely on accident, of course.

"So...that went well."

His choked words fell on a quiet car. Each occupant was handling what had just happened in a different way. Petunia was fiddling with the strap on her seat belt, looking with too much interest at the passing scenery. Dudley was in shock, looking from Harry to Petunia and back. Vernon had the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip and looked as if he were trying to strangle it.

As for Harry; he was crying. Tears followed the runes on his skin as they tracked down his face. He could not believe what had just happened. It was... how could someone be that cruel without being evil? It didn't make sense.

How could she have said those things?

"I'm sorry, son." Vernon's hoarse voice made him jerk his head up. His dad's face was red and his eyes held both fury and sadness. "She had no right to say those things to you. We're not going back there again, I promise."

Petunia sighed and turned to face her husband. "How can you two be related? You're completely different!"

"Pet, not now." Vernon said quietly, jerking his head back at Harry and Dudley.

"When's a good time then, Vernon? Your sister just said we'd have been better off if we left Harry to die somewhere!" she snapped. Harry jumped at the strength of her anger. "Our son! She said that about our son!"

"I know!" Vernon shouted, face red. He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. "I know. I hoped she would come to see him as part of the family-"

"He is!"

"but Marge...she never liked your sister, Pet. Any reminder of Lily infuriates her. I- I hoped she would change, and she didn't. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Vernon." Petunia's eyes were shiny. "You don't have to apologize for her."

"Someone should." Harry muttered darkly. Dudley finally found his voice.

"Why did she hate Aunt Lily so much, dad?"

Vernon sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, son. You know what she said wasn't true, don't you? Harry is a part of our family."

Harry found himself extremely interested in Dudley's answer. His brother snorted. "'Course he is. I know Aunt Marge was lying, dad. I just don't know why."

"None of us, do." Petunia said. "Except her, and she isn't telling. Best forget about your Aunt Marge for a while, boys. We won't be seeing her anytime soon."

Harry let out a shaky breath and wiped under his eyes. He hadn't meant to let Marge's words get to him. For a while, they hadn't. He'd been unaffected by her passive aggressive sniping at him throughout dinner. After everything that had happened it just seemed childish. Then after dinner everyone trooped into the sitting room for eggnog, of which Marge had quite a lot. Red faced and slurring her words, she'd started in on him again.

Only this time she'd been more direct. But he'd been able to deal. Until she attacked Lily. The mother he'd never known. She'd been taken from him, and this fat...woman sat there and criticized her for dying! That had been too much for Harry, and he'd for the first time retaliated. Things went downhill from there.

The eggnog had disappeared quickly. Marge's filter had vanished quicker. His temper, never the most stable thing, had exploded, taking several light bulbs with it. Whether by accident or design, she had hit on one of the things that he'd always wondered about. Had he been taken in because he was wanted, or because of an obligation? He'd never been able to figure out before tonight.

Now, though, now he knew. He may not have been born to them, but to Vernon and Petunia Dursley, he was their son. And that meant more to him than he could ever say. The words just didn't exist. He loved them. That would have to be good enough for now.

END CHAPTER EIGHT

Note: I never liked Marge. Next chapter sees the end of Harry's third year and the summer before fourth year. I'm debating with myself whether or not to include the Quidditch World Cup. I should say that I will only if I can make it different in some way. You know, like I've been trying to do since I started this fic.

Anyway. See you then!