Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter (still)


Harry woke up late the next day. When he finally did wake up, it was to the sound of an owl, hooting from his windowsill. He let the owl in, and it delivered its letter, cocking his head to one side in interest. Harry picked up Daily Prophet, and was somewhat surprised to find a parchment as well. He skimmed through the letter uncaringly. Of course. Just another request for interview. Though not entirely accurate, one might think that the newspapers would find the story he and his friends had spewed satisfactory, but there must have been too many holes in the tale.

In an attempt to keep any more Voldemorts from popping up, they'd given a very vague explanation of his defeat. What they'd said was that Voldemort had attached his life to different objects and that he would not be able to die unless they were destroyed. They had not said what they were, just that there were a lot and that one had been unintentional. They'd also gone through every dark book they could find and burned any pages that mentioned Horcruxes. They tried to erase all traces of Horcruxes so that something like that could never exist again.

Harry contemplated opening the next letter, but even if he did, he wouldn't be able to finish it yet. After all, today was Saturday, and that meant he was meeting Ron and Hermione fro lunch at the Three Broomsticks. They were all plenty busy throughout the week. Hermione was often with her parents (who seemed to be doing very well from what Harry had heard), and Ron was off doing who-knows-what and looking for George, who had disappeared. Harry himself was working with the Ministry, helping them rebuild themselves after the war. Nearly everyone else was busy, too. Most of the stores and streets were fully rebuilt and lively now, though it wasn't even three months since the Final Battle.

Harry shifted through his robes, trying to pick the ones that would stick out the least. He'd stopped wearing all black robes a while ago, after the funerals, anyway. He wasn't wearing the brightest colors possibly like Lockhart, either. Instead, he leaned toward darker colors. Today he decided to wear deep red robes that reminded him of his old Quidditch robes. He stuffed the first letter into his pocket along with some money and started to Disapparate.

Apparating into Hogsmeade, Harry realised that he still had some time until he was meeting his friends. He strolled through the street, ignoring the stares and focusing on his gaze on the storefronts. Several new shops had popped up all over, and Harry had the feeling it was the sense of victory that had inspired some of the more courageous owners.

As he walked by, he spotted a new broom store. A firebolt was in the window, where a sign proudly announced that the handle now came in several colors. Harry's own broom had been lost before the Horcrux-hunting trip. Should he get a new one? He couldn't keep borrowing the Weasley's brooms forever, and there was a public Quidditch pitch near the Ministry… Maybe he would get a new broom, but not now. If he didn't turn around right now, he would never make it to the Three Broomsticks on time.

() () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () ()

Harry walked into the pub, thankful that nobody looked up as the warm August breeze was sucked inside the cooler, less sweat-inducing atmosphere. He looked around and found Hermione sitting at a round table in the corner, a cup of tea already next to her. She had pulled up two extra chairs and was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted him as he sat down in one of the chairs. She blew on the paper, trying to dry the ink faster.

"Hi, Hermione. Do you know where Ron is?"

"He'll be here soon." Hermione stuffed both quill and ink into her bag. It seemed to Harry that she did not want him to see what she had been writing.

"What's that?" he pointed to the paper which Hermione had hidden the front of.

"Just some ideas," she said, sliding past his question as easy as can be. They stayed silent for a few moments, Harry wondering just what Hermione and been writing. Ideas or not, they had piqued his interest.

"Sorry I'm late," Ron said, stepping up behind them. "One of the D.A. members found mention of them in a book."

"What title?"

"The Darkest Objects."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Harry shook his head. "The press just doesn't seem to like our explanation. We've made it perfectly clear why we're being so secretive - they need to leave us be!"

"Harry, they know there's more to the story, and they will stop at nothing," Hermione informed him for the nth time.

"Bloody reporters," Ron mumbled.

Harry's mind began to drift off, returning to the letters - why had his parents written them? Had they known there was a chance he could survive? And if so, how?

"Oi! Mr. Hero!" Ron's voice pulled him back to reality. "Are you even listening?"

"No, and don't call me that," Harry grumbled.

""Well, what's got your mind at the North Pole?" Hermione not-so-gently probed.

"Just... thinking."

"No, you're not."

"Harry," Ron addressed him. "Whenever you get that look in your eyes, we now you're either coming up with a plan or trying not to tell us something."

"I found some things in Sirius' bedroom," Harry finally relented after several long moments. He pulled the letter out of his robes and set it on the table. He waited quietly while the read, Hermione finishing first.

"That's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed when he was done reading.

"But how?" Hermione voiced all of Harry's questions with just two words. "They couldn't have known, could they? Harry, are you certain these are from your parents?"

"Of course they are! Don't you recognize my mum's writing from the letter to Sirius?"

"I suppose…"

"Oh, why does that matter? Have you read them all yet?" Harry found Ron's response much more satisfying than Hermione's.

"Not yet, but I'm going to. I just found them yesterday. By the way, Hermione, do you know anything about stinking scrumpets?"

"Well, they're a part of the scrumpet family, so… all parts are poisonous expect the fruit, which must be harvested exact seven days after it begins to form, and be planted under a new moon, with only two hours of sunlight a day, and can be dried and kept for centuries, but other than that, nothing. Each type of scrumpet has a very specific use, and it's a seventh year concept."

"Never stopped you before," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, but I've other things to do besides reading. I've already made several trips back to Hogwarts, the work is coming along so quickly, and there's the S.P.E.W, but I honestly think that's going nowhere-"

"You can finally see reason," Ron broke in.

"So I've decided to start interviewing house elves."

"I take that back."

They talked for a while longer, but Harry's mind continued to linger on the letters. What if Hermione was right? What if they weren't really from his parents? But that was impossible! The handwriting was clearly his mother's, and the p.s. At the end of each letter was written in a handwriting not unlike his own. 'Sloppy,' as his mum had called it.

"Speaking of Hogwarts, Ginny and I are going book shopping tomorrow if you two want to come. Ginny seems to know something we don't and is really keen on getting you guys to show up."

Harry finally broke out of his reverie as Hermione said this, and agreed to come almost immediately. After all, he hadn't been to Diagon Alley for quite a while (not that he could go there on his own, he was sad to admit. The goblins had decided to go 'light' on him and Ron, only requiring that they hand their wands to a friend upon entering the bank.).

Harry glanced down at his watch, realising with a start that he had a meeting with Kingsley in five minutes.

"I have to go," he said. "Meeting with Kingsley."

"Bye, Harry."


Thanks to all who read this chapter! Also: 1,375 words, not including this note and the disclaimer! ragsweas, I think I get your idea about the story/reaction ... I have something similar planned for [a] later chapter[s]. Don't worry, I've already written the 11th b-day letter, it's about a page long in google docs. :) Beaker77, thanks for the review! Same for you, Cassandra30! As you can see, the chapters are getting longer. Please review!