Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

"Wotcher, Harry," a familiar voice greeted him, and he reached out, knowing that Remus and Tonks were right there… but it was too late. He could already feel himself slipping out of the dream, and no matter how hard he tried, the effort of staying lucid was too much. He drifted out of consciousness as though watching fabric fray, knowing it was still there, and that he might even stay in this dream, he was almost guaranteed to forget it. He had found it hard to remember dreams when he was not lucid.

Harry awoke hours later, trying to dig up his nighttime wanderings from the depths of his memories. Lucid dreaming was something he had taken a liking to recently. He never outright controlled a dream, simply guided it in the direction he wanted it to go: talking to Remus, Tonks, Fred, Moody, and countless others. The habit also doubled as an effective way of ridding himself from nightmares. He no longer had had dreams as though he was Voldemort, but had relived the Battle of Hogwarts for weeks after the war until he had found a way to stop it.

He had to prepare for the D.A. meeting tomorrow, which was already enough work to keep him busy for an hour or two, but adding that it was the last one, he had a lot more to accomplish than was normal. He shuffled through his papers, then headed down the stairs to work.

Tea and toast in hand, he dipped his quill into the ink and began to jot down anything he wanted to bring up. At the end of August, it was beginning to cool down quite a bit, and Harry briefly considered starting a fire in the now-empty fireplace in front of him. Before he had time to dwell on the idea, however, bright green flames erupted in the hearth. A second later they hard turned orange, and Ginny's head popped out of them, looking rather alarmed.

"Ron says you haven't got an owl!" she exclaimed.

"I haven't," said Harry.

"You need one."

"Was that the entire point of Flooing me, to tell me I need an owl?""Yes."

There was a silence; neither of them knew what to say. Then, "Well, I'm going to take you to get one."

"When?"

"I dunno."

Harry heard shouting coming from the fireplace, and Ginny sighed.

"Mum wants me to tell you that we're going swimming on Wednesday."

"Okay."

"So I guess we'll go to Diagon Alley again after that."

The flames turned green again and were put out with a flash, leaving Harry to dissect the conversation. He liked Ginny very much, he knew that, and she seemed to want to go back to dating, but it had been a mutual agreement to not get back together until everyone was back on their feet after the war. He supposed Ron had, in some way, held it off, but Ginny wasn't one to listen to Ron. Oh, well. She would be going to Hogwarts soon, and he would start Auror training anyway, so there was no real logic behind starting up again at the end of the summer. Though he probably should get a new owl…

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He didn't finish the planning until lunchtime, and even then he was sure he'd forgotten something. He waved his wand haphazardly toward the kitchen and watched a sandwich was magically built, ingredients floating through the air and assembling themselves on his plate.

He sat down at the table, finally picking up the Daily Prophet that had been delivered that morning. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Reopens," screamed the headline. Harry smiled, skimming the story. A picture of George standing outside the door was positioned in the center of the page. Ginny, Ron, George, and Mrs. Weasley had all declined interviews, and there was no doubt the journalist who wrote the article was disappointed.

A small column off to the side of page one caught his eye. It was titled "Call Him Voldemort." Harry read the article, and found it to be well-written. Instead of twisting his words, like Rita Skeeter would have done, the article analyzed what he had said. Several people have already made the change, and it made little sense for half the population to continue saying You-Know-Who. The article ended with the words "Perhaps we should follow Mr. Potter's advice, and call him Voldemort."

Remembering the letter, Harry Summoned it from where he was. He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Dear Harry,

Merry Christmas! Happy new year! Hope you had a good first term.

If you're reading this, we're dead. And if we're dead, then You-Know-Who killed us. Um, Lily? And I have decided that I will not die afraid to say the name of my murderer. Is this a good idea? And you shouldn't be afraid to say the name of the man who murdered your parents. Voldemort. Oh, don't flinch like that, James. I can't help it! I'm sure you can at least stop flinching. You should really start calling him "Voldemort" too. It's stupid how we treat the name "Voldemort" like a swear word! Okay… Go on, now. What? Say "Voldemort," that's what. …moldy wart. Oh, dear. It looks like you were mumbling. The quill couldn't hear you. Alright, fine. Voldemort. That wasn't so bad, was it? No. Now will you start calling him "Voldemort" for good? We're in hiding, Lily. No one will know whether or whether not we say his name. Harry will.

Love,

Mum & Dad

P.S. Tell Sirius merry Christmas for me. -Dad

So his parents had started saying Voldemort's name just a few weeks before they died. And his Mum had wanted him to do the same. Well, he was doing just that.

Thanks for reading! Sorry about the late-ish update. I had a busy weekend and wasn't able to write much. Cassandra30, I'm glad you liked the letter! Aithne, Sirius's portrait was mentioned briefly in chapter 6. Ismaran, I'm sorry you didn't like the last chapter. I'll try to do better. As always, please review!