Harry sat on a wicker chair on the small roof deck at the top of Grimmauld Place, a dwarf wiggentree on either side, enjoying the sunny weather.
He had just sent Hedwig with a letter to Professor McGonagall, and was reading a much, much longer letter from Hermione. She was spending time in Europe with her parents and Viktor Krum had spent a couple days with them in Barcelona. But most of the letter was, again, about academics. It seemed she was interested in most careers.
A journalist, though she didn't know what newspaper or magazine she'd like. A barrister. A Ministry official. An unspeakable, though she wished there was more public information about what exactly they did. A wardcrafter. A product designer. A potioneer or a business woman.
For Hermione, the problem was that they were all so wonderful it was hard to choose.
Harry's thoughts on the matter were shorter and more focused on all the things he didn't like about each job.
Hermione's long section on magical theory was easier to address, even if he did have to re-read some sections of The Character of Magicto write a proper reply.
A change in the weather drove him off the roof well before he'd finished his letter, and he continued it at the coffee table in the den.
He was still there when Severus Snape came through the floo, holding a bottle.
Harry dropped the letter he was writing, grabbed his wand, and Snape stared at him.
Harry said, "I thought the floo was disconnected."
"It only connects to the Headmaster's office," said Snape. "Fetch the beast."
"Kreacher!" The house-elf, who Harry had hardly spoken to since the first time, appeared. "Immediately tell Remus Lupin that Severus Snape just came through the floo."
The house-elf disappeared with a pop.
Snape said, "The Headmaster tells me you're practicing occlumency."
"For about half an hour, every day."
"Typical. The Headmaster impresses on you the importance of learning a skill, and you devote one-thirty-second of your waking hours to it."
Harry knew he should be angry. Normally he would be. 'Anger management issues,' Hermione occasionally said. But instead, he was just looking at Snape, sort of curious as to why the man had said that. "It's summer, Severus."
"Professor Snape," said Snape.
"And five points from Gryffindor for saying it wrong? Sorry Severus, but you're only Professor Snape when school's in session. This is summer. I've been relaxing." He reclined against the couch and indicated the telly. It wasn't yet operational, but Snape didn't know that. "And doing my homework and some reading."
"Dr. Suess, I'm sure," said Snape.
A muggle reference. From the head of Slytherin. "Careful there, Severus, you might lose your position if Lucius finds out you know what that is. Unless, is he a fan?"
Snape favored Harry with a small and rather mean smile. "Oh, but you have been studying your occlumency."
Before Harry could ask what he meant by that, Sirius and Lupin came down.
"Snivellus," said Sirius.
"Mutt," said Snape.
"Thanks for coming," said Lupin.
Snape glared, took the cork from the bottle he held and offered Lupin the steaming potion. The man downed it and grimaced.
"Wolfsbane," Lupin explained to Harry. "Snape has been kind enough to continue providing me with the potion even though I am no longer on staff."
Sirius said, "Kind enough to use him as a lab rat more like."
Lupin said, "If I can contribute in some small manner to a better version of the wolfsbane potion there will be few things in my life I'll be more proud of."
Snape said, "You will log the effects. And give me a copy of the memory. And the blood and saliva samples."
The way Lupin bit back a sigh suggested he'd heard those requests more than once before. "Everything will be done as normal. Any particular hopes for this version?"
"Yes," said Snape, and nothing more.
Then Snape said, "Much as I hate to be here, there remains one task to be performed. I will test the boy's occlumency."
Harry had half-expected this. Lupin had become adept at hiding the particular secret that was his lycanthropy, and Sirius, in Azkaban, had made a practice of the sort of occlumency that blunted the effect of dementors (as Sirius explained it, the basic tactic was to focus on facts which were positive and certain, but neither happy nor sentimental), but otherwise both men had learned occlumency only to the level of 'detect-and-hex'-notice the legilimency, suppress the experience of it, and curse the legilimens.
Dumbledore wanted Harry aiming higher.
He needed Dumbledore or Snape's help for that, and Dumbledore was busy.
Harry wished Dumbledore had cleared some time.
Snape said, "I will not coddle you as the Headmaster has, gently searching for a single agreed-upon memory. This will be an all-out assault on your mind, exactly what any enemies you might have are likely to do."
"You had better not over-do it," said Sirius.
"Do not presume to tell me how to teach what you have never bothered to master."
"From what I hear, 'how to teach' is what you've never bothered to master."
Lupin said, "Sirius, could you wait in the other room?"
"It's my house."
"I think it would be better if there were less tension while Harry's learning occlumency."
Snape said, "Yes, you'll disturb the boy with your howling."
"Protect him from you, more like. You plan to hurt him and enjoy it."
"Unlike you, I am not a sadist."
Harry said, "Neville might disagree with that, but I'll be fine. Seriously."
Sirius said, "If it's fine, I can stay."
Lupin said, "It's going to hurt. Pain is part of learning to defend against legilimency. No different from dueling practice."
Mind's Mortarhad made that clear, but Harry didn't like the idea of letting Snape hurt him. It was different from letting Dumbledore do it. Still. "Padfoot, I think it would be better if you were in another room."
Sirius looked hurt, so Harry said, "Or if you could stay here, and just not say anything. Me and Snape hate each other plenty without you getting involved. Just think how you'd feel if you had to cooperate with him and I kept telling him how he's a better scarecrow than a teacher?"
Sirius laughed.
Snape snarled. "Legilimens."
It wasn't like with Dumbledore. Snape hit his walls like a battering ram. Harry focused on the moment, showing Snape nothing but his awareness of Snape attacking him. Snape pushed past that, into memory, half an hour spent lying on his belly to befriend a neighbor's cat, working in the garden on a hot day and drinking water from a hose, getting his Hogwarts letter.
Harry hit, and hit again, mashing his will into the intruder.
Dumbledore had been gentler, but immovable, unaffected by Harry's attempts to force him out. Snape was rougher, but less invincible. It was the difference between punching a mountain and punching a gorilla. Beating a gorilla was as impossible, except he had what he'd been missing against Dumbledore.
Anger.
He didn't want Severus Snape in his head.
OUT! OUT! OUT! Bright green light, noises so loud they hurt, a basilisk fang going through his arm, an arm broken by a bludger, a splitting headache when Quirrell looked at him, memories so short they made no sense, just pain, and all the while, pushing Sanpe OUT OUT OUT!
He came back to himself in the middle of the den, stomach upset, head aching. Lupin handed him a glass of water and he sipped it as he slowly sat up.
Professor Snape was massaging his left temple, but appeared otherwise unaffected. "Either you are even less talented than I had imagined or you are practicing even less than I had imagined. Your ability to hit is not completely without promise, but your shields are weak and clumsy. As for the hitting, easy though it may be, pain and anger are not what you really need. Clear, hardened resolve, that is what your strikes must be made of."
Harry nodded, telling himself to listen to Snape, even as he thought that anger had worked fine and Snape was the last person he wanted to listen to.
Snape said, "You contain certain blocks, but they are old, and seem to be weakening, not strengthening. I trust you won't be enough of a dunderhead to seal parts of yourself off as you learn to compartmentalize?"
"Yes."
"We will try again the day after tomorrow, and you will attempt one of the other approaches."
Instead of immersing himself in the moment, he'd have to think of nothing, or think stubbornly of something in particular.
With a sweep of his robes and a final glare at Sirius, Professor Snape disappeared through the floo.
Sirius said, "Thank Merlin, the git is gone."
Harry shrugged and lay on his back, thinking. He was happy Snape had left, and wasn't looking forward to Snape's return, but he hadn't been angry like usual. Just irritated. Calmer. He hadn't even needed to control himself.
Mind's Mortarclaimed that learning occlumency did not suppress or weaken emotion. But it could make you more objective. What you observed was understood impersonally and then related to the self, rather than understood personally and then related to wider reality. Or something like that. He was sure he didn't entirely get it.
Useful though.
#
#
Harry was drawing a llama.
At first, he'd been drawing a cat, but then it had looked like a horse, so he'd tried making it a better horse, but it had ended up looking like a cat again, so he'd tried to make it a better cat, but now it was definitely some kind of llama.
Sirius had the telly working intermittently, though it mostly only showed art lessons by an American muggle named Bob Ross. Harry had taken that as a sign that he ought to starting drawing, but he could only make so many 'happy little accidents' before he began to wonder how much drawing really helped with Transfiguration.
It was a welcome distraction when Lupin sat in the chair next to his. The werewolf was still pale from his transformation two days ago, but he seemed better than Harry remembered him being in the same time span at school.
Lupin had told Snape,"The potion didn't make me feel so ill, and the transformation was less painful, but the mind of the beast was not as suppressed."
Snape had asked, "Was the beast's mind different at all?"
"Not so far as I could tell."
Both men had seemed pleased enough at the results, though Harry hadn't been pleased that, after hours of working on the other approaches, Snape had told him he was best suited to submerging himself in the moment, the type of occlumency he'd tried in the first place.
Lupin dropped four socks on the table, and Harry brightened. This he was better at. One of the exercises from Reading Magic.
Harry passed a hand over the socks. He grabbed the one on the center-left. "This is conjured." It was bland, and without depth. "This one," the far right, "is transfigured from a feather. No. Transfigured from a feather that was transfigured from something else. Transfigured from a sock?"
"Transfigured from a mitten," said Lupin, and smiled as Harry acknowledged what a good play that was.
Harry said, "These two are real, and this one is charmed." He did not touch the charmed one. "A sticking charm on the inside?"
"Correct. Now show me that Defense homework."
Harry handed him the essay, and Lupin read it over while Harry drew two trees and a man made of boxes.
Lupin said, "You've incorporated my suggestions well. All your homework is done now, correct?"
"Correct."
"Come on then. We've something to show you."
Lupin led him to a room on the third floor. Sirius was there, adjusting two rack of vials next to a very wide black bowl.
"Happy early Birthday," said Sirius. "This pensieve is yours to use so long as you're here, and these memories are yours to peruse. You know how to work a pensieve?"
"A little," said Harry.
Lupin pointed to one rack of labeled vials. "Memories of the practical portions of our OWL exams, and of a few exceptionally good lessons, and of watching Dumbledore fight. You'll find those very instructive in demonstrating how spells taught in charms and transfiguration can be very useful in a fight, if used creatively."
"Shut it, Moony," said Sirius, pointing to another rack. "This here is the real prize. Memories me and Remus have of your parents."
Harry gasped. Both men were grinning broadly, but their eyes were wet. Lupin said, "There's more of James than Lily, I'm afraid."
Sirius said, "Remus made me keep out some of our less emotionally sensitive pranks. Now, for using the pensieve. Usually, people use their wands, but that could be a problem with the restriction on underage magic. So," Sirius held up a thin silver rod. "This item will do. You can extract memories from your head, put them in the pensieve, put them back in your head, put memories in vials, the whole bit."
Sirius demonstrated, and watched at Harry put the memory from a vial in, then put it back in the vial, then took a memory from his head and put it in the pensieve, then put it back in his head.
Harry nodded, hardly able to speak, and the older men left him alone with the memories.
#
#
Young Lily Evans had been a firecracker, reminding him simultaneously of Hermione and the latest incarnation of Ginny Weasley. Brilliant, fiery, hard-working, and ever-ready with a hex, imprecations against the stupidity of certain wizardly customs always at her lips.
She addressed James Potter as 'Arrogant Toerag' up until their seventh year, and was frequently in the common room with 'Alice and Marlene,' and occasionally mentioned someone named 'Sev,' who she was apparently friends with.
Harry made a note to try to look up all three and get pensieve memories from them, since most of what Sirius and Lupin had provided was of James.
Young James Potter had been charming and intelligent, kind and loyal to his friends, and a bit of a jerk to everyone else, a flaw he seemed to have started outgrowing sometime in his sixth year, which seemed to have been a necessary requirement for Lily to consider seriously his repeated proposals for a date.
James reminded Harry more of a smarter, smoother Ron than of Harry himself.
Young Sirius was much the same, but more high-strung, almost brooding. In the most recent memories, those from after graduation but before his incarceration, he was much like the modern Sirius-Harry supposed people didn't grow much emotionally while in Azkaban.
Watching Sirius hold baby Harry, seeing his own eyes in the pudgy face, was disorienting.
Young Remus was the conscience of the group, encouraging them to be responsible and to remove the slight streak of jerkiness that wound through many of their pranks, but he was seldom forceful enough to moderate them more than a little, or even at all.
Pettigrew went along with whatever the others said. The less thought about that, the better.
It took till past four in the morning for Harry to get through all the memories of his parents, but tired though he was, there was one more memory he needed to see.
After hearing so much about what a great wizard Dumbledore was, he wasn't going to bed before watching the fight.
He tipped the appropriate vial in and touched his finger to the water.
Five minutes later, he watched it again. Then a third time, trying to take it in.
The kindly old man he was used to had been replaced by an avenging Greek god. He'd used so much transfiguration the entire landscape had seemed to attack the Death Eaters. Lightning had flashed, the ground had risen, and fire had fallen like rain. Dumbledore had bellowed out in a voice like thunder for 'Tom' to come and face him, and the memory showed a single glimpse of Voldemort high tailing it out of there.
Harry couldn't imagine ever getting on that level.
Lethal spells had been flung around, but the memory held no gore. Several parts were fogged out, and Harry suspected that was from Lupin hiding the deaths and bodies.
He watched the memory of a second fight, his heart in throat. Harry panicked, occasionally shouting even though he knew they'd all survived.
Sirius, Remus, James and Lily fighting Voldemort together. The four of them, aged only nineteen or twenty, were not a match him. They were pushed back, worn down, injured, all of them using standard defense spells except for James, who fought like Dumbledore in miniature. Not so powerful, not so skilled, but the same reliance on transfiguration.
Just as the death of one of the four seemed imminent, Dumbledore appeared in a flash of Phoenix flame. A short, sharp exchange, Harry startled to see that Dumbledore was aiming to kill, not capture. He didn't use the Killing Curse, but there was nothing non-lethal in banishing a hundred steel spikes at someone at high speed.
Voldemort fled again, Dumbledore hot on his heels, but 'The Dark Lord' escaped to the edge of the apparition jinx and disapparated.
Harry rewatched it.
From what he could see, Dumbledore was stronger, and more aggressive.
He watched it again, and his breath caught. Something in the way Dumbledore was defending himself. They were too far above his level to be sure, but Dumbledore seemed almost reckless.
When Harry finally understood, it was not because he understood the fight, but because he knew Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore was leaving openings that Voldemort would have to drastically overextend himself to take it. But they weren't fake openings, he didn't think. Dumbledore was willing to to die so long as he took Voldemort down with him.
Voldemort was not, and so he ran.
History class was best used for napping, but the textbooks had always interested Harry, and it turned out that history books that weren't textbooks were even more interesting. He'd devoured You-Know-What Warin a day and half.
The Ministry had been stronger at every point in the war. They'd had the skill and bravery of the Aurors and hit-wizards. The assistance of continental veterans of Gindelwald's War who remembered how Britain had assisted them. No shortage of common citizens, some quite formidable, willing to die rather than submit to a Dark Lord.
But after watching those memories, Harry had no trouble believing the book's claim that the number one reason Magical Britain had held Voldemort off until October 31st, 1981, was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Percival Wulfric 'Scary Motherfucker' Brian Dumbledore.
Though he preferred to capture, if possible, he'd killed more Death Eaters than anyone but Alastor Moody, and had captured more than any other two people put together. He'd chased Voldemort off again and again, once injuring him enough that the Death Eaters had been quiet for months, the boosts to morale from his victories nearly as important as the victories themselves.
And he had ensured the security of Hogwarts. Harry had wondered at everyone's firm conviction that Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain despite Harry's having faced a life threatening plot every year he'd been there, but the war made clear why.
Students had died over vacation, at family homes, at markets, at parks, but not at Hogwarts. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had never dared to attack it, not so long as Dumbledore called it home. As the war had raged on, most students had stopped leaving during the holidays, and it had even been kept open over the summer for two years.
A quote from Dumbledore went: 'I was torn between two duties. I had to hunt Voldemort and his forces, yet I had to remain at the school to keep the children safe. I wished fiercely that there were two of me.'
Yet despite it all, Voldemort had been winning.
The 'Wizarding War' had started years before most were aware of it. The most notable witches and wizards in Britain had begun dying in freak accidents or apparent suicides. Foul play had been suspected, in some cases verified, but it was a long step from 'someone murdered Virginia Maybrock,' to 'a Dark Lord bent on conquering Britain is methodically picking off those who could oppose him.'
But concerns had grown with each death, and as the investigations had closed in, Voldemort had revealed himself by wiping out the Muggle-borns Union office in Diagon Ally.
The ensuing conflict had been nasty and asymmetric. The forces never met in the open battle the Ministry would easily win.
The Ministry was more or less democratic, more or less public. The Death Eaters had struck and run, struck and run, chipping away, and the Ministry could not respond in kind because they didn't know where the Death Eaters were hiding, couldn't find their bases or even identify in most cases who was behind the masks. And they, accustomed to police actions, not war (the magical world had known few wars of wizards versus wizard, and even Grindelwald's War had largely been confined to the continent) had fought to capture, while the Death Eaters had fought to kill.
With every murder, Voldemort had grown closer to taking control.
Then Voldemort had attacked little baby Harry Potter, and a miracle had occurred, the war over in a single night.
Mostly over. The Longbottoms... Harry resolved to be nice to Neville.
Imagining a new war, one without Dumbledore, or with a Dumbledore too old to chase Voldemort off...
Tired though he was, Harry took a long time to fall asleep.
#
#
Harry came down for breakfast around lunch time and found Bill hard at work on the portrait. He nodded to the red-head, went to the kitchen, ate two scones with a cup of tea, and went back to help Bill, which mostly consisted of handing the man tools he could've just as easily grabbed himself.
Harry couldn't see magic (only extremely advanced wizards could, and then not well, and besides, from what he read, magic wasn't best expressed as visual information anyway) but he was making progress at feeling wards.
"Is the third tarpal supposed to be wriggling like that?"
Bill said, "Bit clumsy, but I'm separating it from from the L strut."
"Huh." Why though? He hadn't figured it out yet when Sirius and Lupin came up from the basement, flushed and breathing deeply in the way they always did after dueling practice.
Harry said, "Good morning."
Sirius said, "Good afternoon, Pronglet. Bill, how's it going?"
"Steadily. I'll have her off in another two or three weeks of scattered evenings."
Sirius addressed the silence painting, which was once more shouting unheard imprecations. He said cheerily, "Hear that, Mum? I'll be throwing you in the fireplace soon enough."
Bill said, "I'm sorry, but we do have a problem. Not with the painting. I was out with Fleur this morning-"
Sirius said, "You abandoned Fleur to be with us?"
Bill said, "I was tempted to tell her I was going to go assist an innocent fugitive in his further attempts to stay safe from a corrupt government that wants to shut him up, but instead I told her I was taking care of a troublesome Sticking Charm for a friend."
Sirius rolled his eyes.
Bill said, "The problem is that while I was telling her why I couldn't stay for a show, I may have mentioned that Harry would be assisting me."
Sirius growled and Lupin looked pained.
"I know. It was a mistake. I wasn't thinking. But everyone already knows the Weasley family is close to him. But it is a problem. She wants to take Harry shopping. To thank him for his help in the maze. And she might bring her little sister, who apparently has had a horrible crush on Harry ever since the Second Task."
Harry felt very uncomfortable. "How old is she? Eight?"
"Nine," said Bill. "Come on Harry, what's the trouble, not even five years, compared to me and Fleur..."
Harry did his best to imitate how Snape glared, and Bill laughed at him.
Lupin said, "Sorry Bill, but I'm afraid a shopping trip with Fleur won't work."
Sirius said, "No, it should be fine. Remus, you're already taking him out in public to Diagon Alley to get his stuff. Just extend the day. It'd be good for him to spend a little time with someone closer to his own age."
"Security..."
Harry said, "I know Voldemort just tried to kidnap me, but we have every reason to think he won't be up to trying that again for months. Years even."
Bill said, "You-Know-Who did what?"
Oh. "Sorry Bill, could you forget it I said that?" Then to Sirius and Lupin, "It's not like I haven't been out and about before, and there was never so much concern for security. My first year Hagrid took me, and he left me alone at Madam Malkin's to get fitted."
Sirius and Lupin looked uncomfortable. Lupin said, "There may have been more security than you realized. People in disguise, guarding you, but not looking like they were guarding you."
Sirius said, "Probably best not to bother you with it at 11, but I insisted at the start of this summer that from now on you'll know about the security around you. I think Dumbledore agreed. He was a little vague, but he certainly gave the impression of agreement. Anyway, a shopping trip oughta be fine, especially if it's just extending school shopping. Harry, what do you think?"
He wasn't sure he wanted to go shopping with Fleur, but Bill gave him a look, so he said, "Once I get my letter, we'll choose the day. I should be getting my letter soon."
Lupin tossed him an envelope. "It got here this morning, sleepyhead."
Within the yellowed parchment, a bulge. He ripped the envelope open, and the badge fell into his hand, red and gold, with a large P on the front.
I'm a prefect," said Harry.
"I can see that," said Sirius.
"My grades really aren't good enough for me to be a prefect, but there's only five Gryffindor fifth-year boys, so I knew I might get it." He looked at the badge. "I'm a prefect."
Sirius said, "So we've established. If your smile gets any wider, the top of your head will fall off. A bloody prefect. Staid and boring." But he was smiling.
"I was a prefect," said Lupin.
"Like I said, staid and boring. But bloody well done, Harry."
Lupin said, "Lily was a prefect."
"That, well, yes, no one would call Lily boring."
Harry attached the badge to the collar of his jacket and went to stare at himself in the mirror, thinking he looked quite good with the shiny red and gold badge. He spotted a bit of sealing wax on it, rubbed at it with a hand towel, and stopped when he remembered Percy.
There was nothing wrong with keeping the badge spiffy. Percy had just done it too often, that was all. Harry would cast a couple charms on it as soon as he got on the train and he wouldn't have to worry about it.
He smiled at himself in the mirror and went back into the hall, pulling out the rest of his letter, grinning again at an item on his booklist. McGonagall had come through.
Lupin said, "We should get the books soon so you can start studying."
"What have I been doing all summer then?"
Lupin said, "You've been learning theory, which is excellent. Understanding theory improves your practical abilities. If you know what you're doing, your spells are stronger, quicker, more flexible and better controlled. You learn and remember new ones more easily. You're able to respond effectively to spells you don't know."
Sirius said, "Even James and I had to wrap our heads around theory eventually. Couldn't plan pranks properly without it."
Lupin continued, "But this is about more than understanding theory and mastery of magic. It's about getting good marks on your exams."
That sounded so much like Hermione that Harry snorted, but to his surprise, Sirius just nodded. Sirius must've caught his look, because he said, "Everything else can go hang, but your scores in Charms, Transfiguration, Defense and Potions are important. You need them to get the right NEWT classes, and you need good NEWTs to have whatever career you'd like."
Sirius continued, "It's all a game, and one of the rules of the game is 'get good grades when it matters and where it matters.' Grades are a game too. But if you understand how the test works, you can manipulate the rules, and get Os with minimal effort. It's almost like a prank."
Hermione would've had a lot to say about that, and he expected Lupin to say it for her, but he only said, "It would be best if you actually mastered the material. But truthfully, there are very few skills you can learn that are more important than how to game a system."
Sirius gave Lupin a sad smile, "Moony and I have obviously struggled at it of late. Remus, what did James get on his OWLs?"
Lupin leaned against the wall. "If we looked into it, we could find the results. But it was mostly Os and EEs, as I remember. Definitely an O in Transfiguration. Defense too. We all got EEs in Potions, except for the traitor."
"James got an EE in Charms, I remember that, he was pissy about me doing better."
Lupin said, "Didn't you get a T in History of Magic?"
"My essay was pictographic, and the examiners lacked the intelligence to appreciate it. What did James get? An A maybe?"
"I think it was an EE. Got an A on his history NEWT. Class didn't matter for his career goals, he said."
Harry said, "And my mother?"
Sirius scratched his head. "She and James weren't dating yet, so I don't quite remember. I do remember her NEWT results. Os in everything but History and Herbology, and she had EEs in those."
Lupin said, "She would've gotten an EE in Defense if we hadn't all been training like mad for the war."
Both men fell silent, and Harry struggled to imagine what it would be like to attend school in the middle of a war, training at Defense with the intention of fighting in the war once you'd graduated, knowing some of your schoolmates would on the other side, trying to kill you.
Harry said, "Joint Defense class with Slytherin must've been tense."
Both men laughed, but uncomfortably, full of bad memories. Lupin said, "It went well past pranking, on both sides. At the time, I thought it was a taste of war. Then we graduated, and found out what a real war is like."
Bill, who'd been watching silently, said, "About that shopping trip with Fleur..."
Sirius said, "Would next Saturday work? You, Remus and probably an extra from Dumbledore should be plenty."
Remus said, "His birthday's the Monday after. Which should be fine, I just have to make sure."
Sirius nodded, and Harry wondered what his birthday had to do with it.
:::
Summer is taking more chapters than I expected. HP Fanfics sometimes include these incredible summers where Harry packs three years of growth and learning into one nine-week vacation. This will hopefully not be like that.
I'm assuming that their late Hogwarts letters prior to fifth-year were a result of all the other stuff that was going on that summer, what with Voldemort back and all.
Harry is currently caught up in the throes of hero worship. He'll recover, and adopt a more measured view of Dumbledore.
I'd like this fic to be compliant with canon aside from the (many) changes caused by the events of the first chapter. As such, I'm assuming that Dumbledore tried to capture Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP not because he's totally unwilling to kill, but because, due to Voldemort's horcruxes, capturing was the more permanent solution than killing. And capturing would enable him to find the horcruxes easily.
When I say canon, I mean the first seven books and nothing else.