Chapter Twenty-Eight - How Few Remain

If not for Professor Snape, Harry would certainly have failed all his OWLs.

The fifth and seventh years were up early on Monday morning to get a last bit of studying before breakfast. Everyone was bleary-eyed, having had a restless night troubled with anxiety. When they emerged from the dormitories, Snape awaited them in the common room with a cauldron of a bubbling clear potion.

As ever, he was stern and dispassionate. He had on occasion held an impromptu review session with them. If they tried to put up a brave face and insist that everything was under control, he merely stared at them, his eyes seeing through every illusion and façade, until they admitted they needed help in a few areas. Now he offered help in another form.

"There has been a great deal of trouble going on lately. Many students are distracted by many, many things. To sit an examination in such a condition is to invite failure, as it is not a true test of one's knowledge or abilities. It is for this reason that the Distraction Suppressant was invented twenty years ago. Does anyone know who invented it? Miss Davis?"

"You, sir?"

"Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Do you know what it does?"

"It shuts out all things that are unrelated to the task at hand."

"It does. It does not improve one's recall, coherence, or skill, but it does insure that one may perform to one's best ability. This potion is banned in professional sports," and Snape sounded vaguely proud of that fact, "but not by the board of governors. Professor Dumbledore tried to make it so, but he was overruled. It has allowed many students to achieve the best OWL and NEWT scores despite a family tragedy or a broken heart. Anyone who would like a dose may take one each morning for the next two weeks."

The potion tasted like mint. Harry felt all of his worries fading away. He deposited the empty phial in the basket Snape held out. He felt a powerful urge to eat breakfast, secure in the knowledge that his body needed proper nutrition. At the table, he didn't hurry excessively to eat and dash. That was bad for the digestion. He flipped a few pages as he speared sausages with his fork.

Everything was a nice pleasant blur. Harry remembered nothing about the first week aside from the exams and the writing and the questions. When he woke up on Saturday, he marvelled at how quickly the time had passed. It was very nice to simply detach and go with the flow.

Laine had been gone a week, and he'd barely thought about her. Without the influence of the potion, his memories assaulted him with a vengeance. In his mind's eye he saw the bolt of light hit her directly in the chest. She gasped in surprise at the impact for just a moment before she was propelled through the tatty, gauzy veil.

Tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. His nose clogged up, and his shoulders tightened. He didn't blame himself anymore - not much anyway. He missed Laine. It had been very strange to not see her at breakfast, or walk her to class, or sit with her in the common room or library. Nobody dared to talk about it, so she was utterly gone. People knew, of course. The portraits had carried word from numerous meetings in Dumbledore's office, but nobody talked about it around Harry.

Harry blew his nose and tried to get himself under control. He had to carry on. He'd known that there would be casualties in this war. Snape had told him so, had asked him if he was able to accept responsibility for his actions.

I just didn't think my girlfriend would be the first one. But then, who did I think would be the first? It could have been any of us. Or all of us. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Potter. Time to man up. Stop crying like a sissy and make her death mean something. Let her inspire you still.

"All right, Harry?"

Harry jumped at hearing the voice again after so long.

Theo's curtains were open, and the weedy boy sat cross-legged. He had a ragged growth of fuzz that was trying very hard to be a beard. For the first time in months, his eyes weren't emotionless and blank.

"No, mate, I'm really not. Laine's dead."

"Your girl?"

"They killed her. We walked into an ambush. She was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. Bloody Death Eaters! Bloody Voldemort! They kill everything I love. I'm going to hunt him down, and I'm going to cut his thumbs off, cause he won't get very far in life not having thumbs. Let the bastard live and be a sodding wanker without thumbs, if he can! Hard to cast a Killing Curse without thumbs to hold a wand, the scum-sucking sod-along."

More hot tears flooded his eyes. He wiped them away without shame.

"I hate them, Theo. I hate them all. I'm going to get them and do worse things than kill them. They're too evil to just kill. They deserve to suffer first."

Theo nodded seriously. "They do."

"We can't trust the Ministry to do it. It has to be our responsibility."

"Yes."

"We have to be strong. We have to train up."

An eager smirk broke across Theo's face. "I'm ready."

"It's going to involve lifting weights."

"I'm beyond caring about Muggle ways or not," Theo said with a manic gleam in his eye. "I'll use one of their guns if it'll let me hurt the monster that took my father from me."

Theo had walked a devastating road this year. His single-minded dedication to his schoolwork had been eerie at times, disturbing at others. His new focus on revenge was a welcome change.

Harry held out his hand. Theo clasped it tightly.

"We will end this."

Harry pulled out some workout clothes and led Theo up to the Room of Requirement. As he paced, he thought about the duels he'd seen.

I want to train until I'm more magnificent than even that.

Theo's reaction to the room was no less impressed than Harry's first time here had been.

They worked up a serious sweat casting the most powerful spells they could. They improvised, trying new things just to see if they would work.

It was good to see Theo animated again. He'd been so despondent over the school year that it was easy to forget he was even around. They'd tried to reach out to him, but they were always rebuffed.

But he spoke to Ginny.

Now he'd spoken to Harry. There hadn't been many words yet, but Harry knew more would come. They'd made the first steps.

When they could cast no more, Theo wore an exhausted grin, and that alone made Harry's current aches and pains worthwhile threefold.

"I need a bath."

"I need a swim. Come with me."

Harry led the way to the prefect's bathroom. It was empty, but steam billowed from the surface of the water, nearly obscuring one's vision. Harry Summoned two great fluffy towels from the cabinet with a flick of his wand. Without adieu, Harry shucked his sweaty clothes and dropped his wand on the towel by the side of the pool. He took a big breath and dove in deep.

The heat opened up his every pore and set his whole skin tingling. He held his breath as long as he could, luxuriating in the feeling. He heard the splash, muted by the water, which rippled as Theo jumped in feet first. Slowly exhaling as he rose to the surface, Harry shook water out of his eyes and began to swim for the furthest edge.

The heat soothed his sore muscles, and Harry knew that even if he decided to give up being a prefect next year, he would have to keep his access as Duelling Captain. One didn't have to be a prefect to order to make Head Boy. If he did, he would definitely let the Head Girl run the council her way. He would be focused more on the Duelling Club, provided the war didn't end before he made it to his seventh year - and that he was still alive.

Perhaps the club needed a new name, something that didn't suggest that what they were about was only a pastime.

Hogwarts' Army? Junior Aurors? Aurors In Training? The Order of the Phoenix is already taken, and that might be hard to pull off considering Dumbledore has a phoenix and I don't. Order of the Basilisk?

How far did he really want to push this Heir of Slytherin thing anyway? It had sort of just slipped out during the confrontation with Tom Riddle. He'd gotten into the spirit of telling Riddle off. It had occurred to Harry that he, with all the traits Slytherin had looked for in his chosen students, was a more worthy Heir than someone who may have shared blood traced through a very long and murky past, but had no sense of morals or decency and murdered children, and the words had come out. Draco and Theo had initially treated it very seriously, but had then somewhat made light of it amongst just their close group. Percy had bought into it completely, and Harry didn't take that lightly one bit. He hadn't been comfortable with Percy kneeling in front of him, but the boy's help had been useful in third year.

Maybe I should be like Voldemort and Dumbledore and have a group of close personal friends whom I can trust. Percy would walk through fire if I asked him to. Elan showed me his heart when he went against his father to rescue me. Mister Malfoy is on my side. Sirius and Remus wouldn't even need to be asked. We can get Tonks and her parents too. Family.

Mr. Malfoy had once said that family was all you could trust in the world. By blood and by choice, they were all one family. Harry had always wanted it, and now that he had it, he wasn't going to ever give it up. He wouldn't let anyone break them.

Both Dumbledore and Voldemort were betrayed.

Harry couldn't imagine any of his friends betraying him, but he knew his parents had thought that of Peter Pettigrew. The traitorous wretch had been quite the actor to not only leak information to Voldemort but to also convince not just one but two of his friends that they should trust their safety to a deception rather than loyalty, family, and love.

If any of them do betray me, I'll never see it coming.

Saturday was an odd day. Harry wasn't taking the potion, but he wasn't studying either. Somehow he just couldn't be bothered.

"I'm going to take a walk," he told the others.

"Want some company?" Tracy said.

"Not right now. I just need to be alone for a little bit."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Maybe later?"

"Just find me."

Harry strolled about the grounds, his pace languid and unhurried, lost in memories of walks he had taken with Laine. The sun shone brightly, and a gentle breeze sent the tree branches to swaying.

He lingered by a large boulder against which she had pinned him firmly and snogged him senseless. The rough edges had dug into his back, but he hadn't noticed at the time. He closed his eyes and remembered the softness of her hands as she cupped his face. Their teeth had clacked together, but they hadn't stopped.

He veered off the gently sloping path and took a steeper route. Soon he was off the grass entirely and was climbing on rocks. He had the sudden urge for physical activity. He made his way up to an outcropping. There was about a dozen feet of air under him. He stood there for a moment, soaking in the sunlight. The warm rays promised hope and comfort.

The memories didn't hurt to the point of agony anymore, but left a dull ache in his heart. He was slowly coming to accept the idea that he would never see Laine again, and he clung fiercely to all he had left of her. She would never be truly dead so long as he remembered her. He wanted to visit every place he'd seen her smile, heard her laugh, smelled her hair, or gotten lost in her eyes.

All in all, he must have walked over nearly every part of the castle and grounds with her at one point or another. Harry wandered more or less aimlessly until he could take the rumbling of his stomach no more and went back inside the castle.

Things were quiet and normal during lunch. Ginny seemed to be hanging in there, and Harry pulled up a dozen times he'd seen her giggling together with Laine. He had loved the sound of her laugh, and he'd tried to make a lot of jokes just so he could hear it. Now he'd never hear it again.

After lunch, Harry wandered up on the battlements, remembering kisses stolen, feeling Laine's soft lips pressed against his as her arms wrapped tightly around him. He ran his fingers along the rough-hewn surface, feeling the solid permanance of the granite. He even imagined he could feel the castle's magic humming in the stone.

The views up here were truly magnificent. Tree branches swayed in the warm breeze that carried the promise of summer. Birds flapped through the air and occasionally dove towards the surface of the lake. With a great splash, they captured a fish and clawed their way skyward again. The mountains were still capped with snow, and animals too far away to identify hunted for prey.

Harry wandered along the battlements for several hours until it was time for dinner, which was another subdued affair. Ginny and Draco were sitting together, laughing quietly. Pansy and the girls kept to themselves, exchanging gossip in half-hearted tones. Crabbe and Goyle were flipping through their notes. Theo sat next to Harry, and without words they interacted more than he had with anyone in months. Blaise looked uncertain of himself, and he restricted his table talk to requests for more mashers or to please pass the salt.

After dinner, Harry went to Snape's office. The Potions Master was at his desk grading exams. He had pulled his hair back and tied it with a leather thong. The style did nothing to distract from his very large nose. He laid aside his quill and gave Harry his full attention.

"Professor, I should like some Dreamless Sleep."

Snape arched one eyebrow.

"Mister Potter, why do you not brew it yourself?"

"I haven't had time, sir. This past week has been rather fuzzy."

"A side effect of the Suppressant. It cannot accelerate your actions, so as a consequence of removing the anxiety, must stretch your perception of time to allow for the same amount of studying and writing that you would normally do."

"I don't think I like it very much, sir. No offense meant."

"That is your prerogative, Mister Potter. The potion is entirely optional."

"And you make us choose."

"Indeed. Life is nothing but a series of choices. Where you go and what you become is dependent entirely on the choices you make."

"Is that true of you also, sir?"

"More than most, Mister Potter, and mind your cheek. I have yet to give you what you came here for."

"Sorry, sir. I've never been able to not say something, even in front of Voldemort."

"The Dark Lord is distant and will strike with minimal warning. I am right here."

"Honestly, sir, we're going home in a few days."

"You are relying on the passage of summer to dull my memory. I assure you, this will not be the case."

Harry couldn't tell, but he thought Snape might be trying to joke with him.

"Sorry, sir. Really. May I have the Dreamless Sleep please?

"Tell me of your encounter with the Dark Lord."

"I was wondering when you would ask, sir. I stopped him from killing Sirius. I tried to disarm him. He wanted to know about the prophecy. I told him I'd destroyed it. He asked if I'd listened to it before I did, and I said no, but he knew I was lying. He tried to Legilimize me. I kept him out. Then he tried to use the Killing Curse. I dodged it."

"Wait a moment. Elaborate on the Legilimancy."

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded as Harry described the thunder, the lightning, the silver dome, withstanding the storm of Voldemort's raging attack, and pressing out until the Atrium came back into focus.

"Then he tried to kill me. We duelled a bit. Eventually we cast spells at the same time, and this strange golden thread connected us."

Harry repeated the tale he'd told to Dumbledore. Snape showed no surprise, and Harry knew Dumbledore must have told him already.

"The Occlumency and mental discipline helped so much, sir."

"You withstood the Dark Lord's most desperate assault. He needed that prophecy, and you kept him out of your mind entirely. Well done, Mister Potter. You make your teacher proud."

Harry never got tired of hearing people say they were proud of him. It had happened so infrequently while growing up (never) that he glowed a little every time it happened.

"I am honoured to have been your student. Thank you for teaching me how to protect myself."

"I will give you the Dreamless Sleep, but I wish you to instead quiet your mind until you fall asleep. If you wake with bad dreams, take half the dose. Save the other for tomorrow night if necessary."

"Thank you, sir."

Harry returned to the dorm and changed into his pyjamas. He drank his potion and embraced the silence of his bed. In the absense of physical sound, the noises of his mind seemed louder. He ordered his thoughts, quieting his mind and letting go of emotion. He lay in perfect meditation for a span of time he couldn't say, for he had let go of the notion of time. At some point he slipped into deep, restful sleep.

Sunday was much the same as Saturday.

After breakfast, Harry exited the castle and headed for the Quidditch pitch. He retrieved his broom and hit the skies, flying aimlessly about the grounds. Laine had loved flying, Quidditch, and Seeking. She hadn't been all that great at it to start with, but she'd gotten the hang of it eventually. Harry had spent several hours a week with her, teaching her everything he knew about Quidditch. She'd paid rapt attention, hanging on his every word. Now she would never fly again.

He sat back and descended to the ground where he hovered at about five feet. He didn't know how many more memories he could take without losing all control and bawling his eyes out. As much as he wished to seek the comfort of his friends, he knew he needed to store up memories for the pensieve. Soon he would be back home; then he'd be able to see her image again, and at least say goodbye somewhat properly.

"I wonder if there's going to be a funeral," he said out loud. Would he be able to go? Would her family even want him there?

Draco came to fetch Harry to lunch. Harry didn't feel like eating, but he knew if he didn't go, they'd be even more worried about him.

Lunch was marked by a nervous breakdown at the Ravenclaw table. One of the seventh years whom Harry didn't know suddenly started screaming incoherently. Professor Flitwick quickly intervened, but the poor girl was escorted up to the hospital wing.

Tracy, who had several friends in Ravenclaw, quickly brought the news.

"Kate Reeve hasn't slept in two weeks. She's been taking something called coffee pills she got from a Muggle apothecary. One of the fourth years spilled pumpkin juice all over her study notes."

"I'm surprised there wasn't a hexing," Pansy said.

"They didn't let Reeve get to her wand."

"Smart move."

After lunch, Harry went to Professor Umbridge's office. He knocked on her door, not knowing if he expected her to be there.

She was.

"Mister Potter, what may I do for you?"

"I wanted to let you know that I'm not going to have any part of the tournament. I don't want to host it, I don't want to announce anybody, I don't want any part of it."

"How will it look for the Duelling Captain to not take part in the Duelling Tournament?"

"You ran the club just fine until I got the badge. I'm just too tired, Professor. I tried to do too much this year. I pushed myself too far. I need to step back a bit. Please."

"Very well, if you truly do not wish to participate, I will handle everything. Was there anything else?"

"No, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Harry went down to the common room and tried to study for a few hours, but he gave it up as a bad effort and went to the prefect's bathroom for a swim.

There was no one else there, and Harry luxuriated in the silence. He was able to float and sink into the perfect quiet of his well-ordered mind. Meditation was easy under these conditions. He let go of all emotion and care, releasing his worries to the water.

He stayed in the water until his skin was wrinkled and pruney. He did laps back and forth to the point of exhaustion. When he finally emerged, he toweled off, dressed, and went down to dinner.

Harry kept yawning through the meal, so nobody tried to engage him in any serious conversation. Harry skipped pudding and went straight to bed. He didn't even call Sirius, though he did remember to order his thoughts and calm his mind before allowing slumber to claim him.

On Monday, Harry once again took the anti-anxiety potion and went to sit the remainder of his exams. The haze of carefree academic pursuit settled over him comfortingly for the four days, and Harry once again found himself a blubbering mess on Friday morning.

This time it was Draco who came upon him in his miserable state. He ambled back into the room from a visit to the loo and stopped in his tracks.

"Harry, what's going on, mate?"

"Nothing. Just the effects of the potion."

"I've been taking it, and all I've had is the urge to eat lots of vegetables."

"Guess it's suppressing a whole lot more for me then, isn't it?"

"Easy, Harry. I was there. There was nothing anyone could have done."

"No matter how many times I hear that, Laine is still dead. I can't change the past. She's dead, and I can't do a thing about it. I couldn't save her then, and now she's dead."

Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Laine died because of her choice to stand up and be free. She refused to kneel before a maniac liar. She died free from his taint of evil. We should be so lucky. My father lives in constant agony because of the Mark on his arm. I thank Merlin every day that I won't have to as well. That's the thought that keeps me up late at night, waking up in cold sweats, tossing and turning and get no rest at all. I have horrible nightmares where I take the Dark Mark and kiss his feet. That's the choice every one of us faces, and Laine made hers with full knowledge. Remember that Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade? She was there that day, and she knew what we were up against."

"I know that. I know she would have gone even without us. It doesn't change that we weren't ready."

"Then we'll get ready. Combat training, all summer."

"Maybe we should have signed up for the tournament then."

"No, I think we needed a break. It's no good if we wear ourselves out. It's why the Hogsmeade visits go on."

None of the fifth year students had stayed in the tourney. Harry hadn't had the heart for it, and Draco claimed a hitch in his shoulder. Millie still tired easily, and Daphne hadn't yet returned to the castle.

The tourney was scheduled to take place over two days. To have enough room, they were down at the Quidditch pitch. The entire school turned out to watch.

Harry sat with his friends and looked up every now and again. Even though he was the Duelling Captain and had organized a great deal of the competition, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Welcome, Hogwarts, to the first annual Duelling Tournament! Allow me to explain the rules. We begin in single elimination mode until we are down to sixteen competitors. We will do our best to see that nobody has to duel someone from their own house until the final sixteen. We have our own inestimable Madam Pomfrey and also Healer Andromeda Tonks from Saint Mungo's in case of a medical emergency, so this means that nearly every curse and hex is allowed. Obviously the Unforgiveables are still illegal, but anything else goes today, boys and girls. When your name is called, please step forward."

Umbridge began pairing off students, and Harry's attention wandered.

Tracy said, "I wonder if Daphne is going to make it back to school before the leaving feast."

Pansy replied, "I don't think so. Professor Snape told me this morning that the Healers are having trouble figuring out what curse Dolohov used on her. It's hard to treat spell damage when you don't know the spell. There aren't a lot of purple curses, and none of them come close to this level of injury. It may have been his own invention."

"I still can't believe her dad's not her dad. What an awful thing."

"I don't even know how to start offering comfort for that."

"She'll need to try pretty hard to laugh this one off."

"I think she can do it. She's a tough girl."

"Speaking of tough, how are you doing?" Draco asked Ginny.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. I'm still trying to accept that my best friend is gone. I'm ecstatic that my brother is safe. Still trying to figure out why."

"That's the one thing I don't understand about what happened," Harry said. "Why would you have seen the vision? Why would Laine? I felt Voldemort try to break into my mind shortly before you both came running out. I can only presume he was trying to send the vision that you saw. Why? He and I are connected through this scar, but what about you? I don't understand."

"What does Professor Dumbledore think?"

"He doesn't know either."

"That's worrisome."

"Yeah, the greatest wizard of the age is clueless. I feel great about it."

"I mean, I once had a connection to Voldemort. Tom Riddle's diary. It felt a little like that. That's how I knew it was real. I just didn't think it was a trap."

"It doesn't explain why Laine would have seen it too. She never touched the diary."

Harry lapsed into silence, remembering.

He would never again get to hold Laine close, to smell her hair, to say without words that he liked her. They would never again study side by side in the library, both of them going over his notes from fourth year. He'd never be able to kiss her and hear that little giggle she made.

He'd asked her about that once. She'd claimed it was from residual giddiness about dating the Boy-Who-Lived. He'd frowned at that. He hated being known like that.

"When I was growing up, my father would tell me all about how Harry Potter had conquered the Dark Lord and saved the world. He was a great hero, and he'd been whisked away to grow up away from it all, so he could be prepared for the adulation of the people. I used to dream that one day I might meet that Boy and thank him for saving me and everyone else. Then when I learned about boys, I got the most awful crush on him."

Harry had flushed.

"And it was always perfect because you were whatever I wanted you to be. Sometimes you were an Auror or a Healer or the Minister for Magic or something else, and you swept me away to some faraway castle. You always seemed to have a castle for some reason."

She'd giggled again. "Maybe I just knew that I'd meet you at Hogwarts someday."

Harry tried, but he just couldn't stay mad at her, especially when she whispered in his ear, "The real thing is so much better."

Lost in his bittersweet memories, Harry paid little attention to the duels. He cheered for all the Slytherins and clapped politely if the winner was from another house. If there were no Slytherin involved he ignored the contest entirely.

The second day of the tourney was even more violent than the first. With bigger circles to fight in, more spectacular spells were possible.

Some people got hurt. Angelina Johnson ripped a boulder from the ground, morphed it into a golem, and sent it at her opponent. Before the Ravenclaw could react, he'd been knocked unconscious by a stone hand.

Harry was a bit more interested in these duels. Now only the best in the school were left. He watched with mild curiosity, but he didn't really care much at all. He didn't even keep track of the names, only noting when the final match - with a circle as big as the entire pitch - was over.

"And the winner is Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff!"

The badgers went bananas.

A tired and weary Cedric staggered towards the centre of the stage. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds, and he'd need a Healer immediately if he wanted to regain his pretty face. Cho Chang jumped on the stage and ran to embrace him. Cedric ran a hand through his tangled hair and suddenly he smiled, not looking at all like he'd just been through a mild war. Cho made a very satisfied noise and laid a snog on him that made Umbridge hurry up onto the stage to interrupt them.

"Congratulations, Mister Diggory. You are truly the Hogwarts Duelling Champion. I would like now to introduce Mister Jericho Jennifer, of Duellists International."

"Mister Diggory, you have shown us many things over this course of this tournament. I have enjoyed watching you immensely. Have you given thought to what you will do now that you are finished with school?"

"I was hoping to play Quidditch, but with the war on, I'm going to see where the Ministry needs me."

"I'd like to extend an invitation to come on tour with us. We're conducting training seminars to help people brush up on their Defense. It's been a long time since school for a lot of folk, and a refresher is just the thing they need. It's a way for you to use those skills of yours to help other people. What do you say?"

"Yes. Of course, yes."

"Congratulations on your victory."

The crowd began to applaud, and then Umbridge dismissed them.

The party in the Hufflepuff common room that day was legendary. They were raucous all through dinner, and the whoops of triumph probably still echoed in the halls.

Harry and what remained of the gang relaxed together in the common room. They hadn't much time left. Tomorrow would be spent packing up trunks with the Leaving feast to follow. Monday morning was the train back to London.

Ginny had her legs draped over Draco's lap. He held her hand gently, and she traced little circles with her finger.

"So what happens this summer?" Millie asked.

"We should all learn how to Apparate," Pansy said. "We can start to learn next year if we're old enough. I want to be able to run away if I have to."

"They should waive the rule and let under-seventeens learn how," Tracy said.

"Are we going to be able to see each other or will we be prisoners again?" Millie said. "I don't think I can bear another holiday like the last one."

"It won't be for long," Harry replied. "Wait for an owl from me. We're not just going to wait. We're going to learn to fight. I'll share more details when I have them."

"I know we have to, but I'm scared," Tracy said quietly.

"You should be scared. We should all be terrified. Which of us is next? You all want to know. You all hope it's not you. I don't blame you for that. I don't want to die either. I want to live, but if I have to die because some prophecy says so, so be it, but by the magic in my blood, I'm taking that monster with me."

She squeezed his hand.

Theo came out of the dorm and approached their corner. He sat down next to Pansy. The stoic face was gone. He looked almost normal again.

"Where's Theo going to go?" Pansy said. She knew the truth of his home situation and hadn't said a word all year.

Harry answered, "He's coming home with me. Sirius told me."

Theo nodded. "Thanks."

Everyone's eyes snapped to Theo. It was the first word he'd spoken to most of them in a year.

"Hi, guys," he said, his voice still creaky. "How've you been?"

Draco looked like one could knock him over with a moderate wind spell.

"You okay, mate?"

"I'm better. A bit, anyway."

Though they tried not to press him overly much, Theo's voice gave out after about half an hour of catching up with the others. It was still good to have him back in the group, and he even played a few hands of cards.

They took it easy until the Leaving feast that evening. The Great Hall was draped in black, as it had been too many times in Harry's memory. The mood was somewhat subdued.

Harry filled his plate and emptied it, but if asked, he could not have said what he ate. After the meal was over, Professor Dumbledore stood up to address the students.

"The time has come to once again award the Cups. Please join me in congratulating Gryffindor on their first Quidditch Cup victory in ten years."

Captain Bletchley looked like he wanted to break down sobbing. He had eaten nothing, punishing himself for the loss of the Cup to the hated rivals of Gryffindor. He knew his name would become infamous in the house in years to come.

"The House Cup was once again a close race. I have no last minute points to award, so the winners are Hufflepuff."

Hufflepuff had done very well for itself this year. They had the Head Boy, as well as the House Cup, and the Duelling Champion. They were all beaming proudly, as they should be.

Harry was glad for Hufflepuff, but he just couldn't find it in himself to applaud. The awards seemed rather silly when Laine was dead.

Professor Dumbledore waited for the racket to die down. Now his expression was more serious, less jovial. "It is my wish that you all know that I have given Professor Umbridge the sack. While she was right to urge you to prepare for the war, she led you to believe that Death Eaters are a mere inconvenience, a minor threat if any at all. Two weeks ago, some students discovered just how wrong that perception was when they snuck out of the castle and one was killed. Miss Umbridge's rhetoric has gone too far. I'm not sure who I will replace her with, but a propagandist has no place teaching in this school. As I said, a student has been killed by the Death Eaters. I ask you all to raise your glasses to Laine Slater. She was a fine example of Slytherin house. We are all made less by her absence.

Harry numbly drank the toast with his friends. More than anything he wished that he could just go home. He was tired of trying to keep his composure. He really just wanted to scream and rail as hard as he could. He wanted something to hex into oblivion.

"This has been a trying year. We have all lost much. I cannot promise that the future will be brighter, only that we owe it to ourselves to try to make it that way. I bid you good night. Merlin and the Founders watch over you all this summer. Be smart, be safe, and be vigilant."

The next morning after breakfast, there was a scramble to put last things in trunks and get out in front of the castle where the carriages awaited them. Harry was considerably startled to see that they were no longer horseless. Each was pulled by a skeletal creature that resembled a horse. It seemed that only Harry knew they were there. Most everyone else piled into a carriage as he stared at the beasts.

"Come on, Harry," Draco said.

"I'll get the next one." He shook his head in wonder.

"Thestrals," Theo said. "They can only be seen by those who have witnessed death and understood it. I've been able to see them ever since my father died."

Harry noted that Theo had never once mentioned how his father died, but he saw no need to trumpet that knowledge.

"Well, if it isn't Potty."

Harry groaned inwardly and turned to face his would-be nemesis.

"You ought to try being polite sometime just for the sake of variety, Weasel."

"Shall we take a carriage? After you, good sir."

There was only the one, so Harry, Theo, and Weasley climbed in. "Sarcasm doesn't become you."

"You make me sick, Potter. You and your precious Umbridge are tyrants and bullies. I'll get you back for giving me detention. I always knew you had Dark intentions, and that proved it."

"What are you on about?"

"Don't even try to play dumb. You know what she does to people in detention."

"I never asked. It's none of my business how a teacher conducts punishment."

"You're not playing dumb," Weasley said. "You are dumb."

"Coming from you, that's rich. How many cauldrons have you melted this year?"

"Fewer than last year."

"So what did Umbridge have you do?"

"Lines."

"Lines? That's it?"

"Lines until I 'learned my lesson'."

"I imagine that took awhile with you. How many lines?"

"It's not the number, Potter. It's the means."

"You're not making any sense, as usual."

Weasley thrust his left hand towards Harry's face. Harry dodged to the side.

"You're pretty jumpy, Potter."

"Constant vigilance."

"Look closely."

Weasley had a big hand. There was faint scarring on the back. It looked almost like words. Harry peered closer. It was words.

I must not tell lies.

"She had a special quill for me to use. As I wrote my lines, it cut into my hand. The ink from the quill was my own blood. It's Dark magic if I've ever seen it, and I'm going to tell my father about it."

"And what precisely is the good conductor going to do about it?"

"He still has a few friends in the Ministry. He's starting to work his way up the ladder again."

"Good for him."

"She's already been sacked from Hogwarts, and when the right people hear about what she was doing to the students, she'll be out of the Ministry so fast it'll make your head spin."

"And that affects me how?"

"What are you going to be now that she's gone?"

"Duelling Captain. Prefect. Quidditch Captain next year. What are you?"

"You're slime, Potter."

"And you're jealous of slime. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm the one fighting the bad guy. Don't you pay attention at all in Duelling Club?"

"Only when we're talking about spellcasting. I ignore all that blather you and that evil toad spew at us."

"Why do you think we're training, you brainless berk?"

"You're training to conquer the world by force, and you're using Voldemort to distract everybody."

"Do you even listen to the things that come out of your mouth?"

"I'll fight you every step of the way. I beat you on the Quidditch pitch, and I'll beat you in battle."

"You didn't beat me at Quidditch. You fouled me."

"Stop lying, Slytherin. I know it's second nature to you by now."

The House Cup had been awarded. Harry couldn't take any points. It seemed pretty pointless to try hexing him when it had never worked in the past.

"Weasley, I wish you'd just grow up. There's too much at stake for me to get distracted by your stupidity. We don't have to like each other, but for Merlin's sake, why do we have to wrangle like this? Let's just leave each other alone."

"You lot started it."

"We didn't, but that's not the point. Let's end it."

Weasley narrowed his eyes and regarded Harry suspiciously. "What's your evil plan? Try to make nice and put me at ease while you commit your horrible deeds?"

"No trick, Weasley. Let's just walk away from each other. Ignore each other in Potions. Compete cleanly on the Quidditch pitch. That's it. What do you say?"

"We can give it a shot. You did help Ginny rescue Percy. I suppose that's worth something. I'm still going to keep an eye on you."

"I'd feel strange if you didn't."

Weasley exited the carriage. Harry and Theo waited a moment before following.

It looked like the others had already boarded the train. The driver waved at them and ducked inside the engine car. A great billow of steam went up, and the whistle blew sharply.

"All aboard!" called the driver. "Departure in two minutes. All aboard!"

"Come on, Theo. Let's go home."

Finé