The Summer

"Charlus, would you come here for a moment?"

Harry looked on as a young boy entered the study of William Potter and offered his father a respectful bow before smiling mischievously, though he frowned as he realised this would be a serious discussion.

"You will be leaving for Hogwarts in only a few hours," William said sadly. "I have something I wish to pass onto you, as my father did for me, and his father did for him. It has been this way for generations."

"What is it?" Charlus asked curiously.

Harry had watched the boy grow from a babe in arms, to when he took his first steps, until now. Charlus had the Potter proclivity towards mischief but he was a bright and gifted child.

Growing up, he had spent much of his time in the library and had taken a particular interest in Transfiguration. Since he'd received his wand at the beginning of the summer, he had been practicing tirelessly.

Harry had been rather astounded by his budding skill, and he had no doubt his Professors would be too.

"This," William declared as he held the cloak and presented it to his son as though it was the most precious of things. "As I said, it has been in the family for generations, and now, it is yours. I must warn you, Charlus, that it would be best to keep this to yourself. Having such an advantage could one day save your life."

Charlus nodded his understanding as he accepted the cloak.

"I will, Father," he promised. "I will keep it as safe as you have."

William smiled and ruffled the boys' hair.

"Good, now, don't you think we should spend some time with your mother? She will miss you terribly when you're gone."

"Won't you?"

William shook his head as he grinned.

"I've been waiting for this day for years," he chuckled. "You will be Hogwarts' problem now."

"Wow, it's nice to know I'm appreciated," Charlus replied sarcastically.

William wrapped an arm around his shoulder as he steered him from the study.

"I will probably miss you more than your mother," he admitted, "but these will be your first steps into your own journey. Wear our name with pride, Charlus. Be of proud of it as I am of you."

"I will," Charlus vowed.

Harry felt the sincerity in the words, and as he was pulled from the vision, the heart-warming moment he'd witnessed being the reprieve he needed.

Inevitably, as he was brought back to reality, his own emotions settled over him once more, the burden of loss, regret, and bitterness.

Harry no longer had sudden outbursts of grief, but the feelings remained. He had just gotten better at coping with them.

Since he'd arrived, he'd thrown himself into working on the house, ridding it of the dated and broken features, and painstakingly replacing it all along the way. The former, he did so without the use of magic for the most part.

Henry Potter had at least gone to the trouble of making the house unplottable, so the magic Harry did use could not be traced. Perhaps that was why it remained here for so long, undetected and unmolested by any other.

The protections in place were indeed tied to the Potter line, an advantage Harry had made full use of.

He sighed as he caught sight of the letters stacked on his kitchen table. They had begun arriving only a few days after he had. Of course, Ron and Hermione had written to him, as had Cedric and the entirety of the Quidditch team.

The only ones he had replied to had been those he'd received from the Flamels,, Amelia Bones, and Mr Delacour who had sent the condolences of the family with the assurance that there was no rush for them to meet as planned.

Dumbledore had written numerous times, and it hadn't been until the previous day that Harry had deigned the man with the response he was seeking.

Meeting with the headmaster's secret group was one of those inevitabilities, and he knew he could no longer put it off.

In truth, it wasn't that Harry's mood had prevented him from writing to his friends, he simply did not know what to say to any of them.

Harry,

How are you?

Harry,

We are here for you.

Harry,

Katie wouldn't want you to shut everyone out.

The more letters that arrived, the more Harry just wished to be left alone. He needed it, more than any of them could evidently understand.

He had attended Katie's funeral, but had done so under the cloak, a choice he was glad for. He had not been ready to witness the solemn service, nor listen to the words of a man who didn't know her as she was laid to rest.

That had been the worst day he'd experienced since the night of the third task, and had he not had the cloak to hide beneath, he was certain he would not have been able to face it amongst the sea of faces of the dozens who had attended.

No, it had been for the best, even if he'd received a plethora of letters of disappointment in him for not being there.

Shaking his head of the thoughts before he dwelled on them too long, he made his way to the en-suite where he removed his muggle clothing before reaching for the inconspicuous grey robe that hung on the back of the door, pausing as he took in his own reflection.

Since summer began, he'd acquired more scars. Most were minor, but they littered his torso and legs. A glancing blow from a cutting curse had even added one to his left cheek, and though it was not so noticeable as the others, it was not something that would be missed.

Harry had wondered what would happen if he was injured whilst under the influence of Polyjuice potion, and he'd quickly gotten his answer.

Coming by the brew had been much easier than anticipated. Knockturn Alley had proven to be most useful for him, and a trip to a local barbers in the coastal town close to his house had provided all the hair he'd needed.

For much of the holiday, Harry had posed as an inconsequential, young, muggleborn as he went about his business and had been free to roam both Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley in peace.

Well, until he chose otherwise.

The Polyjuice may have been rather easy to come by but finding somewhere he could gain duelling experience had not been so. However, after two weeks of eavesdropping on conversations in the seedier bars frequented by the less savoury people in society, he'd finally learned of a place.

The problem he had faced was getting in, but the cloak had come in useful for that particular snag. Once more, eavesdropping near the tucked away entrance of the pub had allowed him to overhear the password given to a goblin who seemed to be running the event.

Harry had not looked back since.

At least a few times a week, the underground duels were held. Some nights he would observe, and others he would throw himself into the mix. It wasn't quite the same as fighting for his life in the graveyard, but the experience was proving to be invaluable, even if he did not come away unscathed.

Harry was learning, and his defensive magic was improving with each visit.

Working in the room on offensive spells and movement had been useful, but it was no substitute for the real thing, even if it was foolishly risky.

Harry had no doubt that there were Death Eaters who frequented the establishment to place bets, but he didn't care. It was a necessary step to take, among many others, if he wished to defeat Voldemort.

Pulling on his grey robes, he took a sip of Polyjuice potion, grimacing at the unpleasant taste, and watched as his features shifted into the muggle man he was using as his cover.

Thus far, he had been fortunate enough to not be stunned, rendering the disguise useless, but he always had the cloak if he needed it.

The benefits certainly outweighed the risks. Not that any other would agree.

Nonetheless, it was not as though many would agree with what he intended to do.

If nothing else, Harry's summer had given him time to ponder just how he would go about defeating Voldemort, and he knew that merely killing the man, a monumental task unto itself, would not be enough.

Already, he'd long ago decided that he would deal with those that had ambushed him the night of the World Cup final, but once more, it would not be enough.

To truly be free of the Dark Lord, he needed to rid the world of all who followed the man. It was likely that Harry would find himself at odds with those he considered friends along the way, but ultimately, it was his life that would forever be under threat if he did not do what was necessary.

"Come Death, come," he whispered, taking hold of his thestral as he apparated away to Knockturn Alley.

(Break)

It was seldom that the Minister himself called for a meeting of the Wizengamot, though given the current climate within the country, Albus was surprised it had taken so long.

The Ministry had been rather silent over the summer with regards to what had happened during the final task of the tournament. Of course, Cornelius had wanted to make a scapegoat of young Harry, but that had not gone to plan.

Whatever Monsieur Delacour had said had stymied that notion.

Nonetheless, if Cornelius was indeed the driving force behind the emergency gathering, he had likely found a breakthrough that suited him and his agenda, thus, Albus could only wait and see what the man's resolution would be.

The way in which the Minister entered the chambers flanked by his entourage did not bode well. Cornelius carried a large stack of parchment and wore a smirk born of arrogance.

Albus doubted any of the legwork had been done by the man himself, but the smugness was all Cornelius's.

Approaching his podium, he waved at Albus dismissively as he stood to call the meeting to order.

The Minister instead cleared his throat and offered a bow to the media in attendance.

"I would first like to offer my apologies for the delay in announcing my solution. It was not my intention for it to take so long, but this matter has proven to be rather complex, and I thank you for your patience."

Albus frowned as Cornelius began shuffling through the stack of parchment.

"Since the night of the final task of what can only be deemed to be a catastrophic reprisal of the Triwizard Tournament, my office has been inundated with letters of concern from parents, and everyday citizens. I must say, I have found it difficult to find disagreement in their damning of what happened, leading to the death of a student, a celebrated auror, and an entire castle full of terrified children. Let me assure you, I plan on remedying that today."

The members of the media scratched away with their quills, whilst those with cameras took photo after photo of the Minister of Magic.

"Now, it has never been in the nature of the Ministry to interfere with the running of Hogwarts, and we do not intend to do so now. However, we feel that in order to reassure the public that such an incident will not be repeated, I have met numerous times with the current governors. They are in agreement that although the Ministry does not wish to disrupt the education of our children, we must be seen to be doing something. As such, and with the unanimous approval of the governors, it has been decided that our very own Dolores Umbridge will take up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, effective come September 1st."

Albus narrowed his eyes at Lucius Malfoy who had undoubtedly spearheaded that particular appointment.

The applause Umbridge received was lukewarm at best, but the woman beamed triumphantly and Albus released a deep breath.

Dolores had not been a particularly gifted student. For the most part, she spent her days spying on her classmates and telling tales. Perhaps if she had put half as much effort into completing her work, she would have fared much better in the practical aspects of magic.

Before he could ponder the matter further, Cornelius spoke once more, shifting his attention towards Amelia Bones.

"Madam Bones, perhaps you can offer an update on your current investigation into what occurred?" he questioned.

Amelia's nostrils flared as she stood.

"We have yet been unable to identify who was behind it," she admitted. "With both Alastor Moody and Barty Crouch dead, we have no witness. Whoever was responsible left behind nothing to track them."

"And what of Potter?" Umbridge interjected. "Is he to be charged with the murder of Peter Pettigrew?"

Those within the gallery of journalists murmured amongst themselves.

"Mr Potter has assured me that he acted only in self-defence, and without any to offer anything to the contrary, we have no grounds to pursue an arrest," Amelia answered.

"Then why has he not been brought before us for questioning?"

"Because the law the Minister passed shortly after Potter's last appearance within this chamber means that we cannot do so," Amelia answered, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Without grounds to arrest him, he cannot legally be brought into this room until he is of age."

Neither Umbridge nor Cornelius looked pleased by Amelia pointing out it had been their own foolishness that prevented Harry from being here.

"I have received a letter from Mr Potter that I have been given permission to read, if it pleases the other members," Amelia revealed, holding up a sheet of parchment.

"That will not be necessary," Cornelius said dismissively.

"I for one would be interested to hear it," Augusta Longbottom cut in sharply. "If you are so keen to talk to the boy, then it only makes sense to hear what he has to say. He cannot be here in person, after all."

"My thoughts exactly, Lady Longbottom," Lord Boot agreed.

Most others followed suit and Albus looked on curiously as Amelia unfolded the piece of parchment, much to the chagrin of the Minister.

"To the esteemed members of the Wizengamot," she began. "I would like it to be known that the incident between myself and Peter Pettigrew which led to his death was of his own making. I only defended myself when my life was placed in danger, and he paid the price."

The members of the media scratched away quickly, not wanting to miss a word.

Amelia allowed them a moment to catch up before continuing.

"However, if there are those amongst you that do not wish to accept my word, I will willingly submit myself to be questioned under veritaserum, on the agreement that I am only to be questioned on that incident. Then and only then, will I be happy to give a full account of the incident and all that were involved in it. I can assure you, they have much more to hide than me and more to lose. How could any of you doubt my word if questioned under such conditions?"

Once more, Amelia paused, and the journalists whispered excitedly amongst themselves.

Albus was rather taken aback by the acumen Harry was showing. If he was to be questioned in such a way, only the truth would come out, and Cornelius nor his cohorts were ready for that.

Glancing towards Lucius, the man appeared to be nervously whispering to several of his comrades.

"As things are," Amelia went on, "I am willing to forget the incident. I was not permanently harmed and I was able to achieve justice for my parents for the betrayal they endured leading to their deaths."

A murmur of confusion swept through chambers.

"What does he mean by that?" Augusta questioned.

"Well," Amelia said warily, "when I questioned Mr Potter on the incident, he revealed to me that it was in fact Peter Pettigrew who betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord."

"Nonsense!" Cornelius snapped irritably. "It is known that Sirius Black…"

"It says here that he is willing to attest to that under veritaserum also," Amelia broke in, waving the parchment.

Were the entire meeting not so gravely intrusive on the school, Albus could have chuckled.

Harry had played a particularly clever game here, and it could only serve to benefit him.

"What utter rubbish!" Umbridge huffed.

"Well, we could arrange for the questioning to take place if you are willing to ignore our own laws, Minister," Amelia pointed out.

"I think that would be an excellent idea," Augusta declared.

"An undermine our newest law," Lord Nott piped up. "I do not think it is necessary. I think we can all agree that Potter is just a child. There is not even any proof that what took place between him and Pettigrew and the incident at Hogwarts are connected."

"Well said, Lord Nott," Malfoy acknowledged.

"True," Amelia conceded, seemingly choosing to ignore much of what she herself had witnessed that fateful night. "It does still leave us facing quite the dilemma."

"Dilemma?" Cornelius questioned.

"If Potter is telling the truth, which everything we have seen tonight and discovered over the past couple of months suggests he is, then we must address the issue of Sirius Black."

"Black?" Umbridge scoffed. "The man is a murderer!"

"I'm afraid, Madam Umbridge, it is not so simple," Amelia sighed. "Black was locked up under the assumption he'd murdered Pettigrew, which we have established he did not. Further to this, and more worrying, is that there are no official documents of him receiving a trial nor being sentenced."

If Harry's letter had gotten the media worked up, the latest revelation had set them off in a fever of writing and taking photos.

Cornelius could only gape dumbly, the meeting evidently not having gone as anticipated.

"He was locked up for twelve years," Lord Greengrass spoke up. "How was the man not given a trial."

"Because he admitted what he'd done," Lucius answered. "Crouch wrote it all down in his report."

"That does not equate to being given a trial and officially sentenced," Greengrass returned irritably. "What kind of government are we running when a man from such a prominent family is treated in such a way. It is disgusting and those who overlooked it should be ashamed of themselves."

"As Lucius explained, Barty Crouch was responsible, and now he is dead," Nott pointed out.

"Is it not the responsibility of the Ministry to address this issue?" Greengrass fired back. "If Black is innocent, a severe miscarriage of justice has been carried out."

"Black is guilty!" Fudge growled over the din.

"Oh, I did not know you witnessed what happened, Minister," Greengrass snorted. "Or are you a seer who can see into the past? If Black has not been put on trial for his crimes, then you cannot simply just throw him back in Azkaban."

Cornelius looked uneasy as much of the room murmured their agreement, and yet again, the journalists were busy scribbling away.

Despite the Minister's efforts to assuage the concerns of the nation, the headlines the following day would only speak of Ministry incompetence.

Without even knowing it, Harry had gotten one over on Cornelius and Lucius Malfoy who still looked decidedly uncomfortable, though angry with it.

It made sense.

If Sirius was declared innocent, Draco would no longer be all but guaranteed to inherit the Black title and wealth, but as things stood, Lucius could not do a thing about it unless he wished to implicate himself in what transpired the night of the third task.

Albus ducked his head as he smiled.

Yes, Harry had done well, whether he meant to or not, and it could well be that Sirius Black would finally get the pardon he deserved.

What that meant for the Ministry was another thing entirely.

Should Sirius wish to make a song and dance about being falsely imprisoned without being subjected to lawful protocol, he could cause many issues.

Memories amongst the Lord and Ladies who had seats on the Wizengamot were long, and there was not one here who would forget the influence the Blacks once had.

Could Sirius reprise that reputation?

If he could, he, along with Harry, could create quite the powerful alliance here, and once more, there would not be a thing Lucius Malfoy could do to stop them.

Many here owed their fortune to the Black name, and they would not wish to fall foul of a new Lord of the family when such a man could make life very difficult for them.

Nothing would bring Albus greater pleasure than informing Sirius of the development during the Order meeting scheduled for this evening.

(Break)

Harry was breathing heavily as he brought his wand to bear in what he hoped was the final time this evening. He was bleeding from a cut across his ribs, but his opponent was in a much worse state.

This was his third duel now, and as he cast a plethora of spells designed to incapacitate the young but keen Scotsman, he breathed a sigh of relief as they found their mark.

"WINNER, MASON!" the referee announced.

James Mason.

That was the identity he had assumed since arriving here, and it had served him well enough. At first, most had been dismissive of him, and it had taken Harry a number of outings to prove he was worthy of stronger challenges.

He had yet to lose, though it had been close more times than he liked.

It wasn't that Harry was exceptionally better than those he faced, but none of them simply could not compare to Voldemort. Most had shown more variety in the way they duelled, but both speed and power had been lacking.

Nevertheless, Harry had learned a great deal from being here and gained invaluable experience.

"Come on, I'll help you with that," a young woman offered, taking him by the hand and leading him to a corner in the dank basement of the pub before Harry could protest. "Oh, that's a nasty one," she added as she drew a privacy curtain around them.

"I can fix it."

"Of course you can," the girl muttered as she began cleaning the wound that trailed from his armpit close to his navel. "But why would you when I can do it better?" she added with a smirk.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, but she said nothing else as she went about tending to the cut.

"There," she declared a few moments later. "Good as new."

Harry inspected her work and nodded satisfactorily. She had done a much better job of it than he could have.

"Are you a healer?" he asked.

The girl shook her head.

"No, I'm still at school, but I want to be."

Taking a closer look at the girl, Harry realised she could only be a year or so older than him, though he certainly did not recognise here. Aesthetically speaking, she was very attractive; olive skinned, refined features, and quite alluring blue eyes.

He shook his head of that thought as quickly as it formed.

"So, what is your story?"

"Not a very interesting one," Harry chuckled.

The girl hummed.

"The ones who claim they are not interesting are usually lying."

"I'd bet yours is much more interesting," Harry returned in an attempt to change the topic.

"Not really," the girl said with a shrug. "I live here with my family but I got to Durmstrang. What school did you go to, Mr Mason?"

She emphasised his chosen moniker almost as though she was questioning it.

"What makes you think I went to school?"

"Because you are far too good not to have gone," she replied simply. "If you went to Hogwarts, you may have heard of my brother, Theo."

"Theo?"

"Nott."

The name gave Harry pause, something that didn't go unnoticed by the girl who nodded triumphantly.

"So, it was Hogwarts."

"Maybe."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm guessing either he made a rather poor impression on you, or you are aware of my family reputation," she sighed. "Not all of us are like some of the others."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself using the words 'murdering bastards' in his next sentence.

"But some are exactly what I think."

"True," the girl conceded, "but you can't help who you are related to."

Harry conceded the point with a nod.

"So, Mr Mason, are you going to tell me who you really are, or do we part ways never knowing more than this about one another?"

Harry shot the girl a questioning look.

"Come on, you must have noticed that most here are wearing a disguise of some sort and using fake names. I know for a fact that one of the men here is the Minister's nephew," she added in a whisper. "You've not transfigured yourself, so, I'm guessing you are either using something enchanted or Polyjuice. Since I can smell it on you, I would guess the second."

The girl was good and Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"It won't do you any good knowing who I am," he grumbled as he stood and checked his watch.

"Now I am intrigued," the girl said with a wink. "Come on, it can't be any more scandalous than being the Minister's nephew."

"You have no idea," Harry murmured. "Besides, I have to go now. Thanks for helping me with this."

The girl pouted and folded her arms.

"You're no fun," she huffed before offering him a smile. "Will you be back Friday?"

Harry shook his head.

"This will probably be my last time here."

The girl's eyes roamed over him and they widened slightly as she offered her hand.

Harry took it and she leaned in.

"I think it would be best to take another sip of your potion before you step behind that curtain, Harry Potter," she whispered. "You have enemies here."

Harry cursed internally at his laxity.

He had grown so accustomed to the transformation that he had not felt it.

"Aren't you one of those enemies?" he asked, his grip tightening around his wand.

The girl shook her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"If I was, I would have let you go out there, wouldn't I?"

"I suppose."

She offered him something of a sad smile.

"I am sorry for what happened to you…well, you know…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"It's fine," Harry said dismissively. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Isabella," the girl cut in. "Isabella Nott."

She was smiling again and Harry could not help but think that she did not understand the gravity of the predicament she had put herself in.

"Don't worry about me, Harry Potter. Your secret is safe," she assured him. "You should probably be more careful though. If I believed more in what my father does, you wouldn't have made it out of here alive."

"What makes you so sure?"

Isabella grinned.

"Well, after what I overheard, you might just be alright, but why risk it? Anyway, take your potion and get out of here. Maybe I will see you again."

She offered him a final smirk and looked him over as she stepped through the curtain.

Harry released a deep breath before taking her advice, dosing himself with just enough potion to get out of here and to where he needed to be.

He didn't know this girl, and as he made his way out of the pub beneath his cloak, his hand never left his wand.

It was an odd interaction to say the least, but Harry did not have the desire nor time to ponder it. He had a meeting to attend, and he got the distinct feeling that this would not go as smoothly as Dumbledore anticipated.

(Break)

Sirius was in a state of disbelief and he simply gaped at the smiling headmaster as he digested the news.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose it depends on how the media portrays it, and although I will not profess to be her biggest supporter, I would expect Miss Skeeter to be rather scathing towards the Ministry in her article," Albus answered thoughtfully. "I would expect a statement to be made in due course."

Sirius nodded.

For twelve years he had been in Azkaban, and two more on the run. Finally, it appeared there was light at the end of tunnel, all thanks to the odd combination of Harry and Amelia Bones.

Thoughts of the former only served to remind him that he would be meeting the boy for the first time in a matter of moments, and Sirius once more felt a sense of nervous wash over him.

It had been a terrible couple of months for the man with not a moment spared worrying for his godson; what he'd endured and what he'd lost. People did not simply move on from such things.

Sirius knew that from experience.

The nervousness only increased as he heard the front door opening, and even the gathered members of the Order fell silent.

"HARRY!"

The Granger girl had got to him first.

Albus had seen fit to have her brought here along with the Weasleys for when Harry arrived. It would do the boy good to have some familiar faces around him.

"Hello, Hermione."

"What is that on your face?"

"It's just a scratch," Harry said dismissively.

Hermione said nothing else on the matter and allowed the other teens to greet the boy, still out of sight from those in the kitchen.

A dull thud sounded.

"You bloody prat! Where have you been?"

That was one of the twins. The duo had been fretting over Harry's whereabouts just as much as any other.

"Here and there," Harry answered.

"Why didn't you…?"

"I was there," Harry answered. "I just kept away."

One of the twins cursed, followed by the other.

"Get off me you gits!" Harry demanded irritably, seemingly having been set upon by the redheaded menaces.

"Fred, George," Molly called warningly.

The twins relented and Harry shared an exchange with Ron in which he promised he would remain behind after the meeting to catch up with them.

Sirius sat up taller in his seat as Remus entered, a dark expression marring his features and he shook his head unhappily.

The boy that followed could almost have been James's double were it not for the eyes, the slimmer build, and more prominent cheekbones. For a moment, Sirius could only stare, though he frowned as he caught sight of the scar on Harry's cheek.

Albus had not mentioned that, and as Sirius looked towards the headmaster questioningly, it was clear Dumbledore was no wiser to it than any other.

He looked on as Harry took a seat, his eyes scanning each member of the Order speculatively, with a cold edge to his gaze.

It saddened Sirius to see his godson this way. Both Lily and James had been so vibrant, even in the darkest days of the war they never looked so grim.

He offered the boy a tentative smile as their eyes met and Harry nodded in return.

"Thank you for coming, Harry," Albus addressed him. "I trust you have had a productive summer?"

"It could have been worse, given the circumstances."

"Indeed," Albus acknowledged with a sigh. "How are you?"

Harry shrugged almost indifferently.

"There's not really any point moping around, is there? It won't change what's happened and what is coming."

There was a hint of sadness and resignation to his tone, and once more, Sirius felt his heart going out to him. In such a short life, he had endured so much. It was no wonder he had seemingly become rather jaded with the world.

"Any news on what he has been up to?" Harry asked.

"Very little," Albus answered. "I am certain he is choosing to keep a low profile for the time being. You escaping was not something he had planned for, but we cannot rely on him remaining idle. I have my suspicions that…"

"Albus, do you think it is wise to share so much information?" Molly broke in.

"Bugger that," Harry retorted. "I'm not going to be kept in the dark. You will either be transparent with me or the lot of you can piss off."

His rebuttal was not well received by the members of the Order, but Sirius did his best to hide a smirk.

"You are just a child, Harry," Molly said soothingly.

Her heart was in the right place, but it only sounded patronising.

Harry's glare shifted to the redheaded woman.

"A child who everyone will be looking at to deal with this," he returned evenly. "Believe me, I'd sooner be done with the whole thing, but that's not going to happen. He wants me dead just as much as I do him, and I will not have you gambling with my life because I wasn't prepared! So, you can either tell me what you know, or we can forget this whole thing."

"Harry, can't you see we just want to protect you?" Remus tried.

Again, his heart was in the right place but it was not what Harry needed to hear.

"Protect me?" he snorted. "I don't need protecting. Snape over there might call me arrogant, but I can handle myself just fine. Even in the graveyard, I managed to escape from him and I killed two of the bastards whilst doing it."

"Wormtail!" Sirius spat.

Harry nodded.

"He got less than he deserved but he's dead."

"You can't kill of them, Harry," Remus murmured.

"Maybe not," Harry conceded, "but I'll give it a damned good try. What, did you expect me to come here and hide behind all of you?" he asked the group at large. "I don't know what the hell you plan on doing, but as far as I'm concerned, it's either me or them."

The members of the Order seemed uneasy by the declaration, but Sirius nodded approvingly.

"Harry, I understand you're angry…"

"Do not try to tell me how I feel!" Harry snapped at Dumbledore. "I am angry, but it's not just that, is it? How many of you helplessly watched their mother being murdered in front of them? How many of you watched as a madman cut the throat of…"

He trailed off and took a deep breath.

"I don't know what you were expecting from me, but that was your mistake," he said accusingly. "If you were expecting me to be a terrified mess who wanted everyone else to fix my problems, you are all horribly mistaken. I'm not going to hide from him or the bastards that follow him and I will not tolerate anyone getting in my way. I'm willing to work with you but I am not going to be babysat and coddled like a poor little orphan who does not understand what is happening."

Those gathered sat in stunned silence and Sirius cheered internally.

James and Lily would be heartbroken that Harry's life had come to this, but they would both be proud of the gumption he was showing.

"Now, are you going to be open with me or do we just forget this whole thing?"

(Break)

"Bloody hell, he's going off on them," one of the twins murmured as he removed the end of the Extendable Ear away from his own.

Hermione nodded her agreement.

It seemed that every year, Harry went through a change of sorts, yet this was the most dramatic yet. He'd always spoken his mind, but to stand in front of such an array of witches and wizards and doing so as bluntly and forcefully as he was had been unexpected.

"He right though isn't he?" the other twin asked. "When the Ministry gets their head out of their arses, who is it everyone will look at to get rid of him."

"Harry," Ginny pointed out.

"Well, he's not pissing around," one of the twins said sadly. "What happened to Katie…"

He broke off and shook his head.

"It's broken him," Ron said sadly.

"How can it not have?" Hermione whispered. "You saw how much he cared about her, and to see…"

She was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door opening, and the teens quickly reeled in the Extendable Ears just before Harry exited with Sirius.

"It was nice to meet you, Harry, even if the circumstances weren't ideal," the man said sincerely.

"You too," Harry sighed. "I'll come visit for Christmas this year, if you'd like?"

From her vantage point on the landing, Hermione could see Sirius's expression brighten considerably.

"I'd like that very much," he said gratefully. "Come, before you catch up with your friends, I have something to show you. I think you'll find a lot of it useful."

The teens darted into the room Ron was staying in and watched as Sirius showed Harry into the library a short distance down the hallway. A part of Hermione was jealous.

She had been specifically told that the room was off-limits to all guests in the house, but with Harry being Sirius's godson, she supposed he was the exception.

It was around fifteen minutes later they re-emerged and Harry placed a shrunken trunk within the jacket he wore.

"I thought you'd approve of the ones I chose," Sirius chuckled. "Just, be careful, Harry. James and Lily would kick my arse if they knew I'd given them to you."

"Wouldn't they do worse if they thought you weren't helping me?"

Sirius nodded, a grin tugging at his lips.

"They would," he agreed. "Go on, go and spend some time with your friends."

They embraced briefly and Sirius headed back down the stairs leaving Harry free to find them.

"In here," Ron called.

Harry entered Hermione got her first proper look at him away from the dull hallway between the front door and kitchen. He looked different, other than the scar, though she could not quite put her finger on it.

His smile, however, gave her hope that the old Harry was still in there somewhere, that he had not entirely lost himself whilst he had been grieving for Katie.

"So, what have you lot been up to?" he asked.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that?" one of the twins returned.

"The less you know, the better," Harry chuckled which only made Hermione more curious.

How had Harry spent his summer?

Judging by his appearance, he had indeed been busy.