"Harry, there's a letter for you." Hermione pointed out one morning at breakfast.

"I know."

"Aren't you gonna take the letter? This owl is giving me the creeps." Ron chimed in. Neville wasn't at breakfast yet, but if he was, Harry knew his redheaded semi-friend would have been getting a large glare right about now. Neville was not one to hold a grudge, but the boy had made it clear that he wasn't good with Ron until Harry was. Harry was thankful for that.

"Nope, not taking the letter," Harry said, stuffing a small sausage link into his mouth, and chewing quietly.

"And, may I ask, why not?" Hermione questioned.

"It's from Dumbledore. No way in Merlin's bloody arse is I speaking to him."

"You can't deny a request from the Headmaster, Harry," Hermione spoke softly. Harry didn't want to be mad at his friend, especially when they were just starting to be good again, but something about the way she said it just pissed Harry off.

"Yes I bloody well can." Harry took the letter out of the owl's mouth and pointed his wand at it. Quickly, the letter was burnt away. Before anyone could notice, Harry was up and out of the great hall.

"Oh, Harry, where are you going?" Harry heard on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He turned his head and saw Neville, a surprised look on his face.

"Back to the tower. Just go eat, Nev, I'll talk to you later." Harry turned his head and made his way back up to their dormitory. Neville stared after him.

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A small bang resounded in the great hall. No one paid much attention to it, as the crowded room was already filled with loud chattering children. The few people by Ron and Hermione heard it loud and clear, however.

"Alright, what did you say that pissed him off?" Neville asked, voice calm. His face was clearly annoyed though.

"Nothing, Neville. We just told him he needed to open the letter."

"What letter, Hermione? All I see is an owl at the table." A relatively creepy owl, Neville thought to himself.

"There was a letter from Dumbledore," Ron spoke up. "We told Harry to take it because the owl's bloody creepy, and he just lit the thing on fire. I thought it was fine." Ron shrugged.

"That's the problem Ron!" Hands slammed on the table. Hermione took a breath before sitting back down. "It's not okay for him to disrespect the headmaster like that, even if he's still mad." The bushy haired girl huffed in annoyance.

"Hermione, you sound right stupid." Neville sent Ron an odd look. "What? I'm right, aren't I? How can she expect Harry to forgive and forget at the drop of a hat? He's hurting, and us trying to push the person who hurt him most onto him is just gonna make it worse."

"That's very…mature, Ron, thank you." Neville said. He was, simply put, at a loss for words. Who would have thought Ron of all people would have said something so.. Hermione-like. The boy flushed.

"Well, I've just been thinking, I was an arse to Harry almost all of fourth year, add that on top of not writing him at all, and being a massive prick, I'm lucky he even cares to have me around." Ron took a deep breath. "He's my best mate, whether he likes it or not. I might as well try and see things from his point of view. Now, sir Neville. The food's gonna disappear soon." Ron dug into a sausage.

Neville took a seat next to Hermione. 'Probably Harry's seat,' Neville thought to himself. The girl was oddly quiet, and she looked a little angry. He wondered if it was something Ron had said, or simply from her own decisions. Oh well. Harry would know, and he'd find out through him. Having friends was quite wonderful.

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"Harry, my dear boy! That was quite a show in the great hall yesterday! May I ask why you burned my letter?"

"Can I ask why you kept my friends from me all summer?" Hardy deadpanned. The old man in front of him sighed.

"Harry I hope you know I didn't do it out of malice-"

"I know that, sir. You aren't that type of person. But it still bloody hurts. There were many spells that could have been cast on their letters to make them untraceable and undetectable. Me and Neville researched them. Oh, you could have told me before I went on holiday to not expect letters! That would have been great!" Dumbledore looked like he was about to interrupt, but Harry just kept pushing.

"Do you know what it was like, thinking every day that something had happened to your friends? That when you did receive some measly letters, that someone had kidnapped them and forced them to write? I was scared. And then, when I finally decide to make a change, you send none other than Snape after me! Then show up to where I work! I had to convince Tom and Mary to let me do my shopping alone!" Harry sniffled, wiping his dripping nose. He wouldn't cry, damnit!

"Harry…" Dumbledore started. Harry sat in his chair, hands clenching by his knees. He heard Dumbledore get up, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the old man.

"Harry, it seems I have harmed you in the exact manner I wished to protect you from. Please, allow me to apologise. I am so very sorry." Harry's head snapped to his right. There Dumbledore was, all one hundred and fifty plus years of age, kneeling before Harry.

"Professor…"

"You are but a boy, Harry. A boy under my guidance. I should not have treated you as if you were something to be disregarded. And for that, I am so sorry." Silent tears rolled down Harry's cheek. He had not been apologised to like this, not ever. Especially not by an adult.

"There is something I wish to talk to you about, besides this."

"What is it, professor?" Harry asked. He hadn't done anything, had he?

"Harry, how is your life at the Dursleys?" Harry blinked.

"Uhm, what?" The old man seemed to age thirty years right in front of him.

"If you would be a kind soul and help an old man up off the floor, I'll begin explaining."

"Er, right, sir." Harry helped the old man up, pulling him up with all his might. Dumbledore was heavier then he looked.

"It's what the robes are for, to hide the belly." Dumbledore winked. Silence lapsed around them, Harry paying attention to his teacup.

"When we were first notified of your disappearance, the first thing Professor Snape and I did was go over to your aunt's house and look around. My boy, some of the things we found were horrible." Dumbledore opened a drawer from somewhere within the middle of his desk. He pulled out three, slightly crushed, Tom soldiers. Harry remembered them. Dudley had hurt his foot when he had stepped on them, so they were thrown out. Harry had gotten them from the trash. The next object was a small blanket. One he had had when he was in the cupboard.

"Harry, why did they keep you in the cupboard? Why did you not inform me?" Dumbledore asked, almost pleading. Harry could have laughed. So, he did. The sound seemed to startle Dumbledore.

"I did ask. Both second and first year. I begged you to let me stay at Hogwarts so I never had to go back there. You told me," Harry took a shuddering breath. "You told me that I couldn't possibly do that to them, to my family. They have never been my family, sir." He wiped his eyes.

"Harry, do you love your aunt and uncle?"

"No." Harry answered without hesitation. He didn't love them. Never had a chance too, not in this life,

"Then there is nothing I can do. I suppose I could try and keep you there on the pretence of the blood-wards, but if you truly don't love them, they wouldn't be there." Dumbledore's hands rubbed over his face. "I have let you down in so many ways, my boy. It seems I've let you down more times than I could possibly count."

Harry was quiet. He didn't know what to say. Nothing felt right. Even thank you felt off.

"However, I do appreciate that letter you sent me. It was very snarky. Really brings out the Gryffindor in you, my boy." Dumbeldore remarked. Harry let out a wet laugh. God, he had only done it to piss the old man off.

"Do you really mean that, sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore chuckled a little, the twinkle returning to his bright blue eyes.

"I do! It reminds me of Sirius, in a way. Did you know, he wrote a very similar message to me when he had moved in with the Potters? His Hogwarts letter was sent to the Black House instead of the Potter Manor, and he was, pardon my language, quite pissed." Harry laughed, loud and full. Talking about his godfather always made him feel better. However, it seemed like Dumbledore needed to talk to him about something else.

"Harry, I think there's something else we should talk about."

"I agree, professor."

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"Nev?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"You're doing it again." Harry sighed.

"Doing what?" Neville stared at his friend. "Oh, the muttering, right, yeah, sorry." Neville went back to looking at his book. Harry knew his friend was anxious about something, but he had no clue what he was worried about- oh.

"Charms exam?" Harry asked. They had been in Hogwarts for little over a month now, so tests were coming from all different directions.

"Yeah, mate, it's just…" His friend ground and rubbed his hand across his face. "I can't seem to remember anything. I'm worried I'll mess it up."

"I doubt you'll mess this up. You've come a long way in charms, Nev! Hell, you're right behind me and Hermione. Top three means something." Harry patted Neville's hand sympathetically.

"But what if I forget everything during the exam? I just freeze up when Professor Flitwick starts asking questions."

"You say that like I don't do the same thing in Professor McGonagall's class. Everyone does it. Something Ron said in second year has stuck with me since. Studying is a bit like fighting a troll. Sometimes, it's safer to focus on different parts of the troll, but as long as it's defeated, it doesn't matter how you get it done." Harry smiled at Neville, who seemed to be at a loss for words.

"That actually makes sense. I mean I have personally never fought a troll," Neville said with a pointed look at Harry. "But it makes sense. Focus on different parts."

"Yep!" Harry said with a smirk. "Now, which parts are you most worried about?"

The boys spent the next hour studying together, going over all of the fifth year charm material. They had only learned a few spells, ten at most, but a majority of the spells were house work spells. Those spells, while easy to cast,were hard to remember the purpose of. For example, Oburo Avorpus was used for cleaning window glass, but was too rough to use on regular cups and fine-china. Oburo Evarpus however, was perfect for quickly cleaning cups and silverware, but wouldn't do anything on a dirty window. No matter how much power you put into Evarpus, the window glass would never shatter or clean. Harry thought the concept was interesting. How can two spells, by the same creator, be so similar yet so vastly different? Something they had learned in transfiguration this year was that spell-makers tended to stick to one type of magic or spell. If you created fire, all of your spell-creations would have something to do with fire. Yet, these were the only two cleaning spells by Majan Douglas. Professor Flitwick had pointed out he had invented more duelling spells than household charms.

Purgatorium was the hardest spell for Neville to get down. While a lesser known version of Scourgify, this spell was much more efficient. Of course, all spells could be used in duels, but this was a cleaning charm meant mostly for duels. It targeted the person's hair and clothes, scrubbing at it to get all of the hair off both. Basically rendering your duelling partner in a large case of unease as an object scrubbed up your robes to your hair. Only the caster could call it off, unless the object doing the scrubbing was destroyed. But who would Bombarda their own clothes?

"Alright Harry! I think I've got this all down." His friend said with a triumphant smile. "Now, let's head to the room and get some studying done for Enchantment! I wanna show you what I figured out last night!" Harry packed up his books and followed Neville out. While they walked to their secret study room, Neville was bursting with excitement. Harry wondered what had gotten him so happy. He honestly couldn't wait to figure it out.

"Okay, sit. Sit!" Neville said, practically pushing him down. Harry sat on one of the soft cushions the two had transfigured there. Harry watched, eyes unblinking, as Neville pulled out a planter of soil. Oh boy! It was like Neville saw the look on his face, because his friend just laughed. Setting the plant down, Neville put his hands near the dirt. Slowly, a small vine began growing out of the dirt. After a few minutes it was about a foot long and as thick as two quill tips. Neville was sweating.

"Neville this is awesome!" Harry whooped, shaking his friend in excitement. "Like seriously mate! How'd you figure that out?" Neville just shrugged.

"I don't know. Seriously, it just kind of happened!" He said at Harry's look. "I was just up studying last night because I couldn't sleep, and was mindlessly stroking the leaves of my little tulip plant I have growing. Then suddenly, this thin little vine wrapped around my finger! I don't know how long I can hold the plant though, as it doesn't come from seeds, just the remnants of what's in the dirt already."

"Like what's been decomposed?" Neville nodded.

"Yep. I don't know how long the vine lasted last night. When I finally went to bed it was still curled around my tulip, but when I woke up it was just dirt." Harry nodded, pulling out their 'Super Secret Parchment Paper' and began taking notes.

"You're awesome Neville, you know that right? I feel like a proud father bird." Neville snorted and pushed his friend's shoulder. The two boys grinned at each other.

"So what about you Harry? Have you figured out the thing you were working on? That you still haven't told me about." Neville pouted. Harry grinned.

"Close your eyes and I'll show you." Neville did so.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling his magic flowing inside his body. One trick the two boys had learned in their books about Enchantment magic was to let the magic flow through your whole body, not just in your core. Anyone and everyone could do this, but few wizards had ever tried. Dumbledore was one of them, Harry had asked him about it when he was up in the office. Focus, Harry reminded himself. Strands of magic slowly flew out of Harry's body, little thin strings that seemed to come out of his pores. Harry moved besideNeville.

"Alright, open." Neville opened his eyes, there in front of him stood Harry Potter. Except it wasn't. Something in the way the light hit his friend's hair was too bright. But he wanted to believe this was Harry Potter. The boy flickered and strands of magic flew back into Harry's body. Neville looked to his side in surprise. There his friend was, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees, grinning like he had won the lottery.

"Harry, bloody hell." Neville aggressively started shaking his friends shoulders. "How the hell did you hide that from me! A full body illusion! Harry, that's wonderful!"

"It takes a lot out of me." Harry admitted. "It's a useful skill to have. That illusion doesn't last half as long as my regular ones do."

"Why's that?" Neville asked.

"Because those have befuddlement charms on them, as well as compelling charms. I can only get them to stay up for six seconds at most."

"You're able to put charms on your illusions?" Neville questioned. "I thought Rynolds book said that was impossible."

"I did too. You know how Flitwick said that layering spells was more powerful than regular spells, but also more draining." Neville nodded. "Well, Rynolds had said he was unsuccessful with layering a spell on top of his illusion. A, spell. So, I tried two. It was much more successful than trying to just do a simple befuddlement charm. I think compelling charms work well with illusionists. I mean, you're meant to believe illusions." Harry started writing down things on his piece of parchment.

Neville stared at his friend, wonder in his eyes. Harry was amazing. No matter how many limitations put on him, Harry always seemed to think of a way to jump over them. Sometimes, Neville wanted to feel like Harry was bragging, rubbing his prowess in his face, but Neville knew that Harry wasn't like that. They share in each other's accomplishments and bonded over their sorrows. And, honestly? That felt more like friendship than anything else in this world ever had.

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"Harry, can we get you to come down?" Hermione knocked on the boys dormitory door. "It's important."

"Coming!" Harry let his small illusion fade out. It was a small little vine that Neville's vine had deemed its best friend. Fitting. It was also an easy way to continuously hold out their powers. If Neville kept the vine thinner, he could leave it for about three hours. Same with Harry's illusion, except his required a little more thought process to make it sentient, so to speak. He couldn't actually make his vine a living creature, but with some practice, Harry had figured out how to make his vine, which he had so kindly named Axiome, the second name for a poisonous vine native to south america, sentient enough to move around without needing to be attached to Harry. Fhozite, Nevilles vine, and the first name to their poisonous plant, loved a playmate. They would twist around each other and even burrow into dirt like worms. So, if anyone ever noticed Harry and Neville holding pinkies underneath their desks, well, at least the two boys knew the real reasons.

"You bringing Fho?" Harry asked, cancelling his illusion of Axiome. Neville shook his head, and let his magic relax. Fhozite slowly turned into a pile of dirt, which Neville just placed in his tulip pot. He had only had that plant there to revive it for professor Sprout, but after realising it was the perfect place to get soil from, he had asked the herbology professor if he could keep it. She said yes, of course, and now Neville had a constant supply of soil for Fhozite.

The two boys made their way down to the common room. It was quiet. Not the quiet of no one being there, but the quiet of choosing not to speak. No eyes were on him though. The eyes were on a little girl sitting on the couch, Ron and Hermione beside her.

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry asked, crouching beside Ron. Neville stayed back, not wanting to overcrowd the girl.

"The dog happened." Ron answered. Hermione stared at the red head, confused, but Harry's eye hardened. Umbridge.

"I just wanted to practise casting, that's all!" The girl wailed. She couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen. She cradled her hand. Hermione gently pried it away from the girl and held it for Harry to see. Carved words were resting on her hands.

"Essence of dittany." Harry said. Neville rushed back up the stairs, his footsteps loud in the silence. "We're gonna fix this right up, okay?" The girl sniffled but nodded. Neville placed a small bowl and some bandages beside Harry, and the boy got to work.

"Wouldn't the essence of murtlap work better?" Hermione questioned.

"Sure, if you wanted it to heal faster, but my biggest point is scarring. I don't want this pretty girl to end up hating Hogwarts because of one crappy teacher that will be gone in a year." The little girl flushed.

"You mean she'll be gone one day?" Harry nodded.

"Of course, all the DADA teachers leave after a year. They say it's a curse on the position." The girl let out a wet giggle. "On the off chance she decides to stay, I'll get rid of her, just for you. There you are." The little girl admired her wrapped hand, staring at it in shock.

"I can't even feel it! Thank you, Harry!" The little girl lunged at Harry, who, in his crouched position, fell to the floor. The room laughed, more light hearted then they had been since Harry walked down, and Harry laughed with them.

"I'm Rebecca, by the way! Rebecca Toosney."

"I'm-"

"Harry Potter, I know! I'm a huge fan!" Rebecca blushed and twiddled with the hem of her skirt. Harry chuckled and gave her a pat on her head.

"It's nice to meet you, Rebecca. Stay out of trouble okay? And if you need anything, go ahead and come find me." The girl nodded happily, and left the common room. That was when Harry noticed the yellow and black robes the girl wore. "Hufflepuff?" He questioned.

"Yeah, she knew us by name and begged for help. Apparently, Hannah is sick and in the hospital wing, and Ernie wouldn't do anything to help her. I'm bringing him to the headmaster, don't worry Harry." Harry and Neville sat down on the couch with the pair, and began discussing classes.

"Man, that Charm test was so hard. Even after I had studied all day."

"That's because someone exhausted himself right before the test."

"Bugger off, Neville." Harry said with a laugh.

"Well at least you were able to take it on time. Can you believe they doubled up Arthimacy and Charms!"

"Yes, we all bow to your academic wonders." Hermione hit Ron with a couch cushion.

The night was relatively easy after that, and the group of four had fun. Soon, Dean came and joined them, Seamus following after with butterbeers.

"We're good, right Harry?" Seamus said, handing him a bottle.

"We're good." Harry took a gigantic swig of his bottle.

"Harry, drink slowly." Neville remarked.

"What, can Harry not handle his alcohol?" Dean teased. Sure, butterbeer had a small alcohol percentage, just two percent, but one bottle of butterbeer was enough for Harry to get a little loose.

"Nope, not at all. When he stayed at my place we went out and got butterbeers in celebration with Gran, and two bottles in, he was already a slurring mess."

"Neville! You have betrayed me!" Harry said, mimicking a sword going through his heart as he collapsed onto the back of the couch. The group laughed as Neville pushed Harry off of him. As everyone fell into their own conversations, Harry questioned Neville.

"Why do you call her grandmother at home but call her gran here?" Neville just shrugged.

"Gran is super old school. She deserves respect and I treat her as such. It's just, I sound like such a stuck up, saying 'Grandmother'." Harry snickered.

"Dearest Grandmother, I hope you have been well today. Have you acquired an adamant amount of nutrients yet?" Harry joked. Neville snorted next to him, butterbeer coming out of his nose, sending Harry into more howls of laughter. The small group noticed Harry's state and looked at Neville. Poor boy was covered in butterbeer, face flushed. All of them laugh, Neville eventually giving up being embarrassed and laughing too. Overall, it was a good night.