My heart was pounding in my chest. I was trying my best to stay calm, but I was surrounded by Aurors belonging to a government with no compunctions about violating people's minds with due process. And they probably thought I was a Dark Lord. Thanks for that, Skeeter. If this came down to a fight, I would lose. Maybe my team could take all of them down…maybe. But we were in the middle of enemy territory. There would be reinforcements aplenty to replace them. Taking myself hostage was the best gambit I could come up with spur of the moment.

"Mr. Potter!" the lead Auror called out in a tone of voice indicating this was not the first time he said that. I was intimately familiar with that tone. He was a tall, powerfully built Black man and he was looking at me with utter alarm. "There's no need for violence! Please put down the wand!"

"You'll never take me alive!" I blurted. Oh, God, why did I just say that? Why do I seem to have a pathological need to make situations worse?

Hestia put a hand on my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Harry, that's Kingsley Shacklebolt; he's a friend of mine. These are the good guys. I don't think they want to harm us."

I slowly lowered my wand, bracing myself for an attack to come regardless. I trust Hestia, but she's just a cog in a system I very much don't trust. "Mr. Potter, there's been a security breach," Shacklebolt said gently in a resonant baritone voice. "Two guards have been shot by what we presume was a Muggleborn woman. We're not here to harm you. When we heard the elevator, we thought the intruder might be in it."

I put my wand away. Thank God this had all been a big misunderstanding. "She called herself Rachel," I said. "She took me hostage, forced me to help her steal some box from the Invisibility Taskforce. She shot me! Can you believe that?" I saw no reason to not throw Dacted under the bus. Whatever was in that box must have been very important and it was probably better in the Ministry's hands than Dacted. Anyway, even if she ratted me out, who'd believe her?

Hestia practically shoved me aside. "Kingsley, we've got to get Mr. Potter to St. Mungo's. We can have this conversation later."

"Yes, good idea," Shacklebolt agreed. "We'll be in touch."

I breathed a sigh of relief and almost doubled over in an attempt to catch my breath with how hard I'd been breathing through the whole encounter. Or maybe that was just the aftereffects of getting shot. "So now what?"

"Now we, as I said, take you to St. Mungo's," Hestia said in a tone of voice saying it should have been very, very obvious. I was intimately familiar with that tone too.

"I feel fine!"

Ron did a facepalm. "Harry. You. Were. Shot. The evidence will keep! If you're as fine as you think you are, you'll be in and out."

I grumbled all the way to St. Mungo's, but Remus didn't give me a choice in the matter. Deep down, though, I appreciated having someone who loved me enough to fuss over me. Even if it turned out to be completely unnecessary because, as I had predicted, the doctors at St. Mungo's thought I was fine. Thank goodness our healthcare is as free as the NHS. Can you imagine what it would be like if we had to pay through the roof for our healthcare? I can't imagine living in such a backwards society.

When I was out of the hospital, the Grangers, Remus, and I paid a visit to the rogue Obliviator, Michael Emory. Hestia wasn't joining us; she wanted plausible deniability. Remus was there because he thought the Grangers would need magical backup. I was there because I was worried the Grangers might kill Emory and I thought they might not do it if I wasn't there. To be clear, I wouldn't shed any tears if Emory died, but with how rightly furious they are, I'm worried they might kill him before he could tell us everything we needed to know. Though a part of me doesn't want him to die either…not when he deserved to be in Azkaban, which as far as I was concerned was a fate far, far worse than death.

Emory was living large as an Obliviator, residing in a swanky penthouse in a very luxurious apartment building in Kensington, the nicest part of London. I didn't know if he'd bought it fair and square. For all I knew, he could have just altered some rich person's memory to make them think they were giving the penthouse as a gift. Either way, Emory must have thought he was so safe behind all that security. He didn't reckon on the Grangers, who were trained to tear through all sorts of security…uh, to find wealthy patients who didn't show up to their appointments. Because they are dentists.

After we finally broke through the final obstacle, the lock that had been made impervious to all manner of locking spells but not Muggle lockpicks, the Grangers fired several shots in the direction of the floor to ceiling windows Emory was standing in front of. They shattered in a shower of glass. Emory let out a shout and then made a move for his wand.

Remus cast a stunning spell in his direction, but Emory rolled out of the way and fired a Killing Curse at him. Thank God he missed. Emmet shot Emory in the leg and Emory let out a scream of pain. In that moment, I crept towards him, hidden underneath my Invisibility Cloak, and cast a disarming charm. (Hestia had let me borrow her wand to get around the Trace.) I grabbed the wand off the floor, took off my cloak, and pointed it at him.

"Undo what you did to us now," Danielle demanded.

"I don't know what you're…" I stepped on his bullet wound and Emory screamed in agony. I felt no pity for him. This was a man who violated people's minds for a living. We could argue all day about whether or not the practice was necessary, but he'd stepped over the line no matter how you sliced it. "Okay, fine, give me my wand!"

Emmet chuckled. "You must be out of your mind."

"I can't do wandless Obliviations, you lunatic!" Emory shouted. "No one's that powerful! You Know Who probably couldn't do it, let alone me! If you want me to undo the Obliviation, I need my wand."

"Do not give him his wand," Remus commanded. "There are legal channels we can go through to get your memories back if we can. It's more important we know who his boss is. If he gets his wand back, he'll kill you."

I put Hestia's wand under Emory's chin. "Who sent you after the Grangers? What do you have against them? Why did you hurt Hermione, you son of a bitch?!"

"I don't know who it was," Emory said. I let out a feral snarl even Remus would be hard pressed to beat. "Honest! I got a package with five thousand galleons in it and instructions to Obliviate the Grangers. The letter said there'd be five thousand more galleons to come after, but it hasn't happened yet."

"This letter, do you still have a copy of it?" Danielle demanded. Emory pointed in the direction of his desk. Danielle stormed over to it and rummaged through the contents, finally coming out with a letter written on pink stationary. She gave it to Remus. "Do you recognize the handwriting?"

"No, but there's no reason I would," Remus reminded her. "If this person is important enough, Hestia might recognize it, though."

Emmet pointed his gun at Emory's head. "As for you, you're going to pay the ultimate price for messing with my head."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I said, holding my hands in the air. "You can't just kill him! What if it gets linked back to us?" And, yeah, okay, there was more to it than just that. Even if I wasn't the one doing the deed, I didn't want to bear any responsibility for murder. I felt bad enough as it is being somewhat responsible for Quirrell's death.

"They'll think it was Dacted, especially when Hestia tells them it was," Emmet said dismissively. I expected Emory to leap to the defense of his own life, but he almost seemed paralyzed by the circumstances, unable to say a word.

"I'm leaving," I announced. "Do what you want, but I want no part of it." I stormed into the hall, Remus at my heels. I walked towards the elevator and just as I pressed the button, I heard a muffled gunshot, which I wouldn't have realized was one if I hadn't been expecting it.

I sighed. "I don't like this. I don't like any of this."

"It's entirely my fault," Remus said. "I never should have dragged you into this." He sighed. "I need to be a better guardian and put my foot down about you getting involved in these…very dangerous schemes."

I felt miserable the whole way back to the Granger residence. I should have known what was going to happen the whole time, but I thought I could stop it. Of course I couldn't. The Grangers are who they are. Bringing them into that situation made Emory's death inevitable. I suddenly felt very tired of it all. All this intrigue is not my thing at all. I just want to lead a normal life. If Hermione's life wasn't in the balance, I would just give up and let the adults handle it. But I can't. She's my friend and I need to help her.

The good news is that we've positively identified the culprit: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Dolores Umbridge. (Basically the deputy prime minister for you Muggles.) Her handwriting is unmistakable, she's an odious toad of a woman who makes Aunt Marge seem like a pillar of tolerance (a highly considerable accomplishment), and while she's never been linked to the Death Eaters before, her beliefs certainly align with theirs near perfectly.

We're going to the Ministry soon to confront Minister Tablet and get Hermione finally free. I'm not going to let anything stand in my way. Least of all some jumped up civil servant.

COMMENTS

louvrethe1yourewith: Please help me settle a bet with my friends, Harry. Were you making a Blazing Saddles reference when you held yourself at wandpoint?

No, I've never even heard of that movie. It sounds fun, though! I'll have to put it on my watch list.

deeds_of_stone: Hey, Harry, you mind giving me the coordinates of Hogwarts? My friend and I are planning on running an experiment and we need the coordinates for it to work.

Nice try, MI6.

From: Agent Woodpecker

To: Sir Andrew Felix Eddington, Director, MI6

Director,

The box is in my possession and our theories have been proven. We are ready to move at your order.

I think you made the right choice in giving up on Potter. It's been made abundantly clear on his blog he just isn't flexible to understand the exigencies inherent in governance. His ironclad grip on outmoded moralities is a weakness we simply cannot afford. More relevantly, he clearly hates us with a burning passion and I don't think that could possibly be alleviated. Especially not after I shot him.

Agent Woodpecker

Woodpecker, you are to go to Rudloe Manor and rendezvous with Agent Machiavelli. He will give you further instructions. I warn you that this operation will require patience and subtlety. It is likely this may take months or even a year to execute. We cannot afford missteps. This is the most important endeavor of the modern era. Everything hinges on this. Everything.

Are you ready to see the sun again, Hermione?

I…I don't know what you're talking about. How long have I been down here?

Long enough. The days blend together, don't they? They always have for me. One day is the same as another. Until I met you, sweetie. Until I realized we could help each other.

I miss my friends. I miss my parents. I just want to go home! I don't even understand what I'm here. I can't even remember what I did wrong. Why do these people hate me so much? I've never even met them! I didn't do anything to them!

Hatred is an interesting emotion. Some people consider it a separate entity, but to me, it's always been a combination of emotions. Fear and anger. You're a Muggleborn, but it's not the born part they hate, even though they think it is. It's the Muggle part. They know in their hearts it will come down to war, because it always does, and they'll lose. They can't not lose. The numbers are wildly against them. Unless they have the right leader.

Stop blathering. You're doing something to me. everything's all fuzzy. I can't think

I think you'll find, Hermione, that whatever you did, you did to yourself. You chose to write in this book. You chose the consequences. You never had to pick it up. From that point on, you were the architect of your own destruction.

That's a lie

Is it? And even if it was, what do you intend to do about it? Your moments of rebellion, of consciousness, are getting weaker and smaller. You could have resisted me under any other circumstances. But here in this cell in the basement with no hope, no friends, no family, no one you can rely on or confide in or even distract yourself with…you had no choice.

You just said it was all my choice. Didn't…you?

Of course not, Hermione. That would be ridiculous. There, there. Don't tire yourself out yet. You'll be mine soon enough. And then the real work will begin.

I had been hopeful that since we knew the identity of the culprit behind the attack on the Grangers, Hestia could swoop in and arrest her. No such luck. Umbridge has friends in all sorts of high places (read: blackmail material on them) and no one is going to make a move against her. She wields near ultimate power in the Ministry, which explains a lot about the government, and if we made the wrong move, we could likely end up in prison and Mr. Weasley would certainly lose his job. Besides, we don't actually have proof she's done anything other than order the obliviation of two Muggles, and people, annoyingly, don't care about that.

Everyone we've talked to says Umbridge is a monster. Her motivation is not pureblood ideology, but pure power and sadism. Her loyalty is only to herself and she'll always serve the side she thought would win, though without taking any unnecessary risks, which is probably why she decided to not openly join the Death Eaters and instead undermine the Ministry from within. And if what Dobby says is true, she's ordered deaths in the past. I still don't know if she'll be brazen enough to order mine, but she might try to have Hestia killed just to prove a point.

At the same time, I'm not about to be intimidated by anyone. Umbridge is a scary woman, but I've faced scarier. She's not a Dark Lord. She's not a delusional archmage. She's not a gargantuan and disturbed government agent with a rocket launcher. (Ah, a part of me still misses Hagrid.) If Umbridge makes a fuss, well, she's going to find out just what a dangerous enemy I can be.

We took some time to map out our scheme. I listened very carefully to what the adults were scheming, well aware that when the time came, I would likely discard everything they were saying and walk my own path based on what seemed to be the best thing to do at the time. Hey, I know my strengths and weaknesses. Sticking to a plan…not one of the strengths. After the Grangers killed Emory, I wanted to make sure, though, that the plan would be as nonviolent as possible. Violence causes problems. I don't like problems. I still don't hate them for killing Emory, because I can't say I wouldn't done the same if it were my mind being messed with, but I found it disturbing and I feel guilty for not stopping it.

Our plan was relatively simple. Since convincing Umbridge to see reason was obviously out of the question, her being a Death Eater and all, we would go over her head to talk to Minister Mars. From what I've told, Minister Gummi was obsessed with his image above all else. He got into power by promising to advance the rights of Muggleborns. Rather predictably, he's been doing a lot more talking about it than actually doing it. I don't think it's out of prejudice, though. It's just typical politics. The point is, as the only person in Britain more famous than him (unless you count Dumbledore, I suppose, but he doesn't count anymore), I could be a huge boost to him politically…or to his political rivals if I so chose.

Remus took me to the Ministry alone. Hestia refused to be dragged into a political fight that could get her fired, I didn't trust the Grangers to walk into the Ministry and not kill someone anymore, and the Weasleys weren't there for pretty much the same reason as Hestia. It took a lot of time and quite a few favors to get an appointment with Minister Fruit Salad without going through Umbridge, but Remus is persistent and apparently knows something about an incident that occurred in the fjords of Norway involving Minister Aero's personal assistant.

"Harry Potter, as I live and breathe," Minister Crunchie said with a winning smile as we were led into his office. Umbridge was out with a "dental emergency" (we arranged for people to be seen snooping around a property Hestia found she owned through a shell company) so it was just the three of us. "It's such a pleasure to meet you at last. I had the honor of meeting your father on a few occasions. He was very…candid. I see you've followed in his footsteps."

"I'd like to think I've made him proud of me, sir," I said politely. "I think he might be a bit disappointed I didn't follow his footsteps onto the Quidditch team, though."

The minister's office was…well, gaudy didn't even begin to describe it. I felt secondhand embarrassment just looking at the gilt and the marble and the ornamentation. Rococo style, I think, but I'm not an expert on architecture. He had a variety of paintings and sculptures that didn't look British – gifts from foreign leaders, no doubt – scattered all over the place. Maybe someone could have made it look distinguished, but it looked more like the cave of a pack rat than an esteemed leader.

Minister Aniseed laughed. "Too true, my lad. Well, what brings you to my humble abode?" I tried, I really did, but I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the blatant lie.

"I'm surprised you wanted to meet with us, Minister Fudge," Remus said. Oh, so that was his name. That's a stupid name. I'm not going to bother taking the time to remember it. "After all, don't all the papers say Harry is a Dark Lord in training?"

"Mr. Lupin, a wise politician knows never to take the papers at face value," Minister Twizzler pointed out. Damn it, I hate when people I don't like start making sense. It makes it harder not to like them. "Only through careful observation and consideration of multiple sources can one truly understand a situation. I mean, look at Mr. Potter over here. Does that look like the face of a Dark Lord?"

I was presently busy engaged in a staring contest with a dragon sculpture that must have come from Japan or somewhere nearby. This, you may think, was stupid, but I swear I saw it blink at one moment. It is, after all, a magical sculpture. Blinking is entirely possible and if it could blink once, it could blink again!

"Mr. Potter? MR. POTTER!"

I blinked. Damn it. I hate losing things, especially staring contests. I used to be the undefeated champion of staring contests. If anyone gets a wind of this, my cred will be gone. "Sorry, sir, what were you saying?"

"Never mind, you've amply proved my point," Minister Zabala said with a frown. "So as I was saying, what brings you here?"

I looked over at Remus, who nodded. I really appreciated his trust. I wouldn't trust me in his shoes. "We're here about my friend Hermione Granger. I believe she was arrested unjustly. And her conditions post-arrest are certainly unacceptable. She was denied counsel until recently, none of her friends have been able to see her, and worst of all, her parents were Obliviated in complete breach of protocol!"

Minister Malteser looked through a set of papers on his desk. All a ruse, I knew, to make me underestimate him. I knew better. If he didn't already know who Hermione was, he wouldn't happen to have her arrest papers on his desk. "The charge she's been faced with is a serious one. Statute of Secrecy breaches aren't something to be taken lightly, Harry."

I gave him my most winning smile, the kind of smile that even got McGonagall to drop her guard, and that's a darn impressive feat if I do say so myself. "But, minister, no one got hurt, right? The Statute is intact; Muggles still don't know about magic. Hermione was probably just startled by something and just acted on reflex. I understand being tough on crime is important, but the quality of mercy is not strained, sir. She's just a child."

Minister Lindt looked contemplative, lost in thought for a while. I hoped I was getting through to him. If I didn't get through to him, I'd have to release the documents we'd stolen from the Obliviators, and if that happened, the entirety of the magical world would be feeling the consequences for decades. I really did not want to do that. But I would if I had to. To save Hermione, I'd burn this world to ashes.

"Can we have a few minutes alone, Mr. Lupin?" Minister Brittle asked finally. I nodded at Remus. I didn't feel there was any danger. Probably he wanted to make a deal and didn't want Remus there was a witness. Not that it would do him any good – I'd of course tell Remus everything.

Remus reluctantly stepped out of the office. I happen to know he has…um, well, exceptionally good hearing and he'd be back inside in seconds if he thought anything was amiss. "Can we be candid with each other, Harry?" the minister asked. Clearly, he must have suspected the answer was yes if he was calling me Harry. "I know you're a Dark Lord. We both know it. We can stop pretending like we had to in front of your guardian. You have a vision of a dark empire…and I want in."

It took all my self-control not to scream at him. Despite my very best efforts, anti-Slytherin prejudice was still running rampant in the magical world. Things had gotten better at Hogwarts, but evidently, it would take a long time for it to filter out to the rest of the world. In the meantime, when I calmed down, I realized I could absolutely use this to my advantage.

"But why?" I said sorrowfully, looking down at the beetle scurrying across Minister Pez's desk. "Why do they still call me a Dark Lord?! And mad?!" And the Grangers thought there was nothing to be gained from our movie marathon of bad 80s films! "All I want to do is to create the perfect undead soldier. Not for power, not for evil, but for good!"

Minister Snaps was looking at me with a disturbing look of glee, but I was determined to press on through that ridiculous monologue. If Raul Julia could do it, so could I. "Dolores Umbridge – no, no, better, Rita Skeeter will be the first of many." The beetle jerked away. "They shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Potterica!"

I slammed my fist on the beetle for emphasis, regretting it immediately. Luckily, it was made of strong stuff and hobbled away, looking in bad shape, until it was out of sight. "And then peace will reign in the world…" I finished dramatically. "And all humanity shall bow to me…in humble gratitude."

"That was beautiful," Minister Calisson said, wiping a tear away from his eyes. "So when are you going to start your reign of terror, Dark Lord Potter?"

This was just sad. A grown man, the leader of our country…well, of the country's magical population at any rate, and he was being taken in by sensationalism and my ham-fisted rendition of a monologue that just sounds ridiculous out of the mouth of anyone but one of the most brilliant actors ever. And the Minister for Magic is elected directly. This was the person magical Britain had chosen to lead them. Well, at least I could use his stupidity to my advantage.

"Well, of course I have to bide my time until I'm an adult," I lied. "No one would bow to a child."

"I would!"

I almost ran out of the room crying then and there and only the need to power through this incredible display of stupidity to get Hermione free stopped me. "Nevertheless, minister, I need time to put all the pieces in place and I need my most trusted advisor. Soon to be my second most trusted advisor once you free Hermione."

Minister Macaron eagerly reached into his desk and pulled out a stack of fancy looking documents. He scribbled a few words onto it and signed it and passed it over to me. I grinned. I was holding an official pardon for Hermione Granger! I'd done it! Hermione was free!

"Thank you so much, minister," I said with a winning grin. "Or should I say Grand Duke of Britain once I finish my conquest of the world! Now if you'll excuse me…"

I could not get out of that office fast enough. Remus looked amused when he saw me. "Is it possible to die of secondhand embarrassment, Remus?" I asked as we strode through the labyrinthine corridors of the Ministry on their way to the cells.

"If it was, I would have died long ago when your father made me take Polyjuice potion to impersonate Marlene McKinnon and kiss him to make Lily jealous."

"I…really did not need to know that," I said with a shudder. "The minister is so stupid he makes Goyle look like a veritable genius. I'm honestly starting to understand a little more why Voldemort became a Dark Lord now and that's terrifying."

Remus patted me on the shoulder, not an iota of sympathy on his face. "That's rough, Harry."

We were just about to reach the elevators when the fakest cough you could ever hear erupted from behind us. We turned around to see a middle aged woman who looked oddly like a toad charging towards us. There was pure and unrelenting malice behind a paper thin mask of affability. Based on her completely pink ensemble, I would take a guess this was Umbridge.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go downstairs, dear," Umbridge said.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I said with a winning smile and pressed the button for the elevator. "I just got word the big spill down there got cleaned up."

Umbridge blinked. "I fail to see what spills have to do with anything."

"Oh, well, you're the janitor, right?" Umbridge's face turned purple. "You were going down there to clean the spill, weren't you?"

"I most certainly was not!"

I shook my head mournfully. "That's a terrible tragedy. I'm going to have to mention this with my next tete-a-tete with the minister. We're good friends, you know." Umbridge's eyes nearly jumped out of her head. It was disturbing, actually. "Yes, what is this world coming to when janitors refuse to clean up spills?"

"You insolent brat!" Umbridge drew her wand and pointed it at me.

"Drawing your wand on a minister's friend and not doing your job? I expect you'll be out of a job before the day is out." I waved the pardon. "Anyway, we're just going down there to free my good friend Hermione. Good luck with unemployment!"

Umbridge aimed her wand at the pardon, a crazed smile on her face. "Incend –" Remus kicked her between the legs. She fell to her knees with a high pitched squeak. As if on cue, the elevator arrived. I gave a cheery wave at Umbridge as we stepped in. "Toodles!"

The cells were in the basement. I wished I had Hestia with me to make things official, but I was confident no one would object to an authentic ministerial pardon. While Remus talked to the Auror on duty, I charged down a row of cells. Much to my relief, the other prisoners down there looked like actual criminals. Well, maybe. I wasn't an expert in such things. The point was, there were no other children down there.

I rounded a corner and I finally saw Hermione. She did not look at all well. Her hair, frizzy and unmanageable at the best of times, was an incomprehensible mess that resembled more of something Escher would have drawn than an actual hairstyle. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her hands sometimes twitched. But there was a gigantic smile on her face and my mood instantly lightened. Hermione's just a wonderful light in the darkness. I didn't realize how joyful she made me until I saw her again.

The Auror Remus had been talking to showed up with the keys and as soon as the doors opened, I practically tackled Hermione with a hug. "Hermione, it's so good to see you! We've been fighting so hard to get you out of here. You wouldn't believe what lengths we went to."

Hermione's smile was wide and maybe a hair too big. "I knew you'd come to rescue me. My knight in shining armor." There was something weird about that comment but I couldn't put my finger on it. Actually, all of Hermione right now was putting me slightly on edge. It was probably just a reaction to seeing how badly treated she'd been. "Oh, Harry. It's been so hard, waiting for you. But I knew you would swoop in like the hero you are."

I shared a confused look with Remus, then shrugged. "Hermione, we have some bad news," Remus told her. "Your parents were Obliviated. They don't remember you. We're…we're going to try to get their memories back, but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh, no! Is there any hope?"

"We'll do anything we can to help them," I promised. "And I do mean anything. The other day, we broke…" Remus pointed at the Auror behind us with a stern glare. "…records about how determined we were." Not my best lie, but, hey, you try doing better.

"Let's get you out of here," I said and then my eyes caught a small leather book in Hermione's hand. "What's that?"

"Just a diary," Hermione said. "Someone left it behind here. I would have gone crazy if I didn't have somewhere to put my thoughts in."

I shrugged. I didn't understand why someone would bring their diary to prison, but it didn't seem important. "Well, leave it behind and let's go."

"NO!" Hermione shouted, her eyes wide and manic. "No, I have to bring it with me."

"This isn't worth arguing about, Harry," Remus said. "We're wasting time. The Drs. Granger are eager to see their daughter again."

Remus had a point, so I led Hermione out of the cell. She was holding my hand the whole time and I'm not gonna lie to you, it felt really nice. I'll remember forever the huge smile Hermione gave when we finally got her into the sunlight. Anyone would think she'd spent decades in that cell instead of a few months. It feels good to notch out a victory after so many defeats.

I think I'm going to close this blog entry out here. I could tell you about the tearful reunion she had with her parents, but I'm not going to. I think that's a private moment they should keep to themselves.

COMMENTS

1shtaran: Perhaps now Harry can stop obsessing over the fate of his mate and pay more attention to the most amazing and talented snake in the world, namely me!

Sorry, Ishtaran. You've been a great sport and I promise to get you lots of treats.

Can I eat the wicked rat?

For the last time, no.

Does that mean the next time I ask the answer will be yes?

ISHTARAN!

BRILLIANT PROPHET WRITER PLACED UNDER IMPERIUS CURSE TO WRITE HATCHET JOB ON HARRY POTTER!

By Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter

My dear readers, I must do the one thing I promised I would never do and that is to say I am sorry. I submitted an article riddled with half-truths and inaccuracies about our precious and trustworthy savior Harry Potter. Of course, I am committed to the truth in all things, which should have made an article immediately suspect to you. It certainly did to me, which is why I realized I only did it under the influence of the Imperius Curse. I was recently attacked from behind by what was likely the very same person in an effort to assassinate me. I am thus writing this article from St. Mungo's while I convalesce.

Be not deceived by the yellow journalism I was forced to write, my friends. Harry Potter is a gentle soul, an ordinary child with no intention of being a dark lord in any way whatsoever. If he was, I'm sure he'd be a forgiving one, of course, probably one who understands the importance of propaganda and hire the right people to be in charge of it. Though of course such speculation is a moot point because he's not a Dark Lord. No, Harry is the future of our society through and through, a beacon of tolerance.

"Harry?" Harry's fellow Slytherin dormmate Theodore Nott said. "He's an all right bloke. A bit touched in the head, but he always goes out of his way to help other people. And he's done amazing things for Slytherin's reputation. It felt like we couldn't go anywhere without people snickering and throwing things at us. But now people see Slytherin's filled with normal people like me."

"Harry is the gentlest soul I can think of," reports Daphne Greengrass. "It seems like all the girls and a few of the boys have their eyes on him. Of course, he only seems to have eyes for Hermione Granger. More's the pity."

"Who are you?" Pansy Parkinson demanded when my associate cornered her at Parkinson Manor. "How did you get in here? Don't you know this is private property? Go away before I call the Aurors!"

Draco Malfoy stared out the window when my associate started to ask questions about him, looking very melancholy. "Have you ever been at a crossroads in your life? I never thought I would. Thanks to Harry, though, I am, and I don't know which way to go. But I think the fact he brought me there says all you need to know about him."

Blaise Zabini wouldn't say a single word to my associate and stared her in the eyes until she left. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle also refused to speak to my associate. In their case, it was unclear they understood what she was saying.

Tracey Davis went on a long rant about how soulful Harry was and how his eyes were the most vivid green and how he was a true romantic hero straight out of the storybooks.

When told about this description, Millicent Bulstrode pronounced Tracey "off her rocker" and said Harry was a true menace to society, but at least he was funny while doing it, unlike most menaces to society, such as Crabbe and Goyle.

Professor Aurora Sinistra, head of Slytherin House, was unavailable for comment. My associate tried to interview her and was subsequently hospitalized in the very bed next to me, repeating the words "MY GOD, IT'S FULL OF STARS!" over and over again.

In conclusion, Harry Potter is an example to us all and if he did become a Dark Lord and institute a reign of terror – which he won't – I hope he'll remember people who said nice things about him.

The last few weeks have been some of the happiest of my entire life. I have my whole family around me – all of them that are still alive, anyway – and Hermione is finally out of danger. I'm staying at the Burrow now because I didn't want to intrude on the Grangers' efforts to get to know one another again, a process I can only assume will be supremely awkward. Rita Skeeter did a huge about face in the papers – I assume the minister has a hand in things – and the depressingly fickle public no longer thinks I'm a dark lord. (I wonder, did Voldemort decide to conquer magical Britain because he just thought it would be a waste to leave them unconquered? Heck, I'm starting to wonder if I should do it.)

This is Ginny's first year in Hogwarts and she's pretty darn excited about it. It's all she'll talk about. Well, that and how she realized how silly she was for thinking she could ever compare to the Harmony ship, whatever that was. I didn't realize the Weasleys were such mariners. I tried to take her mind off of asking me incessant questions about Hogwarts by showing her the How To Train Your Dragon movies, but that seems to have made things even worse because now she sees Astrid as her role model and "accidentally" transfigured a spade into an axe and was swinging it around with abandon everywhere until Mr. Weasley found out and grounded her. If Ginny's not a Gryffindor through and through, I'll eat the Sorting Hat.

Also, and probably more importantly, Mr. Weasley has a flying car in the garage. Though I'm going to shut up about it now because he's not technically supposed to have it.

I've also been spending a lot of time with Hermione. Hermione's changed a fair bit since her imprisonment. She seems to be a lot more of a physically affectionate person and…I don't know, more stereotypically feminine? I'm not an expert in such things, but I'm pretty sure Hermione didn't wear nearly as much makeup before all this started. I don't know what to think of it. Like, objectively speaking, I suppose she's attractive. But she doesn't look as much like Hermione as she used to. Hermione is pretty because she's Hermione. It's more than just external looks. It's her brilliant mind, her stubbornness, her unbending will, that unlimited determination that causes her to drag herself to every Quidditch game and try to win it despite the fact she still hates flying with a burning passion.

I don't know. Maybe I'm overcomplicating things. Maybe I just don't like change. Maybe Hermione's just growing up and experimenting with new approaches to her self-image. And I respect Hermione's freedom to act and look however she chooses. But still…something seems off about the whole thing.

But Remus thinks I'm overreacting, that it's normal in puberty to have wild changes in behavior. And I suppose, as the new Hogwarts counselor, he knows these things, so I'm going to defer to his wisdom for now. Especially given what happened later.

We all went to Diagon Alley to buy our supplies. We were going to travel by Floo, which is basically a teleportation network connecting all sorts of fireplaces, but Emmet turned out to be allergic to Floo powder, so instead we got there the Muggle way. Based on the textbooks and the syllabus she sneaked me, Hestia's lessons appear to be putting more of an emphasis on ethics and magical theory than last year, though there's still certainly plenty of practical lessons. I'm sure she's going to be a much better teacher than Quirrell was. Though since he was evil and a terrible teacher on top of it, that's a pretty low bar. Will she be better than Remus? We'll see!

Actually, the real reason I wanted to go to Diagon Alley had nothing to do with our school supplies. No, the real reason I wanted to go there was to meet Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart is our new headmaster. He's a brilliant author of adventure fiction and while I'm unsure what about this makes him qualified to be a headmaster, he's an amazing author. His books are, if you'll pardon the pun, spellbinding works of rip-roaring action. They star a version of him with a parodically overinflated ego, constantly fighting monsters, rescuing damsels, and doing incredible and patently impossible pieces of magic. The use of subtle satire to parody how ridiculous most of the magical world can be is nothing short of pure, unadulterated genius.

Of course, most of the magical world, being almost entirely peopled with morons, hasn't realized this and most people appear to be under the ludicrous impression everything in the books is real. Well, excuse me, but if it was real, Lockhart would have to be a mage an order of magnitude more powerful than Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Professor Sinistra put together. I think we'd all know if that was the case. For his part, Lockhart has entirely run with it, pretending his stories are real and impressively never breaking character under any circumstance. I am in awe. I don't have the dedication to acting like a vainglorious moron just to sell books, but he does. He's my idol.

"Ah, just think of it," I said as my best friends and I walked into Flourish and Blotts, the main magical bookstore in Diagon Alley. It was amazing to have the Emerald Trio, as people sometimes call us, together again. We're an unstoppable team, the quintessential Slytherin badasses. Even though Hermione's been a little off, I'm sure she'll be back to normal. "Soon I'll be able to get Gilderoy Lockhart's autograph!"

"Not really sure why you're so into that guy, but whatever boats your float, right?" Ron looked very proud of himself for remembering a Muggle expression and I hadn't the heart to tell him he was grievously mangling it.

We had a while to wait before the signing started, so some of us decided to look around to see if there were any good books. Hestia made a beeline to the books on warding and Hermione bought quite a few books of recent history. "Say, Harry, do you think Hermione's been acting a little weird lately?" Ron asked. "I mean, you're, like, the authority on weird, so…I figured you might know what I'm talking about."

"Ron, being stuck in a prison cell for months and finding out your parents don't remember you has got to mess up anyone. I bet as soon as we step into Hogwarts, Hermione will be acting like her old self again."

I just hoped this year would be as interesting as the last. With a competent Defense teacher, a Potions teacher who's an actual mage, and a genius like Lockhart as headmaster, it didn't seem like we were going to be experiencing the fun adventures I had in my first year. Well, if there's one thing I've learned in life, we make our own fun.

The door opened and Lockhart stepped in, flanked by hordes of adoring fans and photographers aplenty. I was almost blinded by the flashes. "And who do we have here but the second most famous person in Britain! Harry Potter himself!" I blushed. A part of me was childishly happy Lockhart knew my name.

Lockhart swooped forward and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I posed for the cameras. Hestia looked aghast. Hermione looked befuddled. "My friends, it's because of youth like Mr. Potter here I've taken on my newest calling as headmaster of Hogwarts University." Someone whispered in his ear. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It will be a shame to lose a life of heroism and verve to the horrors of bureaucracy, but duty calls!" God, the Kayfabe. Anyone looking at him would think he's just as a moron as his self-insert. If we had him directing the Tempest last year, it wouldn't have been the fiasco it became.

We answered questions from the press for the next few minutes. They were entirely inane and honestly, I felt my intelligence dropping with each one that was asked. I'm not going to inflict such a fate upon you, my devoted readers. Oh, listen to me, I'm starting to sound like Lockhart…awesome!

When we were done, Hestia, looking frostier than I've ever seen her, harshly whispered into Lockhart's ears. "Ah, it would appear the very Aurors themselves are now relying on my expertise! I must away for a few minutes, but I will return! Long live honor and loyalty!"

Hestia practically dragged Lockhart into the back room. They were gone for the better part of ten minutes. When Lockhart returned, he was almost looking dazed and confused, but it passed quickly. "Well, it's always a pleasure to help our brave Aurors. As I was saying, under my tenure as headmaster, I will undertake a campaign of modernization. Tradition is a beautiful thing, but sometimes it's a shackle that drags us down. Never fear, Hogwarts won't be too unrecognizable when I'm done with it – unless you count the skyrocketing test scores!" He winked at the crowd who let out a cheer. I was envious. I can't usually provoke emotions from crowds other than bewilderment.

"What was that all about?" I asked Hestia as she led me briskly away from the signing.

"Grabbing you like that was inappropriate," Hestia said curtly. "He's an adult, you're a child."

Remus looked shocked. "Surely you can't imagine Headmaster Lockhart has inappropriate designs on Harry."

"Of course I'm not making such an accusation," Hestia snapped. "But there are still boundaries that need to be religiously followed, no matter how benign the intentions of those crossing them."

"I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill, Hestia," I told her.

Hestia sighed. "Maybe you're right. It's just, well…" She twisted her fingers nervously. "I've grown fond of you, Harry. I'm sensitive to matters potentially pertaining to your safety. Maybe I'm a bit too sensitive, as you said. I'll have to work on that."

On our way out, we encountered the Malfoys. I feared a confrontation, but Mr. Malfoy was on his best behavior through the whole conversation, no doubt not wanting to start anything in the presence of an Auror. "Hi, Draco," I said with a wave as the Messrs. Malfoy and Weasley exchanged barbed remarks nearby, completely oblivious to our conversation. I wanted to start fresh with him this year. He could be a valuable asset to Slytherin house if he could be rid of those ridiculous anti-Muggleborn prejudices, and I've made significant progress so far.

"Hello, Harry," Draco said with a cordial nod. "How has your summer been so far?"

"Pretty good," I said. "Apart from the fact I've been branded as a Dark Lord." If Draco didn't know anything about Hermione's troubles this summer, I certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell him.

"It happens to everyone, Harry," Draco assured me. "It's the Daily Prophet's favorite 'news' story. Even Professor Snape got branded as a Dark Lord once." I couldn't help but twitch a little at the mention of Snape. As far as I'm concerned, all of Slytherin's current issues dated back to his reign of terror. Or at least reign of terrible teaching.

Ron coughed. "So…are we friends now?"

"I'd like to be," Draco said with a charismatic smile. "After everything that happened last year, I'll understand if you don't want to be."

"Do you want to be friends with me?" Hermione asked, her eyes sparkling in unholy delight. For some reason, Mr. Malfoy twitched and his hand moved towards his arm briefly.

"I don't think my father would approve of that," Draco said slowly.

Mr. Malfoy looked between the two of them and then his face twisted into a serpentine smile. That's not a metaphor; I've seen Ishtaran smile just like that. "Nonsense, Draco. I think it's time the house of Malfoy started to branch out a little. Not too much. Odin forbid we associate with Gryffindors. But Miss Granger is a very effective Slytherin, who I am sure will surpass the disadvantages of her blood."

Draco looked at his dad like he'd never seen him before. "Um, sure?" He coughed. "Yes. I suppose we are friends now. Not, you know, close friends. I don't want to get involved in your shenanigans."

"Completely understandable," Remus said under his breath.

"Well, Miss Granger, I was hoping I'd have a chance to compare notes with you about the Muggle world," Mr. Malfoy said with a more unctuous smile than ever before.

"What a superlative idea," Emmet said, clearly lying. He did not like the idea of Hermione going anywhere with Mr. Malfoy. "But my daughter's been through a difficult ordeal recently, so how about just the two of us. Man to man."

Mr. Malfoy looked like he'd just eaten something sour. "Yes. Certainly."

I don't know what Mr. Malfoy and Emmet talked about, but it must have been pretty satisfying, because Emmet was looking pretty smug by the time he returned to us. I hope he got a chance to talk in depth about Muggle military power and how it could wipe out any army of mages in a heartbeat. That's what I would have talked about.

The last days of summer were filled with happiness and joy and merriment. You'll forgive me if I keep the details to myself. Some memories I just want to savor without the whole world knowing about them. Don't worry. You didn't miss anything important. Hermione seemed to get her act together a lot more as time went on. I knew she was just a little off because of the trauma of her imprisonment.

Dobby did try to kill me a few times, but he wasn't very good at it, honestly. He tried to drop a grand piano on my head (I dodged), he ran at me with a carving knife and I just wrestled it out of his hand, and he tried to turn all my blood to ice but he must not have been doing it right because it just tickled. In truth, I don't feel that his heart is in it. Which is good news for me at the moment, but who knows what Umbridge will do next when she decides Dobby isn't the ideal assassin.

In order to lighten the load for the Weasleys, who have a ton of kids to get to the station, we let the Grangers drive me and Ron and Hermione to King's Cross. It's nice to be just a normal kid now and not have to hold the fate of my best friend in my hand. I knew we might encounter problems when we got to Hogwarts, but with a visionary for a headmaster, a tough as nails Auror as a Defense teacher, and Remus, I was confident they could handle whatever problems showed up.

Hermione asked her parents to leave and let us go to the platform on our own. They must have thought it was reasonable, because they left us behind with minimal fuss.

"Harry, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about," Hermione said, looking straight into my eyes. "I don't think I've made it a secret I have feelings for you."

I remembered that kiss on the cheek she gave me shortly before her arrest and I blushed. "Uh-huh," I said, not trusting myself to say anything more. Behind us, Ron watched our conversation and looked incredibly smug. If he had popcorn, he'd be eating it.

Hermione reached out and played a little with the lock of my hair closest to where my scar had been. "Well, I think the time has come for me to act on those feelings. Harry, I'm in love with you." My heart skipped quite a few beats in my chest to the point I was worried for a second I might legitimately be having a heart attack.

"I…" I began and then fizzled out. I had no idea what I was going to say next. Only Hermione was capable of leaving me at a loss for words.

"It's okay! You don't have to say it back just yet. I realize this is pretty sudden. But I was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend." Ron gave me two thumbs up and I'm pretty sure he was mouthing "say yes, you idiot!"

I blinked several times. I pinched my arm to make sure I wasn't dreaming. And then I said yes.

My girlfriend gave me a radiant smile. "Thank you, Harry. I promise you won't regret it." She stepped through the barrier.

"That just happened," I said numbly and then I stepped forward and I slammed into solid rock.

Ron punched his fist against the now solid barrier several times. "Okay, how did this happen?"

"I'm here?" I suggested. I mean, if something strange happens around me, it's usually because of me.

"Fair enough," Ron conceded. "So what should we do about it? Oh, I know! Let's go find Dad's car and fly it to Hogwarts." He frowned. "No, they took it to the station and now they're on their way home and I don't know where they are."

I looked at him askance for thinking of such a harebrained scheme. And I am, as we have all established, the master of convoluted, ridiculous, and insanely risky schemes. If I think something is harebrained, it's bloody well harebrained. "That's the only problem with that plan?!"

So here we are, still at King's Cross, with no plan and no idea how to get to Hogwarts. I've been writing this blog entry to distract myself and hope to get the creative juices flowing but I've got nothing. Any thoughts from the crowd?

COMMENTS

curryer6: You could call the Grangers and ask for help?

Well, suddenly I'm feeling pretty stupid. Thanks!