Chapter Six: An Explanation Long Overdue

Mr. Cartwright clapped a relieved Harry Potter on his shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter," he said as he shook Harry's hand. "I'd say that went reasonably well, all things considered. We didn't have to resort to Pensieve memories, plus we managed to completely avoid the topic of the Dark Lord."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, still in somewhat of a daze. "I was a bit worried there for a minute. Who knows what would've happened if I didn't have your help."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter, I was glad to be of service. Feel free to reach out to me again, if you are ever in need of my assistance."

"I'll do that...and thanks again."

Mr. Cartwright shook Harry's hand one last time and took his leave, stopping to exchange a quick word with Dumbledore before joining a small group of wizards exiting the courtroom. Harry sighed as he saw the headmaster heading towards him, already certain that he was not going to enjoy their impending conversation.

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, upon reaching him. "Congratulations on a most successful defence. I daresay that hiring Reginald Cartwright as your solicitor was an inspired choice. Might I ask how the two of you became acquainted?"

"I just came across the name somewhere," lied Harry. He had no intention of revealing anything that might clue Dumbledore in to where he'd been, or who he had been associating with.

The headmaster clearly wasn't fooled but elected not to pursue the matter. "I see...how fortuitous," he said knowingly, peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.

"It was, sir," agreed Harry. He recognised what Dumbledore was doing, but he wasn't going to let the man guilt him into revealing anything — not unless he started sharing first. "Almost as much as my batty old neighbour turning out to be a squib, even though she'd never said anything to me about magic before. I'd say it was really lucky she was there to see those dementors that night, don't you, sir?"

"Indeed," said Professor Dumbledore, bowing his head slightly before straightening up to survey the room. Fudge and his cohorts had left the courtroom immediately after the verdict, but several of the Wizengamot members were still lingering around and chatting with one another.

"Might I ask you to join me somewhere for a private word?" he asked Harry. At the boy's guarded expression he continued, "As I mentioned before your hearing, an honest conversation between us is long overdue. As you have surely suspected by now, there are certain things that I have kept from you. While I did so with your own safety and well-being in mind, I have come to understand that I have likely made a few errors in judgment."

"What exactly have you kept from me...sir?" ground out Harry, doing his best to suppress the all-too-familiar anger that flared up inside of him at the headmaster's admission.

"I don't believe this is the proper place for such a conversation, Harry. Perhaps you could join me in my office at Hogwarts?"

Harry didn't bother arguing, knowing it would get him nowhere. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly nodded his agreement.

"Splendid!" replied Dumbledore, mustering up more enthusiasm than Harry thought necessary. "And when we are finished, I shall bring you somewhere where you can spend the remainder of your summer holidays in safety."

"I am not going back to the Dursleys!" spat Harry.

Dumbledore recoiled slightly at the venom in Harry's retort, almost as if he had been slapped. The professor quickly recovered, but a serious expression had taken over his face. "No, Harry, I have no intention of returning you to the Dursleys," he explained sadly. "Recent events have proven that Privet Drive is not as safe as I had once believed, which is why you will be spending the rest of your summer elsewhere."

"I was safe where I was," argued Harry.

"You have managed to remain undetected and arrive here safe and whole, so it is quite possible that you are correct," conceded Dumbledore. "However, I am under the impression that you would refuse to tell me exactly where it is you have been staying. I cannot very well return you there without knowing the location, and I also cannot permit you to go off on your own again. You are in more danger than you realise."

Harry's scathing retort about how he knew exactly how much danger he was in died on his lips. The middle of a Ministry of Magic courtroom minutes after being on trial was neither the time nor the place to get into a shouting match with one of the most well-respected wizards in the world. Dumbledore was also correct that Harry would not say anything that might implicate the Greengrasses, and Harry doubted that he'd have an easy time giving the headmaster the slip. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to spend the remainder of his holidays practicing with Daphne and hanging out with Astoria, but it seemed as though he was stuck with Dumbledore for the time being.

Having secured Harry's agreement, Dumbledore quickly shepherded him out of the courtroom, taking care to avoid being waylaid by any of the other lingering witches or wizards. Harry noticed that more than a few people were looking at him with looks of either curiosity or irritation, but none seemed willing to vie with Dumbledore for his attention. They made their way back up the staircase just in time to see Lucius Malfoy walking off somewhere with Minister Fudge, and Harry had to resist the urge to curse the Death Eater in the back.

"That can't be good," said Harry, nodding towards the two retreating men.

"No, it certainly is not," agreed Dumbledore. "Lucius Malfoy has never been shy about spreading his gold around the Ministry, but his close relationship with the Minister is particularly problematic at the moment."

Harry started to respond, but his attention was swiftly drawn to the black door at the end of corridor. He had noticed it on their way down to the courtroom, but his mind was too preoccupied with his hearing to give it much thought. For some strange reason, there seemed to be something familiar about the enigmatic doorway, almost as if it were somehow calling to him.

"Professor...what is that place?" he asked, his gaze still focused on the door.

"To which place are you referring, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, whose eyes were still following Fudge and Malfoy.

As impossible as it seemed, Harry was sure that he'd been there before. In his mind's eye, he could see the glow of his wand light reflecting off the black tiles as he passed through the corridor. He could recall his own curiosity as he approached it, and the overwhelming sense of anticipation that took hold of him as he reached for the handle.

"That door over there," he said, pointing down the corridor.

"Ah, that door leads to the Department of Mysteries," replied Dumbledore, turning to follow Harry's gaze. "As the name might suggest, it is a highly secretive branch of the Ministry, of which very few people have detailed knowledge. The witches and wizards who work there are called Unspeakables, due to the vows of silence they are required to take." Seeing how preoccupied Harry was acting, he added, "I must ask, Harry — is there a particular reason why you seem so fascinated by this particular door?"

"Something about it feels familiar. I think maybe I've been dreaming about it."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, before his expression quickly became unreadable. Harry was still staring off in the opposite direction, so he didn't notice how his comment had affected the headmaster.

"And how long would you say you've been having these dreams, Harry?"

"I'm not sure...I can't recall them very clearly, it's more like...the feeling this place gives me. I definitely feel like I've been here before."

"I see," Dumbledore replied contemplatively. "Come Harry, we have much to discuss."

With that, Dumbledore lead Harry back to the lifts and up through the Atrium — giving Harry a chance to better examine the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which he was less than impressed by, after seeing it up close. The fawning expressions sculpted onto the golden faces of the centaur and goblin as they looked up at the tall, handsome wizard were particularly laughable. Continuing on, they finally made it to the rows of fireplaces where Harry first entered that morning and took the floo back to Hogwarts.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and found himself back in Dumbledore's office, which hadn't changed much from the last time he'd been there. The delicate silver instruments of unknown purpose were still whirring and puffing away, and the portraits of the various past headmasters and headmistresses were still dozing in their frames. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix companion, was resting on his perch and looking curiously at Harry.

"Hello, Fawkes," said Harry, walking over to the majestic bird and stroking his feathers. "I wanted to thank you for healing my leg that night. That's twice now you've helped me." The phoenix trilled softly in response, which immediately put Harry at ease — a feeling he didn't expect to last, if the expression on Dumbledore's face was any indication.

"Please sit down, Harry," requested Dumbledore, as he took his own seat behind his desk.

Harry complied and plopped down into one of the two chairs reserved for guests of the headmaster. He looked up to see Dumbledore peering back at him, as if he were closely examining Harry, looking for signs of...something — not that Harry had any idea what that something could be. Disturbingly, the annoyance Harry felt at the sensation was accompanied by yet another faint twinge in his scar.

"Is there something wrong, Harry?"

"No sir," responded Harry, choosing to ignore the pain for the time being. "You said you had something to tell me?"

"Indeed, I do, Harry. As I mentioned before, recent events have made me question some of my earlier decisions regarding you and the amount of information you have been given. Before we delve into that, however, I would like to ask you a question. Why did you feel the need to run away from your relatives' home that night?"

"Why?" said Harry incredulously. "Why? I'd just been attacked by dementors! Did you really expect me to just stick around and wait to be attacked again?"

Dumbledore slowly nodded along as Harry spoke, almost as if he'd been expecting that response. Ignoring Harry's question, he asked again, "And did you honestly believe that you would be left completely unprotected after such an incident?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he retorted, perhaps a bit heatedly. "Nobody told me otherwise. In fact, nobody told me anything — just to stay in the house and let the adults sort it out, as if that's ever worked out for me."

Harry stared defiantly back at the headmaster, who did not speak for several moments. Then, to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore bowed his head contritely, before removing his spectacles and polishing them using the sleeve of his robes.

"I believe I understand why you would think that, Harry," he admitted, returning his glasses to their rightful place. "The truth of the matter is that you should never have been made to feel unsafe. I had assigned people to keep a close watch on your home the entire summer, and the guard was more than doubled after the incident with the dementors. The fact that you were able to leave your house undetected was a feat in itself. I assume that wonderful Cloak of yours played a part in that?"

Seeing that Harry wasn't in the mood for banter, Dumbledore continued, "As a matter of fact, we likely would not have realised you had left at all, had we not come to take you from your relatives' home only a few days after the incident."

All of that was news to Harry. For starters, he had assumed that Ron and Hermione had once again ignored his wishes and let Dumbledore know he had left Privet Drive. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that had not been the case — or had they simply not had the opportunity before Dumbledore attempted to retrieve him? He was also a bit irritated to learn that someone had been guarding the house in secret, especially considering they had done a rather poor job of it. And how was he supposed to know that Dumbledore was arranging for him to be removed from Privet Drive? He started to reply to that effect, but Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall him.

"I know, Harry. We had an unfortunate lapse in security at the worst possible moment, and you almost paid dearly for it. Fortunately, you rose to the occasion, like you so often do, and were able to save not only yourself, but the lives of your family."

"I wasn't given much of a choice, Professor," replied Harry. "It feels like I always have to 'rise to the occasion'after being left to deal with things on my own."

"Yes, Harry, your friends were kind enough to remind me of how often you have been placed in these unfortunate situations, often due to a lack of proper support or relevant information." Seeing the look of surprise on Harry's face, he continued, "You have some wonderful friends, Harry. I was pleased to learn that you had at least confided in them. It was only their reassurance that you believed yourself to be someplace safe that avoided a large-scale manhunt. I must ask, however, why did you not attempt to join them, or perhaps even seek out the Burrow after you had left?"

"Because I assumed you'd find out about it and make me go back to Privet Drive."

"I see. And why would you believe that?"

"Because you always do!" exclaimed Harry, jumping up out of his seat to pace about the office. "You make me go back there every summer, even though I hate it. Even after I was attacked by dementors, all I got were notes telling me to stay put! Do you have any idea what it's like for me there?"

He felt a flash of anger and had the sudden urge to attack the man behind the desk — a sensation that somewhat frightened Harry, once he recognised it for what it was. At that moment, Dumbledore sighed deeply and again removed his spectacles, which gave Harry further pause. As he turned to look at the headmaster, Harry couldn't help but think that he'd never seen the man looking so old before.

"I am afraid I do, Harry," replied Dumbledore sadly. "Please, sit down," he said, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

Harry reluctantly plopped back down into the chair and spent the next several minutes listening to Dumbledore's explanation of the days following Voldemort's downfall, the blood-based protection he had invoked to keep Harry safe from the Dark Lord and his followers, and his admittedly flawed rationale in keeping that information from him all those years.

"Do you see, Harry?" he asked, after the rather lengthy explanation. "From the time you were a small child, my priority has been to keep you alive and safe from Lord Voldemort. You were never told of what happened because I believed you were better off living a somewhat normal life, at least until you were ready. I also felt that providing you with any of this information would serve only to frighten you. I still maintain that it was the correct decision at the time, but have you spotted my mistake?"

Still reeling from the flood of new information, Harry simply shook his head.

"I'm an old man, Harry," admitted Dumbledore. "In fact, many of those who may be considered old by your youthful standards are still practically children in comparison. It is a common failing of age to forget how the young think and feel, and I myself seem to have fallen into that trap. You are no longer a small child, Harry, yet I neglected to adjust my plans as you grew older and more capable."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, allowing Harry time to consider everything he'd been told before continuing.

"Do you recall our conversation at the end of your first year, as you lay in the hospital wing recovering from your encounter with Voldemort?"

"I think so, sir."

"Do you remember asking me why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?"

Harry nodded.

"Ought I to have told you then?"

Harry sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward slightly, his heart now racing. Did this mean that Voldemort really had targeted him specifically, and not his parents? Was he finally going to learn why he'd been plagued by the attention of the Darkest wizard in recent history?

"Perhaps I should have, but I convinced myself that eleven was far too young to learn the truth, and that I still had plenty of time. Over the next few years, I observed you overcoming challenges that most fully-grown wizards have never faced. You've been forced to struggle more than any young witch or wizard I have ever encountered, yet you have never once failed to overcome the obstacles set before you. You are a remarkable young man, Harry, and I have come to realise that I should have entrusted you with certain information long ago...and your dreaming about the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries has only confirmed that in my mind."

If Harry wasn't already on the edge of his seat, that last nugget of information would have done it. There was a pregnant pause between them as Harry's mind raced with possibilities, until Dumbledore finally resumed speaking.

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He believed he was fulfilling the prophecy by killing you, only to learn how mistaken he was when his curse backfired on himself. Ever since he returned to his body, he has been determined to hear the prophecy in its entirety — your miraculous escape from him last June obviously playing a significant role in that."

Harry suddenly felt as if the world had fallen out from under him, and for a moment, it was almost if he was drifting alone in space.

"A prophecy...about me?" he asked in confusion, still reeling. "What did it say?"

"For now, I can only show you part of it," answered Dumbledore. He stood up and went to retrieve his Pensieve from its cabinet, eventually setting the stone basin down on his desk. "For reasons I will explain shorty, I still do not believe it is safe for you to hear the entire prophecy — though I think that day will come sooner rather than later."

He sat back down at his desk, and with a deep breath, he took his wand and prodded at the silvery substance within. A familiar, shawl-clad figure rose up out of the basin and began slowly revolving. Harry had been present for one of Professor Trelawney's legitimate predictions at the end of his third year, and this memory version of his Divination teacher spoke in the same harsh, hoarse tones as she had at that time.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES...BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES...AND..."

Dumbledore quickly removed his wand from the basin, and the image of Professor Trelawney froze in place before sinking back down into the Pensieve. Harry just sat there staring at the place where she had been, not saying a word. Dumbledore seemed content to remain quiet and allow Harry time to process what he'd heard, until finally, Harry himself broke the silence.

"Professor Dumbledore...what —" Harry's mouth was dry. He swallowed roughly, but the words still wouldn't come out. Dumbledore kindly conjured him a glass of water, which Harry gladly accepted before reattempting his question.

"What did that mean, sir? And why did Voldemort think it was about me?"

"It meant, Harry, that the person with the ability to permanently put an end to Lord Voldemort would be born at the end of July of that year, to parents who had already defied him three times," explained Dumbledore.

"And my parents?"

"Yes, Harry. Your parents were both extraordinary individuals who actively fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, at least up until you were born," he replied softly.

"It wasn't very specific though," Harry pointed out. "How can you be sure I'm the one?"

"Interestingly enough, there were initially two babies who fit the criteria. One of them was you, of course, and the other was Neville Longbottom."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that.

"Neville? Are you sure —"

"I am sure, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I cannot yet reveal the rest of the prophecy to you, but I am afraid that there is no doubt that you are the one of whom the prophecy speaks."

Harry felt another wave of irritation. Dumbledore had gone through a lot of effort to explain how keeping information from Harry had been a mistake, and yet here he was — once again keeping him in the dark. He took a few deep breaths and tried to centre himself before he spoke.

"Sir...Why won't you tell me the rest?" he asked, with as much politeness as he could muster. "Don't I have a right to know?"

"Indeed, you do, Harry — more than anyone, I should think. However, I believe that letting you hear the rest of the prophecy would be a grave mistake."

"And why is that...sir?" questioned Harry.

"Tell me, Harry, do you recall our conversation many years ago about your scar, and how it is a sign of the connection between you and Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, feeling slightly apprehensive about where this might be going.

"Would I be correct in assuming that your scar has bothered you more than usual this summer?"

Gingerly touching his hand to his forehead, Harry replied wearily, "Yes, sir. Most of the time it's not too bad, but it'll hit me pretty hard every couple of days. It's even woken me up a few times," he added, trying hard not to think about his nightmares.

"I expected as much," Dumbledore informed him. "Have you been experiencing any other unusual symptoms?"

Harry debated whether or not he should answer, but he figured if anyone would be able to explain, it would be Dumbledore.

"I sometimes get these flashes of anger that don't really make sense. It's like the anger doesn't actually belong to me, but it affects me anyway."

"I see," said Dumbledore, steepling his hands thoughtfully in front of him. "I believe the most plausible explanation is that you have been experiencing Lord Voldemort's emotions."

"What?" yelped Harry, a cold feeling suddenly gripping him.

"I had hypothesised that your connection to Voldemort would strengthen, now that he has returned to his full powers. As I recall, just last year you experienced a vision of sorts — seeing events as they transpired around Voldemort?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"I would not be surprised if those visions were to increase in frequency. Sensing when Voldemort is experiencing a powerful emotion such as anger is another side effect of your connection," explained Dumbledore, now leaning forward in his chair as he addressed Harry.

"That's...that's..." attempted Harry, but he couldn't find the words. He felt unclean; dirty.

"Yes, as unsettling as that knowledge must be, I am afraid there is more," continued Dumbledore. "As I mentioned earlier, Voldemort has been focused on hearing the remainder of the prophecy since you escaped him this past June. According to my sources, he has become quite obsessed with the notion, believing the prophecy to reveal the solution to dealing with you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Harry. Do not forget that you have personally thwarted Voldemort more than anyone ever has before — something which I am certain he takes as a personal insult."

"That's crazy," insisted Harry, shaking his head in disbelief. "I stood no chance against him. I just got lucky, that's all."

"That may well be the case, but the fact remains that two months ago, you managed to embarrass him yet again — and this time in front of his loyal Death Eaters. He will not risk another such humiliation without knowing the full prophecy. Just this morning, you told me that you have been dreaming about the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, correct?" Receiving a nod of acknowledgment from Harry, Dumbledore continued, "What would you say if I told you that deep within the Department of Mysteries, there is a room that contains a record of every prophecy given in the British Isles since the formation of the Department?"

Harry paled as he considered the implications.

"I see you've made the connection," said Dumbledore. "You have been dreaming of the Department of Mysteries because Voldemort's mind has been fixated on gaining access to that very place. What I cannot yet determine is whether you are merely picking up on his stray thoughts, or if he is intentionally sending you these images in order to entice you there."

"Entice me there? Why?" questioned Harry. "Do you think he knows about the connection? Does that mean he can get into my mind too?"

"Yes, Harry. Only those to whom a prophecy pertains may safely touch it, and Voldemort is unlikely to enter the Ministry at this time — not when they are doing such a splendid job of ignoring his return. So, do you understand why I cannot show you the remainder of the prophecy?"

"You think that if I know it, there's a good chance Voldemort will know it too," Harry answered glumly.

"Precisely. I was able to show you the beginning of the prophecy because Voldemort has already heard it. A young Death Eater was eavesdropping on my meeting with Sybill when she gave the prophecy. He was found and escorted out before he could listen to it all, but he relayed what he had heard to his master — which eventually led to Voldemort targeting your family, believing you to be the subject of the prophecy."

"Who was it?" spat Harry, filled with a sudden rage that was almost certainly his own.

"I believe that is a question for another time," Dumbledore replied calmly. "For the time being, our priority should be to teach you to protect your mind from Voldemort. There is an obscure branch of magic known as Occlumency, which is used to defend the mind from external influence. I believe that if you can become proficient in this practice, then it should be safe for you to hear the remainder of the prophecy."

"So, you think this...Occlumency...can help keep Voldemort out of my mind?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I do," confirmed Dumbledore, "as well as prevent you from feeling his anger or seeing further visions."

"That sounds great, sir. How do I learn?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as if he were considering Harry's question. "I ask that you allow me to address that with you once you return to Hogwarts for the start of the term," he said after a moment. "As I told you, I have found myself reconsidering a great many of my plans for the year, and I believe this is yet another which must be re-examined."

"Okay, sir," agreed Harry. "So, now what?"

"I think we have covered quite enough information for one day, Harry, so I would now like to bring you somewhere safe, where you can stay until the first of September. I believe you will be pleased to learn that Sirius, Miss Granger, and a large portion of the Weasley family are all eagerly anticipating your arrival."

"That sounds fine, sir," he responded, and with that, Dumbledore rose to his feet and began escorting Harry out of his office.

"We have a bit of a walk ahead of us, I'm afraid," said Dumbledore, the slight twinkle returning to his eye for the first time since they left the Ministry. "We shall need to leave the Hogwarts grounds and Apparate to our next destination."

The mention of Apparition perked Harry up slightly. He'd been curious about the practice ever since he'd first learned of it. Instantly disappearing and reappearing at your desired destination sounded like an ideal way to get to where you were going. He wasn't sure what to expect, but Harry was fairly certain that it couldn't be any worse than floo travel.

oOoOoOo

"Daphne," hissed Astoria Greengrass in a harsh whisper. "Daphne...Daphne!"

The blonde girl rolled over in her bed and slung a pillow directly at her younger sister, who held up her hands at the last moment to shield herself from impact. Even though the sun was nearly at its peak, the room was still quite dark, owing to the heavy drapes drawn in front of the pair of tall windows.

"Daphne!" Astoria repeated grumpily.

"What is it?" groaned the older girl, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes.

"It's been nearly four hours since Harry's hearing and he still isn't back yet. What should we do?"

Daphne took a good look at her sister. The normally well put-together girl looked like she'd just gotten out of bed herself, even though she was the early riser of the pair. She clearly hadn't bothered with her hair that morning, and the faint circles under her eyes told Daphne that Astoria hadn't slept well the previous night, if at all.

"You look like shit, Astoria."

"Daph-nee," Astoria whined petulantly, unable to hide her worried expression.

"Fine, so Harry hasn't come back," she sighed. "We all knew there was a possibility he wouldn't be able to, right?"

Astoria bit at her lower lip and looked off to the side before responding. "Well...yes, but what if something bad happened?" she asked. "What if they found him guilty and sent him to Azkaban?"

Daphne shook her head and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Having clearly not heeded her warnings, Astoria had obviously become attached to Potter, even though they'd known each other for less than a fortnight.

"Astoria, if you know anything about Harry Potter, then you know that he always manages to get himself out of trouble. I'm sure he'll get in contact with us as soon as he can, so try not to worry so much."

"Well...he did promise that he'd write to me if he couldn't come back. Maybe I'll go down to the cabin and see if Hedwig's still here. Thanks Daphne!"

With that, Astoria turned and rushed out the door, her ponytail bouncing along behind her.

"I swear, that girl is going to be the death of me," complained Daphne to the empty room, before sliding out of bed to begin getting dressed.

oOoOoOo

It turned out that Harry did not at all care for Apparition. It was incredibly uncomfortable, the sensation being comparable to having one's entire body squeezed through a hosepipe. As soon as they'd arrived at their destination, Harry had to bend over with his hands on his knees and focus all of his willpower on not throwing up. It figured that as soon as he started to get the hang of using the floo, he'd have to deal with another method of magical transportation that didn't agree with him.

Harry was drained, both mentally and physically. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, he was greeting Astoria at the cabin before his hearing. So much had happened since then that it felt like a lifetime ago. Not to mention, his lack of sleep the previous night was also starting to catch up with him. More than anything, what Harry wanted right at that moment was something to eat and then a good, long nap, but he somehow doubted he was going to get what he wanted.

His nausea having finally subsided, Harry stood up to take in his surroundings. It was a rather dreary square surrounded by rows of townhouses — somewhere in London, by the looks of it. Most of the houses appeared to be in very poor condition, some with broken windows and rubbish piled on either side of the steps. Harry didn't see how anyone could possibly enjoy living in such a place.

"My apologies, Harry. The sensation of Apparition does take some getting used to," said Dumbledore, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

"It's fine," he replied. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"If it is any consolation, Apparating under your own power is far less uncomfortable than being taken by side-along."

Harry nodded his understanding, and the headmaster leaned in to speak to him in a low voice.

"It would be best not to tarry here. Listen closely and concentrate on what I am about to tell you." After confirming that he had Harry's full attention, he continued, "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

As soon as the phrase entered his mind, a door burst into existence in the building in front of him, followed shortly by filthy brick walls and windows that had been darkened by years of neglect and grime. It was as though an entire house had inflated in the small space in between numbers eleven and thirteen, pushing the surrounding homes sideways to make room for number twelve.

"Professor, what's the Order —"

"I shall explain in a moment, Harry; let us not dawdle."

Professor Dumbledore quickly ushered Harry up the stairs, and with a tap of his wand, he opened the door to number twelve. As soon as he set foot inside the house, Harry decided that the location had been aptly named. The place was dark and musty, with all the charm of a derelict building — the snake motifs and weird, decapitated elf heads only adding to the grim décor. What kind of house was this? Even if it wasn't so neglected and run-down, it would still look like a home fit for only the Darkest of wizards.

Harry turned to ask Dumbledore where exactly they were, but the headmaster just held a finger up to his lips and shook his head, guiding Harry up the stairs and past a set of ugly, moth-eaten curtains. Once they had made their way up to the landing at the top of the stairs, Dumbledore quietly explained that the home had once belonged to Sirius's family, which came as a shock to Harry. After a brief explanation about the Order of the Phoenix — Dumbledore's own anti-Voldemort organisation — the professor gave Harry some parting instructions and directed him up the stairs to find his friends, before taking his leave.

As directed, Harry found the first bedroom on the right and stood outside the door for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He was admittedly excited to see his friends again, even though he'd been irritated with them for the majority of the summer. After his discussion with Astoria, he had decided to take her advice and hear Ron and Hermione out before flying off the handle. They'd been through so much together that they'd more than earned a chance to properly explain themselves.

After testing the knob to see if it was locked, Harry slowly cracked open the door and peered inside. He let out a soft laugh at the sight in front of him and opened the door all the way. Ron was sprawled out on one of the two twin beds, with one leg hanging over the side of the bed and the opposite arm pinned against the headboard. Having spent the last four years sharing a dorm room with the boy, Harry knew that nothing short of an army marching through the bedroom would wake him while he was in that state.

Chuckling to himself, Harry crept across the room and crouched down next to the bed. Taking one last look around, he leaned in carefully and flicked Ron's ear as hard as he could.

"Oi!" yelled Ron with a start, practically jumping out of bed, only to find himself tangled in the blankets and tumbling to the floor. Harry was laughing so hard he had to bend over to catch his breath while his best mate struggled to his feet.

"You prat, what'd you do that for?" asked Ron, both ears tinged with red — one more so than the other.

"Sorry," chuckled Harry, "it's almost lunchtime, so I figured you must be hungry. I thought I'd be doing you a favour."

Rubbing his tender ear, Ron grumbled, "Yeah, well next time lay off the ears, will you? Hermione's much nicer when she wakes me up."

Harry shot Ron an amused look and waited for him to realise what'd he just said. It took him a moment, but soon enough Ron's face turned bright red. "No! I didn't mean —" he spluttered, which only made Harry start laughing again. Fortunately for Ron, they were soon interrupted by a voice calling out from down the hallway.

"Harry? Ron, I think I heard — HARRY!"

Within half a second of catching sight of him, Hermione shot across the room and threw her arms around Harry.

"Harry!" she again exclaimed, stepping back to take a better look at him. "Oh, how are you? Those robes look great on you, where did you get them? How was your hearing? Mr. Weasley stopped by to tell us you were cleared, but that's all he knew—"

"Hermione..." started Harry, but his bushy-haired friend had already hit her stride.

"Are you mad at us? You must be — I know I would. Our letters have been worse than useless. Dumbledore made us promise not to tell you anything, but we shouldn't have listened. We didn't tell anyone about your letter — I mean, at least not at first. They asked us if we'd heard from you, so we told them you were safe, but that's —"

"Hermione!"

She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth and looked contritely at Harry before exchanging a nervous look with Ron. Harry got the impression that they were both waiting for an explosion from him, which made him feel slightly guilty, but it also reminded him of the anger he had been feeling towards the two of them. Instead of shouting, however, he took a deep breath and tried to recall what Astoria had said to him the week before.

"By all means, tell your friends how you feel, Harry. They should know how much their actions, or rather, inaction has affected you. Give them a chance to at least explain themselves, and then take it from there."

"It's really good to see you — both of you," started Harry, glancing over at Ron, who had just shut the door so the three of them could have some privacy. "It's true. I've been really angry with you both. The past two months have probably been the worst of my life, and that's saying something. I know it's not all your fault, but being stuck there by myself...with no information from the outside, no help...just me, alone in my room, sitting around wondering what Voldemort was up to and waiting for something to happen...it felt like I'd been abandoned."

"Oh, Harry..." said Hermione, her eyes now pooling with tears.

"After the dementors attacked, and all I got were two scary letters from the Ministry and a couple notes from Mr. Weasley and Sirius telling me to stay put like a good boy...I just couldn't take it anymore," he continued. "I wasn't going to let myself sit there and be a target, so I left. At first, I was actually pretty keen to leave you two in the dark. It might sound petty, but I was angry. It was only after talking through it with — er — myself, that I realised you both deserved better than that, and that I should at least give you a chance to explain."

Hermione let out a sob and threw her arms around his neck again. Harry stiffened for half a moment but quickly relaxed and patted her on the back consolingly. He looked over her head and towards his other best friend, but Ron — who somehow looked even taller than he did two months ago — merely shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your feelings like that, Harry. I'm proud of you," remarked Hermione as she backed away, wiping her eyes and sniffing softly.

"Yeah..." Harry responded vaguely, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Look, mate," said Ron, stepping up to stand next to Hermione. "Me and Hermione talked after we got your last letter, and well...we're sorry. We realised we really could've done more. It was just...I dunno, easier, I guess, to do what the adults told us to. It wasn't like they told us much anyway, so..."

Run shrugged his shoulders again.

"We told them, Harry," Hermione added pleadingly. "We told them it was a bad idea to keep things from you, but they wouldn't listen. I really wasn't all that surprised when you ran away — a bit worried, of course, but not surprised. I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have done the same, had I been in your place."

"That's just it, Hermione," replied Harry. "You knew what I went through that night. You knew how much it would affect me. You knew, Hermione, so why didn't you try harder?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said as she wiped her eyes again. "I don't have a good excuse, but I promise — we promise — that we'll never let this happen again. We're on your side, Harry."

"You should've seen her, mate. She really let Dumbledore have it — ow!" laughed Ron, as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "It's true! Anyway, we just want you to know that from now on, we've got your back, no matter what. It always ends up being down to us anyway...well, you mostly, but you know we'll be there."

Hermione was nodding vigorously as Ron spoke, and by the time he had finished, she was practically bouncing on her toes. Just like that, the last traces of anger and resentment Harry had been holding for Ron and Hermione just melted away. As it turned out, Dumbledore was right once again — Harry really did have some wonderful friends.

"Oh, go on then," said Harry resignedly, holding out his arms. Gasping in surprise and relief, Hermione once again launched herself at Harry and gripped him in a fierce hug. "You too, Ron," she said in a muffled voice, holding out one of her arms. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, but he also joined in and wrapped his arms around the pair.

"So, we're all in agreement, then?" asked Hermione as the three of them extracted themselves from one another. "Whatever happens next, the three of us will tackle it together?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other and nodded before responding in unison.

"Together."