The final chapter of the second year.

There will be a two to four week break between this chapter and the next, a sort of separation between years two and three. In the time between, I will post a teaser for the upcoming year containing some of the scenes I find more interesting.

I've started a Discord. I intend for it to be a small, relaxed server - nothing to fancy or grand. If you have any questions about my writing, want to discuss my work, or simply want to hang out, you're more than welcome to join. The link is in my profile.

Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.

The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.


Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate

The Riddle's Plight

XVII. The Long Forgotten

"Harry, please wake up." croaked a soft, sorrowful voice, "Please. You c-can't go, you can't be dead -"

His eyelids fluttered open. Emerald eyes stared up into the darkness, searching for a ceiling too high to be seen. The sound of trickling water pressed against his ears, and stone cold floors clung to his back.

The Chamber of Secrets.

Harry groaned, slowly rolling over. He clenched his eyes shut as he pushed himself off the floor. His head hurt - he wasn't sure if it was because of the girl, the blood, or the aching of his scar. His eyes traced the blurred form of a girl on her knees. Her head was ducked, and her hands shook. Tears streaked down her face.

"I'm sorry." she cried, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, "I s-should have known, I s-should have - have -"

"It's fine." muttered Harry, straightening up, "It's not your fault."

Ginny nodded shakily. Harry slowly turned away, flinching as her sobs echoed through the chamber.

Ignore it. Think of something else, something different -

Something lay on the floor before him. Something dark, and rough, with small strands of torn leather jutting out from its center -

Emily's diary.

Harry picked it up. A large, gaping hole sat in the very center of the book. He raised it to his eyes, his gaze sliding across the oversized statue of Salazar Slytherin -

"Ouch!"

The book tumbled from his grasp as his hand raced to his forehead. Harry stared uncertainly at the diary, tracing his scar with his finger. It burnt - it felt like fire, crashing against the inside of his skull again and again and again -

"Are y-you alright?"

Harry turned around. Ginny was watching him, her eyes puffy and red. He nodded slowly.

"I'm fine . . ."

He trailed off, staring at the diary. Something leaked from the hole that marred it - something comforting, something welcoming. It wasn't very strong - not anymore, not like it had been until just a few minutes ago - but it was there. Harry could feel it.

You've got to mean it . . . you've got to really mean it . . .

"But I did." Harry reached for the diary, shivering as chills slid down his spine, "I meant it, I - I -"

He twitched, his neck shifting to the side.

I think I did. I tried.

Harry carefully slid the diary into his pocket. Long, red hair shifted in the corner of his eye, and Harry looked up. He sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The girl weakly smiled back.

"We'd better get going." he said at last, "They'll be wanting to see you. Your friends, and family, and all that."

The pair slowly made their way back through the chamber. Harry wasn't sure they were going the right way - the passages all looked the same - but at long last they reached the very pipe he had jumped down only an hour ago. Harry glanced at it uncertainly. It looked very steep.

"Er - stairs?"

Jagged stone slabs slid out from the sides of the pipe, forming a circular staircase.

"Let's go."

They clambered up the staircase for several minutes. Stone serpent heads almost clawed their way out of the stone walls, the emerald fire of their eyes lighting the way. It felt like they watched every step he took.

The viridescent light faded. Harry squinted as an onslaught of light fell across his face.

"You're back."

Harry glanced up, blinking furiously. Moaning Myrtle was watching him curiously from her stall in the bathroom. She hovered for a moment, and then she soared into the sky, stopping just a few feet away from him and Ginny.

"You're alive, too." she whispered curiously. Her gaze flicked to the left and narrowed, "And you've brought her with you."

Tears welled up in Ginny's eyes. Harry gently grabbed her hand, leading her out the bathroom. Thin, watery footprints followed in their wake.

The halls of Hogwarts were unusually empty. Harry felt the same. He could feel the outline of the diary sitting in the pocket of his robes. Felt it brush up against his chest with each and every step. Felt the familiarity, the want, the need, the desperation that seemed to ooze from it -

The air shimmered before him, and a girl emerged from the darkness.

". . . got to mean it, Harry." she murmured, her lips curving into a slight pout, "But you didn't, did you?"

Harry grimaced, forcing his mind blank. The girl with the everchanging eyes vanished.

The entrance to Dumbledore's office was just as imposing as ever. Harry stepped forward, watching as the stone Gargoyle jumped out of the way without him saying a word. Curved stone steps appeared before him, and he clambered up. His fingers were tapping the griffin-shaped brass knocker just seconds later. The door creaked open at once.

Harry vaguely registered what happened next. One moment, Mrs. Weasley had her hands wrapped around Ginny, sobbing. The next, Professor McGonagall was speaking, her voice hoarse. Harry nodded blankly as Mr. Weasley thanked him profusely, seeing nothing but the blurred outline of a tattered diary.

An hour later - though to Harry it felt like seconds - the office was nearly empty. Professor Dumbledore was sitting opposite him, gently unwrapping a lemon drop. He neatly popped it into his mouth, crinkling the wrapper. Harry watched as it vanished into thin air.

"It was a clever move." noted Dumbledore, "I would have expected nothing less of her. Very clever indeed."

Harry nodded, his lips refusing to part.

He hadn't said much about what had happened in the chamber. She hadn't been lying - no matter how hard he tried, the words refused to leave his mouth.

Dumbledore, however, had caught on quickly enough.

"A vow." he whispered, more to himself than to Harry, "I wonder . . . only time will tell, I suppose."

The headmaster turned to Harry, peering through his half-moon spectacles.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Harry?" he asked calmly, "Or show me, perhaps?"

Harry hesitated. The diary pressed tightly against his chest, sinking into his robes.

He'll know. He'll find out eventually.

Harry slowly removed the diary, placing it on the table before him.

Dumbledore froze. His eyes flashed a bright icy blue as they jumped across the diary.

Like Grindelwald.

Harry opened his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue - but words failed to form. Harry silently grit his teeth, his palms clenching into fists beneath the table.

Stupid vow.

"Basilisk venom, I assume." said Dumbledore after some time, his eyes slowly leaving the diary, "That would have been rather difficult to obtain."

Harry paused, frowning. He slowly glanced between the diary and the man and the diary again.

He doesn't know. He thinks it's Basilisk Venom.

Harry took a look at the diary. The familiar feeling still oozed from it - but there was something else, too. Something powerful, something hungry -

Pages fluttered in his mind. Words he'd read weeks ago pressed up against his skull, reading themselves aloud in an almost melodic tone -

'. . . Their traces, for one, are practically indistinguishable . . .'

Fiendfyre. Basilisk Venom. The Killing Curse. The most distructive of magics -

And you can't tell the apart. They all feel the same. Like death, and destruction, and chaos.

Harry shuffled in his seat, his hands pressed tightly together in his lap.

"I had a rooster." he muttered at last. Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Yes, that would have done the trick -"

Click.

Harry spun around. Behind him, the door to the headmaster's office slowly creaked open, revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy. Cornelius Fudge entered behind him, his eyes widening as they landed on Harry.

"Mr. Potter!" he exclaimed, bustling forward "It's an honor to finally meet you, an honor -"

"Minister," said Lucius, clearing his throat.

"Er - right."

Minister Fudge straightened up, removing his lime bowler hat from his head before turning to face Dumbledore.

"I see you've received my owl, then?"

"I have." said Dumbledore sagely, "I would not be here had I not."

Fudge quickly nodded before pulling out an official-looking parchment from the insides of his robe.

"Hagrid's Release Form." he said, "Just got it signed an hour ago. He'll be back by supper."

Harry sighed in relief, smiling cheerfully to himself. Dumbledore chuckled as well.

"You've caught your culprit, then?" asked Malfoy smoothly. At his side Fudge straightened up, his eyes latched onto Dumbledore.

"We have," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Well?" Malfoy cleared his throat, "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore, "But this time, Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Fudge sputtered at his side, his eyes wide with confusion and alarm.

"H-her?" he stuttered, "She isn't back, Dumbledore, she can't be -"

"You misunderstand me, Cornelius." assured Dumbledore, "Voldemort is not at Hogwarts, nor has she been for quite some time. It was this diary that birthed the countless troubles Hogwarts faced in the past year. It is disposed of now, thanks to Harry."

Fudge nodded slowly, still staring at the diary in horror.

"It is destroyed now, Cornelius." said Malfoy reassuringly, patting the plump man on the shoulder. His eyes did not leave the diary, "No reason to fear . . ."

He tore his eyes from the diary, turning around. His long, blonde hair cut through the air.

"A-alright, then." said Fudge at last, straightening up, "We'd better get going - lots to do. I'll return tonight for a more - er - in depth conversation, if you will. Lucius?"

Malfoy nodded slowly. The pair slowly made their way towards the door, opening it before stepping out. As the door shut, Harry caught a glimpse of large eyes, a pointed nose and a moldy old pillowcase.

Dobby?

"I suggest you make your way to the Hospital Wing, Harry." said Dumbledore kindly as Harry turned back around, "Though you seem fine, I'm quite sure Madam Pomfrey will find a half dozen things to worry about."

Haarry nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

He rose from his seat, pushing the ancient chair back in before making his way to the door. His eyes casually flicked up. Hundreds of portraits - all headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts - watched him as he walked, curiosity painted upon each of their canvases. A slight frown marred Harry's features as a touch of longing flared within his chest.

But she's her. She's Voldemort. You can't.

"Sir?" asked Harry softly, spinning around.

Professor Dumbledore looked up, a hand reaching towards the bowl of sweets that sat upon his desk.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was - well, I was wondering if - if," Harry paused, his eyes on the floor before him. His voice dropped to something barely more than a whisper, "I was wondering if I could keep it. The diary, I mean."

Dumbledore paused, the Lemon Drop in his hands long forgotten. He stared at Harry curiously, glanced back at the diary, then back at Harry again. His silvery eyebrows hunched together in concern.

"And why, Harry, would you want such a thing?"

A soft silence stretched for minutes. Harry's head crooked slightly to the side, and his heart was beating blankly in his chest. A traitorous voice whispered in his ear; he pushed it aside, but the words still pierced his heart -

"She was my friend." he admitted slowly, "Last year, she was - she was just a teacher. But she - she -"

He broke off, staring determinedly at a crack in the floor.

"I need it to end." whispered Harry, "I need her to be done, I need closure, I -"

His eyes slide shut. An orange glow flooded his vision. It stung, and water seeped from the gaps that covered his irises.

"I'm not very good at making friends, am I?" he muttered quietly.

"On the contrary, I think you are."

Harry looked up. Dumbledore was watching him carefully, his light blue eyes almost twinkling.

"I would never have imagined that Lady Voldemort would make a friend." confessed Dumbledore, "Something more than servitude, perhaps - but a friend? That does not sound like Emily Marvolo Riddle to me."

Harry flinched, his arms held stiffly by his side.

Maybe she didn't make a friend. Maybe she never has.

"You taught her, didn't you?" asked Harry quietly.

"Yes, I did."

"What - what was she like?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

Harry froze. His eyes felt as wide as galleons.

"You don't know?" he whispered hoarsely, "How can you not know -"

"The same way Professor Lockhart doesn't know his own name."

Harry twitched again. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore spoke before the words could leave his mouth -

"You are not in trouble." he assured Harry, a hand raised in an almost placating manner, "The spell was one Lockhart himself cast. He will be sent to St. Mungo's by the end of the week."

Harry nodded slowly. Thoughts flew through his head at a mile a minute.

"Sir," he began eventually, "When you say you don't know - you don't mean -"

"Yes, I do." said Dumbledore, nodding, "Lockhart is not the only one with a penchant for Memory Charms. Miss Riddle was quite skilled in that regard."

Harry frowned.

"But - how," he sputtered, confused, "How did she get you?"

Dumbledore let out a soft, genuine laugh. His eyes were twinkling once more as they met Harry's.

"I am not infallible, Harry." he said with certainty, "During a raid in Hogsmeade, around four years before you were born, Lady Voldemort Obliviated me. Everything I knew of her was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Fragments returned as time passed. Trivial things - her name, her birthday, the orphanage within which she grew up. But even now, nearly twenty years later, I remember very little of her."

"Can't you do something about it?" asked Harry nervously, " Couldn't you - I dunno - ask someone about her? Someone who knew her?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"You're right, of course." agreed Dumbledore, "But by the time I had reached your conclusion, it was too late. Voldemort had already gotten to anyone that knew anything of her, erasing herself from their minds, or, in many cases, erasing them from the world."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He gently rubbed his hands together beneath the desk.

"Did she Obliviate everyone around you?" asked Harry curiously, "Everyone who knew about her, I mean."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"All but one." he said, "Only one remembers, and, unfortunately, it is one who she truly has little need to Memory Charm. Fear is a very powerful motive, Harry, sad though it is."

Harry nodded solemnly from his seat.

"Do you think you'll ever remember everything you've forgotten?"

"Eventually, perhaps."

"But she can just Obliviate you again, can't she?"

"She certainly could." agreed Dumbledore, "But she will not."

"Why?"

"Because I'll know it's possible to remember." said the headmaster, smiling, "I'll remember how to remember, if you will."

"But it's been nearly twenty years -" began Harry.

"And I have no doubt it'll be longer." said Dumbledore, "Voldemort is a rather gifted witch, after all - perhaps even more so than myself. Patience, however, is a virtue that I - if you'll forgive my lack of humility - have in excess."

Harry watched as Dumbledore slowly rose from his seat. The old headmaster gently made his way towards a bookshelf just behind his desk. He slid a pale blue book off the shelf before turning it around and placing it on the desk before Harry. Written in dark ink upon the cover were the words, 'Mémoire Magique'.

Memory Magic, I think.

"I think you'll find that quite interesting." said Dumbledore, "Parts of it are in French, but any question you may have is certainly answered in English."

Harry nodded, plucking the book off the desk. Both his and Dumbledore's gaze returned to the dark, torn-up diary that sat upon the headmaster's desk.

"I know little of your connection with Emily Marvolo Riddle." said Dumbledore, his voice softer than before, "Given your vow, I may never know. But I must advise you tread with great caution."

Harry nodded for what felt like the hundredth time. He could not bring himself to look the aged headmaster in the eye.

"As for this," continued Dumbledore, picking up the diary, "I have no qualms with you keeping it, on the simple condition that I may ask to view it at a later date."

Harry nodded, taking the broken diary from the man opposite him.

"Be careful, Harry." said Dumbledore as Harry made his way to the door many minutes later, both books tucked safely within his robe pocket, "I hope you find the closure I never could."

-(xXx)-

"I'm fine, I swear." promised Harry, "Honestly, it just stings a bit."

"I shall decide whether or not you are fine, Mr. Potter." replied Madam Pomfrey curtly. She moved to the opposite side of the hospital wing, her fingers wrapping around a vial of a potion Harry didn't recognize, "Now quit bickering and drink up."

Harry took the vial from her, pinching his nose as he took a sip. He coughed violently, spitting a bit of the potion onto the floor.

This tastes awful.

"What did you expect, pumpkin juice?" asked Madam Pomfrey, "Drink it quickly now, we haven't got all day."

Harry grimaced. He quickly raised the phial to his lips before downing it all. Rough, hoarse coughs fled from his lips.

"That's better." said Madam Pomfrey, handing him a goblet, "You can drink this for the aftertaste."

Harry nodded, gratefully taking the glass from her. The matron watched as he drank, taking the chalice from him when he had finished. She quietly left the room.

Crack.

Harry jumped, a hand reaching for the wand that sat on his bedside table. He spun around, his hand raised -

"Dobby?"

The house-elf stood at the end of his bed, swaying from side to side. Eyes like tennis-balls stared back at him, accompanied by a long pencil-like nose and ears pointed like those of a bat. His hands were held just behind his back, wrapped around something Harry couldn't see.

"Great Harry Potter, sir." said Dobby, bowing low to the ground, "Dobby - Dobby has come to give you this."

Dobby pulled out a small stack of letters from inside the pillowcase he wore. He held them out to Harry, removing a large leather book as he did so. He passed it along to Harry as well. Harry took it gently, opening it gently.

His heartbeat quickened, and his breath left him at once. He felt his shoulders relax, and his fingers uncurled from around his wand. He raised a hand to the first of many photos placed within the large leather book, tracing the edges with a finger.

They're beautiful.

The woman with crimson hair smiled at him, waving cheerfully. A man that looked an awful lot like Harry himself stood by her side. He happily ran his fingers through a baby's hair, messing it up even further. The baby giggled, and the woman rolled her eyes. She took the baby from the man, turning him around. A young boy with emerald eyes and dark black hair looked up at Harry.

"Is Great Harry Potter alright, sir?" asked Dobby.

"Yeah." muttered Harry, wiping the back of his hand against his eyes, "Yeah, I am."

Harry slowly closed the book, holding it closely to his chest. He glanced back at the elf, watching as he nervously swayed from side to side.

"Thank you, Dobby." said Harry sincerely, "It - it means a lot to me. It really does."

Dobby smiled happily, bouncing up and down.

"Anything sir, anything at all -"

Dobby froze. His bat-like ears perked up, and his lips suddenly curved downwards. His shoulders sank as a frown marred his features.

"Dobby must be going now." he muttered, slowly straightening up, "Dobby's master is wanting Dobby."

Harry watched as Dobby straightened up, brushing the dirt and grime from the sides of the pillowcase he wore. Something sad and hollow rang in the inside of his chest, and Harry frowned.

"Wait, before you go -" he muttered, leaning forward, "Just one more thing."

Dobby paused. Harry saw the elf glance at a large glass bottle from the corner of his eye.

"A friend of mine once told me something about house-elves." said Harry, "Something about clothes. They can free you, right?"

Dobby nodded slowly.

"Then why not do their laundry?" asked Harry quietly, "The Malfoy's, I mean."

"Master is not letting Dobby near clothes." said Dobby sadly, "Master Malfoy and Misses Malfoy is never letting Dobby near any clothes."

"And Draco?" asked Harry.

Dobby paused. Harry watched as the gears turned in the elf's mind. Slowly, Dobby looked up.

A wide smile adorned the house-elf's miniscule features.

-(xXx)-

"Alright, alright - but just ten minutes, nothing more! And one at a time!"

Harry sighed in relief as Daphne quickly crossed the length of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey followed her, closing the door on one Theodore Nott. Harry heard the rather colorful complaints of his friend from the opposite side of the wall.

A few days had passed since Dobby's visit to the hospital wing. Harry wasn't sure what all had happened - Madam Pomfrey had refused to let anyone else in. Those who had been petrified were gone, too. They had been revived mere hours before Harry had entered Madam Pomfrey's strict care.

White light streamed through the large glass windows. Despite summer having finally arrived, the Hogwarts skies were painted a mixture of white and grey. Harry could hear the soft pattering of rain through the castle walls.

The sound was suddenly drowned out by the clambering of his friend's footsteps.

"You're alright." whispered Daphne, sinking into a seat to the side of Harry's bed, "You're alright, you're alright, you're alright -"

"Nott's right." said Harry, smiling weakly, "It's strange, seeing you like this."

Daphne rolled her eyes.

"I was worried." she admitted, "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No. Not at all. I would be, too."

A soft smile graced Daphne's features.

"What's all this?" she asked, nodding towards the stack of stolen goods Dobby had finally delivered, "Finally got around to opening our letters from a year ago?"

"Something like that." muttered Harry, "Dobby delivered them a few days ago. The house-elf from last summer, remember?"

"Why?"

Harry shrugged.

"He wasn't really out to get me, I guess. He was just trying to help."

"By stealing your mail?"

"Er - I suppose so, yes."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, but a slight smile consumed her features as her eyes met Harry's. A brief sense of foreign happiness shot through him, but Harry pushed it aside.

No more of that. There's no need.

The feeling subsided, but Harry could still see the warmth in her eyes. He smiled, slowly reaching for the leather-bound book on his bedside table.

"I wanted to show you something." he said, placing the large book neatly in his lap, "Dobby gave this to me. Hagrid sent it last summer, I think."

Slowly, he opened the book. Daphne's eyes widened as they traced the outline of a small, happy family. She carefully glanced back at him.

"It's beautiful." she whispered, "They're beautiful."

Harry nodded. He slowly closed the book, and the ends of his lips fell once more.

Soft skin, pale and smooth, pressed against his palm. Harry looked up. Daphne was watching him, her smiling sliding off her face.

"What is it?"

Harry glanced down at his lap. Emotions swirled in his chest, slashing at one another like beasts that clashed for dominance. Both tore the other to pieces, but each refused to die. Sadness, longing, hate, anger, pain and uncertainty all leaked from their wounds.

"It was her." he whispered, "In the Chamber of Secrets. It was her. Voldemort."

Daphne shivered. She slowly laced her fingers in his, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand.

"I trusted her. I fell for it, again -"

"But she's gone again, isn't she?" asked Daphne quietly, "You won, in the end."

The faint outline of a dark, damaged diary flickered within Harry's mind. The same strange familiar feeling leaked from the torn pages, wrapping itself around Harry's very being -

"Maybe." he whispered quietly, "I don't know."

I don't think so.

"She's still out there?"

"Yes."

"And she'll come for you again, won't she?"

"I think so."

"Then prepare." she muttered, her voice hollow, "If you can't stop the worst, at least prepare for what's to come."

Harry laughed a sad, bitter laugh.

"Prepare for her?" he asked, his eyes wet, "Daphne, I could have years on my hands and still not be even close -"

"I know." she said, her expression forcefully blank. Harry could still see small droplets of worry leaking through her tight façade, "But it's either that or nothing. Because if you don't prepare, you won't have the option to do anything else."

Harry sat in silence, staring at the leather-bound tome in his lap. He slowly sprawled it open. The small, happy family from before smiled up at him.

"I know it's hard." said Daphne, her voice cracking slightly, "But if there's anyone who can do it, it's you. I know that. I think you do, too."

The rain slowed outside the castle, and Harry's hand wrapped tighter around Daphne's.

"I'll prepare." he promised quietly, "I'll be ready."

Daphne smiled, her eyes still wet.

"I know."

-(xXx)-

All too soon, the school year had come to an end. Harry found himself heading off to the Great Hall with Daphne and Nott, having just been looked over thrice by Madam Pomfrey herself.

"You'd think I've got some sort of terminal disease." muttered Harry dryly.

"To be fair, you are two for two." noted Nott, "It's like you're looking for trouble. She must think you're messed up in the head."

"But I'm not!" said Harry indignantly, "Looking for trouble, I mean."

Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not messed up in the head, either -"

"Potter - I mean, Harry!"

Harry spun around. Ronald Weasley was quickly making his way down the corridor, Hermione and Neville in tow. The tall redhead came to a stop mere feet away from Harry; he ducked over, panting heavily as he regained his breath. Slowly, Ron straightened up.

"I - I just wanted to thank you." he said, his expression serious, "About Ginny. If you hadn't been there - I -"

"It's fine." said Harry, "No problem. I get it."

Ron nodded gratefully.

"I'm sorry about all the Heir of Slytherin stuff, too." said Ron sincerely, "My parents told me what - what happened. I've told everyone I know it isn't you. So have Fred and George - my brothers, I mean."

"Tell them I said thanks, then." Harry said, "And thanks to you, too."

"Er - no problem." said Ron weakly, "I'll be going, then."

Harry watched as the three Gryffindors made their way down to the Great Hall, their forms slowly fading in the distance.

-(xXx)-

Harry glanced out the window, watching as the Hogwarts Express slowly came to a stop. He looked away as hundreds of miniscule faces came into view - parents, all waving cheerfully as their children drew nearer.

The thin, cool outline of Emily's diary pressed tightly against his chest. Something familiar leaked from within, like a warm, comforting hand on a cold winter eve -

Shut up.

The feeling faded at once, and the diary fell silent.

"Are you alright?"

Harry glanced up. Daphne was watching him carefully, her features barren.

She's worried again.

Harry nodded slowly. Daphne's eyes narrowed.

"Here," she said, fishing a thin piece of parchment out from her bag, "Use this to write to me - it'll pass through the family wards. Otherwise, I won't be able to get your letters. I'll send you another every time I reply."

Harry nodded, taking the parchment from her.

"We'd better get going." Daphne threw her bag over her shoulder as she stood up, "Come on."

"Go on." said Harry, "I'll be there in a minute. I want to check something."

Daphne nodded slowly. Harry watched as she left the compartment, the glass door sliding shut behind her.

Thin fingers wrapped around the book in his pocket. He pulled it out, tracing the edge of the cover with his thumb. He gently cracked it open.

The large, gaping hole was still there. It was about the size of a fist. The paper surrounding it was bent in all directions. Harry straightened it out, flattening the pages. His eyes narrowed.

The pages were completely dry. Thin sheets of parchment pressed against his palms - but they weren't rippled or wavy as they should have been. They were completely smooth; to Harry, it looked as though they had never been wet at all.

Harry slowly slammed the book shut, pocketing it once more.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters was full of life. Harry ducked out of the way of a group of rowdy fifth-years, slowly making his way towards the end of the station.

Three people stood by a corner at the far left - a rather plump man, a boy of similar stature, and a thin, bony woman who looked as though she had been stretched. All three of them seemed rather out of place, and all three of them seemed rather irritated at the moment.

They must've not forgotten about last summer yet.

"That's them?" asked Daphne quietly from his right.

Harry nodded.

"That's a cheery bunch if I've ever seen one." said Nott from Harry's left, "Especially the fat one in the middle. Why's he looking around like that?"

"The last time someone used magic around Dudley, he had to get a pig's tail removed." Harry remembered, chuckling, "He probably thinks he's in the home of the enemy."

"If my father was here, he would be." noted Nott, "But only mum ever comes to pick me up - his luck."

Harry nodded again.

"Right." he said glumly, "I'd better get going."

"It'll be over soon enough." promised Daphne, her expression blank as her eyes jumped from Harry to the Dursleys and back again, "You'll be back before you know it."

I hope so.

"I'll see you soon, then." said Harry, holding out a hand.

"See you soon." agreed Daphne, shaking it.

Uncle Vernon watched with beady eyes as Harry slowly made his way over to them. Not a word was spoken as the pair of them, accompanied by a nervous Aunt Petunia and a rather timid Dudley made their way off the platform. Only when they had reached Uncle Vernon's brand-new company car did the man speak.

"Managed to get out of your blasted room then, did you?" asked Uncle Vernon irritably, "How'd you do it?"

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Vague memories of the previous summer flashed before the eye of his mind. The ends of his lips slowly curved upwards.

"Magic."