Harry didn't know how long he remained unconscious in that bed. When he awoke, he still felt pressure on his right side, and thought perhaps he'd slept only minutes, with Dahlia still holding his hand for comfort. But when he forced his eyes open, sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and Katie Bell's head was resting on his right arm, dozing softly as she slumped over in her bedside chair.

And Katie was not alone. "Harry!" exclaimed Lily Potter, jumping to attention in her own seat when she saw her son was awake. "Thank Merlin you're alright...Madam Pomfrey was considering transferring you to St. Mungo's."

"Why?" Harry croaked. "I feel fine." He flexed his left arm, feeling the mended bone stand firm; even the tingling sensation from the Cruciatus Curse was greatly diminished, although he still felt sore all over.

Katie jerked awake at his movement, eyes widening when she saw Harry's eyes watching her. "Oh, Harry!" she sighed, leaning up to kiss him tenderly on the cheek. "How are you feeling? You sounded awful the last couple of nights...thrashing about and screaming in your sleep…"

"I'm alright, honest," said Harry. He didn't remember anything after falling asleep, but clearly his dreams had not been kind to him. "And what do you mean 'couple of nights'?"

"You've been out for three days now," Lily said worriedly. "Ever since...well, everything happened. Lots of people have been by to see you, but we wanted to let you rest."

"What people?" Harry asked.

"Classmates, teachers, your fellow Champions..." Lily recited. "Not to mention Minister Fudge and Amelia Bones, hoping to interview you about what happened."

"Is it really true?" Katie asked fearfully. "Neville's been telling everyone such terrible things...did you really see him return? Did you really...fight him?"

"Yes, it's true," Harry said dully. Katie whimpered and buried her head in his chest, trembling and holding him close. Lily tried to keep a brave face, but she too looked pale and terrified by her son's plight.

"We're taking you home as soon as you're well enough," said Lily adamantly. "You don't have to spend another minute in this castle than necessary."

"I'm going to finish the year," Harry said adamantly. "It won't look good for me to run and hide. Everyone needs to see me stay strong and carry on as normal."

"Why do you burden yourself so much?" Katie asked weakly. "No one would think less of you for leaving. Hell, everyone expects you and Dahlia to transfer away next year—"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere. Hogwarts is my home."

That clearly was not the answer Lily wanted to hear. She began to protest, but Madam Pomfrey bustled over, insisting on checking Harry's vitals now that he was awake. By the time she tottered away, satisfied with his progress, the moment had passed, and Lily merely looked upon her son worriedly.

"Where's Dad and Dahlia?" Harry asked.

"Dahlia's got final exams this afternoon, but she'll be back soon," said Lily. "Your father's attending Rufus Scrimgeour's funeral. He's been named the new head of the Auror Office and has to keep up appearances."

"What about your O.W.L.'s?" Harry asked Katie.

"Finished the last one yesterday," she replied. "I did rubbish, though, I know it; I was too worried about you to focus on anything else."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, but Katie wouldn't hear it.

"Do not apologize for us caring about you!" she reprimanded him. "You could have died in that graveyard. We almost l-lost you."

"But we didn't," Lily said, gently placing a hand on Katie's back to calm her. "That's the important part. Now you're safe, and we can look ahead rather than worry about what's already passed."

Good words to live by, Harry reasoned. He knew he could drive himself crazy wallowing in despair over all the mistakes he'd made up to this point. But that was out of his control now. What really mattered was what he did from now onward – he had to look forward rather than languish in the past.

But first, he had to get up to speed with the present. "What's been happening in the past few days?" he asked. "Do you have any copies of the Prophet I can read?"

Lily and Katie shared a significant glance. "Perhaps you should just rest," Lily said awkwardly. "You don't need to concern yourself with all that right now—"

"I'm awake now, and I want to know what the hell's going on," Harry insisted.

Lily sighed despondently. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't want you agitated while you heal," she said. "But I guess you deserve to understand." She reached below her chair and withdrew a folded copy of the Daily Prophet, which she handed to her son. Harry unfolded the paper, and immediately felt his heart rate spike as he read the headline:

DUMBLEDORE, AUROR DEPT. UNDER FIRE FOR FAILURE TO APPREHEND YOU-KNOW-WHO

By Alexander Sommerbee, The Daily Prophet

"The wizarding world is still reeling from the news that the Dark Lord Voldemort has returned, following a failed plot to kidnap and murder the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville Longbottom. According to our sources, Mr. Longbottom valiantly fought the Dark Lord to a draw until backup arrived to assist him.

Sources with knowledge of these events tell the Prophet that a group of Aurors, led by James Potter, along with famed 'Defender of Britain' Albus Dumbledore, arrived late on the scene and failed to capture the infamous Dark Lord. A small number of agitators were captured, but they did not bear You-Know-Who's 'Dark Mark' and denied all involvement in the Dark Lord's return.

This fiasco raises serious questions about the Auror Department's readiness to deal with existential threats to our great nation. Potter, who assumed control of the Office following the tragic death of Rufus Scrimgeour in the battle, has come under fire in recent months for his questionable leadership and aggressive politicking. He drew criticism earlier this year for introducing a controversial bill to the Wizengamot, co-sponsored by Lord Dale Greengrass, which would strip pure-blood families of their right to own house-elves.

'I join my fellow Britons in thanking Neville Longbottom for rising to the occasion once again,' said Lord Corban Yaxley in a statement to the Prophet. 'However, I question whether someone like James Potter has what it takes to guide us through the dark times ahead. Perhaps it is best that he steps aside and lets somebody else – someone less radical and power-hungry – take the lead for once.'

Albus Dumbledore has also drawn heavy criticism in recent years, particularly for a slate of deadly incidents at Hogwarts School. We reported last week about the murder of Sybill Trelawney at the hands of a disgruntled former employee – already the fourth such death in as many years, following those of Horace Slughorn, Quirinius Quirrell, and our own Rita Skeeter.

'Can we truly trust Dumbledore to protect our children in the days to come?' worried Lord Quincy Nott. "Hogwarts used to be the safest place in the wizarding world – now it seems to be a breeding ground for dark activity. It's been fifty years since Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald...is he simply past his prime?'

James Potter's eldest son, Harry Potter, also drew controversy for his role in this year's Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. Young Mr. Potter illegally entered the event last fall, and sources indicate that he may have attempted to sabotage fellow competitor Neville Longbottom during the final task. Could he have been involved in the plot to kidnap the Boy Who Lived? If this is any indication of what James Potter's influence leads to, it bodes poorly for the future of the Auror Office – and magical Britain as a whole.

You-Know-Who is currently believed to be hiding abroad in Albania after escaping custody. For more on his possible whereabouts and motives, see pg. 6."

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He'd thought that surely the Ministry wouldn't be able to smear his name this time, not now that there was definitive proof of Voldemort's return. But it seemed that Lucius Malfoy's influence continued to pay dividends, as he had found a way to spin the reporting to serve his purposes anyway.

"Sweetheart, calm down," Lily warned; a monitor at Harry's bedside was beeping angrily due to his rising fury. "Your father has it under control. The only thing he cares about is your safety."

"What a load of rubbish," Harry spat, tossing the paper across the room. "How can they get away with this? And why isn't Lucius Malfoy in jail? He was at the graveyard, and he brought at least thirty people with him!"

"That will be difficult to prove," Lily sighed. "Your father says they're having difficulty pinning anything on the men they captured. They all claim they had no idea what they were arriving to when invited to the graveyard, and the most they can be indicted for without evidence is resisting arrest."

"So give them Veritaserum, and make them admit to what they were doing there!" Harry huffed.

"They have excellent legal solicitors holding up the process," Lily sighed. "Your father suspects Mr. Malfoy to be behind it."

"And what's this nonsense about Voldemort being abroad?" Harry demanded, ignoring the winces of his mother and girlfriend at the use of the name. "That's obviously a lie to make Britain believe he won't come after them again!"

"You think he's still in the country?" Katie asked, wide-eyed. "But...but surely he won't start another war like last time, right? The Prophet says he wouldn't, that he's in exile."

Harry almost envied Katie of her naivete, and couldn't bring himself to burst her foolish optimism in that moment. "I suppose that doesn't matter right now," he sighed. "Me and Neville got out, and that's what's important."

"Well said," said Lily, and she leaned down to plant a kiss on Harry's forehead. "It's a very complicated time, Harry, but you don't need to concern yourself with that. You just focus on your healing."

The next few days were a fugue of intermittent sleeping, endless potions, and periodic visits from friends and family. Dahlia and James arrived in the afternoon to check on him and reassure him that they would take care of him, which gave him some small comfort. He tried to ask his father what was happening at the Ministry, but James was evasive, promising to tell him more on a later date. Many of Harry's classmates came to give their well-wishes...even Ron, who finally apologized for his poor behavior over the past year. Harry begrudgingly accepted, with the sad understanding that he would never have a close friendship with the boy in this timeline.

Harry also spent his time catching up on the wall-to-wall news coverage of Voldemort's return. In addition to pinning blame largely on James Potter's shoulders, the Prophet also seemed intent on pushing the narrative that Voldemort was hiding out of the country, with little interest in returning. Harry knew this had to be an invention of Malfoy's, and he could hardly believe anyone would fall for it. Of course Voldemort wouldn't leave Britain when he had unfinished business there!

There was very little mention of Gilderoy Lockhart's arrest, aside from a short blurb mentioning his capture. The Prophet reported that he would be imprisoned in Azkaban for the murder of Sybill Trelawney, but there was no mention of him being in league with Voldemort at all. In fact, it wasn't even mentioned in the context of the graveyard battle...just as an unrelated side curio, quickly forgotten by the public in favor of more pressing matters.

Finally, in the last week of the school term, Madam Pomfrey released Harry from her care. James and Lily wanted him to come straight home, but Harry insisted on finishing the year with his classmates. Everyone gave him curious stares in the halls and classes and steered clear of him, as though afraid he was unstable after such a harrowing experience. Harry couldn't be sure how many of them believed the garbage the Prophet was churning out, but at least he got some well-wishes and smiles from strangers and acquaintances alike.

Two days before the students departed for the summer, Harry received a summons to Dumbledore's office. He didn't know what for, but he fully intended to chew the man out for his failures to warn Neville about the dangers of the Third Task, among other things. However, when he rounded the corner to the Headmaster's Office, he was surprised to run into Neville himself, also making his way towards the stone gargoyle.

"He asked for you, too?" Harry asked when the boy spotted him in return.

"Guess so," Neville shrugged. "Any idea what this is about?"

"Nope," Harry shrugged in return.

The two teens walked up the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's Office. The oak door was ajar, and Harry could hear sounds of furious shouting coming from within the office. He pushed the door open, and was surprised to see Fleur seated in an armchair alongside her mother, while the man Harry recognized as Fleur's father shouted hoarsely at Dumbledore, sitting calmly behind his desk.

Mr. Delacour turned at the sound of the new arrival, his anger dissipating at once. "Ah, you must be 'Arry Potter," he said, extending his hand to Harry. "And Neville Longbottom! I am Fleur's father, Sebastian Delacour."

"A pleasure, sir," said Harry, shaking the man's hand before Neville did the same.

"I am sorry you 'ad to see me like zis," Sebastian Delacour said bitterly, taking a breath to steady himself. "I was just expressing my disappointment with your Headmaster about ze safety standards of 'is school."

"And I must again repeat my sincerest apologies," Dumbledore said patiently. "The Triwizard Tournament was an unfortunate stain upon our two nations' shared history. I hope that we can rebuild trust and work together in the war that is to come."

"Pah! And now you wish to drag France into your own domestic problems?" Sebastian scoffed. "We will not be returning to Britain, Dumbledore, so long as you allow madmen like your Dark Lord to roam free!"

"I am sorry to hear it," Dumbledore sighed. "I have tremendous respect for our French allies, and hope you will not interpret my own failures as those of my countrymen."

"Per'aps not," Sebastian huffed. "Apolline, Fleur, let us go. We will return home tonight."

"Please, Papa," Fleur pleaded. "I wish to return home on ze carriage with my friends tomorrow."

"Hmph...very well," Sebastian nodded. "Come, let us not waste any more of ze Headmaster's time."

Fleur and Apolline stood. The latter gave Harry a polite kiss on both cheeks, doing the same for a blushing Neville. Harry gave Fleur a look that said, we'll talk later. She seemed to understand, nodding as she departed from the office after her mother.

"My family seems to owe you two debts now, 'Arry Potter," said Sebastian gravely to Harry. "One for each of my daughters. Please, if you need anything, anything at all, I am in your service."

"Erm...I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Harry nodded, as Sebastian swept from the room. He felt uncomfortable having someone else in his debt, but perhaps he could call on the Delacours as allies in the future if the necessity arose.

"That was an unfortunate incident for you to walk in on," Dumbledore apologized as Harry and Neville sat in the vacated armchairs. "The Delacour family is well-known abroad for their fierce temper, and I hope you never find yourselves on the receiving end of it."

"Can you blame them though, sir?" Harry pointed out. "Considering all that's happened in the past few months."

"You are not wrong," Dumbledore admitted. "I have made many mistakes recently. In fact, that is the reason I have called you both up here tonight...I wish to rectify another one."

"What mistake, sir?" Neville frowned.

Dumbledore gave Harry a significant look, then sighed heavily. "It is time, Neville, that I tell you something that I should have many years ago," he said. "And as hesitant as I am to involve Mr. Potter, he has no doubt been dragged into this mess alongside you, and deserves the truth as well."

"You're going to tell us the prophecy?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "As you both learned from your former Professor Lockhart the other night, I was witness to a prophecy in 1980, shortly before the two of you was born. The late Sybill Trelawney delivered the prophecy, and Lord Voldemort learned of it, causing him to target the Longbottom family when Neville was a baby."

"But why?" Neville asked. "What did the prophecy say?"

Dumbledore sighed resignedly and drew his wand. With a flick in the air, he opened a cabinet to his left, from which floated the stone Pensieve. "Perhaps it is best if you two heard it for yourselves."

With another flick of his wand, silvery mist began to rise out of the Pensieve, twisting and shimmering in the air, eventually forming into the ethereal outline of a person: Trelawney. When she opened her mouth, she spoke in the same raspy, foreboding tone she had when Harry witnessed her prophecy in his original third year:

"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 the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Harry felt a chill of foreboding as Trelawney dissolved back into mist and disappeared into thin air. The Pensieve floated back into its cabinet, and Dumbledore returned his attention to the two boys seated before him.

"Do you both understand the significance of the prophecy?" he asked them.

Harry turned to Neville, seeing that the gears were turning in the boy's head. "So, it means…" Neville said slowly. "That Voldemort targeted me as a baby...because he thought it referred to me?"

"That is correct," Dumbledore nodded. "You were one of two boys whom the prophecy could refer to."

"But then...does that make me the other?" Harry asked. "Born as the seventh month dies...I was born at the end of July, the same as Neville."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "But Voldemort decided to go after the Longbottoms first, perhaps seeing them as a bigger threat due to their pure-blood status."

"But what if he was wrong?" Harry demanded, his heart suddenly pounding faster. "What if the prophecy had meant me instead?"

"Voldemort made a terrible mistake that evening, for many reasons," Dumbledore explained softly. "Not least of which because he only heard half of the prophecy – the first half. The second half leaves little doubt that Neville is the boy in question."

"Why?" asked Neville.

"The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal," Dumbledore recited with a sad smile. "Voldemort sealed his own fate, and yours, by attacking you that evening. He gave you that scar, and in the process, transferred some of his abilities to you. In essence, he created the very enemy he sought to destroy."

"But...but I don't have power the Dark Lord knows not!" Neville protested. "Harry's way more powerful than I am...it can't be me!"

"I suspect that Voldemort had his own doubts about the true subject of the prophecy," said Dumbledore. "He sought to test Harry in the Tournament and in that graveyard, to see what he was capable of. But it was you, Neville, who surprised him. I believe you scared him when your wands connected, and your willpower overcame his. Your love for your parents gave you a strength he could never understand. That, I think, leaves little doubt that you are the boy of the prophecy."

Neville fell silent, contemplating this in silence. Harry did the same, absent-mindedly rubbing his chest, over the dark stain Voldemort's shade had left in his first year. He'd never told Dumbledore about that stain – what if that was the 'mark' the prophecy referred to? What if he still was the person who was supposed to kill Voldemort in the end?

Dumbledore eyed Harry warily, as though reading his mind. "I know what you're thinking, Harry," he said, a hint of warning in his voice. "And you must understand now why I was reluctant to tell you the truth. If you should have some...delusions of grandeur, shall we say, in thinking yourself to be the true Chosen One—"

"I'm not interested in grandeur," Harry muttered darkly. "I just want the bastard dead. What's the harm if there's two of us trying to end him?"

"Harry, what did I tell you about prophecies?" Dumbledore sighed heavily. "They are self-fulfilling. If you hadn't heard the contents of that prophecy, you never would have believed it referred to you, and now you may find yourself on a collision course with a Dark Lord that you have no business with."

"That's where you're wrong, sir," Harry growled, his lingering resentment for the Headmaster rearing its ugly head again. "Voldemort represents everything I stand against. With him back, my family is no longer safe. I would be on the front lines whether or not I'd heard the prophecy."

"But now you have unduly burdened yourself," Dumbledore cautioned. "Your life will be in even greater danger the more you actively antagonize Voldemort. If he believes you to be actively working against him—"

"I am actively working against him, Professor," Harry retorted. "I have been for four years, or haven't you noticed? This changes nothing."

"And I have attempted to dissuade you at every step along the way," Dumbledore pointed out. "None of the adults in your life wanted you to put yourself at such risk."

"Hang on," Neville piped up, clearly brooding on something. "So Harry knew this was coming all along?"

"More or less," Harry shrugged. "I did try to warn you."

Neville nodded forlornly, and turned to Dumbledore. "And you knew that Harry knew?" he demanded. "Without thinking to talk to me about it?"

"Neville, you were – and are – so young," Dumbledore sighed. "It didn't seem right to burden you with such worries before you were ready."

"Before I was ready?" Neville scoffed, and Harry knew immediately that Neville wasn't pleased with this answer. "Sir, I've faced down this mad bastard three times already. Four if you count when I was a baby. I don't think I was 'ready' for any of those, either."

"You're right, Neville," said Dumbledore, looking at the boy with shimmering blue eyes. "Will you forgive an old man his mistakes? I will not so easily discount your input again."

Harry wanted to scream in frustration at this obvious manipulation tactic. He's using you, Neville! he wanted to shout. He only told you because I forced his hand! But Neville was clearly moved by the old man's crocodile tears, his own anger dissipating as quickly as it had come.

"I appreciate that, sir," Neville bowed reverently.

"There is a silver lining to this situation," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort was unable to retrieve the prophecy from Trelawney's mind, and still does not know what the second half says. Therefore, in his mind, it is still ambiguous which one of you is truly the boy of prophecy, and he will seek to clarify that before making his next move."

Harry frowned as he processed this. "Why is that good news?" he asked. "Doesn't it mean that my family is in even more danger now, if he thinks I could be the 'Chosen One'?"

"Temporarily, perhaps," said Dumbledore. "But your father is a smart man, and knows how to keep his family safe. Besides, Voldemort himself wouldn't dare attack you again personally, until he is certain what the prophecy says."

"How can you know that?" Harry demanded. "It wouldn't be the first time you've failed to keep someone safe."

Dumbledore's eye twitched slightly at this rebuke, but he otherwise did not react. "Professor Snape has ingratiated himself within the Dark Lord's inner circle, and is providing me regular updates," said Dumbledore. "He reports that Voldemort has grown 'obsessed' with getting his hands on the prophecy and is scheming ways to do so."

Would've been nice to know that last time, Harry thought bitterly. He'd walked headlong into Voldemort's trap in his last timeline, not realizing what he was after, and it had cost him and Sirius their lives.

"I must therefore stress the importance, to each of you, to keep your wits about you in the coming months," said Dumbledore. "If Voldemort believes he needs one or both of you to obtain this prophecy, he will stop at nothing to do so. That could mean kidnapping, as in the maze, or some other form of trickery to lure you away from safety."

Like implanting false memories in my head, Harry thought glumly. He glanced at Neville, who was rubbing his scar absent-mindedly...perhaps Harry ought to take it upon himself to teach the boy some Occlumency.

"I would also ask that you keep this information to yourselves for now," Dumbledore continued. "The fewer the people that know the full contents of the prophecy, the less likely it will be to fall into Voldemort's hands."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Neville asked at once. "I tell them everything, and they'll want to know the truth as well."

Dumbledore considered this for a long moment. "I suppose an exception can be made for them," he eventually muttered. "Just be sure they understand the importance of discretion as well."

"Yes, sir," Neville nodded. Harry failed to see how Ron and Hermione would be any more trustworthy than his own confidants. Did Dumbledore believe Harry would run off and tell everyone he knew what the prophecy said? Yet again, the man's true feelings about Harry shone through with his actions, even when his words paid lip service in an attempt to placate him.

Just then, Dumbledore's fireplace flared green, and a familiar rotund face appeared in the grate. "Is now a good time to come through, Albus?" called out Cornelius Fudge, looking somewhat cross.

"As good as ever, Cornelius," Dumbledore sighed.

The Minister's face briefly disappeared, then three people stepped through the grate and into the office: Fudge, Percy Weasley, and a third man carrying a large camera. Harry recognized him as the Daily Prophet photographer that had taken the Champions' photos at the Weighing of the Wands last fall.

"Ah, good, already here," Fudge remarked, eyeing the two teens seated across from Dumbledore. "I've come to deliver the winnings for the Triwizard Tournament."

"I see," said Dumbledore evenly. "By all means, proceed."

"Congratulations then, Mr. Longbottom," said Fudge cordially, extending his hand to Neville. "You have won the grand prize of one thousand Galleons and will have your name printed in the Prophet tomorrow commemorating your victory. Well done, lad."

Percy plopped a sizable sack of gold into Neville's lap. The boy looked down at it, confused.

"I don't understand," Neville muttered. "Harry and I touched the Cup at the same time. Shouldn't we be splitting the prize?"

"Ah, yes, well," Fudge chuckled, shooting Harry a dismissive glance, "Mr. Potter fired sparks into the air shortly before touching the Cup himself. Therefore, the judges have determined that he was already disqualified from the Third Task at that point. Leaving you as the sole victor!"

Neville shot an astonished look at Harry, who merely shrugged. "Congratulations," he deadpanned. He couldn't care less about the money or the recognition – Neville could have it all.

"Now come, stand up, my boy!" Fudge said jovially. "Calvin here is going to take a photo for the Prophet, just you and me. It will be the talk of Britain, I can assure you of that!"

Neville sat in silence for a moment, gears turning in his head. "You want to take a picture with me?" he repeated.

"A sign of support from the Minister of Magic to the young Champion of his home nation!" Fudge beamed. "A great honor for a young man like yourself."

"I'm afraid I don't feel all that honored, Minister," Neville said. "If anything, I feel used. Like you only want the picture to prove to people that you have the support of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Fudge's smile evaporated, and he suddenly looked as though he smelled something foul. "Ah...well…" he chuckled nervously. "It would be a much-needed morale boost for the nation, I readily admit. What with this You-Know-Who business giving folks quite a fright—"

"You-Know-Who 'business'?" Neville laughed. "You mean his return to power? Yeah, I'd say people are rightfully frightened. And his name is Voldemort, Minister."

Fudge and Percy both winced at the use of the name. "People could use a reminder that you're out there opposing him, Neville," Fudge said weakly. "It would be a great help—"

"—to you," Neville finished the sentence for him. "Sorry, Minister, but I'm not interested in being your mascot. Your political career means very little to me." And with that, Neville stood from his seat and crossed the room, slamming the door in Fudge's face as he exited the office. Fudge looked absolutely stunned, and Harry thought that Dumbledore looked quietly amused by the whole thing.

"I'll be happy to take a picture with you, Minister Fudge," Harry offered with false enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm sure you would, Mr. Potter," Fudge said sourly. "Come along, Wembley, we're leaving." And Fudge stepped back through the fireplace, the photographer close behind him. Percy paused before following, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"I would think carefully about how you address the Minister, Mr. Potter," Percy said coldly. "It might make things rather...difficult for your father."

Percy moved to exit via the Floo, but Harry was out of his seat in a flash, pinning Percy against the hearth, fury in his eyes.

"I don't remember asking your goddamn opinion, Weasley," Harry snarled. "I suggest you think twice before threatening my family again."

"Harry," said Dumbledore warningly. With a final glare, Harry released Percy, who looked briefly cowed before scurrying along after his boss, the Floo deactivating behind him.

"As loathsome as the Ministry's attitude towards your family may be," Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid Mr. Weasley has a point. Your father is in a precarious position right now, and I'm certain the Prophet will only amplify their criticism as long as Fudge is feeling the political pressure."

"Yes, you're right, sir," Harry sighed, re-taking his seat and forcing himself to calm down. His quick temper would only cause problems for James if he couldn't rein it in.

"I take it you know that your parents were a part of my secret organization during the last war?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix, yes," Harry nodded.

"We will be convening again over the summer," said Dumbledore. "I hope your folks will consider joining again, in order to combat Voldemort's machinations in Britain."

"I'm certain they will," Harry agreed. "And I'll be there, too."

"I'm afraid it's too dangerous for someone your age to join," Dumbledore sighed. "You're only fourteen—"

"And you continue to labor under the delusion that I'm just some naive kid," Harry retorted. "You know damn well I'm not like every other student my age. I've been in this fight since I was eleven, and I've known this day was coming all along. I will be at those meetings, and I will be informed on what is going on."

Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment, before sighing. "Of course, your parents will have final say in whether or not you—" he began.

"I can make my own decisions," Harry retorted. "I'm fighting, whether you or my Mum or Dad like it or not. So you might as well clue me in so I don't walk into any more traps."

Dumbledore looked deeply displeased by this development, but he acquiesced. "Very well, Harry," he said. "I hope that you will respond in kind and share what you know with us as well. It's the only way we can win this war."

"I'll consider it," Harry shrugged. "You still have a long way to go to rebuild the trust you've lost with me over the past four years." And he stood to leave the office, leaving the Headmaster alone with his thoughts.

Harry had difficulty sleeping that night. The words of the prophecy rang in his ears – the promise that either himself or Neville must be the one to kill Voldemort, or die trying. But which one of them was the true boy of the prophecy? And what was this mysterious 'power the Dark Lord knows not'? Harry certainly didn't think he knew of any magic that Voldemort didn't, nor did Neville for that matter. Dumbledore's 'love' theory sounded like a load of hogwash to him.

But he decided it ultimately didn't matter. He would do everything in his power to stop Voldemort, and so would Neville. Whoever cast the finishing blow didn't truly matter in the end – their path was the same regardless, their fates inextricably tied to the very end. That knowledge ultimately allowed him to drift off to sleep, content in knowing that his plan remained unchanged: destroy or be destroyed.

There was a melancholy in the air as the school year finally came to a close. While normally the halls would be buzzing with excited chatter about upcoming holiday plans, now there were hushed and worried conversations about the future. Were they safe? Was there a war coming? A few even came up to Harry to ask his opinion on the matter, and he merely told them to keep a close eye on the news and remain vigilant...Moody would be proud.

The Hogwarts Express was not due to depart until the morning after the Closing Feast, but students flooded out onto the grounds after their meal to watch the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students depart. There were tearful goodbyes and promises to write from those few students who had forged bonds across school lines.

Harry spied Krum and Fleur talking off to one side, and when they spotted him, they waved him over. Harry glanced around the crowd until he spotted Neville, gently grabbing him by the arm and steering him over towards the other two Champions.

"Shall we all talk privately for a moment?" Harry suggested.

"Yes, let's," Krum agreed.

The four Champions walked off a ways from the rest of the students to speak without being overheard, drawing a significant number of curious eyes in their direction. They all eyed each other for a moment, unsure who should talk first.

"I would like to apologize," Fleur blurted out, turning to Krum. "I 'ope I did not 'urt you too much in ze maze when I attacked you."

"Not your fault," Krum shrugged impassively. "You vere not in control of yourself. I do not blame you."

"I need to apologize too," Neville sighed, looking pleadingly at Harry. "I should've listened to you from the start. I was so blinded by the glory of winning that I couldn't see you were only trying to protect me."

"How about we all stop bloody apologizing to one another?" Harry suggested. "We all got played by Voldemort. We're in this together now, so let's put everything behind us and figure out how to proceed from here."

"Sounds good to me," Krum agreed, and Fleur and Neville nodded alongside him.

"Now, I don't care what the Daily Prophet is saying," said Harry. "War is coming, and Voldemort will do everything he can to take control of Britain. And if he accomplishes that, who's to say he won't extend his influence to greater Europe and beyond?"

"France would be 'is next target, surely," Fleur muttered worriedly. "I agree, 'Arry. This eez not just a 'civil war' as ze French press 'as been saying. I will 'elp however I can."

"As vill I," Krum vowed. "They claim your Dark Lord is hiding in Albania, which is not far from Bulgaria. My country has not yet forgotten vot Grindelwald did to us, and we vill not stand for another Dark Lord rising to power."

"Good," Harry nodded. "We should all stay in touch as much as possible. Neville and I can keep you both updated on what's really happening, since the Prophet won't be the most reliable news source for a while."

"Oui, I wish to stay informed," said Fleur. "I will be working at Gringotts starting next month. Do you theenk it will be safe there?"

"Yes, most likely," said Harry. "Voldemort wouldn't anger people by targeting the banks so soon. What will you be doing there?"

"Just clerical work, to improve my English," said Fleur. "Do you think this wise?"

"For now, it should be safe," said Harry. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Have you considered going into curse-breaking? Gringotts has a great program for it."

"I 'ave considered it," Fleur shrugged. "Will it be a useful career path to pursue in zis war?"

"More than you could know," Harry said with a smile. Having more people he could trust who knew how to destroy Horcruxes might prove critical in the years to come.

"How can you know so much about the future?" Krum asked, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "You seem to always be many steps ahead of everyone else." Fleur and Neville seemed to be wondering the same thing, scrutinizing him closely.

"It's...complicated," Harry shrugged. "For now, let's just say I feel a strong sense of deja vu. And so far, my instincts have been pretty accurate."

"Hermoninny believes you to be the next coming of Merlin," Krum smirked. "She is very impressed with you."

"I'm only one person trying his best," Harry sighed tiredly, not wishing to be thought of as some genius. "And I was horrible to her last year. Promise you'll be good to her, will you?"

"We vill remain pen pals this summer," said Krum. "I enjoy her company. She vill be a brilliant witch one day."

"She already is," Harry agreed with a smile. "And I'm glad to hear you will stay in touch."

"You must write me often as well," Fleur demanded of Harry. "Already our younger sisters are pen pals...my Gabrielle is very fond of your Dahlia."

Harry had heard the same from his own sister. Dahlia wanted to practice her French as much as Gabrielle did her English, and the two girls seemed to have bonded over their shared plight as younger siblings to over-achievers hogging the adults' attention.

"I think you'll be hearing from me very soon," Harry predicted. He had not forgotten Sebastian Delacour's offer for help, and suspected he may call in a favor or two in the near future. Voldemort's decision to fake his own exile from Britain may just invite their international allies to join the fight against him.

"Farewell for now, voyageur," said Fleur, kissing him on both cheeks before doing the same for Neville and Krum. "I would tell you to stay out of trouble, but I think zis is impossible for you."

"You're probably right," Harry chuckled. "I seem to attract it like a magnet."

"Goodbye, Potter," said Krum, offering a firm handshake. "I hope that one day vhen this is all over, we can fly together again."

"I'd like that," Harry agreed.

He and Neville watched on as the two Champions returned to their classmates and filed down the grounds to their quarters. The Hogwarts crowd oohed and aahed as the Beauxbatons carriages flew off into the sunset, while the Durmstrang ship sank into the depths of the lake, never to return.

"See you next school year then, yeah, Harry?" Neville offered as students began filing back to their dorms to pack.

"Probably sooner than that," Harry predicted. "It's going to be an unusual summer for us all, I expect."

Unfortunately for him, not everyone at the school seemed ready to accept that fact just yet. Katie spied him from across the grounds and rushed over to bid him farewell with a lengthy kiss.

"You're coming to the farm this summer, aren't you?" she asked. "Daddy says he's happy to have you anytime."

"We'll see, Katie," Harry sighed. "My parents will probably want to keep me on a short leash for a while. I'll try to see if I can convince them otherwise."

"Oh...alright," Katie said, sounding disappointed. "Well, it would be peaceful and relaxing there, if you can change their minds."

Harry somewhat doubted her assessment. Peaceful, sure, but he didn't think he could relax in such an environment. A month ago he might have felt differently, but now, the thought of spending valuable time lounging around with his girlfriend only made him anxious. There was too much that needed doing, too many things to worry about to turn his mind off to what was happening in the world. He certainly appreciated Katie's happy-go-lucky attitude, but it simply wasn't in the cards for him in the foreseeable future.

As if to exemplify this, his final night at Hogwarts was a restless one, with much tossing and turning and not much sleeping. He laid there wide awake, thinking about all he hoped to accomplish in the coming summer. Speaking to Saul, meeting with the Order of the Phoenix, and potentially recruiting Bill Weasley to the Horcrux hunt...so much to juggle for one teenage boy.

The next morning, Harry made his way down to the Entrance Hall, where students milled about waiting to catch a carriage to the train station. He spotted Argus Filch grumpily ushering students through the door – the caretaker had been found drugged and unconscious in his quarters, and when revived, he had no recollection of Lockhart's manipulations. After a brief stay at St. Mungo's, he had opted to return to work...probably a good alternative to fixating on the horrors he'd been subjected to.

Harry spotted Damian Dursley shuffling aimlessly around the Hall and made his way over to him. "Hey, cousin," Harry greeted. "Got big plans for the holiday?"

"Eh, not really," Damian shrugged. "Mum and Dad want to save money this year, so we aren't going anywhere. I'll probably just be home all summer."

"Ah, I see," Harry commiserated. He knew just how boring a full summer on Privet Drive could be. "Well, maybe you could come and visit sometime."

Damian's gaze snapped up to his. "You think so?" he said.

"Sure, why not?" Harry shrugged. "Family's more important now than ever. We gotta stick together, yeah?"

"Yeah, suppose so," said Damian. He joined Harry as they walked out to the grounds to catch a carriage ride to the train station. Suddenly, Damian froze, standing stock-still and staring straight ahead.

"Something the matter, Damian?" Harry asked.

"What...what is that?" he demanded, pointing.

Harry followed his gaze and saw that Damian was pointing at the creatures hitched up to the front of the carriages. "Those are thestrals," Harry explained softly. "Remember? We took care of them for Hagrid back in the winter."

Damian continued to stare blankly at the winged beasts. "I can...I can see them," he muttered.

It took Harry a moment to register what he meant. Then he remembered that the thestrals had been invisible to Damian up to this point. He must have gained the ability to see them after witnessing Trelawney's murder. That moment must be replaying itself in his mind at this very moment, as Harry saw the boy begin to tremble slightly.

"Come here, Damian," said Harry, gently taking the boy by the arm and leading him up to the nearest thestral. "They're completely harmless, remember? Look, I think this one recognizes you."

The thestral turned its head to Damian, whinnying softly and nudging the boy's hand with its nose. Damian tentatively raised his hand to stroke the creature's cheek, to which it closed its eyes and grunted appreciatively.

"This is the form my Patronus form takes," Harry reminded him. "There's nothing scary about them, not really. Death is a part of life like anything else...what's important is that we accept that and continue on living without fear."

Damian nodded forlornly at this. He quickly climbed up into the carriage, and Harry followed, closing the door behind them so they could be alone. Damian sniffled quietly to himself all the way to the station, and Harry said nothing, simply sitting beside his younger cousin and giving him silent reassurance, as his own sister had done for him in the Hospital Wing.

A fierce storm lay ahead of them, and Harry knew he would need to be strong for those he cared about looking to him for answers.

A/N: I'm relieved and proud to have made it out of Year 4 with my intended plot still mostly intact. It was a bumpy ride that forced me to bend over backwards at times to make it all make sense, and I drew plenty of (justified) criticism for it. But the good news is I'm finally free, as my plans for the next three years are nowhere near as strict and will allow the story and characters to determine themselves instead of having canon events clumsily forced upon them. But rest assured, I still have a specific ending in mind that I'm working towards, and many more surprises to come!

I will be back shortly with the beginning of Year Five. But in the meantime, a sincere thank-you to everyone who has stuck with the story this far! As disheartening as the hate mail can be at times, seeing positive comments about my passion project are what make it all worthwhile.