Bill Weasley and Saul Croaker were both waiting in the latter's office when Harry arrived two days later. Neither man looked particularly pleased to be there.
"What's the big emergency, Potter?" Saul demanded. "I'm very busy these days, and don't have time to drop everything to meet with you."
"Same here," Bill sighed. "This had better be important."
"More than you know," said Harry. He reached into his robes and withdrew a small object wrapped in cloth, setting it delicately on Saul's desk. He unwrapped it, revealing the golden locket to the room. Both Bill and Saul crept closer to examine it, before the former leapt back in alarm.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. "That thing is infested with dark magic. What in Merlin's name is it?"
"I have a strong suspicion," Harry said darkly. "I was hoping you could verify it for me."
Bill whipped out his wand and began muttering incantations softly under his breath as he waved it over the locket. Soft pulses of magic wafted over the three of them, and Bill's eyes went wide.
"It's a horcrux," he breathed. "Where the hell did you get it?"
Harry launched into an abbreviated version of the story Kreacher had told him. When he was finished, both Bill and Saul were staring at him in shock.
"Blimey," Bill sighed. "So Sirius' brother was on our side all along. But why would Kreacher wait until now to tell someone?"
"He was forbidden to by his previous master," Harry pointed out. "And technically speaking, Regulus broke the law by working with Voldemort, so such an order is now illegal under the new house-elf law. Kreacher must have realized that he could break his silence without penalty."
"And he chose to tell you, rather than the Ministry?" Bill frowned.
"He trusts me," Harry shrugged. "I may not be his master, but I am his master's godson – practically his family. I'll become Kreacher's new owner if...something happens." He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the possibility of Sirius' death. Not again. It would never come to pass in this timeline if he could help it.
Bill returned his attention to the small golden trinket. "So this is an actual horcrux of You-Know-Who's," he breathed in awe.
"Not only that," Saul muttered. "Don't you recognize what this is?"
"No...should we?" asked Harry, peering closer at the trinket.
"That's Salazar Slytherin's locket," said Saul. "Every Founder had an object that was considered tied to their House, and this was theirs. It confirms at least one of our theories thus far."
"Which one?" asked Bill.
"We know the Dark Lord turned Rowena's diadem into a horcrux," Saul pointed out. "And now we know he got the locket, too. What are the odds he stopped there? Why wouldn't he go after Helga's cup and Godric's sword, too?"
"No way he got to the sword," said Harry. "I found it in my original timeline, and it was clean. It can only be summoned by a Gryffindor."
"I thought you were a Ravenclaw," Bill frowned.
"Originally I was in Gryffindor," Harry explained. "In my second year—"
"Now's not the time!" Saul snapped. "I can feel this thing's evil presence all over my office already. How can we be rid of it?"
"Do you have a container we can put it in, Saul?" asked Bill. "Preferably one made of a strong material, like stone or metal?"
"Allow me," said Harry, drawing his own wand. He pointed it at the marble coffee table in the center of the room, transfiguring it into a small white box, then placed the locket within before sealing it shut. At once the pervasive feeling of dread in the room began to dissipate, and Harry released a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
"I liked that table," Saul muttered mutinously. "But I suppose this is more important. What should we do with it?"
"I am still trying to secure basilisk venom to destroy any horcruxes we come across," said Bill. "But it's ludicrously expensive. Perhaps it can remain in the Department of Mysteries, until we find a way to destroy it?"
"I wouldn't dare alarm my co-workers by bringing it into the Department," said Saul. "I'll keep it here in my office, in my hidden space. Provided I don't have to worry about it trying to possess me?"
"As long as it remains sealed within the rock, it should be safe," said Bill.
"Very good," Saul nodded. "Well, that's one horcrux down that just fell into our laps. Should we go looking for a second before Potter has to return to school?"
"Actually, I had a better idea," said Harry. " Kreacher!"
The house-elf popped into the middle of the room with a crack, causing Bill and Saul to flinch. "Mister Harry Potter called for Kreacher?" he croaked.
"Kreacher offered to come today and show us where he got the locket from," Harry explained. "Kreacher, I know I'm not your master, but can I ask you to keep today's activities a secret?"
"Kreacher cannot lie to Master Sirius if he is asked directly," the elf said. "But if Master does not ask, Kreacher does not tell."
"Sirius doesn't even keep tabs on Kreacher during the day," Harry explained to the other two men. "He won't even notice he's gone."
"Good enough for me," Saul muttered. "You're doing a good thing, elf."
Kreacher eyed Saul curiously. "Does mister wish to destroy Master Regulus' locket?" Kreacher asked.
"Not only do I intend to," said Saul, "I also plan to hunt down every other trinket like it and destroy those, too. We will finish what your master started."
Kreacher seemed to glow with pride at these words. "Then Kreacher will help," he said resolutely. He extended a hand toward Harry, who exchanged looks with Bill and Saul. They all linked arms before Harry took Kreacher's hand, and they were whisked away from the Ministry with a soft pop.
Harry's nostrils filled with the smell of seawater as they reappeared on a rocky outcropping. Behind them was the sea, lapping in and out among the rocks; over their heads was a sharp cliff face; ahead of them was the gaping maw of a cave, extending deep into darkness.
"This is it!" Saul said excitedly. "The cave I told you about, in Eastbourne!"
"Then we should proceed carefully," said Harry. "Saul, how far into the cave did you travel the last time?
"Not much farther than this," Saul muttered. "I sensed dark magic radiating from within and decided to wait for an expert to go any further."
"Well, we have one now," Harry pointed out, gesturing to Bill. "Shall we?"
Bill eyed the mouth of the cave nervously, before sighing and drawing his wand. He once again began to mutter under his breath, sending pulses of cold magic flaring out to diagnose the danger.
"I sense a Muggle-Repelling Charm and a mild Repulsing Hex on the entrance," he muttered. "The latter will make it unpleasant to enter, but it should pass once we get through."
Bill led the way forward on the slippery rock, Harry and Saul close behind. As Bill predicted, Harry felt a growing sense of unease and intense discomfort as they approached, causing him to want to turn and run in the opposite direction. But once they got far enough into the cave, the sensation passed, and the sounds of the lapping sea faded, leaving them in an eerily echoing space.
The cave extended forward a hundred feet or so before closing off with a sheer rock face. "Surely this can't be it," Saul frowned.
"Certainly not," muttered Bill, once again waving his wand. "There is a hidden entrance up ahead. It seems to require a blood sacrifice to activate."
"Is that dangerous?" Harry asked worriedly.
"The magic is fairly standard, even if it's banned in Britain," Bill remarked. "I've encountered dozens of such sacrificial requirements abroad. Usually curse-breakers carry a vial of spare blood for such occasions, but there's no harm in using your own."
"Will we tip off the Dark Lord to our presence if we activate the entrance?" Saul wondered.
"Regulus didn't," Harry pointed out, gesturing to Kreacher beside them. "And he stole the damn horcrux from inside. Surely that means it's safe to pass through without alerting him."
"That stands to reason," Bill shrugged. "I don't sense any alarm wards or anything else to worry about. Although there seems to be anti-Disapparition wards and other movement limiters within."
"We won't be here long anyway," Harry shrugged. He drew his own wand and gently dragged it across his palm, making a small incision. At Bill's instruction, he smeared the bloody hand against a nearby rock. At once they heard a rumbling sound as the rock wall gave way, revealing a small passageway carved into the cave. Bill led the way forward, moving slowly and continuing to monitor for any troublesome enchantments.
"Not far now," Kreacher croaked as they passed through the darkened corridor. Sure enough, it eventually widened to reveal a large cavernous space, extending far into the darkness. Harry fired an orb of light into the sky to reveal a massive underground lake. Far off in the distance they could see a small island, where he had to imagine the horcrux was hidden.
"Something tells me we wouldn't want to swim in this," Saul remarked, kneeling down to examine the murky green liquid of the lake.
"Dark things be lurking in the lake," Kreacher said ominously. "They be attacking my Master Regulus...they drag him beneath the surface…" The tiny elf began to shudder with tiny sobs, and Harry placed a calming hand on its shoulder.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Bill muttered. He pointed his wand at a nearby rock and flung it out over the lake. It landed with a splash a few dozen yards away – at once, several humanoid creatures leapt from the surface at the disturbance, giving them a glimpse of rotting flesh and pale-white features before they disappeared into the depths again.
"Inferi," Saul breathed. "Bloody hell, there could be thousands in here."
"A graveyard of victims," Harry said ominously. "Kreacher, how did you get across the lake the last time?"
Kreacher paced to and fro at the shore for a moment, thinking. Then, the elf snapped his fingers, and a rusting chain appeared in his hands, extending down into the depths of the lake. Harry helped Kreacher pull the chain forward, unearthing a small green rowboat that sat unsteadily atop the surface.
"Looks like this is only meant to hold one person at a time," Bill remarked as he examined the boat with his wand. "Though the magic is limited to humans, it seems."
"So that the Dark Lord could bring house-elves across with him," Harry said darkly. "Kreacher, what happened when Voldemort took you here the first time?"
Kreacher launched into a teary explanation of his first visit to the cave, assisting Voldemort in planting the horcrux in the basin. He described drinking the foul potion and being left for dead, only to be rescued by Regulus calling him home.
"I did notice that imperfection in the wards," Bill remarked. "Plenty of limitations on wizard movement, but none for elves. I can't imagine why that would be the case."
"It had to be an oversight," Harry deduced. "Otherwise, why have the boat at all? Voldemort could just ask a house-elf to Apparate him across the lake. Can you do that for us, Kreacher?"
"Kreacher can," the elf nodded. The three wizards once again linked arms as Harry took Kreacher's hand, and after another small pop they found themselves standing on the island at the center of the lake.
All three men approached the glass basin at the center of the island, peering down through the clear liquid to the locket sitting at the bottom. "It is a fake," Kreacher explained. "Master Regulus placed it there to taunt the Dark Lord if he ever returned."
"A rather convincing fake," Saul remarked. The locket was face-down in the basin, but from the back it looked enough like Slytherin's locket to pass muster. "I say we leave everything as it is. Thank Merlin we don't have to drink whatever that vile liquid is."
"Kreacher, can you take us back to Mr. Croaker's office?" Harry asked. Kreacher nodded, and moments later they found themselves back on Level Nine at the Ministry, the smell of saltwater still lingering on their clothes. The elf bowed politely to Harry once more before disappearing again to Grimmauld Place.
"Well, that was informative," Saul remarked. "Now we know what to expect from the other hiding places, wouldn't you say, Weasley?"
"It was not what I expected," Bill admitted. "I assumed any hiding place of You-Know-Who's would be impenetrable by mere mortals...frankly, I've encountered pharaoh tombs in Egypt with more dangerous protections."
"Voldemort is only a man, and his arrogance will be his downfall," Harry said bitterly. "So, to recap, we have confirmation of three horcruxes now...the diary was destroyed, the diadem was reclaimed, and we have the locket ready to be destroyed. We now have reason to suspect Hufflepuff's Cup is a horcrux, and we have a strong lead on where it might be hidden at Little Hangleton. That's four down and only two to go."
"That's assuming the Dark Lord doesn't make any more," Saul pointed out. "He may seek to replace the diadem, and he surely knows of the diary's destruction by now."
"Horcruxes are prohibitively difficult to make in multiples," Bill pointed out. "Each ritual gets progressively more taxing than the last. I would be surprised if You-Know-Who's soul is stable enough to survive another split, after performing six already."
"Still, that's encouraging, isn't it?" Harry said. "We could be halfway done by now. We just need to track down the last two or three horcruxes, then find a way to remove the one from Neville's scar."
"You say that as if it's a given," Bill said ominously. "What if we cannot find a way to do so?"
"We will," Harry said adamantly. "Have you been asking your colleagues abroad for advice?"
"I'm making discreet inquiries," Bill shrugged. "Horcruxes aren't exactly a topic you can raise with just anyone without questions being asked. The last thing I want is to tip off the goblins to what I'm doing here."
"The boy's right, though," said Saul. "We've made good progress today. Maybe the next couple horcruxes won't fall into our laps like this one, but the task no longer feels as daunting as it once did."
Harry agreed. Learning that Voldemort had made six horcruxes had been a sobering moment, but already they'd made remarkable gains towards finding them all. The Dark Lord's carelessness and determination to use only noteworthy objects made their quest seem more straightforward than expected. He left the meeting in high spirits, feeling that all might not be lost in this war after all.
His optimism did not diminish in the days to come, as another bit of tremendous news arrived in the Prophet one morning. Dolores Umbridge had been arrested, having admitted under Veritaserum to ordering a dementor attack against Neville Longbottom at his residence. The Prophet once again heaped praise on the Boy Who Lived for his heroic efforts to thwart the attack, while speculating once again on how James Potter's Auror Office could have allowed such an egregious safety breach (which made Harry want to tear his own hair out).
Still, it meant one less headache for the coming school year, as he would never had to deal with Professor Umbridge and her evil blood quills ever again. Things would be difficult enough with the constant slander against his family in the papers – he didn't need that additional source of anxiety to worry about.
Two weeks before term resumed, Harry and Dahlia received their Hogwarts letters, detailing what books and supplies they would need for the upcoming school year. Harry opened his envelope and unfolded the letter, only for something small and metallic to drop into his lap. Lily, who was passing through the kitchen on her way out for the day, gave a small squeal of delight.
"Ooh, Harry, you've made prefect!" she exclaimed happily. "Look, it's your badge!"
Harry picked up the small badge and scrutinized it. It was blue and bronze, with a large 'Q' imprinted on the front and a tiny Snitch flitting in and out of the frame.
"Erm...it doesn't look like a prefect badge," Harry muttered. He picked up the topmost letter and read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
Congratulations! You have been named captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team for the upcoming season. Enclosed you will find your badge. You will be responsible for fielding tryouts, scheduling practices, and training your team for all three matches. This is a tremendous honor that I trust you will approach with the utmost respect and duty.
Sincerely,
Filius Flitwick
Head of Ravenclaw House
"I see," Lily muttered as she read the letter over Harry's shoulder. "Well...that's a nice honor as well."
"Hey, you've made Quidditch captain!" James laughed as he too entered the kitchen. "Well done, son. I wasn't named Gryffindor's captain until sixth year myself."
"Harry didn't make prefect," Lily informed her husband. "I thought for sure...given everything that's happened…"
"Don't worry about it, Harry," James shrugged. "I wasn't a prefect in my fifth or sixth years either, but I still made Head Boy. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."
"Maybe Albus just thought you'd be too busy," Lily muttered to herself, as though trying to justify it in her head. "Yes, that must be it."
"You're probably right," Harry nodded. But privately, he had his own suspicions. He could sense Dumbledore's profound disappointment in him during their last conversation at Grimmauld Place. Harry had deliberately disobeyed the Headmaster's wishes in divulging key information with Neville. Was this retribution for his defiant actions?
Not that Harry cared much about being prefect to begin with. It sounded like a hassle and a waste of time more than anything. In fact, he wasn't even so sure he wanted to be Quidditch captain, either. Sure, it meant he couldn't be kicked off the team now, but his old Ravenclaw teammates had resented him last year and he was of half a mind to quit anyway. At least Roger Davies and a couple of his cronies had graduated, so perhaps this would allow him a fresh start.
Harry set aside the badge and read through the list of required textbooks. It looked much the same as his original fifth year, with a few anomalies. There appeared to be no assigned texts for Divination...Harry wondered if Dumbledore had actually discontinued the course following Trelawney's death. There were two books required for Defense Against the Dark Arts, neither of which had been assigned in his original timeline.
"Who's teaching us Defense this year?" Harry asked aloud.
"No clue," said James. "I asked Albus last week, but even he doesn't know. The Ministry is assigning somebody to the post this year."
"Figures," Harry muttered. At least it can't get much worse than Umbridge, he reasoned.
"Listen carefully, you two," said James solemnly, addressing his two children. "Fudge and Malfoy are determined to get me sacked by the end of the year. Whoever the Ministry appoints will have it out for Dumbledore and myself, so try not to get on their bad side."
"Okay, Dad," Dahlia nodded. James' gaze lingered longer on Harry, whom the message was clearly aimed more at, until he also nodded in agreement.
The remainder of the summer flew by in a flurry of activity. The Potters made a quick trip to Diagon Alley for supplies, with Aurors lingering nearby watching out for any sign of trouble. Harry and Dahlia spent another couple of days at Grimmauld Place with the other teens, cleaning out dark objects and gossiping about the upcoming school year. There was much speculation about who their next DADA professor might be...Harry chuckled internally, as the others would never know the bullet they dodged in the form of Dolores Umbridge.
Before long, it was time to board the Hogwarts Express for another term. Harry and Dahlia bid farewell to their parents before boarding the train and going their separate ways. Harry found Neville, Ron and Hermione in a compartment by themselves, and they eagerly beckoned for him to join them. He gratefully did so – being iced out by the trio for the past school year had been mentally taxing for him.
The four teens had already spent ample time together over the summer, so they mostly chatted about the year to come. Hermione was anxious about their workload, given that it was their O.W.L. year, while Ron was vocally contemplating trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, now that their old Keeper had graduated. Harry encouraged him to do so, hopeful that he would be able to get over his confidence issues once more. Neville timidly asked Harry if he was still willing to teach him Occlumency, to which Harry readily agreed. The poor kid's scar must have really been bothering him to make such a request in public.
Shortly after midday, the compartment door slid open, and Fred and George Weasley poked their heads in. "Ah, Harry, just the man we wanted to talk to!" Fred announced, as the two seventh-years entered and sat beside him.
"Hey, fellas," Harry greeted the twins. "What can I help you with?"
"We'd like your input on a new product we're working on," said George, rummaging through his bag.
"I'm not going to eat any joke sweets, if that's what you're looking for," Harry chuckled. He still remembered the twins' antics during his original fifth year, testing their Skiving Snackboxes on any gullible students looking for a quick Galleon.
"Nothing like that!" Fred said, gasping in faux outrage at the insinuation. "No, this one was actually inspired by your little run-in with Flint and Pavlovic last year."
George procured a length of fabric from his bag and handed it to Harry. "Erm...thanks, but I'm not really a scarf wearer," said Harry, bemused.
"It's not for fashion," said George. "Freddy, care to demonstrate?"
Fred took the scarf from Harry and threw it over his own shoulders. He then crossed to the opposite side of the compartment and turned his back on George, who promptly drew his wand.
"Watch closely now, children," said George, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. " Stupefy!"
Harry's eyes widened as the bolt of red light shot across the compartment towards Fred's back. However, to his surprise, the scarf around his neck flared yellow, and the spell was seemingly absorbed before impact, as though a Shield Charm had intercepted it.
"Pretty neat, innit?" Fred grinned as he removed the scarf and handed it back to Harry. "We've been studying the Protego charm and think we've found a way to weave it into articles of clothing as an enchantment."
Harry looked more closely at the scarf. With his newfound affinity to magic, he was able to detect traces of the magic imbued within the fabric, indeed similar to a Shield Charm though not quite as powerful. "This is brilliant, guys!" he said, astonished. "How long have you been working on this?"
"A few months now," George shrugged. "We figure, with a war coming on, there might be a market for items of clothing that provide basic protections from spells and hexes and the like. It only has so many charges before it wears off, and we haven't figure out how to block some of the darker curses out there, but we'll get there."
"This is very impressive magic," Hermione remarked, taking the scarf from Harry and looking it over herself.
"Always the tone of surprise," said Fred with a wink. "We might even open up our own clothing line after we graduate, with a full suite of protective clothing."
"You mean start your own business?" Ron scoffed. "With what money?"
"Our Triwizard Tournament winnings," said George with a wink.
"Come again?" said Harry, briefly glancing at Neville. Had the boy done the same thing with his thousand-Galleon reward as Harry had done in his own timeline?
"We made a killing off of taking bets last year," Fred explained. "Remember what I told you at the Yule Ball? Nearly everyone bet on Krum or Fleur, and they both lost. And thanks to Harry being disqualified, we were able to turn a tidy profit off of Neville's solo victory. No offense, mate."
"None taken," Harry chuckled. If the judges' petty decision against him meant a financial windfall for others who deserved it, he was all the more for it.
"We'll keep tinkering with it and let you know what we figure out," George promised. "Unless you can think of any improvements you would make yourself?"
"Enchanting isn't really my specialty," Harry admitted, handing the scarf back. "But I'm eager to hear what progress you make."
"You keep that as a souvenir," said Fred. "Might be worth a pretty penny one day as a prototype...who knows?"
"I'll write to my dad and see what he thinks," said Harry. "This sounds like something the Auror Office might want to invest in."
"Wicked!" said George, exchanging grins with his twin. "See you round, you lot. Enjoy your O.W.L. year!" And the twins departed the compartment.
"I hope they know what they're doing, starting their own shop," Ron muttered. "They were never the most responsible types."
"They're smarter than they let on," Harry offered. "If they're passionate about something, I'm sure they'll see it through and do it the right way." It was a trait he'd always admired about the twins: they didn't care about many things, but when they did care about something, there were no half-measures...they played to win.
Hermione's watch suddenly beeped, and she jumped in alarm. "Oh my, we're late for the prefects meeting!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet as Neville did the same. "Coming, Harry?"
"Er...I wasn't made a prefect, Hermione," Harry said with a sad smile.
"What? But I thought...surely it would be…" Hermione stammered, eyes wide with surprise. "Blimey, I'm sorry Harry, I just assumed—"
"You weren't the only one," Harry chuckled. "Don't worry about it."
A mortified Hermione hurried out of the compartment. Neville gave Harry an odd look before following her – he clearly believed Harry would have received the honor as well.
"Who cares about being prefect, anyway?" Ron scoffed. "Just a consolation prize for goody two-shoes to feel important about themselves."
"Well said," Harry chuckled, wondering if Ron would have said the same thing in his original timeline when he himself was made prefect. "Anyway, how about a couple games of chess?"
Harry spent the remainder of the train journey getting thrashed soundly by Ron in wizard's chess. Clearly the boy had found an appropriate training partner in the form of Daphne Greengrass, as his play was far sharper and more decisive than Harry could ever remember. Harry was just glad to be back on good terms with the youngest Weasley male, as they joked and quipped lightly about whatever struck their fancy. They may never be able to talk about more important things like close friends could, but at least they still had a natural rapport.
"So, are you and Daphne still close?" Harry asked as the sky began to darken outside.
"Erm...kinda," Ron muttered, face reddening slightly. "We get along well, but she's not exactly the most approachable witch, is she? It feels like she doesn't want to be seen around me sometimes."
Harry had noticed the same thing about Daphne. Appearances were everything to her, and she clearly cared deeply about her reputation among the other pure-bloods in her House.
"Don't take it personally," Harry advised the boy. "She has a lot of expectations upon her as heir to a pure-blood house. I'm sure she cares about you, even if she doesn't always show it."
"Yeah, maybe," Ron shrugged. "I say bollocks to all that shite, y'know? Pure-blood courting rituals and all that...it was fun for a night, doing everything by the 'rules' for the Yule Ball, but I could never do that for a real relationship."
"It is rather archaic, isn't it?" Harry agreed. "Thank Merlin my dad married a Muggle-born...if I was expected to court a proper pure-blood princess, I'd likely drown myself in the lake." Ron snorted appreciatively with laughter at this.
"So how do you feel about the Terry Boot situation?" asked Ron with a knowing smirk.
"What about him?" Harry frowned, confused. He hadn't heard from his fellow Ravenclaw classmate all summer, but he'd always liked the kid well enough.
"You didn't hear?" said Ron, raising his eyebrows. "Ginny told Hermione that he's dating your sister. How long has that been going on?"
"I, uh...I didn't know that," Harry muttered. "What happened with her and Neville?"
"You'll have to ask Neville that," Ron shrugged. "They just kinda drifted apart after the Yule Ball. The spark wasn't there, I guess...it happens."
"Uh huh," Harry hummed, gears churning in his mind. What the hell was Dahlia thinking, messing around with Terry Boot? Harry would have to have a firm word with him once they arrived at the castle...he never liked that kid to begin with.
Soon after, the Hogwarts Express rolled into Hogsmeade Station, and the students disembarked to grab a carriage up to the castle. Harry noticed Tonks and Kingsley lurking around the station platform, while two more Aurors stood guard at the gate that granted access to school grounds. Clearly the Ministry was taking security more seriously this year – or at least, his father was.
Harry departed the carriage and made his way through the crowd into the Great Hall. He walked in the direction of the Ravenclaw Table, but someone grabbed his arm and pulled him aside before he got there.
"Katie!" he exclaimed, happy to see his girlfriend for the first time in months. But when he went in for a kiss, he saw that she looked quite cross with him.
"You haven't written to me in weeks," Katie reprimanded him. "Why?"
"Oh," said Harry awkwardly. "I've, erm...been really busy." That much was true – his summer had been preoccupied with secret Order meetings and even more secret planning sessions to eliminate Voldemort's horcruxes.
"Too busy to write me back?" Katie demanded. "I wrote to you almost every day!"
"I wrote back, sometimes," Harry said defensively.
"Three times!" Katie huffed. "All summer!"
Only three? Harry thought, wracking his brain. He thought he'd responded to her owls more than that...but now that he thought about it, he'd eventually given up on reading through all of her near-daily missives. She didn't have much of interest to say, besides providing minor updates on the farm and constantly lamenting that he couldn't be there with her.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It's been a crazy time for my family. But I'm really glad to see you again."
Katie narrowed her eyes at him briefly, then sighed and relented. "I missed you," she pouted, finally allowing him to kiss her.
"Missed you too," said Harry. "I'll tell you all about my summer when I get the chance."
"Deal," said Katie. "See you around at Quidditch practice?"
"Katie, we're not on the same team anymore, remember?" Harry laughed. "We'll be rivals again this year."
"Oh...right," Katie sighed sadly. "Well, see you soon, then." And she reluctantly slipped out of his grasp and returned to her Gryffindor classmates, as Harry did the same at the Ravenclaw Table.
"Have a relaxing summer, Potter?" asked Anthony Goldstein as he sat beside him. The fifth-year prefect badge gleamed against his breast, and Harry did his best to suppress a sudden burst of jealousy towards the boy.
"Not particularly," Harry sighed. "But it was eventful at least."
"Scheming with your father to take over the Ministry?" quipped Michael Corner, drawing nervous laughter from the surrounding students.
"Don't listen to the rubbish the Prophet is putting out," Harry groaned. "My dad is focused on keeping the country safe from the Auror Office."
"Just pulling your leg, Potter," Michael grinned. "My folks don't believe a word of what that rag is printing...they say your dad's a good man and won't hear otherwise."
"Hear, hear," said a nearby seventh-year, giving Harry a polite nod of respect. Several others were in agreement...clearly James' year of teaching at the school had done wonders for preserving his positive reputation with the student body, for which Harry was extremely grateful.
"Say, Terry, still going steady with Potter's sister?" Anthony Goldstein smirked. "You manage to get any action yet?"
Terry Boot turned a bright shade of red, shrinking away from Harry's glare. "Erm...we're just getting to know each other," he stammered awkwardly. "Exchanging letters and such."
"Can't wait to see the look on Potter's face when you start snogging her in the halls," Michael guffawed, throwing a playful arm over Harry's shoulders.
"It'll be the last look Terry ever sees," Harry growled. That ceased the laughter immediately, as Michael quickly removed his arm and Terry's face somehow purpled even further.
Silence settled upon the Hall as McGonagall led the latest batch of first-years into the Hall. As always, the process was excruciatingly long, and Harry's stomach growled impatiently as each young student leapt off the stool to join their new Houses. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore stood to address the room.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore greeted the students. "I trust that you are all relaxed and well-rested from your holidays and ready to learn." The grumbles and furtive glances between students told Harry that very few of them actually felt relaxed...it had been a stressful and anxious period for everyone in the wizarding world.
"Before we begin, I wish to acknowledge this year's Head Boy and Head Girl," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Please give a hand to Cedric Diggory and Angelina Johnson!"
The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor stood from their respective seats to raucous applause...both were well-liked by all Houses. Harry whooped and cheered loudly from his own seat; both Cedric and Angelina met his eye, and gave him warm smiles of gratitude.
"We also have three new staff members to introduce," said Dumbledore once the room had settled down again. "First, here to take over temporary duties as Care of Magical Creatures professor, while our dear Hagrid is out on leave, please welcome back your substitute, Professor Grubbly-Plank!"
Students clapped politely for the witch, as Harry noticed Damian scowl disappointedly at Hagrid's absence. Harry hoped that Hagrid's mission to negotiate with the giants would go better this time around, but given Voldemort's expanded sphere of influence in this timeline, he doubted that would be the case.
"Secondly," Dumbledore continued, "taking over as your Divination professor is the centaur Firenze."
There was a smattering of applause and surprised exclamations as the centaur nodded politely to the room from his corner of the Head Table. Can't believe the Ministry let that one happen, Harry thought. Guess that's what happens when bigots like Umbridge are no longer in positions of influence…
"And finally, we are once again in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," said Dumbledore with a slight grimace. "He comes highly recommended by the Ministry of Magic himself, and some of you older students might recognize him. Give a hand for Professor Percy Weasley!"
Harry gaped as the bespectacled redhead stood to accept the meager applause that met his announcement. He glanced around to the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables; Ron looked just as perplexed as he felt, while Fred, George and Ginny looked absolutely furious. Several other sixth- and seventh-years looked downright insulted… A nineteen-year-old teacher? they seemed to be thinking. Harry couldn't blame them – Percy may have been a model student, but surely he lacked the experience necessary to impart any kind of useful knowledge to the students.
Harry remembered his father's parting words that morning: ' Whoever the Ministry appoints will have it out for Dumbledore and myself, so try not to get on their bad side.' Now Percy's appointment made perfect sense: he was absolutely loyal to the Ministry, and would dutifully report any wrongdoing directly to Fudge. And unfortunately, it seemed that Harry already was on Percy's bad side; as the applause died down and Percy retook his seat, Harry realized that the new professor was staring right at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
In fact, both new professors were eyeing him warily: Firenze also regarded Harry with a stern expression. Harry had not forgotten what the centaur said about him in the Forbidden Forest in his first year, calling him a 'trickster' and accusing him of betraying Neville in the future. All the same, Harry hoped to learn more from Firenze about the stars and divining from nature than Trelawney ever would have been able to teach him. He hoped the same would prove true for Luna, who was watching the centaur curiously with wide blue eyes.
After eating his fill at the feast, Harry retired to his dorm in Ravenclaw Tower, doing his best to tune out his roommates' excited chatter as they caught up on each other's summer activities. He had a lot on his plate this year: on top of it being his O.W.L. year and being Quidditch captain, he had committed to teaching Neville Occlumency, and still intended to help Bill and Saul research more about the horcruxes and their possible hiding spaces. He could hardly see how he would have time for friends, much less a girlfriend, as Katie seemed eager to catch up on lost time as well.
Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was not made a prefect this year. It would have only added one more complication to an already-chaotic year. Was that why Dumbledore had passed him over? Was he doing Harry a favor, to help reduce his workload?
No, surely not. Harry remembered the look of severe disappointment in the Headmaster's expression when he'd confronted him at Grimmauld Place weeks back. This was an act of retribution, Harry was certain of it – a reminder of where the real power lay. He lay in his four-poster bed and did his best to get some sleep, ignoring the burning resentment against Dumbledore that was only building by the day.