Chapter 82, everybody! I haven't updated since last year! *bricked*

Also screw FFN I had all this ready to go last week and FFN absolutely would not let me post—couldn't even do a new chapter where I typed something in, nothing would save. :\ Guess this means this'll be the next fic ported over to AO3...

So chunks of this were actually written well ahead, and I'm kind of chuffed that some of it actually survived to posting. Also I wonder about Harry never noticing this setup before but chalked it up to him usually being busy during finals. In other news...Ron has a point, usually Voldy waits until after finals. XD

Also having Snips around means we end up skipping the whole end of book 5, functionally. Oops. XD Dumbledore is obliquely referencing The Shadow, by the way—two more years and it's in the public domain!

Lucy Elizabeth Dawson, thanks for the review! Glad you liked it! :D

Harry Potter © 1997 J.K. Rowling

The weeks leading up to the OWLs were increasingly packed tight, stress reaching breaking points—Ron had gone from jokingly predicting how everyone would die messily for Divination to unironically predicting he'd drop dead during OWLs. And then having concerns when Professor Trelawney did not see fit to dissuade him of this fate.

Harry, meanwhile, was redoubling all his efforts on his classes (with the exception of History of Magic, which he gave up as a lost cause). He had taken to dragging Ron along with him Thursdays to remedial Transfiguration, and while Professor McGonagall had cautioned him against neglecting his favored classes, she did say to give more attention to those he struggled in.

Harry had also persisted in the HAG meetings—Professor McGonagall's suggestion that he could actually be a teacher had fired him up as much as the fake Moody's recommendation that he be an Auror had. Plus, it helped everyone else with their practical spells.

And it gave him an idea—ask Neville during one of their study rounds if he'd be amicable, schedule a meeting to announce that Neville would be going over Herbology. Neville had gone over every plant in his collection (that he had brought with him to Hogwarts) before going over the general care that anyone who owned a magical plant would need to know, before describing some Dark plants and how to counter them.

Harry was very convinced that Neville would be taking Professor Sprout's job when she retired.

This started a chain reaction—from Hermione covering Charms to Ron covering jinxes, the whole HAG class ended up teaching each other their specialty—it eventually bled past the HAG, and soon it wasn't uncommon to see impromptu study groups all over the school. At least until the teachers herded them into specific areas.

But eventually, finally, the source of their stress was upon them—their OWLs had arrived, and Harry was made privy to a particular setup he had never noticed before due to being so focused on his usual finals. The theoretical was held in the great hall, and then there was the practical held in various classrooms that they did one on one.

Granted it wasn't exactly one on one, since there was a line of ministry reviewers and students were assigned to each one—which meant that Harry had an audience when his reviewer asked if he could perform a corporeal Patronus. "As a bit of a bonus point."

Umbridge getting arrested was definitely a strong Patronus memory, as the evidence could attest to.

Familiars, meanwhile, were not allowed to sit the exams with their owners, which annoyed Snips to no end.

"Calm down," Mauve said, coiled next to Trevor and watching him pace. "They've been working for months, they'll do well on their finals."

"These aren't just FINALS this will determine the trajectory of the rest of their LIVES," Snips said, dragging his paws down his face and tugging his lower eyelids down some.

"You're going to give yourself gray feathers," Trevor pointed out.

"Good to know I have something to look forward to next year," Mauve observed.

"And then!" Snips barked, waving his wings around frantically. "And then that's Harry sitting in a room WITH STRANGERS without us keeping an eye on him—he's going to get into some form of trouble, I just know it. Someone will lose it and stab him with a quill, or one of the ministry officials are secretly working for the dark lord, or he'll trip and hit his head on the side of a desk—SOMETHING."

"You're going to be very disappointed when he comes out of his exams in one piece, aren't you?"

"No, I'll call it a job well done and finally be able to somewhat relax." Oh who was he kidding, he hadn't been able to fully relax since the end of fourth year—if it wasn't that pain in his left wing it was a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, the certainty that he should be doing something more now that Voldemort was back and being a pest—spying on him or something, even though he didn't have the first clue as to where the miscreant could be hiding. Go back to pacing, vaguely aware of Trevor and Mauve exchanging concerned glances—

Look sharply when the doors opened—they couldn't be done with their History of Magic OWL already—

Darted down when he saw Harry flanked by Ron and Hermione.

"Okay fine," he heard Mauve say as he flew off. "Maybe he has a point."

There was precisely one OWL Harry was not feeling confident about, and that was because he had given up the class proper as a lost cause: History of Magic.

This feeling was cemented upon sitting down and not having a clue as to the answers for any of the questions on the first page, started flicking through to see if there were any he might have hopes of answering, settled down to it when he found the bits on the latest goblin rebellions.

Upon that being finished, he flicked through the rest, went back to the beginning and started giving his best guesses as to each one, frequently glancing up at the hourglass at the front of the great hall and occasionally entertaining himself with guessing at how the rest of his year was doing with this by listening to the quills scratching. He was fairly certain he could peg the one furious scribbling as belonging to Hermione; judging by the rest sounding more hesitant and ponderous, he had the feeling she'd be at the far end of the bell curve with the vast majority of them at the other end. At least he felt he had done well with his Arithmancy OWL—

Was also certain when he slammed back into his own recollections to find himself staring at the ceiling that he had just become the most interesting thing to ever happen at a History of Magic OWL, but he couldn't rightly bring himself to care at the moment. Make his excuses as he scrambled out—he wasn't going to be getting much more out of that exam anyway—bolted out the door as Ron and Hermione caught up, Hermione no doubt throwing a fully-completed exam at the examiners before hustling after him.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked when they caught up.

"No," Harry groaned, hands pressed to his forehead. "I think—I think Voldemort has Sirius—"

Ron and Hermione gasped.

"Harry, you were supposed to be blocking him out—" Hermione started.

"Blimey, this is the first time he's cut into an exam," Ron said at the same time, earning him a glare from Hermione. "What?"

"Guys!" Harry snapped. "Helpful suggestions, please! OW!"

Snips squawked, darted away from Harry as he rubbed his cheek, squawked and flapped before darting down the hall and back to him.

"I say we're following him," Ron said, pointing.

They did, up the stairs, down halls, through secret passageways—until they were at the Fat Lady's portrait, saying the password and then following Snips up the stairs to their dorm—Snips jumped up and down on Harry's trunk, dove into it when Harry opened it—

Shoved a mirror out into Harry's grasp.

"Wait—wait we can check—Sirius!" Harry barked at the mirror. "Sirius Black!"

The mirror buzzed—gleamed—

Showed Sirius Black, alive and whole.

"Harry!" Sirius greeted. "About time you called—let me guess, OWLs kept you grounded, right?"

Ron and Hermione had to take over explaining—Harry's relief at seeing Sirius alive and okay was so overpowering that he had to sit down, put his head between his knees at Hermione's direction. Faintly, he could hear Sirius sending a message Patronus to tell Dumbledore that Moldy-Voldy just made a run at Harry, tried to trick him into the Department of Mysteries—

"Don't you go," Harry blurted—the memory of the fake vision was still too fresh—

Sirius was silent for a long moment.

"I'm—listen—I'm going to stay on the mirror," Sirius said, the background behind him moving. "But—ah—I'm going to floo to Dumbledore's office real quick—I'll be right there, okay? Don't move."

They assured him they weren't going anywhere, Harry still sagging against the nearest trunk—which turned out to be Neville's when he came in. Harry scootched over when Neville motioned at him, watched with detachment as Neville opened his trunk and fished out the honking daffodils.

Within a few moments, the mood in the room was improved.

"So what happened?" Neville asked.

Ron filled him in as Harry patted Snips.

"At least someone remembered a way to check and make sure," Hermione said when Ron finished, looking at Snips.

Ron nodded. "Yeah—for a minute I thought we were going to storm the Department of Mysteries."

"Won't You-Know-Who know, though?" Neville asked. "Won't he be mad or something?"

"Moldy-Voldy's always mad," Sirius said, coming into the dorm and staggering over to them, out of breath. "You'd have to be to think being bald and wearing a bathrobe in public is a good fashion statement." Plop down next to Harry. "You all right, Harry?"

"I've been better," Harry decided to say, sagging against him in relief.

"Well we all have, to be honest—who remembered the mirror?" Sirius asked, waving the item around a little. Snips saluted in response. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"So now what happens?" Neville asked.

"And what's in the Department of Mysteries that's so important?" Harry added.

"Well, since it's obviously going to be an issue anyway," Sirius sighed. "So from what I'm getting, there's a prophecy concerning you and Moldy-Voldy in the Department of Mysteries."

Silence.

"I beg pardon?" Ron said.

"But Divination is," Hermione started…trailed off when she apparently couldn't find anything nice to say.

"So sometimes there's actual prophecies made," Sirius told her. "And when they're made a copy is added to this room in the Department of Mysteries—don't ask me how, it's a mystery. But when it's made, only the people it's made about can touch it. I don't understand the logistics of it, logistics and wizards don't always see eye-to-eye…."

"So there's a prophecy about me and Voldemort," Harry said, ignoring the flinches.

"That's the rumor," Sirius told him. "And apparently Moldy-Voldy is after it because he thinks it could give him an edge. As I understand it, he only heard half of it last time—he must think he missed something crucial."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to this, absently reached to pat Snips—found that Snips had gone very still, small, and silent. Frown at him in concern, look back at Sirius. "And Dumbledore told you all this?"

"Dumbledore told us this, yes—don't see any reason to omit why he bought Grimmauld Place at this point," Sirius said, grimacing. "He brought back the old Order of the Phoenix to counter Moldy-Voldy and all his villainy, Remus agreed with Molly on not telling you kids because they didn't want you getting involved. Unfortunately, getting specifically targeted means you're involved."

"Wait," Ron said. "Is this why Dad got attacked outside the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes—Voldy thinks there's something in there that would help him out. Specifically, something that kills you," he said, looking at Harry. "For some reason he thinks you're the big obstacle in his way and not Dumbledore. And before you ask, I agreed with Remus on this one—there was no point in telling you and making you worry when you were here because Voldy wouldn't dare come within ten feet of this castle with Dumbledore here. Original plan was telling you once you were home and on the other side of your OWLs."

Harry wanted to argue that point, he really did—subsided when he realized Remus had the point and he wasn't certain what knowing about it beforehand would have done for him. Except maybe...

"If I knew he was gunning for me specifically with this I would have been more suspicious of the whole thing," Harry tried.

Sirius looked at the others. "Anyone buy that?"

Everyone, Snips included (and even Scuttle and Murray) shook their heads at that.

"I'm with Neville, I figured we were getting ready to storm the Department of Mysteries," Ron said.

"All right fine," Harry huffed. "Tell Remus I'm going to be mad at him on principle though."

"Will do," Sirius said brightly.

Dumbledore called Harry to his office late afternoon the next day, which Harry felt was a positive—at least he wasn't obliquely ignoring him, even if him acting as if nothing happened was a little grating.

"You'll be happy to know that Voldemort's death eaters were thwarted in their attempt to break into the Department of Mysteries and are now on their way to a secure facility," Dumbledore said. "This facility is not Azkaban, although since Alastor Moody is the one organizing this none of us are quite sure where that is."

"I thought Moody retired?" Harry said, briefly derailed from his original questions.

"Apparently Mr. Weasley—hold on—Percy convinced him his services were required. He is also mobilizing a stronger Auror force—while the larger public has yet to be convinced that Voldemort has returned, they are now convinced that they should be taking their safety more seriously."

"Well that's good," Harry said, still irritated at the notion people thought he was lying about Voldemort.

"Indeed. Now, I sense that you're quite peeved at me, so it's probably for the best that you air your grievances before it ruins the tea."

Probably an understatement, but Harry was happy to oblige.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked. "I would have felt better about all this if I had just been informed."

"Alas, I couldn't factor feeling into this," Dumbledore sighed. "I had concerns that Voldemort might learn of your connection and start trying to spy through you—I thought that, if I made you a less tempting target, he would forgo doing so."

"I don't think that worked," Harry said flatly. "And then—him spying on me—wait." Look at Snips. "Is this why you tried getting me to do Occulmency?"

"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued. "Yes, that would help somewhat, but Voldemort is a skilled Legimens on par with myself; I recommend keeping with those studies, but as you're just starting that will only go so far."

Wait, Harry knew that term from the Occulmency book. "You can read minds?"

"That would be how best to render it down into simple terms, but it's not so simple as that," Dumbledore said. "Think of it as functioning similarly to the Muggle telly, where a Legimens is more watching the thoughts go through your head."

"I thought you could read minds—er, watch my thoughts."

"I admit it is a very useful talent for a teacher," Dumbledore agreed. "Our old Potions professor, Snape, could do the same, and was an accomplished Occulmens on the side—eye contact is key, you see."

"Except with Voldemort."

"Yes, that is a problem," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Regretfully, as I've mentioned to you before, the two of you have a most unusual bond—surprisingly, relating to the half-heard prophecy." At Harry's surprised twitch: "I was the recipient of the prophecy—Professor Trelawney made it, although I doubt she remembers doing so."

"Then—" But if he was the weak link, the way Voldemort could learn everything—"Don't tell me."

"You're afraid that Voldemort might be listening in." Harry couldn't help but glower at him. "I didn't have to read your mind for that, my dear boy—it's painted all over your face." Wave a hand as Harry looked away. "I doubt you have to worry about Voldemort listening in on you—perhaps, if you were in a more negative frame of mind, he'd have an easier time of it, but doing so now is painful to him."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Love," Dumbledore said simply. "Your mother's love protects you from him, and your love for others protects you further."

"I—how? What kind of—of dumb power is love, anyway?"

"I heard, through the familiar grapevine, that Snips recalled the mirror so you could confirm that Sirius was unharmed, correct?" Dumbledore asked; Harry nodded. "And then you were surrounded by friends and family who cared for you, am I still correct?" Harry nodded. "This may seem rather cliche to you, but evil cannot comprehend such goodness, cannot tolerate being in its presence." Looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. "There are many kinds of love, Harry—a mother's love sent Narcissa and Draco to your family house this year. Sirius and Remus' familial love for you saw them ensuring that you and your friends would be better prepared for what is coming. Your love for your friends saw you sharing that knowledge with others who further shared that knowledge; there is now suddenly a whole group who are better able to defend themselves should Voldemort strike, a group that will stand with each other because love is stronger than fear. This is why Voldemort tried to target you, to trick you into going to the Department of Mysteries." Tip his head. "This seems like a silly capability to you, Harry, because you have yet to look at the wider ripples such actions have. Voldemort, who only knows fear and hate, cannot fathom the ramifications of love, and thus he fears and tries to destroy it. Do you understand, Harry?"

He thought he might have; pictured the library, stuffing everything into the books and shelving them, nodded finally. "If you want to tell me about the prophecy—if you don't I understand—"

Dumbledore nodded. "Keep practicing your Occulmency, Harry—anything worth doing is worth the effort, after all. As for the prophecy." Waved his wand, sending the pensive drifting over. "It might be best for you to hear the wording yourself."

Harry did, once again noting Snips going still and silent—felt the little familiar start quaking a little, put a hand up and cupped Snips against his neck as the ghostly Trelawney sank back into the mist.

"'Neither can live while the other survives'—what does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Possibly, that you cannot truly live a full life while constantly looking over your shoulder," Dumbledore said. "In Voldemort's case, it's because of his obsessing over this and his inevitable death—he could have been truly great, done so much for the wizarding world that people would sing his praises long after his death. Alas, at heart he's still that scared little boy terrified of that one thing that comes for us all." Shake his head sadly. "Voldemort will not rest until he thinks he has destroyed all opposition, all possible causes of death—and in doing so will never live his life, always jumping at shadows."

"And I'll be the same way because I'll have to be keeping an eye out for him," Harry said.

"I have said in the past that you share many similarities with him, Harry—but not this," Dumbledore said. "I doubt you fear death in the same way he does, and your concerns lay more with others' well-being than he would ever entertain. No, Harry, I don't think you'll end up falling into those same pitfalls; rather, I think you'll come out and into the sun, because you've never been afraid of reaching out to others."

Harry nodded, not quite looking at Dumbledore, staring without seeing one of the spinning trinkets on the shelves. "We're...one of us is going to end up killing the other in the end, aren't we?"

"I cannot see the future," Dumbledore said heavily. "I would prefer you not have to deal with that burden. But I will not lie and tell you that Voldemort sees an alternative to that."

Harry huffed at that. "I wish he'd just get a life—I—there's—there's too much I want to do, I don't want to have to put it on hold because someone wants me dead!"

"Understandable," Dumbledore said. "And, while I can, I will help you to do so. The best revenge, I am told, is living well, and in doing so you have found the power that the dark lord knows not." Harry looked at him. "You see the beauty of the everyday, the joy of living, of being with others; Voldemort does not, so no matter what he does he will come out the loser."

Harry wished he could believe that fully; glanced at Snips when the little familiar gently bit one of his fingers. "So...the weapon he was looking for is one he can't ever wield."

"That is the best summary of it, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding as he leaned back in his seat. Waited patiently as Harry digested all this. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"Can't you read my mind and find out?"

"Rather unsurprisingly, constantly skimming someone else's mind is considered impolite. It also makes conversations rather boring, as one person ends up doing most of the work."

Harry frowned thoughtfully at that. "Does that mean two Legimens can have a conversation without speaking?"

"I did try seeing if that would work with Severus; results were inconclusive, as he was by nature rather suspicious in addition to being an accomplished Occulmens, not to mention rather prickly. I had heard of certain branches of magic in Tibet that dive quite strongly into what the Muggles call psychic powers, but alas I haven't the time to pursue that line of information any further. Perhaps one day," he sighed, staring out the window.

Harry felt that this was probably a sign of dismissal, couldn't resist asking one more question. "Professor...Ron and I...and Hermione and Draco too...we were wondering why I didn't make prefect."

"Mmm? Ah," he noised. "That was fairly heavy in our discussions, but eventually we agreed that you being an honorary Slytherin muddied the water a bit too much."

"I knew it."