# My Order of the Phoenix

psyche752

Rating: G
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 05/05/2003
Last Updated: 08/02/2004
Status: Paused

The trio are back to face Hogwarts with the threat of a revived Voldemort hanging over their every move. The wizarding world is holding its breath. Will Voldemort be the biggest threat they have to face, or will problems come from somewhere else entirely...?

## 1. 1

<html>
<head>
<title>Untitled Document</title>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
</head>

<body>

Rating:G

Author: Psyche752

Disclaimer: Although the first two lines belong to JK Rowling, and I hope she’ll forgive me for using them, the rest is my own original and non-profit work. I do not own Harry Potter and co. nor is this work an intended infringement on copyright laws.

Authors Note: Please R+R

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive The only person left outside was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four. Harry sucked in his breath as Uncle Vernon appeared at the corner of the house. Well, Harry thought, the front of Uncle Vernon appeared at the corner, the rest of him was still tailing behind out of sight. The image caused a Harry a small giggle which he instantly regretted as the flowers swayed softly with his movement.

"Think of something else" he ordered himself firmly. Inevitably in such moments his mind turned to Quidditch and lost in the swell of a breeze he chased the imaginary golden snitch around inside his head.

"Where is that ungrateful wretch of a boy" snarled Uncle Vernon as he plodded back into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia looked around from where she had been decorating a fruit salad with bits of chocolate in order to entice Dudley into trying it.

"What’s that dear?" she asked.

"The boy" Uncle Vernon repeated in an even louder voice "is missing…AGAIN. When I think of all the time and effort we have put into him this summer-"

"And that snivelling noise at night is almost more than I can bear" interrupted Aunt Petunia with a haughty glare.

Dudley interrupted this discussion before Uncle Vernon got a chance to blame Harry for the exhaust problem on the car. He stalked into the kitchen a little, though not noticeably thinner, sniffing the air like a dog.

"I SMELL CHOCOLATE" he said. "GIVE ME MY CHOCOLATE". He crossed his arms and stared aggressively at his mother.

"Darling Dudley what a clever boy you are to out-guess Mummy-"

Darling Dudley opened his mouth for another sulky tirade and so Aunt Petunia hurriedly continued "And look what Mummy has made for her darling boy". Moving aside she revealed the pudding which was barely recognizable as fruit salad under all the whipped cream and chocolate pieces.

"I CAN SEE A BIT OF APPLE" raged Dudley furiously. "That’s not my pudding, that’s food for rabbits". All the rabbits in the neighbourhood, privy to this discussion thanks to Dudley’s deafening shout, pricked their ears hopefully at the prospect of the chocolate wickedness.

Harry, within a hands breadth of the golden snitch, sighed as the sounds of angry sobbing penetrated his imaginary Quidditch match. A particularly nasty root of geranium was sticking in his side and he shifted gently to a better position. He had been hiding in this flowerbed for four days now. It was a plan that he had hatched over another horrifically long summer with the Dursleys. Gradually the days uncrossed on his calendar had grown less and the prospect of Hogwarts had grown closer. Keen to avoid the last minute escapes necessary each preceding year Harry had taken the initiative to hide out in the last week. The Dursleys barely noticed he was alive anyway and thankfully each of Uncle Vernon’s inquiries – prompted by the need to blame Harry for a bad day at work – had ended in another dispute over Dudley’s "diet". The grapefruit scheme had lasted only four minutes into the new term and now Aunt Petunia was trying what the nurse had called "tempting health-food". Harry didn’t think that the nurse meant covering health food in whipped cream, but Aunt Petunia seemed to feel that it all went down the same way.

Harry stretched out a hand to touch his Hogwarts trunk by his side. Only two more hours until Hermione’s parents were coming by to pick him up. Harry had managed to sneak out to a phone box about a week ago and had hurriedly arranged for this escape route. He hoped that Hermione’s parents wouldn’t find the proceedings too peculiar, though having a witch for a daughter should probably prepare one for some abnormality. An uncomfortable cramp shot through Harry’s lower leg and to divert his mind from the pain he started to count-down the minutes.

It had been an unusually difficult summer for Harry. Thankfully the tragic drama of last term had made enduring the Dursleys somewhat easier. During the day Harry would find himself drawn to the window of his small room, watching the neat privet hedges, consumed with an irrational fear that Voldemort would spring out. Being deprived of wizarding news over the summer had been excruciating. Time and time again within Harry’s fevered imagination Voldemort destroyed Hogwarts and had taken control of the wizard world. The arrival of his Hogwarts letter (delivered safely to his own window in the dead of night) had done amazing work to allay his fears. He wondered again what had happened since his confrontation with Voldemort at the end of last term. Had Hagrid convinced the giants to help? Had Dumbledore managed to rally the wizards? What was Snape up to? And, not for the first time, he closed his eyes and wished for the safety of all his witch and wizard friends.

The cramp was really starting to hurt and pain was spreading through Harry’s left side. The trembling dislodged a few geranium leaves which fell gracefully onto his glasses.

"Come on Hermione" he seethed.

At this the bush to his left seemed to rustle in reply.

"You think you’re talking to a bush" said Harry’s brain. "You’ve been out here too long!"

But no, again… "Harry!" came the urgent whisper.

Harry had time to hope that he wasn’t going crazy in the moments before the bush rustled again and he was confronted with Hermione’s grinning face. Dumbfounded all he could think to say was "You’re early".

As they belted themselves securely in the back of Hermione’s parent’s car, Harry was struck by a sudden thought.

"I probably smell quite bad" he muttered apologetically.

"Well…yes you really do" said Hermione frankly "but its ok, my parents have developed a real intolerance to bad smells – bad teeth make your breath smell really awful. Also, my early attempts at Potions were never that easy on the nostrils either. But Harry" she lowered her voice "how are you?"

Harry looked at her earnest face and couldn’t bring himself to share the nights he’d cried to himself to sleep. He didn’t think it sounded very manly and Hermione’s face looked worried enough. "I’m ok" he said in what he hoped was a sincere tone. "Tell me everything that’s happened. What’s happened with Voldemort?". Immediately he sensed a stiffening around him in the car as Hemione’s parents shifted almost imperceptibly. Hermione gave him a meaningful stare.

"Oh Harry all those reports were so utterly exaggerated. Everything’s fine". She gave him a swift nudge to enunciate the last word. Bewildered he could only nod, frustrated. Another thought nagged at his brain and he couldn’t help but acknowledge it.

"Thank goodness you didn’t go to the front door!" he gasped in relief.

"Honestly Harry what do you take me for? Obviously I wouldn’t have done that. Clearly any logical person would have taken the steps you did. Though" she added as another whiff of Harry’s soil perfume drifter her way "a logical person might have hidden with a change of clothes."

As the car pulled up to the curb, Harry touched Hermione’s sleeve.

"Thankyou for doing this. I would have called Ron but I needed to be sure that the person on the end wouldn’t mistaken the telephone for a muggle alarm clock, or worse, a rubber ducky"

Harry had an unpleasant imagine of Mr Weasley bathing with a telephone in an attempt to commune with Muggle nature. He shook his head in an effort to banish the picture. He got the impression that Hermione was suffering in the same way from the slightly distasteful droop of her mouth.

"Harry, I told you, it’s fine. My parents and I were happy to help out. Even I’m not Ron". Hermione’s response had all the right words but Harry suspected there was something else behind them. She became somewhat tight-lipped beside him. He reached over to undo his seat belt and gratefully stepped out onto the London pavement to stretch his legs.

As Hermione’s parents busied themselves in last-minute hugs and goodbyes, Harry tried to make himself as small as possible (a skill honed to perfection during his time with the Dursleys) and checked again that Hedwig was securely belted into the back seat. Hermione’s parents seemed genuinely sad to see her go and to be so close to a loving family was, on occasion, a little much for Harry to bear. Mrs Granger, possibly sensing some of this, called him over to their group.

"Thank you so much for the lift" Harry began earnestly, holding out his hand in farewell.

"Oh dear boy" said Mrs Granger. "I feel like you’re one of our family already with all the stories Hermione tells." Saying this she swept him into a brief hug and then, a little embarrassed by her outburst, went to sit in the front of the car. Mr Granger shook Harry’s hand and promised to deliver Hedwig safely to the station. They drove away to deliver the luggage (Harry and Hermione were planning to meet the Weasleys in Diagon Alley and travel with the family to the station) waving madly out of both windows.

"Honestly" said Hermione "Parents!"

</body>
</html>

## 2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nope, none of it is mine.

**

"So" said Harry, as they walked down Diagon Alley "What was all that about?"

Hermione looked vaguely guilty. "Oh" she said. "My parents got hold of one of my wizarding newspapers. There’s obviously a lot of articles about Voldemort and my parents got so concerned they tried to stop me coming back this term. I had to convince them that it was media exaggeration."

Harry couldn’t wait any longer. "HERMIONE" he burst out "What IS happening with Voldemort?"

Abashed Hermione gave him a summary. "Well, no-one knows exactly. There are reports that he has set up in a castle-"

"Don’t forget the twenty fire-breathing dragons that carry him about on a golden throne Hermione" added Mr Weasley, coming up behind them. "And the fact that Dumbledore has crossed over to his side…"

Harry gaped.

"…and that the end of the world is coming. Don’t believe everything you read Hermione."

"Er, Mr Weasley" asked Harry "What is the truth then?"

"Harry the official Ministry of Magic position is that the ‘safety of wizarding families is our top priority and any news concerning an alleged return to power of You Know Who will be shared immediately if we feel this safety is compromized’" recited Mr Weasley.

"Dad’s sick of the Ministry’s bureaucracy" added Ron coming up behind his father and grinning at his friends from under that familiar mop of red hair.

"Ron!" exclaimed Harry and Hermione together.

"Well your eyesight’s still in excellent condition" he commented wryly. Catching Mr Weasley’s look of indignation at being stopped mid-rant he added "Sorry for interrupting Dad."

Harry gave Ron a smile. Somehow, when Ron was around the threat of Voldemort seemed somehow lessened.

"Yes well" said Mr Weasley, slightly put out. "Unofficially Harry, and I tell you this because I think you deserve to be kept up to date, we don’t know a whole lot. Some of the wizards suspected of being followers of You Know Who from last time have mysteriously disappeared but the Ministry won’t accept the onset of a revived power. There have been increased instances of Muggle-baiting and the level of crime has raised but we have yet to see anything like what happened last time. The consensus seems to be that you’ve taught him caution Harry."

"I’ve…I’ve taught him?" echoed Harry bewildered.

"Well, not directly, but he’s wary of making the same mistakes as last time. The Ministry’s Chief of Archives has also gone missing. He was one of our most staunch allies last time – You Know Who killed a witch very dear to him – and I wonder whether research is on the cards."

"Research?" asked Hermione eagerly, pricking up her ears. "What kind of research?"

Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes at Harry. "I’m sure he needs a study-partner Hermione, maybe you’ll bump into him in the library!"

"Well isn’t it obvious?" asked Mr Weasley with a delicate look at Harry. "He needs to know why Harry couldn’t be killed."

"He’s not the only one." said Harry grimly.

Diagon Alley seemed somehow different. There was the same, if not more, frantic bustling and the shops seemed to be doing a roaring trade but somehow there was an edge, a tension in the air. Harry noticed that the wizards and witches walked a little quicker and looked behind more often. Many of the bookstores were sold out of "Defend your home: Charms for protection" and the complete range of "Self Defence Magic for dummies". Both of these titles had featured on their additional (recommended but not vital) reading list from Hogwarts. Hermione was most annoyed that her pre-term reading schedule would be interrupted by this inconvenience.

"It’s like she thinks that You Know Who himself is stealing these books!" whispered Ron to Harry as they turned into another bookshop and Hermione’s face grew even grimmer.

"What is he up to though?" pondered Harry. "I can’t stand this waiting around. We know that he’s out there." Looking down the alley Harry grew increasingly frustrated at the havoc Voldemort was already creating. "If I could only find him Ron then I-"

"You’d do what Potter?" came the odious noise of Draco’s voice. "Perhaps you’d challenge the Dark Lord to a game of Quidditch. Seems that’s all you’re good for. Shame somebody else had to pay for your incompetence last time…"

Harry winced. The memory of Cedric’s death was all too painfully real. "Shut your face Malfoy" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"You can’t even play Quidditch Malfoy, what does that say about your skills?" sneered Ron, moving closer to Harry.

"You’re calling him the Dark Lord?" asked Hermione. "Did you pick that title up from your father? Not gone missing yet has he? The Ministry’s on the look-out for supporters you know Draco, you’d better watch what you say."

"I forgot your cheerleaders Potter. I wonder if their time will come before yours. Its bound to be soon for all of you. I hope it’s slow. It’ll probably be the Mudblood and her filthy Muggle parents first. I can’t wait."

Harry and Ron surged forward in a rage but Hermione caught onto their shirts and held them back. "It’s not worth it" she said, "He’s not worth it" but Harry saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. Shaking her hand free, he lurched towards Malfoy but Mr Weasley, having caught sight of the exchange, intervened at the last minute.

"You boys aren’t getting into any trouble are you" he said warningly. "Kids perhaps there’s a better bookshop for you somewhere else". When Ron started to protest he held up a hand warningly. "Now."

Harry, Ron and Hermione withdrew reluctantly and walked away from the shop. "That Malfoy" said Ron, shaking his head, "I said he had no talent and yet clearly he is a natural in the field of hospitality. What a welcome!"

Harry sniggered, Hermione giggled and at once the tension was forgotten. Harry wished that Voldemort could be dismissed as easily.

## 3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: None of it is mine…

**

Loaded down with several bags from Diagon Alley, Harry, Ron and Hermione finally made it onto the Hogwarts Express free from further drama. Harry and Ron sat down opposite Hermione and began to theorize about Mr Weasley’s revelations.

"Ron, can’t you tell me any more?" Harry begged. "You’ve got to remember I haven’t heard anything since the end of last term".

Hermione and Ron exchanged guarded looks across the carriage. Harry caught the tension and looked quizzical. "What’s going on?" he asked.

"Nothing" said Hermione. "Nothing" echoed Ron.

"If you wanted to make it convincing" said Harry "then agreeing with each other was a bad start. What’s going on?"

"Oh Harry" sighed Hermione. Harry was just starting to get annoyed when Ron said matter-of-factly "My mum asked us not to tell you. She thinks Dumbledore should bring you up to date on what’s happened since you’ve been gone."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry with an ominous sense of foreboding.

"Harry we know how hard last term was for you" added Hermione. "We don’t want to upset you."

"I’m not a kid Hermione!" said Harry angrily, feeling excluded. "I’m a big boy now and the last thing I need is to feel like my friends are conspiring without me."

"Hold off Harry" said Ron quickly as Hermione turned away. "We’re not conspiring. It’s just hard to know what to say."

"Oh it’s hard for you is it" said Harry bitterly, aware that he was being unreasonable but too frustrated to care. "You helped the wizard who killed your parents to come back to power did you? You saw Cedric die in your place. You saw your dead parents as shadows in a time of crisis. You had to face Cedric’s parents. You’re the Boy Who Lived."

Hermione and Ron stared mutely at him. Harry’s face was red, his eyes shining with tears and his dishevelled hair angrily sticking out in fury.

"We didn’t mean to upset you" whimpered Hermione.

Harry melted. "I’m sorry" he said. "It’s hard for all of us. But please, tell me from the beginning."

"Cedric’s death made it into the papers" began Ron. "the Ministry tried to play it down but it was clear something had happened. Rumours filtered out through students at Hogwarts who had heard Dumbledore’s speech. It was crazy for a while."

"After that" continued Hermione "when the Ministry wouldn’t comment and the expected tragedy didn’t happen, things started to calm down."

"No news is good news" added Ron dolefully. "Dad, Bill and Percy were working around in the clock in the background rallying all the support that they can. They’re running scenarios and training and they’ve called in the Order of the Phoenix to consult."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" asked Harry but his question was ignored in the flow of narrative.

"There’s other stuff too Harry." Said Hermione resolutely "I’m sorry but there were leaks from the Ministry denying Voldemort’s return and…well…"

"They tried to make out that you were crazy" summarized Ron bluntly. Harry couldn’t help but smile. "Not for the first time" he said.

"Yeah but this time they were good" said Hermione. Harry and Ron shot her looks of annoyance. "Well, not ‘good’ good" she defended herself "clever good. Harry, they made a good case" she said regretfully. "It’s easier to believe that you’re crazy than that Voldemort is back."

"Part of the scheme altered the events of the Triwizard tournament. They can’t say it directly because of the magic libel curse each publication has to maintain by law, but they’re hinting that you were partially responsible for Cedric’s death as part of the competition."

At this all vestiges of Harry’s smile vanished. "I’m so so sorry Harry" said Hemione leaning forward so that her wavy hair fell like a curtain across her face.

"Harry no one important believed that rubbish and my Dad is going to register a complaint as soon as all this You Know Who business is done with" added Ron.

Inopportunely Draco, along with Crab and Goyle, walked past their compartment at this point and yelled "We know you’re in there killer."

The room was silent. Ron placed a hand awkwardly on Harry’s shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I’ve been better" said Harry frankly.

Ron’s mouth was opening and shutting like a goldfish as he tried desperately to find something appropriate to say. Failing he went with the reliable "That food trolley is taking its time isn’t it?". The moment the falsely cheerful words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the look of comic dismay. Hermione gave Ron a look of contempt and mouthed "idiot".

"Harry, what Ron is trying to say is that we’re here for you and we always will be. You’re our friend and we never believed any of that rubbish for a second" she said firmly.

Harry looked into her unwavering gaze and felt a wave of comfort wash over him.

"Yeah, that’s what I meant" said Ron sulkily.

Just then the trolley appeared at their door. Hermione’s amused glance met Harry’s as the two of them registered the humour. Ron blushed. "Laugh all you want" he said "I’m a growing boy".

Harry waved the lady inside and ordered a healthy selection from the trolley. "I don’t want to talk about it any more just yet" he said. "Tell me what else happened to you over the summer. I’ll go first…well, on second thoughts, maybe someone who actually left the house should go first!"

**

Please review…I’ll love you forever…

## 4. Chapter 4

The train whizzed through the countryside and in no time was pulling into the station. Hermione was sitting primly at the edge of her seat, having recently changed into her robes and with her bushy hair neatly braided. Ron, on the other hand, was sprawled low in his seat with the top button of his trousers undone, rubbing a hand repeatedly over his stomach. His school robes were half-way over his head but the process had been abandoned. Harry looked from one to the other and smiled to himself.

"Harry you have got to stop indulging Ron and his sweet tooth" said Hermione firmly with a despairing glance.

"Harry" mimicked Ron "Ron and his sweet tooth are more than capable of speaking for themselves and they are very happy with this arrangement."

"You won’t fit into your dress robes if you carry on like that!" chastized Hermione.

Harry was staring out of the window, oblivious (through years of practice) to the bickering. He loved watching as the train trundled into the station, the gradual slowing of the ‘clickety clacks’ and, most precious of all, the first sight of Hagrid on the platform. The sky was growing dark and the station was lit by only a few lanterns. Harry couldn’t see Hargid’s large shadow anywhere. Impatiently craning at the window he eventually made out a shady figure. The slender shape and wide-brimmed hat were familiar but why would Professor McGonagall be at the station instead of Hagrid? In an instant as the train pulled level with the Gryffindor Head, Harry remembered Hagrid’s mission at the end of last year and with a sickening lurch he remembered the many reasons why this year would not be the same as those preceding.

Nudging Ron and sweeping the remainder of their feast into his pockets, Harry stood and made his way to the exit. The train lurched to a final stop shaking Harry into poor Hermione who had followed him out of the carriage.

"Oh, sorry Hermione" he exclaimed guiltily. She rubbed her head and winced.

"That’s okay Harry" she said but already his attention was focused back on the platform. The minute that the green light signalled a safe stop for the train Harry wound down the window and opened the door by means of the external handle. Springing down onto he platform he nimbly made his way directly to Professor McGonagall.

Looking at him she said firmly, but not without compassion, before he could even open his mouth "Not now Mr Potter. I have to attend to the new students. Please make your way to the carriages and Professor Dumbledore will speak to you after the Sorting Ceremony. No buts." She continued as Harry made to protest.

"All first years please follow me" called Professor McGonagall raising her lantern high into the dusky evening.

Harry was immediately lost in the ensuing swarm of small bodies, but merely stood motionless, buffeted from side to side. Hermione and Ron came up behind him.

"What happened with McGonagall?" asked Ron as Hermione questioned "Where’s Hagrid?"

Harry shook his head grimly. "More delays. Apparently Dumbledore will explain all later". The stress on the last word reflected the depths of Harry’s frustration.

It took Hermione, typically, to draw attention to the positive side of this news. "But Harry, if Dumbledore is still at Hogwarts then that means things can’t be too desperate. We’re still safest under his protection."

She looked at him hopefully then turned to join the line of students waiting for a carriage. Harry made sure she was out of earshot before saying under his breath to Ron "I’m not sure any of us are safe anywhere anymore." Ron nodded his understanding and then side-by-side the two of them walked to meet Hermione.

As they waited in the drizzly mist, close to the end of the queue, Harry idly scanned the faces around him. The trundle of a carriage caught his eye and turning he made eye contact with the nearest occupant, Cho Chang. The moment was awkward. Harry dropped the gaze first and then watched as the carriage joined the winding procession up towards the school.

"It’s not your fault Harry" said Hermione warningly, having caught the moment. Ron nodded in agreement. Harry was sure that they were trying to help but the sentiment sounded hollow in his head. He wished suddenly that Hermione and Ron weren’t quite so good at catching his every thought.

A carriage pulled up in front of them and the three clambered aboard. Harry closed his eyes and found that for the first time in his time at Hogwarts he could work up little enthusiasm for the excitement of the Sorting Feast. "Damn you Voldemort!" he thought, clenching his fists about the material of his robes, "Damn you for taking this from me as well."

The sorting ceremony was well underway, but to Harry’s mind the sorting hat seemed to take an incredible amount of time deliberating. The song at the beginning had had an extra seven verses to the last one Harry could remember. He was seriously considering a maniacal dive to the front of the Great Hall in order to throttle it. Now that would be something for the papers to write about! He kept his eyes focused on Dumbledore in the hopes that the Headmaster would make eye contact of some kind but he was disappointed. Harry couldn’t help but notice that there were no new staff at the top table. He wondered who would be taking the Defence against the Dark Arts classes this year. For that matter, he wondered who would take Snape’s potions classes.

Eventually there was only one small child left at the front of the room. The poor girl was twisting her braids anxiously around one hand as she waited for her name to be called. McGonagall scanned the list. Opening her mouth she began-

The doors to the hall burst open with a great crash. Such force had been applied that one crashed from its hinges, splintering into pieces and scattering debris down the centre aisle. Ginny, sitting two seats down from Harry, promptly fell off her chair in shock. The entire room swivelled as one to face the entrance. Hermione glanced once quickly at Harry whose face was set in resolve. He had one hand on his wand in preparation.

Hagrid stepped firmly through the doors. His giant footfall sent reverberations down the room. A goblet of pumpkin juice spilled over. "Always knew how ter make an entrance" chuckled Hagrid noticing the white faces around him. "Did’n scare yer did I?". Scanning the room he nodded once in Harry’s direction. "Headmaster" he began "it’s about that secret missi- I mean, it’s about that pest control situation we have ‘ere."

"Quite right. Quite right Hagrid" said Dumbledore calmly. "Won’t you take a seat while Miss Ashton is sorted."

"Beggin’ yer pardon Headmaster, I’m afraid ter wait any longer."

"I understand." Said Dumbledore gravely. "I trust my staff and students will forgive my retiring a little early this evening. Miss Ashton my apologies to you are particularly regretful." Rising, he made his stately way to Hagrid, stepping gingerly over the shattered door pieces.

"One last thing Hagrid." Taking out his wand he muttered "Robores Repairus". The scattered wood reversed its motion across the floor and sealed itself, seamlessly, across the door."

Harry watched, tortured, as Dumbledore left the room.

"Now…" McGonagall continued "Miss Ashton, if you’d like to take a seat."

Harry groaned and lowered his head to the table. He gently banged his forehead against the aged wood.

It was typical, he reflected later in the warmth of his own bed. Events were conspiring against him however he looked at the situation. Ron and Hermione knew little more than newspaper gossip, McGonagall wouldn’t tell him anything, Hagrid and Dumbledore had been unavoidably called away on Hogwarts business and there was no Defence against the Dark Arts teacher to turn to. Harry fleetingly considered sending an owl to Sirius, but he had promised himself not to endanger his godfather by providing a beacon to his position. Harry was very much alone.

Time started to fly by in the term. Their schedules were altered to the point of absurdity. Classes were taken in year-groups by the remaining teachers. Thankfully space expansion spells had become something of a Hogwarts speciality and lecture halls that Harry remembered as being quite small could stretch to accommodate all four houses in his year. McGonagall in particular had shouldered a heavy burden and as well as temporary head-ship was teaching both Transfiguration and the Defence Against the Dark Arts – at both of which she was extremely skilled. Hermione voiced a hypothesis at dinner one evening that perhaps their Professor was using the time-turner to fulfil all her duties. No one knew for sure.

At times Harry could almost forget the predicament at hand. His schedule was lighter ("more time for extra reading" Hermione had announced gleefully) and Potions with Professor Flitwick was a delight given the absence of a certain hook-nosed Slytherin teacher. It was only things like seeing Cho Chang about the halls, or catching sight of a newspaper headline about a Dark Mark that reminded Harry that they were all living on the brink of destruction.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent a lot of time discussing Voldemort and potential strategies for defeating him. Ron’s scenarios often featured a certain ginger hero but Harry had found Hermione’s contributions quite useful. He found himself, much to Ron’s disgust and Hermione’s glee, taking notes at their discussions and memorizing charms and incantations that she had referenced. He wanted to be prepared when his time came to help.

"…No Harry, it’s ‘Immobilis’" corrected Hermione mid-way through one such discussion. Such was the effectiveness of her announcement that a small fly fell stunned from the air.

"Imm-o-bil-is" repeated Harry slowly.

Bored of this extra-study Ron began to whistle loudly and off-key. Harry thought that he detected a muggle pop song that Ron was murdering and wondered idly, in the recesses of his subconscious, whether Mr Weasley had procured a radio.

"Ron, do you mind?" asked Hermione edgily "We are trying to learn here. This could be important."

"Hermione I doubt that You Know Who would strike such terror into the hearts of wizards and witches across the world if a first year incantation could stop him in his tracks." He assumed a deep voice and stood arms spread in an imposing posture "I DEFY YOU. I’M COMING TO GET YOU". Switching to a high pitched squeal, he continued "Oh no, Oh no, the Evil One, what will I do, oh I know ‘Immobilis’ – I’ve saved the day". Ron ended this sarcastic re-enactment with a low bow then dropped back onto the chair.

"Well there’s no need to be quite so rude" sulked Hermione while Harry tried to smother his giggles. Voldemort lost quite a lot of his intimidating presence when being impersonated by a lanky ginger wizard.

Just then an owl swooped into the common room and made directly for Hermione. Unwrapping the scroll she smiled and then announced happily "It’s from Hagrid. He and Dumbledore are coming back tomorrow and he wants to invite us all to a Birthday Tea next Thursday."

"I didn’t know it was Hagrid’s birthday" said Ron innocently.

Harry aimed a swift kick at his ankle but it was too late. Hermione gave Ron an evil look and then haughtily stood, gathered together her books and swept towards the girls’ room.

Ron watched her go with an expression of bewilderment. Harry watched him as he sorted this information with painful slowness. He gave him a meaningful stare to hurry the process. "It’s Hermione’s birthday" said Ron finally and slowly. "Well done Ron" said Harry "about five minutes too late on that one".

**

Please review.

## 5. Chapter 5

Harry and Ron took their normal seats by Hermione at breakfast the next morning and it was immediately apparent that she had not forgiven them. Ron seemed quite happy with this state of affairs and began to liberally smear marmalade across his toast. Satisfied that his piece could hold no more he took a huge bite. Hermione pointedly looked in the other direction. Harry, while usually keen to avoid interference (and the potential for "side-taking"), was more sensitive to the atmosphere than Ron who, having grown up with such a large family, was used to such fights.

Harry cracked. "Morning Hermione" he said tentatively.

"Good Morning Harry" she said tightly, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

"Ron?" said Harry. "Did you have something to say to Hermione?"

Ron stopped mid-chew and gaped in Harry’s direction. Toast flecks dropped onto the pristine table as he silently mouthed abuse at his friend. Hermione turned toward Ron, head tilted up.

"Sorry ‘mione" muttered Ron through his mouthful of food. Sadly the apology did less to touch Hermione than the sprays of food. She recoiled slightly in disgust.

"Oops" said Ron, entirely unrepentant.

Harry sighed. Before they’d gone to bed last night he’d painstakingly schooled Ron in the art of a good apology. The key, maintained Harry, was not actually being sorry but sounding as though you were. This was a skill which, honed to perfection, had managed to keep the Dursley’s complaining to a minimum in front of guests. Still, despite all this, Ron had managed to mess it up. The mistake, Harry reflected, was allowing him near food before his task had been completed.

Anyway, Harry had more important things to think about. Much as he was starving, he found the food did little to hold his attention. His eyes kept straying to the doors at the entrance to the hall, hoping for Dumbledore’s arrival. During his scan of the room he had noticed Draco Malfoy, surrounded by a gaggle of Slytherin girls, holding court on a table at the far side of the room. Much as he wanted to avoid any and every contact with Malfoy this term, he couldn’t help but crane to hear what was happening. It seemed that Malfoy was talking about him, the group seemed to be looking their way. Then Harry caught the words "stupid Mudblood" and "house-slaves" and pieced together a criticism of Hermione’s campaign to liberate the kitchen house-elves. Thankfully Hermione was too busy brushing now invisible toast pieces from her robes to pay attention. Harry seethed inwardly on her behalf. It was alright for him and Ron to tease Hermione but Malfoy had no right whatsoever. He suspected Malfoy was still sore over the beating Hermione had administered two years back. Just thinking of the incident brought a smile to his face.

Happily reminiscing (that incident had moved on to the time that Malfoy had been turned into a ferret by Professor Moody) Harry was entirely oblivious to the room around him. It took the gentle pressure of a hand upon his shoulder to shake him from his reverie. Ron was making eyes at him across the table. Tracing the hand back to its owner, Harry faced the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore.

"Perhaps, Harry, I am interrupting something" smiled Dumbledore.

"Err, no sir" said Harry, recovering his wits "I was…" he shook his head "Never mind, sorry, you’re back."

"I am indeed Harry. Perhaps we could have that discussion I so rudely postponed from last week?" said Dumbledore meaningfully.

Harry noticed Malfoy had stopped his entertaining and was staring hatefully across the room at the exchange.

"Yes sir" said Harry.

"Come to my office in ten minutes" instructed Dumbledore. "You know the password I think."

"Err yes sir" said Harry, blushing, as Dumbledore left the room.

Draco’s eyes narrowed in disgust at this last part of the exchange. Harry could just make out "…blatant favouritism…thinks he’s so clever" which merely made him smile. Malfoy was much easier to handle when he was on the defensive. Not for the first time Harry gave fervent thanks that it was Dumbledore and not anyone else that was Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Ron and Hermione seemed prepared to put their dispute behind them in the light of this event as both of them turned eagerly to him.

"What’s going on Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah" said Ron "What’s the ‘discussion’ about?"

"I don’t know" said Harry shrugging. "I guess I’ll go and find out."

Harry stood nervously outside the wooden doors to Dumbledore’s office. His journey up the stairs had bred foreign nerves in his stomach. For all his protestations Harry felt that, for the moment at least, ignorance was bliss. The man behind these doors had the power to confirm or dispel every nightmare Harry had suffered since last term. He had to fight down an urge to run. Swallowing deeply he knocked tentatively on the door.

"Ah, come in Harry" came Dumbledore’s voice as he pushed open the door.

Harry took a step into the office and was confronted by innumerable pairs of eyes. Immediately he faltered. Hagrid, McGonagall and two other men Harry didn’t know were seated in front of Dumbledore’s desk, turned to look at him. Worse than this, and more eerie by far, was the fact that all the portraits of ex-Headmasters around the walls were, in place of their customary snoozing, straining at the corners of their gilded frames to stare at Harry. He stared back in silence.

"Come in, come in Harry" welcomed Dumbledore. "Take a seat"

Harry shuffled into the room, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes upon him. He took a seat nearest to the door and tried to make himself as small as possible (a talent with which, thanks again to the Dursleys, he was well equipped). This was hardly the intimate and reassuring chat he had hoped for.

"Ladies" he nodded at McGonagall "and gentlemen, as you know I have asked Harry to be present at this meeting because I feel he is old enough to participate in such affairs. He is, I remind you" he added to the two men Harry didn’t know "in his fifth year now at this school". The men didn’t look to convinced Harry noticed.

"Harry" continued Dumbledore "you obviously know Hagrid and Professor McGonagall…"

McGonagall bowed her head gracefully in acknowledgement and Hagrid beamed. "’Ello Harry!"

"…and these gentlemen are representatives from the Ministry’s Order of the Phoenix."

Harry recoiled at the mention of the Ministry of Magic. They weren’t here to commit him were they?

"While the Ministry has yet to officially recognize our concern regarding Lord Voldemort’s return to power, they have unofficially endorsed our consultation of the Order of the Phoenix."

This didn’t make a lot of sense to Harry but he smiled in what he hoped was an agreeing manner.

"The Order of the Phoenix Harry, as Hogwarts: A History no doubt references," continued Dumbledore, twinkling in Harry’s direction as he blushed again "are an organization very much like the Muggle Secret Service. They’re an Anti Witchcraft-Terrorism Support Unit. They’ve been tracking our encounters with Lord Voldemort for some time and have extensive resources at their command. We’re extremely lucky to have them here at Hogwarts."

The wizards, somewhat mollified by Dumbledore’s praise, deigned to smile at Harry. He was still confused. Dumbledore, noticing his quandary, merely nodded his head – a gesture which implied he would explain later.

The nearest of the two wizards cleared his throat. He was a somewhat stocky man with dark, close-cropped hair greying a little at the temples. His dark beard was neatly combed and shot through with the same silver threads. His eyes, behind small spectacles, were deep brown and very intense. His friend was smaller and blonder. He had very delicate, pixie-like features and an almost porcelain quality to his skin. Harry couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at the negative of a photograph.

The dark man began to speak. "Harry Potter. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have done us and the wizarding world excellent service."

"You made our jobs much easier last time" chuckled the fairer man. "Frankly we’re hoping you can do it again. I’m Jed Carraway and this is Mr Dent."

Mr Dent looked sharply at his companion. Harry got the impression that this elder man wasn’t the chatty type.

"Harry" addressed Dent. "I want to make it clear to you that you are here at Dumbledore’s request. I do not wish to involve children in these extremely formal proceedings. I do not feel that your remarkable fortune as a baby qualifies you as an expert on Voldemort and if I had my way you would be removed to a safe-house forthwith." The voice was direct but held no malice. A small pang of indignation hit Harry nonetheless.

"I’ve faced Voldemort since then." Harry defended himself. "Have either of you gentlemen come face-to-face with Lord Voldemort in the last few years?"

"The boy makes a good point" congratulated Carraway.

"Indeed." Said Dent curtly, but Harry felt that his gazed had thawed somewhat.

"So Harry will stay" announced Dumbledore, as if there had been any doubt. "Perhaps Mr Carraway you will bring him up to date?"

Carraway turned to smile at Harry. He took a deep breath and flicked a blonde lock of hair from his forehead – it immediately fell back into place. "We don’t know where Voldemort is. Frankly we don’t know what he’s up to."

Harry thought ‘Well that’s useful.’

"We’ve been using all means at our disposal to try and answer these two questions and we hope that we may be on to something. As you may know Harry, a few wizards suspected of being pro-Voldemort, but never proven so, have again disappeared. In conjunction with this we have marked an eighty-five percent increase in reported sightings of the Dark Mark."

"We’ve been trying to understand why Voldemort hasn’t started killing again." Said Dent bluntly, seemingly tired of the niceties. "And we thought that we were on to something. Our Head of Research in the Order of the Phoenix, also Chief of Archives for the Ministry, sent us an owl about three weeks ago and promptly disappeared."

Dent passed a piece of parchment over to Harry who took it delicately by the edges and unrolled it slowly. He read:

Medium not secure. Research in volumes 7-9 fruitful. Will elaborate at the summit. HP safe – V needs him alive. Delay by weakness not intention.

Harry swiftly read the passage twice. His breathing had started to quicken. He was needed alive? What did that mean? What were volumes 7-9? He was aware of Dent’s scrutiny and through sheer force of will managed not to let his panic show. Steeling his features into composure he made eye contact with this man he felt driven to impress. "The Order of the Phoenix can’t think of a better code than HP?" he asked coolly.

Dumbledore smiled and Hagrid roared.

"Do yer mean ter say that you’ve gone an’ cracked their code Harry?" he said with a look of contempt at the two other wizards. "Why they was jus’ tellin’ us how secure their system was." He enjoyed another full belly chuckle.

Carraway had the grace to blush and became pre-occupied with the leather of his seat. Dent remained impassive.

"Clearly there are some communication issues within the Order that we need to address…" he stated " though that is hardly pertinent now."

Harry glanced over the words again and felt an icy shill strike him in the chest. Unconsciously he traced one finger over the line of his scar.

Carraway, recovered, continued "Anyway, before Bloom – Xavier Bloom, the Head of Research – could explain the cryptic message he disappeared. A caretaker saw him working late in the Ministry one night but he never came into work the next morning…"

The silence was telling. "You think Voldemort may have kidnapped him" guessed Harry, as the story began to ring vague bells of recognition in his head.

"More than ‘think’ Harry" said Dent firmly. "Immediately after Bloom’s disappearance there was a spate of Death Eater attacks. Every archive in the wizarding world was stripped of the particular series that we believe Bloom was examining. The Death Eaters were more than thorough in their duties and we now have no hope of reconstructing Bloom’s theory. This information tells us two things. Voldemort has recruited sufficient support throughout the globe to be able to organize and execute such a plan. Secondly we know that he knows we are on his trail. This limits our time scale considerably."

Harry sat dumbly. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this information. Voldemort was back to full strength – Harry was witness to that – and had amassed a huge army and yet was holding back. Something in those elusive volumes presumably explained why, and that something had something to do with himself. Harry sighed. As usual.

Dumbledore’s voice broke into his reverie. "What does the Order of the Phoenix propose to do next?" he asked simply.

"Frankly Albus we are at a loss and so we are here".

Harry frowned at the use of Dumbledore’s first name. Very few people had an intimate enough relationship with the Headmaster to call him "Albus". It appeared that there was more to this situation than met the eye.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together in a contemplative gesture.

"I’m afraid, as I told you before, I do not have the series of which you speak. As you say the destruction was thorough. I must consider things further before I can offer you any advice" he said gravely.

Nodding swiftly Dent replied "I understand. Keep in touch Albus". Rising, he placed a firm hand on his younger companion’s shoulder. "Come Jed. Dumbledore will help us when he is ready." Looking as bewildered as Harry felt, Carraway rose and, having made their goodbyes, began to walk towards the door with McGonagall as guide. At the threshold Dent stopped and turned. "Mr Potter" he said "be careful and be strong – we will need you when the time comes". Harry nodded.

**

Please review if you liked it, or even if you didn’t!

## 6. Chapter 6

Harry walked out of Dumbledore's office in something of a daze. He stumbled and fumbled his way down the spiral staircase and headed back towards the Griffindor common room. Muttering the password to the Fat Lady he kept his eyes focused on some distant point.
"How rude!" she sulked but allowed him passage.
Ron and Hermione were arguing, again.
Harry put a hand to his head. Ruffling the messy strands of his fringe he glared at them both.

"...I didn't say Harry should run away" protested Hermione, wringing her hands.

"As bloody good as" countered Ron "You don't realize-"

Both of them became aware of him standing at the entrance to the room.

"...how great a game wizard's chess is..." finished Ron lamely.

"Hi Harry" said Hermione brightly "What happened with Dumbledore?".

Harry felt a great weariness overtake him. "The same as ever" he said "Voldemort is back, the Ministry don't believe it, the Order of the Phoenix seems to hate me...what else?" he pondered. Oh yeah, apparently they were getting somewhere until their Chief of Archives went missing..."
Harry took in their blank faces.
"Probably means as much to you as it does to me" he said, lifting up his hands hopelessly.

"The Order of the Phoenix are pretty bright Harry" said Ron encouragingly, "I'm sure they'll sort it out".

"Hmmmm" said Hermione.

"Yeah well..." Harry floundered. "Yeah well. I'm going to bed"

He walked out of the room in a daze towards the boys' dormitories.

"It's still daytime Harry" whispered Hermione.

"He's really cracked this time" said Ron.

"Ron!" chastized Hermione

"You know what I mean!"

"EVERYONE knows what you mean Ron!"

"Oh give over Hermione! I just mean...Well, think how you'd feel if you were Harry. Thanks to something he barely remembers he's the only hope of the wizarding world...at 16!"

Hermione took this in. "He's not alone in this" she said determinedly.

"I know that. You know that. I don't think Harry gets that."

"Shhh" she said as they heard footsteps outside the room.
Harry re-appeared at the door.
"It's still daylight" he said.

"Yeah, mate" said Ron, straight-faced. "You utter thickhead!"

"Guess I am" said Harry, seeing the funny side and starting to chuckle.

"You two are so childish" said Hermione haughtily. "I'M going to bed"

Harry and Ron looked at each other bewildered. Had Hermione just made a joke?

"Oh come on" she teased "that was funny!"

They had a quiet moment of giggles before the sound of footfalls could be heard again outside.

Dean, Seamus and some of the other Gryffindor boys stormed into the common room. As the portrait door swung shut, Harry could just about hear the Fat Lady complaining about their muddy shoes.

"Where have you been?" he asked them taking in their filthy appearance.

"Checking out the Quidditch pitch" Seamus said. "Didn't you hear?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and then shook their heads.

"Dumbledore says that Quidditch is back on this year!"

"You're kidding!" gasped Ron "McGonagall said that there weren't enough staff to supervise."

"Who cares mate!" shouted Dean happily. "Let the games begin."

'Yes' Harry thought to himself, once more buoyant with the cheer of his friends 'let the games begin!'

**

The next morning Harry and Ron sat together at breakfast. Hermione had bolted down a few pieces of toast and run off to the library ("some of us still want to learn").

"Hermione's different this year." Said Ron confidentially, taking a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah."

"No, Harry, she's different."

"I said 'yeah'" he said bewildered.

"She made a joke!"

"I was there" said Harry, frustrated.

"Just saying it's odd" he said chewing vigorously.

"We should get her a nice present" thought Harry aloud, thinking of her birthday in a few days time.

Ron was gaping at him, flecks of half-chewed cereal clung to his teeth.

"Shut your mouth Ron" said Harry in disgust.

"Sorry" he said "but what are you on about? We don't get Hermione a 'nice present'. We get her a book. Every year a new book. This year it's a spellbook remember? It's like a tradition. We get her a book, she reads it and for two days we don't hear her bossing us about. Win win."

Harry smiled. "I know but maybe we could break tradition this year."

"Go wild" said Ron sarcastically.

"I don't have any classes this afternoon" said Harry "Neither do you" he added as perpetually forgetful Ron began to burrow around in his robes for a timetable. "Lets go into Hogsmeade and have a look around."

"You're suggesting we illegally sneak out of school to wander around in the town of Honeydukes?" said Ron in mock-fear.

"Pretty much" said Harry "although I'm pretty sure they're sticking to Hogsmeade."

"I'm in" said Ron. "You're a bad influence on me!"

"Rotten to the core" agreed Harry happily. He was relieved to have something to think about that stopped him replaying the conversation in Dumbledore's office.

**

Harry and Ron met in their bedroom after lunch and hurriedly threw on their outdoor robes. Harry got out his cloak of invisibility.

"Brrrr Harry. This winter is going to be miserable" whinged Ron.

"Oh shut up and get under the cloak, I can still see your left arm!"

After a series of comic writhings they managed to secure themselves from view and made their way towards the secret passageway. One small scare for Filch's cat later, they were on their way.

"Harry?" asked Ron.

"Yes?"

"What on earth are we going to buy for Hermione?"

"I don't have a clue" he replied honestly.

"What about something that looks like a book?" suggested Ron.

"Maybe."

"Or one of those secret books that are hollowed out inside?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Or book-ends?"

"Hmmm."

"Or we could just BUY HER A BOOK!" said Ron carefully emphasizing the last words of the sentence.

Emerging into the deceptively bright winter sunshine after they'd made their way up the stairs, Harry looked around.

"All clear" he said. "Right, where do you want to s-...Ron?" He looked about wildly, concerned, until he saw a ginger head disappear into Honeydukes. "RON!" he yelled. Turned in the direction of the sweet-shop, a deliciously chocolatey aroma hit him smoothly in the face. "Wait for me!"

Ten sweet-filled moments later and Harry and Ron stumbled back out onto the street. Ron's pockets were weighed so heavily with sweets that he was having to secure the waistband to avoid embarrassment. Harry had watched Ron carefully picking out the longest-lasting sweets to make his money go further and had been hit by a severe pang of reckless guilt. Loading several bags with sweets he knew Ron loved, he'd pretended to dislike them after purchase. Seeing Ron's happy, if chocolate-smeared, face had given Harry a much needed boost.

"So" mumbled Ron through a mouthful of chocolate frog, "ready to go back?"

Harry shot him a look.

"Oh right" he said downcast, "we have to go solve Harry's brain-teaser - what looks like a book, will please a girl who likes books but isn't a book..."

"Ron...." Started Harry warningly

"Ok, ok" he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Harry was looking up and down the street. He loved Hogsmeade. More than any Muggle town he had ever known there was a real sense of community. He smiled at a witch walking along the opposite side of the road, leading a little girl by the hand. Immediately he wished he hadn't. Her eyes met his, he smiled, she smiled and then she saw the scar. Recognition was instant and in her wondering gaze Harry felt the powerful rays of responsibility sweeping across his forehead. In a flash he was back in Dumbledore's office, the Order of the Phoenix representatives measuring up his worth.

He came back to reality with a jolt aware that Ron was tugging violently on his sleeve.

"Har-ry" he was calling. "What did I miss?"

"Huh?" said Harry "Oh, nothing."

This time as he scanned the street, he took in what his brain didn't want to see before. That several of the shop windows were boarded up, that litter was blowing freely through the once pristine streets, and that those very streets were practically empty. If Hogwarts was running on skeleton crew, then Hogsmeade was barely alive at all. A few last bastions of normality, like Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks were still open. Even if the Ministry wasn't accepting it, the wizarding community knew something was afoot. On a nearby bench he could make out the faint outline of a Dark Mark. It looked like Muggle spray paint so Harry wasn't unduly concerned - he didn't think that Voldemort went in for urban art.

"It's horrible isn't it" said Ron fervently. "It's the waiting that's awful..."

"I don't know Ron" said Harry sadly "the waiting might be all we have left."

"What are you saying?" said Ron wide-eyed.

"Nothing"

Harry felt the chains of responsibility dig into him.

"I don't know what's going to happen. That's all."

"Come on" said Ron. "Lets get this over with"

The two of them wandered in comfortable silence down the street. Then they saw it together. Harry froze, Ron's face moulded into a mask of pure fear. They had not seen this coming.

"Has that always been there?" asked Ron in dread.

'What Every Witch Wants' stood threateningly to their left. Big windows displayed all manner of witchy things and neon lights promised faithfully that every witch's need could be catered for.

"We're going to have to go in." said Harry determinedly.

"Please Harry. I can't. We'll hate it."

"I'm going in".

Harry strode towards the sparkling shop front before he could change his mind, dragging a protesting Ron with him.

**

Inside the shop was comparatively busy. Witches wandered all over the store with wicker baskets brimming with girly things. Open wardrobes lined the wall to their left, which displayed racks of clothing disappearing Narnia-like into the distance. An entire corner seemed devoted to make-up and glittering jewellery that dazzled as it caught the shop lights. Trinkets were positioned throughout every aisle, enchanted to jump into the path (or basket) of anyone walking past. Harry and Ron stopped agog. A gilded mirror to their right questioned irritably "Are you boys done staring?"

Suddenly a tall witch glided into view.

"Can I help you?" she asked imperiously, looking down her nose at the boys.

Silence.

The witch cleared her throat.

Harry nudged Ron, Ron nudged back. "We're looking for a birthday present for our friend" Harry said timidly.

"She is a girl" added Ron enthusiastically.

"Hmmm" said the witch, somewhat softened by their politeness. "A present can be a very personal thing. Perhaps you'd better wander and see what jumps into your path."

It was only as Harry took a step forward and a small silver carriage clock jumped onto his foot that he realized she was being literal.

Harry felt like he'd been wandering this shop for hours. He and Ron had wasted at least 30 minutes trying to get to the end of one of the everlasting clothes rails in a wardrobe. They'd failed. His feet were beginning to hurt, both from the walking and the jumping knick-knacks.

"This is hopeless" said Ron, fighting with a small doll. "No" he said firmly and booted it back to the sidelines.

"Maybe we should..."

"Get a book" supplied Ron eagerly.

Harry sighed. "Maybe we should get a book" he agreed.

Their walk to the bookshelves was impeded by a maze of underwear racks which sent Ron the colour of his hair. The display seemed to rise up and engulf them so that whichever way they turned they were confronted with lacy bras and pants.

"What the-" said Ron frustrated.

"It's a trick" confided a tiny porcelain bear jogging after them. For every five steps it covered a centimetre so keeping up with the boys had been quite difficult. "They hope you'll start buying this stuff in an effort to get out."

"Hmph" said Harry and pushed his way forcefully through one of the displays.

"Harry?" called Ron as he followed.

"What now?" Harry asked, fed up with the shop.

Ron leaned forward and with a small cough removed a bra draped over Harry's shoulder.

"Oh" said Harry. "Thanks"

**

Finally free Harry and Ron headed towards the bookshelves at the back of the shop. A glass counter to the left drew their attention as they passed.

"That's it" gasped Harry.

"What's it?" said Ron, and looked around in fear of further underwear.

"No, in there" pointed Harry.

In the case was a delicate filigree silver heart on a chain. The heart was tiny, no more than 2 centimetres in diameter but the craftsmanship was exquisite.

"I agree" said Ron, though Harry couldn't help but feel that he was agreeing so that they could finally leave.

"An excellent choice young sir" said the witch behind the counter. "Ancient lore tells that this heart acts as a cage to hold evil spirits away from the wearer"

"I think we all need one of those" said Harry wryly.

"Will sir want this gift-wrapped?" asked the witch.

"Oh yes please" they replied in unison.

A small sum later - well, for Harry who had insisted on paying - and the deed was done.

Finally exiting the shop both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Next year..." started Ron.

"Oh she's getting a book" cut in Harry matter-of-factly.

**

Please review, I’ll probably be inspired to write faster…What will Hermione think of the necklace?

## 7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Still none of it is mine…alas

*

*

*

*

The room was filled from floor to ceiling with books. Old books, new books, books that looked like heavy magazines and books that were ripped to pieces. The scent of dust and mustiness filled the air and rested heavily on the cloudiness that swam before his eyes. Picking up the closest volume, he flipped idly through its pages and then hurled it violently across the room at a small man cowering in one corner. The rage was choking, a surge of red passion swimming around inside his head, and an almighty scream began somewhere in the depths of his chest.

"THEY MUST NEVER FIND OUT!"

Harry awoke with a start. His sweaty sheets were tangled around his legs like restraints and his hands were clenched into such fierce fists that they had turned white. He blinked once, twice and shook his head slightly. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he battled down the wanton rage that he felt surging through his very veins. It was only as the oxygen reached his lungs and he found the strength to release his own inhuman grip that he realized three things. One, he was in bed in his dormitory and not in that weird library. Two, his scar hurt a lot. Three, everyone was staring at him.

Clasping his palm to his head, Harry rubbed his scar vigorously in an attempt to dispel the pain.

"Harry" said Ron quietly "Are you OK?"

"What happened?" asked Harry thickly. His tongue felt like it was stuck to his mouth. He felt weak and shaky since the tremors of so much anger had passed through him.

Neville offered him a glass of water. Harry took it with a quick word of thanks and sipped at the liquid. It slid soothingly down his throat making him feel almost normal again. Until he looked at Ron. Ron was as white as a sheet; a gaunt offset to his red hair.

"Bloody hell Harry" he wheezed. "You scared us all witless."

"What..?" said Harry, bewildered.

"We just woke up to you screaming ‘They must never find out!’. Who can’t find out what Harry?" asked Neville curiously.

"I…I don’t know."

"It’s alright mate" soothed Ron. "It’s about time for breakfast anyway. Come on, you know what day it is…up and at ‘em!"

"What day it is?" repeated Harry groggily.

Ron raised his eyes to the ceiling. "It’s Hermione’s birthday idiot".

**

Slinking into the hall behind Ron and the others, Harry was suffering the worst headache of his life. Squeals of excitement coming from the general direction they were headed did little to dispel this agony. He resigned himself to having to think about his dream later.

Ron slid into the seat next to Hermione and helped himself to a piece of her toast.

"Happy Birthday" he grinned toothily.

"Thanks" she said happily, removing the toast from his grasp and taking a decisive bite.

Harry walked past Hermione to take a seat on her other side. He caught a sweet smell that slid between the inflamed sections of his brain to bring a little comfort. Sitting down he relished the fragrance further.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, bemused.

"What? Oh, sorry. Happy Birthday Hermione!"

Looking up into her laughing eyes he did a double take.

"Wow, Hermione. You look fantastic."

She preened a little. "Thanks. I felt like doing something a little special today."

Special was right. She had smoothed down her wayward locks which fell in a silken curtain down her back and as Harry leaned closer he realized the delicate scent was her perfume.

"Of course" Hermione said "its nothing I would do every day. Far too much hassle" she said tellingly. "My parents sent me this perfume for my birthday and the bottle leaked all over me and the owl!"

"You look wonderful" Harry said softly. Looking up into Ron’s purpling face he backed off quickly. Woops, he thought.

"You do look lovely" stuttered Ron making a vain attempt to match the sincere intensity of Harry’s compliment.

"Thanks…" said Hermione somewhat confused.

Harry caught the looks of jealousy Ron was sending him and almost sighed aloud. Couldn’t his best friend show a little consideration. He’d just woken from another evil dream with all manner of foreign emotional toxins playing havoc with his system. He was in a ‘think it say it’ frame of mind and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. Desperate to change the subject he turned his attention back to Hermione.

"So, what presents have you received?" he asked brightly.

"I’ve had so many wonderful things. The Gryffindor girls gave me a fantastic set of wizarding encyclopaedias, my grandparents gave me a beautiful broach and my parents…well" she said shrugging wryly "my parents sent me this perfume which you will probably smell on me until the day I die".

Harry smirked and Ron snorted aloud.

"No perfume is enough to hide that Mudblood stink" sneered Malfoy nastily as he passed, apparently having got out of the wrong side of bed that morning.

Harry had just started with what he felt was a good come-back ("The only stink over here is you Malfoy") when he noticed that the face he was insulting wasn’t where it was supposed to be. In fact Malfoy was on the floor and in his place was a raging yet somewhat smug ginger wizard.

"Oh Ron" muttered Hermione despairingly.

Ron’s face fell at her tone. Any sense of smug pride he had felt at out-doing Harry in the friendship stakes immediately fell away. He wilted somewhat, deflated now that his macho display had gone un-praised.

There was the distinct clearing of an adult throat behind him. Professor McGonagall stood glaring down at them all. "Mr Weasley. Mr Malfoy. You will come with me immediately. 50 points from Gryffindor for this horrific display."

"But Prof-"

"I’m not interested Mr Weasly. Come with me NOW."

Hermione buried her head in her hands. Harry shot Ron a sympathetic look. He understood of course. He’d been wanting to knock Malfoy down since the first year but really, the Great Hall was probably the worst place to try.

**

Harry and Hermione finished a rather subdued breakfast. The mood had been lifted slightly by Professor Dumbledore who had led the school in a morning chorus of "Happy Birthday". The incident was turned from potentially embarrassing to somewhat hysterical, because Dumbledore seemed to feel that the rules of the school-song applied to any tune. He had warbled through a rendition of the song to the tune of the British national anthem. It was an…interesting experience.

Hermione was raging by the time they got back to the Common Room.

"What an idiot!"

"He was only defending you." Harry said, trying to placate her.

"I don’t need defending" she seethed. "Draco’s an idiot. You have to ignore bullies"

"Oh right" said Harry "except when you’re slapping them."

Hermione allowed herself a small smile. "Well that was different. He insulted Hagrid. It was a time of substantial stress…oh alright already" she conceded. "I guess he was doing what he thought was best."

Harry sighed with relief.

"So" he said "What do you want to do on your birthday?"

"Well I have to go to the library for a couple of hours" she pondered.

"Hermione You Are Not Going To The Library On Your Birthday"

"But I have homework…"

"Hermione! Half the classes this term have been cancelled because the staff is off planning some Anti-Voldemort stuff, most of the pupils have been kept at home…I don’t think they’ll miss you in the library just this once!"

"Well…"

Just then Neville entered through the portrait hole. "Hey Hermione, Happy Birthday again" he called. "Harry are you feeling better?"

Harry winced. He knew what was coming.

"Feeling better?" repeated Hermione. "What happened?"

"Well…" he stalled, wanting neither to relive the experience nor mar Hermione’s birthday.

"Harry had the mother of all nightmares" said Neville. "Scared the lot of us."

Hermione gave Harry that look that made him want to curl up and hide. She knew, as Neville did not, that Harry had dreams about Voldemort.

She surreptitiously touched her forehead in a question and Harry nodded uneasily. She bowed her head for a moment.

"Right" she said "I’ve decided. I want us to go for a walk around the grounds for my birthday. Just you and me" she added meaningfully.

Harry groaned. This meant Hermione was going to pry every single detail out of him and then spend the next week researching.

Neville, standing in the corner, read a different meaning into her statement entirely. Within ten minutes of Harry and Hermione’s departure, the rumour that they were a couple had spread throughout Gryffindor and was indeed making inroads into Ravenclaw!

**

"..and that’s all I remember." Concluded Harry. Describing his dream had reminded him of just how vivid an experience it had been.

"Oh Harry" whispered Hermione, chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

"I’m going to tell Professor Dumbledore of course" said Harry, trying to continue as though unconcerned "the Order specifically asked for my input…"

"Harry…"

"…I mean it’s probably nothing, I mean it was probably just a nightmare…"

"Harry…"

"…it doesn’t mean anything is going to happen…"

"Harry. Enough. Are you alright?"

"No" he whispered. "I have too many things in my head that I can’t think about, things I just can’t think about. The effort it takes to not think about this stuff is giving me headaches day and night. I’m so tense I feel sick. I know something’s going to happen. I can feel it inside. I know something’s coming and I know it’s coming because of me."

Hermione rested one hand lightly on his shoulder and drew him down to sit beside her on a low wall running beside the lake.

"I can’t imagine how difficult all this is for you" she began "but this is not you fault. You need to remember that Harry."

"I appreciate the effort Hermione but it was my blood that revived him. I don’t mean to be arrogant but I was fairly integral in that sense."

"That doesn’t make it your fault" she insisted stubbornly.

Harry let out a choked laugh. "You wouldn’t admit you were wrong anyway!"

Hermione blushed. "I might…no, you’re right but it really isn’t your fault."

Harry chuckled and felt a great relief slide over him. As soon as he became aware of the freedom it was gone.

"It’s there all the time Hermione. Doors in my head marked ‘do not enter’; The Triwizard tournament, Cedric, my meeting with the Order of the Phoenix, these dreams…"

"I know" she said soothingly, rubbing her hand against his arm. "If you want my advice then I think being pro-active is the key…"

"This is going to involve research isn’t it" muttered Harry as she continued.

"…now if we spent a couple of hours in the library maybe we could help the Order of the Phoenix work out what Voldemort was up to. Didn’t you say that they were getting somewhere?"

"Actually" said Harry, a slight spark returning to his eyes "that’s right."

"Well then" she said, trying not to look smug.

"Well then, we’re off to the library" said Harry, grinning. She was right. The helplessness had been festering inside him and even the hope of doing something helpful had cleared his system like a fresh breeze.

Taking her hand he pulled her up from the wall and into a hug.

"You’re amazing" he cheered.

It was at this point that Ron came upon them…

**

A/N <evil cackle>

Please review if you’ve got this far!

## 8. Chapter 8

**

**

Ron cleared his throat loudly. This was not an attempt to be subtle on his part, he merely felt a cloying rage block his throat and had to cough lest it choke him.

"All that trouble we went to…" he said mockingly to Harry’s back.

Hearing his voice, the two parted and looked happily to their friend.

"Ron – you’re back!" said Hermione.

"How’d it go with McGonagall" asked Harry.

"All that trouble" repeated Ron "and you were planning on giving her the best gift any witch in the kingdom could ask for – The Boy Who Lived!" His rage had dulled somewhat, but the icy fury behind his words had set his face into a barely recognizable snarl.

Taking a small gift-wrapped package from his pocket he threw it at Hermione’s feet.

"Happy Birthday" he spat, and stalked off.

Harry and Hermione stared after him in amazement. Neither of them had seen such an expression on his face before. Harry watched as tears veiled Hermione’s eyes and she bent to pick up the gift.

"What’s going on?" she muttered sadly.

"I don’t know" said Harry, though he had a pretty good idea. "I’ll go after him – hey, aren’t you supposed to be having morning tea with Hagrid?"

"Well, we all are…" she said.

"You go and I’ll bring Ron along later, I promise."

"Thanks Harry. I don’t understand what’s wrong with him."

**

As Hermione walked slowly off towards Hagrid’s cabin, Harry turned to chase after Ron. He caught up with him in a few minutes.

"Ron!" he called. But Ron ignored him and kept moving away.

"RON!" shouted Harry frustrated, grabbing an elbow.

"Get out of my bloody way" snarled Ron.

Harry fought to stay calm.

"Look, Ron, I don’t know what your problem is but you need to put it behind you."

"Oh" said Ron, nodding his head slowly, "is that all? Listen Harry, I just wish that one of you could have had the guts to tell me yourselves."

"What?" said Harry

"And what about Cho? I guess she was just a passing crush huh?"

The mention Cho’s name, and the immediately thoughts of Cedric sent a wince across Harry’s face. Ron saw this but couldn’t bring himself to back down.

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?" cried Harry frustrated.

"You and Hermione" said Ron, bitterly. "I just officially became a third wheel."

"Are you insane?" asked Harry "Hermione and me are friends – is this about the Daily Prophet?"

"Dean told me."

"Told you what?"

"That you and Hermione went for a romantic walk together alone! Neville heard you."

Harry sighed.

"That’s almost entirely true" he said, "except for the ‘romantic’ part! Ron, for goodness sake, it’s Neville!"

A blush was starting to creep over Ron’s face. Stubbornly he continued "And what about that hug?"

"She’d helped me out! Stop being such a bloody prat Ron and admit you’re wrong!"

"Wasn’t" he mumbled mutinously. "Alright, maybe I’m sorry, but it looked dodgy!"

"pfffft" said Harry.

"So there’s nothing going on between you two?" asked Ron in a much meeker voice.

"RON!"

"Alright, alright" he said, holding up both hands and taking a step back. "Just making sure…" Ron punctuated this attempt at an apology with a sudden sharp exclamation that would have shocked his mother.

Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Hermione." Said Ron in explanation. "I ruined her day didn’t I?"

"Well I doubt you’ll make the selected highlights but it’s nothing permanent" joked Harry. "I told her we’d meet her at Hagrid’s…"

As Harry turned to walk off in the direction of Hargrid’s hut a sudden wave of dizziness knocked him to his knees. His eyes watered and the grassy meadows of Hogwarts were reduced to a moist blur. A steady buzz filled his ears, like the tuning noise of a muggle radio. A bright flash of light seared his retina and he could see a roaring fire in front of him, a second flash later and he was back on the ground. Dizzy, he wiped his eyes. Gradually sensation was restored and he became aware of his surroundings filtering one at a time into his bewildered mind; The tweet of birds, the smell of earth, the feel of Ron’s hand on his shoulder.

"It’s happening again isn’t it?" he asked worried.

Harry shook his head clear. "It’s nothing. Come on, let’s go. And Ron, don’t tell Hermione about this."

**

When Hermione answered the knock at Hagrid’s hut (Hagrid was swearing in a low voice over a special ‘Birthday’ batch of rock cakes that had refused to rise and were merely solid disks) she was greeted by the sight of Ron on his knees. He bent low, as though to kiss her feet, and began to speak imploringly; "Oh Hermione. Queen of the Library and all associated realms. Lord High Priestess of Research, Friend to book and quill, Empress of my heart." He raised his hands towards her face once more and then bent low, hunched at the door."

Harry, watching at a distance, had to admire this approach. Hermione was already giggling, and although she still looked a little haughty, Ron seemed to have worked miracles.

"Get up you fool and get in here. First step in the ‘Appease Hermione’ plan is to eat some of Hagrid’s food."

Ron promptly rose and began to back away.

"Oh no you don’t" she said, grabbing his sleeve. "Hagrid!" she called inside "Ron says he’s really hungry so he’ll have one of those cakes…"

Ron was shaking his head maniacally. "I take it back, I take it back" he protested. "It was all Harry’s fault…" Gasping these traitorous comments, he disappeared inside the hut. Harry followed at a distance, wary of meeting the same punishment.

The warm glow of the fire in Hagrid’s home lent a cosy atmosphere to the tiny space. Hagrid was hunched in front of the fire, his huge frame casting a substantial shadow across the opposing wall. Hermione was sitting at the table, sipping tea from a huge cup (Harry couldn’t see her face) and Ron was watching with wide-eyed terror as Hagrid straightened up and came towards them with a huge pile of ‘cakes’.

"…and ‘Ermione tells me that yer a big fan o’ me cakes Ron. I never knew I’ll tell yer. If I ‘ad a known, I’d a certainly sent the odd basket up to t’castle! Well, we’ll make up for it now!"

Ron reached out a shaky hand for a flat cake, roughly the consistency of a pebble, as Harry sat down beside him.

"One for you mate?" he asked, desperately, holding out the cake.

"Sorry Ron" smiled Harry "I had a really big breakfast."

Ron began to spread a layer of jam atop his cake. With the entire area covered, he raised it to his lips and bit down. He bit down again. And again. He removed the cake, undamaged in every respect save a little smearing of the jam, from his mouth and set it back onto his plate.

Hagrid’s beaming face shone across the table. "My own recipe" he boasted proudly.

"Delicious" said Ron.

Hermione snorted into her tea.

## 9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: JK owns all.

**

After tea and cakes (for Ron) the group settled down to the serious business of present exchanging.

Hermione opened Hagrid’s gift – a pretty mirror decorated with stars – and her eyes opened wide with pleasure. "My dear, you look marvellous" said the mirror. "Happy Birthday!"

She turned next to the small wrapped box from Harry and Ron. Both of them stared at the floor, remembering the terror of its purchase and fearing her response. A startled gasp caused Harry to look up hopefully.

"Oh, it’s beautiful" said Hermione softly.

"Beautiful" echoed the mirror, fervently.

Harry watched happily as she reached up to put on the necklace. Watching her struggle for a few minutes, he eventually reached over and held her curtain of hair away from her neck so that she could fasten the clasp. The waves poured slowly over his hands like the lightest silk, dense as unicorn hair.

"Hermione!"

"What?" she said worried, reaching for the mirror.

"Now now dear, vanity isn’t becoming" warned the mirror.

"Your hair is really soft" said Harry inanely.

"It’s the spell" she said, looking at him as though he had grown a second head.

"I know that… I knew that" he amended " I just meant that it…never mind" he finished, blushing.

Fortunately, Ron had missed this last exchange because Hagrid had asked him to watch a baby unicorn, which he had rescued that morning from the forest. Hagrid was afraid it had wandered lost and was planning to go off in search of its mother later that afternoon. The baby unicorn was showing no sign of being unable to defend itself however, and Ron was having extreme difficulty keeping its horn away from his lap.

"Little tyke jus’ wants ‘is Mam" muttered Hagrid affectionately, ignoring Ron’s distress. "You three don’t mind if I take ‘im off now do yer?"

"Please do" gasped Ron painfully.

"I’ll be back soon" said Hagrid. "Help yerselves to more cakes while I’m gone"

"We will" chorused Ron, Hermione and Harry.

As soon as Hagrid’s thumping footfalls could no longer be heard, a substantial portion of the cakes were inelegantly dumped in the fire. The sparks and fizzes raised grave concerns as to the recipe, a concern shared by Ron’s gurgling stomach.

"Hermione, do you mind if I talk to Hagrid about Sirius?" asked Harry mindful that it was her Birthday tea-party.

"Don’t be silly Harry!" she scolded, as Hagrid returned, showing several painful cuts across his hands.

"Got the little fella fixed up with his Ma" said Hagrid with immense satisfaction, settling his enormous bulk back onto the seat. Hermione, sharing the sofa, rose several inches as a result.

"Hagrid" said Harry "What happened over the summer?"

"I can’t say too much Harry, as yer know, but I will tell yer that we’ve found ourselves some support. Right true we ‘ave."

"Do you know anything about what’s happening to Sirius?" questioned Harry, anxiously. He hadn’t heard a word from his godfather over the summer and was trying not to act concerned.

"All’s well there. There’s some important meetings goin’ on an’ they’re all locked away for t’time bein’. He’s safe though Harry, I promise yer."

Harry breathed an audible sigh of relief and both Hermione and Ron smiled at him.

"So" asked Hermione "Is that all you can tell us Hagrid?"

"I shouldn’ ‘ave tol’ yer that much" grinned Hagrid.

"Got it" said Ron.

"Your secrets safe with us" smiled Hermione.

Harry winked at his friend.

**

Walking back towards school, Harry felt palpable relief course through him. The boundless joy he felt at the news that Sirius was safe caused him to throw a small skip into his step.

Ron stopped dead in his tracks. "What was that mate?" he said, smirking.

"What?" said Harry.

"The little skip thing" qualified Hermione, also smiling.

"I didn’t skip" said Harry firmly.

"You really did" affirmed Hermione, demonstrating with a small skip of her own.

"Sorry mate" said Ron.

Harry’s mouth dropped open in indignation. His friends giggled at his expression and then skipped ahead of him.

"Wait just one second!" shouted Harry, starting to run after the pair. "If we’re going to laugh at one another then maybe it’s time, Ronnikins, that I shared a few choice confidences from Fred and George."

The three of them burst into the Common Room, exhausted but exhilarated, laughing at Ron’s stuffed bear stories, and came upon Professor McGonagall.

"Happy Birthday Miss Granger" she commented. "Now where have you three been?"

"Hagrid invited us to tea Professor" answered Hermione.

"You do realize you’re missing the start of the Quidditch Season Try-outs?" asked McGonagall lightly, clearly aware they did not.

"WHAT?!" blustered Harry and Ron.

Immediately they turned to head out to the pitch but a small cough from McGonagall drew back their attention.

"Mr Weasley?" she asked "Don’t you have a detention?"

"No" howled Ron in despair. "I can’t miss try-outs. I might get on the team this year!"

"I’m sorry Mr Weasley" and she looked as though she was "but I can’t make exceptions. Mr Malfoy is also missing the event. He is waiting for you in Professor Flitwick’s classroom, where I believe the good Professor has some books for you to dust."

"Malfoy’s already on the bloody team; there are more books in that room than students at this school; there’s more dust in that room than…" grumbled Ron in a low voice as he began to shuffle towards the door.

"Pardon Mr Weasley"

"I was just commenting on my true love for dust and all paper things" amended Ron hastily, wary of McGonagall’s beady gaze.

"I thought that’s what you were saying" she said, although her wry tone spoke volumes. "I’ll see what I can do about arranging an alternative try-out if you leave now."

Ron froze and then beamed.

"Now, Mr Weasley."

"Right" he said and sped out of the room.

"Mr Potter?" she said, turning her attention to Harry.

"Right" he said and sped out of the room.

Professor McGonagall turned to smile at Hermione.

"Thanks Professor. I really wanted some time in the library"

Harry stuck his head back through the door. "Oh no you don’t Hermione, come and watch!"

Hermione looked pleadingly at the Professor.

"Come along Miss Granger, I’ll teach you the finer points of Quidditch appreciation. You know certain techniques involved have a strong basis in some of the more advanced aspects of Arithmancy..."

Harry grinned and disappeared, assured that Hermione would be totally hooked.

**

Hermione was standing in the Gryffindor box, screaming like a crazy person. As he flew by, Harry nearly fell off his broom in shock. Hermione had been to matches before of course, and she always cheered for him, but now she seemed to be following the manoeuvres.

Harry thought he could hear his name and, assured that the try-out seeker for the other team was still trying to straddle her broom, he flew back to her.

"What?" he asked.

"Harry what are you doing? Stop talking to me and catch that snitch!" yelled Hermione.

"Ouch. I’m right here Hermione"

"Oops, sorry" she said, lowering the volume. "The vectors of this game are fascinating Harry…I’ve got loads to teach you!"

"Oh good" he said weakly.

"Now go and win the game" she screamed.

Harry had never realized that Hermione’s competitive instincts transferred to Quidditch. Clearly McGonagall was a bad influence.

Still, as he flew back over the centre of the pitch, he found himself enjoying the experience. Whenever he glanced over his shoulder Hermione was watching his every move. Admittedly, he reflected, every so often she would make notes as though he were a piece of homework, but he still felt sure that a small part of her attention was down to respect. He found himself trying out some new moves, just casually doing a small loop-the-loop that sent the Gryffindor crowd crazy and Hermione scribbling furiously. As he zig-zagged across the pitch, backwards, he suddenly noticed that Hermione wasn’t staring at him any more. Mildly peeved he followed her intense gaze to where the struggling seeker for the opposition was making a shaky, but steady, path towards the snitch.

Harry bent low to his broom, so that his nose almost touched the handle and sped off in her direction. He could hardly impress Hermione if he lost the snitch. With a final burst of speed he managed to reach the fluttering golden ball, and triumphantly waved his gloved fist in the air. Smiling ruefully at the disappointed Seeker, he basked in the applause of the crowd.

Harry casually circled the field while he waited for the next team to get ready. Suddenly, the thoughts of a few minutes before settled again into his head. He almost fell off his broom in shock.

Was he trying to impress Hermione?

**

Please review if you’ve read this far. Thanks.

## 10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: It’s all JK’s

**

Harry’s eyes wandered to find Hermione in the crowd. She was clapping and cheering loudly. Her cheeks were flushed a light pink from the brisk winds buffeting the high towers. Harry smiled at her.

Hermione was one of his best friends, he reminded himself firmly. Ron…Ron was another of his best friends. This situation was entirely impossible. He was just grateful to her because she’d helped him out so much recently. He remembered the decisive way he had dismissed Viktor Krum last year; "we’re friends." He remembered his conversation with Ron earlier that very day. They seemed to be a lifetime ago, a different lifetime. Cursing, he told himself to stop being so foolish, and to go off and concentrate on the match.

He tilted his broom and gradually soared higher to scan the pitch. Suddenly his ears popped, and slightly bewildered he shook his head. As the now-familiar static noises screamed into his ears, Harry started to fly towards the ground, aware of what was coming…

A blanket of red dropped before his eyes like a curtain. He blinked furiously but his brain had stopped listening to any commands. The static faded away and Harry was immediately in a different place. He was sitting at a desk. The wood was dark and knotted, stained a deep black colour. Strewn across the surface were various sheets of paper. Leaning closer, Harry tried to read the nearest. His pulse was thudding thickly inside his head and he could feel his temples throbbing. Straining, he turned his gaze to the sheets before him. Heart racing, he looked down at the faces of his classmates; it was the Annual Hogwarts School Photograph. All the students waved cheerfully at him, Snape grimaced on the back row and there, on the left, fourth row back, Harry looked at himself, Ron and Hermione, and all the breath went out of his body.

He desperately tried to move strangely unresponsive eyes over the other sheets on the table but he couldn’t make them move. Then the pictures started to blur, colours bleeding into one another. Bright flashes of light seared across his vision and red blotches started to seep in from the edges. His last exhausted thought before passing into peaceful oblivion was of Hermione’s cheering blush-tinged face.

**

Harry winced and opened one eye cautiously. He knew immediately, from years of familiarity that he was back in the hospital wing. He tentatively began to move his limbs and digits and was reassured when each responded, if a little painfully. Opening his other eye he quickly scanned the deserted ward. Nothing. He gave a sigh of relief but as soon as his mouth opened to take in the air, a large slab of chocolate slammed into it.

"One day Mr Potter I should like to see you outside of this room" said Madam Pomfrey firmly. "Bite down please"

Half choking, Harry bit off a substantial portion of the bar and tried to chew it. His head hadn’t quite caught up with his jaws and, as he chewed, he tried to remember what had happened.

"Quidditch Harry!" said Madam Pomfrey, eerily reading his mind. "Just a few broken bones, but thankfully all I had to do this time was mend them! No harm done. Ah" she said, as she bustled around his bed fluffing the pillows, "here’s Professor Dumbledore for you."

Harry turned his head with a stab of pain to watch the Headmaster approach his bed. His eyes were twinkling behind the little spectacles. Dumbledore walked to the foot of Harry’s bed.

"Harry, we are being forced to give serious consideration to the arrangement of some sort of net across the Quidditch field. This is most unusual." He said, smiling.

"Professor…" Harry said, through a mouthful of chocolate. "I need to tell you…"

"It’s alright Harry, take your time" he cut in. "Madam Pomfrey, I wonder if I could impose upon you. Would you mind fetching Miss Granger and Mr Weasley from the Common Room? I think, Harry" he said " that it’s time we saved you the need to say everything twice." He looked meaningfully at Harry over the top of his glasses, and Harry nodded gratefully.

Madam Pomfrey returned speedily with Hermione and Ron. They ran to his side and Harry could see the concern etched into their features.

"Harry mate" said Ron shakily "try and stay on your bloody broom will you?"

"Harry, are you ok?" asked Hermione.

He waved away her sympathy with a nod and playfully grimaced at Ron.

"Harry was just about to tell me the reason for his spectacular dismount" said Dumbledore.

"I saw…I’ve been seeing…I think I saw through Voldemort’s eyes" stammered Harry slowly.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, Ron’s face blanched so white that his freckles seemed to burn out of his skin, but Dumbledore merely nodded calmly. "Madam Pomfrey" he called "I believe Minerva would like to speak with you about St Mungo’s training positions. She is in the Teachers Lounge at present unoccupied. It seems that now would be an ideal time."

Used to this kind of request by now, Madam Pomfrey bustled carefully from the room.

Harry wondered whether there was anything the Headmaster didn’t know.

"I had feared this may happen Harry" said Dumbledore slowly.

"What?" gasped Ron. Hermione still hadn’t moved.

"What did you see Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"I don’t know" said Harry shaking his head slowly. "The first time it happened was in a dream and it was very confusing. I think I saw books and fire, and someone screaming."

"They must never find out" supplemented Ron helpfully, mimicking Harry’s fevered rant. "Sorry mate, go on".

"The next time was just a flash, there was a fire I think…and maybe someone else was there…And this time…" Harry choked "…I saw Hogwarts."

"You saw this castle?" asked Dumbledore urgently.

"No" said Harry "I saw a photograph of all the Hogwarts students and staff. It was that picture…"

"Ah yes" said Dumbledore. "I believe you are referring to the Annual Photograph…"

"Oh yeah" said Ron "I remember. That’s got Goyle raising two fin-…eyebrows to the camera over and over" he finished mindful of their Headmaster.

"Indeed" said Dumbledore.

Hermione still hadn’t moved.

"Harry I suspect it is time to share something with you, something it’s possible I should have shared a long time ago. In my defence, this situation is quite without precedent. The story begins Harry, with history."

Ron guided Hermione to a chair beside Harry’s bed, and then seated himself next to her.

"Like the Muggles we have our own ancient history, preserved by the oral traditions of early wizarding bards. Our stories of magic began to mix with Muggle folklore and there’s very little uncontested detail about our distant past. One of the stories that was passed on from my father’s father’s father’s…well, passed on through many generations reads:

One day dark shall clash with light,

Thence produced two shadows fleet,

Never the one without the other,

Never the distant twain shall meet."

Hermione had recovered enough by this point to emit a small sceptical snort.

"I take your point Hermione" smiled Dumbledore. "The phrasing is a little…ambiguous shall we say."

"It sounds like a Muggle story Professor."

"I agree" he said sagely, "But many Muggle stories contain a deeper wisdom. I have been reluctant to share this poem with you Harry, for these very reasons. You will have to admit" he pointedly looked at Hermione "that your case does fit the specifications remarkably."

"Professor I have slept with Harry’s foot in my face…He is in no way ‘light’" snorted Ron.

"It’s metaphorical." sighed Hermione.

"I was joking" protested Ron.

"Have you got any proof Professor Dumbledore?" asked Hermione.

Dumbledore was looking at Harry, who was silently mouthing the words to the poem over and over again.

"Have you ever done a spell when you were angry Harry?"

Harry laughed, then blushed. "You know I have Professor. I accidentally inflated my Aunt!"

"Emotions are powerful forces Harry. They are primal and natural; it’s inevitable that they influence the primal and natural forces of magic. Feelings can interfere with spells; it’s why you survived. When your mother gave her life to save you Harry, she fought off death with life and love. The reaction caused by this conflict could have had all manner of repercussions."

"So, you think that Harry’s Mum and Voldemort mixed magic and emotion to create some kind of hybrid?" asked Hermione.

"Cool, Harry, you’re a mutant!" enthused Ron.

"Hermione, what I am saying precisely is that I know nothing precisely, if you see what I mean" said Dumbledore calmly.

"I see" said Harry, although he didn’t.

"I don’t understand" said Hermione, wringing her hands. "What does this mean for Harry?"

"Well, clearly, it seems that somehow he and Voldemort have become connected."

"Now who’s the idiot" said Ron, sticking his tongue out at Hermione. "But hang on…if Harry and Voldemort swap places, does that mean that for a few minutes it was Voldemort playing Seeker for Gryffindor?" he asked aghast.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione.

"I assure you Ron, I would never have thought to approach the situation from that perspective. A very valuable insight" said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.

Harry had chuckled a little, but he was finding all this prophecy stuff a little tiring on top of his headache. Light? Dark? Meet? He needed to think about this and go over it with Hermione.

"Harry, I owled the Order of the Phoenix as soon as you fell. Mr Carroway and Mr Dent will be in my office first thing tomorrow. Perhaps, after some rest, you may feel fit to join us. We will work this out Harry." Dumbledore pressed a hand to Harry’s shoulder and then, with a nod to Hermione and Ron, left the room.

Harry realized this had turned out to be a very long day. And, Merlin, it was still Hermione’s birthday!

"Not much of a birthday" he said to her.

"Well" she smiled "you’ll have to make it up to me with lots more wonderful presents! Where did you two find this necklace anyway?"

"Urgh" sighed Ron. "That is a very long story!"

**

Please review. Thanking you…

## 11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: It’s all JK’s.

**

Harry woke lazily the next morning when the rays of the morning sun hit his face. Groaning he reached out to the table by his bed, groping for his glasses without opening his eyes. Suddenly his glasses found his hand independently and startled, he looked up into the face of Hermione. Harry jumped violently.

"Sorry Harry" she said meekly. "I just wanted to bring you some breakfast." She held out two slices of toast in a napkin.

Harry was still breathing heavily. "How long have you been there?" he asked.

"I didn’t want to wake you" she apologized.

He blinked rapidly, his heart rate gradually slowing. "No, that’s fine" he said. "Just scared me for a minute."

"Harry you should know better!" she scolded. "In no way am I tall enough to do a good Voldemort."

Harry looked at her searchingly, a wry smile starting to turn the corners of his mouth up. "Another joke Hermione?" he laughed.

"I am approaching my limit" she joked " you’d better make the most of it! Dumbledore wants to know whether you wanted to join the meeting?"

"Where’s Ron?"

"Where do you think? I didn’t want to wake him because Professor Dumbledore says that it would be better if we didn’t meet the Order of the Phoenix…which is fine" she said a little snottily, tilting up her chin defiantly. "You had better get dressed."

"Right" said Harry beginning to chew on his toast. He was suddenly very aware that he was only in his thin cotton pyjamas. "Ummm, Hermione?"

"It’s alright Harry, I’m going" she grinned mischievously. "I’ll see you later. You’ll have to tell me and Ron everything."

"Ok" he agreed readily, watching her leave the room. She was wearing the necklace he noticed proudly.

**

Harry walked into Dumbledore’s office fifteen minutes later, nervously trying to dampen his hair with tap water. The events of last night were still floating in no specific order around in his head. A lot of what Dumbledore had said was starting to blur slightly which he thought was probably due to the headache.

Once again, when he opened the door, all the portraits were craning to see. Indeed, Harry noticed with some amusement, many of the other portraits had crowded into the frames too. He recognized the Fat Lady wrestling with an extremely elderly man in the portrait above Dumbledore’s desk. The Fat Lady won (of course) and the elder wizard sulked off to perch on the arm of his neighbour’s chair.

"Good Morning Harry" said Dumbledore. "I trust this morning finds you better?"

"I’m fine thanks Professor."

"Harry, you remember of course Mr Dent and Mr Carraway?"

Harry stepped forward, and because Mr Dent rather regally extended one hand, he awkwardly shook it. The elder man was looking tired, Harry thought. His handshake was firm and swift. Jed Carraway didn’t get up from his seat, but leaned backwards on the chair, pushing it onto the two back feet, and waved cheerily at Harry.

"Hi Harry" he enthused. "Hear you’ve been having a spot of bother?"

Mr Dent glared at the younger man and gestured Harry towards a seat.

"Albus, have you discussed the matter of the prophecy?"

"I have indeed" said Dumbledore. "We discussed the idea yesterday…"

Harry thought ‘discussed’ was a bit of an exaggeration. He had sat dumbly while Dumbledore had explained.

"…quite rightly, Harry expressed a little scepticism…"

‘Hermione’ had expressed the scepticism in Harry’s recollection.

"…and I assured him that we would work together to get to the bottom of this."

Mr Dent shifted uneasily in his seat. Harry thought that he looked guilty, Dumbledore seemed to think so too.

"Isn’t that right Magnus?" he asked.

Harry assumed that he was addressing Mr Dent, who took a deep breath.

"Albus, we have always fought to keep Ministry politics out of the Order, but we are being put under considerable pressure to keep this an internal investigation."

Jed Carraway was looking at the floor.

"I see." Said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "You came here to tell us that you can’t tell us anything."

"Albus, I am fighting this as hard as I can" said Mr Dent, his eyes lit with determination. "The Minister has got his head up a Hippogriff’s-" he took a deep breath "the Minister is being a fool. He seems to consider Mr Potter a risk to the security of our investigation. If I were to share anything I know I would be fired, and replaced with men far less amenable to your cause." His hands clutched the arms of his chair, and his face grew steadily redder. "I’ll do everything in my power" he promised.

Dumbledore nodded curtly.

"If that’s all gentlemen…" he said, gesturing to the door.

Jed Carraway got up first, bouncing to his feet. He crossed Dumbledore’s desk towards the door and, as he passed Fawkes’ perch, the phoenix hissed slightly and turned its noble face away.

As Mr Dent followed his associate towards the door, Harry thought he noticed him slipping something to Dumbledore. At the door, Mr Dent turned and looked Harry in the eyes. "I’m sorry" he said sincerely.

Harry nodded slowly. Typical.

When the room was empty but for the two of them – and the combined artistic endeavours of the entire school – Dumbledore removed a small scroll from his sleeve. He beckoned swiftly to Harry, who pulled his chair closer with an appalling grate.

Unrolling the scroll, Dumbledore read softly and Harry, craning his neck, read with him:

"My dear Albus,

I fear to share this information openly. Neither the Ministry nor, I am sad to report, the Order is secure. Spies observe our every move – it was because of such leaks that my close friend Xavier Bloom was lost to us. Yesterday a report was received from the Muggle Primer Minister that someone matching Xavier’s description had been admitted to a Muggle hospital. We rushed to his side but were too late. The Muggle doctors had not seen torture like it before – neither had we.

Before he died, Xavier choked out these words with his last breath; ‘Potter…prophecy… knows’. I know in my heart that Voldemort realizes, as we have, that he and the boy make up the prophecy and are thus connected. Whatever information Xavier may have uncovered regarding this situation has been lost. From this tragedy Albus, we learn certain truths. Voldemort knows about the prophecy and it does refer to Harry. Information, at some point, existed about this prophecy that may help our cause and which Voldemort is trying to eradicate. Neither Ministry nor Order can be trusted.

I am truly saddened that I cannot help you more. I will do all I can to ensure that any information we receive is covertly passed to you. I cannot be sure how long I will be able to do so.

Your friend,

Magnus Dent."

Harry’s head was reeling. He was connected to Voldemort, his worst enemy. He was tied by inexplicable magics to the man who had murdered his parents. He felt a helpless rage start to burn under his skin, flushing his face. He heard Hermione’s voice in his head telling him to take charge of his destiny, and he began to breathe more clearly.

Dumbledore had been watching him intently.

"Are you alright Harry?" he asked.

"Is there anything else you know that you haven’t told me Professor?"

"I regret very much leaving it this late to share the details of this prophecy with you Harry. I regret involving a Ministerial agency in the situation even more. Magnus is a very good friend of mine and I have no doubt he will help all he can, but I suspect we are on our own from now on Harry."

Harry didn’t think that Dumbledore had answered the question. "Professor, is there something else?"

"I will never lie to you Harry."

Harry didn’t think this was the point either and was opening his mouth to say so when the distinctive knock of Hagrid thudded at the door.

"You sent fer me Professor?" he asked, ambling with rolling gait towards the desk.

"Hagrid, the time has come. I need you to fetch Sirius, Remus and everyone they have managed to rally to our cause. Send owls to the Giants and ask them to make good on their promises. The front line of this war will be fought, as I feared, on the very grounds of Hogwarts. Harry has seen that Voldemort is turning his dark power toward our school. We cannot let that happen."

Hagrid looked bewildered and very frightened. "But, how, who, when…?"

"Please do as I ask" stated Dumbledore calmly.

A second thud at the door and this time a figure entered without waiting for permission. Half of his head was smoking and a few stray tendrils still frazzled with the residuals sparks of magical fire. His robes were filthy and torn, streaked with grass stains, mud and blood. His left eye was swollen and dripping with blood from a gash across his forehead. He staggered in with a limp.

"They’re coming" said Severus Snape.

**

Please review if you’ve read this far. I really appreciate constructive feedback.

## 12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: JK owns all.

**

Harry looked from Snape to Dumbledore in an almost comedic parody of disbelief.

"When?" asked Dumbledore concisely.

"I’m not sure" said Snape. "Their next target is Hogwarts. I was not deemed worthy" he spat this word "to share in the exact plans. I suspect the attack will be launched in a week, maybe more. It will take them at least this long to assemble all their forces from the corners of the globe."

"Do they know you have betrayed them?" asked Dumbledore urgently.

Snape wryly gestured to his scorched scalp. "I think they may have worked it out." He said dryly.

"Severus, go to the hospital wing. Poppy will take care of you. I will join you shortly." Dumbledore radiated a quiet authority that it would be quite impossible to resist. Snape grimaced at Harry and then left the room.

"Hagrid, the task which I set earlier has acquired new urgency. Please be as quick as possible."

"Yessir" said Hagrid glumly. "Bye Harry, it’ll be alright, just wait, yer’ll see."

"Thanks Hagrid" Harry said warmly, grateful for the reassurance, if not entirely convinced.

Again, Harry and the Headmaster were left alone in the office. Harry gaped in Dumbledore’s direction.

"Darkness is rising Harry" he said. "I had feared that Voldemort would come to Hogwarts, but I had not imagined it would be this soon. I have allowed myself to become complacent. When the expected terror did not follow Voldemort’s return to power I felt, like many others, that something was holding him back. It seems I was wrong." Dumbledore added this last sentence with the confused tone of one who is not accustomed to being wrong often.

"Professor?" stuttered Harry, dreading the answer "Is he coming because of me?"

"I do not know Harry" said Dumbledore, shaking his head, "we cannot assume that. If only Xavier were not lost to us."

"Let us look into it!" said Harry abruptly, desperate to do something, anything.

"Harry, I admire your diligence, but the Order of the Phoenix found nothing."

"But they didn’t have Hermione" said Harry simply.

"Indeed" Dumbledore said pensively. "I will share what I know with you Harry, but you must understand that my prime focus must be the defence of this establishment. Too many young lives depend on my judgement. Do you understand?"

"I do" said Harry firmly.

"The volumes which Magnus sought from me are a highly rare set of Early Wizarding History volumes. They outline myth, history and astrology from centuries ago. The volumes referenced in his intercepted parchment are seven to nine."

Dumbledore passed Bloom’s letter to Harry. "I hope this will help. My only advice to you is that later authors sometimes cross-reference or quote these early volumes, but my hopes are not high Harry."

Harry took the scroll and tucked it into his robes.

"Professor, what are we going to do about Voldemort and the attack?" asked Harry tentatively.

"As you have heard Harry, we are recalling all our old allies. We will patrol the grounds and assemble our defences. Perhaps Professor Snape may be able to offer assistance on tactical matters. I will advise the Ministry of the situation but really Harry, I am afraid we must sit and wait. I ask you of course to keep this matter from the rest of Hogwarts."

I just can’t wait around, thought Harry. The prospect of a task, however hopeless, was the shining beacon of hope in his future.

**

"So Snape had a black eye?" asked Ron enthusiastically. "Did it look like it hurt?"

"Ron!" chastized Hermione.

"Umm, it didn’t look pretty" said Harry.

"Excellent" said Ron, with a smug smile.

"Ron!"

"Oh come on…he gave you a B once in Potions. Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to give him a black eye!"

"Ron!"

"Alright, alright. So what’s the plan Harry?"

"Umm, I don’t have a plan" he admitted.

"We need to go the library." Hermione stated simply, compensating for his ignorance, as he’d known she would.

"Hermione, that’s your answer to every problem. If the library was on fire, your solution to the problem would be to head there for some research" complained Ron.

This time she merely gave him a look. He hurriedly stood up.

"Harry mate, what are you waiting for?"

**

They had taken over one corner of the library. Ron’s primary contribution to the vigil was to regularly visit the house-elves for snacks. Thus the team had one table for books, one table for pies. Ron was often to be found ‘working’ at the latter. Hermione had her nose buried in "Ye Olde Wizarding Lore – Abridged to make sense" which was roughly the size of her upper body. She was concentrating so hard that her nose almost grazed the pages.

Harry had "Goblins, Gobblets and all that’s in between!" open in front of him but he’d been reading the same line over and over for the last half an hour. And he still didn’t know what a Gobblet was. He’d been attracted to this volume by the appealing exclamation mark in the title but sadly the promised excitement had yet to materialize. Voldemort was planning to attack Hogwarts. Why? Why not snatch Harry from the Dursley’s over the summer? Don’t be silly, he chastized himself, perhaps he’s after Dumbledore or Sirius. It’s not all about you. Somehow, when the lines of the prophecy ran through his head, it was hard not to think that way.

"Dark will clash with light…two shadows fleet…never the one without the other…never the twain shall meet"

What did it mean? He and Voldemort had clashed many times and, while the Voldemort-creature of his first year could be described as a shadow, Harry didn’t think he fitted in very well at all. The idea that they hadn’t met was ridiculous.

"Pumpkin pie?" asked Hermione, breaking into his reverie. "Ron seems to think that we’re running short" she said gesturing to the heaped banquet "so he’s gone to ask for more!"

"Thanks" said Harry absently.

"I’m not getting anywhere" she sighed, frustrated. She tangled wayward curls in her fist as she leaned upon her right hand. "There are extracts and references but they’re so scattered that we’d need a lifetime to track them down!"

"I know" he said glumly. He was transfixed by the motion of her fingers, twisting and playing with her curls. It was so strange. Ever since the Quidditch match, he’d found himself mildly uncomfortable in her presence. It was an odd kind of confusion. He didn’t want to be near her when she caused him these stomach pangs, but he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. It was altogether horrible, reflected Harry.

"We’ve been here forever!" she sighed.

"I know" he agreed, watching her eyes dart frantically across the page. It was a habit he’d noticed from the first year – she could quite easily scan a book and carry out a conversation. It bewildered Harry.

"What are we going to do Harry? Snape said that Voldemort is coming here." Her face was pale, her voice shaky, and Harry regretted her being involved in this danger.

"We need to find out what Voldemort knows" said Harry grimly.

"We need to find an original copy of the volumes."

"The Order tried every library."

"Did we double-check with every library?" she said.

"We went through the whole list in the Purple Pages" confirmed Harry. "They all confirmed attacks had been levelled at this specific section."

"He’s wiped out every copy in the wizarding world" sighed Hermione.

"What about the Muggle world?" asked Harry suddenly.

"They don’t have magic volumes…" she countered

"No, not necessarily wizarding texts but Professor Dumbledore himself said that we share a lot of myth and early writing."

" And Voldemort would never think to destroy Muggle libraries" continued Hermione, warming to the idea. "He thinks that Muggles are beneath him."

"That’s true" said Harry.

Hermione slammed her volume shut and beamed at him. "I think you might have done it Harry!"

"Well…we can’t be sure. They may not have anything relevant" dismissed Harry.

"I’ve got a good feeling about this" she smiled.

He smiled back at her. Their eyes met across the table. It was a long and meaningful gaze. Without thinking Harry reached across the table and touched her hand. It was just a spontaneous show of affection and unity. She took his in her own and grinned at him.

"Abou’ wha’?" came a muffled voice, as Ron came back into the room, his mouth obscured by a large doughnut.

The two jumped apart. "Hermione thinks that we should try looking in Muggle libraries" said Harry.

"Harry Potter!" squealed a different voice, and Dobby peeked out from between Ron’s legs. "How is Harry Potter?"

"I’m fine" said Harry, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous outfit Dobby was wearing. In addition to his tea cosy hat, Dobby was now sporting a miniature leather jacket, too long for his body, and wide strapped sandals. Each foot was also clad in a brightly coloured knitted sock.

"We’re going to the Muggle world?" asked Ron, bewildered.

"Dobby will come sir! Dobby will come!" he said, jumping onto the chair next to Harry’s.

"I appreciate the offer Dobby, but I don’t think it’s a good idea."

"Dobby has displeased Harry Potter. Harry Potter does not want Dobby near him" said the little house-elf desolately. Lowering his head onto the pages of "Goblins, Gobblets, and all that’s in between!" Dobby proceeded to slam the book shut repeatedly.

"Ow…ow….ow….ow…"

"Dobby, stop that!" said Harry firmly, pulling him away. "It’s nothing like that! I just don’t think that you’d fit in very discreetly in the Muggle world" he said awkwardly.

"Dobby could wear different clothes" said the house elf hopefully.

"It’s not so much the clothes" said Harry delicately. "It’s more…"

"Dobby is too ignorant."

"Not at all…"

"Dobby is too ugly.

"No, Dobby, just listen…"

"Dobby will fail you?"

"Dobby they don’t have house elves in the Muggle world. They think that human beings are the only creatures that can talk. That’s all." He said desperately.

Dobby hung his head so low that the bobble on his tea cosy touched his knees.

"But, err, Dobby would you mind bringing us some tea?" asked Harry desperate to cheer him up.

He perked up immediately. "Dobby would be honoured sir. Dobby will bring every variety of tea that he can find."

"Thanks Dobby."

As Dobby sped out of the library, jogging on little splayed legs, Harry turned to look at Hermione. She was buried in another book, "Muggles and Society, Edition 2" by the look of the cover.

The book was open at Chapter 12 ("Muggle Public Buildings: Swimming Baths to Shops"). The chapter was quite extensive and Hermione read at a speed Harry couldn’t follow. She traced a finger down the page (under the heading "British Libraries") and at last muttered "A-ha".

"What?" said Ron and Harry in unison, who were by this time desperately gulping down the vats of tea that Dobby had sent up, so as not to disappoint him.

"Apparently certain Muggle libraries are assured a copy of every book printed in the United Kingdom. I think one of these may be a good place to start. Hmmm…" she said, staring at the list. "I think the most obscure would be Cambridge University Library. It’s attached to a Muggle university but it’s apparently often empty."

"We’re really going to mix with the Muggles?" asked Ron, excited. "And I have simply nothing to wear!"

"I’ve only got an impending attack written in my diary, but I could re-schedule…" said Harry to his friend.

"It’s a date!" said Ron, melodramatically.

Harry glanced quickly at Hermione as his face blushed.

"Let’s go" he said quickly.

"Harry!" called Hermione. "Don’t you think that you should tell Dumbledore what’s happening?"

Harry was slightly bewildered. That wasn’t a normal part of his plans.

"He specifically told me that he wouldn’t be involved" he said, mildly irritated with the nagging.

"So that they know you’re safe Harry. Please."

"Ok" he agreed, reluctantly. "But I’m going whatever they say."

**

Please review if you’ve read this far. Thanks.

## 13. Chapter 13

A/N All Jk’s

**

They had tried Dumbledore’s office, the Staff Room, nearly all of the classrooms; the Hogwarts staff seemed to have disappeared.

"Harry" said Ron, looking concerned "You don’t think…-"

"I don’t know" Harry said, thinking hard. "Maybe they’re still in the Hospital Wing?"

"All of them?" said Ron, incredulously.

Harry started to walk off in answer, his friends following. They made their way through deserted corridors until they stood, at last, outside the Hospital ward.

Dumbledore’s voice could be heard from within, and immediately Harry relaxed. As he turned into the doorway, about to knock politely on the door, he saw something that made him hurriedly turn back. Ron, following, bumped into him with a muffled explanation.

"Sssshhh" hissed Harry urgently, bundling his friends away from the door.

"What is it?" asked Hermione in a low voice.

"All of the teachers are in there" said Harry. "They’re all gathered around Snape’s bed. There are loads of people I don’t even know!"

"What’s going on?" wondered Ron.

"I don’t know" said Harry slowly.

"They must be all the wizards and witches recalled to defend Hogwarts" suggested Hermione.

Harry caught a brief mention of his name float out of the doorway, and edged closer to hear more clearly.

"…know we are facing a very difficult time….feel it’s important…wonder…."

He edged closer, craning at the door.

"Our colleague Severus Snape has, for some months now, has been an undercover spy within Voldemort’s ranks. This has been an incredibly horrific experience but Severus has my complete confidence, and I believe his sacrifice has been valuable. I think it will be valuable for you all to hear his story at such a time. I will be calling upon you all to stake your lives in the defence of this school, indeed, the defence of our way of life. Severus if you wouldn’t mind?"

"What’s happening?" whispered Hermione into his ear, her cool breath brushing against his face.

He shivered. "I don’t know yet…"

Snape’s voice, low and mournful as ever, but somewhat cracked with strain, began to speak.

"I am not proud of the things I was forced to do in order to prove my renewed loyalty to Lord Voldemort." Snape began, before a paroxysm of coughing interrupted his words. "Lord Voldemort." He repeated bitterly.

"Deatheaters, many of whom we know, were required to spend a mandatory and voluntary period of four weeks under the cruciatus curse. We were all housed in the same damp cellar. The screaming was incessant and brutal." Snape’s voice betrayed no further emotion as he continued. "Finally, when he was assured of our allegiance, we were each set various…tasks." His voice broke. "I did my share. Some, for whom the experience was a pleasure" he loaded this word with contempt "were rewarded with higher ranks in his service. I remained a menial servant. It was my responsibility to prepare food and drink, along with participating in random muggle-baitings."

Snape started coughing, the sound hoarse and flemmy.

"One day I was summoned to supply to six goblets of red wine to the Master’s Drawing Room. When I arrived at the door I heard snatches of conversation. I heard something about an attack on Hogwarts before he called me. ‘Severus’ he said, ‘won’t you come in?’. He has regenerated beyond our fears. His magic is strong, his grip on the black hearts of his followers is complete. As I served the drinks, my eyes lowered as commanded, I caught sight of ground plans and what seemed to be a school photograph. I looked up and met red eyes, the intensity of a furnace but colder than ice. He knew."

"Finishing my task hurriedly I left the room, determined to share this news while I could. Ten Deatheaters cornered me in the kitchen. I barely escaped alive."

Dumbledore’s voice, low and soothing, broke into the narrative. "It’s alright Severus, you can stop now."

Harry was just about to turn away, and share this news with Ron and Hermione, when once again a voice made him turn back, his pulse racing.

"He’s coming for Harry" said Sirius.

"I fear so" said Dumbledore gravely.

"He must go into hiding" Sirius stated determinedly.

There were murmurs of agreement from around the room.

Harry didn’t wait to hear any more.

"Come on" he said firmly. Striding quietly down the corridor. Bewildered, Hermione and Ron shrugged at each other and followed.

**

"I am NOT going to let them hide me away" said Harry, quietly angry. "I am not a child"

"They’re only looking out for you Harry" said Hermione, pale but determined.

"I have lived for 16 years by myself. I won’t run and hide while Voldemort attacks people I care about. I’m going to find out what he knows and then I’m going to confront him."

"Harry mate, they’re not going to let you go off on a field trip to a Muggle library" said Ron, practical for once.

"I’m going anyway. You’re free to stay here" he assured them.

"Harry it’s not safe" said Hermione, her voice shaky but her resolve firm.

"It’s not safe for anyone Hermione." Harry said steadily.

"What the heck!" said Ron dramatically, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. "I’m in."

The two of them stared at Hermione. She was nervously twisting the pendant around her neck, pulling the little heart from side to side in her indecision.

"Hermione" said Harry softly "you should do what you think is right."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Then she smiled. "Someone needs to look after you two in the Muggle world."

Harry’s grin felt like it would split his face. He hadn’t doubted her for a second.

"We leave tonight."

**

"Harry I am not wearing my school jumper" fumed Ron.

"Right. Well wear your robes then! No really, take your wand and broomstick too, then we’ll blend right in with the other Muggles"

"Fine!" said Ron, throwing his bag at Harry. "I’ll wear it but I’m not happy!"

"Come on, we’re meeting Hermione in the grounds. You go first so that we don’t look suspicious."

Harry watched Ron sulkily make his way out of the room and head down the stairs. He quickly read over the note that he had scribbled;

"Me, Ron and Hermione have gone into the Muggle world to research (Professor Dumbledore knows all about it). Will be back soon. Harry"

He left it on his bed, cast his quill aside and headed downstairs.

When he reached the meeting place – an old elm in the school grounds – he saw Hermione and Ron in huddled conversation. He raised a hand in silent greeting and placed one finger against his lips.

"Harry, are you sure about this?" whispered Hermione.

"Never surer"

She smiled weakly back at him.

"Get on your brooms, we should get as far away as possible before someone notices that we’re gone."

He stepped astride his broom, and scanned the horizon anxiously. Dusk was starting to fall and there was a hazy mistiness around them. He squinted, alerted by movement, but it seemed to be merely branches swaying in the evening breeze. The wind was cool but calm. Harry licked one finger and held it up to the night air. The wind resistance was quite high, in periodic gusts, but he didn’t think the conditions were too unsuitable for flying. Of course, by not using front and rear lights they were breaking about fifty school and magical laws. Harry crossed his fingers.

Ron was rising slowly into the air on his borrowed school broom. Hermione was faring less well. The heavy weight of her bag (books, books and more books) kept unsettling her weight distribution. Every time she tried to push off from the ground, the strap of her bag slid across her shoulder and pulled her to one side. She firmly pulled the bag to her front, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and tried once more. She rose a few shaky feet before lurching dangerously to the left.

"Hermione I thought you said that you were better on your broom now" said Harry anxiously.

"Better." hissed Hermione "I never said good!"

"This is ridiculous" said Harry. "You’ll have to ride with me."

"What!" she said, with slightly too much shock for his liking. "You mean on your broom? Don’t be ridiculous Harry, it’ll never carry us both and our bags."

"It’ll be fine" said Harry, giving her what he hoped was a confident grin. "We’ll enchant your broom to follow mine and we’ll attach the bags."

"Hmmm" she said, pursing her lips. "I really don’t like flying"

"You’ll be safe with me. I’d never let you fall." He held out one hand in old-fashioned invitation.

Without hesitation she put her hand in his and he pulled her toward him. Too fast. She bumped into him abruptly with the force of her motion. They giggled, embarrassed.

"I should warn you" she said hurriedly "I’m a terrible back-seat driver"

Harry smiled. "Then, Miss Granger, you shall have the front seat." He settled her in front of him, and they tentatively tried a few lifts. Harry’s Firebolt managed the two of them easily.

They attached the straps of their bags to Hermione’s broom, muttered a charm "sequendo" and set off. They made an odd and initially shaky procession across the Hogwarts grounds. They bumped into Ron, who had come back to find them.

"What are you two doing?"

"Hermione was having a little broom trouble."

"I could have taken her."

"It’s fine, my Firebolt’s probably better suited anyway."

"Fine."

"Fine."

On that awkward note, the three set off into the night.

"Which direction are we headed again?" asked Ron.

"Errrr"

"Head towards that bright star" said Hermione, watching the compass on Harry’s broom and consulting her notes. "We just need to follow the train tracks back to London and then we can get muggle transportation from there."

**

"Harry I’m tired" moaned Ron, his head nodding with sleepiness.

"I know Ron, but we have to keep going while we’ve got the cover of darkness" Harry called back.

"Harry, I’m hungry" Ron whined again.

Harry chuckled. "I never would have guessed."

"Hermione, are we nearly there yet?" asked Ron, swooping closer to the Firebolt.

"Shhh" whispered Harry hastily. "She’s still asleep."

"Lucky" moaned Ron.

Harry smiled again and tucked his arm more firmly around Hermione’s middle, where he was holding her on the broom, and adjusting the hand with which he was steering. Hermione had dropped off a couple of hours ago and Harry had been secretly glad. When she was asleep she didn’t wriggle about every time a tall tree hoved in to view. Moreover, since falling under, she’d tucked herself neatly against him, her head thrown back against his shoulder. Harry was grateful for her warmth in the cool night air, and happy also for reasons he couldn’t quite bear to explain even to himself.

"Harry" hissed Ron urgently.

Harry looked up sharply. Ahead of them stretched the bright lights and high-rise buildings of Muggle civilization. Harry pointed his wand at the tracks below them "Lumos" he commanded. "We’re still on course" he said, relieved.

"We should land soon" said Ron, squinting into the distance. "The sun is coming up."

"Over there" said Harry, pointing to a section of grass to his left. In front of him Hermione began to stir.

"Wha-" she muttered.

"Sssh" he soothed. "We’re nearly there."

Once landed, they followed the tracks on foot until they led into the central station through a series of tunnels.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?" sniffed Hermione.

Ron chuckled. "Hermione, we’re going up against You Know Who! All things considered, this isn’t that bad!"

"Sssh" said Harry. "Quick, get under the cloak."

Cramped together and shuffling awkwardly they made their way onto the main platform.

"Right" said Hermione. "You two stay here and I’ll go and check the Departures board."

Harry and Ron huddled together on a bench to await her return. They kicked their brooms under the seat and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

**

"There’s a train to Cambridge in 15 minutes" announced Hermione, looking extremely pleased with herself. "I got us tickets. Come on lets go."

They stood up to follow her across the platform, but bumped into a conductor. He looked down at the group, his face stern beneath the brim of his regulation cap.

"What’s going on here then?" he asked firmly.

"Er-" said Ron, stammering for a reply.

"Field trip" said Harry suddenly.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and nodded in the direction of the station clock. It read 5:30 AM in a bright red display.

"…later today" he amended.

"We’re very excited" added Hermione. "We’re going into school first and then…field trip" she said.

"Yeah" said Ron, catching on "off to school early today."

The guard looked at them oddly. He took in their uniforms and bags before noticing their broomsticks.

"What’s with the brushes?" he asked.

"Brooms" corrected Ron without hesitation.

"Right" he muttered.

"It’s a community service field trip" said Hermione quickly. "We’re going to be cleaning up an English city as an environmental project."

The conductors attention had already been diverted by an elderly lady, who seemed to be attacking a dustbin with her walking stick. He walked off without a second look.

"Nice work Ron" said Hermione scathingly.

"I was only trying to-"

"Well next time don’t" she snapped. "The first person we meet and we nearly got caught."

"It’s okay Hermione" said Harry, clapping a hand on Ron’s shoulder. "We’ll do better next time."

"We better" she sulked, striding decisively towards Platform 3.

"Environmental project?" said Harry to Ron

"Community service field trip" he replied. "Where does she get this stuff?!"

Smothering their amusement they followed her through the station, which was rapidly beginning to fill with people.

**

Settling into their seats, Harry, Hermione and Ron relaxed happily.

"I could just fall-" Ron’s sentence faded out as his head lolled back against the rough seat.

"Ron?" questioned Hermione.

"Let him sleep" muttered Harry, his words slurred with tiredness.

"We should work on a cover story" fretted Hermione anxiously.

"Good idea" he mumbled… "You do that…"

"Harry?"

"Two minutes…"

Harry was woken abruptly by the shrill sound of a question.

"Any teas? Any coffees?"

He blinked rapidly, his vision blurry with tears. Glancing opposite he could see that Ron was beginning to stir too. He could see Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was staring into the distance through a grime-encrusted window, biting nervously on her lower lip.

"Any drinks?" asked the rail attendant pushing the trolley.

"Great" said Ron, through a yawn. "Three cauldron cakes please."

Hermione snapped back to attention.

"Ron!" she seethed.

"S’ok Hermione" he murmed, putting a hand to his mouth as another yawn threatened to split his face in two. "I’ve got the money!". Reaching into his trouser pocket, he retrieved a handful of bronze coins.

The rail attendant was looking at them with barely concealed impatience.

"Look, you kids want something or not?" she snapped.

"CAULDRON CAKES" repeated Ron louder and more firmly.

"Is that a joke?"

Her strict tone jolted Ron back to full consciousness and abashed he shook his head.

She tutted and pushed the trolley onto the next seats muttering something under her breath about "kids today".

"I’m really sorry" said Ron sincerely.

Hermione exhaled slowly, looking as though she were keeping a strict hold of her temper.

"It’s okay" she said evenly "we’re nearly there. Our stop is next, we should get ready."

Gathering up their belongings they made their way to the end of the carriage, swaying from side to side. Hermione managed to strike a very formal looking business man over the head with her broom. He looked at her in annoyance, his expression mellowing to confusion when he noticed the broomstick. She shrugged and muttered an apology, pointedly refusing to make eye contact with Ron, who was desperate to gloat. A sudden change of pace sent them lurching forward. Harry trod firmly on the back of Hermione’s heels.

"Sorry Hermione" he winced in sympathy. "Are you okay?"

"Mmmhmm"

Out of the small window in the door they could see the platform and a small white sign modestly proclaimed their arrival into the city of Cambridge.

**

Another section, another R-and-R request…