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It was an exceptionally foggy morning in London, making a stroll outside vaguely reminiscent of swimming through a thick pea soup. It was into this that Harry and his friends emerged, heralded by the appearance of one of Father's remote Gates. Stepping through the gleaming sphere of energy, the Ministry Crew found themselves standing just outside the front door to number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Gah, wonderful weather," concluded Ron as the Remote Gate closed.

The contrast between London and Barcelona was a marked one that did nothing to instil any enthusiasm in the six young witches and wizards.

"Good thing Father dropped us off right outside the front door, and not at the end of the street," said Ginny, looking up and down the row of houses flanking Sirius' old home. She shook her head and held out an arm to illustrate her point. "I can barely see ten feet in front of me."

"At least you can see if this house of Harry's that's supposed to be here is actually here," muttered Neville, "because I can't see it."

"It's under a Fidelius Charm, remember?" Luna reminded him.

Harry, who had been quietly confirming with Father's scans that nobody was about to unexpectedly jump out from behind the rosebushes and ambush them (constant vigilance), gave the blonde witch a sideways glance.

Her actions, earlier in the morning, were still fresh in his mind. He was not quite sure what to make of her decision to join him in the shower. Harry suspected that she had done it in some sort of misguided attempt to push him and Hermione together, but considering the often convoluted turns of Luna's logic, he couldn't be certain.

He still felt somewhat mortified, thinking back on it, especially when he remembered the look Hermione had given him when she had burst into the bathroom in an attempt to stop Luna. He could feel a slight blush rising to his cheeks at the memory of Luna inviting his girlfriend to join them in the shower.

Shaking his head and bringing his thoughts back to the present, he remembered that Luna and Neville were the only members of the group that had never been to the Order's headquarters. As such he repeated what he had explained before they had left the flat, "You'll be able to see it once someone opens the door and let's you in."

"Come on," urged Hermione, impatient to see her parents - who had fled to Grimmauld Place the previous morning after their house had been attacked by Death Eaters.

Concentrating on the fact that number twelve was the secret headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, Harry watched as the house appeared out of nowhere. It seemed to squeeze into existence between number eleven and number thirteen and then push them apart. How the inhabitants of those houses failed to notice this, Harry could not understand.

Knowing that Luna and Neville were still unable to see the house, Harry grabbed Neville by the elbow and led him up to the front door. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny doing the same for Luna, leading her by the hand. Doubtless the young Ravenclaw was enjoying the contact.

While only the secret keeper (in this case Dumbledore) could reveal the house's location, there was nothing to prevent either Luna or Neville from being led into the house. They would not, however, be able to see anything until actually crossing the threshold and when they left the house they would be unable to find it again.

Making sure to keep his grip on Neville's elbow, Harry used his free hand to knock on the door. He was not surprised when it was almost immediately flung open, revealing a fretful looking Remus and Tonks.

"You're here," breathed Remus in relief.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," greeted Harry.

The two Order members stepped back and held the door open for them to file into the house, Neville and Luna being led inside by Harry and Ginny. Only after they had stepped over the threshold were they released by their guides, something that clearly left Luna feeling disappointed.

"Hello, Harry," said Remus. "And I thought I told you to drop the title," he admonished with a mock-chiding tone, "I'm not your professor any more."

"Sorry," Harry apologised. "Habit." He turned to Tonks, standing by Remus' side, and tipped an imaginary hat as he greeted her. "Wotcher, Tonks."

"Oi, that's my line," the azure-haired Auror cheerfully protested.

After Remus closed the door there was a pause as everyone took a moment to look around at their surroundings. For Luna and Neville this was their first time ever inside the Order's headquarters. For Harry it was the first time he had been here since Christmas the previous year.

Harry immediately clamped down on that line of thought, all too aware of the fact that thinking about last Christmas would lead to memories of Sirius. And his death. He had long since come to terms with his godfather's death, mostly thanks to having his future self's memories imprinted in his mind during Father's arrival at the start of the summer. Regardless of that, the pain of his loss still struck him at times and would (he knew) never truly go away.

Instead he forced himself to concentrate on the house, taking in the various changes that had been made since last he was here. Before his death, Sirius had been working almost every day to renovate Grimmauld Place into something more to his (and everyone else's) liking.

There was still a great deal to be done, but a fair bit of progress had been made. The walls to the entrance hall had been painted, a sort of light tan with cream highlights. The original drab and moth-eaten carpet had been replaced by one that was thick underfoot and a rich golden brown in colour. All told, the place was looking almost welcoming - at least in regards to the rest of the house.

"Where are they? My parents?" asked Hermione anxiously as she bounced from one foot to the other.

"In the second floor sitting room," answered Remus.

Hermione was running off and up the stairs before the former professor had finished speaking. Ron and the others (save Harry) made to follow after her, but were intercepted by Tonks.

"Uh uh, that's a family only reunion," she told them. "You lot should wait in the kitchen."

With some obvious reluctance, the Ministry Crew accepted her instructions and turned to go. They paused just before leaving the entrance hall and looked back at Harry, who had not moved to follow them.

"Harry?" asked Ginny.

"You chaps go on," said Harry. "I need to speak with Remus and Tonks."

"You sure you don't want us to stay?" asked Neville.

"It's okay," Harry assured them. "I'll be fine."

Accepting his reassurance, Harry's friends continued towards the kitchen, being led by Ron and Ginny, who knew the way.

"Drawing room?" asked Harry, once the others had left.

"Let's go," agreed Remus.

The three hurried into the drawing room, which Tonks sealed with a variety of non-regulation spells. Harry watched her with interest, taking note of a Silencing Charm, a Detection Ward and three Locking Spells that he had not encountered before.

As Tonks finished up, with a few whispered suggestions from Remus, Harry took a seat and waited. Sitting down in a plush armchair, he mused that he would almost be willing to kill for a Mars Bar to snack on. He had developed something of an addiction to the chocolates over the summer and generally had one every day, usually after his morning exercises.

He was shocked out of his musings by Remus, who grabbed him by the shoulders and began looking him over, no doubt searching for any sign of injury.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm fine, Remus," Harry tried to assuage. He made a point of keeping his voice as calm and soothing as possible, while trying to extract himself from his guardian's grip. "Honestly, I'm fine. Not a scratch on me."

Not appearing fully convinced Remus reluctantly let go and dropped into the nearest chair, Tonks following suit and dragging her chair closer.

"Damn it, Harry," Remus sputtered, shaking his head. "Running off like that... what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Hermione's life was more important than my supposed safety," Harry replied calmly.

"But why go running off on your own?" demanded Remus.

"I had help," answered Harry simply.

"I won't argue that your friends are quite exceptional witches and wizards, Harry," Remus countered, rubbing at his temples in clear frustration, "but to ask them to go up against Death Eaters..."

"Actually... I kind of tricked them out of it," admitted Harry, feeling a bit sheepish of the admission. Seeing Remus look at him in confusion, he elaborated, "I sent them to a safe place only I know of, and rescued Hermione without them."

"I thought you said had help?" asked Tonks, looking just as confused as Remus did.

With a silent command, Harry summoned Father. The Gatekeeper had been residing entirely in subspace for the bulk of the morning, mostly in the hope of putting everyone at ease. Now it to shimmered into view just above Harry's right shoulder, its charcoal black sphere bobbing up and down in the air.

"I did."

"Ah, yes," groused Remus unhappily. He glared at the drifting sphere. "'Father'."

"That bloody thing..." grumbled Tonks.

Getting the impression that neither of his companions were thinking fondly of his Gatekeeper, Harry decided to change the topic of conversation. Before anything more could be said, he asked, "I gather Hermione's parents arrived here without fanfare?"

"Without fanfare?" repeated Remus incredulously. He laughed loudly at the thought. "You certainly have your mother's talent for understatement, Harry."

"Oh?"

"Those five drones of yours almost started a panic amongst the Muggles when they arrived outside."

"Well..." Harry was slightly embarrassed and gave a helpless shrug. "It was the only way I could think of to get the attention of whoever was inside. Neither of the Grangers have been here before, and the Fidelius Charm that Dumbledore put on the house makes it a little hard to lead someone to the front door - especially if the drones leading them have never been here either."

"Yes," Remus wryly agreed, "but having them shoot their machineguns into the air was a bit much."

"They did what?" asked Tonks, looking incredulously from Remus to Harry and back.

Remus nodded in confirmation and elaborated, "Fired their weapons into the air until I looked out the window, realized what was going on and ushered them inside before the Muggle army made an appearance."

Harry looked up in surprise and asked, "The army was here?"

"Mmm."

Harry could feel himself blushing slightly at the thought of having caused such an incident. Resigning himself to being in even more trouble than he originally thought, he asked, "What's the official story then?"

"According to the Times," Remus told him, eyes sparkling with repressed amusement, "a complicated deal between Jamaican drug dealers, Somali gunrunners and some Serbian terrorists went bad when the Jamaicans decided to keep everything for themselves."

"The Ministry must be frothing at the mouth," wondered Tonks.

"Actually, it was one of the Ministry Obliviators that came up with that particular cover story when they were modifying the Muggles' memories. Took them most of yesterday afternoon to get everyone."

Considering the situation for a while, Harry decided that (despite the trouble he would be in) it was better than the alternative. With a heartfelt and slightly resigned sigh, he concluded, "Oh well... at least they're safe."

"Confused as hell about what happened," agreed Tonks, "but safe."

"I'll try to explain before we go back to Hogwarts," said Harry.

He resolved talk to Mr and Mrs Granger before returning his fellow students and himself to the school. Having holographic doubles of yourself kill some Death Eaters on your lawn was, he felt, not the best way to make a good impression with your girlfriend's parents.

"Dumbledore told us, Harry," said Remus unexpectedly.

Harry looked at the werewolf blankly, not having the faintest idea where the other wizard was coming from. He shook his head to express his confusion and asked, "Told you what?"

"The prophecy."

"What?"

"All of it," Remus confirmed sombrely. "He showed it to us last night."

Harry was stunned almost speechless. This was something he had never expected Dumbledore to do. In the original timeline the old man had continued to guard the prophecy until his dying breath. That he would do something this drastic, so soon in the relative scheme of things, was shocking proof of just how much Harry had changed the present.

"He actually told you?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Sucks being you, doesn't it?" commented Tonks cheekily, obviously trying to inject some good humour into an otherwise serious conversation.

"TONKS!" bellowed Remus, rounding on the suddenly cringing Auror.

"It's okay, Remus," said Harry, cutting off Remus' outraged exclamations. "Really, it's all right." He slouched in the armchair and graced Tonks with a tired smile, letting her know that she had not hurt his feelings with her remark. "She's not saying anything you or I weren't thinking ourselves."

The was a brief and uncomfortable silence before Remus tentatively spoke, "Harry..."

Not liking the sombre tone that had settled over his guardian, Harry forced am easy-going grin and said, "At least now you know that I was perfectly safe the entire time."

"Huh?" said Tonks articulately.

"The important bit of the prophecy, remember?" Harry prompted, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms behind his head. He made sure to keep his light-hearted tone of voice as he elaborated, "The part where only I can kill Voldemort and visa versa."

"That's your excuse for gallivanting about the country with complete disregard to your own safety?" asked Remus with open disbelief. He sputtered for a moment, at a loss for words, before raising his hands in aggravation. "You could have be hurt! Or captured! Or worse!"

Harry ducked his head, hiding his eyes behind his long fringe, and regarded his heads - which he had dropped into his lap. "Please, Remus, try to understand," he pleaded softly, aware that Remus was only worried for his safety. "I couldn't just leave her."

Having replaced Sirius as Harry's guardian, the former Defence professor was already anxious enough about fulfilling his new role properly - and having his ward running off into the proverbial snake's nest, was doubtless doing very little for his confidence right now.

It was only because Fudge had been eager to please Dumbledore, and not stir up any more trouble for his flagging public image, that the previous Minister of Magic had not contended Remus' appointment as the Boy-Who-Lived's legal wizarding guardian. He would have tried to do so later, in the original timeline, but that was no longer a concern.

"I know that, Harry," said Remus, "but you could have come to the Order for help."

"Don't be insulted by this Remus," said Harry, "or you, Tonks," he added glancing her way, "but while I do trust you both, implicitly, I will never trust the Order with my friends' lives."

"But why?" asked Tonks earnestly.

"Because you follow Dumbledore's lead," replied Harry.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Dumbledore's a firm believer in the so-called 'Greater Good'," Harry explained, his thoughts turning briefly to the Dursleys and the years he had spent trapped under their thumbs.

He compressed his lips into a thin line at the memory of the abuses he has suffered because of Dumbledore's insistence that Harry be placed in their care of the death of his parents. That single act had all but destroyed Harry's childhood, though he had not yet told the old wizard that much.

Shaking himself from his progressively darker thoughts, he finished, "Because of that he's not willing to do whatever it takes to win this war."

"Like torturing Draco Malfoy for information?" asked Remus, without sarcasm.

"Amongst other things, yes," Harry agreed, though his thoughts now turned to Hermione and the fact that Dumbledore had been willing to leave her to the Death Eaters non-existent mercies, rather than risk rescuing her.

"There must have been other ways to find out what he knew, Harry," Remus insisted.

"Yes," Harry readily agreed, "but none as expedient."

"Harry--"

"Remus," Harry interrupted, "if Lucius Malfoy had kidnapped my Mum, what would my Dad have done?"

For a brief second Remus looked surprised at the question, before his eyes lost their focus as he lost himself in his memories. Finally he returned to the present, his eyes resting a solemn gaze on Harry, and said plainly, "He would have killed the bastard."

"And what would you have done?"

This time there was a longer pause as Remus closed his eyes, this time looking not into the past, but into himself. His introspection lasted nearly a minute before he opened his eyes again. With a deep and reluctant sigh, he admitted, "I would have helped him do it."

.oOo.

It was now late morning, almost noon. Harry had spent most of that time in the drawing room with Remus and Tonks, while Hermione had been cloistered in the second floor sitting room. Everyone else, that being Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna, had passed the time in the kitchen. In all three instances the topic of conversation was, unsurprisingly, the events of the previous day.

As it was now time for the six students to return to Hogwarts, the occupants of Grimmauld Place had gathered by the front door to say their farewells.

Hermione watched as Harry quietly spoke to her parents, apologising for the abruptness with which the surveillance drones had relocated them yesterday. It was clear to everyone that he was anxious to make as good an impression as possible, seeing as Hermione was now his girlfriend. It was equally obvious that he was worried about their reaction.

Fortunately Hermione had anticipated this, both Harry's actions and his nervousness, and had told her parents that they were to say nothing which might upset her new boyfriend. It had taken some explaining, mostly a slightly censored recount of Harry's breakdown earlier that morning, but both her mother and father had acquiesced to her request.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Granger, Mrs Granger," said Harry as the somewhat awkward exchange drew to a close.

"The pleasure was ours, Harry," Hermione's father assured, holding out a hand.

"Thank you, sir," Harry accepting, taking said hand and giving a firm shake.

"No, thank you, for saving our daughter's life."

"Not to mention our own lives," added Hermione's mother.

"It was nothing, Mrs Granger," said Harry with his usual modesty.

"Please, Harry, you can call us--"

"FILTHY MUGGLE SCUM!"

"Oh, that insufferable painting!" exclaimed Hermione, turning to where Mrs Black's portrait hung.

"HOW DARE YOU BRING THESE UNCLEAN SAVAGES INTO MY HOUSE?!" screeched the painting in a shrill tone which could match one of Molly Weasley's howlers. "KREACHER! KREACHER! GET RID OF THEM! KREACHER!"

"Your treacherous little house-elf is dead, you miserable hag!" snarled Remus, running up to the portrait. He bent down to gather up the black drapes which were supposed to cover it, but had somehow fallen to the floor.

"A HAG!" repeated Mrs Black indignantly. "HOW DARE YOU?! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Harry stepped up to face the protesting portrait, looking unnaturally calm. This left Hermione feeling just the tiniest bit worried.

"It's not your house," announced Harry blandly. "It's my house."

"What?" asked Mrs Black, so surprised that she forget to yell.

"Grimmauld Place is my house now," Harry informed her. "Sirius left it to me."

"I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED MY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SON WOULD BETRAY HIS OWN BLOOD EVEN IN DEATH!" the portrait shrieked, the sheer volume of its yelling almost knocking Remus on his backside. "ONLY HE WOULD STAIN THE NOBLE NAME OF BLACK BEYOND REDEMPTION LIKE THIS!"

"The name of Black died with Sirius."

"AND GOOD RIDDANCE TO HIM, THE SHAMEFUL TRAITOR!"

"Sirius was a great wizard and a good man," said Harry calmly.

Too calmly.

Mrs Black glared at him and spat, "HE WAS A TAINTED LOVER OF MUDBLOODS AND MUGGLES!"

Harry cocked his head and regarded the painting for a moment. His eyes then flicked to Father, whose sphere was hovering alongside him. He gave a curt nod and then held out his hands, just in time to catch the phased plasma rifle which faded into being.

"Goodbye Mrs Black," said Harry, still using that unnaturally calm tone of voice. He hefted the weapon he was holding and levelled it at the portrait. "I think we're going to enjoy the peace and quiet."

"WHAT--"

Blue fire erupted from the muzzle of the rifle, the glare so intense that those watching winced and turned slightly away. Harry maintained the plasma barrage for well over half a minute, though it certainly seemed much longer, before finally stopping. He was panting slightly from exertion, as the rifle drew most of its power from its wielder's magic.

Once the smoke clear, and after everyone managed to blink away the spots dancing across their vision, they could see that Mrs Black's portrait was no longer present. It had been completely burnt away by the searing plasma. For that matter, most of the wall behind the painting was also no longer present. Hermione could actually see through and into the next room in several places.

"Bloody hell, mate," breathed Ron in awe.

"What d'you think, Remus?" asked Harry, glancing at his guardian.

"Harry?" asked Remus, frozen in place where he was sitting on the floor next to Harry.

"An improvement, no?"

.oOo.

Arriving at Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid's hut, the Ministry Crew discovered that the weather could only be described as atrocious. Despite the fact that it was only late morning, it was so dark outside that you could almost mistake it for night time. Heavy, leaden-looking clouds hung low in the air and rain was pouring down in droves.

"Bloody hell, this is even worse than in London!" yelled Ron as they ran to Hagrid's hut, where they planned to have a late tea with the groundskeeper (to find out the state of affairs in the school) before going inside.

"Come on, before we get soaked through!" urged Hermione.

"Too late!" shouted Ginny, "We're already soaked through!"

Reaching the hut, the group huddled close to the door (not entirely fitting under the overhanging roof) and waited impatiently as Harry pounded on the door.

Hagrid's voice called out from inside, "Who is it?"

"Just us, Hagrid," answered Harry.

"Harry!"

The door swung open so abruptly that Harry almost toppled inside. He was saved from this, however, by an emerging Hagrid, who enveloped the Boy-Who-Lived in one of his patented hugs.

"Yer back!" the half-giant boomed happily.

After squeezing just about all the air from Harry's lungs, he set the gasping boy down and proceeded to scold him. "Where have yeh been? Do yeh know how much trouble yer in?"

Between breathes, Harry nodded, "I have a pretty good idea."

Hagrid finally noticed everyone else, still standing in the rain behind Harry.

"An' the rest of yeh! Runnin' off like tha'!" he admonished before catching sight of a bedraggled looking Hermione. "Hermione! Yer safe!"

"Hello, Hagrid," greeted Hermione.

Hagrid pushed past Harry, almost knocking him off his feet, and swept Hermione into a hug. Swinging her around with his usual enthusiasm, he laughed, "I knew he'd get yeh back! I knew it!"

"Can we come in, Hagrid?" asked Harry when the large man finally put Hermione down. She was looking a bit dizzy after being swung around like that. "We'd really like to talk to you before going back to the castle."

"Bugger that," interjected Ron. "I just want to get out of this rain."

"Sure, sure, come on in," invited Hagrid.

He ushered the six youngsters into his hut, where they spread out to found places to sit or perch, keeping close to the roaring fire.

While settling down, Harry noticed that the girls' shirt were clinging tightly to them, thanks to the drenching they had received from the rain outside. Hermione's robes had been abandoned in Sirius' Barcelona flat, while Ginny and Luna had left theirs at Hogwarts the previous day, thus leaving the three witches nothing to cover themselves with.

Seeing that Ron and Neville had also realized this (if the somewhat glazed stares were any indication), Harry forcibly turned their gazes away from the girls. He did not let go of their shoulders until Hagrid passed by, handing out some oversized, fluffy towels for them use.

"Tea? Rock cakes?" he offered as he went past.

"Just tea, thanks Hagrid," accepted Harry. He knew, from long experience, that eating Hagrid's rock cakes was to endanger your teeth. So as not to hurt his large friend's feelings, he gave the excuse, "We ate something before we came."

Hermione, Ron and Ginny, who also had some experience with Hagrid's cooking, said much the same thing. Neville, who had never interacted with Hagrid much before now, followed their lead and also declined the offer to eat.

Luna, on the other hand, nodded her head so vigorously that it seemed in danger of separating from her neck. In a very eager voice, she said, "I'll have a rock cake, please."

"Great! I just finished a batch," said Hagrid, beaming happily.

As Hagrid turned to fetch the tea and Luna's rock cake, everyone, even Harry, stared at Luna in disbelief.

"Hagrid's rock cakes are very good at attracting Nargles," said Luna by way of explanation, having doubtless noticed her companions' dumbfounded expressions.

Remembering one of his first encounters with Luna, over Christmas the previous year, Harry asked, "I thought Nargles infested Mistletoe?"

"They do," Luna confirmed, "but you can use the rock cakes to draw them out."

"Why would you want to do that?" asked Hermione. A second later she seemed to think better of it and held up a hand to forestall Luna before the blonde witch could answer. "Actually, don't answer that. I probably don't want to know."

Hagrid returned from putting the kettle on the fire and started handing out teacups to everyone. "Here yeh go," he said, depositing a cup in front of Harry. "Won't be a minute, then we can have a nice cup."

The group sat in amiable silence as they waited for the tea to boil, all save Hagrid; who was giving them a running commentary on the process. The only thing to distract them from their thoughts was when Fang huddled closer to Ron and slobbered over his shoulder.

"First the rain, now the bloody dog," Ron grumbled, trying to push the boar hound away from him. "I'm never going to get properly dry."

"There we go," announced Hagrid, lifting the kettle from the fireplace. He crossed over to the table and started pouring out the tea.

"So, Hagrid," said Harry as his friend filled Ginny's cup, "What are people's reactions to yesterday?"

"Not good, Harry, not good," Hagrid admitted.

"How 'not good'?" asked Harry.

"Well..." Hagrid hummed thoughtfully as he poured Luna's tea. "Twas the gossip of the day amongst the students it was. Professor McGonagall had to cancel classes because of it."

"Oh my," gasped Hermione.

"Please don't say that's a tragedy," said Ron.

"I wasn't going to, Ron," Hermione retorted. "I was actually looking at this."

She reached out and picked a copy of the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, which Harry had somehow failed to notice until then, off the table. Remembering all the negative publicity he had been subject to the previous year, thanks to Fudge and the Ministry's smear campaign, Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

Not looking up he asked, "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," admitted Hermione.

Harry held out a hand, resigned to his fate, and said, "Give it here."

Hermione reluctantly handed him the newspaper, her expression doing nothing to ease his concern. Harry unfolded the paper and took in the headline at a glance.

BOY-WHO-LIVED GOES ON TORTURE AND KILLING SPREE!
by Rita Skeeter

Early yesterday morning the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, went on the rampage and attacked fellow Hogwarts student, Draco Malfoy. No reason has been given as to why Potter did...

Seeing who had written the article, Harry hardly bothered reading past the headline. Clearly Rita had returned to her old ways, now that Hermione's ban on her writing had been lifted. Unfortunately she was not continuing to report on actual facts, such as she had the previous year - when she had interviewed Harry about Voldemort's return.

Worse than the bold headline, was the picture splashed across the page beneath it. It showed a terrified Draco hanging in the air (courtesy of Father's GM fields) and an expressionless Harry repeatedly breaking various fingers.

The sight was enough to cause Harry's jaw to clench tight. He knew only one person in the school who always had a camera on hand. Though it eluded him how and why Colin Creevey would send such a picture to the Prophet, Harry made a note to have a "talk" with the fifth-year Gryffindor.

The sidebar story briefly caught his attention, mostly due to the small photograph next to the title. Recognising the face glaring out at him, Harry quickly scanned over the text.

LUCIUS MALFOY FOUND DEAD
by Sean Lander

Officials at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have confirmed that the body of Lucius Malfoy was discovered yesterday in the ruins of the Parkinson family lodge. Malfoy was a confirmed Death Eater and wanted for the assassination of previous Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. It is unclear...

Harry stopped there and proceeded to quickly page through the rest of the newspaper. The first few pages were filled with articles about himself and his friends. All-in-all it was slander, pure and simple. No mention was made of Hermione's abduction. The stories made it out as if Harry had attacked and killed the Death Eaters for no good reason, and painted Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and even Hermione (who was the victim) in the worst possible light.

Finally, feeling his temper beginning to boil, he flung the paper aside in pure disgust.

"Crap!"

"That bad?" asked Ron.

"When's it ever good?" asked Harry in return.

"Let's have a look then," said Ginny, picking up the paper. Luna, Neville and Ron crowded round to read over her shoulders as she held it up.

Perhaps sensing his growing frustration, Hermione reached over and placed a soothing hand on his forearm. "It could be worse, Harry," she told him quietly.

"They're saying I went on a homicidal rampage, Nee," he retorted unhappily, waving an accusing hand at where Ginny and the rest were reading. "I don't see how they could make it worse."

"At least they're admitting that they were Death Eaters," said Hermione.

"Who I apparently attacked and killed without provocation or reason."

"Here," said Hagrid, leaning over the table with the teapot, "have some tea t' soothe yer nerves."

Harry grudgingly accepted the cup of tea, quickly picking it up and taking a sip. He found himself wishing for a Mars Bar to snack on - he found the sugar rush distracted him. Perhaps he should have Father keep a few stored in subspace.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, his face twisted in disgust. He pulled the Prophet from Ginny's grasp and angrily thrust it aside and ranted, "I can't believe they're still printing rubbish like this!"

"This is troublesome," agreed Luna, her normally cheerful demeanour temporarily replaced by a serious one.

"They're stirring up a cauldron of trouble, that's for sure," muttered Neville, shaking his head as he picked the Prophet off the hut's floor and tossed it onto the table. He looked unhappily at Harry and said, "The only thing they're not doing is telling people to hex you on sight."

"Don't worry," Harry assured him wryly, "I'm sure my 'adoring public' will work that idea out for themselves."

"We can fight this," Luna stated with remarkable confidence.

"How?" asked Harry.

"By using the Quibbler, of course."

"Of course," said Ginny, nodding in agreement. "Just like last year, when Rita did that interview for you."

"Yeah, that could work," agreed Neville, after a moment's consideration.

"It won't be easy turning public opinion, but that's probably our best chance," concurred Hermione thoughtfully, nibbling on her bottom lip as she eyed the discarded newspaper.

"Hermione's right as usual, Harry," said Hagrid, picking up the Prophet and stuffing roughly it into one of the many pockets in his moleskin coat. "Once the people get behind yeh, the Prophet'll have to follow."

"Don't bet on it," grumbled Ron, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling unhappily. "The only way to get the Prophet to stop slandering Harry, and the rest of us, would be to buy the bloody thing."

Harry had been sipping his tea during this and almost choked when Ron's words registered. He coughed as quietly as he could, so as not to draw attention to himself, and set the teacup down - staring at his friend all the while.

On first glance, the idea seemed ridiculous. On second glance, however...

"Come on, enough o' this, yeh'll have too much time t' worry once yer back in th' castle," declared Hagrid in an attempt to change to topic.

"You're right, Hagrid," agreed Harry, "but it's not easy to take my mind off this."

"Well then, yer in luck," Hagrid beamed, "I have just the thing t' distract yeh!"

Hagrid bustled over to one corner of his hut, near the fireplace, where a large wooden crate was sitting. Everyone, with the exception of Harry and Luna, exchanged worried looks. They all knew of Hagrid's penchant for exotic creature of a less than amiable nature - the Blast-Ended Skrewts and Mister Green Turtle being prime examples.

The only reason Harry was not as concerned about Hagrid's latest acquisitions was because he already knew what the half-giant had in the crate.

"I was gonna show 'em off yesterday," said Hagrid as he bent over the crate and lifted the lid to reach inside, "but... well..."

"I never thought I'd say this, but; thank God for Malfoy," whispered Ron, just loud enough for them to hear.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.

"You insensitive twit!" said Ginny, emphasising her displeasure by smacking Ron on the head.

Luna, who was sitting next to Ginny, nodded in agreement. She was not on as good terms with Hagrid as the rest of the Ministry Crew were, the Care of Magic Creatures Professor being considered something of a joke by most of the Ravenclaws, but she did have her eye on winning Ginny's affections. As such, she loudly proclaimed, "Shmuck!" and followed through by reaching over and also smacking Ron.

Ron held up both hand and protested weakly, "Sorry! Sorry!"

"Here yeh are."

All eyes turned from a beleaguered Ron to a beaming Hagrid as he gently set a fluffy ball of golden fur onto the table.

"Oooh! It's so cute!" squealed Ginny, causing Ron and Neville to stare at her in amazement. She reached out to stroke the animal, paused just short of it, and asked, "What is it? Can I hold it?"

"Course yeh can hold it," Hagrid said, beaming broadly from behind his bushy beard. He waved a hand to indicate the ball of fur, which had somehow shuffled closer to Ginny. "This, my dear, is a tribble."

Without any further hesitation Ginny picked up the tribble, which immediately began to purr contently. Ginny grinned and held it up to her cheek and cooed, "Oh, listen to that."

"Sounds like a very happy kitten," commented Hermione, looking at the tribble with obvious approval.

"It's not dangerous, is it?" asked Ron warily.

"Course it ain't! Yeh don' think I'd make yeh study a dangerous creature, do yeh?" asked Hagrid indignantly. The six students traded wry looks at this proclamation. "Besides," he continued, oblivious to their brief exchange, "tribbles have no teeth."

This, considering most of Hagrid's previous pets, was something of a miracle.

"So what do they eat?" asked Neville curiously, reaching out to stroke the tribble as Ginny continued to press it from one cheek to the other.

"Well, I don't rightly know," admitted Hagrid, reaching up to scratch the top of his head. He gave a shrug of his massive shoulders and said, "They haven't refused anything I've given 'em yet."

"You've been feeding them?" asked Harry warily, fully aware of what happened if you fed a tribble too much. Bracing himself for the worst, he asked, "How much?"

"As much as they want," answered Hagrid.

Harry regarded the tribble, which had now changed hands to a curious Luna.

"Fascinating. It's purring seems to have a soothing effect on the human nervous system," the blonde witch noted as she held the cooing ball of fluff up to her ear. Her usually dazed expression became even more vacant than usual as she began absently stroking the tribble. Her voice trailed off as she spoke. "Fortunately I am... immune... to... its... effect..."

"Y'know, it's kind of cute," admitted Ron reluctantly.

"I think I'll like taking care of one of these," agreed Neville.

Harry, who knew where this was going to lead, dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "Snape and Filch are going to have coronaries."

.oOo.

Leaving Hagrid's hut, the six teenagers found that the weather had not improved. If anything, the rain was falling even harder than before. They made a wild dash from the hut to the castle's nearest entrance, quickly getting drenched by the downpour.

"Crap, this weather's horrible!" shouted Ron as they ran.

"Shut up and run faster!" admonished Ginny.

Finally they were inside, soaked to the bone. Again.

"I say," Luna announced brightly, "that was invigorating."

"Invigorating?" repeated Ron incredulously. "We're drenched!" He waved a hand to indicate his sopping clothes. "I don't think I'll ever be dry again."

"A simple Drying Charm should suffice, Mister Weasley," answered a voice to one side.

"Oh yeah, thanks," said Ron sheepishly. A moment later he realized just whom it was that had spoken and promptly came within an inch of choking to death as he nearly swallowed his tongue. "Urk!"

There, standing off to one side and watching them with decidedly unamused expressions, was Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

"Potter," intoned Snape. "You're coming with us."

"In a moment, Professor," replied Harry unhurriedly.

"Not in a moment," hissed Snape angrily. "Now!"

"In a moment," Harry repeated with a hint of steel in his voice.

Snape looked ready to try hexing Harry, but was stopped when Professor McGonagall put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Do not take too long, Mister Potter," she said, peering sternly at Harry from over the rim of her spectacles. "You do not wish to keep the headmaster waiting."

"If I had any choice in the matter I would," muttered Harry.

"Potter..." growled Snape.

Ignoring the fuming potions master, Harry turned to his friends, who had been watching warily.

"I'll see you in the common room," he told them.

"Don't you want us to come with you?" asked Ginny.

"The old man and I need to talk," he replied with a shake of his head. He sighed and admitted, "I think it would be best if we could be alone so that we can do so freely."

"You sure about that?" asked Neville.

"I'll see you in the common room," Harry assured.

"Overconfident to the point of arrogance, as always," commented Snape vindictively. He seemed to loom forward and snidely asked, "What makes you think you're not going to be expelled for that stunt you pulled yesterday?"

Professor McGonagall took a step forward and began, "Professor Snape, please refrain from--"

"It doesn't matter," Harry interrupted. He gave a small shrug. "I won't be expelled."

"Don't be too sure of that, Potter," countered Snape. "This time..."

Harry turned to his friends, positioned so that Snape could not see his face, and rolled his eyes. With a forced grin to wish them well, he strode off. He paused as he passed the professors, as if waiting for them to catch up.

"Dumbledore won't expel me," he said confidently. "He can't afford to."

Hermione ran up to him, brushing past Snape in the process, and hugged him tightly. Before releasing her hold, she whispered in his ear, "You sound pretty sure of that."

Harry whispered back, "I'm a good actor."

He kissed her quickly on the cheek before pulling out of the hug.

"I'll see you back at the tower," he promised, turning to follow the two professors down the corridor. His friends watched for a minute, until he disappear round a corner, before leaving to make their way to the Gryffindor Tower.

.oOo.

As he was escorted through the school's corridors by Professor McGonagall and Snape, Harry's thoughts were turned to the meeting he was about to attend. He had a feeling that he would not be in a good mood when he left.

It was not, he knew, a question of whether or not he would be expelled. After all, Dumbledore needed Harry far more than Harry needed Dumbledore. The headmaster would pull every string he could to keep Harry at Hogwarts. Besides which, it was Malfoy that had instigated the entire incident. Harry had simply... overreacted.

In less time than he had expected, he and the professors had arrived at the gargoyle leading to the headmaster's office. Once it had stepped aside (to the password "Everlasting Gobstopper") the group proceeded up the rotating staircase, where Professor McGonagall gave the office door a brisk knock.

"Enter," called Dumbledore from within.

Snape pushed the door open and stormed into the office, almost knocking Harry over as he brushed past. Harry glared at the man's retreating back before proceeding inside himself, followed by Professor McGonagall.

Looking about as he stepped further into the office, Harry saw that Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. Most of the portraits of previous headmasters were pretending to be sleep and Fawkes' perch was empty, the phoenix being elsewhere. After a moment, the sound of horns and drums registered in Harry's consciousness. His eyes sought out and found an old (probably enchanted) gramophone, which was playing an equally ancient vinyl record.

"Ah, Minerva, Severus, I see that Mister Potter has returned to us," said Dumbledore, remaining seat behind his desk as he waved Harry forward. "Thank you both for bringing him to me."

"Of course, headmaster," said Professor McGonagall. "Do you need anything?

"No, thank you." Dumbledore motioned for the two professors to exit. "You may leave."

Until now Harry had been focused on the music, which he recognised but could not place a name to. It was Father, thanks to the information uploaded by the future Luna, who identified the tune. Mars, The Bringer of War, by Gustav Holst. Harry did not know what to make of Dumbledore's choice, save for a slightly ominous feeling.

"Are you certain about that, sir?" asked Snape. "After what happened yesterday in the hall--"

"An accident, Severus, I'm sure," Dumbledore interrupted.

"He might try something."

"I can assure you, Professor Snape, that I am perfectly safe while in Mister Potter's presence."

"Very well," Snape relented. He glared at Harry and said, "But rest assured, we will not go far."

"That is most considerate of you," allowed Dumbledore. "Now, please, Harry and I need to speak." After a brief pause, he added firmly, "Alone."

Professor McGonagall and Snape left the office, albeit with visible reluctance. Harry found that, while he could care less about Snape's animosity and suspicion, he did not like the fact that his head of house did not trust leaving him in the same room as Dumbledore.

In a casual display of wandless magic, Dumbledore waved his hand at the gramophone - stopping it from playing. Silence descended over the headmaster's office.

"Please, Harry, sit down," Dumbledore requested, motioning Harry to the seat opposite him.

"Thank you, sir," Harry accepted, moving to sit down.

"Lemon drop?" asked Dumbledore, holds out a paper bag filled with the sweets in question.

Harry thought about it for a second. He knew that Dumbledore had a tendency of offering out these particular sweets to anyone that crossed his path. After a moment's consideration, he decided, why not?

"Please," he said.

He reached out and plucked one of the sweets into his hand. Examining it for a second, Harry was able to determine that there were no obvious charms or enchantments on the lemon drop. That determined, he popped it into his mouth.

Turning his attention back to Dumbledore, and shifting the lemon drop from one cheek to the other, Harry saw that the old wizard was staring at him in what looked like frank astonishment.

"What?" he asked uncertainly.

"You're the first person in fifteen years to take me up on that offer," explained Dumbledore, his surprised expression changing into one of pure delight, with some small amount of satisfaction.

"Ah," said Harry, unable to think of anything to say in response. Not knowing if this was a good thing or not, he managed to add, a tad uncertainly, "My pleasure?"

"Delighted," Dumbledore beamed, reaching into the bag and taking a lemon drop for himself - which he promptly popped into his mouth with obvious relish.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, content to simply suck on their sweets. Harry had to admit, if only to himself, that the lemon drop was actually rather good - though not something he would indulge in on a regular basis.

"How are you? After yesterday?" he asked, noticing that Dumbledore was slouching somewhat in his chair. This was odd from a man who normally held himself in a dignified posture.

"Ah, alas, my old bones are not as resilient as they once were," Dumbledore answered. "Fortunately Madam Pomfrey is a proficient healer and was able to fix me up, right as rain."

"Sorry," Harry apologised.

"No need to apologise, dear boy," said Dumbledore with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I understand that it was unintentional."

"Still... I'm sorry it came to that," repeated Harry. And he was. He had never intended to knock Dumbledore flying like than. Unfortunately Father had interpreted his desire to keep Dumbledore away from him rather freely.

"From what I am given to understand, Harry, your actions yesterday saved three lives," Dumbledore told him, shifting slightly, as if to find a more comfortable position. "Do not apologise for that."

"The ends justify the means?" asked Harry unhappily.

"Not always, but sometimes," granted Dumbledore.

"I killed ten people," Harry reported dully.

"Ten?" repeated Dumbledore, sitting a little more upright. "The Ministry only found five bodies at Parkinson Lodge, plus four at the Granger residence."

"You won't find a body," Harry clarified ruefully. "I didn't leave one."

"Oh?"

Harry held out his hand to accept the dagger which Father had been holding in storage. He set it down on Dumbledore's desk and elaborated. "His name was Cowan. Whether that was his first or last name, I don't know. He managed to catch me when I wasn't looking. Stabbed Hermione with this." Repressing a shiver at the memory, and another as he recalled his reaction, Harry muttered, "I lost my temper and... well... there was nothing left of him after I was finished."

"I see," said Dumbledore. He reached over to pick up the blade and examined it closely. "I gather you were able to disarm it, seeing as Nymphadora reported yesterday that Miss Granger was unharmed."

"It wasn't easy, but I managed."

"A remarkable feat, Harry, for a sixth-year student."

"Thanks," accepted Harry, feeling a slight blush rise to his cheeks from the praise.

"And you?" asked Dumbledore. "How do you feel after yesterday's events?"

"I'll probably have nightmares about it for a few months," he admitted, "but I'll manage."

"Harry--"

"Professor," Harry cut the older man off, "as nice as this is, let's just cut to the chase."

"Yes," Dumbledore conceded. "I suppose we should."

.oOo.

Dumbledore settled back in his chair and regarded Harry for several moments, peering at him from over his half-moon spectacles. He noted that Harry appeared to be waiting, with a sort of tired resignation, and deduced that he would have to be the one to initiate this conversation.

"You've put me in a difficult position, Harry," he said.

He paused expectantly, to see if Harry had anything to say. A silent stare was his only reply.

With an audible sigh, an indication of his own weariness, he went on. "Your actions against young Mister Malfoy... I cannot fully shield you from the consequences."

"I don't expect you to."

"Regardless of that, I assure you... I will try," Dumbledore vowed.

"Thank you, sir," accepted Harry, the barest hint of relief and gratitude in his voice.

"I understand you were both angry with Draco as well as fearful of Hermione's safety," continued the headmaster, now adopting a somewhat chiding and exasperated tone, "but did you have to do what you did in the Great Hall?"

Harry actually chuckled, a laugh with very little humour behind it. He dropped his head and shook it as he ruefully admitted, "It wasn't the smartest thing to do, was it?"

"No, it most certainly was not," confirmed Dumbledore.

"So, what are you going to do?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid that most of what is to come is now beyond my control, Harry," Dumbledore explained. He chewed on his bottom lip for a brief second before revealing, "The school board of governors will be the ones to decide your fate."

Harry's response was an eloquent, "Shit."

Dumbledore's lips quirked into a wry smile as he agreed. "Quite."

There was a long pause as Harry seemed to contemplate this latest problem to confront him. Dumbledore kept a keen eye on the younger wizard, who was shifting restlessly in his seat.

"When?" Harry finally asked.

"Fortunately, we have some time."

"How long?"

"The board will be holding a hearing, which will take place the day before the start of the Christmas holidays," Dumbledore informed him blandly, bracing himself for an angry explosion of indignation. He was pleasantly surprised when the response he was expecting did not materialise.

"Okay," accepted Harry, nodding slowly. "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I fear that I have no other option than to suspend you indefinitely, pending the results of your hearing before the governors." Dumbledore sighed deeply and lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Harry with a deep sigh of his own. "I expected as much, all things considered."

"Now, ordinarily, a suspended student would be sent home. Luckily I was able to convince some of the governors that removing you from Hogwarts, and its protections, would endanger your life. Thus you will be permitted to remain here for the time being, rather than return to your family in Surrey."

Harry sighed again, this time in obvious relief, and slumped forward. He looked as if a burden, one of many, had been removed from its place on his shoulders.

"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully. "I appreciate you doing that for me."

"Do not thank me just yet, Harry," Dumbledore cautioned. "There are certain conditions, which the governors insisted upon, for you to remain here."

"What are they?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore decided to start off with the basics. That way he could work his way to the less pleasant restrictions that were now being imposed on the Boy-Who-Lived.

"To begin with, naturally," he began, "you will not be permitted to attend classes. You will also not be permitted to take part in any inter-house Quidditch matches, or even practices."

"Which is par for the course when a student is suspended, old man," said Harry curtly, apparently not in favour of starting off with the basics. His voice was tinged with impatience and a hint of the coldness that usually surfaced when he spoke to Dumbledore. "I thought we'd agreed to cut to the chase."

"I apologise, Harry," Dumbledore immediately assuaged, holding up a placating hand. "I did not know you were aware of all a suspension entailed."

"Well, I do, so get on with it," demanded Harry.

"Right." Dumbledore wondered at how Harry's mood had been shifting so rapidly since the start of term. He seemed to swing from one emotional extreme to another with mercurial speed. "You are not allowed to make use of any school facilities--"

"What?!" exclaimed Harry incredulously. "D'you expect me to piss out a window or something?"

Dumbledore was briefly puzzled by this interruption, until he thought back on his words.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Harry, I should have phrased that better," he said with a slight chuckle. "What I mean is that you cannot use such things as the school library and the like."

Harry frowned. "What about the Room of Requirements? Can I still use that for the DA?"

"Technically... no, as it is a part of the school," admitted Dumbledore. "However, I do not think the governors will protest over something they do not know about."

"Thanks."

"The last condition, however, I fear you will find somewhat..." he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase it in a delicate manner.

"Difficult?" suggested Harry.

"Humiliating," said Dumbledore, deciding to be blunt about it rather than circumspect. This was something he noticed that Harry seemed to appreciate. "After your attack on Draco the governors are somewhat wary of having you interact with the other students. They fear you might repeat your actions on someone else."

"You expect me to spend the next month in isolation?" asked Harry, arching an eyebrow almost to his hairline.

"Of course not."

"What then?"

"During meals you will be required to give your wand to either myself or Professor McGonagall for safekeeping. You will do so immediately upon entering the Great Hall and will reclaim it only after you have finished eating, at which point you will be expected to leave the room."

Harry sat back in his chair, considering this. His expression was an unhappy one, but after nearly a minute of silent contemplation he appeared to accept the necessity of it.

"I don't like it, but I suppose I can live with it," Harry muttered. He then smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood and noted, "At least I won't have to put up with the ferret until after the new year."

"I beg your pardon, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, not sure of what he was referring to.\

"The ferret," explained Harry. "You know; Draco Malfoy."

"I am aware of the nickname, Harry, but I think you are operating under some false assumptions."

"What d'you mean? The little bastard's been suspended as well, hasn't he?"

Dumbledore had a sinking feeling in his stomach that the meeting was about to go downhill from here.

"Hasn't he?" repeated Harry, this time with an edge to his voice.

"Harry--"

Whatever Dumbledore planned to say, his words were swept away by the pulse of magic that almost exploded outwards from where Harry was sitting. The force of it was enough to upset the papers on his desk and cause several of the nearest portraits to shake unsteadily where they were hanging on the wall.

The magic was rolling off Harry in waves, almost a palpable presence, as the young wizard rose to his feet. His hands were clenched into tight fists by his sides. Through clenched his teeth and jaw, he demanded, "You better not being telling me that shit-headed ponce is getting off Scott free!"

"Without any witnesses to back up your claims, Harry, there is nothing I can do," explained Dumbledore, putting as much of his own magic into his voice as he could. He only hoped it would be enough to calm Harry down somewhat. "He is portraying the part of the victim quite convincingly and pleading ignorance in the matter of Miss Granger's abduction."

Sadly, Dumbledore's hopes were not enough. Nor was his magic. Every single article in the headmaster's office that was made out of glass shattered under force of Harry's anger.

"The victim?" snarled Harry.

Dumbledore's alarm grew as the various metallic objects in his office started to warp out of shape. He could literally feel the magic radiating from Harry, who's expression was one of pure fury. For a brief moment, Dumbledore entertained the notion that those burning emerald eyes were the last thing Lucius and his companions had seen, before Harry ended their lives. That thought did not ease his worries.

He started to wonder if he'd have to restrain Harry somehow, before his office was wrecked completely. He had, shortly after telling Harry the prophecy, offered to let Harry destroy more of his possessions, should he ever feel the need. He had not expected, however, for it to happen in such a manner. He could actually see the wood of his desk, at the side where Harry was standing, beginning to char and smoke.

Abruptly, it stopped. Harry's magic withdrew, back into him, with an audible crack.

For several breathless moments, Dumbledore allowed himself to feel relieved. That is, until he noticed Harry's expression. It was closed off and turned into one of deadly intent. He recognised it as the same expression Harry had worn when he had been torturing Draco for information.

All things considered, Dumbledore decided, he would rather have Harry raging about than looking as he did.

"No witnesses, eh?" asked Harry in a voice of pure ice.

It was not just Harry's voice that was cold, but the very air surrounding him as well. As he spoke, small clouds of vapour formed, billowing out from his mouth.

Dumbledore's attention was pulled away by the sudden change in temperature as Father shimmered into view, just above and behind Harry's right shoulder. The headmaster took note of the fact that the sphere's colour had changed from its original pitch-black to a dark, charcoal grey.

Before he had a chance to ponder the significance of this change, a small crystal, roughly half the size of Father, also faded into view. It hung suspended in the air for a moment before dropping into Harry's hand.

"Watch," commanded Harry as he set the crystal on Dumbledore's desk, which was still smoking slightly from the head of his earlier anger.

Leaning forward to examine the object now resting in front of him, Dumbledore could see that the crystal had a variety of runes engraved on the largest of its faces. They had to have been carefully and painstakingly carved, lest they cause the crystal to shatter. From what he could recall, the runes were ones concerned with memory and binding, not too dissimilar with those runes used around the edge of a pensieve basin.

A sudden flare of light within the crystal startled Dumbledore, causing him to jerk away. He watched, amazed, as an image flickered into being, suspended above the glowing crystal. Gathering himself, he examined the translucent image and was quick to realize that he was looking at what appeared to be a picture of Hermione Granger facing off with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"This is..." he trailed off, unable to voice his suspicion.

"Yes," confirmed Harry.

"How?" asked Dumbledore, astounded by what his young pupil seemed capable of.

"I suspected Voldemort would try to get to me through my friends. The first drones I built, after the one I left with the Dursleys, I assigned to keep watch and protect them," explained Harry, his voice still frigid and business-like, as he waved a hand to indicate the image between them. He continued, "Hermione's drone wasn't able to prevent her abduction."

With an unhappy grimace Harry ducked his head, his voice dropping to a mutter. "I didn't expect them to simply toss a Portkey to her."

Resuming his normal volume, he looked to meet Dumbledore's sympathetic gaze and state, "It did, however, record the entire incident." He glanced at the sphere bobbing in the air next to him. "Play it."

Dumbledore sat back and watched as the image began to move, accompanied by sound. The experience was not dissimilar to watching a Muggle movie, he concluded.

Watching attentatively he saw how Hermione was clearly on her guard around Draco, wary of something happening. During the entire encounter it was always the young Malfoy who was the antagonist. He also had to admit that Hermione seemed far more prepared and confident than he would have expected something he attributed to her training in the DA, under Harry's tutelage.

The recording ended with a close-up on Draco, who turned smugly to Crabbe and Goyle after Hermione was whisked away by the Portkey he had thrown to her.

"Now the mudblood will get what she deserves," Draco's image declared.

"D'you think your father will let us have a turn with her?" asked Goyle, with a lecherous grin.

"Why not?" said Draco, shrugging. "Even if she is a mudblood, I think I'd enjoy shagging her."

"Pity we'll have to wait until the holidays," commented Crabbe.

"Yeah," agreed Goyle. "Nothing worse than sloppy seconds - or sloppy dozens."

The three Slytherin boys walked out of frame, laughing wickedly at what would have been Hermione's fate had Harry not charged off to rescue her. The image remained for a second, displaying the now empty corridor, before flickering and collapsing. All that remained was the crystal, which rested placidly on the headmaster's desk.

The pair sat in silence for a while, the import of the recording laying heavily in the air between them.

To his slight surprise, Dumbledore realized that he was actually in danger of losing his temper. He tried to analyze his anger and found that it was focused mostly at himself, for failing to stop Draco from turning dark. It was, he understood, something he might have been able to prevent, if only he had curbed the young wizard's actions in earlier years.

There was also, he noticed, some measure of his anger directed towards Professor Snape - for much the same reason. Dumbledore had hoped, before Draco began his studies at Hogwarts, that Snape would set a better example for the Malfoy heir to follow, rather than his father Lucius.

Drawing on his long years of experience, as well as his Occulmency skills, Dumbledore reined in his anger. It would not do for the headmaster to unleash a wave of accidental magic.

Reaching out, he picked up the crystal. Holding loosely in his hand, turning it over to examine it more thoroughly, he asked, "May I keep this?"

"Of course," said Harry readily.

"Is it possible to operate it without using Father?" he asked, hoping for a positive answer.

"Yes," Harry confirmed with a brisk nod. He obviously knew what Dumbledore planned to do with it. "Just tap the crystal with the tip of your wand and say, 'play'. That will activate the runes."

Dumbledore briefly allowed his attention to wander back to the runes engraved on the crystal. It was a truly remarkable example of magical construction. Somewhat crudely fashioned, true, but more than sufficient to accomplish its purpose. He had to wonder how, when and where Harry had learned to empower runes, seeing as he did not take Ancient Runes.

"Thank you, Harry," accepted Dumbledore. He narrowed his eyes as he thought to the meeting he would be having not long after this one. "I believe I shall be needing to call a meeting of the governors tonight."

"And Malfoy?" asked Harry expectantly.

"Having seen this," Dumbledore held up the recording crystal, "I fear I shall have no recourse but to suspend Mister Malfoy, as well as Messrs Crabbe and Goyle."

"Good." Harry cocked his head and asked, "Will they be allowed to stay at Hogwarts as well?"

"I don't believe they would be at risk if they were to return home," said Dumbledore after thinking it over for a moment. "Indeed, in Draco's case, I think it would be best if he did - seeing as his father is no longer with us."

"That's a relief," said Harry. "I don't think it would be... healthy... for him if he stayed."

"Even if he did stay, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I assure you that the staff and I would keep a close eye on him." A frown made it way onto his face as he recalled what he had seen in the recording. "He will not have a chance to repeat his actions against Hermione."

"He better not," said Harry calmly. "If he does, I'll kill him."

His tone was too calm, too even, for Dumbledore to hope that he was not utterly serious.

"I'd strongly advise you to try and avoid doing so," he advised. "Your actions at Parkinson Lodge, as well as the Granger's home, as caused something of a stir at the Ministry. Madam Bones wants to know, and I quote, 'what the hell is going on with the Potter boy', end quote."

"I would have thought it was obvious what was going on."

"Harry, you killed nine - ten people."

"Death Eaters," corrected Harry dismissively. "No great loss to society." He paused for a moment, as if struck by a thought, and then observed, "I should be getting a medal for doing the world a favour."

"Harry--"

"I did it to save Hermione's life. And the lives of her parents," Harry interrupted, a tad brusquely. "That's all they need to know."

"I'm afraid they will not let it rest at that," said Dumbledore.

"Too bad," replied Harry.

"The Wizengamot have called for an investigation, Harry," Dumbledore explained carefully. Considering his previous encounters with the Ministry, he doubted the young wizard would like what he had to say. "There will be a hearing, I'm afraid."

Harry groaned, dropping his head into a hand. "First the governors, now the Ministry," he grumbled. He looked up, over his hand, and asked, "When?"

"December 18th," Dumbledore answered.

Lowering his hand, Harry gave Dumbledore a pointed look. "Are they going to stick me in that damned courtroom again?"

Dumbledore almost winced. Fudge and Umbridge's scheme to put Harry on trial the previous year had soured Harry against the Ministry almost irreparably. And Dumbledore's lack of council at that time had not helped matters.

Reluctantly he admitted, "I'm afraid so."

"If they try putting me in chains, I'll fight," Harry informed him.

"It won't come to that."

"You sure?"

"You haven't, as yet, been charged with anything," explained Dumbledore, feeling very relieved at that fact. "This is a preliminary hearing - more of an inquiry to find out what transpired yesterday. Its findings will determine what happens after that."

Harry sat back and steepled his fingers in consideration. Father, Dumbledore noted, had begun drifting about the office, as if it were taking a look around.

"How do you see it turning out?" Harry quietly asked.

"You're responsible for the death of ten people, Harry," said Dumbledore after a moment. "Even if it was done to save Miss Granger, the Ministry will expect you to account for it." He bobbed his head sideways a few times and concluded, "I do not believe, however, that they will charge you with murder."

"How about manslaughter? Culpable homicide? First, second or third degree?" asked Harry, arching an eyebrow.

"The magical world is somewhat behind the Muggle world in such matters," Dumbledore revealed. "Most wizards would likely not know what you are talking about."

"So then what?" Harry snorted and observed, "I'm sure they won't let me off with just a slap to the wrist."

"You will probably be given a provisional pardon, what the Muggles call a 'suspended sentence'."

"What would that be?" asked Harry curiously.

"The Ministry will set down certain conditions to govern your behaviour over a set period of time," explained Dumbledore, adopting the tone he normally used when presenting a lecture. "Should you break any, then the Ministry will pass sentence - a monetary fine or the seizure of your assets. Possibly some prison time - though that is unlikely, as you are still a minor."

Harry hummed as he mulled over this, propping his chin on the his steepled fingers.

"Of course," Dumbledore concluded, "this is only if the hearing finds cause to bring you to trial."

"You don't think they will?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore smiled, having already thought out a means for Harry to turn the Ministry to his side. "I assume that Father was with you at Parkinson Lodge?"

Harry nodded, for the first time in this meeting looking unsure, and said, "Yes?"

"Is he capable of making recordings as well?" asked Dumbledore, sparing a quick glance at the crystal he was holding which had been used to display the events leading up to Hermione's abduction.

Harry's eyes lit up in comprehension and his lips cut a predatory grin. "Yes, it is," he almost purred. "And so were the drones at Hermione's home."

"Presented with such evidence," Dumbledore concluded, "I doubt the Wizengamot, or Madam Bones, will require anything more than the inquiry."

Harry then frowned as if something had just occurred to him.

"What about the others?" he asked. "Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna? What will happen to them?"

"They will be deducted fifty house points each and given detention every evening until the start of the Christmas holidays. I will also be marking a reprimand in their records. Mister and Miss Weasley will have their prefect status revoked for the remainder of the school year," Dumbledore told him, reciting the various punishments.

"That seems... harsh," noted Harry.

"How so?"

"They had nothing to do with what happened at Parkinson Lodge or Hermione's house," Harry told him earnestly. In what was typical Harry Potter, his concern for his friends had surfaced. "They were in... a safe place the entire time," he went on, alluding to wherever it was that Tonks had reported accidentally stumbling upon while keeping a watch on the Weasley twins. "You can check their wands if you like."

Dumbledore nodded, certain that Harry was telling the truth. All he could do, however, was say, "Even so, Harry, your friends did leave school grounds without permission."

Harry immediately countered, "Something we've done on more than one occasion in the past."

"True," admitted Dumbledore in agreement, thinking back on Harry's many adventures over the years. "Their punishments, however, were decided by Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick."

"As the heads of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," said Harry.

"Yes."

"I see."

Hoping to maybe return to Harry's good graces, Dumbledore offered, "I will speak with the professors and see if I can convince them to be more lenient."

Harry sighed softly and nodded. "Thank you."

They then sat in silence for several minutes, not saying anything. Everything that needed to be address had come and gone, as well as several extra topics of discussion. Dumbledore briefly contemplated offering Harry another Lemon Drop, but decided such an offer would go against the tone their meeting had followed.

"I believe that should be all for the moment, Harry," he finally said. Knowing that he was done and wondering if Harry had something to add, he asked, "Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?"

"The Grangers," said Harry.

"Yes?"

"What will you be doing with regards their safety?"

"They are, of course, welcome to remain at Grimmauld Place for as long as they wish," said Dumbledore, aware that Harry would accept nothing less. Hermione cared greatly for her parents and Harry would therefore move the very earth itself to keep them safe.

"And their home?" asked Harry.

"I have asked Alastor Moody to see about placing various wards around the house," Dumbledore informed Harry, wondering if the younger wizard knew that similar wards had already been placed at the Granger home before the start of summer.

Sadly those wards had not been particularly effective, as evidenced by the four Death Eaters that had met their fates at the proverbial hands of Harry's drones. Still, Dumbledore thought, those wards had been relatively basic ones, similar to what almost every wizarding dwelling had as a matter of course. The new wards would be much more proactive in guarding the Grangers.

"Can't you spare someone to stand watch?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid the Order has been stretched too thin in our efforts against Voldemort to do so," replied Dumbledore regretfully.

Dumbledore could tell by the way Harry's eyes narrowed that he was not pleased.

"The results of your 'efforts' have not been encouraging," Harry remarked scathingly.

"Harry--"

Harry interrupted by pushing back his chair and abruptly rising to his feet.

"Against my better judgement, I will leave the safety of the Grangers in your hands," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. "If they are hurt through your negligence, I will repay their injuries upon you. If they should die," his voice dropped a register, "then I will personally dispatch you to keep them company."

He cocked his head to one side, regarding Dumbledore coldly, and asked, "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," was all Dumbledore could think to say.

Harry held his gaze for a long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied.

"See you at dinner," he said, departing without further comment and with Father trailing behind him.

In his wake, Harry left a deeply worried Dumbledore. As he mulled things over, Dumbledore absentmindedly restarted his old gramophone, picking up from the beginning of Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age. Lord only knew, he was feeling particularly ancient after this confrontation.

With a wave of his hand he opened the doors to the glass cabinet next to the gramophone. Another wave lifted a bottle of brandy into the air and set about pouring its contents into the nearest available snifter. One last gesture summoned the glass to him and closed up the cabinet.

Taking the glass of brandy in hand, Dumbledore set down the crystal Harry had left in his care. Taking a sip, he used his wand to activate the device. He watched as the recording of Hermione's abduction played out before him once more, this time focusing on the details he might have missed before.

As the recording ended he was more convinced than ever that young Draco had been fully aware of his actions, not to mention their consequences. A less than charitable part of Dumbledore's thoughts remarked, in ill-humour, that the one consequence Draco had not been aware of had been that Harry would torture him for information.

Having ignored his brandy thus far, Dumbledore sank back and took another sip. As he drank he let his thoughts drift, only vaguely aware of the music in the background, the gramophone now playing Uranus, The Magician.

With the loss of Lucius Malfoy from their number, he did not doubt that the school governors would be reasonable in their judgement of Harry's attack upon Draco. And with a few subtly planted hints and suggestions on the headmaster's part, the focus could easily be shifted off Harry and onto Draco.

Dumbledore's thoughts continued along this vein, plotting the schemes and mapping those strategies which would best serve in protecting Harry from the fallout of the previous day. After several minutes there was a knock on the door, which startled Dumbledore out of his almost trance-like musings. He had been thinking so deeply that he had not even sensed the approach of his visitor.

"Come in, Rhys," he said, after collecting himself to present the proper appearance.

The door swung open and Professor Smythe-White stepped inside.

"Hello, Albus," he said in greeting, closing the door behind him. "I passed Mister Potter in the halls."

"And?" asked Dumbledore.

"He did not seem in the least bit concerned about what happened yesterday," observed Smythe-White as he crossed to take a seat opposite the headmaster. "That concerns me."

Dumbledore felt exactly the same way.

.oOo.

Harry strode purposefully through the corridors, making his way to Gryffindor Tower. It did not escape his notice that those few students he did cross paths with made a point of getting out of his way - clearly scared of him.

Resigned to being a pariah for the remainder of the year (much like his second and fifth years) Harry soon found himself outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. He briefly wondered if the password had been changed since the day before. It that were so, he decided, then he would have to rip the portrait off the wall, using Father's GM fields.

"Lion's Pr--"

The words cut off abruptly as Harry realized what he had just been thinking.

With a frown he reviewed his thoughts over the past few minutes, during the trip from Dumbledore's office. He quickly concluded that he had been thinking in the same manner that his future self would have do.

With a grimace he realized that the future memory induced feedback was not only growing more intense in nature, but also recurring more and more often. He had been practicing Occulmency every day, during his morning exercises and immediately before going to sleep. Apparently he needed to increase his efforts in that regard.

"Well, young man," prompted the Fat Lady impatiently. "Do you want to come in or not?"

"Lion's Pride," Harry muttered.

The portrait nodded in acknowledgement and then swung open, allowing Harry to climb into the common room. Because classes were currently in session the room was empty, save for the Ministry Crew. They were gathered around their regular table, Luna occupying what was normally Harry's seat, and were clearly waiting for his arrival.

"Harry," called Hermione, jumping up and running to him.

Harry greeted her with a possessive hug, burying his face in her bushy hair as he held her close to her. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that the rest of his friends had also risen to their feet.

"What happened?" asked Ron. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, seeing Harry's disgruntled expression as he released her so that they could join their friends at the table.

"I have good news and bad news," Harry informed them.

"Bad news first, bad news first," sang Luna eagerly. "That's the tradition."

Harry sat down in the chair Hermione had been occupying, literally dragged there by the girl in question. Once he was seated, she surprised him (and everyone else, for that matter) by settling down in his lap, rather than draw up another chair.

"Well?" asked Ron impatiently.

"The bad news is what we thought it would be," said Harry with a sigh.

"You've been suspended?" asked Neville.

"Pending a hearing the day before Christmas holidays," confirmed Harry.

"That's not so bad," said Ron.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and the greater urge to sigh at his friend's cluelessness, Harry announced, "There's more, Ron."

Ron winced and swore, "Ah, bugger."

Harry explained, in brisk sentences, that Malfoy and his goons had almost been able to talk their way out of trouble. There was much protest and exclamation, mostly from Ron, at this revelation. The group was somewhat mollified when Harry told of how Dumbledore had viewed Father's recording of events and would now be suspending the three Slytherins as well.

He ended his tale with the news that he would be having a hearing in front of the Wizengamot, to explain his actions with regards to Malfoy and the Death Eaters. His reassurances that no charges where being pressed against him, for the time being at least, did little to raise their spirits.

"Enough of the depressing stuff, Harry," announced Ginny. "What's the good news?"

"That there is no more bad news," he replied blandly.

Once the weak laughter to his bad joke died down, Harry turned to Hermione and told her of Dumbledore's plans to ward the Granger's house. He also assured her that he planned to do his own part in ensuring her parent's safety, primarily by replacing the five Surveillance Drones guarding then with Combat Drones.

Of course, Harry would first have to build these drones. The six he had were already otherwise occupied. Five had been dispatched to guard his friends, one assigned to each of them, and the sixth was currently keeping an eye on Remus and Grimmauld Place.

Fortunately his suspension worked in his favour, as he now had enough free time to build the drones (amongst other things) far sooner than he would have.

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione softly.

She leaned close to quickly kiss him on the cheek, much to the amusement of the others. Harry glanced at Ron, checking that his friend was all right with such a public display of affection. He was relieved to see that the redhead appeared to be taking it in stride.

Looking around at the empty common room, he asked, "Did you have any trouble letting Luna in here?"

"No," said Ginny. "Actually, everyone was more interested in Hermione's health and what happened to her."

"Curiosity gripped the cats," pronounced Luna sagely.

The six remained around the table for a while, just talking to pass the time. Harry was talked into a game of chess with Ron, one which he lost in short order. He was replaced as an opponent by Luna, whose gameplay was so chaotic and seemingly pointless that Ron found himself unable top anticipate her moves, leading to a long match that ended in a befuddled Ron losing for the first time in memory.

Naturally he demanded a rematch. Which he lost. After watching this second game, and the first few minutes of the third, Harry excused himself and went upstairs to his dormitory. There he stripped out of his clothes, which despite having been drenched by the rain outside were still the same clothes he had been wearing the day before. After a steaming hot shower, thankfully without an interruption from Luna, he put on a clean change of clothes.

Snacking on a Mars Bar, he sat down on his bed and started writing some letters. With the war against Voldemort now in a more active phase, he had several tasks he needed to work on. With the suspension freeing up even more time for him than usual, he would be able to work on some of them simultaneously.

Finishing up, he headed back downstairs. Waving to his friends, who were watching Ron curse up a storm as Luna took one of his knights, he opened the portrait hole.

"Where're you off to, Harry?" asked Neville.

"It's almost time for dinner, are you going down early?" asked Hermione.

"Just going to owl a few people," he told them, holding up the letters he had just finished writing. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

"If you see any ferrets on the way," called Ron, having calmed down, "break their arms for me!"

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.

Shaking his head at his friends' antics, Harry slipped out the portrait hole and began walking to the owlery. He had not gone far before becoming preoccupied with his thoughts. Ron's words had unwittingly brought Harry's encounter with Draco yesterday to the fore, replaying before his mind's eye. It was disturbing to recall how he had acted in that situation.

Entering the owlery, having missed most of the journey there, so lost in his thoughts, Harry shook himself back to the present and looked around for Hedwig. He spotted her just as she dived from her perch, settling down on his shoulder.

"Hey, girl, how're you doing?" he said in greeting, scratching behind her ears. Hedwig hooted softly and gave him an amiable nibble on the ear, expressing her pleasure at seeing him.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Harry's part to have the snowy owl to remain at Privet Drive with the Doppelganger. While not something either of them had wanted, it had been necessary so that she could continue delivering the drone's letters to the Order, furthering the illusion that Harry had still been staying there.

As a 'thank you' for helping in that deception, Harry had presented her with a dozen fat, juicy mice when he had returned to Hogwarts on September first. Since then, however, he had seen Hedwig on a handful of times - usually when she came up to the Great Hall to share in his breakfast bacon.

"That's good to hear," he said. He held up the letters he had written and asked, "I've got a bunch of letters I need delivered. Feel up to it?"

Hedwig gave him a disdainful look, affronted that he would suggest otherwise.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a grin. A bob of her head was his answer. Harry turned serious. "I need to ask you something first though, if that's all right," he began, unsure if his friends would consent to the next bit. "I can't have anyone know about these letters, so I need to put a charm on you - so nobody can recognise you."

It took her a minute or two of consideration, obviously uncertain out this, but Hedwig eventually nodded reluctantly.

"Thanks, Hedwig," said Harry. He pointed to a nearby perch, for when an owl had to wait for someone to write whatever it was they had to deliver. "Could you wait on that perch for a minute, while I set up the spells?"

Hedwig flew to the perch and waited patiently for him to get to work.

"All right, here we go."

Holding his wand out, Harry quickly cast a series of Glamours on his owl. He watched, anxiously, as her wings, back and tail changed to a chocolate brown in colour. After a second spent checking the stability of the charms, he then added a speckling of black to her chest and legs.

"There," he concluded. He conjured a small mirror and held it up for Hedwig. "What d'you think?"

Hedwig examined her new appearance, turning this way and that to get a good look - otherwise making a small production out of it. Being an owl, she was also able to turn her head fully around, so that she could check her back. Finally, after a minute's deliberation, she gave a hoot of approval.

"Glad you like it," said Harry. He hands over the letters he needed delivered. "The charms will only last a week, ten days at the most," he told her as she took the letters in her beak, "so you have to deliver these before then, okay? Don't wait for replies, they'll be able to send those themselves."

Hedwig hooted and, unable to give his fingers an affectionate nibble with her beak full, bobbed her head up and down before flying off. Harry was relieved to note that the rain had let up slightly, so she wouldn't have too hard a time flying through the downpour.

"Godspeed, Hedwig," he whispered, watching her disappear for view.

Now all he could do was wait for the replies. Hopefully they would be to his liking.

.oOo.

The rest of the Ministry Crew had eventually departed from Gryffindor Tower, several minutes after Harry had left for the owlery, and were currently enroute to the Great Hall for dinner. They planned to meet Harry in the Entrance Hall before going inside, wanting to present a united front to the rest of the students - more for the Boy-Who-Lived's sake than their own.

Hermione had actually wanted to go via the owlery, hoping to catch Harry before then, but had been convinced not to by Ginny and Luna. She would not admit it to anyone, other that herself and Harry, but she found herself feeling a little insecure without the knowledge that he was nearby.

They had just passed through the Trophy Room, pausing for a few moments to inspect the Special Services awards Harry and Ron had received at the end of their second year, when they were intercepted by Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger," she said by way of greeting.

"Professor?" Hermione asked, puzzled as to why her head of house was there.

"If you'd be so kind as to follow me to my office?" McGonagall ordered, phrasing her command as a question. "I have something to discuss with you."

Before Hermione could reply, everyone was startled back a step when Ron pushed his way between her and the professor, drawing his wand in the process and aiming it at McGonagall.

"Oh, no, you don't!"

"Ron!"

"Mister Weasley!"

"How d'we know you're really Professor McGonagall?" asked Ron, glaring suspiciously at the witch before him. He jabbed his wand in her direction for emphasis, some stray sparks emerging from the tip as he did so. "You could be a Death Eater in disguise --Polyjuice Potion or something-- trying to kidnap Mione again!"

"Don't call me that!" Hermione snapped, her wonder at Ron's actions turning into anger.

She absolutely hated being called 'Mione' - something one of her aunts (a Muggle) insisted on using. In point of fact she had never much liked any of the various abbreviations given to her name, with the exception of Harry's use of 'Nee'.

Professor McGonagall peered sternly at Ron and said, "I assure you, Mister Weasley--"

"If you so much as twitch..." interrupted Ron, his warning trailing of in a silent threat.

Confronted with such stubborn opposition, McGonagall acted in a perfectly understandable manner. She ducked her head in frustration and reached up to massage her temples - most likely to ward off the onset of a headache. Unfortunately this action went against the warning Ron had just issued, causing the red-haired wizard to cast the first spell that came to mind.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron yelled excitedly.

"Protego," countered a calm voice from one side.

A shimmering shield of magical energy sprung into being between Ron and the startled professor. It followed so quickly on the heels of Ron's spell that the Disarming Spell splashed across its surface almost immediately after emerging from the tip of Ron's wand.

"Professor Dumbledore!" exclaimed Ginny as everyone turned to see the source of the protecting shield.

"Good evening," said Dumbledore cheerfully, as he walked towards the group. He appeared completely unconcerned about the fact that he had just interrupted one of his students from attacking one of his colleagues.

"Sir!" breathed Ron in obvious relief. He spared the headmaster only a brief glance before returning his attention to McGonagall, clearly unwilling to risk letting her out of his sight. "This Death Eater's trying to kidnap Mione again!"

"Don't call me that!" snapped Hermione, punctuating her order by stomping her heel on Ron's left foot with all her might.

"GAAOOOWWWWCH!" screamed Ron, dropping his wand and clutching his bruised foot with both hands. He was hopping about on his good foot as he protested, "Hermione! That hurt!"

Hermione smiled and gave a satisfied nod. "Much better."

Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling with amusement as he stopped to pick up Ron's wand. "Rest assured, Mister Weasley," he said, a hint of his good humour in his voice, "Professor McGonagall is not a Death Eater."

"I know that, sir," agreed Ron, bouncing unsteadily on one foot for few extra seconds before standing up properly.

"He thinks she's an impostor," explained Neville, having worked out what had caused Ron to attack McGonagall.

"I see Alastor not only taught you 'constant vigilance'," Dumbledore observed, returning Ron's wand to him, "but also a healthy degree of paranoia."

"Professor Dumbledore," muttered McGonagall in a strained voice.

Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall her next words and said, "Please, Professor McGonagall, I'm sure you understand."

"Considering yesterday's events," McGonagall agreed, her eyes flicking from the headmaster to Ron and then Hermione as she spoke. "I'm willing to let the matter drop."

"Very good," said Dumbledore happily.

"You mean... that's really Professor McGonagall?" asked Ron uncertainly.

"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" confirmed an exasperated Ginny.

Ron paled, his freckles standing out in stark contrast to the rest of his face. He swallowed nervously and asked, "I'm in even more trouble now, aren't I?"

Luna patted him on the back and said, "Seems that way."

"Oh," was all he said.

"Now, Hermione," said Dumbledore, startling the witch in question by using her first name. "If you would please accompany Professor McGonagall and myself to her office?"

Curious as to what would require her presence in McGonagall's office, with Dumbledore in attendance, Hermione quickly bid her friends farewell and followed after the two professors.

As they walked, Hermione concluded that they must be wanting to talk to her about her experiences the day before, when she had been Lucius' prisoner. She was puzzled, however, as to why they had taken so long to speak to her. Or, for that matter, why they had not waited until after dinner.

"Here we are," announced Dumbledore when they arrived. He opened the door and indicated for Hermione and McGonagall to enter before him. "After you, Miss Granger. Professor."

Stepping into the office, Hermione was surprised to see Harry, Smythe-White and Snape waiting for them. This, she knew, meant that they were most likely not here to talk about her abduction.

"Hello, Professor Smythe-White," she greeted. "Professor Snape."

"Come now, Hermione," Smythe-White chided lightly. "I've told you many times that I'd prefer if you'd call me Rhys."

"Yes, Professor, you have," Hermione replied, preferring to use the title.

By now McGonagall had entered the office. Dumbledore followed after her, shutting the door behind him. Hermione quickly moved to stand next to Harry, who was standing apart from the professors and closer to the door. McGonagall went straight to her desk, where she sat down, while Dumbledore crossed to join Smythe-White and Snape by one of the bookshelves.

"Harry? Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"No problems," Harry replied. "You?"

Hermione shook her head in reply and asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

"Not a clue."

"I gather you had no difficulty in finding Harry, Professor Smythe-White?" asked Dumbledore.

"None at all," replied the Defence professor.

"Very good," accepted Dumbledore. He turned to the students and clapped his hands. "I am certain you are wondering why you have been asked to join us here."

"The thought had crossed our minds," said Harry dryly.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, beaming broadly. He turned to Snape. "Professor Snape?"

Stepping slightly forward, Snape looked like a condemned man with constipation. Hermione began to have an inkling about what this meeting was all about, but did not say anything. She had a feeling this would be interesting.

"Potter. Granger," Snape hissed through a jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder he didn't crack a tooth. He managed to grind out the words, as if they were painful to say. "I apologise."

Even though she had been more or less expecting it, Hermione was still almost in disbelief upon hearing that. She took a look at Harry, just in time to see him blink in consternation.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me, Potter."

"I heard you," agreed Harry. "I'm just wondering if it was a hallucination."

Snape ground his teeth together so hard that Hermione could hear them grating against each other.

"Please, Harry, try not to interrupt," advised Dumbledore, trying to head off the inevitable argument. "Professor Snape is trying to give an apology."

Hermione doubted the sincerity of Snape's apology, clearly seeing how his jaw muscles were bunched and straining, but again she did not say anything.

"Yes," Snape confirmed in a sibilant hiss.

"Sorry," Harry apologised. He then turned to Snape and asked, "What are you apologising for, anyway?"

"You know what," Snape bit out.

"Not really," replied Harry. He shrugged. "It's hard to guess what you're supposedly sorry for. There's so much to choose from."

It was obvious that Snape was beginning to grow angry. The fingers of his right hand were twitching and the hand itself was inching to where his wand was pocketed. Relief came in the form of McGonagall, who rose up from behind her desk and quickly interposed herself between Harry and the potions master.

Hermione really didn't care much about Snape. Truth be told, neither did Professor McGonagall. As far as either witch was concerned, getting in a fight with Harry (and being soundly thumped in the process, might actually do the man some good. Still, they both understand the potential for homicide if Snape actually did something rash while in Harry's presence.

"Professor Snape, I thought you were mature enough not to allow yourself to be baited by a student," said McGonagall scathingly. She then turned to Harry and berated, "As for you, Mister Potter, I'm sorely disappointed that you would behave like this."

"Why shouldn't I?" challenged Harry. "Snape's done nothing but belittle and torment me from the moment we met." He looked past McGonagall at the sneering man. "I haven't seen any indication that he will ever change."

"Harry, he is trying," insisted Dumbledore.

"An insincere apology is no apology at all." Harry countered.

"Professor Snape is sincere about this, Mister Potter," said Smythe-White, stepping up and putting a restraining hand on Snape's shoulder, subtly pulling him back a pace or two.

Harry appeared dubious, but relented when Hermione gave him a pleading look. The day had already been stressful enough, not to mention yesterday, so she was almost desperate to avoid a fight - even if it was one of only words.

"Fine," said Harry, sounding a bit petulant. "If Hermione accepts his apology... so shall I."

"Most agreeable of you, Harry," said Dumbledore with a smile. He turned to Hermione and prompted, "Miss Granger?"

Hermione considered it, eventually deciding that she would probably never have a better opportunity. That decision made, she began be saying, "I would consider accepting," she paused just long enough for Snape to start looking relieved, before adding, "but Harry does have a point." She then turned to Snape and asked, "What exactly are you apologising for, Professor?"

Snape looked incredulous. Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. McGonagall dropped her head in her hands. Harry looked like Fred and George on Christmas morning. All-in-all, it was exactly the result Hermione had hoped for.

"I am apologising," Snape growled, "for the words I said about you and Potter in the headmaster's office."

"You mean the comment about Harry and I sharing a bed?" Hermione elaborated.

"Yes."

"Very well then," Hermione nodded. "I accept."

She then levelled a stare at Snape and, thinking of what Malfoy almost did to her, spoke in a voice that was just as cold as anything Harry had been able to manage.

"Just bear in mind, Professor," she warned. "If you say anything like that again... I'll do worse than simply slap you silly."

Snape's lips thinned to an almost invisible line. Instead of saying anything, he just gave a curt nod and then turned to see what Harry had to say. Harry stepped up close to the man, almost nose-to-nose.

"You hate me."

Everyone was a bit surprise by this statement, even Snape (who blinked).

"I can accept that, because, quite frankly, I hate you too," Harry continued. His eyes narrowed and he practically growled the next few words. "But by involving Hermione, or any of my friends, you crossed the line."

He then stepped back, his dangerous expression gone, replaced with an icy mask.

"Insult her or my friends again," he said blandly, "and you won't live long enough to apologise."

Seeing that Harry looked as if he was actually hoping that would happen, Hermione grabbed him by the arm and forcibly dragged him towards the door.

"Thank you for the apology, Professor Snape," she called over her shoulder. "We'll just be on our way." Releasing one hand, Hermione opened the office door and shoved Harry through. "We need to get to the Great Hall before Ron eats all the food. Bye!"

Not giving any of the professors a chance to speak, she slammed the door closed and resumed dragging Harry, this time down the corridor leading the Great Hall.

"Damn it to hell and back, Harry," she snapped. "What was that?"

"What was what?" asked Harry, having a hard time keeping up with her rapid pace.

"Don't play with me, Harry, you know what."

"Not really."

"The bit where you threatened to kill Snape!"

"Ah," Harry said ruefully, "that."

"Yes, that!"

Hermione released her grip on him and watched impatiently as Harry tried to answer.

"I can't help it," he finally said, "the moment I'm in the same room as the man, a part of me wants to hit him with the Cruciatus Curse until his heart explodes under the strain of it."

It was not difficult for Hermione to grasp the fact that Harry was talking about the feedback he experienced from his future memories. As she recalled, the future Harry had tortured Snape to death, using the Cruciatus Curse.

"That worries me, Harry," she said.

"It doesn't exactly thrill me either," Harry replied.

"Correct me, if I'm wrong..."

"Which you seldom are."

"...but it seems to be getting worse," said Hermione, ignoring the short interruption.

"I sure it's just stress," dismissed Harry. "After what happened yesterday, my future self's memories have come closer to the fore than they usually are."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Well, no, not really," Harry admitted, "but I'm pretty sure I'll be back to normal in a couple of days when the intensity of the feedback fades."

They resumed their course towards the Great Hall, Harry tentatively taking hold of Hermione's hand as they walked.

"I hope you're right about this," she said, giving Harry's hand a squeeze.

"So do I, Nee," Harry agreed, returning the gesture. "So do I."

TBC...

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