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It had been two weeks since Harry had stormed out of Hogwarts and disappeared to parts unknown. Everyone had expected him to return to the school within a day or two, but it became clear, after the first week, that Harry was obviously troubled by something greater than a simple disagreement with his friends.

Life at Hogwarts had continued as normal for the most part, barring the fact that Hermione was so upset that she became almost hysterical at times. This was because she had, through some strange convolutions of logical, come to the conclusion that she alone was responsible for Harry leaving.

Of course the other members of the Ministry Crew; namely Ginny, Luna, Neville and Ron, would try to remind her that Harry was not the kind of bloke to hold grudges like that. Their reassurances would usually last for an hour or two, the record being nearly six hours straight, before the idea that it was entirely her fault crept back into Hermione's skull.

Professor Smythe-White had tried to talk to her in his professional capacity as a Healer, but had quickly stopped trying after she had burst into tears and fled his office at a dead run.

This morning was one of those times that Hermione was particularly depressed. It was Halloween, a time she had always regarded fondly, ever since Harry and Ron had stormed into the girls' bathroom to rescue her from the mountain troll Professor Quirrel had loosed into the castle.

Professor Flitwick, assisted by Hagrid, had once again transformed the Great Hall with the appropriate decorations. Black and orange banners hung from the walls and ceiling. The torches and fireplaces were all specially charm to produce bright orange flames. Giant pumpkins, provided from Hagrid's vegetable patch, had been carved into grotesque pumpkin heads and arrayed about the hall. Black cats, with orange stripes, darted from one table to the next and several swarms of bats circles above them.

It was, Hermione felt, very well done, but a tad much for breakfast.

The rest of the students, however, were content to enjoy the festive atmosphere. Luna in particular had come prepared and fully dressed for the occasion. She was wearing luminous orange clothes, a blouse and skirt combination, under her black school robes.

Hermione was feeling too depressed to enjoy herself like the others. She was picking at her breakfast, a cheese omelette on toast, and listening with half an ear to the conversation around her.

"That's Neville for you," said Seamus, who was having a lively discussion with Dean about the Quidditch trials that had been held the previous weekend. Everyone had been surprised when Neville had turned up, Cleansweep in hand, and made an attempt for the position of one of the team's Beaters. "If it can fly; then he can crash it."

"You have to admit, though, he's got one hell of a swing," replied Dean, around a mouthful of bacon, "and a good aim to go with it."

"Yeah, almost killed Sloper with that Bludger."

"I got a great picture of that!" piped Colin Creevey, who was sitting several seats further down, but had still been following the conversation.

"Pity he only drifts around most of the time," sighed Dean, referring to the fact that while Neville was more than able to smack the Bludger in all directions, his flying skills were as dismal as they had been during his first year.

Seamus nodded and shrugged, "Still, if worst comes to worst, he could fill in..."

The Ministry Crew, who had been sitting around Hermione, turned to a blushing Neville.

"Seems you've earned a name for yourself on the Quidditch pitch, Neville," commented Ginny teasingly, nudging him with an elbow.

"Yeah, too bad it's for putting my own team in the Hospital Wing," he muttered.

"It was only overnight," Ginny consoled him.

"Hey," said Ron diverting attention away from Neville and to the staff table, "look who's come down from the Bat Cave."

This was a rather badly made reference to the Muggle comic, Batman, of which Dean Thomas had developed a liking to over the summer and thus brought several volumes to school with him.

The other four members of the Ministry Crew turned to see the person in question, which happened to be the school's Divination professor, Sybil Trelawney. Actually, it was only Hermione, Ginny and Neville that turn to look where Ron was pointing. Luna was apparently too interested in watching the flock of bats that was currently circling above the Gryffindor table.

"Trelawney? Here, at breakfast?" asked Neville incredulously. "That's odd."

"Perhaps she Saw something with her Sight," suggested Ginny mockingly.

"Her, See something?" ask Ron, even more incredulous than Neville. He snorted and shook his head. "Even with her glasses on, she's blind as a bat."

"Actually, bats can see perfectly fine," commented Luna, still staring at the bats above. "The problem is, they fly around during the night and can't see all that well in the dark."

Everyone who heard that comment, not just the Ministry Crew, paused eating their breakfasts and stared at Luna. Even though she had started taking her meals at the Gryffindor table, a little over a month and a half ago, the Gryffindors were still trying to get used to her somewhat unusual turns of conversation.

After a while, in which Luna ignored the stares and continued watching the bats, the Gryffindors turned back to their meal and resumed their conversations. This lasted until Neville noticed something that startled him even more than Professor Trelawney's descent from the North Tower.

"Merlin's ghost!"

"What?" asked Ron, looking up.

Neville was simply too stunned to speak and could only point in the general direction of the staff table. His shocked tone of voice had captured the attention of several others, all of whom turned to see what was the matter.

"What?" repeated Ron, looking at the staff table. He paused and narrowed his eyes when he spotted the cause of Neville's outburst. "Snape? What's he doing here? He's supposed to be suspended!"

"He looks different somehow," commented Ginny. Snape's appearance in the Great Hall this morning was the first time he had seen by the students since the night of Harry's disappearance, when Dumbledore had been forced to suspend him.

"I think he's washed his hair," noted Luna absently, having only briefly glanced at the staff table and then turned her attention back to the fluttering bats, which had since migrated to above the Hufflepuff table.

"Impossible!" Ron blurted, almost falling off his seat.

Hermione, who had turned away after confirming Snape's presence, turn back for a second look. Sure enough, it seemed that Snape's hair was not only newly washed, but also neatly groomed. For the first time in all his years as a professor at Hogwarts, Snape actually looked respectable.

"Snape washed his hair!" exclaimed Dean in awe. He paused to consider the implications of this and then asked, "When did the pod-people invade?

"If ever there was a sign of the apocalypse, this is it," acknowledged Seamus.

"Professor Trelawney must have foreseen this!" declared Lavender.

"We're doomed," whimpered Colin melodramatically.

"His suspension hearing with the school board of Governors is this morning," explained Hermione, who had been informed of the appropriate date and time by Professor McGonagall earlier in the week. While she was not expected to actually testify, McGonagall had requested that she write a testimonial.

Everyone stopped to stare at her, since this was the first time she had spoken since coming down to breakfast. Since it became obvious that Harry was not returning immediately, Hermione's participation in conversation had dropped to next to nothing. With the exception of her friends in the Ministry Crew, she only spoke when spoken to, which some of the less charitable people seemed to prefer.

Ron gleefully asked, "You mean today's the day he's going to get sacked?"

"We could never get that lucky," said Neville.

"Come on," pleaded Ron. "How could they not?"

"He is the best potions master in Britain," said Luna, earning several dirty looks from those Gryffindors that liked Snape even less than Ron did.

"He's a bastard!" grumbled Ron, turning back to his bacon and eggs.

Further conversation was prevented as Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones arrived at the table. While it was not uncommon for members of other houses to visit the Gryffindor table, it was not often that they would approach the spot where the Ministry Crew commonly sat.

Ernie cleared his throat, "Hey, Hermione?"

Resisting the urge to sigh, Hermione turned to face them. "Yes, Ernie. Hi, Susan."

"Sorry to bother you, Hermione," said Susan, "but is there going to be a meeting this evening?"

Hermione fingered the necklace she was wearing under her blouse, the replacement for the specially charmed Galleon that had been used the previous year. Everyone in the Defence Association had a similar one, or a ring or bracelet version.

"Why shouldn't there be?" she inquired. "We're still holding meetings every night."

"Yeah," agreed Ernie, "but Harry's still missing--"

"He'll be back," Hermione cut him off.

"It's been two weeks since he left and we're wondering--"

"He'll be back," Hermione interrupted again, this time with a hard edge to her voice. She levelled a dark stare at Ernie, daring him to argue the point and disagree with her.

Hermione had found herself nominally in charge of the DA, following Harry's unexpected departure. While all the members listened to her with the same respect that they did Harry, there was still the unspoken admission that she was only filling in until Harry came back. Indeed, attendance had dropped considerably after that first week and now the various members were attending only half as often as they did when Harry was present.

"Come on, Ernie," said Susan, grabbing Ernie by the elbow and leading him back to the Hufflepuff table. "Sorry for bothering you, Hermione."

Hermione was relieved to note that along the way they intercepted Terry Boot, who was heading towards her, doubtless for a similar purpose. She turned back to her breakfast and stared listlessly at it.

"Hermione?" asked Ginny, after a minute passed and Hermione had not resumed prodding her omelette with her fork.

"He will come back, right?" she asked quietly, not sounding as sure as she had when telling the two Hufflepuffs the same.

"Of course he will!" declared Ron staunchly. "Harry always comes back!"

"Though usually he spends a night or three in the Hospital Wing when he does," observed Neville jokingly, managing to relieve the tension which had settled over the group.

Luna laughed loudly, startling several second-year Gryffindors sitting nearby, and said, "I rather expect that Harry will manage to avoid a prolonged visit to Madam Pomfrey's domain this year."

Hermione sighed wistfully, "I just wish Harry was here."

"I am."

Hermione, Neville and Ron jumped a foot into the air, letting out startled screams, as an unexpected voice spoke up from behind them. Even Ginny and Luna, who were facing them, reacted with surprised yelps and stared at Harry, who's sudden appearance brought all conversation in the Great Hall to an equally sudden halt.

Everyone present was staring at the small group of Gryffindors, and one Ravenclaw, wondering how Harry had managed to appear out of nowhere so effortlessly. They were also wondering if it was safe to be in the same room with the famous young wizard and his friends, or if they should hide under the house tables before the curses started flying.

For her part, Hermione wasn't wondering anything. She was too busy enveloping Harry in a rib-cracking hug that knocked the wind from his lungs and almost toppled them both to the floor.

"Harry! You're back!"

"Wow, Ron," muttered Ginny, "you really are a master of the obvious."

With his typical tenderness, Harry managed to pry Hermione off him, holding her at arm's length. He smiled softly at her, reassuring her that all was well, and then nodded to their friends.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologised, "but I had some problems I needed to address before coming back."

"You're really back?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

Hermione released the firm hold she had on him, took a step back and then swung her right arm with everything she had.

"Ow! Damn!" Harry yelped, reaching up to grab his left bicep. He rubbed the injured limb, where she had hit him, looked at her incredulously and asked, "What the devil did you do that for?"

"You idiot!" she cried, the unshed tears in her eyes making it hard for her to see. She held up a finger and poked him in the chest, glowering fiercely. "That was for scaring me like that!"

"All right," he said uncertainly, "I promise I'll never sneak up on you again."

"Not that you prat!" she fairly shrieked, hitting him again, only this time on the other arm.

"Gah! Hermione!" protested Harry. He dropped his hand from his bruised left arm and then switched across to his newly injured right arm.

Hermione jumped forward and latched onto him again, squeezing her arms around him tightly enough that his ribs creaked under the pressure.

"Don't leave us like that again," she whispered. "Don't leave me."

"I'll try not to," he assured her, patting her back.

"Mister Potter."

The sound of Dumbledore's voice so close by was almost enough of a startle Hermione into releasing Harry. She twisted to one side, still clinging to him, and saw that the headmaster had descended from the staff table. Professor McGonagall, cane in hand, was standing by the elderly wizard's side.

Harry released his hold on Hermione and turned within her embrace to face Dumbledore. For a moment she was worried that he was going to lay into the headmaster, considering that he had not been in the best of moods the last time she had seen him. She was bracing herself for the arctic cold personae that he unconsciously donned whenever facing Dumbledore.

To her surprise, he inclined his head and greeted, "Headmaster."

From the look on Dumbledore's face, Hermione was not the only one surprised by the cautious respect Harry was displaying. He blinked once and recovered quickly, inclining his head in return. "It's good to have you with us again, Harry."

"It's good to be back."

"Might I ask where you have been these past two weeks?"

"I needed some time to myself."

"I see," Dumbledore sighed, looking sadly resigned to the fact. He spoke, not a question, but a statement. "You're not going to tell me."

"Not just yet, no," confirmed Harry quietly. Hermione was further surprised to hear what sounded like the smallest traces of regret.

Dumbledore must have picked up on it as well, for he managed a tired smile and asked, "Will you, at least, give some warning before you leave school grounds again?"

Harry nodded and, with a hint of humour, agreed, "I'll try."

"Very good," accepted Dumbledore. "I expect I shall see you later."

"Perhaps."

"Well, have a good morning then."

"You as well, sir," said Harry.

Dumbledore departed, his bright orange and pale yellow robes, under a vermillion cloak, sweeping behind him. Hermione was about to turn back to Harry more fully, intent on congratulating him on how well the conversation had gone. She stopped mid-motion, however, when she noticed that Professor McGonagall had not left with the headmaster.

Instead she had remained in place, leaning on her walking stick, and was glaring unhappily at Harry. She peered at him from over the rims of her glasses. "Mister Potter," she said in the ominous tone of voice that was reserved for when she was displeased about something.

"Hello, Professor," greeted Harry, suddenly sounding nervous.

"You do realize that you were absent from classes without permission," McGonagall stated sternly, arching an inquiring eyebrow as she regarded Harry.

"Um..."

"I shall have to punish you for such flagrant disobedience."

Harry sighed and nodded in resignation. "You probably should."

"House points, detention," listed McGonagall, "perhaps even suspending you from the house Quidditch team."

"PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL!!" yelled Ron from where he was sitting with the others. He leapt to his feet and crossed to where the professor was standing, his face flushing almost as red as his hair.

"Call yourself, Mister Weasley. It was only a suggestion," ordered McGonagall.

"Damn right it was!" Ron snapped, clearly too excited to realise that he was almost nose-to-nose with his head of house. "We need a Seeker and Harry's the man for the job."

"Ginny--" Harry tried to say, but was cut off.

"--is one of our new Chasers!" barked Ron, turning his back to the professor and rounding on Harry. "And you've missed not only our try outs, but also the first week of training! You're going to have to work damn hard to pick up the slack! Our first match is in less than a week and I'll be buggered by my own broomstick if those slimy Slytherins beat us because you've been lax in you training!"

Hermione wondered at Ron's outburst, thinking that he was acting rather like how Harry's first captain, Oliver Wood, would have behaved. This was odd since this year's Quidditch captain, following Harry's refusal to accept the post, was Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original team that had served under Wood.

Harry raised his hands in an attempt to placate the steaming redhead. "Calm down, Ron, before you faint."

"I AM NOT GOING TO FAINT, POTTER!!"

"If you keep this up, you will," muttered Hermione.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, stalling further discussion. Seeing that Ron's tirade against Harry's tardy Quidditch training was temporarily on hold, she started announcing Harry's punishment. "Seventy house points will be deducted from Gryffindor, Mister Potter. Five for each day of your absence."

Ron stared at her in disbelief and then bellowed, "SEVENTY POINTS!!"

"Silencio."

The Silencing Charm was slapped over Ron before he knew what was happening, effectively distracting him before his agitation caused another fainting episode. Hermione, Harry and McGonagall turned to face the source of the spell, while Ron sputtered soundlessly for several seconds.

Standing on the opposite side of the Gryffindor table, Luna was tucking her wand back into its customary place behind her ear and had a rather disturbing --or perhaps disturbed would be a better way to describe it-- grin on her face.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood. Five points to Gry-- er... Ravenclaw," said McGonagall, stammering over the last bit where she almost called Luna a Gryffindor. It was understandable, seeing as the Ravenclaw witch spend most of her time these days at the Gryffindor table.

"My pleasure, Professor," said Luna cheerful. She waved a hand at Ron, ignoring his glare, and called, "Come sit down Ronald, your breakfast is getting cold."

Neville rose from his seat and grabbed Ron, who's face was almost the same shade as a ripe plum, and dragged silently protesting redhead back to the table.

"As I was saying, Potter, seventy points from Gryffindor," McGonagall continued once Ron was seated. "And two weeks detention with myself each evening after dinner."

"I understand, Professor," said Harry. He bowed his head and offered, "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"Just don't do it again, Harry," McGonagall told him, her stern visage softening just the slightest. "I've become very attached to that Quidditch trophy and would hate to lose it because you were unavailable to play."

"Yes, ma'am."

McGonagall nodded briskly and walked back to the staff table, her cane clicking against the stone tiles. Harry shared an amused look with Hermione, who shook her head. They would not have believed, in their first year, that their head of house would have a soft streak.

Clearing his throat softly, Harry lead them both (Hermione still had on arm around his waist) to the Gryffindor table. Taking a seat between her and Neville, he started loading his plate with food, pausing occasionally to respond to the greetings from his housemates.

Ginny was the first of the Ministry Crew to welcome him, "Like Dumbledore said, it's good to have you back, Harry."

"Yeah, everyone's missed you, mate," agreed Neville.

"Thanks," replied Harry, grabbing a few rashers of bacon.

"Just don't stay away for so long next time, okay?" Ginny suggested with a grin.

"I didn't plan on taking so long, but things came up," Harry told them as he poured himself a large glass of guava juice before tearing into his breakfast in a manner not unlike how Ron normally ate. In less time than it took to describe, he had consumed one slice of bacon covered toast, which he washed down with juice, and was moving onto some eggs.

"What happened?" asked Hermione

Harry shook his head and said, "I'll tell you after dinner tonight."

"Why can't you tell us now?" asked Neville.

"I'd rather not have anyone hear," he explained, speaking softly so that only their small group could hear him. Clearly, whatever he had to tell, it was not for public consumption.

"In that case, I promise not to listen to a word you say," announced Luna, still grinning at Ron, who sat in his seat and glowered unhappily.

"Thanks, doc."

Neville was looking at Harry in astonishment as the newly returned wizard wolfed down his breakfast in great gulps, barely chewing his food before swallowing. "Looking a bit hungry there, Harry," he observed.

Harry nodded and poured another glass of juice, "Starving."

"You haven't been eating?" asked Hermione, suddenly worried that he had not been taking proper care of himself during the time he was away.

"Junk food," Harry mumbled as he shovelled more food into his mouth. The words were badly muffled and sounded more like something a troll might say, but she was able to interpret them.

"Junk food?" repeated Ginny, clearly confused.

"I'll explain later," Hermione told her.

"Ah, Muggle concept?" asked Ginny, with an expression of understanding.

"Where is he putting it all?" wondered Neville.

By now Harry had devoured several fried eggs, sunny side up, enough rashers of bacon to make half a pig, two slices of buttered toast, and enough guava juice for the giant squid to swim in. Even more amazing was that he was not showing any sign of slowing down or stopping.

Even Luna, who had been alternating between grinning dementedly at Ron and staring with rapt fascination at the circling bat, was now watching him with amazement. "You should slow down, Harry, before you choke," she cautioned, her normally wide-eyed expression even wider-eyed than usual.

Harry paused and looked around, noticing that most of the nearby Gryffindors were staring at him. He chewed several times and swallowed before resuming his breakfast at a fractionally slower pace. He could have still rivalled Ron for speed and nobody seemed willing to risk their limbs by reaching for any of the platters near him.

"Are - are you coming - to classes today?" asked Hermione, having found that her own appetite had returned alongside Harry. She was attacking her omelette and toast, which were cold by now, with almost as much gusto as Harry was displaying.

"I think I will," said Harry after musing over the idea for a moment or two, "but I think I'll have to stop by the tower before then. I need a shower and some clean clothes. And I have to pick up my books and stuff."

"Can I come with you?"

Harry stopped eating to consider this, but eventually shook his head. "No," he said, "I'm already in enough trouble that being a few minutes late won't make much of a difference. You, on the other hand..."

Hermione looked pleadingly at him. "But I want to go with you."

"Hermione," he started, pausing to turn and face her fully. He put down his knife and fork so that he could take both her hands in his. "Nee, I'm not going to disappear into thin air."

"You did before," she said in a small voice.

"Yes," he agreed with a smile, "but this time I'm not in the process of tossing my toys out of the cot."

Reassured by this and content that all was once again right in her world, Hermione returned to breakfast. Conversation was light and revolved around the Quidditch trials, with Neville's attempt for a place on the team being mentioned several times.

Soon it was almost time to go to classes. Harry quickly finished the last of his toast, this time with honey, and washed it all down by finishing his drink in one gulp.

"That was good," he declared, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'll see you in class," he said as he rose from the table, preparing to head up to the tower to collect his things. "We have Defence first this morning, right?"

As he started to walk away, Hermione grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Harry, I-- I'm so very sorry. For what I said about... everything."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Nee," Harry told her, gently removing her hand from around his wrist. He smiled down at her and said, "We can talk about it later, after dinner."

He was just about to leave, having taken several steps, when something obviously occurred to him. He stopped in place and turned to face where Luna and Ginny were sitting. He regarded the blonde-haired Ravenclaw for a moment and then said, "Luna, there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up."

"Quite right, Harry," agreed Luna brightly.

"Who dares; wins."

Luna blinked several times and then tilted her head to one side, looking back at him in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Go on... ask."

With that and a smile, Harry turned and left, his long strides leading him quickly out of the Great Hall. Everyone looked after him, more than a little confused by the exchange. Hermione did notice, however, that Luna seemed to have understood whatever it was that he had told her.

"Ask what?" repeated Ginny, looking perplexed. "For that matter, ask who?"

Luna blushed red, almost enough to match a highly embarrassed Weasley, and stared down at her plate. She mumbled something under her breath that nobody could hear.

Neville looked at her curiously and asked, "What was that?"

"I want to ask... someone... to go to Hogsmeade with me."

"Oh?" asked Ginny, clearly surprised. Then a broad grin broke out on her face and she eagerly enthused, "Luna, that's wonderful! Who is it?"

"I'd rather not say," Luna replied quietly, not looking up.

"Come on, you have to," insisted Ginny. Luna shook her head, refusing to answer. Ginny huffed and tried to prompt her to give them something to go on. "At least tell us if the lucky bloke knows you're after me."

Luna finally looked up and in a manner completely unlike her normal self stammered, "I... I..."

She was saved from having to answer by Ron, he had rounded the table to where she and Ginny were sitting. He pushed his way between the two younger girls and started waving a large sheet of parchment in front of a visibly relieved Luna.

"Ron! You're interrupting!" snapped Ginny, shoving her brother out of the way.

"Hey, mate, calm down," said Neville.

Ron was practically bouncing with agitation, his arms swinging about as he gesticulated wildly. The parchment he was holding was little more than a blur.

Luna, having regained her normal colour, asked, "What's wrong, Ronald?"

Stomping his feet angrily, Ron waved the parchment under her nose, but was still shifting about too fast for her, or anyone else for that matter, to read it properly.

"Dammit, Ron, will you stop acting like the village idiot and tell us what's bothering you?" demanded Ginny, hands on her hips as she rose up to confront him.

"I think that is what's bothering him," said Hermione, who was fighting a strong urge to giggle. It had not taken her long to work out what was causing Ron's agitation. She had the sneaking suspicion that Luna knew as well, but was deliberately pretending otherwise.

"What?" asked Ginny, eyeing Ron as he continued to pester Luna.

"The Silencing Charm from earlier," she clarified. "Nobody's taken it off."

Ron threw his hands up into the air in relief as silence fell over the group. Ginny and Neville exchanged sheepish looks while Luna adopted an innocent expression that was painfully fake. Now that Ron was no longer jumping around, it was easy to see what he had written on the parchment he had been waving about.

Printed in large, bold letters, was, "TAKE THE SILENCING CHARM OFF ME! NOW!"

"Oh," said Ginny with a wince.

"Right," agreed Neville, snapping his fingers, "I'd forgotten about that."

Ron angrily stomped his foot again, clearly trying to urge them to stop talking and get on with removing the charm. All eyes turned to Luna, since she was the one that had cast the spell in the first place. Of course, any of them could have removed the charm just as easily, but it seemed appropriate for it to be her.

Luna looked from Ginny to Ron and back several times before asking, "Do I have to?"

"He can't go to class if he's unable to speak, Luna," said Hermione, her voice choked with effort not to burst into laughter. This was one of the funniest things she had seen in weeks and coupled with the relief of having Harry back at school, she couldn't help herself.

"But I like him better this way," pouted Luna.

-oOo-

Shortly after Harry departed for Gryffindor Tower and breakfast ended for the other students, the teachers gathered in the staff room for a quick meeting to discuss the Boy-Who-Lived's sudden return.

"Well," began Dumbledore as he took his seat, "it would seem that we can call off the search."

"Thank heavens he's all right," said McGonagall with a sigh as she and the other professors settled down in the plush chairs surrounding the headmaster.

"I'm not so sure about that, Minerva," said Smythe-White with a trouble expression.

McGonagall looked at the Defence professor in surprise. She had watched Harry closely the entire time he had been in the hall and was certain that the young man was doing just fine. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Smyth-White frowned. "I didn't get a close look, but I'd say he hasn't been getting much sleep."

"That's normal," dismissed Flitwick.

"Filius?" asked Dumbledore, prompting the small professor to elaborate.

"Harry looked that way most of last year," supplied Flitwick, receiving nods of agreement from most of the staff. He considered his words for a moment and shrugged, "Of course, it might have been stress over the O.W.L.s, but..."

"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged, "I see your point."

"What should we do then?" asked McGonagall.

"Just keep an eye on him," Dumbledore advised. He was thoughtfully stroking his moustache. "If you can, try to broach the subject of where he had been. Remember to be subtle about it and do not, under any circumstances, try to pressure him about answering."

Smythe-White spoke first and said, "He has class with me first, I'll see what I can do."

Dumbledore nodded, but cautioned, "Be careful, Rhys."

"Always, Albus," the professor assuaged, "it's all part of the service, after all."

Rising to his feet, Smythe-White exited the staff room at a brisk clip, as did most of the other professors. They did not have much time to reach their rooms before classes started.

"I'm his head of house," said McGonagall, who had also risen but paused at the door to glance back at Dumbledore. "Do you think I should say something?"

"No, I don't think so," Dumbledore said with a shake of his head. He sighed and explained, "You're an authority figure, Minerva, and as such, Harry will not open up to you. If he does, it will be because he comes to you, not the other way around."

McGonagall nodded and left, the door swinging shut behind her. The only two people left in the room were Dumbledore and Snape, who had been standing quietly and unobtrusively in a corner.

"Aren't you going to punish him?"

"Punish who?"

"Potter, of course," Snape clarified, leaving his place in the corner and approaching where Dumbledore was seated. His voice was subdued, but the headmaster could still detect some underlying animosity. "He's missed nearly two weeks of school, without consent from his guardian or yourself."

"I do not need to punish him," Dumbledore said. He indicated the door of the staff room. "Professor McGonagall, as his head of house, has already done so."

"She punished him, yes, but not severely enough."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow at the implied criticism. It was subtle, to be sure, so he questioned, "Are you suggesting that she is displaying favouritism?"

Snape barely nodded, "Yes, I am."

"You believe it is because he is," he searched for the right words for a moment before finding them, "'the golden boy', I believe is how you refer to him?"

It was only his long experience that allowed the headmaster to see the minute wince his words precipitated. This worried him, since such a reaction was practically a nervous tick for someone of Snape's refined movements.

The ability to keep absolutely steady under any pressure was the hallmark a fine potions master, and Severus Snape was one of the finest. It was also one of the skills which had severed the man so well in his role as a spy within the ranks of Voldemort's Death Eaters. That his control was so worn away...

"You can't deny," Snape said after a short wait, "that you are not punishing him in the same manner you would if it were another student."

"No, I can't deny that."

"Why?"

"Because, Professor Snape," Dumbledore made a point to use the potions master's title, "if this war against Voldemort is to be won, it will be Harry who will lead the light to victory. It would not do for us to antagonise him unduly."

"Potter? Lead us to victory?" Snape asked disbelieving. He shook his head and said, "I hardly think he could replace you as our leader."

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and sank deeper into the plush cushions of his chair. "I am old, Severus. Perhaps too old."

Snape frowned. "That has never been an issue."

"Sadly, it has become one."

"I don't believe that," Snape countered staunchly.

"My mind and heart are willing, to be sure," Dumbledore admitted, heartened by the support, "but I'm afraid the rest of me is lacking."

"Albus--"

"Enough of an old man's ramblings," he deftly interrupted. Getting up from his chair, Dumbledore lead the younger wizard to the door. "You have a hearing to attend to and I am required in the Potions classroom."

"But--"

"You have more important things to concern yourself with, Professor," Dumbledore reminded the potions master, giving him a penetrating stare from behind his spectacles. "Harry is not one of them. Let it go."

Snape took a deep breath, doubtless preparing to argue, but let it out in a resigned huff. "I... shall try, headmaster."

"Severus," called Dumbledore as Snape made to leave. The professor paused at the door and looked over his shoulder at the headmaster. "Good luck," he offered.

"Thank you, sir," Snape accepted. A charitable person would have described his expression as a rueful smile when he replied, "I expect I shall need it."

Dumbledore watched as the potions master stepped through the door, letting it swing slowly shut behind him. It was going to be a long morning, he felt, for the both of them. Severus' career was hanging in the balance. And Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts after a leave of absence to only he knew where.

Yes, a long morning.

"I expect we both shall need it."

-oOo-

A nice, piping hot shower and a much needed change of clothes, left Harry feeling both refreshed and passably civilized. His little hideaway over the past two weeks was equipped with most of the expected amenities, but had lacked a change of wardrobe. Wearing the same clothes for two weeks, even if he had dipped them in the bathtub several times, did nothing for one's appearance.

With his school bag slung over his shoulder, Harry made his way down from the tower and to his first class at a nice, relaxed pace. He chatted briefly with Nearly-headless Nick and several portraits along the way. He was in no great hurry.

A few years earlier he would have made the entire trip at a sprint, but not any more. After all, he was already ten minutes late, an extra five wouldn't make much difference.

Arriving outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.

"Come in," called Professor Smythe-White.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," Harry apologised as he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Nothing to worry about, Har-- er... Mister Potter. I understand that you needed to collect your school things," the professor dismissed. He waved Harry further inside and motioned for him to join his classmates. "Please, take your seat."

Harry nodded and quickly found a seat next to Hermione, who had apparently saved it for him.

"Hi," she whispered as sat down beside her.

"Hey," he replied, pulling out his textbook and the Muggle notebook and pen that he used to transcribe his Defence lessons with.

"Now, Mister Potter," continued Smythe-White once Harry had set up, "if you'll open your book, Elements of Dangerous Magic, to page three hundred and ninety-four, we'll continue with the lesson."

Quickly paged through the book with his left hand, Harry slipped his right hand under the desk and across to Hermione. She looked at him in surprise as he took her hand in his, but then grinned brilliantly before turning her attention back to the front of the classroom.

"In brief, just to catch you up as we haven't covered much," Smythe-White was saying, "we are discussing how certain substances can either enhance or inhibit the flow of magic."

Harry frowned and tried to remember this lesson, sifting through his future memories, but not finding anything familiar. He wondered if the timeline had deviated so much that Smythe-White was now following a different lesson plan.

Reaching behind his desk, the professor brought out two bricks, which he set down on a table on the far side of the room. Positioning them side by side, he then turned back to the students and asked, "Now, to begin with, can anyone tell me why we use wands?"

Naturally, the first hand to shoot into the air was Hermione's. She clearly did not want to let go of Harry's hand, so she used her free hand.

"Hermione?"

"Wands are used as a focal point for the witch or wizard's magic," she rattled off in her usual manner.

Everyone, save Harry, made a point of copying her words down exactly. Five years of prior experience had long since taught them all that nobody knew their business better than the school's resident genius. Some of the Ravenclaws might have come close, but nobody could truly say that they were in the same league as Hermione.

Not noticing how the sound of quills scribbling on parchment had increased since she started speaking, Hermione continued, "It's rather like how glasses focus light so that a person can see properly. Without a wand, our magic would be unfocused and more difficult to control."

"Excellent, Hermione. Nice example. Three points to Gryffindor," said Smythe-White with good cheer. "Now watch closely." Turning to the table where he had set up the two bricks, the professor drew his wand and took aim. "Reducto!"

A streak of light flashed out from the tip of his wand and streaked across the room, hitting one of the bricks dead on. There was a loud bang, similar to one of Fred and George's smaller fireworks going off, and the brick exploded. A cloud of dust billowed outward, enveloping the table, as a few miniscule pieces of shattered brick rained about the room.

Smythe-White nodded with satisfaction and addressed the students, holding up his wand for all to see as he did so. "That was a simple Reductor spell using my wand, which is ten and three quarter inches long, made of oak, with a dragon heartstring core."

Returning to his desk, Smythe-White set his wand down on top of it and picked up what looked suspiciously like a wooden stick. He held it up on display, much as he had done with his wand.

"Now observe," he told them, "I am going to repeat the same spell, using a plain pine rod instead of my wand."

Taking position and levelling the stick at the table across from him, he took aim at the remaining brick.

"Reducto!"

Again a streak of light flashed across the room, but there was a noticeable difference from the first time. The light did not seem as bright, but rather more diffuse and less intense. It stuck the second brick a moment later and there was a sharp crack, though not as loud as before. The brick did not explode, but did break - splitting into much larger pieces than its predecessor.

Again, Smythe-White nodded with satisfaction. He set the wooden rod, which was smoking faintly at the tip, down on his desk and address the students. "Now, can anyone tell me why the second spell was less effective?"

Several hands went up, Hermione naturally being one of them. Harry remained perfectly still, his thoughts elsewhere as his 'memories' of this class were now beginning to filter through. He was drawn back to the present by the professor, who was calling on him.

"Mister Potter? Could you explain?"

"I didn't put my hand up."

"Indulge me, please," insisted Smythe-White.

Harry considered Smythe-White for several moments, before nodding his consent. "All right," he said, keeping hold of Hermione's hand as he leaned back in his chair. "Your second spell did not work as well, because you were not using your wand, therefore the magic was not focused enough to do the same amount of damaged."

"Meaning? Could you elaborate?"

"I'm assuming you used the same amount of power in both spells?" Harry asked. When the professor nodded, he continued, "Your wand concentrated the magic, focusing it on the target. When you used the rod, most of the spell's power was unfocused and thus lost before hitting the target."

"Perfectly sound reasoning, Mister Potter," Smythe-White said with a pleased smile. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry wondered if he had been awarded the points because he had gotten the question right, or if the professor was just trying to get on his good side. He frowned as this thought occurred to him and immediately discarded it. He had a feeling that it was nothing more than feedback from his future memories. Allowing that to colour his perceptions of the present would be a dangerous mistake.

While he was considering this, Smythe-White had reclaimed his wand and used it to quickly clean up the mess left from his demonstration. He tucked the wand inside his robes and resumed speaking, settling behind his desk as he did so.

"However, you will have noted that the second spell did manage to break the brick. This is because I was using a wooden rod." In rapid succession he held up several wooden rods, all cut from different kinds of wood. "Wood is a very good conductor of magical energy, having once been alive and thus having a grain through which the magic can flow. This is why it's used in the making of wands more than any other materials."

Next the professor opened a drawer and pulled out several large crystals, which he set down on his desktop. "Crystal, as we will read later, is also a very good conductor of magic. In fact, in many ways it is even better than wood."

"How's that, sir?" asked Lavender.

"The reason for that, Lavender, is because crystal can not only conduct and focus magic, but can also amplify magic. Much like how a magnifying glass or binoculars work."

"Then why don't we use it in wands, instead of wood?" asked Dean, who was listening avidly, like the rest of the class.

Smythe-White responded by pushing one of the crystals off the desk. It fell to the floor and shattered, spraying shards in all directions.

"Sadly, crystals are very fragile," Smythe-White explained. "There have been attempts to use Unbreakable or Shatterproof Charms on crystal wands, but the constant flow of magic through the wand eventually erodes the charm, forcing the users to frequently renew the charm, lest their wands become brittle."

Drawing his wand, Smythe-White continued to lecture as he restored the crystal and levitated it back up to the desk.

"Still, crystals are sometimes used atop staves or similar implements," he said. "This could be applied to wands, but the crystal would then be too small to make much of a difference."

Now the professor pulled out several misshapen lumps that he set down in front of him. "Metals, on the other hand, are not very good at conducting magic, not having a natural grain like wood and being unable to amplify the magic like crystal."

"Gold, silver and bronze," he said, holding up a Galleon, a Sickle and a Knut as examples as he spoke, "are very good at holding magical charges for long periods of time, as are certain types of stone, but they do not conduct it very well."

Next he picked up a particularly rough looking lump. "Iron in particular is notoriously bad at conducting magic, though it carries charms and enchantments easily enough - which is why machines like the Hogwarts Express are able to function."

He put the iron lump down and continued, "In fact, iron is often considered to be the antithesis of magic. Even the Muggles seem to know this, the knowledge remaining with them as part of their legends and myths. Iron is the metal which best represents the nature of the earth, something that absorbs and dispels magic to great effect."

"It is impossible for iron to be used as a conductor of magic," he concluded.

"I disagree."

All eyes immediately turned to Harry, who had spoken up and surprised everyone.

Smythe-White blinked several times and then asked, "Excuse me?"

"I disagree," Harry repeated. He leaned back in his chair and declared with authority, "Iron can be used to conduct magic. You just need to shape it properly."

"Mister Potter," Smythe-White began gently, "many of the greatest wizards in history have tried to use iron to aid their magic. Merlin himself is said to have once tried creating an iron staff to use in his battle against Morgana." He shook his head. "None have ever succeeded."

"Then they obviously did not do it properly."

"Harry, it's impossible," Smythe-White insisted.

"I told you not to call me that and, yes," Harry countered firmly, "it is possible. You just have to get the iron into the right shape."

"That makes no sense, Mister Potter," the professor said. He motioned at the lump of iron sitting on his desk. "Regardless of its shape, iron simple cannot conduct magic to any significant degree."

"Magic does not make sense, Professor," Harry told him with a faint smirk. "If magic made sense, then two and two would make four. In magic, two and two only means that you have more than what you started with."

"Even using more magic--"

Harry interrupted and clarified his earlier statement by saying, "I'm not suggesting that using more magic would force enough of it through the iron."

By now the Defence professor was actually looked a little bit frustrated. "Then perhaps you can explain what you mean," he demanded in a curt voice that was most unlike him.

"You have to shape the iron into the correct form."

"Perhaps you could show us this... correct form."

Now Harry's smirk became a full-blown one. He already had plans to construct something to use against Voldemort, using iron and several other metals, and even some crystals.

This little challenge, which Smythe-White clearly did not expect him to accept or be able to accomplish, was a perfect chance to take the former Auror Field Healer down a peg or two. He himself had nothing against the man, but his future-self was less forgiving.

"All right, I will," he said, accepting the challenge. He paused, as if to think, and then added, "It will have to wait until after the first Hogsmeade weekend. I need to get some things from the village before I can begin."

As he had expected, Smythe-White blinked in surprise.

"Very well, you can demonstrate your theory at you own convenience," the professor managed to say, quickly regaining his composure. He made an amiable gesture and conceded, "I can always make time."

Harry nodded in acceptance, grinning wickedly.

Smythe-White cleared his throat, turned his attention away from Harry and continued with his lecture.

"Well then, let's get back on topic," he started. "After wood, crystal and metal, the next material capable of conducting magic is organic tissue. Phoenix feathers, Unicorn hairs..."

Hermione leaned in close while the professor spoke and whispered, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure about this?" she asked worriedly. "Challenging a professor like that?"

"Don't worry," Harry assured her with a knowing grin. "I have it on good authority that what I have planned is perfectly possible."

"Who's authority?"

"Luna and the twins."

"Your memories?" she asked, subtly referring to his knowledge of the future.

Harry nodded and said, "Twenty two years of advances in magical theory."

Hermione looked doubtful about the likelihood that Luna and the twins had somehow managed to accomplish the impossible. "Magical theory hasn't advanced all that much in thousands of years."

"There's a fine line between genius and madness, Nee," he told her quietly. "The twins will always be on its edge and Luna will cross over it completely."

"Somehow, I don't find that particularly reassuring," she replied.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so."

"Trust me."

The was a pause as they both listened as Smythe-White started to extol the virtues of the various different cores used in wands. Then Hermione leaned in close again and squeezed Harry's hand, giving him a soft smile as she did.

"I do."

-oOo-

The Hogwarts board of Governors regarded Snape with closed expressions. The potions master met their gazes with a blank face of his own. The disciplinary hearing had been going on for over two hours now and it was getting close to lunchtime. After everything had been said and done, all that was left was for the verdict to be announced.

"Professor Snape?"

"Governor Talbot."

"Do you have anything else to add?" asked St. John Talbot, a onetime schoolmate of Dumbledore's and now the senior member of the board. He looked nothing like the headmaster, however, his white hair trimmed short and wearing sombre midnight blue robes. His only affection was the set of massive mutton chop sideburns that dominated his face.

"Just that I have always strived to be as professional as possible when teaching students here at Hogwarts," Snape replied readily. If this were a trial, then now would be the time to make his closing statement.

Looking out at the witches and wizards sitting in front of him, Snape elaborated, "Potions is an art. A dangerous art. The slightest mistake during brewing can cause injury or worse. If I have been... overly harsh at times, it is only because I hope to prevent students from hurting themselves or others through carelessness and indiscipline."

The wizard sitting to Talbot's right was not willing to simply accept Snape's words at face value and asked, "And your blatant favouritism towards Slytherin house?"

"That I cannot deny, Governor Flynn," Snape confessed, "though I hope you will accept my reason for doing so."

"And that is?" asked Flynn dubiously.

"You are all, no doubt, aware of the reputation of Slytherin."

"We are," verified Amadeus Rothenberg, a former Slytherin himself. He and Snape had known each other during their schooldays, though only in passing.

"Slytherins are often considered associated with the Dark Art," he continued.

Talbot arch an eyebrow and observed, "They do tend to produce more dark wizards than the other three houses."

"Sadly true," Snape agreed readily. "It is because of this that I am lenient with them."

"Are you saying that Slytherins need coddling?" demanded Rothenberg, looking slightly offended at the idea. His thin, sharp features looked on sternly.

"Not coddling. Careful direction."

"And what do you mean by that, Professor Snape?" asked another wizard, Christian Scott, who was impatiently tapping the tip of his quill against the nearest inkwell.

"I freely admit that Slytherins have a tendency to... slip... into the Dark Arts," admitted Snape, choosing his words with care. He needed to work the board into a more sympathetic mood. "By treating them the way I do, I am hoping to curb that tendency."

"Giving them free reign to run amuck in your Potions class prevents them from turning to the Dark Arts?" questioned one of the few witches on the board, Maxine Satissa. She shook her head in disbelief and noted, "Forgive me if I find that rather unlikely."

Next to her, one of Professor McGonagall's former classmates, Robert April, agreed, "Indeed, I would think that doing so would only spur them on to further rebellion against the authority of the other professors."

Snape held in a wince, all too aware that he had deliberately failed to curb the disdainful attitude that most of his house tended to develop. "My Slytherins are not discourteous to my colleagues," he maintained quietly. "That has never been my intention."

"Then what is?" demanded Talbot.

"They need guidance. An authority figure that they believe is on their side," he answered without hesitation. "Without one, I do not doubt that they would eventually lash out."

"Against who? The other houses? The other professors?" asked Scott.

"Lash out against a world that judges them without giving them a chance."

Talbot leaned back in his chair and regarded Snape with a sceptical eye. "You are referring to the perception that all Slytherins are inherently 'evil'."

"Exactly," Snape agreed before explaining. "That perception is more than enough to cause bitter feelings. Especially in children on the cusp of adulthood, like those here at Hogwarts."

"Are you saying that the other professors treat the Slytherins unfairly?" inquired April.

"Bullcrap!" exclaimed Rothenberg. He folded his arms over his barrel chest and stated, "I was at Hogwarts with Severus, though a few years ahead of him. I can vouch that none of the staff have ever been blatantly biased against Slytherin. Or any other house."

"True," confirmed Talbot. "Professor McGonagall is a consummate professional, and Flitwick is too cheerful and good natured to be like that. The others are all the same."

"It is not the staff that concern me," Snape informed them, "but the other students."

"The house rivalries? You can't be serious!" protested Satissa.

"It is not easy," Snape went on, "being thought of as evil by your peers."

"Enough!" declared Talbot in his deep baritone. "We could debate this all day. All year. It's an old argument, dating back to the founding of the school."

"Quite right," concurred Flynn. "We are, after all, assembled here today for another purpose."

Talbot nodded in agreement and turned back to Snape. "Is there anything else you would care to say to the board, Professor?"

Snape considered it, but finally said, "No, Governor."

"Very well then," accepted Talbot. He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time, observing, "We shall adjourn this hearing until after lunch, so that we can deliberate on what we have heard this morning."

The various governors stood up and filed out of the board room, some stretching kinks out of their tired muscles as they went. Snape respectfully rose to his feet as they went by. It was not demanded by protocol that he do so, but he felt that, in his current position, every little bit would help.

Finally, once all the governors had left, he stepped outside after them. While he did not feel particularly hungry, he did need something to drink. He planned to retire down to his personal quarters in the dungeon, where he could brew a quick cup of Chinese green tea.

"Severus."

Snape turned to see Dumbledore approaching him. "Headmaster," he greeted.

Dumbledore stopped in front of him and peered at the backs of the departing governors. "I gather you will be learning your fate when the board reconvenes."

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "They have just adjourned for lunch and deliberation."

"I regret that I was not able to attend."

"You did not need to," Snape dismissed. Indeed, he would have liked to have had headmaster's reassuring presence during the hearing, but understood that this was not permitted. As he was Snape's superior, it was deemed inappropriate for Dumbledore to speak in front of the board. "Your testimonial was more than enough."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed. He eyed Snape with visible concern before offering, "Would you care to join my for lunch in my office?"

"Of course," he graciously accepted.

"Excellent." The old wizard turned to lead the way to the entrance to his office, which was just down the next corridor. As Snape followed behind him, the headmaster said, "You can tell me all the details over chocolate ice-cream with double toffee custard..."

-oOo-

"Nice," declared Ron, looking around the room as he and the others entered.

"Reminds me of the Burrow," agreed Ginny

"I was thinking that exact same thing."

Indeed, the Room of Requirements looked very much like an expanded version of the Burrow's living room. Ron and Ginny quickly chose the two seats that most resembled the seats they used back home.

Harry, who had lead them in, settled down in a plush armchair near the fireplace. "I wanted a comfortable atmosphere."

"Can't get more comfortable than home," agreed Ron amiably. He shifted to get comfortable and then sighed wistfully, "I just wish we weren't missing lunch for this."

"Not to worry," Luna assured him. "I anticipated something like this happening."

"What d'you mean?" asked Hermione.

Luna answered with a single word. "Dobby."

With a crack of Apparation, Dobby appeared in the room, laden with trays of food and drink. He had to be using magic to carry and balance them all, for there was enough to feed a squad of ravenous Aurors.

"Dobby?" asked Harry. "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby has brought Harry Potter and his friends their lunches, Harry Potter sir," Dobby explained, setting various trays down on the large coffee table that dominated the centre of the room.

"But how did you know?"

Dobby pointed at Luna, who was grinning smugly, and said, "Missy Loony comes to Dobby. Tells Dobby that Harry Potter and his friends be needing their lunches in the Room of Requirements and not the Great Hall with the others. Dobby gets Winky to help and then brings Harry Potter and his friends their lunches."

"Luna..." growled Hermione, clearly not happy that the eccentric Ravenclaw had called on the house-elf to make and then bring them lunch.

Ron, of course, thought there was no reason to complain. The house-elves enjoyed working and in Dobby's case considered anything done on Harry's behalf to be the next best thing to butterbeer.

"There's nothing to get upset about, Hermione," assuaged Luna easily. She reached across from where she was sitting and plucked up a litchi the size of her fist. "I merely asked a favour of a friend."

"Dobby is happy to help any friend of Harry Potter," agreed the house-elf.

"Dobby, you didn't have to," Hermione insisted.

"But Dobby wants to help, Missy Honeynee."

"Missy Honeynee?" repeated Ron in disbelief.

"Gods," Hermione groaned. She dropped her face into a hand and complained, "Can't anyone get my name right?"

"Missy Honeynee!" Ron chortled, starting to laugh. "Oh, that's brilliant! Missy Honeynee!"

Hermione glared angrily at him and snapped, "Shut up, Wheezey!"

Ron made a come-hither motion and challenged, "Make me, Missy Honeynee!"

"Ron, don't make her kill you," cautioned Ginny, reaching over to put a calming arm on his shoulder before he provoked Hermione to homicide. "Mum wouldn't like it if that happened."

"Thanks for bringing lunch, Dobby," Harry told the house-elf, who was waiting anxiously by the food covered table. "I appreciate it."

"Harry Potter is thanking Dobby for his work!" Dobby exclaimed rapturously. "Harry Potter is a great and kind wizard!"

"Er... right."

"Dobby be going now, Harry Potter sir," the house-elf announced with a bow that was so deep his nose almost touched the floor. "Dobby come back after lunch and cleans away when you are finished eating."

"Thanks Dobby."

Dobby disappeared with a crack, leaving the students to their bountiful lunch. Ron doubted he would have had this much if they had eaten with the others in the Great Hall.

Hermione, however was not amused, and let the sole Ravenclaw know it. She turned to Luna, hands on her hips and scolded, "Luna, I can't believe you did that."

"Get over it, Hermione," Ron told her, already piling food onto his plate. "Now let's eat - I'm starving!"

"You're always starving," observed Neville, also tucking in.

"I'm a growing boy!"

Harry and Luna sat down and started loading up their own plates with Dobby's generous lunch. Seeing that nobody seemed to be paying her outrage any mind, Hermione soon joined them, though a tad reluctantly at first.

The food, as always at Hogwarts, was excellent. Ron made sure to double up on his helping of apple pie and whipped cream, and in sort order everyone was sitting back with their plates piled high.

"So, Harry," Ginny began, "What happened? Why were you gone for so long?"

Harry did not answer immediately, but instead pulled a familiar piece of parchment from his bag and spread it out on his lap.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he declared, watching as the Marauder's Map activated, thin lines spreading out and filling the parchment like delicate spider webs. "Let me just check that nobody's nearby and then I'll start."

"When did you get so paranoid?" Ron asked.

"With my life?" countered Harry wryly. "It's a necessary survival skill."

"Just be careful, okay?" Ron pleaded jokingly. "I don't want a Mad-Eye Moody clone as my best friend."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" bellowed Neville, in a surprisingly accurate imitation.

"I'm not that bad!" Harry protested.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"Cut it out, you two," insisted Hermione, "this is serious."

"Exactly," replied Ron with all the authority of someone who had grown up in the same house with Fred and George. "Which is why we're trying to lighten the mood. Too serious is never a good thing."

"They do have a point," admitted Luna.

"Well, Harry?" insisted Ginny.

Harry spent a minute scrutinizing the map closely before nodding, "Looks clear."

As his friend shut the map down, "Mischief managed," Ron helped himself to some crackers with cheese (cheddar) and asked, "So, what happened after you left?"

Harry sipped on his orange juice, clearly collecting his thoughts, before answering, "I lost my temper."

"We hadn't noticed."

"Doc..."

"Don't worry about it, Harry," said Ginny, dismissing the incident in this very room that lead to Harry's unexpected departure. "After last year, we've gotten used to it."

"Thanks for reminding me," he grumbled.

"Our pleasure," chimed Luna dreamily.

"Where did you go?" asked Hermione, not letting herself or the conversation get sidetracked by discussion of Harry's somewhat volatile temper the previous year. "We heard you asking Father to take you anywhere but here."

Harry sighed and propped his chin in one hand, "I ended up, oddly enough, in Little Whinging."

Ron stared at him in disbelief. "What?! You went back to the Dursleys?"

"No," Harry elaborated, "Just to this park that I like to visit. To think about things."

"You must have really needed to think if you went anywhere near your family," declared Ginny, speaking what they all must have been thinking.

"I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time," Harry admitted ruefully. He shook his head and sighed, "In fact, I barely remember the trip from here to there."

"Blinded by anger, were you?"

"Luna!"

Harry stopped Hermione from laying into the blonde haired witch by saying, "No, she's right."

There was a minute or two of silence as everyone busied themselves with eating their lunch, rather than questioning Harry.

Finally, Neville asked, "You didn't stay in a park for two weeks, did you?"

"No, I didn't stay there long," answered Harry. His expression, which until now had been a rueful one, turned dark and troubled. "Not after what happened."

"What?" asked Ron.

"I really lost my temper."

"Did you tear up the park or something like that?" asked Ginny.

"Something like that."

"Well, at least nobody got hurt," said Hermione. Harry winced noticeably, which caused a horrible suspicion to bloom in the stomach's of those present. "Harry?"

Harry sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He remained like that for nearly a minute before answered, "I put five Muggle boys in hospital."

"It was an accident, Harry," Luna affirmed after a while. "Those sort of things happen."

"It wasn't an accident, Luna," corrected Harry unhappily, lifting his head to look at her. He held up a hand and clenched it into a tight fist. "I hit them. Deliberately. Repeatedly. Hard."

There was a fair bit of silence as everyone took in this little gem of information. It was Ron that finally spoke up, voicing one of the first questions that came to him.

"Er, how did you punch five blokes' lights out by yourself?" he asked. "Not to sound as if I'm insulting you, Harry, but you're not exactly the biggest fellow around. Without magic..."

"Father helped a bit," Harry admitted. "I beat the snot out of them while he used his gravity fields to weigh them down. Two of them I actually hit with a compressed gravity wave. Knocked them half way across the park."

"Impressive," Luna summed up.

"You'd be surprised what can be accomplished with gravity fields," Harry told her.

"Not really."

There was a brief pause, in which Ron remembered that, according the Harry's memories of the future, Luna was the one that created Father and the gravity fields it used to open Gates.

Harry apparently had the same thought and agreed, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Are they all right?" asked Hermione, turning the conversation back to the five Muggle boys Harry had supposedly battered into bloody pulps.

"I honestly don't know," Harry sighed, dropping his head into his hands again. "I came to my senses after hitting the last two with the gravity pulse. They were all still breathing when I had Father Gate them to the nearest emergency room. After that I left the country."

"How badly were they hurt?" asked Ginny.

"Mostly just broken bones, I think. The last two..."

"The last two?" prompted Neville after Harry trailed off.

Harry gave a gusty sigh and answered, "They might have been worse than the others. The pulse hit them hard."

"Internal injuries?" asked Hermione.

"Probably."

"Oh, Harry."

"You know what the worst thing is?" asked Harry with a self-depreciating chuckle. He waited a beat and then answered the question, "I have no idea how it came to that."

"What?"

"I was just sitting there, on a swing, thinking," Harry explained. "The next thing I know, I'm seeing red and throwing punches left and right."

"You're not a violent man, Harry," Luna pointed out. "They must have done, or said, something to set you off like that."

"That's the point!" Harry snapped, making an angry chopping motion with one hand. "They didn't say anything that they hadn't said a hundred times before!"

Hermione blinked in surprise and asked, "You know them?"

Harry sighed and sipped his orange juice before answering. "They're old friends of Dudley. One of them, any way. The others I didn't know that well. Not enough to place names to their faces."

"Friends of your cousin, huh?" Ron repeated thoughtfully. "That means they've been giving you trouble since you were little."

"As far back as I can remember," confirmed Harry.

"Then that's it."

"Yeah," agreed Neville.

"Sounds like a reasonable theory, Harry," Hermione agreed.

"Maybe. It's just..."

"Just what, Harry?"

Harry sighed again and set his unfinished juice on the table. "Attacking them like that. It seems like something Malfoy would do. Or Voldemort."

Ginny immediately protested, "I can't believe you're comparing yourself to Malfoy, let alone V-v-voldemort!"

"I attacked them for almost no reason," Harry countered. "Some name calling. A few insults. Nothing that warranted what I did."

"You're under a lot of pressure, Harry," said Hermione, reaching over to put a comforting hand on the upset boy's shoulder. "Perhaps that was just the straw that broke the camel's back."

"I know, I know. I spent most of the last two weeks thinking about it," he nodded tiredly. He then shook his head. "It doesn't make it any easier to accept though."

"Of course it doesn't," agreed Luna. "That's what makes you human."

Harry sighed deeply again. Tiredly. He glanced across at the blonde witch and replied, "Which is why I sometimes really wish I wasn't human."

-oOo-

Snape was waiting in the board room when the school governors returned from lunch. He rose to his feet as they entered and remained standing even after that had taken their seats opposite him.

"I trust you had a pleasant lunch, Professor Snape," said Talbot.

"It was... richer than I am used to," Snape confessed, thinking of the rich confection Dumbledore had insisted on serving, "but otherwise quite pleasant."

"Good enough, I suppose," Talbot conceded. "Very well then, let's get this over and done with," he said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers and staring at Snape. "Professor Snape, you are aware of the various accusations levelled against you."

"I am."

"You have heard, or read, the various testimonies supplied to this board."

"I have."

"You have given counter arguments to explain your actions."

"I have."

"Are you prepared to abide by the board's decision, whatever it may be?"

"I am."

"Very good."

Talbot leaned forward and picked up a sheet of parchment that had been resting on the tabletop in front of him. He glanced over it and then announced, "After much discussion, it is the decision of the Hogwarts board of governors that you be reinstated as the school's Potions professor."

Snape almost sighed with relief, but managed to control himself so that he did not so much as even blink. His only outward reaction was to incline his head just the barest fraction in acknowledgement.

"However," Talbot continued, "you will be employed on indefinite probation and under minimum wages. These conditions will be subject to review by this board at the end of the school year. If it is found that you have acquitted yourself in a manner befitting a Hogwarts professor, you shall then be reinstated in full. In not... you will be summarily dismissed."

The potions master was less than pleased with these restrictions, but knew that it could have been worse, so he simply accepted the necessity of it.

When he made no immediate comment, Satissa leaned forward and asked, "Do you understand, Professor?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

"There is one, final, condition to your reinstatement," Satissa announced.

Snape braced himself internally. The condition must be a bad one, he thought, otherwise Talbot would have mentioned it when he was listing the other conditions.

Satissa smirked and revealed, "You are required to make a formal apology to both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

It was with considerable pride that Snape managed to not even bat an eyelid. He regarded the watching governors and asked blandly, "Potter as well?"

"Your insult to Miss Granger was also a slight against Mister Potter," explained Flynn.

"He was not present at the time," Snape noted.

"Perhaps not," Flynn agreed, "but you will issue a formal apology to the both of them."

"Very well."

Rothenberg sat straighter and said, "Since such an apology might lessen your standing in the eyes of the Slytherin students, I have suggested that we permit you to make it in private, rather than in public."

This time Snape very nearly allowed a sigh of relief to escape. Instead, he bowed his head and said, "Thank you, Governor."

"You will, however, be required to have your apology witnessed by Professor Dumbledore, in his capacity as the school headmaster," Rothenberg continued, "and by Professor McGonagall, in her capacities as deputy-headmistress and head of house to both Mister Potter and Miss Granger."

Snape was not happy to hear that McGonagall would get to see him do such a thing, but had no choice but to accept.

"I shall do so."

"Very good," summed up Talbot. He and the other governors rose from their seats. "In that case, Professor, you may resume teaching class next Monday."

"Thank you, Governor Talbot," he acknowledged. He gave a shallow bow to Talbot, as the senior wizard present, and then to the others. "Governors."

The governors filed out of the room, chatting as they went. Before leaving, Rothenberg paused as he passed Snape and spoke in a quiet voice, "A word of advice, Severus."

"Yes, Governor?"

"Tread carefully," Rothenberg cautioned, "very few of the students will be willing to give you a second chance."

"I expect as much," Snape admitted.

"Be seeing you," said the older Slytherin, taking his leave.

A moment later, Snape was alone in the board room. He thought about what had just happened and had to admit to his relief that the governors had reinstated him. The conditions placed on him, while inconvenient, were not wholly unexpected. It was only the final condition laid before him that would be something of a problem.

"Apologise to Potter?" he asked the empty room. He sighed and dropped his head in disgusted resignation. "Minerva will never let me hear the end of it."

-oOo-

Harry was sitting underneath the widespread branches of his favourite oak tree, which looked out over the Hogwarts lake. From this vantage point, he could see Hagrid's latest pet, Mister Green Turtle, drifting in the general vicinity of the boathouse. It was a fine day, the sun shining brightly in an almost clear sky and a slightly chilled wind rustling through the leaves and nearby underbrush.

He had left the Room of Requirements and come here to allow his friends time to assimilate what he had told them. He expected that they would be discussing this situation and its possible repercussions for some time. Certainly, it had taken him a long time to come to grips with the idea, at least partially.

Mister Green Turtle sank beneath the lake waters, large ripples spreading out in his wake. At the same time, Harry heard the crunch of dry leaves underfoot.

"Hey."

"Hey," he answered, looking up as Hermione came into view and stood by his side. "What're you doing out here? You have to be in class soon."

"I came to check on you," she told him. "You're more important than class."

Harry looked at her in mock astonishment and asked, "And you admit that?"

"Harry..."

"Just teasing, Nee."

"I know."

"You don't need to worry, I'm okay," he assured her, turn back to watch the lake. Mister Green Turtle had resurfaced, on the far side of the lake. "I just thought," he explained, "that I should give you sometime to take everything in before we talked it over."

"That's a relief," Hermione said, brushing some leaves out of the way and before sitting down next to him.

"Hey, you shouldn't do that," he told her. "You're going to be late."

Hermione shifted closer and pressed lightly against his side, leaning her head against his shoulder. She dismissed his concern with a calm, "It's only Potions."

Harry blinked, surprised that she would even consider skipping a class for anything less than the potential end of the world as they knew it. Of course, considering his life at Hogwarts, that wasn't as rare an event as most people would believe.

"All the more reason to hurry."

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will understand."

"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated. He shook his head, confused, and asked, "What's he got to do with it? Snape--"

"Has been suspended," she finished, "pending a hearing with the school board of governors."

Harry stared down at her in disbelief. Whether it was the fact that she was being so openly affectionate, during school hours, or the information that she had just imparted that surprised him so, he did not know. "Could you repeat that?" he pleaded.

Hermione grinned impishly up at him, clearly relishing the fact that she had been able to surprise him. "Professor Dumbledore suspended Snape two weeks ago, the night you left in fact, and has been taking Potions class in his place."

He shook his head and muttered, "That certainly never happened before."

They sat together for a minute or two, watching as Mister Green Turtle wallowed in the shallows opposite them. Eventually Harry eased away from Hermione and rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her join him.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is Snape suspended?" he asked.

"It's... a long story," she answered obliquely.

Harry arched an eyebrow, certain that it must not only be a long story, but an interesting one as well. "Aren't they all," he observed, more to himself that to her.

"Come on," Hermione urged, not letting go of the hand he had used to pull her up. She tugged and began to drag him after her, "I'll explain on the way to class."

"But I dropped Potions!" he protested.

"So?" she countered. "Come and see what you're missing with Dumbledore as your teacher."

Harry considered this for a moment, weighing the various pros and cons of being forced into the same room as the headmaster.

On the one hand, there was a good chance that the feedback from his future memories would cause the encounter to descend into him sniping at Dumbledore's faults. On the other hand, he had decided, during his two week absence, to try and mend the rift that had formed between them. This, he decided, seemed like a good place to start.

Smiling gamely he began to follow after Hermione, keeping a firm grip on her hand as they went.

"Why not?"

-oOo-

Dumbledore was waiting for the final bell to ring before class would begin. He had arrived just before the first students, Terry Boot and Susan Bones, having come directly from his office after having lunch with Professor Snape.

Now, sitting behind his desk, he wondered where Hermione was. The bushy haired Gryffindor witch was normally the first to arrive for Potions - indeed for all her classes. He was not worried, certain of the fact that she was no doubt with Harry at the moment, but had not thought that she would skip a class to be with him.

He was in the process of using his wand to close the classroom door, when she stepped inside, a very unexpected guest following immediately behind her. A shocked silence descended as Dumbledore, and the assorted students, stared at the visitor.

"Harry?"

Harry paused on his way to where Hermione was now sitting and turned to regard Dumbledore with an implacable expression of polite acknowledgement.

"Headmaster."

"Forgive me," Dumbledore managed, rallying quickly, "but I thought you were no longer taking Advanced Potions."

"I'm not," Harry confirmed simply.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, a question that was undoubtedly on the minds of everyone present.

Harry gave a small shrug and answered, "Hermione told me that you're taking classes now, instead of Sn-- Professor Snape."

Dumbledore was further surprised by Harry's use of the potions master's title. It had always been something the headmaster had to remind him to use. Since his return after the summer, even that grudging use of the title had been foresworn, Harry declaring Snape to be undeserving of it.

Pushing down his curiosity about what had brought about this change in Harry's attitude, Dumbledore nodded and admitted, "Yes, I am."

"You're the pre-eminent alchemist of modern times," observed Harry. "I never had a chance to you speak on the subject before. I'm curious."

There was something about the way Harry had said that, something tickling at the back of Dumbledore's mind. He had felt the same on several occasions while talking to Harry this year, but still, he was unable to make the connection.

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore smiled brightly and said, "Well, I hope you will find today's class instructive."

"I'm sure I shall."

"Perhaps it will even convince you to return to Potions."

"Don't push it," Harry replied lightly. He granted the headmaster with the faintest of smiles and then took his seat next to Hermione, who was look at him in pleasant surprise.

"Well then," Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands together, "let's begin, shall we?"

The class progressed quickly, at least for Dumbledore. There was no practical work, but rather an extensive discussion on the one aspect of Dumbledore's alchemy research that made him even more famous than he already was - the uses of dragon blood.

At times when he was not scribbling on the blackboard, Dumbledore would shoot looks at where Harry was sitting, listening keenly to every word of the lecture. He looked positively fascinated by the work, even asking one or two insightful questions.

Again Dumbledore cursed the bad blood between Harry and Snape. If the interest Harry currently showed was any indication, he could very well have become an above average student.

Before he knew it the bell was chiming, the double sixth-year Potions class was over and it was time for the students to leave for their next and final class of the day.

"It would seem our time is up for today," he said as the last echoes of the bells died away, "please be sure to read chapter thirteen of your textbooks. Also remember that the assignment on the thermal-dynamic properties of dragon blood is due next Wednesday."

The students quickly packed away there things and started to file out of the classroom, most of them thanking him as they passed the desk. None of the Slytherins did so, save for Blaise Zabini, who simply nodded.

As he acknowledged the students' words, Dumbledore kept a careful eye on Harry, who waited patiently for Hermione to pack her textbook and parchment back into her bag. As they started to leave, he was that Harry was heading directly towards him, rather than towards the door, after the others.

"Harry?" Dumbledore heard Hermione ask.

"Go on without me, Nee," Harry replied, not letting his eyes stray away from Dumbledore as he continued towards the professor's table. "I'll see you later."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione looked worriedly from Harry to the headmaster, clearly away of the volatile nature of their previous discussions since the start of term. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Harry glanced back at her and smiled.

"No."

She hesitated uncertainly for a moment and Dumbledore was almost certain that she would ask to remain. To his surprise, however, she eventually nodded in acceptance and left without another word.

Dumbledore watched her leave, the door swinging closed behind her, and then turned to see Harry standing in front of his desk.

"Hello Harry," he greeted calmly. "You want to speak to me about something."

"Yes," Harry started. "It's Halloween."

"So it is."

"Your time's up," Harry informed him curtly.

Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise, having not expected this. He knew what the young wizard was referring to, but had not expected him to bring it up. The point, after all, had been rendered somewhat moot.

"I assume," he finally said, once he had gotten his thoughts in order, "that you have not been reading the newspapers during your absence."

"No," replied Harry, suddenly cautious. After a moment he elaborated, "Even if I had, there weren't any wizarding publications available where I was staying."

"Ah, then you have not heard," said Dumbledore in understanding.

"Heard what?"

Dumbledore settled back in his chair and answered, "Cornelius Fudge was killed four days ago."

Harry blinked and stared at him in shock. "What?"

"I'm rather surprised that your classmates did not mention it," he wondered. "It has been the talk of the school - until your return."

"If you're thinking that I killed him, you should stop. I didn't," Harry told him calmly, but with a bit of an edge to his voice. "Don't worry thought; I'm sure I'll get over it."

"I did not believe you had."

"Oh? Did one of your mock assassinations go wrong?"

"Fortunately that was not the case."

With a wave of his wand, Harry conjured a chair to sit on, greatly surprising Dumbledore. The art of Conjuring was something that the sixth-years were only now starting to learn in Transfiguration. Yet Harry had just done it rather wall and produced a fairly large object without any obvious effort. The chair was plain, and had a slight wobble due to the legs being uneven, but was otherwise perfectly fine to sit on.

Harry settled down on his creation and voiced the question that had the most bearing on recent events. "Well, since you didn't kill him and I certainly didn't, then who did?"

Dumbledore drew his gaze away from Harry's chair and answered, "He was killed, while leaving his office, by none other than Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh, the irony of it!" exclaimed Harry with a short bark of laughter.

"How so?"

"Malfoy was buying Fudge's favour. Donations or whatever you want to call them," Harry explained with satisfaction. "Fudge let the bastard get away with murder, so long as his pockets got lined in the process. Seems ironic that it was his so-call best mate Lucius that did him in."

"Hm, yes, I suppose so," Dumbledore allowed.

"D'you know why he did it?" asked Harry curiously. "I would've thought Voldemort would have preferred keeping an incompetent oaf like Fudge in office as long as he could."

"You should try to at least respect the dead, Harry."

"I'll respect those that deserve it, old man. Fudge doesn't," Harry stated coldly, all traces of any congeniality fleeing his voice in reaction to the headmaster's admonishment. "And you didn't answer my question."

Dumbledore cursed himself for the slip and answered, "From what Severus has reported, apparently Voldemort became annoyed at being blamed for all the failed assassination attempts. He seemed to find it insulting that people thought he was so incompetent that he could not kill the Minister the first time."

Harry surprised him by chortling, "Oh, that's rich."

"In the interim," he continued, wondering at the abrupt turnaround, "Madam Bones has been chosen to replace Cornelius until such time as proper elections can be held."

"Good thing they chose her and not that bitch Umbridge," Harry muttered darkly.

"Undersecretary Umbridge is still on medical leave," Dumbledore told him, hoping it would reassure him that the Ministry was now in better hands than it had been.

"Madam Bones," mused Harry, stroking his chin, "can she run the Ministry and manage the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"With some help, I believe she can."

"Your help?"

"If she needs it," Dumbledore admitted, "I shall offer."

Harry seemed to accept this and gave an acknowledging smile and nod of the head. "At least I know she won't let her pride or her ego get in the way of that."

"So," Dumbledore said after a brief lull in the conversation, "it seems you will not need to remove the Minister from office after all."

"That suits me well enough," agreed Harry with a hint of relief in his voice. "I didn't really want to kill him if I didn't have to."

This admission lifted a great weight from the headmaster's shoulders. Ever since Harry had demanded Fudge's removal at the start of term, he had been worried that the young wizard was now not only willing to sacrifice live, but able to do so without hesitation or remorse. It relieved him greatly to know that Harry would have preferred to avoid killing Fudge unless there were no other option.

"Words cannot express my relief to hear that, Harry."

Harry arched an eyebrow and dryly rejoined, "Then keep you mouth shut."

Dumbledore decided to broach another topic, one that had been bothering him ever since it had been brought to his attention two weeks ago.

"I received some disturbing news the day after you left," he began.

Harry did not react, but waited patiently for Dumbledore to continue.

"From Arabella Figg," he finished. "Apparently some of the local... say we say, ruffians... were hospitalised. They had been injured rather severely during an altercation in a local park."

"I expected you'd find out about that."

"So it was you?"

Harry nodded silently, his expression growing closed.

"I rather thought so," Dumbledore sighed. He offered Harry a faint smile and said, "Fortunately Kingsley and Nymphadora were about to head off the Muggle police and apply some judicious Memory Charms to the lads in question."

"So the Ministry's involved?" Harry asked cautiously.

"No," assured Dumbledore, understanding Harry's distrust for the Ministry. "Since you did not, apparently, use magic in the encounter, the Ministry is unaware of your involvement in this matter."

Harry breath a small sigh of relief and said, "Thank God for small favours, hmm?"

Dumbledore inclined his head in agreement and added, "If not Him, then at least Kingsley and Nymphadora."

"I'll send them both a 'thank you' note."

"I'm sure they would appreciate that."

A quiet moment passed, neither of the two wizards speaking as they mulled over their thoughts. Dumbledore was wondering where to lead the conversation next, but Harry broke the silence before he could decide.

"You suspended Snape."

"Much to the delight of most of the students," admitted Dumbledore.

"Except the Slytherins," guessed Harry with a wry smile.

"Yes, they do seem rather disgruntled when attending Potions."

"I can't imagine why."

"It is a mystery," Dumbledore agreed, pleased with the rapport developing as he and Harry bantered back and forth like this. If they could do this then things were, he felt, definitely improving between them.

Harry promptly derailed Dumbledore's hopes when he levelled a dark glare at him and revealed, in a voice cold enough to freeze blood, "Hermione told me what he said."

"I expected that she would," the headmaster admitted. At least he knew that Hermione, unlike Harry's other best friend, Ron, would have given an accurate and unbiased account of the incident that lead to Snape's suspension.

He considered what to say next and then, after recalling exactly what Snape had said, began to speak. "I would like to apologise to you as well, for letting matters with Severus get so out of hand in that regard."

Harry raised an eyebrow and said, "So, you suspend Snape when he insults Hermione to her face, but not me."

"Harry... I..."

"I'm surprised you didn't just slap him on the wrist, like you normally do," noted Harry with a hint of bitterness.

"Ordinarily, I would have," Dumbledore admitted, hanging his head.

"What changed that?"

"Severus has been... under a great deal of stress lately."

"And the rest of us haven't?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I am not making excuses for him, Harry, I am merely trying to explain the reason behind why he has been..." Dumbledore trailed off as he fished for a word to describe the potions master's recent behaviour.

"A bigger bastard than usual?" supplied Harry dryly.

Dumbledore almost responded with a gentle reprimand, but remembered at the last moment that Harry's opinion of Snape was even lower than his opinion of the headmaster. Trying to defend the man's name would not aid Dumbledore's attempt at reclaiming Harry's trust.

With that thought in mind, he relented, "I suppose that's as good a word as any."

"I haven't had that much contact with him since dropping Potions," Harry mentioned, staring thoughtfully into space, as if searching for something. His eyes focused on Dumbledore and he asked, "Has it really gotten that bad?"

"He's become openly confrontational with other members of the Order. He tends to snap at myself and others. He has not been eating properly," Dumbledore listed in short order. He sighed as Snape's problems were laid out before hi. "I'm afraid the stress of his... unique position is beginning to wear on him."

"So that's why you suspended him?" Harry asked curiously. "To give him a break, before he had a proper breakdown?"

Dumbledore shook his head, wishing that it were that simple. Were it as simple as Harry seemed to think it was, then he would have simply ordered the potions master to take a sabbatical. If worst came to worst, he could have always spread the story that Snape had come down with some illness of sort and was unable to attend classes.

"Hermione's complaint was the catalyst," he revealed, thinking of how quickly matters had progressed after that. "Once word got out that I had suspended Professor Snape, I was inundated by hundreds of letters regarding his conduct with Hogwarts students. Some were even sent by witches and wizards that have already graduated."

Harry snorted and said, "No great surprise there."

With a heartfelt sigh, Dumbledore wondered at how he had missed how badly Snape's professional attitude had deteriorated. "I had always thought that his antagonistic nature was reserved primarily for Gryffindors, but that does not seem to be the case."

"You mean he gave the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws a hard time as well?" asked Harry, not sounding all that surprised.

"I did not realize how much," Dumbledore admitted, "until I began substituting his Potions classes and was forced to descend from the lofty heights of the headmaster's office."

"Bit of a shock, eh?" asked Harry with a smirk.

"I had not thought I was so out of touch."

Dumbledore sighed again, this time thinking about the reactions he had received the first day he had walked down the corridors on his way to the Potions classroom.

"I have become a seemingly unapproachable figurehead," he said, summing up the situation as he saw it. "The students are afraid to speak to me. They do not believe that 'the greatest wizard of our times' could waste his time listening to them."

"You are rather intimidating to someone who doesn't know you," agreed Harry.

"So I discovered during my first class," he concurred ruefully.

"What happened?"

He chuckled at the memory, still fresh in his mind, and answered, "I had to threaten them with the deduction of house points before they would start answering any of my questions."

Harry actually chuckled as well and dryly asked, "I hope it wasn't the Gryffindor that were so terrified of you."

"Second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws."

"Hopefully they got over it."

"It took a while," he nodded, "but yes, they did."

They sat there for a few minutes, Harry regarding the headmaster with quiet amusement. It was a comfortable silence, one that Dumbledore was loath to break. Still, he had to admit that opening up to Harry like this seemed to be helping their damaged relationship begin to heal.

"I also realized something else," he revealed, "something disturbing."

"Oh?"

"I know the names and faces of every student attending Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, a fact that he had always taken some pride in. "I know the names of their parents and their siblings."

"I'm sensing a 'but' somewhere," noted Harry.

"I know all that, but I do not know them. I have not talked to them."

"You're a busy man."

"Not that busy, Harry," he almost snapped. "Aside from yourself, your friends and the house prefects, I hardly ever speak to any of the students that are supposedly in my care."

Harry regarded Dumbledore thoughtfully for several long moments, seemingly weighing him up on some invisible scale, before saying, "You can't speak to all of them. Even if you had a private talk with a difference student every day."

Dumbledore had been thinking something similar, but the logistics would be difficult. There were more students in the school than there were days in the year. He was not sure that he could find enough time to meet more than one a day. His job as headmaster was terribly mired down with paperwork.

"Perhaps," he suggested, "if I set aside an hour or so each day..."

"That might work," Harry agreed. He then frowned and cautioned, "Thought you should probably wait until after the war with Voldemort is finished. You're too busy at the moment and I don't think you have the time to spare."

"I should be able to make the time."

"Well, you could always use a time-turner," suggested Harry.

"I've considered that," Dumbledore admitted.

They lapsed into silence once again, sitting together for an indeterminable time.

Dumbledore briefly considered using Legilimency to try and probe Harry's mind, but decided to resist the temptation. In recent years he had made the mistake of treating Harry like a child, rather than a young adult. Harry was not a child anymore. If he ever had been.

"How have you been, Harry?" he suddenly asked.

"Pardon?" asked Harry, clearly startled by the question.

"If I'm going to start spending time learning to know my charges better, I think it best that I begin with you," Dumbledore explained patiently. "I do, after all, have a great many things to make up for."

"You're good at this."

Dumbledore looked at him, puzzled, and asked, "Good at what?"

Harry waved a hand between them, obviously referring to the conversation they were having. He confirmed this be saying, "Good at being a politician."

He could not prevent himself from sighing. Harry obviously knew that he was trying to regain his trust, his confidence, and equally obviously did not plan to make it an easy task.

"It's a skill I had to learn," he replied, "and one you will also need in the future."

"Why should I? I doubt it will help," Harry scoffed.

"Why do you say that?"

"Nobody cares how fancifully I talk, professor," Harry told him, speaking as he would to a young child. His expression grew dark as he continued, "When times are good; I'm the hero, the icon. When times are bad; I'm a deranged, attention seeking brat. Nothing will change that."

Dumbledore was barely able to prevent himself from wincing. This was something that he had not considered when leaving Harry with the Dursleys. He had hoped to allow him to grow up free of the burdens and pressures of being the wizarding world's hero.

It had worked, quite well he though, but perhaps too well. Isolated from any hint of his fame, Harry had never learnt, or been taught, how to deal with the capriciousness of the wizarding media. He had no experience whatsoever in that regard and had effectively been tossed into the deep end of the pool.

Considering the articles Rita Skeeter had written during the Triwizard Tournament, and Fudge's damnable propaganda afterwards, one could almost say that Harry had bypassed the pool entirely and been dropped into a raging river. His experiences with the press had soured him against them.

"Public opinion is a fickle thing, Harry," he tried to explain, "but it is possible to sway it to your benefit."

"Like you did?" Harry countered sarcastically. "Fudge dragged your name through the mud just as much, and just as easily, as he did mine. And there was nothing you could do to stop him."

"It was necessary for us not to unduly antagonise the Ministry," Dumbledore replied.

"So instead you rolled over onto your back and let them walk all over you."

Once again he was forced to repress a wince, as Harry was hitting hard on the mark. His lack of decisive action during Fudge's smear campaign had hurt his credibility to the point that he had been left almost impotent to act. Harry had fared even worse, his young age and woeful inexperience completely failing to protect him from the accusations levelled against him.

Things had improved after the Ministry were forced to admit to Voldemort's return, but the damage had been done. Dumbledore and the Order had lost a lot of time, perhaps too much time, and Harry... Harry had struck out on his own in a bid for independence and some control over his life.

"I know that it is a cold comfort, Harry," he said finally, "but it was for the greater good."

"You say that a lot, professor," Harry countered. "I've tried to believe it, but then I look at the world around me and ask 'is it worth it?'"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore offered. "The path that people like us are forced to walk is not an easy one, but it will save more lives than we could count."

"That's good for them," declared Harry tiredly. He stood up, the chair he had conjured earlier fading from view as he did, and began to make his way to the door. As he walked he asked, "But who'll save me?"

This was a question that Dumbledore could not answer.

Harry was at the door to the classroom and had already pulled it open, when Dumbledore stopped him by saying, "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied with a sad smile. "So am I."

-oOo-

After dinner, in which the students were greeted with the distressing news that Professor Snape would soon be resuming his duty's as Potions professor, the Ministry Crew retired to Gryffindor Tower. This excluded Luna, since she was a Ravenclaw and thus not permitted to enter the "Lion's Den" as she referred to it.

This did not bother Luna overmuch, as she claimed that she had already been planning to go on an Oompah Loompah hunt. Neither Harry nor Hermione had the heart to inform her of Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory's place in Muggle literature.

"What d'you think Harry? Should I be bitten by a vampire or a werewolf?"

Harry looked up from the large stack of homework, which he had missed over the past two weeks and now had to make up, directing his eyes to the seat opposite him, where Ron was sitting.

His friend had, as usual, left his Divination homework for the last minute and was only now, as usual, making up a slew of grisly and painful tragedies that would doubtless placate the gloom and doom predicting Professor Trelawney. As usual.

"Vampire," he responded after a moment's thought, "That way you don't have to worry if it's a full moon or not that night."

"Yeah, good point. Thanks," said Ron, scribbling hurriedly on his piece of parchment.

A soft huff of disapproval sounded to Harry's right and he turned that way to see Hermione give an aggravated sigh of eternal suffering.

"Honestly, Ron," she began. The look on her face was a serious one, but the faintest trace of a smile on her lips gave her away. "Why do you always have to make stuff up instead of just doing proper work for a change?"

Ron looked at Hermione incredulously and ventured, "Er, because it's Divination?"

"Oh, for the love of..." Hermione threw her hands into the air in mock frustration. "Ron, how can you be so flippant about it?"

"Trelawney's a doddy old biddy--"

"She's not that old," interjected Neville, sitting to Harry's left.

"--who's decided that since she can't torment Harry, now that he's dropped out, that I'm just the person she's been looking for to replace him," Ron continued without pause. He seemed rather put off by the thought that anyone, barring Lavender or Parvati, would take Divination seriously. "Of course I'm flippant about it. Who wouldn't be?"

"Look on the bright side, old friend," said Harry, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to relieve some of the stiffness in his neck muscles.

Ron looked at him and quipped, "There's a bright side to Divination? No! I don't believe it!"

Harry laughed and said, "At least you've got Firenze taking half of your classes."

Ron rolled his eyes and flopped back in his seat. "Oh right, like that's an improvement," he scoffed.

"I might not hold much stock in Divination," admitted Hermione, having gone back to the Transfiguration essay she had been writing, "but even I'll admit that a centaur has to be better at it than Trelawney."

"Yeah, you'd think he'd be a great professor," said Ron grumpily, "if any of us could understand a thing he says. Nothing but a bunch of mystical nonsense."

"You can't say the family didn't warn you, Ron," chided Ginny from her seat next to Neville. She waved the feathery part of her quill at him and started to say, "Remember what Percy--"

"Who?"

"Ron..."

Ron huffed angrily and crossed his arms. He glared at Ginny and stated firmly, "Until he apologises for last year, I don't know anyone by that name."

An understandably tense atmosphere had developed at the mention of wayward Weasley brother. Percy had successfully alienated himself from the family during the previous year, staunchly believe former Minister Fudge's claims that Voldemort had not returned, and accusing Harry of making it all up in a childish fit of attention seeking.

Despite having finally been proved wrong (it was hard to deny Voldemort's return after the Minister himself had seen the resurrected dark lord with his own eyes) Percy had not made any attempts at reconciliation with the rest of the Weasley family. All of the Weasley's were prideful, but Percy's was a fool's pride, which he desperately hung onto rather than admit his mistakes.

"He'll come round soon enough," Harry said before the stifling silence that had descended could grow any thicker. He hated how a perfectly ordinary, and good natured conversation could turn on its head so quickly. Letting a bit of the future's history out, would hopefully lighten the mood again.

"Are you sure?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"Well," Harry hummed, "the time table might've changed, now that Fudge is out of the picture..."

"Right, without that idiot in the way, maybe the snobby git'll be able to pull his head out his arse and see what's happening in the real world," grumbled Ron, though he did relax somewhat.

"What d'you mean, the time table's changed?" asked Hermione curiously.

Harry frowned and answered, "Thing's are happening faster now."

Neville scratched behind an ear and asked, "Faster?"

"Originally Fudge wasn't killed until about seven or eight years from now," Harry revealed, his thoughts immediately turning to Tonks and how she had sacrificed herself to get rid of the Minister after Remus' death in the werewolf concentration camps.

"You-Know-Who left him alone for seven or eight years?" asked Ginny incredulously. She puffed out a breath and asked, "But why kill him so much sooner this time?"

"His ego couldn't take it."

"Huh?" asked Ron, looking confused. A moment later comprehension dawned and he snapped his fingers before exclaiming, "Oh, I get it!"

"I don't," admitted Neville.

"You-Know-Who didn't like everyone blaming him for all the failed attacks on Fudge," Ron explained, actually summing things up rather well, "so he got rid of him himself."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense when you put it that way."

Harry was about to speak when Father silently broke into the conversation to report something of interest. It easily caught his attention and he asked, "What?"

"I said it makes sense--"

"Ssh!"

"But you asked--"

"Ssh!" he repeated, waving for quiet.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, looking worriedly at him.

"Not now," he ordered impatiently. "One of Father's surveillance drones has found something."

"Drones?" repeated Ron. "I haven't seen any about."

"They're shifted out of synch with normal time," Harry explained distractedly as he listen to the information Father was passing to him. "Invisible and practically undetectable."

"You mean you've got invisible spies floating around Hogwarts?"

"Yeah."

Hermione looked at him with undisguised interest and asked, "How many do you have?"

Harry was preoccupied and answered, "I built about a dozen over the summer."

"So what's happening?" asked Neville.

"One of the drones has spotted some... thing... by the lake."

"What?"

"It's not that bloody monster of Hagrid's, is it?" asked Ron nervously, still of the opinion that Mister Green Turtle was just waiting to have an unwary student as a snack.

Harry frowned and reach down to pull the Marauders Map out of his bag. He spread it across the tabletop and quickly activated it.

"I need to check something," he said, touching the tip of his wand to the map, and intoned, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

The map activated and Harry immediately began scanning it. The others crowded around him, trying to see what was happening.

He concentrated on the area around the lake, where Father said the target was. Harry searched carefully, but saw nothing. "I don't see him."

"See who?" asked Ron.

"Are you sure he's there?"

"Who's where? Harry?"

"Hush, Ron," Hermione told him. "He's not talking to us."

"But who... oh, Father."

Harry listened to Father's insistence that the object of their interest was indeed in the vicinity of the lake. Deciding to see for himself, he ordered, "Give me a live feed then."

Father immediately projected an image of what the drone was seeing, directly into Harry's mind. The overlay was confusing at first, until Harry shut his eyes.

"Yes, I see it now," he said. He frowned and, had his eyes been open, would have squinted to make the image out clearer. "Zoom in."

The image ballooned outwards, filling his vision.

"Are you sure it's him?" he asked. "He isn't showing up on the map."

The image shifted as the drone moved about. For a moment Harry wondered if this wasn't a false alarm, until a gleam of silver caught his mind's eye.

"It's him," he confirmed.

Father shut down the image feed from the drone and asked what course of action Harry wanted to follow now that a positive identification had been made.

"Keep an eye on him until I can get there. Passive surveillance only," Harry ordered as he jumped up from his seat and run across the common room, "and make damn sure you don't lose track of him!"

"Harry, where are you-- Harry!" shouted Ron.

"Harry, stop!"

Harry paid their calls no mind as he belted up the staircase leading to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. He could, however, hear the stomping of their feet as they followed on his heels.

"Dammit, Harry, what's the rush?!" demanded Ginny.

"I need my cloak," he called back.

"Your invisibility cloak?" repeated Neville.

Harry reached the dormitory and flung the door open. He charge in, hardly breaking his stride, and almost ran Seamus into the ground.

"Harry, what--"

"Not now, Seamus! This is important!"

The others burst in a moment later, also almost running over Seamus in their hurry to keep up with Harry.

"What's going on? Where are you going?" asked Hermione, as he crossed to his bed.

"Hermione? What--"

"Look out!" cried Ginny, who was the next to last to enter. She crashed into Seamus and sent him spilling to the floor, though she somehow managed to retain her footing.

Harry was, by now, rooting through his school trunk, looking for his father's old invisibility cloak. For some idiotic reason it was currently located near the bottom, hidden under a mass of old clothes, old books and other assorted junk that had accumulated over the years.

Seamus struggled to his feet. "Ginny? What--"

"Out of the way, Seamus," demanded Neville, pushing the Irish wizard aside.

"Dammit, what the hell's going on here?" Seamus bellowed angrily. He pointed unhappily at Hermione and Ginny. "Girls are not allowing in the boys' dormitories!"

"Not now, Seamus! This is important!" insisted Hermione.

"That's what Harry said, but nobody's explaining why!"

With a triumphant cry, Harry found the invisibility cloak and pulled it out of his trunk, dislodging several items of Dudley's cast-off clothing in the process. He turned to his friends, donning the cloak in the process - most of his body disappearing beneath it.

"Whatever you do, don't try and follow me," he told them.

"Harry--"

"I'll be fine, Nee," he interrupted, "trust me."

"But where are you going? How long will you be gone?"

"I'm going down to the lake and I won't be more than an hour," he assured them, taking a step back so that none of them would be close enough to be enveloped in the Gate with him. With a nod that really wasn't needed, he ordered, "Father, put us down near the boat house."

Before anyone could say anything, Father had opened a Gate around Harry and, in an eye blink, transported them both down to the lake. Glancing around, Harry confirmed that they had appeared next to the boat house, where the boats that brought the first-years across the lake, were stored during the rest of the year.

"Do you still have a fix on him?" he asked, slipping the invisibility cloak entirely over him and vanishing from view. Father answered in the affirmative. "Then lead on."

Following the GateKeeper's directions, Harry followed the curve of the lake in search of the person that had brought him out here. Soon they reached the spot where the lake lapped against the border of the Forbidden Forest. This, Harry now knew, was just beyond the school's anti-Apparation wards.

There did not seem to be anyone or anything present, but thanks to the surveillance drone, Harry knew otherwise. Settling down, he waited patiently for several minutes.

"Pettigrew?" a voice called from just inside the forest. "Where are you?"

There was a rustling in the nearby undergrowth and suddenly Peter Pettigrew appeared, returning to human form after having been scurrying about as a rat. That same rat whose silver paw had caught the attention of Father's drone.

"Over here!" he called.

A lone Death Eater emerged from the forest, the hood of his cloak drawn low over his head to hide his face. He hurried to where Pettigrew was standing, and snarled, "Not so loud, you fool!"

Pettigrew waved his concern aside and replied, "We're a long way from the castle."

"Better safe than sorry," the Death Eater insisted.

"You're being paranoid."

"And you're being careless!"

They were speaking, for the most part, in hushed tones that did not carry far, forcing Harry to creep closer so that he could hear properly. He froze in place when Pettigrew turned abruptly, seemingly having heard his approach.

"What was that?"

"Your imagination, Pettigrew," said the Death Eater, which Harry now recognised at being Nott Senior, "or maybe a guilty conscience."

"Now, who's being the careless one?" retorted Pettigrew. To Harry's relief, he turned back to face Nott, rather than investigate.

Nott snorted disdainfully and said, "Unless you've been discovered--"

Pettigrew interrupted, "Of course not!"

"--then nobody could have followed you here," Nott finished calmly. He then glanced pointedly in the direction of the castle and said, "But we could be discovered if you don't keep your voice down."

"Yes, perhaps, yes, you're right."

"Naturally," agreed Nott dryly. "So, what d'you have to tell me?"

"Nothing of any particular interest," Pettigrew answered.

"Are you daft?" asked Nott incredulously. He gestured broadly at Hogwarts and went on, Potter's back, there must be something to report."

"He's been back less than a day!" snapped Pettigrew. "The only thing he's done other than attend his regular classes is go to Potions."

Harry frowned, wondering if the little rat had been following him during the day. Still, his brief venture back into the Potions classroom had been something that started the rest of the school talking. Perhaps Pettigrew had overheard the gossip during dinner.

Nott blinked and repeated, "Potions?"

Pettigrew bobbed his head impatiently and explained, "Snape was still under suspension. Since Dumbledore was teaching instead, he went down to see what it was like."

"Did they say anything to each other?"

"I may not show up on Potter's enchanted map anymore, but I don't think I'd be able to hide in the same room as the headmaster," Pettigrew told him.

"So that's all you can tell me?" asked Nott, sounding disappointed. "He attended Potions with Dumbledore."

"Well," Pettigrew hummed and hawed, "he did seem pleased to see Granger."

"The mudblood bitch?"

Hearing the man describe Hermione like that, Harry seriously considered drawing out Fred and George's plasma rifle, which he still had not had a chance to test fire, and use it to teach both Death Eaters to pay the appropriate respect for a witch that was several times smarter than both of them combined.

Pettigrew dithered for a moment and said, "He is fond of her."

"We already knew that," replied Nott blandly.

"I'm confirming it."

"Lucius will be pleased, at least."

"Ah, yes," Pettigrew said mockingly. "His plan to 'break' Potter."

"You disapprove?" asked the Death Eater.

Pettigrew waved a hand and dismissed the idea. "No, I just think that the only thing he'll succeed in doing is pissing Harry off."

Harry silently agreed with Wormtail's assessment. If Lucius, or anyone else for that matter, so much as tried to lay a finger on Hermione, he was going to make sure they didn't live to regret it.

"I'll be sure to pass that along," observed the Death Eater. He glanced at his wristwatch, clearly not wanting to spend more time in the open that he had to. "Anything else?"

"The first Quidditch match of the season is this weekend," Pettigrew announced. "Potter will be playing as Gryffindor's Seeker."

"We already knew that as well."

"Potter's been missing for two weeks, since before I got here," insisted Pettigrew angrily. "Since he only just got back, we didn't know that."

"Whatever," Nott dismissed with a languid wave of his hand. He glanced at Voldemort's spy with open contempt and asked, "If that's all?"

Pettigrew visibly grit his teeth and nodded, "Yes."

Nott sniffed and said, "Our Lord will most likely be disappointed with such poor results."

"I'll have more to report next time."

"You'd better."

Realizing that this rendezvous was more or less over, Harry retreated as silently as he could. Neither of the two Death Eaters seemed to hear him as he cautiously backed away and then made his way back to the boathouse.

Reaching the boathouse, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak and ordered, "Keep that drone on him. I want it following his every movement."

Father concurred and confirmed the action, assigning the drone to trail after Pettigrew wherever he might go.

"Make sure you find out where he's holed up, just in case you lose track of him," said Harry as he folded the cloak up. "His animagus form is small enough that the drone might not be able to follow him into every nook and cranny."

Again Father agreed, this time asking something in return.

Harry nodded his confirmation. "Yes, record all his meetings. We'll need to know what information he's passing along to his contact." He glanced at his wristwatch and noted the time. He had been gone nearly twenty minutes.

"Now, let's not keep the others waiting any longer."

-oOo-

Hermione was waiting anxiously, and very impatiently, for Harry's return. She and the others had, after apologising to Seamus, returned to the common room after Harry had run off again. Checking the Marauder's Map, which they had foolishly left out in the open, they had watched Harry's progress from the boathouse until he had passed out of range.

Now they waited for his return, their chairs arranged around the table so that they could all see the portrait hole. It was unlikely that Harry would use that to re-enter the tower, but this angle also afforded them a view of the stairs leading down from the boys' dormitories.

"What's taking him so long?"

"Relax," said Ginny, "he's been gone less than half an hour."

"Seems longer," she muttered quietly.

"Felt longer too."

The so-called Ministry Crew, who the other students considered to be almost stupidly fearless, were startled out of their wits as Harry's voice sounded unexpectedly behind them.

Hermione twisted in her chair, almost toppling it over, and exclaimed, "Harry!"

"Gods," breathed Ron, a hand clutched to his chest, "are you trying to give us all heart attacks!"

"No, not really."

Jumping out of her chair, Hermione took three long strides in his direction and grabbed Harry into a fierce hug. It was much like how he had taken to greeting her after having disappeared over the summer.

Harry gently returned her embrace. "You okay, Nee?"

"Now that you're back," Hermione said.

Reluctantly breaking the hug, he was very comfortable, Hermione took his hand and lead Harry to his seat at the table, settling down in her chair next to him.

"So, what happened?" asked Ginny. "Why'd you run off like that?"

Harry glanced around the common room to see if anyone might overhear. Reassured that nobody seemed to be paying them any more attention than usual, he leaned forward and began to talk in a hushed whisper.

"Like I was saying, the timetable has moved forward," he told them. He made one final visual sweep to confirm that nobody was listening and quietly announced, "Pettigrew's already in the castle."

"HE'S WHAT?!"

Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Neville all jumped forward and clamped a hand over Ron's mouth. Unfortunately everyone else in the common room had already been alerted by the bellow and were watching with interest. The fact that four of the famed Ministry Crew were leaning over the table and covering Ron's mouth with their hands, only added to their curiosity.

Neville looked about and sheepishly apologised, "Um... sorry for disturbing everyone."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout this," agreed Ginny, "it's Ron... he's..."

"Having flashbacks to last year--" supplied Hermione quickly.

"The fight at the Ministry," elaborated Neville.

"--so please, just ignore him."

"Hmph, ngmb mmh mmphf! Grmpf!" protested Ron. He tried to pull away from the four hands that were smothering his face, but found that Ginny and Neville had also grabbed hold of his arms with their free hands.

The other Gryffindors continued to stare at the spectacle with unabashed curiosity.

"All right, show's over," said Harry with the same authority he usually reserved for during DA meetings. "Everyone go back to your own business, there's nothing to see here."

"Mmgbr mmh phrnt!"

When nobody moved, Harry's eyes narrowed and his voice filled with an arctic chill. He spoke softly, but somehow projected his voice so everyone could hear him. "Now."

If it weren't for the awkward position they were in, Hermione and the others might have found it amusing when everyone turned back to whatever they had been doing. They even made a show of deliberately talking a bit louder than normal in an attempt to look as if they were minding their own business.

"Ron," said Harry, turning his cool green stare to the suddenly quiet redhead, "if you don't keep it down, we're going to have to use another Silencing Charm."

"Mhnph wmpt," Ron mumbled softly.

"Good."

The four released their grips over Ron's mouth, Neville first, then Hermione, then Harry and lastly Ginny (who had been closest to her brother and thus able to get to him first).

Ron sputtered for a second and then protested, "Gah, don't do that again!"

"You're not the one with drool on his hands," observed Neville, rubbing his hand clean on his trousers. Of course, since he had been the last to clamp his hand down, he had not actually come into contact with Ron's mouth, so drying his hand was entirely for show.

"Can we continue with what Harry was telling us, please?" asked Hermione.

"As I was saying," he glanced around again and then whispered, "Pettigrew's in the castle."

"I thought you said he wouldn't be arriving until Christmas," said Ginny with a puzzled frown.

Harry shrugged, "Things are progressing faster than they did originally."

Ron was also frowning and asked, "But why?"

"I've changed things."

"You haven't done that much!" Ron protested loudly.

"Keep your voice down, you twit!" snapped Ginny, leaning forward to slap the back of Ron's head, almost knocking his face into the tabletop.

Harry ignored the short argument and elaborated on just how much impact his actions since the start of term had affected future events. "I was a right idiot and Gated directly into the Great Hall during the Sorting, which let practically the entire planet into the fact that Father exists."

Neville nodded in agreement and said, "V-v-vol-d-dermort must have heard about it from the Slytherin students."

"You really let the kneazle out of the bag, Harry," agreed Ginny.

"There's a lot of other things as well," he admitted with a sigh. "Dropping Potions and the other subjects. Tossing Snape around. Threatening Malfoy. Not to mention forcing Dumbledore to remove Fudge, which prompted Voldemort to have him assassinated. I've set too many things into motion."

"But you have all those future memories," insisted Ron. He looked anxiously from Harry to the others and back, asking, "Won't those let you know what's happening?"

"Of course they won't," Harry answered. "Everything I've done since the start of summer has changed the future."

"But wouldn't your memories change with it?"

"They haven't."

Seeing that Ron was obviously confused, Hermione decided to step in and explain. She was the only one present, aside from Harry, who had any experience with time travel. "That's because Father exists outside causality."

Ron looked at her blankly and asked, "Huh?"

This reaction was repeated by Ginny and Neville, who also had no idea what she had just said.

"Once Father came back in time, it became a separate entity," she explained patiently, long since used to having to repeat herself like this. "Nothing that happens in or to the future will have any effect on it."

"Sort of like one of those chicken and egg paradoxes," added Harry.

"Not really, but I guess you get the idea." Hermione shook her head, not really agreeing with that description, but accepted for the time being. Trying to elaborate any further would only confuse the others.

"Yeah, I think I do," nodded Ron.

"Of course you do." Hermione grinned impishly and teased, "After all, I made it simple enough that even you wouldn't have any trouble following."

"WHAT?!"

Once again Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Neville jumped forward and clamped their hands over Ron's mouth. This time it was Harry that reached him first, followed by Ginny, then Neville and Hermione last.

Neville groaned and muttered, "Not again."

"Ron, you prat - don't yell like that," snapped Ginny.

"Hmmf phrwy," Ron mumbled, looking both downcast at his slip and outraged at the treatment he was receiving at the hands of his friends.

The sudden silence that filled the common room lead the five of them to glance around and see that, once again, everyone present was staring at them.

"I thought I told all of you to mind your own damned business?" said Harry sharply.

Everyone winced at the tone of his voice and returned their attention to whatever they had been doing before Ron's latest outburst had caught their attention.

After waiting a few moments to be sure that everyone was otherwise occupied, the Ministry Crew reluctantly released their hold on Ron's mouth.

"Sorry," he apologised, blushing red.

"Wormtail was meeting with a Death Eater down by the lake, at the border to the forest," Harry continued as if there had been no interruption.

"Reporting in," said Ginny.

"Exactly."

"Does he know anything?" asked Hermione, voicing the thought that was most likely on everyone's minds. As a rat, Pettigrew would be able to sneak about the castle with relative ease and have a good chance of overhearing conversations that were supposed to be private.

Harry shook his head and said, "I'd already left when he arrived. Today's the first day I've been here for him to spy on."

"We'll have to be careful not to let anything slip when he's around," cautioned Neville.

"That's easy," said Ron dismissively. He tapped a finger on the Marauder's Map, which lay open on the tabletop. "All we have to do is check the Map."

"He doesn't show up on it anymore."

"What?"

"How?"

"I never found out the details," Harry revealed, "but he did have a hand in making it, however little. Apparently he knows enough, with Voldemort's help, to keep his magical signature from being show."

"Shit," summed up Ron. "Then how will we know where he is?"

Harry smiled with satisfaction and said, "Father has a drone trailing him."

Hermione looked at him curiously, wondering why he was so relaxed about this. After all the trouble Wormtail had caused over the years, not including the betrayal of his parents, she would have thought that Harry would go after the animagus with wand and guns blazing.

"Why didn't you try to catch him?" she asked.

"There's no point," he shrugged.

"NO POINT?!"

Everyone was about to clamp their hands over Ron's mouth for the third time that evening, but Ginny reacted faster. Apparently she had been expecting this and had her wand at the ready.

"Silencio!"

"..."

The group stared at Ron, who, once he realised what had just happened, started ranting silently. Ginny sat back in her seat and blew on her wand like a Muggle gunslinger.

"I think I agree with Luna," she observed, "I like him better this way."

Ron stopped ranted and glared at Ginny, somehow managing to pull off a passable imitation of Molly Weasley's ferocious sabre tooth tiger expression.

"I didn't try to catch Wormtail," explained Harry once he and the others settled back in their chairs, "because Sirius is dead and clearing his name can wait indefinitely."

"You really mean that?" asked Ginny, ignoring the occasional dark look sent her way by Ron, who was now scribbling determinedly on a large piece of parchment.

"There's more important things to worry about now."

Hermione looked sadly at him and breathed, "Oh, Harry..."

"It's all right, Nee," he assured him, letting her know that he was all right. Then he smiled wickedly and said, "Besides, this is a perfect opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?" asked Neville.

"Spreading disinformation," he answered.

"You're going to feed him false information," reasoned Hermione.

"Exactly."

"How very Slytherin of you, Harry," observed Ginny. She was almost knocked out of her seat by Ron, who shoved the parchment he had been writing on under her nose and waved it about. "Hey!"

Ron backed away and held up his makeshift sign for her and the others to read. Written in large, bold and somewhat messy text, was the demand, "SILENCING CHARM! OFF! NOW!"

A loud, long yawn from Neville diverted attention away from Ron's sign. "It's nearly midnight and we have classes tomorrow," he said, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head as he yawned again. "I'm done with my Charms assignment, so I'll be turning in."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Ginny, stifling a small yawn of her own.

"Good idea," admitted Harry. "I've had a long day, so I'm going to bed and I'll hex anyone that wakes me up before noon."

"Noon?" repeated Neville with surprise. "But what about classes?"

"It's Thursday tomorrow," he explained with some satisfaction. "After all the subjects I dropped, I don't have any classes until after lunch."

"Lucky bastard," Ginny groused lightly.

"We could always swap, if you want," Harry offered with fake sincerity. "You can take my dark lord and I'll take your subject load."

Ginny laughed and shook her head. "No thanks, I think I'll pass."

They rose to their feet, Harry collecting and closing the Marauder's Map in the process, and made their way towards the stairs leading up to their rooms. Ron was the only one that remained at the table, too busy scribbling together another sign on another piece of parchment.

Neville bade the girls goodnight and began climbing the boys stairs, this time at a more sedate pace than earlier. Ginny likewise said goodnight and trudged up the other staircase, leaving Harry and Hermione standing together in the common room.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Nee?"

"Did you think things would turn out this way?"

"No... but I don't think there's much reason to complain just yet," Harry confessed after thinking about it for a moment. He glanced at her and asked, "You?"

"Guess not."

Harry leaned close and gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek. "See you at lunch tomorrow, Nee."

As Harry followed after Neville, Hermione called after him, reaching up with one hand to touch where he had just kissed her. "Sleep well, Harry."

"Like a log," he called back as his feet disappeared from view.

Hermione waited for several beats, staring at where he had been standing. She turned around, planning to head up to her own dormitory, and found Ron waiting for her, his latest sign ready.

"WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE TAKE THIS SPELL OFF?"

TBC...

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• Coming Back Home A Disquieting Reunion Return to Hogwarts Disembarking An Overdue Hello Opening Statements Nonessentials Future's History Mixed Reactions Introductory Classes Business as Usual Growing Complications Return Encounters Brewing Storm Knife's Edge In Battle's Wake Reactions to Action A Day in the Life
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