Harry Potter and the Battle of the Age

Chapter One

Danger at Number Four?

"Wait, Dudley--go back for a second!"

"No way, Scarface--Wheel of Paradise is on and Marissa's in a bikini!"

"Dudley!"

Harry Potter glared at his cousin with contempt. He had just heard something on the news station he may've been waiting for for two years, and he wasn't about to miss it because of the vapid co-host of some idiot game show.

"Give me the remote, or I'll--I'll use you-know-what!"

Any worries Harry might've had about the threat being used to often to have any potency were quickly vaporized. Dudley's square face went pallid and his eyes widened.

"Y-you can't... you were expelled that one time..."

"You idiot, I went back. Twice. They didn't expel me."

"B-but..."

Harry was sick of his cousin's whimpering. He snatched the remote out of his hand and switched the channel without waiting for him to give in. A suited woman with a lot of eye makeup appeared on the screen.

"... the strange mark was seen hovering above a small farmhouse last night, and when police arrived, they found all three members of the family dead in their bedrooms."

The newswoman shuddered slightly, then looked up into the camera.

"The killing fits the mould of the infrequent and seemingly indiscriminate slayings last year. There are no marks on any of the bodies and the police have no suspects so far."

"Big deal," Dudley said, taking back the remote as the anchor began another story on a gangfight in northern Essex. "There've been lots of stories like those."

"When?" Harry asked urgently. "What do you mean, 'a lot'?"

"When you were away," Dudley snapped. "At--at St. Brutus'."

Harry rolled his eyes, then pressed on.

"Were they all like that?"

"Yeah!" Dudley said, annoyed. "That big floating thing, and everyone all dead. They say it's a maniac."

"How many? How many attacks were there?"

"I dunno--seven?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. It was happening.

"Wait," Dudley said, catching his expression. "Is it--is it you-know-what?"

Harry ignored the suddenly fearful Dudley and got up off the couch. The tinny theme music to the game show grew fainter as he pounded up the stairs and went into his room. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, feeling slightly sick.

Seven attacks... not hardly as bad as when he was at the height of previous reign, but still... it was really happening. He was in full power. It would have to happen soon.... Harry decided not to think about that right now. There was no use. Besides, he had known full well for almost a year that he was back... things had already started happening before all this Muggle terrorizing.

The sour feeling in his stomach Harry now contributed, at least in part, to his Aunt Petunia's supper--Cabbage Surprise. He pulled open his desk drawer and took out a few crumpled bills. He had taken to walking old Mr. Lochley's dogs in the evenings for a little money. The elderly Muggle lived on the other side of the neighbourhood and didn't mind Harry's criminalized 'delinquent' appearance so much. After they had nodded to each other a few times when Harry was out wandering around in the evenings, the old man asked if he could use a couple pounds whenever the his hip got too stiff to walk the terriers. Harry had accepted and could now afford to stash some half-decent food in his room.

But tonight he felt restless, and decided to walk down to the edge of the zone and get a hamburger from one of the greasy little brightly lit restaurants in the dingy part of the neighbourhood. He walked out the front door with a casual "I'm goin' out," to Dudley. He didn't really care what his aunt and uncle would say.

Out in the still, thick summer dusk, Harry's mind strayed back to the emerald, glittering skull he had seen far too many times. Voldemort was now attacking Muggles, and apparently for 'fun'... Harry hadn't been old enough to feel what it was like the first time he was in power, and wasn't particularly keen to experience it now, although he knew it was inevitable. Was there going to be terror in the streets, Muggles asking funny questions, distrust among neighbours...? He had heard all about it but he didn't believe it was going to be his reality. He sighed. And he would be battling him... that prophecy... well, he had fought him before. But he almost wished he could just get it over with.

By now the houses were starting to get less trim and well-painted, and the road bumpier and dirtier. Harry saw a small clustering of begrimed stores: a petrol station where old Mrs. Figg walked to get her cat food, a car service store with a permanent old greenish cruiser in front, and the grotty hamburger place. He went in and got his food, then sat outside on the curb to eat it; the twilight air felt better, if not as clean, out here than in the Dursleys' house.

As he finished and started on his way home, a sense of unease passed over Harry. He figured it was walking in the dark. But as he passed the alleyway where dementors had attacked him and his cousin, he couldn't help looking down it in an unusually paranoid manner. Hedges became nameless black shapes that made him hurry past. A bird or bat flashed under a streetlamp and made him jump. Harry shook himself. What was his problem? He became veritably nocturnal during the summertime. Why was he so skittish? It must've been the report, he supposed, even though things like that had never made him jumpy before, not at his aunt and uncle's, anyway. And there was nothing unusual about this--

Harry stopped short. The Dursleys' house looked--odd. The curtains were all shut, even though it was barely dark and most of the other houses had their curtains, if not their windows, wide open. There was no light behind them, either. Even the porch lamp was off. Harry's skin prickled. He didn't know what was going on. There was no way this could be Death Eaters, could it? He was safe "as long as he was in his relations' care"--Dumbledore had said that. But then why was the house so desolate-looking? The Dursleys weren't the type to play pranks, for example, and they wouldn't have left for anywhere they expected to be at for so long they would close up the house with so little warning... how could they have even packed fast enough? Harry slipped around the side wall and looked up. The upstairs back rooms were lit, except for Dudley's. His curtain was drawn, too, and dark. Now decidedly nervous, Harry crept to the back door and opened it slowly, so it wouldn't creak. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand. He stepped carefully into the darkened house and didn't shut the door so it wouldn't make a sound. Stepping noiselessly in his old trainers, he stole to the edge of the open entryway connecting the kitchen and living room and pressed himself against the wall, listening hard. He heard Uncle Vernon, who sounded scared.

"We told you, the boy isn't here. I'm warning you, if I must, I'll--I'll defend my family!"

Another, very deep voice laughed.

"Against what, Muggle? We don't care about you. We just want Harry."

"For God's sake, you can have him! He isn't here!"

"Vernon--" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice sounded even worse when she was scared. She must have shaken her head or something, because Uncle Vernon boomed,

"Well, we're not putting Dudley in danger for him! I know you have this obsession with keeping him safe; and I can understand duty and all, but I'm not risking any of you for that--that freak!"

"We're not going to hurt anyone, sir. And we're sorry we frightened you. We just want to take Harry to--to where he goes in the summer."

That last voice sounded familiar... was that--

"Harry?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Reflexively, he put his back to the wall and raised his wand. Tonks looked at him quizzically from the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh--it's you... what?"

Harry was extremely confused. The sounds of bodies rising came from the living room, and Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye Moody stood in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Hey, Potter," Moody said as if this was a normal evening get-together between friends. "What the hell were you thinking wandering around at night?"

"Um--I don't..." Harry looked at the wizards in the Dursleys' living room. There were more rising from the couch behind Moody and a few hanging around near the fireplace. "... what's going on?" He changed track, no time for formalities.

"We're rescuing you again," Tonks replied. "Want to come pack so we can get you out of here?"

"Oh... erm... okay..."

Harry tried with difficulty to shift from his mind from its tense, red-alert mode to packing. Moody nodded him on and said "Explain to him, please," to Tonks. Lupin turned to Aunt Petunia and said kindly, "There, now, we'll be out of your hair in a bit, and then you'll have the summer rid of us and Harry..."

She looked relieved.

Up in Harry's room, Tonks, whose hair was short and spiky but vivid green this time, filled Harry in on what had happened that evening.

"We meant to send you a letter, with a copy to give to your family, but the only owl we had--the only one--was Errol. Well, or Pig, but his wings could barely hold him in the air as he had just finished a long trip. Like, fifteen miles... anyway, we thought this might happen; us just showing up unannounced one night, but there was really nothing else to do. We didn't want to give your poor aunt a heart attack with one of our heads in the fire.... And we had decided this was much too important of a mission to have to hide it from a bunch of Muggles just because they were paranoid. So we were planning to--do you want to pack this shirt?--show up in the early evening like civilized people--really? -and come and collect you, but the letter never got to you, so... y'know."

Harry nodded, piling some clothes onto the bed.

"And as we couldn't well all show up in a horde at your front door, Lupin came first and tried to explain that everyone else was going to Apparate inside the house, but they wouldn't calm down long enough for him to explain it properly, so that startled them a bit... the big one with the muscles ran screaming up the stairs," she added, laughing. "It was their idea to shut all the windows," she finished. "Something about the neighbours... got everything?"

Harry nodded again.

"Watch this," Tonks said. She gave her sleeves a tug and, screwing up her face hard, said "Pack!" to the folded pile on Harry's covers.

A tornado of clothing promptly exploded from the bed, but more than half of it landed in Harry's open trunk.

"That was good!" he said, stuffing the last of it in nicely unfolded and slamming the lid.

Once they were downstairs with Harry's trunk, broomstick, and owl, Hedwig, in her cage, the Dursleys had calmed down slightly; or, at least, were waiting in a more petrified

manner.

"I tell you, boy... if this wasn't the last time we would have to put up with this, you'd be wishing you lived with that murderous freak godfather of yours..." Uncle Vernon spat at him through purpled lips. Harry felt himself tense and opened his mouth angrily, but Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and said quickly,

"Lets just leave, all right? We'll be out of here in a moment and everybody will be happy..." He nodded to Harry. "We've got them hooked to the Floo Network for the night again. Elliot Gallagher's been a real help. Everyone's waiting for us... ready?"

Harry nodded back and glanced around the Dursleys' scrubbed-stiff living room. It would be the last time he ever had to call this place home.... With a sudden lightness of heart he stepped into the bright green fireplace, ignoring Aunt Petunia's scream, and whirled off to Grimmauld Place.

Harry stumbled out of the fire into a new living room; one which could hardly be called spotless, but was, admittedly, much tidier than it used to be.

"Harry!" cried the bushy shock of hair that temporarily obstructed his vision. "We're so glad you're back; we started to get quite worried for a while but Moody stuck his head in to say you were delayed but it was probably all fine, but they weren't entirely sure it was, but we figured that was Moody being paranoid again but we weren't sure, but I guess it was alright... who was that screaming, by the way?"

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, grinning. "That was my aunt, or maybe my cousin... you missed me?"

"Three weeks is much too long to be without someone to blame for all the trouble."

Ron's voice came from the back of the room and Harry smiled again. It was surprising how much he could miss people when he hadn't seen them, or anyone who didn't duck behind the sofa as soon as he walked into a room, for almost a month. Moving aside to make room for Lupin and Tonks, who came whizzing out the fireplace soon after him, Harry glanced around the dim old room. He was waiting to see if a rush of feelings would overwhelm him, but, although he was a bit depressed to be in Sirius' old home, he was glad to find that he could function normally, at least for he moment. As the last members of the group from number four, Privet Drive arrived through the fireplace, Harry looked at his friends once more and said,

"Is, ah--everyone--here?"

But before he had even finished his sentence he saw what he had been looking for. From the peeling doorway leading to the kitchen and official meeting room, a girl who had kept Harry's mind busy for quite a lot of the dead time he spent sitting around number four appeared. A beam somewhat different from the last two grew on Harry's face. Rachel smiled back a bit shyly. Harry began to say something and started to walk to her, but stopped cold.

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows behind Rachel with a vicious look on his sallow face.

"Ran off again, Potter?" he murmured evilly. "Better lock the doors so he doesn't get one of these killed.... It would be typical of him, wouldn't it?"

Rachel closed her eyes and Harry bristled. Lupin, naturally, intervened.

"I think we've got him pretty well contained, Severus, thanks," he said lightly. "You're free to go, by the way... thanks for the maps."

"Maybe I should stay and explain the markings..." Harry noticed his eyes stray from him to Rachel.

"Oh, we've got the code, don't worry," Lupin said a little more firmly. "You did more than enough by bringing them personally, really."

Snape glared at him for a moment before moving.

"Very well," he whispered. Before he left he turned to Rachel and said, "You ought to be alone in your room resting; I told you you're still not very strong. Madam Pomfrey isn't the best potion-brewer."

And he stepped into the fire and was off to Hogwarts.

"I thought he made all the potions in the hospital wing..." Hermione muttered, but Harry turned immediately to Rachel and said, "You're still hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said. "No matter what potions I take I'll be weak for a while, and he knows that perfectly well."

Harry suddenly noticed her hair was still very light, reminiscent of Neville Longbottom's mother's, and she looked pale. But before he could say anything, Tonks heaved his trunk at him, saying,

"All right, Potter, this is heavy."

Ron helped him carry it upstairs and they talked for a while as he settled in. When Rachel turned the topic to Quidditch Harry figured she was all right. In the middle of a debate between the teamwork of the Kestrels' Chasers and the Cannons', Harry realized something.

"Say," he said. "Speaking of Chasers, where's Ginny?"

He jumped as both girls in the room let out a small yelp of excitement and Rachel said, "Oh, we forgot to tell you--she's at Neville's again! Mrs. Weasley dropped her off today, and oh yeah, she's sorry she couldn't be here to welcome you back but she's made you a mincemeat pie because she doesn't like the way she hears your aunt cooks..."

Catching Ron's less-than-thrilled look, Hermione began sniping at him about support and how nice Neville was, and Rachel nestled a bit closer to Harry and gave him a 'here-we-go-again' look. Harry laughed. Voldemort suddenly felt very far away.

Chapter Two

Apparation Tests

The next morning Harry awoke to the very familiar sound of frying bacon and knew immediately that Mrs. Weasley was home. When he went downstairs to say hello, he found her in the kitchen with Rachel and Hermione, all talking in a rather chatty manner.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "How's Ginny?"

Both girls froze and looked at Harry. Rachel shook her head. But Mrs. Weasley just sniffed a bit and said, "Fine, fine... and all grown up now..." before quickly turning around to beat eggs. Rachel glared at him, but mildly.

"We just got her off of that," she whispered. "Oh well.... Gosh, I really don't want to see her in a few years when she has an empty nest..."

Harry winced.

"Sorry."

But Mrs. Weasley cheered up significantly when the breakfast table crowded with people, especially when Fred and George showed up from their flat above their shop in Diagon Alley. After greeting Harry with a customary prank (a hand buzzer that spat Gobstone liquid at him), they settled in quite easily and levitated bacon to their side of the table.

"How's business?" Rachel asked.

"Booming," Fred replied. "But that's not all the shop is doing for us."

"Yeah," George said with a mouthful of toast. "You should see the attention we get for the Order. And we're in the middle of Diagon Alley, well, one end of it, but it doesn't matter... we can send money, increase awareness, even hold meetings if we have to. All the--"

"That's enough," Mrs. Weasley said. "No Order talk at the table."

And she walked off with pursed lips. Fred shook his head and returned to his plate.

"Always been paranoid, her," he said. "We're careful. We'll be fine."

"Well, you can hardly blame her, can you?" Hermione said. "Your entire family is in the Order, or connected to it. I'd be worried, too..."

Fred and Ron both looked up at her but said nothing. George muttered, "Yeah, I suppose."

Rachel glanced up and seemed to cast around for some new topic. But she was saved the trouble when a large barn owl swooped in a window Mrs. Weasley had opened for that purpose and dropped a bundle of letters straight into the marmalade.

"Nice aim," Ron said, but the owl hooted in a dignified manner and soared away. Ron picked up the letters.

"They're from the Ministry," he said. "For Rachel... Harry... Hermione... and me..."

He tossed them their letters. Fred said, "They've caught you all, then; we'll have to post bail...." and Mrs. Weasley came back into the room.

"What are those, Ron?"

Harry opened his own to find out. A stiff piece of parchment fell out. He read the short letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Your presence is requested at the Ministry of Magic Apparation Test Centre on the 5^th of July by 9:00 AM to undergo your standard Apparation Test. Please go to the Visitor's Entrance and descend to Level Six, where a Ministry official will assist you. If you do not know where the Visitor's Entrance is or how to enter, please send an owl addressed to the Apparation Testing Committee.

Yours sincerely,

Valora Jenkins

Head Tester

"Apparation Tests?" Ron said nervously. "I forgot..."

"Wow, they only told us a few days before the test?" Hermione said. "I hope we'll do okay." She sounded nervous.

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Most people can do it without hardly trying a few days after the test. You get used to it quickly."

"Harry and I aren't even seventeen yet, though..."

Harry realized she was right.

"Well, you'll turn seventeen this year, so you're grouped with this test. That's how it was with Bill; I remember," Fred said. "But don't worry; it's easy."

"Yeah," George said. "Piece of cake."

"As long as you don't cleave yourself in two and leave your head all alone at the Ministry," Fred added.

Ron paled slightly but Mrs. Weasley slapped her son upside the head.

"Oh, they put a spell on the test centre so you won't splinch yourself. Nothing to worry about."

***

Rachel's brothers Ian and Chris came to drop off some Order business later that day and Rachel wanted to visit with them for a while, so Harry went up to one of the master bedrooms with Ron and Hermione, where they talked about the tests while tossing rats to the resident hippogriff, Buckbeak.

"Did Fred or George tell you about the Apparation Tests after they took them?" Harry asked Ron.

"No," Ron said. "I mean, they winced and limped around the house, moaning, but I don't think that really has much to do with anything.

"Probably not."

"I've read about them, but nothing has really told me much about the tests themselves, just what happens if you pass or fail," Hermione added. She was knitting as she spoke, sitting in the window seat, but had to jump out of the way when Buckbeak snapped at the dangling wool.

"Maybe it still smells like sheep," Ron said.

"I don't think hippogriffs eat sheep, Ron..." Hermione replied absentmindedly.

"What do you mean; they eat whatever they can catch."

"No they don't; that's trolls...hippogriffs like smaller animals."

"Hippogriffs eat sheep."

"They do not."

Unable to quite believe the things Ron and Hermione found to fight about, Harry went wandering around the house for a bit and paused in front of a rotting tapestry on the first floor. He traced the gold thread winding around it with his eye, pausing on the names and burned-out holes he recognized. Suddenly he stood up very straight and started to walk away briskly. There was no reason to look at that. But then something caught his eye.

Harry walked into the drawing room. Rachel was talking with Chris, and Ian was tapping the glass of a firmly locked old cabinet. A small gilded box was slowly creeping toward him. Harry picked him up out of the way (the items in the cupboards were vengeful little creatures) and grabbed his neck playfully. The little boy giggled. Rachel turned around.

"Hey, Harry," she said. "What's up?"

"Come and see this," Harry said.

Rachel looked at him curiously, then excused herself and followed him back to the old tapestry. Harry pointed at a name.

"I just thought... you might like to see... I mean, since you've never..."

Rachel wordlessly traced a thin gold line from the name Eusibius Snape down fifteen generations, all the way to Nicholas Snape, and then, Severus.

"Was-- was Sirius Black related to my dad?"

"Well... they were, um..." Harry glanced over the tree. "Something like twelfth cousins. He told me pureblood families are all interrelated, since there are so few of them left."

"Really..." Something seemed to strike Rachel. "Then that means... yeah... look right there."

Harry followed her finger and saw a line of Rosiers, ending with the names Evan and Airelle.

"Looks like they were distantly related, too... only by marriage, thank God..."

Harry let her gaze at the hanging for a while, before Mrs. Weasley called them all

back into the kitchen for lunch, and to plan cleaning for that day.

"Are you coming, Chris?" Rachel asked.

"No," he said, suddenly looking distracted. "I think I-- I'll be off."

"Wha-- um... okay..." By the time Rachel replied, he was out the door. She frowned.

"That was weird..."

But she followed Tonks into the kitchen without a word. Harry looked after her and decided not to pursue it.

***

On the morning of the fifth, Harry woke to Ron's voice.

"C'mon, Harry, Mum says to get dressed for the test..."

Harry pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and went into the kitchen. Sitting at the table were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel. All of them were dressed in Muggle clothing, except Mrs. Weasley, who was in her dressing gown and yawning. Harry noticed out of the smudged window that it was still pink outside.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said jovially as he entered. "I haven't hardly seen you."

"Hey, Mr. Weasley," Harry said shaking his hand. "How's work been?"

"Oh, wonderful, really... Justinian's got so much more sense; it's very refreshing to be working under him..."

"Refreshing enough to get you up at this hour, eh?" Ron said croakily, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Why are we up so early?" Harry asked. "I thought the test wasn't until nine."

"It isn't, but you're coming to work with me; we'll take the Underground again." Mr. Weasley answered. "We didn't know how else to get you there, so you'll have a bit of a wait, I'm afraid. But Tonks gets off duty as soon as you're due to finish, so she'll take you back."

They finished eating rather quickly, and with a "Good luck!" from Mrs. Weasley, they all left the old house and walked through the pink light to the Underground station. After they tore Mr. Weasley away from the broken-down machinery under the curious sleepy stares of the other passengers, they boarded the car and sat down to wait. While Hermione explained some more about turnstiles, and Ron nodded off in his seat, Harry noticed Rachel was awfully quiet.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, sliding onto the ripped plastic cushion beside her.

"What? Oh... nothing," she said distractedly, and continued to stare morosely out of her window.

"Really--what is it?"

"Nothing, Harry!"

He took the hint and settled back in the seat. Soon their stop came, and they walked past the impressive office buildings, the slightly rundown office buildings, and finally the shabby pub and overfilled dumpster. Rachel looked around, confused.

"Get in here, now," Mr. Weasley said, herding them all into the graffitied phone booth and picking up the phone. Harry glanced around. The last time he was here, he had just fallen for the trick that would ultimately cost Sirius' life.... Harry became aware of Ron and Hermione's gaze and cleared his head. He wiped out his feelings and leaned against the side of the booth. Mr. Weasley dialled the numbers and the familiar cool voice said,

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Arthur Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, escorting Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Rachel Connor, and Harry Potter to their Apparation Tests."

He would have looked and sounded impressive if not for the fact that he was holding the listening end of the telephone to his mouth like a microphone.

The voice said, "Thank you. Visitors, please attach these badges to the fronts of your robes. You will be required to submit your wand to a routine test."

There was a rattling noise, and several small badges slid out from the coin return chute. Harry caught them and passed them out. As he was pinning his to his T-shirt, a grating noise told him they were descending. Rachel inhaled sharply. In the dark, Harry started to feel distinctly uneasy; he had no idea what to expect for the test. When they were in the light he was somewhat relieved to find that Ron, Hermione, and Rachel all looked the same. The golden grilles in front of the phone booth-turned-lift slid apart and the grand Atrium was revealed. Hermione was rather awed, as she had never gotten to see the place properly, and Rachel was dumbstruck. Harry could remember the first time he had seen the azure ceiling, gold fireplaces, strange symbols, and the (now repaired) Fountain of Magical Brethren. But he could quite honestly happily spend his life without ever looking at the place again, so he joined Ron, who had probably been here enough with his father that the awe had worn off, and got the security measures over with. There was a slight hitch with Rachel's wand because it was American-made, but that was sorted out quickly. After their wands had all been cleared Mr. Weasley said,

"And Eric, these four need a pass to go up to Level One... I need them to stay with me."

The guard looked at Harry and the others and then back at Mr. Weasley.

"Erm... only those with matters, uh... of supreme importance to the Ministry are supposed to go up there..."

"Well, I'm authorized to make the call, aren't I?"

Mr. Weasley's voice was still light but his gaze stayed firmly on Eric.

"Uh-- of course, Mr. Undersecretary."

"Oh, please, I'm still Arthur..."

The guard fixed them all with paper wristbands with markings along the sides, which he got out of a locked drawer under his desk. They were a bit like the ones Uncle Vernon had to get around his wrist whenever he wanted a pint at a restaurant. Then Mr. Weasley led them all back to the lift, where they joined a wizard with odd purple ear hair, who was carrying a stuffed bear that was humming slightly.

"Ah, Arthur!" he said. "Just the man I was looking for. This would go in the Misuse office, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, yes Fritz... may I have a look?"

As Fritz handed over the bear, which protested in a strong Scottish accent ('Whot? Whot? Oh, I say!'), Mr. Weasley looked up conversationally and winced.

"That Murtlap still getting to you, eh?"

"St. Mungo's says it could last another whole week," Fritz said glumly. "What's the diagnosis on Scotty here?"

"Oh, it could be one of several charms, probably nothing too serious..."

After they had let Fritz off, they were joined by a group of serious-looking goblins, who, judging by their badges, were headed toward the Goblin Liaison Office, and a flock of Interdepartmental memos. Mr. Weasley busily explained everything to Rachel and Hermione, who were fascinated, while Harry and Ron watched their fellow passengers. As they passed Mr. Weasley's old office on Level Two, they heard snatches of conversations--

"...yeah, a Muggle just last afternoon in Kent was asking questions about funny deaths at a police station; they're starting to notice quite a bit..."

"...thought he saw a chimera at his cousin's house, honestly; I hope he and Mad-Eye Moody never get together..."

"Death Eaters all over the place..."

"That little stunt got him sent to the Spirit Office..."

Then the cool woman's voice said, "Level One, Offices of the Minister of Magic in Britain, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, Conference and Briefing Rooms for Matters of Supreme Importance, etc. Please speak passcode and submit your wand."

Mr. Weasley muttered something into a small microphone Harry swore wasn't there before, and dropped his wand into another shallow tray like the one the security guard had downstairs. There was a hum and a slip of paper identified him as, indeed, Arthur Weasley.

"And I've got four guests with me..." Mr. Weasley said into the lift.

Harry and the others all had to put their wrist bearing the slips of paper to a small beam of light that shone from the front wall of the lift. There was another hum before the voice said each of their names, then the grilles opened again.

Harry remembered what the voice had said and wondered briefly if there were some secret rooms like in the Department of Mysteries, but Mr. Weasley spoke before he could ask. Harry, on second thought, would rather not bring up the Department of Mysteries anyway.

"Right through here," Mr. Weasley said. "You've got about forty-five minutes before your test should begin... you can wait out here."

Harry peered with interest out into the hallway. It was unlike the other levels with offices; it was more like the Atrium. A short corridor of dark wood and gilt led to great double doors which Mr. Weasley walked to comfortably. He pushed one open and allowed them to walk by him into a large room with a similar blue ceiling and gold markings. There were various doors leading to sizeable conference rooms, a gold fireplace like the ones in the Atrium, a guard who looked considerably more alert than the one downstairs, and another short hallway, which they followed Mr. Weasley down again. Around the corner were three large doors, the centre one marked The Minister of Magic in Britain. Mr. Weasley motioned to his office door, the one on the right, just as his third son Percy strode out of the one on the left.

"Morning... did you ever get that memo from the Office of International Magical Cooperation?"

"Good morning, Percy... yes, I got it. I'll talk to you about a draft of the bill today."

"Great, talk to you then..."

And he bustled off.

"Percy!" Mr. Weasley called.

Percy turned around.

"Yes... oh! Ron, Hermione, Harry... Rachel... good luck, now!"

He adjusted his glasses and nodded to them all, then hurried back toward his office. Mr. Weasley gave a small smile.

"Yes, that's Percy for you... now, I'm afraid there isn't much to do with yourselves up here, and you're not allowed to go... well... anywhere... so you'll have to stay in a waiting room until the test," he said apologetically. "This is, after all, the headquarters of pretty much the magical world... but I didn't want you to have to wander around the testing area before the assistants showed up. I'll show you where you can stay, then I must get to work..."

He led them down another short hall into a large room where people with business with the Minister had to wait and left them, with yet another "Good luck" and a promise to see them at dinner. The waiting room was spacey and dark wood like the rest of the floor, and there were plushy-looking blue covers on benches all around. Hermione picked up a magazine about debates within the magical community that promised "both sides of the raging goblin rights issue", but put it down almost immediately, opting for a nervous wringing of her hands instead. Harry tried to signal Ron to go and talk to her, but he was clueless, and looked rather ill with nerves himself. Ten minutes passed in silence. Harry was reminded of the night he first arrived at Hogwarts, and had no idea how he was going to be put onto a House. He was starting to imagine horrible things, just as he had then. How was he supposed to know how to Apparate? What if it just didn't come to him? What if it never came to him? Harry shook his head and concentrated on another magazine for a while, one on foreign issues this time, but men who whose livelihood was selling magic carpets and their plight after it was banned couldn't keep his interest. Even though it was fairly early in the morning, they were soon joined by a man in a turban talking to a translator and a few important-looking wizards in robes with a fancy W worked onto them. The latter both looked down their noses at Harry and the others, like they were out of place. Rachel's leg was shaking rather violently, but she didn't seem to notice. Finally, Hermione said,

"It's a quarter to nine... we'd better go."

Harry was glad to get out of the room; the Wizengamot wizards were starting to look downright offended that they were using the room as a personal waiting space. Harry tugged at his slightly wrinkled shirt as he passed them. They boarded the lift again and went down until they reached Level Six-- "Department of Magical Transport, including the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Centre."

A soon as the grilles opened, a bespectacled, aging wizard with a tired face said, "Apparation Tests?" in a automatic manner.

"Um... yes," Harry said.

"This way."

They followed the wizard down yet another hallway. Harry saw glass doors leading to different offices and a few witches and wizards behind desks looked up with slight interest. A man with a beard and cape smiled and nodded at them, and Harry recognized him as Elliot Gallagher. The wizard leading them abruptly stopped.

"In here."

They were guided into another room, this one large and blank. The walls were white and the thin carpet was grey. The floor was set in levels like an auditorium, with the steps leading to a round central area where a witch with thick, black-edged glasses and white hair in a bun on top of her head stood waiting. A few boys and girls their age were already there. Harry settled back against a wall, slightly irritated that there was more waiting. He wanted this to be over with.

But the old wizard and another witch were bringing nervous-looking testees in more frequently. Hermione waved to Luna Lovegood and Ron and Harry grinned nervously to Seamus Finnigan. In only a few minutes, the witch at the front cleared her throat and called for their attention, putting on a badge that proclaimed her Valora Jenkins, Senior Tester.

"First test group of the day... are you all ready?" She spoke in a rather crisp manner but smiled kindly. A pale boy next Harry who looked much younger than seventeen shook his head slightly.

"Apparation," Jenkins said, "is one of the most raw expressions of your magical ability. My first reaction when I was your age was-- 'this is it?'"

She paused in case anyone was going to laugh. Nobody did. She went on,

"The first circumstance we're going to test you in is Apparation from a short distance away to a place you can visualize. Now-- everyone get to the top step and close your eyes."

Harry's heart gave a small leap as he realized they were beginning already. Wait-- he didn't know how to Apparate yet!

"Relax, now-- this is no big deal. I want everyone to visualize the step in front of them. You know what it looks like; you were just there. See it clearly in your mind's eye. Once you have a very good picture of it, you can make yourself go there. Simply keep the image, imagine the feel of it beneath your feet, and visualize yourself being there. When you think you've got enough... push yourself. Channel all the magic you can toward propelling yourself to this location. If it doesn't work, visualize again. That's as much explanation as I can give... just try."

Harry thought she was mad. He didn't know how to channel anything.

"If you're Muggle-born, you may've had a time, just before you found out about your magical gifts, where you made things happen without realizing it. If you're wizard-raised, you might've been able to make mischief as a child by pulling things over or making them fly. In either case, this was a channelling of your magic. Will yourself to be there, want to be there, make yourself be there. Focus your energy on getting there. And visualize, visualize..."

She was encouraging them like a sports coach, and Harry could feel the strainings of the other test-takers as they tried to do as she said. He took another deep breath and tried again. He remembered the times he had made things move or shrink or explode, like she said, and willed himself to move. He tried to "channel" his magic; he sort of felt something in his chest and tried to push himself with it. All he managed to push was the air out of his lungs. He heard a pop-- somebody must have done it. Without thinking, Harry opened his eyes to see who it was.

When he looked to his right, he didn't see anybody. When he looked to his left, he didn't see anybody.

"Very good-- someone's done it! Good job, Mr.-- Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked behind him and saw the others on the row behind him, straining. Suddenly he heard another crack and a dark-haired girl across the room was on his level. The tester read her badge, too, and congratulated her. Then Harry heard something right in his ear-- Ron opened his eyes next to him and gave a whoop. Then Hermione was beside Ron and Rachel was smiling on Harry's other side.

"Very good-- focus, now, focus! Move yourself!"

Before long, everyone had moved down in the room. Harry was encouraged. This was easy. The tester called their attention back and said,

"That was good! Now we're going to try to move a little farther, but again to a place you have seen. Do you all remember the large fountain in the Atrium?"

A few murmured answers and nods reached her.

"Very well-- to get to the Atrium, do the same thing you just did here, but focus on the fountain. Propel yourself toward it. You may be helped by trying to push yourself upward, since we're below it. Focus, visualize, you're doing it..."

Even though Harry didn't quite know if he was doing it right, he tried to channel magic and willed himself to be at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He felt the same vague power in his chest and tried to boost himself up with it. When he heard another pop, he opened his eyes to the tinkling of water, the golden figures, and a few Apparating students. He looked around with a smile.

"Well done," said another wizard in Ministry robes, who seemed to be waiting for them, and smiled back.

"That was easy!" said Ron, suddenly beside him again. Hermione looked pleased and Rachel, panting slightly, gave a small laugh when she saw where she was. More students appeared by the second, and Harry moved closer to the fountain to avoid being trampled. It sounded like somebody was making a very large bag of popcorn.

"Very good, very good..." Jenkins said, appearing when they were all assembled. "You're getting the hang of this nicely. The next situation will be to Apparate to a person. Take a good look at me-- you will need to focus on me to pass this next portion. I am going to Disapparate to un unknown location and you will have to follow me. Just do what you've been doing, except instead of picking a thing in the room to focus on, just visualize me. Ready?"

And she Disapparated.

Harry closed his eyes again. He saw the tester and willed himself to be next to her. Nothing happened. So he took a bit of time to remember her appearance, her voice, anything he could remember, and tried to do the "channelling" bit again. He wouldn't have been able to describe what he was doing, but he figured he must be concentrating his magic. After a few tries, he found himself back in the testing room standing next to Ms. Jenkins.

"Good," she said. "You might want to move so nobody lands on top of you."

Harry was pleased to find he could Disapparate to the other side of the room without concentrating much. The pale boy Harry had seen nervous was the last one to appear, but he looked very happy that he could do it at all.

"Alright, now, settle down."

The tester's voice cut through the noise and the happy exclamations and congratulations died down.

"There is one last situation you need to test for. This is the Apparation to an unknown location. This will be the hardest test."

Rachel wiped her forehead and nodded a bit. Harry glanced at her curiously-- she looked worn out.

"I am going to give you the address of the final testing site. If you do not make it there, don't panic. If you're concentrating on the address hard enough to move but not hard enough to get there, you'll end up somewhere around the location. But we're keeping track of all of you with the badges and will be able to find you instantly, no matter where you end up. Don't worry about that."

She turned and tapped a chalkboard that appeared behind her with her wand. The address 181 Diagon Alley appeared in neat script.

"Since you have never been to this address, you won't have anything to focus on from a certain room. Instead, concentrate on the address. Visualizing it, perhaps on a building or street sign, may help you. Just will yourself to be in 181 Diagon Alley. I will be near but not on the premises, so Disapparating to me again will not do. This will also be the most distanced attempt. Good luck."

As soon as she was gone, Harry screwed his eyes up tightly and concentrated on 181 Diagon Alley. He saw the address, for some reason, on a faded wooden sign and concentrated on that. Then he willed himself to be pushed there by his own magic; he heard a pop but knew it was someone else. Something was building inside him; he needed to get to 181 Diagon Alley, 181 Diagon Alley, he was going to force himself there, 181 Diagon Alley... he felt it building; he just needed to control it, 181 Diagon Alley... come on, almost...

"Go!" he thought he muttered to himself, and heard a much nearer sound. When he opened his eyes he saw a cleared out room that seemed to have once been a shop. The old sign hanging outside the window proclaimed it to be, indeed, 181 Diagon Alley.

"Good job, Mr. Potter," said yet another Ministry-robed man. He was extremely old and tiny, but was standing quite straight. His name badge labelled him as Gildius Walsh, another Senior Tester.

"Thank you, sir..." Harry said, stunned and happy. Ron appeared a few seconds after him with his eyes still shut tight, and opened them slowly, as if he was afraid of where he might be. But when he realized what he had done, he pumped his fist into the air and hugged Hermione, who, Harry was sure, had been there for ages.

"Hey-- where's Rachel?" he asked suddenly.

"She's coming, I'm sure..." Hermione said.

But soon, everybody was gathered in the old shop except her.

"Oh, poor Rachel..." Hermione said.

"They'll let her take it again," Ron said. "Charlie had to take it twice..."

"Still..."

Valora Jenkins entered the store, which seemed to be in an abandoned part of Diagon Alley.

"Very good, all, very good," she said glancing at a clipboard. "Now, we seem to all be here... except for..."

Before she could finish, a crack as loud as the rest sounded and Rachel was standing next to Harry. He was about to congratulate her quietly when he noticed she was quite pale. As soon as he opened his mouth she swayed and fell onto the dusty floor. Both testers gave a startled cry of concern and hurried to her. Harry knelt with them.

"Miss Connor-- Miss Connor! Are you all right?"

"What happened?" Harry cried.

But Rachel was starting to stir and they ignored him. Harry didn't mind.

"Miss Connor--" the little old man helped her sit up. "Have you been in a hospital recently? Anything that's made you... weak, or ill?"

"Um-- well... well, yes..."

"When?"

"Uh... late May, part of June..."

"You're not in any condition to take this test!" Jenkins said, alarmed. "We usually get a list of people from St. Mungo's..."

"I was at Hogwarts... um, I had to stay in the Hospital Wing for a few weeks..."

Rachel's cheeks were turning very pink, contrasting vividly with the white of the rest of her skin. She blinked sweat out of her eyes and looked down.

"I'll get an emergency team from the hospital to check her out..." said Jenkins quietly.

"No!" Rachel said, standing up. "I'm fine, really-- I even passed the test! D-didn't I?"

Harry instinctively went to grab her arm, but held himself back. She seemed to be very adamant about standing on her own.

"Well... that's true..."

Walsh and Jenkins glanced at each other, then back to Rachel.

"Please, I'm fine, see... I don't need any help," she insisted.

"Well... I still won't have you Apparating back with the rest," Jenkins said decisively. "Are you with her?' she asked, addressing Harry.

"Yes," Harry said. "Uh, we all are," he added, motioning to Ron and Hermione behind him.

"Very well..."

She turned to address the rest of the throng.

"You all may Apparate back to the Atrium, where your parents will be waiting to collect you."

And she sent them off with a wave. People began to pop away sporadically.

"You four come with me, and we'll take Floo Powder back," she told Harry and the others.

"I did pass the test, didn't I?" Rachel asked desperately.

"Yes, you did," Jenkins replied. "But under no circumstances should even try to Disapparate for at least a few weeks... I'll get an order from St. Mungo's. And incidentally... is anything on your mind, dear, that may've hindered your concentration?"

"Um..." Rachel looked up at Harry almost as if asking for help. "Well, I-- just some ordinary stuff," she muttered.

"I see..." The tester said, patting her shoulder in a grandmotherly fashion. Rachel's ear twitched. Jenkins led the four of them out across the street and into another small shop, where she had been watching. In one corner was a large, merry, bright green fire. All of them passed through it and Jenkins got Rachel an official hospital order not to Apparate or Disapparate for three weeks. By the time Tonks got off the lift to bring them back to Grimmauld Place, Rachel was red and uncomfortable, Harry was worried about her but holding himself from talking about it, and Ron and Hermione were awkwardly silent, adding to Rachel's own unease.

"Hey, everyone," said the cheerful, black-haired Tonks. "How did it-- what's wrong?"

Rachel gave an impatient little sigh.

"I was just still... screwed up from last month," she said, holding up her order. "It was nothing."

"Oh... Tonks said sympathetically. "Did you... pass?

"Yeah," Rachel said. "I just fainted a little..."

"Well... should we, um... use Floo powder, then?"

"....Yeah."

When they tumbled out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them.

"Oh, they made you use Floo Powder to get home? Well... how was it?"

"Um... it was good, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "We all passed."

"Good..." Mrs. Weasley said, looking at each of their faces. "Than what's... oh, Rachel, what's wrong?"

Rachel groaned under her breath and turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"I just... had trouble concentrating, that's all. And I was still... I just can't Apparate for a while."

She turned and went up the stairs, laying the order on a table. Hermione said quietly to Mrs. Weasley,

"She was still a little weak from the Cruciatus Curses... she collapsed after she Apparated to the farthest test centre, and she was embarrassed, and then they made a fuss... and I think her mind's on something."

Harry left them to talk and followed Rachel. He knocked on the door of the room she shared with Hermione and got no answer. He hesitated, then opened it a crack.

"Rachel?" he said. "Do-- d'you want to talk about anything?"

"...I dunno..."

He entered the room and shut the door. Rachel was sitting in the window seat, just as he had seen her the first time they ever spoke. He sat down next to her.

"Raich, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, Harry, I just..."

She closed her eyes and tried to steady her voice, then words tumbled out of her mouth without control.

"Chris... Chris was saying he doesn't know what to do with Ian, because he's worried he doesn't know how to raise him right because 'he's a kid himself,' and he's saying he doesn't want to drop out of school, so... what was he going to do, put him up for adoption? We don't have any relatives, except some great-uncle somewhere who can't know we're alive... the whole damned family is splitting up, and in... in a few days it'll be a year since... since it all happened... since my parents died..."

"Rachel..." Harry said abruptly, touching her arm. "Don't-- don't think about things like that; it won't accomplish anything and you'll just feel worse..."

"I can't help it..."

"Just try, Rachel; I swear it's for the best." Harry said, rubbing her hand in both of his. She frowned.

"What-- you're saying the anniversary of your godfather's death you didn't think about him at all?"

"Well..." Harry said. He realized he sounded very callous. "I tried not to, too much... I mean--"

"We should just forget they ever existed?"

"No, I just mean... don't dwell on it. It can't do any good."

"I'm not..." Rachel stopped. "Alright... I-I won't dwell on it."

They both sat in silence for a while. Harry kept holding her hand and wondered if he was helping her at all.

"I hate this place," she said softly, staring vaguely into the room. Harry looked up. Rachel looked tired.

"I know," he replied, just as quietly.