Harry Potter and the Wizard's Apprentice

Chapter Three

Skeletons Revealed

Harry awoke the next morning feeling better than he had in over a year. It had been so long since he'd gone without a nightmare that he had quite forgotten what it was like. He stretched and crawled down from the top bunk, noticing that Ron and the twins were already awake and apparently in the other room. He got dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of old Muggle jeans and a tee-shirt. As he opened the door, scents of breakfast wafted down the hall. Reaching the kitchen, he found the Weasleys and Hermione already sitting at the table and eating.

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We would've waited, but we didn't know how long you'd sleep, and we didn't want to disturb you."

"No problem, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Everything looks great." He sat down at the end of the table between Ron and Mr. Weasley, scooping mounds of scrambled eggs onto his plate and grabbing several pieces of buttered toast.

"Good morning, Harry." Ginny smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks," he said between bites of toast, giving her a tiny smile in return.

"No kidding, you did. I'm surprised you didn't wake the rest of us with all that snoring," Ron said loudly. "Say, what do you think about having a go on our brooms after breakfast?"

"Are we allowed to fly here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, there's not another house for miles. We just have to be careful to stay close to ours."

Harry was elated. He was eager to see the coast closer in broad daylight, having only been down to the water after dark last night. Besides, what better way to take in the shore than flying above it on a broom? He hadn't been able to fly on his Firebolt since Umbridge took it from him last term. Wait... Umbridge-- oh no! He never got his broom back from where she had hidden it in the dungeons last year. He would have to wait until term started again before he could get his broom.

Mr. Weasley must have read the suddenly worried expression on Harry's face, and smiled at him. "Harry, Dumbledore sent your broom over to us before you even arrived. I'm sure he guessed you'd like to do a bit of flying. That man does think of everything."

~*~

After breakfast, the six Weasleys and Harry gathered their brooms and prepared to walk down to the beach.

"Hermione, what are you going to do while we're flying?" Ron asked, turning to her.

"She's going to use your old broom, Ron," Ginny replied, returning from the back of the house carrying a broom in each hand. "I had Mum bring it just in case."

"But don't you think that's a little dangerous? I mean, Hermione, you don't have much practise at flying, do you?"

"Ron, just because I don't play Quidditch doesn't mean I don't know how to fly a broom. We did have lessons first year, after all," Hermione said. Then, as an afterthought, "Thank you for your concern though."

"Er, right," Ron said, looking embarrassed.

"Awww, is ickle Ronniekins worried about his poor wittle Hermione getting hurt?" Fred said in a baby voice. Bill, Charlie, and George laughed loudly at this, causing Ron's face to turn as red as his hair.

"So, um, do you want to divide into teams or are we just flying around?" Harry asked hastily, before this went any further. Ron threw him a grateful look.

"Teams, definitely," said Bill. "Harry- you, Ginny, Ron, and George can be on one team. Hermione, Charlie, Fred, and I will be on the other."

And so they played all morning. They didn't dare let the Snitch out in such a large area devoid of the invisible barrier that usually surrounded the Quidditch pitch, so Harry played Chaser along with Ginny, Bill, and Hermione. Ron and Charlie were Keepers, and Fred and George were each team's Beater. They used the cottage for a reference as the length of their "pitch" since they had no goal to actually aim at. All the Chasers had to do was get the Quaffle past the Keeper's end of the house. Ginny showed herself to be quite a decent Chaser, and Harry thought she would have no trouble making the team in fall tryouts. Hermione wasn't so bad either, and actually managed to get the Quaffle past Ron once, much to his dismay. Ron did well though; he had gained the confidence that he needed from last year's match against Ravenclaw.

"Ron!" Fred exclaimed, after Ron stopped several of Bill's shots. "When did you get good?"

The view of the ocean was breathtaking. In all of his sixteen years, Harry would have never believed how vast it was. From up in the air on his broom, Harry could see nothing but the deep blue water for miles and miles. He loved the smell of salt in the air as it whipped his hair around, and the feel of the sun as it beat down upon his shoulders and back. It was hard to believe that something as evil as Voldemort could exist in a world that was so beautiful. As the game continued, Harry tried to push thoughts of Voldemort out of his head and focused on getting the Quaffle instead. They only stopped playing when Mrs. Weasley called them for lunch, the score practically tied. Harry's stomach growled loudly, and he hadn't realised until then how hungry he was. Once back in the house, they found Mrs. Weasley already setting the table.

"Where's Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, after looking around and not seeing him anywhere.

"He had to go to the office for a little while, Harry dear. It's been so busy there lately..." She sighed and her voice trailed off. "Now, don't worry yourself about that. Go on, sit down and eat. I expect you're starving after all that flying." She smiled warmly at him, but Harry thought it looked a little strained.

After a filling lunch of thick roast beef sandwiches and vegetables left over from the night before, they went back into their rooms to change into swimsuits before taking a dip in the ocean. Hermione and Ginny emerged from their room looking pretty in sundresses and announced that they were going to take a walk instead of swimming.

"Do you girls mind if I come? I do love a nice walk on the beach," Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Mum, don't be silly. Why should we mind?" Ginny said.

"Okay then, boys- be careful, and don't stray out of sight of the house," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "Oh, how I do wish Arthur was here..." she muttered to herself, following Hermione and Ginny out the door. Harry suspected she was walking with them more out of protection than for her love of walks. He followed Ron back down to the beach where the others were already splashing in the water.

"It's loads of fun once you get used to it," Ron explained, seeing Harry hesitate at the water's edge. "It's pretty shallow a good ways out, you don't have to know how to swim-- just let the water pick you up and set you down. See?" Harry watched as Charlie rose with the swell of a wave and was then left standing as it passed him by.

Harry walked cautiously a few feet in, and he was surprised at how warm the water was. "Ron? I thought the ocean was supposed to be cold."

Ron grinned lopsidedly at him, "Well, it is... normally. Bill and Charlie just warmed it up a bit. The charm will wear off pretty quickly, but by then you're so wet you don't even notice."

Harry followed Ron slowly out to where the twins, Bill, and Charlie were, getting used to the rise and fall of the waves. Ron was right, they had walked out several yards and Harry could still feel the ocean's gritty floor beneath his feet. He was reminded, briefly, of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and he wished he had a bit of gillyweed now. Something fluttered past his ankles and Harry imagined there were loads of interesting things living beneath the surface of this water. They spent the next hour jumping into waves and riding them to shore. By the time the girls and Mrs. Weasley returned, Harry was splashing around as if he had been coming to the beach every year. After tiring of the water, they all went back up to the house and showered, spending the remaining hours until dinner alternating between games of Exploding Snap and wizard's chess (Ron beating everyone at least once).

~*~

It wasn't until after dinner that Mr. Weasley returned to the cottage. Everyone had settled in the living area; Ginny and Hermione curled up on one end of a couch speaking in low tones, while Mrs. Weasley sat at the other end, knitting needles flying in her lap. Harry, Bill, and Charlie had situated themselves on the opposite couch; Harry was tuning out Bill and Charlie's conversation regarding ways of magical protection while reading his new Defense book. Fred and George had decided to take on Ron at chess together, and the three of them were sitting cross-legged in front of the low table between the two couches. Harry had just begun reading about magical shields when a loud "pop" sounded from the eating area.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're finally home. Let me heat you some dinner."

"That would be lovely, Molly dear. It has been a long day." He sighed and pulled up an old rocker in the corner to sit between the couches.

"What's going on Dad? Any news?" Bill asked.

"No. No news at all, I'm afraid. Just more meetings and conferences. One would think the Ministry was planning to talk Voldemort to death. Fudge insists on arguing every point with us."

"Why would he do that when he's supposed to be on our side?" Ron asked.

"He has some mad idea that we can settle things peacefully. He wants to bargain with the Death Eaters in attempt to get them to leave Voldemort and join our side-- if you can imagine. Negotiation is an insult to the memories of everyone who has died on Voldemort's account. Fudge is a bloody old fool."

"Arthur, really, such language," Mrs. Weasley said, handing him a warmed plate of food leftover from their dinner.

"Well, it's the truth Molly. He'd be the death of us all if it weren't for Dumbledore. I don't know what we'd do without him."

"What about- ," George started to ask, but was stopped by Mrs. Weasley.

"George, let your father eat, won't you? It's enough that he has to talk about You-Know-Who all day at work without coming home to rehash it with you lot. I wish you would quit worrying about it, for heaven's sake! I would like for at least some of my children to have a normal childhood."

"Mum, we're hardly children," Fred said, but halfheartedly, and no one attempted to bring the subject up again.

~*~

Harry spent the rest of the evening reading and memorising spells and tactics in his book. He was half of the way through, and he thought to himself that he would probably need to pick up some more books in Diagon Alley before school-- maybe some on pure tactics and battle strategy. He would have to be prepared on all accounts when he faced Voldemort. Harry sighed and looked back down at the page, trying to focus, but the words kept blurring. His eyes were weary, and he wished everyone would go on up to bed so that he could give up reading for now and practise wand movements. He definitely wasn't going to do it with everyone in the room; he doubted seriously that Mrs. Weasley would be comforted knowing that he was preparing for battle during her family's holiday.

It seemed to take ages but finally it was just himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left in the room. He figured they would be going to bed any moment now-- they had, after all, been up earlier than he had today. Silence held in the living room and Harry noticed that he had quit reading, and was just staring at the words on the page, listening to the tick-tock of the mantle clock. He abruptly realised that it was too quiet in the room--he could no longer hear the murmur of Ginny and Hermione's conversation or the whispering of pages as Ron flipped through the latest edition of Which Broomstick, still sitting on the floor. He looked up from his book to find all three of them staring at him.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"What do you think-- what?" Ron countered, his blue eyes ablaze. "We know you're keeping something from us, Harry. You've barely talked to us since you've arrived-- since Sirius died, really- ,"

"What are you on about? Of course I've talked to you, or haven't you been listening?" Harry retorted, offended.

"I think what Ron means, Harry, is that you haven't exactly opened up to us about how you're coping-- how you're feeling-- since everything happened," Hermione said quietly. She was curling and uncurling a strand of thick brown hair around one finger, eyes wide and serious. "After Cedric died you were quiet like this, Harry, but eventually you did talk to us about it. However, now it's been all summer and you haven't said a word, and you're different. You seem, well, a little obsessed about learning to fight the Dark Arts..." Her voice trailed off at Harry's glare.

"Did it occur to you that maybe I don't want to tell you every little thought in my brain?" Harry snapped. "I'm not eleven anymore. I've got along quite well without a mother to cry on so far and I don't need one starting now." Their attack irritated him-- what did they know about anything anyway-- none of them had ever had someone die because of something they did. He looked icily at the three of them sitting across the room.

"I-- we're not trying to be your mother," Ron said, his ears glowing red. "We're trying to be your friends, if you'll let us. And that's what friends do-- they help each other. If you would just talk-- ,"

Harry sighed, suddenly sad. "I have talked about Sirius, Ron. I just don't want to talk about it again, at least not right now."

"Who have you talked about it with? Lupin? 'Cause it certainly hasn't been me or Hermione- ,"

"Me, Ron," Ginny said, standing to move and sit by Harry on the couch. "He confided to me about it. All right? Can we just talk about something else?" Ginny said, meeting Harry's eye. He felt warm understanding flow from her and he felt bad for his coldness moments earlier. He knew that she had faced the same barrage of questions after she had been down in the Chamber, no one wanting to believe that she really did want to handle it on her own.

"You? What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Yes, me. Really, Ron, you're not the only one who knows how to use owl post."

"What concerns me more," Hermione interrupted, "is why you've apparently read every Defense Against the Dark Arts book you can get your hands on. You're acting as if you'll be facing Voldemort any day now. Most people think that Dumbledore will be the one to defeat him, but you're acting as if, well, as if it were going to be you. Why is that?"

She said this as if she already knew the answer and Harry felt himself squirm under her unblinking gaze. He didn't know whether to feel exasperated or proud at her infallible logic that allowed her to figure out... well, just about everything.

"What did you and Dumbledore talk about so long in his office after that night?" Ron asked. "I overheard one of the portraits saying that you trashed Dumbledore's office. You can't make me believe that he didn't tell you something important."

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. This was the question he had hoped to avoid. He sat there for a moment, staring unseeingly at the fire, trying to think of a way out of answering Ron. A part of him wanted to scream that it was none of their business and to leave him alone. But...this was Ron asking. And Hermione. And Ginny. He looked up at their faces, seeing the concern written there, and he knew he was going to have to tell them the truth about Trelawney's prediction. He just had no idea how to break it to them that he, their best friend, was destined to be a murderer.

"Did you really not hear that prophesy, Harry?" Hermione asked bluntly.

The acuteness of her question surprised him so much that he jumped. "What makes you ask that?" he said cautiously, looking up to meet her eyes.

She shrugged, "Well, once we got back to Hogwarts from the Ministry, and I had time to think things over, I remembered that the label on the glass ball said S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. I had a suspicion that the second set of initials belonged to Dumbledore. Then, I remembered that the directory of registered Animagi had everyone's full name listed. I went back to the library and, sure enough, registered there was one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It took me a bit longer to work out the first name on the label. I went through the names of all the people I knew with the initial of S.T. and came up with Sibyll Trelawney. Then it all clicked. Of course that's why Dumbledore keeps her here. He has to know she's a big fraud-- well, not technically, I suppose-- but he kept her at Hogwarts because she spoke that prophesy to him. I guess he hoped that she would have more."

"Well, she did, didn't she?" Ron said excitedly. "Remember what happened during your Divination exam third year, Harry? She said something about Voldemort's biggest supporter returning?"

"How could I forget?" Harry said dryly. "That was the night Wormtail escaped to join him." At this, Ginny looked around at them, confused. "I'll explain later," Harry said to her, and she nodded. "Anyway, you're mostly right as usual, Hermione. She did tell the prophesy to Dumbledore. However, he keeps her here for her own protection, even though she's probably not aware of that. That's why he wouldn't let Umbridge kick her out of the castle last year. One of Voldemort's supporters heard part of the prophesy and knew who said it. If Dumbledore hadn't taken her in, they would have probably tortured her for the second half. It's because of that prophesy that Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby." He paused there and took a deep breath, not wanting to continue.

"So, Dumbledore told you it, then? In his office, when you got back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Yes... " Harry said slowly, stalling. "It-- it said... well, have you got a quill and parchment in your backpack, Hermione?" he asked suddenly, spotting it in a corner of the room. He didn't know why, but he felt instinctively that it was best not to say the words aloud.

"Oh! Yes, of course," she said breathlessly, seeming to understand, and jumped up to retrieve it.

When she handed the supplies to him, he stared at the parchment, trying to form the words precisely in his head. Then he scribbled,

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches

Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,

But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not

And either must die at the hand of the other

For neither can live while the other survives

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

After writing this, and scanning it to make sure he wrote everything correctly, Harry offered it with a shaking hand to Ginny. Ginny read it quickly, her face noticeably paler, before passing it to Ron, who had joined Hermione on the couch. Ron handed it to Hermione after reading it himself. Hermione took the longest; she appeared to be memorising it to herself, rereading it several times with her lips moving as if attempting to etch it in her brain. No one said a word while waiting for her to finish. The air around them was so tense Harry felt he could scarcely breathe. This was it. They knew now-- they knew what horrible destiny awaited him. His chest felt tight, and he tried to prepare himself for their reactions. Hermione stood up briskly, apparently finished, but instead of giving the parchment over to Harry, she strode to the fireplace and thrust it in the flames. She stood, her back to them, and her hands clenched at her side as she waited until the parchment was dust. When she turned back to them her face was grim and her mouth was set in a straight line.

"None of us are to speak those words out loud. You were smart, Harry, to write it down. No one else can ever know that we've read those lines."

Harry felt a surge of guilt as he realised the repercussion hinted in her words. He had put them all in danger. If Voldemort ever found out they knew the whole of the prophesy...

"Harry," Hermione continued gently, walking to sit back down next to Ron. "We knew Voldemort was after that prophesy, and we wanted to hear it, okay? If you will just tell us what Dumbledore told you about it?" He nodded numbly, and Ginny patted him on the leg.

By the time he had finished filling them in, almost thirty minutes had passed. He left out nothing. He explained it was chance that Voldemort picked him-- how it could've been Neville. He told them Voldemort had only heard the first lines of the prophesy and had not realised that his plan to kill Harry would backfire. He even explained how Dumbledore had come to hear the prophesy from Professor Trelawney at the Hog's Head. Once he started talking, he felt as if he couldn't stop until it was all out-- and to his surprise he felt better-- it was as if the pressure around his heart that had been there since June was finally letting up. At least now, for better or worse, he wouldn't have to carry around this terrible secret alone. His voice finally trailed off and he sat back, waiting for them to speak.

"So the part about- ," Ron's voice cracked slightly, "-about how 'one has to die at the other's hand' means... "

"That only I can kill Voldemort... or be murdered myself," Harry finished for him, letting the words hang in the air. It was silent for a moment until Ginny spoke.

"Well, we won't let you do it alone."

"What are you talking about? Yes, Ginny, you will. No one else is going die because of me," Harry said forcefully.

"I have no intention of being killed," Ginny retorted stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest. "However, I also have no intention of letting you take this on yourself."

"But- ," Harry spluttered, looking at Ron for support. Surely Ron, being the overprotective big brother, would put a stop to this nonsense. However, Ron just frowned at him.

"She's right, Harry. You may be the only one who can kill V-Voldemort in the end, but it doesn't mean it's only your battle to fight. In fact, it would be quite selfish of you to do so. Would you deny Neville his right to get revenge for his parent's torture?"

Harry was so stunned by this rare burst of insightfulness from Ron -- and the implication of what he was saying-- that he almost missed the fact that Ron had said Voldemort's name. When he realised this, his face must have reflected the shock he felt, because Ron let out a shaky laugh and explained that he'd been practising.

"Mum's the only one now who won't say his name, but we think she'll come around soon," he said. Harry wondered if Hermione's chiding had been the reason behind this change for Ron.

"What I don't understand," Ron continued, frowning again, "is why all the trouble keeping the rest of the prophesy from Voldemort? He already knows now that you had powers 'the Dark Lord knew not' because that's what defeated him sixteen years ago."

"You're forgetting the rest, Ron," Hermione said. "It also says, 'either must die at the hand of the other'."

"So?" Ron asked, and Harry had to admit to himself that he thought the same thing.

"So, that means that only Harry can kill him, doesn't it? So, Voldemort wouldn't have to fear Dumbledore anymore, would he? What do you think the first thing Voldemort would do if he no longer feared Dumbledore? What would tear down the wizarding community like nothing else?"

"An attack on Hogwarts," Ron whispered, looking white as a ghost.

"Oh, God," Ginny said, almost inaudible, and it was Harry's turn to pat her knee.

"Right," Hermione said grimly. "Also, let's not forget that knowledge is power. For all that Voldemort knows, the second half of that prophesy could say anything-- even a way to defeat you, Harry." She sighed. "Well, at least now I understand why you've been reading every Defense book you can get your hands on. I think we should all take a leaf out of your- um- book, and read up on some new spells as well. Speaking of that, have you given any thought to continuing our D.A. classes?"

"Er... no," Harry admitted.

"Well, I think you should ask Dumbledore for permission to continue them. We don't know what our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be like, and it's a good idea to enforce the other students' view of you as their leader. Not to mention that the D.A. classes have successfully brought together students from different Hogwarts' houses-- excepting Slytherin, of course-- and Dumbledore's always talking about needing unity between houses."

"Hermione, I'm not going to be leading people to battle," Harry protested.

"Well, you'd better get used to the idea, Harry, because you might just have to."

"But not students."

"In case you've forgotten, you're still a student, as are Ron, Ginny, and I. Besides, don't you think other students should be able to defend themselves as much as possible? You might not lead them to battle, but that doesn't mean that the battle won't come to them. I think you'll find that your skills will improve as well, after teaching everyone else."

"Oh, all right then," Harry said. He had to admit, he really enjoyed the D.A. classes last year, and looked forward to the thought of the other students making even more progress this year-- assuming that they would still want to participate in the class.

"I think," Ron said suddenly, "that we should all research different aspects of Dark Arts' defense. It would be a waste of our time for us to all read the same thing. So, how about this-- I'll read up on tactics and strategy; Hermione, you can research different charms; Ginny, you're the best at curses so how about you look up those...and Harry, you can just cover the general dark arts defense spells. Then we can come back and share the important-- or most useful-- spells and ideas that we find. If it works out, maybe we could meet early before the D.A. meetings. What do you think?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Ron," Hermione said, smiling at him. Harry and Ginny agreed. Ron blushed deeply.

They talked for a bit longer until Ginny was nodding off while sitting straight up on the couch. Harry climbed back in his bunk after getting ready for bed, and slipped the moonstone back over his head.

"Harry?" Ron asked sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"D'you think I could borrow that Quidditch strategy book I gave you? I was thinking of ways to... apply it to defense tactics..." He trailed off, yawning. And with that, both of them fell sound asleep.