Harry Potter and the Path of War

Harry Potter and the path of war

Chapter five: The Line of the Protectors

"Try again, Harry." Harry growled in frustration.

"It's not working! I'll never be able to learn this, there's no point!"

"Harry, no spell, curse, jinx or charm is impossible, it is merely a question of finding your own personal technique," Nate Gonzales's calm voice said, at some point above him. A hand appeared in front of Harry's face and he took hold of it, using it to help hoist himself off the ground, where he had been knocked down to for the twenty seventh time that day, by a Durus curse cast by his Duelling Techniques teacher Nate Gonzales. Harry shook himself as he stood upright again, and looked steadily at his teacher, who was examining his wand for some unknown reason.

Nate Gonzales was a tall, thin man with long, dirty blond hair, that in Harry's opinion made him look more than a bit like a hippy, and also slightly like Luna Lovegood. However, from what Harry knew, he was not someone to mess with; Remus had told him that he was a new addition to the Order of the Phoenix and that he was a self-employed Hitwizard, and was helping the Order along the same lines as Mundungus Fletcher was; by providing news of what was happening in the seedy underworld of british wizarding society. He was a patient teacher, and seemed to be a very serious man, who was always on edge, but before and after his lessons with Harry he dropped the serious image and was quite relaxed, always joking around with Harry. Harry reckoned this was Nate's real personality, and the seriousness was just an image, to make it easier to teach Harry what he needed to learn. But image or not, Harry didn't mind the seriousness of his lessons with Nate Gonzales; he was a good teacher, and Harry had learned a lot with him since he had begun training with him.

It had been nearly two weeks since the Death Eater attack on Harry in Wisteria Walk, and the aftermath had not been pretty. However, Harry was grateful that at least the Daily Prophet had not got wind of it, which would have made matters a lot worse.

When Remus had returned from taking his Wolfsbane Potion at Grimmauld Place, he and Harry had been informed by the leader of the Aurors (who had introduced himself to Harry as Leo Sutherby) that the Aurors had captured two more Death Eaters at the scene of the burning house, which had blown up at the exact same time that the Death Eaters had launched their attack on Harry. However, he had also informed them that one other Death Eater had got away.

Following three days of intense questioning and bargaining with the Death Eaters, the Magical Law Enforcement (who had put the six Death Eaters in custody in the Ministry of Magic's underground cells) had uncovered an elaborate plan to capture Harry in Wisteria Walk, where he was presumably alone and unprotected by the magic surrounding number four Privet Drive. Harry had learned (in a detailed letter from Amos Diggory, who was now, according to the letter, "Chief of Staff" of the Magical Law Enforcement) that the plan had been concieved over three weeks ago, and prepartions to put it into action had been going on for over a week.

For one stage of the plan, the Death Eaters had monitored Harry's every move outside of number four Privet Drive for a whole week, which was limited to his morning runs and going to Mrs Figg's in the morning at eight o'clock and returning in the evening at six o'clock. The Death Eaters had had orders not to attack Harry at any cost, only to monitor the times he went out and where he went out to. Thankfully, the Death Eaters had never seen Harry enter Mrs Figg's house, which he did every day for his training, and Remus had explained to him that this was because of the charms on Mrs Figg's house, which prevented anyone from seeing anyone who entered it (except Mrs Figg, who had to maintain being seen by the Muggles as a dotty old lady) through some sort of minor Memory Charm. Thus all the Death Eaters knew was that he walked through Wisteria Walk at eight o'clock in the morning and walked back through it at six o'clock in the evening. This was precisely the reason why they had resolved to try and capture Harry in Wisteria Walk, because it was the furthest point away from the Dursley's that they could get to him. They had always thought that Harry was alone as he walked, trusting on the protection of number four to keep him safe; they had never thought of checking for anyone wearing an Invisibility Cloak.

In addition to monitoring Harry's movements, the Death Eaters had put the Imperius Curse on a middle-aged couple at number seven Wisteria Walk, and ordered them to invite their neighbours round for a backyard barbecue party on Friday June the 16th. They had all promised they would attend.

Thus on the evening of Friday June the 16th the plan to capture Harry was to be put into action, as he walked, as the Death Eaters thought, alone through Wisteria Walk in the early evening.

The plan was as follows; the couple who had had the Imperius Curse put on them by the Death Eaters were to greet the neighbours of Wisteria Walk attending the barbecue, which was to begin at five o'clock, and at half past five, were to lock all the neighbours, all Muggles of course, in the living room of the house, including themselves. The Imperius Curse was then taken off of them, and the Death Eaters were permitted, under Voldemort's orders, to "have some fun" with the trapped Muggles until five to six, when the Death Eaters, three in total, were to go into the back garden of the house and wait for the signal to set fire to the house, with the neighbours of Wisteria Walk still inside, and cast the Dark Mark above it.

The signal was to be given by another group of Death Eaters, who were situated in a small alley further up Wisteria Walk, waiting for Harry to walk past where they were, or so they thought, effectively hidden in the shadows of the alley. Once Harry had been seen by the Death Eaters in the alley, the signal to burn the house was to be given. They had chosen number seven Wisteria Walk for it's strategic placement; from where he would be when the signal was given, Harry would without a doubt see the house go up in flames, and in turn hear people screaming. The Death Eaters had expected Harry to run straight to the flaming house and see if he could help save people, and in doing so he would run straight into the clutches of the Death Eaters who had set the house on fire. As they had in June, they had tried to exploit his love of "playing the hero".

However, this time they had had a back-up plan, to ensure that Harry would be captured even if he had chosen not to run to the burning house, which was for the Death Eaters in the alley to capture him. Under no circumstances were any of the Death Eaters permitted to hurt him in any way; their orders had been to disarm and stun only, nothing more. Apparently Voldemort wanted that pleaasure for himself.

However, the Death Eaters in the alley had lost patience, and had attacked Harry mere seconds after the house had been set alight. They had said that they had done this because Harry had paused outside of the alley as he walked past, and they thought it would be the easiest way to capture him, rather than having him run all the way down the street. Under Verisateum they had stuck to this story, but had also confessed that their main motive for doing so was so they could gain favour with Voldemort and rise in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Their plan had failed however, and Harry reckoned they were better off in the custody of the Ministry than with Voldemort, having to explain to him why they had risked the success of an important plan for their own personal needs; Harry shuddered to think what their punishment would have been. On the whole, the Death Eater's plan had completely failed.

The house the Death Eaters had set alight had been completely destroyed, but fortunately it had not contained all the neighbours of Wisteria Walk, as the Death Eaters had intitially wanted. The couple they had impersonated, John and Verity Huxtable, were the most unpopular people in the whole of Little Whinging, and no-one whatsoever had made good on their invitation of a backyard barbecue party. In the end, the Huxtables were the only ones who had been killed by the Death Eaters, and the residents of Wisteria Walk were more upset about the "terrible mess" that the Huxtable houses's chip pan fire had caused than the actual death of the couple.

This was not the case for Harry however, who had started to sink back into depression with the knowledge that the Huxtables, no matter how unpleasant they had been, had died, simply because he was living in Little Whinging. The guilt he had felt had brought fresh waves of grief over the death of Sirius and his involvement in it, but with Remus's help he had pulled himself out of it, although Harry doubted that he would ever stop blaming himself for Sirius's death.

The Death Eater's attack had had an effect on and changed Harry's routine as well. He was now (following a extremely difficult shortening spell, performed by Moody) having to go on his morning runs in his Invisibility Cloak, which left him completely drenched in sweat afterwards, and having to walk to and from Mrs Figg's in it as well; in other words, Harry was not to be seen outside of number four Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. He wondered if any of the neighbours had noticed that he'd seemingly dissappeared overnight.

However, these changes didn't really bother Harry. They were for his own good after all. No, the most concerning thing he had found about the Death Eater's failed mission, besides the death of the Huxtables, was the fact that he had not known the identities of any of the Death Eaters. He had thought that he knew all of the Death Eaters, and that the most important and powerful ones had been captured at the Ministry in June, besides Bellatrix Lestragne; surely Voldemort would not entrust the capture of him to his less experienced, junior Death Eaters? Or had Voldemort been recruting?

This was the thought that had been plaguing his mind constantly since the failed attack. His mind continued to replay what Remus had said to him earlier in the summer.

It will be a while, however, before he is returned to his full health, but when he does, I believe that is when the real war will begin.

You need to succeed in blocking Voldemort by the end of the summer at the latest, which we believe is when he will be restored to full health.

Was Voldemort recruiting so he could prepare to begin the war at the end of the summer, as soon as he was restored to his full health? Or was he slowly building up power until he had enough to take over in one fell swoop? But then again, Harry thought, he still didn't even know if Voldemort was in fact recruiting.

Of course he's recruting, a grim voice said in his head said suddenly, he can't start a war by himself.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, heaving a deep sigh as he did so. Today was July the 27th. In around a month the summer would end, and Voldemort would be back to full health. What would happen then? Harry wondered. What was going to start the war? Was Voldemort going to suddenly attack somewhere like Diagon Alley or the Ministry? Was he going to break Azkaban open, and release the prisoners into his service? Or would the war progress slowly, marked with sudden disappearances and killings, like what had happened in Voldemort's first rise to power?

How was the war going to begin?

CRACK!

Harry jumped up off the sofa immediately, holding his wand in position and turning towards the direction of the noise, which had come from the window to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his teacher, Nate Gonzales, was in the exact same position.

He relaxed when he saw a large owl fluttering around uncertainly outside, having evidently just crashed into the window at top speed. Harry ran quickly to the window and opened it. The owl swept in, dropped a letter at his feet and swooped straight back out, evidently trying to look dignified but failing dismally, as an owl does does not look dignified smashing headfirst into two lamposts and a tree as it flies away from you.

Harry crouched down and picked up the letter. He recognized it immediately as a Hogwarts letter, but it was much thicker than his usual Hogwarts letters. He suddenly realized with a start that it was probaly his OWL results.

Harry swallowed. He had completely forgotton about his OWLs. He had become so swept up with his training and worrying about Voldemort recovering strength and beginning the war that things such as exams had not even crossed his mind.

"What is that, Harry?"

Harry jumped, and turned around. Nate Gonazales was standing behind him, and had obviously been peering over Harry's shoulder to look at the letter he'd just recieved.

"It's my OWL results."

Nate's eyes lit up with curiousity, and he smiled. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Harry grimaced.

"Definitely a bad thing." Nate laughed, suprising Harry, as he rarely dropped his on-edge seriousness in lessons and let what Harry called the Real Nate through.

"You probaly did better than what you think you did. I'll be in the kitchen. Call me when you're done." Nate then swept out of the room, seeming to sense Harry's need for privacy. Harry left the window and sat back down on the sofa, taking a deep breath as he held the envelope unsteadily in his hands. All his dreams of becoming an Auror rested on this envelope, he realized.

Let's see what the damage is then he said grimly to himself, as he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents. There was at least ten sheets of parchment in the envelope. Harry quickly flicked through the first page, which was just the standard note telling him to please find enclosed his OWL results, as if he didn't already know that this was what the letter was about. He put that sheet to the side and, swallowing with difficulty, began to read the second sheet.

Ordinary Wizarding Level (OWL) Results

Name: Harry James Potter

House: Gryffindor

Subject: Theory: Practical: Overall OWL result:

DADA: Outstanding Outstanding Outstanding (2 OWLs for

exceptional work)

Potions: Acceptable Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations

Charms: Acceptable Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations

Herbology: Acceptable Acceptable Acceptable

Astronomy: Acceptable Poor Acceptable

History of Magic: Poor No practical exam Failed

CMC: Exceeds expectations Outstanding Outstanding

Divination: No theory exam Poor Failed

Total number of OWLs recieved: 8

Harry's face fell. He had only got eight OWLs, and had only achieved a grade of "Exceeds Expectations" in Potions; he was never going to be an Auror.

Harry dropped the results sheet and held his head in his hands, heaving a defeated sigh. Being an Auror was the only thing he could ever see himself doing after Hogwarts (although he doubted he would ever make it that far), and now that possibility was gone. He supposed he could find another another job, at the Ministry or something, maybe there was another job that was similar to an Auror's job that he could do. . .

Harry looked down at the floor, and noticed that on his results sheet, which was now on the floor, that there was more writing underneath his results. He picked up the sheet and started to read.

Dear Mr Potter,

Now that you have recieved and are informed of the results of your OWL examinations, a post-OWLs and pre-NEWTs meeting must be scheduled with your head of house, to reflect on your OWL performance and which NEWT classes you wish to take, which will be officially confirmed at this meeting. Please fill out the enclosed form and send it back by owl, specifying what date and time you are available for this meeting. Remember that it must be a date before the 7th of August. Please fill out the form as quickly as possible.

Yours sincerly,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Underneath this transcript, which was all written in the typical Hogwarts green ink, was a short note in plain black ink.

Potter, ignore this, other arrangements will be made for you.

Harry stacked all the parchment together (there were still a number of sheets of parchment he had not looked at yet) and stuffed it back into the ripped envelope roughly, and stuck it into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. He stood up and called Nate to tell him he was ready to carry on training, determined not to think about the fact that he would never be an Auror.

Nate came in and opened his mouth, but took one look at Harry's face and shut it again; he seemed to get it that Harry didn't want to talk about his results. Instead he just drew his wand, walked to the other side of the living room, and turned to face Harry.

"Ready Harry?" he questioned, rising his wand to chest level, his serious facade firmly back in place. Harry simply nodded and got into position, his wand, like Nate, held at chest height.

"Remember Harry, focus fully on the curse I send at you. Block everything else out, no matter how fresh the memory is. At the moment, nothing matters more than this curse."

Harry caught the hint about his disappointing OWL results and narrowed his eyes in concentration, preparing himself for Nate firing a curse at him, which he was without a doubt about to do.

Harry was not disappointed. No more than a second later, Nate pointed his wand directly at Harry's heart and cried, "Dolens Pulsus!"

Harry knew what to do. Concentrating on the purple light moving towards him, he quickly moved his wand up to his left temple and swung it diagnolly down across his chest to his right hip, in an imitation of a sword fighting move.

The purple light stopped a few inches from Harry's chest, and stayed hovering in the air in front of him. Harry let out a cry of victory and let his wand arm relax, convinced that he had finally blocked a curse, and smiled, somewhat smugly. He wasn't expecting the curse to suddenly dart forwards and knock him backwards on to the floor, at the same time giving him the very unpleasant feeling of being punched hard in the stomach.

Harry lay on the floor for a few minutes, struggling to regain his breath, and coughing loudly when he did manage it. He quickly got back up and back into position, his wand held at chest height, trying not to give in to the temptation to kick something very hard, to vent his frustration at failing once again to block a simple curse.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day. . .

* * * * * * * *

"Good evening, Potter."

"Um, evening, Professor."

"Sit down then, I haven't got all night."

Harry sat down quickly at Mrs Figg's small kitchen table opposite Professor McGonagall, who was at Mrs Figg's for a post-OWL and pre-NEWT meeting with Harry.

Harry, to be honest, was not exactly in the mood to talk about his OWL results, and what NEWT classes he planned to do. He had just finished a particularly gruelling Occlumency lesson with Snape, and was mentally exhausted, not to mention the fact that he was still reeling from the fact that he could never be an Auror; he didn't feel like being reminded of that fact right now.

"So then Potter, pleased with your OWL results?" Harry gave her an incredulous look.

"Pleased? Of course I'm not pleased! I didn't get an "Outstanding" in Potions, so I can't be an Auror now. So no, I'm not pleased with my OWL results." McGonagall's expression, to Harry's confusion, changed into a somewhat offended look.

"Did I not promise you that I would train you to be an Auror, even if it was the last thing I ever did?" she said. Harry nodded slowly, but was still confused.

"Well yeah, but what can you do about it? It's Snape's class."

"For your information Potter, I can do a lot about it. I have convinced Professor Snape to accept you into his NEWT Potions class, under a few conditions. Firstly, you must undergo a three-week trial period when you begin the class in September, to prove that you are up to the task of coping with the demands of the work, and secondly, he wishes for you to take the Potions OWL again next January, in which you must achieve an "Outstanding" grade in order to continue the class. You're going to have to pull your socks up, Potter. I strongly advise that you begin revising for this as soon as possible. Remember; if you'd revised properly for your OWLs, you wouldn't be in this mess now."

Harry nodded vigorously and promised that he would, too happy to argue that he had revised properly for his OWLs, it was just that other, more important things had got in the way too much of the time. But that didn't matter anymore; he was being allowed to take Potions at NEWT level.

He was going to be an Auror!

Harry suddenly laughed, loudly, and McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"Something funny, Potter?" she questioned. Harry shook his head quickly, realising that he had been laughing out loud.

"Er, no, professor." McGonagall glared at him, and he relented. "Well, it's just that I never thought I'd be this happy after being told that I could take a lesson with Snape. I always thought I'd be more happy when I didn't have to have lessons with him anymore."

McGonagall, to Harry's great suprise, seemed to be struggling not to smile after he said this. Just as her mouth turned upwards, she seemed to regain control of herself and her flicker of a smile was replaced by her usual pursed lips and stern, serious expression.

"Now then Potter," she said briskly, "what other subjects are you interested in, other than those that are essential for being an Auror?" Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"There aren't any really. I failed Divination and History of Magic, Herbology and Astronomy. . well, they're just boring, really, and Ancient Runes and Arithmacy I'd be too far behind in now. And I'm not taking Muggle Studies, I don't need that. So there isn't anything really, is there, I. . oh yeah!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, remembering something. "I can do Care of Magical Creatures! I got "Outstanding" on the OWLs in that, yeah, I'll do that as well. But there's nothing else."

McGonagall gave Harry an exasperating look for a few seconds, and then spoke in a weary tone of voice.

"Potter, did you read the letter that contained your OWL results all the way through?" she asked, in a way that suggested she already knew the answer. Harry thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"Er, no, all I looked at was the results, and the bit about this meeting," Harry said quietly, feeling like an idiot. "I haven't looked at it since then. Why, what did I miss?" McGonagall glared at him.

"What you missed, Potter, was a guide to courses that are available to study at NEWT level without having done them before," said McGonagall. "There was a page of information for each one. And you didn't even glance at them?" she asked incredulously, clearly, in Harry's opinion, comparing him to some sort of stupid animal as she did so. Harry slowly shook his head, and McGonagall sighed deeply.

"Honestly Potter, start using your head," she said scathingly, making Harry feel very small. "Do you at least have the letter with you? You were told to bring it."

Harry nodded quickly, and said, "yeah I've got it, hang on." He stood up and extracted the letter from the back pocket of his jeans and handed the letter to McGonagall as he did so, who was looking at him in suprise, as if she hadn't expected him to have done something right. Harry fought down his anger and irritation and sat back down, his fists clenched.

McGonagall pulled out the parchment in the envelope, quickly sorted through it, and handed Harry four sheets of parchment from it.

"Here, look through these quickly, see if any of them interest you," she said briskly, as she began to inspect the sheet of parchment which Harry could see displayed his OWL results. He grimaced, and began to read the sheets McGonagall had given him. There were four subjects listed, with a fairly detailed outline of each one. Ten minutes later, he had finished. Only two of the four subjects had caught Harry's attention.

"Um, Professor?" Harry ventured, and McGonagall looked up briefly from her inspection of Harry's OWL results and stared at him for a second, before fixing her eyes on the parchment again. Harry spoke anyway. "I've read these through, and only two interest me." McGonagall looked up and nodded at him.

"Very well then, Potter," she said, giving him her full attention now, "which are the two that you are interested in?"

"Spell Construction and Healing." McGonagall gave him an approving look.

"Spell Construction and Healing?" she repeated. "Good choices, Potter. Healing is strongly recommended for students thinking of becoming Aurors, and I was going to reccomend you take it anyway, but I must confess that your interest in Spell Construction is suprising."

She paused. "What specifically interests you about it?" Harry shrugged.

"I just like the idea that you're creating something yourself, not copying anyone else. It's original. And, well, it might come in useful in the future." Their eyes met, and Harry knew that McGonagall had understood what he had meant. She nodded.

"Very well then Potter. So, you are sure that these are the NEWTs you wish to take? I must warn you, seven NEWTs is not a light undertaking. You'll have to work extremely hard."

Harry nodded. If he could cope with the training he had done this summer, he could certainly manage some exams. McGonagall made him sign some things that said that that was what he was studying, and then pulled out a file, the same file Harry remembered she had had in their careers meeting in Hogwarts last year.

"Now, let's have a look at your OWL results. . ."

The meeting finished twenty minutes later, and not a moment too soon in Harry's opinion, who was sick and tired of discussing what he had done wrong in the OWLs, and how he was not going to make the same mistake with the NEWTs. Harry slumped down in his chair, exhausted. At the end of the meeting, McGonagall had given him a ton of homework and background reading to do for her NEWT Transfiguration class, with the promise that he would be recieving similar amounts from his other teachers, in preparation for his other NEWT subjects (the fifth-years had not been given any summer homework at the end of the term like they usually did, because it was pointless to give them homework for subjects that they may not even be doing in three months time). McGonagall had not said who the teachers for his new subjects were, and Harry had forgotten to ask; he reckoned he'd just find out when the homework arrived, or in September.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry quickly twisted round in his chair and saw Remus walking into the kitchen. Harry hesitated for a moment, and then slowly shook his head.

"No, I'm not okay, I'm completely knackered, McGonagall's just given me a stupid amount of homework, I've got more coming by owl, and I've got to go do an hour and a half of weighlifting now," Harry moaned, looking to Remus, who was now laughing as he strode towards him.

"No rest for the wicked, eh Harry?" he said lamely. "But you know, you don't have to go and do weightlifting now."

"Yeah I do, it's part of my routine now, I'd feel weird if I didn't do it." Remus nodded.

"Fair enough," he said, helping Harry to his feet. As he looked at Harry's face, his expression turned from playful back into his usual serious, thoughtful expression, and his eyes were filled with concern as he peered closely at Harry.

"Are you sure that's all it is?" he asked cautiously, "you're just tired?" Harry nodded, confused; what could Remus see that was making him think that there was something wrong?

"Really Remus," Harry assured him, "I'm fine. For once," he added quietly, and regretted it immediately. He hated showing his real emotions in front of other people, but it seemed so natural now to talk to Remus about how he was feeling. Harry didn't like it at all; in his opinion, his feelings were better off inside of him, where they couldn't upset people he cared about.

Remus stared hard at him for a minute before seeming to accept that Harry indeed was fine for the minute, and that he was telling the truth. He then spoke again, in a quiet, hesitant voice, that was quite unlike his usual tone of voice.

"You do know Harry, that you can talk to me about anything you want, right? I mean, I know I'm not the one you really want to talk to, but I am here if you need me." Harry nodded, thanking Remus for saying so, but then the full impact of what he had just said struck him.

"You are who I want to talk to."

Remus laughed slightly, and although he seemed to have tried to hide it, Harry thought he detected a great deal of bitterness in it. He looked Harry in the eye, a sober expression on his face.

"I can never replace Sirus, no more than Sirius could ever replace James," he said, his voice hitching as he said it, "but I can still be there for you, if you let me, to help you and to guide you. I just wanted you to know it, that's all. I'm here if you need me," he finished, lowering his eyes to the table.

Harry nodded, even though with his eyes lowered Remus couldn't see him doing so, and, without thinking about it, clapped his right hand down on Remus's shoulder, who looked up at him in suprise.

"I know," Harry said simply, and withdrew his hand from Remus's shoulder. Remus smiled slightly.

"We should get going," he said abruptly, standing up suddenly and turning away from Harry (Harry saw him raising his hand to his face as he did so). "It's past seven now," he stated.

Harry stood up as well, and followed Remus into the front hall, where he quickly went about putting on his Invisibility Cloak. As he did so, he heard Remus mutter something.

"So like James, yet so like Lily. They'd be so proud of him."

Harry smiled and pulled open the door, the sun's setting rays covering him in red and yellow light as he walked out into the world, for the moment ready to face anything that it threw at him.

* * * * * * * *

The days and weeks began to blur into one continuous cycle of running, training and sleeping, and before Harry knew it it was the last day of summer, and he was walking along Wisteria Walk to Mrs Figg's for the last ever day of his training in the programme.

Looking back on the summer, Harry reflected that it had not been a bad summer holiday; in fact, in Harry's opinion it was the best summer he had ever had. Granted, he had not gone to the Burrow or seen any of his friends like he usually did, but he did have regular, long and detailed letters from them, and he had formed close friendships with some of his teachers, Remus and Tonks in particular, so he had never been short of good companionship, and the immense workload of the programme (and later on his seemingly unlimited amount of homework) had frequently left Harry too exhausted to sink into depression and dwell on things such as Sirius's death and the prophecy, and for that he was immensely grateful; he dreaded to think what would have happened to him if he had been left alone all summer with only the Dursley's to keep him company. The anger release he got from Dudley's punchbag had helped matters a lot as well.

Today, Harry was going to be tested on everything he had learned in the programme over the summer, and instead of making him extremely nervous, the prospect of the tests filled him with excitement. The training had made Harry much more confident in both himself and his abilities, and he didn't think that he'd have any problems with today. However, he was a bit worried about actually finding the things he needed for the tests in his mind, such as minor spells he had learned weeks ago that may have just faded into the back of his mind, and which he may struggle to remember. After all, he'd learned a lot over the summer.

With Remus, learning Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, he had learned more spells, curses, jinxes and hexes than he had in his five years at Hogwarts combined, and had mastered and perfected most of them. With Nate Gonzales, learning Duelling Techniques, he had learned everything he could ever wish to know about Wizard Duelling; about avoiding them, about how to get out of one quickly, and most importantly, how to win them. With Thomas Anderson, learning Physical Combat, he had learned a blend of Boxing, Kickboxing and Martial Arts, and had learnt how to adapt them into what Anderson called a "magical situation", for example how to physically disarm someone who was armed with a wand while you were wandless without getting cursed. Anderson had also tutored him on how to use Dudley's exercise machines, the weightlifting machines in particular, without injuring himself, and had arranged, with money from Harry's Gringott's account, for the same machines to be bought and fitted in Harry's dorm room at Hogwarts, so he would be able to carry on using them even after the summer had ended (only the non-electric ones; the electric ones would not work at Hogwarts).

In Duelling, he had harnessed the spells and techniques he had learned with Remus, Anderson and Nate Gonzales by participating in real, no-holds barred Duels with Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry was proud to say that, in over five weeks of training, he had beaten Shacklebolt no less than three times. However, he had never beaten Moody, who was a much better Dueller than Harry would have ever anticipated.

With Tonks, learning Concealment and Disguise, he had learnt how to almost completely avoid detection through different methods of concealment and disguise, from changing the colour of his hair (or even his skin) to casting a long-lasting, successful Disillusionment Charm on himself. She had made him memorise the ingredients of eleven different concealment potions and how to make them, and taught him many concealment and disguise spells, many of which were extremely difficult to maintain for a long period of time, but which he had mastered nonetheless.

Tonks had also taught him how to use his very limited Metamorphmagi powers; with a strain, he could now grow his hair to his ankles in under three seconds, could also grow quickly his toe and fingernails, and could shave with it, which he had started to do a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a letdown to Harry how limited his Metamorphmagi powers were, but still, he reasoned, it was better than nothing. Overall, Harry could now, he felt, conceal and disguise himself very effectively indeed.

However, there had been one problem which Harry had not been able to overcome in his training with Tonks; nothing could be done to conceal his scar. Despite her confidence at the beginning of the programme, even Tonks had accepted that nothing would ever work on it. They had tried everything; every single concealment potion and spell ever created, even magical make up, and still it had not changed one bit. The only thing that disguised it was if Harry took Polyjuice Potion, and assumed another's form. Despite this, Harry felt that he had achieved excellent results with Tonks, and that it would definitely help him in the future.

However, the ability that Harry was most proud of perfecting was the one that he had doubted he could do the most; he had mastered Occlumency. He had not felt a thing out of his scar for over a week now, not even a twinge. Snape could no longer break into his mind with the Legilimens Spell or with mind driven Legilimency, and Harry could now sense whenever someone was attempting to use Legilimency on him. The mental training of being able to turn his emotions off had been another thing that had made it easier to cope with his grief over Sirius and his concerns about Voldemort, and had helped ensure that his emotions did not spiral out of control like they had used to. In fact, since he had mastered Occlumency, Harry had found that he was now in general a much calmer person than he had used to be, because he was constantly having to make his mind blank and push his emotions down in his lessons. Harry wondered if this could cause him any long-term problems; frequently pushing your emotions down could not be healthy, in his opinion.

Harry had mastered Occlumency now to the point that he was doing it subconsciously, twenty four hours a day. Everytime he closed his eyes, instead of seeing a pure black screen like most people saw, he saw a bright white screen, which Snape had explained was what every accomplished Occlumens saw when they closed their eyes. It was something to do with the calmness of the mind, or something like that, Harry remembered Snape saying.

The combination of Dudley's exercise machines and his morning runs had done wonders for Harry. No longer was he the short, scrawny thing he had been at the beginning of the summer; now he had a fairly muscled physique (although nothing near to what he wished he had) from the weightlifting, strong legs from his regular morning runs, and was no longer skinny due to the amount of food he had been eating all summer, to compensate for the energy he was losing through all the exercise. He had grown a few inches as well; he was never going to get to Ron's height, but he was as tall as Remus now, about 5ft 11, as opposed to his height of 5ft 8 at the beginning of the summer, and he was still getting used to it; it felt strange to be the same height as adults like Remus, who had always seemed so tall to him.

On the whole, Harry was very pleased at the progress he had made over the summer and, if truth be told, completely amazed. When he had started the programme, he had sincerly doubted that he would be able to learn anything that his teachers had said he would be learning, but when it came to it, a lot of it had come easy to him. There were only a few things that had given him any real difficulties; with Remus, he had found some spells just too hard to learn, no matter how hard he tried; with Tonks, his stubborn scar had given him problems throughout, although Harry didn't think that that was his fault through lack of trying; and in Duelling with Shacklebolt and Moody, he was not pleased with his performance at all. He felt that he was not Duelling to his full potential, it always felt like there was something holding him back, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that was holding him back, which made it extremely frustrating. Shacklebolt had assured him that he was an amazing Dueller for his age, but still, Harry could feel that there was something holding him back.

But overall, Harry figured that he'd be allright today, and as he turned a corner and entered Wisteria Walk, he began to feel the adrenaline pumping in his body in anticipation of the tests ahead. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, and heard Remus chuckle beside him. He turned to ask him what was so funny, but then stopped short. Since the Death Eater attack, they had refrained completely from speaking to eachother in the street; they may have been invisible, but the Death Eaters would still be able to hear them.

Harry was broken out of his thoughts when he stumbled and tripped over something as he walked, falling flat on his face. Luckily, his Invisibility Cloak did not come off, and pulling his face up, he saw that it had been Mrs Figg's front porch steps that he had tripped over. He picked himself up quickly and scowled at Remus, who looked like he was exerting a superhuman effort to hold in his laughter. Harry ignored him and knocked on the front door, which opened by itself. He and Remus entered (Remus locking the numerous locks on the door behind him, laughing all the while) and took off their Invisibility Cloaks, and together they walked into the living room, Remus still chuckling slightly.

All of Harry's teachers (from the programme) were there, along with Mrs Figg and Dumbledore. Tonks and Thomas Anderson were talking quietly on the other side of the living room, Mad-Eye Moody, Nate Gonzales and Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to be immersed in an intense discussion at the small living room table, and Dumbledore and Mrs Figg were situated on the small sofa having a conversation about (Harry strained his ears to see if he was hearing right) curtains. Snape was standing by himself in the corner, glaring around at everyone. Dumbledore looked up from his conversation and spotted Harry and Remus in the doorway.

"Ah, at last! Good morning Harry, good morning Remus!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, waving at the two of them. "Come in, come in!"

After the polite greetings were all over and Harry's teachers (with the exception of Snape and Moody) had made him blush furiously by raving about his progress over the summer, Dumbledore turned to Harry with a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"I hope you don't mind having an audience for these tests, Harry. Your teachers wish to see how you have adapted what you have learnt with them into other areas, and as for myself, I wish to see for myself how far you have come along. As for Arabella, well, it's her house," he said, as if this settled the matter.

"I'm also here to see that you lot don't break anything!" Mrs Figg said from the sofa. Dumbledore turned to her and bowed.

"I have already given you my word, Arabella." Mrs Figg looked doubtfully at him.

"Hmmm. . ." she said, "just see that you don't."

"I promise," Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry. So then, Harry, is a small audience satisfactory with you? I assure you, you will not even know we are here." Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah sure, I don't care," Harry said casually, and in all truth he didn't care; he had done things harder than this in front of an audience (the first task of the Triwizard Tournament sprang to the front of his mind). Dumbledore nodded briskly.

"Very well then. Tonks, will you please begin?"

Tonks made him demonstrate, on himself, every concealment and disguise spell he had learnt, and recite the ingredients and theory of how to make the eleven different concealment potions she had made him memorise (Harry felt very satisfied with the ugly look that appeared on Snape's face as he did this). She also made him demonstrate his Metamorphmagus abilities, which drew a proud sniffle from her.

Snape's tests, in Harry's opinion, could not even be counted as real tests; he attempted to break into Harry's mind with first the Legilimens spell and then mind driven Legilimency, both of which had no effect whatsoever. Then Dumbledore himself attempted to use Legilimency on him, and although Harry felt his defences weakening, he still managed to keep Dumbledore out of his mind, which seemed to make him exceptionally pleased. Snape left as soon as his tests were done, after a quiet talk with Dumbledore. No-one missed him.

Nate Gonzales's first test consisted of giving Harry various imaginary conflict situations and asking how he would deal with them, i.e would he negotiate, would he attack, would he run, etc. Thomas Anderson then asked him to name some of the kicks and punches he had learned with him, and to demonstrate them on a practice dummy conjured by Harry. Both Nate's and Anderson's second tests were in conjunction with Moody and Shacklebolt's tests, which consisted of a series of Duels, in which Harry would have to demonstrate what he had learned in Physical Combat, Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Duelling Techniques and Duelling. For the Duels, Dumbledore increased the size of the room and cast a protective shield around the walls and the area where he and the others were watching.

His first Duel, with Anderson, he won after six minutes, with a clever disarming charm fired as he rolled out of the way of Anderson's Impediment curse. His second Duel, with Shacklebolt, he won through what Harry considered a complete fluke; Shacklebolt had conjured multiple images of himself around the room, and Harry had fired stunning spells wildly around, one of which happened to catch the real Kingsley Shacklebolt unaware. For his third Duel, he lost spectacuarly to Moody, when Moody caught him with a Dolens Curse and knocked him out of the living room and on to the kitchen table, an amazing feat considering that Dumbledore had expanded the room quite a bit for the Duels. However, Harry was fairly pleased with his performance this time round; he had Duelled with Moody for eleven minutes before being beaten.

His last Duel was, suprisingly, with Dumbledore, who seemed to be under the impression that Harry would beat him easily. Harry knew that Dumbledore was just humouring him, and trying to give him some confidence; there was no way he would ever beat Dumbledore.

Three minutes later he was proved right, after Dumbledore beat him easily. He did not seem pleased at all afterwards, even though he had won. But then again, this was all for Harry's sake; Dumbledore had probaly wanted Harry to beat him. Fat chance of that, Harry thought to himself.

After the Duels, Remus made him demonstrate every single curse, spell, charm and jinx that he had learned with him, which Harry did fairly well on; there were a few spells that gave him trouble for a while (one he struggled with for twenty five minutes before he managed to do it successfully), and some he had totally forgot and needed his memory jogged, but he got them all down in the end. When Dumbledore had asked him at the end of the test how many spells he had failed to learn in the lessons, Harry was ashamed to admit that the answer was twenty two. Dumbledore had told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, and that it was already incredible that he had managed to learn everything that he had over such a short space of time as the summer holidays, making Harry blush crimson.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon now, and Harry was sitting in one of Mrs Figg's armchairs, completely exhausted and struggling to keep his eyes open. His tests were over now, and Harry could not remember a time in his whole life that he had ever felt this completely exhausted. The tests had taken more out of him than he had ever thought they would; Harry knew that casting spells sapped your energy, and he reckoned he had cast over two hundred spells today, what with the Duels and with Tonks and Remus making him perform every spell he had ever learned with them. Anderson's Physical Combat test, coupled with the jumping, dodging, ducking and rolling he had done frequently throughout the Duels had sapped all of his physical energy as well, and he didn't think he'd now be able to get up even if he wanted to, which he most certainly did not want to do, because that would make him even more knackered.

All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up, because if he was asleep, he wouldn't be tired, and that was a good thing, because being tired wasn't very nice at all. . .

He was in the kitchens at Hogwarts, and Dobby was shouting at him for trying to cook Winky in the oven. Harry protested, saying that she had smelt so much like Butterbeer he had thought she was a Butterbeer cake, whatever that was. . .Dobby pulled out a broom and tried to hit Harry round the head with it, but Harry jumped backwards to avoid the broom and fell over Snape, who was adding the finishing touches to Neville Longbottom's birthday cake. The cake fell on to the floor as Harry collided with Snape, and Snape began to cry. Harry started crying as well, and he and Snape hugged eachother as they cried. Poor Neville, Harry thought, his cake was ruined. . .

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, looking around wildly, and in doing so, he headbutted the smiling Albus Dumbledore hard in the face.

Dumbledore, who had been kneeling on the floor next to Harry's chair, toppled backwards onto the dusty floor of Mrs Figg's living room, his long purple robes flying up and covering his face as he fell. He lay there unmoving for a few seconds on his back, his face hidden by his robes, before extending his legs and picking himself up, and turrning smiling to Harry. He made no further action to suggest that he had just been headbutted hard in the face by one of his students; there was no mark on his face, he was smiling, and indeed, he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

Harry, on the other hand, was hysterical. He had just headbutted his Headmaster in the face! It didn't seem to have done him any damage, Harry noted, as he looked at the smiling Dumbledore in front of him, but still. . .he had headbutted Albus Dumbledore in the face! He tried to apologise, but he couldn't get the words out, all he could manage was gibberish, and after a minute of struggling with this he just groaned and buried his head in his hands, trying to say sorry all the while, but failing miserably.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's amused voice said from directly in front of him a minute later. Harry made no answer. "Harry, come out from there, you didn't hurt me." The voice paused, as if in thought.

"I must have quite a strong head," it concluded eventually, "you pack quite a punch."

Harry groaned and shook his head, feeling like a complete idiot as he attempted to apologise again, when suddenly a wrinkled hand took hold of his chin and pulled his face up with suprising strength. Dumbledore looked at him with twinkling blue eyes.

"Calm down Harry, do not force me to use a Cheering Charm on you, it was just an accident," he said simply, "I suppose it was my own fault for waking you up so abruptly," he added thoughtfully. Harry frowned.

"I wasn't asleep, I just had my eyes closed. I was relaxing." The twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes got brighter.

"Oh, really, Harry?" Dumbledore said, in the tone of someone who had got something wrong. "I seem to have falsely accused you, Harry. I apologise. Tell me, what is the time?" he asked suddenly, in a conversational voice.

Harry looked at the clock on the wall and began to tell Dumbledore it was three o'clock, when he suddenly did a double take and opened his mouth in shock. Dumbledore smiled.

"Seven o'clock?" Harry exclaimed, giving Dumbledore a puzzled look. "But, it was three o'clock a minute ago, that can't be the right time. Who changed the clocks?" he demanded, looking round the room, which was when he realized at last that he and Dumbledore were the only ones in the living room.

Harry blinked. When he had last looked, the room had been full of his teachers, discussing his performance in the tests while he rested in the armchair, but now it was empty but for him and Dumbledore, and the house was quiet; he and Dumbledore seemed to be the only ones in the whole house. Looking out the window, Harry saw that the sun was starting to set; the last time he had looked, in what felt to him like five minutes ago, it had been high in the sky. That must mean it actually is seven o'clock, Harry concluded. He couldn't believe it. He thought he had only had his eyes closed for a minute, but he had actually slept for. . .

"Four hours?" Harry exclaimed, again. "I've been asleep for four hours? Why didn't no-one wake me up?" he asked Dumbledore, who sighed wearily.

"Harry, you were mentally, magically and physically exhausted, you needed the sleep," he said realistically, "do you not feel well rested now?"

Harry shook his shoulders and frowned. "Well, yeah, but I, you know, wanted to say goodbye to some of my teachers before they left, it'll probaly be a while before I see some of them again," he said quietly, not liking to admit this out-loud. Dumbledore smiled, and looked at Harry fondly.

"Ah, that is where you are wrong, Harry. Mr Gonzales and Tonks you will at least see tomorrow; they are part of your guard to get you safely onboard the Hogwarts Express." Harry brightened considerably at this news, glad that he would be able to properly thank them tomorrow for everything they had taught him, but then frowned suddenly.

"Professor, where's Remus? He was supposed to take me home at six."

"Remus will be here in an hour to take you home. First, there are a few things that you and I must discuss. Shall we move to the kitchen?" Dumbledore suggested, "it's getting quite uncomfortable done here on the floor."

Harry agreed and followed Dumbledore into the kitchen, knowing from experience that this was not going to be good. This feeling intensified when Dumbledore placed Silencing Charms around the kitchen twice and sat down at the small kitchen table, the twinkle leaving his eyes as his face became grim and serious. Harry sat down opposite him, and Dumbledore began to speak in a quiet voice.

"Harry, we need to talk about the prophecy." Harry swallowed, with an effort, and nodded.

"What about it?"

"We must discuss if you have, or plan to in the future, reveal the contents of it to anyone." Harry gave Dumbledore an incredulous look. He started to speak, to defend himself, but then thought of something better to say.

"What do you think, Professor? Do you think I have told anyone yet, or if I plan to in the future?" Dumbledore looked shrewdly at Harry before answering.

"I believe that you want to tell someone, yet are worried about the conseuences of what will happen if you do. I believe that you do not wish to keep this information to yourself, but at the same time do not wish to burden anyone else with it. I believe that your mind is divided on the issue. In short, I think you are confused. I wish to help you." Harry shook his head.

"You don't wish to help me, you just want to make sure that I won't tell anyone about the prophecy," he said resentfully, ignoring Dumbledore's hurt look. He then spoke up, and replied to Dumbledore in a clear voice.

"Professor, if you had come to me at the beginning of the summer and said this, you would have got how I was feeling, my emotional state, bang on. However, it's changed now. My mind is set now," he finished. Dumbledore looked hard at him.

"And in which direction has your mind set to?" he asked. Harry took a deep breath, and when he replied it was in a clear, firm voice, quite unlike his usual tone.

"I will not tell anyone about the prophecy. By telling someone, I could make them as much of a target for Voldemort as I am myself, and I would not wish that upon anybody. As you said, it is also true that I do not wish to burden anyone else with the knowledge of the prophecy, which would tear them apart, or at least it would tear apart the people I would ever consider telling. Given that I recognize these consequences of telling anyone about the prophecy, it must be easy now to see that I do not want to tell anyone about it. The way I see it, the cons of telling someone outweigh the pros by a mile. To tell someone would be selfish; I would be attempting to lighten my burden by handing some of the weight of it to others. That is not the kind of person I am. I am not confused at all on this matter. This is my burden. My mind is set. I will not tell anyone about the prophecy."

Dumbledore looked at Harry in wonder, and did not speak for the next five minutes. Instead, he took off his half-moon glasses and buried his face in his hands, and when he emerged, Harry could see that without a doubt he had been crying. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with respect.

"You move me, Harry. I have never heard you speak like this before." He gave Harry a long, hard, searching look, and at length he spoke again.

"You have grown, Harry. You are not the same person you were at the beginning of the summer. You are becoming a man, I see. And a strong man as well; it is beyond my comprehension how you can accept this knowledge so easily, and disregard completely the idea of confiding in someone." Harry shook his head.

"Did I say that I have accepted this knowledge? You think that I have just accepted the knowledge that I must either kill or be killed? No Professor, I haven't. It eats at me everyday. Some days I just can't get it out of my head. But disregarding completely the idea of confiding in someone? That is true. But it is not an issue of simply disregarding it; I don't have a choice. It is my destiny to fulfil the prophecy, or die trying, and I am not going to put someone else's life in danger just so I can feel a bit better about it. There is no choice in this." Dumbledore inclined his head slightly.

"Indeed if this is how you feel Harry, then it is true that you do not have a choice, and nothing I say will change that. But remember Harry, that you do not carry this burden alone. I too know the contents of the prophecy, and I understand the reponsibility which is laid on your shoulders." Harry gave a short, bitter laugh.

"How can you possibly understand this, it's not exactly a. . ." Harry trailed off, looking closely at Dumbledore, who was looking very peculiar. His blue eyes were vacant, and he looked like he was in another world.

"Professor?" Harry said anxiously.

Dumbledore stirred, and looked up at Harry with a strange look on his face, and a powerful emotion in his eyes that Harry could not interpret. He glanced around the kitchen and added another layer of Silencing Charms to the room. Harry frowned; what was going on? He wondered.

"Harry, what I am about to tell you is a secret that you must keep to yourself forever, save one person. You must guard this information with as much vigilance as you guard the words of the prophecy. However, I do not wish to add to your burdens without your permission first, so I am giving you a choice; do you wish to hear this or not? I must tell you, however, that even if you do not wish to be told this secret today, you will have to be told it one day. Do you wish for me to tell you?"

Harry hesitated. Did he really want more important information that he had to keep a secret? Of course he didn't, he told himself firmly, and prepared to tell Dumbledore so as well, but then stopped. If Dumbledore cared as much for him as he said he did, and yet he was still going to tell him something that he knew would add to Harry's burden, it must be something that it was important to hear. But he didn't want to know, he told himself. He turned to Dumbledore.

"What do you advise, Professor?" Dumbledore looked suprised that Harry had asked his advice, but nevertheless he answered him.

"I believe that you need to know this information, Harry. Not for the world, not for anyone else, but for yourself, and for your own well-being."

Typical cryptic Dumbledore answer, Harry thought dryly, but nevertheless he took Dumbledore's advice. He took a deep breath.

"Tell me then."

"Are you sure, Harry?"

"Yes I'm sure, just tell me."

"Very well." Dumbledore laid his hands out on the table in front of him, and began to speak.

"As you are undoubtedly already aware from your studies in Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, it is the traditional rule that at least two powerful Dark Lords rise every century. This, unfortunately, has been the way for over a thousand years, even before Hogwarts was created by the four founders." Dumbledore paused, muttered something under his breath for a minute, took a deep breath, and continued. "Every time a seemingly invincible Dark Lord rises, a prophecy is made concerning him or her, which foretells their potential downfall at the hands of one person. In short, every prophecy states, in different wording, that only one person has the power to defeat that Dark Lord, and if they fail to do so, there is no hope of ever defeating that Dark Lord. This has been the rule for as long as Dark Lords have arisen, and only once has the prophecy fallen in the Dark Lord's favour."

"What happened then?" asked Harry, "when was it? You said that if the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord failed, then there would be no hope of ever defeating that Dark Lord." Dumbledore sighed.

"And I spoke truly, Harry. However, I believe that that is a tale for another day. The point is, Harry, you are not alone as you think you are. You belong to the Line of the Protectors, the title given to the ones who are chosen by the prophecies. You must remember Harry, that people before you have gone through what you are now going through, and understand what you are going through." Harry gave another short, bitter laugh.

"What good is that to me, Professor? It dosen't make me feel less alone at all. Maybe if I could actually meet and talk to one of the witches or wizards who had gone through this I'd feel a bit better, but I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, is it?" he laughed again.

"It may happen sooner than you think, Harry. Indeed, a man who has gone through this is sitting across the table from you at this very moment."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "You?" he said quietly, not fully comprehending what Dumbledore had just said, before the memory of a Chocolate Frog trading card suddenly came clearly into the front of his mind.

Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945.

"Grindelwald, 1945," he said slowly, understanding now. Dumbledore nodded grimly.

"Correct, Harry. Hadzler Grindelwald, the first Dark Lord of the twentieth century. At the time of his uprising, I was a humble Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. I had no inclination to be involved in the fight against him. He had not yet affected wizarding Britain in any serious way, being based and fighting the majority of his battles overseas in the mainland of Europe, otherwise perhaps I may have felt an inclination to join the fight before the prophecy was made." Dumbledore sighed, and his face took on the vacant expression Harry had seen earlier. Now he knew that it meant he was reliving old memories. At length he shook himself, and carried on with his story.

"The prophecy was made by a self-imposed exile of the wizarding world, an english woman named Annette Vatescue. Being a natural seer from birth, but not willing to face the dangers of being a well-known seer in the wizarding world, she decided to erase herself from the magical community, by leaving her friends and family suddenly one night and, in effect, vanishing without a trace from the wizarding world. With her seeing powers, she saw a guarnteed way to make a living in the Muggle world, by becoming a Muggle fortune teller, and worked this way for many years.

"In 1941, Annette was working on a large, travelling carnival organisation, which was constantly moving around Britain, attempting to cheer up the Muggle's who were downhearted by the Muggle second world war. On the night of the 21st of June, 1941, a wizarding family, the Chilcott's, had decided to visit this carnival, which at the time was situated in Kent, to see what the Muggles did for entertainment. They came across a fortune-teller there, under the lame title of "Annette the all-seeing", and decided to see if she at least put on a good show.

"It was while the Chilcott's were with her that the prophecy was given. Luckily, Sigmund and Grace Chilcott were good friends of mine and, seeing me as the best person to come to with such a peculiar situation, they informed me the next day of what had happened, and the contents of the prophecy. I tracked Annette down of course, to ensure that I had the words of the prophecy correct, and erased her memory of anything out of the ordinary happening. She may not have remembered actually giving the prophecy, but she most certainly would have remembered the Chilcott's reactions to it. Strange, is it not, how these things happen, how a wizarding family just happened to be there when the prophecy was given, how they just happened to be good friends of mine. . .almost like fate that I found out really," Dumbledore said dryly, making Harry smile grimly and nod.

"But wouldn't the family have come to see you anyway, if the prophecy was about you?" he asked. Dumbledore frowned.

"Does the prophecy concerning you actually contain your name, Harry? No, it does not. Another rule for these prophecies is that the name of the person with the power is never actually named in the prophecy. However, there is always enough information in each of them to discern who the prophecy is referring to."

Harry swallowed. "And how did you defeat Grindelwald, Sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore did not look suprised at the question.

"When the prophecy was made, in 1941, I immediately contacted the leader of the resistance against Grindelwald in Germany, and told him I wished to join the fight. Because of my already considerable experience, I quickly became one of the leaders of the resistance, in under a year in fact. It was there that I met, in 1942, Lucida Janus, the woman the prophecy had chosen to defeat the last Dark Lord of the nineteenth century, Lucifer Riddle. Yes Harry, the same family," Dumbledore said, nodding grimly, "alas that he had secretly fathered children before Lucida defeated him. For four years, Lucida trained me for my task, of defeating Grindelwald, and in 1945 my chance came, at last.

"Grindelwald was laying siege to the borders of the Netherlands when I faced him. He did not take me seriously, as he was so convinced that he was completely and utterly invincible, and that no-one whatsoever could ever defeat him, even harm him in any way. Perhaps that is what lost him the battle." Dumbledore paused, running his fingers over his forehead and muttering under his breath in some strange language Harry did not understand before continuing.

"We Duelled for over an hour, neither of us getting a clean hit on the other the whole time, before my chance came. We had been Duelling on a high wall, the wall of the borders, the Netherlands on one side and Germany on the other, when somebody fired a very strong Reducto Curse against the wall. I was quicker than Grindelwald. As the wall collapsed, I cast a levitation charm on myself and floated myself down lightly to the ground. Grindelwald, however, was not so quick-thinking. He went down with the wall, and when he emerged from the ruins, looking only slightly worse for wear, I conjured a thick iron net and wrapped him in it before he could retaliate. That is when I used it."

"Used what?" Harry asked breathlessly, lost in the story, forgetting temporarily that it had actually happened. Dumbledore sighed.

"The spell that Lucida had taught me to defeat Grindelwald. The Eternal Spell of the Underworld. I cast the spell on Grindelwald, and sent him to hell for eternity."

Harry felt his throat close up suddenly, and a feeling that he associated with Phoenix song rose in his chest; hope. This could be it, he realized, not daring to believe it.

"You killed Grindelwald with this spell?" he asked Dumbledore, quickly and breathlessly, "you sent him to hell forever? Even though he was thought to be immortal? Can I. . can I. .can I use this spell on Voldemort? Can I defeat Voldemort with this spell? Can I kill him with it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I am afraid Harry, that no, you cannot. It will not work. Voldemort is the most powerful Dark Lord ever, Harry. He is too powerful to simply banish to the underworld forever. Eventually, he would escape, yes Harry, if he set his will to it, he could even escape from hell."

"Then what else is there?" Harry said, letting the hope in his chest die. "What other spell is there?" he asked despairingly.

"There isn't one."

"THEN HOW THE HELL AM I EVER GOING TO DEFEAT HIM THEN?" Harry screamed, not really knowing actually why he was screaming. "HOW CAN I DEFEAT HIM WITHOUT KNOWING HOW TO?"

"When the time comes Harry, you will know what to do." Harry gave a frustrated growl.

"How do you know that, Professor? You were taught the spell needed to defeat Grindelwald. How do you expect me to just know how to defeat Voldemort, 'when the time comes', as you say? You knew what you were doing when you went to kill Grindelwald, I haven't got a clue. Is that your big plan; for me to walk into a Duel with him relying on just suddenly knowing how to kill him?"

"Harry, you misunderstand me. When I said 'when the time comes', I did not mean you would suddenly know how to defeat him when you walk into battle against him, far from the contrary in fact. What I meant, Harry, is that you will know what to do because I will tutor you in what to do." Harry gave Dumbledore a puzzled look.

"You're going to tutor me in what to do?" Harry repeated, confused. "But how? You said there is no spell to defeat him."

Dumbledore nodded. "Correct Harry. There is no spell to defeat him. Not yet, at any rate." He frowned, and began to stroke his chin (or at least Harry thought it was his chin; he couldn't be sure under that beard) thoughtfully.

"Perhaps I should have made myself clearer earlier. When I said that Lucida taught me The Eternal Spell of the Underworld to defeat Grindelwald, I did not in any way mean that it was a spell that she already knew, and simply tutored me on how to use; it was a spell that the two of us invented. It was Lucida who came up with the idea of how to actually use the spell, which is why I said she taught me the spell. Myself and Lucida created the spell together, just like you and I must do."

Harry opened his mouth in shock. "We have to invent a spell to defeat Voldemort?" he said quietly. Dumbledore nodded. "But, I don't know how to create spells, I've never created one in my life, I. . how the hell am I going to create one powerful enough to kill Voldemort?"

"Harry, I do not expect you to suddenly be able to create a spell like this. Remember, it took me and Lucida four years to invent our one. However, I have confidence that we will take nowhere near that long for ours. I have been informed that you have taken up the subject of Spell Construction for one of your NEWT classes, and it must be clear now that that was a good choice. You will gain experience from that in creating spells, and by the time we begin to create our spell, you will have at least a year's worth of Spell Construction studies behind you. Furthermore, when we. . ."

"At least a year's worth?" Harry interrupted, "what do you mean? Do you not want me to start this until seventh year?"

"Preferably, yes, that is my plan."

"No."

"I beg your pardon, Harry?"

"We start this as soon as possible."

"Harry, you must understand. . ."

"All I need to understand is that the longer this spell takes to create, the more people who will die. That's all I need to know." Dumbledore sighed.

"Very well, Harry, I will give some thought to this. I am not promising anything though. Please come to my office after the welcoming feast tommorow. The password is 'Pumpkin Juice'."

"Pumpkin Juice?" repeated Harry, "you usually use sweets."

Dumbledore shrugged. "I felt like a change was in order." He began to rummage in his purple robes, evidently looking for something. After a few minutes, he pulled out a golden watch, that looked very expensive. Harry saw that instead of numbers, it had planets moving around the edge. Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

"I apologise Harry, but I must be on my way. Remus should be here in a few minutes. However, I must speak with you on more matter before I go.

"The Line of the Protectors is not a laughing matter, Harry. Someday, it will be your responsibility to help and guide the next of the line in defeating the next Dark Lord, and help to create the spell needed for the task, and you must be ready for the task. You must be both pupil and teacher in your lifetime, Harry. I. . .what is it, Harry?" Dumbledore had noticed Harry looking down, a dark look in his eyes.

"Then my life is laid out for me even after I, sorry, I mean if, I defeat Voldemort, then," he said softly. "Since I was eleven, I've always held on to the hope that when Voldemort was gone, I'd be free. Looks like I was wrong," he finished bitterly. Dumbledore sighed.

"Harry, you have no choice but to accept this. I know it is hard, and believe me, I do know. But you must remember Harry, this is what you were chosen for. Please remember that you were chosen because of who you are, of what you would grow up to be. You have the power of the Line of the Protectors in you, Harry. You are not alone in this fight. And for what it's worth, you have me. I will always help you Harry, not simply because it is my fate to, but because I love you. You are like a son to me."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, amazed, confused, angry, grateful and embarassed at his words, an emotion he could not describe filling his chest. He could not find words to express what Dumbledore's comment meant to him, so he just said what he felt was a safe thing to say, mumbling, "thank you," to the table, and looking up.

Dumbledore looked like he understood anyway however, and smiled at Harry. Abruptly, he stood up, pocketing again his expensive-looking golden watch.

"Remember that we have a meeting scheduled tommorow after the leaving feast, Harry. I will give you your answer regarding the spell then. Have a good trip to Hogwarts. Oh, and Harry? Congratulations again on your progress over this summer," he added, and Disapparated away without a sound.

Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with information, but also strangely lighter-hearted than usual. He allowed himself a small smile.

Maybe he wasn't so alone after all.

* * * * * * * *

"The 10:38 to Peterborough, calling at Potters Bar, Hatfield, Stevenage and Letchworth will be delayed by nine minutes, due to. . ."

"Train approaching on platform four, please keep behind the yellow line. . ."

"Big Issue! Big Issue! Big Issue!"

Harry pushed his luggage trolley through the busy King's Cross Station, feeling like he was coming home. Well, he was, he reasoned; he was going back to Hogwarts. He was going to see Ron and Hermione again! He thought excitedly, and began to walk faster, Hedwig's cage wobbling dangerously on top of his trunk. He heard people laugh behind him.

"Whoa, slow down Harry, you'll end up walking off the end of the platform," he heard Tonks say from behind him, getting appreciative chuckles from the others accompanying Harry to the station, the others being Nate Gonzales, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt (who was disguised as a jamacian tourist, with rainbow-patterned clothes and dreadlocks to match).

Harry slowed down, turning around to stick out his tongue at Tonks, who blew a raspberry at him. He had formed a close friendship with Tonks over the summer, and saw her as a sort of sister he had never had. Kind of like the way I see Hermione, he realized. Today, Tonks was disguised as a tall, middle-aged blond haired woman, with, in Harry's opinion, an eery resemblance to his Aunt Petunia.

"You'll see them soon, Harry." Harry turned to his side, to see Remus walking alongside him, smiling at him. He smiled back.

"You always know what I'm thinking, don't you?" Harry said. Remus chuckled.

"Well, I have spent enough time with you this summer, I should be able to read your mind by now," he said, nudging Harry with his elbow. Harry rolled his eyes; Remus really needed to work on what he thought was funny.

"Harry! Professor Lupin!" Harry turned to his right, but before he could respond to anything, a very bushy haired girl had thrown herself at him, knocking him back a step.

Only up to my chest this time Harry thought as Hermione Granger hugged him, remembering last summer when Hermione had hugged him in Grimmauld Place and he had not been able to see anything, because of her bushy hair being in his eyes. He fought his first instinct, to defend himself from the person who had just crashed into him, and hesitantly hugged her back (he had never exactly been comfortable hugging people). Hermione pulled away from him and looked at him with immediate concern in her eyes.

"How are you, Harry? Oh, I haven't seen you for so long! You look so different! I've been worrying about you all the time, are you okay?" she said breathlessly. Harry smiled at her.

"Calm down Hermione, I'm fine. W hy are you here by yourself?" he asked, slightly worried.

"My parents just left, about a minute ago. They've got a meeting at 11:15, they had to go. My trunks already on the train. But don't change the subject. How are you?" Harry laughed.

"Really, Hermione, I'm fine. I had a good summer for once." She frowned at him for a second, looking disbelieving, but then smiled at him again, and turned to his side to speak to Remus.

"Hi, Professor! How are you?" she asked politely, a strange look on her face as she looked at him. Remus smiled at her.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he answered, shaking her hand, "did you have a good summer?" To Harry's suprise, Hermione frowned, and then waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, it was allright, we didn't go on holiday anywhere like we usually do, and I didn't get to see Harry or Ron like I usually do, but other than that it was okay. Tonks!" she exclaimed suddenly, smiling at the young Auror, who had just caught up with Harry and Remus.

"Wotcher Hermione!" Tonks replied, hugging her. Hermione broke away from her, and then looked at confusion at Kingsley and Nate Gonzales. Tonks laughed.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that. Hermione, that's Shacky," Tonks said, nodding at Kingsley, dressed in his rainbow patterned Rastafarian clothes and frowning at Tonks, "and that's Nate Gonzales, one of Harry's teachers from the summer. Nate, this is Hermione Granger, that smart friend of Harry's that everyone's always going on about." Hermione smiled at Nate.

"Pleased to meet you," she said politely. Nate smiled at her, and shook her hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. From what I've been told, you're one of the smartest witches I've ever met." Hermione blushed, and turned to shake Kingsley's hand.

"Shall we get on to the platform, then?" Remus said, once Hermione and Kingsley were done shaking hands. "Ron's probaly already there," he added, seeing that Harry was just about to ask a question. Harry smiled, and nodded.

They went through the process of hanging around the barrier casually, and slowly leaning against it and falling through it and on to platform nine and three-quarters. Harry went through first, looking in joy when he got to the other side at the familiar scene of platform nine and three-quarters, of tearful parents saying goodbye to their embarassed children, the Hogwarts Express standing tall to the left of the platform, billowing smoke, ready to take the students back to Hogwarts, back home. . .Harry grinned widely.

A few minutes later, Harry, his guard, and Hermione were all on the platform, looking for the Weasleys but not seeing them anywhere. Harry was beginning to get worried, and from her expression Hermione was as well, when. . .

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry turned around quickly to see Ron Weasley walking quickly towards him from the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, ahead of his parents, his twin brothers Fred and George, and his sister Ginny.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, shaking Ron's hand when he had reached him. Ron looked at him in amazement.

"Blimey, look at you! You've grown! About time, I reckon, you've been a midget for ages."

"Ron!" said Mrs Weasley sharply, making Ron shrug his shoulders and mumble something under his breath. He spoke to Harry for a few more minutes, and then went to say hi to Hermione. Mrs Weasley turned to Harry and beamed at him, saying, "Harry dear, it's lovely to see you!" she gave him a tight hug and pulled back, still smiling at him. Over her shoulder, Harry saw Hermione hugging Ron tightly, a smile on her face as she did so. Ron looked slightly scared. Mrs Weasley continued to beam at him.

"Well, even if Ron was a bit crude about it, he's right. you're looking much healthier," she said, giving him another hug before going to talk to Remus, who was now introducing Ron to Nate Gonzales.

"Yeah, Harry, you're looking great," said Fred, as he and his twin brother George came up to him and each shook his hand. "Bit out of season though."

"What?" said Harry, confused.

"The look," said George, continuing Fred's sentence, "more of a winter look, that."

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, thoroughly bewildered. Fred and George rolled their eyes.

"I don't think he's looked in the mirror all summer, George."

"Can't blame him, really, I mean, would you look in the mirror if you looked like that?"

"Suppose not. Don't think he's been outside all summer as well."

"I'll say. Have those Muggles locked you up all summer Harry?" asked Fred, his expression turning slightly more serious. Harry, however, was still confused.

"Have they been locking me up? What? Just tell me what you're on about, will you?"

"Your complexion, Harry. You're completely pale. You look like you haven't been outside all summer. So, did the Muggles lock you up, or did you just decide to use Snape as your new role model? I mean, you look like him now." Harry frowned. He'd forgotten that he had been inside all summer, training in Mrs Figg's dark, murky house, so that an absense of a tan would be even more noticeable around everyone else, who all looked very well tanned, Harry noted. He glared slightly at George.

"I look like Snape? Cheers, George. And no, the Dursley's didn't lock me up, I've been inside, doing, well, I've been doing. . .hang on, didn't no-one tell you what I was doing?" Harry asked. Fred and George looked at eachother for a minute, looking confused, before realization dawned on their faces, at exactly the same time, Harry noted. They turned back to Harry.

"Well, yeah," said Fred, "but still, you can't have been doing that every day, could you? What were you doing the rest of the time?" Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"There wasn't any other time. It was every day, I didn't have any days off, and by the time I finished every day the sun was already going down." The twins goggled at him.

"Every day?" they exclaimed loudly at the same time, making a timid-looking girl passing by shriek loudly. "They had you training every day? How long for?"

"Ten hours a day." George whistled loudly.

"Blimey, Harry, hard work. Bet you wish you had been locked up by the Muggles, don't you?" Harry laughed.

"Nah, it was fun. Hard work, but it was fun. And I learned loads. Loads of spells, not book stuff," he added. Fred and George nodded, the disgusted looks that had appeared on their faces instantly vanishing.

"Ah, the good kind of learning," said Fred.

"Got anything decent you could teach us, Harry?" said George. Harry grinned.

"Tons. But not right now. Maybe at christmas or something."

"Well obviously, Snape."

"Shut up," said Harry, making a mental note to look at his reflection the first chance he got, to see if he actually did look like Snape.

"Harry, you better get on the train, it's leaving soon."

Harry turned, and saw Remus behind him. The twins said hello to him quickly, and then went off to help Ginny with her trunk.

Remus held out his hand to Harry, and Harry shook it immediately, suddenly realizing that he wasn't going to see Remus for a long time. He was going to miss him, he wasn't ashamed to admit. Remus smiled at him.

"Take care of yourself, Harry." Harry smiled weakly.

"And you. And. . .thanks for everything." Remus nodded.

"And thank you for everything." Harry gave him a puzzled look.

"Thank me?" he said, confused. "What for?"

Remus smiled sadly. "Grief is a complicated thing, Harry. You and I both needed someone. Thank you for the support you gave me."

Harry didn't understand how Remus reckoned he'd given him support, so he just nodded, pretending to understand. Remus seemed to believe him, as he nodded as well.

"Oi, Harry! Get on the bloody train!" came Ron Weasley's cry from a open window of the Hogwarts Express.

"Ronald Weasley, watch your language!" came Mrs Weasley's shrill reply to Ron's shout. Ron slammed the window, looking, to Harry, very embarassed. Harry turned to Remus in panic.

"I haven't said goodbye to the others yet!" he said, looking around frantically. Remus pushed Harry towards the train.

"There isn't time now, I'll tell them you said goodbye. Yes, and I'll tell them you said thank you as well."

Harry smiled at Remus, and jumped on to the train. "I'll see you when I see you then," he said out of the window. Remus just nodded.

Harry was just about to shut the train door and look for the compartment Ron and Hermione were in when several things happened.

Harry saw Remus twist his head round sharply, down the platform. His eyes suddenly widened. Harry heard people screaming, and then a deep voice cried, "Reducto!"

A loud crash was heard, as if something very heavy had just fallen to the ground, and the train trembled and shook under the shockwaves of it. Harry lost his balance and toppled over. He looked at Remus, who was frantically looking from Harry and down to the platform and back. He shouted over the loud crashes that were still being sounded, "stay there, Harry!" and he went to close the train door, a few inches in front of Harry's face. But Harry had by now figured out was going on.

Death Eaters had attacked platform nine and three-quarters.

With speed Remus had not anticipated, he pulled himself to his feet, pushed open the train door that Remus had already half-shut, and jumped back onto the platform, looking down where Remus had been looking.

There were at least ten Death Eaters there, at the far end of the platform, their wands out and ready to attack, all standing in one horizontal line, taking up the whole width of the platform. They had destroyed the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, the wrought-iron archway lying in a mangled heap on the floor, but were now making no further action. They just stood there in their line, as if waiting for something.

And then Harry heard it.

The same sound that he had heard in his nightmares more times than he could count.

High-pitched, evil laughter.

Harry swallowed. The Death Eaters moved to the side, half of them moving to the left, the other half moving to the right, to let a tall, black robed man through, who had presumably been standing behind them. Harry swallowed again, and withdrew his wand.

Lord Voldemort was here.

And he looked more powerful than ever.

The second war had begun.