Harry Potter and the Scepter of Ravenclaw

Chapter One: Extra Security

Harry looked up to see a long, narrow cavern, filled with dust and small rocks. The passage looked quite foreboding, as if there was much more to this underground grotto than first appearances let on. There were tree roots climbing the walls of the passage, and a sound as though of rushing water rang in Harry's ears. The darkness around him was closing in, making it impossible to see farther than a few feet.

"Lumos," he muttered, and the tip of his wand ignited, allowing him to get a full few of the dismal passage. This did not offer him any more insights as to what the narrow cave contained; Harry could only see tree roots and rocks as far as the light stretched. Harry outstretched his arm and felt the dusty, earthy wall of the passage and began to run his hand along it, as though searching for something. After several moments, he seemed to find what he was looking for. His hand buzzed as he ran his hand over a certain spot on the wall, the unmistakable sign that magic had touched this place. Harry turned excitedly.

"This must be it, Professor! The horcrux must be in here!"

"Excellent, Harry," a deep voice said as the figure of Albus Dumbledore shone in Harry's wandlight, an expression of deep satisfaction upon his face. "Allow me to give you a hand. Here." He grabbed Harry's forearm with a surprisingly strong grip, and the hand closing around his arm felt like ice. Harry looked up, surprised, and, to his horror, Professor Dumbledore's skin had become grey and cold, his clothes were rags, and his eyes were open, blank and staring. The kindly man was not helping Harry now, now one of Lord Voldemort's Inferi was dragging him away and, try as he might, he could not free himself.

"No!" Harry cried, desperately searching for his wand. "No! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!"

But try as he might, Harry could not fight off the cold, slimy grip that was dragging him slowly to an underground lake with icy water. Harry was desperately thrashing around, trying to free himself. He looked up and saw Dumbledore, fright etched in his old, withered face, a tear streaming down his face, his deep voice, shaky, crying out. "Harry! Harry!"

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry sat up bolt right in his bed. Ron was standing over him, shaking him violently. Harry immediately scrambled to his feet and began feeling all over for the freezing grip of an Inferius, and, finding that there was nothing there, allowed himself to sit back on his bed, breathing heavily, cold sweat pouring down his face.

"You all right, mate?" said Ron nervously.

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Yeah, I think so. It was just a dream, just another dream."

He was beginning to grow old of these dreams that he had been unable to shake since the night of Dumbledore's death barely three weeks ago. Ron had agreed to accompany Harry back to Number 4, Privet Drive for the one-month stay Harry was planning before returning to the Burrow to make preparations for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Afraid of his dreams, though stubborn to admit his fears, Harry had welcomed Ron with open arms when he had suggested he come stay with Harry, much to the dismay of Mrs. Weasley. She had half a mind to flat-out refuse to allow her seventeen year old son out of her sight for a whole month, but she took comfort in the fact that, while Harry was still sixteen, he could not be touched by Lord Voldemort under the Dursley's care. She had also been reassured by the face that Harry and Ron would only be staying for one month, until Harry's protection at the Dursley's wore off at midnight on August 1. This had worked out perfectly, as the marriage of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour was to take place on August 2 in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, very near to the Burrow. Ron and Harry could stay on Privet Drive until the first of August, when they would come back home just in time for the wedding. They had also planned to take their Apparition tests on Harry's birthday, July 31, so there would not be any unnecessary risk taking on the journey back to the Burrow.

"Well, all right," she had said reluctantly, "but do be careful and look after yourself, Ron."

Ron had indeed been looking out for himself, but he had been paying more attention to the peculiar behavior of his best friend. Harry had awoken almost every night after thrashing about in his nightmares, which were becoming more and more intense.

"Are you sure?" asked Ron tentatively, "because you were shouting jinxes again. You actually did it this time, look." And sure enough, as Harry followed Ron's gaze, he found scorch marks on the wall of his bedroom, apparently where he had cast Impedimenta and the Stunning Spells.

Harry's stomach dropped unpleasantly. He had been having such intense dreams as of late that he was beginning to yell in his sleep, and even shout out spells. However, he had not actually cast any of these jinxes until tonight. The burn marks on the wall were a mark of the gravity of the situation he was now facing because of his dreams. He had done magic outside of school, and he was still sixteen. Under normal circumstances, this would constitute a breach of the Statute of Secrecy and the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry, but Lord Voldemort's move out into the open last year had changed things slightly. Apart from the threat of a Ministry reprimand, there was the matter of the tightened security that had already disturbed Privet Drive twice this summer, the Aurors that had been ordered to protect Harry by none other than Rufus Scrimgeour himself. Harry's stomach turned again. He knew what was coming next.

"Ron," he said, "the Ministry is going to be all over this. We have to do something! I don't want those stupid Aurors back in-"

Right on cue, a deafening bang echoed throughout the house. Harry heard Petunia's scream, Dudley's yell, and Uncle Vernon's "What the ruddy hell was that?"

He looked at Ron, who looked back, terrified. They both drew out their wands and ran from the room, colliding with two grim-faced Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. Uncle Vernon's face filled the gap between them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He cried angrily. "I told you that you are not welcome in my house ever again! Do you hear me? Get out of my house!"

But the two Aurors were not paying Uncle Vernon the slightest attention. One of them stepped forward.

"We heard shouts and saw lights in the upstairs room. Is everything alright?"

"Of course it is!" Harry cried irritably. "It was just a dream; I did those in my sleep!"

He pointed to the wall where the scorch marks were, but the Aurors did not look convinced.

"We have to ask you the security question to make sure you are really Harry Potter."

"Of course I'm really Harry..." Harry began, but the unperturbed Auror plowed on with his questioning.

"What shape does your Patronus take?"

"A stag," said Harry exasperatedly, "now can I please go to bed?"

One of the Aurors sighed heavily.

"Another false alarm? We can't keep having these, Mr. Potter..." Harry hardly needed reminding that Aurors had burst down the door twice already this summer. Once it was because Uncle Vernon forgot to turn of the television, causing the Ministry to fear the unknown noises coming from within the Dursley's sitting room. Another involved a rather nasty incident in which Fred and George sent Harry a load of exploding meat pies that caused such a racket that one of the neighbors had to be reassured by a livid Aunt Petunia that their criminal of a nephew had merely tried to light off fireworks inside the house.

"We don't know what he was doing with them," she said to her neighbor, "but we know it won't happen again." Harry was getting rather tired of not only having to answer to his aunt and uncle when such things occurred, but of also having to deal with the intrusion of Aurors only to find that there was nothing wrong. At first Harry had been mortified by the two incidents, as he felt embarrassed by bothering the two Ministry workers for apparently no reason at all, but as Harry now stood, staring at the two Aurors, he felt he no longer cared what they thought and found their presence rather annoying.

"Well then," said Harry hotly, "you can just turn around and go, and don't bother about guarding me anymore, I'm perfectly fine by myself."

"We're under strict orders from the Minister of Magic himself to provide an all-day and night guard," said the other, who was particularly grave. "Nothing is to happen to you. We have gone over this several times, and you know that we are not going to leave you until you have left and safely arrived at the home of Arthur Weasley. Now are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," said Harry exasperatedly. "You can go now."

"Very well, then." The Aurors turned around and started out the door. "Remember, if you need anything, send up-"

"Red sparks," said Harry. "I've got it. Good night." And without another word, the Aurors walked out the front door and concealed themselves in the night once more, their presence not noticeable in the slightest on the quiet street below.

Uncle Vernon's face rapidly began to turn red and his whole body seemed to swell with anger.

"IF YOU LET THOSE BLOODY WIZARDS BACK INTO OUR HOUSE ONE MORE TIME..."

"I don't want them here!" said Harry hastily. "I told them to leave."

But Uncle Vernon would not budge on his position that the whole ordeal had been entirely Harry's fault, and they had an hour-long row about what really happened before Aunt Petunia told Harry just to go to his room and shut the door, and to not disturb them again with "his kind." When Harry finally shut the door, he turned to Ron and let out a heavy sigh.

"Now you know what my life has been like all these years," said Harry, grinning.

"I don't envy you, mate," said Ron. He had had to endure several weeks of the Dursley's mute contempt of all wizards and, particularly, the Weasley family, who had been partly responsible for Dudley's incident with the Ton-Tongue Toffee. "Now let's get back to bed, it's only three o'clock in the morning, try to get some sleep."

But as he spoke, Harry caught sight of a large barn owl swooping toward the window, clutching a very official looking envelope in his beak. He opened the window and collected the letter, allowing the owl to drink from Hedwig's water bowl, much to the disdain of the latter, who looked at Harry as though she were being forced to fly overseas.

"What's it say?" said Ron. Harry opened the letter and read aloud.

Dear Mr. Potter-

We have received intelligence that you performed several Stunning Spells and an Impediment Jinx at your place of residence on the 27^th of July at 12:07 in the morning. As this is a serious breach of the International Statute of Secrecy and the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Wizardry, your presence is required at the Ministry of Magic on July 31.

Under normal circumstances, this matter would be settled by the Improper Use of Magic Office, but the Minister of Magic has requested to handle this problem personally. Therefore, you will be escorted by your Auror guard to the Minister's office at 1:00 on the afternoon of July 31.

Hope you are well,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office.

Harry gaped at the letter. Not again, he thought. Ron spluttered.

"I...but...what does this mean?" he said. "Why would the Minister want to talk t you?"

"I know why he would," said Harry darkly. "He's going to try and get me to do the old mascot job again. He wants me to make it look like I'm working for the Ministry." He was hoping that he could avoid another meeting with the Minister of Magic, but Rufus Scrimgeour was a shrewd politician, and would no doubt use any opportunity to catch Harry to his advantage.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "I forgot about that. Blimey, what're going to do?"

"Well," said Harry, "I suppose I have to go to this...thing," he gestured at the parchment, "on my birthday. It works out, that does. I can do my Apparition test at the Ministry that day too. The test date's on my birthday, I just have to schedule a time with the Department of Magical Transportation. You wanna do the test with me?"

Ron, who had still not retaken his Apparition test after his fiasco last year, looked down at the floor.

"Oh, I dunno," he said sheepishly. "After last time, I'm not so sure I can get the hang of it."

"Oh come on," said Harry encouragingly. "You only left half an eyebrow behind. You just need another go at it, that's all. Come on, take the test with me, and then we can both Apparate to your parent's house. We're supposed to meet them on August 1, remember? The day after I come of age, the magic wears off. I'm no use at the Dursley's after that, and I'm not staying a moment longer that I have to." Seeing that Ron did not look too reassured, Harry said, "Come on, Ron, how proud of you would your mum be if you just Apparated back to the Burrow? Remember, you promised her that you would get your license before you left Privet Drive so we wouldn't have to risk running into some Death Eaters on our way to your house. You've got no choice, you have to take it!"

"Oh, er....all right," Ron replied, resigned to taking the test whether he wanted to or not.

"That's the spirit, Ron," Harry replied. "Now come on, I'm tired and I want to catch up on some sleep before Hermione gets here tomorrow." Harry crossed to the other side of his bedroom, and tried to go back to sleep.

But as Harry lay back down in his bed (Ron was sleeping on the guest bad Harry had rolled out of the Attic.), Harry couldn't stop thinking about this supposed meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour. The last time they had met, they had not ended on good terms. What was Scrimgeour going to ask him this time? He had half a mind to send a Howler back to the Ministry telling the Minister that he and Dolores Umbridge can just go jump in the lake, but he thought better of it. He would tell Hermione in the morning what happened, she was coming to visit tomorrow anyway. In the meantime, he tried to steer away from his nightmares, hoping that they would not trouble him enough again to add more scorch marks to his collection.

Chapter Two: Politics and Licenses

The next three days passed without incident on Privet Drive. Harry, whose mind seemed to have taken a well-deserved rest after the third encounter with Aurors, spent three dreamless nights, leaving him well-rested and leaving his wall burn-free. On the morning after Harry's nightmare about Dumbledore, Hermione rang the bell of Number 4, much to the dismay of Uncle Vernon.

"Can I help you?" he said in an intimidating tone.

"Erm...yes...er..." Hermione seemed taken aback by this rudeness, but took a stab at being friendly again. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm a friend of Harry's. He told me that you said it was alright to come stay..."

While it was true that Harry had convinced Uncle Vernon to allow Ron and Hermione both to stay in the house, Uncle Vernon seemed completely taken aback by the fact that Harry's friends had indeed followed through with their plans to stay with Harry, particularly in light of the various incidents that dotted the summer like bits of dirt on Aunt Petunia's impeccably immaculate china. It had taken a great deal of arguing on Harry's side to convince the Dursleys to allow "his kind" into the house, as none of the previous visits by wizards had ended very well. However, after assuring Uncle Vernon that they were going to stay in his room most of the time, and not leave the house, and that it was only a few weeks before the whole lot of them would leave the house for good, Harry's aunt and uncle had begrudgingly agreed to let them stay.

"Yes, well..." Uncle Vernon stuttered. Harry, who had heard the doorbell ring and knew what it must mean, darted down the stairs toward the front door.

"Hermione!" Hermione looked up and, upon seeing Harry, beamed at him.

"Harry! It's so good to see you!" She looked nervously at Uncle Vernon. "Erm...can I come in, then?" She withdrew her wand and began polishing it lovingly with her hands. Uncle Vernon sighed heavily, and then said hastily, "Oh, all right, all right! Hurry up before the neighbors see! Just stay upstairs and don't cause any trouble."

Harry, who had warned Hermione of the possible reluctance of Uncle Vernon to let Hermione into his house and told her that if this occurred, drawing her wand was the surest way of her being hurried into the house, laughed out loud and ran down the stairs to greet Hermione, closely followed by Ron, who gave Hermione a little overly enthusiastic hug, allowing for a rather awkward moment.

"Right," said Hermione after a long pause, "so how has your summer been? Any news to report?"

"Actually," Harry began, and he told her all about the events of the previous night, the warning from the Aurors, and the letter from the Ministry of Magic summoning him to yet another hearing, this time in the Minister's office. When he finished, Hermione looked slightly exasperated, and said, "Well, I thought it was only a matter of time before Rufus Scrimgeour decided to try again. I don't think he ever truly thought he was going to be turned down by you."

"But Hermione," Ron interjected, "the Minister isn't calling Harry in to ask about joining the Ministry; he's going to decide how to punish Harry for his misuse-"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ron, why else would the Minister of Magic get involved in a stupid little thing like this? Harry cast these spells in his sleep, I'm sure he isn't the only one who's ever done that before."

"Well," said Harry, "I suppose we won't be able to find out about my fate until my birthday. Besides, what is old Scrimgeour going to do, expel me from Hogwarts? I already told you, I'm not going back there."

"Well," said Hermione with a very don't-say-things-like-that look on her face, "we'll just have to wait and see, Harry. Don't do anything rash until your hearing."

"What else can I do?" said Harry. "I'm stuck here 'til then."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent most of their time shut up in Harry's room, talking about school, the latest disappearances (Dedalus Diggle had vanished just days previously), and occasionally stopped to work on N.E.W.T. practice papers (though the latter was mainly done by Hermione while Harry and Ron discussed more important matters like Quidditch). The days crept by slowly, though not slowly enough in Harry's opinion, and when he awoke on 31 July, a knot in his stomach had erupted, eased only slightly by his birthday presents: a large bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky ("You're seventeen now, have some fun!") from Ron, and a more responsible collection of sweets from Hermione.

"So, how does it feel to be of age?" said Hermione.

"Well," Harry replied, "it would have been nice if I had been seventeen four days ago; then I wouldn't have to go to the Ministry. Suddenly, the thought of meeting with Scrimgeour crept back into his mind, and he felt even more uneasy. He hardly touched lunch (a delicious soup prepared by Hermione in the corner of Harry's dismal room-using magic was now no longer a problem now that Harry was of age) and when the doorbell rang at one o'clock he made Ron answer the door because he didn't want to see those stupid Aurors again. However, they entered on their own accord, and told Harry that it was time to go.

"Grab my arm, then" said one of the gruff-looking Dark Wizard catchers, "we'll be doing sidelong Apparition. You two..." he pointed at Ron and Hermione, "can wait here until we're done."

"No!" cried Harry. "No, they can come too. Hermione can Apparate and Ron..." Harry considered for a moment, "Ron can side a long Apparate with the other Auror."

The two Aurors considered this for a moment, and then one said, roughly, "they can Apparate to the main floor, but Scrimgeour wants you to himself. Let's go." Harry seized the Auror's arm. He was quite unhappy with the prospect of having to face this alone, but also realized that he had very little choice in this matter.

"Good luck, Harry!" said Hermione. She looked rather nervous.

"We'll be waiting for you in the Visitor's Centre," said Ron, who was anxiously grabbing hold of the other Auror's arm.

"See you," said Harry, and then he felt the enormous pressure of Apparition, then with a faint pop!, he had appeared at the end of a long hallway with a single, oak door, marked in shining brass Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.

"Right," said the Auror, shaking his arm free of Harry's grasp. "In you go, then." And he gestured toward the solid oak door. His hands trembling slightly, Harry opened the door and stepped into the Minister's office.

The scene that unfolded before Harry's eyes was like nothing he could have expected. He had expected to see something similar to the dismal hearing to which he was called two years ago, with dozens of Ministry witches and wizards sitting on high benches looking like they wanted nothing better than to cart him off to Azkaban for life. However, all he found was a single, rich mahogany desk, behind which sat none other than Rufus Scrimgeour, who looked up at Harry as though he were a friend he was expecting by for dinner.

"Harry!" he looked positively delighted to see him. "I've been waiting for you! Come in, sit down, and sit down."

Harry was completely bewildered by this behavior. He had been expecting a stern courtroom meeting rather than this jovial greeting. Scrimgeour might as well have asked him to join him for a drink. Stupified, he took a seat across from the Minister, who looked at him appraisingly.

"So," he said, "So, you are in a little spot of trouble aren't you?"

Harry stared back. He had no idea what the Minister was up to. Unless...

"You performed magic inside your Muggle home when you were still sixteen. That's quite a serious charge, boy." He was still smiling, but Harry couldn't help notice the rather hungry look in Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes. He looked remarkably like Dolores Umbridge.

"Well," said Harry, "it was an accident. I did those spells in my sleep. I was having nightmares..."

"Nightmares about...your journey with Dumbledore?"

Harry looked quite coldly at Scrimgeour.

"With all due respect, Minister, what my dreams are about and, more importantly, what my journey with Dumbledore was about, is entirely my business, and not yours."

The Minister's smile vanished as though someone had punched him in the face. He looked shrewdly down at Harry.

"Well you see, Harry," he growled, "I have no idea whether or not you are telling the truth about this whole ordeal. For all I know you were just casting any spell you wish at any time you like. I mean, with a charge like this, you could be expelled from school." Harry bit back a stinging retort about how he was not going to be going back to Hogwarts anyway, but he decided it was not worth the awkward questions. He merely continued to look scathingly at Scrimgeour as the Minister continued on his speech.

"Now, we can probably arrange to have these charges waved, of course," said the Minister in a would-be-casual voice, "but...well..." he seemed to have trouble finding the right words. "...I can help you...if you help me..."

This is what Harry had been expecting, but it still shocked him to hear it.

"Help you?" he said blankly.

"Well, yes," the Minister said simply. "You know what I've asked of you, the favors I have requested...and of course, I need to know where you went with-"

"So let me get this straight," said Harry, who was now talking through clenched teeth. "If I want to get out of trouble with the Ministry, I have to first act like I'm working for them, and then tell you where I went with Dumbledore?"

Scrimgeour had a grimly satisfied look on his face.

"If that's what you want..."

Well, I have a better idea," said Harry, getting to his feet. "How about you let me go free, and I don't tell the Ministry and or the Daily Prophet that you are trying to force me into doing your bidding, or that Dolores Umbridge made me cut my own hand open-" he held up his hand, which still bore I must not tell lies in white scar tissue-"or that she tried to put the Cruciatus Curse on me two years ago..." He had expected the Minister to leap up in surprise upon hearing this outrageous claim, but he did not flinch. Harry supposed that Dumbledore had already told him all of this. Harry would not know for sure, he had never asked him...and now would never be able to. He fell silent and sat down, while Rufus Scrimgeour examined Harry with a look of coldest fury.

"What you are suggesting, boy, is blackmail, and a threat like that can get you sent to Azkaban..."

"Yeah, because threatening me with punishment unless I work for you isn't?" Harry retorted back.

"I am offering you a chance to get out of trouble!" Scrimgeour insisted.

"Well, that's funny, because I'm looking at it from a rather different perspective," Harry said plainly.

The pair of them merely stared at each other for several moments, refusing to be intimidated by one another. Finally, Scrimgeour sighed.

"Well, I see that there's no persuading you, Potter," he said grumpily. "Now get out of my office and don't darken my doorstep again." He immediately looked down, away from Harry, and began scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment.

"See you," said Harry, and he stood up, wrenched the door open, and walked out of it into the hallway.

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione, upon finding out that Harry was not in trouble, "that's fantastic!"

"'Knew you would be fine," said Ron, who looked thoroughly relieved. Harry had gone down the hall to the golden lift that had carried him up toward the Visitor's Lobby at the Ministry of Magic, where Hermione and Ron had been waiting for him anxiously, sitting on a bench next to the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The Fountain looked exactly like it did when Harry came for his last hearing, and it bore no marks of the spectacular battle that had occurred here more than a year ago. It was here that Dumbledore had successfully protected Harry from Lord Voldemort's wrath against him, but now that protection was gone; Harry was on his own. Harry, however, shook these thoughts from his mind as he told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened between him and the Minister. Hermione gasped when Harry told her about his threats to the Minister.

"Oh, Harry," she said again, "you could have gotten in so much trouble!"

"Yeah, but he wouldn't dare try to put Harry in," said Ron, laughing. "Can you imagine what people would do if it was printed in the Prophet that the Chosen One had been carted off to Azkaban? There'd be a public uproar! Nice one, Harry," he added, laughing again. Hermione still looked mildly disapproving.

"Yes, well, I suppose..." she trailed off, looking over Harry's shoulder, hissing, "Oh, no."

Harry followed her gaze and found none other that Dolores Umbridge, her wide, toad-like face smiling widely as she walked into the lobby, a pink bow perched horribly on her graying hair. When her eyes fell on the three of them, the smile melted off her face like Stinksap. Her eyes widened in shock, and she said in a falsely high, girlish voice, "Oh! Good morning, Potter, Weasley, Granger."

"Oh hello, Professor," said Harry sardonically, "going to try the Cruciatus Curse on me again? Or perhaps you would like to cut open my hand?" He held up the back of his hand for Umbridge to see the scars she had inflicted two years ago. She stared, almost frighteningly back at him, and made no response. At this, Harry made a loud snort of disgust and then said, "Come on, Ron and Hermione, let's go to the lift, we have a test to take." And without another word to Umbridge, Harry turned his back on her and marched toward the lift, closely followed by Ron and Hermione. Ron was laughing hysterically.

"Did you see the look on her face?" he said as they clambered into the lift. "I think she almost died of fright. Hermione once again looked disapproving, but not so much as before. In fact, Harry thought that the look on her face might have been more grimly satisfied than disapproving.

"Well," she said in a slightly huffy voice, "I'm not going to act like she didn't deserve it..."

"Cheers, Hermione," said Harry laughing, as the lift began to descend. They heard the familiar, cool female voice say "Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, Incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office." The lift jangled to a halt as the grilles slid open and witches and wizards began to board the elevator, all of them doing a double-take when they saw Harry, and were closely followed by several violet paper airplanes, zooming around the interior of the lift. The grille slid shut, and the lift crawled downward again, until the woman's voice said "Level Six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulation Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Center."

"That's us," said Harry, and they fought the crowd in the lift to exit through the golden grilles. Ron groaned; Harry measured that Ron had forgotten his anxiety about his Apparition test during his wait for word on Harry's "hearing," but all of his nerves came flooding back in as he stepped off the lift and into a brightly lit room. He looked slightly green. Harry was not in the least bit nervous. After all, he had Apparated last summer with Dumbledore...

Anxious to spare his mind the pain of revisiting that night again, Harry looked determinedly around the large room in which they were now standing. The walls were blank except for one large enchanted window on the back wall. There were four doors, each with a large, brass plaque next to it. One read, Administrative Offices, another, Floo Network Authority, the next, Broom Regulation Control and Portkey Offices, and finally, Apparition Test Center. Harry pointed to the last door and said, "I guess we go in here." He marched over toward the door, grabbed the large handle, and slowly pulled it open.

Whatever Harry had been expecting, it was not the scene before him. The Apparition Test Center office was very much like any other office in the Ministry, a small room with enchanted windows and a fairly large desk in the center of the room, with a sign marked TESTERS CHECK IN HERE. On the wall to the left of the desk there was a bookshelf full of pamphlets with titles such as Splinching is not a Joke, and Underage Apparition is Underage Wizardry, and Harry spotted a familiar pamphlet entitled Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them. A pretty young witch sat behind the desk, and when Harry opened the door, she welcomed him, Ron, and Hermione with a jovial wave.

"Good morning," she said gently. "Are you here to take an Apparition test?"

"Yes," said Harry, and, gesturing to Ron, "we both are."

"Alright," said the witch kindly. She pulled out her wand and tapped it on a piece of parchment. "Just find your names on this register, please." Harry looked down at the piece of parchment. Harry's name was at the top of the list. He grabbed the quill next to it and checked his name off. Ron followed suit. The Apparition witch took the register from Harry and studied it for a moment.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter..." she paused for a moment, then Harry saw her eyes flick up to Harry's scar. "...you'll be going first. Just sit here for a moment while I call one of the examiners." She grabbed a small microphone on her desk and said into it, "Willy Twycross, will you come out here, please? Misters Potter and Weasley are here to take their Apparition tests." She looked at Harry and smiled. "He'll be out shortly," she said kindly. "Feel free to wait in those chairs if you wish." She gestured to the chairs opposite the bookshelf. Ron stared. He looked slightly sick.

"Twycross? He's not doing our testing, is he?

"Oh, don't be stupid," said Hermione. "Mr. Twycross is an excellent teacher. He'll want you to pass, I know he will." Right on cue, a wispy-looking wizard Apparated with a resounding pop! This was indeed Willy Twycross has Harry remembered him. He had a thin, wispy look about him like he had maybe Apparated one too many times.

"Oh hello, Mr. Potter," he said, checking his name against the register, "and Mr. Weasley, welcome back." Ron scowled. If possible, he looked even more nervous. Perhaps Mr. Twycross had sensed this, because he said consolingly, "There's no need to be nervous. This will go very smoothly. In fact, you are going to be taking the test together."

Ron's spirits seemed to lift at this news. He turned to Harry and said, "Well, it can't be that bad then, can it?"

"No, no, no." said Twycross, laughing slightly. "Now, you remember the three D's?"

"Yes," said Ron and Harry. Harry was secretly trying to remember them. What were they again? Determination, Destination...

"Well then, I think we're ready to begin. Now, as you can see, there is little room to Apparate freely in here, so your only task for this test will be to Disapparate from this office and Apparate outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. You know where that is, so you should be able to get a clear picture in your mind. Now, on the count of three, I want you to Apparate to Hogsmeade. If you can do this perfectly and accurately, you will receive your Apparition license. Now, on the count of three, then."

"Good luck!" Hermione hissed. "I'll meet you there!" She turned and Disapparated with a faint popping noise.

"One!" Harry pictured the Three Broomsticks clearly in his mind. Ron looked positively terrified.

"Two!" Harry imagined himself being outside the Three Broomsticks.

"Three!" Harry turned and imagined himself walking directly toward the bar in Hogsmeade, and immediately felt an enormous pressure. Walking clearly and deliberately through the giant force squeezing him, he soon heard a faint crack and felt warm sunlight stream down his face. He opened his eyes. He was standing in the village of Hogsmeade, standing almost directly outside the Three Broomsticks. He had done it! He had Apparated! He looked around, desperately for Ron. He found him, about five meters behind him, searching himself for missing eyebrows or other body parts. Upon finding none, Ron laughed and said, "Harry! We did it! We Apparated!"

"Oh, well done!" said Hermione. She came running to meet them, having Apparated several moments ahead of him.

"Yes, yes, well done indeed," said Mr. Twycross, who was looking at the pair of them and beaming. "You have passed your tests. Now all that you need is your Apparition licenses. Mr. Potter, if I could see your wand, please..." Harry handed his wand to Mr. Twycross, who held it so that his wand tip and Harry's wand tip were nearly touching. A jet of silver light streamed from the examiner's wand and connected to Harry's. They all watched for a moment while the jet of light held the wands together, and then the light stopped, and Mr. Twycross handed Harry's wand back to him.

"All set, then, Mr. Potter," he said proudly. "You are now a licensed Apparitioner. Now, Mr. Weasley, if I could see your wand..."

A few moments later, Willy Twycross had Disapparated, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione standing in the brightly sunlit street.

"Splendid!" said Ron brightly, "What d'you say to a drink in the Three Broomsticks before...Disapparating?" he treated the word with reverence, as if he was stunned that he had actually talked like he was able to Disapparate and Apparate at his will now.

"Ron, no!" snapped Hermione. "Your mother made us promise not to wander around anywhere while we were on holiday at Harry's. We need to Apparate back to the Dursley's for one more night, and then it's off to the Burrow, remember?"

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," said Ron dismissively, "it's only for a drink; nobody's going to even notice that we're there." But as Ron looked wistfully at the Three Broomsticks, Hermione could not help but see that Ron was rather hoping they would be noticed. Seeing this, she looked at Harry and said, "What do you think, Harry? Should we go for a drink?"

But Harry was not paying Hermione or Ron the slightest attention. He was looking up the high street, to a point in the distance, where he had Apparated not even two months ago, clutching a dying Albus Dumbledore, anxiously trying to get back to school where the Dark Mark was perched upon the Astronomy Tower, where Draco Malfoy had been lying in wait to attack, where Severus Snape had betrayed the Order of the Phoenix and rejoined his fellow Death Eaters again.

He would not go back. He had already decided. Even as he looked at the school that had changed his life forever, had beckoned like home to him for almost seven years, Harry knew. He had a job to do, and even though the school governors had decided to reopen the school almost two weeks ago, he knew it was no good. His task was to find the Horcruxes-and then kill Lord Voldemort himself, and no matter what happened at Hogwarts, Harry could not return until his job was finished, until Lord Voldemort was dead forever.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice suddenly pierced his thoughts, and he snapped out of his trance.

"Whazat? No, no, we need to leave. Let's just go." He had absolutely no desire to stay here, where he could see Hogwarts, where he could almost make out a white tomb on the other side of the lake, where he would never return again.

Ron's face fell. "Oh, all right, I guess we'll just go back to your place then."

"Yeah," said Harry. "We need to pack our stuff anyway. Then at midnight we need to leave, lets Voldemort decides to come and pay me a visit..."

Hermione shuddered involuntarily.

"Oh, Harry, don't say things like that," she said anxiously. "We're all going to be just fine. We just need to leave as soon as possible after your birthday is over."

"Right," said Ron. "Let's just go." And with a sudden crack, Ron turned, and vanished. Hermione followed, and then, after taking one last look at Hogsmeade and the school he would never go back to, Harry did the same.