Mirror Tricks

04/? - A Sort of Homecoming

Harry had come back to himself after drifting for what felt like an eternity on soft whiteness. He could still feel the softness under and all around him, clean and crisp and comfortable. He felt a great sense of contentment, relaxed and secure in his malleable cocoon, safe from the world. His head felt slightly thick and dulled, as if he'd been drinking warm butterbeer all evening, but it was a restful feeling.

He opened his eyes, feeling slightly groggy, with a thickness in the back of his throat. He blinked a couple of times and realised slowly that his eyes did work; it was just dark in the room. He was lying in a comfortable bed, white sheets drawn up under his chin, and a soft white pillow cradling his head. His head...why was he wearing a hat? He moved his heavy left hand to pat his head and found that he wore bandages, wrapped tightly and low around the back of his head.

He flexed the fingers of his right hand and found them encased in something, someone else's hand. As he looked closer, Harry saw a young woman sitting in a chair by his bed, her head pillowed next to his hip, grasping his hand, with wavy hair spilling across her bent arm. As he straightened his fingers again experimentally, she stirred, yawned prettily, and blinked at him, a tired smile spreading across her mouth, revealing perfect, even teeth.

"Harry! How are you feeling?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing save a faint croak came out. She moved quickly, reluctantly releasing his hand, and carefully inserted a straw from a glass between his lips. Harry swallowed the cool water gratefully.

"Hermione." He seemed to recognise her suddenly.

Her brow relaxed from its previous concerned look.

"Yes, yes I'm here."

"We...we were...Diagon Alley...Malfoy...you're my girlfriend!"

Hermione laughed, the sound a little high pitched in relief.

"Yes, we were and I am."

"I don't really remember much after Malfoy cornered me."

"Do you remember coming back to the Leaky Cauldron?" she asked him anxiously.

He rolled his head from side to side. It really was the most wonderful pillow.

"Nuh-uh."

"Well, let's just say you scared the hell out of us all by falling unconscious in your chair, and that was two days ago."

"What? That means we're back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

Hermione glanced at her watch.

"Well, later on today, yes. The Head Mediwitch said you'd probably wake up sometime this morning, though trust you to be awkward."

"Will they let me out in time to catch the train?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe."

"My N.E.W.T.s form-"

"Don't worry, I sent if off for you. Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, right? Mrs. Weasley sent a letter to McGonagall explaining what happened. She said something about a hearing once we get to Hogwarts. Ron's pleased that Malfoy's not going to get away with this one."

"Oh, no, I don't want any of that..."

"What? But Malfoy attacked you! Surely you want him to get what's coming to him?"

"I'd rather forget it. Please, Hermione?"

She looked at him oddly.

"Okay, Harry, if that is what you want. I'm sure you can talk to McGonagall when we get back to school."

Harry sagged back against his glorious pillow, not having realised how tense he was. He was not sure why he had had such a reaction, but he knew he just wanted to be left alone. He felt his eyelids drooping inexorably towards his cheeks.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

Consciousness was not something he really wanted to contemplate right now. Oblivion certainly had its advantages.

"Um, about Ron, there's something you should know..."

"Hmmm..." His attempt at speech tailed off into a soft sigh as he slipped back under, the whiteness bearing him away once more.

Hermione watched him for a time, then sighed herself. Not looking forward to tomorrow, she stroked Harry's hand, squeezing it gently.

"You're impossible, you know that, Harry Potter?"

~*~

Harry had awoken the next morning at half past ten, and was determined to catch the 11 o'clock train from Platform 9 ¾. Unfortunately, he appeared to be surrounded by a gaggle of annoying women who were resolute that he should stay in bed a least a while longer. In the end, Harry relented, albeit ungraciously, and Mrs Weasley escorted Harry and Hermione downstairs to the public Floo fireplace at St Mungo's.

Ron and Ginny had popped into St Mungo's briefly whilst Harry as still in bed before they went to catch the Hogwarts Express. Ginny was obviously making an effort to be cheerful, and despite his evident fatigue Harry noticed the dark smudges beneath her usually clear green eyes. Ron had appeared strained and reluctant to talk, and avoided meeting Harry's gaze. At that point Harry was still miffed about not being allowed to go on the train, and was in no mood to attempt to draw Ron out of his distemper.

Now Harry stood by the hospital fireplace, trying to look like he wasn't leaning against the wall for support. The Mediwitch had said that the bang against the wall he had received in Diagon Alley had fractured his skull and he was suffering a severe concussion. His skull was healed good as new, but the concussion was a more difficult thing to fix.

"You'll have to take this potion three times a day for a week. In that time get plenty of rest, and no Quidditch, or any more fighting," the Mediwitch told him sternly.

Apparently they were only letting him travel by Floo on the express condition that he report to Madame Pomfrey as soon as they arrived at Hogwarts. Hermione had said that it was probably safer travelling by Floo in any case, as she considered the Hogwarts Express to be quite vulnerable.

They stepped into the green flames in the heart of the fireplace and were immediately transferred to the taproom at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Harry lurched forward as his feet hit the ground and was steadied by firm arms. He looked up to see that Professor McGonagall had come to meet them, accompanied by Madame Pomfrey, who immediately began to fuss over him. He thanked her and fended off her attentions and turned to help Hermione out of the fireplace, similarly covered in soot and dust.

"Mr. Potter, Miss. Granger, you are both well I trust?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor," Hermione answered. Harry merely nodded, feeling tired. He was willing to admit at this point that a long journey on the Hogwarts Express might have not been a good idea.

"Let's get you both up to the castle and into the warm."

Madame Pomfrey hustled them outside into the midday drizzle, where they found a coach waiting for them. Harry realised that these were the same carriages that took students up to the castle from off the Hogwarts Express. He stopped briefly to pat the closest horse-like creature, wondering if it were one of the Thestrals that had carried them to London last term. It rustled its leathery wings restlessly.

"Come on, Mr Potter, before you catch your death."

Harry obediently climbed into the coach and sat next to Hermione.

The journey up to the castle was short, and looking out the window, Harry was glad to see the silhouette of Gryffindor Tower outlined against a strangely sinister flash of lightening. He shuddered imperceptibly, and returned a weak smile to Hermione, who grasped his hand covertly and briefly beneath their soggy cloaks.

Once inside, Madame Pomfrey insisted on making sure Harry took another dose of the vile-tasting potion, before leaving them with Professor McGonagall. The professor accompanied them up to their common room, and asked if they wouldn't mind staying in Gryffindor Tower until the rest of the students arrived. Truthfully, Harry didn't mind at all. He and Hermione spent a leisurely afternoon in front of the roaring common room fire, over a late lunch Dobby sent up from the kitchens with his regards.

Pleasantly full of ham and salad sandwiches and pumpkin juice, they sat curled up next to each other, talking and laughing softly.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?"

"Yeah. This place has always felt much more like home."

"You never talk much about your family, you know."

"Don't I? Well, I guess they're not much to talk about. They're not people I have a particular attachment for. You and Ron are my family, I suppose. And Mrs. Weasley, and the rest."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you think of us as your family. But it would help me understand if you told me a bit more."

"All right," Harry said uncertainly. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Your first memory?"

"Well, that's easy. I remember being told not to ask questions. I didn't know anything about my parents, except that they were supposed to have died in a car crash. But of course I found out the truth when I got my Hogwarts letter. You know," he said suddenly, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. "I don't even know where they're buried. I've never been to Godric's Hollow. Hagrid told me that's where they lived. Where we lived." He corrected himself absently.

"We could find out, if you like," she said, touching her hand gently to his arm. An appealingly supportive gesture, Harry thought, smiling slightly.

"I think I'd like that."

He bent down to kiss her softly on the lips, noticing as he did how she closed her eyes and her eyelashes brushed his cheek. Her lips parted and he kissed her more deeply, his free hand automatically sliding up into her silky hair. He luxuriated in her soft, clean fragrance. He broke off the kiss gently and hugged her tightly.

"Thanks, H'mione."

"Oh, Harry," she breathed into his hair.

He held her for a while, getting used to the new senses of touch he was experiencing. He couldn't believe he had missed out on touching people, things that could feel this good, for nearly sixteen years. His childhood had verged on abuse, a fact of which Harry appeared unaware. It was all too easily forgotten when breathing the scent of her.

The sounds of chattering from far off within the castle drew them back to the present and away from each other. The Hogwarts Express had arrived, bringing with it droves of students, making the dim castle lively once more. Sharing a rueful glance, they left their comfortable place in front of the fire and went out of the portrait hole and downstairs to the Great Hall, hand in hand.

~*~

They slipped into the Great Hall and took places at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Ginny, within a mixture of fifth and sixth years. Ginny and Luna, who was sitting with the Gryffindors at the moment, greeted them warmly, with knowing smiles, and Harry was diverted for a moment by shouted hellos from the remnants of Gryffindor's Quidditch team and from the sixth year boys who grinned at him and made suggestive comments. He fended them off good-naturedly, and sat next to Hermione and Ginny opposite Ron. Luna slipped off to join her friends at the Ravenclaw table. Ron appeared to be avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Good journey?" Harry asked over the noise at the table, but was prevented from hearing any answer of Ron's by Dumbledore standing at the teacher's table and calling loudly for silence.

"Welcome, welcome all to another year at Hogwarts. Before the Sorting begins I would like to give out a few notices. As usual to our past students, and especially to those who have joined our merry company this year," Dumbledore's gaze swept across the quavering ranks of first years huddled in front of the teacher's table, "I must stress that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds. This is for no other purpose than your own safety, I assure you. Also, when around Hogwarts grounds, and to our older students on Hogsmeade visits, keep in large groups, the same as the conditions recommended by the Ministry this past summer."

He paused, and his gaze over his half-moon spectacles took in the entire hall. "I trust I need not stress this any further. On a much lighter note, I would like to announce a change to the annual Quidditch Cup this year."

There were a few anxious murmurs throughout the hall. Quidditch was still the most popular activity at Hogwarts. Harry shared a look with his teammates of fearful anticipation. The lifelong Quidditch ban that Umbridge had enforced on him last year had been lifted by Dumbledore, and he was very much looking forward to getting back on his Firebolt, whatever the Head Mediwitch at St Mungo's had said.

"We will, of course," Dumbledore continued. "Have our usual inter-house Quidditch Cup. In addition to this, Madam Hooch has organised an inter-school championship, one match of which will take place each term, with the schools of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, which I'm sure many of you will remember from the Triwizard Contest two years ago."

There was much talk at this announcement, and Dumbledore had to motion again for silence.

"Anyone can try out for the school Quidditch team. These trials will take place on the third Saturday of September, and the final team and substitutes will be decided by Madam Hooch."

Excited looks were now shared up and down the Gryffindor table, Harry in particular drawing a lot of encouragement from his housemates. It was perhaps unfortunate that at that moment Harry looked up across the other house tables and saw Malfoy staring at him intently. Harry wasn't sure how to decode that glare; it was so unlike the usual blind hatred he received from the pale-haired boy. It was very unsettling, and he looked away quickly, pasting on a smile as talk resumed and hoping no one had noticed his brief slip. He nervously felt the back of his head where he fingered an imaginary bump as a remnant of his last contras-temps with Draco Malfoy.

Harry paid little attention to the rest of the notices about the school year, and only vaguely noticed the Sorting. He picked at his food, when it appeared magically in front of them (ensuring gasps of surprise from the new first years), but did try to enter into conversations going on around him. Mostly they comprised of the new Quidditch feature and fears over commencing N.E.W.T.s.

Once the meal was finished, the Gryffindor prefects including Ginny, Hermione and a grumpy-looking Ron, escorted the first years up to the Gryffindor common room. Harry dragged behind, talking to Neville and Dean about whether or not they would continue with Dumbledore's Army this year. Apparently on the Hogwarts Express the Army had ended up in carriage together and all of them thought it was a brilliant idea. Harry agreed, although his enthusiasm baulked at the idea that everyone in the school now be allowed to join, since there was no need to keep it secret any longer.

"It'll be great, Harry," Neville enthused. "You wait and see. We'd be like a young Order-"

"Shh, Neville!" Harry hissed urgently as they walked up a further staircase, surreptitiously looking behind them. "The Order isn't exactly common knowledge, you never know who might be listening."

"Right. Sorry, Harry."

They now stood outside the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room.

"Anyone know the password?" Dean asked.

"Venomous tentacula," Neville supplied, surprising them both.

The portrait of the Pink Lady swung open and they came face to face with a fuming Ron.

"Hey, Ron-" Dean began but Ron rode over him.

"I need to speak to Harry, now," he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"Uh, sure."

Neville and Dean shared a wide-eyed look and disappeared quickly through the portrait hole, which swung closed behind them.

"Ron, what-"

"Were you going to tell me, then?" Ron spat, advancing on Harry and shoving him in the middle of the chest.

"Hey! What's all this about?" Harry retaliated, his anger sparked.

"This!

Ron thrust a rumpled piece of parchment at Harry, and turned away fuming.

"I don't know what you're on about - oh." Harry said as he saw what Ron had shoved at him.

It was the front page of the Daily Prophet from two days ago. It showed a moving picture of Harry and Hermione, with Harry raising Hermione's hand to his lips to give it a chaste kiss, the two of them smiling at each other.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has found true love at last! Potter, here caught sharing a romantic moment with his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, is about to start his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Harry dragged his eyes away from the exaggerated nonsense. Well, at least that explained why Ron had been acting so strange.

"Ron, look, we were going to tell you, there just wasn't any time. I didn't realise this would happen." He shook the paper angrily. "I'm sorry," he looked up at Ron who had turned to face him.

"You're sorry? I had to find out that my best friends were going out from the bastard who tried to kill you the other day!"

"M-Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously. "Since when were you on speaking terms with him?"

"I'm not!" Ron stormed. "But he seems to know a lot more about you than I do, and I thought I was your best friend!"

"You are, Ron. You and Hermione-" Harry stopped, his mouth open in sudden horror. "Ron, this is terrible!" he said urgently.

"Yes, I know it is!"

"No, you idiot." In a flash of anger, Harry straightened out the page of the Prophet. "The article mentions you too, look. Those stupid bastards have practically advertised to Voldemort who the people I care about most are and where to find them!"

Ron stood staring at him, all anger having fled.

"What?" he whispered, stunned. "It mentions Ginny, too, later on. We have to go and see Dumbledore. Now."

Harry nodded shortly. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore. Harry's summer had done much to allay his mistrust of the Headmaster in the last year, but he still found it difficult to trust someone who had been so reluctant to trust him.

Hermione burst out of the portrait hole.

"Harry! Ron! Stop it!" She pulled up when she realised that they weren't trying to kill each other. She wrung her hands, looking at the both of them. "Oh, I guess you two are all right?"

"Have you seen this?"

Harry showed her the article. Hermione's eyes widened a fraction, but she nodded her head.

"Ron showed me yesterday. I tried to tell you, Harry, but I guess we all had more on our minds."

"You do realise the danger this puts you in?"

Not surprisingly, Hermione nodded again.

"I don't know what to do about it, though," she admitted in a smaller voice.

"We're going to go and see Dumbledore. Come on." Harry led them back down the staircase and across the castle to Dumbledore's office.

"Pepper Imps?" Harry asked the gargoyle and was surprised when his first guess proved correct.

He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with Ron and Hermione following behind. Harry knocked on the door to the Headmaster's study, and waited impatiently for a reply, tapping the rolled paper against his leg.

"Come in, Harry."

Harry entered the study, frowning, wishing he knew how Dumbledore always knew it was he at his door. He nodded a greeting to Fawkes in his glorious plumage, who squawked in return.

"Professor," Harry began, "have you seen this?"

He passed the headmaster the copy of the Daily Prophet. Solemnly, Dumbledore took the paper and unfolded it against his desk.

"Yes, I have Harry," he said, his voice low and calm.

"Sir, it names my friends! How could they be so stupid? They're going to know where they are. The Death Eaters could-"

"Harry, calm down, please." Dumbledore motioned to three squishy armchairs that materialised out of thin air. "Sit down, all of you."

They sat down, Ron and Hermione looking worried, Harry looking almost frantic. Dumbledore surveyed them for a moment.

"Please, now," he said. "You must not worry about this for the time being. I promise you that this is something of which the Order and I are aware and steps have been taken to ensure your immediate safety."

Dumbledore looked at them over his spectacles gravely.

"I can reassure you that Hogwarts is the safest place you can be at the moment. You have nothing to worry about."

Hermione and Ron looked relieved, and recognising the dismissal, rose to leave. Harry, however, stayed where he was, staring intently at Dumbledore.

"Is there more you'd like to add, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head, his gaze for a moment to Ron and Hermione who stood by the door waiting for him. Harry took a deep breath.

"Um, could I talk to you alone, for a moment?"

"Of course. Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger, if you'd like to make your way back to Gryffindor Tower, I will ensure Mr. Potter returns safely."

Ron smiled slightly at this, Hermione, however, remained looking concerned, but followed Ron down the staircase with a last backwards glance at Harry.

"Harry." Dumbledore turned to him when the door closed behind them.

"Sir, I don't know how to say this, but is the protection of the Order going to be enough to make sure Hermione and Ron and Ginny, and everyone else I know and care about... What I'm trying to say is... how can I know they will be safe? What if Voldemort tries to get at me through them? I mean, when...Draco and I were in Diagon Alley there was no Order to help me." He appeared hesitant to mention it; his eyes flickered away from Dumbledore's steady gaze. "Hermione had to do it all on her own. I just can't bear the thought of them being hurt or killed because of me. I already almost got them killed once..."

Harry trailed off, looking desperate.

"Please, sir," he implored a silent Dumbledore. "I have to know they will be all right."

"Harry," the headmaster said after a pause, "that is the one thing I can not guarantee, and I think you are aware of that. I feel your pain, I truly do. As for Mr. Malfoy, that is another matter, which we will address at a different time. Why the Order did not come to your aid in that instance? I do not know, Harry. But I do promise you that I will know very soon, and the answer had better be plausible."

Harry caught a gleam of anger in the professor's eye, and once again saw the fierce wizard Voldemort was so afraid of.

"I think, for now Harry, that you get some rest-"

"Professor! I don't think you understand! I am a danger to the people I care about most! Something, anything could happen..." Harry had been aware of this ever since the events in the Chamber of Secrets, and had always thought he could cope with it. More recently, however, he was becoming more and more unsure of himself.

"If we begin to think like that, Harry, we would never do anything," Dumbledore said evenly. "And I think that both Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger, and indeed the rest of your associates, know well enough when they are putting themselves in danger." The headmaster stressed the word ever so slightly. "Harry, you are not responsible for their safety, and as much as it is a credit to you that you care so urgently for their collective well-being, they are all answerable for their own actions."

Dumbledore stood and came to sit in one of the comfy chairs now facing Harry.

"Harry, you are safe here. Please." Here he put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry had to fight the instinct to flinch, physical contact again suddenly taboo. "You must try to remain focused on what, at this time, is important. I understand from Madam Pomfrey that you have yet to take your potion this evening."

It was not entirely a question. Dumbledore's pale eyes were wide and sincere in his lined face, searching Harry's earnestly for a sign that he understood.

"Harry, I'm saying this as your headmaster, and as your guardian and friend. Try not to worry about those things over which you have no control. And remember that you do not have to suffer these things alone. I take it as a positive sign that you came to me tonight."

Harry felt like he was in a trance listening to the Professor talk. Everything he said made sense, but he still felt as though he wasn't being entirely heard, and possibly dismissed.

He sighed.

"Sir."

"Now, I think you should rest and concentrate on getting yourself completely well. Otherwise Molly will be on my heels."

"Sir," Harry said, getting to his feet and walking slowly to the door in an exhausted daze.

"Good night, Harry. I trust you sleep well."

"Thank you. Good night, sir."

As he left the headmaster's study, gently closing the door behind him, the look on the Professor's face suggested to Harry that Dumbledore would be awake for a good while longer. He padded slowly down the stairs and through the darkened castle, thinking that his questions hadn't been answered completely.

He was accosted outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower by Madam Pomfrey, who berated him for making her have to come to look for him. He accepted her ministrations without comment, downing the potion in one, which earned him a suspicious look. Once he had escaped her, he wandered into the deserted common room and sat down on one of the comfy red armchairs, staring into the fire.

It had been his fault, before, and now Harry had the worst foreboding he had ever had that sometime soon, something big was going to happen. People would be hurt. And it would be his fault all over again. He dozed in front of the fire, limply watching the shifting shapes of the dancing flames. Quite soon he had fallen into a deep sleep, and dream images began to spin in front of his eyes.