Mirror Tricks

08/? - Retribution Revisited

It had been another tough day for Harry, with Dumbledore drilling him in Occlumency. As he walked slowly down to dinner in the Great Hall, he rubbed a hand over his neck and the back of his head, making his hair stick up at odd angles. It hadn't seemed to matter where he had put the cushions today, he always missed them, much to Dumbledore's amusement. It had been strange, Harry thought as his footsteps slowed at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the Gryffindor common room. The majority of images he had received in trying to keep the Headmaster out of his mind had been centred on mirrors and reflections.

Harry stopped, slapping his hand to his forehead in agitation. How could he have forgotten? Guilt flared within him making his stomach sink. The mirror. Sirius.

He turned to his left and ran up the stairs to the common room, nearly bowling over Hermione and Ron on the way.

"Hey!"

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Be down in a minute," he called breathlessly behind him as he took the stairs three at a time to his dormitory. Harry felt sick with the knowledge that he had abandoned Sirius for so long. Unbidden, tears blurred his vision for a moment. His father would never have forsaken his friend like Harry had. He desperately tried to fight the awareness that he could never live up to the myth, the legend. He couldn't even live up to being a good son, let alone Harry Potter.

He rushed to the side of his bed where his trunk stood open and rifled through his belongings until he found it. As he sat back on the floor against his bed, his breathing slowed. His lips parted in trepidation, and he brushed his fingers lightly over the brown paper of the package, refamiliarising himself with its creases and folds. His breath caught in his throat in a sob at his selfishness. How could he have deserted Sirius? He had been so caught up in the events of the last week that he had completely forgotten that now that he was back at Hogwarts he could easily fix the mirror. And once it was fixed, he could try to contact Sirius again...

He whipped his wand out of his pocket, catching his fingers painfully in the fabric of his robes in his haste, and carefully opened the brown paper, laying aside the string that held the package together. The Spellotape was peeling slightly at the edges, and Harry fervently hoped he had all the sherds. He took a deep breath and aimed his wand at the taped mirror as he laid it gently on his lap.

"Reparo!" he whispered urgently, hardly daring to hope.

The mirror in his hand began to vibrate. The Spellotape tore itself from the fragments and zipped back into the end of Harry's wand with a quiet puff! To Harry's immense joy, the pieces slowly began to fuse together; a bright white light followed the paths of the edges of the shattered sherds as they became one. The scratched wooden frame of the oblong mirror came together with an audible snap, causing Harry to jump, but he smiled widely. It was whole and complete, the surface of the glass dull and unresponsive for the moment.

He waved his hand over it: light grey mist over deep blackness swirled as if at the movement of his hand, spun into eddies, then stilled as if it had never been disturbed. Harry gasped and the mist swirled again, whether at the sound or the movement of air, he wasn't sure.

"Sirius?"

His anxious whisper twisted the mist off into a hundred whorls, which accelerated madly then calmed and came together. Hardly daring to hope, Harry squinted, peering into the fog. For a moment he swore he could see Sirius's face outlined in the grey, his familiar sunken eyes glinted briefly in the blackness.

"Sirius! Sirius, it's Harry! Please... please answer me."

The image appeared to smile slightly out of the corner of its mouth, then faded back into the featureless mist.

Harry stared at its blankness, his mouth wide and disbelieving, aching tears pulling at his eyes. He cradled the mirror to his chest, feeling how cold and empty it was against his chest, even through his t-shirt. He bent his head and sobbed for what couldn't be.

After a moment he heard Ron calling to him from the staircase. Without answering, he re-wrapped his precious mirror back in its brown paper packaging, carefully retying the string in its original position. He laid it gently on the bed; his fingers loathe to pull away, grasping the paper as if it were Sirius himself.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Sirius was dead; he couldn't come back, no matter how much Harry needed him. He got to his feet and walked slowly down the stairs, deep in no thought at all.

~*~

Harry hovered on his Firebolt and observed the remnants of his team. Ginny and Ron were waiting patiently by the stands where the majority of Gryffindor House sat, avidly watching Harry in return. The two other members of the team from last year, the Beaters Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, stood together off to one side, apparently nervous but excited to be under the captainship of Harry Potter. A large number of other Gryffindors had brought their brooms down to the Quidditch pitch, Harry noted absently, thankful that they all seemed enthusiastic about his leadership qualities.

"Right, team," Harry said, bringing all discussion in the stands to a sudden end. He stopped, momentarily startled, then turned his attention back to the four figures in red in front of him. "In the air, then," he said, waving his arm behind him. "Just warm yourselves up a bit."

Ginny and Ron grinned at him, and launched into the air. Jack and Andrew followed quickly; keen to make sure Harry noticed their enthusiasm.

Harry turned back to the stands after watching them depart and cleared his throat a little nervously. He still couldn't believe McGonagall had made him captain; Sirius would have been proud of him. He blinked in sudden pain and dragged his thoughts away from the brown paper package lying on his bed up in Gryffindor Tower.

"I know I said this wouldn't be a tryout session, but it looks like a lot of you would like to fly today. So, if you'd like to be put forward for the two remaining Chaser positions or for a place on the reserve list, I'd like to see your techniques. Any volunteers?"

Two girls stepped forward shyly, brooms clutched in nervous fingers. Harry recognized them vaguely, possibly fourth years, he thought.

"You'd both like to fly?"

They both nodded, silently, then one plucked up her courage.

"I'm Cliodna Burton," the shorter one said. "You can call me Clio."

"Hey Clio, I'm Harry."

"I know that," Clio replied.

Harry flushed briefly.

"Yeah, right. And you are?" He turned to her friend.

"Louise. Louise Laker."

"Good to meet you. What positions do you two like to play?"

They shared a look and smiled.

"Chasers," they answered together.

"Great. Get in the air with the others and we'll put you through your paces."

Encouraged by the girls, ten more Gryffindors came out of the stands to join the practice. Soon the air was full of flyers, scarlet robes weaving in and out of black, all trying to impress their new captain.

Harry's eyes flickered over the stands and caught Hermione's eyes. As she smiled and waved, and Harry noticed that she was sitting next to Draco and Dean. Draco, who sat in the shadows of the stand, raised his hand briefly. Harry smiled back at them, warmed that they had come to see his debut in charge. He turned his attention back to his players and began issuing suggestions and tips, before moving on to some training exercises he and Ron had been working out with a little help from the numerous manuals left behind by Oliver Wood.

"Okay!" Harry shouted to get the flyers' attention. "We're going to test your speed and agility now. What we'll do is all start from one end of the pitch, team members from the other. Choose your target to tag and follow them whilst avoiding being caught by anyone else. This will, in theory, test your alertness and awareness of the pitch. Everyone understand?" Nods all round. "Right, on my mark then... go!"

The seventeen bodies on the pitch were a blur to those in the stands, flying furiously, changing speed and direction abruptly. One by one players were caught and glided gently to the ground. There they watched the remaining team members with the Gryffindors in the stands, calling out encouragements and teasing their friends.

After a while the only players left in the air were Ron, Harry, Ginny and the two girls Clio and Louise. Ginny had been watching them and understood how the two of them worked together to catch their targets out. The red-haired girl shared a grin with them and joined in the hunt for Ron and Harry.

Harry realised the rules of the game had changed when the phalanx of girls dived at him. He waved his hand urgently at Ron, who nodded. Together they sped towards the approaching trio, aiming to divide and scatter them in order to chase them separately.

The watching Gryffindors tensed and gasped, as it seemed the flyers were about to collide mid-air. Hermione groaned and covered her eyes with her hand. Draco and Dean shared an exasperated look; both were on their feet, Dean shouting for Harry, and Draco, his eyes ablaze, was watching intently, his entire body tense.

At an unseen signal from Ginny, the three girls dropped ten feet or so, sweeping swiftly beneath the combined attack of Ron and Harry and turned on their unprotected backs. They charged on the boys relentlessly.

Ron looked back and yelped, trying to avoid his younger sister, but he was too slow. She swooped on him and tagged his shoulder, punching the air in triumph. There was laughter from the stands as Ron quit the air looking grumpy.

The trio pulled up opposite Harry, watching as he swung side to side, trying to gauge what they were about to do. The girls bent their heads together for a moment, and apparently decided, they flashed off in separate directions. Harry's head snapped round, trying to keep his eye on all three of them at once. Louise was above him, Clio behind, but he couldn't see Ginny anywhere. He urged his Firebolt into a steep climb, thinking to get above them so he could see what they were doing.

A swish of scarlet fabric made him spin defensively, searching the sky with frantic eyes. He heard Ginny behind him before he saw her and dove towards the ground, gathering speed until he was almost out of control. The thrill of adrenaline screamed within him. He gripped his Firebolt, leant forward and peeled off to the left. He tilted his head to see where his followers were. He spotted Ginny flying alone parallel to him and shot towards her.

Too late Harry realised his mistake. Clio and Louise swooped on him from out of nowhere, making him swerve dangerously to avoid them. It was only his lightning reflexes that saved him from a full-on collision with Ginny. The youngest Weasley took full advantage of his distraction and tagged him firmly on the chest, swinging an arm around his neck and dragging them both towards the ground. She was laughing merrily.

When they landed, Harry became aware of laughter and cheering from the assembled students and players. Harry disentangled himself from Ginny, giving her a wide smile and a pat on the back.

"Good tackle," he said, trying to get his breath back, encompassing the other two girls in his congratulations.

Ginny merely grinned at him and winked, then went to join the rest of the team with Clio and Louise.

"Well," Harry began, amidst calls and friendly heckling from his audience. "That was good, very good, especially for the first flight of the season. We've got a bit to work on, but you all have brilliant potential. I'm not going to make any decisions on the team until after our official first practice. We wouldn't want Professor McGonagall to get suspicious."

There was a smattering of laughter at the famed temper of their Head of House.

"Right. Now that's enough of the serious stuff. How about a game?"

The Gryffindors played until it was nearly dark and curfew was approaching. Draco had joined in with the others, and there was general hilarity at the commentary of Dean, whose voice was magically amplified by Hermione.

Harry had enjoyed himself immensely, but was beginning to become distracted. Up in his room lay the mirror and his only chance to see Sirius. The thought made him itch with impatience.

The game had come to an end, Draco having narrowly caught the snitch after a half hour battle with Harry. They landed together and Ginny and Ron joined them, talking enthusiastically about the game. The rest of the players and Draco headed into the changing rooms, and the Gryffindors all moved off back up to the Tower. Harry found his feet dragging, reluctant to be with people. He just wanted to figure out how to use the mirror.

"Hey, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"Huh?"

"What's up, then? You're like a zombie."

"I dunno, Gin. Can't seem to concentrate."

"That was a good practice, though."

"Yeah, should be a good team this year."

"You think so?"

Ginny was relieved to see a spark of interest re-ignite in Harry's eyes.

"Definitely. So, what do you think about Louise and Clio? You all fly really well together."

"It's weird! They're almost like Fred and George. One always seems to know what the other is thinking. But in Quidditch that can only be a good thing."

"You think they'd be the best choice for the team, then?"

"Oh, yes. They'll fly rings around the Hufflepuff Chasers."

"I thought so myself," Harry mused.

There was a pause as the two of them leaned against the stands by the entrance to the changing rooms. Neither wanted to leave the quiet of the darkening grounds.

"It's Hermione's birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Harry mumbled, not really paying attention. "Who told you that?"

"Ron."

"Oh."

"Got her anything nice?"

"Yeah. A necklace. I hope she likes it."

"If it's from you, I'm sure she will."

Harry looked at her, his head on one side.

"Are you all right, Gin?"

"I guess."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Well, I was just thinking. Why does Draco hang round with us so much these last couple of days?"

"Why? Has someone said something?" Harry stood up straighter, becoming defensive.

"No." She boldly met his eyes. "I just don't understand how the two of you could one minute hate each other and the next be best of friends."

"It's Ron, isn't it? He's put you up to this. God, why can't he just talk to me about things rather than going through other people?"

Harry slapped his hand against the stand in sudden frustration.

"Well, perhaps because you don't talk to him about anything, either."

Harry was stumped.

"What do you mean?"

"Wouldn't you be a bit put out if your best friend got together with your other best friend, and then started a friendship with the very person you hate most in the world?"

"I thought Ron was okay with Draco being around!"

"He's not, believe me."

"Why doesn't he say something, then?"

"Because he's Ron. And he doesn't want to make you choose between him and Draco because he's afraid you'll choose Draco."

"What!?"

"Look," Ginny said patiently. "Ron's pretty insecure about this sort of thing. He won't say anything because he's... well he's a guy. He'll just put up with it until it drives him crazy and then blow up at you."

"He can't stand being in anyone's shadow," Harry began to understand. "And especially not a Malfoy's."

"Exactly. Sorry, Harry. I came to see if you were okay and end up lecturing you about my brother! God, I'm turning into my mother."

Harry laughed and put his arm around her, giving her a friendly squeeze.

"I can't see it happening, somehow."

Ginny grinned.

"So, you are okay then? This Occlumency thing's going all right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Just three days left and I can come back to the Tower."

"Good. It's weird without you, Ron and Hermione there together."

Harry laughed again, wonderfully comfortable in her presence.

"We're never going to get away from that, are we?"

"Nope."

They were laughing as they went into the changing rooms to get their things and head up back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry, feeling much better, missed the angry glance shot at Ginny from Dean. Ginny blanched guiltily, and ducked out of Harry's arm to grab her bag. She exited the changing rooms quickly; Dean followed her with a frown on his face.

"Oo-er, trouble in paradise," Hermione muttered in a concerned manner as she approached Harry.

"What?"

Harry bent to pick up his Firebolt, looking up at her, smiling.

"Never mind. Want me to walk you back to the infirmary?"

"That would be good."

Together, Harry and Hermione walked hand in hand. Every now and then they turned to each other and smiled. No words seemed necessary.

~*~

Next morning, after wishing a flushed Hermione happy birthday with a kiss at breakfast, Harry found himself in Dumbledore's study. The Headmaster was observing Harry obliquely over his glasses whilst reading a curling scroll, pinned to his desk by two animated spider paperweights. Harry watched their exaggerated limbs distractedly, glad that Ron couldn't see these new additions to the Headmaster's strange stationery collection. Soft whispers could be heard from the paintings hung on the walls in the study, and Harry was aware of the intent glare of Phineas Black on the back of his neck. He shuddered, imperceptibly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said at length, steepling his fingers over the scroll, sending the spiders running off across his desk to hide behind a tapered bottle of emerald ink.

"Sir?" Harry raised his eyes.

"I've asked you here this morning to discuss the events of last week. You requested, did you not, that the actions of the members of the Order guarding you at Diagon Alley be reviewed. It appears that there was a misunderstanding between the members guarding you, and for a while you were unprotected."

The headmaster sighed and Harry was aware of the steely glint in his eyes.

"I assure you, Harry, that this will not happen again. Those responsible have been dealt with. There remains, however, the matter of Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore paused and looked at Harry.

Harry momentarily lowered his eyes.

"Sir."

His eyes then met Dumbledore's more boldly and the headmaster frowned, trying to decipher what he saw there. It appeared to be a mixture of stubborn determination: defensive and yet fearful. Fearful of what? the professor wondered.

"I am aware of the tentative friendship the two of you have struck, and while I applaud this more harmonious unity, I am concerned. A week ago he attacked you and yet you have made no complaint against him. Instead an understanding seems to have been initiated. Is there anything you wish to tell me, Harry? Anything, you understand, whether in confidence or otherwise?"

Harry blinked, not sure what the headmaster was getting at.

"I hadn't really thought about it like that, sir. No, there's nothing I can think of." He kept his gaze straight and clear into Dumbledore's eyes, willing him not to see the lie.

Dumbledore's expression didn't change; he merely sat back and pushed the scroll aside.

"How are you in yourself, Harry? Do you feel our Occlumency lessons are progressing?"

Harry shifted, relaxing. This was territory he was more comfortable with.

"I'm fine, sir." This was an easy lie, one he told all the time. "I think I'm doing all right. I've dreamt nothing coherent for a few days." This, at least, was not a lie; the dreams had left him completely for the first time in what seemed like years. It was an uneasy relief, something else was bothering his sleep, a something he was unable to identify.

"A good sign." Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers again as he leaned forward. "We will get back to your lessons momentarily. I would like you first to tell me how you feel when you practice Occlumency? Thoughts, emotions... anything that comes into your mind."

Harry's eyes flickered upwards as he tried to remember.

"It's quite liberating," he said at last. "It feels strange not to use a wand for something, just using my thoughts seemed a little useless at first, but I think it's working."

"The crux of Occlumency, as with most of magic as a whole, is that the will and the thought are as important as the word and the action. You have a very strong will, Harry," here Dumbledore smiled slightly, "and that will enable you to be quite proficient in the art. It is quite possible that it will mean you can one day become as dexterous at Legilimency."

"You're going to teach me that as well?" Harry couldn't keep the interest out of his voice. Hermione would love to hear about this.

"Not for the time being, Harry. Legilimency is a skill that is taught in further magical education, depending on your area of specialty of course. Aurors, in particular, find it useful. The ability is not widespread, and those few who do develop the talent are often of limited capacity. There are some, however, who are very strong in this magic; Voldemort, as I am sure you have deduced, is one of those."

Harry said nothing for a moment, deep in thought.

"Can Legilimency be used to contact people? Sort of like telepathy?"

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly.

"It has been used as such, although much depends on the strength of the caster and the receptiveness of the target. To read an individual's thoughts and to insert concepts of one's own is an ability that is strictly monitored by the Ministry. As you experienced this summer, Legilimency can be very closely linked to the Imperius Curse, and is much harder to combat since suggestions are often submitted in the form of information rather than a command. Though we have proved, have we not Harry, that you are becoming more capable in dealing with this version of the threat."

"But what if your attacker is stronger than you? How can you even hope to stop a full attack from someone so strong?"

"Do you think, Harry, that I am a strong wizard?"

Harry looked confused for a moment.

"Of course, sir."

"And do you think that I would in any way leave one of my students unprepared for what they may have to face?"

"Well, no, sir. But not even you can know everything."

"So much is true, Harry. I do, however, assure you that I hold nothing back when testing your Occlumency abilities."

Harry looked sceptical for a moment, but tried to hide it with a look of bland inquiry. Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Now, I think we should return to the infirmary and continue this there. I will follow you after I have seen Mr. Malfoy. If you would be so kind as to send him in as you leave."

Harry nodded as he rose from his seat, the wariness back once more.

"Thank you, sir."

"Harry, I feel I must ask you again, if there is anything bothering you, there are people here who can help."

Several thoughts flittered through Harry's mind. Sirius, the mirror, the prophecy, Harry's guilt and responsibility, Draco and his evidence of Voldemort's Circle... There was just too much. I don't want to become a murderer.

"I know, sir," he said softly instead, ducking his head and clutching his wand in his robes pocket. No one could help him, however much they might want to.

The headmaster nodded a little sadly.

"To the infirmary then, Harry. I will be with you directly."

"Sir."

Harry turned and left Dumbledore's office, walking slowly down the stairs. He was unaware of how tightly he was gripping his wand.

"Harry."

The soft voice behind him caused him to spin.

"Draco." Harry sagged a little in relief.

"Who did you think it was?" The blond boy frowned then shook his head dismissively. "Am I to go up now?"

"Yeah."

"Did he seem in a bad mood?"

"What? No, not really. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering if my life was going to hang in the balance. Hey, what's up?"

"What do you mean?" Harry looked at Draco for the first time, his tone argumentative and defensive.

"Whoa there, no need to be touchy. Non-Evil-Draco here, remember?"

Harry's frown relaxed, so he merely looked tired.

"Yeah, sorry. Just the usual."

"Yeah, I forget how okay you are with a bunch of evil megalomaniac wizards wanting you dead."

Draco's sardonic attitude tweaked a half smile on Harry's face.

"Yep, that's me. All in a day's work."

Draco glanced up at the stairway to Dumbledore's office and his smile faded.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more," he muttered.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Potter, you uncultured...." Draco looked upwards in a martyred fashion. "There is no hope for the world. Wish me luck?"

"You won't need it." Harry smiled and shook his head.

"Thanks. See you later?"

"Yeah. No, sorry. It's Hermione's birthday."

"Oh, sure." Draco made a face.

"What?"

"Couple-y stuff," he said with distaste. "Not my thing."

"Right."

Harry's mind was so obviously elsewhere that Draco sighed and turned towards the stairs once more, shaking his head. He wasn't looking forward to this.

~*~

Harry and Hermione strolled tranquilly by the shore of the lake, drinking in each other's presence. It was about an hour until curfew and, as they walked hand in hand, the sun began to set over the western mountains sending rays of orange light in waves down onto the reflective water.

Hermione played with the pendant on the chain around her neck that Harry had given her. It was a silver otter, currently with its tail curled around itself in contentment, eyes of garnet flashing brightly in the glow of the sunset. Harry had told her that it was charmed to reflect the mood of the wearer. She had been surprised that he had remembered the form her Patronus had taken, and was more than delighted with his gift.

"Thank you." Hermione hugged his arm tightly as they walked.

Harry laughed, startled, and put his arm around her.

"What for?"

"For my present, for being here, for being you."

Harry stopped her and turned her to face him, looking intently into her face.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said seriously. "It goes without saying."

He was aware of her staring as intently back into his eyes. Solemnly, Hermione reached up on tiptoes and kissed her Harry fully and firmly on the mouth, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for him.

"Harry." There was a catch in her voice as she held either side of his face in trembling hands. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Nothing," she stated firmly.

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't."

She kissed him again, and he relaxed against her, dazzled by her steadfastness and enchanted further by her soft fragrance. For the moment he could forget everything, everything but her. She was the centre of his new world, one he would stake everything to protect.

"Hermione," he started again, and stopped, not sure he wanted to start this train of thought.

"Yes?" When Harry remained silent she squeezed his hand gently. "You know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

He looked at her, eyes troubled for a moment before carefully masking them.

"I know," he said lightly. He paused for a while, unsure of how to continue. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh.

"Sorry? Why?" Hermione's brows knitted in confusion.

"I just keep thinking about what happened this summer. At the Ministry."

She nodded silently for him to go on, not wanting to interrupt now he had started. Hermione felt that Harry needed to talk about that night, about what he more than the rest of them had lost. It was a mark of her respect for him and his feelings that she restrained herself from asking the host of questions that swelled within her about what else had really happened during that botched rescue. She had always known that he kept things back from her and Ron; that he wasn't used to this kind of openness. What do you expect from someone who spent the formative years of his life shut in a cupboard and treated worse than a rabid dog? Could you have learnt that all people weren't out to get you when your childhood was filled with darkness and pain? Without a mother's love and a father's guidance? Hermione mentally shook her head; Harry amazed her constantly.

Harry was looking at the gravel on the path beneath their feet.

"I feel so stupid, Hermione," he was saying. "It was all my fault. Completely unnecessary. I found his mirror." He looked up into her face and Hermione was shocked to see the beginnings of tears gleaming dully in his eyes. Why shocked? She berated herself as she realised he was referring to Sirius' mirror. She squeezed his hand firmly, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"No, it wasn't your fault," she insisted, misunderstanding. "We all decided to go with you, you didn't force us."

"It was my fault, Hermione. If I had used my brain and thought to use the mirror I could easily have found out that S-Sirius was safe and it was all a trick. But I didn't and you were hurt and Sirius-"

Hermione put her hand to her chest beneath her neck where the curse had hit her in a spasm of remembered pain. Harry frowned as he saw her hand clench her shirt collar.

"Let me see," he said quietly.

"No, no. Really, it's nothing..."

She didn't want him to see, didn't want him to give himself more pain. But his gentle fingers firmly pulled hers out of the way and opened her collar. She raised her eyes to his face to see the colour drain out of it completely.

"Is that...?" His voice was hoarse.

Hermione's fingers traced the raised purple scar, trembling with memory. The otter trembled too and hid behind her fingers, garnet eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"It's smaller than it was," she tried to console him after a deep breath. "When the curse hit me it was all over my chest and across my shoulder. Madam Pomfrey has done wonders for it, really. It doesn't hurt any more." She buttoned her collar hastily, but Harry still stared at the spot as if he could see it through her blouse.

"Hermione, why didn't you say?"

"I knew how you'd react. I didn't want you to torment yourself, like when you saw Ron's sucker marks..." She trailed off. "Harry, this was not your fault. I'm well, so is Ron and Ginny and Neville and Luna. We're all okay. It's just you who isn't." She leant towards him and hugged him tightly. "We need you Harry. All of us. When we were there, it was so frightening.... But you kept us together, you made us see that we could fight and that together we were stronger."

He was quiet for a moment, digesting what she had said.

"I don't want that, Hermione. I don't want everybody looking to me. I can't lead you in some stupid and doomed crusade against evil."

"But you do, Harry. Even if you don't want to, you are that one. Cometh the hour, cometh the man." Her lips quirked in a small smile. "I believe you are the man, I've believed it since our first year. But there's one thing you don't see, that even if we do look towards you, you're not alone. Maybe we are doomed, but we know that fighting Voldemort is the right thing to do. I know it, so does Ron and everyone. Dumbledore is staking everything by defying Fudge and re-forming the Order in the fight against Voldemort. Do you think we're all wrong?"

"No... not when you put it like that."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't want to add to all the things you have to deal with, but I just want you to know that we don't think you're useless, or responsible for what happened at the Ministry in the summer."

Harry felt like he was in a trance; his head felt dull and thick. Hermione was still speaking, and he had to concentrate to hear her words.

"... didn't want to put so much pressure on you, Harry, especially not with such important exams over then next two years. I didn't want any of this to happen, but it has, and we have to deal with it in the best way that we can. Just please don't get angry with us again, we really can't help it."

Harry didn't say anything, but pulled her to him in a fierce hug. He knew none of them meant to put pressure on him, but they did. They expected him to be the big saviour, the one to conquer evil, but he wasn't sure he could do it anymore. The image of her scar had burned itself onto his retinas, he could think of nothing else. If he tried to be a hero, people he loved got hurt. But what if you didn't try? A voice inside his head whispered. Who would have saved Ginny from the Chamber? Who would have rescued Sirius and Buckbeak? Who would have trained the DA? So many more would have been hurt if it hadn't been for those meetings... He didn't have a choice, it seemed. To not be involved was not a choice he had the luxury of having, it seemed. Down that path lay immediate defeat and the end of everything.

~*~

Back in the infirmary, Harry lay on his bed with his hands behind his head staring up at the darkened ceiling. He was deeply troubled, and secretly relieved to be alone. He had walked Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower, hiding behind a smiling mask. Now hours later and unable to sleep, he stared into the dark corners above him, daring Voldemort to appear out of the carved stone and wood. Challenge me now. Put an end to this.

Harry sighed and rolled over. He was proud of the things he had done; he was the one who had encountered Voldemort five times and survived, but something within him was changing. Voldemort was out there somewhere, planning his next move, and Harry knew this next step would bring him much closer to either victory or defeat. The thought of a world in which Voldemort was victorious filled Harry with dread. What would happen to Muggleborns like Hermione? Inside he knew. An image of Hermione, her body broken at the bottom of a flight of Hogwarts stairs rose unbidden in his mind. Her body bore marks of unnecessary and sadistic torture, her eyes wide and surprised, staring at something she couldn't see anymore, Harry's name still on her parted lips. With a sick certainty in the pit of his stomach Harry knew this could happen. He had reached a decision he had been unaware he was making.

The only way to protect his friends was to make sure they were ready for whatever they had to face. It was like Dumbledore had said: he would never leave Harry unprepared. If Hermione and the others looked to Harry for leadership then they would get it. He would make sure that if Voldemort attacked, no, when Voldemort attacked, they would make him regret it. Not only would Voldemort have the Order of the Phoenix to contend with, but a younger order, those who would suffer most at his hands. The Defence Association, Dumbledore's Army; the children of the Order would protect themselves and their families to the last.

Harry smiled grimly in the darkness. There would be no lying down this time, no giving up. Whatever the price, whatever the cost, Voldemort would not take Harry's second family from him, not this time. The sorcerer would regret the moment he stepped on Hogwarts grounds.

15