Red Tide Rising

Harry had never really enjoyed school holidays, but the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seemed unending. Worse though, he had plenty of time for reflection, since his Uncle and Aunt were too frightened to work him to the bone.

Harry desperately wished it was Sirius they were afraid of. But then, Sirius was dead.

Harry had been obsessing about Sirius's death for nearly a month. He thought he might finally accept that it wasn't entirely his fault. After all, he conceded, Bellatrix Lestrange had killed him. Voldemort had played a role in his death, as Voldemort seemed to play a role in the deaths of everyone Harry knew. And, of course, Dumbledore had preferred to keep Harry safe, rather than informed. Obviously, Harry was more responsible than the other three, but he couldn't deny their involvement.

But more than himself, Harry felt pity for Lupin. How he dealt with being alone, thinking one friend had destroyed his life, just to find that nothing was as it seemed, and to end up alone again. How lonely he must have been and how happy he was when he realized Sirius was innocent. Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry often focused on that one huge hug that seemed to apologize and forgive all at once. Then in the back on his mind, "Come on, you can do better than that!"

Sirius's last words showed a man of courage, and Harry knew that no matter how horrible he felt about his godfather's death, he had to go on. Sirius had lived a life with great joys, and incredible sorrow, and he hadn't stopped living. In his subconscious, Harry knew that Sirius would have preferred to go out fighting the Death Eaters than any other way. But still fresh in his mind was the fact that Sirius had come to help him, Harry, escape Death Eaters he shouldn't have had to deal with in the first place.

When Harry wasn't mourning Sirius, he was contemplating his own future. He had been chosen to be Voldemort's mortal enemy- by Voldemort himself. The irony of it was that Voldemort could have chosen Neville Longbottom instead of Harry. His choices in life were now down to two: Kill, or be killed. Harry wasn't exactly sure which he would prefer. He certainly didn't want to cause the death of anyone else; his parents, Cedric and Sirius were quite enough, and Harry hadn't actually tried to kill them.

At least this summer Harry was receiving real letters from his friends, who seemed to have grown in number. Loony Lovegood had sent Harry a postcard of a Swedish Short-Snout, which had burnt his hand rather badly. Cho Chang had written him a nice letter, which thankfully hadn't mentioned either Cedric or Hermione. Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher sent Harry several strange items, with short cursory notes on how to handle them, and warnings not to use, sell or throw them out, but would he mind holding on to them until the heat wore down?

Hermione wrote quite often. She was extremely anxious about her OWL remarks. She speculated she hadn't passed a single test, to which Harry wrote back that the entire class had undoubtedly been held back. Unfortunately, Harry himself was quite worried he hadn't managed to pass many of his OWLs, and that his chance of becoming an Auror was gone.

The best, and worst letters were from the Weasley family. Ron wrote to say how big a success the twins store really was, and promised that Harry'd get to see it that summer. Ginny wrote and said she was practicing hard to become a Chaser, as she hadn't really liked Seeker much (Harry was extremely glad she'd willingly vacate his position now that he was allowed to play again). The twins wrote to say how big a prat Percy was.

Even after it was revealed that Dumbledore had been right, that Voldemort had returned, and that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were correct to support Dumbledore, Percy refused to admit he was wrong in breaking ties with his family. This suited Fred and George, apparently, who refused to forgive Percy's behaviour over Christmas, when he would not visit his father in hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were very distraught over Percy's arrogance. Harry didn't find it at all surprising, having seen over the last year that Percy was not what he considered a Weasley.

It was halfway through July now, and Harry had made a significant dent in his summer homework. He had started on the classes he wanted to continue, like Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration. Glancing over the Potions assignments the night before, he was almost glad he had probably failed the OWL; Snape was evil.

Sitting at the breakfast table, the Muggle news blaring from the television, Harry sat reading the Daily Prophet, which Uncle Vernon pointedly ignored. Two days into summer, Mad-Eye Moody had 'explained' to Vernon why Harry had to get the paper, and since then, Harry made a point to rub it in. He also liked to comment on certain gory stories.

"Oh, looks like the Ministry's at it again, bungling things up as usual," Harry said in a put-out voice. "Two attacks on Muggle homes, and it took them nearly three hours to respond! Tsk-tsk! With action like that, it's no doubt Muggles will know about us any day know," Harry continued, acting as if everyone in the room was a wizard.

Across the table, his face a deadly colour of puce, Uncle Vernon was about to yell at Harry when his eyes bugged out. Spinning his head so fast it nearly cricked, and digging into his jeans pocket for his wand, Harry was relieved to see not Death Eaters, but an owl.

"That's odd," Harry said. Getting up, he opening the door and let the owl in. It flew straight to Harry's cereal and drank greedily from the milk at the bottom of the bowl. When it had had its fill, it allowed Harry to take the two letters from its leg, and flew off. Glancing at the letters as he closed the door, Harry said, "Speak of the devil! A letter from the Ministry, probably with my OWL remarks."

"Your what?" Uncle Vernon scoffed.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels, sorry. Like O-levels, I expect. Have your remarks come through yet, Dudley?" Harry asked, feigning interest as he ripped the letter open. His eyes did a double take. "What-?"

"Failed every one, have you? Been expelled again, have you?" Uncle Vernon asked viciously.

"No," Harry whispered. "I didn't fail a single class! I even managed an 'Outstanding' in Potions. How'd I do that?"

Ordinary Wizarding Level remarks- Harry James Potter

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor House

Subject Theoretical Practical Final Mark

Transfiguration 95% 100% 97.5%(Outstanding)

Charms 93% 86% 89% (Exceeds Expectations)

Astronomy 88% 78% 83% (Exceeds Expectations)

Divination 85% 71% 77% (Acceptable)

History of Magic ---- 76% 76% (Acceptable)

Care of Magical

Creatures ---- 100% 100% (Outstanding)

Herbology 92% 96% 94% (Outstanding)

Defense Against

The Dark Arts 100% 115% 107.5% (Outstanding)

Potions 92% 88% 90% (Outstanding)

Congratulations, Mr. Potter, on successfully completing all your OWL's. Please see attached letter for a word from your Head of House, and a list of class positions.

Shocked at what he had read, his mind swimming with excitement, Harry ripped the seal off the Hogwarts letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Congratulations on your excellent remarks. Please note that you now qualify to take the following NEWT courses; Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures. You do not qualify for the following NEWT courses; Divination and History of Magic. I'm sure you are very disappointed.

Please send an owl with the courses you have selected to continue by the 24^th of July, and your book list shall be sent.

Prof. M. McGonagall

Head of Gryffindor House, Professor of Transfiguration.

Harry scanned the second side of the parchment, which had the ranking of the students. No surprises, Hermione was top, followed by several Ravenclaws. Harry's name was in the ninth spot, tied with Ernie MacMillan and Draco Malfoy. Three spaces below, in fifteenth spot was Ron. Down at the very bottom, tied for 49^th, were Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, Malfoy's stupid goons.

"I can't believe this! I have to write my friends!" Harry crowed, just as the telephone rang. Aunt Petunia, who had retrieved the Muggle post, picked it up.

"Dursley Residence, Petunia speaking. You want to speak with Harry?" Petunia held the receiver away from her face and stared at it, open-mouthed.

"Shouldn't be long, I don't think," Harry said as he gently pried the receiver from his aunt's hands. "Hello?"

"Harry? It's Hermione. Have you received your remarks yet?" Hermione's voice asked excitedly.

"Only just now, Hermione. Congratulations, top marks as usual."

"Yes. You did well, too. Which NEWT's did you qualify for? I wanted to know, so I can decide what to take. I qualified for all of them," Hermione continued with pride.

"Of course you did. I said you would, didn't I? I qualified for Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions."

"Potions?" Hermione cried. "Ha! Snape will have a fit when you walk into his class in September!"

Harry grinned at the thought, except that he dreaded spending even a moment more in Snape's dank, dark dungeon. "I know. I think I'll also take Transfiguration, obviously, because McGonagall was so- er, militant, I suppose, when Umbridge said the Ministry would never take me. And Charms, and Defense, of course. Care of Magical Creatures, now that Hagrid is back. But, I'd also like to continue Herbology. I can't decide, and I can't take all of them."

"Why not? I may."

"But I'm not you, Hermione. I think I'll write Ron and ask what he's taking. If he's taking Herbology, I might manage it. It's not as if we've ever had trouble with Herbology, unless you count first-year, with the Devil's Snare, or second-year with the Mandrakes and the Whomping Willow. But none of that had much to do with Herbology."

"No, unless you count Devil's Snare, Mandrakes and the Whomping Willow, we've never had any problems with Herbology," Hermione replied dryly. "Write to me when Ron writes back, and we can fig- HEY! TIBS, RIO, YOU STOP THAT! I'M SERIOUS! I'LL TELL YOUR MUM! - Sorry, Harry, I have to go. Write me, okay? Bye."

"Bye," Harry said just after he heard the phone click off. What in Merlin's name had that been about?

"What was that all about, boy? One of your freakish friends, no doubt," Uncle Vernon voiced.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon, that was my friend Hermione. She was just congratulating me on doing so well. Ninth in the class, you know," Harry said with affected pomposity. Then his voice turned to a sneer. "Pity that git Malfoy tied me."

Breakfast finished, and the day began. Harry, after writing Ron and asking what he thought of Herbology, started in on his Potions. Snape was being unreasonable, as usual. He actually wanted his students to brew and bottle Potions over the summer, in addition to three parchments of essays. They could pick any three Potions from a list he had given them. Some were simple, and Harry, knowing Snape as he did, was sure they were added to see who wanted to take the easy route in the course. Therefore, Harry picked the most difficult he could find- though he wondered why they were on the curriculum at all- Veritaserum, the Wolfsbane Potion, and Polyjuice Potion.

However, brewing Potions was not something he could do in his room, without magic. He needed fire, or at the very least, a stove, to brew Potions. When he presented the problem to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that night, as he had no other alternative, Uncle Vernon laughed at him.

"What? Not much without that stick, are you, boy?"

"Actually, I'm very resourceful. But I still need to brew my Potions for Snape's class. If you don't understand, I'm sure Snape would come explain it himself," Harry bluffed, knowing no such thing would ever happen.

Aunt Petunia's eyes bugged. "Did this Snape go to school with your- your parents?"

"Yes, same year. Why?" Harry asked.

"Hmm? No reason, just recognized the name, dear," Aunt Petunia said nervously as she began clearing the table.

"Petunia! We haven't even begun to eat yet!" Uncle Vernon protested. "And did you call Harry 'dear'?"

"Hmm? Oh, you're right, Vernon," Petunia said, snapping out of her revelry. "You, boy," she continued at Harry, "may use the microwave."

"The- the microwave?" Harry spluttered. "You can't brew Potions in a microwave! You can't even brew tea in the microwave! These Potions, they're sensitive, they're difficult! They need to be brewed perfectly, simmered at just the right temperature, for just the right amount of time. Too long, and they'll explode. Too short, and they'll melt everything in they're path! I appreciate I can't build a fire in the parlour, but can't I have a burner on the stove? I'll figure something out should there be company, but I'll need at least a burner."

"What do these Potions do?" Vernon demanded.

Harry hesitated, considering a lie. Fear of death by magic or not, Harry doubted many adults, wizarding or Muggle, would approve of a teenager brewing these Potions.

"Well, brewed correctly, one keeps a Werewolf from transforming at the full-moon. He'll just become a regular wolf, instead of a werewolf. Another forces someone to tell the truth to anything," Harry rushed, not looking up at his relatives' faces. "The third, with a bit of someone else, a fingernail or hair, will transform you into that person for an hour."

Petunia and Vernon glanced at each other. Uncle Vernon's face showed incredulity, while Aunt Petunia's held a resigned look.

"Fine. One burner! But that's all, no more, do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, thank-you," Harry said, swallowing the rest of his dinner and racing to his room to begin his preparations.

Hedwig was back from The Burrow, a letter placed on Harry's bed. Ruffling her feathers while he opened Ron's letter, Harry sat on his bed.

Harry.

Congratulations, you did well. So'd Hermione, and myself. Did you notice Neville placed twenty-first? Did you notice Zacharias Smith placed thirtieth?

I qualified for Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Astronomy. Pulled an 'E' in Potions, though! I'm going to take all the NEWT's I qualified for, since Mum is really proud that I did so well, and since I'm thinking another Head Boy in the family wouldn't much hurt. After all, I didn't become a prat this year, as a Prefect. Also, who knows when something we learn in Herbology or Astronomy is going to save our lives? Besides, if we're busy keeping up, we won't be lying around getting slow. I know that makes me sound a bit like Hermione, but we're in a war, now, and we need to have our wits about us, always.

So yes to Herbology, I suppose. Are you sure being an Auror is worth two more years of Snape? I looked over the homework he set; glad I didn't do well on the OWL.

Don't let the Muggles get you down..

Ron.

(Ginny and the twins say hi.)

Harry grinned at the letter. Then he grimaced, thinking of all the work he was about to do. Glancing over the ingredients list for the Potions he was to brew, Harry wrote a letter to an Apothecary shop on Diagon Alley. He had just enough material for the Wolfsbane Potion, but he'd need nearly everything for the Polyjuice and the Veritaserum. He set to work preparing the ingredients for Wolfsbane.

Six o'clock the next morning, Harry's alarm woke him. Hedwig, who had delivered Harry's letter to London last night, was glaring at him as he shut it off. Creeping his way downstairs with his cauldron and material, Harry set to starting his Potion.

Twenty hours later, Harry was bottling the very last of the Wolfsbane. His eyes were burning and his neck ached. While the Potion had simmered, Harry had worked on his Potions essay. It was half finished, and the ingredients for Veritaserum had come. The Apothecary had sent a note, explaining that certain ingredients of the Polyjuice Potion would not be available until that Thursday, when the full moon came.

Harry was gathering his books and quills and scrolls when Aunt Petunia flicked on the overhead light.

"Harry! Why- I didn't know you were still awake. I just came for a cup of tea," Aunt Petunia explained while filling the kettle. She eyed him carefully. "I don't suppose you'd like one?"

Harry really just wanted to sleep, but had some questions he wanted answered. Like specifically, why would Aunt Petunia remember the name of one person- Snape- that his mother had gone to school with.

"Yes, thank-you, Aunt Petunia."

Petunia sniffed. She placed the kettle on the stove and glanced at the vials filled with Wolfsbane Potion. "Already done that one?"

"Yes, the others will take longer. No worries, though, in second year my friends, Hermione and Ron, and I brewed the Polyjuice Potion. Snuck into Slytherin common rooms to interrogate Draco Malfoy. We thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, setting a big, filthy snake on the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts." Harry had no idea, except for exhaustion, why he was telling her this.

"Sounds exciting," Petunia managed through extremely thin lips. "This Snape, he's taught you to brew Potions?"

"Sort of," Harry said. "He more often scowls and sneers and insults me, but sometimes I pick up something useful. This year, he was supposed to teach me Occlumency, that bars your mind from being read, but- well, he ended up really mad at me," Harry finished lamely. He didn't really want to finish the thought.

"So, you don't get on? My sister, your mother, didn't like him either."

"Well, he called her a Mudblood once when she tried to help him, so no, I guess she didn't," Harry replied. At his Aunt's blank face, Harry continued. "That's a really rude term for someone born of Muggle parents. Snape and my father and my godfather were having a row- Snape ended up in the air, his knickers showing to the world, and my mother tried to get him down. He called her a Mudblood." The thought made Harry's blood boil.

"Later, he joined the Dark Side under Lord Voldemort, and did horrible things, I'm sure. Then he came back to Dumbledore and turned spy. He's spying again, now that Voldemort's returned."

Petunia set Harry's tea down and leaned against the countertop. She sipped her tea, even though it was far too hot to drink. She didn't seem to notice. She turned to look out at the moon, which was nearly full. She looked everywhere in the kitchen for nearly a minute, avoiding Harry's eye.

Finally, she gazed at him. Never before had he seen so much sadness in his Aunt's eyes. "No matter what, Harry, Snape will never atone for what he's done. He could do nothing but save trapped orphans for the rest of his life, and he would still be evil."

Harry gaped at his aunt. "Aunt Petunia? What do you mean?"

"Severus Snape. Tall, sickly skinned, greasy haired. Hooked nose, and vicious eyes. Cruel eyes-" Aunt Petunia shuddered. She placed her teacup at her lips, than pulled it back, unmindful of the scalding liquid sloshing over her hand. Her eyes were vacant and unfixed for a moment, and Harry began to worry. Suddenly, her eyes snapped back to alert.

"Severus Snape is the reason you and Dudley never met your grandparents, Harry. Severus Snape murdered them, just because they were Lily's parents. Her parents! And you wonder, you wonder why I hate magic! It's taken everything- everything!" Aunt Petunia was sobbing now, her shoulders heaving as if they hadn't heaved in forever.

"Everything!" Petunia repeated. Her eyes opened and sought Harry's. "Magic, Harry. It does nothing but destroy and kill. Killed- my parents, it killed- my baby sister! Killed everything!"