HARRY POTTER AND THE PROPHECY TRUE

Chapter twenty-two

The wind had stopped shortly after midnight, as did the storm in general. A thick blanket of white covered the hilltops and trees. Harry stood by the window in the small living room of his magical tent and stared out at the moonlit surroundings. It was beautiful, the moon's reflection made the fresh snow look like a field of diamonds. Small tracks left behind from the animals that spent their nights hunting, littered the line of trees nearby, while the sound of a wolf howling at the moon echoed in the distance.

Harry sighed. He had laid next to Ginny on the carpet of the floor, wrapped in her love and support while the warmth of the fireplace drifted them to sleep. He had spent so many years keeping his emotions bottled up inside him, that once he admitted to them it was like a damn bursting forth, allowing them to just flood out. He had never realized before how much anger he held for his parents. He admired them for their work with Dumbledore, but there was still that little child inside him that blamed them for leaving him, even though he knew it wasn't their fault or choice. At least now, he was able to think about the pain and confusion relating to them, without the feeling of white-hot daggers piercing his brain. He had assumed all these years, it was anger directed to Voldemort that caused the searing pain behind his temples, but never had he dared assume it was feelings directed to his parents. Was that the reason his mother had told him, it was not time to wish for them back? Did she know how he truly felt inside?

The soft sound of the young woman behind stirring on the carpet brought Harry's eyes away from the frosty window to focus on the loveliness of her young face. She was so beautiful, so caring and so special, sometimes it was hard for him to believe he shared a life with her. Once nothing more than his best friend's little sister, now he couldn't imagine lying in bed or facing the dark hours of night without her by his side. Perhaps she was capable of taking care of herself, he knew she had powers equal to his own, if not stronger, but it was the power she had over him that made her seem invincible. She had brought out the inner child, the inner soul of a young man who dared never dream of happiness. She had taken him by the hand and led him into a world filled with hope and desire, that at times he was certain he could survive even Voldemort's worst spells.

A slight smile curved the pink lips of the sleeping red head, as he continued to stare at her, transfixed by her sweet innocence. There was something stronger within her, then he had ever known, something that reached out to him and embraced him with courage and strength. If he was great, as rumors whispered about him claimed, it was because she had seen a side of him nobody else ever had. She had found a frightened boy and turned him into a powerful wizard.

As if sensing she was being watched, Ginny blinked her sleeping eyes twice, then opened them looking around the room. She found her target and smiled, watching Harry lean against the windowsill. His hair was messier than usual, his eyes slightly red from the long hours of crying, his chin covered with soft stubble she had never seen before. It was obvious, he had forgotten to use the spell that retarded the growth of his beard, but she didn't really mind. There was a roughness about his appearance that made her blush, a strange danger in his green eyes that warned her he could be a dangerous foe, or a ravenous lover.

Harry watched the soft color creep up Ginny's pale, freckled features and frowned. She was very good at keeping her mind closed to him, but she had offered him a brief glimpse of her thoughts; his taking her in his arms and passionately, eagerly making love to her. It never ceased to amaze him, even when they were fighting; she found her desires for him remained just within reach. With a warm smile, he walked over to where she now sat on the carpet, his eyes fixing on her slightly parted lips. He knelt down on one knee and gently brushed a warm thumb against the flesh of her bottom lip. She smiled, her color deepening and her eyes falling to his chest.

"Why were you thinking that?" he asked in a soft husky tone.

"I guess it was just a left over dream," she lied.

"Do you want me to make love to you like that? I can you know, it wouldn't be difficult. You have a way of bringing out the beast in me."

"Maybe later," she answered, her color turning a brilliant red.

"It's stopped snowing," Harry told her after a moment of watching her try and hide her embarrassment. "We can go back to school whenever you'd like."

"I think maybe we should stop by your castle and see how Ron and Hermione are doing with your relatives." Harry smiled, thinking about the way the twins had 'greeted' them on their last visit to the wizarding world.

"Your mum is there," Harry assured her. "I'm sure everything is fine, besides, I'm not very anxious to have your mother rip my head off for your coming along with me. By now Dumbledore has told her and she's probably gone through six stages of fits."

"Don't be silly. Mum loves you and she knows nothing could ever happen to me, when I'm with you. Anyway, if Dumbledore has told her then he has also told her it was on Mutgeb's orders that you left school. She can't get angry if you're following out the instructions of one of the three greatest witches of all time."

"Your mum wouldn't care if the earth opened up and called my name, you followed me into danger. That alone is worth a very long and very loud scolding."

"Then we won't go. The worse she can do if we're at school is to send a howler. We'll just make certain we open our mail outside of earshot of the rest of the students."

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked after a few moments of silence. Harry looked very tired, as if he hadn't slept much, if at all. She suspected he hadn't, since he was still awake when she finally drifted off to sleep. She supposed it must be a lot to deal with, confronting years of penned up emotion and anger like he did. With a sigh, Harry looked down at his hands, resting on his bent knees.

"I feel empty," he said in a hushed tone. "I feel like a plug has been pulled on my life and all the energy has been drained from me."

"I guess it would feel like that. I'm sorry I made you angry...again."

"It seems to be a habit of yours, doesn't it?" he teased, his eyes looking as empty as he said he felt inside.

"It's a habit you'd better get used to. I think it has something to do with the passion we both have. Mum always said I was good with my emotions."

"Well she was right," he said with a smile, then sighed and looked into the fire. "I guess I'm going to need some time to adjust to everything," he continued a moment later. "I just have to deal with all these feelings I've been denying and address the pain as it comes out."

"I'll be there with you, all the way."

"I know you will," he confirmed, looking back at her. "That is, if we're not both suspended by now."

"Dumbledore would not suspend you, especially since he knows you were on a mission, but I'm afraid I may be another story. I left without permission, I didn't even leave a note like you did."

"I'll explain it to him," Harry promised.

"Explain what? I'm an impetuous, irrational female who insists on butting her nose in where it's not wanted?"

"I never said you weren't wanted," Harry smiled, causing the color to return to her pale cheeks. "Regardless. I have a feeling everything is going to be all right."

"I hope so." Ginny frowned. She just wished she had his confidence.

"So when do you want to leave, then?" Harry asked with a warm smile.

"I'd like to say good-bye to Gilda first. She really is a wonderful lady."

"Yes she is," Harry said with a frown. "I wish I could get her to come back with us. I know she'd be welcomed."

"Maybe in time, so long as we don't forget about her."

"Do you still want to visit for Christmas?"

"If we're still alive," Ginny said, then seeing the dark expression cross over the bright green eyes, she quickly added, "My mum and dad may have me strapped in irons and placed in the dungeons with Snape as my guardian, if I even think of leaving school grounds again."

"I may just supply the locks for them," he told her with an intent stare.

"Don't worry, I won't leave again...unless I think you need my help."

"You are completely impossible," he told her with a smile. Ginny's lips spread into a wide grin, her head tipped at a stubborn tilt.

"That's what you get for being in love with a red head. We're unpredictable."

"So I'm learning," he chuckled.

"Better get used to it Potter. You're stuck with me for a very long time."

"I'll be happy to suffer through that time, every single minute of it." Harry leaned closer to her as he spoke, until she was leaning back on her elbows with him braced above her. With a deliberate look of intense passion, he spoke to her again, his tone deep and filled with a husky manner she knew all to well. "Now, about that dream you were having..."

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"Bloody hell!" Dudley exclaimed as they stepped out of the Ministry car. He stood in front of the massive entrance to the once royal palace, staring up the span of walls and windows. "This is Harry's?" he asked, once Hermione and Ron had exited the car.

"It is," Ron answered quickly. "Not quite the looser you always took him for, is he?"

"Exactly how did Potter get his hands on something like this?" Vernon asked, stepping to the side of his son.

"Harry is of royal blood," Hermione answered, a sense of pride in the tone. "He inherited it from his father."

"That good-for-nothing was royal?" Vernon croaked. "You'd never have guessed it, the way he dressed."

"James Potter was a great wizard and a hero to our people," Hermione clarified. "He and Harry's mother died trying to defend and protect all wizards and witches worldwide, not to mention the Muggle world."

"All they did, was get what they deserved for butting their noses in where it was not welcomed," Vernon explained in his usual, stuffy attitude. "If they had spent more time worrying about their brat, rather then what other people were doing with their lives, they'd still be alive and we would not have been stuck raising their little bastard."

"Harry is not a bastard!" Ron snapped. "He's a royal prince and in this world, you'd best be careful what you say about him. Harry has hundreds of supporters, just in this area alone. It wouldn't be very wise for any of them to hear you speaking poorly against him."

"Well, there's no sense in standing out here in the night air," Mrs. Weasley said, putting a stop to the public display her son was eager to engage himself in. "Let's go inside and take the chill off. I'm sure Misty has supper ready for us."

"Misty?" Petunia asked quickly, turning to see the knowing, but polite, smile on the older woman's face.

"Why yes. She is Harry's house elf after all. She takes care of the castle while Harry's away at school."

"Where is Potter anyway?" Vernon asked, climbing the stairs to the front door. "Cowering away from spending the weekend with us, is he?"

"Harry's not cowering away from anything," Ron snapped.

"No, no," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Harry and Ginny had business for the school to attend to. If they get finished in time, I'm sure they will join us." Mrs. Weasley reached the front entrance before Dudley and Vernon, smiling as she watched them strain against the many stone stairs. Dudley, though slimmer than he once was, was huffing verbally but managed to reach the top stair, some five steps ahead of his father, who's robust figure was as round as ever. Vernon's pudgy cheeks were a deep purple, while sweat appeared on his forehead and upper lip, his breath came in short pants and his chest was heaving under the strain of breathing. Mrs. Weasley was quite certain he was heading for, what the Muggles called, a heart attack.

"We've planned a party for All Hollow's Eve," Hermione said as the front doors opened magically for the castle's visitors. "The rest of the Weasley's will be here soon, and we've planned a huge feast."

"I suppose we should have asked, if you would want any of your friends to attend?" Mrs. Weasley said, her tone and look making her words assume to be a second thought, while her attitude told Ron and Hermione she knew what their answer would be.

"Our friends!" croaked Petunia as if choking on a frog.

"We most certainly do not want any of our friends here in this...place!" assured Vernon.

"You wouldn't want your friends to see how rich your nephew is?" Hermione asked innocently. "I know if I had a relative who was royalty, I'd be sure everyone knew it."

"Certainly not!" Vernon growled again.

"Mum and dad have told all their friends that Harry attends St. Brutus's School For Incurably Criminal Boys," Dudley said boldly. "If any of them ever found out what Harry really was, or what kind of a life he really has, they'd never live it down. They'd have to hide behind the curtains to look out at the neighbors." Dudley paused, narrowed his eyes to his parents who were staring at him wide-eyed and red faced. "Wait a minute," he continued with a devilish smirk. "You already do stare at the neighbors from behind the curtains, don't you?"

"Why don't we take the bags upstairs," Mrs. Weasley said, after clearing the laughter from her throat. "My son Percy and his wife and baby will join us in a little while, and I'd rather have things settled before then."

"Those other two sons of yours won't be coming along as well, will they?" Vernon asked, watching as his son headed up the stairs behind Hermione and Ron.

"Which two?" Mrs. Weasley said with an innocent look. "I have Bill and Charlie, but they probably won't be coming. Bill is on official business for the Ministry and Charlie is an instructor at Hogwart's, so his weekend is filled with festivities there. Then there are the twins, Fred and George..."

"That's the ones!" Vernon snapped. "If they are going to be staying here, I will not allow Dudley to remain. We are only here, after all, for our son's sake. He insists on trying to be civil to Potter. If it were up to us..."

"Don't worry, the twins are busy with their shops," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "But they send their best, as well as a few Halloween treats for you. I'll make certain you get them before you leave."

"Oh no," Petunia insisted quickly. "That's all right. We are...trying to watch our diets. We can't have treats of any kind."

"Oh? Well, that's too bad. Halloween in the wizarding world is filled with treats. Why there's cakes and pies, and cookies and punches, and candies and fruits. But I suppose if you're on a diet, I'll ask Misty to prepare something suitable for you."

"That won't be necessary," Vernon interrupted abruptly. "That is, we wouldn't want to put anyone out."

"Nonsense. I won't hear of you suffering this weekend. I admire you for having the courage to go on a diet and stick to it. Every time I try, another holiday pops up and I'm confronted with hundreds of sweets, and there goes the diet. If you're conscientious enough to start a diet, I'll make certain you not stray from it a single step. No sir, your meals will be centered around your needs." Mrs. Weasley walked up the stairs ahead of the Dursleys, a bright smile on her freckled face. She showed them to a room near the stairs with brilliant blue velvet carpet, draperies and bed covers, then turned and went into the room across the hall, closing the door behind her.

"Call Harry a bastard, will you?" she said to a silent room "We'll just see how well you like carrots and celery sticks." She may not have been as verbal as her children, but Molly Prewett-Weasley knew exactly how to get even with people who annoyed her.

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Harry stepped off his broom, watching as Ginny landed next to him. The moment of truth had arrived. They had left Gilda earlier that morning, promising to visit for the Christmas holidays, then reluctantly packed the tent and headed back home to Hogwart's. The closer Harry flew to the school he loved, the more he wanted to fly away from it. He knew there was trouble ahead of them for leaving, but with all he had already gone through the past few months, he wasn't ready to take on another confrontation. He was even considering Ginny's suggestion about joining his relatives at his castle, but figured confronting Dumbledore's wrath would be easier than being sent to Azkaban for killing his uncle.

"It's going to be all right," Ginny assured him with a warm hand in his, but even the brave voice she spoke with couldn't hide the fear shining in her eyes.

"Might as well get this over with," Harry said, drawing a deep breath and stepping into the front entrance. The sounds of the Halloween feast was vibrant and strong inside the open doors to the Great Hall, but the smells of cakes, pies, roasts and turkeys, couldn't persuade the two to join in. They stepped past the door quickly and headed up the stairs to their own house, when a voice called out to them. Harry stopped instantly, tightening his grip on Ginny's hand.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, stepping out of the side hall behind them. "The Headmaster would like to speak with you two." Nothing more was said, as the elderly witch with her pointed orange hat and sparkling black cloak filled with stars, lead the way to the gargoyle protecting the stairs leading up to Dumbledore's private office. She waved her wand, spoke the magic password (lemon lizards) and stepped back as the statue jumped aside to reveal the circular staircase. Harry and Ginny reluctantly stepped to the bottom stair, brooms still in hand. They dreaded what lay ahead, but knew there was no getting around it.

McGonagall instructed them to sit in the two large chairs in front of the desk, waiting as though just for them, and assured them the Headmaster would be right there. She left the room with a loud bang of the door, allowing the two to sit beneath the scolding eyes of all the former Heads of Hogwart's.

"Quit staring at us!" Harry barked, looking up at the disapproving faces.

"Harry, calm down," Ginny said, touching his arm. "It will be all right."

"We'll see how well you think that, once we're expelled and forbidden to ever use magic again. Think you can live as a Muggle?"

"Why would she need to?" a voice said behind them, causing them to turn toward it. Standing in the doorway was a brightly robed Dumbledore. His hat was a deep shade of green, while his cloak was a deep shade of orange, making him look like a large, silver haired pumpkin. He smiled at the two as he stepped around them to his desk, followed by a very stern looking McGonagall.

"So, Harry how was your trip?" Dumbledore asked, waving to the tray of tea and watching as two cups were poured and floated toward his visitors.

"It was all right," he answered with a frown.

"Everything go well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Gilda? How is the old gal?"

"She's doing well enough," Harry commented, taking his tea and setting it on the desk edge. "I tried to persuade her to come back with us, but she refused."

"Yes, I'm sure she did. Perhaps when the time is right, she will feel like coming home. Now then, Miss Weasley..." he began looking to the young woman.

"Professor," Ginny began boldly. "I know what I did was wrong, and I accept whatever punishment you see fit, but Harry had nothing to do with my leaving. In fact, he did everything possible to leave without my knowledge."

"Ginny was a great help, Professor," Harry interrupted. "I could never have gotten away from Voldemort without her."

"That's not true," Ginny corrected, turning to the young man next to her. "I didn't do anything you couldn't have done on your own."

"Voldemort sensed my presence. If you weren't there, he'd have found me. It's been too long since I was near him; the pain in my scar was stronger then I remembered. Besides, you took care of the baby. I wouldn't have known how to do that."

"Gilda would have been able to care for her, and Mutgeb came straight away."

"That's quite enough," Dumbledore interrupted. "I have no intention of punishing either of you. Harry, I know Mutgeb would never have asked you to leave school if it were not of the utmost importance, and I've come to realize that where you go, Miss Weasley will surely follow. I assumed she had gone even before her presence was missed. I do, however, need to tell you that the Minister is not at all pleased that you left without permission. That is a situation I cannot help you with. I think perhaps, you two should compose a letter straight away, explaining your actions to him, or perhaps you could join your families for the remainder of the weekend, and confront Arthur's questions first handed. You still have my permission to leave for the weekend."

"Yes sir," Harry and Ginny answered together.

"We'll consider it," Harry added.

"Now then, I believe the two of you still have a few hours left in which to celebrate Halloween. I've arranged a private supper for the both of you. I'm sure the Head Girl and Head Boy won't mind your using their common room, since they are at your castle. I'm equally sure, you'd like to eat before turning in."

"Thank you sir," they replied, then stood and stepped toward the door before turning back.

"Professor," Ginny began, looking from McGonagall to Dumbledore and back again. "Aren't we in trouble? I mean, we both left school grounds without permission."

"If it were for any other reason, Miss Weasley, I'd have said yes. But these are difficult times we're in and sometimes it's necessary to look the other way when certain things occur. I know Mutgeb would never have sent you, if she didn't have her reasons."

"Mutgeb said that she can predict the future only on the basis of the present," Harry said, watching the look the two professors gave each other. "Why did she lie to us?"

"What makes you think she lied to you, Harry?"

"I remember what she told me about seeing all, when I met her last year. But to be honest, I didn't really know what to think until just now. You both know she lied to us. I can see it in your minds."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall snapped. "You will refrain from reading people's minds unless you are invited to do so, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am, but it's difficult not to read a mind that shouts out to me. You were surprised about what Mutgeb claimed, I heard it, but Professor Dumbledore wasn't. I think we have a right to know why she lied to us."

"She must have her reasons," McGonagall said.

"Has she told you what she has seen for our futures?" he asked Dumbledore.

"No Harry, she hasn't and to be honest, I do not believe even she knows the fullest extent of what lies ahead of you. The dark magic in our world clouds our futures, this much I do know. It has become extremely difficult for even the great witches three to predict what will happen."

"Would you tell me, if you knew?" Harry asked, watching the frown cross Dumbledore's brows. He didn't answer at first, but the look on his face, told Harry he was considering his answer carefully.

"I would be going against everything I know and believe in, by telling you. But yes, Harry, I would tell you if I knew."

"Thank you Professor," Harry said, turning and leaving the room with Ginny by his side.

"Do you think that was wise, telling him that Albus?" McGonagall asked.

"Why not? It's the truth. If I knew what was to happen, I would tell him. Harry Potter has a right to know if he will live or die."

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Ron pushed his plate aside, sighing contently. He had eaten so much, his stomach looked like a Quaffle had been slipped beneath his jumper. Even Dudley looked pleased and stuffed, eating nearly twice what Ron had eaten. His parents, however, looked quite unhappy.

Vernon and Petunia had arrived to the elegant dinning room, after taking a full tour of the castle, to find Mr. Weasley, Percy, Penelope and baby Molly had arrived and were all gathered around the table with Ron, Hermione, Dudley and Mrs. Weasley. They were chatting happily about the many new spells Dudley had learned since he was last at Hogwart's. Vernon was starving and Petunia tried to hide her growling stomach behind the many snorts of laughter she offered on her son's behalf as he told of his progress and failures with his potions studies.

Mrs. Weasley had kept her promise and when the food appeared at the table, so did two plates of cottage cheese, carrots, fruit slices and celery. Just to make certain the two didn't sneak the many treats lining the long oak table, a spell had been placed on their sitting places at the table. Every time they tried to reach a fork toward the slices of turkey, the shell of a pumpkin pie or the bowl of sweet caramel apples, a jolt of electricity shot out and snapped their fingers away. That annoyed the Dursleys quite a bit, but not as much as learning that Dudley had been the one to set the spell in place. He insisted that he only wanted to help them keep to their diets.

Supper had lasted long into the night and when all was finished and the table magically cleared of plates and food, the conversation took a turn to silence. The content feeling of full stomachs and satisfied cravings had encased everyone - with the exception of Vernon and Petunia Dursley - and the desire for sleep made its way into the souls of those sitting around the table. Baby Molly had fallen asleep in her bowl of potatoes, creating quite a stir when she awoke to the laughter of the others and the snorting of potatoes from her nose. It wasn't until Hedwig appeared through the open door to the grand hallway, that they remembered the absence of two of their clan.

Mr. Weasley took the parchment from the white owl and unrolled it. Much to his wife's irritation, he read the letter in silence, smiling as he finished and tucked it back into his cloak.

"What was that about?" Mrs. Weasley insisted.

"Was that from Harry?" Ron asked.

"It was official business," Mr. Weasley insisted, pushing away from the table. "I think we should all go to bed. Tomorrow is our last day here, and we'll need to leave early to see the Dursleys back to Hogsmeade."

"Arthur, what was that all about?" Mrs. Weasley insisted, once the others were out of earshot. "Hedwig does not deliver Ministry business."

"Harry and Ginny are back at school, but Harry doesn't want the Dursleys to know. He does not want to see them. Things went well with his mission and he and Ginny are trying to catch up on missed homework assignments."

"I'd still like to know what sort of mission they were sent on. I do not approve of our only daughter being sent to Lord knows where, for reasons we know nothing about."

"If Dumbledore did not find it necessary, he would never have allowed them to go, you know that. Now, can we just relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend? I haven't had time off in months, and I'd like to just take it easy before I have to return to work."

They walked up the stairs, pausing when they saw Hermione and Ron explaining the many pictures lining the walls to their visitors, and why they moved on their own accord. Vernon and Petunia shied away from the paintings that spoke to them as though they had been spat on, while Dudley was fascinated and spoke with the occupants hanging on the elegantly decorated walls.

"Some of the paintings don't move," Dudley observed. "Why?"

"Not all the portraits were done in magical paints," Hermione answered. "It was personal choice whether to have them motionless or not."

"Are all of these Harry's relatives?"

"Yes, his ancestors and former rulers of our world. Harry has a very distinguished lineage."

"I never knew he was related to Professor Dumbledore," Dudley said, stopping to stare at the large motionless painting of a young man and attractive red headed woman. Hermione and Ron froze in their action of walking down the hall ahead of Harry's cousin, staring at the portrait.

"It can't be Dumbledore," Ron said with a frown. "He would have told Harry if he was related to him or not."

"Of course," Hermione gasped. "Ron, don't you remember? When we were looking up Harry's ancestor, William Henry Potter had a sister Guinevere who was married to a man listed only as A.D."

"So?"

"Ron, look at the plaque," she insisted, indicating to the small golden plaque at the bottom of the large portrait. It read simply, 'Albus and Guinevere; 1799'.

"It can't be our Dumbledore," Ron argued. "According to history, he was born in 1840. This can't be him; it would make him too old. Besides, this guy is at least twenty-five, and the Dumbledore we know was never married."

"How do we know that?" Hermione asked. "Nobody knows that much about him. And he was Nicholas Flamel's partner for years, and Flamel was born in the fourteenth century."

"You mean he could have used the magic from the stone, like Flamel did?"

"Anything is possible, but I'm sure this is Professor Dumbledore. I think we need to do a little more searching."

"Not tonight," Mr. Weasley insisted, causing the three teens to turn to where he and Mrs. Weasley had stood silently listening from behind them. "You all need to go to bed and forget about this. If Professor Dumbledore wanted you to know about his past, he would have told you. Now off with you, go on now and we'll see you in the morning." The two older Weasleys watched as three bedroom doors shut before turning around and going to their own room. Once inside, Mr. Weasley sat at the end of the bed, a serious expression crossing his face. Mrs. Weasley on the other hand was pacing in front of her husband. A hundred questions suddenly popping into her head.

"Do you think that portrait was Albus?" she asked him.

"I heard mention once, back when I was just a lad in school, that Dumbledore once had a sweetheart named Guinevere, but nobody knew more about it then that. Over the years, I've seen a glimpse of a locket Albus wears around his neck and it has the initial 'G' on it."

"But if he were Harry's uncle, he would have told him."

"If he could," Mr. Weasley said. "I'm not saying it's a huge surprise or anything. It's always been more than obvious to everyone that Dumbledore has a particular interest in Harry, he favors him, but if Voldemort had known they were related, it would have given him further ammunition to use against Dumbledore."

"But he told Harry Petunia was his only living relative," Mrs. Weasley insisted.

"Well, she was his mother's only living relative, but did he say if she were his father's?"

"It would explain a lot," Mrs. Weasley commented. "How Albus always knows what Harry is up to, how he can always tell what he's thinking."

"Magical blood runs deep and the connection is very powerful. Albus may know Harry so well, because they share the same blood."

"No they don't," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "If it is him, then Albus Dumbledore was related to Harry through his ancestor's sister. He has no relationship to him directly."

"But Molly, he does. You know, when a wizard marries a witch, their blood becomes a link. Whether Albus is a direct descendant or not, they are related through Guinevere. They share the same bond because he shared it with her."

"Isn't that like incest?"

"No, it's like magic," Mr. Weasley smiled. "That's what keeps the wizarding world connected."

"So if Harry and Dumbledore are related..." Mrs. Weasley began.

"Then Harry may just have a hidden card Voldemort doesn't know about. There may be a signer to the Declaration of Cessation, even if Harry should..."

"Die," Mrs. Weasley concluded, forcing the tears back from her eyes.

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School continued on Monday just as it had the first week in November, since Harry first laid eyes on Hogwart's. Hermione and Ron told Harry about the portrait in the hallway of his castle, but Harry found it hard to believe. He was certain, if Dumbledore were related to him, he would have said something. The fact that he had seen the Headmaster's thoughts regarding his lost love, did little to persuade him.

The weeks grew colder and the skies grew darker, as storms began to pelt against the old castle walls. Winter had set in hard, covering the grounds with over four feet of snow in less then three days. Madame Hooch had convinced Professor Dumbledore that Quidditch was the one activity that would keep the students minds off the fact that they were all but buried in the Scotland mountains. So, with a great many spells from McGonagall, Flitwick and Hooch, the Quidditch pitch was made ready, with little snow left to remind the students that they were in the middle of November.

Gryffindor was set out against Hufflepuff and as usual, won within the second hour of the last Saturday of the month. With the victory over Slytherin and Hufflepuff under their belts, all they had left was Ravenclaw in order to win the House Cup again. Even if they were to loose against Ravenclaw, they could still take home the cup by facing off against Slytherin again, who had won all their games minus the one against Gryffindor.

Harry found his studies growing serious, but somehow managed to finish his homework in time to hand it in as ordered. His spirits seemed less dreary and for some the weeks that surrounded Christmas, he seemed much more like the old Harry. He laughed and joked with Ron, teased Hermione, found quite a few hours to spend alone with Ginny, all while continuing with his extra lessons with McGonagall. Even Hermione was surprised at how many hours he spent studying for his N.E.W.T.S. It was decided among Malfoy, Ron and Hermione not to tell Harry or Ginny about their plans to divide and organize their supporters into groups, for the final battle. They knew Harry would worry about the other students, even though they had spent the past three years practicing in private, for just the event. It was best nothing be said just yet, until the day came for fighting.

It was the last weekend before Christmas holiday, when Harry and Ginny received a letter from Gilda. She told them that she had been forced to move after a rather heavy snowstorm caused an avalanche to bury her cottage, leaving the nearby villagers to assume she had perished. Too many questions could arise if they were to learn that she had been protected by a spell and left unharmed. Because of this, Gilda felt it unwise for her to have visitors just yet. She had developed a new identity and start over in another part of the world, where nobody knew who or what she was. With this decision made, Harry had no choice but to accept an invitation from the Weasleys. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the holidays with his future in-laws; it was just that he had been looking forward to spending the time with Ginny. Even though things were going exceptionally well between them, Harry couldn't hide from the fact that Ginny was still pressuring him into having a baby. He was looking forward to the time alone with her, to convince her how now was not the right time for them to start a family. It was because of Voldemort's baby, that Ginny was growing restless and eager to have her own child, and Percy's announcement that Penny was expecting their second child next summer didn't do much to ease her urges.

The day before Christmas break was to begin, Harry found himself alone in the corridors after a particularly long lesson with Professor McGonagall. His transfiguring was going well and he was all but over the searing pain of turning from human into an animal, but trying to control how long he transfigured and at what times he chose to do so, was still difficult. He found transfiguring during emotional situations uncontrollable, while desired times were still quite difficult and hard to render. He had spent the evening in the room off the Great Hall, as McGonagall had loaned her room out to Professor Binns, who had been chased out of his own room by Peeves after setting off a number of enchanted dung bombs, that grew in stench each time anyone tried to clean them up. They were so bad Filch had spent the past two days in the infirmary alternating in a baths filled with Mandrake Draft, Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover and Bundimun Solution, to date, nothing had worked and you could still smell him whenever you came near the infirmary.

Harry was in the corridor behind the Great Hall, when he spotted a dark figure quietly disappearing down the back halls to the dungeons. He frowned as he watched the figure disappear through the dark passage. There was no mistaking the large, dark robes; it was Snape, but what was he doing sneaking about the back halls? Harry's curiosity was always the one trait he found difficult to control, and it was the one talent he had that got him into the most trouble. Unfortunately he also found it the hardest to ignore. Silent as a mouse, Harry slipped down the back stairs and into the dark halls of the dungeons. He could hear Snape's deep voice, but somehow it didn't seem as threatening or as arrogant as usual. Harry stepped up to the door of the potions teacher's private residence and peered into the room through the door, carelessly left ajar. He couldn't see Snape, but he could hear him, his tone oddly gentle, almost in a hushed song-like manner.

With the curiosity that Harry found a constant companion, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He knew he had no business being here, but there was something so strange about the way Snape had been acting these last few months, that he found his feet moving forward without hesitation. The door to what appeared to be a back room - a bedroom perhaps - was also ajar, but as he moved past the old dusty sofa of the outer room, he bumped into a small end table, hidden in the dimly lit room. The door swung open and Snape quickly emerged, wand in hand. He looked menacing and fearful, but as he spotted Harry standing in the middle of his private room, his wand rose slightly.

"Potter?" Snape growled, reaching behind him and pulling the door closed. "What are you doing sneaking about my private rooms? Students are not allowed in here."

"I'm sorry to bother you," Harry began, finding his tongue moving forward without his mind. "I saw you coming down here and I thought it was a good time for us to talk."

"What have we to talk about?"

"I...wanted to...apologize, for the way I've acted," Harry stumbled over his words as he spoke, trying to find a reasonable excuse for being here.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I know I've been out of line and I felt it was about time I admitted to it. I'm not going to lie to you, I know there's no love lost between us, but I had no right to attack you in the library that day, or at Grimmauld Place, and I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you came here to apologize," Snape growled, stepping forward, his wand lowering but his eyes flaming with hidden irritation. "Your father would never have apologized and I doubt his son would know how either. You're here to see if you can persuade me to tell you I'm still a follower of the Dark Lord, aren't you? You've never trusted Dumbledore's reasons for trusting me, so you thought you could trick me into admitting something contrary. Well, it won't work. I'm on to your tricks Potter."

"It's not a trick, Snape. I am sorry for attacking you, even if you did encourage and deserve it. I know, as a student, I had no right to strike you and I admit when I'm wrong." As the two argued, their voices began to rise, which brought the door Snape so carefully closed behind him, open. A small rustle sounded behind the dark robes of the tall man and a small head poked around the hems of his cloak.

"Daddy," a small, quiet voice said. "Why are you yelling? Who's that?" Snape looked suddenly taken aback, then stooped low and gathered the child in his arms.

"This is Potter," Snape began in a gentle tone Harry had never heard him use before. "He's one of the students here."

"Hello," Harry said in a voice he seemed to have no control over.

"Why are you yelling at my daddy?" the child asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Your...daddy....and I do that sometimes."

"Potter is a funny name," the small girl said, looking at Harry through innocent eyes. It was odd to meet someone who didn't recognize him from his scar.

"My given name is Harry. What's yours?"

"Amanda. Are you a funny kind of boy too?"

"Funny?" Harry asked with a frown, looking up at the man holding the child.

"Potter, er, Harry," Snape began in his new tone, "does magic too. He is learning it here."

"My mum took me to see a clown once," Amanda said, brushing the long coal black hair from her eyes. "He made funny balloon animals and had flowers in his sleeves. Do you do that kind of magic?"

"No, but I can do this," Harry said waving his wand and causing sparks of blue, red and yellow to pop and sputter out of the tip. Amanda's eyes lit up with excitement and she clapped her hands with a squeal.

"Do it again, Harry," she said.

"Not right now," Snape insisted. "It's past your bedtime and you have lessons in the morning with Madame Pomfrey, so off to bed."

"Must I? I'm not tired."

"If you go to bed, I'll give you something special," Harry said, kneeling down to meet the child as Snape lowered her to the ground. He reached into the pocket of his cloak and retrieved a small bag containing Chocoballs he had purchased last weekend when he went to Hogsmeade with Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

"What are they?" Amanda asked taking the bag.

"They are chocolates. There's strawberry and cream inside."

"Thank you very much," the child said, turning and running back into the room behind Snape, closing the door tightly. Harry stood up straight, seeing the embarrassment and awkward shifting from the man he once feared and hated so terribly in his first years at school.

"All right Potter, let's hear it."

"Hear what?" Harry asked with a frown.

"You obviously have some snide remark, so let's have it so you can leave and tell the rest of the school."

"I don't have anything snide to say. She's very sweet. I am curious though."

"I know, who in God's name would ever think of conceiving a child with someone like me, right?"

"No. It's obvious you love Amanda and therefore you must have loved her mother. Where is she?"

"Dead," Snape said with a sudden crack in his tone. He hesitated, then slowly walked to a chair near the dark fireplace and sat down. Harry stepped to the chair opposite and sat, waiting to hear the story he could feel Snape wanted to tell.

"Sharon Cavanaugh was a tavern wench in London," he began. "I went there a few years ago, on business for the Order. I met her and we began talking. I always found a way to go back there. I became friends with the innkeeper and through him I learned more about Sharon. She was young and beautiful and all alone. Her parents died a few years before and she had no other family. We became...close. She was a Muggle, you know." Snape paused as if expecting Harry to make a comment, but when he didn't say a word, he continued his story.

"She learned she was pregnant with Amanda shortly after. We were married in a Muggle ceremony soon after that. Sharon knew I was a professor, but she never knew I was a wizard or where I taught. I felt it was best she never learned, if anyone were to find out, she and the child could be in danger."

"Like your first wife?" Harry said softly, receiving only a nod in reply.

"I told the inn keeper, Kevin, what I was. I tried to pay him with galleons instead of dollars. He kept me alerted to everything Sharon did and what she needed. I provided for her, as a husband should and spent as much time with her and Amanda as I could. This past summer, Sharon learned she had a disease, something the Muggles call leukemia. I tried to convince her to come here and let Madame Pomfrey treat her, or to go to St. Mungo's but she refused. She grew weaker every day, until a few months ago when she just died. Kevin owled me to tell me the news. I went straight away to London, prepared her burial and brought Amanda back here with me. Only Dumbledore and McGonagall know she's here."

"Don't worry Professor," Harry said, seeing the warning and fear that shined in the pale face across from him. "I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me."

"At what cost?" Snape growled softly.

"Excuse me?"

"There has to be a catch. What do you want in exchange? You're not in my class anymore, so it can't be a passing grade. What is it? Extra points for Gryffindor? Less homework for your girlfriend?"

"I don't want anything. I have nothing to gain by telling anyone about Amanda being here, but you do realize if Voldemort attacks..."

"I've already prepared for that, don't worry."

"I hope so. She's very young. I'd hate to see her loose both her parents." Harry stood and walked to the door, hearing Snape's cloaks rustle behind him.

"What are you up to, Potter?" Snape asked, holding the doorframe as Harry pulled it open.

"Good night Professor," he said in reply. He knew no matter what he said, Snape wouldn't believe him, and promising not to speak a word of his secret would hold no satisfaction for the greasy haired git.

"Potter..." Snape began, stopping Harry on the bottom step. He shifted in the doorway, glancing down to the stone floor before locking eyes with Harry. "Thank you. For the chocolate, I mean. Amanda loves sweets."

"You're welcome Professor. It was my pleasure. Good night." As Harry ascended the stairs he could hear the door behind him shut and the bolt lock tight. With a heavy sigh, he continued his path to Gryffindor tower. Harry couldn't help but worry. The idea of Snape being a father was one thing, but the battle they all knew was yet to be fought, concerned him even deeper then the thought of Snape loving another human, especially a Muggle.

It seemed like every time he turned around, there was one more person depending on his survival against Voldemort. This time, it was a child who would trust him to keep her daddy alive.