Harry Potter and the Emerald Sceptre

~~~~ Chapter 13 ~~~~

Collateral Damage

"Please welcome our guests, the DEMENTORS OF AZKABAN!"

Six hooded figures glided out from behind the backdrop. They glided up to Marvin, coming to a stop a metre behind him. The Muggles couldn't see the Dementors, so they stood in near silence, waiting for the 'guests' to appear. Marvin quickly conjured a Patronus in the shape of a scorpion to keep himself safe. The applause first became louder at the sight of the Patronus, but then abruptly died as the effect of the Dementors manifested itself. Screams erupted all around Harry and the people in front rows collapsed or vomited. There was a mad scrabble to get away from the cold and the pain. People were climbing over each other, trying desperately to escape.

"Gents," Marvin said to the Dementors. "Dinner is served."

The first Dementor swept forward and picked up a young girl who was lying in a heap, crying near the stage. Harry reached into his pocket and then remembered that Dumbledore had taken his wand. He couldn't summon a Patronus without one! He could feel the Dementor's presence taking effect. He could feel the happiness draining from him. The Dementor lowered its hood, revealing its grotesque face. The scaly mouth opened and the beast took a long rasping breath. Harry began to hear a man's voice in his head.

Lily, it's him. Take Harry and go!

NO! I must fight. Nothing is indestructible; there's nothing that can't be destroyed. Dementors are not pure Magic; they are flesh and blood and can be killed. In an act that was as brave as it was stupid, Harry leapt forward towards the Dementor. He jumped up onto the stage and ran along the front of it towards Marvin and the Dementor with the girl. Marvin must have seen him coming, for he turned to face Harry. His eyes grew wide in amazement.

"You!" was all he managed to say before Harry reached him. With all his strength, Harry swung with his right arm. The punch landed perfectly on Marvin's nose, smashing the nose and spraying blood over both his costume and Harry's clothes. Clutching his nose in pain, Marvin fell of the stage; his Patronus disappearing as he fell. Harry took three steps after punching Marvin and jumped. With both feet at the same time, he kicked the Dementor in the back. The elegance of its glide was gone as the monster toppled off the stage and down onto the hard stone floor. The beast hit the floor hard and Harry heard a sickening crack. A bone had broken in the Dementor.

Please let it be the neck! thought Harry. Harry landed hard on his back. It hurt, but he had to ignore the pain. He struggled to his feet, and then managed to pull the terrified girl out from under the fallen Dementor. "RUN HOME!" ordered Harry. The terrified girl began to crawl away towards the door; her movements were slow and weary. She collapsed after a few paces. The doors were still locked; there were four hundred people inside and all of them were trapped. Marvin had distracted them. Harry should have tried to get the doors open, not watch a stupid show. Marvin had impressed the audience, made them happier, and made them more of a feast for the Dementors. Harry had fallen for it. Idiot! He ran towards the door. The other five Dementors were gliding around the room, soaking up the emotions of the Muggles. They were enjoying themselves before they started sucking out souls. Those people who were still able to stand were pushing and shoving to get to the doors. Harry turned around; a Dementor was approaching him fast.

James, I won't leave you!

The pain was getting unbearable; he was beginning to lose consciousness. He reached inside his T-shirt and pulled out the Phoenix amulet. Remus had told him that it was also an emergency Portkey. All he had to do was say the words and he would be home. He would be safe. The pain would be gone, but four hundred people would die. Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't let four hundred innocent people die just to save his own life. He released the amulet and roughly pushed his way through the bundle at the doors. He came to the front and found several grown men hammering away at the doors.

"MOVE!" shouted Harry. He raised a hand to the door. "REDUCTO!" He was too weak. He didn't have a wand and the Dementors had weakened him too much. The spell had succeeded only in removing the paint and a few layers of wood. The door was still very much intact. Then it occurred to him, if he let them out, they would disappear and their memories couldn't be wiped. The Wizarding world would be exposed. He had two choices, destroy the door, expose his world and release the Dementors on the whole town and possibly save some lives or keep them trapped inside and battle five Dementors without a wand at the risk of losing four hundred people. It defied all logic, but to Harry, the latter option seemed better. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, but he had to make a choice. He made it.

He ran back from the door into the centre of the room. Four Dementors were gliding before the crowds, still enjoying the feeling of happiness that they received from the trapped Muggles. One Dementor seemed to have become bored with that. He had removed his hood and was holding a man by the throat. The man was screaming; terror filled his eyes. Harry did the only thing he could think of; he surged forward, withdrawing the sword from beneath his cloak as he ran. As his two hands clasped the handle, he felt strength return to his limbs. He swung with all his might and with one swing, sliced the head of the Dementor clean off. A spurt of thick, black blood erupted from the Dementor's neck as the sword sliced easily through the soft flesh. The body of the Dementor stood still for a second before crumpling into a heap on the ground.

Lily, there's no time! He's here! Take Harry and go! Remember, I will always love you!

The man looked up at Harry. He blinked twice and then fainted.

There was another high-pitched scream. A woman was pointing at him, her eyes wide with terror. Harry then realised the cause of her fear. She couldn't see the Dementors; she just saw a strange boy in strange clothes, wielding a sword and several unconscious bodies lying around. Harry was covered in blood and she may also have seen him punch Marvin. She thought he was causing all this panic.

"SHHHHH!" said Harry. "It's all right." Harry looked around; the Dementor that he had kicked was still lying down. It must have been its neck that had broken when it had hit floor. Two down, four to go, as well as one Death Eater. Harry picked up a vase from a nearby stall. He threw it with all his might at the nearest Dementor. It shattered across the monster's back. The hooded figure screeched, turned, and made for Harry.

The beast neared him and reached out with a hand. The scaly hand came closer and closer to Harry's throat. The long rattling breaths became ever more audible. The cold was becoming unbearable. Harry swung to his left and chopped the arm clean off, spraying sickly black blood, as thick as oil, over his cloak. And then, with a twist of the blade, he thrust it into the Dementor's chest. The creature howled in pain; emitting a high pitches screech that would make a banshee cover its ears. The chattering breath became a hiss as the creature thrashed upon the blade. Harry had impaled it straight through where the heart should be, but it was far from dead. Its other hand clamped over Harry's throat, pulling him nearer to its wide, open mouth. The voice in Harry's head became louder, his limbs weaker.

Not Harry, please not Harry!

With one last burst of strength, Harry pulled the sword out of the Dementor and swung once more at its neck. The perfectly sharp blade sliced easily through the Dementor's flesh. Harry felt the hand on his throat go limp and a line of blood splatter over his left cheek, as the Dementor's body collapsed beside him. He made a mental note, cutting heads off kills them, stabbing does not. The blade of the sword was dripping with the thick, oil-like blood of the Dementors. It was like crude oil as it dripped to the floor.

Suddenly Harry felt a hand grasp his shoulder. He turned to see the skinhead who had thrown himself at the door to try and open it.

"What are you p...playing at, you bastard?" stuttered the boy. He was far larger than Harry and under normal circumstances would have beaten such a scrawny midget into a pulp, but the effect of the Dementors had made him too weak. His eyes closed and then weakly opened. "I'll k..kill...you!" He stammered, raising a fist ready to punch. Harry didn't want to hurt him but he had to get away; there were still three Dementors and Marvin to deal with. The boy drew his hand back, but then toppled over backwards, landing unconscious on the floor. Harry sighed with relief; at least he didn't have to hurt an innocent Muggle. He decided to leave him. He had more important things to do.

There were still three more creatures still standing. Harry looked around for another Dementor. He was disorientated; there was pandemonium. Muggles were running everywhere; Dementors were chasing them. Unconscious bodies littered the floor. Screams filled his ears. The bright colours of the stalls began to blur, his ears were ringing and he felt light headed. Harry shook his head, desperately trying to restore focus to his eyes. Above the screams he heard a voice.

"POTTER!" shouted Marvin. He was standing back up on the stage, his nose still bleeding and his mouth covered in blood. His left cheek was smeared red, where he had tried to wipe it away. "You're dead meat, boy!" Voldemort would probably want Harry alive, but Harry had angered Marvin too much for him to care. All he wanted was to hurt Harry. He raised his wand.

"Get him!" he yelled at the Dementors. "CRUCIO!"

Harry saw the curse surge towards him. He raised the sword as fast as he could in an effort to parry the curse; luckily, he managed it quickly enough. He batted the beam of light straight into an oncoming Dementor. The creature froze and screamed. The hooded figure doubled up, grasping the area where the curse had struck. Harry took his chance and swung the sword at the Dementor, just as Marvin fired a second curse. Harry ducked as he swung; the result was that although he succeeded in avoiding the curse, instead of decapitating the Dementor with his swing, he cut it in half. The blade sliced straight through the Dementor, just above what Harry assumed was its waist. For an instant the body remained balanced, but then it toppled over and as the body fell, the top half came away from the bottom. The top half still moved; it lay there on the floor, reaching out with its grotesque hand. Harry silenced it with a single swing. To an onlooker, Harry must have looked a sight. He looked as if he was on drugs. His unfocused eyes and vague face portrayed little sign of consciousness. He was wavering as he stood. It looked as though a stiff breeze would blow him over. He was splattered with thick, black blood from the Dementors. His sleeves were drenched in it, making his shirtsleeves heavy and adding to his tiredness and weakness. He was wearing a long black cloak, which made ihm look strange and to make matters worse, he was slashing at things that the Muggle couldn't even see with a sword.

"BOY! How dare you interfere!" shouted Marvin. "Crucio!"

Harry again raised the sword and deflected the curse straight back at its caster. Marvin didn't have time to duck. Harry was having trouble standing and in swinging the blade, he lost his balance. Harry fell to the floor in exhaustion as Marvin collapsed in a heap, screaming in agony. Harry raised a hand. He summoned all the strength he had left.

"STUPEFY!" he croaked.

He was so weak that he had to shout the word as loud as he could with as much anger as he could muster or it wouldn't have worked. Marvin stopped screaming and lay still. Harry knew he was so weak that it would wear off in a few minutes. Marvin would be back on his feet very soon. He had to hurry. Suddenly there was a scream behind him. It was the scream of a child. Harry spun around, just in time to see a Dementor release a limp body from its jaws. The body of a five year old boy, the one to whom Harry had given the money, crumpled to the floor, soulless. The boy landed facing in Harry's direction. Across the five-metre gap, Harry could see his blank, soulless eyes. They stared unseeingly past his own, into his soul. It was almost as if he was asking Harry why. Why had he not helped him? Harry froze; time seemed to stop. Silence filled his ears; he was in his own world. Nothing else was there, just him and the body. He just stared at the boy, the soulless carcass of the innocent boy, whom Harry had failed to protect. Those eyes. Harry knew that he would never forget those eyes as long as he lived. Suddenly he awoke from his stupor. He shook his head, his anger gave him new strength; he clasped the sword tightly in both hands and rose determinedly to his feet.

The Dementor let out a roar of triumph.

Come on, you son of a bitch! thought Harry viciously. Bring that ugly face of yours over here! He raised the sword, ready to take another head. He was about to charge when two scaly hands wrapped themselves around him. A Dementor had grabbed him around the chest from behind, interlocking its hands across Harry's chest, crushing the air out of him. He could feel the icy breath on his shoulder; he could hear the rattling breath a few millimetres from his ear. The beast had scrawny arms but it was inhumanly strong. Harry could feel the air being forced out of him as the beast squeezed tighter and tighter. He lost his grip on the sword; it fell to the floor with a loud clang. The pain was unbearable; Harry felt consciousness begin to slip away. The voices in his head grew even louder.

Move you stupid girl!

The last Dementor looked over at Harry, fresh from having eaten the boy's soul. Its meal had fuelled a further soul-lust deep within the heart of the morbid creature. It began to glide towards Harry. Harry could still move his arms, the Dementor only held his chest. The beast had slipped its arms underneath his, so that it could crush his ribs and lungs. Harry threw his elbow backwards into the head of the Dementor. Again and again, Harry tried desperately to hit the Dementor; to make it let go. He smacked it in the face again and again with his fist, his elbow and anything else. He kicked what he assumed were its legs with his own, trying to escape. Desperately, and with his head pounding, Harry reached for the sword. It was lying only a few inches away, but that was still too far away to reach. He was too weak for magic. He tried to summon it, but it didn't move. He stretched, but still he couldn't reach it. The Dementor was too strong. Harry tried to push it, to kick it, but it wouldn't let go. Its partner was approaching; it was ten feet away.

Having a Dementor bare millimetres away from his head was agony. His body felt numb, he was physically sick, spraying vomit down the front of the Dementor's robes and some on his own. Harry's arms fell to his side, he had no energy left to keep them up. It was over; he was going to die. Why hadn't he taken the Amulet like he had been told? Why did he have to play the hero? For once in his life, he should have listened to reason.

No! Don't think like that! Harry desperately looked around searching for any form of weapon, any inspiration. He saw endless videos, CDs and tapes. They were useless. He desperately needed a weapon. He felt himself beginning to lose consciousness. The world around him began to get dark. His head flopped to the side and his eyelids became heavy. The Dementor was seven feet away. Harry struggled to keep his eyes open. He tried to focus on something. The nearest video to me; what was the title? FOCUS! Keep you mind active!

NO! Please, not Harry. Kill me instead!

The title is...X...X-Fire? No X-Ray? No. X-Men! Yes that's it. It was in a large yellow box. There was a picture of Wolverine on the front with his claws. Claws? Suddenly something clicked in his head. Harry had an idea. Just as all hope had faded, a thought struck him. He remembered when Dumbledore had made him his hand. He had said, "your thoughts control it; you can change its shape!"

Please work! thought Harry. He tensed every muscle in his body.

Concentrate!

The Dementor was five feet away.

He poured every ounce of magic he had left into his right wrist.

Concentrate! Visualise the claws!

Suddenly Harry felt a tingling in his right hand. He looked down; three sapphire blades had sliced their way through his leather glove. They were eight inches long, shiny, translucent blue, and razor sharp. The Dementor was a foot away. It reached out with its long arms, taking hold of Harry by his shoulders. Its hood was already down; its mouth was coming ever closer. With all his strength, Harry plunged the three blades into the Dementor's chest.

He pulled them back out as the beast screamed in agony. The sickening screech echoed in Harry's already ringing ears. The other Dementor still had its arms wrapped around him. He swung his legs up and kicked the Dementor in front of him with both feet. Since he was held by one Dementor and had kicked the other with both feet, all three of them fell to the ground. The Dementor that held Harry released him as they hit the ground. Harry was sure he felt the Dementor's ribs break beneath their combined weight. Luckily he landed right next to the sword. The claws melted back into his hand and he picked up the sword. Two swings finished the last two Dementors. Harry's vision went black. No! Stay awake! Just a little longer! His eyes shot open. Desperately, he reached inside his shirt for the Phoenix Amulet. He had to contact Dumbledore before he passed out. Hold on a little longer!

"D...Dumble...Dumbledore," croaked Harry.

"Harry?" came the Headmaster's voice in his head.

"The M...M...Market. Help me! Help...He."

Move aside you stupid girl!

Avada Kedavra!

Harry faded into blackness.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry opened his eyes and the room slowly came into focus. He was in a hospital, but not the one at Hogwarts. This one was far larger, and better equipped than Madam Pomfrey's wing. The window was open and the moonlight was shining in, casting shadows over the entire room. Harry was lying on a hospital bed, though his arms and legs were bound to the bed with thick leather straps. Veils and what looked like mosquito nets were draped around Harry's bed.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," sighed a voice.

"Who's there?" asked Harry, finding his voice. His vision was still blurry, but he still saw movement. A figure moved behind the veil surrounding his bed. "Who are you?" called Harry. The figure came closer, its shadow growing on the veils. Slowly, it reached out with a hand and as the veil was pulled back, Harry caught a glimpse of the person who had spoken. Harry's blood ran cold as he stared into those unforgiving red eyes.

"Look what you have gone and done," cooed Voldemort. "Don't you see Harry? The child would have lived were it not for you. The longer you resist me, the more innocent people will be killed. Join me, Harry. We can end this pointless destruction. How many more lives will it take to convince you? There is no way out, Harry. Your future lies with me. Dumbledore knows this; I know this. Why are you in denial? Why deny yourself the life I could give you? Give yourself to me. Let the Ruby and Sapphire unite, Harry."

"Never," spat Harry. "NEVER!"

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright. Harry shook his head, and the room came slowly into focus. It had been a dream. He was in a hospital, similar to the one at Hogwarts, though the room was larger and better equipped. The room was white. Sunlight shone in through one window illuminating the ward. He was lying on a raised bed. On his bedside table was his watch and propped up against the table was the sword. The ward was empty except for him. Veils surrounded his bed, presumably to stop anyone seeing him.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," sighed a voice. Harry felt a flush of terror surge up in him. He slowly turned, his mind full of images of déjà vu.

He turned to the direction of the voice, dreading what he would see. A figure moved behind the veil surrounding his bed. The figure came closer, its shadow growing on the veils. Slowly, it reached out with a hand and as the veil was pulled back, Harry caught a glimpse of the person who had spoken. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was Dumbledore.

"Professor, where am I?" asked Harry at once.

"St. Bartholomew's Private Hospital," replied the Headmaster. "We thought it would be better to bring you here. St. Mungo's is not safe. And then there is the added inconvenience of the Daily Prophejournalists, who have been crawling all over it since news broke of what happened."

"I can imagine," said Harry bitterly.

"Harry, I gave you explicit instructions that if anything happened you were to use the Amulet to escape."

"And sacrifice hundreds of lives?" hissed Harry his anger growing.

"How many more would die if you failed?"

"I MAY STILL FAIL, BUT AT LEAST THOSE PEOPLE HAVE A LITTLE LONGER TO LIVE!" shouted Harry.

"Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "I know about the boy. I know how you must be feeling."

"NO YOU DON'T!" shot back Harry. Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. His voice cracked as he spoke. "He died because I was too slow! It's my fault!"

"You seem intent on blaming yourself. We seem to be reverting to last year's behaviour."

"What's that supposed to mean?" growled Harry, anger surging through him.

"It means that you have once again lost control of your temper." That shut Harry up. He couldn't answer that. After promising Dumbledore to try and keep his temper, Harry had gone and lost it. How was he ever supposed to let go of anger? Dumbledore had asked for the impossible. He slumped back down on the bed.

"Harry, I need you to tell me everything that happened," said Dumbledore quietly. Harry didn't move; he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. He began the tale; his voice was a monotone. He just told the story bluntly and softly. He spoke for nearly five minutes. As much as he would have loved to miss out certain facts, certain tragedies and certain errors on his part, Harry found himself telling the whole truth. He was brutally honest and in repeating what had happened, he realised just how badly he had failed.

"I should've remembered who he was sooner! I knew I had seen him, if only I had gone on instinct and taken him down," whispered Harry.

"There is a whole world of what-ifs out there, Harry," said Dumbledore kindly. "When something terrible happens we often wish we had done something differently." Harry just sat there. "I imagine you will get a shouting at from almost every person you have ever met before the week is out. I will spare you one from me. I will reserve myself to two pieces of advice. One, next time call for back-up and two, never convince yourself that you are the only one fighting this war." The headmaster rose. "I will go and give them the good news."

"Who?"

"The press. For the last three days they have been hovering outside. If you have no objections I will inform them that you are awake."

"If you must." A thought then struck Harry. "What do you mean? Have I been under for three days? What is the date today?"

"You have been under, as you put it, for four days. Today is Thursday the 17^th. Coincidentally, there is one more issue to address. I want you to hear this from me first, Harry. Minister Fudge has decided to give you the Order of Merlin for your bravery."

"HE WHAT?"

"You saved four hundred and thirty lives without even a wand; that is what people know." Harry tried to protest. "Don't argue, Harry. However inaccurate this depiction may be, it serves the cause well. Please do not ruin this morale boost. You have been awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class."

"For getting a child killed?" protested Harry.

"That was unfortunate, Harry. Biting my head off will not bring him back. We must expect more casualties in the future, Harry. He will not be the last."

"WELL I'M SURE THAT WILL COMFORT THE BOY'S PARENTS!" shouted Harry. He immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry Professor; that was an awful thing to say." The Headmaster appeared unfazed by Harry's outburst. He stood still, regarding Harry without emotion.

"Where is everyone?" asked Harry softly, having regained his calm, or near enough.

"If you refer to Miss Bell, Miss Granger, Mr and Miss Weasley, they are in lessons. It is Thursday afternoon after all."

"So am I free to go?"

"No, Poppy Pomfrey started off working here. It is from her colleagues here that she inherited her insistent nature regarding sleep and rest."

"I'll take that as a no, then."

"You are to remain here and rest. Six Dementors at close range without a Patronus for the length of time you sustained them can damage the brain. Even in Azkaban, Dementors are not allowed within a metre of a prisoner's cell. You are here to recover from this. As Headmaster, I am ordering you to remain here, as well as senior Order member. Do not defy me on this, Harry. Your situation is precarious; do you remember what happened to Mr. Bode?"

"Strangled by a killer pot plant?"

"Exactly. Until you're up to full strength, you are not leaving here."

"OK," agreed Harry glumly. "Oh, Professor. Voldemort called."

"What do you mean by 'called'?"

"He invaded my dream, my coma, whatever it was. He was there and we...talked."

"What did he say?"

"That this was all my fault. I let the boy die. I must join him to stop the bloodshed."

"Psychological warfare, Harry. He is playing your emotions and we have seen how well you react to that type of attack. You nearly attacked me just now. Imagine if the injured party were someone closer to you."

"Katie!"

"She is safe at the castle."

"If he touches her, I'll rip his God damned heart out, I swear to God," spat Harry.

"That kind of hatred and if I may say so, evil reaction is exactly what he is trying to provoke," replied Dumbledore calmly. Harry fixed the Headmaster with an angry stare. He knew he was right, but at the moment, he needed someone to blame. Dumbledore happened to be the closest thing to hand. "On a lighter note," continued the Headmaster. "We have had some success regarding keeping Voldemort out of the castle. We won't know for sure until he tries again, but I have high hopes."

"You say until he tries again, not if he tries again. Do you expect an attack?"

"Tom is not yet bold enough to attack Hogwarts. He needs to amass an army larger than he had at the height of his power. He won't come until he outnumbers us ten to one."

"You haven't answered my question," said Harry flatly and somewhat rudely. "You are holding back. Do you, or do you not, think that he will attack Hogwarts." Dumbledore stared unblinkingly at Harry few a few seconds and then sighed. He answered in a slow tone, his face once again displaying the troubled old man behind the mask.

"Hogwarts will he his ultimate target, yes. Not only would he take control of our youth, but also, he would unseat me and claim ownership over you. Hogwarts is a symbol of our society, our innocence. If Voldemort conquers Hogwarts, morale will hit rock bottom."

"I am going to ask this once," said Harry slowly. "Please be honest. Have you got anything secret, anything he might want hidden at Hogwarts?"

"Not that I am aware of," replied Dumbledore. "You refer to the Philosopher's Stone, I believe."

"I am," replied Harry. "I am just worried that if you are hiding something in the castle, then it will hasten his attack and, at present, we are completely unprepared. Anything like that must be moved, Hogwarts cannot fall."

"I appreciate you concern, Harry," said the Headmaster with a genuine smile. "But I am not hiding anything. Hogwarts is the base of operations for the Order; that is all. Now, I really must be going. I have to issue a statement; I also have a school to run. Remember, Harry, you are not to leave this ward. Not a word of a lie, if you leave, you will find yourself banned from Quidditch once more. I would hate to do that, Harry, but I will if I have to. Keeping you alive and safe is my number one priority. Do not do anything foolish."

"OK," said Harry grudgingly. The Headmaster left. Harry knew from his expression that he was not lying. Harry didn't dare defy him. He had seen that look in his eyes twice before, once in the Ministry of Magic and once when he had blown off the door to the fake Moody's office in fourth year. This time, Harry would comply to the letter.

Harry took the opportunity to have a look around. In the drawer next to him, he found issues of the Daily Prophet for the last few days. The Dementor attack was on the cover of every issue.

400 MUGGLES LOCKED IN BARN WITH DEMENTORS!

HARRY POTTER LINKED TO DEMENTOR DEFEAT!

HARRY POTTER SAVES 400 LIVES IN DEMENTOR ATTACK!

O.M. FOR HARRY POTTER AFTER DEMENTOR DEFEAT!

Jesus! thought Harry.

The next few days passed ever so slowly. The most annoying thing for Harry was the frequency of visits he received. Every nurse and doctor in the hospital wanted to see him. The flowers on his bedside table were changed on average every sixteen minutes. A nurse would come in, stand at the door staring sheepishly as him for a few seconds before remembering that she was supposed to be doing something. She would them change the flowers one at a time to draw out the time, grin sheepishly again and then slowly leave. Several had asked him for autographs. Between the constant interruptions and the lack of stimuli, the hours seemed more like years.

Remus came to visit on Friday with Moody. Remus gave him a right good rollicking and Moody just settled for a nod and a smile. In his books Harry had done OK. Remus was absolutely livid. His rant had lasted for nearly ten minutes before Harry even managed to get a word in edgeways. The Weasleys who weren't at school also popped in on Friday afternoon. Mrs Weasley had gathered him up in a rib-crunching hug and the twins had, unbeknownst to their mother, brought him a few 'surprises' to make his time more enjoyable. Charlie also brought him a few magazines to flick through.

"I've been burned so many times, I know what it is like to spend days at a time in hospital," he had said. "These might help." Harry was grateful to him. He had a few Quidditch magazines, and one on music that featured exclusive interviews with the Weird Sisters, Winifred Bambeara and the Silver Pixies. Mr Weasley had also thrown in two Muggle magazines called Heat and Gardener's Monthly. The last one would not get a lot of use; none in fact, unless he got so bored that he had to resort to it. He flicked through Heat but couldn't care less about most Muggle celebrities. The Quidditch ones he read through and through. The music one came with a free sample Music Pad. It was a piece of parchment with the names of songs and their artists listed on it. Harry just had to tap the one he wanted with his wand and it would play it. There were eleven songs from a variety of artists. Some he found all right, others were just plain awful.

On Saturday morning, Katie, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stopped by. They had not been allowed to come during the week, but Dumbledore had permitted them to visit at the weekend. Katie had literally thrown herself at him as soon as she came through the door. She landed on top of him with the force of a bullet train, knocking the wind out of him. Harry was not physically hurt. He was only being held because of his prolonged exposure to Dementors at such a close range. As the nurse had said, "Being that close to a Dementor for the amount of time you did could cause serious mental and psychological damage. I must insist you remain here for a couple of days so we can assess your mental stability." Thus, he looked perfectly healthy when they came to visit.

"So Harry Potter strikes again." Ron grinned as he took a seat next to Harry's bed. Harry was lying on top of the covers on his bed. He had been on his side reading a magazine that was open on the bed. When Katie had landed on him, he had rolled onto his back. She immediately kissed him firmly on the lips.

"Miss me?" asked Harry softly. She didn't reply; she just kissed him again.

"Can't you go anywhere without getting into a fight?" she asked. She rolled off of him and sat up. Harry closed the magazine and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, with Katie at his side. He put an arm around her, as her arm snaked around his waist. He found her warm presence soothing. Her soft body leaned lightly against his own and he felt himself relax.

"Apparently not," replied Harry through Katie's hair; she was resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair covered part of his face. He squeezed her gently; glad to once more be able to hold her. He'll never take her from me, thought Harry firmly. He'd protect her from Voldemort. "Anyway, I wasn't looking for a fight. I just went for a walk and then the Dementors showed up." Harry knew an interrogation was coming; he didn't really want to talk about it, but he had no other choice. He had, over the last month, only told them what they needed to know. Neither Ron, Hermione nor Ginny knew of the prophecy, knew the full extent of what happened in the Ministry, knew about his attempt at an Unforgivable, or the full account of what had happened on the train. Harry's reasoning was that if they didn't know, they would be less likely to get hurt because of it. This was his problem, and sharing it with them would not help. In the end, it all came down to him.

"And you fought off six of them and a Death Eater! It's all over the papers," said Ginny.

"Did they also say that a little boy was Kissed?" snapped Harry; he felt his anger rising again. They didn't know what it was like. Those eyes! He could still see the boy's blank eyes after he had been Kissed. They were pleading to Harry. Why hadn't he helped him? Why had he been too slow?

"No, they didn't," replied Ginny in shock. Everyone stared at him. Any grins that they were once wearing were gone; dissolving into shocked expressions. Harry felt Katie tense up against him and raise her head. She looked just as shocked as the others.

"I was a few feet away," said Harry quietly, staring unseeingly at a spot on the far wall. All he saw was the Dementor release the boy, his limp body falling to the floor, soulless. "I was too God-damned slow. The Dementor just..."

"There was nothing you could've done," soothed Hermione.

"What do you bloody well know?" snapped Harry. Hermione recoiled, a tear in her eye. Harry immediately regretted it. Hermione's almost tearful face immediately doused the fire in his head. He calmed down. "Hermione, I'm sorry," added Harry after a deep breath.

"S'Okay," she mumbled, starring at her feet.

"No, really Hermione. I am sorry, to all of you. Last year I was a complete dickhead. I shouted at you for no reason and I'm sorry. I could blame it on all sorts of things, but I'm not going to. It comes down to me. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I also want to thank you. I was insufferable and a complete tosser and you stood by me even when I risked your lives at the end of the year. I don't deserve friends like you. Can you forgive me?" Harry had been meaning to say that for months. He had never found the opportunity. He had no excuse, what he had done last year had been wrong and he owed them an apology.

"Oh, Harry," sobbed Hermione. "Of course we can." She leapt off of the chair, threw her arms around him and pulled him into a fierce hug. Her bushy hair covered most of his face as she hugged him.

"Excuse me," said a voice. "You two are crushing me!"

"Sorry Katie," said Hermione as she released Harry.

"Just as long as you know he's mine, or else its handbags at dawn for us, young lady!"

"Any time, Kathryn," grinned Hermione. Harry smiled down at the two girls; it is the little moments like this that gave Harry the strength to go on. This happy, carefree environment was what he was fighting to preserve. It was then that he noticed Ron. He was giving Hermione an odd looked. It only flashed briefly across his face before it was gone and replaced by one of curiosity. He shrugged his eyebrows and then looked up. It was then that Harry caught his eye.

"You all right, Ron?" muttered Harry.

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"Anything important?"

"No, just thinking."

"Harry," said Hermione. "I've got some good news."

"Voldemort is dead, exams have been cancelled and I've won a free trip to the Caribbean?" said Harry hopefully.

"No," replied Hermione.

"Figures," muttered Harry. He kissed Katie on the forehead

"I have your homework for you." Harry didn't know whether to hit her with a pillow or thank her. Deep down, his heart told him that she was right and that he should work while he had nothing else to do. His head, on the other hand, told him to hit Hermione with a pillow for even suggesting work when he had a golden excuse not to do any.

The five of them spent the afternoon at the hospital. At five they were forced to leave by the Matron. On Monday the day that Harry had been waiting for came. After a fifteen-minute test involving lots of colourful spells being cast around his head, he was released from Hospital with a clean bill of health. Remus, Mad-Eye and Tonks came to escort him back to school. Remus still didn't look happy, but he was relieved. Tonks was her normal friendly self and as for Mad-Eye, well, he was as paranoid as ever.

On the downside, this incident would inevitably mean that he was banned from Hogsmeade visits and couldn't go anywhere without an escort. His freedom had been short lived. He had managed to enjoy nearly an hour of normality before his life had caught up with him. His responsibilities were always hanging over him, chasing him. His return was a little out of the ordinary. He arrived back at the castle just as lunch was being served, meaning that everyone in the entire school was in the Great Hall when he walked in. It was one of the most embarrassing moments in his life. Every eye turned to him and absolute silence fell. Harry looked around; not a person was moving. He hoped that this was not going to continue. He had a sudden terrifying thought. What if his flies were undone? He didn't even have the courage to look down for he would look a bigger fool if he did them up in front of everyone, drawing attention to what they might not have noticed. Slowly, and watched by every eye, he made his way to his seat. Once he had sat between Ron and Katie, conversation in the Hall started up again. It was low murmur that became a bubble of chatter.

"This is going to get on my nerves," muttered Harry as he helped himself to the nearest bowl, which contained a selection of apples. "I can't take an interrogation at every pace."

"Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition," quoted Katie in her Monty Python voice.

"Who were the Spanish inquisition?" asked Ron.

"God only knows," muttered Harry.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Tuesday morning's Defence lesson was, unsurprisingly, on Dementors. Narcissa had been told to move the lesson forward in light of recent events. Harry went into the lesson knowing full well that he would be asked to recount his exploits. He had half a mind to skip the lesson but a) Hermione wouldn't let him, and b) McGonagall was cracking down on truancy. He sat through her introduction in a stupor, waiting for the inevitable. After twenty minutes it came.

"How does one defeat a Dementor?" asked Professor Black. Almost the whole class put their hands up.

'A Patronus,' was the answer given. Harry's teachings with the DA had been a success, apparently. The answer had come from a DA member. As far as Harry could remember, almost all of the DA could conjure a Patronus. Most were without form, but Harry couldn't think of a single person who couldn't produce anything. Even Neville produced a sizable wisp of silvery vapour. Hermione, naturally, could conjure a distinct silver otter. Cho could conjure a corporeal swan and Ginny's Patronus would sometimes take the shape of a beaver. Surprisingly, (and in Harry's opinion, poetically), the one time that Zakerias Smith had managed to conjure a corporeal Patronus, it had been in the shape of a weasel. This made Harry wonder what Ron's would be. He had never quite managed to get it to take shape. Harry felt a little guilty about taking Malfoy's joke about his best friend to this level, but he couldn't help but wonder.

"No," replied Narcissa. "A Patronus, even a corporeal one will only repel a Dementors; it will not kill it."

"We are supposed to kill them?" asked Ernie Macmillan in horror.

"Is that so hard?" asked Blaise Zabini with a half smirk, half glare on her face. She was trying to mask emotion, and Harry couldn't read the expression.

"N...no," stammer Ernie. "It's just that... killing...."

"So you think it is perfectly acceptable to kill do you, Blaise?" asked Professor Black with an amused expression on her face. She sat on top of her desk and regarded the Slytherin with an amused yet serious face.

"Yes," replied Blaise flatly. "They're monsters. They're not human."

"Could you kill a werewolf, Miss Zabini. If you saw one in the woods tonight and you had a gun with silver bullets, could you kill the werewolf?"

"Yes."

"If Professor Lupin walked in here now, in human form, could you kill him?" Blaise didn't respond. She sat there gaping like a goldfish. Her smirk had been wiped off her face, leaving a shocked, gaping expression. She evidently hadn't expected that.

"Well...no," she stammered.

"Why not?"

"Because..." stuttered Blaise.

"He is human 28 days of the month. You wouldn't kill a him because he looks human?"

"No."

"But you could if he was in his wolf form?"

"Not if I..." stammered Blaise.

"How about a vampire?"

"If one tried to bite me."

"Really? I thought you of all people would view a vampire as a person and not a monster."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your father was Doctor Jonah Zabini was he not? The same Dr. Zabini who spent five years studying vampires and werewolves in what is now Romania. If memory serves, he also put it to the Ministry that vampires and werewolves could be considered as citizens. It never got passed but he did raise the issue with the Wizengamot, didn't he?"

"Yes," replied Blaise flatly. "But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't defend myself if one attacked me."

"It's an interesting question, isn't it? When does a beast become a monster? When is it acceptable to kill? In fact, you will discuss that question for me as homework. Twelve inches of parchment. But, we are going off at a tangent. Dementors, how do you defeat them if you can't use a Patronus or there are too many of them?" There were a lot of blank or puzzled faces around the room. Most people looked at their shoes of the walls, hoping that they wouldn't be picked to answer. Come on, thought Harry bitterly. Get it over with. You are itching to ask me, so bloody well do it! At last, one hand rose, and it wasn't Harry's.

"Fire?" suggested Hannah Abbot, bravely.

"That would repel them, injure them and infuriate them. Fire is a suitable alternative to a Patronus but there are times when fire cannot be used. In the rain for instance, and where there is gas or petrol nearby. Harry, any suggestions?" asked Narcissa. There it was. She must have been dying to ask him that. Harry wondered if his answer would lead onto a lesson on the subject.

"Cut their heads off," sighed Harry. Narcissa repeated the answer softly; Harry's expression remained blank. She stared at him patronisingly for a few seconds before smiling.

"Bingo," she nodded. "Decapitation will kill ninety percent of beasts. Also if you break the neck or puncture the heart of most beasts, it will kill them."

"Not for a Dementor," said Harry.

"I think you'll find it does, Mr. Potter," replied Narcissa. So she isn't perfect, though Harry.

"I tried it; the neck breaking works, but I stabbed one straight through the chest. It didn't work," said Harry firmly.

"A Dementor's heart is not where you'd expect," replied Narcissa equally as smug. "It is about the size of a golf ball and is located where your appendix is."

"I see, said the blind man," muttered Harry. That explains it.

"You'd all do well to remember that," said Narcissa to the whole class. "The Dementors have defected. Voldemort must have offered them live prey in return for their support. They are out there and they are a very real threat. By the end of October, I expect every one of you to be able to conjure a corporeal Patronus in the presence of a real Dementor.

~~~~ + ~~~~

The week passed, the next began. Some say that school life is like being in prison. You work and sleep there and the next day is identical to the one before; every week is identical to the last. School life is all about routine and it was into this routine that Harry managed to slip. His written homework was kept up with. His plan of doing everything he could on the night it was set, which seemed to be renewed each weekend, usually ended on Tuesday. His practical Potions skills left a lot to be desired. After his good performance in his first lesson, his Potions marks remained low. This may have been due to the fact that he had had a lot on his mind recently. It may also have been because he didn't have the patience or the 'predisposition' as Snape called it. The workload for NEWTs was double what it had been for OWLs. Luckily, he couldn't feel anything with his right hand or he would have blisters the size of Knuts on his fingers from holding a quill so much. Ron, who's writing hand was real, was constantly applying potions to it to ease the strain. Hermione, of course, seemed immune to any form of stress. She was ahead with her homework and still found enough time to help Harry, Ron and Ginny. She tried to help Katie once or twice, but even she was out of her depth there.

The trouble for Harry was not the lessons, nor the extra curricular activities, namely the DA and Quidditch, but the attitudes of the others. Reports of the incident with the Dementors were becoming wilder. Depending on which article he read, Harry had fought off between six and ten Dementors with either his bare hands or a sword. Some said there had been a Death Eater there; some said there were ten. The bare hands story made him seem overly powerful and the articles that acknowledged his method portrayed him as being lethal and uncontrollable. The knock-on effect of this was that the stares he received wherever he went were now accompanied by silences whenever he entered the room, people skirting him in the corridors, and no one speaking to him unless he spoke directly to them. The only people who stood by him were Ron, Hermione, Ginny and, of course, Katie. Without their support, Harry would not have been able to keep going. He felt ever so lonely, yet he still feared to tell Ron or Hermione about the prophecy.

That week, Adrian Ashby had come back from the Ministry with a Provisional Apparation License for Harry. Before Harry could even legally attempt to Apparate, he needed to pass a Theory Test. As Mr Ashby explained, the theory test was a multiple-choice test about the laws and limitations of Apparation. Once he had passed that he was able to begin practical lessons. Mr Ashby had booked Harry's theory test for just over a fortnight's time. That would give him time to learn the information required. He was given a book with all the laws in it.

It was on the last day of September that Harry heard back from the Ministry. He was sitting eating breakfast when a large Tawny Owl brought him two envelopes stamped with the crest of the Ministry of Magic. He was sitting almost at the end of the Gryffindor table with Katie and Ron.

Aren't I the popular one, thought Harry sarcastically. He reached for the first envelope and, using a clean knife, he slit it open. He pulled out the parchment and began to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

This is to confirm the time and date of your Apparation Theory Test. You are booked for 14:10 on Tuesday October the Sixth. Please report to the Department of Magical Transportation in the Ministry at 14:00. You will be given a brief introduction to the test before you start. Please note that you will need to bring your Provisional Apparation Licence and this letter of appointment, otherwise you will not be permitted to take the test. The test lasts approximately twenty minutes.

Good Luck

Rhys Carlyle

Department of Magical Transportation

Two o'clock on Tuesday. That meant missing Charms. Harry made a mental note to inform Flitwick during their next lesson. Harry had a week and a half before his theory test. That meant that he would be able to legally Apparate in a fortnight. He reckoned that it would take about two months of lessons before he was good enough to take his test. The twins had taken four months worth of lessons, but they had only had one a week. By that reasoning, Harry should take two months. He couldn't wait. Just then Hermione and Ginny arrived at the table. Harry pocketed the letter before opening the next one. The second letter was not so happy.

Dear Mr Potter,

Firstly, allow me to present my congratulations. You have proved your worth before the whole Wizarding Community. Your actions resulted in the lives of four hundred and thirty Muggles being saved. This display of bravery is exceptional for any Wizard and even more so for one who is still at school.

As a reward for you actions, I have decided to award you the Order of Merlin, Second Class. It is a prestigious honour that only a handful of Wizards have received in the last century. The award ceremony will be held in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic on Friday 16^th of October at 19:00.

I look forward to meeting you again.

Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic

Harry, for some reason, felt very guilty. He felt like this letter had caught him. His stomach felt really tight and his body really cold. It is the sort of feeling he got when Dumbledore gave him the disappointed stare that signified that he had done something very wrong and had been caught. He could still see the face of the little boy, those eyes, the smile as he held out the bucket for the money, the scream as the Dementor picked him up, and the unfocused hollowed eyes that followed. Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He felt light headed. He was being rewarded and that poor boy had died. His parents were in mourning, and he, Harry, was getting a medal. This is not justice!

"What's that?" asked Ron, his mouth full of toast.

"Fudge is trying to get back into the public's good books," replied Harry softly, passing him the letter. Ron took it in his left hand while taking a drink from the cup in his right. His eyes scrolled over the page until he came to the second paragraph. He coughed suddenly, spraying Harry and half the table with pumpkin juice. He coughed deeply several times, receiving annoyed glares from the pumpkin juice soaked students near him.

"Harry, wow. The Order..." he coughed again.

"What's this?" asked Hermione taking the letter.

"Ron's choking to death," replied Ginny as she leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read.

"Well there's something you don't see everyday," remarked Hermione. Ginny gave out a low whistle. "Harry, this is great." Hermione beamed.

"Is it?" asked Harry thoughtfully. "I really don't know."

"What could possibly not be good about this?" asked Ron is astonishment. "It's the Order of bloody Merlin.

"I know what it is. It just feels like blood money. I get this and the family of that boy they Kissed gets nothing. He died, Ron. But they give no mention of that, just that I did all these wonderful things that I didn't even do. I didn't heroically charge into battle. I just slashed at them with the sword and I got lucky. I nearly got Kissed myself. If it wasn't for a certain unseen attribute, I'd have been Kissed as well."

"What would that be?" asked Ginny.

Harry noticeably looked down at his hand.

"Your hand?" whispered Hermione. Harry nodded and leaned forward to cover the sight of his hand from as many people as possible. Suddenly the three blades cut through his glove again. They stared in wonder at his three sapphire wolverine claws.

"That's interesting," said Ginny at last. "I bet You-Know-Who doesn't have eight inch retractable blades in his hand."

"You got the idea from X-Men, didn't you," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Yes, I saw the video and it just clicked." Harry retracted the blades and stretched his fingers.

"Have you tried any other shapes?" asked Hermione.

"Haven't had the need to," replied Harry.

"You'll need some dress robes for the ceremony," said Ginny thoughtfully.

"Don't you start," muttered Harry. The ceremony wasn't for another fortnight so he let it go. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a lesson to go to. The wonderful world of Muggle Studies awaits! I'll see you all after class." He stood, kissed Katie on the lips and walked towards the door followed by many eyes. Harry had noticed that since his encounter with the Dementors, or perhaps since his haircut, he attracted a lot more attention from the female population. He walked through the door deep in thought and headlong into Lavender Brown. She bounced off of him and landed on her back on the hard stone floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lavender," said Harry as he offered a hand to help her up. She took it and brushed herself off. Although she had just been knocked over, she still wore a strange little smile.

"Oh, no," she said. She sounded a little flustered but nonetheless happy. "It's all right; I wasn't looking and I was running and... never mind."

"Are you alright? You look...flustered."

"I'm fine; I just overslept." Harry looked at her and saw, behind her eyes, the same thing he had seen when Ginny had arrived back late to the common room. She was lying. Harry wondered how he kept doing this. Lies seemed so obvious to him nowadays. Maybe he just hadn't looked before. He took one last look into her eyes. He was about to leave when suddenly an image flashed into his mind. It disappeared as soon as it arrived but Harry recognised it instantly. Seamus Finnegan. So that was where she had been.

"Harry?" asked Lavender. Harry was awoken from his trail of thought by Lavender saying his name.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking, sorry."

"You should go to bed earlier, Harry," said Lavender as she went into the Great Hall. Harry started out towards the Muggle Studies room when he saw Seamus coming towards him whistling 'Camp Town Ladies' somewhat loudly. Harry couldn't resist.

"Someone is in a good mood today," remarked Harry as he passed. "If I didn't know better I'd say that you'd enjoyed last night." He winked at him before continuing on, leaving a very puzzled and embarrassed Seamus lost for words.

Harry's experience with Lavender wasn't his last odd experience of the day. Halfway through Charms, during an exercise on Duelling, Harry hit his opponent, Susan Bones, with a tickling charm. Harry obviously wasn't trying to win with his first charm. He was not toying with her, exactly; he preferred to think of it as giving her a chance, trying to develop her duelling skills. As the spell hit, several images entered his mind. He saw a young girl being locked in the boot of a car by a man in a balaclava then pop it was gone again. Harry paused for a moment. When he looked up, a disarming charm was heading straight for him. As quickly as possible he raised a shield charm but just a fraction of a second too slow. The charm hit him in the chest. His wand flew over to Susan while Harry was catapulted across the room and into a wall.

There was a gasp from the rest of the class.

"Excellent, Miss Bones, excellent!" squeaked little Professor Flitwick excitedly. "Looks like we have a new champion! The mighty Harry Potter as been beaten at last!" Susan beamed and was awarded twenty-five points for Hufflepuff. She glanced over at Harry as he picked himself up.

"How did you do it?" Susan asked as she offered Harry his wand back.

"Do what?" asked Harry and he brushed himself down.

"Bring up those memories. I saw them in my head."

"I..." Harry paused, if h confessed, then no one would trust him again. They would assume he could read minds. He close to lie and plead ignorance. "I don't know what you mean," said Harry as he took his wand and pocketed it again. "Thanks. I just got distracted. Good duel."

"You snooze you lose!" called Pansy Parkinson from across the room a wide grin on her face.

"I don't see you winning," replied Harry with a tone that suggested a challenge rather than a snide remark. He felt like taking his confusion and loneliness out on someone and she was annoying him at the moment.

"All right, all right," interrupted Flitwick. "Next pair."

After lessons had finished that day, Harry was still thinking about his encounters with Lavender and Susan. Not to mention the fact that he could see Ginny lying, it seemed to Harry that he was accidentally performing Legimency. If he couldn't control it then it was dangerous, and if people discovered he could invade their memories, no one would ever come near him again. A person's mind was private. If there was even a rumour that Harry could read the most private thoughts a person had, no one would ever come near him again. Harry considered going to Dumbledore, but he was busy and a self-confessed 'out of practice' Legimens. For reasons even he didn't know, Harry decided on a course of action what a year ago he would never have lowered himself to. He decided to go and see Snape. It took half an hour or so to build up the courage to go to the Potions master. He started towards the door, but turned back before he reached it. His second outing got him to the Great Hall before he decided that he didn't need to go. Ten minutes later he was back and this time he willed himself to go all the way.

Harry made his way down to the dungeons and through to Snape's office. He took a deep breath. He really wanted to run away, but he had to go through with it. Professor Snape was the Occlumency and Legimency master; there was no one else who even compared. Except Voldemort and he wouldn't be overly willing to teach Harry... would he? STOP IT! Don't you dare think like that again! Harry took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come," said an all too familiar voice on the other side. Harry slowly pushed the door open. "Potter, what are you doing here? I am very busy, thanks largely to your class's efforts. So, Potter, to what do I owe the honour of your presence?" His voice flared with sarcasm at the last question

"I need to talk to you, Professor," replied Harry. He tried to sound respectful, but not grovel. He had to control his temper; he needed Snape to help him. "Please, sir; it's important." Snape sighed. He put his quill back in the inkpot and turned to face Harry. He fixed his characteristic patronising stare and folded his arms.

"Well?" he said shortly.

"Sir, I need to talk to you about...Legimency." Snape clearly struggled to stifle a smile. Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He knew it. Snape was going to laugh at him and then kick him out. This was a mistake; I should never have come here. What was I thinking?

"Potter," said Snape at last, still without emotion. "You failed, miserably, to conquer Occlumency, what makes you think you could even achieve Legimency?"

"Well, Professor, I think I have accidentally done it twice today and several times before. Somehow if I look into someone's eyes I can just tell if they are lying. And then twice today I pulled an image straight out from someone's mind." Harry saw the Potions Master's face change. The expression he wore was one of curiosity mixed with amusement. Harry still felt stupid standing there. There are millions of other possibilities. This isn't even Legimency. What am I doing here?

"Interesting, go on," said Snape. He didn't seem to be laughing or to be taking the Mickey. Also he didn't seem to be agreeing or understanding. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking and he didn't like it. He still felt as if Snape was going to throw him out of his office.

"Well," said Harry slowly. He needed to be careful here or he could get Lavender into trouble. "Today I bumped into...a friend and she was tired and panting. I asked her what was wrong and then I saw an image in my mind. Probably a memory. I saw where she had been."

"Where had she been?" asked Snape. Harry opened his mouth to answer but he managed to stop himself. Harry wouldn't give him an excuse to take points from Gryffindor.

"I'm here to ask for your advice, Professor," replied Harry softly and calmly. "Not to tell tales." Snape's lip curled. A look of amusement flicked across his face.

"So it was somewhere your friend should not have been. What was the other occasion?"

"During a duel in Charms. I hit my opponent with a spell and I saw a memory of hers."

"What charm?"

"A tickling charm, Professor."

"It could be that since that charm links to her mind, and induces imaginary sensations that it left her mind open to you. As for the earlier incident, well, the eyes are the gateway to the soul. If you look into eyes you may see lies, emotions and such like. Plucking a memory is rare but if she was tired her mind may have been weakened. Skilled Legimens can root around inside a person's mind for such images and memories without the subject noticing. What you tell me does sound like basic Legimency. Can you do it at will or is it accidental?"

"I've never tried; it just happened a few times," replied Harry. "I don't want people to know I can do it. They would never trust me again."

"Potter, Legimency is an art taught to Aurors. It is not meant to be taught to schoolchildren because of all the uses that you, in particular, would put it to. You cannot be taught. You must, however, learn to control it. I will consult the Headmaster for you. In the mean time, avoid eye contact for any period of time if possible and don't consciously try to perform Legimency."

"Thanks you, sir," said Harry as he turned to leave. He felt immensely relieved. Snape hadn't been as bad as he had thought. Maybe Dumbledore was leaning on him. He was aware of the mutual dislike between Harry and Snape. Maybe he had stepped in and tried to make Snape more...pleasant.

"How long did it take you to work up courage to ask me for help?" called Snape as Harry neared the door. Snape had returned to marking essays. Judging by the handwriting and colour of ink, he was marking Lavender's. She insisted on using a turquoise shade of ink for her written work. No one objected but it was just not what people did. Most people stuck to black or sometimes blue; Lavender had to be different. Officially, they could use any colour other than red, which was what professors used for marking. As such, Snape had a pot of what Harry first thought was blood on his desk, but was in fact ink. Snape was leaning over his desk, making marks on Lavender's work. He didn't even look up as he spoke.

"About half an hour," replied Harry honestly. Snape smirked. So, Snape couldn't resist a quick snide comment just as Harry was leaving. God, I hate this man, thought Harry.

"So the mighty Potter has managed to control his ego. You are less like your father or Black than I thought," mused Snape as he put a thick red line through a whole paragraph on Lavender's essay. Harry felt the sudden urge to shout at him again, to give the greasy git a piece of his mind, but he managed to control himself.

"Do you want to hear something ironic?" asked Harry softly.

"I have a feeling you are going to tell me anyway," muttered Snape as he looked up and fixed Harry with a look of distain.

"The last conversation I ever had with Sirius, I scolded him for what he and my father did to you!" Harry turned and left, leaving a stunned Potions Master behind him. He had gone four paces from the office when Snape called him back.

"POTTER!"

Harry turned around. What had he done now? He hadn't told anyone or done anything wrong. He had over an hour until curfew. What did the greasy git want? Snape was in the doorway staring at him with an expression Harry couldn't read. Snape regarded him carefully.

"On a related note," he said slowly. He appeared to be struggling for words, as if the sentence was very painful for him. Harry soon found out why. "I owe you an apology," said Snape very quickly. Harry was tempted to ask if he could repeat that, but Snape would probably explode into a rage. "You were meant to see the Penseive."

"I was what?" asked Harry. He didn't understand what Snape was trying to say.

"A Penseive holds copies of thoughts. If they held the real ones and it was spilt, one would literally lose one's mind. It wouldn't protect secret thoughts from you. I left it there to tempt you to look in it. You were meant to see what was inside. I was trying to smudge the perfect image you held of Black and your father. For that I...I...a...apologise." Before Harry could say anything Snape turned and fled into his office and slammed the door. Harry stood in shock for a few seconds.

Snape? Being nice? Apologising to a Potter? Was he on drugs? Harry managed a small smile before returning to his dormitory. He felt like telling the whole world about this, but he had promised Snape that he wouldn't tell anyone about the Penseive and so far he hadn't, except for Remus and Sirius, and Dumbledore also knew. Was this the beginning of the new improved, one might even say 'nice', Snape? Harry doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

Homework at present was surprising lax. He and Ron had finished in about half an hour and Harry was completely up to date. Ron still had a Herbology essay to do, which Hermione was doing as well, not that she would let Ron copy of course. Being up to date was such a relief. It was a feeling that Harry had long forgotten. He sat by the fire with Arwen, his pet Phoenix, resting lightly on his knee, watching the others work. Katie was out on a prefect patrol. Harry sat in silence, gently stroking Arwen's beautiful blue plumage as he watched his housemates' activities. Some were working; some were playing. Nevertheless they still had things to do. He looked around; the common room was alive with activity. People everywhere were going about their business. They knew of the war, they knew what Voldemort was and what he could do. To them it had never come close. To them it was something that only happened to the famous Harry Potter. They didn't need to worry themselves with it. Harry scanned the faces. If only they knew, thought Harry. Almost everyone in the room was shooting him a quizzical glance every few minutes. Hardly anyone had asked him what had happened. Many seemed more scared than of him than Voldemort. It was unmistakably fear that filled their eyes rather than awe or respect. The distrusted and feared him, just like last year.

As he looked around, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else, something caught his eye. Ginny. She had come down the stairs from her dormitory wearing a thick cloak and was heading for the Portrait hole. It was half past eight. She only had half an hour before curfew.

Where the hell is she going?

Go, she did, and she didn't come back while Harry was downstairs, which was until ten thirty. She had spent nearly two hours outside. When he had asked her before she had lied. This was not the first time she had been absent in the evenings. Looking back, Harry could remember several other occasions when she had come in late. Harry wondered what it was that she did. Was it a midnight rendezvous? He knew one thing for sure. She was not on a bakery run. Harry would have hoped she would tell him, but no, she had lied. What did she have to hide? Although it was wrong to snoop, Harry couldn't let it go. He had to know, if only to make sure she was safe. She was known to be close to him, she was a Weasley so probably already a target. He had to make sure she was safe. He didn't dare tell Ron in case it embarrassed Ginny. Ron would undoubtedly fly off the handle if he suggested it was a boy. Harry had to do this subtly. He was probably over reacting but he couldn't risk the consequences if he was wrong. No, thought Harry. I am going to have to go after this myself. He decided to ask Ginny again. His plan sorted, he retreated for bed. Ron was still in the common room. He wasn't going to bed because at midnight, he would be on duty as a prefect. Katie's shift ended at midnight; she and Cho would hand over to Ron and Pansy Parkinson, if Harry had memorised the schedule correctly.

Most Gryffindors retreated to bed at about eleven to eleven thirty. That gave him a little time to himself. He decided to go through his mother's belongings. Dumbledore had sent the box of his mother's possessions to him, but he had yet to find time to examine them. He had tried, but he felt he wanted to be alone when he did so, and had not yet found the opportunity. Harry put the heavy box on his bed and pulled the curtains closed. He lit his wand and placed it on the pillow, illuminating the bed.

He took a breath, feeling nervous for some reason and opened the box. The smell of dust hit his nostrils. It had been untouched for fifteen years and the smell of age lingered. It was a small box, the size of Hedwig's old cage. Harry felt a pang of sadness as he remembered his most loyal companion. Harry spread the four flaps of the box and reached inside. Spread across the top of the box, possibly to protect the contents from dust was a sheet of fabric. It was white and had frilly parts to it. There were faint patterns sewn into the fabric, which Harry assumed was silk. He took hold of it gently and pulled. As he pulled, the fabric unfolded and Harry realised what he was holding. It was his mother's wedding dress. She had worn this. This was one of his mother's most prized possessions. Harry softly stroked the beautiful, if somewhat dusty, dress. He felt sad, yet at the same time, a flush of happiness as he conjured a mental image of one of the happiest days of his parent's lives. He felt a tear form at the corner of his eye and hastily wiped it away. He folded up the dress and put it to one side. Beneath the dress were a selection of photos and pictures. There were a few packs of Muggle photos and a few frames containing both magical and Muggle pictures. Harry saw Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs on the day of their graduation. Another showed Lily and James on their wedding day and a group photo of the wedding. Harry could see Aunt Petunia, Sirius, Remus, Wormtail and his parents. Dumbledore was there as well as McGonagall and Mrs. Figg. Harry flicked through the Muggle photos. He saw one of his mother when she was at Hogwarts with her roommates. They were labelled Scarlet, Marksie, Rosie and Donna. Another showed his parents on their honeymoon, on holiday, at home, with the Order, and lastly with baby Harry. Harry felt his emotions bubbling within him as he flicked through the pack. Harry selected one of his mother and father when they were about twenty. It showed them sitting on what Hay assumed was a balcony, white, snow-covered, mountains spread out behind them. Harry used a simple sticking charm to stick it to the wall above his bed. The rest he set aside. He now had a reminder of the years when they were alive and happy. If he had a wallet he would have carried it around in that.

Harry reached into the box; he pulled out a small silver box. He opened it to find what he assumed was his mother's jewellery. Bracelets, necklaces and pendants of all sorts of gems were laid out inside the box. Harry picked up a silver bracelet and read the inscription,

Lily,

For a life so young and a love so old,

Forever yours,

James.

Was 'a life so young', him? Was this a present after Harry was born? He put the bracelet back and closed the box, he set it aside and pulled out the next object in the box. It was about the size of his palm. It looked like amber, thought it was beautifully carved into a round disk the size of a CD. In the middle was a crystal, the size of a walnut. Around the edge were a few runes. Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione to translate them. The next thing he removed was a small carriage clock and cuddly toy. Was this his toy? Had it been his mother's? He found a silver flute, a Silver Pixies T-shirt and diary. Harry felt sad when he had finished. The box hadn't held as much as he had hoped. What had he hoped for? He didn't know. He hadn't been expecting to find his mother in the box. She wouldn't pop out and say, 'surprise I've just been hiding all these years!' Whatever he had been expecting, he felt unfulfilled. He placed everything carefully back in the box with the exception of the photo he had chosen to keep. He put the box back in the cupboard and then returned to his bed. He was about to remove the Penseive from under his bed when Seamus and Dean entered the dormitory. He wanted to be alone for these things so he had to let it go and find another time to look through it.

Harry had nothing left to do so he changed and hopped into bed. Katie would be back at midnight and tomorrow he would have to find out where the hell Ginny was going.

He tried to quiz Ginny the next morning.

"Where did you go last night?" asked Harry quietly before breakfast.

"You followed me?" asked Ginny angrily. He knew she would be angry; this was invasion of privacy, but all's fair in war.

"I saw you leave, that's all," said Harry calmly.

"I had a detention with Sprout," said Ginny stubbornly.

"You needed a cloak?" asked Harry.

"It was outside, planting plants," said Ginny. Again Harry could tell she was not being entirely truthful. He felt a flush of anger. Why can't she be honest? He was tempted to try and fish an image out of her mind but she was angry and if she noticed what he was doing she would never speak to him again. Harry was forced to let it go. If people knew he could fish images or even thoughts out of their heads, no one would trust him ever again. No one would come near him and no one would speak to him. He would be an outcast.

Harry decided that the only option left open was to follow her one night. She didn't go out the next night. Harry sat waiting by the fireplace, his father's cloak in the fold of his robes. He had a few books with him so that no one would think he was waiting and Ginny wouldn't be suspicious. She didn't go out the night after that either, nor on the subsequent four. Harry had to wait until Sunday until she next went out. He should have been revising for his Apparation Theory test on Tuesday, but he decided this was more important. A theory test could be retaken, but if Ginny got hurt, she wouldn't bounce back. Harry felt a bit angry with her. He was going through all this trouble because she wouldn't tell him. He had had to lie to Ron and Hermione, which he hated doing. He hadn't even told Katie what he was doing. By all logic, he should have given up and let it go, but something kept him interested. Something made him persist.

Harry waited by the fireside, sitting on his Invisibility cloak. He had sat there from eight o'clock until nine every day since he had decided to follow her. He sat playing with his conscience. Should he be doing this after what he had said to Ginny about it being her life? He took his wand and for safety his sword with him. He didn't know why he felt safer with it, but it did reassure him. Harry's conscience told him he was in the wrong; he was snooping. Harry's head told him that it was for the best. If it is nothing, I can always disappear and she need never know, thought Harry.

At quarter to nine on Sunday, Harry struck gold. The door to the girls dormitories opened and Ginny came out dressed all in black and wrapped up in a cloak. Harry nodded to her as she left in a sort of friendly way. He then looked back down at his notes, scribbled a few words with his quill, all the while watching Ginny in his peripheral vision. Once she was through the Portrait hole, Harry closed his notes and tucked them under the cushion on the seat where they would be safe until he got back. Nobody else was looking; he made sure of that, before throwing on his cloak and disappearing through the Portrait hole. As Ginny tiptoed down the corridor, Harry crept after her, trying desperately not to make any noise. Ginny turned left into another corridor and then right. As she turned right, Harry saw Filch appear straight ahead of him. He was walking towards the passage down which Ginny had turned. He would catch her in a few seconds. Thinking quickly Harry looked past Filch to where a suit of armour stood. Harry pulled out his wand and levitated the helmet off of the armour and then let it drop. The sound of it hitting the floor echoed through the corridors. Filch spun around and ran towards the armour, Mrs Norris right at his heels. Ginny spun around and then ran off down the corridor. She was getting too far ahead of Harry for him to follow. He ran after her. She turned right and then left. Harry couldn't go any faster or the cloak would come off. He was also trying to be quiet. As Harry rounded the second corner he found himself facing an empty corridor.

"Bugger!" cursed Harry. He had lost her. If only he could tell where she had gone. Of course! The Marauder's Map! He had left it in his dormitory. Idiot! He quickly and quietly made his way back to the common room. He tiptoed past where Filch was reassembling the armour and then ran back to the common room. He removed the cloak to give the Fat Lady the password. The room was still full, so he re-donned the cloak and ran up towards his dormitory. He ran straight past Katie, who was helping Ron with his homework, and Hermione, who was knitting. Harry went straight up to the sixth year boys dormitory and threw open his trunk. He fished out the map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" said Harry quickly. Luckily he was alone, or someone else might learn the secret of the map. He had no wish to have the others desperate to borrow it so they could go to the Astronomy Tower in secret. Ink began to spread across the page. They traced out the walls of the castle. It took a few seconds before the map was complete. He picked it up and browsed the map searching for Ginny.

He found her soon enough. She was moving across the lawn towards the Forbidden Forest. She was not going to a detention; he knew she had been lying and he had been right. Harry felt a glimmer of triumph that he had been right. He also felt a sense of dread as he noticed where she was heading for. Unfortunately he couldn't see anyone else. Wherever she was going it was not on the Hogwarts grounds. Of course, she knew about the map. As soon as he gave away that he knew she was sneaking around she would have moved the rendezvous out of Hogwarts grounds so that he couldn't see. She was clever; he had to give her that. The trouble was that she was near the edge of the map and as soon as she was off the edge he wouldn't be able to track her and he would have no hope of catching her. He could fly out the window, but a broomstick would be seen. Then it occurred to him. He could Apparate. He had Apparated with Voldemort and no one had battered an eyelid, except Dumbledore. But Harry had had to tell Dumbledore. He didn't already know. That must mean that neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore could detect illegal Apparation inside Hogwarts. If it was thought to be impossible, it would not be policed. Harry decided to risk it.

Picturing the lawn as best he could, he concentrated hard and said the spell. He felt a sudden whoosh as he Disapparated followed by a bump as he landed on the lawn. His landing was a bit rough; he had fallen on his side. Harry shook himself and looked around, trying to get his bearings. Ginny was about fifty metres from him. She froze as he reappeared; she had heard the crack of him Apparating. Her head spun around and she glanced left and right. Harry, still covered by the cloak, flattened himself to the ground. Ginny waited a few seconds before continuing. She was being very cautious; whatever she was doing, she wanted it to be a secret. Harry stood up and hurried after her. He had just broken the law and a promise to Dumbledore. He hoped that no one would find out about it.

Ginny entered the forest with Harry ten metres behind her. He was careful to tread on thick roots so that he didn't break any twigs. Ginny was not so careful. He could have followed her with his eyes closed. The sound she was making was going to attract the attention of all sorts of creatures. Harry followed her for five minutes, keeping about ten metres behind her. The forest became thicker and darker. Harry felt sure he could see movement amongst the trees. He withdrew his wand beneath the cloak, ready for trouble when it came. He kept one hand on the hilt of the sword. For some reason, he always felt safer when he had it in his hand.

Suddenly he heard a voice just in front of him.

"Ginny!" hissed the voice. That voice! Harry recognised it. He felt his anger rising and his hand tightened towards the sword. That voice! The voice that had haunted his dreams for a month.

"There you are," whispered Ginny. "I thought you'd gone."

"Never," whispered the voice. Harry edged nearer. He saw Ginny turn to her left and disappear behind a tree. He heard a soft moan, and assumed, much to his disgust, that she was kissing her companion. How could she do this? This is treason. I knew she was up to something but not this!

"We are going to have to stop this or come clean," whispered Ginny at last. Harry edged closer to the tree behind which they were concealed. He was especially careful to not break twigs, as he was so close to them. He could hear their every word.

"Why?" replied the voice. Harry was a few feet away. He was on the far side of the tree from them. He slowly began to come around the side of the tree. He felt anger pulse through him, a desire for revenge beginning to take control. He had waited for a month to get his hands on this bastard. Now he had him. Ginny, what was she doing with him? How could she?

"People are getting too close," came Ginny's response. Closer than even you know, Virginia! Harry really wanted to just run around the tree and hit both of them. "Harry is sniffing around. Someone is going to find us!" hissed Ginny.

"Ginny, I can't," pleaded the voice. Harry found himself enjoying the desperation of the voice. "If Dumbledore finds out, I'll be killed. If You-Know-Who finds out, I'll be killed." And I'll kill you as well, thought Harry. He slowly withdrew the sword, trying to make as little noise as possible. In his heart he knew he wouldn't kill him, but his head told him that he wanted to hurt him, to make him beg for mercy. He felt the same kind of hatred he had felt for Bellatrix, right before he used an Unforgivable on her.

"I can't take the lies anymore," said Ginny. "Dumbledore will forgive you if you come clean by yourself. He forgave Snape didn't he, and your mother!"

"Yes, but..." stuttered the voice.

"Trust me!" soothed Ginny. There was the sound of more kissing. Harry felt his anger grow. He stepped around the tree. He was standing two feet away from them. He could see their features as clear as anything. The moon was three quarters full and the night was clear. Harry saw the fiery red hair and the spiky blond hair of her apparent lover. He had changed his hair, just like Harry, since their last meeting.

"What about Potter?" asked the blond.

"I'll handle Harry!" said Ginny softly.

No you won't Virginia!

"Potter won't be easily swayed," said the Slytherin softly. "He isn't best pleased with me at the moment."

Too right, you son of bitch!

"Is that surprising, Draco?" said Ginny, this time sounding angry. "That was bloody disgraceful. Katie is my friend. You overstepped the mark by a sodding mile."

"OK, I got carried away and I do regret it," said the Slytherin, trying to sound sincere. Harry didn't believe him for a second. He was using Ginny, that's all. She is an idiot, but he is a bastard. "I am sorry," continued the Slytherin. "But Potter won't forgive me, will he?"

"No," said Harry removing the cloak and withdrawing the sword fully. "I won't!"