Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

There was a crack! and Ron disappeared from the room.

Harry braced himself. Then crack!

He found himself standing in the familiar surroundings of the kitchen at The Burrow. Ron was there, grinning at him. Then he heard feet on the staircase. He looked up and saw Ginny and Hermione running down.

"I hoped you would be here, Harry," said Hermione. "I suppose this means you've both got your licences?"

"Yep," said Ron. "First time, just like you."

“Naturally,” answered Hermione, and Ron looked at her suspiciously. “Anyway,” she went on, “I didn’t think it was that difficult.”

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry. He gave a slight smile back and wondered if he should mention Percy, then realised Ginny was there. Better not.

“So you won’t have got your owls from Hogwarts?” she went on.

Owls? For a moment Harry was confused. Did she mean owls or OWLs?

She must have seen the puzzlement on his face. “About the new sixth year courses?”

“Nope,” said Ron.

“Right then. This came this morning.” She brandished a piece of parchment. “Sit down and read through it.”

They each pulled up a chair to the kitchen table, and began reading.

“Dear Miss Granger,” the letter began.

“We have decided to broaden the N.E.W.T. curriculum by asking students to take an extra subject.” Ron groaned. “We are also adding two new subjects to the choices available: Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the Study of Intelligent Magical Creatures.

“The first is self explanatory, although there will also be a large practical element to the course. The course may be taken in addition to the present Defence Against the Dark Arts course, or by itself. However, if taken by itself, you must already have a grade of Excellent in your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.

“The second course will cover the study of creatures such as goblins, elves, centaurs and the like.”

“You should let the school know within the next ten days which extra subject you wish to study. This does not have to include either of the two new subjects you may instead if you wish pick another subject from the ones already on offer.

“Yours, Professor McGonagall.”

Harry read it through a second time, then asked: “Go on then, tell us what this is all about.”

Hermione sighed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” said Ron.

“Dumbledore has added these in. Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts – well, we all know why that’s in there. And the Intelligent Magical Creatures – well, that’s one in the eye for the Ministry.”

Ron looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Keep going.”

“Well, you’ve been in the entrance hall of the Ministry? That statue?”

Harry remembered it well.

“So?” asked Ron.

“How patronising can you get? I mean – the elf and the centaur and the goblin, at the feet of the wizard and witch.”

Ron looked at her suspiciously. “This is nothing to do with SPEW, is it?”

Hermione looked exasperated. “Ron, this is Dumbledore’s idea, not mine. Remember Umbridge? How she hated Hagrid because he was half giant? And how she hated Firenze because he wasn’t human?”

“So?” said Ron yet again.

“Look, Voldemort’s back.” Ron winced, but Hermione carried on. “Apart from anything else, we want these people on our side. And not just on our side, but helping us. And forget SPEW – but ask yourself: are we really all that superior to elves or goblins or centaurs?”

“Ok, ok,” said Harry, “let’s leave the arguments until later. The thing is – what are we going to do about this?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Hermione!” said Ron warningly.

“Right. Well, we’ve all got Excellent in our Defence Against the Dark Arts, haven’t we? So we can do the Advanced course instead of the ordinary one. And Intelligent Magical Creatures as our second.”

Harry thought about this. “Makes sense,” he admitted eventually.

“Do we get to see your notes then?”

“No, Ron! You do it yourself!”

Ron rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Harry slid the parchment back across the table to Hermione and said nothing.

“I’ve already sent my reply,” she went on. “You’d better do yours soon, in case the course gets full up.”

“S’pose you’re right,” muttered Ron. “And I suppose this means even more work next year.”

“With what we already know about Defence Against the Dark Arts, we won’t have to do that much extra work.”

Ron brightened slightly. “Yeah, you could be right there.”

“Well, that’s that settled,” said Hermione brightly.

Harry looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, then realised it would be no use to him. He glanced down to his watch, and see it was getting late. “I’d better be going. It’ll be supper time at the Dursleys soon.”

“Me too,” said Hermione. “How are you getting home?”

“Apparating, of course.”

“Don’t forget you’re not allowed to Apparate in front of Muggles.”

“I know that. But I’ll Apparate into my bedroom – no one ever goes in there. Anyway, your parents are Muggles as well.”

“Yes, but they know I’m a witch. I checked. It’s OK with family members.”

“Then I’m OK with the Dursleys in that case.”

Harry had a small feeling of satisfaction at having caught out Hermione just this once.

“When are you two coming to visit again?” asked Ginny.

Harry looked at the other two, his eyebrows raised.

“How about next week?” suggested Ron. “Tuesday? Come for the day?”

“OK then. Ten o’clock?”

“Sounds good.”

Hermione picked up her parchment and stood up. “Next Tuesday then.” Crack! She was gone.

“My turn,” said Harry. Crack! And he was in Privet Drive.

August was drawing to a close, and now there were only ten days left until term began. Life in Little Whinging had been made a little more bearable by his frequent visits to The Burrow, and by his first ever visit to Hermione’s home. Her Muggle parents had not been quite sure what to make of two wizards casually dropping in - or Apparating in - but all of them had been on their best behaviour. Even Ron. Then one morning Harry received an owl from Remus.

“Dear Harry, I’m settling in to Grimmauld Place now, and beginning to make the place more habitable. I’ve set aside a room for you, and tidied and decorated it, in case you ever need to come and stay. After all, it is your house.

“We’re also having a small meeting tomorrow evening – eight o’clock. Ron and Hermione will be there as well. There is some Hogwarts business to discuss.

“Yours, Remus.”

Harry had not been back to Grimmauld Place since Sirius’ death, and he shivered slightly at the thought of it. But it was his, and he’d have to go there sooner or later. Sooner would be better – perhaps some of the memories would begin to fade. Not that he wanted all of them to fade. He still wanted to remember Sirius as he was, before - but that was one memory he did shut down.

Hogwarts business - he wondered what that could be. Well, he’d find out soon enough.

And the next evening he stood in his bedroom, closed his eyes, and ... crack! – he was in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. But it was very different to the kitchen he remembered – the dark and gloomy room had been cleared of most of the pots and pans and cauldrons, and redecorated in a light pastel shade. It made the room seem a lot brighter, and bigger, too. Remus was standing near the stove, and smiled as he saw Harry appear.

“Wow,” said Harry. “You’ve certainly been busy.”

Remus shrugged. “Plenty of time on my hands.”

Harry looked round. Mr Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt were sitting at the table, as was Hermione.

“Ron’s going to be late,” she said, with an air of ‘what can you expect?’

“He’ll be here in a minute,” said Mr Weasley mildly. “He knows about the meeting – I reminded him before supper.”

Remus passed a Butterbeer to Harry. “Thanks,” he said, and joined the others at the table, which was now scrubbed and clean.

Crack! Ron appeared. Hermione looked at her watch. He was just on time.

“Good – we’re all here now,” said Mr. Weasley.

Remus passed another Butterbeer to Ron, and the two of them joined the others at the table.

“Right, then. You’re all three doing the new Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts course?” asked Mr Weasley.

They nodded.

“In which case, meet your new teacher,” came a deep voice from next to him.

“Kingsley?” asked Ron with amazement.

“Soon to be Professor Shacklebolt.”

Harry grinned. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to manage that.”

“You’d better.”

“But you were working in the Ministry,” said Hermione.

Kingsley nodded. “Strictly speaking, I’m on leave from the Ministry. But Dumbledore and I had this sorted out before the post was advertised. He knew he wouldn’t get any other takers, and the Ministry were happy for me to volunteer. I think Fudge thinks he’s now got another window into Hogwarts. I had a long talk with him a week ago – all about how the Ministry and Hogwarts must work closely together, and how I could help by providing … ‘feedback’.”

He grinned. So did the others.

“What Fudge doesn’t know,” he went on, “is that the feedback is going to be rather different, and maybe in reverse. I’m only teaching the Advanced course, so I’ll be part time. I’ll be at Hogwarts three days a week and the Ministry two days a week. So,” and he looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “the idea is that if you three know of anything going on, you can tell me. And the other way round.”

“Going on?” asked Harry.

“Harry, for the last five years, things have been happening around you,” said Mr Weasley gently. “I know it’s not your fault, but that’s the way it is. If you know anything at all, have any suspicions of anything, tell Kingsley. He can pass it on to the rest of us in safety.”

“Harry?” said Kingsley quietly.

“Yes?”

“You’re one of our best leads on You Know Who. That scar of yours – those dreams. We need to know if you are picking things up from him. I know you don’t like Snape, and I know it’s not always easy to see Dumbledore – so you can come to me instead.”

Harry nodded. It still made him feel like a freak, with some sort of built-in Voldemort detector.

“How have things been this summer?” asked Mr Weasley, with an apparent air of casualness.

“Ok. No twinges, no dreams.” Mr Weasley and Kingsley exchanged glances. “Right, then,” said Harry wearily, “who’s going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” said Mr Weasley quietly. “That’s one of the problems, in a way. We know no more than you do. You Know Who seems to have vanished. We know he still has at least two helpers, two Death Eaters, with him – Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew, but other than that – nothing. Nothing at all.”

“What’s the Ministry doing?”

“Setting up task forces,” said Kingsley, a note of disgust in his voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Ron.

“Nothing at all – if they set about it the right way. But it’s all meetings and committees and no action.”

“If you’re going to be only part time,” asked Hermione, “who’s going to be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

“No idea,” admitted Kingsley. “I know Dumbledore’s been trying hard to find someone, but I haven’t heard anything.”

Harry looked at Remus, and was about to say something, then thought better of it. But Remus had felt Harry’s glance. “Not me,” he said quietly, with a slightly sad smile.

“Will it affect your career at the Ministry? As an Auror, I mean?” Hermione went on.

Kingsley shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, Fudge is pleased now he thinks he’s got someone on the inside. And Fudge won’t be Minister for ever.”

“Hmm. I wonder who’d replace him?”

Harry thought he heard a faint whisper of ‘Percy!’ from Ron.

“Oh, and I’ve sent you your reading lists.”

Hermione frowned. “I know. I’ve only had time to read two of them so far.”

Harry heard Ron whisper something else. He didn’t catch it, but guessed what it might be.

Mr Weasley stood up. “OK, you’re all three in the picture now. Come on, Ron, we’d better be getting back.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Crack! Crack!

Hermione stood up too, “See you later,” she said.

Crack!

“Take care,” said Kingsley, and there was a final crack!

Remus glanced over to Harry. “Want to have a look round before you go?”

Harry hesitated, then nodded. “OK.” He might as well, now he was here.

They went out into the hallway, and the first thing that Harry noticed was that the portrait of old Mrs Black had gone. The place looked and felt the better for the change.

“Took some time and effort getting rid of that,” said Remus, noticing Harry’s glance.

Harry didn’t want to ask how Remus had finally removed the portrait or what had happened to it afterwards.

The house had been transformed. Where it had once been dark and gloomy, now it seemed airy and bright. The troll’s foot had gone, as had the house elves’ heads, and the paintwork was new, shining and clean. Remus took him up to the first floor, and flung open a door.

“In case you ever need a bed for the night.”

Although there were no pictures or posters on the walls, the room seemed bright and welcoming. There was a bed in the corner, a wardrobe and a desk. Harry gazed round, realising yet again how much effort Remus had put into making him welcome. “Thanks,” he said eventually. “You never know when I just might need it.”

Remus shrugged. “It’s your house,” he said again.

“Well, thanks for looking after it so well. I’m really grateful.”

“Partly self interest. I live here too.”

“You’re very welcome to.”

“Harry …” Remus hesitated.

“Yes?”

“I know that losing Sirius after your parents was a terrible blow. But that’s how it was in the old days – when Voldemort was at the height of his powers. The Longbottoms for example – I knew Frank well. He was a friend. And now …” he shrugged.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I know. That’s why we’ve got to stop Voldemort coming back.”

“Indeed, indeed. But at the moment …” he sighed.

Harry didn’t want to tell Remus about the prophecy. For the moment, it was something he wanted and needed to keep to himself.

He changed the subject: “Look, I’d better be getting back. It’s late.”

“Yes, of course.” Remus smiled. “Have a good term at Hogwarts. And don’t forget Kingsley is there to help you if you need it.”

“Thanks. And …” he hesitated.

“Yes?”

“It’s nice to know that I’ve got a bolthole. In case there are … problems.”

Remus smiled. “I had something like that in mind.”

“Thanks. Well – I’d better be going.”

“Sure.”

And with a final crack! he returned to Privet Drive.

The reading lists for next year had all arrived, and Harry had agreed to meet the others in the Burrow before visiting Diagon Alley. Neither Privet Drive nor Hermione’s house were connected to the Floo network. They could all have Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, of course, but somehow it seemed that much more fun if they went all together.

Strictly speaking they needn’t have bothered going in person: Flourish and Blotts could have delivered the books straight to Hogwarts. But there were other bits and pieces they needed, and it was good to be able to wander around some of the best wizarding shops in the country.

Hermione, of course, made straight for the bookshop. They presented their lists at the counter, and were told that they’d be ready in about fifteen minutes.

“Have you seen the Quidditch section on the first floor?” asked Hermione. Ron and Harry shook their heads. “It’s awfully good – I’ll come up with you.”

Harry was a little taken aback – Hermione and Quidditch books? He didn’t quite believe this one. But they followed her up there, and she was quite right: it was an impressive display.

“Wow!” gasped Ron. Harry knew, though, that Ron wouldn’t be able to afford them – perhaps he could buy one or two and ‘lend’ them to him.

While they were browsing, Harry noticed Hermione going up to the counter. She seemed to be having a rather furtive conversation with the assistant, and he glanced around the shop before disappearing for a minute or two, and re-appearing with a parcel wrapped in brown paper, well tied up with string. Harry was intrigued: he couldn’t imagine Hermione buying anything – well, risqué. She sauntered back doing her best to look nonchalant.

“Brown paper wrappers?” asked Harry, as she approached with her parcel.

“Harry!”

“So what is it then?”

“Don’t be nosy.”

But she was obviously uncomfortable. Knowing Hermione, this meant that she had obviously broken some rule or other. To save her further embarrassment, Harry scooped up two or three of the Quidditch books and took them to the counter.

“What now?” asked Hermione.

“Fortescue’s,” replied Harry. “And I’m paying.”

“You’re on,” said Ron.

The visit to Fortescue’s wasn’t quite the success it might have been, however. Harry’s picture had been in the Daily Prophet a lot recently, and sitting on the pavement meant he attracted a lot of attention from the passers by. Eventually, he turned his seat so that it faced back into the shop, away from the street.

“Come on,” he eventually said to the others. “Let’s finish these and go.”

Ron dug deeper with his spoon. “OK. But there’s something else before we go.”

“What’s that?”

“Aha,” Ron replied in a mysterious tone. Hermione sighed.

But he led them furhter down the street and round a corner into The Ginnel. This was a narrow little passage, narrower than Diagon Alley, but still lined with shops. Ron took them down a little way, before stopping in front of one of the shop fronts.

He made a noise like a flourish of trumpets, and pointed to the signboard. ‘Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes’, it proclaimed.

“Wow,” said Hermione, obviously impressed. She pressed her face against the window, but the shop was empty inside.

“Fred and George signed the lease last week,” explained Ron. “But they haven’t had time to fit it out yet.”

“They must have made a lot of money from their wheezes already, to be able to afford this.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. But Harry felt his eyes flicker towards him. Did Ron know?

“We’ll have to come back when they’re open,” said Hermione.

“They’re planning a grand opening on Halloween.”

“Oh no,” cried Hermione, “we’ll miss it. We’ll be at Hogwarts then.”

“We can always ask McGonagall whether we can go.”

“It’ll mean missing the Feast,” said Hermione wistfully.

“There’ll be another one next year.”

“Our last. It seems ages since the first Feast.”

“I seem to remember you missing that too,” said Ron. “Something about the girls’ lavatories – and a troll?”

“Oh. Of course. Yes.” Harry swore Hermione almost blushed.

“It’d be worth missing the Feast to come to the opening,” said Harry.

“You needn’t change the subject,” Hermione told him with dignity.

Harry smiled at her. “What makes you think I did?”

She turned and looked at the shop. “Okay. Let’s ask McGonagall then.”

They wandered back into the Alley.

“It’s not the best place for a shop,” said Ron. “Off the beaten track a bit.”

Harry shrugged. “Knowing those two, their talent for publicity will overcome that.”

“Probably.” They walked on a little way. “What are you going to do when you leave Hogwarts, Harry?”

Harry looked at him in surprise. “You know that already. Join the Ministry as an Auror. Why?”

“And you, Hermione?” ignoring Harry’s question.

“I’ve no idea,” she said frankly.

“Neither have I,” confessed Ron. “There’s Bill and Charlie and Percy, all with important jobs. And now Fred and George. I mean, how do I follow that?”

Now Harry understood why he’d been asked the question in the first place. “I thought you wanted to be an Auror as well?"

Ron screwed up his face. “Yeah. Well, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’ll be good enough. And you’ve got to get really good NEWTs before they’ll even look at you.”

“You could get those easily enough if you did some work,” said Hermione tartly.

Ron looked her in surprise. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh.” He walked on a bit further, digesting this. Then: “Why do you want to be an Auror, Harry?”

“Because it’s the best way I know of getting rid of Voldemort and anyone else who thinks like him.” But he still didn’t tell them about the prophecy.

“Is being an Auror a good job though?”

Hermione sighed. “Depends what you want from a job. Some people – they’re good at something, and they spend their lives doing it, like doctors or lawyers or teachers. And they’re happy doing that. And if you’re like Binns, you’re happy doing it even after you’re dead.” Ron was looking at Hermione with his mouth wide open. “Then others – they move on. They become head of their department, or whatever, then move on up from that – like Fudge. Or Percy.”

“That’s not the sort of example I want to hear about,” said Ron.

“Maybe. But Fudge wouldn’t have got there if he were a complete fool. He’s good at some things. Whether he’s good at the right things is something else.”

“So,” said Ron, “how’s Harry going to end up?”

Hermione stopped and stared at Harry. He wasn’t sure whether he liked being assessed like that. “Either,” said Hermione slowly, “he’ll end up like Mad Eye, or like Dumbledore, or as Minister of Magic, and not like Fudge.”

Harry took a moment or two to think through this, then laughed. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“And me?” asked Ron.

“Oh, you haven’t found it yet.”

“Found what?”

“Whatever it is you really want to do. Some people never do, and end up in boring dead end jobs.”

Harry thought he heard Ron mutter: “Just like Dad.”

“No,” said Hermione firmly, “not like your father. He likes what he’s doing. He knows he’s in a dead end, but he enjoys it.”

“Oh,” said Ron, thinking about it. “So that’s why we haven’t got any money.”

“Hermione’s going to end up as another McGonagall,” said Harry, laughing. To his surprise, Hermione went red.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about that,” she said.

The little huddle they were in was beginning to attract curious glances from passers-by. “Come on,” said Harry, “we’d better get moving.”