Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter Thirty-Three ~ Caitlan

* * * *
You'll be given love.
You'll be taken care of.
You'll be given love.
You have to trust it.

Death Cab for Cutie ~
All Is Full of Love
* * * *

Harry's eyes opened slowly the next morning, his head sore and his scar gently throbbing. He rubbed it absently, reached for his glasses, and looked at his clock. It was the normal time for his lesson with Bryant. But, yesterday, he and Bryant had agreed that for the next week, Harry wouldn't have lessons. And if he wasn't going to go get the crap beaten out of him, he was going to sleep. Ron was already gone, so Harry rolled over to go back to sleep.

That, of course, was easier thought than done. After rolling over for the fifth time, Harry growled into his pillow and sat up. A year of being up with the dawn for lessons would not let him sleep in. A mind as confused and wounded as his trying to re-sort itself was not helping either. He grabbed a towel and entered the bathroom for a shower. When he re-entered the room, Dean and Neville were both getting up.

"Thanks, mate," Dean called, waving his rolled up essay in salute. Harry smiled and dressed for the day. Once done, he descended the stairs to the common room wearily, his body still not as awake as his mind was. A few stretches later, and all was well. He was sitting in front of the fire, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles in front of him. Lavender, Parvati, and Marissa wandered down the stairs, spotted him, and headed over.

"Good morning, Harry," Lavender said, sitting on the couch behind him.

"'Morning, Lavender, ladies," he said, nodding at Parvati and Marissa. "How are you today?"

"Alright," Parvati said with a shrug. "Why aren't you practicing with the girls and Ron?"

"Not allowed to," Harry said with a shrug. "Not even sure how I'm going to get through my lesson with Shacklebolt in a few hours."

"What is that?" Marissa ventured. Marissa Stemmins was the shiest girl Harry knew. Even after nearly seven years, Harry could count the words she'd said to him on two hands--including those three she'd just uttered. But she was a good prefect, having taken over when Hermione became Head Girl, and Harry knew she was a good person as well. Hermione always said nice things about her and wouldn't let anyone tease her.

"Auror training," Harry answered with a shrug. "One of my numerous 'beat up on Potter' classes. Should be... interesting... to say the least."

"How are you going to manage that if you're in such a bad way?" Parvati asked sharply, reminding Harry of Hermione when she was being protective of her "boys" as she called Ron and him.

"Oh, very carefully," Harry said with another shrug. "I'm more worried about whatever creature Hagrid brings to class today."

"Don't be," Lavender assured him. "Firenze is going to talk to us about how to treat a centaur if you should meet one. Shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

"Nah, shouldn't be," Harry agreed. They fell into silence, Lavender and Parvati talking quietly about Parvati's date the night before. Students started to drift down from the dormitories, the younger students looking at Harry oddly and giving the group a wide berth. "What's up with them?"

"Well, you know they've always admired their great Seeker," Lavender said dismissively. "And now their Seeker is a famed Legilimens and has possessed Voldemort." She rolled her eyes and Parvati joined her in laughing at Harry's annoyed expression.

"Actually," Marissa said softly, her voice sounding unused. "Some of them are more in awed by Snape's defense of a Gryffindor and taking points away from his Slytherins for gossiping about him. Who would have thought?" Harry looked at her, his jaw slack. That was way more than ten words. "What?" she said defensively. "I listen. Most people don't." Lavender and Parvati started giggling totally inappropriately.

"What are you giggling 'bout, Lav?" Seamus asked, levering himself over the back of the couch and sliding behind her.

"Harry," she said, bursting into more raucous laughter.

"Marissa overwhelmed Harry with words," Parvati explained. "And we're not laughing at you, Marissa, but at Har-Har-Ha-ha-ha..." Her sentence trailed off into laughter as Harry glared at her.

"Glad to see you enjoying yourself, while we're working our butts off with Bryant," Ron said dryly, flopping down in the armchair next to them. Hermione fell into his lap and Ginny next to Harry on the floor.

"Well, I'm not, not really," Harry said in his own defense. "Lavender and Parvati are laughing at me not at Marissa, after all."

"Oh, come off it, Harry, your face was priceless," Parvati said, calming down finally.

"It's nice to see you stunned like that," Lavender continued. "Proves you're human."

"There are other ways to prove that," Harry said, his voice holding the horrors of his past, real and visions. Everyone became still, made uneasy by the dark storm across Harry's own face. Then his face broke out in a wide grin, banishing the storm away. "But, I guess... I like this way best."

"Breakfast!" Ron said, his face lit with a huge grin.

"Food fixes anything, doesn't it?" Hermione teased, standing up and turning to help Ron out of the chair.

"No, tea does," Ron answered. "Food is just there to fill the belly so there's one less thing to worry about."

"Boys," Hermione muttered under her breath, smiling fondly up at Ron.

They were still slightly early for breakfast. Bryant had let the three off early, Ron joked that Bryant missed Harry too much to continue without him. They took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry gazing over the Great Hall. Many, many seats at the Auror table were empty, though Remus and Volker sat at the end nearest the professors. The two men were deep in conversation, a Daily Prophet spread between them. McGonagall, Severus, and Burke were talking heatedly but softly at the middle of the professors' table, a Daily Prophet ignored in front of McGonagall who sat between the two men. Hermione was paying an owl for her copy of the Prophet while Ron was paying another owl for his copy of the Quibbler. Both took one look at the front pages and gasped.

Hermione flattened her paper down at the same time Ron tore his magazine open, searching for the main article. Harry looked down over Hermione's shoulder and his eyes flew open in surprise. A witch with what were once neat blonde curls, gem-be-speckled glasses, and a trendy acid green nightgown stared out from the front page of Hermione's copy. Looking past Ron's arm (Harry would have to stand on a chair to look over his shoulder), he saw a wizarding apartment complex burning, the Dark Mark floating grotesquely in the air above.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" Ginny asked, just as horrified as Harry at this news. They might have joked about her death... but... none of them really wanted her dead. Just silenced. But not for good. Not like this. This... was... disgusting.

"'Written on the walls in her own blood was a letter from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,'" Hermione read from the paper. "'He expressed his disgust in the journalist that thought a sixteen-year-old boy,' wonder if they got it wrong or Voldemort," Hermione mused before continuing. "'Year-old boy could possibly possess him. Of course, one must wonder if Potter only did it to throw off the scent.' One must not wonder!" Hermione shrieked. "As if you would do something this despicable to anyone, Harry! And for the Prophet to print that picture! It makes me sick!"

"Miss Granger, keep your voice down!" McGonagall's voice rang out in the following silence.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said meekly. She turned to stare at Harry's stunned face, a face that matched everyone else's. It wasn't the normal bland face that was trying to hide memories of the events. It was a searching, horrified, wondering look. "You didn't see this?"

"No," Harry said with a frown. "My scar was bothering me all day, but, it has since I woke up at St. Mungo's. I didn't see--" he paused, blinking owlishly.

"What?" Ron asked, looking at his best mate worriedly.

"I woke up last night, and it hurt really bad," he said lamely. "As bad as when he possesses me or when he... kills..." Harry finished softly, looking at the corpse who had once been Rita Skeeter, journalist extraordinaire. She had pulled her lies just a bit too far from the truth yesterday and Voldemort had acted swiftly and firmly. People would know not to take him lightly--or Harry if they believed it was him behind Voldemort.

Ron passed him the Quibbler, and Harry read what little they had. They had a word-for-word account of the letter, a brief statement from Shacklebolt, and a sketchy outline of last night's events. Harry didn't bother reading the Prophet; Hermione was reading anything important out loud to them. They sunk into a conversation as deep and heated as any the adults were having, discussing how this would affect the boulder Rita had pushed down the hill.

"Maybe it'll distract everyone from yesterday's news," Ginny said, a false hope in her voice.

"Not with the letter on the wall," Harry said, pointing at the picture underneath the main one on the Daily Prophet. It was a disturbing picture, a harsh handwritten note in blood. It wasn't close enough to read, but the image was striking nonetheless.

"Hopefully, it'll just prove that Harry hasn't made it a habit to possess Voldemort," Hermione said. "Listen to this! 'A beacon of truth for many years, Ms. Skeeter has served this Paper faithfully. Never afraid to print what would not be popular so that the masses could hear the truth...' It makes me sick."

"You aren't the only one," Ron muttered, stuffing a bite of toast in his mouth.

Fifteen minutes passed in like fashion, food forgotten by all but Ron. Hermione and Ginny couldn't even look at it without feeling nauseated and Harry had to agree with them. That was not a pretty picture on the front cover of the Prophet or in the pages following. Ron shrugged dismissively.

"I'm not letting that beetle or that snake ruin my favorite meal," he said hotly, cramming his mouth with a sausage. "And I'm starving, Bryant was evil today, even if he did let us go early."

"Always is," Harry said with a sigh. He paused, sipping from his goblet of pumpkin juice. "I can't believe she's dead."

"Hard to believe she won't be bothering us anymore," Hermione agreed softly.

"Can't believe Voldemort didn't let you see it," Ron said, after swallowing hard, trying to get all the food down.

"Glad he didn't," Harry said softly. "I don't know how I would have felt."

"Sorry for her and pity," Ginny said, grabbing his hand under the table. "She should have known to tread softly around a topic like that."

"REMUS! REMUS!" Tonks yelled bursting into the Great Hall, hair bright neon pink with orange tips, skin still green (though fading), eyes an electric blue color Harry noticed as she passed him. "REMUS!"

Harry turned with the student body, though he actually hopped over the table and followed Tonks at a slower pace. Remus was standing, his face pale white, his shoulders held in a defensive position (Like a dog waiting to be hit, Harry thought, remember his time at Malfoy Manor so vividly he actually paused in his movements) expecting the worst. Tonks pelted at him and leaped into his arms, clinging to his neck. McGonagall and Severus were standing as well, the other teachers too stunned to move. Hermione and Ginny were hurrying around the other side of the table, Ron behind Harry walking towards Tonks and Remus.

"What? What is it?" Remus asked, his voice strained and still hoarse from the full moon. He held Tonks away from him, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly.

"We got her! We got her!" Tonks shouted, waving a piece of paper, talking quickly, and confusing everyone.

"We... got... her?" Remus asked slowly, breathing deeply to get Tonks to calm down. "Wait... we got her?" Remus' voice held a note of incredulity. Tonks nodded vigorously, trying to slow her breathing to match Remus'. "Really?"

"Really!" Tonks said, showing him the letter in her hand. "'Mr. and Mrs. R. J. Lupin. I'm pleased to inform you ...' yada, yada... 'adoption of Miss Caitlan MacLean has been approved. We must agree that as a werewolf yourself, Mr. Lupin, Caitlan couldn't ask for a better home. We thank you...' blah, blah, blah... 'We believe both you and your wife,' I'd thought they'd forgotten 'bout me, 'will make a good home for her. Come by my office whenever you are able in the coming days to make the final arrangements. Yours truly, Miss Erin Fawcett.'" Remus picked Tonks up and spun her around jubilantly.

"Congratulations!" Harry beamed, clapping the stunned Remus on the back once they had come to a rest, Remus still hugging Tonks tightly. "I can't believe they picked you!"

"Me neither," Remus said dully, pulling away. "The Ministry actually gave the care of a child, a baby to a werewolf?"

"A werewolf who happens to be married to a very good Auror, if I do say so myself, and the kid happens to be a werewolf as well," Tonks said in a no nonsense fashion, smiling a bit less brightly. "Erin said there weren't many applications to chose from. Said two of them were from suspected Death Eaters and the other one from a werewolf couple who doesn't have the means to support her, neither of whom offered to help Caitlan through the full moon."

"You talked with her?" McGonagall asked. Quite a small gathering had surrounded the couple.

"Yeah, seeing as Thia called me in to work on the Skeeter case, I was at the office and Erin came by," Tonks answered, her eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Skeeter. "Erin's an old friend, so she stopped and chatted. You free this morning, hon?" she asked Remus.

"Should I be?" he asked back, teasing her.

"Well, I'm meeting with Erin and her boss to finalize it and then going to St. Mungo's to look at our daughter," she said, her voice sounding stunned as she said the last word. "Our daughter," she repeated, smiling up at Remus. The werewolf looked back down at her, his broad grin spreading across his face. The grin proved to be catching, soon everyone around them was smiling in just the same fashion.

"I suppose you shouldn't go looking like a faded Slytherin banner," Severus said evenly. "If you don't tell your sister-in-law who gave you this, you can have it." He had fished a small vial from the depths of his robes and now held it out in between his forefinger and thumb.

"She won't hear a word from me," Tonks said, zipping her mouth shut. Severus handed it to her, and she downed it quickly once the cork was out. "Tastes rather good. Peppermint?" Severus looked at her unimpressed.

"Tonks, love, let's get you out of this Hall before Severus turns you green again," Remus said, dragging his laughing wife down the aisle between the tables and out the door.

"I thought something bad had happened," Ginny said to no one in particular. "Something more, I mean." There were many nods.

"Glad Professor Lupin is catching a few lucky breaks," Dean said as Harry took a seat next to him. "He deserves them."

"Yes, he does," Harry agreed. "Pass the eggs. I think I've found my appetite and I don't have long before lessons with Hagrid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Never imply that the centaur is working for you," Firenze said for the umpteenth time. "Centaurs are not human playthings; we are not your beasts of burden. A centaur can be a friend, an ally, a willing participant in human affairs, but only if the centaur believes you have not tricked him into it. Centaurs are a race--Mr. Potter, I believe that owl wishes you to attend to her."

The students all gave a start, surprised by Firenze's change of topic. Harry was one of them; he had been engrossed by Firenze's words of caution and advice. He turned to where Firenze pointed and saw a patient owl staring at him. Harry accepted the letter from the owl and it flew off immediately. Firenze continued with his lesson, as Harry tucked the letter into his robes for later. Soon the bell rang, and Harry headed towards Auror Headquarters, saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione. That was when he pulled the letter out.

Mr. Potter,

I hope you don't find this horribly forward of me, seeing as we've only met once. But after the news today and yesterday I couldn't keep myself from writing to you. Oh, but, mayhap you've forgotten who I am. I'm Mary-Ann Grunning, the wife of your uncle's former boss. Both he and his father beg your forgiveness for the way they treated you. I do hope you accept their apologies.

Anyway, back to the reason for this letter. The Daily Prophet has often been swayed by the whims of gold, popularity, and gossip. It was once an honorable publication, but is so no longer. Many have been, continue to be, and will go on being fooled by it. I only wanted to let you know that not everyone is. Among my family, friends, and co-workers nearly twenty fine people (magical, squib, and Muggle) believe in you.

Though we are strangers to you, we do defend you to those that think the worst and allow the Daily Prophet to influence them blindly. You most likely will never meet us, but we fight for you. I've heard the rumors about some prophecy connecting you with You-Know-Who, and if it is true (one must be wary of the press after all) I have no doubt in your abilities to rid us of him. Take your time, son, and learn what your elders wish you to. I am grateful that such a fine young man is fighting in this war, whether the rumors are true or not.

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day (I read what the Quibbler had printed of your schedule! By George, don't burn yourself out!) to read this humble missive. I am glad to hear that you are once more at Hogwarts and did not suffer any permanent damage from your rescue attempt on Monday.

Many fine wishes of health and luck to you,

Mary-Ann Grunning

Harry finished the letter and smiled. Looking around, he realized that he had stopped in the middle of the lawn on his way to Headquarters. He continued on, re-reading it. The letter was more welcomed than Harry had expected. To know that people who didn't know him personally still believed in him was a comfort. Knowing that the Daily Prophet didn't fool everyone was reassuring.

"What's that you got there, Rat's Nest?" Shacklebolt asked, using the nickname he and Volker had adopted since the Battle at Hogwarts' Wall. He absentmindedly ran a hand through the perpetually messed up hair for which he had gotten the name.

"A letter from my uncle's ex-boss's wife," Harry answered. "She's a witch and just wanted me to know that the Daily Prophet doesn't fool everyone."

"Well, don't sound so surprised at that," Shacklebolt said, his deep chuckle accompanying it. "There're more than just her that aren't. Now, I wanted to apologize for Auror Bluezy's actions yesterday. We've briefed the others here and there shouldn't be any other problems."

"Why'd they all go for their wands like that?" Harry asked, starting to stretch out for the coming lesson. Shacklebolt did the same.

"Didn't know what to believe," he replied. "Better to be cautious than let you hurt the students."

"I guess," Harry said, doubtfully.

"It's the way we're trained," Shacklebolt continued to explain. "'Be suspicious or pay the price.' We haven't forgotten that Albus Dumbledore was poisoned on our watch. Now, Bluezy was out of line for actually trying to arrest you without provocation. Don't worry about the others; we've cleared it up.

"Next, you know I was thinking about bringing in some trainees for you to spar against." Harry nodded. "Due to your escapade Monday, that's been postponed for a week or two. We need to get you back up to speed first." Harry grimaced, that was a promise of pain. He stood as Shacklebolt did, and followed the huge wizard outside to the training grounds. What followed was a pitiful attempt at a lesson, but Harry's balance was off and he couldn't keep his concentration. Once they were done, he had added a large collection of bruises to the one's he had gotten yesterday from Bryant.

By the end of lunch, Harry'd had nine or ten owls such as the one from Mary-Ann. By the end of lessons, he'd received another seven. By the end of supper, he'd gotten fourteen new ones. By the time he'd gone to bed he had a total of forty-six letters, all of the same thought and voice as Mary-Ann's. They weren't the normal fan mail (with pictures and requests for signatures), but they were words of comfort and trust and confidence. And, by the end of the weekend, he had filled a whole shoebox, given to him by Ginny, with such letters.

Not that there weren't the normal letters. All pictures, ugly or not, were confiscated by Ginny and Hermione. Ron assured Harry that they would burn the pictures in some complex ritual that all females do. Harry was pretty sure Ron was only trying to pull his leg about that. Then, there were the Howlers and normal letters of hate and anger. Though... those could definitely be worse. Hardly any of these writers actually believed he was behind Voldemort, pulling the strings on a puppet Dark Lord. No, they just thought he was allowing Voldemort to kill, ignoring the horrors going on while he was safely tucked away at Hogwarts. These did bother him, but... it could be worse... Not by much, but it could.

The students whom Harry didn't know, and thus didn't know him, were cautious around him. They avoided him (first and second years actually pressed up against corridor walls when he passed) and spoke softly around him, trying not to draw his attention or anger. He had unnerved them Thursday and he did understand that. Being frozen by someone's uncontrolled magic had to be terrifying. Being one of hundreds of people frozen by that magic would be worse still. The few students he did know well took it all in stride. Seamus thought Harry should possess Voldemort and make him shoot himself with a Muggle gun.

"I mean, what better way for the Muggle-hater to die than a Muggle weapon?" Seamus said Sunday night after arguing with Dean about it. Dean started to reply, but Hermione silenced them.

"Just because you're taking your N.E.W.T.'s lightly, still doesn't mean I'm not! I have three months, two weeks, and a day to be prepared for my N.E.W.T.'s and I won't have you two arguing needlessly about something Harry can't do," she scolded. "He isn't anywhere near accomplished enough at Legilimency to actually successfully possess Voldemort, especially now that he knows Harry can only do it rudimentarily. Now, do you have your Transfiguration papers you wanted me to look over?" They nodded and handed them over, not wishing to lose her help by angering her further.

"I wonder if that's why he didn't 'invite' me to Rita's murder," Harry wondered aloud. "He didn't want to risk it."

"If that means you don't have to see another Revelry, then I'm happy," Ginny said fiercely.

"Here's to hoping," Ron said, raising his inkwell in a toast. Everyone laughed, "clinked" their inkwells, and went back to work. The hope turned out to be futile as Harry had suspected. That night Voldemort held a private Revelry at the abandoned cathedral, killing two Aurors that several Death Eaters had caught. The Dark Lord never acknowledged Harry's presence, but thick Occlumency walls came up instantly. Harry knew he'd never be able to break down those walls, but he wasn't trapped. The walls allowed him passage back to his own body.

Thia took the news of the two deaths harder than Harry expected, but they had been men under her command. She had put them there. Thia left to do a roll call of those on duty, though it seemed like she already knew who would be missing. Harry left the Auror Headquarters thoughtful. Had those two Aurors found, to their peril, Voldemort's Headquarters? Would the monster now move to a new spot?

Physically, Harry was perfectly healed. Physically speaking being the key words. Psychologically, was a completely different story. Occlumency lessons were a pain, literally and figuratively. His head constantly ached, his scar constantly prickled, and his temper often flared. Harry had to marvel at his friends' patience with that temper. Sure, Ron, Ginny, Seamus, and Sephra often butted heads with him, but those four had tempers of their own. Everyone else just let him rant; Hannah even once patted his head after one shouting match with Sephra and asked if he felt better now.

And, the thing was, he did. By the time Saturday rolled around, he felt almost normal. He had his temper back under control (for the most part), Severus was considering Legilimency once more, and Bryant had agreed to include Harry in their morning lessons.

The game was a mess, due to the weather. Snow fell in wonderful whirls of white waves. The wind blew all around, howling in their ears. Visibility could not be worse. The teachers almost cancelled it, and might have if Gryffindor didn't need this game so badly. And so they played. Gryffindor won, Harry getting a lucky catch and Ron blocking all but one shot. Everyone agreed (though few had seen more than vague blurs in the snowstorm) that Ron was the hero of the game. Even if Zeller had caught the snitch, Gryffindor would have won 180-160, as it was they won 330-10. This game put Gryffindor in the lead for the Quidditch Cup and out of last place for the House Cup.

Gryffindors in general were much happier the following Monday and Tuesday. Hufflepuffs on the whole were grumpy as Ravenclaw took the lead for the House Cup. Slytherins were sulking, having been surpassed on Saturday and now in dead last, though they had gotten over most of their anger. Ravenclaws were ecstatic, it had been almost eleven years since the last time they had had the lead for the Cup. Between Gryffindor's and Slytherin's winning streaks, neither Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff had gotten this close to winning.

Harry was nervous as he entered the training room in the Auror Headquarters. Today would be the first day he trained with actual Auror recruits, men and women two or three years into their training. He wouldn't be dueling with any of them, yet, but he'd train along side of them and critique a few duels as well. They'd be coming here every Wednesday since their normal class had been moved to here too. He nodded to a few recruits he remembered as older Gryffindor students a few years back and silently went to work warming up.

Shacklebolt walked in, and everyone fell silent, though they continued stretching and doing light exercises. Shacklebolt watched them, his eyes critiquing their every move. Finally he started to run them through several drills, Harry keeping up with them, to his great relief. Even though he was now declared "physically fit" by all, he was still a seventeen-year-old kid, and these were twenty-year-old or older Auror recruits. Many of them were even in their late twenties. After almost an hour of this, Shacklebolt started to pair them off and everyone watched the duels. Harry was asked many questions and the other recruits seemed surprised at his answers--surprised in a good way it seemed. By the time they left they were talking quickly and softly.

"Tomorrow, Rat's Nest." Harry laughed and left, hand raised in goodbye and heading for supper. His friends were already eating, deep in a conversation about Quidditch. What a surprise!

"Kennmare Kestrels are playing them tonight," Ron said around his full mouth. "Cannon's will have no problem with them."

"Wouldn't be too sure about that," Seamus said. "Kestrels are good."

"But not Cannon good," Ron assured him.

"Oh, come on, the Cannon's have one season of good luck and you call them good?" Seamus asked outraged. "The Kestrels always finish in the top five or six in league. Where were the Cannon's last year?"

"Yeah, but Alice Rangeloff has only missed one snitch all season," Ron replied, heatedly.

"One player doesn't make for a good side," Seamus assured him. "We've got Carlos Garcias as Keeper, Meagan Steel as Seeker, Terry O'Murray and Brandon--"

"Wait, did you say Terry O'Murray?" Ginny broke in, her eyes having a bright look in them that reminded Harry of the Weasley twins. "Short red-head, rather pretty, Irish accent, that Terry O'Murray?"

"Yeah, why?" Seamus asked, confused.

"Charlie's dating a pro Quidditch star and he didn't tell me!" Ginny said, yelling much louder than she meant.

"And I'm sure he'll appreciate the fact that you just screamed that to the whole school, Miss Weasley," Bill yelled back. "Five points for disturbing my supper and causing your wise, kind, great older brother heartache."

"He's talking about Charlie right? 'Cause otherwise I'm going to have to hex him," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Five points for that?"

"Wait... Charlie... what?" Ron asked, a few steps behind everyone else. Or maybe it was just shock. "You know, I did think there was something familiar about Terry, at least, more than the resemblance to you and Mum."

"Shut up about that," Ginny ground out. "How would you like it if I started dating a guy that everyone said was just like you?" Ron grimaced. "Exactly."

"What happened to me then?" Harry asked, playing hurt.

"Oh, I don't know... Give me a sec. Got it. One of my brothers tragically killed you while you were asking them for my hand in marriage," Ginny teased, placing her hand on her chest dramatically. "Broke my heart and it took me ten years, tons of chocolate, and lots of prodding to actually date someone else."

"Ah, alright," Harry said, heaping more food on his plate. "I can live with that then. So... are we done arguing about Quidditch?"

"No," Ron and Seamus said at the same time. Everyone laughed.

"Okay, maybe," Ron continued after he exchanged a sheepish look with Seamus. "Why?"

"Well, just wanted to move on to the fact that the Harpies are number one at the moment," Harry stated. Though he personally hadn't picked a team, he was willing to cheer for Ginny's favorite . They were good, deserved the cheers, and as a bonus it annoyed the heck out of Ron. All three were good reasons for picking them.

"For the moment," Ron said darkly. "Just you wait though."

"For what? The Cannon's to beat them? Oh, wait, too late," Ginny said, joining in.

"Lay off," Hermione said, shutting her book with a snap. "I can't believe how much time you guys waste arguing about a stupid game." Everyone was silent. Harry was going to finally explain to Hermione why they did.

"Would you rather us talk about the war?" Harry asked looking at Hermione intently. "Or maybe argue about what is most important for us to learn before we're out of the safety of Hogwarts? What about thinking about all we've lost?" Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, her head shaking slowly, horrified by Harry's suggestions. "So, let us argue about this stupid game, because, it's normal and free and... and... not... tainted."

"Yet," Ron said pessimistically.

"Don't say that, Ron!" Ginny scolded, hitting her brother on the shoulder. "You'll jinx it."

"So, you guys ready for Capture the Flag?" Harry asked, changing the subject after a heavy silence. The next Hogsmeade substitution was a capture the flag tournament. Hermione had made the announcement while Harry had been in St. Mungo's.

"Sure," Seamus said with a shrug. "Still wish you could be on our team, mate." Seamus was the leader of the sixth and seventh year Gryffindor/Ravenclaw team. Seamus kept saying this and Harry knew it wouldn't be the last time he heard it.

"Wouldn't be fair," Hermione responded, automatically. "Harry's had training that makes for an unfair advantage."

"Not to mention we'll be busy supervising the younger kids," Harry said, looking at the first and second years. "You guys will be fine."

"You coming to the D.A. meeting tonight?" Dean asked after a short pause.

"I wish I could, but I have an essay due in every class tomorrow, including Shacklebolt's and I never thought he'd assign me one," Harry replied, honestly sorry that he couldn't. He missed the club. "I should make it to Thursday's meeting though, don't worry."

"Are you going to be teaching?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Nettle would have my neck," Harry said with a shake of his head. "And it's Snape's turn to supervise Thursday, so she would find out."

"Greasy git," Seamus muttered under his breath.

"Don't," Ginny said firmly. "If Uncle Severus won't tell, then I will."

"Harry doesn't need a baby-sitter," Seamus snapped back.

"I'm not his baby-sitter," Ginny returned hotly.

"Enough," Harry said, cutting Seamus off. "This is beyond the point, seeing as I'm only going to observe and maybe help one or two people, if Snape will let me. Seamus, be nice to Snape. Ginny, be nice to Seamus."

"I'm sick of people calling me your mum or baby-sitter or--" she said but he silenced her with a quick soft kiss.

"You aren't either, they're just teasing," Harry assured her. "After all, I wouldn't take my mum on a date this Saturday, especially with the way I have it planned."

"Need I be worried?" Ron asked conversationally, scooping a large helping of pudding onto his plate.

"Of course not," Ginny answered innocently. "We won't walk in on you and Hermione before... oh... midnight is my guess." Harry laughed at his best mates as Ginny kept a straight face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry pulled Ginny to him, crushing her against his body. She readily agreed, fitting her body to his easily. The rest of their picnic dessert remained forgotten, as Harry's mind was overwhelmed by everything Ginny. Her taste, her smell, her feel, her--everything. Finally she pulled away, smiling broadly. It had been a long while since their last snog--the night Hermione and Ron had gotten engaged and that had gotten interrupted too soon. Between that, Quidditch, the memorial service plans, his trip to St. Mungo's, and time spent recovering, there just hadn't been much time to snog. Talk, yes. Snog, no, unfortunately not.

"My brothers would kill you for that, you know," she said, standing up and moving to the cliff's edge. They had eaten a very fine picnic under the old strong oak tree. All of their favorites had been packed; Dobby had made sure of it. Harry grabbed one last chocolate and went to her side.

"I know, that's why I didn't invite any of them along," Harry teased, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Ginny leaned back into him, a contented sigh escaping.

"Charlie didn't deny Terry O'Murray was a Quidditch player," she said after a moment's pause and silence. He could hear the faint thunder of waves crashing far below drifting up from the shore. Harry looked out over the ocean, half listening to Ginny talk about her brother and his girlfriend. It was so vast, so powerful. The stars glittered above, cheerfully. "He could have told me from the start though." Harry grunted in answer. "You didn't hear a thing I just said," she accused him softly.

"Well, I heard it," he admitted. "I was just... thinking."

"About what?"

"The view, the company, the stars," Harry answered, nuzzling her neck. Ginny laughed, the sound ringing in the cool, crisp air. "Just... thinking."

"Want to go down to the beach?"

"Never thought you'd ask."

They jumped down, the land rushing up to meet them. They landed as if the fall had only been a couple feet and not hundreds. Walking hand in hand, they made their way to the ocean's edge. They sat on the beach with their toes getting wet at the furthest reach of the waves, their shoes off and sitting behind them. Ginny wore jeans and a tee-shirt with the band Full Moon's emblem on it--a Full Moon with a lone wolf howling its freedom in silhouette. When she sat, there was the tiniest bit of skin exposed on her back and Harry's hand found its way there easily. He wore jeans as well, jeans that fitted him. Mrs. Weasley had finally gotten fed up with his baggy hand-me-downs and had bought him a new wardrobe towards the end of the Christmas holidays. Though he didn't mind too much, he wished he could have had a bit of a choice in the matter. He didn't have anything against the Chudley Cannons, but three different tee's for the team was a bit much in his opinion.

"Did you wear this shirt to put Ron in a good mood?" Ginny asked, pulling at the bottom hem thoughtfully.

"That obvious, was it?" Harry asked in return, smiling down at her.

"Well, to me and Hermione, yes," she answered. "To Ron, no. He was completely and happily oblivious that you were trying to mislead him."

"I wasn't misleading him."

"He's starting to think you like the team."

"I make fun of them enough to discourage him," Harry said, tracing a finger along the line of her stubborn jaw.

"And then you confuse him by wearing these tee-shirts," she responded, playfully, trying to bite the finger when it reached her chin. Harry pulled back in time and then hit her softly on the nose.

"I offered him all three from the start," Harry assured her, laying back, his arms folded behind him as a pillow. Ginny lay down as well, her head on his stomach and their bodies forming a letter T. "I think he might have nabbed my favorite one, though. The black one with the faded printing. Couldn't he have taken that bright orange one?"

"He knows Hermione wouldn't let him get away with it. Clashes too much."

"Yeah, that's true. Weasley hair does not match Cannon orange very well."

"Ron's a good brother."

"A good mate too."

"Yeah."

They fell silent, Harry removing his right hand from behind his head to stroke her fanned out hair. He let his eyes fall closed and listened to the sounds around him. The ebb of the ocean at his feet, the crash of the waves twenty feet out, the soft wind blowing around them, Ginny breathing evenly. As he had thought the night of the memorial service, Harry knew that these were the moments he lived for. Time spent with the woman he loved.

"I love you, Gin," he said, sorry to break the silence, but not able to keep those words to himself.

"Oh, I know," Ginny replied. "Only reason I let you get away with half of what you do to me." Harry gave a strangled yelp and sat up quickly. He was on his feet even quicker. Ginny gave a yelp a second later and glared at the ocean once she too was on her feet. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, you stupid ocean! I was talking about yelling at me and bossing me around and making me sit beside a hospital bed. I wasn't talking about... well... you know... that..."

"Ginny," Harry struggled between laughs, examining his soaked jeans from a far-reaching wave. "You do know you're yelling at an ocean, right? A fake ocean to boot?"

"Yeah, well, someone happens to control this Room very well, and if that someone happened to have similar thoughts as the ocean's, he'd be very sorry indeed," she scolded, waving her wand to dry her own jeans.

"So, if I didn't love you, you'd still let me do this?" He tackled her to the ground, covering her body with his, his mouth devouring hers relentlessly. When they were finished, Harry pulled away, grinning down at the gasping witch beneath him.

"No," she admitted. "And the only reason you're getting away with it is because I happen to, Merlin help me, love you as well." Harry laughed, tickling her in revenge. It wasn't until Ginny was tickling him mercilessly in return that Harry remembered something he shouldn't have forgotten: he happened to be more ticklish than her.

"Stop, stop," he wheezed out, his laughter making it hard to breath properly. "Truce!" She stopped, only to stand up and sit heavily on his stomach. "Oof, what's that for?" he asked.

"Don't want you to run off," she explained sweetly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he replied.

"Oh, you'll feel differently, once I start again," she assured him. She lazily trailed a hand along his bent up knee, making Harry squirm.

"That tickles!"

"Really? I had no idea!"

"Evil."

"Thank you."

"I'm not really sure what to think about all those letters," Harry said, trying to distract her into stopping. She did, contemplating what he had said. The fan and hate mail hadn't stopped. If anything, it had increased. Letters to the editors of the Daily Prophet had started to turn on them. That of course, didn't stop the Howlers from reaching Harry, but he had learnt to ignore them as they howled. He could tell their frequent appearance was starting to annoy the professors and other students.

"Well, I still think those idiots need to stop sending pictures," she said slowly. Harry smiled at her, grabbing the hand that had started to tickle the spot under his ear. "And McGonagall might end up banning Howlers, if we're lucky. The things I could do if I knew Mum couldn't send a Howler to yell at me. And the hate mail makes good kindling."

"I wasn't talking about those letters," Harry said, kissing her fingers gently. "I was talking about the letters like Mrs. Grunning's."

"Well, accept them and respond, just as you have been," Ginny said with a shrug. She moved off of his stomach onto the sand next to him and started to play with his hair.

"But... what to think about them?" he explained further. "I mean, I don't recognize the person they're writing about, and I'm him!"

"That's because you're too noble and humble," Ginny said honestly. "Harry, I've watched some of those lessons you've had with Shacklebolt. They're amazing. 'Bloody wicked,' to use Ron's phrase. This evening, watching you dueling with him, it was--well, amazing. And everyone loves you even more because you aren't a celebrity at all; you're just a normal chap desperately holding onto your privacy and innocence."

"Innocence, huh?" he asked, skeptical.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "Harry, luv, you try so hard to be... normal, to not let this war turn you into a bitter crotchety man like Mad-Eye. You cling to the eleven-year-old kid who stepped into Diagon Alley not really understanding that there was a Dark side to this world as well. You cling to the hope that everything and everyone is inertly good. You know, though, that it isn't true, that there is a Dark side. That some people have just gone rotten inside, but you still try."

Harry was silent, thinking this over. Last summer, Gryffindor had said that he had long lost his innocence. He hadn't thought it fair at the time, but had believed the old man. It was what he had always thought, that he had been tainted and so he couldn't be innocent.

"What's the matter?" Ginny asked, gazing intently at his face. "What are you thinking?" She seemed really worried. Harry looked at her, surprised at her worry.

"Gryffindor, last summer, told me I had never been innocent, except maybe when I was a baby," Harry said, speaking that aloud for the first time. Ginny seemed too shocked to say anything. "And... I believed him. I'd already thought that, to some degree."

"I'm starting to hate my House's Founder more and more," Ginny said vehemently. "You're one of the most giving and trusting people I have ever had the good fortune of meeting. But you aren't naïve about it. Maybe that's what Gryffindor meant. You don't give your trust willy-nilly. But when you do, you do so completely. And you're loyal and--"

"Ginny, enough," he said, placing a finger on her lips. "This is why I need you. You know more about me than I do." He laughed, trying to get her to share the joke.

"You aren't serious are you?" Ginny asked, a slight frown on her lips. "How can you not see what everyone else can?"

"Because, if I thought as highly about myself as so many other people do, I'd be conceited," he replied with a shrug. "I just... I have a hard time thinking of my eleven-year-old self as completely innocent after killing a man."

"You didn't kill Quirrell!"

"But I did, Gin," he said, standing and helping her up. They started to walk along the shore. "I knew I was hurting him, I knew I was burning him. I might not have put it all together, or that it would lead to his death, but... I knew I was hurting him badly. I actually never felt bad about it. He was trying to kill me, trying to help Voldemort who would have killed me. I've always had the taint of Voldemort on me." He rubbed his scar, thankful that the dull throb had finally faded away completely.

"What about me?" Ginny asked softly.

"What about you?"

"Am I tainted?"

Harry paused and looked at her, as if he had never seen her before. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am," Ginny replied. "I was possessed by Voldemort for a full year, killing roosters and smearing blood warnings on the walls. Merlin Harry, I, set a basilisk on my friends and fellow students! If you're tainted, than so am I."

That's when it hit him. She wasn't. And if she wasn't, then neither was he. He hugged her tightly. Sure, Voldemort had messed with both of their minds. Sure he had made Ginny do horrible things and had made Harry's last summer a living Hell, but... they weren't tainted. He kissed her as if they had never kissed before, stealing her breath away and losing his somewhere along the way as well.

Sometime later a bell rang through the Room, causing Harry and Ginny to bolt apart. Harry smiled at her sheepishly. He had completely lost track of time, but the Room hadn't forgotten that curfew was almost upon them. They started to collect their missing shirts and shoes, making sure they didn't look too suspicious. They didn't want to worry Ron after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next weekend was the capture the flag tournament, and it was a huge success. Gryffindors and Slytherins cheered loudly, having won almost a hundred points each today. None of them thought much about Ravenclaws ninety points, winning them the lead back for the House Cup. There was a small feast waiting for them in the Great Hall, everyone talking a bit louder than normal. It had been a good event, well executed, and enjoyed by all as far as Harry knew. Even Madam Pomfrey was happily clucking over the few minor injuries.

Afterwards, Gryffindors retired to their common room pretending that they hadn't noticed that Slytherin was within ten points of them. Pretending that the Auror/Death Eater battle yesterday in Diagon Alley hadn't happened. Pretending that there wasn't a war going on... just for this night. Just for a few happy hours.

It worked better for some than it did for others. Harry was having the hardest time, but he had been the only eyewitness to the battle the day before. He had taken a nap during his free Friday afternoon and now regretted it. Seeing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor destroyed had hurt. Florean had helped him on his History of Magic essay the summer after he'd blown up Aunt Marge. The flagship store for the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was gone as well. He remembered watching the owls flying for freedom from the burning owl emporiums as Death Eaters shot spells at them. Yet, none of that was anything to the battle itself. Voldemort actually showed up. Then again, he had waited until they had all but won, taking Harry through the rubble. Several Aurors were taken prisoner, and Harry's scar throbbed as Voldemort tortured them even now. Thia had supposed to have judged earlier in the day, but... many of the Aurors were missing today, and she was one of them, busy with clean up.

But, he tried anyways. Life was meant to be lived, not in nightmares and fear, but in reality and fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry woke up early the following Tuesday morning white and sweaty. He hadn't thrown up, surprisingly, considering what he'd just seen. Those eight Aurors Voldemort had captured Friday were now, mercifully, dead. Though, their deaths would haunt his nightmares for a long time. The two female Death Eaters Voldemort had initiated--Angel and Reaper--had been... disgustingly thorough in their work. Harry's body shook as he remembered how they had carefully skinned each Auror alive. Then they had left to deliver, personally, the skins to the offices of eight high-ranking Ministry officials. By the time the other Death Eaters had finished killing the men and women, those two were back, safe and sound--having entered and left the Ministry as if they did it every day.

He stood and started to pace. Then he threw on a pair of jeans and a jumper and left for the Auror Headquarters. He would tell Thia, and if she wasn't there, he'd tell someone else. Yeah. That would work.

Harry wasn't paying attention to where he was going, trusting his feet to take him out the doors and to the Auror Headquarters without direction. He'd made this walk hundreds of times and they didn't need him paying attention. And, for this reason, he was surprised when he realized he was lost. He didn't recognize this part of Hogwarts. He'd never been in this corridor, but it ended in a dead end, a window showing him the mountains behind the castle. Wait... that hanging, he'd seen that before. When?

Christmas...

Remus!

And then he heard crying, an infant's high wail. Harry followed his ears and knocked on the door he guessed the sound was coming from. There was a muffled oath and then the door opened to reveal Tonks' exhausted face. She smiled wanly at him and let him in.

"I'll get Remus," she said, still rocking the child.

"No need, Remus is here already," he said from the doorway that must lead to their bedroom. "Let me try with Caitlan." She passed him the child, carefully tucking a towel between the baby and her father's shoulder.

"She's older than I thought," Harry said.

"She'll be a year in April," Tonks said, sitting down wearily. The little one quieted slowly. "She calms down for him all the time. I think, when she gets like that, it's because of the werewolf."

"I'm starting to believe you," Remus agreed. "I remember, vaguely, that for the first few months, the 'wolf' always tried to take over. I remember crying in my mum's lap for hours. What can we do for you, Harry?"

"I...I..." he paused and then launched into his tale. Both Remus and Tonks grew ever paler and sicker as he continued, Tonks shedding a few tears. She had known one or two of those Aurors really well. The others were co-workers. Once he was done, Tonks floo'ed to Headquarters, and Caitlan had started screaming again, picking up on Remus's mood.

He sat in a rocking chair and started to rock her, making soft noises near her ear. Harry picked up a tune, faint though it was. It was familiar, in a distant part of his mind. Using some of the Legilimency skills, he pulled on that memory a little bit and though there was no picture to accompany it, he felt a sense of peace and contentment connected with the song.

"Did my mum sing that song?" he asked abruptly.

"Thia and I did, actually," Remus answered, not pausing his rocking. Caitlan was asleep with her head nestled in the crook of Remus' neck. "It's a song our mum sang. Your mum sang a Muggle lullaby, but I can't remember it. I suppose all the cute, innocent baby pictures of you asleep on someone's shoulder didn't make it to Tonks' pile of embarrassing pictures."

"No, just bath photos and you all fighting over me and me doing chores, those kind of things," Harry replied, smiling back at the memory of tackling Tonks. It had been worth the detentions.

"Want to hold her?"

"What? No, I mean, I don't know how, and, she... she looks awfully comfy right where she is and we don't want to wake her and..." he realized he was babbling and stopped. Remus was laughing.

"Your dad was like that with Sam's kids, you know. That's the thing with only-child-boys; they never learn how to handle a kid."

"Like you were allowed to hold your sister," Harry replied hotly.

"True, but my babysitter often took us to play at her house, and she took care of a cute little mite while her mum was at work," Remus said with a smile. "Did you know that Molly used to baby-sit us when our parents were at work?"

"No," Harry said, stunned. Remus was sitting next to him now. "So, Thia and Sam knew each other before Hogwarts."

"I do believe they did," Remus said with a laugh. He had maneuvered Caitlan onto Harry's shoulder. Harry held her stiffly. "No, no. Not like that. She isn't a bag of potatoes or any such thing, just relax, she won't break. You'd be surprised what toddlers can survive and this one's survived a werewolf attack and transformation. Come on, relax, Harry." Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She smelled... different. Not bad, just... odd. He shifted his arms around a bit until it was comfortable and then looked out the corner of his eye at her. "That's better."

"I can't believe you're a dad now," Harry heard himself saying. He freed one arm enough so that he could rub a finger along her head, hold the tiny hand, marvel at the miniature feet and toes.

"Me neither," Remus said softly. Caitlan's eyes opened, looking right into Harry's and she screamed. Remus took her quickly and started crooning into her ear. "You were a mite too close for her liking and she doesn't know you. There we are, that a girl. Caitlan, meet Harry. Remember your mum talking about Harry? Here, take her and lay her in your lap, yes, like that. And just talk to her, softly. Tell her about you or just talk about whatever. I'm going to go see what's taking Tonks so long."

"Wait, you can't leave me--" and then he was gone, the fire returning to its normal cheery orange and yellow. Harry looked down at Caitlan apprehensively. Caitlan gazed up at Harry, eyes filled with cautious curiosity. "Well, I can't believe they just abandoned you with me. I might want a family, but I'm absolute rubbish at this baby thing. Just don't hold it against them. You're very cute, you know," he brought his finger close to her nose, watching her eyes follow it, trying to focus on it. She giggled. "Hey, you have a cute smile. You know, I think Ginny might have a rival." He smiled broadly at that. Ginny. Someday they'd be married and he'd be talking to his own kids, to their kids.

"Have they told you about Ginny? She's my girlfriend, but that's only temporary. Soon enough we'll be engaged and married and then we'll have little ones of our own. Well... maybe not that soon. That's a few years off." He tickled her check softly, listening to the cute little baby giggle. "What else should we talk about? How about your mum and dad? Well, your dad's my unofficial guardian, my parents died when I wasn't much older than you. We have that in common, only you got two good people to replace them. Anyway, your dad, he's... well, you know he's a werewolf, after all, that's the reason they got you, but... he's one of the smartest men I know. Maybe the smartest really, he just knows so much about so many things. And what he doesn't know, he's willing to learn about. I've heard him talking to Severus about Legilimency and Occlumency more since I started learning it.

"And then there's Tonks, your mum. Well, she's a brilliant witch," he said with a laugh. "Funny, one of the funniest. They're good for each other. Someone once said that Tonks reminded Remus to fly while Remus reminded Tonks to not fly too high. I thought that was smart. It's true too. Your mum has an unfortunate--excuse me, you can't eat that!" He pulled his finger from her mouth. "You shouldn't put anything in your mouth that you don't know where it's been. Back to your mum, she has an unfortunate liking for really bright hair. Which, is good, I guess. In case, when you're older, and you get separated, then, you know, you'll be able to spot her." There was a muffled laugh behind him and Harry turned, blushing, to see Tonks and Remus standing in the door grinning. Tonks finally let her laughter free.

"Fly too high? Oh, dear," she said, wiping her eyes.

"Shut it, I didn't say it first," Harry said defensively.

"Give her to Tonks and she'll rock her back to sleep," Remus said, shaking his head at his wife's antics. She had started to flap her arms like wings. "He's right, though, dear, so don't mock too much."

"Do you mind, I mean, could I maybe rock her?" Harry asked, shy for some reason. This was their kid, shouldn't they rock her? Wasn't he taking that joy from them?

"Go right ahead," Tonks said, continuing to soar, though now she was gliding like a bird of prey on a heat thermal.

"Let her kind of sit in the crook of your left arm, yes, like that," Remus said, helping Harry get her situated on his shoulder once more. "And use your right arm and hand to hold her back and neck, yes, very good."

"He's a natural," Tonks said, stopping her flight and exchanging a look with Remus. Harry settled into the rocking chair and started to rock.

"Harry, we've been meaning to talk to you about something all month," Remus said, taking a seat on the couch Harry had just left.

"And this is as good a time as any," Tonks said, snuggling against Remus and tucking her legs under her. "Would you be her Godfather?"

Harry didn't drop Caitlan, but it was a near thing. He did stop rocking and she gave a soft cry of dismay. He resumed instantly, apologizing softly in her ear. She quieted and let her head fall back to his shoulder. "I--Yes, of course. Who's her Godmother?"

"We haven't asked her yet, but Thia will be," Remus said. "She always hated that she wasn't yours but, it was rushed, and there wasn't any time. You really don't mind?"

"No," Harry answered firmly. "I'm honored. Thanks."

"Well, she's asleep and so should you, Harry," Tonks said, striding over and taking the baby from him with an ease Harry envied. "Why don't you bunk here on the couch? I'll get a house elf to leave a note so Ron isn't worried." Harry opened his mouth to argue but she shook her head. "You need your sleep, Harry, and the walk back to Gryffindor Tower will only wake you back up." He nodded, and Tonks went through the door Remus had appeared from.

"It leads to the bedroom, nursery, and loo," Remus explained. "There's an office and study off that door." He pointed to the door across the room from the first. Tonks came back with a pillow and comforter. He got situated on the couch and smiled at them.

"All set," she said. "'Night, Harry."

"G'night." He set his glasses on the floor next to the couch.

"Good night," Remus said, laying a fond hand on his shoulder.

"Night." They were almost through the door when they heard his soft, "I meant what I said to her. She's lucky to have you two for her second family."

"Thank you," Tonks said softly. There was a grunt of agreement from Remus, but Harry missed it; he had already fallen asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, after a few hours of sleep and classes, Harry parried a spell cast by a young Auror recruit, sending off one of his own to disarm her. It wasn't a well-known spell, a trick Druce had taught him the week before. It was short and quick, perfect for a duel. She took the spell, thinking it was something harmless and was stunned when her wand flew into Harry's waiting hand. She lunged at him, trying to catch him unawares and to get too close for him to aim properly. Harry let her come, throwing her over his hip and falling on her, his knee in the small of her back, wand at her throat.

"Yield?"

"Yield," she said, and Harry stood and helped her up, handing her wand back.

"Good," Shacklebolt said. "Both of you. Isles, never take a spell you don't know. Next time, that could be a killing spell, not a disarming charm."

"What was that, Rat's Nest?" Volker asked from the spot he'd taken at the start of the lesson lounging against a tree trunk. Several Aurors had spread out watching and relaxing.

"Exarmo," Harry answered. He hadn't realized just how large the crowd had gotten. It seemed that every free Auror had been evaluating him. Several students had come out to watch, including Ron, Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. They all seemed surprised or filled with awe at what they'd just seen. "Druce taught it to me. It's great, only thing is, you have to hit the wand, or it doesn't work nearly as well. But it's quick. Short and quick."

"You are fond of disarming opponents," Shacklebolt said thoughtfully.

"I've been unarmed enough to know that it's a horrible psychological weapon," he answered stiffly, trying not to think of the most prominent and longest of those times. Malfoy Manor had cemented a lesson he had barely realized he had learnt over the years. "The disarmer has the upper hand and there's nothing you can do until you get your wand back. It makes you worried and panicky. Usually you become desperate. Desperate people make mistakes."

"And desperate opponents let you throw them to the ground," Isles replied ruefully. "You have to knee me so hard?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "If not, you would have had enough room to maneuver and come out on top." There was a roar of laughter at that, and he turned to see Moody standing nearby. Harry knew there was an Order meeting later, but Moody was too early for that.

"Constant vigilance," Moody barked. "Never give the opponent any chance of coming up on top. Your ashes will end up being spread across the Meadow of the Dead otherwise." Harry nodded grimly along with several other Aurors.

"Yeah, but I'm not trying to kill him," Isles said defensively.

"But what you do in training is what you do in battle," Harry replied before Shacklebolt or Moody could. He blushed when he realized he had said that aloud. "I'm sorry."

"You're right, boy, so don't apologize," Moody told him gruffly. "Lon's getting some things through, I see." Harry stopped, puzzled by the name. And then he remembered: Bryant's first name was Lon. The sound of the supper bell floated down from the castle and everyone who ate at Hogwarts got up and started to head back. Harry waited a moment for Shacklebolt to wrap up and dismiss them. Once released, he caught up to Ron and Ginny.

"Spring's coming," Ginny said, her cloak draped over an arm. "Who would have thought that little over two weeks ago we were playing Quidditch in a snowstorm?"

"Not me," Harry replied, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Ugh, you're all sweaty!" Ginny tried to squirm away.

"So are you," Harry laughed, pulling her tighter to his side. "Why weren't you at the pitch?"

"Our wonderful captain let us out early," Ginny replied. Harry turned to look at his silent friend.

"Your wonderful captain wanted to see his best mate beat up Auror recruits," Ron replied teasingly, answering Harry's raised eyebrow. "And, we don't have a game until after Easter Holidays."

"End of April," Ginny said excitedly. "I can't wait!" They entered the Great Hall and joined Hermione at their normal spot. Supper was over quickly and Harry was saying goodbye, heading to McGonagall's office for the Order meeting. He had come to realize that only the most important people met for the meetings at Hogwarts. Under each person was a handful of other Order members, the "foot soldiers" of the group. That was why, when Percy Weasley barged in looking excited, everyone, including Harry, was surprised.