Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but... I found something and I had to show you," Percy said quickly. He was carrying a box very carefully and set it down softly in the space between Remus and Tonks, opposite Harry. He lifted the lid and removed something wrapped in soft cloths. He unwrapped it and set down one of the oldest books Harry had ever seen.

"Where'd you get that?" Emmeline asked warily.

"I accepted that job in the Department of Mysteries, as you very well know," Percy said softly, stroking the cover almost reverently. "I... I enjoy it, a lot, much better than working in the rest of the Ministry. Anyway, I was assigned to the Love Chamber," the twins laughed at that, but Percy ignored them, "and was given the task of... well..." His face dropped slightly and his ears turned red. "Sorry, you know the vows Unspeakables are under." There were a few nods. "Well, as I was doing that, I couldn't help but read a few of the texts. And... I found this. I remember Ginny telling me about the mysterious 'Ravenclaw's Weapon' and I recognized this emblem from her descriptions."

Harry moved to lean over the table to get a better look. Burnt on the leather cover was the shape of a crown with two roses inside, one just an outline, the other solid.

"The red and white rose standard of Rowena Ravenclaw," Snape whispered softly, staring at the old book's cover with longing eyes. Harry noticed that Severus' hands seemed to itch to hold it as his hands curled into a loose fists only to be uncurled.

"Exactly, and I couldn't keep myself from reading it," Percy said thoughtfully, as if maybe he shouldn't be admitting this. He shook his head and continued, ignoring the frown on a few faces of Order members. "It's Ravenclaw's work journal from when she was an apprentice. All the leaders had been so impressed with the charm work on the banner, let alone the stitching, that they made her an apprentice to one of the main generals. She, the general I mean, I don't know her name, Ravenclaw only ever called her 'General', but that--"

"Focus, Perce," Bill said steadily. Percy stopped and took a deep breath.

"Ravenclaw's weapon was first and foremost the banner, that is true," Percy continued. "But... there actually was a weapon. It's an old Welsh charm of course, the whole thing is in old Welsh, actually, but it wasn't hard to translate. It's amazing. It's the Avada Kedavra backwards."

"What?" several people asked surprised, confused, and wary.

"Well, no that's wrong," he said, backtracking and frowning at himself. Harry had never seen Percy like this. It was almost scary to see the calm and collected man this excited. "Opposites, like a Patronus versus a Dementor. Where the Avada Kedavra kills with hatred the Lladd Cariad kills with love. It even, roughly translated, means 'to kill with love,' though it's missing a preposition, but magic is forgiving that way, you know. But it's more complicated than that. The caster has to use Legilimency as well. It's brilliant. She was brilliant. I don't quite understand the theory or what exactly needs to be done on the Legilimens part, but it's all written out here. I'm sure you guys will understand."

"Let me see that," Condon Flint asked, reaching across several people so that Percy could hand the journal to him. Flint handled it with an air of reverence. "Amazing."

Harry sat there as everyone started to talk about Percy's discovery. His mind had frozen, not sure how to process this new information. Just the night before, Severus had grudgingly told him that he had accomplished the first rank of a Legilimens. Though the Auror recruits had only practiced with him three times, they took him seriously as a competitor; heck, Isles was the top of her class. He had come to terms with having to use the Killing Curse once more, but, now, it seemed that he didn't have to use it to defeat Voldemort. Instead, there was actually a Light spell that could kill. It was mind blowing.

"Harry?" Thia asked, breaking into Harry's thoughts and silencing the excited talk.

"Yes?

"Are you okay?"

"It's just... I never thought we'd figure this out..." he trailed off, looking intently at the book.

"We're hardly close to figuring it out," Flint countered. This didn't seem to bother him; instead, he seemed excited by it, thrilled by the chance to read and research this wonderful text. "Mr. Weasley, you can read this?"

"It could be modern English, it's that clear to me, sir," Percy replied honestly.

"Translate it, please," Flint asked. Reluctantly, he handed the journal back to Percy. "That way others can work on it who can't read the original."

"Yes, sir," Percy replied, clutching the book to his chest.

"And return that back to its spot when you're done," Flint pointed a finger sternly at Percy. "I'll set-up the paperwork so you won't get into trouble for this. Don't remove one of our books without asking again." The admonishment was tempered by the gleam in Flint's eyes.

"Yes, sir," Percy replied, the blush traveling down from his ears. Harry had wondered if Flint was an Unspeakable and now it seemed he had his proof. Percy started to wrap the book back up in the cloths.

"Anyone else have any questions for Percy?" McGonagall asked, looking up and down the meeting table.

"I would like a copy," Severus commented.

"I know Hermione would love a copy," Bill said with amusement.

"I'd like one too," Harry said, quietly. There were a few odd looks directed at him (after all, Hermione was the studious one) but this was something Harry wanted to read himself. "At least excerpts. I could use Hermione's copy, if she gets one."

"Percy will make a few copies of the translated version, then," McGonagall said, looking at Flint for a confirmation. He nodded and Percy finished wrapping up the book. "Thank you for bringing this up to us. We wait eagerly for the translation. When you have the first copy, bring it to Flint for review. Once we've all read it, we'll have a meeting to discuss it fully."

"Ver--"

"May Hermione, Ron, and Ginny attend?" Harry asked, cutting over Percy. Percy paused in his slight bow to leave.

"Good evening, Percy," Minerva said, dismissing the once way-ward Weasley. The other Weasleys shifted; Harry knew they were annoyed (some even angry) about Percy's exclusion from the main Order.

"Honestly, Minerva, couldn't he stay?" Mrs. Weasley asked, as the door closed behind her third son.

"Molly, we've told you why he is not included," Aberforth said kindly. "Percy is in the Order, not because it's his choice, but because he's trying to make it up to his family. Not necessarily a bad reason to be here, but it is reason enough to keep him from knowing everything in the Order. I'm sorry. He is making progress."

"This is quite a break," Bill said thoughtfully, trying to change the subject. "What is he doing in that Chamber?"

"Ah, dear boy, we can't tell you that," Flint said with a laugh. "That would go against all our rules, vows, and morals as Unspeakables. But, I'm glad we gave him that task. I never would have thought to look in that Chamber."

"We've gotten away from my question," Harry said carefully, his voice firm and steady. "May Hermione, Ron, and Ginny attend that meeting?" The others fell silent, Mrs. Weasley, McGonagall, and Aberforth looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"No, I don't think so," Minerva said carefully, as if she knew the answer would anger him. "They are not Order members at all." Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes to keep his temper calm.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"They are school students," Mrs. Weasley insisted.

"So am I."

"And I'm not happy you're here," Mrs. Weasley said, though she gasped softly, knowing that she shouldn't have said that aloud.

"So, you'd rather us go into this not knowing anything?" he asked, his eyes opening and fixing on her. She tried to match the stare, but was the first to look away as he continued gesturing to get his point across. "I will be the pivot this war turns on. You're not happy about it, they're not happy about it, I'm not happy about it, but that is the way it will be. I need all the information I can get. I need my friends at my side, and I need them to know all they can. They need to know all they can. Do you want us to miss a vital fact? Don't we deserve to know all we can?"

"Mr. Potter, calm," Severus said, cutting in. Harry recognized both the tone and words as Severus' warning that his temper and mental control were slipping. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"Please, I need them to know this," Harry continued, his eyes still closed. "I need them to know the facts, not my paraphrasing." He paused and opened his eyes to look at everyone. "Please?"

"I agree with Harry," Remus said after a very heavy silence.

"They're so much stronger together," Tonks assured the others.

"Don't coddle them," Bill commented. "Ginny, Ron, and Hermione have been through so much with Harry. Coddling will only handicap them."

"And handicapping them will only increase their chances of death, Molly," Thia said softly, laying an empathetic hand on Mrs. Weasley's arm. "You can't do that to them. They need to be at Harry's side."

"My vote is for them to attend," Aberforth finally said. "They're no longer children."

"I--She's not even seventeen," Molly pleaded. "They're my babies."

"But they're not any longer," Harry said. "At least, not little kids. Mrs. Weasley, they've been through so much. They've done so much. Treat them as adults."

Before Mrs. Weasley could speak, McGonagall spoke. "This will be a group decision, and we will not decide anything today."

"So, it's fine for Hermione to do the grunt work, but if she asks to join in on the discussion, she can't?" Harry asked, louder than he had meant, but he wanted to make his point and make them understand.

"Enough, Mr. Potter," McGonagall scolded. "We will discuss this when it's closer to time. Everyone needs time to think about this. Now, where were we when Mr. Weasley interrupted us?"

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Harry called to the gathered students. The din fell to a quiet hum, until even that fell to silence, the older ones shushing the younger. Everyone looked at him, and Harry watched the realization light up in their eyes.

"You back in charge, Harry?" Susan asked once she'd gotten over the confusion.

"Well, yes," Harry answered. He had left Hogwarts for a few hours earlier that day for his final appointment at St. Mungo's. Or--as Nettle had pointed out--the final one for this particular injury, he'd undoubtedly be back for something else. "Kind of."

"What do you mean?" Blaise asked suspiciously.

"Well... I have permission from my healer," he answered slowly, knowing that this announcement would not go over well. "But, I really don't have the time any more. I'm sorry," he said as the others started to groan and complain, "but I just don't. Hermione will take over officially, unless there's any disagreements?"

"But, you're great," Dennis Creevey called out. "It's been a bore without you!"

"Thanks, Dennis," Hermione said sarcastically.

"I didn't mean--Hermione--you didn't--"

Hermione was giving him a hard glare, but then her face broke out in a huge grin. "Don't mind me. You're right, it's not the same. Harry's brilliant at this."

"Guys, stop joking around, I'm nothing special," he broke in, and continued before anyone could argue the point with him. Harry thought Severus (who was supervising today) might be the loudest of the debaters. "Any way, tonight isn't even my last night. Sunday will be and I plan to show up every once in awhile to check in and give Blaise a bit of a challenge."

"We'll have to have a party then," Parvati suggested with the authority of a master party-thrower. "Lavender and I will plan it all."

"I have a lesson right after that meeting," Harry said, thankful for an excuse out of any party thrown in his honor.

"Nonsense," Hermione chided, an innocent smile that resembled the twins' or, more likely, Ginny's own innocent smile much too closely for Harry's comfort. "Kingsley will understand if your lesson starts an hour late." There were sounds of "Yeah!" and "He must!" and Hermione's innocent look was gone. A purely evil and dangerous look had replaced it.

"I'll ask," Harry conceded, knowing that if he didn't, Hermione would. Several laughs from the others managed to drag a smile out from Harry; these people knew that he hated being the center of attention and would act accordingly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A party would help everyone's nerves. It was for the greater good.

The lesson went well enough, considering that the whole point was chaos. A mock battle could be nothing but chaotic if they were to learn anything from it. Harry had worried at first, watching the guys and a few of the girls exchange playful taunts beforehand, but once the battle had started, a seriousness descended and they were anything but immature about this. He felt pride well up in him for their accomplishments.

No one would recognize the man Neville had turned into. He was not the scared little boy who always lost his pet frog Trevor. He had matured into a strong levelheaded wizard, a good ally, and a crack shot.

Then there was Dennis Creevey who towered over all but the tallest. Shooting spells with such earnestness that Harry could still spot the tiny, little first year drowning in Hagrid's coat while telling his brother about how the Giant Squid had saved him from drowning in the Lake during that horrible storm.

Lavender and Parvati worked as a team, one distracting their opponent while the other snuck up from behind. It was cunning and devious and very un-Gryffindor of them, but they were playing the part of Death Eaters (even down to the robes and masks courtesy of Severus) and it was something Death Eaters would do. Padma, though on the other side of the room and in the middle of a duel, kept one eye on her twin, watching over her. Padma was one of the best, only Harry, Blaise, and Hermione could beat her regularly.

Once time was over, Harry blew on his whistle to call a final halt. Then they went over the events, and, after that, Harry dismissed them. Most everyone left quickly, wanting to get back to work on any homework due the next day, to just relax or to take a warm shower and go to bed. Several of his closer friends in his year stayed behind to help him clean up. Harry leaned against one of the counters, next to a sneakoscope, and surveyed his frowning friends. Everyone, but Hermione, made a half circle around him, Dean coming to stand next to him.

"You sure we can't convince you otherwise?" Dean asked throwing a friendly arm around Harry's shoulders. "It won't be the same without you."

"No, I'm sorry, you can't," he answered, pushing away from the counter and throwing off Dean's arm in the same movement. "I'm giving up Care of Magical Creatures as well. I just don't have the time anymore. N.E.W.T.'s are honestly nasty." There were several grunts of agreement. "I don't need that N.E.W.T. anyway, and just Transfiguration and Potions will kill me as it is." He strode to the door, Ginny coming to walk beside him as they left the Room of Requirement.

"Yeah," Seamus agreed.

"At least you don't have Charms," Lavender informed him with a grimace. "Flitwick's a great man, don't get me wrong, but he's becoming worse than Snape."

"Strict," Padma added.

"Cruel," Parvati continued.

"No, you just don't study enough," Padma retorted. "You don't take your studies seriously enough and he has to be hard on you because of it."

"But, I have to be relaxed, because you take them too seriously," Parvati explained innocently. Lavender laughed as Padma was left with nothing to say in return.

"You know what, Harry, you sure have dropped a lot of classes," Blaise teased.

"You know what else?" Ron asked rhetorically. "The Slytherin is right. Wish I could drop as many classes as you have, slacker."

"Shut it, both of you," Ginny said impatiently, brandishing her wand menacingly. The two boys looked quickly at her wand and the smiles dropped from their faces.

"Ginny," Harry told her warningly, wrapping her fingers around her wand hand, lowering it, and interlacing their fingers as best he could. "My knight in shining armor," he teased to lessen the slight scolding and to get her to smile. "Yes, Ron, go ahead and drop them all, but, remember, you have to take lessons with Shacklebolt and Bryant and Thia and Druce and Althea instead."

"Gees, never mind, wouldn't want that," Ron shuddered, and then laughed. The group paused in an intersection of the corridor with a staircase that led down.

"Hey, anyone want to help me with the Charm's essay due Monday?" Parvati asked before they broke up for the night.

"Sure," Hannah and Padma said at the same time.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Parvati said, smiling at both of them. "G'night," she added, hugging her twin goodnight. They split up, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins heading down the staircase while the Gryffindors continued along the corridor.

"Anyone want to work on those spells Professor Weasley assigned us?" Seamus asked with a begging look particularly focused at Hermione.

"Merlin, I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that," Ron muttered. "Hearing you guys call Bil 'professor' is so strange. I mean... it's Bill..."

"At least he lets us call him Bill," Ginny responded, trying to point out a small blessing.

"That's 'cause he's afraid we'll tell 'family' stories," Ron said with a hearty guffaw. "Oh, the things we could tell if we wanted to."

"Don't you start," Ginny warned her brother. She looked up at the Fat Lady, whose portrait they had just reached and sighed. "Squwibble-dwible. I am going to kill you for that password, Ron. If you dare use up all my blackmail, I will kill you! I still have one more year with him."

"Poor kid," Ron replied, throwing himself into his favorite armchair. "Stuck with our eldest brother for another year. You poor thing."

"Thanks, littlest older brother," Ginny snapped, sticking out her tongue at him as her left arm collided with his shoulder.

"I'm going to charm your tongue like I did your arm," Harry spoke nonchalantly, pulling Ginny down onto the couch next to him.

"You're just lucky that it finally reappeared," she informed him. "I might have cancelled all of our plans and how could you live off your wife's earnings then, huh?"

"Oh, I'd find another, wife that is" he sighed dramatically. "She wouldn't be as good as you, of course, but I'd survive."

"You are the richest bachelor in Britain," Lavender stated, looking up from her Care of Magical Creature's textbook. "No need for a wife."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised out of his relaxed state. "How do you know that?"

"You mean, it's actually true?" Dean asked, his surprise evident. Obviously his friends hadn't believed it, wherever they had heard it from. Harry continued to look at them nonplussed.

"Every January, Witch Weekly puts out a special edition," Parvati explained. "You've been the most eligible bachelor two years running now, and this year you topped the richest bachelor list. You even managed second place in the best smile category and top on the nicest celebrity." Harry gapped at them. "You didn't know any of this?"

"I live in a happy little delusional world were I pretend I have no fan club or fame," Harry responded dryly. "You're not joking?"

"No, and it's true? The richest bachelor thing?" Parvati asked in return.

"I suppose it could be," Harry replied, running a hand through his hair distractedly. "I mean, I don't know how rich any of the other bachelors are after all. Makes it hard to compare. I inherited my family's... everything this year. There's a lot of land and stocks and vaults and crap and I'm sure it adds up. Remus said something about it being worth more than the Malfoys. And it's been sitting there for years, untouched, even before my mum and da died." He noticed that everyone was looking at him oddly. "What?"

"You're richer than the Malfoys?" Ron asked, voicing what must be everyone's question. "The Malfoys have been the richest family for years. There's a reason Lucius was so influential."

"Remus says he's pretty sure there's more than the Blacks had at their height," Harry answered with a shrug. Ron, Ginny, and Parvati gapped at him. "What?"

"It was because of Sirius' imprisonment that the Malfoys took the lead as richest family," Ginny explained. "I mean, the Blacks and Malfoys are... are... well... the top. The elite. The rich and famous. No one has ever rivaled those families."

"I remember my mum saying something about the Potters though," Parvati said softly. "Your grandda, must have been, was her professor for a few years and she told me how much they had donated the first time around."

"Remus said they almost funded the first war," Harry said. "Why'd your mum bring this up?"

"I don't know, we were talking about my friends, and I mentioned how... well..." she blushed, something Parvati didn't do. She giggled, yes, but didn't blush. "I mentioned how normal you were and grounded. And she nodded and told me that the Potters were once one of the most respected families in Britain. The only ones who didn't respect them weren't worth mentioning."

"Don't forget the Lupins," Marissa said softly. Harry had to think for a moment, but remembered that she was a half blood like him. Her... dad had been muggle-born. "They were pretty respected too. My mum was thrilled to find out Professor Lupin was teaching third year. She sent Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Lupin a howler when he didn't come back the next year."

"And in a few years, those families will be on top again," Ginny said confidently. "Not that respect for the Potter name has waned, just... changed a bit with Harry, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "They worship me for something I can't remember, something I didn't have anything to do with. I can't wait until I deserve their respect."

"You already do," Seamus muttered. "I mean, you know, you've done a lot to be proud of. And... people respect you for that. You've gotten over so many grudges and stereotypes and I'm sorry for what I said back in January. I know it's old news, but--"

"You've been forgiven," Harry assured him. "Look, not that I don't appreciate this... but... it's uncomfortable, and I'd rather not talk about it..."

"Alright," Seamus said with a slight nod. "Hermione, weren't you going to help me with Transfiguration?"

"No, but I will," she replied with a smile, standing from where she had been leaning on the arm of Ron's chair. "Anyone else need help?"

It had started normal enough. The normal, private gathering of Voldemort's most trusted followers torturing a kidnapped Muggle family at the Cathedral. It had surprised Harry that Reaper was not there, though her best friend Angel was the honored guest and main torturer.

It had started normal enough. Harry had even resigned himself to a lost night's sleep and new nightmares. He had even gotten over the shock of the torture itself. But, then it all changed. Reaper arrived.

"My Lord, forgive me for interrupting," she begged, coming to bow and kiss Voldemort's robes before anyone had reacted to her presence.

"What are you doing here, my Irish imp?" Voldemort asked fondly, motioning her to stand. "Where you not busy tonight?"

"I was, my Lord," Reaper answered restlessly. She never physically moved but Harry had the impression of barely restrained action. She was nervous, or maybe it was excited, about something. "We went to dinner, but Ch--" Voldemort hissed and Reaper fell silent for a split second. "But he was distracted. Begged to end the date early, even. Said his brother needed help on something. I wheedled until he told me--" Voldemort hissed once more.

"Be silent." Harry felt Voldemort's attention turn inward, to him. Goodbye, Potter.

Then Voldemort expelled Harry from his mind.

The next morning, Harry attended his last Care of Magical Creatures class, almost disappointed when Hagrid brought out Thestral foals the class would be training the next few weeks. He had rubbed down the one Ron, Hermione, Neville, and, for this one day, he had been assigned to work with. He would have loved training them.

After that, Harry had his lesson with Shacklebolt, though the presence of several off-duty Aurors who weren't assigned to Hogwarts threw Harry off for a few moments. They watched him carefully, never saying a word. Moody showed up again as well, studying everything he and Shacklebolt did with an unnerving concentration. After Harry's third mistake (though admittedly all minor, just uncharacteristic of him) Shacklebolt pulled him aside.

"What's up, Rat's Nest?" he said in a low undertone away from any eavesdroppers. Harry realized the older wizard had positioned them so no one could even see their lips to read them.

"I'm just... nervous I guess," Harry said with a shrug. "I've had this uneasy feeling all day, restless anticipation really, and all these eyes aren't helping."

"I wish I could tell them to clear off, but I can't," Shacklebolt replied, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "They've asked to see this prophesied vanquisher of You-Know-Who--"

"No, I don't," Harry muttered.

"Huh?"

"I don't know who," he replied angrily. "Severus, Dobby, Moaning Myrtle? Who?"

"You do know who," Shacklebolt replied, his temper sharp. Harry sighed and gave the slightest shrug. "And Thia granted them permission, as long as they weren't on duty and they leave us alone. It will be good for your reputation too; they aren't close to you, so they won't lie for you. Just forget them, they're only watching."

"I hate being watched," he answered sourly. "Does Moody have to stare though? I swear, I haven't seen him blink once."

"Ah, it wouldn't be decent Auror training without Moody hanging around making trainees nervous. He makes even me nervous; so don't worry, we're on equal footing with that."

After that, they returned to work. It was hard, tiring work. Work that made him sweat and expand himself past his previous limits. At the end of one exercise, Harry stopped, putting his wand in the holder clipped to his belt that Moody had given him for Christmas. Shacklebolt recognized this as Harry's way of saying he had a question and did the same.

"Since I froze everyone, you've been stretching my magic, haven't you?" he asked, watching the dark wizard closely. Shacklebolt nodded. "That's why it's so much more tiring than Bryant's lessons. It's physical like his, but it's also magical. Which was the reason for the exhaustion earlier, and it hasn't gotten better because you haven't let it. Right?"

"Correct."

"Good," he responded simply, drawing his wand once more. There were mummers from those around them, the Aurors exchanging looks of surprised respect. Harry noticed that students and a few professors who were free watching them duel. The two continued, focused intently on each other, Harry carefully paying attention to those around while ignoring them all the same. And he was glad he did.

Shacklebolt sheathed his wand and sat to stretch out. Harry did the same, feeling his muscles respond gratefully. They had maybe ten minutes left until lunch, and if Harry was lucky, he'd have time for a shower before it was over.

"So, what did you notice?" the other man asked, his deep voice carrying well over the crowd. Harry replied, listing everything, from a few whispered comments between comrades to nervous movements to the comings and goings of the watchers. Moody was nodding behind Shacklebolt, a proud, small smile on his lips, contorting his face further than normal. "Good, good. Volker is right to envy your alertness."

"You teach him that, Bolt?" an older female Auror asked, breaking their silence.

"Nah, Commander did, last year," Shacklebolt replied good-naturedly. "Though, she said he had a good memory from before that. I remember his dad had the best memory of his class."

"Mum did too," the Auror replied. "She patched me up a few times," she explained to the questioning looks of others. "First time I met her, she was an apprentice and I was more than a bit miffed about that. After that, though, I never complained. Had a good head on her shoulders, she did. Glad to see you inherited that from her."

"That all, sir?" Harry asked politely, standing up to finish stretching.

"That's all. Go get that shower you need so badly," Shacklebolt said, ruffling Harry's hair annoyingly. "And do try to tame this, Rat's Nest."

"No need to bother; it and I are happy with the way things are," Harry responded lightly, before starting the short jog up to the castle. If he wanted a shower worth calling a shower, he would need to jog the whole way, especially since he'd rather skip the shower and eat then skip lunch and take a shower. Food before cleanliness was his motto, though no one thanked him for it. Oh well, he had time for both today. He should be grateful.

He paused at the front doors and looked back at the ring of Aurors around Shacklebolt and Moody, talking excitedly. He wondered if that was good or not, but decided not to worry about it. If it was important, he'd find out eventually.

Transfiguration went quickly, Harry doing very well on his exam. At least, he felt he had done well. One could never tell. After that he spent two class periods working on a few of the texts Dumbledore had left for him to read. He finished up with the most disturbing of the Dark Arts books, forcing himself to read it. This was what Voldemort used and, to protect against it, he needed to understand it. It was that simple. He took one of the texts he was using for his Potions thesis paper to his Head Boy's office and took notes as he waited for anyone to show up. Several students did, many just to say hi.

He had realized sometime during the Transfiguration exam that he was down to two classes with his friends and classmates. He'd hardly seen them, and wasn't surprised by the social visits his friends paid during this time. He was free, they knew that, unless some emergency happened. No classes, no extra lessons, no strange schedule that kept him from them. Just another Head Boy available to talk to.

Though, it wasn't like his N.E.W.T.'s load would be any easier. He was taking five N.E.W.T.'s this coming spring, even though he was taking only two classes. He had promised Dumbledore over a year ago that he would sit the Charms exam even after quitting the class for Druce's. He knew he'd be able to pass the Defense exam in his sleep. Care of Magical Creatures would be more difficult to do supremely well on, but he was sure he'd be able to pull off an E with enough study. Transfiguration would be easier than he had first supposed, though it was going to be hard. He didn't even want to think about the Potions exam. He had done well on that O.W.L. He had earned his way into the N.E.W.T.'s class, though he didn't know how. Yet, to this day, Potions still made him feel nervous and he didn't want to think about it.

He turned a page of his book, and sighed. It was hard not to think about Potions when he was reading a Potions text. The coming two and half months were looking quite long and yet quite short. In three months he'd be freed from Hogwarts, if he wanted to word it that way. He didn't want to though. Hogwarts had been his first real home. The people and places that he loved most were here. His best memories were here. His... hardest... worst memories were here as well, of course, but... those were easy to forget if he tried. And he often did.

Various seventh years monopolized one end of the Ravenclaw table later at supper, discussing their different projects, papers, essays, exams, and the like that they had to worry about. Everyone else avoided them, even Ginny. This was a seventh year thing. Some strange gulf lay between even the sixth and seventh years. The oldest students discussed developments on the job front, worries about schoolwork, hysterics concerning N.E.W.T.'s, and a certain bond that only seven years at Hogwarts coming to an end could create.

Afterwards, they went to the library helping one another with the aforementioned work, their sixth year friends joining in for this, though they sat at a separate table discussing other assignments. Harry caught sight of Ginny a few times, even managed a short kiss and a quick hug before they were interrupted by various others. She slipped the notebook to him one time and then left with her friends and year mates.

"Wish I was a sixth year," Ron muttered watching them go. "No N.E.W.T.'s. Couldn't get better than that."

"I don't want to repeat a single year," Blaise muttered. "Going through each year once was enough for me. Hogwarts is great, but not that great."

Madam Pince ended up kicking them out when it was time for her to close the library. They broke up with hurried goodbyes, heading back to their respective dormitories before curfew fell and Filch caught them out and about. Once back, Ron and Harry played two games of chess, trying not to think about the homework they still needed to do that weekend. Hermione curled up on the couch, reading a small paperback. Ginny had gone up to bed already. After Harry had sleepily walked right into Ron's trap at the end of the second game, the Trio had decided that it was time for bed. Harry was under his blankets five minutes later, his glasses off, listening to the clock tower ringing the first hour of the morning.

Finally, Potter, Voldemort said exasperatedly just moments after he had fallen asleep. They sat, facing one another, Voldemort's side of the room darker than Harry could ever remember it ever being before. Harry pulled his legs up on the chair and sat cross-legged, watching his enemy warily. We've been waiting for you to begin tonight's fun. I felt so awful just kicking you out last night that I decided to wait for you.

As undeniably honored as I feel by that, I really must decline, Harry told him softly.

There is no declining, Voldemort informed him. Come. Now. There was a fierce Legilimency/Occlumency battle, but as normal, Voldemort won. Harry didn't go quietly, he didn't go easily, and he didn't go nicely. But, in the end, he did go. He really needed to figure out how not to.

Harry opened his eyes and saw the Cathedral filled with a select few Death Eaters. Angel, Reaper, Avery, Bellatrix, and Dolohov were the only ones. Five Death Eaters and Voldemort. Harry felt his stomach drop. This could not be a normal Revelry. The faint sounds of a distant clock tower chimed the first hour of the day, a few minutes behind the Hogwarts clock. Harry wondered what unfortunate village lay so close to the cathedral and if it had been attacked yet.

"Time to go," Voldemort ordered, standing from his throne-like chair on the dais. "Everyone follow Reaper." They walked out from the anti-apparation ward and followed Reaper's apparation in quick succession.

They were outside an apartment building in what seemed to be London or another very large city. Reaper led them in confidently, killing the security man sitting at his desk snoozing. They climbed the stairs quietly, looking around cautiously. A witch was killed as they passed her on the stairs, not even giving her enough warning to turn part way to face her murderers.

Reaper stopped on a landing and pushed open the door. She led them down a corridor to flat 928. Casting a few spells that sounded like unlocking spells, the red head turned a key she had taken from a pocket and slowly pushed the door open.

"Terry?" a horribly familiar voice asked sleepily before Reaper had the door all the way open. "I thought you had gone--who are you? Perce, Rodger, Kern, WAKE UP!" Harry felt his blood run cold when Voldemort entered behind his guard of honor. Charlie Weasley stood in the living room, only in his boxers, staring at Voldemort. The three other men Charlie had called entered the room; Harry recognized the last two as new Order members, one an Auror, the other a Gringotts employee. Angel, her green hair glittering, killed them with no preamble, bound Charlie, and cursed Percy with a Crucio in a little less than half a minute.

"Good," Voldemort purred. "I want the blood traitors to talk. Release the younger and bind him." Angel bowed and did as she was told. Dolohov mean while attached Charlie's bound body to the wall, so that his toes just reached the floor. They left Percy on the floor, where he was still twitching slightly.

"How'd you get in?" Charlie asked the second his mouth was clear. "Bill warded this place; no one could break in without tripping the alarms."

"You shouldn't give your girlfriend a key," Voldemort replied softly, walking to stand in front of him. Reaper stepped forward and removed her mask. Voldemort, and thus Harry, never took his eyes off Charlie as the man's shock was replaced with suffering, rage, and finally with fear. Terry O'Murray had a key and no alarm had been tripped. No help was coming.

"Why?" Charlie asked her miserably.

"Because, muggles are nothing but animals," she sneered, stepping closer to Charlie. She patted his check insolently and traced his jaw. "Because my Lord asked me to spy on a Weasley. Because you were so willing."

"Enough," Voldemort hissed, dragging Reaper--Terry--back from Charlie. "We have work to do. Tell us what you're precious Order has found, and you and your brother survive." Harry struggled the whole time to escape from Voldemort. If he could only get back to himself and warn someone. They'd know where Percy and Charlie lived. They'd be able to help for a change. But, as the night wore on and they continued torturing the two Weasleys, Harry realized that Voldemort knew that. Knew that Harry could not leave early. Knew that if he left then their time was up.

So, Voldemort kept him, forcing Harry to watch. Percy's screaming, twitching body felt like physical blows, and he knew Charlie felt it as well. Worst yet, was when they forced Charlie, with the Imperius Curse, to attack and beat his younger brother. There were a few things as horrifying as watching your brother die helpless to do anything about it.

One was watching an older brother, who loved the other, torturing his little brother.

Another was watching two people who were as good as family die slowly.

Every so often, they gave Percy a chance to catch his breath, and cast the Cruciatus on Charlie instead. Harry had the sinking feeling, as the hours passed, that Percy was going to end up on St. Mungo's Closed Ward--if he didn't die first. And Charlie... Charlie as well...

"Harry," Charlie finally said, after yet another Imperius was lifted. "Tell mum that we love her."

"An'--we--d-di'n't--tell," Percy stammered. Avery put another Cruciatus on Percy. The red-head screamed and screeched. A silencing charm was regularly replaced on the walls, floors, and ceilings to keep the sound from betraying them. He twitched and he squirmed and he was babbling in his screaming. He curled up into a ball and then he curled the other way as the pain distorted and ripped muscles. And then... silence. He stopped screaming. He stopped thrashing except for a slight shivering. Avery lifted the spell.

Voldemort turned to face Charlie. "Potter, you tell me what you found, and I'll save this one from a fate just like his brother's." Charlie's eyes flicked from Percy to stare directly into Voldemort's.

"Don't, Harry! I'd rather die or--or--end up like--Perce!" Charlie broke into a stifled sob, his eyes returning to his brother. His grief had made it impossible for Voldemort to use Legilimency; there was nothing but grief to see. "Protect your futures!"

"Well, Potter?"

Go to hell, Harry spat out, Occluding his mind of anything to do with this.

"Very well. My Reaper of Souls, I do believe you asked for this honor?"

"I did, my Lord," Terry responded, bowing low and walking forward. "Just so you know, Charles Weasley, I hate you and your stupid family and your stupid beliefs. Crucio!" This time, Charlie didn't scream, didn't react. He went eerily still, shivering just as Percy still was. Terry lifted the spell. Glaring at Charlie in disgust, "Didn't even get any fun in destroying your mind." She spat on him.

"Search the flat again," Voldemort hissed at his five companions, clearly angry at this turn of events. "Check for anything that doesn't belong." They went off, searching. "Didn't even last as long as his brother did," Voldemort said, walking to stand in front of the shivering form of Charlie Weasley. "Pity the Weasleys let themselves go. They used to be such a strong family. All his uncles married mudbloods and this lot, the last of the pureblood Weasleys can't even handle a bit of the Cruciatus." Voldemort reached forward and tipped Charlie's head up.

Don't touch him! Harry screamed at the monster who had basically kidnapped him. Why won't you just leave? It's not like they would be stupid enough to keep something important here.

"Leave? No, we're going to search first." Voldemort answered, though the wizard glanced at the clock warily. Slowly, the others returned empty-handed. Harry couldn't help the relief he felt from escaping, he hadn't been sure the text wouldn't be here. "Let's get back to the Cathedral," Voldemort commanded. They hurried down the stairs, killing another wizard as he entered the building.

Voldemort turned to look up at the apartment building. A window on the ninth floor was open, and Harry knew inside that window were two dead bodies and two insane men. Several drab little sparrows had started to chirp, heralding the start of another day. Harry shivered, thinking that these welcoming bird songs didn't belong in this dreary city, and especially not on this street where unspeakable horrors had occurred in the darkness of night.

"Morsmordre!" Voldemort cast, pointing up at the empty, but lightening sky. After that, they all disapparated.

Time for you to go. You've come a long way with your Occlumency, Potter. And with that, Voldemort pushed Harry out.

Harry woke with a start, and grabbed for his glasses. His clock read 6:43 and none of his dorm mates were awake yet. Not that he expected them to be, it was a Saturday after all. Harry quickly got out of bed and grabbed a dressing gown as he rushed down the stairs. He left the common room, hurried down to the ground floor, and then ran out across the grounds.

It was early morning, the fading cold, bitter air of winter was being replaced slowly by the cool, crisp air of spring. Birds, much happier sounding than those in London, sang praises to the sun. Harry frowned at the happy sounds; after last night's events, nothing should celebrate. He hurried to the Auror Headquarters and entered it. He pounded on Thia's door, hoping the witch had slept the night here at Hogwarts. She opened the door and let him into her small suite of rooms.

"What happened?" she asked point blank.

"The Weasleys," he started, keeping the tears back. "Charlie and Percy and the two guys living with them. Voldemort attacked. Charlie's girlfriend betrayed them. Charlie and Percy are insane, the other two dead. Voldemort left before he kicked me out. It was awful."

Thia went to her fire and floo'ed someone. Harry finally broke into dry sobs, the tears not falling from where they welled up in his eyes. Thia stood and brushed the ash from her hair. She turned at the sound of his sobs and moved toward him.

"Hush," Thia said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you for telling me. Chin up, Harry. Did he find out about Ravenclaw's journal?"

"No."

"Thank God for small blessings," she muttered, distracted. "Why don't you head back up to bed? You have a busy day today, there's your last D.A. meeting and then that party and then training with Shacklebolt. A few of the Aurors hanging about might ask to test you, do say yes, please. They've all come to respect your abilities and potential. I hope you know how proud all of us are of you."

"Er, thanks," Harry said uncomfortably, pulling away and heading to the door. "Later."

"Later, and thank you, Harry, we'll get everything straightened out," Thia said softly, shuffling through some papers. "Where's the roll list? Who's free?" Harry opened the door and started to leave, but Thia called out to him. "Harry, wait." She crossed the room to stand next to him. "I think you should wait to tell Ron and Ginny until all the others are here to hear. You shouldn't have to do that alone. But... you shouldn't have to keep it from them either. Just... don't wake them and I suppose soon enough we'll call you to Minerva's office."

She squeezed his shoulders and then released him. Harry nodded and left, heading back to Gryffindor Tower. He felt slightly brushed off, like Thia didn't want to talk to him. But that wasn't true; he'd seen the look of concern in her eyes. She was the Commander of the Aurors, first and foremost, not his baby-sitter. And he didn't really want to be around people right now. He just wanted to think.

Thankfully the common room was still empty when he arrived, not that this surprised Harry, it was still before seven on a Saturday. He climbed the stairs and entered his dorm room quietly so as not to wake his friends. He went into the bathroom to take a shower, to try and regain some feeling, to try and scrub Voldemort's taint from his mind.

As he passed the mirror, he caught his reflection in the corner of his eye and turned to stare at it. Harry didn't normally look at himself in the mirror; with hair that didn't behave no matter what he did, he had no practical reason to. He didn't care what he looked like, and he knew, often enough, it looked bad. With as little sleep as he got, the dark circles under his eyes never disappeared. His eyes were often red from lack of sleep. His old lightning bolt scar stood out sharply against his pale skin. His newer, black spider-web scar stood out just as sharply, the black and white making a completely different contrast than the red and white.

But... for whatever reason, when people looked at him they didn't see any of this, at least not at first. He knew his friends did, but his friends were different. It was the reactions from the Aurors, the general public, Order members he didn't know very well, and even Voldemort that surprised him. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to see past the scars and the dark circles.

The Aurors respected him. That's what Thia had just said, but he had seen it with his own eyes already. They didn't watch because they thought he was going to mess up and they were waiting to laugh. They watched because he had potential, because he was already good. Better than they were at his age or even a few years older. The Aurors in the Order had begged him to submit a real application for the double-A, Volker the most vocal of all.

For whatever reason, so many people that didn't know him, that hadn't seen him ever, believed he could defeat Voldemort. People like Mary-Ann Grunning knew that he needed to train first, but, even so, they knew that given time he would do it. That he could do it. Some people thought he should do it now. Not even knowing him, never having seen him. They had this blind faith in him. Sure, fear of what could happen was there and that drove a lot of them to demand him to end it now, but even so, they had to have some sort of faith in him.

His fellow students, people who he knew and didn't know, all followed him, watched him, many of the younger Gryffindors had started mimicking him. The D.A. would follow him to hell and back, he knew that. And, whenever that final battle came, it would be a hell of sorts. But they knew that. The D.A. members were not in it for the fun or help with schoolwork. They were in to train for war, whether it was a small-scale attack on their home or the final battle.

And the other students... They... they had gotten over the shock of being frozen by Harry Potter. Most had even forgiven him. The younger students mimicked him, the older students asked for his opinion. They respected him, followed his lead as Head Boy. Harry shook his head, not understanding it.

And then there was Voldemort.

"You've come a long way with your Occlumency, Potter."

It was one of a few comments Voldemort had made recently. Well, the only actual comment, but... something had changed since Christmas. It was almost as if Voldemort saw him, not as the Boy Who Lived, but as an adult, a worthy opponent, his only true competition now that Dumbledore was gone. A real threat, not because of a prophecy, but because Harry had the powers to defeat him.

And that terrified Harry most of all.

The whole thing did.

His fingers went to touch the scar left by his own Killing Curse. His index finger found the small indent left by the tip of his wand.

Why did they, any of them, respect him like that?

What was so special about him that they didn't see this?

What made them blind to the fact he was still a seventeen-year-old boy?

Who was he?

Was he the one who was blind? After all, everyone else seemed to be able to see this... this... greatness in him. Maybe he was just missing some small detail, something everyone else could see. What had he gotten himself into? Who was he changing into?

Did he want to change into this new person?

Harry didn't have an answer for that.

How could he?

He didn't even know who he was turning into. Without that bit of information, he couldn't decide, and by the time he did have it, it would be too late. He would be that person forever more.

The Aurors were proud of him. His teachers were proud of him. Even in some strange way, Voldemort was proud of him. But Charlie and Percy had suffered a fate worse than death because of that pride. Voldemort felt threatened and he was willing to do anything to take away that threat. Killing Harry's friends and their families was just the start.

What was he going to tell Ginny?

Ron?

Mrs. Weasley?

Bill… and the twins?

They weren't going to react well to this news. Harry remembered telling Ginny when the Burrow had been attacked two falls ago. He remembered her pale face, Ron's pale face before Snape had told them that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were alright. He remembered the anger Ginny had felt when she found out her brothers had been in St. Mungo's for a week before anyone thought to tell them last spring. How absolutely scared she had been for them. The lost feeling Ron felt without his dad, not knowing how to help his mum, not having a real role in the family. He remembered sitting outside the room as the healers fed Ginny the antidote last fall. The way Bill's face had gone emotionless, how Mrs. Weasley had gripped his hand so tightly, how he had gripped back.

And...

...now...

...this.

Harry didn't realize he had a razor in his hands until he felt the cut across his wrist, softly, barely breaking the skin. He stared in fascinated horror as a few drops of thick, fresh blood blossomed from the cut.

I DON'T WANT TO DIE! He mentally shouted at himself, not sure why he thought he had to. He threw Dean's razor across the bathroom, watching it shatter as it hit the wall. He knew that, didn't he? He didn't want to die, did he? He had to end this thing first. He had to. He couldn't die yet. He... no, he didn't want to die. It was that simple.

"I--DO--NOT--WANT--TO--DIE!"

That simple.

Cut and dry.

The blood welled up and started to drip down the side of his motionless arm and into the sink. He had a war to fight, a life to live. He didn't have time to mess around. Didn't have time to recover from another extreme case of depression. And... he couldn't die. Not on purpose.

He couldn't do that to his friends and family again.

He couldn't.

They deserved better.

He couldn't take a person they loved away from them, even if he didn't quite understand why they did love him.

"Harry?" a frightened voice called from the doorway. Harry turned, his right hand supporting his left wrist. His eyes went wide when he spotted all his roommates watching him. "Harry, you okay?" Neville asked, having been the person who had spoken the first time.

"I--Yeah, Neville, I'm fine," he answered, swallowing down the guilt he felt. He should have healed this right away, instead of watching it drip morbidly. He wouldn't meet any of their eyes, and he knew he wasn't doing a good job at winning their confidence. "I--I broke your razor, Dean, sorry. I'll get you a new one."

"Don't worry about it," the black wizard replied shakily. "I'll just learn the shaving charm. That thing was getting annoying as it was." They stared at him and Harry, unable to meet their eyes, stared at their bare feet.

"Look--I wasn't--this isn't...what you think it is," Harry finally spoke, the silence driving him to fill it.

"What do we think this is?" Seamus asked, carefully. Ron hadn't spoken yet, and Harry had only looked at the feet he knew was Ron's long enough to recognize the paisley pajamas.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, honest," he said, realizing even as he said it, that he didn't sound convincing. Not even to himself. "I didn't mean to even pick the razor up. It just... happened."

"That's supposed to make us feel better?" Ron asked suddenly. "Instead of consciously deciding to try, you did it subconsciously."

"That's not fair, Ron!" Harry shouted. "I had one moment of weakness and this happened, but I stopped. I threw it at the wall! Dammit! I couldn't even if I wanted to! I couldn't do that to any of you again."

"So, you're going to live a life wanting to die because you think you owe us?" Ron asked angrily, stepping past Neville and Dean. He took a few more steps forward.

"I don't want to die!" Harry shouted once more, his temper dangerously close to breaking.

"Obviously you subconsciously want to!"

"Not fair, Ron, not fair," Harry muttered dejectedly, walking to the far wall and sliding down it wearily. He was not going to fight with them, he wasn't. These were his friends. "Please, back off. Please." Harry pulled his wand out and muttered a healing charm, careful to let the cut scar just lightly enough for him to see it, as a warning. He let the wand fall from his lifeless fingers and folded his arms around his knees. Resting his head on his knees, he continued without looking even at their feet, "I didn't mean to, I don't want to, I was just... upset... and... I didn't sleep last night. Voldemort wanted company."

"How is that any different from any other Revelry?" Ron asked, squatting to stay level with Harry. Harry looked up quickly, surprised by the what he say in Ron's eyes: concern, anger, hurt, and despair, as if Ron thought he'd failed Harry.

"It wasn't a Revelry," Harry said softly. "It was... I knew the people..." Ron stood and blanched. If Harry knew them, Ron knew that, at the very least, he knew of them. "Thia doesn't want me to tell, so, please, don't ask," Harry pleaded with his friend. "I--I'm going to take a shower, I'm sorry that I scared you." The other boys left, though Ron gave him one last penetrating look.

"Forgiven," Ron said and then turned to let him shower in peace.

Would he still be able to say that once he knew what had happened?