Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

* * * *
Yes, I'm the one who,
The only one who,
Would carry on this far.

Creed ~ Torn
* * * *

Prophecy Revealed:
Personal Interview With Harry Potter and Friends

Harry stared at the article the next Monday evening, skimming it once more just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The article was a question and answer type, with his exact answers printed, most of which still surprised him.

"I've seen Voldemort--what now?--six times in person, though the last time--well, I saw a lot of him during that stay. But, when I was younger, maybe even a first year, Dumbledore told me to call him by his name. 'Fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself,' was what he said or something like that. And, it's true. All of last summer and during the fall as well, I couldn't say his name. I don't think most of my classmates noticed, I made sure I said it around them. But my friends, the ones who are more like my family than anything else, it bothered them because I wouldn't say it around them. But, as I said his name more and more around my classmates, that fear disappeared. I made that choice. Most of my friends have as well. The Prophecy makes Voldemort a serious and unchanging interference in my life, and through me, my friends' lives. If we couldn't even say his name--well, how would I be able to fulfill the Prophecy?"

He had said all that in an article? It wasn't like him.

"Dumbledore was so calm and collected, it was like he didn't care and he tried to say he understood and--well, I broke a lot of his things. But, then he said he wanted to explain and he went through our history together, everything I'd been through. And he wouldn't tell me this 'something,' the reason why Voldemort singled me out, why he kept coming after me, why we kept facing off. The Prophecy, in other words."

An interview printed word for word? Back when Rita Skeeter had interviewed him for the Daily Prophet during the Triwizard Tournament, he hadn't said this much. Of course, this was his idea and he'd been forced into Skeeter's interview.

"You have no idea how odd this is. I've kept the Prophecy a secret for so long, and it had been a secret for so long, since before I was born. My closest friends, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, found out the next fall, but my other friends only found out at the start of this week, and the rest of the people I respect enough to tell in person will find out this weekend before this is printed. But--I'm sick of keeping it in."

What had he been thinking Friday morning? Why would he speak so plainly and honestly to a reporter who was going to print his answers just as he said them?

"VM: Why you?

HP: Dumbledore's theory was that I was a half-blood like him.

VM: Wait, Voldemort is a half-blood?

HP: Yes, his father was a muggle.

VM: Really?

HP: Yes, it's why he hates muggles so much. His mum lived only long enough to name him, his father never acknowledged that he existed. He was born and lived in a poor muggle orphanage until he graduated from Hogwarts. Actually, the orphanage that was destroyed last summer, that was his."

Had he been asleep or temporarily insane? It was just so out of character for him.

"It's time everyone knows why I'm in this. It's so much more than just revenge. It's there, I won't deny it. Voldemort has taken loads of people from me and my friends. And it's so much more than this Prophecy, though it's a huge part of why it will be me and not someone older and more experienced. I'm not in this for the fame, and I'm definitely not planning on becoming the next Dark Lord."

Maybe someone had slipped a truth serum in his morning pumpkin juice, like Severus had threatened in fourth year. That would explain everything, except his utter willingness to do this and the relief he'd felt afterwards.

"I've got to believe I will win. Bad things happen when I don't believe that. And, I really do. We have plans, I've been training for this confrontation, and I keep surprising people magically. I want a life without Voldemort and I will win. Simple as that."

It was hard to believe that he had said that all. He knew he had; he could remember it. Just, still, it was so out of character for him, so free. But, that was the point, wasn't it? Get rid of all the crap that weighed him down, let the public see what he had kept hidden so well. Maybe they'd understand him better now.

It had gone over surprisingly well that morning at breakfast after everyone had had the Quibbler long enough to read the interviews. He had gotten the normal looks and whispers, but they weren't negative. A few of them were filled with pity, but, Harry had decided that he preferred that to the hateful glares he had received in the past.

Many people asked for more details about the Department of Mysteries because he had explained about Sirius' death, if not by name. For the most part, they were respectful enough not to ask him. Instead, they asked Hermione and Ron and, after those two had told the story a few times, Ginny, Neville, and Luna as well. A few people actually came up and said thank you to him.

The first year Slytherin Ashley Montague was the first one. She'd walked over to the Hufflepuff table as casually as an eleven-year-old can and stopped right behind Harry's chair. Justin had pointed her out, so Harry had turned to watch her walk over, and now he waited for her to say something. He waited some more, turning back to eat some of his breakfast, but became impatient and uncomfortable with her presence at his back. Turning once more, he looked at her. She was almost eye-level with him sitting down like he was. She must have grown almost an inch since Christmas.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Thank you," she replied, giving him a sudden and quick hug before running out of the Hall as fast as she could.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to look at Blaise and Sephra who were sitting on the other side of the table. Only other Slytherins could accurately explain Slytherin actions.

"She's just glad someone's getting rid of the person responsible for changing her father and brother and killing her mum," Sephra said, Blaise nodding in agreement beside her.

"Yeah," Blaise continued. "There'll be a lot of grateful people."

It had been a bit unnerving the next few times it happened and the letters at supper had been quite intense. Mary Ann Grunning wrote again, reminding him not to burn himself out and to be smart about what he was planning on doing. She had actually ended her letter by apologizing for the Prophecy.

"It isn't fair to ask such a thing of such a young lad like you," her letter said. "But, if it had to be someone so young, I am glad our fate is in your hands. I'm sure you'll do the right thing. Just remember where you came from."

Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that last bit, but on the whole, her letters were the most helpful things he had ever received from the public. Not that every letter was this understanding. A few still accused him of slacking off, another group said he was seeking attention, and a third pile was filled with threats.

The threats were the strangest group. Some were from crazy fan girls promising to do horrible things to him and his loved ones. A few even promised to harm Ginny so that he'd be available again. A few other threats were from the people accusing him of slacking off or attention-seeking. There was one that even said if he fulfilled the Prophecy, the writer would kill him. Harry had handed that letter over to Thia, a tiny bit scared and worried by it. Thia said she'd hand it over to Law Enforcement who would look into it.

Harry got off his bed, where he'd been laying for the past half hour and headed to his trunk. He slipped the article into the shoebox filled with letters from supportive fans. Pulling a few things out, he found the shoebox filled with the WG notebooks and photographs.

He climbed back on his bed, thankful for the peace in his empty dorm room. Though he felt bad that all his friends were down in the common room studying for their Defense exams, he was grateful for the alone time after the stares he had received throughout the day.

Lifting the lid off the box, Harry looked through the pictures of his parents and their friends.

The top picture showed a group of girls with gold hair and red highlights laughing, the girl Harry recognized as his mum was wearing Quidditch robes.

A second picture showed the Marauders sitting near the Lake, his dad's arms slung over Remus' and Peter's shoulders, Sirius lying across their outstretched legs, smiles plastered to each of their faces.

The next picture was of his dad and Sirius in Quidditch robes, and the next one included his mum and they were definitely seventh years.

Thia and Sam were in the next one, sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, probably about twelve.

He thumbed through the pictures for several more minutes and then put them away. He grabbed the top notebook and opened it up. Turning onto his back, he propped the book on his bent legs and started to page through it. He started reading once a phrase in Thia's handwriting caught his attention, moving the notebook so that he could read easier. Sam's bold handwriting stood out from the others, though his Mum's slanted cursive script was by far the neatest. Thia's was a mess, though, after years of reading Ron's handwriting, hers was easy.

GETTING MARRIED?!?!

I mean, I'm married, but you... You're marrying JAMES POTTER!

Who, I repeat, you swore you wouldn't ever!

I'm pretty sure it was in blood too... let me go find the first year book...

I've got it, see, right there.

And I quote, "I, Lily Evans, Goddess of the Flora, will never in a thousand years marry James Potter no matter what he says or thinks."

In blood and everything.

For the record, that was fruit juice, not blood. And second, I'm not marrying him in a THOUSAND years; I'm marrying him next summer. There's a difference.

It's only what, a difference of a hundred decades?

What is that to a person?

True love is odd though. I mean, think of my SO.

True. He's very... not what I'd pick for you.

So, JP asked you and you said yes... what did he give you? I mean, I know you're not a potion wiz, but you're good enough to catch a drug in you're pumpkin juice... aren't you?

He actually had wine--

*steals notebook* well, there we have it. James managed to get her freaking pissed (without us, I must add, we'll have to beat him up for that GW, he promised we would get to help) and then he asked her while her defenses were down.

He didn't get me drunk. I only had a single glass and then he was kind enough to supply me with water.

He gave her water, no wonder she said yes. He guilted her into it. Our aqua-loving friend was just grateful to have a glass of water.

Why can't you guys just accept the fact that JP is now my fiancée?

It isn't as fun.

And we wouldn't get you to turn such a lovely shade of red and watch you react so nicely and amusingly when we do things like this.

I hate you.

I know, we know, and we've come to terms with the fact that one of our best friends and fellow WG hates us.

It took a long while and long hours of therapy, but we have managed it. Just for the record, I don't hate either of you.

Neither do I! Group hug! *hugs GF*

*joins GW in hugging GF*

*hugs GM and GF*

*breaks away* ugh, Thia AND Sam cooties. I think I'm going to die.

It's a good way to go, trust me. The requirement to be a carrier of Thia cooties is to die by them and return, reincarnated. It's pretty cool, actually.

Yeah, well, my cooties can pass on quickly and with no restrictions on who can carry them or not. So, you can see quite plainly, that the Sam cooties are far more evolved and sophisticated than the Thia cooties.

You guys are not seriously going to argue about who has better cooties... are you?

Yes, have a problem with it?

Yes, I do. I'm going to go sit by JP and the others then.

Later

Have fun.

Will do.

Harry let the book rest on his chest, closing his eyes as his mind returned to the darker aspects of his thoughts. It had been a long weekend.

Voldemort had finally made a move, though a very cautious one. He had attacked a wizarding family isolated from everyone and everything. The mother was a Law Master and one of the best that the Ministry had. She had been the prosecutor in most of the trials since the official start of the second war and she had been the defense attorney for Severus' trial the year before.

Disgusted with himself, Harry threw the notebook across the room where it hit Neville's headboard and dropped to the bed. Only three people died and instead of mourning them, he was sitting here thinking how cautious and careful Voldemort had acted, how lucky that it hadn't been more.

It made sense in the "bigger picture" when one saw how lucky that it had not been a whole village wiped from the map. From a general's point of view, three dead was preferable to three hundred. In the future history books of this war, this event would probably not even be mentioned. But, that was the big picture, the general's view, the history books.

Harry didn't want to see any deaths regarded that way.

He didn't want to remember them as numbers and stats and "acceptable" losses.

He had started to welcome the nightmares he had every night instead of dreading them. In some twisted way, the nightmares had become his way of honoring those murdered during the visions. He was there as a silent witness to their horrible deaths, and each time he revisited the deaths in nightmares, it was one more time he'd watch and remember.

His view of the nightmares had changed over the weeks since the memorial service, and more so after Percy's and Charlie's torture. Between not knowing about whether that girl was all right or not and knowing Charlie and Percy weren't, he was becoming... well... not obsessed, but he didn't want to forget anymore.

For all he knew, the Ministry made the Muggles forget about those who were killed or gave them boring explanations for their deaths. No one would honor them one way or the other. The Muggles who would have cared, wouldn't even know what really happened, and the wizards and witches that do know, don't care much, and definitely not on a personal level; nothing like how Harry was connected to them. Watching someone die, and caring about them on any level, made quite a strong bond.

Harry tried not to think about that girl from all those months ago, but it was hard. He'd spent days in St. Mungo's because of his stunt, and many additional weeks recovering. He had even endured many scoldings because of her.

Had his effort been in vain?

Had the Death Eaters captured her after he had left?

What the hell happened to her?

The Aurors hadn't found her body anywhere, and Thia had them look. They did a very simple search for her assuming she lived: looking up her name, finding out where her family lived, and checking those leads out. They hadn't found out anything, good or bad.

But at least now he had a name.

Arya Britton.

Someday, when he had some free time, he was going to do a more thorough search for her. She was important to him. Not in a way like Ron or Hermione or Ginny, she was more symbolic than that. She represented his potential. With little training, he had possessed Voldemort; the world's most accomplished living Legilimens. He had saved her from the monster. And that made her special. Out of the hundreds of people he had seen killed, he had saved her.

He just wanted to know if he had condemned her to a fate much worse than a simple Avada Kedavra as Voldemort had been planning. He wanted to know how she was surviving, how she was adapting to the knowledge she had gained that night, how she was living without her parents. Was that too much to want?

"Harry?" Ginny's soft voice called to him from the other side of the cracked open door.

"Come in," he replied and she pushed the door in further. Quickly crossing the room, she snuggled against him tightly. "Yes?" he asked smiling at her.

"I needed a break," she said, her voice sounding tired. "Hermione and Ron are driving me mad."

"I know I'd never thought I'd say this, but, I'd rather hear them fighting then Ron tip-toeing around her like he is."

"Yeah, no kidding," she agreed, her eyelids opening and closing as she fought off sleep. "Don't let me sleep; I don't want to right now."

"Let's go for a walk then," he said after glancing at the clock. They had an hour before curfew, when Ginny would need to be back at the Tower.

"Okay," she replied. They rose from the bed, Harry grabbed the WG notebook from Neville's bed and tossed it on his, and then they started walking, passing their friends in the common room, exiting through the portrait hole, and wandering the halls. "Long day, huh?"

"Yeah, it was," he said, running his free right hand through his hair. "It was nice to retreat to the dorm room, even if you guys wanted help."

"But we didn't ask," she said surprised.

"I know you didn't, and thanks for that, but I knew." He smiled at her stunned face. "The way you were all complaining and then you all happened to study at the same time and it was just obvious that you had agreed not to ask me."

"We're getting predictable."

"You aren't that bad," he assured her. "I'm just getting better at reading people."

"Better not be our minds," she said, feigning anger.

"Never," he said, stealing a kiss. "Why would I want to mess with your guys' minds?"

"Don't know," she answered with a shrug. "I'm used to hiding things in plain sight with you and here you are, learning."

Harry laughed, and the sound echoing through the corridors. They walked in silence, Harry's mind returning to Arya and her fate. He hadn't told anyone about his obsession with her. For one, he didn't want Ron to think he had a crush on the other girl, or Ginny for that matter. He also didn't know how to explain what was going on. It was just so complex and intricate, and even he didn't fully understand what was going on.

"How're you doing?" he asked, looking at her from the corner of his eye, putting his thoughts of Arya out of his mind. Ginny frowned and didn't answer, her chin lowering a tad. He felt his lips curl down in a frown to match hers and pulled her into an empty classroom. Sitting on top of one of the desks, he turned her to face him, keeping her at arms length. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," she replied sullenly, not looking at him. He looked at her, questioning her further without saying a word. Even though she never looked up at him, his gaze was obviously bothering her, especially when she said, "Okay, well, I..."

She pulled away from him and started pacing.

"It's Charlie and Percy. Kind of. Mostly. And Mum and Bill and Ron and Hermione and you too. I'm just worried sick and I can't sleep at night until three or four and then I have to be up at seven. I'm sleeping when I can fit a few minutes in, nodding off in Transfiguration, not getting homework done at night because I'm so tired. But when I lay down to sleep, I can't."

"I'm sorry, Gin," he said, watching her pace out her frustration.

"It's not your fault," she replied, her tone still irritated. "I'm just so tired, but I can't sleep when I'm free to, and I can when I shouldn't. It's annoying, you know? And Mum is starting to worry me. She misses being in charge of a home and there isn't really anything to distract her around here. She's worrying too much and it's making me worry. And Hermione is starting to scare me. You'd think I'd be used to angry grievers, but Hermione really confuses me. I know so little about her parents and her relationship with them and I'm just so stressed out."

Harry jumped off the desk and walked over to envelope her in his embrace. She leaned into it, almost needily. It hurt him to see her like this, to feel how stressed out and exhausted she was. He knew how that felt, he wasn't much better off himself. It wasn't that he was handling it better than she, because he knew he wasn't. He didn't have the luxury to be anything but strong. In many ways, his way to deal with the exhaustion and stress was more destructive and dangerous. Eventually, it would explode and he'd have to pick up the pieces--if there were any left.

"It's almost over," he whispered into her hair.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her tone dull and unbelieving.

"I just know," he replied. "Both Voldemort and I want this over soon. It's not going to last much longer."

"But it won't be perfect right afterwards either," she said, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"I didn't say that," he said. "I said it'll be done, between me and Voldemort, which means everyone will be able to move on from there. Voldemort and I are keeping this war at a dangerous level; either can die at the hand of the other after all."

"You know, that really makes it sound like you have a fair chance," Ginny said, straightening up. "Either can die, which means it's just as possible for you to kill Voldemort as it is for him to kill you."

"A toss up."

"Yeah. But you still have a real chance. You just have to look at it properly."

"A fair, huh?" Seamus said as Harry took his seat at the Slytherin table a week later for breakfast. Hermione was squeezing back in between Ron and Ginny as she nodded in answer. They had just announced the next Hogsmeade replacement.

"Yeah, a fair/carnival thing," Harry said. "The store owners from Hogsmeade have all been invited to set up booths."

"The twins have been planning their booths since Christmas," Hermione added. "I'm a bit scared, but they promised there wouldn't be anything dangerous."

"Yeah, like Hagrid and his pets," Ron muttered. "I disagree with them on the meaning of 'dangerous.'"

"There'll be food, right?" Dean asked.

"Of course," Hermione said and Harry suspected she had rolled her eyes. "Madam Rosemerta has been planning too."

"Cool!" Dean and Seamus chorused.

The conversation wandered off, but Harry's attention was diverted as he noticed Thia and Shacklebolt entering the Great Hall. Normally their entrance wouldn't have been anything special; as Thia's second-in-command at Hogwarts, Shacklebolt spent a lot of time talking with the Commander.

But today was different. There wasn't anything different on the outside; no one else was staring at Thia, Shacklebolt, the Aurors who had entered after them, and the Aurors who had just stood up from their breakfasts. No one else knew that Thia carried three arrest warrants in her pocket.

Last night, at the Order meeting, Thia had announced that three Aurors at Hogwarts were under suspicion and would be arrested the following day. Because of the time the warrants would become legal, the three would be arrested during breakfast. McGonagall had tried to change Thia's mind, but she had her reasons. Though Thia suspected that the leak was one of these three Aurors, she wanted to be ready just in case it wasn't. If the leak was someone else, she didn't want to give that person time to warn these three.

Thia and Shacklebolt stopped right behind Auror Bluezy and the two Aurors who had supported him back when Harry had frozen everyone in the Great Hall. The Aurors milling about formed a protective wall between the students and the three soon-to-be-prisoners, while a few others completed the circle, enclosing Bluezy and his friends. Shacklebolt leaned down closer to the three Aurors, and said something to them.

"What are you looking at, Harry?" Sephra asked, turning around.

"What?" Bluezy shouted, finally bringing everyone's attention to that end of the Great Hall. "I'm not a Death Eater!"

"We have evidence that says otherwise, Auror Bluezy," Thia said firmly. "From this moment on, the three of you are on leave and your privileges as Aurors have been revoked. I need your wands."

"I'm not a Death Eater!" Bluezy shouted once more. The other two Aurors stood up and handed over their wands without any comments. Bluezy stayed seated, stubbornly refusing to hand over his wand.

"Come on, Blue," an Auror with her back to Harry said. He recognized her voice as Jelly, a friend of Tonks and a regular watcher of his. "If you're innocent, you're best off cooperating. You're looking guilty, protesting like this."

Bluezy looked at Jelly and then stood, his wand held out. Thia took it and cast the anti-apparation spells on him like Shacklebolt and another Auror had done to the other two already. Four Aurors left with Thia and Shacklebolt, helping them escort the three off campus. Harry let out a sigh of relief once they were out of the Great Hall.

"You knew," Ginny said, not really asking. It'd been quite obvious that he'd known about it.

"Yeah, we talked about it last night," Harry said with a nod. "McGonagall wanted the Head Boy and Girl aware of it." That wasn't the truth, technically. After the Order meeting, McGonagall told Harry to tell Hermione.

"So, you're going to the Harpies game over Easter Holiday?" Parvati asked, taking the conversation back to where it had left off.

"Yes," Ginny said, thankful and exasperated. Harry had been forced to fight long and hard for the Order's approval. They hadn't wanted to let them go, afraid that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and he would be unprotected and exposed. Though they were right, Harry's main argument had won out.

The Order wanted to treat them as kids.

And so the Order had to let them do "kid" things, like going to a Quidditch match.

"It's Terry's first match back, isn't it?" Dean asked. Ginny nodded, frowning.

It was the only down side to Ron's perfect birthday gift. Terry O'Murray was returning from her "mourning" period during the Harpies/Tornadoes game and would be center stage.

A loud crack filled the air, and Harry was up and at the Great Hall doors in no time. He could barely see an Auror lying on the ground right outside the doors to the castle and one of the prisoners' bodies just beyond. Harry could hear spells being cast though he couldn't tell who was casting what.

"Prefects and D.A. members!" Harry shouted back at the students trying to crowd out of the Great Hall. "Get the students back to their tables!" Aurors pushed through the crowd, trying to get out to help their comrades. They only added to the confusion.

"YOU HEARD THE HEAD BOY!" Bill shouted nearby. "BACK TO YOUR TABLES!"

"Hermione, Ron, Blaise, Padma, and Ginny, follow me," Harry said, looking at the friends who were closest. "Bill, come too."

"What are we doing?" Ginny asked as the group followed Harry to the doors.

"Guarding," Harry answered shortly. "Thia would kill me if we helped, but we can keep any students from leaving."

Harry stopped at the door and looked out. Two Aurors were down and the prisoner that he'd seen earlier wasn't fighting. It looked like Bluezy was gone and the last prisoner was putting up a big fight. He heard his group commanding students to get out of the entrance hall. Aurors from Headquarters finally arrived, easily overwhelming the last prisoner. At the most, five minutes had past, but they were a long five minutes in Harry's opinion.

"Damn it, he got away!" Thia shouted, and Harry half expected to see her stomp her foot in frustration. Instead she started issuing orders, sending Aurors every which way. Shacklebolt and several others collected the two remaining prisoners and hurried them off campus. Other Aurors started to portkey those wounded to St. Mungo's and a few others started to clean up the mess.

"So, that didn't go as planned," Hermione muttered. "Guess that Auror was a Death Eater."

"Probably the leak too," Ron said, agreeing. "He found out and decided to escape."

"Why didn't he get portkeys for the other two?" Ginny asked, turning around to assist the teachers. "This is not going to be fun," she added, looking at the chaos going on behind them in the Entrance Hall.

"No one's going to want to go to class," Hermione said, stepping forward and starting to yell. Ginny and Ron joined in, getting the students to head to class, which should have started a few minutes ago.

Harry didn't turn; instead he watched the clean-up outside, thinking. Something, he didn't know what, didn't feel right about what had just happened and it was going to bug him until he found out what.

The week finally ended, and the Easter holiday began. No one had seen or heard from the former Auror Bluezy, the other two former Aurors had pleaded guilty in return for a plea deal, and the Daily Prophet blasted the Ministry for Bluezy's escape.

School-wise, the week had passed rather slowly, as the week-before-break tends to do. All of Harry's friends had major exams in Defense, Magical Creatures, and Charms, and Harry joined them in a Transfiguration exam and turning in a rough draft for their final Potions thesis. By the end of the week, everyone, including Hermione, was thankful for the holiday.

Not that the first few days of their break from classes were peaceful. It was anything but. Bill and Melissa were in and out of Hogwarts preparing final details with those who weren't allowed to leave til Tuesday. The dizzying decisions and final preparations had both Harry and Ron dreading their future weddings, but if this was the hell Harry had to live through to be married to Ginny, then he'd live through it. Sunday night's main attraction was a stunning argument between the bride- and groom-to-be.

The next evening's meal, one that was supposed to be a calm and happy family meal in Mrs. Weasley's Hogwarts suite, was anything but calm and happy. Charlie and Percy's absence had never been so noticeable. Mr. Weasley's absence was felt as it had at Christmas, a huge gap in bleeding hearts.

The worst was a continuation of Bill and Melissa's fight that had everyone wondering if "I'm calling the wedding off!" really meant "I'm calling the wedding off!" when both bride and groom yelled it at the same time. Only Fred's nervous, "So is the wedding on?" brought the two together for a screamed "YES!" that had everyone letting out a deep breath. The dinner the next night at Melissa's parents' home brought about a reconciliation that everyone welcomed.

The wedding day itself was spent in the furnished attic of Melissa's childhood home. The boys were left with calming down a nervous and horribly nauseous Bill, getting him dressed and ready for the coming ceremony. Only Mrs. Weasley's short stop upstairs calmed Bill enough for him to move away from the porcelain god he'd been worshiping all day. A steady hand and a few soft words in his ear had him smiling and turning a natural color that his brothers and Harry were glad to see.

The night had been beautiful, the ceremony was perfect, and the celebration afterwards had been exhilarating. Harry danced with Melissa beforehand, Ginny, Hermione, and Melissa's five-year-old niece, Sarah, afterwards and he was eternally thankful that Ginny wasn't angry with him at this wedding. It had made a world of difference

The next two days were spent in lazy relaxation and hard work with the likes of Shacklebolt and Bryant. Hermione had them all working on homework, but none of the seventh years complained too much. From Monday, they had exactly one month until their N.E.W.T.'s began and no one felt prepared. Harry and his friends were even forced to think about Graduation parties and the like when Hermione brought it up. Instead of separating into a billion directions, she wanted to have one party, together, one last celebration, one last feast. Her ideas were met with great enthusiasm and she was put in charge of the organization.

"After all, Hermione," Dean said when she protested, throwing a friendly arm around her shoulders, "you're the only one of us prepared for these damn N.E.W.T.'s and you wouldn't want Parvati or Lavender to lose precious study time planning this, would you?"

Everyone had laughed and agreed that, yes, Hermione was the only one who could really afford to be in charge of it.

At the moment, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron stood in the front row, middle of the pitch, and playing height of the Harpies/Tornadoes game. Harry pulled Ginny closer as the wind whipped at her hair and pushed her into him. She was still fighting to keep her hair somewhat respectable, but Harry felt she should just give it up. She looked amazing with wind-swept hair and he of all people knew it was a losing battle.

Ron smiled over Hermione's and his sister's head at Harry, his eyes glittering with unsaid amusement. Harry smiled back, glad to see his two friends so happy again. Just last night, they had fought for the first time since Hermione's parents had died.

"MERLIN, 'MIONE! I'm sick of studying!"

"Don't 'Merlin, 'Mione' me, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted back. "You need to pass these tests as much as I do!"

"What's the bother, we all know you're the smart one of us!"

"Because you're not an idiot!"

"Yeah, right! You're the brain, Harry's the hero, and I'm the funny side-kick! There's no point in the funny side-kick passing N.E.W.T.'s!"

"Now, see, that's funny! I didn't know you were the comedic relief! I could have sworn you were the hormonal kid sister!"

"Hey! I take offense at that!" Ginny had shouted, but she wilted away from the glares Ron and Hermione each gave her.

"Very funny, Hermione! I don't need you harping about my studies! Mum is bad enough!"

"Ginny might be happy letting Harry loaf around while she's at work, but I'm not letting you get away with it!"

"I don't need N.E.W.T.'s for what I'm planning on doing!"

"Ron, the chances of you being a pro-Quidditch player is zero to nil!"

"Maybe I am wrong, maybe you are the comedic relief, Hermione. That was so funny I forgot to laugh!"

"Well, it's true!"

"See, funny thing is I've already gotten two offers to be a Pro Keeper."

This had shut Hermione up and had everyone staring at Ron. Apparently, earlier in the holiday, the Cannons and the Appleby Arrows had approached Ron under the cover of wedding preparations and had talked with him. Both teams wanted him to be their back-up keeper and Harry had a sinking feeling that Ron would end up with the Cannons. Even if he'd have a better chance at playing time with the Arrows, Ron's love for the Cannons just couldn't be outdone.

Since that argument, though it had only happened last night, Ron and Hermione were quarrelling as they had used to, and in their sickeningly "couple" way they had. As sickening as it was, Harry was happy to put up with it, because it was the first sign that Hermione was starting to heal.

The game had been going on for two hours already, and a timeout had been called by the Tornadoes. The score was 320-290 in the Tornadoes favor, but the Harpies had scored ninety of those points in the last half hour. Ginny had been jumping up and down ecstatic each time her team scored or Terry missed the goal. The Tornadoes were discussing plans near their goals, but Harry watched as Terry disappeared into the locker rooms. He frowned but wasn't able to comment to Ginny about it because of a tug on his sleeve.

"Mr. Potter, sir," a little girl said from behind him.

"Yes?" he said turning. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Aurors shifting as a father and daughter talked to him. Their baby-sitters for the night had strict orders about the safety of the four teens.

"Remember me?" she asked brightly. Harry looked at her face, trying to remember her.

"Oh! You're the little girl from Gringotts!" he said, smiling at her. She nodded enthusiastically from the spot in her father's arms. "I'm afraid to say my terrible memory has failed to remember your name though."

"Erica," she said un-phased. "I love Quidwitch." Harry smiled at the little girl's word for the sport they both loved.

"So do I," he agreed. "Flying is amazing."

"My daddy's getting me a real broom next year and I'm gonna go way up high and fly with the birdies," she said, pretending to soar in her father's arms.

"Mr. Potter, I wanted to thank you for signing my little girl's coloring book," Erica's father said. "She's showed that book off and sleeps with it next to her pillow." The crowds started to shout, but Harry kept his back to the game. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had turned to look at the man and girl as well.

"Looks like you have competition, Gin," Ron said with a laugh and Ginny smacked his shoulder in response. "Ow, I was only kidding."

"How old are you, Erica?" Ginny asked with a smile.

"I turned six yesterday," Erica said, holding out one hand with five fingers up and the thumb of her other hand. "I had a party and presents and a cake--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter," an Auror said politely. Harry looked past the father and at the three Aurors who had been standing at the top of the aisle. The three who had been standing at the other aisle were on Ron's right. "We need to be going."

"But the game isn't over," Harry said, confused by the sudden departure. Surely the Aurors didn't feel threatened by a six-year-old and her father.

"I'd beg to differ," the female Auror said. She pointed and Harry realized the screaming wasn't in favor of the game. No, it was out of fear.

"Damn Terry!" Ginny shouted as the Quidditch player flew around with a bunch of Death Eaters, her red hair streaming out behind her. Security wizards and witches were fighting as best they could from the stands, but the nimble and flying Death Eaters avoided most of their spells.

"Fine, the four of us will take one portkey with Erica and her father. I want the other three portkeys used to bring other people away!" Harry ordered.

"But, Mr. Potter, the Commander said only--" the third Auror began, but Harry interrupted.

"I don't care what Thia said," he snapped. "I want to get as many people out of here as we can."

"What if they're Death Eaters?"

"We'll sort it out at Hogwarts," he said. "Now, move!"

The Aurors jumped to attention, hearing a tone very similar to Moody's battle command voice. One of the Aurors pulled out her portkey and offered it to them. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione grabbed on, and the father did as well at Hermione's urging. Erica clung to her father's jumper, crying as the Dark Mark glittered sinisterly down at them. After the tug at their navels and a rushing movement, they were deposited in the Auror Headquarters at Hogwarts where Thia was pacing.

"Thank Merlin, you're alright!" she said, grabbing Harry, Ron, and Hermione into a bone crushing hug. He was sure Ginny would have been included had she not fallen away from the main group upon landing. Another group arrived and Thia sighed.

"God, Harry, your saving-people-thing can be an inconvenience, but it's what you should have done so don't yell at me, okay?" she said in one quick breath so that he couldn't interrupt her. Harry smiled at her in understanding. When the fourth portkey arrived, they had over forty people in the room, mostly mothers and kids.

"Thia, they seemed to be looking for someone," Harry told her.

"You, Rat's Nest," one of the Aurors who had come with them said. "When the lass with red hair flew by she was shouting your name."

"Seems our leak isn't gone," Shacklebolt said thoughtfully. "We didn't start planning your security until after Bluezy's arrest."

"Are the Aurors done with their questions?" Hermione asked after ten minutes. Shacklebolt nodded; Thia had left soon after they had arrived leaving him in charge. "I'm taking them up to the Great Hall for some food. Ron, run to the kitchens and inform the House Elves."

"Yes, my lady," he said with a dramatic bow with flourishes that would have made Fred and George proud had they seen them. He left, and Harry caught sight of him running up the lawn towards the castle through a window.

Hermione turned to the nervous and worried people, smiling welcome. "Can I have your attention?" The room became silent and Hermione took a deep and calming breath. "My name is Hermione Granger, I'm this year's Head Girl, and I'd like to welcome you to Hogwarts. We'll go up to the Great Hall for some food and tea and we'll decide what to do next after we get news."

"What about my husband and sons! They were at the loo when we left!"

"And my boyfriend!"

"My daddy!"

"Please stay calm," Harry said. "I'm the Head Boy, Harry Potter, and, please, we have to wait until we receive news from the pitch. At the Great Hall, we can collect the names of your loved ones and pictures and the like. Is that alright?"

"Okay," Erica said with a smile. "I've never been to Hogwarts. My daddy says I'll go when I'm older."

"Well, he's right," Ginny said, taking her free hand as they walked up to the castle. "You'll love it. Hogwarts is amazing."

The evening was spent entertaining those who had come as family members started to filter in to find them. Little kids were sleeping on cushions McGonagall had supplied and there was a slow murmur as everyone discussed what had happened.

"I swear, it was Terry O'Murray!"

"Must of been a look-a-like," an old grandmother said. "Terry is a good one. She's not mixed up the likes of Death Eaters."

"No, it was Terry," another said. "I saw her real close before we left."

"And I watched her leave for the locker rooms and fly out with the Death Eaters."

"No! It can't! Remember how she mourned the death of her boyfriend?"

"Tried to kill him, more like it," Ginny muttered in Harry's ear. "God, I hate her. She ruined a perfect day."

"Sorry, Gin," he said, pulling her closer. By ten o'clock everyone had gone and thankfully none of these people's family members had been among those hurt or killed. The Aurors had been able to get most of the Death Eaters quickly. Harry hadn't heard which Death Eaters and he didn't know if Terry was among them. As he laid down for sleep, he couldn't help but hope she was.

She needed to be punished for what she had done to the Weasley family.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table the next Monday, eating his breakfast grumpily. He had several reasons for this grumpiness, most of them very good. First, his scar had irritated him as Voldemort punished the failure. Second, he had been privy to a private torture of several captives from Saturday's game, Terry and Angel leading the way last night. Third, Terry hadn't been captured Saturday, which was obvious from his first reason. Fourth, today was the first day back from break and it was a Monday. But the main reason was flying at him at the very moment.

Howlers.

Hate mail.

By the dozen and the hundreds, thankfully, most over the past two days had been normal, run of the mill letters, no howlers included. But not all of them, including this newest one.

"--CALL YOURSELF A HERO!! IF YOU WERE AT THAT GAME WHY DIDN'T YOU STAY TO HELP FIGHT? HUH? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THOSE DEATH EATERS WERE LOOKING FOR YOUR YELLOW-BELLY HIDE? BACK, SAFE IN HOGWARTS, THAT'S WHERE!! PATHETIC! INCONSIDERATE--"

"I think, Mr. Potter, that I've had quite enough of your fan mail," Severus said from where he sat at the staff table. A pile of ash lay below the spot the Howler had previously been. "Minerva, may we please do something about that racket?"

"I'm working on it," she replied tiredly. "Today is the last day he receives those blasted Howlers."

"Er, Headmistress," Dean asked, standing up politely.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas?"

"By 'he' do you mean that just Howlers going to Harry or maybe in general all Howlers coming into the school?"

"Why do you ask, Mr. Thomas?" she replied, her voice becoming a dangerous warning as she said his name.

"Well, you know, intellectual interest."

"Just his, Mr. Thomas. Back to your breakfast."

"Thank you, Headmistress."

"You're welcome."

Harry spent the day looking forward to the coming relief from the Howlers. True, he paid them no mind as they shouted and raged at him, but it was getting a bit boring and mundane. The terror of his third year, Mrs. Weasley's Howler, was now so common place in his life that he didn't even bat an eye at it.

Okay, granted none of these Howlers were from anyone as formidable as Mrs. Weasley, but to take something that struck fear in any of Hogwarts' students and turn it into something as insignificantly annoying as a buzzing fly, that was what really annoyed Harry the most. Not something he'd have ever expected to hate Voldemort for, but he did. It was yet another way this war had set him apart and changed him.

But, it would end tomorrow. And though Ginny had laughed at Dean's "intellectual interest" she had been just as interested to know if it was only Harry getting relief. She, Dean, and Seamus debated all through the beginning of lunch about it, trying to decide if it was possible to only block one person's Howlers. That was until Hermione spoke up.

"Oh, Ginny, enough," she said, exasperatedly laying down her notebook filled with after graduation party ideas. "As if a Howler-ban would deter your mother if you did something bad enough to warrant a Howler. She lives on the third floor. She'd march right through those doors and yell at you in person."

"She'd yell at you just the same," Ginny retorted. She screwed up her face in distaste as she realized just how bad of a come back that was.

"Yes, but I'm not sure Mrs. Weasley has ever or will ever have reason to even worry about coming in the Great Hall to yell at me. She's more worried about these boys right here," she said, throwing an arm around both Harry's and Ron's shoulders. Harry laughed and nodded. After all, he and Ron were the only ones to have gotten a Howler from her.

The afternoon was a grueling time. It began with dueling with just Remus (Tonks and Thia were too busy being Aurors) which Harry loved. Unlike most of his other opponents, Remus wasn't Ministry-trained. This was not a slight on them, for Bryant, Druce, Shacklebolt, Thia, Tonks, and the others were all amazing fighters and duelists. But, at the core, they were all Ministry-trained, and many of them had written the current Ministry training book. No, Remus was his own person, self-taught with the help of Ministry-trained others, he had many surprises hidden up his sleeves that fooled Harry time and time again.

After that was class with Severus in the dungeons brewing infuriatingly complex potions under his critical eye. Harry was glad that Hannah Abbot had never considered taking N.E.W.T. level Potions. As the first to crack under the pressure of O.W.L.'s, Harry was sure Severus' gaze would drive her insane in under a minute.

Harry had heard some startling things about Flitwick, but he couldn't believe that Flitwick was worse than Severus. Parvati said it was because you expected nice and sweet from Flitwick and didn't get it, that was why he was worse. Harry shook his head and didn't say a word. None of them had to take Legilimency lessons from Severus and that was probably what made the difference in Harry's opinion.

Not that Severus was taking advantage of those lessons as he had in fifth year. Well, if his intent had been sinister, it wouldn't have changed things too much from what it was like. Legilimency by trade and state of being was a murky discipline riddled with potholes big enough to lose anyone in the Dark. It meant breaking into a person's last sanctuary, their mind, and ripping it open to view at one's pleasure. Harry hated it.

But to do it without slipping past common courtesy (if there was such a thing with Legilimency), now that was something Harry was willing to learn and Severus was willing to teach.

All this was a small consolation as Harry felt Severus' mind try to probe into his, past the defenses that he had carefully erected against any intrusion. Harry let him into the labyrinth designed to distract and trap intruders. As he let Severus in, he started to probe into Severus' mind, finding a similar though more deadly trap hidden there.

Harry only had Severus' example to build the trap in his own mind, so he figured he had only a few minutes until Severus' attack came in earnest because the trap was so similar. Unless Severus' happened on the special "corridor" Harry had made for his teacher, and in that case he would have a long time.

The dank corridors of Severus' mind-trap were uncomfortably familiar. It was one of Severus' main tricks. Everything was made to fit a feel so that one part of the trap looked and felt like the rest. Dark memories of a childhood filled with suffering and pain. Dark memories of schooldays filled with suffering and pain. Dark memories of young adulthood filled with suffering and pain. Dark memories of the interim between the wars filled with suffering and pain. Judging by this trap, Severus had had a dark and painful life devoid of all the happiness one expected in even the worst off lives.

Harry knew this to be false. The few times Severus had talked of his mother, his voice held an amount of gentle fondness so uncharacteristic of the man. She had been kind to a son who was pushed mercilessly by an evil father. The same man, an abusive, drunkard of a husband, had driven her to an early grave. So expected that Harry felt it was too obvious, that Severus deserved a more... interesting past, not something so expected, so cliché. But that was it, a dark, drunk, abusive father and an adoring, kind mother killed when he'd been twelve or so.

And then there was Sam and the kids, a sun of love in such bleakness. They'd only talked about Sam once, back in the summer, but Harry felt that all that had needed to be said among them about her had been said. Severus had dealt with the pain a long time ago and had turned it into the reason he needed to survive spying on the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't about to drag up the past intentionally. He and Severus were good enough at doing that on accident; there was no reason to do it on purpose.

Harry used this knowledge to find the holes in Severus' trap. They were there. Memories sealed off before his mother, Sam, Lily, or the kids entered. Memories of pain based on these people's deaths. Memories of the kindnesses of Remus or Dumbledore or McGonagall. And Harry found them. This was Severus' weakness; to stay from turning completely Dark, he had to remind himself of these memories. This kept him from burying them completely out of sight.

A memory caught Harry's mental eye. Among this depressing onslaught meant to depress an attacker from continuing, Harry spotted a memory of a twenty-or-so-year-old Severus pacing angrily in a one room apartment. He could feel the frustration, anger, and depression just rolling off of this Severus. Harry felt his mental self smile.

He grabbed onto the memory, trying to force the Severus of the here and now to focus onto the memory. Back in his own mind, Harry found Severus' probe stuck in the special corridor. Carefully inserting what he had seen of the memory in the lacework of memories especially picked out for Severus, Harry waited until Severus happened upon it. It didn't take long.

Back in Severus' mind, Harry could feel Severus' attention turn to the memory. It started there and played out. A young woman in a cloak came to visit, the ends of her red hair spilling out from beneath the hood. She whispered and he replied in like.

"Tomorrow won't be good," she said. "Her sister is planning to visit."

"Can you not tell her a child is ill?"

"She'd only come all the more to help. It won't work. I'm sorry. The day after should be fine."

"I need to see them."

"They're in your heart." The young woman laid a hand on Severus' chest.

"I forget their faces between visits. The visits aren't long enough and few and far between."

"I wish there was no need. I'm sorry.

"Not your fault."

"I knew they were up to something big. Well, that he was. You know mine and the other two didn't agree to it."

"I know only what you say."

"I'm sorry." She brought her hand back to her side. "As for her, she's going to take a relaxing night to recuperate. She says to meet her two hours after your last meeting; the place is your choice."

"You'll have the kids."

"I will."

"Her house. You and yours have a night of it."

"No, I can't. He must think I'm there to fool her sisters and the others."

"Then you and GM have a night of it. I want to spend it with my family."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"I must." A desperate pause. "I must."

"Okay, okay. Have a back-up plan if this doesn't work. Please." Her voice held such a note of worry and fear that the young Severus wrapped his arms around her.

"You are too kind. And you worry too much. Thank you, Wild Goddess of the Flora."

"She's been there too long as it is. They'll catch her."

"The second is too young to move yet and she hasn't quite recuperated for all that she is at work. I'll meet her there and you and GM have a fine time together."

The memory changed, though very little time had passed between them. Harry knew he had Severus. For the first time, Harry actually had the upper hand. Severus' attention turned fully to this memory and Harry waited patiently for it to play out.

The night was dark, lit only by a nearly full moon, and Severus checked his watch before letting his arm drop back to his side impatiently. He was outside a seedy looking pub, standing in the shadows so as not to attract unwanted attention. The normal eyes knew he was there, but those not used to this place or not looking for him wouldn't see him. He checked his watch once more and let out an unperceivable sigh.

Finally.

He disapparated from the spot and found himself in a woods deserted of life.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something was not right. There was only the sound of wind and the distant creek that ran so close to the home. There were no animal sounds, no distant shouts of giggling children. Hadn't Sam said she'd keep the kids up if she could?

He walked toward the house with all the speed he could afford, which wasn't much. He approached carefully, years spent hiding in plain sight used as affectively as he could. He wouldn't blindly charge in like Sam would have, as any Gryffindor would. No, that would be sure death. He'd take it nice and slow, take stock of the situation, and react accordingly. Sounds of unfamiliar people came to his ears, and something underneath it. Crying?

The Aurors flooding the place startled Severus at first. But it wasn't quite as startling as Lily's presence or Thia's. Weren't they supposed to be off for a night on the town? And then Severus caught sight of Sam's father, old Mr. Prewitt. What was going on?

That's when the first body came out. Severus locked his knees, so that he wouldn't fall and attract the Auror's attention. He felt his heart catch in his throat, trying to escape in an anguished filled scream.

Sloan's mangled body, uncovered, floated before some nameless, faceless Auror.

Seirian's twisted form came next, her body as similar to her twin brother's in death as it had been in life.

Samantha's spell marked body came after.

Shylah's small, tiny, once perfect body came last, twisted beyond recognition and, even from this distance, Severus could see the fear and pain on her face. None of the children could have possibly understood why they were being tortured, why they were to die.

They had no idea that their father was the reason.

He looked up, and realized that the bright light was not from the moon.

Of course it was not.

The Dark Mark glittered above the house, casting all in its eerie green light.

He looked at it carefully. The exact pattern of the dots revealed those involved. How often had he seen his old friend (How he hated to use the word now!) cast the spell and create such a distinct pattern? Each Dark Mark spoke of who cast it, if only the viewer took the time to look.

Lucius Malfoy.

Severus backed away from the site, though he caught Lily watching him as he melted into the darkness. He retreated to the spot where he had apparated and sat down.

He would kill Lucius; it was that simple. Lucius would die by his wand. It was the only murder he would ever want to commit.

But first, it was time to swallow his pride as Sam had often begged him, and go see the first person who had ever treated him like a son.

Tomorrow, he would visit Albus Dumbledore.

This time, Harry nudged Severus' memory choice. The goal of this exercise was to find out the thought of the other at the moment Severus had removed his mask two Christmases ago. Slowly, after bypassing two or three other memories, nudging Severus to pass them quickly, Harry had the right memory.

Severus apparated at the Dark Lord's right hand, remaining close throughout the battle as his "Lord" had commanded. The time came and he was asked to remove the mask. If the Dark Lord won this battle, his lot would forever remain with the Dark, hell to all that was Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. But, if the Dark Lord lost, he would play to Albus' understanding side and remain faithful. Slytherin to the core, as Sam used to say. He tore the mask off and hoped she wouldn't hate him for this choice.

Harry retreated, expelled the last of Severus' probe in his mind, and retreated to a far corner of the room to allow Severus to gather himself. Minutes passed, but Severus didn't move. He didn't even stir. Harry swallowed hard.

What had he just done?

More minutes passed in this heavy stony silence. Harry didn't dare move for fear of waking the sleeping monster that he knew Snape could be. Severus was a good and decent man, a true gentleman most times. Snape was also a well-trained, experienced killer and torturer.

What had he done?

A full hour had passed, and still Severus hadn't twitched. Harry wasn't sure how long they would have sat like that if it hadn't been for the knock. Severus didn't react to it, but Harry did.

"Come in," he said softly and McGonagall entered. She took one look at Harry, who was in the corner easiest seen from the door, and then her gaze found Severus at his office desk.

"When you didn't appear for supper your friends got worried," she said softly, her eyes never leaving Severus, though her words were meant for Harry. "They told me about the last time you boys skipped supper after an Occlumency lesson and I agreed that your absences needed to be investigated and here I am. What's the matter?"

"I-I don't know," he answered honestly. "We were dueling mentally and... I won... but... I'm not sure why he's been like this... well... they were bad memories dragged up and... What have I done?"

"How long has he been like this?" Harry glanced at the clock before answering.

"Hour and ten or fifteen minutes."

"That long?" Harry nodded. McGonagall took a few hesitant steps and then her stride took on its normal purposefulness and she reached his desk in three. Another two had her on the other side, next to Severus. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear.

"Severus, boy, I need you to come to me," she said in a soft and soothing voice. "Stop treading the paths of the past and come to the present where you're needed. Come here, Severus. Where are you wandering all alone? Why are you wandering all alone when there are friends here who wish your company? Come here, Severus. Harry, get a glass of whiskey."

Harry nodded and went to the hidden stash he knew Severus had in the office. It was from a memory Harry knew of this, a memory of a horrible Revelry that ended in a report to Dumbledore and blissful unconsciousness caused by drunkenness. He poured a liberal amount and brought it to McGonagall.

"Come, boy, you're wanted. You're needed." She sighed and stood up straight, removing her hand from his shoulder. "This is enough, Severus Snape. Stop moping around in your mind and get out here right now or I'll take a hundred house points from Slytherin!"

"Heads of House can't lose points," the reply came, the voice soft and hoarse. "But Head Boys can."