Living in the Past

*******

Chapter 6: Sneaking Around

"Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me. Just say you never met me. I'm running underground with the moles, digging holes." - Harvey Danger, "Flagpole Sitta"

*****

"Er, night, Ginny," Harry said to the door as Ron and Hermione came upstairs. "That wasn't her present to me, Ron," Harry said in an annoyed fashion and showed them the journal and quill.

"Good," said Ron. "Because if I were to ever catch you snogging my sister, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions."

"It's not nice to beat up people smaller than you," Harry said.

Ron grinned evilly. "Whatever. Race you to my room." Harry and Ron ran upstairs, their crashing footsteps echoing throughout the whole house.

Hermione sighed. "Boys," she said exasperatedly as she knocked on Ginny's door.

*****

August 1^st, 1995

I'm not sure where to begin. I guess a confession's a good place to start. I mean, that's what this is for anyway. Somewhere to keep my thoughts, where I can be honest, right? I feel bad dumping all this on anyone, but I take it you don't care very much. In fact, I suppose it fulfills your life purpose. You're lucky. I'm nowhere near fulfilling mine.

Right, I was going to confess something. Well, here goes: I've been crying a whole lot lately. I guess that's not a big confession, but it's a start. I guess I didn't mention that I'm a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with guys crying. I don't know. Somehow, it seems especially wrong for me to cry. I'm expected to be brave. That's me, the brave little orphan. Killed a bloody powerful wizard at fifteen months. "Oh, look, it's the brave Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but whose parents died."

Oh, that's right. You've never heard of me. You don't know my story. First person I've met in 4 bloody years who doesn't. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.

Er, it's a little weird thinking of you as a person, especially considering my history with diaries (sorry, journals). Ah, but you don't know that story either.

There's a lot you don't know. Trust me, it won't stay that way for long.

I'm going to switch topics for a moment. I want to talk about something a little more pleasant.

Ron and I had a guy chat last night, which was certainly, er, informative to say the least. Dirty jokes are certainly much more, er, creative in the wizarding world. And you never would have thought that certain basic charms could be put to, er, other uses.

Hermione would smack me if she read that last paragraph. No, not because of the whole sex thing, but because she hates it when I use "er" to stall. Well, bollocks to that! It's my bloody journal, and no one's going to read it except for me anyway. I can bloody curse if I want to.

SEX!

Er, OK, I don't know why I wrote that, but I suppose it's natural to be preoccupied with sex right now. I mean, I did get "the talk" from Mr. Weasley last night (thank God that it wasn't Mr. Dursley). I'm fifteen years old now. I am a man. I am a manly man. I am a very manly man.

No, I'm not.

I'm not. I'm a scared little boy. A crybaby. I'm not brave like a man should be. All I could think about after Ron went to sleep last night was "It should have been my dad." Don't get me wrong, Mr. Weasley is a good father substitute. But that's all he can be: a substitute. The love isn't the same. God, how can I miss someone that I never really knew in the first place? Why did he have to love me so bloody much? I never knew him, but I can still feel his love for me. A father's love. A dead father's love.

My dad was a brave man. He stood up to evil. He sacrificed himself to try to save me and my mum. He'd be ashamed of how I've been acting. Crying every fifteen bloody minutes. Running away like a coward. Everyone keeps telling me I'm my father's son. I mean, I do look like him a lot. And when I saw his wand at the memorial, and the glowing air when I brought my wand near . . . I can't describe it.

Is it completely wrong that I thought about sex when I wrote that last sentence?

"Of course not, you're a teenaged male," came a voice from over Harry's shoulder.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled as he slammed his journal shut and turned around. "It's rather rude to read over other peoples' shoulders, especially when they're writing in their private journals."

"Sorry," said Hermione as she sat down next to Harry, who was leaning against a tree in the Burrow's backyard. "But you can hardly blame me for the phallic imagery of wands. Now, I'm no Divination expert, but I foresee episodes of giggling in Charms this year when we review wand gripping and movements."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Since when did it become so difficult to be mature?"

"Hmm, let's see," said Hermione sarcastically. "Since I started giggling when talking to other people, Ron started attempting, and I stress attempting, to act macho, Ginny started spending twenty minutes deciding what to wear, and you started, and I quote, 'crying every fifteen bloody minutes.'"

"Hey," exclaimed Harry. "How long were you reading my journal anyway?"

"Er," said Hermione.

"Never mind," said Harry. "And I plead 'stress and hormones' on the crying thing."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, hugging him. "You know I'm just teasing you. Listen, if anyone here has earned a good cry, hormones or no hormones, it's you."

"Eh, I'm not really in the mood anymore," Harry said. "Though, if we give it five minutes . . ."

Hermione playfully punched Harry on the arm. "You are incorrigible, Harry Potter," she said.

"Ouch! Ron was right; your punches hurt, Hermione," Harry said.

"Speaking of Ron, do you think he's awake yet?"

"Let's go in and get some breakfast, and we'll find out."

"I have to Floo back at 5:00. Do you think he'll be up by then?"

"Ron? It's iffy. How can you be Flooing back?"

"Mr. Weasley's contact got my fireplace connected for two days."

"Ah, I see," Harry said as he and Hermione stood up. "Oh, and Hermione? I don't care if it's the last book on the planet, but if you ever read my journal again, I'll tell Ron about your Witch Weekly subscription."

"What are you talking about? I don't have a Witch Weekly subscription," said Hermione with a confused look on her face.

"Not yet," said Harry cryptically, "but I'm sure one could be arranged."

Hermione glared at Harry, who laughed at her. As they walked inside, they saw a very sleepy Ron trudging down the stairs to the kitchen, eyes barely open.

"He emerges," said Harry with mock enthusiasm.

Ron made a very rude suggestion to Harry, using words he certainly would not have said if his mother were in the room.

"That's okay, Ron," Harry said. "I'm sure Ginny wouldn't mind helping me with that, though. Er, just kidding, Ron," he said as Ron whirled around, his blue eyes wide open and glaring with fury.

Hermione giggled as Ron turned back around to make himself some tea. "At least that woke you up," she said.

The three of them scrounged around in the kitchen cupboards, some of which were magically chilled for foods that needed it, for the brunch leftovers from yesterday. They were stuffing their faces (Hermione in a much more dignified manner than Ron and Harry), when an owl flew in the window with the day's Daily Prophet.

Harry and Ron were too busy to really pay attention, so Hermione took the paper, unfolded it, read the front-page headline, and gasped.

"Wha' if it, 'Er-my-ne?" asked Ron with his mouth full. "Th' Cannons won?"

Hermione said nothing, but she passed the paper over to Ron. Ron read the headline and choked on the blueberry muffin in his mouth. Hermione jumped up and patted him on the back, forcing him to cough the half-chewed muffin onto his plate.

"Well, is someone going to tell me what's going on?" asked Harry. "Or is it too sensitive for my fragile ears?"

Ron and Hermione made no reply but to pass the paper to Harry. He took it, wiped some disgusting, wet, blueberry muffin flecks off the page, and read:

Peter Pettigrew: Back from the Dead?

By Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Correspondent

He lowered the paper and saw Ron and Hermione beaming at him. "Isn't that great, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it looks good so far," he said. They came around behind Harry so they could look over his shoulder. They read:

It has long been presumed that Sirius Black, the currently wanted Azkaban escapee, killed Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles on the morning of November 2, 1981, days after the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the hands of Harry Potter. However, Pettigrew's recent reappearance and capture by the Ministry of Magic casts grave doubts as to what really happened that November morning. Could an innocent man have been imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years, sent there without a trial by an overzealous head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?

An anonymous source within the Ministry of Magic confirmed to The Daily Prophet that Peter Pettigrew has been in Ministry custody for nearly two weeks now. More alarmingly, Pettigrew was allegedly captured while attempting to harm "a wizard who has always been very outspoken against You-Know-Who," in the words of the source, who did not wish to reveal the attempted victim's name or the exact date of the capture. "To do so could compromise our ongoing investigation," he said.

Furthermore, the source claimed that Pettigrew has been interrogated under Veritaserum, and has confessed to not only to the murders of the Muggles that Sirius Black had supposedly perpetrated, but also to betraying the Potters to You-Know-Who in the first place. "We had assumed for years that Sirius Black was a spy and supporter of You-Know-Who. However, it now appears that Pettigrew was the spy all along. Hopefully, these new revelations will allow justice to finally be served for both Black and Pettigrew," said the source.

In addition, the source suggested that Pettigrew might be somehow connected to the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins, a Ministry witch who has been missing for more than a year now and is presumed dead. Adil Hoxha, the owner of the Mangy Cat pub in Tirana, Albania, the last place Bertha Jorkins was seen alive, said that Jorkins left the pub with a man matching Pettigrew's description. "It is possible that Jorkins recognized Pettigrew, and he ended up killing her to protect himself," said the source.

Our source could not divulge any details as to how Pettigrew managed to elude authorities for nearly fourteen years, nor could he provide an explanation as to why the information that Pettigrew was in custody was not released sooner. "You'd have to ask Minister Fudge about that," he said.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, did not respond to our owls requesting an interview. When confronted at the Ministry building in London, he said he had, "no comment at this time" on the situation.

"Given this new information," said our Ministry source, "I personally think that Sirius Black is completely innocent and deserves a full pardon. Then, his good name can be cleared once and for all in connection with Dark activity."

The Daily Prophet will continue to bring you the latest developments in this story as they become available.

"I don't get it," said Harry when he was finished. "I mean, it's wonderful for Sirius, but why is Rita being so . . . nice all of a sudden?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, at least she isn't writing lies anymore. But I did tell her to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. Technically, she broke the terms of our little agreement."

"Did you tell anyone else about Rita?" asked Harry.

"No, just you two and Dumbledore," replied Hermione. "I wrote him a note earlier this summer after I let her go."

"Well, this would be a wonderful scoop for Rita," said Harry. "All she wants is recognition. At least she's finally getting it by not making up sensational stories. I'm sure not complaining. Anything that takes Fudge down a notch . . .."

"Ooh, you'd better not let my parents hear you talking about either Rita Skeeter or Cornelius Fudge," said Ginny, who had just come down the stairs wearing a pair of flower-patterned, white cotton, summer pajamas. "They're persona non grata in this house."

"Uh, yeah, right," said Harry, who was rendered momentarily speechless, first by noticing how much of Ginny's legs the short shorts of the pajamas revealed, and then by noticing other aspects of Ginny as she turned around to get some orange juice out of one of the chilled cupboards.

"I think we're okay, Ginny," Hermione said, who had gone to look at the Weasley family clock, which was around the corner. "Your dad's at work and your mum's shopping. I don't think she'll be back for awhile." As she turned to face the table again, she saw Ron still reading the paper, Ginny bending down to retrieve something from a low drawer, and Harry (there was no other word for it) ogling Ginny. Hermione sensed that if Ron saw what she saw, Harry would be in danger of eminent bodily harm. She strode quickly but calmly over to Harry.

A sharp punch on the arm from Hermione jolted Harry back to reality. And not a moment too soon, as just then Ron looked up from the paper and said, "Okay, done. What'd I miss?"

Hermione sighed very exasperatedly and tossed the newspaper to Ginny. As Ginny started to read the article, Harry huddled Hermione and Ron together.

"Ron," he whispered, "how much have you told Ginny about, well, all the things we've done? And about last year?"

"Almost nothing," Ron whispered back. "Just a little bit about Sirius, but only because she had to know why he was coming yesterday."

"She knows more than you think, Ron," said Hermione. "She's a smart girl. She knows some things."

"Like what?" asked Ron.

"Well, for starters, she knows that Harry has an Invisibility Cloak," said Hermione.

"And how does she know that?" asked Ron.

"Because I've seen it," said Ginny loudly behind Ron.

"Ginny!" yelled Ron. "It's rude to eavesdrop."

"It's also rude to whisper about someone when they're in the same room," said Ginny.

"She's got a point," said Harry.

"You're the one who called this huddle in the first place, Harry," pointed out Hermione.

"Well, only because I was going to propose that we tell Ginny everything," said Harry.

"Tell me everything about what?" asked Ginny.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at each other, and then at Ginny. "Sit down," they said simultaneously.

More out of shock than anything else, Ginny obediently lowered herself into a chair.

*

About an hour and a half later, Ginny had gotten the short version of all the events that had happened to Harry in his life, starting from when Voldemort first tried to kill him as a baby through a very abbreviated recounting of Voldemort's resurrection.

By the end, Ginny's face was tear-streaked, red, screwed-up, and cocked to one side, all at the same time. She also had a headache.

"Okay, wait," she said. "Scabbers, as in Ron's rat Scabbers, was actually Peter Pettigrew?"

"Sadly, yes," said Ron. "At least he didn't live in your room for two and a half years. He's probably some sort of sick pedophile or something." Ron shuddered.

Ginny smiled. "Well, think of it this way. He belonged to Percy first, so he had to see Percy naked. If that's not punishment enough, I don't know what is."

The four of them had a good laugh at that, until they, being teenagers, all went to a very bad mental place at approximately the same time.

"So, any other questions?" Harry asked Ginny loudly, trying to scare that picture out of their heads.

"You'll have to explain you and Hermione travelling back through time to me again," said Ginny.

"I'll let Hermione handle that one," said Harry. "That was definitely the most confusing, weirdest thing I've ever done."

"I swear I'm buying you a thesaurus for Christmas," said Hermione. "When it was happening, all you could say was, 'This is weird.' When you describe it later, all you say is, 'It was so weird.' There are so many other words than 'weird' to describe what it was like."

"So sue me," said Harry. "Your vocabulary would be stunted, too, if you grew up around Dudley Dursley."

Hermione smiled, then turned to Ginny to start retelling the Time Turner story. Ginny, however, held up a hand to stop her. "You don't have to explain it again right now," said Ginny. "My headache's bad enough as it is."

"Well, I have a question for Ginny," said Harry. "How did you know about my Invisibility Cloak?"

"Er," said Ginny, "I saw it my first year, when I, er, went through your trunk to find the diary. I also, er, snatched a pair of your boxers, if you want them back," she said to Harry, who turned red.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Ron.

"Er, that's okay, you can keep them, Gin," said Harry. "I don't think they'd fit me anymore anyway."

Or they'd just be really tight, Ginny thought to herself. Then she pictured it.

If Ginny had known the Patronus Charm incantation, she could have certainly summoned a very nice one right then.

***

Life at the Burrow was loads of fun, as usual. Harry was almost able to put completely out of his mind the circumstances that were forcing him to stay there. After his first, awkward entry, he managed to open up to his journal in a way that he had never been able to do to any one person before. For once, he was able to safely express everything that he felt. Ron learned to respect the thirty minutes or so each day that Harry would sit under a tree in the backyard, or next to the window in Ron's room when it was raining, and left Harry alone to write. It was a very cathartic experience for Harry.

One morning, about three weeks after Harry's birthday, he was so engrossed in his writing that he didn't notice that he wasn't alone. In fact, he was being watched. A slight movement in his peripheral vision distracted him. With his Seeker's instinct, he whipped his head around and saw Ginny, holding a black bound notebook and a set of pencils. Harry tried to turn back to his journal and write, but Ginny's presence unnerved him somehow. With a sigh, he closed his journal and walked over to her.

Ginny didn't notice him until he was right in front of her. She looked up, expecting to still see Harry leaning against the tree, and was startled to find him much closer. She jumped up with a start from the grass on which she had been sitting.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," said Ginny. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"It's okay," said Harry. "I think I was done anyway. What were you doing?"

Ginny blushed deeply. "Nothing, it's nothing," she said, closing her book and turning to walk away.

Harry, however, grabbed the book from her hands with his Seeker's speed. He opened it and discovered that it was a sketchbook. He saw lots of sketches of household objects, like the Weasley family clock, and some failed attempts at people. He turned to the last non-blank page to find a half-finished drawing of him under the tree writing in his journal.

"I know, they're not very good," she said softly.

Harry gave her the book back and smiled. "Don't give me any of that self-deprecating stuff," he said. "They're good drawings and you know it."

"Really?" Ginny said. "Ron keeps saying they're crap."

"Ron wouldn't know good art if it were a Bludger that hit him in the nose," said Harry. "Now, I want you to finish that drawing, and then ink it."

Ginny gave Harry a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Harry smiled at Ginny again, then walked inside to find Ron (assuming he was awake yet). Ginny lowered herself back down to the grass and sat there for awhile. When she had been younger, she had been star-struck with Harry. She had had a crush on him for his celebrity and his fame. She couldn't believe that her brother Ron had the good fortune to have him as a friend. But, she was older now, and she knew not Harry the hero, but Harry the person.

And she knew she was in love with that person.

***

The next day, Harry was awoken by a knock on Ron's bedroom door. Ron turned over and grumbled to someone to "sod off," so Harry decided to put on his glasses and answer the door. He sleepily opened the door and saw Professor Dumbledore on the landing.

The shock of this didn't quite register with Harry for a few seconds, but then he seemed to remember that he was not at Hogwarts and that Professor Dumbledore really had little reason to be standing on the landing.

"Er, hi," said Harry.

"Good morning, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore with his customary mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Harry heard some snickering from downstairs, which he presumed were the other Weasley children having a good laugh at Harry and Ron being surprised by Dumbledore. What is it with Weasleys and secrets and surprises? thought Harry. "Er, come in," Harry said. "Sorry about the mess. It's mostly Ron's fault."

"Is not," Ron protested sleepily.

"Is so," retorted Harry.

"Is not."

"Is so."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, friendship."

Ron awoke with a start and a small scream. "Er, Harry? What is Professor Dumbledore doing in our bedroom?"

"Nice to see you, too, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "I'm actually here to return something that belongs to Harry."

Harry looked confused for a moment, then realized, "My Invisibility Cloak?"

"Right in one," said a voice behind Harry.

Harry whirled around and saw nobody there, but he thought he knew that voice. "Sirius?" he asked.

Sirius giggled mockingly from in front of Harry.

Harry grabbed in front of him and snatched the cloak off of Sirius, revealing him to the room. "Real mature, Sirius," he said. "What a great role model."

"I am only returning this on one condition, however," said Professor Dumbledore. "You are not, for any reason, to use the cloak to sneak into Hogsmeade. It is too dangerous."

"I understand, Professor," said Harry. "I promise to use the cloak for the powers of good only. And to nick food from the kitchens."

"In addition," said Dumbledore, "you should know that the many secret passages that lead out of the school have been sealed, including the one from the Shrieking Shack."

There goes that plan, thought Harry. "Okay, fine. Anything else?" he asked.

Sirius shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Yes, actually," he said very solemnly. "I'm going to turn myself in to the Ministry."

"What?" exclaimed Harry.

"Er, Mr. Weasley, isn't that your mother calling your name?" said Dumbledore.

"Huh? I didn't hear . . . oh," said Ron. "Er, right. Coming, Mum."

As soon as Ron had left and closed the door behind him, Sirius turned to Harry, who had a very obstinate look on his face. "Look, Harry, I have to. I don't really want to either, but Dumbledore says it's the only way. He's worked out a deal-"

"It's a trap," Harry said firmly. "Please, don't do it. Fudge'll just hand you straight to the Dementors."

"He can't and won't, not if I have Dumbledore watching me at all times," Sirius replied. "I have to go and testify under Veritaserum."

"And then what?" Harry asked. "They'll throw you back in Azkaban without a trial, again?"

"Listen, Harry-"

"No, you listen," Harry yelled forcefully. "You finally have the chance to keep the promise you made to my parents. I didn't have you in my life for twelve years. Now that I do, you can't just leave again. You can't. I won't let you."

Sirius looked at Harry, an expression of shock on his face. "Harry, I-" He broke off. He didn't know how to respond. He looked to Dumbledore for help.

"Harry, I give you my word that Sirius will not be mistreated or killed. He may have to go back to Azkaban," said Dumbledore. Sirius and Harry both paled at that thought. "However, I guarantee that it will only be for a few months at most. We have many resources at our disposal, not to mention a rather cooperative friend at the Daily Prophet."

Understanding came to Harry as if he had Accio-ed it. "Rita Skeeter," he said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Exactly, Harry. We have information on her that she doesn't want to get out, so she writes what we tell her to. She gets a huge exclusive story, and we get Pettigrew in jail and Sirius's name cleared. Everybody wins."

"And Fudge gets what's coming to him," Harry smirked.

Dumbledore looked displeased. "Cornelius is not a bad person, Harry. He's simply, er, misguided."

Harry gave a very teenager-like scowl that shocked Sirius until he realized that Harry was, in fact, a teenager. He looks so much like James, Sirius thought. Sometimes, Sirius even thought that Harry was James, just trapped in his teenage body. After all, that was how Sirius usually remembered James, as the carefree, teenaged Marauder whom Sirius had grown up with. Then, the summer before his fifth year, the Potters had practically adopted Sirius after . . . well, Sirius didn't particularly want to think about that. Suffice it to say that it was a memory he was forced to relive too often while in Azkaban.

Sirius realized that it was his turn to say something reassuring and parental. "Harry, believe me when I say that abandoning you is something that I would never do. If you knew me, you would know that for certain."

Harry looked at Sirius. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really know you, Sirius."

"I know, Harry," said Sirius. "After this is all over, we'll have plenty of time together. I promise."

Harry stood up and engulfed Sirius in a hug. "Be safe, Sirius."

"I will," said Sirius. "Don't worry, Dumbledore's helping me," he whispered.

As Harry broke the embrace, he hoped that Sirius didn't notice the start that he gave at the mention of Dumbledore's name.

***

August 23rd, 1996

That had to have been the weirdest dream I've ever had. And knowing me, that's saying something.

In the dream, I'm in Dumbledore's office. I'm sitting in front of his desk, like I'm in trouble or something. Dumbledore said, "You're probably wondering why I called you here. It's about the Valentine's Day Ball."

"What about it?" I asked.

"Er, well, I was wondering who you were going with," he said. I remember being confused. I didn't know why he would be asking me this. For a second, I thought maybe he wanted me to go with HIM.

I said, "I'm flattered, Professor, but you're a little old for my tastes." He laughed at that. "Actually, I was planning on asking-" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"So you haven't actually asked anyone yet? Good. I was wondering if you could do me a small favor then," he said.

"Er, what is it?" I asked.

"Would you mind taking Pansy Parkinson to the Ball?"

I remember being completely shocked. Pansy Parkinson? Ugh. "Excuse me?" I said.

"Well, we suspect that Draco Malfoy has been telling her about recent Death Eater activity, and we were thinking maybe you could somehow coax the information out of her at the Ball," he explained.

I remember being completely repulsed on the one hand, but then I thought that it would be worth it if it helped defeat Voldemort. "Okay, fine," I said. "It's just a Ball, it's not like you're asking me to marry her."

"Actually," said Dumbledore. "Er, never mind. We'll just cross that bridge when we come to it. Oh, there's something else, too."

"What?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "there's sort of this prophecy that says you can't defeat Voldemort unless you circumnavigate the globe first. On foot. Without magic. Carrying a 100 kilogram rock."

I remember being really angry, and I got up to leave. But when I stepped through the door, I found myself on a giant chessboard, like the one that was protecting the Sorcerer's Stone. I was on one of the pawn squares, and I was stuck. I couldn't move. Then, I heard Dumbledore's voice say, "Pawn to e4." It was like I was under the Imperius curse. I felt compelled to move, but I also felt like I wanted to move. As I stepped forward, I saw something in the back row, a glint of red, but I woke up before I could figure out what it was.

I'm sure it was just a response to how I felt when Dumbledore came to see me yesterday. It's all Ron's fault, really. He's the one who got me thinking of Dumbledore as the grand manipulator in the first place.

I guess I have to ask myself though: could he be right?

***

Later that evening, Mrs. Weasley informed everyone that tomorrow was shopping day and that everyone needed to be up bright and early to Floo to Diagon Alley. "Oh, and by the way," she said to Ron, Harry, and Ginny, "Hermione's going to be there as well. And wear Muggle clothes under your robes." The three of them looked at each other quizzically. "And, Harry, Dumbledore asked me to tell you to change thirty Galleons into Muggle money."

Oh God, thought Harry, not another Weasley secret plan. "Why do I need Muggle money?" he asked Mrs. Weasley.

"He said that you should save a hundred, er, whatchamacallits. Oh, pounds! Right, save a hundred pounds for emergency purposes," replied Mrs. Weasley. "But I'm sure you'll find some opportunity to spend the rest," she said with a smile.

Why does everybody always know something I don't? Harry asked himself.

***

The next day, after eating one of Mrs. Weasley's wonderful breakfasts, Harry and the entire Weasley family, including Mr. Weasley, who had taken the day off of work, and excluding Percy, who, of course, wouldn't take a day off of work if a dragon burned the Ministry building to the ground, assembled in the living room to Floo or Apparate to Diagon Alley.

"You go ahead. I'll meet you there in five minutes," called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "I have to finish with these dishes."

After everyone had gotten to Diagon Alley, Mrs. Weasley nervously checked her Muggle watch (a present from Arthur). Just as she had dried the last of the dishes with a wave of her wand and performed a Banishing charm to send them to their respective cupboards, she heard behind her two of the unique popping noises that signaled an Apparation. She turned around and saw two figures in her kitchen. "Do you have the potion?" she asked the first one.

He nodded and held up a translucent vial containing a thick liquid. "Good," Mrs. Weasley said. "Accio Invisibility Cloak," she said, and a few seconds later Harry's Invisibility Cloak came zooming down the stairs into her hand. She put the cloak and the potion into her handbag. "The boys' room is all the way up," she said to the first one, "and Ginny's is right up the first flight of stairs on the left," she told the second one.

"Operation: Pass the Buck is a go," she pronounced as she Disapparated.

*

Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley, Harry and the Weasley crowd had collected Hermione from the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll meet you back here at three," she called to her parents as she went through the enchanted archway to Diagon Alley. She sighed with sadness that she had an entire world completely separate from that of her parents that they would never be able to truly share with her.

"Aren't you coming back to the Burrow with us?" asked Ron.

"Er, no, I guess not," she said. "That is odd, now that you mention it."

"Yeah, that is weird," Harry agreed. "And didn't I just advertise to all of Diagon Alley that I'm staying at your house, Ron? Kind of defeats the purpose of being hidden."

"Well, basically the entire wizarding world knows that you stay at my house for the last week of holiday anyway," said Ron. "I suppose Dumbledore thought it was okay."

"I'm not in a mood to talk about Dumbledore right now," said Harry in a tone that indicated that he meant that he wasn't in a mood to talk about Dumbledore right then.

The group made its way to Gringotts, where the Weasleys went to their vault, and Harry (who had gotten enough wizarding money on his prior visit to Diagon Alley) and Hermione changed their money. "What do you need pounds for, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Some of it's an emergency stash, though I don't know why. But," and his voice took on a sarcastic edge, "the great Dumbledore told me to do it. He orders and I obey."

"Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "That's the second time you've been frosty towards him in the past ten minutes."

"Nothing happened," Harry said.

"Don't lie to me, Harry Potter," scolded Hermione. "Obviously something happened that's making you act this way."

"It's not a specific event," explained Harry. "It's just-I don't know. It's a feeling I'm getting. A vibe. And then . . ." He hesitated to tell Hermione about his dream.

"And then?" Hermione prompted.

"Well," Harry said, still reluctant to share the dream, "Ron and I were talking about it the day I got to the Burrow, and he got me thinking that maybe Dumbledore has other motives. It made me think that maybe I was being used. I feel so manipulated. Ron's been able to ignore it because we haven't talked about it since then, and plus he grew up with Dumbledore as a hero figure. Ron still has a lot of respect for him. But I can't stop thinking about it, and I'm confused. I don't know what to do anymore, Hermione. I don't know if I can still trust him."

For once in a very few times in her life, Hermione was rendered temporarily speechless. "Harry, I don't know the answer to this question. And you know me: that's saying something," she said once she recovered. "All I know is that he's working for the good. I mean, look at Hagrid and Professor Lupin. Where would they be if it weren't for Dumbledore?"

While Harry thought about that, Mrs. Weasley came up behind them. "Finally, I found you," she said with a sigh of relief. "Ah, and here come the rest of them," she said smiling. The other Weasleys were emerging from the vault area, and Fred and George in particular were beaming. "Well?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Vaults 1033 and 1035," said George. Harry realized that Fred and George had turned 17 in April and had probably just opened their own Gringotts accounts with the remainder of their thousand Galleons, now that they were of age.

"Wonderful," said Mrs. Weasley. "Let's go have some lunch, and then the shopping can commence."

"Your Mum's in a good mood today," said Harry to Ron.

"Yes, she is," said Ron suspiciously. "And now that you mention it, Bill and Charlie seem to be in a very happy mood as well. That can only mean one thing."

"What is it, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"They know something we don't," replied Ron with certainty.

*

By the time they had eaten lunch and made all their necessary (and in the case of Fred and George, some unnecessary) purchases, it was 2:30, according to the Muggle time function of Harry's watch. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley realized this as well, and gave very clear winks to her two eldest sons. "Oh, Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley called out. She handed George a small bag of Floo powder. "Be back by 5:00, and be careful," she told them. The twins gaped at each other, but then decided not to press their good luck. They nonchalantly wandered off down Diagon Alley. "The rest of you, come here," she said, leading them down a small alley between two buildings that was sometimes used as an Apparation point.

"What's going on, Molly?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"The reason I asked you to come with us and take off of work today," she responded. "You're not the only one who can make cunning plans and keep secrets, Arthur."

"Er, would someone mind telling us what's going on?" asked Ron.

"All shall be explained, little brother," said Charlie.

"But first, some privacy," said Bill. "Obscuramuro."The granite wall at the end of the alley turned transparent, revealing what appeared to be a scantily clad witch and a fully robed wizard in a very posh bedroom, and the witch was holding a-

"Finis Incantato," yelled Bill sheepishly. "Sorry, wrong spell. I use that one to see through walls in pyramids to check for treasure and traps."

"I believe you meant to say 'Muro Obscurante,'" said Charlie. A solid brick wall appeared behind Harry, blocking them off from the rest of the world.

"Ron, Ginny, and Harry, please take your robes off," said Mrs. Weasley. They gladly complied, as it was rather warm to be wearing robes over full sets of Muggle clothes.

"You know, in the Muggle world, it's generally viewed as fairly suspicious when adults ask children to come down alleys with them and remove their clothes," said Hermione.

"Yes, is someone going to explain this soon?" asked Harry.

"Verrum," said Mrs. Weasley, conjuring up three small glasses. She reached into her handbag and took out the translucent vial. She poured a small amount of a brown, thick potion into each cup.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione simultaneously gasped. "Polyjuice Potion," they said together, Hermione knowingly, Harry shockedly, and Ron questioningly.

Mrs. Weasley shot them an odd look. "How do you three know about Polyjuice Potion?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because they made it, of course," said Ginny. "It turned Hermione into a half-cat for a month, and I'm sensing by the looks you're giving me that you didn't tell Mum this and weren't planning on ever doing so, and so I'm going to shut up now."

"Er, believe me, it was for a good reason," said Harry. "We were trying to get information from Malfoy."

Bill smiled at that. "I think that's a reasonable excuse. Don't you, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley still looked livid, but her gaze was slightly less murderous. "One hair from each of you," she said, pointing to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She took the cup with Ginny's hair, Bill took Ron's, and Charlie took Harry's.

They erected some more privacy walls, and, two minutes later, they emerged looking exactly like Harry, Ron, and Ginny and wearing the robes they had been wearing. They had also transfigured their shoes to fit their new bodies. Mrs. Weasley gathered the other sets of robes into her handbag, and pulled out Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "The final piece," she said, in Ginny's voice.

"Why don't you tell them what they've won, Bill," said Charlie in Harry's voice.

"Uh, I'm over here," said Bill, confused.

"Glasses," realized Mrs. Weasley. "Hold still for a moment, Charlie, and don't blink." She pointed her wand right between Charlie's eyes. "Acuvue," she said. "That Correctivity charm can last up to two weeks, so I think that should do it." Seeing Hermione and Harry's confused looks, she shrugged. "What? You think Muggles come up with everything on their own?"

As Charlie transfigured a stick on the ground into a crude pair of empty glasses frames, Bill smiled Ron's smile. "Anyway, as I was going to say, the three of you have won a week-long, all expenses-paid vacation in Muggle London, where you'll be staying at the four-star hotel Chez Granger. In addition, transportation to the hotel and, at the end of the week, to King's Cross Station for easy access to the Hogwarts Express will be provided."

The four of them were shocked. "Did you know about this?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Not at all," she replied.

"What about clothes and our school things?" asked Ginny.

"Well, the oddest thing happened after you left this morning," said Mrs. Weasley. "These two house elves named Winky and Dobby showed up in my kitchen, demanding to let me let them pack up your school trunks and Apparate them to Hermione's house for you. They also sent your owls to Hogwarts for you, so that you don't have to take them to the station."

Mr. Weasley hadn't said anything in awhile. "Well, you surprised me, Molly," he said. "But what do I have to do?"

"Well," said Molly, "first, you have to walk Hermione and the three of them under the Invisibility Cloak to Hermione's parents' car. Then, you have to escort us back to the Floo grate so we can Floo back to the Burrow. That way, it will look like Harry's at our house."

Harry smacked his forehead. "The Muggle money," he exclaimed. "That's what it's for."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Mrs. Weasley. She reached into her handbag and pulled out two twenty pound notes and gave one each to Ron and Ginny. "That's about 4 Galleons each," she explained.

"Wow, thanks, Mum," Ron and Ginny said.

"Well, this explains why my parents drove the minivan today," said Hermione. "But, isn't it rather unsafe to have Harry at my house, with no fully qualified wizards or witches around?"

"Who said there wouldn't be qualified witches or wizards around?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Remus and Arabella will be there. And, before you ask, the next full moon is September 3^rd, so we're safe there. Now, we need to hurry. Hermione's parents will be waiting."

Mr. Weasley shrank their purchases so that they could put them in their pockets comfortably. "Remus or Arabella will be able to enlarge them again," he said.

"But won't that set off a signal of unauthorized underage magic, since it's at my house?" asked Hermione.

"So?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, I would get a warning letter, and-" Hermione started to say.

"And who would have to send that letter?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted her with a smile.

"The Improper Use- oh, Percy," said Hermione. "It's good to have Ministry connections."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," said Ron. "You were just worried that it would tarnish your perfect record."

"As a prefect, Ron, I need to be setting a good example," she said. Fortunately, before she could continue explaining the seriousness of unauthorized underage magic offenses, Ron had disappeared under the Invisibility Cloak with Harry and Ginny. It was cramped to say the least.

Mr. Weasley cast a Finite Incantatem to get rid of the extra brick walls they had conjured, and the group made their way towards Muggle London. With great difficulty, the group managed to make it through the Leaky Cauldron without any awkward situations. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie, in their disguises, waited inside while Mr. Weasley escorted Hermione and three invisible children to the Grangers' minivan.

"Bye, Dad," whispered Ron and Ginny.

"Yes, thanks for everything, Mr. Weasley," said Harry.

"You four stay safe," said Mr. Weasley as they carefully got into the car. I hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing, he thought as they drove off. He went to go find his wife. I don't know what I'm going to do about her, he thought to himself as he reentered the Leaky Cauldron.

In the minivan, they took off the Invisibility Cloak and situated themselves in the car. Ron especially was having a hard time containing his excitement. Ginny looked slightly less fazed, but Harry remembered that she was taking Muggle Studies as one of her elective courses.

It's going to be a fun week, thought Harry.

***

It was a fun week.

Events fell into the general pattern of: a) Ron seeing something Muggle and being frightened of it, b) Ginny giggling at her brother's mistake, c) Harry sighing exasperatedly at the both of them, d) Hermione taking deep, calming breaths and explaining things to Ron, and e) the Drs. Granger looking on nervously, hoping that their house wouldn't suddenly explode.

It didn't help that Mrs. Weasley had neglected to mention to the Grangers that Remus was a werewolf.

The first night, they sat down to dinner, and Remus screamed in pain when he picked up his fork. "This wouldn't happen to be silver, would it?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," said Hermione's dad. "Why?"

"Werewolves can't handle silver. Do you have any stainless steel?" he asked.

Hermione's parents were rendered temporarily speechless, so Hermione directed him to the cutlery drawer in the kitchen.

"Don't worry," said Arabella. "The full moon's not until September 3^rd."

This did not reassure the Grangers much.

A few days later, Hermione's mum asked to speak to Harry alone for a minute.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Er, it's about Arabella," she said. "You knew her before this week, right?"

"Yeah, sort of. She used to babysit me. Why?" Harry replied.

"Is she, umm, you know?" She made a gesture with her hand.

"On a wobbly platform?" asked Harry, not getting her drift.

"Uh, no. Is she, well, gay?" she asked.

"Er, not as far as I know," said Harry. "Why?"

"Well, I keep catching her sneaking looks at me. And, I mean, I'm flattered and all, but-"

"Oh," said Harry. "No, it's not that at all. She's just a Homimagus. She's just studying your body so that she can transform into it more easily, I suppose."

This was not the response Hermione's mum was expecting. "Oh. I see," she said.

Even though the Grangers enjoyed introducing Ron and Ginny, and sometimes Harry as well, to all things Muggle and the famous sites of London, by the middle of the week, they were running out of nerves.

The final straw came two days before the scheduled return to Hogwarts. Everyone was gathered downstairs for breakfast, when a large, sturdy barn owl flew in through the window and dropped an envelope at Hermione's plate. Hermione's parents were actually used to wizard post and owls by now, but nothing prepared them for-

"A Howler? Who'd be sending you a Howler?" asked Ron, as the red envelope started to smoke.

Hermione was rendered speechless. Her parents were looking very nervous.

"Just open it and get it over with," said Ginny, covering her ears. The rest of the table followed suit.

The second Hermione slid her finger along the envelope's flap-

HELLO HERM-OWN-NINNY, came the magically magnified voice from the envelope. Hermione groaned.

IT'S VIKTOR. HOW IS YOU? I ASK LADY AT POST OFFICE HOW I SHOULD GET YOUR ATTENTION, AND SHE SAID SEND YOU ONE OF THESE. MY ENGLISH HAS IMPROVED, NO? I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR YOU.

I JUST WANTED TO WISH YOU GOOD LUCK WITH SCHOOL AND IF YOU EVER WANT TO GET BACK WITH ME . . . WELL, YOU CAN SEND ME OWL ANYTIME. I AM MADLY IN LOFF VITH YOU, HERM-OWN-NINNY. OKAY, THE POST OFFICE LADY IS GIVING ME FUNNY LOOK, SO I GO NOW. GOOD-BYE MY LOFF!

With that, the envelope burnt itself into a small pile of ashes next to Hermione's toast. Hermione's mother had a very vacant look on her face, as if she were in shock. Hermione's father led her away from the table. "We'll be upstairs," he said. Remus and Arabella gave each other a look and followed close behind.

Hermione was beet red. "You guys are never going to let me forget about this, are you?"

"Of course we will," Harry replied. "Because we're your friends and we loff you." Ron, Ginny, and Harry burst into giggles.

"So," said Ron with trepidation, "should we take this to mean that you and Vicky are not an item anymore?"

"We were never an item," Hermione insisted. "I told him so at the end of last year, before we got on the train. Didn't you wonder why I didn't go visit him in Bulgaria?"

"I just figured it was the age thing," Ron replied. "He was too old for you anyway."

"Excuse me, but you're not my father, Ron," Hermione retorted defensively.

Harry surmised that this situation was about to explode, so he stood up and started to leave the room. "Where are you going?" asked Ginny.

"Upstairs," said Harry. "I want to know what the adults are talking about."

With a sudden scrape of chairs, the two of the three remaining teenagers bolted towards the steps. Ron and Harry got to the door of Hermione's parents' bedroom first, Harry because he had a head start and Ron because of his long legs. They carefully positioned themselves next to the keyhole in an attempt to listen.

Hermione slowly walked up the stairs. She hissed at them, "I seem to recall you saying something earlier this month about the rudeness of eavesdropping." She clearly wanted no part of this.

"Yeah, when you're the one being eavesdropped on," said Ron, as if that were a valid defense.

"That's not a valid defense," scolded Hermione.

"Is so," said Ron.

"What are they saying?" asked Ginny, who didn't get upstairs as fast and couldn't maneuver in to get a prime listening spot.

"Well, I'm hearing a lot of moaning, and the phrase 'oh baby, oh baby'," said Ron. "And Arabella seems to be agreeing very strongly with whatever someone's doing, I mean saying," he added mischievously. Harry started to shake with silent laughter.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed strongly, blushing deep scarlet. "Those are my parents you're talking about."

"C'mon, Hermione," whispered Ron. "You know they had to have sex at least once."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I want to picture it," she retorted. The thought of their parents having sex made Ron, Ginny, and Hermione shudder, followed by the three of them giving Harry a very searching look.

"What?" he asked. "My parents were pretty good looking. I mean, their genes produced me. And it's a little different in my case, especially since the only thing I've actually ever seen them do was get killed. I can picture them having some fun."

"Okay, imagine the Dursleys then," said Hermione.

Harry gave a huge shudder at that image. "Point taken," he said as he fell into the bedroom through the door that Remus had just opened.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asked them.

"Er, did we?" asked Ron from the ground where he had fallen with Harry.

Remus gave him a very odd look. "Never mind," he said. "I don't want to know. Hermione, your parents want to talk to you for a minute. The rest of you, come with Arabella and me."

Remus and Arabella ushered them to the living room and sat them down. "Here's the plan," Remus said. "Hermione's parents, er, need a break. They're not used to having this many magical folk in their house at once. They're going away for a long weekend. That means we're in charge."

"Remus has some Polyjuice Potion and a supply of Dr. Granger's hair," said Arabella. Ginny started giggling. "What's funny?" asked Arabella.

"Which Dr. Granger?" asked Ginny.

"Hermione's dad, of course," said Remus. "I couldn't handle a cross-gender Polyjuice transformation. I'd feel weird, and, knowing me, that's saying something."

Ron whispered in Harry's ear something rather inappropriate that caused Harry to exclaim, "Ron!" very loudly and scoot away from him on the couch.

"I don't want to know. I don't want to know," Remus repeated to himself like a mantra.

"Anyway," said Arabella, "I can do a rather good impression of Dr. Granger, the female one," she stressed for Ginny's benefit. "They won't be back until the 2^nd, so we're going to take you to the Hogwarts Express on the 1^st. When they return, we'll be able to set up wards to protect their house."

As Ron and Ginny continued to giggle from the thought of Remus and Arabella bossing them around, Harry heard Arabella's unspoken words in his mind: Protect them from retribution for hiding me.

***

School trunks were loaded into the Grangers' minivan, which Arabella was driving with Hermione and Ron, who sat in the shotgun seat and pointed excitedly at Muggle objects he saw as they drove to the train station. Remus, who had a Thermos of Polyjuice potion with him, drove the Grangers' other car, a black BMW, with Ginny and Harry.

Remus and Arabella agreed not to mention the passenger pairings. At least not while they were in the car. They would compare notes later.

"How do you know how to drive, Remus?" asked Harry.

"I've had to take jobs in the Muggle world," he replied. "It seemed like a good skill to have."

"Oh," said Harry. He turned to Ginny. "And how's that, er, project I asked you to do coming along?" he asked.

"Not bad," she said. "I've got the light pencil lines down, but I need to go over them. I got the inks the other day, at the Muggle art shop."

"Great," said Harry. "Take your time. And if you need me to model for you, just tell me."

"Oh," said Ginny, not wanting to tell him that he didn't need to model for her. That image of him was fixed in her mind forever. The way his midnight hair ruffled in the slight breeze. The way the afternoon sunlight reflected off his glasses, but how the pine green of his eyes blazed through anyway. The way the creases and bunches of his navy blue t-shirt rippled around his slight frame. The way he brought his knobby knees up as a hard surface to write on, how it made him look so protected and safe, yet so vulnerable at the same time. The tree's shadows on that face of he who was no longer a boy but not yet a man. Ginny couldn't forget that moment if she tried. "I'll do that," she told Harry.

Hey, what girl in her right mind would pass up an occasion to stare at Harry, she asked herself.

Just then, they pulled into the station. Remus made sure to take another sip from his Thermos before he helped unload the trunks. Then, he and Arabella watched the four of them disappear onto the hidden platform nine and three-quarters. Muggles weren't allowed on the platform, so, in their Muggle disguises, they couldn't see them off. As soon as they got back to the Grangers' house, they asked each other simultaneously, "Well?"

Arabella laughed. "Oh, we are so bad, Remus. Two old fogies nosing around in the romantic interests of their friends' children."

"And that's bad because?" he asked.

"Good point. All I caught were a few glances, but nothing really significant," she said. "I think Ron was too busy admiring the Muggle world to admire his car mate. What about on your end?"

"Well, apparently Ginny's making a sketch of Harry," he said.

"You're joking!"

"No. I'm not."

"That's almost too funny. I wonder if he knows."

"I doubt it. Who would have told him? I didn't."

"You remember how upset she was when her sister burned it?"

"I remember the owl she sent me. She had been crying, and her handwriting was pretty shaky. I'm surprised the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad didn't have to make a trip to her house."

"I think that was one of the last times they saw each other. Petunia moved out of the house at the end of that summer and never came back."

"Except for the funeral."

Arabella sighed. "That was the last time, as far as I know. Look, Remus, we haven't ever really had a chance to talk about all this, have we? I mean, with me being in disguise for all those years and you going all over the place. Why don't you meet me for dinner in the Leaky Cauldron at seven tonight? The Grangers aren't coming back until tomorrow, and they have the Panic Pagers in case they run into trouble."

Remus hesitated. "Are you sure, Arabella?"

"Of course I'm sure," she said. "Now, Apparate home and take care of business, and meet me at seven."

Before Remus had a chance to respond, she had Apparated away. If she's anything, she's persistent, Remus thought before Apparating to his own house.

***

Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Express, Ron and Harry, who had a compartment to themselves, were bored. There were only so many times in a row you could play Exploding Snap before cards blowing up lost any semblance of humor. Ginny was hanging out with her fourth year friends since Hermione was up front with the rest of the prefects; apparently, they were having an orientation meeting of sorts. "D'you think she'll be back any time soon?" Ron asked Harry.

"I bet she's already memorized the Prefect's Manual and just needs to know the Gryffindor password," said Harry, munching a Cauldron Cake thoughtfully.

"That's our Hermione," smiled Ron.

Harry contemplated a further analysis of that statement, then changed his mind.

An hour later, Harry and Ron had gotten so bored that they started glancing through their Tarot decks. Yes, they were voluntarily studying Divination. That is how bored they were.

Suddenly, Ron stood up and stretched his legs. "'Scuse me," he said to Harry as he moved out to the corridor.

"Oh! Where are you going? What are you doing? Can I come?" Harry asked.

"To the loo, number one, and no," replied Ron, moving to the back of the car.

Just as Ron closed the lavatory door, the door to their car slid open. "Thank Merlin," Harry said, shoving his Tarot deck in his bag. "We were going nutters in here without you."

"Well, glad to know I was missed," said a female voice that was familiar, but that certainly didn't belong to Hermione or Ginny.

Harry looked up into the brown eyes of Cho Chang. "Oh! Hi, Cho," he said as his voice chose that exact instant to crack. Great timing, he thought to himself.

Cho didn't even indicate that she had heard. "Hello, Harry. Mind if I sit down?"

"Er, no, go right ahead," Harry said, clearing his throat. She sat in the seat across from him. He felt slightly odd for being in his Muggle clothes while she was wearing her Hogwarts robes. Next to the Ravenclaw seal on her chest, he noticed a silver Prefect pin and a small Golden Snitch pin, the wings on which appeared to be slowly flapping. "What's that?" he asked, pointing.

"Oh," she said, looking down. "My Dad gave it to me as a present for making Quidditch Captain."

"Wow! Congratulations," Harry said.

Cho smiled. "Of course that's the first thing you noticed," she said. Harry blushed crimson. "They say all that teenage boys think about is . . . Quidditch."

The two of them burst out laughing at that.

"Oooh, am I interrupting something?" Ron asked, having returned from the lav.

"Not really," said Harry.

"Oh, umm, actually," Cho said. "Ron, would you mind giving us a few minutes alone? I need to ask Harry a private question."

"Sure. It's no problem. Really," said Ron, excusing himself.

After he had left, Harry and Cho looked at each other for a moment. "Today's been a little hard for me, Harry," she said.

"I can imagine," he replied.

"It's the milestones. Whenever you come to one, you think about how he isn't here for it," she said. "Did you?" she asked, with trepidation.

"Truthfully, not yet," he replied. "I think it probably would have hit me at the feast, though." He paused. "It was worse at the beginning of the summer. Everything I thought about led me back to that night. I was crying almost nonstop."

"I-I didn't realize you cared about him that much," Cho said, almost shocked.

"It was guilt, mostly," Harry admitted. "But it wasn't just about him. It was over everything that happened that night."

"That's sort of what I wanted to ask you, Harry," Cho said slowly. "I want to know what happened that night. The whole story."

Harry had not been expecting this. "Cho . . .." He hesitated.

Cho gasped and put one hand to her mouth. "Oh, God. Harry, I'm so sorry. I don't know what possessed me to even ask . . .."

Harry put a hand on Cho's arm. "No, no, it's okay," he said. "You deserve to know. I just . . . can't tell you right now. Not today. Not here. I'll tell you someday, when I'm ready. Is that okay?"

"Really?" said Cho, a single tear falling from her face.

"I promise," said Harry, extending his hand.

However, instead of shaking Harry's hand, Cho leapt up and hugged Harry firmly around the neck. As she released him, she whispered a soft "Thank you" in his ear and left. Harry was stunned speechless.

With impeccable timing, Ron came back. "She gone? Let's go!"

Harry was confused. "Go? Where are we going?"

"To look for Hermione," Ron replied.

"She's at the Prefects' Meeting," said Harry.

"Well, either Cho's skiving off from it or it's over. Knowing her, I pick the second," Ron said.

"Good call," Harry said as he stood up and started walking towards the front of the train.

"So why do you think she didn't come right back after the meeting?" Ron wondered aloud, as they were about to enter their eighth car.

"Because I said so, Mudblood," came a loud voice from the next car.

"Malfoy," said Harry and Ron simultaneously as they whipped out their wands and opened the door.

When they entered the car, they saw the distinctive thick bodies and small heads of Malfoy's favorite goons, Crabbe and Goyle, at the other end of the corridor. Hermione and Malfoy were in the middle, facing each other. Draco's back was to them, so he turned his head to see who had come in. Hermione took the opportunity and kicked Malfoy in the shins. Draco let out a scream of pain. "Ow! I should report you for that."

"Go ahead," retorted Hermione. "I'll report you for language."

Everyone else stood where they were, mostly in a state of shock. Draco brusquely brushed past Hermione to meet up with his henchmen. "C'mon, you two. Let's leave Mudblood, Scarhead, and the Weasel alone with their pathetic lives." Draco swept out of the car, robes swaying, as Crabbe and Goyle followed in his wake.

Ron was very pleased. "That was excellent, Herm," he beamed.

Harry was slightly more concerned. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"Nothing really," Hermione replied as they walked back to their compartment. "He came up to me after the prefects' meeting, and-"

Ron gasped. "You mean Malfoy's a prefect?" he groaned.

"Yes, but that's not the point," Hermione said, waving him off. "Anyway, he said he needed to talk to me, and he sounded sincere, so I went with him to that compartment."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"Well, to tell the truth, he actually wasn't rude to me," said Hermione. "I mean, he was a little sarcastic at the beginning, but then he told me he was sorry."

"What for?" asked Harry.

"He didn't say," confessed Hermione. "The goons kind of came in at that point, and you heard the rest, I think."

"Yes, especially the Mudblood part," snapped Ron sarcastically. "Is that your definition of 'wasn't rude to me'?"

"Exactly. He seemed like the same old Malfoy to me," agreed Harry.

"I suppose you're right," conceded Hermione. "But I think he's up to something."

"Let's talk about something more pleasant," said Harry as they got back to their compartment. "Have you memorized the Prefect's Manual yet?"

Hermione tossed him a small black book from her bag. "Quiz me," she said.

"Fine," said Harry. "First, explain how prefects are selected."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Every year, each head of house selects two new prefects for the house: one fifth year and one sixth year. The sixth year prefect is of the opposite sex of the current prefect for that year. That way, each house has one nominee for Head Girl and Head Boy."

"So, next year, either me, Ron, Seamus, Dean, or Neville will be made a prefect?" asked Harry.

"Precisely," said Hermione.

"Okay," said Harry, flipping through the pages. "Maximum time allowed for one detention."

"Five hours."

"Standard number of points lost for removing a non-Restricted Section book from the library without signing it out."

"Two."

"Total number of trick steps at Hogwarts."

"94, or 87 on Sundays."

"What students are forbidden to do on laundry days."

"Wear red socks," she stated with a satisfied smile.

Ron just gaped.

***

As he rode up to the castle, Harry felt uneasy. He told Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, all of whom he was sharing a carriage with, about it.

"It's probably just about the Malfoy thing," said Ron.

"I'm guessing too much junk food," ventured Ginny.

"O.W.L. anxiety," pronounced Hermione. "I get it all the time."

Ron made a choking kind of noise. "Only you, Hermione, would get O.W.L. anxiety this early in the year." Hermione shot him a glare.

"No, I don't think it's any of those," said Harry. "And I'm starting to get a headache."

When Harry had a headache, it was always a serious affair. "Scar?" asked Ron.

"No, just the regular kind," said Harry.

"You should go see Madam Pomfrey when we get there," suggested Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "Maybe, if it still hurts after the Sorting Feast."

They arrived at the castle and made their way to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. With each step, Harry's headache seemed to get worse and worse. He sat down and put his head in his hands, running them through his already messy hair.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Ron.

Harry was about to respond in the affirmative when the large doors opened and Professor McGonagall led the new first-years in, carrying a stool, the Sorting Hat, and a parchment scroll.

The Sorting Hat opened its "mouth" and sang the first verse of that year's song, which it seemed to have set to the tune of "Lemon Tree" by Peter, Paul, and Mary:

When I was but a new-sewn hat

The Founders said to me,

"We've built a school called Hogwarts,

And our Sorting Hat you'll be."

Suddenly, an image flashed in Harry's mind's eye as his headache intensified. He felt like he was suffering from double vision; on the one hand, he saw the Great Hall and everyone around him, but his mind was telling him that he was seeing a white door on the inside of a dark house. It was becoming more and more painful for him to keep his eyes open, so he closed them. The scene seemed familiar somehow, but it was dark, and he couldn't place it.

The Hat sang:

Those who do value their learning,

To Ravenclaw I send,

And those I put in Hufflepuff

Stay loyal to the end.

Harry thought he heard a noise like keys jingling. He opened his eyes, which intensified the headache again, but no one else seemed to have heard anything. Everyone was looking at the Sorting Hat. He remembered what Ron had told him second year, "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world." He closed his eyes again. He blocked out the Hat, who was now extolling the virtues of Gryffindor and Slytherin:

The Slytherins, like in their name,

Make plans cunning and sly,

And Gryffindors put bravery

As their desire most high.

Harry saw the door. He heard keys and voices. The voices were familiar, too. He heard the lock click in the door, and a light turned on in the hallway. When he saw the faces of the two people who were entering the house, he knew what he was seeing and why it was so familiar.

He gasped very loudly. Almost every face in the Hall turned to him, though he couldn't see them, since he still had his eyes closed. Even the Sorting Hat stopped singing and swiveled to look at him. In his mind, he heard a voice yell, "Crucio!" Now his scar burst into pain, a more intense pain than he had ever felt through it before. But this time, the pain didn't stay in his scar. It traveled through his whole body. It was almost as bad as having the Cruciatus curse put on him. He knew he was screaming now, and he fell backwards off his seat at the Gryffindor table.

He hit his head on the stone floor, and the last thing he heard before he passed out was the high, cold cackle that could only belong to Lord Voldemort.