Harry Potter and the Sword of the Hero

HARRY POTTER AND THE SWORD OF THE HERO

Chapter 8 - When Enemies Meet

Often we have no time for our friends, but all the time in the world for our enemies.

--Unknown

"Can you believe this?!" exclaimed Harry over breakfast on Monday morning. He was holding a copy of the Prophet in one hand, and a spoon of porridge in the other, that Hermione had just past him.

Hermione smiled. "You two look so cute," she said happily, staring at the picture of Harry and Padma on the bridge. Ron suppressed a laugh.

"Have you even read this, Hermione?" said Harry, exasperated. "Listen, and this is a direct quote, 'In between thwarting Dementor attacks and fighting Death Eaters, Potter finds time to address his raging teenage hormones....'

Ron couldn't stop from laughing this time. If he laughed any harder there was a fair chance milk may squirt from his nose - stranger things have happened. Harry sighed and put the paper down; he chanced a glance over to the Ravenclaw table and saw Padma reading the Prophet with a smile on her face. Well if she could smile at it.... Harry was lost within his own thoughts for a moment before someone called his name.

"Harry." It was Ron. "Harry, come on. Transfiguration."

Leaving the paper behind, Harry rose from his seat. Slinging his bag over his back the three of them began the walk up to Transfiguration. They were soon seated and awaiting Professor McGonagall's instructions for that lesson. As far as Harry's animagus training was going, it wasn't. McGonagall had yet to find a griffin. Harry had been practicing the other skills he'd learnt so as not to forget them.

Transfiguration gave way to Care of Magical Creatures, which in turn gave way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry had yet to duel one of his close friends yet, but he knew it was coming. Having never lost a duel, Moody saw fit to pit him against someone two or three times a lesson. And the only people he hadn't duelled were Ron, Hermione, Padma, and Neville.

"Right. Good afternoon," growled Moody. "Straight into it then. Weasley and... Granger, you're up."

Hermione and Ron stood in the centre of the room. From where Harry sat he could see that Ron looked understandably nervous. Hermione on the other hand looked calm and collected. There was a bow and a few steps taken backwards. Neither of them moved, each waiting for the other to cast a spell.

A full minute passed, before Moody barked at them to get going. This seemed to shake Hermione out of a trance and she quickly fired the first curse. "Furunculus."

This one flew through the air in a blaze of blue sparks and hit Ron in the hand. Instantly, and viciously, his hand exploded in a wave of big green boils. "Ow," he cried shaking his hand up and down. "Locomotor Mortis." Ron quickly shot the leg locker curse at Hermione; she sidestepped and dodged it gracefully.

"Rictusempra," shouted Hermione. In between cradling his hurt hand, Ron was now holding his sides laughing as a result of Hermione's tickling charm. She was smiling now. "Stupefy," she said mercifully.

It had been one-sided the whole way. From what Harry could tell, Ron didn't have the courage to curse Hermione.... that said Hermione probably would have won anyway. Her knowledge of curses and charms was excellent, as was her ability to use them. She revived Ron who looked around himself dazedly for a moment before sitting up, brushing his boil covered hand against the floor in the process, causing him to wince in pain.

"Oh," said Hermione. She grasped his arm and raised her wand. After muttering a small healing spell the boils on Ron's hand disappeared. Hermione let her hand linger longer than was necessary on Ron's, and this wasn't lost on Ron. Harry smiled to himself; he saw the connection between them, even if they didn't. They sat down and Harry saw they were both blushing a bit.

"Next up," barked Moody, "Potter and... Patil, Padma."

Oh dear thought Harry this could be a bit difficult....

As he moved into the centre square, he glanced at Padma; she was smiling but still looked decisively nervous. They stood close to each other before the bow. "You see the Prophet article?" she asked, laughter mingled with nerves lacing her voice.

Harry smiled. "Thank you for helping me address my raging teenage hormones," he said quietly so only she would hear. She was laughing as they bowed and took a few steps backwards.

Padma fired the first curse. "Stupefy!"

Harry dodged this one easily, with age old practice. Well she wants this over quickly thought Harry okay... Quick to counterattack, Harry raised his wand. "Impedimenta," he shouted.

Padma ducked and it flew over her head. The DA meetings hadn't been for nothing, after all. She brought her wand underneath her breast and fired the disarming charm at Harry. He dodged it expertly and retaliated just as quick. "Constrictus Amropa."

The ropes shot out of Harry's wand and wrapped themselves around Padma's legs. She fell to the floor hard but wasn't fazed. Calmly and quickly she removed the ropes and was soon back on her feet. "Stupefy."

Harry sidestepped to the right and successfully dodged the curse. Harry looked at Padma and saw the amusement in her eyes, she was enjoying this. With a small smile to himself, Harry shot a curse. "Impedimenta." This one caught Padma on the shoulder and she slowed to a stop.

Harry calmly walked over to her and plucked the wand out of her unmoving hand. He'd won. "Well done, Potter," barked Moody. "Still undefeated. I hope everyone was taking notes on Potter's technique?" Several people shifted uncomfortably under Moody's gaze, they had been too engrossed in the duel to do anything.

Harry turned back to Padma, she was still moving incredibly slowly. "Finite Incantatum," he said. Padma blinked and then stumbled forward. Harry smiled and handed her wand back. She looked confused as to how she lost. "Orchideous," muttered Harry, a bunch of flowers sprouting at his wand tip. "Nice duel," he said handing Padma the flowers. "It was the Impediment jinx that got you," he whispered in her ear. She smiled sheepishly and blushed as she took the flowers.

They went and sat back down. That wasn't as bad as it could have been, thought Harry.

*~*~*~*

October 31^st
Halloween

Harry sat alone in the armchairs by the fire; it was still too early for anyone else to be up. As was his way, he sat deep in thought. It was fifteen years to the day since his parents had died, and Voldemort had been defeated for a time...

Time, thought Harry. that's all my parent's sacrifice bought the world, time. Fourteen years of borrowed time, which was wasted.... In previous years, Harry had looked at the photo album Hagrid had given him, the one with pictures of his parents in it. But that was no longer possible. Voldemort had taken away that piece of him as well. It had been destroyed along with Privet Drive.

Harry found silent tears rolling down his cheeks, though he didn't remember shedding them. He swatted them away angrily. Crying was a weakness he thought can't let them see me cry....

Harry was in a daze most of that day. When asked if he was okay, his immediate response was "I'm fine." Ron and Hermione knew what was bothering him, they were truly the only ones that did. They tried to help him, to talk, but Harry didn't want to.

Never would.

It was his way of dealing with the grief, always had been. Tomorrow he would appear fine but on the inside he still carried the pain. It was his way....

The Halloween feast that night was its usual spectacular affair. Hundreds, if not thousands, of enchanted pumpkins floated near the ceiling; glowing eerily from the candle light within. The walls were hung with black and orange drapes that swirled and changed between the two colours. Live bats hung from the rafters and the drapes, screeching occasionally.

Harry sat there almost absently, gazing at the amazingly decorated hall around him. To everyone else this night was to be celebrated, to him he just didn't see the point. What was the point he thought this won't help win the war. This does nothing except make people forget the horror of the world they lived in....

Harry half-heartedly ate some of the enormous amount of food that littered the table, but he just wasn't in the mood. He again gazed around at all the happy faces in the Hall. Kids laughing, smiling; none of them having been touched by the war in any way yet.

Without saying goodbye or giving any excuses, Harry got up from the table and walked away. Hermione saw him go. She began to stand up herself when she felt a hand her shoulder. It was Ron. He just shook his head sadly and watched Harry leave. Hermione sighed and sat back down, all the while Ron's hand never leaving her shoulder.

Harry walked out of the Hall. Just as he left his eye's connected with Padma's but he didn't want to stay now. Something of how he felt must have shown on his face because the last thing he saw was Padma's worried look. He walked slowly but surely up the moving stairs. He was a storm of emotions as he reached the seventh floor, having planned to return to the common room. But just as he was about to get off the stairs, he had another idea, a way to try and clear his head.

Harry walked with a purpose now, up several more flights of stairs and along the dark empty corridors of Hogwarts. Left, right, and then left again brought him to the bottom of the winding staircase up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Without pausing Harry dashed up the stairs, taking two or three at a time. He reached the top and went through the wooden, glass panelled doors and out onto the balcony where he had spent many earlier years gazing at the heavens.

It was quiet up here, exactly what Harry had hoped for. A place away from all the noise. He stood next to the stone wall and gazed out across the land. Thousands of stars dotted the night sky, hundreds of thousands. There night was clear, not a cloud in the sky. Across the grounds he saw Hagrid's cabin, only because of the faint glow of light that emanated from within. Behind that he saw the enormous dark mass that was the Forbidden Forest. To his left he could just make out some of the taller buildings of Hogsmeade. It was peaceful, calming; it was just what Harry needed.

Up here he saw everything flash before his eyes in crystal clear clarity. His parent's death, Cedric's death, Sirius's death, and the Dursley's death. Seven lives needlessly lost. But for the first time ever, Harry felt a moment of acceptance. He accepted they were dead, however much he missed them or wanted them back... he never could. They were gone, to where he did not know and probably never would know while he was alive.

Never say never, he thought.

The moment of acceptance was replaced almost instantly, though, by the feeling of guilt. Death upon death, one way or another brought back to him. His fault. Harry sighed and put his hands in his pockets, he grasped his wand. Brother wands... One and the same.

As he held it, Harry felt a slight prickling in his scar. It was followed by a short, but still painful, burning. Harry jerked his head backwards and nearly fell over in surprise. He'd seen it, a quick flash and then it was gone. Someone had just received the Dark Mark, been initiated into the Death Eaters, thought Harry with a sigh, just one more enemy.

"Harry?" said a familiar and now very much welcome voice.

"Hello, Padma," he said, turning around slowly.

"Harry, are you okay? It's just- I saw you in the Hall and-" Her voice was full of concern. Harry wondered what it was he did to inspire such concern in others. Why did anyone care about him, he just got people killed?

"Yeah I'm okay... now. Just felt a bit down a moment ago. Thought some fresh air would help, it did."

She smiled with what looked like relief. "We haven't had much chance to talk this week," she said.

It was true. He hadn't seen much of Padma at all except in Magical Creatures and Defence Against the Dark Arts. "Let's talk now then."

Padma nodded and smiled reassuringly. She and Harry moved over to the far left of the balcony and sat down on the bench there. For a few minutes they talked aimlessly, mostly about Hogsmeade last weekend, or the Prophet article on Monday. After a short while, though, Harry saw Padma shiver and pull her cloak closer around herself. It was cold, thought Harry. He hadn't noticed it before; too caught up in his own emotions. Harry looked at Padma for a moment, and then nervously moved a bit closer to her and stretched his arm across her back and onto her shoulder.

Padma responded by leaning over and into the groove beneath Harry's shoulder, just above his heart. They held each other. Harry couldn't remember feeling this happy in years. Just sitting close, holding someone who cared. The sat there for a while, gazing out over the vastness of the country around them.

Harry didn't know how much time had past, but looking at his watch he saw that it was just coming up nine o'clock. School rules stated that students should be in their house by nine, but Harry didn't want to leave just yet.

"Padma," he said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"We didn't get to talk much."

"No..." she laughed.

Harry smiled; the troubles of today and his entire life seemed to belong to someone else while he sat with her. He knew, once she was gone, that his problems would return. But for now he was happy with every moment that he got. It took him a moment to notice that Padma was looking up at him.

"What?" he asked.

Without saying anything Padma brought her head upwards and caught his lips with her own. Harry tensed for a moment but then relaxed into the kiss. No reporters this time, no distractions. Harry opened his mouth a little wider, as did she, and their tongues danced.

This is what life is supposed to be, thought Harry; moments like this was what it was all about, what made everything worth it. Padma put her arms around his neck, and Harry held her just above her waist. She pulled away only to turn her head slightly and come back a moment later. Harry felt his entire body grow warm at the touch of her lips, the night was freezing, but this moment was for them.

He had been at the other end of the scale; lost, cold, staring fear directly in the face... the Dementors kiss that had nearly been delivered twice upon him. This was the exact opposite, warmth... a kiss that had a soul, that was sharing a piece of one, not trying to take one away.

With more than a slight feeling of reluctance, it ended. Harry and Padma broke away and stared into each others eyes. "Wow..." was all she said.

Harry smiled and laughed. "Come on," he said, beginning to feel the cold of the night again, "let's get back down. It's freezing up here."

As the two of them walked back down the stairs together, hand in hand, Harry couldn't help but think, in some small corner of his mind, that this was too good to last....

*~*~*~*

"The key thing in Apparation is concentration," said Ethan. It was Saturday, November 2nd and Harry and Ethan were once again in the Shrieking Shack. "Don't get distracted and you've got nothing to worry about." He proved his point by Apparating back and forth across the room twice.

Harry nodded. "When do you think I can try it?"

Rafe shrugged. "Try it now if you want. It'll either work or it won't."

"What about splinching?"

Ethan smiled. "There's a chance that could happen... but you'll never know unless you try it."

Nervously, Harry removed his wand from within his robes and pointed it at himself. He shook his arms and tried to clear his head. Remembering everything he could about what Rafe had told him, he pictured the other side of the room as clearly as he could in his mind's eye. Every detail no matter how insignificant. A deep breath and then....

"Apyraceus."

Harry felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, like nausea, and his vision blurred. It was gone a moment later though and he was standing.... in the same place. He glanced at Ethan, he appeared to be thinking.

"Hmm... Not bad, but you didn't go anywhere."

"I felt something...."

Rafe nodded. "Yeah, you sort of went all fuzzy and I could see right through you. You were transparent. Almost, but not quite the gold. We'll keep trying."

They spent a few more hours in the shack but try as he might, Harry could not Apparate from one side of the room to the other. They walked back to Hogwarts defeated.

*~*~*~*

"You're walking a very fine line, Potter," whispered Snape so only Harry could hear him. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Harry was an hour through double Potions. "Your last essay scrapped an 'Acceptable'."

Since Harry didn't trust what would come out of his mouth if he opened it, he didn't say anything. Snape moved on, handing out essays as he went. Harry continued mashing his mushrooms in silence. "What's his problem?" asked Ethan, who was sitting to Harry's left.

Where to begin? thought Harry. "We're just not the best of friends...." Understatement of the century, but Harry thought it would do.

Rafe nodded and looked at his own essay. He'd also got an 'Acceptable'. It didn't mean much to him. He had been at Hogwarts going on a month or so now, and didn't much care for the essays.

"We have roughly an hour left," spat Snape, who had finished handing back essays, and was now standing at the head the room. "Your potion must be completed and handed to me in a phial before that time is up. This one will be assessed." Harry saw Snape's eyes flicker over his for a moment. He would love for Harry to screw this up.

This made Harry take extra special care in making the potion. He read each instruction three times, and weighed the ingredients to the exact gram. No mistakes, no failure. When the time was up Harry stared at his potion with pride. It was perfect. He expected at least an "Exceeded Expectations' for this; though knowing Snape it would be an 'Acceptable', even if it did deserve better. He stoppered his phial and hurriedly placed it on Snape's desk before exiting the dungeon as quickly as possible.

As Harry walked up the stairs, he stumbled and shook his head. A feeling of immense dizziness had just assaulted him. He pressed his hand against his forehead, he knew what was coming. On que, pain tore through his scar with a scythe and Harry put a hand on the wall to steady himself. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. All he saw was a flash of red eyes.

His scar was still prickling as Ron, Hermione and Ethan caught up to him. Rather than worrying anyone, he said nothing as they walked to Divination, Hermione to Arithmancy.

*~*~*~*

"Crucio," shouted Voldemort at the nearest Death Eater. The man dropped to the floor and writhed in pain. Voldemort was angry, Potter had angered him.

He had tried to enter Potter's mind through the scar, it had not worked. There was too much protection, too many wards at Hogwart's for him to be able to maintain the connection. A brief second was all that he could manage. With Dumbledore back at the castle, it was a lot harder than it had been last year.

Voldemort snapped up his wand and the thread of the Cruciatus curse broke. The Death Eater, breathing and shaking heavily, stood up as best he could and resumed his place among the ranks of the Dark Lord's inner circle. The most loyal Death Eaters.

The Dark Lord paced the room heavily. Everyone in the room avoided his gaze, less they incur his wrath. They only way the connection would work properly were if Potter was away from Hogwarts. Voldemort smiled malevolently, he would wait. Patience was a virtue he had learned a long time ago.

"Bellatrix, I have a task for you."

*~*~*~*

"I've never really thought that far ahead," said Harry.

"Oh, come on. Surely some time or another it has crossed your mind?"

Harry and Padma were lying by the lake, she was in his arms, as the Krup played among the reeds. It was Monday morning, and the day was turning out to be quite nice. "Well, I suppose the only thing I've ever thought of doing once I'm out of school was to become an Auror."

Padma nodded. "You would be really good at that," she said honestly.

"What do you want to do?"

"I'm going to be a Healer," she replied without a moment's hesitation.

Harry smiled. "Why?"

"The war," she whispered. "My parents told me about the last time You-Know-Who was alive, how there was a shortage in Healers and it cost many people their lives."

Harry sat up now and looked at Padma. "Let's hope the war is over by the end of seventh year then...." Harry tried to sound cheerful, as if this was a real possibility. Inside he really thought that it wasn't. The end of their seventh year was eighteen months away or so, and the war was just starting to heat up now.

Padma smiled, but it was an empty smile. "Do you really think it could be....?"

No... "Yes..."

"But I don't know of anyone who could defeat You-Know-Who... except you...."

Harry smiled slightly. "We'll see what happens."

"Will you fight him, Harry?" she asked quietly.

Harry's thoughts immediately jumped to the prophecy. At the hand of the other.... "Probably... sooner or later...." he shrugged, as if deciding what to have for breakfast.

Harry could tell she was upset. "Aren't you scared? You-Know-Who has killed hundreds, if not thousands of people.... what if you die...?"

He sighed heavily. "Voldemort." She twitched at the sound of his name. "Would like you to believe he is invincible. He isn't. He is a really powerful wizard, but I've still got to try. Death or not, my life wouldn't be worth living if I don't try and stop him."

"You sound like you don't have a choice...."

Harry blinked. A choice...? He didn't have a choice. He had never had a choice. Even before he was born something had decided this life for him, that damn prophecy.... "I don't. I can't live while Voldemort does...."

Padma sighed and put her arms around Harry. Harry would have done the same if it wasn't for what happened next. There was a screech and then a familiar bird landed on Harry's knee, appearing in a ball of orange flame.

"Hello, Fawkes," said Harry, not fazed by the sudden appearance.

"Oh my...." gasped Padma. "A phoenix."

Harry reached out and stroked Fawkes just below his neck, the Phoenix hummed happily, the wondrous sound filling the air. "This is Fawkes, Padma. He lives with Professor Dumbledore."

Padma brought her hand down the bird's plume and Fawkes sang again with content. Harry smiled and then he saw the note attached to his leg. "Is that for me?" he asked.

Fawkes brought his head down and up, a nod. Harry carefully removed the parchment and broke the wax seal. Needless to say it was from Dumbledore.

Dear Harry,

Please could you come to my office immediately. We have a few things that need to be discussed.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry nodded and folded the parchment, putting it in his pocket. He turned back to Fawkes. "Tell him I'm on my way," he told the bird. Fawkes sang with acknowledgement and disappeared in a circle of flames. Harry now turned to Padma. "I've got to go see, Dumbledore. Could you take Little Harry and tell Hagrid?"

Padma smiled and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you later."

He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. "See you later."

Harry took off across the grounds at a quick pace, wondering what Dumbledore could possibly want. As Harry traipsed up the stone gravel path, he felt a slight twinge of pain in his scar. These were getting more and more frequent. For the past day or so it had been happening a few times an hour. Every time it did happen, Harry got a brief flash of blood red eyes and nothing more.

After ten minutes of walking through the castle he came to Dumbledore's office. It was open, the gargoyle was up; he was expected. He climbed the circular staircase and knocked three times on the oak door.

"Come in, Harry," said the calm voice of Dumbledore from within.

Harry opened and walked through the door. Dumbledore was seated at his desk, writing something with a quill, he gestured for Harry to take a seat opposite him. Harry crossed the room and sat down. He briefly noticed Fawkes back on his perch. "Hello, Professor."

"How are you, Harry?"

Harry's immediate response was, "Fine..."

Dumbledore nodded. "I think, Harry, we need to discuss this award ceremony of yours in a few days time."

"Hmm, I was meaning to come see you."

"First of all I believe I have yet to congratulate you on this-"

"It doesn't matter," he replied emotionlessly. "I'm not really looking forward to it."

"Why is that?"

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. "I don't see the point in it," he finally said. "I mean... I know it's a great honour and all. But what does it matter?"

Dumbledore was silent as he surveyed Harry over his half moon spectacles. Eventually he spoke. "You believe it doesn't matter because of the prophecy." It wasn't a question, Harry knew it was true.

"Yes...." he whispered.

Dumbledore sighed. "You believe that your life doesn't matter anymore. That this prophecy has doomed you to death...."

Harry was frustrated for a moment but then it passed, Dumbledore always seemed to be able to guess what he was thinking. "I could never duel with him the way you did at the Ministry," Harry said earnestly. "You were amazing... and so was Voldemort."

"There is time, Harry. You haven't lost yet and I do not think that he will be your end," As Dumbledore said this he looked passed Harry and into an uncertain future. "Once again I am sorry that this burden has to be yours. If it was in my power to take it away I would, but it isn't, nor anyone else's either...."

"How did you do it, sir? How did you defeat Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and breathed in heavily. "That was fifty one years ago. War tore apart the entire planet, millions died because of Grindelwald's influence. Someone had to end it, so I did...."

"Was he anything like Voldemort?"

"No, Harry," the ancient headmaster replied honestly. "Grindelwald was human; he never tried to become immortal. Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald was just a shadow."

Harry was silent for a moment and he stared at a scorch mark on Dumbledore's desk, then he remembered something Padma had said by the lake. "I never had a choice in this...."

"Our choices make us who we are, Harry. Don't ever forget that. Though it seems fate has given you little choice in this matter."

"So it's my fate to face him?" he began heatedly. Not bloody fair... who has the right to decide that?

"Yes, Harry. It was mine to defeat Grindelwald; it will be yours to defeat Voldemort."

Harry sighed. "We got a little sidetracked.... you wanted to talk about the award ceremony."

Dumbledore didn't speak for a moment and there seemed to be little to no twinkle in his eyes. "The Minister has informed me of the details. You and... I believe Miss. Patil?" The twinkle was back and a small smile of amusement was present on the old wizards face. Harry nodded. "You and Miss. Patil will take a Portkey to the Leaky Cauldron, from there a car will be waiting to take you to the venue."

"What about my other friends, they'd like to go as well."

"Ron and Hermione?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, and Ginny Weasley."

Dumbledore nodded. "They can accompany me to the Ministry."

"You'll be there, Professor?"

"Of course, Harry. As will several familiar faces," he replied.

"Well, it might not be so bad after all. Oh! I don't suppose Ethan Rafe could come as well, could he?" Harry said thoughtfully.

"It's your night, Harry. Ethan is more than welcome," replied Dumbledore with a hint in his voice that led Harry to believe that he knew more than he was letting on. Something confusing, to say the least.

Could he know about the Apparation....? No... no, not unless Rafe told him.... "Sounds good to me."

Harry was kept busy over the next week. In between normal daily lessons he juggled Quidditch practice, DA meetings, and to a lesser more secretive extent, Apparation practice. Try as he might Harry wasn't there yet in Apparation, though Rafe said he was making progress. Harry had brought Ethan to his first DA meeting on Thursday night and he had wowed them all with his deep knowledge of curses, even Hermione was impressed and she'd read it all.

He was kept so busy that he didn't notice the weekend of the 16th until it was almost upon him. Harry sat in his armchair by the fire; he was the only one left in the common room at this hour. He didn't think it was possible but over the past week his nightmares had worsened. He saw a man tied to an altar explode in a red, bloody mess. And as recently as two nights ago he had started to dream of his friend's death. It was horrific, and he woke up screaming; usually waking up Ron and Ethan with him, though for reasons he didn't understand Seamus, Dean, and Neville just slept right through it.

The Saturday of the awards ceremony passed rather quickly for Harry. He had spent most of the day with Padma down on the grounds, but at four o'clock she left to get ready, two hours before they had to go. He made his way back up to the common room to find Ron playing chess with Ethan, Ron was winning.

"Hey, lads. Where's Hermione?"

Ron picked up his queen but then shook his head and placed it back down, much to the queen's annoyance. "She's gone to get ready for tonight," said Ron. "We don't even have to go for two bloody hours!"

After lounging about in the common room for an hour, Harry thought it best if he went and got ready. At a quarter to six, after a shower and a shave, Harry came back down to the common room wearing his new dress robes. He turned a few heads as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for one of his friends. Every girl from fourth year and up was staring appreciatively. At ten to six there was still no sign of anyone so Harry thought it best if he went and met Padma in the Entrance Hall like they had planned.

On the way down through the castle Harry hardly met anyone and reached the entrance hall without incident. Padma wasn't there yet so Harry went and sat at the bottom of the stairs. After about five minutes he heard someone call his name from the landing. "Harry." It was Padma.

Harry stood up and turned around. What he saw made his jaw drop. It was Padma, she was unbelievably beautiful. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. She was wearing the blue robes that she had bought the other week in Hogsmeade, although now she wore them Harry saw that it was more of a dress. It cut off beneath her shoulders leaving them and her arms bare. It came down to just below her knees and seemed to change shades of blue slightly as she moved. It was very tight fitting. She wore some high heeled strap shoes on her feet. Her hair was tied back and up and held in place with two thin sticks which created a sort of spiky wave at the back. She was beautiful, and Harry realised, she was here for him.

He walked up the steps to meet her. "Padma, I- you... you look stunning," he said sincerely.

She smiled and Harry saw she was wearing a deep red lipstick. "Thank you, Harry. You scrub up nicely as well."

Harry laughed just as Dumbledore emerged from the door to his right. "Ah, Harry, and Miss. Patil," he began, "I do hope you're ready. It is almost time for the Portkey." As Dumbledore said this he removed a spoon from within his robes and passed it to Harry. Both he and Padma held a separate end. "Ready," said Dumbledore looking at his pocket watch. "Five, four, three, two, and one."

Harry instantly felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and then the sensation of falling forward, all the while a multitude of colours swirled around him in a howling wind. But soon enough it was over and Harry felt his feet slam into the ground. Looking around himself he saw that they were in the back street behind the Leaky Cauldron, next to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Harry grasped Padma's hand and they entered the pub. It wasn't overly busy, for which Harry was thankful. Tom the bartender spotted them though.

"Mr. Potter," he said happily, rushing around from behind the counter and shaking Harry's free hand. "Congratulations."

Harry nodded his thanks. "I don't suppose you know where our driver is? Do you, Tom?"

"Yes, he is outside on the Muggle London street. Just the other side of the door."

"Thanks, Tom."

Harry tried to get out of the pub as quickly as possible, but still had to shake three more hands before he was out. Padma looked like she was enjoying herself already.

Outside, as promised, was their car. It was a very impressive looking black Mercedes. By Muggle standards this was a fine car. Standing next to rear-side door was a very nervous looking wizard. "Hello," said Harry extending his arm.

The man shook his hand somewhat quickly. "M- Mr. Potter," he said. "I'm Dale Trice, your driver. And this is?"

"My name is Padma, Padma Patil."

"A pleasure," the driver bowed.

"Shall we get going?" asked Harry.

Dale nodded shakily and hurried to open the door for them. Padma got in, followed by Harry and soon they were off down the streets of London. It was no surprise that it was a magic car. It squeezed through impossible gaps and jumped lines of traffic that would otherwise take hours to get through.

They shot by Buckingham palace, over the Thames and passed parliament house. Through the endless rows of terrace housing in the suburbs and came in time to a street Harry recognised all to well. Dale brought the car to a stop just outside of the phone box that was the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Harry remembered the last time he was in that box, and what it had led to....

"Here we are, Mr. Potter." While Harry had been distracted Dale had come around and opened his door. "Just so you know, sir, the code to the door has been changed. 310780 is the new one." Harry nodded his thanks as he and Padma exited the vehicle. The streets were quiet, eerily quiet and the dying sun was casting a pale glow on the buildings around Harry. "I expect they're all downstairs waiting for you, Mr. Potter," finished Dale.

"Thanks, Dale," said Harry, linking his arm through Padma's. "I'll see you later."

Harry and Padma walked around the car and entered the telephone box. Picking up the receiver, Harry dialled the numbers. "Three, one, zero, seven, eight, zero...."

Padma looked confused as to what Harry was doing as the dial whirled back into place. She had never been to the Ministry before and didn't know what to expect.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," said a cool calm female voice. "Please state your name and business."

"Er- Harry Potter and Padma Patil. We're here-"

Harry didn't get to finish what he was saying before the telephone box/lift began descending into the ground. Apparently his name was enough to activate the box. Slowly but surely they went down and after a moment came to a stop. Harry linked Padma's arm in his own and they stepped out of the lift.

Harry wasn't prepared for what happened next. The Atrium was full of wizards and witches, all applauding him. It took him a moment to realise they were clapping for him, there were so many of them. Two hundred strong at least. Harry didn't know what to do next. He and Padma took a few steps forward before they were greeted by a familiar and unwanted face.

"Good evening, Harry," said Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine, fine," said Harry taking Fudge's offered hand reluctantly. "I didn't expect this..." he finished, looking around at the number of people here. He couldn't even put names to a few of them.

Fudge mistaking his confusion for surprise, continued. "Well it's not every day a sixth year Hogwart's student receives the Order of Merlin. This is a grand event."

Harry smiled weakly , trying hard not to glare at the Minister, as Fudge introduced him to what he supposed were important Ministry officials. There was the Deputy Minister, a Mr. Sacks. He met with the head of each department in the Ministry, trying as he might to remember their names he couldn't. Except for Mr. Weasley, of course. The list went on as Harry shook hand after hand, slowly making their way with Fudge towards a massive wooden door on the far side of the Atrium. Harry read a plaque in golden letters on its left side.

The Ministry of Magic Formal Events Hall.

"Harry, this is Monsieur Delacroix," said Fudge, standing next to a short man wearing some red dress robes. This man had a moustache and a beard that would rival Dumbledore's. "The French Minister of Magic."

Harry shook his hand. "It iz a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," said Delacroix, his accent extremely strong.

"And you," replied Harry.

Standing next to the French Minister was a pretty young witch of about Harry's age. She had flowing blonde hair and deep blue eyes. "This iz my daughter," stated Delacroix. "'Er name iz Sophie." Harry greeted her as best he could and moved on.

After much hustling and worming their way through the crowds, Harry and Padma stood next to Fudge by the oak doors to the Hall. Two men either side of the doors pushed them open with a nod from Fudge.

Harry was awestruck as he walked through the doors. This Hall was amazing. It was about the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but a lot nicer. Harry followed Fudge up a red carpet, passed tables covered in the finest tableware he had ever seen. They all had glowing candles floating just above the surface. Each table sat about six people.

The ceiling was hung with huge chandeliers that glowed green, yellow, blue, red, all changing. Across the walls were drapes that were stitched with the crest of the Ministry, and in the centre of the room, all the tables surrounded it, was a big wooden dance floor complete with a stage. They walked across the dance floor and came to a table that was higher from the ground than the others. It was much like the staff table at Hogwarts.

Fudge led Harry up a set of stairs and passed a podium that stood erected in the middle of the platform. He was taken up to this elongated table and Fudge showed him his seat. Padma sat down next to him. To Harry's left sat Fudge, and as the Hall filled up around them more and more people Harry didn't know joined there table. There was the French Minister, Monsieur Delacroix, to Padma's right and next to him his daughter, Sophie. And all around the table sat people who probably had important jobs but Harry didn't know... or care. He felt very out of place.

The other two hundred strangers or so sat at the other tables around the Hall, each person seeming to know where to go. Harry talked idly to Padma and played with the small piece of paper in front of him that had his name on.

"This is incredible, Harry," said Padma excitedly.

Harry smiled. "It is rather impressive, isn't it."

"Thank you for inviting me," she whispered in his ear.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered back, just as a flash went off to his right.

Ohhh great, thought Harry. Just what we need, the reporters....

Everyone was almost seated now and Fudge was standing patiently at the podium in front of their table. Harry looked to where Fudge had been sitting before, and saw that to his left was another name place. This one belonged to Albus Dumbledore. Harry turned and looked out over the crowds of tables, wondering where Dumbledore was.

He scanned the tables and his eyes fell on one near the edge of the dance floor. There sat all his friends. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Ethan. And next to Ethan sat Dumbledore. Harry smiled and waved when they caught his eye. Just like Dumbledore, he thought, to sit with his students.

The Hall was practically full now. And Fudge cleared his magically amplified voice up at the podium. The Hall grew quiet. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I would like to welcome you all to the Ministry of Magic this evening." Fudge paused as the crowd applauded. "Tonight we have a very special guest who is here to receive an award for outstanding courage and bravery in the face of danger. A man who saved the lives of fifty people earlier this year, who witnessed the rebirth of You-Know-Who, and survived the killing curse. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Potter."

The applause was tremendous. Harry stood up and waved half-heartedly at the crowds when nudged to by Padma. There were several cheers and whistles as he retuned to his seat and the clapping ended. Fudge came and sat back down and clapped Harry on the shoulder as he did. Harry wanted to hit him.

Soon enough the waiters came and gave everyone a menu. Harry watched Fudge peruse over his for a moment before saying "Chicken and salad." The food appeared on the plate before him and his goblet was filled with a clear white wine.

Harry ordered the same but faltered when a quick burst of pain flittered through his scar. Voldemort was happy.

As he ate, Harry talked mostly to Padma. But occasionally Fudge would ask him a question and he would answer as quickly as he could and turn back to Padma. When he had finished his plate cleaned itself and disappeared into the table. Harry checked his watch, it was seven-thirty. He wondered how long into the night he'd be here. Sighing, Harry turned to Fudge and was just about to say something when his scar rippled again with pain. This one was rather painful and his hand flew up to his forehead.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Padma.

"My scar... it keeps burning...."

Padma looked frightened. "Is it... is You-Know-Who doing it?" she whispered.

Harry nodded and brought his hand down, it had passed. "Don't worry... it's gone."

While this had been happening Fudge had once again returned to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen. I hope dinner was to your liking?" Roars of approval. "And now if Mr. Potter could be so kind as to lead us in the dancing, we can get the night underway."

This surprised Harry. He didn't think he'd have to dance in front of all these people. He glanced at Padma and saw her face was alight with excitement. She practically pulled his arm out of its socket as they walked to the dance floor. Harry shrugged helplessly at Ron as they passed his friends table. Ron just waved and laughed.

Harry and Padma came to a stop in the very centre of the floor. "What now?" he whispered.

"Just follow me," she said.

Padma put her arms around his neck and he put his just above her waist. Slowly some music started to play to Harry's left. He saw a group of musicians on a small stage that had previously gone unnoticed. They started with a slow song. Padma began to move and Harry followed suit. They were dancing on the balls of there feet, rocking back and forth slowly, taking a few steps here and there. A dozen or so flashes came from a dozen or so photographers at the edge of the floor but Harry didn't care. This was nice, calm, and peaceful. He even forget about the two hundred people watching him and just fell into step with Padma.

As the song carried on, more and more people began to make their way onto the dance floor. Soon it was pretty full. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione dragging a very nervous looking Ron onto the floor. They edged their way over to them.

"All right you two?" he asked.

Hermione smiled. "Hello, Harry, Padma," she said. "This place is amazing, isn't it."

Harry nodded and then turned to Ron. Ron was blushing slightly and Harry knew why. Hermione looked beautiful and it clearly wasn't lost on Ron, whose eyes were practically bulging out of his head. Did she know what she was doing? Harry thought Hermione knew exactly what she was doing.

The song started to wind down and the dancing ended. There was some applause and then another song started up. Harry stayed on the floor for this one too, dancing slowly with Padma. About five minutes through, Harry started to feel extremely dizzy. He swayed a little and stumbled, Padma caught him. "Harry...?"

"I need to sit down," he whispered shakily. Padma nodded and supported him as they went over to the table were Dumbledore and Ethan were sitting. Harry briefly saw Ginny dancing with a wizard he didn't know as they passed.

"Professor," said Harry sitting down next to Dumbledore.

"Harry.... What is it?" Dumbledore's voice was full of concern.

"He's up to something.... All night my scar has been hurting... and I've been feeling his emotions...."

Dumbledore's face was grave, and Harry noticed Rafe clench his fist and leave the table. But he didn't have time to think about that now. "Emotion...?"

"He's happy. Something is going right...." He felt Padma grasp his hand and saw her worried glance.

"What do you feel now?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry thought for a moment. "Nothing... nothing, it's passed. I feel fine now...." The dizziness and nausea was gone. He looked at his watch, quarter past eight. He wanted nothing more than to be back at Hogwarts in bed.

"Could you see what he was doing?" asked Dumbledore anxiously.

"No... no, just a brief glimpse of his eyes and then darkness."

The dancing went on for another hour. Harry sat at the table with Padma and Dumbledore, not really feeling up to anymore dancing. He slowly sipped on a Butterbeer that a waiter had brought him and watched the others dance. Hermione was still dancing with Ron and Ginny was with a different partner that Harry recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt. Well, he thought. Familiar face indeed.

Harry also saw Ethan dancing with someone familiar. He was dancing with Sophie, the French Minister of Magic's daughter. Ethan smiled as did Sophie when he leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

At a quarter past nine Harry saw Fudge step back up to the podium. He raised his hands and the band stopped playing. "Ladies and gentlemen could you please return to your seats so we may begin the presentation."

There was a moment given while everybody sat back down. Harry and Padma returned to their seats at the high table and Fudge continued. "Thank you." Harry noticed a small wizard standing next to Fudge holding a black case. Fudge now pulled out a scroll of parchment from within his robes and read from that.

"I, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, to hereby declare that Harry James Potter, born Thursday July 31st 1980, receives the Order of Merlin, Second Class for his bravery and heroics in saving the lives of fifty people with no thought to his own safety."

The room exploded with applause and Fudge waved Harry up onto the podium. As Harry walked around the table his scar once again burned with pain, though it ended as quickly as it had come. He stood next to Fudge and shook his hand as he opened the black case that the other wizard was now holding up. Fudge then took out a medallion hung on a piece of fine material. All the while the applause continued. Shaking his hand again, Fudge placed the silver medallion over Harry's head and around his neck.

A cheer rose up from the crowd as Harry turned to face them. Before saying anything he looked at the award around his neck. It was a silver medallion, roughly the size of the ones he had seen in the Olympic sport events back when he lived at Privet Drive before finding out he was a wizard. On the front side was the crest for the Ministry. Two wands crossed over the British Isles. On the reverse side it was engraved:

Harry James Potter

Order of Merlin, Second Class

November 16th 1996

It was really nice, though it felt a bit heavy. He was brought out of his thoughts as someone next to him said something. "Come on, Harry. Speech time," said Fudge.

Harry sighed and then slowly moved closer to the podium. Looking out over the crowds he saw a few familiar faces. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Ethan. One or two members of the Order and also Dumbledore. He began to speak. "I -er- I'd like to thank everyone for being here tonight, to see me receive this award... I... Argh..." Harry shook his head; another small shot of pain had just ripped through his scar. He continued, though somewhat dizzily.

"The Dementors that attacked... Argh... AAARRRGGGHHH." Harry screamed in pain and his hand flew up to his scar. It was a blood curdling scream that almost shattered glass. The pain was burning into his very skull. His legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor at the base of the podium and continued to scream.

"AAARRGGHH!"

Through the pain he saw people rushing to help him. Fuzzy faces that he couldn't quite make out. Dumbledore maybe? And then something new happened, the pain stopped and he opened his eyes, but he was no longer at the base of the podium.

It was white, everything was white. He was now standing in a room that was completely white. It stretched as far as he could see in every direction, just endless white.

"Potter." Harry turned around, already dreading what he was about to see. That voice was all too familiar. There was the Dark Lord, standing barely two metres away; Harry fell back in surprise at how close he was.

He wondered how he'd gotten here from the award ceremony. How had this happened? Was it a Portkey? No... This isn't real; he's planting images in my head like he did last year.

"Potter," said Voldemort. Harry looked at him. "I believe you are aware of our connection through your scar."

Harry was stumped now, Voldemort was speaking to him. "Yes...." This had never happened before, he was talking to Voldemort... what? Almost civilly.

"Have no doubt; I am communicating with you through this connection. The pain is nulled now, but only because I want it to-

"What do you want?" interrupted Harry. He felt a lot braver now he knew Voldemort wasn't really here and couldn't hurt him. He should have known better, but he was confused. And bravery ran through him like water in a flood.

Voldemort's eye's blazed with anger for a moment. "You'd do well not to interrupt me again, Potter...." he said, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage.

"Why? What can you possibly do to me here?"

Voldemort surveyed Harry for a moment. Then with a quick flick of the wrist he raised his hand and clicked his fingers. Immediately Harry's head exploded with a fresh wave of pain, he collapsed to the floor in this white room. "I can control the pain in your scar while we are here, ever since discovering our connection last year I have strived to understand it better, to use it to my advantage."

Harry picked himself up off the floor. "Tell me what you want...."

"I have been more than generous over the years to you, Harry. I-"

Harry laughed. "Generous!. You've murdered my entire family. You've tried to kill me on at least half a dozen separate occasions... you have not been generous. I hate you for existing!"

Briefly, vaguely, Harry wondered what was happening back at the Ministry. He also wondered why he was always the one who had to defy Voldemort, why it always came back to him in such new and inventive ways. The answer was, of course, the Prophecy.

Voldemort again seemed angry. "I will not tolerate another interruption. I have been generous; I have given you the chance to join me more than once. No one else has ever been given a second chance when I've offered them a position among the ranks of my Death Eaters."

Harry was no longer laughing. "You think that offering me more than once the chance to join your legion of loyal idiots is generous. I don't even know why you bothered offering in the first place. What would make you think that I would ever join you? You're a murderer, a killer. I hate you. I'd die before getting the Mark burned onto my arm."

Voldemort didn't say anything for a moment. "Yes... you will. I have accepted that you're a fool. If you're not with me, Potter, you're against me. I will not offer again. Make no mistake though; I am going to kill you. But first I'm going to take away everyone you care about, one by one you will watch the people you love die. Watch them paying the ultimate price for being close to you. You are going to find out what it means to be your friend. I gave you a chance to save them, you chose to ignore it. They will die, the Weasley, the Mudblood, that fool Dumbledore. And finally, after everyone is dead. I will kill you... slowly. You will learn at the very end what happens to those who stand up and fight against Lord Voldemort. Refusing my offer has been the mistake that will end all things for you."

Voldemort's blood red eyes burnt with the fire of two furnaces.

Harry was angry; his voice was even when he spoke. "Voldemort.... shut up! I'm not intimidated by you. The rest of the god damn world may fear you but I no longer do. I have nothing left to fear, you took it all away. You have lost your biggest weapon against me. The people I love are safe at Hogwarts, I've seen to that." Harry stopped to catch his breath. But then he thought of something, a parting remark. "Last year at the Ministry, Tom, you tried to obtain a prophecy sphere that was foretold concerning me and you. Now I know what it said and trust me when I say this, I am going to kill you... and this time I'll make sure you stay dead. I've had enough. Over the years you've driven me to the edge and now you've just pushed me over it. ENOUGH!" Harry paused. The fury on the Dark Lord's face was tremendous. Harry was glad he had made him angry. "That said, Tom, if you don't mind, I'd like to leave."

Voldemort roared with anger and raised both his hands, Harry knew what was coming and braced himself for it. His scar erupted in the most pain he'd ever felt. Barely he felt another pain shoot up his back complete with a large, ominous breaking sound. He fell to the floor unable to move. All the while his scar burned.

Death would have been a release from the pain, maybe it was death; he couldn't tell? He felt his scar tearing at the seems and then blood falling down into his right eye. Harry closed his eyes and tried to block it out, but to no avail. The world around him grew dark and he knew nothing more.

*~*~*~*