Harry Potter and the Clash of Souls

Harry Potter and the Clash of Souls

-CHAPTER THREE-

Acceptance

Harry had spent the rest of his time after Remus left watching television in the front room. He wasn't sure what time the Dursleys would be back from Dudley's birthday outing, so he thought he'd indulge in a luxury he rarely had in the past. He had watched the end of a James Bond film, though missing most of the plot development made it harder for him to understand what was going on, except that Bond killed the bad guy and got the women in the end. If only real life was that simple, he thought.

The arrival of the Dursleys signalled his self-exile to his bedroom. He didn't really want to spend the rest of his night listening to Dudley brag about how he wasn't scared of the big roller-coaster ride he had went on in the theme park. Every time Dudley mentioned it though, he noticed Aunt Petunia seemed to pale another shade. He'd wager a bet that Dudley had forced her to ride with him, too.

It was with that last image; Harry decided to make a start at finding his safeguard memory. It was getting quite late but he presumed it wouldn't be that hard to find one that would suit his needs. Nope, it shouldn't take too long to find.

The Weasleys, he thought, a family he would give anything to truly be a part off. Any of his memories with the Weasleys could be his safeguard memory. He thought back to the first time he met Ron on the Hogwarts Express, his first friend, but that didn't leave him happy for long. He remembered Ron had asked to see his scar nearly straight away when he revealed himself. His thoughts suddenly took a turn and drifted to darker memories. Memories of when Ron had turned against him, become jealous of the fame his scar brought him, fame he had never wanted in the first place.

Ginny, he quickly thought to stop from falling into a depression. He knew hardly anything about her except she was a great flyer and that she supposedly had a fiery temper. That didn't really make him feel better, he had known Ginny for how many years now and that was all he could recall? No, that wasn't all, he remembered the Chamber. The Chamber of Secrets. It certainly did hold many secrets that still disturbed him today, things that he had pushed right to the back of his memory. Things that he had seemingly forgotten until Ginny had reminded him last year, she had been possessed. Now they had something in common, something that showed they were alike. They both had been tainted by Voldemort's presence deep inside of them, inside their souls.

Mr. Weasley, yes, Mr. Weasley. His questions about Muggles were always strange and funny. Things he took for granted amazed Mr. Weasley, and he had many a time had a conversation that would just help him to forget where he was, as he tried his hardest to make Mr. Weasley understand the joys of television. Mr. Weasley even went to the limits to try and heal himself by using stitching on his wounds...his mortal wounds. Wounds from a snake that he envisioned, that he felt, the slithering long movements and the thrill of biting down on his warm flesh.

Mrs. Weasley, his thoughts quickly adjusted to. She treated him like her own son, fussing over him and giving him bone-crushing hugs whenever they met after a long absence. She even came to Hogwarts for him, to be his family, the champion's family. Family? Her family would die because of him, she knew it, she saw it, and she even dreamt it, her greatest fear. All her family strewn dead on the floor...but he was there, too.

"Ouch."

Hedwig had flown over and nipped him on the ear, once again stopping him from focusing too much on his bad memories. He couldn't help it lately, and it seemed like thinking up a good safeguard memory was going to be harder then he thought. He wished he could just get out of here. Fly to somewhere better where he could live properly, glide on his Firebolt...but he couldn't even do that. His Firebolt was still taken from him thanks to Umbridge. She hadn't given it back to him before he left Hogwarts; he hoped no one had taken it for their own. It was the first thing Sirius had ever given him and he had lost it, just like how he had ended up damaging both the knife and the mirror Sirius had given him, too.

He wished he were just with his friends, not alone with his books and the Dursleys. He thought of his earliest memories, memories of when he shared time with Hermione and Ron just relaxing. Relaxing under a tree near the lake, being so comfortable that they didn't mind the silence. That really did reflect the innocence they still had, being ignorant in a world that held so many secrets that it wasn't truly black and white or plainly Slytherin against Gryffindor.

That was it, his safeguard memory, he concluded. A memory that wasn't tainted by any darkness, just pure tranquillity. A memory that he realised would calm him whenever he let his emotions get out of control and he lashed out. This year, he promised to himself once again, that it would be different, and he would make sure of that. A faint smile of true achievement wandered on to his features as he drifted off into restless sleep.

*-*

Harry found himself walking through the streets of Hogsmeade. It was nighttime and eerily quiet as everyone was safely tucked away beneath his or her sheets in their beds. The famous Honeydukes and Zonkos were closed to all till the morning, but Harry didn't mind. He felt quite content to be alone and to think about nothing but the details he hardly noticed when the streets were teeming with Hogwarts students and other wizards and witches going about their business. It was only too soon that he had wandered past all the shops and had come to the hill below the Shrieking Shack. But what met him was nothing he had ever expected.

There, standing before him in robes, dark as the night was Voldemort. Voldemort in all his hated glory, with his pitiful followers, the epitome of dark bodyguards all standing in a semi-circle behind him. Death Eaters. Death Eaters all dressed in black, blank white masks covering the faces of prestigious members of the Wizarding community. Wands drawn with the sickly charge of an Unforgivable waiting to rip from the core of each of their wands.

"Crucio."

A single icy command that only betrayed the glee caused by saying such a word was felt by one alone. Each and every one of them relished and enjoyed the cries that poured from this forsaken soul. To hate to such a degree did not faze them; it was, after all, power. Their own power that they manipulated this boy with to submit and cry out at the pain they so willingly caused. They craved more each time; like a toxin it seeped into them, a pleasure that could only be filled by the power of revenge. The power of malignity. The power of hate.

"Enough."

Harry collapsed, watched with half-drooped eyes as Voldemort advanced. He commanded all attention and his followers watched with their eyes alone, always at the ready for their Dark Lord to command them to do his every bidding. The only thing to break the silence of this forsaken night was the footsteps of Voldemort and Harry's heavy breaths. It took effort for him to even breathe for the pain from so many casters was unbearable. The pain in his scar was merely annoying compared to what he felt only moments ago.

"Open your eyes, Potter, to your new Lord and master. You alone have caused yourself enough misery. Trying to deny what you know is inevitable."

Harry didn't move, he couldn't, the pain was too much. He tried not to listen to the silkily calm words, but the seeds of doubt were already growing in his mind.

"It was your fault your precious godfather is dead, yours and yours alone." Voldemort paused to walk around Harry. "Yes, I can see it all clearly, death. It's your fault that all your friends will die, starting with that Mudblood of yours, too, Potter."

"Leave them alone. I didn't kill Sirius, I wanted to save him," he said between gasps.

"Oh, but you did, it was all in that mind of yours," said Voldemort, sliding a long, thin finger down Harry's forehead, wanting to force a reaction that did not come. "You were afraid I'd take your Godfather away from you, just like how I took your parents away. You drove him to his death, only to stop me from receiving the immense pleasure I would have taken from killing him myself," said Voldemort with a hideous laugh.

"No, I...you're trying to...get out my head!"

"I'm only telling you the truth, Harry, your own selfishness killed him."

"No, I...I didn't kill Sirius. It was your worthless slave who killed him and I will make her pay, as well as you!" Voldemort plainly looked at Harry before he gave a chilling laugh.

How dare he! Harry thought, how dare he laugh! Anger raged inside of him, manipulating him, blinding his thoughts, making him all too aware of the darkness that was beginning to pulse and radiate inside of him.

"Yes. My precious follower did kill him, but how are you going to make her pay?"

Voldemort gave a chilling laugh, sweeping his gaze over his followers till he stopped on one. A feminine chortle slipped easily from under the blank mask of the robed figure, but it broke abruptly when Harry raised his gaze from the floor for the first time to fix the figure with a piercing glare. A low menacing growl escaped his gritted teeth, but his dark feelings of revenge were momentarily crushed from Voldemort's next words.

"And me? No chance. You already tried to curse her once with one of my favourite tools. The Cruciatus' wasn't it? Yes, you did, didn't you?

Voldemort finally took his gaze away from his most loyal of all followers to tear away his prisoner's last resolves.

"But, like everything else, you were too weak to take your vengeance. Let me help you repay the favour instead, by allowing me to free you from your miseries. After all, it's only two simple words."

'Why though?' Another voice, much clearer, had drifted into the back of his mind. 'Stupid thing to let him do, really,' said the voice.

"No. That'd be too easy. I wouldn't be getting anything from that. Yes. I'm sure I can use that Mudblood of yours for something...pleasurable. It's all she's worth. I'd be doing her a favour, or shall I let her watch while you beg me to kill you. Better yet, let her watch as you plead me to allow you to kill yourself." Voldemort's sickly pale fingers were twisting in the air each time he rubbed his chin as he thought of better plans for his defeated foe.

'Why on Earth would you want to kill yourself?' said the other voice a little firmer. 'No. You made a promise to not let your friends go through what you did with Sirius. You can't leave them, they will suffer and grieve far worse then you ever did.'

"Well, what do you say, Potter, your life for the girl?"

'Didn't you?'

"Well? Answer me, Potter? "

'Didn't you!'

"No! I will never leave my friends to you. I won't let you hurt them." Harry finally pushed himself up through his depression and pain to stand up against the monster that was in front of him, taunting him with his cheap attempts at bargaining. He had commanded his followers to curse him. To take his power and leave his body still reaping the affects of the Cruciatus. But with every last ounce of strength he had, he would use it to defiantly match Voldemort's glare and stance.

"So be it. You had your chance, now you will suffer before you will see your worthless godfather and your good for nothing parents again!" spat Voldemort, shaking with fury that his offer was refused so flatly.

Harry only smiled in return; it had only taken him a moment to change the position of their roles. Voldemort had lost his cool collection whilst he had found his in an understanding that was supposed to be beyond his years.

"Tom, won't you ever learn that there are worse things then death? You can't scare me any more with your threats; I'm not the one afraid to die. My family is waiting for me."

"How dare you! Kill him! Kill him now!"

*-*

Harry abruptly woke up from the nightmare he was having, vaguely remembering it was the first time his dream had changed completely since the Department of Mysteries. Now he felt a huge weight was off his shoulders and with a new sense of clarity that he truly believed he didn't kill Sirius. He felt different somehow, but this fresh sort of understanding of his prophesised enemy clouded the changes he had felt shift inside of him in that one moment his eyes had met Bellatrix Lestrange's.

It all soon faded away though and he couldn't help but groan when he looked at his clock and it read only 3am. His mind was feeling too wide-awake to go back to sleep right now, so he decided to go downstairs for a while.

Harry paused in the doorway of the kitchen; his aunt was awake staring out the window. An eerily dark green mist seemed to hug against the night, as thick as fog covering the crescent moon high up in the blackened sky. The lack of stars did nothing to avert the unearthly feelings coming from seeing this oddly sight. It all but bode some sort of foreshadowing upon the horizon, especially after how his dream ended with the night sky filled with green light.

"Harry! Why-- I didn't know you were still awake. I just came down for a cup of tea," Aunt Petunia explained while filling the kettle. She slightly narrowed her eyes and looked at him carefully. "I don't suppose you'd like one?"

Harry surprised that his aunt offered him something, merely nodded his head and sat down at the kitchen table feeling quite uncomfortable while he waited for his aunt to finish preparing the tea.

"Mrs Figg is visiting later today and she is bringing her sister and her niece. For some strange reason she wants you to join us." Frowning, she continued, "I expect you to be on your best behaviour and definitely no mentioning of that freak school of yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Now that he knew Mrs Figg was really a Squib, he wondered if her relatives were witches. It would be good to see someone else from his world, he thought.

Absentmindedly, he took off his glasses to massage his eyes. Even though his mind was wide-awake, his body was still screaming for sleep, and he wondered why his aunt was up at this time. Looking over at his aunt now he was surprised to see her staring at him with her mouth hanging somewhat open.

"I don't know what's happened to you, but your eyes look just the same as Lily's were when I saw her for the last time alive. They look murky now, a dark green, no longer full of the wonder and cheer they use to have since the first time you came back from Hogwarts. You've lost something," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Your soul's damaged...your innocence." She paused as she continued to watch Harry's eyes slowly widen. "You might look like that awful boy but your eyes are just like Lily's, they show your true self, always determined and a need to prove yourself. I don't know much more about you, but what I've seen so far is nothing compared to that Potter. You're an Evans first and don't forget that. Now, off to bed."

Harry, completely shocked at his aunt's behaviour, followed her wishes and quickly hurried out of the room, not even getting a chance to drink any of his tea. It wasn't too long before Harry was drifting back to sleep with thoughts of what turned his aunt to hate magic so much. But all his wonderings kept coming back to his father, did he do something so terrible that it made her fear the Wizarding world and all Potters alike?

*-*

Harry had been woken by a loud shout from his aunt telling him that Mrs Figg would be coming soon. Looking at his clock, he wondered if his Aunt had simply just lost track of time or did she really let him sleep in to nearly midday? Well, his body certainly needed the extra rest, he thought to himself. He pulled out any old clothes from his trunk and quickly rushed downstairs to get some breakfast, only to be shouted at and ordered back up the stairs. He had to make himself look respectable for his guests, apparently.

Scowling to him self, he wondered how he could ever look respectable wearing Dudley's old cast offs; some didn't even fit him anymore. Maybe he should just wear his school robes, now that would be making a statement, one, which he thought his aunt probably, wouldn't like at all.

On the way back downstairs, dressed in a pair of denim jeans frayed along the bottom and a large dark green t-shirt, which was tucked into his jeans, he thought he had done his best with the choices he had on offer. His wand was tucked deep into his side pocket; he really did try to listen to Mad-Eye Moody. He didn't want to blow a chunk out of his bum. Harry was just making a last ditch effort at smoothing down his hair when the doorbell rang. Aunt Petunia gave a quick glance at Harry's clothes before she opened the door; a wide slightly fake smile was pasted across her face.

Aunt Petunia ushered Mrs. Figg in, gushing with pleasant comments, but that wasn't what struck Harry dumb. Following her was Professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher from Hogwarts. She was dressed in such formal Muggle clothing that she would never seem to pass as a Witch. With a long black skirt and a plain white blouse, her choice of clothing did not depict anything other than control. Of course, her hair was also tied back in the usual tight bun she would wear at Hogwarts.

Harry was about to voice his surprise when McGonagall gave him a quick look, silencing him instantly. Of all the people he thought he might see today, McGonagall was one of the last to come to mind. The only explanation he could come up with for this little visit was that Dumbledore was checking up on him. A thought he didn't like at all. He was left here alone for eleven years before anybody from the Wizarding world was sent to see him, why should Dumbledore care now, aren't the guards that constantly watch him enough?

Harry was broken out of his heated thoughts when his gaze landed on the figure that had just stepped out from behind his professor. A slightly short girl about his age stood shyly next to Mrs. Figg. She wore blue denim jeans with a pink t-shirt that said 'Angel' in silver writing. Her brown hair was left dangling over her face almost acting like a barrier protecting her from the people she was about to meet.

"Natalie, dear, don't be so shy, this is my good friend Petunia and her nephew Harry, who lives with her," said Mrs. Figg by way of introduction. The girl in question, Harry noticed, barely lifted her head to give a shy smile to Aunt Petunia, but when she turned her hazel eyes upon Harry, she caught him quiet by surprise when she gave a small wink. He looked at the others to see if they noticed but Mrs. Figg had already moved on to introduce his professor to his aunt.

"Minerva, you say? Are you sure we haven't met sometime before? I think I can recall your face from somewhere," said Aunt Petunia, her eyes slightly narrowing as she tried to remember.

"I don't believe I had the...pleasure of meeting you before. I'm sure I would remember if I had."

Aunt Petunia continued to search McGonagall's face before she broke out into a wide smile and guided everyone into the living room.

It was awfully boring, Harry thought. Mrs. Figg really did like her stories about her cats and it seemed like McGonagall shared her enthusiasm for the creatures. Though he supposed he should of realised that sooner, since she is a cat Animagus, after all. The conversations appeared to leave the realm of animals to the terrible weather they had been having lately, but Harry's thought soon drifted back to the skill of Animagus transformation. His father and Sirius were Animagus and he wondered if the animal they became reflected who they were or if you got to choose which animal you wanted to be. He knew Sirius had some traits from his Snuffles form but that could have been because of his time in Azkaban. He had said many times before that when he couldn't take the coldness of the Dementors he would transform, where he held fewer memories. On the other hand, McGonagall was a feline and he couldn't remember her being overly curious. He was broken out of his wonderings when Mrs. Figg directly talked to him.

"Harry, why don't you take Nat up to your bedroom while the grown-ups talk more personal matters. I doubt you two won't have a hard time at finding some common ground," said Mrs Figg with a strange chuckle.

Harry's eyes widened and he was about to protest, not to mention that Aunt Petunia suddenly became quiet anxious. She was probably afraid that Natalie would find out about his magical abilities, though he was sure that his Aunt wouldn't put it in those terms.

He gave a quick look at Natalie to gauge her reaction whilst he tried to come up with an excuse, but all thought left his brain when he saw the girl smiling. It was not the look he was expecting.

"You're quiet right, Arabella, I'm sure Nat would enjoy spending more time with people closer to her own age," said McGonagall, leaving Harry speechless again. What were they trying to do?

"Are you sure?" was the feeble attempt his aunt had made to stop the situation from evolving, but soon Harry was leading the way to his bedroom whilst his aunt was listening with rapt attention at the gossip Mrs. Figg had about the neighbour down the street.

His room was messier than he thought it was earlier. He had tried to keep his room tidy this year, just in case he had any unexpected company, though more in the magical guard sense then the girl that stood behind him looking around his room, but he just couldn't be bothered. Most of the books he had read or referred to when he worked on his summer home studies were all around his bedroom. His trunk lay opened revealing a jumbled mixture of Muggle clothes and Wizard robes that had spilled to the floor on his attempts at searching for clothes good enough for company.

Harry started picking up the books and placing them in his trunk. Natalie all the while had moved into his room and was looking critically at her reflection in the mirror.

"Sorry for the mess, I didn't think anyone was going to come into my room," he said sincerely.

"I told you before I like it like this, not so tidy like the rest of the house." Whipping around, Tonks was standing there with a cheerful smile and bright pink spiky hair.

"Wotcher, Harry."

"Mrs. Figg is your aunty?" Harry asked, bewildered

"Of course she isn't, that was all just a cover story to get us in the house while the Dursleys are here."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little better with Tonks here; her insistent perkiness and odd ever-changing hair colour just lightened any situation.

"So how come you've went to all this trouble to just see me?"

"Well, McGonagall brought me along to tell you a bit about Auror training after you finish at Hogwarts, and later, when Mrs. Figg distracts your aunt, McGonagall going to tell ya about your NEWTs study."

"I can't believe Dumbledore had gone to all this trouble, from his letter he sounded really busy. With the Order, I suppose."

"Harry, this hasn't got anything to do with Dumbledore, this was all McGonagall's idea. A certain werewolf friend of ours reminded her of a promise she made to one of her favourite students."

"Remus! I knew he had something planned, I can't believe McGonagall going to help me, I thought she was just saying that because of Umbridge," he laughed to himself before he remembered the end of Tonk's sentence. "Hey! What makes you think I'm one of McGonagall's favourite students, that sounds more like Hermione, I'm not near enough as good as her with Transfiguration."

"Oh, Harry, you just have to see it when she's defending you against Snape," said Tonks with a wide smile.

Harry really wondered how many more surprises he could take; today was really shaping up to be something else highly unexpected.

"Well, where should I start?" said Tonks with a thoughtful expression. "Well, it takes roughly three years to become an Auror. In your first year you basically get advanced teaching. It will mostly be further information on the stuff you'll learn in your NEWT classes this year and the next. That won't be a problem for you because everything will be fresh in your mind, unlike the older people who will be trying to become Aurors with you."

Harry only nodded, eager to find out more.

"You get a whole bunch of exams at the end of that and if you do well you get partnered with an Auror who will sort of act like your mentor. Because I was straight out of Hogwarts I did well enough to get partnered up with Kingsley. He basically took me through my last two years, helping me improve and telling me things I had to watch out for."

"I think the ones who didn't do well enough to get a mentor had to team up with each other and learn for themselves or either retake the year again. Now, second year is battle strategies, my favourite, because you get to learn different curses and charms you can incorporate into your duals. I heard you're pretty good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, so you'll probably enjoy it as much as I did. There's a whole load of other little stuff we did during the year but that's the main part."

"The third year was terrible for me, a real nightmare. It was all about stealth and tracking, which I nearly failed. I'm alright with tracking but it's the stealth part that gets me. When it comes to balance I'm perfect in a dual but when it's trying to be quiet in a situation, something nearly always happens to me."

"So, how did you pass, then?"

"Oh, when it came to my exam I cast a Silencing charm around all the objects around the room, so if I knocked into them they wouldn't make a noise, but if anybody else did then the sound would be twice as loud." She smiled wildly, obviously proud. "That one impressed them, they said never saw the charm used like that before."

"Once I passed I stayed with Kinglsey for a few raids before I could work on my own, that was about six months, I think. I'll never forget my first raid; this nasty bugger got me with an Expelliarmus and then encircled me with this ring of fire. He wasn't particularly skilled in the Dark Arts, so if it weren't for Kingsley stunning him, I would have been burnt to a crisp. If he was stronger he might have been able to hold me captured in that ring and probably make Kingsley surrender too, but he couldn't control the flaming circle from shrinking. He just wanted to escape with his stolen dark arts artifacts, and if he killed me in the process he would of gone straight to Azkaban. I think his own spell scared him more then Kingsley did."

Harry could remember Kingsley duelling and he was a formidable foe. If that man was more afraid of the spell then Kingsley then it must be really one of the Dark Arts. To use such a spell must of made him really sick, he didn't think he could do that again, not after knowing what it would feel like.

*-*

Tonks was good for Harry, she boosted his confidence level in himself and he found that he remembered more of what she said. It was like everything she was telling him was a secret that he wasn't supposed to know. Like the strange spells that he wouldn't even recognise or which book to read to find out how to do such things.

A sharp knock at the door broke Tonks off from the current story she was telling. She closed her eyes and screwed up her face and she was once again Natalie. Harry made sure that Tonks was ok before he crossed over to his door and opened it to see McGonagall frowning at the locks that he had forgotten were there. She glanced at the cat flap on his door, which only deepened her frown to a scowl.

"I won't even begin to comment, the lack of any photographs downstairs has confirmed my original opinions of the Dursleys so many years ago. They are the worst Muggles I have ever seen."

"So you have met Aunt Petunia and the Dursleys before, then?" said Harry. He wasn't complaining; he agreed whole heartily with McGonagall's opinions.

"I met your Aunt very briefly when she was still an Evans at your parents wedding, but I watched over the Dursleys for a day in my Animagius form." At Harry's questioning expression, she continued with a sad tone. "It was the day after that fateful Halloween so many years ago, the day Albus left you in their possession. I know now that I should of argued more with Albus about where you should of lived, but his reasons were quite persuading, and in a way he was correct. Though I am surprised how you managed to live in such an environment and still turn out how you have," said McGonagall with a small, sad smile.

Harry didn't know what to say, he had rarely seen this side from McGonagall and he wasn't sure if it made him entirely comfortable. McGonagall seemed to collect herself as she continued her attempt at talking in an even tone.

"Mrs. Figg has managed to convince your aunt into letting Tonks come visit you, Harry, just as long as it doesn't interfere with your...chores," said McGonagall, her mouth forming a thin line of disapproval.

They spent the next half an hour or so discussing the best courses for him to take. They decided on NEWT Level Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. McGonagall seemed to have a lot of faith in Harry and that he did well enough to get into that NEWT level class. Although Care of Magical Creatures was one of his favourite classes, mainly because of Hagrid, he wasn't sure whether he should take it at NEWT level, or even at all. He decided to ask Remus as well as Ron and Hermione for their advice.

It was either that or Divination or Astronomy to choose from and he really didn't like either of them compared to Hagrid's class, even if it could be a danger to his health. He had until the middle of August to fill out the rest of his schedule; by that time he would know what his OWLs are and hopefully be staying with the Weasleys.

"I really think I'd choose Hagrid's class, Professor, but I'll think about Astronomy."

"That you do, Harry. If you had taken a real subject like Arithmancy instead of Divination during your first option takes we wouldn't be having this talk. During my years at Hogwarts nobody wasted their time with crystal ball gazing. Arithmancy taught you how to use your logic, not open up a third eye."

"I don't think I would have enjoyed it much, it's Hermione favourite subject and she's always talking about how hard it is."

McGonagall merely frowned. "And you enjoyed Divination? Yes, I suppose Trelawney's attempts at prophesising are ones to listen to. How many children did she say you were going to have?" said McGonagall, a small smile spreading across her serious facade.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I suggest you give some thought to Astronomy, but I agree if you carry on with Care of Magical Creatures your last years will be well rounded. Most of what you'll learn in those NEWT classes will cover the course material in the electives that are also on offer."

"I didn't know there were other subjects I could study," said Harry, greatly curious at what else he could take.

"Yes, there are quite a few available for sixth years to choose from who want to specialise in a certain area once they graduate from Hogwarts. I wouldn't suggest you taking any of the electives, I don't think you'd want to learn things twice in those other classes." At Harry's confused expression she continued. "For example, we have on offer an in-depth study of magical herbs and fungi, this lesson would work best when taken with Herbology, but because you are taking Potions it is not needed."

"I think I understand, if I didn't get into potions or the other NEWT classes I would take an elective."

"More or less, the electives are for only a year, so even if you got the grade for the NEWT class, it might work for your advantage to take an elective. Therefore, you'll get the chance to take another selection of electives in your seventh year.

Harry wasn't sure if that sounded any better and he wondered if his friends would decide to take an elective. It occurred to him that he didn't really know what they wanted to be. Ron said something about being an Auror, but he wasn't sure about Hermione or Neville.

"If a student failed or not achieved a sufficient score in their OWLs to enter a NEWTs level class, then remedial courses would be more beneficial than electives, but I won't digress, I am fully confidant that you have done well. Since our talk I noticed an improvement in your Transfiguration practical work, however, your theory stills needs some work."

The small praise he received from McGonagall was enough to set him smiling and made him determined to prove to his professor that he could do well.

"Well, if there's nothing else to be asked we shall make our leave," said McGonagall, starting to get up.

"Professor, wait, is there anyway you could get my work marked? I want to see if what I've done is any good before I start revising," he said, getting up to put together all the work he had done these past nights he had been back at Privet Drive.

"What work, Potter? After the OWL exams are taken students are relieved of any work and are only expected to revise for the first NEWT year. The only homework that was given to your student year was optional."

"Yeah, I did that work, here ya go," he said with a timid smile.

"Well, I never. Potter, you certainly don't cease to amaze me. I'll be sure to mark your work personally. Tonks, you can return it the next time you visit Harry," she said, waving the small bundle of parchment at the young Auror.

Harry led them all back downstairs to where Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Figg were just finishing with their tea; soon they were out the door and Harry was back in his bedroom, using his free time to glance through all the subjects' work McGonagall told him to look over again for the new term. The only exception Harry made was potions. He really wanted to show Snape up this year, and he knew he had some catching up to do. So Harry decided to work on the basic potion principles.

Without Snape always lurking around him, Harry found that studying the basics actually helped him to understand more. He didn't do much advanced work, but Harry decided he would eventually concentrate on reviewing the first five years worth of work instead, and reassess where his past potions had failed, according to Snape. Simple things like the fact that you couldn't mix dragon's blood with bat bile were the difference between a ruined or a perfect potion. Harry couldn't understand why Snape hadn't taught these easy principles from the first day at Hogwarts. Harry spent the rest of his day and most of his night casually going over his work in preparation for when he would really start his studies. It was this night that marked the first time Harry would sleep peacefully, without the threat of nightmares surrounding the edges of his consciousness since the Department of Mysteries. It was the first of many tranquil nights to come.