Harry Potter and the Dangerous Choice

Chapter Twelve:

The Coffee Shop

Harry limped slightly as he climbed the stairs, following Defense Against the Dark Arts, his last class before the holiday break. Ron's left ear was twitching madly and Hermione's hair was sticking out in all directions. The rest of the students exiting the Great Hall looked no better. For the past four hours, Snape had put them through every hex they knew as he pushed them into duel after duel. He claimed that they should be happy for the practice defending themselves. Harry did not think most of the students would agree.

Surprisingly, Snape had not attempted to use him as a guinea pig today, however that did not mean Harry had escaped unscathed. While demonstrating a particularly painful hex on Malfoy, Snape's aim had been bad and had somehow hit Harry who was standing nearby, watching.

"He did that on purpose," hissed Ron quietly, as he pulled Harry back to his feet. Harry hurt all over and he glared up at Snape. Without planning it, Harry turned his Legilimens training against Snape and it was a bit of a shock to find himself accessing Snape's thoughts. Harry was sure Snape had not been expecting this. As he suspected, the hex had not been an accident, it had been intended for him. The potions master seemed shocked by Harry's intrusion, and immediately broke off eye contact, his face turning a livid shade of puce. Harry looked over toward Mac who had withdrawn his wand, but hadn't intervened. He gave Harry a hint of a smile, as though he realized what had just happened.

For the rest of the lesson, Snape seemed to stay as far away from Harry as possible and never looked in his direction. Harry was keen for the lesson to end so he could tell Ron and Hermione what he had done. In the back of his head, he was wishing he could have a go at Snape for real; just him, and the potions master, and their wands.

When Harry took his seat at the Gryffindor table for dinner that evening there was a buzz of voices all around the room. Colin Creevey was talking excitedly to his brother Dennis who was a third year. Colin saw Harry looking in their direction and hurried over. "Hi ya, Harry," said Colin in his high, enthusiastic voice. "Dennis says Professor Trelawney never showed up for their Divination lesson. He said she wasn't there for the Ravenclaws' lesson either." Harry nodded unconcernedly at this piece of news, until he realized that Ron had mentioned that she had missed his lesson the day before.

Trelawney was not at the staff table, but she never did attend the meals in the Great Hall so her absence was not unusual. Where was Dumbledore, he wondered, and did he know Sibyll Trelawney had gone missing? Although Harry had no great love for the misty Divination teacher, she was the source of the prophecy that haunted Harry's dreams. The prophecy was dangerous, and Dumbledore said it must not fall into the hands of Lord Voldemort.

He was unsure what to do, but felt he should act. He ignored Ron's question about whether he fancied some boiled potatoes, and rose from his seat, looking about the room for McGonagall, the only person, other than Dumbledore, that he dared ask. Neither of them were in the room. Harry tried to suppress the panic that he felt rising in his chest.

"Hey! Where are you going?" shouted Ron, with a serving spoon poised over a large bowl. But Harry didn't look back as he hurried from the room. His insides were swirling queasily. He dashed up the stairs and headed toward North Tower, and the Divination classroom. Harry had not been there since last year. As he passed the portrait of Sir Cadogan, the little knight shouted, "Stand and fight you cur!" If Harry had ignored Ron, he certainly was not going to pause to exchange taunts with Sir Cadogan.

Soon he reached the silver ladder that led to the Divination room. Harry could hear voices overhead and he swiftly climbed up. The scent of the heavy, drowsy perfume assailed him as he climbed into the room. McGonagall and Dumbledore along with Mr. Filch, and Snape were standing in the center of the room looking anxious. "Harry!" said Dumbledore with a sharp look, as he entered. "Thank you for coming as soon as I sent for you. However, you need not have come up here. Please wait over there and I'll see you in a moment." Then Dumbledore turned back to the group.

Dumbledore's words were certainly confusing, as Harry had not been sent for. He didn't argue though, and moved over to the side. Dumbledore was directing Filch, Snape and McGonagall to organize a search of the rest of the castle and grounds. They left shortly with their assignments.

Dumbledore approached Harry while checking that the departing staff members were out of earshot. "I am assuming, Harry, that you heard about Professor Trelawney's disappearance. That is why you are here?" Harry nodded gravely. "I do not want the connection between you two to become common knowledge." Dumbledore checked the strange pocket watch, with twelve hands, that he carried. "Apparently, Sibyll disappeared sometime on Wednesday night. No one saw her after Wednesday classes."

"What do you suspect, sir?" asked Harry.

"The worst, Harry; that Voldemort has devised a plan to spirit her from the castle, and use her to try to divulge the prophecy."

Harry shivered. "If he could get into Hogwarts, why didn't he just come after me?"

"You are carefully watched, Harry, and your dormitory is very safe from intrusion. Extra protection was added after Sirius showed that a determined person could breach Gryffindor tower. Also, I am not convinced that someone came onto the castle grounds and took her out. But...we will have to see."

"If he gets it...the prophecy, I mean..." Harry asked quietly.

"If he does, we will have to deal with it," said Dumbledore solemnly.

"Do you think Fudge going missing and Professor Trelawney is related then?"

"No, Harry I don't....although they are both convenient for our enemies, in their own ways. I must go and notify the Order to see if they can get a lead on Sibyll's whereabouts."

"But, how...," Harry yawned, inadvertently, "Sorry sir, this room always makes me sleepy."

Dumbledore smiled grimly, "It should, I have the house elves lay the fire with herbs that form a befuddlement charm. It is how I've managed to keep Sibyll Trelawney in the castle and, for the most part, safely in her rooms for all these years."

Harry's look of amazement was lost on Dumbledore, who had turned suddenly as if a thought had struck him. He turned slowly scanning the room for something. His eyes came to rest upon Trelawney's crystal gazing ball. Dumbledore approached it slowly and without touching it, he sunk down in the chair at the table and looked closely at it, his long crooked nose almost touching its shiny surface. He stared into it silently for about a minute. Then he rose, and swept the silky red tablecloth up around it and carried it over to the ladder.

Without waiting for Harry to form his question, Dumbledore said, "Here is our answer. Sibyll was tricked into leaving the castle by an enchantment laid on this orb. It appears to be showing the front gates of Hogwarts under moonlight followed by a beckoning hand. It keeps running this image over, and over. Sibyll must have thought it was a mystical call of some kind and decided to investigate. My charms on this room are not strong enough to deter a person set on an action. Once outside the gates, she could easily be taken."

Harry clambered down the ladder after Dumbledore, and had to run to catch up to him. He was constantly impressed at how spry the headmaster was at times such as these. "Please do not speak of this to anyone," said Dumbledore, as he turned to Harry without slowing, "I blame myself for this situation. I have been so involved in Ministry issues that I have been neglecting my first priority."

Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor tower. Trelawney was another person who was in danger as a result of the prophecy. He wondered if there was a way to get Trelawney to recite it, when she did not even remember the event. Just outside the portrait hole, Harry's scar suddenly exploded in pain. It came on so fast, and with such strength that Harry fell to his knees, hands pressed to his head. He struggled for control to push the flash of emotion from his head. With some effort he succeeded. He had the definite impression that Voldemort was extremely happy about something. Harry climbed guardedly to his feet, trying to maintain his mental defenses as he spoke the password and climbed into Gryffindor common room. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were sitting together in a corner, blessedly, no homework in site.

"Hey, Harry, what's up?" asked Ron.

"What do you mean," asked Harry distractedly.

"Well, you leapt up and practically ran out of the Great Hall, didn't you?"

"Oh, that," said Harry. He had not thought how he was going to explain this rather erratic action without divulging something about the prophecy. "Umm...Dumbledore wanted to know if I was going to, ahh...headquarters for the Christmas holiday," he lied.

"And for that, you had to leave dinner uneaten?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Well, I didn't know what he wanted, did I, and....I forgot to go see him....so I was in a hurry, you see."

Ron seemed to accept this but Hermione looked a bit too hard at him. He held back the urge to rub his scar which was still tingling. She seemed to decide against saying anything for she smiled and announced, "Ron is going to come with me to my parents' house for a few days, then he'll take the knight bus back to headquarters." Ron's face was beaming and flushing at the same time.

"Yeah, be back for Christmas," said Ron brightly.

"How can you take the knight bus," asked Ginny, "You can't give out the address."

"I know Ginny," said Ron testily. "I'll give the next street over and then walk the last bit."

"Well," said Hermione, "I have packing to do, see you all in the morning." As she rose Harry saw she and Ron had been holding hands. They exchanged smiles before Hermione left for the girl's dormitory, followed by Crookshanks. Ron gathered up a book and some loose parchment and excused himself to pack as well. Harry needed to pack but that never took him very much time. He was restless and wanted to be doing something to put the Trelawney incident from his mind.

Ginny asked if he fancied a game of Exploding Snap. Harry looked at her, and then leaned in and whispered, "How about we go down and visit Hagrid?"

Ginny looked at him questioningly, "Sure... Great, but I don't know that we'd be allowed out this late."

"I can solve that. Wait here." Harry sprinted up to his dormitory and returned in a minute with a conspicuous bulge under his sweater that he was trying to hide by crossing his arms over his chest. "C'mon," he whispered and Ginny followed him out into the hall. Harry looked around and determined they were alone. "I've got my dad's invisibility cloak. No one will see us, if we're careful."

Ginny seemed game, and soon they were walking slowly down to the entrance hall. Ginny had an arm around Harry's waist to help her stay in step, and it worked pretty well. They made good time and there was none of the stumbling and stepping on toes that Harry had come to expect when Ron and Hermione accompanied him.

Soon they were outside in the cold night air. The grass crunched under their feet as they made their way towards Hagrid's cabin. Warm yellow light streamed from the windows, and Fang's happy bark met them when Harry knocked on the door. "Who's there!" barked Hagrid.

"It's me," said Harry, throwing the cloak off them.

Hagrid opened the door smiling and gave a surprised look to see Ginny instead of Ron and Hermione. "Well come in you two, its cold out there."

Once they were settled in front of the fire and Hagrid had provided them with tea in overly large cups, he asked where they were spending Christmas. "Headquarters," said Harry.

"Sound's just the thing," said Hagrid.

They talked for about an hour before Ginny squelched a yawn and Harry thought that meant it was time they were heading back. Soon they were facing the Fat Lady again, who roused herself sleepily and waved them in.

That night, Harry dreamed about jets of green light shooting in all directions through a long tunnel. At the end were Dumbledore and Remus calling him to just hurry up and run through the tunnel. "It won't hurt a bit, if you're hit...," Remus was saying.

On Saturday morning, breakfast was served early so that those catching the train could get to Hogsmeade station on time. A few owls drifted in, including those delivering the Daily Prophet. Hermione retrieved hers from an owl that landed near her plate and stuck out its leg so she could put a knut in its pouch. Harry could clearly see the headline as she paid the owl. WIZENGAMOT TAKES ACTION. Hermione, seeing it too, immediately began reading the article aloud to Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Neville.

Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, who was reported missing last week was located, wandering aimlessly on a street in London and muttering to himself, unintelligibly. He was immediately taken to St. Mungos Hospital, where he is being cared for in a private room. The original healer assigned to the Minister suspected spell damage, however, spokesman, Healer Augustus Pye, reported that the Minister is just "a little confused" and should recover soon.

The Wizengamot held a closed door, emergency meeting yesterday to deal with the question of leadership within the Ministry of Magic. There has been a general lack of confidence in the current administration since it was revealed that Tom Riddle, a/k/a Lord Voldemort had returned at full strength, to Britain, and was preparing to mount an assault on all those who refused his infamous "dark mark".

Following, what was described as, a heated debate, Mr. Ludo Bagman was appointed as Interim Minister of Magic. Mr. Bagman who has headed the Dept of Magical Games and Sports for a number of years, and famed Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, thanked the Wizengamot for its confidence in him. He promised a plan of response to the current threat, in the near future.

This reporter was fortunate enough to interview Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as he exited the meeting. "I have known Mr. Ludo Bagman for many years. In this time of fear and confusion, the Ministry needs a man of action in place. Ludo Bagman certainly fits that's description."

Hermione set the paper down and scowled. Harry knew she did not trust Bagman. He wasn't sure how to take Bagman, and wished that Dumbledore had considered the role. That, in Harry's mind would have been the proper choice.

The train ride was uneventful. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry all got a compartment together on the train. Harry had never traveled home at Christmas, except for last year, when Dumbledore had sent them all by portkey to Grimmauld Place. Harry stared out the window wondering if Sibyll Trelawney had yet been found, and if so, in what condition.

Many games of Gob Stones later, the train slowed and chugged to a halt in Kings Cross station. They debarked, dragging their trunks onto the platform. Hedwig was hooting from her cage as Harry jostled it through the press of parents waiting to collect their children. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were waiting on the platform and Hermione and Ron headed in that direction with Ron throwing a gay, "see ya!" over his shoulder. Ginny pointed out Remus near the engine, with Tonks and Mad Eye Moody. "A guard again," muttered Harry as they approached their smiling escort.

The few days in between their arrival at number twelve Grimmauld Place and Christmas Eve passed quickly enough. Dobby had done a fine job of decorating the old house so that it looked quite festive. Holly hung from the banisters and little golden bells tinkled softly on the Christmas tree. Harry thought how Sirius would have appreciated the changes to the previously dank rooms. Recalling last Christmas with Sirius was painful. Then his thoughts turned to Professor Trelawney. Was she being tortured? Had she divulged the prophecy?

Christmas Day dawned with a cold drizzle falling from the sky. Harry stretched and yawned as he climbed from his bed. He looked over at the sleeping Ron and decided to leave him to snooze. Ron had arrived at Grimmauld Place last evening about dinnertime. He was complaining loudly about the ride on the Knight Bus, which was always jerkily disconcerting. Mr. and Mrs.Weasley and the twins had showed up about an hour earlier. It created a holiday mood for the evening meal. Harry still felt a twinge of sadness that Hermione and Ron had gone off to the Granger's together, without him. Ginny had been excellent company though. They had passed the time by wrapping some Christmas gifts and helping Dobby whip up some cookies. So he was not feeling as annoyed as he had expected to feel.

Harry dressed and left the room, closing the door silently behind him. Down in the parlor was a great pile of gifts arranged under the Christmas tree. It looked a bit dull right now. The fairies that had lit it so brightly last night must have been sleeping, he thought. There was a pile of gifts with Harry's name. He smiled slightly, but left them alone, deciding to wait until the rest of the house woke up. He went down to the kitchen to see if he could find something for breakfast.

Harry heard talking as he came into the room. Lupin was bent in front of the fire talking to a head, floating in the flames.

"I will be there for dinner and we'll talk afterward. I think it's quite serious..." The voice and the head were Dumbledore's.

Lupin turned around and looked rather embarrassed as Harry entered the room. "Hello, Harry," he said.

"Good morning," said Harry. Then to the fire he said, "Good morning professor."

"Hello Harry," said Dumbledore. "Remus, I'll see all of you later." Then with a poof, Dumbledore's head vanished.

Remus rummaged around and produced a teapot that he filled and hung in the fire. He got the distinct impression that Remus was avoiding looking at him. Harry sat down at the table, having found a pitcher of pumpkin juice. When Remus finally took a chair he tapped the table with his fingers for a moment before saying, "Harry, is everything all right...with you?" Before Harry could answer, Remus continued, "I mean, how are you feeling about that night in the Department of Mysteries? It's been about seven months now since that night, and it was quite a trauma."

Harry looked quizzically at Remus. "Uhh...well I...That night makes me really angry when I think about it." Why was he bringing this up now Harry wondered? The thought of it immediately brought back the image of his godfather falling through the veil. "I keep feeling it was my fault that we were all there. If it hadn't been for me, Sirius wouldn't have had to die." Harry was surprised how matter-of-factly he had made this statement.

"Yes...yes," said Remus rather unsatisfied. "What I meant to ask...never mind," said Remus with a small wave of his hand. "I have to go out for a bit. I'll see you a little later." He left the room with Harry feeling confused.

After finishing his juice, he started back upstairs. There were footsteps coming down the stairs and into the hall. "Harry, good morning," said Mr. Weasley who was coming down to the kitchen dressed in jeans and a sweater.

"Happy Christmas," said Harry.

"Ahhh...yes...Happy Christmas it is...yes," Mr. Weasley stuttered. "Harry... a word, if you don't mind," he said hesitantly. "I hope you know that if you ever have any questions, or worries, or anything really, I hope you would feel that you could come to me, like a father...well, not to say that in any way I could replace your father...or Sirius...." He trailed off and seemed to find it hard to look at Harry.

"Ok," answered Harry, slowly. "Sure."

Harry had the unmistakable feeling that something was very wrong but he could not put his finger on what it was. There must be some really bad news coming, he thought, to make Remus, and now Mr. Weasley so edgy. He would have loved to discuss it with Ron, but what if it had to do with Trelawney. He could not risk telling Ron until he knew what it was about.

Harry continued upstairs to the parlor. He went to the window and gazed out at the sleet that was falling, sending wet globs of snow sliding down the wavy and distorted glass panes. Maybe he should just tell Ron and Hermione everything. It would be easier than hiding what he knew. Not telling his friends was making him feel isolated and alone. Every time he had convinced himself to share the entire story with them, he pictured their faces. There would be anger and surprise, but also pity. He could take it all, except the pity. No, he would wait.

Harry thought of the Avada curse. Although he had wanted to learn it, performing the curse had made him sick. How was he to use something like that in a fight, he wondered. 'Excuse me for a moment, Lord Voldemort, while I vomit'. It nearly made him laugh. Performing the curse had left him with a dull dead feeling inside, so he did not relish the idea of using it again. Still, Mac had said it would be easier the next time. This was another secret Harry had to keep to himself. Hermione, especially, would be horrified if she knew.

There was a time when the wizarding world had seemed like a fairy tale come true. Harry had been able to leave a life, locked in a cupboard, for an amazing magical world, where he had powers of which most humans only dream. However, the silver lining was engulfed in a very dark cloud. He felt like a piece on a chessboard where he wasn't calling the moves, but he was always a hairs breath away from death. It wore a person down. The grey dingy street was only worsening his mood, so he went to find Ron, and, hopefully some Christmas cheer.

Ron was awake and dressing as Harry came into the room they shared. He greeted Harry brightly, and began to tell Harry all about his visit to the Granger's home. Ron was amazed at the way cooking was accomplished, using appliances, and was terribly amused by the television. However, he saw no point whatever in the computer that Hermione had on a table in her room.

"She let me kiss her, but not in front of her parents," explained Ron. "Her dad is really nice. He took me into see their dentalist office."

"I think it's dentist, Ron."

"Oh right...and he showed me what they do. Then he wanted to check my teeth but I sort of wiggled out of that one, scary really." Ron paused uneasily, "You know Hermione wrote Remus and asked if you could come with us, but Remus said no doing, not safe enough."

Harry could not even work up a healthy anger over this. By the end of next summer, they couldn't tell him what to do, or where he could go, any longer.

By the time they got to the parlor, the rest of the Weasley family was up and opening gifts. Harry was distracted by Mr. Weasley who seemed to be throwing him furtive looks but he decided to ignore the bad felling it was giving him. Instead he tried to concentrate on his presents. Among them, Harry received a new sweater from Mrs. Weasley, a box of Fizzing Whizbees from Hagrid, and an official handbook of Quidditch rules and regulations from Ron. There was also a thick parchment envelope addressed to him with excessively spidery handwriting. It was from Neville's gran. Harry opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a certificate with the words "Ministry of Magic" printed grandly across the top. There was also a letter. Harry smoothed the certificate and then took up the letter.

Dear Harry,

Further to our conversation at Hogwarts School, I placed a request with the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures. They were initially unwilling to grant an undisturbed preserve for the creatures known as hippogriffs. They seemed to feel that without monitoring, hippogriffs might multiply to a dangerous level and present a hazard.

I was able to produce an expert in the field of hippogriff studies, who assured the Ministry that the creatures, far from overpopulating an area, are in actuality dying out due to lack of privacy.

In the end, the Ministry relented and now agrees to the preserve. It will be, as Albus Dumbledore suggested, in a corner of the forest on the Hogwarts grounds. Dumbledore will organize the wards to protect the area. Enclosed is the signed approval.

This seems small thanks for your help in the rescue of my grandson's mother. If there is ever anything that our family can do for you, please do not hesitate to approach us.

Best Regards,

Mrs. Honoria Mae Longbottom

Harry looked over the certificate with several seals affixed and impressive signatures, and thought with a smile, Buckbeak was going back home, at last.

Dumbledore arrived for dinner, which was a noisy affair. Fred and George entertained the group with some of their newest joke shop items. Harry kept noticing that Dumbledore, Remus and Mr. Weasley were looking worried and talking amongst themselves at the far end of the table.

When dinner was completed and they were all leaning back, over stuffed with Christmas pudding, Dumbledore caught Harry's eye and signaled to him. Harry rose and walked to the far end of the table. The three men got to their feet too. "We'll be using the dining room for a bit," announced Dumbledore and he led the way from the room. Ron gave Harry a questioning look that Harry returned with a shrug.

Once they were all in the dining room and seated around the table, Dumbledore waved his wand toward the door, placing an Imperturbable charm on it and thus securing their discussion from eavesdroppers.

"Harry, we need to talk to you...a matter of some importance, really," began Mr. Weasley.

"Yes sir? Is it about Professor Trelawney?" responded Harry seriously.

"Ahh...No," said Arthur Weasley flatly.

Now he could tell he was in trouble but was uncertain what he could have done.

"Arthur, allow me..." said Dumbledore.

"Harry," said Dumbledore carefully. "A boar that had been provided to the house elves at Hogwarts, by a local trapper and hunter, was found dead in its pen the last week of term. The boar had been cursed to death. Hogwarts students are not taught the Avada curse. Therefore I put the question to the staff, but got no answer. Afterwards however, Conner MacNessa came to me. He did not discuss the Avada spell, but berated me for honing your skills for some purpose of mine, yet undisclosed to you, and leaving you to flounder around, worried about defending yourself. He also suggested you might be contemplating revenge on persons unknown. He told me he felt you were being ill used, even though you were clearly quite talented. I am not positive that my assurances to the contrary satisfied him."

"Harry, I have to ask...," began Dumbledore, with a penetrating look, "why did you ask Professor MacNessa to teach you this curse?"

So, they were asking about the Avada Kedavra spell. Harry wanted to answer, however too many reasons presented themselves. Harry found himself feeling a certain indignation at the headmaster's question. It made him feel as though he were an errant child being taught a lesson. He wanted to answer in a way that showed he had considered the matter carefully. After all he had simply wanted to be able to defend himself.

As Harry attempted to pull his thoughts together, Remus spoke. "Harry we are trying to look out for your welfare. When you go around us like this, bad things can happen. What if MacNessa was not safe? What if he were a spy of Voldemort? We want to protect you until such time as..."

Harry abandoned any pretext of a well thought out answer and blurted out, "If Mac was not safe, why would you have let him teach me Occlumency? He could have gotten at anything in my head!" Harry almost said, he respected my thoughts, which is more than I could say of Snape.

"You can't simply go asking someone....anyone....Well, it's more of a question of all of us deciding together what's best, Harry," injected Arthur in the way of an appeal.

"Well I haven't been to a meeting like THAT yet, or were you having them and not bothering to include me?" snapped Harry, as anger rose in him, making his ears burn and his stomach hurt.

Dumbledore began to respond, "Harry, Remus, Arthur, this will get us no where. I'm afraid we must make the issue of the choice clearer. Harry the point is..." But Harry cut him off. He was not listening to more of this claptrap.

"No one seems to get around to telling me 'what the point is' until after something terrible happens. Who fought Voldemort for the Sorcerers Stone? Who fought the basilisk to save Ginny? Who fought Voldemort in the graveyard while...while Cedric was lying there, dead? I thought I was dead for sure, each time. Were any of you there, helping me? You want your dark wizard killed, don't you? Well, no one wants him dead more than me. He killed MY PARENTS." Harry realized he was pounding his fist on the table. "You haven't shown me how to kill Voldemort, have you. I have to get the information from somewhere, don't I." said Harry flatly. "You lot make me ...." Harry couldn't even put a word to it. They were looking at him with, what he felt, was pity. That was too much. "I AM NOT A CHILD!!!"

He was drowning in emotions that he couldn't even begin to sort out. He had to get clear of them, clear of this place. He had to think. This was not how it was supposed to be. Crashing away from the table, Harry knocked his chair over behind him. He found he was clenching his wand at his side. He could tell Remus and Arthur Weasley had jumped to their feet too but he didn't look back. He ran from the room slamming the door, which thudded quietly due to Dumbledore's charm, and then he was out the front door, running through the cold, damp Christmas night.

Harry was blistering mad and wanted to be as far from Grimmauld Place, and the Order as he could get. He needed air, and he needed space. The night was icy and Harry didn't have a coat, but somehow the cold was not penetrating his anger even though he was puffing vapor into the air with every breath.

His mind whirled. He didn't think he was asking too much to get some training from Mac. After all, no one else had volunteered to do it. How was this any different than when Remus taught him the Patronus charm? He was a lot younger then. Harry slowed down; he was on a deserted street. A wet, cold sleet was falling, accented by the street lamps with their yellow tinged lights. He reached back with his wand to put it into his jeans pocket and inadvertently pointed it toward the street.

The great purple Knight Bus materialized and slid to a stop next to him. "Oh! Leave off!" Harry shouted at it, as he continued to stalk down the street. He heard Stan Stunpike the bus conductor mutter to the driver, "Hey, Ernie, that was Harry Potter! Do you...." But their voices were drown out by a passing truck.

After walking for nearly an hour Harry began to slow. His anger had subsided to a dull pounding in his ears. He began to look around him. He was in an area of London he did not recognize. Grubby small shops, mostly darkened at this hour, on Christmas, made the street seem more desolate. Harry's trainers were wet and the moisture had crept into his socks. There was probably a spell to dry them out, but Harry was in no fit state for fiddling with a charm. If anger was what he needed for the Avada spell, he should be facing Voldemort this moment, because he was sure he could level a building with the way he felt right now.

He wanted very badly to kick something or hit something to release this feeling. Dumbledore and the others continued to keep him in the dark. They told him his fate and then didn't help him find out how to defend himself. They criticized the choices that he made but they didn't give him any helpful guidance.

The cold night air had done nothing to calm him down. His face still burned hot. Harry had hardly noted the three older boys approaching him along the street. When he did, he could see they were dressed in leather bomber jackets and were talking a little too loudly in the dark silent street. Harry could tell that the one in front was slurring his words a bit as he jostled his friends.

When they were right in front of Harry, they stopped, and the first boy grabbed Harry's shirt front. "Wha we got ere?" he said swaying slightly. His mates laughed. Harry had visions of Dudley and his gang from Privet Drive. This fired his anger even more. His head was pounding.

"Let go," he said in a quiet, yet dangerous voice. He did not draw his wand. He was ready for a fight. He'd love to hit someone just now, and he got his wish. The boy holding his shirt wound up and took a swing. Harry blocked his punch with one arm and slammed his fist into the stomach of his attacker with his other.

The second boy yelled in anger and jumped between them, also swinging at Harry. The young thug connected with Harry's lip and he immediately felt warm blood in his mouth. Harry swung at the second boy's face sending him to the ground. The third boy raised his palms and stepped aside. Harry backed away from the trio, feeling his adrenaline pumping. He took off at a jog that turned into a run. He ran across the street and around a corner without a backward glance.

Winded, he stopped several blocks later and looked around him. He was not sure where he was, and he was not sure he cared. He mopped his mouth with the back of his hand, which left a large splotch of blood on his cuff. His hand has bruised from the impact it took with the face of the second boy. Harry leaned against the glass window of a darkened shop trying to catch his breath.

When Harry finally looked around him he realized this new street looked oddly familiar. Straightening up, he walked along, more slowly now. Then he saw it, The Leaky Cauldron. Harry approached it, with a feeling of familiarity. The little, dingy entrance was so unremarkable, that unless you knew what you were looking for, you would never notice it.

Harry was sorely tempted to enter. He looked up at the sign and placed his fingers upon the door handle, but hesitated. The Leaky Cauldron was a comforting place, smelling of soup, tobacco, and old polished wood. It would be nice to sit in a quiet, warm corner, with a butter beer, and think. But, on the other side of that door, he was famous. Tom, the innkeeper, would come out around the bar, bow to him, and call him 'Mr. Potter'. Patrons would stare slyly at him, as he had his drink. Particularly now, that everyone knew Voldemort was back, his scar would cause a stir. Then someone might start asking him questions, or perhaps there would be a death eater in the crowd. Harry sighed heavily. He backed away still looking longingly up at the sign.

Across the street and down a few shops, a bright light shone from a shop front. The grubby sign hanging from pole announced it was a coffee shop. Harry felt in his jeans pocket. He had some muggle money left over from paying the cab driver the day they had returned to headquarters for Christmas. Straightening his shirt and wiping his mouth once more, he crossed the street and made for the coffee shop.

A little bell dinged as he crossed the threshold. The shop smelled of stale coffee and auto exhaust from the street. The linoleum floor was dirty from countless grimy boots and shoes. A sullen, plain looking woman, in a hair net, lounged against the cash register behind the counter. There was one old man in the back, at a table, reading a paper. Harry looked down the counter toward the old man sitting behind a newspaper. There would be nothing in his paper about Lord Voldemort. If Harry went over and stuck up a conversation with him, the name Lord Voldemort would not even get a rise.

Harry approached the woman and asked for a cup of tea and a scone. She moved efficiently to fill his order, handing him a heavy ceramic mug and a crumbly currant scone wrapped in a piece of white paper. Harry paid her and took a seat near the window. The table was sticky where his elbow rested, but he ignored it. He took a sip of the overly hot tea and broke bits off the day old scone as he stared, unfocused into the damp street. The hidden wizard world, to which he belonged, was right across the road. Just a few steps away and he could be in an entirely different and separate place.

Right now, however, he felt less inclined toward that world than he ever had. Those, whom he trusted, continued to hold him at arms length and to treat him like some sort of problem requiring constant management. He scanned the street, wondering if he was being followed by an Order member. Though he could detect no movement, someone could be out there in an invisibility cloak, watching.

So this is where he'd got to. Sitting in a dingy coffee shop on Christmas night, alone and trying to decide what to do, and where to go. Harry's thoughts were a jumble. Why were they so upset at him learning the Avada Kedavra spell? Harry couldn't understand why they had reacted as they had. He couldn't understand how they could take him to task over such a thing. They complained over what he did but did not help him.

Perhaps the time had come for him to chuck it all and just leave. He thought about how, prior to Hogwarts, he would have walked freely outside without worrying about Death Eaters, dementors, or the location of his wand. Muggles got on fine each day with no knowledge of the wizard world. Perhaps he could just blend back into that life. He had loads of gold, and apparently, several homes. He reckoned that he could be set for life, if he was just frugal. Maybe he could go off somewhere and open a little business, or something.

He had chosen to follow Hagrid on his eleventh birthday. He had gone to Hogwarts on his own volition and found a place he felt he belonged... found friends. But the magical realm held a destiny for him even then, although he didn't know it. Looking back, he could see that if he had chosen to stay in the muggle world, he might have been safe for a time, but Voldemort would have found and killed him eventually. So that was not the answer.

He thought again of escape. Perhaps he could hide completely, using a little magic. He could get a secret keeper.....But that's what his parents had done and they were dead. Hiding was no good, for once Voldemort found him, he would have to fight again.

I'm not afraid to fight, he thought, looking disdainfully at his bruised hand. I just wanted some help, to know how. They can't keep information from me that I might need, because who knows when the next attack will happen. If I can't hide as a muggle and I can't hide as a wizard then I have to plan to fight.

He was itching for the final battle to be over and for the unhealthy weight of this responsibility to be lifted from his shoulders. However, even though he felt he would not be afraid of death, having come close so many times, he felt that he had to give the best possible effort so that he might save all those who would suffer if Voldemort were to come openly and completely to power. Even if he had to use the dark arts such as the Avada curse, killing Voldemort would benefit the world he loved. He felt he would prefer to lose his life killing Voldemort than live a coward and never try to vanquish the murderer of his parents.

Why then did they resist training him? Why didn't they devise a plan...or something? Why did they act as though he had committed a crime by learning a spell? As Harry sat nursing his resentment and his tea, something Dumbledore said came back to him 'I'm afraid we must make the issue of the choice clearer'. At the time, Harry had not been really listening. He had been attacking them for the stupid way they were handling him. Now he was calmer and the heat of the moment had passed. What had Dumbledore been about to say?

Then it hit him. Dumbledore was not asking him to fight Voldemort. Dumbledore was offering Harry the most options that he could, under the circumstances. He was leaving the decision to Harry. He, Harry had never told Dumbledore that he accepted the challenge presented by the prophecy. They had, all of them, been trying to avoid asking him what he was going to do. They had all been discussing his protection, not his task. He had not really agreed to take up the task. They had been waiting these last months for him to make the first move.

Harry wiped his mouth again on his sleeve. It's just, they weren't expecting this. They weren't expecting that I'd go off and start learning curses from someone outside the Order, and without telling them.

Harry suddenly understood their reaction, but at the same time could not help thinking that they had got a bit of their own medicine. The thought did not give him much pleasure though. It left him feeling a bit empty.

They must be willing to help him hide if he chose that course, thought Harry.... and no one would have to know the choice he had made, except Dumbledore, Remus and Arthur Weasley. That's why they wanted the secret kept amongst them. But if Voldemort was to be killed, then he had to accept that responsibility and take it up with purpose. He could now see what such a commitment would mean.

Harry wondered why this had never occurred to him before now. In a way, it all made sense. He had often felt angry with Dumbledore for forcing him to live with the Dursleys all those years, being kept in the dark. There were so many things Dumbledore had not told him, things that he would have liked to know. Now he could finally see that while unaware of the wizarding world, he had also been unaffected by the worries and prejudices of that world. For example, he was not terrified of Voldemort. Not in the same way as most of the rest of the wizards he knew. They couldn't even bring themselves to speak his name. He had faced Voldemort five times now; something that no one had done...and lived. What Dumbledore had really done was leave Harry in a position to accept the challenge on his own terms and without any outside pressure or interference.

Harry's mind soared out over the landscape of possibilities and then came back to roost, as he knew it would, with him eventually facing Voldemort. It was more than the "saving people" complex that Hermione had accused him of in the past. He simply could not sit still if he knew he could help.

His scone was reduced to smattering of crumbs and his tea was turning cold. The lady behind the counter looked at her watch.

Harry stood stiffly. The wet cold had settled in his bones. He knew what he had to do and he knew what he had to say. Remus had mentioned months ago that he had a choice. Now he understood he did. He could live in fear and in hiding until the end, or he could meet the problem head on, and hope he survived to have a real life in the future. Between the two, he chose the latter.

In that moment, making the choice somehow made it his QUEST instead of his FATE. It made a powerful difference. Whether they helped him or not, whether he got support or not, he, Harry James Potter was going to study, and prepare, and eventually vanquish Tom Riddle, a deranged killer who deserved death. Harry brushed himself off and ran his fingers through his hair. Now he could talk to them.

Harry had caught the Knight Bus outside the coffee shop. Stan and Ernie did not appear to be offended by his earlier behavior. They dropped him a block away from Grimmauld Place. Harry wondered if any of the men were still at headquarters. He knew he ought to feel somewhat sorry for his outburst, and for storming out alone. He expected to be read out for it. However, his very recent realization buoyed him up in a remarkable way that left him feeling calm, and clearheaded.

Harry came quietly back into the house. The dining room door was shut. Harry peered into the drawing room. The room was nearly empty. The tree was lit as it had been the previous night, by fairies and candlelight. Ginny was curled up in a large overstuffed chair, sleeping. Her face was pretty, glowing softly in the dancing lights. Crookshanks was lying on his back under the Christmas tree, batting at a low hanging bauble. Harry could hear talking and laughter coming from the kitchen. He was just deciding whether to go down to the kitchen, when the dining room door opened. The room was dim with the light from three sputtering candles mounted in a holder on the table, illuminating the space. Professor Dumbledore stepped back and beckoned Harry in, as though he had just gone for a glass of water, and not for a three hour excursion through dark London streets.

Remus and Mr. Weasley jumped to their feet, looking anxious. "Harry, you're bleeding!" said Remus.

"You should see the other guys," said Harry, touching the corner of his mouth again.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Harry we are struggling with the right path to take in terms of your protection, education and preparation...."

"Please sir, let me say something," Harry paused and looked from face to face. Remus had a look of pained worry, Arthur Weasley would not meet his eyes, while Dumbledore looked calm and resigned.

"I think I understand now what you want from me. You wanted me to decide what I was going to do. You wanted me to say whether I'd agree to try to kill Voldemort, or to say that I didn't want to try. You were waiting to decide if you had to try of hide me out forever, or if you had to train me to kill him."

"You see, I was thinking in terms of Voldemort attacking me, and me just hoping to defend myself and perhaps get off a lucky spell. I wasn't really thinking of killing Voldemort as a task that I decided to take on."

"I've been sitting and thinking it through... and well... choosing to avoid him doesn't give me much of a life. I'd be miserable, and I'd still be marked for death, and he'd be slowly taking over everywhere. If I choose to fight him it's going to be hard. Even if you come up with a plan... if we come up with a plan... who knows if I'll be good enough to pull it off? But if I don't try, I'll never be able to avenge my parents. If there's any chance I can stop Voldemort, if I'm really the one the prophecy talked about, I reckon I have to try. The prophecy says that neither can live while the other survives. Well, I guess it means that life wouldn't be very satisfying just waiting around for him hunt me down. So I am telling you now that I'll do it."

It was hard to read the faces of the men. They were looking at him with, what he interpreted as respect.

"Harry," said Dumbledore. "I can't begin to tell you how proud I am that you have reached this conclusion. In all my studies, I cannot find a similar example of someone so young called upon to vanquish a dark wizard, such as Voldemort. When such a burden falls upon the shoulders of a wizard, they are often far along in life. They are already well trained and understand fully the risks and consequences. I have been more than a little reluctant to lay the burden of this prophecy on your shoulders. You had a life so full of adversities that I could not bring myself to do it. It is a failing of mine, I am sure. I was too emotionally involved in providing for you, providing your protection, to simply pitch you head long into the lions cage: for that is how it feels. It's true we will do all we can to help you, but we could not bring ourselves to try to force the choice upon you."

Arthur reached out, taking hold of Harry's wrist in his hand. "I'll try to give you any help you need, and should the time come, I'll hide you if I am able. They'll have to kill me to get to you. I owe you that for saving my life last Christmas, after all," he said with a half smile.

Remus nodded and placed his hand upon Arthur's. "I'd do anything to take this burden off of you. It's unfair and it grieves me deeply. I'll protect you in any way I can, in memory of my friendship with your parents."

Dumbledore placed his hand upon Remus's. "To the vanquishing of Voldemort" he said.

"This must have been a trying night for you Harry as I know it has been for us" said Dumbledore. "I suggest we leave off here. You and I will talk more about this, perhaps tomorrow, if you don't mind. There are some very important things we need to cover, however I think it best done when we are fresh.....Do you agree?"

Harry nodded. He suddenly felt mightily tired. He hoped he could just sneak up to bed and fall asleep before Ron could question him. As though Dumbledore had read his mind, he said, "We gave out the story that we have been in here testing your various Occlumency skills to see that MacNessa did a proper job of it. You can use that story as you see fit," concluded Dumbledore.

Five minutes later, Harry was standing in his pajamas and washing the remaining blood from his face. The door creaked and Dobby came in, carrying an old-fashioned bed warmer, which he placed between the sheets.

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry gratefully but then he saw Dobby's large worried eyes trained on him.

"Is Harry Potter all right?" asked Dobby

"Sure Dobby, why'd you ask?"

"The wizards is arguing a long time while Harry Potter is going out, tonight."

"They did, Huh? How did you know that, Dobby?"

"House elves is around, even though not seen, Harry Potter. They is skilled at not being noticed," said Dobby with pride.

Harry decided to simply accept this as fact for the time. "What did they say, then?"

"Professor Dumbledore says 'We has to let him go and think. We has failed him'. And Mr. Lupin is worried and wants to go to fetch you straight away. And Mr. Weasley agrees. But Professor Dumbledore says 'No, it's what I has done wrong, all along. Give him too much shelter but not helped him understand.' Then he says, 'He may choose not to come back to us, and I for one is not blaming him'. Then Mr. Lupin and Mr. Weasley is very shocked and is saying, 'We must have him back now, before bad things happen', and 'He'll be killed out on his own'. But Professor Dumbledore says 'Don't you think he can figure that out for his self? It's his choice. No matter what else happens, it is up to him and not us' and he says 'Harry will be all right out alone for awhile, magic is strong in him.'

Then they goes around again and again with the same points until they is tired, and they just sits and waits."

"Dobby, why are you telling me this," asked Harry.

"House elves helps their masters, Harry Potter, and they keeps their masters secrets."