Seo Gerecednis

The remainder of Harry's summer holiday passed without incident. Ron, much to his disgust, discovered that Peter was a wretched flyer. Nonetheless he doggedly persisted in trying to teach him the finer points of Quidditch, and the night before their departure for Hogwarts Fred and George came over and they all engaged in a rather messy, haphazard match in which the twins and Ginny trounced Harry, Ron and Peter 150 to 30.

When Peter wasn't falling off a broom he was either playing chess with Ron and Harry or rounding up the neighbors' cattle, which nearly drove Mrs. Weasley to distraction. Ginny, after some research, tried patiently to explain to her mother that cattle rustling was a highly valued art amongst the Masai, but she wasn't having any of it. "What must the neighbors think of us?" became an oft-heard refrain, and Mrs. Weasley moaned to anyone who'd listen that she'd never be able to do her marketing in Ottery St. Catchpole again.

Luna, on the other hand, was ecstatic over the ready access to dairy, and when her father came to fetch her home she proudly presented him with a gallon of fresh cream and five pounds of butter she'd churned herself--magically, of course. One warm night before she left Mr. Weasley dusted off an old hand-cranked ice cream maker he found amongst his collection of Muggle artifacts and they watched the stars come out over bowls of homemade ice cream. Harry flavored his with rhubarb from the Weasleys' garden, although picking it proved to be a challenge, what with the remains of Peter's latest attempt at rustling cattle.

Ginny never spoke again about Percy's disappearance and possible defection, but Harry knew it weighed heavily on her mind. He could see the toll it was taking on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well, although they both went to great lengths to conceal it. He could not tell if they had given Bill the news, although presumably as a member of the Order of the Phoenix he should have known. Harry had noticed with a twinge of envy that Bill never seemed to reveal any emotion he didn't want to. He'd had given his right arm for Bill's even temper.

Harry was of two minds over Percy. On the one hand, he'd never particularly cared for Percy, and his behavior last year had pushed Harry's antipathy into outright dislike. On the other hand, Percy was still a Weasley (even if only by blood at this point), and Harry could not bring himself to wish harm on any of them. Not yet. He hoped that Mad-Eye Moody's hyperacute distrust had led him to a hasty conclusion, and that Percy had merely gone into hiding out of shame over how he'd behaved--or fear of whatever revenge Fred and George might be planning.

He saw very little of Fred and George, to his disappointment. Apparently the subtle shift they'd made in their merchandise had done the trick, and business was finally beginning to pick up again after the initial rush before Voldemort's return became public knowledge. When they weren't working in the shop, they were up until all hours of the night in their "lab," as George called it, designing new products for detecting and thwarting dark magic.

"Never a dull moment 'round here," Fred had said with a weary grin as he wrapped up a parcel of Skiving Snackboxes for Ron. He and Harry had gone to Diagon Alley with Peter and Mrs. Weasley a few days before the start of term to look in on the twins and stock up on books and supplies. "It's go, go, go, morning, noon and night. A bloke can't even conjure up the energy for a quick shag these days."

"Shame you can't just sell your Wheezes, like you'd planned," Harry said, ignoring Fred's ribald remark as he examined an oblong object with brightly colored feathers at both ends.

"I'd put that down if I were you," George said. "Unless, that is, you don't mind going through life a few fingers short." Harry immediately and gently returned the object to its original place. George then grinned lasciviously and stage-whispered, "Energy isn't the only thing my frustrated brother has trouble conjuring up these days. Just ask Angelina."

"Oy!"

"I really didn't need to hear that," Ron grumbled.

In the end, Harry walked away with about twenty Galleons' worth of joke items, deliberately flouting the buying trends of most of the current clientele. Ron hesitated for a moment after purchasing the Snackboxes, then went back and bought an armful of Filibuster Fireworks. "Might as well make the most of Hermione's absence," he said with a crooked grin in response to Harry's raised eyebrow.

The wards Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley set up around the Burrow the night Harry was attacked seemed to be working, although Lupin and Moody stopped by several times a week to recharge them. Even so, Harry's scar had begun to prickle again after having lain dormant the whole time he'd been with the Dursleys, and a persistent, low-grade ache throbbed at the base of his skull, leaving him irritable and drained much of the time. No doubt Voldemort and his remaining Death Eaters were busy, although they had yet to engage in any overt attacks against wizards or Muggles. No one pressed Harry for details about the attack on him, however, for which he was grateful.

September first finally came, to Harry's great relief. Crookshanks arrived by Floo before dawn that morning with letters of encouragement for Ginny and Harry, which promptly threw Ron into a blue funk. No matter how hard they tried to convince him that Hermione couldn't possibly have got his letter yet (provided Pig hadn't become seagull fodder), he clung to his foul temper like a blanket on a winter's night. At last they gave up and left him to stew in his own juices for a while.

When Harry dragged his stuff downstairs a couple of hours later, he found Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting at the Weasleys' kitchen table. "Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said with a cheerful grin as she stood to greet him. Kingsley only just caught the mug she knocked off the table in time.

"Hey," Harry said back, relieved to see she wasn't as provocatively dressed as she'd been the last time he saw her. In fact, she looked quite the opposite, with dark hair knotted neatly at the nape of her neck and an equally conservative gray tweed suit. Sensible shoes and tortoiseshell glasses dangling from a chain decorated with small glass beads completed the ensemble. "Are you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts or Library Arts?" he teased.

"Don't get smart with me, young man, or I'll dock you ten points," she teased back, waggling a finger at him.

Harry laughed and sat at the table. "Hello," he said to Kingsley.

"Good morning." He looked rather like a pirate, Harry thought, with his gold hoop earring, smooth burnished head and dragon-leather vest and boots.

"Are you and Tonks escorting us to King's Cross?"

He nodded. "All the way to Hogwarts."

"Excellent!" He hardly knew the man at all--they'd barely exchanged more than a few words--but in Harry's eyes, Kingsley Shacklebolt was the epitome of wizarding cool, perhaps even more so than Bill Weasley, who was simply cool all around. Kingsley embodied everything Harry hoped he'd be someday, though maybe without the shaved head. His quick thinking last winter, when he'd modified Marietta Edgecomb's memory under Minister Fudge's and Professor Umbridge's noses without either of them any the wiser, had made an indelible impression. Wizards like Kingsley were why Harry wanted more than anything else to be an Auror.

Behind him he heard what sounded like the onset of a disagreement between Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. "No, dear, why don't you let me --" came Mrs. Weasley's voice, sounding rather strained.

"Tosh, Molly," Tonks replied. "I reckon I can manage to carry a plate from the counter to the --"

Suddenly Harry found himself with egg yolk dripping into his eyes and down his face. Greasy bacon sat in his lap, staining his freshly laundered jeans. "Bloody hell!" Tonks groaned.

Harry dimly heard Ginny's distinctive throaty laugh as he dug egg out of his ear and looked up to see her pointing at him with her face screwed up in mirth. Peter sat down next to him with a broad smile. "Oh, Tonks," Mrs. Weasley sighed. She muttered a Cleaning Charm over Harry. "Don't worry, dear, I'll fix you another plate."

"It's okay, I reckon I'll just have tea and toast," he said, making a face back at Ginny. He then plucked a stray strip of bacon from his lap and held it out for Hedwig, who had just flown in through the kitchen window after a night of hunting. "Just in time, girl, we're about to go." She nibbled on his finger and accepted the proffered treat.

"Where's Ron?" Tonks asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's upstairs hexing his shorts."

Kingsley looked up from his mug. "What did they do to offend him?"

"You mean besides smell?" Her eyes crinkled mischievously. "They won't stay put. They're always twisting up his arse."

"This year is going to be difficult enough for your brother without Hermione around," Mrs. Weasley said in a stern but gentle voice as she set plates in front of Ginny and Peter. "You don't need to add to his misery."

"Thanks, Mum, spoil all my fun," Ginny muttered around a mouthful of egg. Her mother simply sighed and went back to washing the dishes.

"How are we getting to the station?" Harry asked.

Kingsley reached inside the fob pocket on his vest and pulled out several slips of paper. "Your tickets have been charmed to act as Portkeys," he said as he distributed them to Harry, Ginny and Peter. "They're set to activate at ten minutes before eleven o'clock, so you should have plenty of time to board the train. Tonks and I will Apparate to the platform directly and meet you there."

"Lovely," Harry said, pocketing his ticket with a grimace.

"Is this a difficulty?" Peter asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"I hate traveling by Portkey." He hoped Peter wouldn't inquire as to why; he didn't care to explain the reasons behind his objection, or the events that precipitated it.

"It's the safest and most convenient means of getting you there," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's too far for a Ministry car to fetch you, there aren't any fireplaces at the station, and none of you are old enough to Apparate."

Harry caught Ginny's eye as her head shot up, her eyes wide with alarm. He'd discovered recently, when Ginny had suddenly appeared at his side while he was oiling the leather on Sirius' motorcycle, that Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to teach her and Luna to Apparate earlier in the summer. They'd offered to do the same for Ron, she'd told him once he'd recovered from his almost-heart attack, but then Hermione had caught wind of their scheme and put her foot down. Ginny had sworn Harry to secrecy with the promise that she'd teach him once she felt she'd mastered the procedure.

He gave a minute shake of his head to let her know he hadn't broken his part of the bargain. She stared at her mother for another moment or two, looking for any hint that she might've caught on, then slowly released her breath and relaxed. Beside Harry, Peter and Kingsley were engrossed in a discussion about Kingsley's work for the Ministry and hadn't seen what had passed between Harry and Ginny. Tonks, however, was staring at them through narrowed eyes, her lips pursed in that same look Hermione always gave Harry when she knew he and Ron were up to something that probably involved breaking school rules. Harry gave Tonks a "Search me, I'm just a guest here" shrug of his shoulders and washed the last of his toast down with a gulp of tepid tea. Tonks didn't seem convinced--but then Hermione wouldn't have either.

A loud crash in the adjoining room and an accompanying oath announced Ron's arrival downstairs. Mrs. Weasley muttered something unintelligible, but dutifully fixed a plate for her son. Soon Ron entered the kitchen, his appearance heralded by his stomping footsteps and his stream of imprecations against all manner of living things, first among them being his tiny wayward owl. He stomped over to the table and threw himself into the nearest empty chair with a grunt.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, setting the plate before him, "aren't you going to say good morning to our guests?"

"Huh?" He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and looked up to see Tonks and Kingsley watching him with amused curiosity. "Oh. H'lo." Then he attacked his breakfast with unfettered enthusiasm.

"Such a charmer, isn't he?" Ginny said. Tonks laughed. "One can only imagine what Hermione sees in him."

"Shut it," Ron said, scowling at her. As soon as his gaze returned to his plate, Ginny crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Harry hid a laugh behind his hand.

Kingsley slid Ron's ticket across the table to him. "What's this?" he asked, spewing half-chewed food across the table.

Grimacing, Kingsley flicked wet crumbs from the front of his vest. "Portkey to King's Cross. We leave in five minutes."

Ron's eyes widened. "Five minutes? Bloody hell!" Harry never knew one person could fit so much food in his mouth at one time without choking. Even his cousin would have been impressed with the speed with which Ron cleared his plate.

Ginny set down her fork with a grimace. "Disgusting." Ron belched by way of reply.

"Urgh," Tonks said, her face slightly green.

"Ready?" Kingsley asked, his eyebrow raised. Ron nodded and suppressed another belch.

A chorus of feminine groans echoed throughout the kitchen a split second before pandemonium erupted as everyone tried to leave at once. Harry and Peter banged heads when they tried to stand at the same time, leaving both boys with blurred vision and ringing ears. Tonks knocked a frying pan full of bacon grease to the floor when she and Mrs. Weasley tried to pass each other in the narrow space between table and counter. Ginny, right behind Tonks, slipped on the puddle, lost her balance, and fell with a squeal across Harry, who was probing at the lump Peter's skull had raised on his. Ron, in his haste to grab his trunk from the adjoining room, careened nose-first into the door jamb with a sickening crunch. Hedwig screeched from her cage on the counter. Mrs. Weasley, torn between coming to the aid of her children and cleaning the mess Tonks had made, was reduced to knotting a dish towel around her wand.

Only Kingsley remained unaffected by the chaos that befell everyone else. Harry, still rubbing his head, Ginny still in his lap, watched him remove an elegant gold pocket watch from his vest, check the time, wind it, then snap the cover shut with a satisfied nod. He then rose with a smooth, unfolding motion, replaced the watch, pulled out his wand and said in a quiet voice, "Accio trunks." Four trunks flew into the kitchen, barely missing Ron where he stood by the door clutching at his swollen nose and swearing congestedly, and settled into a neat pile next to the table. Kingsley then flourished his wand over the congealing bacon grease and said, "Scourgify." The mess disappeared.

At that point Tonks seemed to regain her senses. She turned to embrace Mrs. Weasley. "You and Arthur take care of yourselves," she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "We'll make sure no harm comes to the children." Mrs. Weasley nodded and brushed a wayward tear from her face.

"Harry," Ginny whispered.

"Hm?"

"Would you let go of me please?"

With a rush of heat to his head Harry realized that not only was Ginny still in his lap, but that he'd also wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her there. He released her and she sprang to her feet to hug her mother. "Bye, Mum," she said, giving her a kiss. "I'll owl you as soon as possible."

"Be careful, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging her back. "Let Tonks or Kingsley know if there's any trouble." She then released Ginny and approached Harry.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," he mumbled. He hated goodbyes to begin with, and Mrs. Weasley's ready tears always made them worse.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she said, before wrapping her arms around him. After that, words seemed to fail her.

"Thirty seconds," came Kingsley's voice.

Mrs. Weasley released Harry with a watery "Oh!" He scrambled to grab Hedwig's cage before taking his ticket from his pocket and clenching it in his teeth so he could take hold of his trunk handle with his other hand. Ron, still clutching his nose and swearing, did the same.

"Three...two...one..." Kingsley counted.

Then Harry felt the familiar yank from behind his navel, and the Weasleys' kitchen disappeared in a whoosh of air.

* * * * *

Harry stumbled forward, barely catching himself in time before he fell head-first over Ron's trunk. Peter was helping Ginny to her feet; apparently she had not been as quick. Harry straightened and brushed the fringe from his eyes to look around him. Platform 9-3/4 was beginning to fill up with students leaving for another year at Hogwarts. Several adult witches and wizards, no doubt the Aurors assigned to patrol the corridors at Hogwarts, strolled along the platform entirely too casually to be anything but on their guard.

"Harry! Ginny! Ron!" someone shouted breathlessly from farther down the platform. Harry and Ron turned around to see who it was.

Neville Longbottom, his round face shiny with exertion or excitement--either state being an equally likely cause of his disheveled appearance--ran up to them, clutching Trevor in one hand and dragging his trunk behind him with the other. Luna followed not far behind. "Is it true what Luna says about Hermione?" he asked between gasps for breath. "Is it true she's not coming back?" Then he spotted something just beyond Harry's shoulder and his eyes widened. Harry looked back to see Peter standing just behind him.

"Hermione's in India," Ron said brusquely, opening his trunk and taking out his robe. "She'll be back next year." He pulled his robe over his head and affixed his prefect's badge. "This is Peter Madaba...Peter Mada...." He sighed. Harry saw Ginny cover her eyes with her hand and shake her head. "Bugger all, this is Peter Mad. Peter, Neville Longbottom."

"It's Peter Madawetuma," Ginny said, giving Ron a sour look. "Peter's visiting from Kenya."

"Oh, hello," Neville said, stuffing Trevor into a pocket to shake Peter's hand. He glanced at Ginny, a puzzled look on his face. "Is this why Hermione's gone?"

"I'll explain everything once we get on the train," she said, patting his arm.

"Hermione's not in trouble, is she?" he asked. "I mean, with her parents being Muggles and all...."

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that," Ginny said, trying to reassure him.

Something clicked into place in Harry's head. "I dunno," he said, partly responding to Ginny, partly thinking out loud. "Did you notice that most of the students on exchange this year are Muggleborns or have a Muggle parent?" The others stared at him in silence, looking as though he'd sprouted an exceptionally ugly wart on his face. He shrugged. "I dunno, it's just something that just occurred to me. Pansy Parkinson is the only pureblood I know of who'll be gone this year."

"Padma's a pureblood," Luna said. "But her grandfather was Muggleborn."

"Oh," Harry said, digesting this new bit of information. "But still, don't you reckon it's odd that Dumbledore is using part-Muggles as his ambassadors?"

"Maybe he's trying to make a point," Neville said. "He's always said that it's the choices you make, and not who your --" his face paled slightly "-- who your parents were, that counts."

"Or maybe he sent those students away to protect them," Ginny said.

"And their families," Harry added. "Hermione told me your dad reckoned her parents were less likely to be targeted by Death Eaters if she wasn't with them." No one had any response to that, although Harry knew they shared the same fears and concerns for the safety of their part-Muggle friends and their families.

"Luna," Ron said, breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence, "you should put your robe and badge on so everyone knows you're a prefect. I can show you where we're supposed to go."

Luna gave him a beatific smile. "Thank you, Ronald," she said. "That's very kind of you."

Ginny gaped at him. "Who are you, and what did you do with my brother?" she asked.

Harry raised his eyebrow at Ron, wondering the same thing. He shook his head. "Don't start, either of you," he said, taking hold of his trunk. "Save me a seat, will you? I'll catch you up as soon as I can."

"Sure," Harry said. He watched Ron and Luna head off toward the front of the train before turning back to the others. "We should find a compartment before they're all full. Someplace very far away from Malfoy and his lot, if possible."

They met up with Kingsley and Tonks just as they were about to board the train. After they'd hauled everyone's trunks into an empty compartment, Harry introduced Neville to the two Aurors. "They're our Defense Against the Dark Arts professors this year," he explained.

Kingsley surveyed Neville from head to toe as he clasped his hand in a firm grip. "Longbottom?" he asked. "Frank and Alice's boy?"

"Y-Yes sir."

Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder and beamed at him. "Should've known. You're your father's spitting image." He nodded his head, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "Superb Auror, your father. I don't doubt you'll turn out to be as fine a wizard as he is." Neville glowed, and Harry's estimation of Kingsley ratcheted up another notch. If ever anyone needed to be compared favorably with his father, it was Neville.

"Are you and Kingsley riding with us?" Ginny asked Tonks. "There's plenty of room."

Tonks shook her head. "Sorry. We're supposed to patrol the corridor with the other Aurors. But we'll be sure to look in on you."

"Keep a close eye on the Slytherins," Harry said, taking a seat by the window, across from Peter. "I don't doubt Malfoy'll try to cause trouble the first chance he gets."

Tonks gave him a cross look that probably wouldn't have been as effective if she hadn't made herself to look like Professor McGonagall's favorite niece. "You know we can't target someone just because of who his father happens to be."

"Why not? Snape's been doing it to me for years."

"Why would you want to sink to his level then?" Neville asked.

Harry stared at him in disbelief, not necessarily because of the comment he'd made, but the tone in which he'd made it. Apparently Neville, who Harry'd always thought of as a bit of a bashful and bumbling sort of boy, had done some maturing over the summer. He wondered, with a surge of self-congratulation, how much of that maturing was an result of the D.A. group he'd led last year.

The train let loose a long, mournful whistle and began to move forward. Harry turned his attention out the window and watched the streets and buildings of central London sweep past. He was glad to be returning to Hogwarts, although he didn't anticipate what the year ahead held in store for him. Whereas other students would be engaged with the studies of charms, enchantments and potions, preparing themselves for their lives as fully-fledged witches and wizards, his training as the predestined champion--as the only wizard capable of killing Voldemort--must begin in earnest. That was why Dumbledore was hosting the exchange this year, Harry mused as he overheard Ginny explaining to Neville why Hermione was away and Peter was here. That was why Aurors would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was why Harry would be leading the D.A. group again. While other students lived their lives as normally as they could given the impending war, Harry would be molding himself into a warrior. An assassin. A murderer.

His parents' avenger.

Movement brushed against the periphery of his vision. Harry glanced up to see Peter gazing at him, his expression grave, his skin, black as coal, blacker than night, revealing nothing. Peter, Harry realized, was just as much of a tool as he was; he was, in fact, a living weapon in Harry's developing arsenal. His Totem had successfully driven Voldemort out of Harry's mind. He would also be helping Harry with his Occlumency training this year. He was an ally--an ally, and a friend.

"What's it like in your country?" Harry asked. "Is Kenya anything like this?"

Ginny and Neville grew quiet. Peter turned his gaze out the window, where the hustle and bustle of metropolitan London had given way to its outer suburbs. "My country," he began. "My country...I am Masai. I have no country."

"But --" Ginny began, but fell silent at Peter's upraised hand.

"I live in Kenya," he explained. "I am considered a citizen of Kenya. But I and my people see ourselves only as Masai." He took a deep breath and looked at Harry. "We are a dying race."

"Dying?" Neville asked. "How so?"

Peter shook his head sadly. "The world we live in is changing. It has no place for people like the Masai. We must adapt, or become extinct. Those who choose to adapt cease to be Masai and disappear. The rest...." He shook himself, like a duck shakes water from its tail. "Kenya has been at war with itself for many years. The people of Kenya are trying to find their place in this new world. Because the Masai do not wish to be a part of it, we bring shame to them. They are slowly starving us to death."

Harry thought of Hagrid and his ill-advised attempt to civilize his half-brother last year. "Like the giants," he murmured. Peter seemed to understand, but Ginny and Neville looked at him quizzically. "The wizarding world has no use for giants, so they're being crowded out and exterminated."

"There will be a day," Peter said, looking out the window again, "when the world will cry out for the Masai, or the giants, and there will be none left to hear them."

"It's not too late, is it?" Ginny asked, worry shining in her eyes.

Peter and Harry looked at each other, then said as one, "I hope not."

Just then the door leading to the corridor slid open and Ron and Luna looked inside with equal expressions of confusion. "Did we miss something?" Ron asked. "You lot look like you just lost your best mates."

"Just waiting for you," Ginny said, sliding over to make room for Luna to sit.

Ron slumped down next to Neville. "Blimey, I'm knackered," he said. "I don't know how I'm going to survive this year. Not only do I have my regular prefect's duties, but I got Hermione's as well." He nudged Ginny's foot with his and waggled his eyebrows. "That means I have to put all you ickle girls to bed each night." Harry stifled a snort. "Has the food trolley been by? I'm starved."

"You just ate an hour ago!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I'm a growing boy. Gotta keep the pecker up."

He was saved from a retort by the arrival of the food trolley. Harry purchased Cauldron Cakes for everyone, and they all chipped in on Chocolate Frogs and pumpkin juice. The remainder of the journey was spent in relative but companionable quiet, with the boys swapping Chocolate Frog cards and playing Exploding Snap while Ginny and Luna worked a crossword puzzle in the latest edition of *The Quibbler*.

Kingsley and Tonks stopped in for a brief visit shortly before sunset, but there was no sign of Malfoy, or few of the other students for that matter. Not long before the train pulled into Hogsmeade, however, Harry looked up to see Cho Chang and Michael Corner walk past, arm in arm, too engrossed in each other to notice or acknowledge the occupants of the compartment.

"I see they're still together," Ron said quietly.

Harry shrugged. He'd felt nothing, no swooping sensation, not even a pang of jealousy, when he saw Cho. If Ginny'd felt the same sort of nothingness, he couldn't tell; she simply said, "I'm sure they're very happy together," and flipped the magazine over to check her answers. She glanced up at Harry and they shared a small smile, then each turned back to their individual pursuits.

Just before darkness fell over the countryside the train pulled into Hogsmeade station and Harry saw the turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle looming above the village. There'd be no turning back now.