Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Two

Two simultaneous intakes of breath from behind him made Harry realise that Ron and Hermione had seen Dumbledore's Portrait. He'd seen it once before, but obviously they hadn't been in the Head's Office on that occasion. A part of him wished he hadn't been in here then, either. Dumbledore smiled down at his three favourite students as McGonagall was seen writing hurriedly on a small piece of parchment. They would have thought she was oblivious to their arrival had they not heard her allowing them entry moments before.

She scribbled a little more on her parchment, lowered her quill with one had while replacing the stopper of her inkwell with the other, and moved everything to one side of her desk. Then she straightened up and glared at the trio with a calculating expression, the same kind all three of them had grown used to during their many Transfiguration lessons.

"So, I guess this means 'punctuality' isn't actually a foreign word for you after all, Potter. In fact, you're slightly early. My, my, things have changed."

Harry smiled and reached forwards, shaking her hand politely. He was glad to see things hadn't changed that much during their absence. McGonagall was still the same, strictly kind-hearted woman who had put up with their frequent late arrivals to her classes.

Hermione sniffed slightly, and Ron grinned wider than ever. Their brief welcome earlier hadn't really done much for any of them. It had been a hurried 'welcome back, you know where to go' kind of meeting. Hermione had found it very insulting, but she smiled warmly as McGonagall moved her gaze to her all the same.

"It's nice to see you again, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," she continued, shaking hands as she addressed them. "I apologize for my rather abrupt departure this morning. Rufus Scrimgeour is becoming rather unbearable these days, and very impatient, too. He does not appreciate being kept waiting for anything."

Harry snorted in disgust and stepped aside. He raised his wand, and conjured three chairs, marvelling at his ability to keep them comfortable and practical at the same time.

His magic had increased a great deal over the holidays, mostly thanks to Hermione's 'study magic by night' routine. Consequently, they were only receiving four, maybe less, hours of sleep a night, but they were growing familiar to the lack of sleep. Harry was secretly glad, too, as it kept his mind from the recently frequent wanderings that his sub-conscious had become accustomed to having without his permission. Always the same, were these dreams, too. They would alternate between horrifying trips to The Graveyard and the now even more despised location of The Astronomy Tower.

Not once had any of them entered that cursed classroom since the tragedy. Rumour had it that McGonagall was keeping the tower as a memorial for Dumbledore. Whether this was true or not, they didn't know, but Astronomy Lessons were now being held in the West Wing Tower.

The trio took their seats, and the Headmistress raised her wand, directing it at a large, cherry wood cabinet filled with bottles of varying sizes and colours.

"Is Firewhisky to your liking?" she asked.

"Very much, so!" said Ron, enthusiastically. Harry and Hermione shared a look before nodding courteously. Both could remember well the first time Ron had tried Firewhisky. The reception of Bill and Fleur's wedding had been the turning point for Ronald Weasley.

Three glasses later, and he and Hermione were in a perfect relationship. It would have been a wonderful evening had it not been for Ron's seventh drink encouraging him to tell Ginny about their plans to leave for Godric's Hollow the following morning.

That argument had been the last time Harry had seen Ginny, and he still felt goose bumps erupting at the thought of how he had left everything. She wasn't going to forgive him, she wasn't prepared to wait, he was sure. He knew she wouldn't, but it shattered his already fragile heart into tiny pieces at the thought of returning from the war without her there to greet him.

They had settled their argument, and she had promised that she would wait for him, but Harry wasn't feeling very hopeful. It had been nearly two months, now. She was so beautiful, and there was no way that she could have been at Hogwarts for three weeks, and survived so long without at least getting offers. He didn't blame her in the slightest, but he was still sticking by his feelings that Ginny was safer away from him.

It had worked so far, and if keeping her safe required sacrificing his life with her, he was prepared to continue on with his quest without her. The whole Weasley family deserved to be safe before the two of them could reconcile; he couldn't bear the thought of having to tell the Weasley's that their only daughter had died because of him.

At least she was safe at Hogwarts, well safer anyway, and there was nothing he could do to ease his own gnawing guilt about the situation until the war was over. If she wanted to wait for him, she would. Only Ginny could decide on what it was that she wanted, and Harry, and everyone else too, would just have to accept her decisions.

McGonagall settled herself back down and they sat in silence for a few moments, not sure on how best to approach the situation.

"Well, do you have any leads?" she asked finally, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer. They couldn't mistake her slight desperation, either. Clearly she was suffering, and like them, she felt the sooner this ended, the better.

Harry sighed.

"Erm, no" he said heavily. "We've destroyed all but three Horcruxes, or so we believe. We still have no idea who R.A.B is, and no clue as to the location of the three missing Horcruxes. If this R.A.B destroyed the locket after retrieving it, then we're down to two; Nagini and the final Horcrux. Professor Dumbledore," he nodded at the portrait behind the desk, "believes it belonged to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, but at the moment, we can't be certain about that. The diary, the ring, and Hufflepuff's cup have all been...amended, you might say."

"Where did you find the cup?" McGonagall asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Well that was a stroke of pure genius on Ron's part, actually," Harry replied, smiling. Ron's ears flashed their warning signs as he grinned. "We were in Diagon Alley, and there was this old junk shop. We remembered it from a few years ago when we met Percy Weasley in there, but we haven't been in since. Ron thought it'd be fun to have a look around, but we weren't going to until he dragged Hermione in backwards. It was on a shelf at the back of the shop."

"That was lucky, then. I do find it hard to believe that it was so easy to find, though. Why would Voldemort be so uncaring about one of his Horcruxes? Are you sure it was Hufflepuff's and not just some ordinary cup?"

"Positive. Its destruction had the same affect as the diary. I don't think he has the patience to watch over all of his Horcruxes. It was the same with the diary. He's probably focusing on the ones that are more important to him. The lengths he went to to guard Slytherin's Locket are astonishing. So, where do we go from here?"

"We have two choices, from what I can see. We can either focus our energies on finding the identity of this R.A.B, or we can leave that Horcrux until last and search for any known artefacts belonging to the Founders. As for Nagini-"

"She'll be with Voldemort," Harry finished, ignoring the shudders from Ron and McGonagall.

Hermione was lost in thought, leaning her chair back on two legs, arms folded with a peculiar expression on her face. She looked over at Harry, who was pretty sure he knew what she was about to propose.

"Oooh no. Nope, no way, Hermione. We are not going down there. Have you any idea how much panic that could cause? Besides, they aren't really feeling very friendly towards us at the moment."

"But they have contacts, Harry. There's a lot that they can do that we can't. How do you know they won't be able to find information on either of these problems?" she asked, eyes dancing with enthusiasm at the idea.

Ron was staring avidly at Hermione, clearly hoping for her to elaborate on the plan the two of them appeared to have hatched between them. McGonagall was watching Harry. Harry and Hermione were not paying either of their spectators the slightest scrap of attention, absorbed in their, rapidly becoming heated, discussion.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but that kind of move could cause World War III, literally! It wouldn't just mean handing over the Wizarding World to Voldemort, but the Muggle World as well. They'll end up thinking Hitler's returned from the dead or something. You know what they're like; they'll find a way to explain away all of the natural disasters with something like an atomic bomb. 'Enola Gay returns', or something like that!

"Hmm, I always wondered what happened to that bomber, you know. Did anyone ever find it?" Harry seemed to notice his sudden trip from the topic at hand and shook himself. "No, Hermione, it's too dangerous!"

"Wow, Harry! How on Earth did you know about that? Enola Gay, there's a name I haven't heard in years," Hermione said excitedly, also forgetting what they were supposed to be arguing about.

"I did go to a Muggle School, Herms. That really boring lesson called History was of some use, however vague and unimportant it was," he muttered darkly. He had always disliked History. It had been one of the few lessons that he had shared with Dudley and his gang. The only reason he could remember about Hitler's reign and The Atomic Bomb was because Dudley had been absent from school that week with the flu. His cronies had skived, not remotely interested in receiving an education.

Hermione blushed. "Oh, sorry, I forgot about that. But that's not the point! They could help! They've got spies on both sides, you know. They probably know everything already! Maybe if we just asked them-"

"And how do you suggest we go about introducing this suicidal idea to Scrimgeour?" Harry spat back, feeling distinctly nettled. "I mean he's still pretty pissed with me at the moment, because I'm refusing to talk to him about Professor Dumbledore's death. How can I go up to him and say, 'Hi, sorry to bother you and all, but can you please grant us permission to visit our extremely native friends?' Get real, Hermione, he won't risk anything that shows the Ministry in a bad light. He's as bad as Fudge when it comes down to his reputation!"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find anything to say to that. She swallowed and looked around the room, her eyes coming to rest on their staring company. She suppressed a laugh, waiting for Harry to explain. Harry, however, was wearing a glazed look and staring blankly at the wall just above Hermione.

"Hermione, you're a genius," he whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

"What?" she asked, snapping her eyes back to his face.

"You know what? I think we should ask them. But, I also think we should keep it private, if you know what I mean. Scrimgeour isn't going to like it, but then we don't like him, so that cancels that out. How to go about this is a different matter, though..." his voice trailed off and he blinked, registering the three blank faces watching him with fascination.

"Excuse us Headmistress, Ron, but we'll update you in a minute," he said as politely as he could. They nodded, dumbfounded, as Harry jumped to his feet and dragged Hermione from her chair, marching her out of the handsome door to the spiralling staircase.

"Herms, have you ever seen a television program called twenty-four?" he asked hurriedly as the door closed behind them.

"You mean the one with Kiefer Sutherland?"

"That's the one," he whispered excitedly.

"Yes, I've seen it, but what's your point?" Her expression was shrewd and suspicious as she watched his face light up with excitement. What was he up to?

"Well, I'm not sure which one it is, but there's an episode where Jack goes undercover and visits a mini American terrorist group, one he used to be involved in. He finds out about plans to blow up CTU. I think it's on series two, but that doesn't matter. Well, what if we tried something like that? What if we tried getting captured?"

Hermione stared at him in silence, and then let out a snort of laughter.

"Sure, Harry! Let's get ourselves caught by Death's missionaries so we can get to his higher levels. Then they'll hand us over to Death and we'll have a nice, cosy chat with him about Lord Voldemort! How stupid do you think they are?" she laughed. "At least what I said didn't include our imminent deaths. They'd fry us on the spot, Harry!"

"No, they wouldn't, because we have something they want," Harry replied slowly.

"Oh, and what's that?"

Harry paused, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the ceiling.

"Magic," he said simply, as a shower of petals fell gently around them before vanishing at knee level.

Hermione stood, rooted to the floor and gazed at the wand in Harry's hand. Something seemed to click in her brain, and she looked at Harry in awe.

"Of course," she muttered. "You're right, they have everything they could ever want, but the one thing they need is something they have no supplies of! So if we allowed them to catch us, they'd spare our lives because we'd make them a deal!"

"We can show them magic, making them think that we'd let them use it. Say something like, 'give us info and see our magic' to get what we need. We'd have to offer them something though, like Dumbledore did with the Giants. McGonagall could probably help with that."

"Then it just leaves getting out of there before they change their minds and decide to eat us on the spot!"

"That'll probably be the hard part," Harry agreed. "Do you think it could work?"

"It's a long shot, but it might. Are you sure there's no other way to get the information we need, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously. She sighed as Harry shook his head.

"We need to find too much. Voldemort's moving out into the open more and more each day. We have to end this quickly, and I just don't think we have the time to find everything we need. If visiting Death works, we could have our answers by the end of next week!"

"Right, well, I guess we should tell them what we've suggested," Hermione replied, clapping her hands in an annoyingly brisk fashion, similar to the way business salesmen do when closing a highly beneficial deal.

Harry knocked once and they both re-entered the Head's Office.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, glancing at McGonagall. "We think we may have a solution."

"What's 'Elona Fay'?" Ron burst out without warning.

"Oh, honestly, Ron! 'Enola Gay' was a bomber, a Muggle fighter plane, which dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima, Japan. Don't worry about it, it's not important at the moment, but maybe you should consider taking up Muggle Studies as a hobby if you're going to ask questions about every little thing we say!" Hermione snapped impatiently.

Ron was about to snap back when Harry called, "Death!" to halt the argument. It worked, too.

"Come again?" replied McGonagall after a moment's silence.

"Hermione and I think it's a good idea to contact Death. He most likely has all of the answers we're looking for. If we get caught by his men, the Ministry need never know that we made an unauthorised visit to the Head of the Underworld. Their laws are different to ours. Trespass means immediate death for them, so they won't tell the Ministry anything about it, will they? Offer him magic, we get answers, swap a gift of some sort and get the Hell out of there before he can change his mind. Simple enough, don't you think?"

There was more silence, until Ron burst out into fits of infectious laughter.

"Visit Death! Ha ha, that's funny, Harry! But even you wouldn't come up with an idea as stupid as that!" He looked at Harry's face and his laughter died instantly. "Oh my God, you're serious, aren't you?" he muttered.

"Yes, Ron, he is," Hermione said angrily, "and it was my idea, not his!" Ron suddenly looked like a beetroot with bad sun-burn. He blinked and studied the floor.

"Do you think there's even the remotest possibility of this working, Potter?" McGonagall asked quietly.

"Well, as Hermione said when I proposed it, it's a long shot," Harry replied.

The Headmistress examined his determined face, which was mirrored perfectly by Hermione, and sighed deeply.

"Well, it could indeed solve our problems if he has any knowledge, but I hope you understand how incredibly dangerous it is. As Harry said before, I presume you were talking about this, if your visit goes wrong in any way, we could be looking at World War III. Are you sure you want to do this? Can you cope?"

"Yes," they all said, staring determinedly back at her. Ron moved over to Hermione and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and smiled.

"Well, I think we should get back to the library, you two!" she said, standing up.

"Yes, I have some paperwork to get through before sunrise, so I shall arrange another meeting to discuss how we will go about this. I would like you to remain here at Hogwarts until we have finished. I know you were planning on returning to Godric's Hollow, but it will be much simpler and easier all around if we are all in the same place."

Harry and Ron stood, nodding to the Headmistress as they got to their feet, and made their way over to the door. Hermione pulled it open for them and walked silently from the room, the boys behind her.

"Good night, all!"

"G'night, Professor," they all called back, walking out onto the staircase. Hermione had just reached to close the door behind Ron when McGonagall called them back.

"Hold on, Harry could I speak with you in private for a moment, please?" she asked.

"Er, yeah, all right," Harry replied. He looked over his shoulder and saw Ron and Hermione giving him questioning looks, and he turned to enter the Head's Office again.

"We'll wait here, Harry," Ron called.

Harry closed the door and walked back over to McGonagall's desk, curiosity high and noticeable. She smiled, and got to her feet, walking back around the desk to stand in front of him.

"I wanted to know if you found anything of use at your parent's house, Harry," she said tenderly, leaning against her desk. Harry gaped at her. This was not the kind of conversation he had expected, and he wasn't sure he could talk about that, now.

"No, nothing of great importance, Professor. The charms must still be on the house, because everything was still there, rubble mostly. But no-one seems to have even attempted to clean it away. I think there must still be Muggle-repelling charms on it or something."

The Headmistress studied him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No I didn't mean that, I was wondering if you found closure, rather than physical items," she said gently. "Did it help at all, visiting their graves?"

Harry was silent, thinking about how best to voice his answer.

"I'm not sure. Ron and Hermione thought I was fine, but I've been keeping a lot from them lately. I just can't talk to people anymore. It's great that I've got them with me, and I'm honoured that they chose to come with me instead of staying at The Burrow, but I can't show that kind of emotion in front of them. Seeing 'The Chosen One' break down is hardly going to boost their morale, is it?

"I think, after the war, I'm going to work on rebuilding their house, like a memorial or something. That's probably when I'll find closure. Until then, I can't let their deaths interfere with my life. There's too much at stake, too many lives at risk, and gambling them away just so I can have a cry over my dead parents isn't right."

The Headmistress looked over her glasses at him and shook her head, sighing.

"You've had to sacrifice so much, Harry. You're seventeen, and you've missed out on so much that you should be able to have at this age. Family, love," Harry's heart leapt as a special red-head burst into view in his head, "the chance for a normal life. And now you're even shutting away your emotions. I'm actually quite surprised that you haven't crashed already.

"Alright, year five was a pretty funny year for you, but you're handling things remarkably well for a seventeen year old. Which is why, I would like to ask a great favour of you."

Harry could sense another burden being prepared to be dropped on to his head. As if his life wasn't bad enough as it was, now what was she expecting him to do, on top of everything else?

"And what would that be, Professor?" he sighed. She seemed to know what was going on in his head.

"I'm really sorry I have to ask you this, Harry, and if I could ask anyone else, I would. Believe me, I'm kicking myself inside, but I just don't think anyone else has the skills." She paused and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Harry, I want you to take Dumbledore's place as Head of The Order of the Phoenix."

A silence unlike any other they had heard that evening erupted around them. The portraits became Muggle photographs, and even the howling wind was holding its breath.

Harry stumbled backwards, staring at her in shock. That was unexpected.

"You, y-you're kidding, right? You can't be serious! I'm seventeen, I've been a member of the Order for less than two months, and you want me to take over for the most incredible wizard that ever lived?" he cried softly. "Please tell me you're joking, Professor!"

"No, I'm not, Harry," she sighed. She turned to Dumbledore's portrait and spoke clearly to him. "Would you agree that Harry is the best candidate for the job, Albus?"

Dumbledore considered Harry for a moment, reading the shock on his face and wide-eyed expression from above the tips of his steepled fingers.

"Yes, I think I would, Headmistress," he said gently. "However you can not force him, it must be his choice. He has, after all, suffered a great deal, and it is an enormous responsibility. If you believe he is ready, then I too feel he is the best person to bear the burden."

Harry stared at him in shock. "How can you all work out I'm the best option? What skills do I have that adults like Mr Weasley and Professor Lupin don't?"

"Harry, you can perform under pressure," McGonagall declared proudly. "The Triwizard Tournament, The Department of Mysteries, The search for You-Know-Who's Horcruxes, your whole life, in fact. So many problems and trials have been thrown out in front of you, and you've survived them all. No-one else in the Order has that kind of experience. I don't even think anyone in the Ministry has been through everything you have.

Only you and Professor Dumbledore know the full contents of that prophecy, Harry. No-one has told me or anyone else. Though I'm guessing Miss Granger and Mr Weasley know, too," she added, smiling slightly.

"However, I am not an unintelligent woman. I strongly believe that the prophecy has stated that you are destined to destroy Voldemort. What better way to give faith to the Wizarding World than to rule the organisation that is working tirelessly against him? You may not wish to divulge into the prophecy's contents with me, and that is perfectly understandable, but I have a strong inclination as to its concealed information, Harry."

She fell silent, watching him for a response.

Harry felt odd. McGonagall had changed quite a bit, thinking about it. She seemed to be more in control, and have more knowledge than what had previously been let on. Harry was beginning to see the reason she was made Headmistress.

A part of him thought the idea was incredibly stupid, and could cause nothing but trouble. The other part actually felt that he should have been expecting an offer like this ever since the uncovering of the prophecy. But was he ready? Well, that answer was easy.

"I would like to ask for one condition, Professor," he spoke quietly, trying to sound like he was still making up his mind.

"And what would that be, Potter?" McGonagall asked briskly, swiftly returning to her usual strict manner. Harry was sure he caught her eyes widen though, and she knew she had him convinced.

"Ron, Hermione and myself want to become Animagi. We've been thinking that having a disguise like that may be highly beneficial for us during this war. The only problem is, we don't think we have enough time. Would you be prepared to allow us to have private lessons with you in order to become Animagi quickly? I know it took years for my dad, Sirius and Wormtail to become them, but they did it illegally, and we have to get this done immediately if it will hold any profit for us."

McGonagall calculated him briefly before smiling warmly.

"I'm sure we can work something out, Mr Potter. That condition seems perfectly fair," she said brightly, but her tone became more serious as she watched him. "Are you sure you can cope with this, Harry? I can work on finding somebody else if it's one burden too many."

Harry shook his head, accepting what they both knew deep down had been inevitable. No-one else was properly prepared to handle something as big as this, and a small part of Harry felt he most likely wasn't fully prepared, either. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall felt he was, so that would just have to be good enough for him, too.

"Very well, then I must thank you with greatest sincerity, and offer my best luck to you for your most recent responsibility. I shall organise an Order meeting for tomorrow evening, during which we shall place the wheels in motion, so to speak. Thank you, Harry," she said softly. She squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and smiled. "Now out, Potter!"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied quietly. He turned to the door, walking out as quickly as he could without looking too suspicious. He reached the corridor and found Ron and Hermione standing anxiously by the stone gargoyle, waiting for him.

They watched in silence as Harry leant against the wall, eyes closed.

"Well, that was interesting," Harry said finally, trying to inject some happiness into his voice. None apparently left with his words, though. He sounded drained and worried, and fell back into silence as his friends gazed at him.

"So, are you going to tell us what happened?" Ron blurted out excitedly.

Hermione made an impatient noise and grabbed Ron by the arm, pulling him off down the corridor.

"Ow, blimey Hermione, what's got your wand in a knot?"

"Come on, let's get to the library. We can talk later," she muttered.

Reluctantly, Harry followed, deciding to improve his mood before telling Ron and Hermione about his latest task. Telling them now would only lead to a mass argument between them, so it was probably best to wait until he was in a more talkative state of mind.

Unfortunately for Harry, studying in the library wasn't the best way to put him into high spirits.