The Oracles Prophecy

Thoughts are in italics.

Chapter Two - Six Owls on July 31

When Harry woke up the next morning, six owls were staring at him, perched on his footboard. Six parcels sat on the foot of his bed. He saw five sets of familiar handwriting on the packages, and a new script he knew he'd seen before, but could not remember who it belonged to. He groggily rolled over and stared at his alarm clock. It was 6:00 in the morning. He'd only gotten five hours of sleep. He rolled over and covered his face with his pillow, trying to block out the early morning sunlight that illuminated his room. However, he decided it would be better to open his presents before the rest of the Dursleys woke up. Groaning, he sat up and groped for his glasses on the dresser next to his bed. He held an arm over his eyes for a few moments, trying to adjust to the brightness. He reached down to the foot of his bed and grabbed at a package. All thoughts of sleep left instantly when he saw the name. Ron's presents were always fun and useful, and Harry wondered what Ron had gotten him this year. He tore aside the wrapping and found a note on top of two objects. The note, in Ron's untidy scrawl, said:

Harry,

How are those bloody muggles treating you? If you need any more food, just send Hedwig back over, and then pack your trunk. I swore, when Mum heard that they weren't feeding you, she almost had a heart attack. "If they so much as hurt a hair on his head in any way, I don't care what Dumbledore says, Harry Potter will become a permanent resident in this house!" (Harry thought of little, kind hearted Mrs. Weasleys voice. Mrs. Weasley had been the only mother figure Harry knew and he knew how much Mrs. Weasley cared for him. )

Anyway, if you want to come to the Burrow, Mum and Dad would be more than happy to have you over. Mum said that she would talk to Dumbledore, and try to see if you could visit before school starts. Hermione is coming after she gets back from Bulgaria. Can you believe she's going to visit "Vicky!"? I mean she probably doesn't even like him. He's so old and so ugly and so...Bulgarian. What does she see in him? What does he have that I don't, besides money, fame, and spot on a professional Quidditch team? I guess I'll never understand her. Anyway, I hope you like your presents. Enjoy!

Your Friend,

Ron

Harry reached into the box and pulled out both objects. The first one was a miniature replica of a Firebolt, the model of Harry's beloved broomstick. It flew in tiny circles on his palm, but it stopped floating when Harry set it back down. The second object was a thick brown book. Harry was astonished. He never would have suspected Ron, of all people, to send him a book. After all, book giving was Hermione's job. However the book, "10,000 Useful Curses and Counter-curses, the Revised Edition" by Cimorene Landenberg, seemed very interesting. Inside the cover was another note in Rons writing, which read:

Harry,

You had better learn some of these. Dad hinted at the start of another dueling club this year, and I want to whip Malfoy's arse! And you can help me! Plus, we can show Hermione a thing or two about real dueling. She won't show off this year.

Mum says we're going to pick you up next weak, Saturday at 10:00 at night, so we can use the Floo network without disturbing the muggles. So try to keep them from finding out. You wont believe what we have in store for you. One tip: pack for hot weather along with your Hogwarts things!

See you,

Ron

Harry was surprised. Obviously the Weasleys were taking a trip, and they wanted him to come, too. The Weasleys didn't have much, money-wise anyway, so he decided that he had better pay his way as much as possible. He knew that wherever they were going, he would have a lot of fun. Doing anything with the Weasleys resulted in lots of laughs. Harry figured that he could use a good laugh.

He scanned the letter to look for clues as to where the Weasleys were going. He stopped at the sentence explaining the Dueling Club. Harry was astonished. The last Dueling Club at Hogwarts had been a complete failure, due partially to the fact that Gilderoy Lockhart was one of the professors in charge. Harry only had negative memories of the Dueling Club, the main one being Draco Malfoy's snake, which a bizarre chain of events had lead the entire school to think that he was the evil Heir of Slytherin. When Harry kept the snake from hurting a fellow student, he and the rest of Hogwarts had discovered that Harry had a rare and unusual ability; he was a Parselmouth. Although this was an obscurely useful skill, it was one he would have preferred to keep a secret. There was a prejudice against Parselmouths, since most of the previous ones had been from Slytherin house, and were evil.

I wonder what will happen this time, He wondered, Maybe this dueling club will be different. Maybe I'll learn something useful for a change.

Harry placed Rons presents aside and picked up the smallest package. He opened the little box and stared at a shiny gold badge with the letter "P" stamped in the middle of the Hogwarts crest. He picked up the letter next to the box, and looked at the emerald green ink used to address the envelope. He tore open the letter and yanked out the parchment. He read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of the two Gryffindor prefects for your year. The other is Hermione Granger. This is an honor that very few students receive, and with this honor comes great responsibility. Prefects are responsible for keeping the common room and halls in order when the Professors cannot. Prefects also have the power to give and take away house points from any house, including their own, if it is called for. All prefects must meet once a month at a meeting presided over by the Head Boy and Girl, who will be announced on the train to Hogwarts. All prefects must report to the prefects' car on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of the trip.

The prefects of each house live in separate dormitories from the rest of the students in their year. These dormitories will be shown to you upon arrival at Hogwarts, and are only accessible from each common room, and from the prefects' meeting room. The entrance to these dormitories will be shown to you after your common room has been set in order.

As you know Mr. Potter, these are dark times; you and Miss Granger will be called upon, as will the other prefects, to keep your fellow students safe.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

So Harry was a prefect. Secretly, this was something he had always wanted. And so was Hermione. That thought stopped him. He was going to be spending a lot more time with Hermione, the very person he didn't want to think about for the rest of the summer. He did not know what he felt for Hermione; after last night, any truths he had come to terms with had vanished at Club Phoenix. Hermione was supposed to be with Ron, and he was supposed to be with Ginny. That's what everyone said anyway. Harry knew he had no feelings for Ginny besides those purely of friend, and he didn't want to go and ruin that friendship by attempting to start an unwanted relationship. He reached for the next box. It was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper and the Keeper of the Keys and Ground. He was about to open it, when Pig, Ron's owl, began flying madly around the room. Harry noticed that the school owl had left. Hedwig had flown back to her cage and was gulping up water from her dish. Reluctantly, Harry put down Hagrid's present and fed each of the remaining owls a treat. After they had been fed, the three owls soared out the window. Knowing there was no chance of getting Pig to slow down, Harry went back to his bed and sat down.

Harry discovered that Hagrid had sent him a box of various chocolates from Honeydukes, the sweet shop it Hogsmeade. Harry bit into a piece of chocolate and picked up the note inside the box. It was cheerful, asking about his summer and his relatives. One sentence made him drop the chocolate.

There have been several reports of Death Eater activity in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore is doing everything he can to clear it up. Great man, Dumbledore. As you probably guessed, Fudge is denying He-who-must-not-be-named's return left and right. Who decided to put that fellow in office anyway? I'll never understand why that idiot can't see ten feet in front of him.

So, the Death Eaters were starting to act up again. Harry wanted to kick something.

Why is Fudge so thick? He thought, There is evidence everywhere that Voldemort has returned, but he just won't believe it. Harry buried his face in his hands.

******

When Hermione woke up the next morning, the first thing she wanted to do was curl up and cry. So she did.

The earlier that morning, around one o'clock, Hermione had come home with Lavinia, Gigi, Avril, and Robin, and immediately, she went upstairs to shower. She had just gotten into bed when her parents came home. She could hear her parents, slightly tipsy, talking to Lavinia. They paid her, and Lavinia drove away. The Drs. Granger crawled up the stairs and into their room, not even stopping to check on her. Hermione couldn't decide if she was happy or disappointed. She needed comfort, but she didn't think she could tell them what happened. Hermione couldn't fall asleep, so she did the only other thing she could think of. She thought about things. Namely, the kiss, the club, and Harry.

Hermione felt repulsed at herself. She had kissed Harry, of all people. She didn't even know why she had done it. And he had kissed her back. Obviously, they didn't recognize each other, but was she really that shallow, to just kiss some random guy? Plus, she liked Ron. If it had been Ron, she would have had no regrets. But it wasn't Ron; she had kissed HARRY. Harry was her friend, and she didn't have any romantic feelings for him.

Hermione wanted to be with Ron. She would simply write Harry and tell him to forget what happened. She hoped she could do the same. Hermione still felt uneasy. She finally sought her last resort, a lullaby. She hadn't sung herself to sleep in years. It was Gaelic, from her mother's side, since her Grandmother was Irish. It was fairly simple, and Hermione remembered her mother teaching it to her a long time ago.

Inionai, Inionai,

Codailigi, codailigi

Inionai, Inionai,

Codailigi, codailigi,

Codailigi, codailigi,

Cois a chle mo, cois a chle mo

Codailigi, codailigi

Socair sasta, socair sasta

Hermione suspected that there was some sort of sleeping spell in the song. Gaelic magic was different than the magic taught at Hogwarts. It dealt with the elements, and the spirits of the elves and the farie folk. She always fell asleep minutes after singing the last syllable.

*******

After she had finished her cry when she woke up, Hermione set about writing her letter to Ron, the one declaring her feelings. She sat at her desk, and pulled out a piece of parchment and an inkwell. She sharpened a quill and began to write.

Dear Ron,

I don't really know how to say this, so I will just be outright and truthful. I think I have feelings for you. Stronger than friendship, I mean. Ron, I like you. I like you a lot. I'm going to Bulgaria to break up with Victor for you. I hope you return my feelings. If you want, I can visit you when I come back. Write me a response, whether you feel the same way or not. I anticipate your response.

Yours in faith, trust, and love

Hermione

Hermione scanned it, looking for errors. She thought it sounded a bit cold, but it definitely got her point across. Now all she had to do was wait for a response.

********

Harry, overcome by curiosity, picked up the box from the unknown sender. He looked at the return address and gasped. It was from Remus Lupin, his old Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Harry knew that Remus had been a friend of his parents, and he had been Harry's favorite professor, but Lupin had never sent him anything before. He cautiously opened the box. He stared at the contents. Two goblets lay side by side on a blanket of crimson velvet. Harry reached out and touched one. They were made of flawless red glass and decorated with gold and rubies, the Gryffindor colors he realized. Harry picked one of them up and held it, letting the glass catch the morning light, sending red sparks of slight across the walls. He turned it in his hands, studying the detail and the craftsmanship. At the top, in tiny gold script was a name, Remus Lupin. Harry picked up the other goblet and turned the rim, searching for the name of the owner. He finally found it, but it made him drop the goblet. It landed softly on the velvet. Lily Potter. His mother had drunk from that goblet; she had held it in her hands.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Harry frantically searched for some sort of card, some sort of reason why these had been sent to him. He finally found a note on crisp parchment, in the same scrawl as the return address.

Dear Harry,

By now I'm sure that you've overcome the shock of discovering the owners of the two goblets I have sent. It is time that you should have them. I'm sure they will mean more to you as soon as I tell you a bit of their history. Five goblets were forged on the island of Murano in Venice, Italy, for the wedding of James and Lily Potter. Venetian glass wizards have been forging glass since the early fifth century. The colors, as you can tell, are those of Gryffindor, our beloved house.

I have sent you Lily's and mine. Of the other three, only two are currently in existence. You can probably guess whom the other goblets belong to. Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew's goblet was destroyed last year, when I became aware of his betrayal to your parents. Those goblets toasted the marriage of Lily and James. He does not deserve the memory of that event.

Also, I have sent you some of my old school books and notes. You can probably tell that I have been doing some cleaning lately. I don't know if they will be of any assistance, but I have no use for them, and they make for good reading if you have time. Most of them are out of print.

I hope you have a very happy birthday Harry. I am only sorry that I could not share it with you.

Remus Lupin

Harry was shocked. He didn't know what to think. Absently, he reached into the box and took out some of the books. They were remarkably intact, even if they were old. Some of the titles he had heard before, but most he hadn't. The genre seemed to lean towards DADA. Some of the titles were more menacing: Not Dark Magic, But Close and The Complete Dictionary of Dark and Dangerous Creatures. Lupin was right, there was some interesting material to read. Harry wondered why Lupin would send him books about dark creatures and spells. He probably wants me to be prepared Harry figured.

He reached for the next box, Harry was happy to see that it was from Sirius Black, his godfather. He tore open the box, not surprised to see another set of red and gold goblets snug in velvet lining. However, he didn't have to search for the note accompanying the goblets.

Harry,

Remus told me he was sending you the goblets made for Lily and James' wedding, and I thought I would send you the ones I have. Now you have a complete set, minus one that can no longer be of any use. Remus saw to that. When your parents died, we split their wedding goblets. Remus got Lily's, and I took James'. They are charmed to be unbreakable, and Wizard glass doesn't break easily, but be careful with them. Don't let your muggle relatives see them, or who knows what could happen. We were originally going to give them to you for your wedding, but Remus said now was a better time. And I always listen to Remus. I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you today Harry. One day I'll be free, and you'll have the best birthday imaginable.

Be strong Harry,

Sirius

Harry couldn't help it. He began to cry.

********

Hermione was restless. She had paced for the past half hour, thinking Ron and formulating her Plan. It hit her suddenly; she still had one more thing to do. Hermione opened her desk drawer and pulled out the velvet bag that she hid her savings in. She reached for her Galleons first. She also counted her crumples of pound notes and shoved all her money into her purse. At the last minute, she tucked her wand in her purse for an extra measure of safety, and then raced downstairs.

"Mum, Dad, I'm going out for a bit," she called as she raced out the door. She didn't wait to hear their reply. Hermione jogged a block away from her house, and then stuck out her wand arm. She braced herself for the bang Harry had talked about. With a loud crack, the Knight Bus pulled up at her feet. Slightly shaken, Hermione climbed up the stairs.

"Hullo Miss, Name's Stan Shunpike. Where you wanna go?"

"Diagon Alley." Hermione was trying to gain her composure.

"Alright, eleven sickles please." Hermione handed him the money. She didn't wait for his instruction to sit, and chose a bed in the middle of the bus. She sat down, but was thrown backward when the bus started again. She stayed in that position for the rest of the trip.

When the bus finally got to Diagon Alley, Hermione muttered a goodbye as she struggled to get off the bus as quickly as possible. She headed into the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer, anything to calm her stomach. After three butterbeers, Hermione tapped the bricks in the back of the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley.

Her first stop was Gringotts, to change her Pounds into Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. The goblin that helped her didn't look happy, but then again, none of the Gringotts goblins looked happy. She counted her money, hoping that she would have enough for what she was looking for. Hermione pushed open the door and walked down the street. She casually looked into some of the windows, looking with no intent on buying. Diagon Alley was surprisingly quiet today, and not very many people were shopping. It had grown strangely cold, compared to the day before anyway.

Hermione stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies and looked in the window. The latest broom on the market was the Firebolt X. It didn't look very different from Harry's Firebolt, or Ron's Cleansweep 7, a present from Fred and George that had left Ron speechless for days. She took a deep breath, and with a look of determination, she walked into the store.

*********

Harry had been reluctant to open the box he knew was from Hermione. He had procrastinated for three hours, cleaning his room, taking a shower, and writing two more of his summer essays. Harry looked at the clock. It was 9:30. The Dursleys would wake up soon. He knew he couldn't avoid Hermione's box forever, and eventually he sat on his newly made bed and opened it. It was the largest one of the six packages he had received that morning. He opened the note, which had been sealed with red wax. It seemed quite cheerful, considering the events of the previous night.

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. First off, I would like to wish you a very happy birthday. I hope you like your presents. I think they will be very useful. I am going to Bulgaria on August first, but I'm only staying for two weeks. I'm going to send a letter to Ron. I hope he'll let me stay with him when I get back. Harry, what I'm about to tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence. I know how Ron feels about me. He's made it rather obvious, don't you think. I'm going to tell him that I return his feelings. I hope you're ok with this Harry. Please tell me if you're not. I don't want this to hurt our friendship. I hope you're having a great summer. I'll write from Bulgaria.

Sincerely,

Hermione

Harry was dazed. Hermione liked Ron? He knew how Ron felt, and Hermione was right, Ron made his feelings very obvious.

No wonder she didn't want me to tell Ron about last night. This explains a lot. I guess she didn't have time to edit this after last night.

Harry opened the wrappings and pulled out three objects. The first was a black box, a lot like a radio. Silver letters spelled Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry lifted the antenna and turned the dial. There were several stations, classical, rock, muggle hits, etc. Harry found a station he liked and turned the volume down so the Dursleys wouldn't hear it. He picked up the other two objects. They were wand holsters, he realized. One had smaller straps than the other. It looked like one strapped on an arm, and the other was for the small of the back. Harry had to grin. They were made out of soft black leather, and were charmed to keep the wand from falling out, according to the tiny manual Harry found in the box.

A loud thumping in the hallway told Harry that someone was coming. He had just enough time to shove the box and its contents into his open trunk and slam it shut. Vernon Dursley, eyes still tiny from sleep, pounded on the door. When he realized it wasn't locked, he opened it with just as much force.

"Get downstairs boy, Petunia says you are to make breakfast."

Harry jumped off the bed and skidded out the door. He went downstairs and into the kitchen. Dudley had his eyes glued to the television. Harry turned on the oven and pulled out eggs, bacon, and pancake batter. He worked silently but efficiently, and he was done in twenty minutes. Harry made a plate for the four of them and set the table. When Petunia and Vernon walked in, breakfast was ready, and even Petunia couldn't find anything to complain about. He soon learned why, when Vernon dropped his bombshells. Not one, but two.

"You know boy, Grunnings is turning fifty this weekend." Vernon looked very pleased with himself. "And we (he sneered at Harry) are going to celebrate. Petunia is planning a party, which you will be attending." Petunia looked shocked.

"Vernon isn't he going to stay in his room? Where no one can see him?" Petunia was carefully masking her anger.

"Nonsense, why should the boy sit and do nothing. He can serve drinks, or carry coats, tasks that would keep us from entertaining our guests," Vernon replied. Vernon gave Petunia a knowing smile. Petunia, seeing the light, smiled adoringly at her husband.

Harry was stunned. He was going to do manual labor for the Dursleys, in front of people. It wasn't that Harry was concerned about the work, it would be easy enough, but obviously the Dursleys had something else in mind. They were planning something that would embarrass him a lot, something that would make him wish he'd never set foot on Privet Drive. He saw it in that smile Vernon gave Petunia. Harry swallowed; glancing from Vernon to Petunia, then back again. Vernon turned back to Harry.

"Boy, today you will..."

"I have a name," Harry shot back. Vernon looked indignant, but continued on his original train of speech.

"Harry," He enunciated, "Today, you will work for Mrs. Figg. She called earlier this morning, asking for help with some manual labor. Cleaning her attic, or something like that. So go get dressed." Vernon looked at his watch. Harry started to get up.

"Hurry up, boy. I said you would be there in five minutes!" Harry ran out of the kitchen. Seeing nothing wrong with his current outfit, Harry opened the front door and walked into the sunshine. He went very slowly down the block, not wanted to arrive any sooner than he had to. He knocked on Mrs. Figg's door.

"It's open," a voice called from inside. Harry frowned. It didn't sound like the Mrs. Figg he knew. He opened the door.

"Come in the kitchen, I'm just finishing breakfast," the voice called again. Harry walked into the kitchen. And he gasped. It was Mrs. Figg, except twenty years younger. Her back was to him. Her hair was long and brown, hanging to her waist. Her skin was smooth; there were no wrinkles in sight. She dressed quite nicely in a long skirt and a cardigan. There was a cat perched on each shoulder. She turned around and laughed at his expression.

"Yes, it's me!" She spun around, dislodging the cats. They meowed, clearly annoyed. Harry hadn't changed his expression. He was slowly backing out of the room. She laughed again.

"Harry, if I'd known you would react so strangely, I wouldn't have removed the aging charm."

That's when it hit him. She was a witch. But she wasn't just any witch. She was Arabella Figg. Arabella smiled, and Harry walked back into the kitchen. Harry, still shaken, reached out his hand, which she shook. She had a firm grip. He looked at the scratches on her hand.

"You were an Auror, weren't you?" The light in Arabella's eyes faltered for a minute.

"Yes, a long time ago," she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice. She regained her light almost immediately. "You're probably wondering what you're doing here. I don't suppose you've brought your wand, have you? No you wouldn't have." She gnawed on a fingernail. Then she waved her other hand. Accio wand! Seconds later, Harry's wand shot through an open window and landed neatly in Arabella's hand. She handed it to him.

"Now, I think I have some explaining to do. Come with me to the parlor." Harry followed her into a room adjoining the kitchen. He sat down in a chair opposite Arabella.

"I am the notorious Arabella Figg. I was an Auror, but an injury forced me to leave the service. After the tragedy with Lily and James..." She paused for a moment, and then continued. "Dumbledore asked me move here. He told me my talents should not be wasted, and that I was to protect you at all costs. He told me he had put a spell on your house, but we must be prepared never the less. For the past fifteen years, I have watched you grow up. I see the way the Dursleys treated you. I tell you now that I did everything I could to right the wrongs done to you. But there was nothing I could do, except to help you when you stayed with me. Remember all those awful things I used to feed you?" Harry nodded. "They had enough nourishment for weeks. My own recipes." She smiled again.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.

"That's not half as bad as why you're here now. I'm to whip you into shape. So listen up." Harry saw a glint of what might be Arabella's inner Auror. She began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"You have special permission to use magic, but ONLY with my supervision. You will learn spells more advanced that any student in seventh year will learn. I will teach you muggle martial arts and wizard dueling. Dumbledore says you can fight off Imperius. I'm going to teach you to numb yourself to Cruciatus. As you probably know, many people, wizard and muggle, have been physically and mentally destroyed by Cruciatus. Very few people can fight it off. You are going to be one of them. We will also work on wandless magic, since wands can get lost, or broken." She looked sad again. "I have divided the day into halves. The morning is for educational purposes, and the afternoon will be devoted to physical training. Since you're here, let's begin." Arabella stopped pacing and waved her hand. Instantly, a book soared into the room and landed on Harry's lap.

"Read this tonight, and we'll discuss it tomorrow. I have a quiz made, to judge how much you know. It will show me what we have to cover, and what needs work." She waved her hand again. A piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill flew into her hand. She handed them to Harry.

"You can use the table in the kitchen. The light is better." Harry went into the kitchen and sat down. Most of the questions were easy enough, discussing magical creatures, potions, and plants. He wasn't sure about the spells she wanted him to talk about. A few questions required muggle mathematics. Harry laughed out loud at the extra credit question. What is Arabella's favorite Quidditch team? Harry had no idea. He only knew about a few teams, anyway. Nothing in her house was orange, so he knew it wasn't the Chudley Cannons. He wrote down the only team he could think of, the Holyhead Harpies.

When she saw he was finished, Arabella waved the parchment into her hands. She scanned the parchment, making marks with a quill dipped in red ink. She stared at one question for a few seconds and laughed again. Harry liked the sound of her laugh.

"How did you know about the Quidditch team?" she asked.

"I just guessed," Harry admitted. Arabella flicked her hand and a plate of cookies levitated into the air and landed in front of Harry.

"Have one, or two, or six," she offered, laughing again. "I'm sure you don't get them very often." Harry munched on one as she continued.

"You seem to have a decent knowledge of potions and plants, and muggle math. Some of you dark creature knowledge has been updated, but there's a book that came out a few years ago. It's not in print anymore, but you can have my copy..." she left the room, still talking. She reappeared a moment later with The Complete Dictionary of Dark and Dangerous Creatures. She handed it to him.

"I have that one," Harry said and handed it back to her.

"How?" Arabella asked, looking a bit annoyed, "They stopped publishing this years ago, and there wouldn't be any in stock as far as I know of. They said it was too dangerous."

"It was a birthday present, from Remus Lupin. He was a friend of..." Arabella had that sad look in her eyes again. Harry stared, wondering what made her look so sad. She shook her head, shaking away the expression of sorrow. She set her copy on the table.

"What else did Lupin send you?" she questioned.

"Umm, Not Dark Magic, But Close, I think Vampires, Werewolves, and something, The Rise and Fall of Dark Wizards, and Hogwarts, a History. There were a few more, plus some of his notes."

"I see," said Arabella, "You can use all of that to further your studies. Do a bit of reading tonight, and bring a book you'd like to work on tomorrow. Now, let's see. I haven't given a lecture in years, and your answer to the Grindelwald question was simply atrocious."

*********

Hermione had just enough money to pay for what she wanted. After a salesperson wrapped it up in brown paper, Hermione left the shop and wandered down the alley, back to the Leaky Cauldron. She ordered a sandwich and a butterbeer, since it was almost noon. Once again she flagged down the Knight Bus and hoped that she wouldn't lose her lunch as the bus lurched passed a lamppost. She raced off the bus as soon as it stopped, not even bothering to thank Stan Shunpike, who looked extremely put out.

No one said anything when she opened her front door, so Hermione raced up to her room and shoved her parcel under her bed. Looking at her clock, she realized that she only had two hours to finish packing. She opened her trunk, which already had a few items of clothing in it. Over the next hour, Hermione raced around the room, putting clothes, shoes, parchment, and books into her trunk. She almost forgot her Diagon Alley parcel. The last item to go was her Bulgarian Conversation Guide. She had been working on a few phrases to say to the Krum family, so they wouldn't think she was just some British groupie who wanted the glory of dating their son.

Three hours later found Hermione sitting on a plane, watching the clouds go by as she mentally rehearsed her Bulgarian phrases. She hadn't seen Viktor in two months. She wondered if he still felt the same way he had when he had been at Hogwarts. Hermione sure didn't.

The plane ride seemed short, but Hermione was happy to be off it anyway. She had come here to get over her fear of flying, and she was determined to do so. Viktor was easy enough to spot, or rather; the place where Viktor was standing was easy to spot, since screaming fans surrounded him. Hermione elbowed her way through the crowd, and finally she managed to get near enough to grab his arm. Viktor spun around and immediately smiled. He reached out and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. Obviously he still likes me. This isn't going to be easy, is it?

The Krum house was very nice. It was fairly large, and artistically furnished. Hermione's room overlooked a garden of sorts, and it had a small balcony with chairs to admire the view. The entire Krum family was slightly cold, but very hospitable. The food was good, and Hermione got along with Viktor's younger sister Sasha. In fact, it was Sasha who helped Hermione with her Bulgarian, and Sasha who gave her a tour of the town. Viktor was at practice a lot, or he was working out. He was also very studious, and sometimes they had wonderful discussions about something he was reading, or some idea he had formed. However, he still couldn't get her name right.

He agreed wholeheartedly with her Plan, and he took off a day to help her. That morning, she dressed in Muggle sweats, with a cloak made especially for flying. Viktor led her to an empty field at the edge of the Krum property, and began to explain.

"Now here is what you do, Hermy, I mean Hermy-mina, um..." he instructed.

"It's HERMY. Just call me Hermy. Can you do that Viktor?" she shouted. Hermione's nerves were suffering from the constant abuse of her name. The whole family, except for Sasha who had coaching, couldn't pronounce her name. It wasn't that hard to pronounce, was it?

"Right Hermy, here is what you do. Sit on the broomstick like this." He showed her, and Hermione followed his actions.

"Now you just kick off, and lift." He acted on his words. Hermione tried to swallow her fear, and in a burst of adrenaline, she kicked off hard. She shot upwards, then immediately forwards. She spun a bit, simply trying to hang on for dear life. But Viktor came up behind her and steadied her, and the two flew in large circles round and round the field. After an hour, Hermione was beginning to get the hang of it. She could fly on her own; even do spins and dips with ease of a practiced flyer. Viktor praised her incessantly, calling her a natural. It felt nice, Hermione had to admit.

They flew every day, and towards the end of the week, Viktor was teaching her some basic Quidditch skills. He put her through a few trials, and determined that the Keeper position was the best for her. Hermione, who had never found Quidditch exciting before, had to admit that the game had some appeal.

The last day before she had to leave, Viktor took her to the Bulgarian field and made her practice on the professional whoops. He called in a favor, and one of the Bulgarian Chasers, a man named Dimitrov, came and threw Quaffles at her to block. She thought he was going easy on her, but later Dimitrov confessed to Viktor in rapid Bulgarian that she really was a natural. Hermione, who had learned enough of the language to understand a few words, felt her toes tingle.

*********

Harry didn't know how the week passes by so quickly. Every morning, he was lectured on spells and potions and magical history. He had learned several new spells, even some of the spells in Not Dark Magic, But Close. Most were defense related, but some had more practical uses, like warming and language translation. Hermione would be so jealous! On Thursday, Arabella taught him to Apparate in only five hours. She had been shocked at his progress. Harry had been shocked that someone had bothered to teach him. On Friday, she had taken him to buy some clothes that fit. Harry was secretly delighted to sneak the shopping bags into his room. He immediately changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He couldn't help but look in the mirror a few minutes, happy that his reflection wasn't that of an elephant any longer.

Every afternoon, Harry worked harder physically then he even had in his entire life. Arabella was a tough coach. They always started with a run, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, weight lifting, and martial arts. Every night when Harry crawled up the stairs, the Dursleys simply smirked, happy that they didn't have to see him all day, and he was working hard while absent. Harry slept dreamless nights, still as death.

As he walked out the door on Saturday, Vernon stopped him.

"Ask Mrs. Figg to attend the party, boy," Vernon demanded, "Tell her it starts at 8:00 and it should end around 11:00." Harry simply nodded, and walked towards Arabella's house. Suddenly, he stopped. The party was tonight. And the Weasleys were picking him up tonight, right in the middle of the party, too. Harry broke into a run and knocked quickly on Arabella's door. He explained everything to her.

"Don't worry!" was all she said. Harry stared at her.

"But they hate magic, and the Weasleys, and I know they aren't going to like whatever mode of transportation they pick me up in," Harry replied.

"We'll think of something," she grinned, "Now where is that analytical essay on Celtic magic?"

The night of the party was cool enough for Harry to wear black dress pants and a green linen shirt. He ran a comb through his hair and tossed it into his trunk. He shoved the lid shut and locked it, and then he set Hedwig's cage on top of it. Vernon barked at him to help set up drinks, so Harry ran down to the kitchen to help Petunia. Harry was not surprised when Arabella, aging charm in place, was the first one to arrive. She winked at Harry as Vernon led her to the back porch.

Harry found that he was very bored. He had set up drinks and food, carried everyone's coat to the parlor where they would be kept, and after that, the Dursleys seemed to have no need for him. Harry found that he could even sneak a few crisps when Vernon and Petunia we talking to guests. As time ticked by, Harry began to grow uneasy. When the Little Whinging clock tolled 10:00, Harry nearly jumped out of his chair. He snuck into the house and pulled his trunk into the parlor. He pulled aside the curtains, searching the street for any sign of the Weasleys. Then he heard it, coming from the backyard. Harry paled, and ran to the porch.

"Would anyone like a chocolate?How about some toffee?" The Weasley twins were shameless, handing out their concoctions to anyone who asked. Harry could only stare. Dudley on the other hand was racing around, screaming at people to throw their candy away. No one paid any attention to him. Vernon and Petunia began to chase Fred and George, who easily evaded them. The rest of the guests had gone back to chatting. However, the twins finally found their prey, Dudley. As they backed him into a corner, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hullo Harry!" Ron was grinning from ear to ear. Harry had a good idea why.

"Hullo Ron!"

"Dad snuck around the front and he's getting your things. We're parked outside."

"But I didn't see any car, and I looked just a moment ago." Harry frowned.

"Goodness Harry, staying with these Muggles sure makes you forget things." Ron laughed, "There's an invisibility charm on it, stupid!" Harry laughed with Ron, realizing his mistake.

"Come on, we're going to miss the show!" Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him toward Fred and George, who had him against the wall at wand point.

"Come now lad, eat up." Fred jabbed his wand at Dudley, who held a chocolate in his chubby hand. Dudley looked like he was going to pass out. George laughed as he put it to his mouth and swallowed meekly. Seconds later, two identical expressions of mock horror filled the twin's faces. The pointed shaking fingers and cried out in alarm. Dudley clawed at his face, and then passed out in a dead faint. Harry and Ron burst out laughing, announcing their presence.

"Liked the show, did you?" George asked.

"All in a days work," Fred added, rubbing his hands together. Just then, Mr. Weasley joined them.

"What have you done?" he cried when he saw Dudley's limp frame.

"Nothing dad, it's completely natural. Honest," Fred replied. "It was just regular chocolate from Honeydukes. Right expensive, wasn't it George?" George nodded. While two redheads were inconspicuous enough in a large crowd, four weren't. Vernon charged over, with Petunia in tow.

"What are YOU doing here?" Vernon demanded.

"We're just here to pick up Harry," Mr. Weasley replied.

"WHAT!" Vernon shouted. The party guests all stared at him.

Fred whispered in his ear, "I think now is the time to run!" The five of them took off leaping over the hedge. Petunia had rushed to Dudley, but Vernon was pursuing them at a fast pace. He was surprisingly fast when he was mad.

Mr. Weasley had enough time to wave his wand and deactivate the invisibility charm, and the four Weasley's and Harry jumped into the car. Mr. Weasley turned the key and the motor jumped to life. Fred and George blew kisses at Vernon as the car sped down the street. Vernon shook his fist at them, but he and Privet Drive were soon out of sight. Fred and George slapped hands, congratulating each other on their mutual success. Harry couldn't help but grin. The summer could only get better.