Harry Potter & The Knights Of Merlin's Keep

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review.

---

Simon Bergstead sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. He was having a bad summer. He had not been back in England for a week before he was told he was being swifted away to see his Grandfather. The visit had been pleasant enough, but the old man looked tired and withered. Simon knew he wouldn't be living much longer.

His grandfather knew, too, and had given him a letter to be opened on the very day that he had died. He had said it was very important, and that only he was to read it. Not even his foster parents were to see it until he had read it first.

This struck as rather odd to Simon, especially as Claudius had said this right in front of them. They must've already known what was inside it, because not the slightest bit of curiosity had crossed their face when he said this. Nor had they objected.

Now it was weeks later. His grandfather had died peacefully in his sleep. Simon read the letter the moment he found out. If his grandfather dying hadn't caused him to cry, the letter did. It had told him how his real parents were killed. Something he was never allowed to know.

The letter read:

My dear grandson,

If you have followed my instructions properly, I will have passed on by the time that you read this. Unfortunately, that means your life will become very complicated in the next few months. I will try to explain as best I can. I know what your thinking, why didn't I do this while I was still alive? Well there are a few reasons, some of which I will explain later. But alas, my dear Simon, I must admit that the strongest reason for me to wait was cowardice. I was afraid, am afraid, of how you would react.

First, let me start by telling you about your parents. They were wonderful people. Kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, fair. They fought for what they believed in. They were wonderful people. It is because they fought for good and decency, that they are not with you now.

I know you've been told they were killed in a house fire. This is only partly true. A man named Voldemort murdered them, perhaps not directly, but on his order. The house fire was only a cover up to keep the police from investigating. How do I know all this? Well I was the one who found your parents, lifeless in their own house, the dark mark hanging over it like an ominous beast looming over its prey.

I was the one who started the fire. I knew that if the police found your parents as they were, too many questions would be asked. Questions that would put them in danger, as well as you.

You see my dear Simon, you and I are different from most people as you know them. We are wizards. We can cast spells and perform magical feats. Our kind harkens back to Merlin himself, the greatest wizard of all time.

Your foster parents are what we wizards call Muggles. They cannot perform magic, at least not the way we can. Of the entire world's population, wizards comprise of less than half of one percent. That's a lot to be sure, but nothing compared to the Muggles. As such, we keep to ourselves.

I know this may sound like and old man's ramblings and that this is very hard to believe, but you must. Your future depends on it. Ask your foster parents about it, they will confirm this. They were close friends of your mother's when she was young and have been ever since. They found out about us by accident but have kept our secret. They are truly loyal and I know they love you as much as your parents did.

I know this is a lot to take in, but it is imperative that you learn as much as you can for your own safety. For now that I am gone, the spell that has been protecting you for these fourteen years will soon begin to fade. It is old and powerful magic, but it requires a living soul to perpetuate it, and I am no more.

I pray that you will forgive me for the lies. But I was being selfish. You are the last Bergstead. I mourned for my son all these years, but more so, I mourned for his son, whom I've had to deceive for as long. Please forgive me.

Your loving grandfather, Claudius Bergstead.

Simon had gone to his foster parents, and with tears, they had told him that it was the truth. They even showed him an old photo album, in which the pictures moved. It was a lot for Simon to take in.

Dinner that evening was ate in silence. Simon didn't feel like talking and his parents were at a loss for words. It soon became unbearable for Simon.

"I don't blame you," he blurted out.

His foster father looked at him questioningly.

"I don't blame either of you," Simon said again, not able to look up from his plate, "I don't even blame Grandfather. You did what you thought was right."

"But do you believe it was right?" his father asked him warmly.

"I-," Simon couldn't find the words, "I don't know. Not yet. But I don't blame you."

His mother sighed, "We love you very much, Simon, and we loved your parents very much. It was devastating for us to hear about what happened to them. When Claudius asked us to take you in we didn't even have to think twice."

"I know, mum. I know."

It was at that moment that a tapping was heard at the window. All three looked over only to see an owl perched on their planter. It had a letter attached to its leg. Simon's father opened the window and the owl flew in and landed right in front of Simon. The letter was for him.

Mr. S. Bergstead
The North Bedroom
9 Privet Drive
Little Whining, Surrey

The writing was in a shimmering emerald green. On the back, the letter was sealed with wax. A crest with the letter 'H' was used to seal it.

"What's this?" Simon asked as the owl flew out the window again.

"It is how wizards mail each other." his mother explained, "Whenever your mum and dad went on a holiday, they would send us postcards by owl. Some of the places they went to didn't have a regular post office. I suspect that that is a letter from another wizard."

"Open it." his father said with a hint of excitement.

Simon opened the letter carefully, not being used to wax sealed envelopes. He pulled out two sheets of what looked and felt like parchment. He read the letter with shaking hands. If this was indeed from a wizard, then who knows what will happen.

"Dear Mr. Bergstead, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh wonderful!" his mother exclaimed, absolutely beaming, "Claudius said that you didn't get your acceptance letter before because you were hidden by a spell that he performed, but he told us that if the spell were broken or if he had died while you were young enough, that you would still have the chance to go. Your parents went to school there. That's where they learned magic. It's where Claudius learned as well."

"But, mum, I've already gone through secondary. I'm in university."

"As bright as you are, son, this is something entirely different," his father sat next to him, "They don't teach you math or spelling. They will teach you how to cast spells, transfigure things into something else, all sorts of magic. It's not like anything you're used to."

"But what about university?" Simon said, looking a little dejected.

"Aren't you the one always complaining how everyone treats you different because you're so young?" his mother asked, "I mean, fifteen years old and you've finished one year of university with the highest marks of your year. University will still be there when you've graduated Hogwarts."

"True, but it says here that I will start as a first year. I'm four years behind. How do you think I'll be treated then?" Simon said dryly, knowing full well that kids are the same no matter where the come from. If your too smart, you're an outcast, and if you're too far behind, or too dumb, your an outcast.

"Well I think that you are one of the smartest people in the country. Smarter than your parents even. And that's saying something!" his mum held onto his hand, "If anyone can manage to learn seven years of magic in only three years, it's you."

"The choice is yours, son. We won't force you. But know that this is what your parents and Claudius always wanted for you. It's what we wanted for you, too."

Simon sighed, "I'll think about it, but I can't promise anything."

---

Simon lay in bed, pondering everything that had happened that week. His natural grandfather had died, and along with him, everything that Simon had known to be real. It was a lot to take in.

He didn't blame his foster parents for not telling him about everything. In fact, when he thought about it logically, he could understand why they didn't. But logical thinking didn't make the emotion hurt any less. He didn't blame his grandfather for keeping everything from him either. After looking through some of the old man's things that had been left for him, he realized why.

There were old copies of a newspaper called The Daily Prophet, obviously a wizard's newspaper because the pictures moved. They had articles about an evil wizard, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." That must've been this Voldemort that his grandfather had mentioned. The articles talked about all the horrid and evil things Voldemort was to have done.

Simon shuddered. He knew that there were a lot of bad people in the world, but he'd lived a rather sheltered life. He almost didn't want to go to Hogwarts. He'd have to start as a first year and although he personally didn't have a problem with that, he didn't want to once again be the odd one. A fifteen year old doing work that was supposed to be for an eleven year old. He knew that he would instantly be the object of everyone's ridicule.

He was no stranger to ridicule. He graduated secondary school when he was thirteen, and he was already on his way to making the dean's list at his university. He had the top grades out of his entire year and that was saying something considering his competition. He had a few friends at the university but they were far and few between. Add the fact that he was very young and it made for an extremely non-existent social life.

Even most of the professors looked at him with derision.

Tears rolled silently down Simon's cheeks. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Go back to University and suffer another grueling year where his only solace was his work, or start anew at this school for magic, of which he knew nothing about and would already be four years behind.

The tears, started by his fears of what was to come were suddenly fueled by his grief for his grandfather that he barely knew, and parents that he never knew. He sobbed in frustration. He didn't know what to do.

There was a quiet knock on his door and it opened slowly. Simon turned away from his foster father, ashamed that he was crying. His father sat down on his bed and placed his hand on Simon's are comfortingly.

"I won't pretend to know what you're feeling, Simon," he said gently, "But your mother and I will try to be there for you when you need us."

"I know," Simon said through sobs, "but it's hard. I get two letters and my whole life is turned upside down. I don't know what to do. I'm scared."

Simon felt his father lie down behind him and put his arms around him. His parents were friendly and loving, but it was not common for them to be very physical. Now his father was comforting him. It felt good and Simon let himself melt into his father's arms as he cried even harder. His father just held and comforted him until he had cried himself to sleep.

---

That evening's dinner was unusually quiet, even with the extra guests. Perhaps it was because Professor Dumbledore was there with them, mainly to make sure that Harry would be okay when he woke up. Or perhaps it was because Harry had been so badly hurt and everyone was just worried. Maybe even a little of both.

Bill shook his head clear. It wouldn't do to dwell on the why, but it sure couldn't hurt to think about how to fix it. The only problem was he was too depressed to think of anything. He picked at his shepherd's pie, not really hungry.

George and Fred seemed to be involved in some sort of twinly psychic conversation with each other, because they would occasionally make half a sentence and throw a look at one of the others sitting at the table and then both of them would stifle snorts and sniggers. What surprised Bill was that most of them were directed at him and not their usual victim, Percy.

Ginny was absolutely silent and if asked a question, she would just make some gesture of response. Percy was speaking with their father about things at the Ministry; only he wasn't trying to make himself sound as important as he usually does. Ron seemed as distracted as anyone but was at least participating in some of the conversations.

Molly was a bit more talkative than usual, taking it upon herself to make sure there was a conversation to keep everyone distracted with. Bill smiled at her as she was talking about a new recipe in Witch's Weekly that she was eager to try.

"And it's supposed to be very easy to make, although a bit messy. Perhaps I'll try that trick Mr. Devlin told us about. He seemed to be quite knowledgeable about cleaning things. One wonders if he didn't have children of his own."

"Well no offense to him, Mum, but I think it would be a bit difficult for a man in his situation to raise a child by himself." Percy answered with an air of knowing, "And he said he wasn't married. He's just a janitor."

"Ah, Young Mr. Weasley," Albus interjected patiently, "If there is one thing that cannot be said about Aaron Devlin, it is that he is 'just' anything. He is a simple man by nature, to be sure, but even the simplest of men can and often do surprise you. I re-learned that lesson this very afternoon when I spoke with him."

"That's true, Professor," Percy replied, "You do know Mr. Devlin a lot better than I do, but to play devil's advocate, sometimes a rock is just a rock. He even admitted to me that he was the wrong person to bring in. If it weren't for the fact that there are no known wizards who know sign language much less trained interpreters, we wouldn't even be considering him, would we?"

"If there were such wizards, I would still consider him. He has experience."

"With all do respect, sir, experience is one of the best teachers, I'll grant you, but a teacher isn't born from experience alone. Ouch!"

Fred had kicked his older brother under the table and was now trying not to glare at him.

"Quite right, Mr. Weasley," Albus said with a twinkle in his eye, "but we have little choice at this time. I'm just glad that Mr. Devlin was willing to hear me out."

George snickered at that comment. Molly scowled, Arthur looked stern, Percy was scandalized and Bill threw a kick across from under the table. George's smile vanished.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Quite all right, George." Professor Dumbledore looked very amused, "I am quite certain Mr. Devlin would have found that comment humorous as well. He is quite adamant about certain things concerning his lack of hearing, mostly keeping direct eye contact when speaking to him, but if I remember correctly, he once told me that to him it was not a handicap, but a major inconvenience. Like most Hufflepuffs, he works around inconvenience. And he has quite the sense of humor if I remember correctly."

"See, and here you had to go and kick me." George complained to his eldest brother, his grin slowly returning, only more viciously, "So I take it that you've taken a liking to Mr. Devlin? He's certainly taken a liking to you."

Bill raised one eyebrow at his sibling, still trying to build up his appetite by stabbing his food with the fork.

"Oh come on, you didn't notice?" Fred answered for his twin. "He was certainly giving you the eye, wasn't he George?"

"Both of them every moment he could get away with. Had a nice big smile every time you had something to say."

"In case you two haven't heard, Mr. Devlin is deaf." Percy interjected haughtily.

Albus quickly and deftly moved his napkin to his face to hide the smile that he had suddenly sprouted and was having great difficulty in suppressing. Only he was aware that Aaron could use a spell to hear and most likely had used it before meeting with Percy. That meant that Aaron had heard every word they had said that afternoon.

"As if that made a difference. The moment Bill even looked like he might have something to say he turned his eyes on him. And his face would become flush every time you looked at him, Bill."

"You would too, George, if you had landed on a complete stranger after flooing in." Percy added. Big mistake.

"He landed on you?" Fred raised his voice, "Oh man no wonder he's sprung. He must've gotten lost in those baby blue eyes of your, Bill."

George, Ron and Ginny all stifled snickers as Bill's ears went as red as his hair. Even Percy, Arthur, Molly and even Albus couldn't help but smile at that comment. Bill's eyes were often said by many women (and some men though not to loudly) to be Bill's most attractive feature, and that was saying a lot.

"Now boys, that's enough," Mr. Weasley interrupted, smile still present but much more subdued, "We don't know Mr. Devlin very well and it's not fair or appropriate to make such assumptions. Remember that the wizarding world doesn't yet accept things like that. A shameful thing, but a reality nonetheless. Let's not cause this gentleman any unnecessary attention."

"Will Mr. Devlin be staying in the same house as the new student?" Fred asked, swallowing a bit of mashed potato quickly as his mother glared at him for almost being impolite.

"No, he will stay in the professor's wing. It was decided that the new student would better learn socialization skills if he didn't have to rely on his interpreter as a crutch. The students in his house would also benefit. It would teach valuable communication skills."

"Wow. I wonder if he'll be in Gryffindor." Ron pondered.

"Well we will not know until the sorting ceremony." Dumbledore said passively followed soon by a mouthful of shepherd's pie. "This is most scrumptious, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley's ears turned red at the compliment. "Thank you, Professor."

"Oh, that reminds me, mum. I have a message from an old friend of mine. He says hello and he misses your mince pies." Bill said swallowing a healthy bite, his appetite found.

"Oh? Who dear? Was it that fellow who got hit with that curse at the Tanis dig?"

"No mum, it was the guy who had the run in with those Slytherins that one day way back when." Bill said carefully. It wasn't a lie, but he didn't want to let his brothers know that he was also a Slytherin. Molly seemed to catch on quickly.

"Oh him! Oh how lovely. You must tell him to try and write me. I'd love to send him a few."

"I think I'll be seeing him a bit more frequently at my new assignment. I'll be sure to pass that along."

"New assignment? I thought it would take at least another four years to complete your current dig." Mr. Weasley commented as he served himself up some dessert.

"Well it will, but I've been taken off that dig for now."

The whole table excluding Molly and Albus stopped what they were doing and all looked at Bill with shock on their faces.

"You're not going to get fired are you?" Percy asked what everyone else had been thinking. It was a general practice of the goblins to not move their people around on projects until they were finished or unless something was seriously wrong, usually in the case of someone being fired.

"No, not at all. They're quite happy with my work, really, but a big project came up and I convinced them to let me take a year off."

"A year?" Ron said in disbelief, "No way. They'd never go for it, even if you were a goblin."

"Well they did go for it. I admit, they weren't happy about it, and well probably still aren't happy about it, but my new boss for the time being is quite convincing when he wants to be." Bill shot Dumbledore a brief sideways glance. He got a smile in return.

"Wait a minute. You're going to be working at Hogwarts?" Fred asked, eager to hear the affirmative

"That I am, Fred." Bill grinned cheekily, "You are addressing your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Yes!" Both Fred and George said at the same time. Ginny seemed pleased but still said nothing. Ron didn't say anything at all. He just looked a little disappointed but tried not to show it.

"Now hold on you two." Bill was quick to slap down their planned coup de tat, "Don't think for one second that I will put up with your cheek or trouble making. I know your pranks, firsthand in many cases. I'm not going to go any easier on you just because you're my brothers. If anything, I'll be harder on you two for that very reason."

"What?" George exclaimed.

"You're kidding!" Fred added.

"That's just not fair!" They said in unison.

"No it isn't, but life isn't always fair." Bill admonished. "Besides, you could do your older brother a favor by not pulling any stunts. I'm going to have a hard enough time as it is without you two. I can just imagine how the Slytherins are going to react."

"Oh no." Ron dropped his head onto the table as he groaned. "Malfoy's going to have a field day with this."

"He's no longer a Governor of Hogwarts, Ron, he doesn't have any say in the matter." Bill replied.

"No, not that Malfoy. His son, Draco," Ron practically spat the name, "He was horrid at the end of last year, and now he'll take even more chances to make fun of me."

"And you can't come up with anything to counter him? You might be a little thick sometimes, Ron, but you're not dumb. Just think up some things before hand and make sure they're appropriate to the situation."

"You just don't get it, Bill. Now I'll have to listen him harp on about you, too. I can just hear him now. 'Hey Weasel, I see Gringotts finally got rid of your brother. Decide the temptation to steal might be too great, did they?'" Ron mimicked Draco fairly close, then dropped his head back on the table, speaking almost inaudibly, "I hate being poor."

"You know, Ron," Bill said slightly hurt, "I normally don't give a damn what people think of me, and the Malfoys are certainly no exception to that, but you aren't. I do care about what you think of me, though, because you're family. And to be honest, Ron, it sounds like you don't think to much of me."

Ron's head shot up instantly, a look of absolute horror on his face. He tried to protest but Bill continued.

"And do you know what is really bunching my knickers right now? It's not that you might be disappointed in me, though that does hurt, but that you seem to think that the Malfoy's view on success is right on spot. That having lots of money to throw around like it was confetti is the only way to live and gain respect.

"Well I can only tell you that respect isn't gained, it's earned." Bill rose from his seat at the table, tossing the napkin down a bit forcefully. "With all you've been through so far, I would have thought that you'd have learned that by now. I'm sorry that I don't live up to your expectations. I'm sorry that none of our family does. You're right, though, we're not even remotely rich. I scrimp and save and live off of the mediocre rations that Gringotts is willing to shell out for and right now I have barely enough saved to buy a tool shed to use as a home.

"I doubt any of us will ever be rich, but we've always shared what we had, and we've always been there when things got rough. I pray to God you realize that we are really all you have. Better yet, all you really need. Now if I may be excused, I'm going to go check on Harry."

He stalked out briskly without another word. Dumbledore stood shortly after.

"I think I might need check on Harry as well. Please pardon me." And he too, left the kitchen.

Ron just sat looking at Bill's empty chair. His face was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick's. The rest of the Weasleys sat just as quietly, not daring to speak. They were looking at one another trying to figure out what to do next. Ron cleared his throat lightly.

"May I please be excused from the table?" He asked, his voice a low tenor, but still sounding as if he were only seven years old.

Molly nodded, "Yes, dear." She added quietly.

Ron got up from the table, and rather than head up to his room, he walked out the back door into the garden, disappearing quickly from sight.

---

Harry didn't know where he was. He was in a bed, but not his own. It wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs either. It was a large bedroom, and he was in a large bed. Harry was reminded of the king sized bed that aunt and uncle slept in.

Harry paused as his body screamed in pain at the memory of what his supposed uncle had done to him. He didn't have much time to worry about it before he fell unconscious once again.

He awoke later that night. He guessed it was night because it was dark, but it could just have well been early morning. His body was in considerably less pain, even though he remembered what had happened to him. He tried to sit up, but found that he lacked the strength to do so. Rather than waste his energy on futile efforts to get up, he concentrated on his surroundings.

It felt familiar to him. The decor certainly wasn't that of the house on Privet Drive. It seemed more like a medieval castle. And the smell was familiar, too. Not unpleasant at all. In fact he took comfort in it, for it reminded Harry of his best friends mum, Mrs. Weasley.

His eyes shot open with great speed at the revelation. He was at the Burrow! Great relief washed over him but with that came a different fear, and embarrassment. He must look a site. And what an inconvenience for them to have to take him in. Harry felt bad for the Weasleys being forced to take him in. He only hoped that they wouldn't resent him like the Dursleys.

In his mildly delirious state, Harry didn't notice someone enter the room. Not until a second person came in and started talking to the first. Harry kept quiet, half asleep and not wanting to disturb them. It was Bill Weasley and Professor Dumbledore.

"I have seen the Weasley temper at its worst before, but what I find remarkable this time around is not necessarily the severity of your words, but at who they were directed to."

"Believe it or not, Professor, we aren't the perfect happy family everyone thinks we are. We don't always get along."

"Nor should you. I have never met a family who has. And I know quite a few, let me assure you."

Harry didn't understand what exactly they were talking about, but it didn't sound like something he should interrupt.

"Yes, yes, and now you're going to tell me what I should have done differently and then I can go and apologize to Ron and then we can all be one big happy family again, right?"

"Do not get sarcastic with me, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore's tone held a finality that reminded Harry of when he faced the fake Professor Moody, Barty Crouch Jr. "I am more than willing to listen and help, but I am not a convenient target for pent up or misplaced wrath."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Dumbledore seemed to accept this, because his voice was very caring and concerned.

"Bill, I wanted you as the Defense professor for more reasons than your abilities as a charm breaker. One of them was your compassion for your fellows. The students, although younger than you, can still relate to you better than most adults. Truth be told, the long hair and earring helps with that."

Harry heard Bill give a small chuckle of his own and mentally smiled himself. He had to agree, the earring and long hair made Bill look cool.

"Another reason was specifically for Ron's sake. He needs to learn that he can only be more than what he is if he makes it himself. He has the unfortunate position of being in not one or two shadows, but five. Six if you count Harry. That puts him in a dangerous position. I am afraid that he might see the only way to being his own person is to betray all that he is. All that you and your family are."

"My words didn't help matters, did they?" Bill said grudgingly.

"In their own way, perhaps they did help, but it would probably be best if you talked it out with him. I am not saying you should apologize. Though it might have been a fair bit excessive, Ron needs to wake up. However, a hug from an older brother could also do wonders."

Harry was quiet. He pondered everything he heard, just as Bill pondered his own actions.

Bill sighed. "Well at least I know there's one pie out there that you can always make better than mum."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, clearly not following Bill's logic.

"Yes," Bill said plainly, "Humble pie."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, though it hurt him to do so.

Both Bill and Dumbledore were at his side in an instant. Bill seemed very nervous, Dumbledore however, looked very calm and focused.

"Harry, I'm glad to see that you are awake." the old professor looked down at him with twinkling eyes. Or was that glistening?

"Sorry," Harry managed to say in a very groggy voice.

"Whatever for?"

"Eavsd-" He couldn't seem to finish it.

"Well perhaps we could have chosen a more private location to speak, but I trust that whatever you heard between us will stay between us."

Harry tried to nod, but he was so weak his head barely moved.

"How bad?" he struggled to get out.

Bill took a deep breath, and Harry went into near panic.

"Not as bad as you might think, Harry." Dumbledore quickly noticed Harry's agitated state. "Your lack of strength would be attributed to the potion which I gave you. It is a very powerful healing potion, but one of the main ingredients is a very effective muscle relaxant. The effects tend to linger a bit after the potion has done its work, however you will not need anymore however, so it will wear of shortly."

"It was Vernon" Harry muttered. If his voice hadn't carried the message, the look he gave Dumbledore did. Harry would never go back to his uncle ever again.

"I know, Harry." Albus sighed heavily, "I know. You will stay with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer. We will worry about next year once the term has started.

Harry's stomach growled in response, prompting a smile from both Dumbledore and Bill.

"I'll have mum prep him something to eat. Then I think I'll have a chat with Ron." Bill said to Dumbledore. He smiled at Harry, and then ruffled his hair lightly in a brotherly sort of way. If Harry were physically capable of being overjoyed, he would have been, but as it was, he smiled and felt very warm inside.

Then it was just he and Dumbledore. For once, it seemed that Dumbledore was at a complete loss for words. Harry knew why. The old professor thought he had failed. Harry might have felt that same way, but this was the same man who had always been there for him when he could. At the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament, even when he was force to relive the horrific events that night, he knew that Dumbledore was there for him, and doing what he knew to be best.

"He never hit me up until this year." Harry seemed to find enough strength to talk. Perhaps the potion was now beginning to wear off. "I mean, I would get a spanking now and then. Always on the bum, with his hand. He never beat me though."

"Once is enough, Harry."

"I know." Harry rolled his eyes at the thought, "Believe me, I know. But I didn't expect it. I never knew it was coming. No one did." Harry was rather pointed when he said that.

Dumbledore got the hint and seemed to relax significantly. He smiled gratefully and held the boy's hand. Harry was just glad that he was once again safe. With a contented sigh, he drifted back into a light sleep.

---

Ron sat in the garden, feeling heavily depressed. He was angry with Bill for pulling a guilt trip on him. He knew damn well what Ron was talking about. It was Bill who should be feeling guilty. He had to come back to Hogwarts to play the cool hero. Things were just beginning to come around for Ron. Though his fame at the Tri-Wizard championship was short lived, it was still his, and he had made a couple friends who were genuinely interested in him, not just because he was with Harry.

And now Bill wanted to go and ruin it by being his teacher. Bill didn't understand how bad Malfoy was. He could never understand having had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And that was why Ron was angry with Bill. It was also the very reason Ron was depressed. He knew it was total bull.

The truth was that Bill was cool. And cool people don't intentionally go out of their way to cause other people problems. Ron was feeling very guilty about his offhanded comment. He hadn't meant to offend Bill, nor had he meant that he didn't appreciate his family, but Malfoy was just impossible.

Ron pondered over the whole situation. Was Bill right? Was he really as shallow as Malfoy? Ron shuddered at the thought. He had to admit that recent events had made him wish he wasn't poor all the more.

Ron buried his head between his knees. He'd been out here for a good half an hour and he still didn't feel like going inside. It was a warm night. Perhaps he'd just sleep out here. His mum would have a fit, but Ron was almost tempted. Since he was sharing a room with Bill tonight, he was really tempted.

He became even more tempted when he heard the back door shut behind him. He knew it was Bill. No one else would have bothered him. Everyone else knew that when he wanted to be alone, he meant alone. That's why Ron would always come out to the garden at night.

For the few times that he needed to, he could run out into the acre or so past their lot into the light wood. There was a large tree that he would often hide in. It was no secret tree, but Ron was the only one who would dare to climb as high he did. Not even Fred or George would climb that high.

Ron wished he had gone out to the tree as Bill sat down beside him. Ron kept his head between his knees, not even acknowledging his brothers presence. Bill sat there for a few minutes, also saying nothing. Finally, he wearied of the silent game.

"I'm not going to apologize, Ron, but I didn't come out here to continue to harp on you."

"And I suppose I'm supposed to apologize?" Ron couldn't help himself. He really did want to apologize, but his wounded pride had demanded revenge.

"No." Bill replied evenly.

After it was clear that Bill wasn't going to elaborate, Ron spoke, "So why are you out here?"

"Because my brother is having a bad day. And it's my job, as his brother, older or otherwise, to be there when I can for him. Right now, I can, so I am here."

Ron snorted, "Spare me the martyr crap, Bill. Why are you out here?"

Bill blanched at that.

"I was serious, Ron." Bill said, his voice full of hurt again, "Now will you please stop being a god damned prat and take me at face value for once?"

Ron swore mentally. He kept saying the wrong thing and it wasn't getting any better. At least Bill hadn't left yet. But did Ron really want him to stay? After few moments of silence, Bill leaned over and placed his arms around Ron in a strong but gentle embrace.

"I meant what I said, Ron. I don't know how or what I can do to make you feel better about our family. But you are family. You are my brother, and I will do my best to be there for you when I can. We won't always agree, and we may even get into the occasional row, but I love you, Ron. Nothing could change that."

Ron said nothing, but he leaned into the hug just slightly. Enough to let Bill know that he was not completely shutting him out. This was all Bill could ask for right now. He knew that there was more to be done, but Ron needed time. Ron also needed his friend.

"Harry is awake." Bill said after barely a minute, "I'm sure he would be happy to see you."

Wasting not a second, Ron nearly bowled Bill over when he got up and raced to see his best friend.