The Greatest Power

Chapter 20: The First Mark

Harry knew he was going to have a long night. He had to finish the Wolfsbane essay for Snape, and he also had another, shorter essay due in Charms. He had barely started Snape's essay in the library during their study period, and he already knew it was going to be incredibly difficult. Harry had yet to figure out why a trace amount of silver, a poisonous substance to werewolves, was crucial to Wolfsbane. His Charms essay would be much easier, but he had not even begun it.

Harry was feeling slightly ashamed of himself for storming out of the Great Hall. He and his friends regularly gossiped and teased about one another's crushes and love interests. Why was this time any different? Against his own will, Harry's thoughts wandered to Ginny Weasley. If he was to be completely honest with himself, the reason the comments about Cho had bothered him so much was that Ginny had been there. She had said it was good that he no longer had feelings for Cho, but why had she said that?

Harry had just made up his mind to ask Hermione about it when the scar on the forehead exploded in pain, and Harry yelled with all his might, remembering just as he fell to his knees what Tonks had said about being alone when he was attacked, and afterwards. He could feel their presence before he could hear them, and he slammed the doors of his mind and pushed against Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy with all of his strength. "Not now," he thought furiously. "Get out!" Harry strained, sweat running in rivulets down his face and back, using his every bit of defense against the attack, but the force of his resistance soon began to run out.

"Ah, Potter. You have been practicing, I see. Fool! You will never defeat me."

"Get OUT!" With one last furious push, Harry used his remaining strength. The pain in his scar was such that he was certain his head would break in two, and the pressure in his head increased exponentially.

"Really, Potter. A little humility in the presence of your superiors, please. Ah, but humility has never been a strength of yours, has it?" Lucius Malfoy drawled as he and the Dark Lord felt the release of Harry's defenses dropping.

"I have something I want you to see, Potter," Voldemort said in an evil hiss, and the blackness in Harry's head receded to be replaced by dim evening light and the yellow glow of electric streetlamps. In front of them was a small house with a bedraggled, soggy lawn. A gray tabby cat that had the same flat face and bandy legs of Hermione's cat Crookshanks hissed at them from behind a tree, but fell where it stood as it was hit by a streak of green light from the wand of a masked figure standing to Voldemort's right. Harry's heart gave a jolt of fear and the pain in his forehead increased yet again. He knew exactly where they were.

"Bring out the squib," Voldemort ordered, and two Death Eaters emerged from the front door of the house, a terrified-looking Arabella Figg being held between them, her eyes wild and her housecoat hanging off her small body sloppily.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Figg asked, trying to sound brave but unable to hide the tremors in her voice.

"You have nothing to offer us, Squib," said the contemptuous voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You have been offered a chance to aid us once before," Voldemort said in a cold, unmerciful voice. "But you failed to bring Harry Potter to us, a deed that I am sure you realized would not go unpunished. You have been helping them hide him from me, Squib."

Mrs. Figg opened her mouth as though about to retort, but no sound came out. She looked up at the monstrous face of the most feared wizard in history, terror in her eyes, but also some pride. She may have been a squib, but she had been proud to do her small part in protecting Harry Potter from the inhuman monster that now stood before her. The fear left her eyes as she glared up at Voldemort, who spoke no more before uttering his curse.

"Crucio!" he cried, pointing his wand at the old woman as the Death Eaters flanking her released their hold and she fell to the ground, screaming, tumbling off the step of her front stoop. Harry could feel the immense, evil power of the spell as Voldemort unmercifully held his wand on Arabella Figg. What was more, he could feel the Dark Lord's pure pleasure, his enjoyment of what he was doing.

Voldemort lifted the spell, leaving Mrs. Figg in an incoherent heap on the ground, bleeding from where her knees had hit the rough cement of the garden path. "Had enough, Squib?" he sneered.

Arabella Figg did not, could not reply. She was a very old woman, and the curse had done more damage than her body could handle. She did not move, but raised her eyes to the Dark Lord in a final act of defiance.

Harry felt another surge of evil pleasure as Voldemort uttered the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses. A jet of green light flared from the tip of his wand, and Arabella Figg was no more.

The last thing Harry saw was Bellatrix Lestrange's wand pointed into the dusky sky, and he heard her gleeful shout. "Morsmordre!"

Blackness engulfed Harry's vision once again, and grief for his batty old neighbor surged through his entire being, giving him the power to push against the Dark Lord and his servant once again. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he forced Voldemort and Malfoy back out of his mind, and the last thing he felt was the surprise in both of their minds as he finally broke the connection.

* * *

Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas left the Great Hall a few minutes after Harry, having decided to take their run in the morning before breakfast, when they were not feeling so full. Most of the Gryffindors were still enjoying their dessert, laughing and gossiping about mundane things, but Dean had purchased a large box of pranks from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley, and the three were hoping to have the dormitory to themselves as they looked over the merchandise. None of the three sixth-years were pranksters by nature, but what teenaged wizard could resist the lure of nose-biting teacups, fake wands, and skiving snackboxes?

They had just emerged from the staircase into the seventh-floor corridor when they heard a loud shout from around the corner and the distinct thud of books and body hitting the stone ground. Neville glanced nervously at Seamus and Dean as they sped up, rounding the corner to find out what the commotion was about.

To say they were shocked to see Harry on the ground in the hallway, his face white and soaked with sweat, his expression contorted in pain, his body seizing, would have been an understatement. For several moments the three just stood there, staring at their friend, terror written clearly in their eyes.

"Go get somebody, quick," Neville whispered, and made his way slowly to Harry, kneeling next to him but not touching him, completely unsure of what he should do.

Seamus broke into a run back to the stairwell and back to the Great Hall, where most of the teachers were still at dinner, and Dean continued to stand still, staring in horror at Harry, who had stopped seizing and gone completely limp. Having shared a dormitory with Harry, all three of the boys had witnessed his nightmares the year before, but this was very different. Although they had no idea what was happening, something was clearly very wrong.

As they waited for Seamus to return, Neville placed his hand on Harry's limp wrist, and was extremely relieved to feel Harry's pulse pounding furiously under the skin. For a moment he had been afraid someone had attacked his friend, and Harry hardly looked alive.

As Neville removed his hand from Harry's wrist, resolving to simply stay with him until help arrived, Harry's body jerked again and his face tensed as new beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and gleamed in the torchlight, illuminating his scar, which had turned an angry red. The seizure only lasted for a moment this time, and as Harry's body relaxed once again, Neville was pushed rudely aside as Professor McGonagall bent over him.

Neville watched as Professor Dumbledore joined McGonagall beside Harry, and he heard her say, "It has happened again, hasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, Minerva," Dumbledore answered gravely, and he conjured a narrow stretcher next to them and levitated Harry's body onto it. As he began to slowly walk towards the hospital wing, the stretcher floating magically in front of him, Professor McGonagall turned to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, who were watching the scene in astonishment. Neville wondered what McGonagall had meant when she had said it had happened again.

"Boys," she began, and her voice sounded gentler than they were used to. "Did you see what happened?"

"We were just heading back to the common room, Professor," Seamus began, "and we heard someone yelling. When we got here, Harry was on the floor, and he was having some kind of a fit, and Neville said to get someone."

"After that, he went all still," Neville continued, shivering a bit at the memory. "I didn't know what to do."

"Mr. Longbottom, there was little you could have done," McGonagall answered him, still in her unusually gentle voice.

"What happened, Professor?" Dean finally spoke up, his voice still horrorstruck.

"Mr. Potter will be fine," the professor responded, not answering their question, and her tone suggested that she would not be forthcoming with any more information. "Professor Dumbledore has taken him to the hospital wing."

Neville gulped slightly, but he asked, rather more bravely than he normally would have done, "Professor, you said this has happened before..."

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, I'm afraid it has, but I will tell you again that Mr. Potter will recover." The three boys all nodded at her. "You three go back to your common room. You may see Mr. Potter tomorrow."

Without another word, they all turned back towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, not daring to question their Transfiguration teacher further. As they filed into the common room, all thoughts of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had left their heads, and they ignored the other Gryffindors, going up to the sixth-year dormitory to discuss what they had seen.

* * *

Remus, Molly, Fred and George were sitting at one end of the long table in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, finishing a dinner of chicken stew, when the fire in the kitchen grate burned emerald green and the stately form of Minerva McGonagall stepped into the kitchen. None of them were overly concerned; it was common for Order members to floo into and out of headquarters on a regular basis, and the serious look on her face was, after all, not so different from the serious look she usually wore.

"Good evening, Minerva," Remus greeted her as she came over to the table. "I assume you've already eaten?" he inquired politely, knowing that she would have already had dinner in the Great Hall with the students.

Professor McGonagall did not respond to his question, but said quietly, "You are needed at the school, Remus."

Remus looked slightly alarmed, but before he could answer, Molly broke in, "Has something happened?"

"It appears that Harry has suffered another attack," Professor McGonagall answered calmly, but as they peered at her, they could see the concern in her eyes. "He was on the seventh floor corridor when it happened, and he was found almost immediately by three other students."

"How is he now?" Remus asked quickly, standing up from the table and pulling his cloak from a hook on the kitchen wall. "Is he awake?"

"He is in the hospital wing, of course," McGonagall answered, "but he does not seem to be in any danger at present. He is not yet awake. The Headmaster asked me to come for you, Remus."

His ragged cloak fastened somewhat haphazardly, Remus headed towards the grate, Molly close on his heels. McGonagall put a hand on Molly's arm and told her, "The Headmaster feels it would be best if Remus came alone for tonight. You will, of course, be more than welcome in the morning." Her voice was kind, but quite firm.

"Harry needs -" Molly began furiously, but Remus interrupted her.

"Molly, I'm sorry, but I think Dumbledore is right this time. Harry will feel smothered if he awakens to a crowd of people beside his bed. I will contact you as soon as I know anything."

"Lupin is right, Mum," George broke in, seeing that his mother was about to insist upon going to the castle. "Harry won't like all the attention."

Molly relented, but everyone in the room could see that she was fighting against every motherly instinct she had. "You'll let me know how he is, Remus?" she asked worriedly.

Remus had been about to throw glittering floo powder into the grate, but he stopped and put his free hand on Molly's arm. "Of course I will," he told her gently, and stepped into the grate, disappearing in a whirl of green flame. Minerva McGonagall bid the Weasleys goodbye and followed.

Molly and her twin sons had just finished cleaning the kitchen after the small supper, working rather faster than usual due to their anxiety, when Arthur strode quickly into the room.

"Arthur!" Molly exclaimed in surprise. "We didn't expect you for hours! Remus is at Hogwarts -" but she did not get a chance to finish.

"The Dark Mark has been spotted above Little Whinging," Arthur interrupted, slightly out of breath. "I need to contact Dumbledore. Arabella Figg is dead."

Molly clapped her had over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, and the twins wore identical expressions of horror as all three realized that the attack on Harry had not been a coincidence.

"If Dumbledore does not know yet, he will soon," Molly whispered sadly. "Harry was attacked again tonight. You'll need to get to Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore and Remus what has happened, and quickly. I'm afraid Harry will have seen the whole thing."

* * *

Remus stepped out of the fire and into the Headmaster's office, and was not surprised to find it empty. He headed straight for the door to the revolving staircase as he heard Professor McGonagall arrive behind him. He stopped for a moment as a quick thought occurred to him.

"Minerva, someone needs to tell Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger what has happened, before they hear it from another student," he told her. He knew Harry's friends would be extremely worried as soon as they had heard, and they would need reassurances that Harry was going to be alright. He, himself, was not willing to go to them, however. As Harry's guardian, his responsibility was to get to his charge's side, to be there when he awoke.

"I will go wait for them in the common room," she replied, knowing that Remus was exactly right. Neville Longbottom really had no idea what had happened, and if Harry's friends heard from him first, they would likely panic.

Remus nodded at her and then hurried to the hospital wing. He strode quickly to the bed in which Harry lay, and was relieved to find that Harry was the only occupant of the room at present. Dumbledore was speaking softly to Madam Pomfrey in the corner, and nodded to Remus as he pulled a straight-backed chair next to Harry's bedside.

Moony studied his sleeping charge carefully. As he always did after an attack, Harry looked pale and drawn, and his hair was damp with perspiration. Remus sighed. He didn't know how much more of this Harry could take. They simply had to find out how Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy were staging their dual attacks, for he knew this had been another one. By now, Harry could have pushed Voldemort alone out of his mind with relative ease.

He didn't know how long he had sat beside Harry's bedside when Albus Dumbledore finally joined him. He had seen the Headmaster leave the room for a few minutes and return, looking, if it were possible, even graver than he had before. He signaled Remus to join him on the other side of the room.

"Arthur Weasley has brought some terrible news, Remus," he began sadly, sounding very old indeed. "Arabella Figg has been killed. Kingsley Shaklebolt was on duty in Little Whinging and spoke to Arthur, who was to relieve him tonight after he left the Ministry. The Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky but they had all disapparated by the time he arrived at Arabella's home from Privet Drive."

Remus bowed his head in grief. He had not known Mrs. Figg well, but he had liked the old woman quite a lot, and he knew that this was only Voldemort's first public move. There would be so many, many more. He only wished Kingsley could have gotten there in time, but his task had been to watch the Dursley's house on Privet Drive, and the Death Eaters would not have conjured the Dark Mark until the deed was done.

A sudden thought broke through his sadness, and Remus looked up into the eyes of the Headmaster. "Harry saw, didn't he?"

"We will not know for certain until he wakes up, but yes, I believe that Harry saw," Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg's death and the casting of the Dark Mark signals the beginning of the Second War. Voldemort would have wanted Harry to see it, would have wanted to flaunt his power."

Remus nodded and sighed deeply. Now that Voldemort was aware of the full contents of the prophecy, he would stop at nothing to break Harry Potter in any way that he could.

Across the room, Harry stirred slightly, and Remus went to him immediately. The boy was not awake yet, but his eyes fluttered and he sighed in his sleep, curling into the fetal ball that Moony was all too familiar with. He sat back down in the straight-backed chair, knowing Harry would awaken soon.

The door opened softly behind him, and Minerva McGonagall came in quietly, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny following her closely. She had tried to convince them, and then order them, to stay away for the night, but they had to see with their own eyes that Harry was going to be alright. They gathered at the end of his bed, staring at him sadly, thinking as Remus had that the scene was all too familiar. Everyone had known that it would happen again, but it didn't make it any easier for most of them to understand.

Remus quietly greeted them, and asked them kindly but firmly to return in the morning. "You all know what Harry has had to go through tonight," he whispered to them. "Madam Pomfrey has assured me that he will completely recover, and I know he will want to see you tomorrow. For now, however, Harry needs quiet."

To Remus' surprise and relief, the three teenagers did not argue with him. They only nodded sadly in acceptance and told him that they would come in the morning before breakfast. "Tell Harry for us," Ginny whispered, "Tell him we love him and we'll see him tomorrow, OK? Tell him we were here."

"I will, Ginny," Remus promised, and he watched Harry's friends walk slowly out the door, their shoulders hunched in worry. They had far too much on their shoulders for school-aged children, Remus knew, but Harry's burden was so much heavier.

Harry stirred again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open. He straightened, and his hand groped around his bed for his glasses, which Remus handed to him. Harry turned, startled, but relaxed when he saw the familiar face of his guardian smiling gently at him.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Remus asked his standard question, and Harry knew better by now than to tell Moony that he was OK.

"Mrs. Figg is dead," he stated quietly.

"Yes," Remus answered.

"He tortured her...used Cruciatus...she fell off her stoop...and then he killed her!" Harry said, his voice growing louder and angrier as he became more aware and the events of the attack rushed back into his consciousness. By now, Dumbledore had come to Harry's other side, listening intently as Harry recounted exactly what had happened.

Harry looked up at Remus, tears filling his green eyes even as fury took over his expression. "She never did anything to him, Moony. Never fought him. The only thing she ever did was have me over for tea, and he killed her for it!"

It was Dumbledore who answered Harry this time. "That is not the only thing she ever did," he stated quietly.

Harry stared at him blankly. He had known that Mrs. Figg had been watching him his entire life with the Dursleys, but she was not even capable of performing magic. What could she possibly have done to Voldemort to warrant her murder?

"The fact that she was a Squib was enough reason in and of itself for Voldemort's attack, although had she not been involved with the Order, her attack most likely would have simply been another act of the Death Eaters, not Voldemort himself. They prey upon the weak, Harry, Muggles and Squibs as well as unsuspecting members of the wizarding community who have never done anything more than try to live their own lives in peace," Dumbledore continued.

"But why did Voldemort kill her himself? Why did he want me to see it?" Harry asked, and then he remembered something that the Dark Lord had said to Mrs. Figg. "Wait a minute. While he was attacking her, Voldemort said that she had been offered a chance to aid him before."

Dumbledore nodded. "After your hearing at the Ministry, it became a well-known fact that there was an old Squib near your home on Privet Drive, and, although she never said specifically that she was watching you, that fact was assumed by many, including Lucius Malfoy, who had been told the details of the hearing by none other than Cornelius Fudge himself."

Harry swore softly and then looked up at the Headmaster, who pretended he hadn't heard it and continued, "Shortly after that, Lucius Malfoy went to the home of Arabella Figg and made her an offer - if she would reveal your whereabouts, and lure you out of your home during the following holiday, Voldemort would grant her the magical power that she has always yearned for."

"Can he do that?" Harry asked.

"I do not believe that he can," Dumbledore said. "Magic is an ancient trait that must reside in the witch or wizard from the time that they are born. It cannot be forced into someone who does not have that gift."

"Did Mrs. Figg know that?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"It does not matter," Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg would never have done anything to harm you, and I believe she made that quite clear to Mr. Malfoy during his visit. Surprisingly, he left without another word, and we have been afraid that something of this nature would happen."

"Then why didn't we protect her?" Harry asked, beginning to feel angry again. "Why didn't we do something?"

"Arabella's home has been surrounded by powerful wards ever since Lucius Malfoy's visit," Remus broke in, "and the guard watching your aunt and uncle's house was also assigned to watch her. We stationed two guards when it was possible, but it was not always something that we could manage."

"How did he get past the wards?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"I do not know the answer to that question, Harry. It is something I would quite like to know, myself," he said sadly, and turned to Lupin. "Remus, it is becoming clear to me that our source of information has been compromised in some way, and also that it is quite possible that we have a spy in our midst. We must be very careful."

"I have to stop him," Harry said suddenly, his voice more fierce than either of the two older men had ever heard. "I have to stop him now, before more innocent people get killed."

Remus looked at him sharply. "Harry, you are not yet ready to wage the final battle with Voldemort."

"And I'm supposed to just sit back and watch other people die while I just continue on with my lessons, am I?" Harry retorted angrily.

"If you fight before your time, Harry, the consequences will be grave, for with your defeat, Voldemort will have broken through the only barrier to his immortality," Dumbledore said calmly. "I understand how you are feeling, but your time has not yet come."

Harry knew this was true, but he could not help feeling that any more attacks would be his responsibility. If the prophecy was correct, and he was the only one with the power to vanquish Voldemort, more innocent people would certainly die for every day that Harry delayed.

"Then get me ready," he said quietly, with a hard edge to his determined voice. "Tell me what I have to do."

Dumbledore studied him carefully. There was a furious light in Harry's eyes now, one that he had not seen before. Harry was becoming proactive, no longer willing to wait for something to happen to him before he acted. The sudden change in his student was disturbing to the old Headmaster, even if he knew it was necessary.

"Before we do anything else," Remus replied, "you have to get some rest from this attack, Harry. You have to recover."

"Recover from what?" Harry asked. "I'm not sick, I'm not hurt. I used a lot of energy pushing them out, but -"

"Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted. "Did you say 'pushing them out?'"

Harry nodded. "I couldn't do it until the end though...until after...after she was dead."

Remus leaned forward intently. "Are you certain that you pushed them out, that the attack did not simply end after Arabella's death?"

"Of course I'm sure," Harry said indignantly. "They were surprised that I could do it. They weren't ready to go yet."

"How do you know they were surprised, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I felt it, the same way I have always felt Voldemort's emotions," Harry answered. Why was this such a big deal?

"Harry, this is an incredible accomplishment," Dumbledore said, and Remus nodded, pride gleaming in both their eyes.

"What's so great about it?" Harry asked bitterly. "It didn't do anything to save Mrs. Figg. If I had been able to get them out earlier -"

"Voldemort still would have killed Arabella Figg," Dumbledore interrupted him clearly. "Harry, there was nothing you could have done, and the fact that you were able to push both Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy out of your mind at all is quite amazing, especially considering that we have not yet managed to find out how they are accomplishing this."

"After only a few weeks of Occlumency training with Professor Dumbledore, you have mastered it to a higher level than most wizards ever do," Remus added.

"I still need to learn more," Harry told them firmly, and he finally remembered to ask Dumbledore about the special training McGonagall had mentioned. "Sir, Professor McGonagall mentioned other training you wanted me to start on."

"Yes, Harry, I believe you are ready," Dumbledore told him gravely.

"The Unforgivables?" Harry asked bluntly.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "I do not believe you would ever be able to cast a Killing Curse, Harry. Understand that this is not a question of power, it is a question of emotion."

Harry must have looked confused, because Remus explained, "Think about the amount of positive energy it takes to perform the Patronus Charm. That is why it is so hard for many wizards to conjure - it takes an incredible strength of will to call upon such great positive power when faced with the most negative of beings, creatures whose existence depends solely upon depriving others of happiness."

Harry nodded. Although he had been proud of his ability to conjure a Patronus in his third year, it was not something he thought much about anymore.

"The Unforgivable curses work in much the same way," Dumbledore said. "Especially the killing curse. They take extreme power of will, but the emotion behind them is precisely the opposite of that which is required by the Patronus. To master the Unforgivable curses, Harry, you must be able to harness hatred powerful enough that it could end another's life. You were unable to do this in the Department of Mysteries after Sirius was taken from you, and I must say, that it is my hope that you will never possess the amount of hatred required for those spells."

"Then how will I do it?" Harry asked directly, looking straight into the Headmaster's eyes. "If not the killing curse, then how?"

"There are many ways of destroying a man, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I promise you, when your time comes, you will be ready."

"Then what is the special training you are going to be giving me?" Harry asked.

"We will still be working on your Occlumency skills, Harry, although as Remus has said, you have mastered it beyond any expectations. We will also be progressing into Legilimency, and we will expand upon your defense and dueling training."

"Legilimency?" Remus asked sharply. He had not heard this part of the plan, and he was not at all certain that he approved of it.

"You want me to spy on Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered quickly, silencing Remus with a glance. "To use your Legilimency skills in such a way would be incredibly dangerous, and it is not a risk that we are willing to take. I do, however, believe that mastery of Legilimency will be one of your greatest assets when the time comes for you to battle Voldemort."

"If Harry uses Legilimency against Voldemort, he will be more vulnerable than he ever has been, Albus," Remus argued vehemently, almost forgetting that Harry was in the room.

"And I will repeat once again, Remus, that Harry will not use this skill until he is ready," Dumbledore insisted. "But it is a necessary part of his training."

Harry was annoyed that the two men were now discussing him as if he were not there. "Moony," he said firmly, "if that is what I have to do, then it is what I am going to do." His tone left no question to his determination.

"I will be happy to discuss this with you further, Remus," Dumbledore said, a note of finality in his voice, "but this is not the time, nor the place."

Almost as if Madam Pomfrey had been waiting for Dumbledore to say those words, she bustled out of her office. The Headmaster had insisted that she allow them to talk to Potter when he woke up, but she felt as though they'd had quite enough time with her patient for the night. She walked past Dumbledore and bent over the side of the bed opposite Lupin and examined Harry closely.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said immediately.

"I'll be the one to say when you are 'fine,' Mr. Potter," the nurse said firmly. "Honestly, with the amount of time you have spent in my care, I would think you would know that by now."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, and she rounded on him. "Headmaster, I have given you the time you requested, and now I must insist that you both leave Potter to his rest."

Dumbledore nodded at her, told Harry he would return the next day, and left the room to go back to his office. Remus, however, made no move to get up from the chair beside Harry's bed.

"You too, Lupin," Madam Pomfrey told him.

"No," Remus said firmly. "I will allow Harry to have his rest, but I am his guardian, and I will be staying with him tonight."

"Moony, you don't have to," Harry began, once again feeling that strange mixture of annoyance with the protectiveness of his guardian and the desire to spend more time with him. "Go back to Grimmauld Place."

"Sorry, Harry," Moony said, guessing correctly that no matter how annoyed Harry felt with the attention, the boy was happy to have someone near who cared about him. "I'm staying here, at least until tomorrow. We'll talk about it more then."

Madam Pomfrey huffed her displeasure, but as Lupin was Potter's guardian, she had no choice but to allow him to stay. She poured a large quantity of purple potion into a goblet for Harry, and set it on his bedside table, warning him that if he was not resting within five minutes, she would insist that Remus leave. Harry obediently drank the potion, and within minutes, was in a peaceful, deep sleep, his magical and physical reserves replenishing themselves so that when he woke up the next morning, he felt quite normal once again.

* * *

When Harry woke the next morning, sunlight was streaming into the hospital wing from the eastern windows, and he was not surprised to find that Molly, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had joined Lupin by his bedside. He groped on his side table for his glasses, and smiled sleepily at all of them as they turned their attention towards him.

"Harry, dear, how are you?" Molly asked anxiously, bending to hug the boy. "I've been so worried."

"Fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered her, returning the hug. "I feel fine."

"We should have gone after you," Hermione said worriedly. "We should have been there. We should -"

"Hermione," Harry said firmly. "You can't be with me every moment, and you wouldn't have been able to change anything that happened, anyway." As he said this, the memory of Mrs. Figg's horrible death resurfaced, and he turned his head away from them for a moment, willing himself to control his emotions.

"We know about Mrs. Figg, Harry," Ginny said quietly to the back of his head. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're all so sorry."

He turned back to them, some of the same determination he had shown the night before now evident on his face. "He won't stop there," he said fiercely.

"We know, mate," Ron spoke up for the first time, but beyond that, he did not know what else to say.

Harry had been about to say more, but he remembered that the Weasleys and Hermione did not yet know about the prophecy, and he was just not quite ready to tell them. He cast about for a change of subject, and he noticed a large pile of candy and an odd package on his bedside table.

"What's all this?" he asked, indicating the gifts.

"Fred and George sent it all," Ron replied. "They thought you could do with some sweets, as it is a well-known fact that Madam Pomfrey doesn't serve pudding with the meals up here. I don't know what this is," he continued as he picked up the small, narrow package. There was a note attached to it.

Dear Harry,

Don't open this in front of Mum.

Cheers,

Fred and George

Harry grinned slightly and slid the package underneath his covers discreetly, glad that Molly was distracted with filling Harry's water jug at the moment. He showed the note to his friends, and they all grinned and made Harry promise that he would tell them what the twins had sent next time they visited.

They talked for a few more minutes when Hermione suddenly looked at her watch and gasped. "We've missed breakfast!" she exclaimed. "And we've only got five minutes to class! Harry, do you want me to turn in your Potions essay for you?"

Ron gaped at her. "Hermione, Harry's in hospital! Surely you don't expect him to have done homework last night?"

"Ron, I'm sure Harry already finished it," Hermione said, and then looked at Harry. "You have, haven't you?"

"Er - " Harry said, uncomfortably aware of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione looking at him sternly, and Ginny and Ron trying not to laugh.

Hermione sighed, but then said reluctantly, "Well, I suppose that Harry has had quite a lot happen this week...but I hope you two aren't planning on leaving your homework so late all year!"

Harry suddenly grinned at her. It was so typical of Hermione to be worried about homework, even with everything else that was going on.

"Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you had best be getting to class," Molly said, ushering them all to the door. They all waved back at Harry as they went their separate ways, walking very quickly to avoid being late. Molly followed them with the idea of getting Harry's breakfast.

"Harry, how are you feeling this morning?" Lupin asked, speaking for the first time from the straight-backed chair, where he had been dozing uncomfortably.

"I feel fine, Moony. When can I leave?" He knew that word would have spread fast that he was in the hospital wing already this year, and he was not looking forward to the jeers Draco Malfoy was sure to send his way.

Remus smiled slightly. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you through the weekend - "

"No way!" Harry interrupted. "I don't need to be here that long, I feel fine, honestly, better than I have ever felt after an attack!"

"That in and of itself proves how much stronger your Occlumency shield has become, Harry," Remus replied to him. "Now, as I was saying, Madam Pomfrey wants you to stay here through the weekend, but I have convinced her to allow you to leave tomorrow morning if she is satisfied that you have recovered."

"Are you sure that is not too soon, Remus?" Molly asked worriedly, handing Harry a plate of kippers from the Great Hall and setting his glass of water beside his bed. She had come in just in time to hear Remus' last comment. "Doesn't he need more rest? Last time -"

"Last time was different, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly. "This time, they were not as much attacking my mind as forcing me to come into theirs. And I was able to fight them off in the end."

"Yes, dear, and we are all very proud of you," Mrs. Weasley said, "but you need some time to recover, some good rest."

"I don't have time to lie around," Harry told her firmly. "I need to get back to my classes, get back to my training."

Remus wisely broke in then, sensing that this was about to escalate into an argument. "Let's just see what Madam Pomfrey has to say, alright? And in the meantime, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore about some things," he said, sensing that Harry needed some time to himself. "Molly, why don't you come with me while Harry eats his breakfast? We should all probably discuss some Order business together."

Harry knew that the "Order business" they were planning on discussing probably concerned him, and as irritating as he found that fact, he was glad that it meant he could eat his breakfast in relative peace. Mrs. Figg's murder had ignited a spark in him that was more than just grief, more than just anger - Harry could not quite name what it made him feel, but he wanted some time to try to sort it out.

Throughout the morning, Harry had visits from Professors McGonagall and Tonks, each of whom only stayed for a few minutes as they had classes to conduct, Arthur Weasley, who flooed in on his way to the site of more anti-muggle pranks, and Neville, Seamus and Dean as they were headed to the library for their study period. All of these visits went as expected, although the one with his classmates was rather awkward at first, after Harry had discovered that it was they would found him on the floor in the corridor. After a few moments, however, their conversation veered into discussions of Fred and George's shop and the box of pranks Dean had brought.

"That reminds me," said Harry, checking to make sure Mrs. Weasley hadn't come back before taking his package out from under his covers. He opened it and laughed as a long, flesh-colored string fell into his lap.

"What's that, Harry?" Dean wondered.

"One of Fred and George's inventions. Extendable Ears!" He explained how they worked, and the other boys were very impressed and disappointed when Harry told them they were not being sold in the shop for security reasons.

After the boys left, it was another hour before Harry's most surprising visitor of the day came through the door. Molly and Remus had been in and out, but Harry stared as the door opened and Ginny Weasley walked in by herself, right about the time lunch would have been beginning in the Great Hall.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You already saw that I'm OK. Why aren't you at lunch with the others?"

"Oh, I told them that I had to revise for Transfiguration," she said, blushing slightly. She sat down on the side of Harry's bed. "I just wanted to come in and see you, to tell you..." she trailed off.

"To tell me what?" Harry said, suddenly very aware of the softness of her skin as she took his hand in both of her small ones.

"It's just that after what happened last night...I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the things I said to you by the lake on Monday. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been going through. Having to see what you've seen..."

"Ginny, you don't have to apologize," Harry told her sincerely.

"No, I do," Ginny interrupted. "I'd go mad if I were you, always having people following me around, especially considering everything you have to deal with."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm going mad," Harry admitted, and he realized that it was something he could only say to her. She had somehow, over the course of the summer, become a person that he could talk to about how he felt without being embarrassed.

Ginny leaned forward and brushed Harry's fringe back from his face, and Harry's gaze moved into her deep brown eyes. Without really considering what he was about to do, he gently pulled her to him and kissed her.