Book of Memories

Chapter 3: ORDER OF MERLIN

From the minute Harry stepped foot in the Gryffindor common room, as he, Ron and Hermione were the last ones to get off the train, it was a sea of hands, fingers and arms. People left and right shouting "Harry, you're okay!" Harry's face turned as red as the apples he was eating back in the forest. He would have hidden himself, but there was no escaping the barrage of questions.

"How'd you survive?!"

"What'd you eat?"

"Weren't there scary things?"

"Can I just see your scar again?"

"How many animals did you kill?"

"Didn't You-Know-Who scare you breathless?" asked Dennis.

"Yes," said Harry, "Voldemort did but he's out of power again." Colin Creevey's brother, Dennis, had taken Colin's death hard, avoiding Harry wherever he went. Harry found it a welcome change but Dennis looked to be back to stalking Harry again.

When the common room finally cleared that night, Harry, Ron and Hermione were left alone.

"I think I'm going to eat in the Great Hall only when it's mostly empty again," said Harry.

"But you did that last year..." said Ron eyeing Harry sternly.

"I know and I didn't have to get any weird looks."

Classes were a very welcome distraction amidst the newly started whispering in the hallways. It was highly reminiscent of Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

"He's over there, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the Weasley kid and the girl with the bushy hair."

"He actually lived again?"

"Does he still have the scar?"

"They say he's a dark wizard."

"Leave him alone!" shouted Hermione at a bunch of first years.

"Harry's ex-girlfriend coming to his rescue?" snarled Malfoy from across the corridor.

"No," whispered Harry in Hermione's ear and grabbing her cloak. Hermione looked ready to draw blood. Then he grinned and whispered, "Let me."

Harry brandished his wand, parted his bangs so everyone could get a good look at the lightning shaped scar and walked menacingly towards Malfoy. There was a slight, yet unmistakable look of fear drawn a cross Malfoy's face. A few feet in front, Harry stopped and pointed his wand at him.

"Draconus iciclia," said Harry softly. Not knowing whether the spell would work without the mark of ancients, Harry was very surprised to see a small blizzard of snow erupt from the tip of his wand. It swirled in the air for several seconds before forming into the familiar ice dragon. The look on Malfoy's face suddenly became one of great joy as the dragon pelted him in the stomach with tiny snowballs from it's mouth.

"What are you smiling at?" asked Harry.

"Good afternoon, Potter," said Snape coldly from behind Harry. His break in concentration caused the dragon to melt. Whatever joy Harry had in him fell out as he turned around slowly. There was a rancourous and twisted, broad smile etched across Snape's sallow face. "The rest of you head off to class," he ordered, "I want a word with our celebrity."

That word tore through him like poison. "Harry Potter," echoed the memory, "our new -- celebrity... Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

"Why do you follow me around," said Harry, angrily stuffing his wand back under his robes.

"I clearly remember you saying something. What was it?" The smile on Snape's face seemed to grow with each passing moment, basking in his animosity. "'My dad didn't strut,' you once told me, and neither do you."

Harry threw a hand inside his robes, gripping his wand and kept telling himself, "If I attack him again, I'll get expelled," to prevent himself from doing it. He didn't hide the look of pure hatred that drew across his face. Their faces mirrored the looks of Sirius and Snape two years ago in the Shrieking Shack. Harry's wand hand was clearly trembling but Snape didn't take notice.

"Did I not just see you strutting, Potter? Cross the hall menacingly towards Draco-"

"He stalks me like you do," interrupted Harry, before he could stop himself.

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking," said Snape. His voice became a half shout. "I will be watching you, Potter, very closely until this year ends. I do think your success towards Lord Voldemort has gone to your head. Fifty points."

Not caring to hear any more, Harry simply walked away. Perfect timing, as Snape's speech had ended at the exact same time. Harry entered lunch with a very strong urge to hit something.

Hermione insisted that Harry and Ron study even harder for their O.W.L.s, which she handily reminded them were drawing nearer. Harry didn't try to listen to the voice in his head telling him he would be the first student to get no O.W.L.s but it had been becoming louder after each passing day. There were, however, a good three months left.

All the professors rushed through the material they were supposed to cover during the week and a half hiatus. Snape was extremely bitter at having to cut his pain inducing potion lesson out entirely. Harry had a sneaking suspicion Snape might suggest he test it...

All was going smooth in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Moody had started Necromancy, a subject which many students found interesting but he reminded the class that Dumbledore wasn't keen on the idea.

He started the first lesson by bringing in a bunch of dead beetles. The class pored over to watch as Moody raised the beetles as tiny skeletons, the skin melting away as they got up. They danced across his desk for a minute until they collapsed, a heap of bone and dust.

"It's quite impossible to raise anything bigger than beetles," said Moody. He let Harry smash the beetle skeletons with his fist so they can't rise again. Harry had a strong suspicion Moody found out about his argument with Snape.

"The focus of magic required is far too great for even a staff to handle," continued Moody. "Not to mention Necromancy is outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. Anyone found practicing it is immediately sent to Azkaban, no questions asked."

Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid reached an all time scary high point one breezy afternoon. The sun was scared too, apparently, because it was hidden atop a set of thick clouds and the wind forgot to blow.

"Come 'ere everyone!" said Hagrid as the Slytherins and Gryffindors approached. "I got summat great ter show yeh!" Hermione and Ron clutched either of Harry's arms as they slowly walked up to a humongous wooden box Hagrid had perched next to his cabin. Crabbe and Goyle did the same to Malfoy except Malfoy didn't walk.

"Don' be afraid," Hagrid insisted. Harry and Malfoy watched in utter horror as their arm-clutchers hid behind their backs. Malfoy then proceeded to hide behind Harry. Whatever was in the box was so big it challenged the height of several Hagrids on top of each other. It was then that Hermione pointed out the thick metal bars running top to bottom and left to right across the box. Hagrid tapped each of them with his umbrella and they split in two, crashing to the ground. The box gave a jolt causing everyone to jump back a few feet.

"I promise," said Hagrid, "no... I'll make sure the only one ter get hurt will be Malfoy." Malfoy could be seen ripping his arms from Crabbe and Goyle and running all the way back to Pansy Parkinson, who was nearly at the castle doors at this point. Whatever was inside the box jumped up and down, banging against the sides and growling.

The only thing running through Harry's mind, and from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, theirs too, that the box's contents better be a lot tamer than it appears to be from the outside. The box's top caught fire. Everyone watched horrified as it melted under the extreme heat.

Ron and Hermione let go of Harry's arms immediately when the contents were finally revealed.

"Norbert!" shouted Hagrid.

"Hagrid!" shouted Hermione back, staring both happy and nervously at the same time, "Dumbledore let you have him back?" Ron and Harry ran right up to the dragon. Harry turned around, grinning, at the look of horror that hadn't left anyone else's face yet. Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback Hagrid won off, unknowningly at the time, Voldemort, stood in all his, in Hagrid's view, glory. The dragon's skin was jet black, a stark contrast to it's orange eyes.

The small horns Harry, Ron and Hermione once knew were now grand spectacles of deadly fun. Ron knew that from under Charlie's care, Norbert would be at least slightly more tame than a wild dragon. Sure enough, Norbert let Hagrid climb onto his back and the two of them rose a hundred feet into the air. Norbert secured Hagrid in place by pressing his humongous tail against his back, letting Hagrid grab onto it.

Hagrid swooped back down and got off Norbert, looking happier than ever.

"Professor Dumbledore got permission from and the Ministry of Magic ter let me keep him. I decided it would be a good ter have a lesson on dragons!" Harry wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Eventually the class crept up towards Norbert. The dragon seemed tame enough and kept his flame-belching to the air above him (Hagrid had fed him too many chickens and Norbert's stomach got upset...).

The first to fly Norbert were Harry, Ron and Neville. Neville insisted Hagrid come with them but Hagrid insisted he wouldn't fit. Neville then asked to take Ron and Neville off but the two of them scowled...

Up, up in the air they rose, grabbing onto Norbert's tail tightly. The dragon's flight was even more unsteady than the hippogriff Hagrid had brought two years back. Norbert's flapping wings caused them to rise up and down a minimum of ten feet but when Norbert wanted to move, his speed matched that of the Firebolt. Under Harry's direction, Norbert took them for a quick flight around the castle then landed as close to Malfoy as possible.

Hermione, Seamus and Dean took the reigns as Norbert took them around a similar trip. By the class' end, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle hadn't gone within ten feet of the dragon. Hagrid, thanks to Mr. Fudge, was allowed to keep the very tame Norbert next to his hut. Charlie had assured Hagrid that Norbert had nearly grown to full size. Such was very comforting considering Norbert was borderline towering over the dragon Harry found himself facing last year, a Horntail. Come to think of it, Norbert's fire shot over fifty feet in the air. He was clearly a lot more dangerous than a Horntail but had become just as timid as Buckbeak.

During lunch, Hermione kept going over what would happen if Norbert mis-aimed some fire breath and hit Hagrid's hut or the Forbidden Forest. Harry and Ron shuttered to think at the devastation a fire of that size would cause. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he knew it would happen. The worst always has since the first year he set foot in Hogwarts. Now, of course, they just needed to think of what to do if Norbert did such a thing...

The trip to Hogsmeade that weekend, Hermione thought, would keep Harry in check. All three of them would sign up immediately on the list after one particular Transfiguration lesson.

"As you recall a few months back," said Professor McGonagall, "you attempted to transform yourself into an animal. We will be trying again in this lesson. I expect nothing different from the last time. Some of you may be able to get a little more than smoke, however," she added, glaring at Neville and Ron. "The point is to see if there is any change as you've now had some more practice in Transfiguration."

After several names (she had no long speech to give this time), McGonagall proceeded in the same order as last time.

"Mr. Jordan, your turn." Lee walked to the front of the room casually. "Remember, wand out at your side, relax yourself, close your eyes, picture the creature and mutter 'Transformis Agito.'"

Lee took one last look at the class before closing his eyes and hanging his head back. His mouth formed the words and with a puff of smoke, a jump of Neville and a shriek of Professor McGonagall, Lee managed to sprout the same one inch horn on top of his head.

"No change from our last attempt... which is expected. Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville was never too keen on getting up in front of the class. He took center stage after Lee removed his horn. Slightly different from last time, Neville managed to emit smoke from his ears.

"It is an improvement, Mr. Longbottom," said McGonagall, reprovingly. "Miss Granger?"

A direct copy of her previous attempt, Hermione grew a cat's tail and was able to move it was if it were her own. "Very nicely done, Miss Granger." She removed her tail as McGonagall called "Mr. Weasley" to the front.

Ron, again, only managed to get smoke and mist but only out of his ears this time.

"Again," she said reprovingly for the second time, "it is an improvement. Mr. Potter?"

Ron took his seat, belittled again, folded his arms and rested his head on top of a pile of books. He tried hard not to cross eyes with Hermione. Harry took his place up front. "I'm not becoming the center of attention again," he told himself. What would be hard to transform into? It only took a few seconds: a dragon.

Harry pulled his wand out and stood rigid. "Transformis Agito," he muttered under his breath. What happened next, he didn't have in mind.

A blood-curdling, but weak, pain of skin tightening erupted all over his body causing Harry to drop on all fours, feeling ready to throw up. His skin was hardening and at the same time, a weak pain of pins protruding all over mixed with the tightness. It was mildly painful and had stopped as soon as had started. Harry put a hand out and stood up.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Lee.

"As little of the transformation as you achieved, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, looking very blue in the face, "that's equivalent to transforming into a much smaller creature!"

When Harry's eyes stopped wincing in attempts to keep his breakfast, he opened them and gazed at his arms, jumping at the sight. His skin had become jet black, accompanied by scales. He then coughed. Sparks of flame shot out of his mouth onto his hands, not even singing them. He had done a partial transformation into a dragon.

"Can you get rid of it now?" asked McGonagall. Last time Harry tried to reverse a transformation, he remembered, he had fainted. This fact lodged in his mind, he was determined not to repeat it.

One last look at the two inch claws that grew from his fingernails and he stood rigid again, picturing his normal self to get rid of the dragon skin. Harry took a few moments to assure himself all would go as planned.

"Please, please, please work," he said to himself and then "Transformis Agito," he muttered again. Another blood-curdling feeling erupted all over but this time it was the stretching of skin. He managed to stand his ground, queazy for the entire ten seconds.

When his eyes opened, it had worked. He was back to normal.

"Strange," said Professor McGonagall, curiously rolling up Harry's sleeves to make sure the transformation was complete. "Very strange..." She set his sleeve straight, took a few steps back and looked at him up and down one last time.

"We may have to register you as an Animagus." Harry was pleased at the tone of laughter in her voice and very happy he hadn't made a repeat of last time. "It takes about four years for one to manage a complete transformation," she added. "Not to mention these transformations aren't complete to begin with. It would wear off within a few days. A real Animagus can keep his or her form forever."

When McGonagall finally deemed class over, Harry, Ron and Hermione took the opportunity to sign up for the Hogsmeade trip. That weekend, all third years and up headed down to Hogsmeade for the weekend. Harry, still angry at himself about Sirius and now with Snape watching him like a hawk in the hallways ("Where are you going Potter, your class is that way" Snape would say, many times, as Harry headed to the bathroom), could not find an escape more welcome.

"Did you hear?" said Hermione as they sat in the Three Broomsticks (among more people staring at Harry ominously).

"Hear what?" asked Harry curiously.

"Fire Quidditch!" said Hermione excitedly. "They're hosting it again where they were last time except now it's going to be held some time in July." Ron howled in laughter as he remembered something.

"Dad told me that the United States was so upset at their loss they wanted a rematch, hoping Harry would play again!" At those words, Harry turned red again.

"You out of your mind?" said Harry stiffly.

"Oh, go on," said Ron in more of a whine than he probably intended. "No one died last game. The popularity rose a little so they have more players signing up to be on a team. They have three now, Germany joined the runnings. They're not changing the rules this time. I think dad said that they want to see if the constant rule changing was finally successful in preventing deaths. By the way, now everyone has a slightly updated Firebolt they call the Fireball." Harry caught himself in a grin.

"Not Dragonbacks?" he said. Harry drank deeply from his extra large goblet of butterbeer.

"No," said Ron, grinning too. "Couldn't afford a single one because they're in such short supply. The Fireballs are only slightly faster at accelerating than the Firebolts, one hundred and seventy five miles per hour in ten seconds instead of one hundred and fifty."

"The Dragonback does two hundred in nine," said Harry, some butterbeer dribbling down his lip. He wiped it with a finger then rubbed it on the table cloth. "Top speed of just under three hundred."

"There'll be a bigger turnout this time," said Hermione. "The Daily Prophet mentioned it just yesterday. The United States is playing Germany first. The winner goes on to play England."

"I don't know..." said Harry. He recalled the time he played in a game several months back. The United State's seeker, one Thantanos Brev, had pulled his broom out from underneath him causing Harry to fall one hundred feet. Harry did manage to get the Snitch, but he broke four ribs. He later found out Brev was a Death Eater and had been sent to try to kill Harry...

"What if someone tries to kill me again," he said, taking a quick sip, "and I don't have the mark of ancients anymore."

"The Death Eaters disbanded again," said Hermione comfortingly. "Bunch of them were sent to Azkaban, or at least the ones that didn't get killed two months ago."

"Didn't get Crabbe, Goyle or Malfoy, did they?" asked Harry hopefully.

"No," said Ron angrily. "Stupid gits got off thanks to Malfoy. Dad told me he threatened someone. I don't know how he does it." Ron tipped his goblet back too far and coughed, butterbeer dribbling out of his mouth.

"Don't get yourself all upset," insisted Hermione. "He'll get what's coming to him."

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron in unison.

"Let's just hope it's soon," added Harry. He swallowed the last drop and glanced a few more times at Ron and Hermione before saying, "I guess I'll play." Ron's face lit up with joy.

"Great!" he said, beaming. "You have to let Madam Hooch know when we get back. She has to go tell the Fire Quidditch Committee."

"Speaking of Quidditch, Ron, how many games do we have left?"

"Two," he replied, sitting back importantly in his chair. "Hufflepuff sent Slytherin back to the drawing board so they're out. Snape was moping for a week. It's just pure luck Gryffindor hasn't had a game to play since..." His voice broke off and he shifted uneasily. "We have to play Hufflepuff once and win. Then Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw go at it and we match up against whoever wins. I think we're playing Hufflepuff in two weeks. That gives you a chance to get back into practice."

"Think we'll take the cup for the second year in a row?" said Harry grinning ear to ear.

"I don't think it, I know it," said Ron determinedly.

Very unexpected, but not unwelcome, he forced the team on a practice schedule much on the likes of Oliver Wood. Ron made everyone get up before breakfast, waking up Neville, Dean and Seamus every time, three days a week. Harry walked around much like Sirius in the wee hours of the morning until he climbed onto his Dragonback, the wind or rain waking him far better than Ron smacking him with pillows.

Practices had been going extremely well. Harry managed to catch the Snitch once every few minutes (it was far easier than Fire Quidditch). Kylie Randal and Ron, the Beaters, hadn't managed to improve their Quaffle-hitting accuracy. It was hard enough aiming the Bludgers at the Quaffle in the first place...

Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff was an amazing success. Harry's first glimpse of the Snitch sent him barreling after it, arms outstretched, victory in his eyes and he caught it in -

"ONE MINUTE!" shouted Madam Hooch. "My goodness, the previous record was set by you and that was five minutes!"

It was the shortest Quidditch game in the history of the sport. Hufflepuff drudged off the field in their canary robes, moaning something about "that blasted Dragonback." The Gryffindor team took the large amounts of time to praise Harry and his broom. Several people asked if they could just look at it, acting like it was a piece of untouchable gold.

Harry, Ron and Hermione's studies for their O.W.L.s continued unabated. Under all the pressure from being out of school for almost two months (and word getting around that Sirius had not once woken up from his zombie state), Harry still felt he was going to get the least amount of O.W.L.s of anyone. Ron repeatedly assured him, that under Hermione's watch, he was going to get more O.W.L.s than Malfoy at least. The thought, comforting as it should be, didn't block out the fact that while the day before he knew everything about magical swords and how to enchant them, Thursday morning during breakfast he couldn't remember that a lightning enchantment is the hardest to do. They covered enchantments, but never got to do one.

"Elemental enchantments make the target act like whatever you enchanted it with," said Hermione. "If you enchant a quill with fire and then write with it, the paper will catch fire."

"And you... can... see the enchantment?" asked Harry, not sure if he was correct.

"For the last time... NO!"

It looked hopeless.

Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw three weeks later (fifth years were to take their O.W.L.s the day after finals). Hufflepuff again went back to their dormitories after suffering a large defeat - Ravenclaw won by almost three hundred points. Luckily, Madam Hooch gave Gryffindor a time bonus of fifty because of Harry's amazing catch, giving them two hundred points for their win. That meant they would only have to win against Ravenclaw by one hundred and sixty points.

Three weeks after that, Gryffindor played Ravenclaw.

"Angelina Johnson scores!" shouted Dean Thomas, who had become commentator after begging Professor McGonagall. Dean elected himself to take over the late Lee Jordan's position of Quidditch commentator. The only other person who offered was in Slytherin and Professor McGonagall quietly refused Pansy Parkinson the job. "Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang needs to stop Harry Potter from catching the Snitch or they will win the Quidditch Cup for the second year in a row!"

"Hello, Cho," said Harry as Cho made her way behind him. "Better be faster than that," he added grinning ear to ear, stopping mid flight.

And then, several hundred feet above Harry, as small as a speck of dust, there it was.

Victory in his eye, Harry put a hand on the front of the Dragonback, one in the middle then pressed himself flat against his broom, aiming straight up. Cho didn't have a chance on her broom. Almost two hundred feet in the air, the tiny Snitch hit Harry in the stomach and was pinned as he rose higher and higher. He clawed it off of himself and held it high in the air with a free hand. Pulling out of the climb, he saw Ron, Katie, Craig, Angelina and Alicia rushing over, their brooms struggling at the staggering height.

"Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!" shouted Madam Hooch.

Twelve pairs of hands grabbed every free inch of Harry. He was made deaf by the loud yelling coming from the stadium as Gryffindor supporters once again flooded onto the field. Harry gave the Dragonback one last huge burst of speed sending everyone barreling towards the ground (ignoring the screaming) and straightened out, to land softly on the ground.

Two years ago, Gryffindor won the Cup for the first time since Charlie Weasley had been Seeker and now they had done it again for the second year in a row. Hermione and Hagrid ran down onto the field, with Hagrid trying to say something but just wiping his eyes with a tablecloth that he was using as a napkin. His beetle black eyes took on more of a grayish color from all the tears.

Professor McGonagall was once again up in the stands holding a huge Gryffindor flag, sobbing relentlessly into it. The best sight of all, next to Dumbledore walking over with the enormous, silver Quidditch Cup, was Ron. He had still not let go of Harry's shoulder, raining tears and soaking Harry's robes worse than the rain at their last practice. It had been Ron's dream since four years ago to win the Quidditch Cup and with him on the team, Harry would have it no other way.

Gryffindor's euphoria lasted until finals. Snape put on an extra coat of nastiness and it didn't look like it was ever going to end.

"Potter and Granger, Longbottom has managed to mess up his potion for the third class in a row. Twenty points from all three of you."

Neville then dumped his cauldron all over the floor in protest.

"Twenty more points from you Longbottom... and a detention."

"I don't know how much more of him I can take, Hermione," whispered Harry in her ear. "When are we going to finish up these stupid potions classes?"

"We have to take it all seven years," she replied, rolling her eyes at Snape behind his back.

"So let me get this straight," said Ron, "we just lost eighty points?"

Harry grudgingly dumped his cauldron's contents into a tiny cup.

"Are these slobs of cream really supposed to make scars disappear?" asked Harry.

"I doubt it'll make yours disappear," said Hermione.

"Let's find out." Harry took a fingerfull, parted his bangs and rubbed a nice, thick coat of it over the lightning-shaped scar.

"OUCH!" he shouted, stumbling backwards and falling off the chair. The cauldron's contents fizzled leaving a strong burning sensation.

"Potter, you idiot," said Snape, rolling his eyes.

"I want to hurt him," said Harry softly, standing the chair up and getting back on it. "I want to hurt him a lot."

A few weeks later, finals had come around and O.W.L.s were due to be taken in two days. Hermione kept Harry and Ron locked up in the library studying ferociously from after breakfast up until dinner. It was almost more than Harry and Ron could take but Hermione assured the two that they would get at least ten, twelve or higher being very likely.

O.W.L.s came... O.W.L.s went... All fifth years were to get their results back during the Leaving Feast by owl post, something Harry had again been dreading. He expected a record low number of O.W.L.s mostly due to the fact that he was stumped for a majority of the exam...

"Thirty six!" shrieked Hermione. "I got thirty six!"

"I got twelve," said Ron, carefully eyeing the parchment Pigwidgeon dropped.

"I got six," said Harry dully. He gave Hedwig a piece of bread and she flew off.

"She got more than both of us combined!" yelled Ron. "Cheer up, Harry," he added, turning to look at Harry's abysmal O.W.L. report. "We go home - er..."

It took Ron a few seconds to remember that Harry's home life was nothing to look forward to.

"It would be something to look forward to if I could go home with Sirius but no we had to try and rescue him and a dementor nearly sucked his soul out." Harry dropped his fork in protest and rested his chin on both hands. "At least the Dursleys won't care that I got so little. How many did Malfoy get?"

"You don't want to know," said Ron, looking at the Slytherin table and seeing Malfoy jumping up down, all dignity forgotten.

"Feeling down, Potter?" said Snape as he crossed the Gryffindor table.

"GO - AWAY," shouted Harry sharply.

"Even Mr. Longbottom managed to scrape eight," said Snape coldly.

Harry didn't reply.

"Have a nice day," Snape added nastily.

"How many points has he taken from us this year?" asked Harry angrily when Snape was out of earshot.

"Too many," said Ron just as dull as Harry. "But we have a lot of points from Quidditch games. What," he added, starting to think what Harry was thinking. "Oh no!"

"We're not going to win the House Cup this year, are we," said Hermione quietly.

"Attention, please?" called Professor McGonagall from the teacher's tables. Dumbledore was to give his end of year speech.

"This year has finally come to a close," he said, standing up and gazing all around the Great Hall. All the noise died down very quickly. "This terrible and dreadful year... The Ministry will greatly protest my coming words but I feel a need to say them.

"As I have mentioned last year, Lord Voldemort has returned, or at least did for a short while. During his short reign he has managed to kill hundreds more. Several dozen were removed from that count by someone who's name I need not mention. In an attempt to find out Lord Voldemort's plans, Mr. Potter had Disapparated several Muggles to safety. Worst of all, our greatest fears had nearly come true two short months ago, that Mr. Potter had died."

Just as it had happened last year, a ripple of murmurs broke out across the Great Hall.

"Whether it be an extraordinarily strong will to live to see Lord Voldemort punished for all his heinous crimes or dormant magic that continues to puzzle the greatest wizards and witches of our time, there is no doubt Mr. Potter must be congratulated. I raise my glass once again to you, Mr. Potter." He turned to face Harry, who had gone flush in the face. Everyone else followed suit with Dumbledore.

"I feel it it necessary to bring forth this information in case it is needed. Lord Voldemort's whereabouts are currently unknown but his status is known to be exactly like it was fourteen years ago. The Ministry of Magic is doing everything possible, including cooperating with International Muggle law-enforcement, to find Lord Voldemort. We shall, of course continue the memory of the first among us to go down marking the start of Lord Voldemort's downfall. Continue to remember Cedric Diggory."

All of Hufflepuff, once happy, immediately became sour. Cedric's death struck a grim chord with the entire school and it was easy to notice they had not forgotten.

"If we, for one moment, forget all we have lost, a will to succeed will be lost as well."

These words struck a grim chord with Harry. Gone was the short time in his life with his parents and the faint memories that he collected of them over the years nearly vanished as well.

"Go home tomorrow morning knowing that Lord Voldemort will be found and let it rest in the back of your mind as we award this year's House Cup." He paused for a few minutes to let the whispers of Harry's name die down.

"In fourth place, Slytherin with three hundred and fifty two points." Faint boos were coming from the Slytherin table while the entire Gryffindor table got up clapping.

"In third place, Gryffindor with three hundred and fifty three points." Harry had not moved from his dull position of resting his chin on both hands. Hermione and Ron were now copying him as loud cheering erupted from the Slytherin table.

"In second place, Hufflepuff with four hundred and nine points. As such, that leaves Ravenclaw in first place, with four hundred and eighteen points!"

For the first time since he entered the Great Hall, Harry smiled, turning around to see Cho and her friends celebrating their win. Gryffindor had taken it every year since Harry's arrival. A small but noticeable grumble in his stomach made him feel happy for Cho. A bigger and more noticeable grumble reminded him he was angry with himself. At least Slytherin was in last place...

"We are, however," said Dumbledore, beaming, "not finished with the awards yet. Mr. Fudge, would you like to take over?"

Cornelius Fudge had been sitting next to Hagrid. He got up from his seat and held a beautiful, though barely visible from where Harry was sitting, golden necklace with a small plaque dangling from it. It sparkled subtly in his fingers. On the table in front of him was also a large plaque with a name written on it that couldn't be made out.

"It with great pleasure that I get to offer two awards this evening," he said jovially, beaming at everyone. "One of them is an Award for Special Services to the School. This one is first.

"By virtue of excellent scores on exams, topping grades for the past century and a record number of O.W.L.s attained by a fifth year student, Miss Hermione Granger, please come forward!"

She went as pale as the white napkins she used to wipe the tears from her eyes. Full of tears and overcome with joy, Hermione freed herself from the hands of the Gryffindor table, many of which she shook, and walked to Fudge who had moved to the center of the staff table.

Fudge turned the large plaque towards her and the name was clearly visible: Hermione Granger. Harry showed a brief smile, still completely saddened that Gryffindor had not won the House Cup due to Snape, among other things ripping at the back of his mind.

"The Ministry of Magic presents to you, Hermione Granger, an Award for Special Services to Hogwarts! Oh and I believe Gryffindor gets awarded twenty five points?" he added smiling.

Hermione sat down, now sobbing lightly, looking up and down the Gryffindor table and Fudge went back to gazing around the room. Gryffindors up and down the table were clapping not only for Hermione but for the twenty five points they just won. Fudge then held up the necklace, which sparkled brightly in the candlelight. Were they going to get more points? It happened once before...

"Last but not least, I have an Order of Merlin, First Class to give out!" A raucous roar of chatter spread across the Great Hall. Who would be getting it? Hopefully not Snape... and Dumbledore had already gotten one, Harry thought. An Order of Merlin, First Class, it boggled Harry's mind for a good minute. That would require something very significant... nobody came to his mind. The Great Hall fell silent, waiting with bated breath. Harry shook his head, waiting.

"By virtue of good deeds and services to the Wizarding World as a whole, bravery, friendship and courage, among everything else that makes up a true Gryffindor..."

Gryffindor? Mr. Fudge paused and it was like torture waiting for the name. He gazed up and down the table looking for anyone with a guilty face.

Who!

And then, the smile fell off his face. Quite suddenly, Harry had an urge to run, an overpowering feel that the person to get it would be...

"I cannot think of anyone who deserves it more... Mr. Harry Potter, would you please come forth!" A sudden burst of heat filled Harry's insides, very much on the verge of causing him to pass out.

The Great Hall burst in louder clapping than it had after the Sorting Hat had placed Harry in Gryffindor, so loud it somehow managed to make the rumbling in Harry's stomach seem a little quieter. Harry couldn't tell the difference between the mixed feelings of embarrassment, shock and pure joy because they were all there in equal amounts.

"Oh God," he groaned softly, staring up at Fudge, his face white in utter shock.

Harry wanted to say something else, but his voice seemed to have left him along with the insides of his stomach. If his head wasn't already resting on the table, he would have passed out from lack of blood to the brain. It was the shock that seemed to be taking over at the moment. He stiffened up, not moving a muscle and continued to stare at Mr. Fudge, who was dangling the necklace at Harry.

"Go on, Harry!" said Ron. Ron pulled Harry's very, very stiff shoulders back to make him sit up straight and then Hermione had to put a hand behind his back to prevent him from falling backwards. Harry pushed himself out of the Gryffindor table amongst the outstretched hands trying shake one of his own.

He didn't shake any of them as he walked up to the staff table where Fudge was, he felt so queasy that if he turned his head at all, he might just pass out. His legs shook in an effort to keep him standing but he was more interested in wiping away the few tears leaking down his cheeks. And then after what seemed like another week in the forest, he finally made his way to Fudge.

"For all your services: the defeat of Lord Voldemort twice, for killing a basilisk and freeing an innocent man from Azkaban, The Ministry of Magic presents to you, Harry Potter, the Order of Merlin, First Class!"

"First?" he had to ask, digging a nail into his thumb to assure himself he wasn't dream. It was just unreal.

"Youngest person ever to receive it," whispered Fudge, winking. Then he said outloud, "Gryffindor is also awarded seventy five points! I believe that places them at four hundred and fifty three?"

It wasn't a dream and the full reality didn't set in until he removed the golden necklace and read the plaque after dinner that night.

Harry James Potter

Order of Merlin

First Class

"If this is what you get," said Harry, still looking very pale, arms still shaking whenever he held the necklace, "why doesn't anyone wear it?"

He placed it on top of his trunk, watching it glitter from the moonlight. It was just wide enough to fit his full name. The lettering was done with white gold and the rest was yellow gold.

"Probably don't want to dirty it up or something," said Ron, gazing at it. "Or lose it. Or just think it'd make them look self-centered. I bet most everyone locks it up in a safe and throws the key away. I'd sure wear one if I got it."

There was an obvious note from Ron that he was jealous. Harry and Hermione had gotten an award, but Ron was left with nothing. Harry couldn't help but feel some pity but tried to hide the feeling as Ron has subtly made known he doesn't like anyone feeling sorry for him. There was nothing Ron had done, however... and that was what made Harry feel bad. Harry had always wished Ron could share in his own glory, or better yet... that Harry never got any to begin with.

"I still can't believe it." Harry began to change into pajamas behind the four-post bed's curtains.

"D'you think Hermione is going to lock her award in a safe?" chortled Ron.

Harry, too, chortled at the thought. It was just the thing Hermione would do. He finished changing and reopened the curtains then stuffed his dirty robes in a corner.

"Of course." He crawled into bed to lay on his back and pulled the covers snugly over himself. "We only have two years left after this, Ron," said Harry, slightly dreamily. "Can you believe it?"

"Go to bed!" cried Neville. Harry and Ron must have woken him up.

"Fine," said Ron and Harry stiffly.