Lydia's Story

As Lydia returned to her bed that night, her mind was brimming from the events of that evening. Her father had never told her much about their family, having distanced himself from them for many years. The little she had read helped her to understand why everyone was so afraid of her, and why Draco was sure she would be in Slytherin. Yet her mind was still full of questions, the least of which being why one of Hogwarts houses was named for one of history's most notorious families.

Crawling under her blankets, some of Harry's words echoed in her mind. "His dad's a Death Eater, and he's probably going to go that route when he's done here, too."

Was that what Draco had been so close to saying about his father?

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Lydia was again woken by her Wrist-Held Waker, which this time hit her with a Chilling Charm. Shivering, Lydia once again set off the charm with a flick of the dial, which was surprisingly hard to do with shaking hands.

"Stupid thing," she muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes groggily as she felt warmth return to her body. The Waker had been a gift from her aunt when she had started her first year. It was designed to wake the wearer with one of five charms at random, without waking anyone else around them. It was useful in dormitories, but Lydia avoided using it except for when she absolutely needed it.

Changing into fresh robes, Lydia brushed her hair and grabbed her supplies before leaving the empty dormitory. Down in the common room, a few students stood talking in groups, their eyes following her as she left the portrait hole. The last glimpse she had of the room was of Hermione reading in a chair by the fire, her face barely visible above the pages. With a jolt, Lydia recognized the cover of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Ages.

Frozen in the doorway, Lydia felt a deep sense of worry settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Excuse me," the fat lady said after a moment, her impatient voice shaking Lydia out of her reverie, "but could you either stay in or come out? I would appreciate it if you didn't leave me hanging open all day!"

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sat reading in her seat by the fire, until at last she heard the sound of Ron and Harry coming down from the boys' dormitory. Peering over the pages of her book, she watched them appear in the doorway, both of them looking tired.

"How do you get up so early?" Ron asked with a yawn as they approached her, his eyes watching her with disbelief.

Hermione, who didn't seem to hear him, fixed Harry instead with her steely gaze.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Here," Hermione said simply, holding out the open book. "Read this."

"But - That's huge!" Harry exclaimed, gawking at the enormous book. "It'll take me forever to read that!"

"Not all of it!" Hermione said impatiently. "Just this chapter."

"Now?" Harry asked, taking the book and leafing through the pages. "Hermione, this chapter is ten pages long! I won't be able to read this before breakfast, and unlike you, I can't live off of books!"

"Just make sure you read it before the end of the day," Hermione said irritably, rising out of her seat.

"Er - Does anyone mind explaining this to me?" Ron interrupted suddenly, his eyes shifting between Harry and Hermione. "I don't get assigned any reading, do I?" His face looked slightly anxious.

"No, Ron," Hermione sighed impatiently. "I just think it would be good for Harry to see a few things for himself."

"Oh...okay," Ron said, looking relieved.

*~*~*~*~*

Down in the Great Hall, Draco had just added the finishing touches to a letter to his mother when the owls arrived. His eagle owl swooped down to the Slytherin table, landing gracefully next to his plate. It was carrying a box of what Draco guessed must be more treats from home. Taking the box, he hurriedly rolled up his piece of parchment and tied it to the owls leg.

"Bring this to Mother," he said quietly. With a tired hoot, the owl took flight, soaring out of the Great Hall. Draco's eyes followed its feathered form, until Pansy's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Are you going to open your parcel, Draco?"

Glancing at the faces around him, Draco saw his fellow Slytherins eyeing his parcel greedily. Sighing, he ripped open the package and pulled out a large assortment of candies. Ignoring the pleading faces around him, he shoved the candies into his bag for safe keeping.

Maybe Lydia will want some, he thought to himself.

*~*~*~*~*

Lydia watched as Mithra glided into the Hall, an envelope clutched in his talons. Glad to have something to take her mind off of Hermione and her book, Lydia hurriedly opened the envelope as Mithra landed on an empty plate beside her. The letter she pulled out was quite short, and written in her mother's neat script.

Dear Lydia,

How has school been? I'm not sure when this letter will reach you at this distance, but I hope it finds you soon. Your father and I are eager to hear from you, and Delsky is beside herself with excitement. There's not much for me to say right now, so I'm afraid this letter will be short. Your father and Delsky send their love, as do I.

Sincerely,

Your loving mother xo

Lydia tucked the letter safely into her book bag. She would have to write her letter that evening, when she would have more time to think of how to reply. She didn't want to tell her parents that she was being shunned by most of the students, or that one of her only friends was the son of a Death Eater, but at the same time she wanted to be truthful.

With a sigh, she returned her attention to her breakfast.

I'll think of something, she told herself.

*~*~*~*~*

Finishing the last of their breakfast, Harry and the others made their way to their Charms class. Hermione's book sat forgotten in his bag as they wound their way through the corridors, Ron and Hermione bickering about SPEW.

Why can't they ever give it a rest? Harry thought to himself, for what felt like the thousandth time.

Their bickering stopped, however, when they saw tiny Professor Flitwick waiting outside the classroom.

"Harry, a word please," he squeaked. Ron and Hermione continued into the classroom as Professor Flitwick took Harry aside, barely coming up to his elbow.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to bring you to his office," he continued in his squeaky voice. "You can copy today's notes from Miss Granger, I'm sure."

With that, he led Harry through the many corridors of Hogwarts, until they stopped in front of a large stone gargoyle.

"Fainting Fancies!" Professor Flitwick peeped. Harry watched as the gargoyle sprang aside, the wall behind it splitting in two. Stepping on a spiral staircase, Harry followed his professor as the moving stairs carried them up to a familiar oak door. Professor Flitwick rapped on the door, which swung open to let them in. Harry saw Dumbledore look up at them from his desk, his sparkling blue eyes resting on Harry before turning to Professor Flitwick.

"Here he is, Headmaster!" Professor Flitwick said happily.

"Thank you, Professor," Dumbledore replied. With that, Professor Flitwick turned and left the room, the oak door closing behind him.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore continued, returning his penetrating blue eyes to Harry, "I wanted to ask a few favours of you."

Harry sat down in the chair across from him, not sure of what to think.

"Ever since Cornelius Fudge came to his senses about Lord Voldemort's return, I've been thinking about the group you started last year." It was a moment before Harry realized that he was talking about Dumbledore's Army. "Now that the Ministry is once again cooperating, I would like to make this group open to all students. It would be good for all students to have a chance to learn and practice more defensive magic. If you would like to teach the group again this year, you have my full permission. Otherwise, it will be taught by our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"I'll teach it, sir!" Harry said quickly. Teaching the DA had been his favourite part of last year, until they had been forced to disband. The thought of Snape teaching it instead made him sick.

"Good," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling. "You taught them very well last year, as you all proved at the Ministry of Magic. You can change the name, if you like, but," a small smile tugged at his lips, "I must admit that I've grown fond of the old name."

"Wouldn't Fudge...you know...still have a few issues with the old name?" Harry asked tentatively.

"The Minister and I have spent a lot of time talking this summer," Dumbledore replied calmly. "He's come to his senses about more than just Lord Voldemort's return. He realizes that I'm not trying to take his position. I have made it very clear that my heart is still with Hogwarts." He gazed at the room around him, which had once more been filled with spindly tables holding their silver instruments. Fawkes the phoenix stood on a golden perch by the door, his head tucked beneath his wing as he slept. Portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses looked down at them from their frames, lining the walls of the circular room. Harry felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered the last time he had been there, and had demolished part of the office.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore continued talking, his eyes resting again on Harry. "There are still a couple of things I need to say. After talking with both you and Professor Snape, I realize that it is futile to ask you to continue learning Occlumency with him. However, it is still very important that you learn it. Unfortunately, between the demands of the school and the Order, I won't be able to teach you myself. I know a very talented Occlumens, and I'll be getting in contact with him over the next few days to see if he can come to teach you. All I'm asking is that you work hard to learn Occlumency. I'm quite sure you remember enough from last year to know how important that is."

Nodding, Harry felt a surge of emotions well up in his throat. He had spent most of the summer locking himself into his bedroom, his mind replaying scenes from the previous year that he would rather forget. When he at last went to meet his friends at the Burrow, they had helped him to snap out of his depression, though his memories still haunted him. Later going to Grimmauld Place, the memories became so much more vivid. Only when the commotion about Lydia started on the Hogwarts Express did he feel like himself. Thinking about Lydia and her problems had helped him to forget his own. But now Dumbledore sat there, opening wounds that Harry had hoped would heal, and Harry once again felt his world fall apart.

It was a moment before Harry realized that Dumbledore was watching him carefully, his blue eyes filled with sympathy. Harry quickly shifted his eyes away, looking instead out of the window, where a few clouds moved across an otherwise sunny sky.

"So - er - What else did you want to tell me?" Harry said at last, trying to make his voice sound normal.

Dumbledore paused before answering. "Harry, I know you don't want to think about it, but we need to discuss your plans for Grimmauld Place," he said at last, his voice quiet. "As I told you over the summer, Sirius had expressed that if anything were to happen to him, he wanted his possessions to go to you."

Harry shook his head wearily. "I told you, I don't want that house! You take it, use it for the Order. It doesn't matter to me."

Dumbledore watched in silence as Harry once again battled a rush of emotions. When he spoke, Dumbledore's voice was still quiet. "The Order will take care of the house right now, if that is what you want. But you have to remember that you have only two years left of school. I understand that your memories are still fresh and painful, but when the time comes for you to leave your aunt's place you may feel very different. This house was all that Sirius had to leave to you."

The room was silent again, broken only by the whirring of the many instruments that filled the room. A bell rang after a few moments, signalling the end of class.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said rising to his feet. "It's time for your next class. I believe I've stunted your learning long enough!" He gave Harry a small smile as he rummaged through some rolls of parchment on his desk. Pulling out a slip of pale blue parchment, he wrote something on it before signing it and handing it to Harry. "Here, give this to your teacher if you're late. And remember: I'm always here if you need me. If ever you change your mind about Grimmauld Place, it will still be yours for the taking."