And Malice Toward None

* * *

"I don't get it."

Hermione didn't look up from her perch on the kitchen table, where she was meticulously copying from several texts and her own earlier notes onto a terrifyingly long scroll. Instead she charmed another slip of parchment to join up to the already lengthy scroll, giving her additional room to write. Only once this was done, and she'd blown across the fresh ink to dry it did she look up and sigh. "What exactly is it you don't get?"

Harry rumpled his already disgruntled hair, and slouched over the counter he was reading at. "Pretty much anything I've read for the last hour. I think my brain melted somewhere between Spatial Scrolls and Temporal Texts."

"Now it's my turn to not 'get it,'" Hermione said impatiently. She set her quill down at looked across the kitchen at him. "You study all year long at Hogwarts, and even if you don't like it, you manage. How is it your brain melts after only a week and a half of studying now?"

"Easy." Harry looked up from where he was slumped. "At Hogwarts I don't have perfect weather and the chance to spend time alone with my terribly cute girlfriend."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Wait 'til spring. You'll get to have pleasant weather and me, while you're at Hogwarts."

"Ah," Harry sighed. "I knew something was going to bollix my chances at the NEWTS."

That lit a spark in Hermione's eyes. "Don't you dare botch your exams! After studying with you for seven years, I full well expect your help setting the Ministry right once we've matriculated."

Harry pushed himself upright and off the kitchen counter. "I promise I'll try to focus, then. But does this mean you're already planning your first coup?"

"More like radical reform." Hermione closed her texts and began rolling up her notes. "Banning discrimination because of blood or species is one long overdue reform. Ending house-elf slavery is another."

"I don't think the Ministry'll think much of those ideas, Hermione." Harry shrugged apologetically.

"I know," Hermione answered primly. She rolled up her parchments, and tied them with a length of simple twine. "I'd imagine we'd first have to push through hiring and tenure reforms for Ministry personnel."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Harry responded warily, "but what do you mean by 'hiring and tenure reforms?'"

A quick swish and flick, and Hermione's Arithmancy notes sailed off to a shelf in the sitting room. Another wave brought fresh books and parchments for Ancient Runes to a gentle stop in front of her. "Imagine how many problems we've encountered at Hogwarts alone that could have been prevented if the Ministry had anything like a modern civil service test! Standardized entrance exams should prevent the grossly incompetent from getting their positions on pure nepotism. Rules barring blood discrimination, which should be the norm and not the exception in any event, would bring a more representative body of employees into the Ministry. With the addition of magic to the mix, there's no reason any high ranking official should be free of binding oaths barring them from working against the common weal. And for that matter, why is it we have no statement of rights the Ministry isn't allowed to infringe upon without legal proceedings?"

"Hermione," Harry said as he sat back slowly, no expression on his face. "Are you sure that's not a coup?"

She blew an errant curl of hair out of her face, and opened one of her texts with a loud and final thump. "Call it what you will, but I'm dragging the Ministry kicking and screaming into the thirteenth century."

Harry looked from side to side, a mixture of concern and amusement on his face. "Not that I don't like the idea of fixing everything, but I think between Voldemort and graduating I've got enough to worry about already."

"Fair enough," Hermione answered with a confident matter-of-fact tone Harry envied. "Just remember that I've got some plans for what we do after Tom Riddle is dead."

"I hope some of the plans are more fun than politics," Harry muttered as he slouched in his chair.

"Some of them," she answered with a mischievous grin.

Harry sat upright, but before he could pursue that grin, the doorbell rang. He deflated slightly. "I'll see who it is, and then we can get back to the more fun plans of yours."

Hermione wordlessly returned to her studies, but he noticed a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she did so.

Harry jogged lightly into the living room, slowing up as he saw a brilliant red jacket through the half-light front door. He blinked in surprise before continuing on to throw open the Grangers' front door. The red-headed woman on the front step turned back from where she'd been looking up the street, and greeted Harry with a warm smile

Harry matched her smile. "Ms. Aedernmas! I'm surprised to see you again."

Morgan Aedernmas pulled Harry into an awkward hug as she pivoted on a broken leg. Her faintly Dubliner lilt was clearly amused as she answered. "Well, Harry, I know you're an adult now, and you certainly don't need a social worker anymore. I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you're doing alright."

"I'm alright ma'am. Um, can I get you a chair?"

"No, no, too much sitting as is. Best if I can be on my, well, foot for a bit." Ms. Aedernmas hopped around in a small circle to lean against the front door jamb. "And if you don't mind my saying it, you don't look alright, exactly."

Harry looked away, his green eyes sharp as he debated answering honestly or evading the question. He made up his mind quickly. "I really am alright, but I'm worried. Hermione is too, but we don't talk about it, not really. The Order isn't telling us anything about the attacks on the Wizarding world. We don't even know if our friends are okay, if their families are okay. I haven't heard from anybody, and I can't contact them. I'm worried about everybody from Hogwarts. I'm even worried about the Dursleys, to be honest. And I didn't think I'd ever worry about them."

"I heard from Dumbledore that your guardians disappeared in the middle of the night." Morgan's grey eyes were piercing as they regarded Harry levelly. "Given how they treated you, I'd think that you couldn't care less about them."

Harry shifted uneasily. "I don't really like the thought they'd just leave in the middle of the night the first chance they had to be rid of me. But if they didn't... I'm worried something happened to them,"

"Well, they truly don't rate my concern Harry," Morgan said as she leaned against the front door jamb. "But I'll keep an eye open for them. I'm sure they'll turn up, like a family full of bad pennies. As for the rest of it...are you sure you want to be worrying about all of that?"

Harry huffed and leaned against the doorjamb. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to be worried about much of anything, actually. I don't have a choice."

Ms. Aedernmas pinched Harry's arm. "Quit that. You may be an adult, but you still aren't old enough to brood without it coming across as petulance. And you certainly do have a choice."

When it became clear that nothing more was forthcoming, Harry gestured for her to continue.

Morgan sighed. "Look, you've got a moment of peace on earth here, what with the warder-things that got slapped on this cottage, yes? So if you want to ignore the outside world, you can. And if you want to worry, that's your choice too."

Harry winced. "I think that poking my nose into everything and worrying about my friends is second nature to me. Maybe even first nature."

"Doesn't mean you don't have a choice, though," she responded with a laugh. Sobering up Morgan fixed Harry with her grey eyes. "Look at your so-called 'Lord' Voldemort. Isn't his whole life kind of defined by fighting against who he really is?"

Harry looked away, down the row of town homes, and nodded.

Morgan joined Harry in staring off and down the street, rather than looking directly at one another. "Harry, it does you credit that you're concerned for your friends. It does you credit that you want to help. But you need to wait just a month more. Make the most of your time. Get ready to fight off this Voldemort, sure. But remember to live a little, too. It's normal to spend some time on the here and now."

"Just my luck; I've never been normal." Harry smiled wryly. "I just can't pretend people aren't in danger. I hate being holed up here, and not being able to do anything about what's going on out there."

"Even if it would put you in danger?" Morgan cocked her head, fixing Harry with a hard sidelong stare. "Even if this might be the last peaceful moment you've got before you land head first in this magician's war of yours, you'd rather be out there?"

Harry listened to a crow off in the distance as he considered his answer. "I don't want to. I mean, I know doing what's right is terrifying, and it can get me hurt or killed. And I'd really rather spend my time with Hermione, even if all we do is study for exams. But someone needs to do something. If not me, who?"

"If not now, when?" Morgan gave a little laugh when Harry nodded earnestly at that. "Well then, I wish you all the best in this hidden little war you magicians have made for yourselves."

Harry regarded his former social worker levelly. "Thanks. I'll need it."

Morgan patted his shoulder. "Now, is there any chance I can get you to help me back to my car?"

Harry jumped forward to help Ms. Aedernmas down the few garden steps into the Grangers' front lawn. She kept a hand on his shoulder as she hopped one-legged down the steps, her cast held akimbo.

The two of them slowly wound their way to the driver's side door of her grey Phantom, with an awkward three-legged hop over the crumbling and mossy curb. Ms. Aedernmas looked sideways at the young wizard as they reached the driver's side of her coach. "So Harry, I meant to say something earlier. You seem to have fallen into some interesting living arrangements here. Moving in together's awfully fast."

Harry flushed, and looked down. "It's not like that!"

"Oh?" Morgan pursued him slowly and teasingly. "So you aren't living with your girl, then?"

"No! Er, yes." Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, trying to ignore just how hot his face felt. "I mean, yes we're dating, and yes I'm living here for the last of the summer, but no we're not living together living together."

Ms. Aedernmas bumped Harry with a friendly elbow. "I'm just teasing you, Harry. I spoke to Dumbledore, and he told me all about your housing problems now that his vaunted protections on your home were gone."

"Oh, that's really funny. I just about had a heart attack," Harry said with equal parts humor and heat. "I'd best get back to Hermione. It's not exactly fair to leave her in there studying without me."

Morgan's red eyebrows ran together at this. "That's the second time you've mentioned schoolwork. I've got to say, that seems odd."

"Why," Harry responded. "I'm pretty sure it's my girlfriend's favorite pastime."

"It's odd because I've met Hermione Granger, and she strikes me as much brighter than that." When Harry's eyes went wide, Morgan continued quickly. "She's got to be as worried as you are, more so since she's worried about you facing Voldemort. I can't see someone as bright as her dedicated to homework when she's got so much else she could be doing."

Harry chuckled. "Ms. Aedernmas, I think you're underestimating how much Hermione loves books and learning."

"Think of this as some last advice from a genuine professional. Think of it as feminine intuition. Thank of it as whatever you like." Morgan gave Harry an unnerving, piercing stare. Even her voice seemed more focused, the Dubliner lilt more pronounced. "Ask your girl what she's got planned for the rest of summer. After the texts and revisions, yeah? I bet it's worth talking about."

Morgan popped the door, then spun in place with the jamb and roof line to grip for balance. She leaned on the door with an elbow while fumbling in her jacket for a biro and her business cards. When she spun back to face him her earlier focus was gone, wiped away by a warm smile. She jotted some digits briefly on the back of one of her cards before handing it over to Harry.

"You're an adult now," Morgan said with a slightly sad smile. "In part, that means there's very little for me to do as a social worker. That doesn't mean I don't want to be hearing about how things are getting on with your girl in there. I also want to hear about how you punched this evil wizard's ticket. So here's my home number. Call for any reason, yeah?"

"I'll do it," Harry said with a nod. "And thanks for, you know..."

"I do indeed, Harry James Potter. I do indeed." With that Morgan hopped sprightly into her Phantom and fired the engine to a low rumble. "I'm sure we'll talk again afore too long!"

Harry closed the door for her, and waved as the great, low motorcar crunched away down the tranquil Oxford road. He watched as a few crows scattered before the vehicle, and then she was gone. He tucked his hands into his trou and turned back to the house.

Harry slipped inside, threw the old brass latch, and padded back to the kitchen in the rear of the cottage. Hermione didn't appear to have moved from her perch at the table, though a number of heavy books and sheaves of parchment had shifted position around the room. She looked up with a small smile. "Who was it?"

"My social worker," Harry said with an answering smile. He dropped lightly into his vacated seat, trying to recall which book he had been reading when they were interrupted. "She wanted to make sure I was okay."

Hermione's brows knit, her work forgotten. "You didn't tell her about..."

"My incredibly disturbing birthday present from Voldemort?" Harry shook his head. "Not something I'd bring up."

"Good." Hermione shivered despite the warmth of the day. "She may not be a part of the Wizarding world, but I still don't want to think about what she'd do if you told her."

Harry set aside the book he had been reading and thought for a second. "Hermione, are you planning on studying until we go back to Hogwarts?"

She sighed, and pushed her own work to one side. "I was wondering when you'd ask. No, not really. That's why I've been pushing so hard; so we'd get done as early as possible."

Harry nodded. "Why?"

She took a deep breath. "When we- Ron, Luna, and everyone- got to Malfoy Manor, the house was a wreck. Almost half the Death Eaters were down, and you were holding your own against the worst of the lot. It didn't look like when the DA was fighting, Harry. It looked like the Aurors, or maybe even Dumbledore was fighting in there."

"I've seen Dumbledore," Harry said quietly. "It wasn't anything like what he could do."

Hermione shook her head, clearing away a dozen tangents she needn't pursue just then. "My point is that it's going to happen again."

"Voldemort," she said, emphasizing the word, "is going to strike, and you're going to fight him. I'm going to be there to help, and a lot of other people too. I want you to show me what you did last year. Apparently this prophesy means I can't stop Riddle myself, but that doesn't mean I can't keep his Death Eaters from helping him. And don't you dare tell me you want to keep me safe or some rubbish- "

"I wouldn't dream of it." Harry ruffled his hair, and sighed. "And I should have known this all comes down to you wanting more to study."

"You prat!" Hermione laughed, the tension broken. "I'm serious!"

"Me too! When it comes to studying, you're kind of unbelievable." At Hermione's outraged expression, Harry laughed and hurried on. "You're also kind of brilliant."

"You remember that!" Hermione pulled her book back to her.

Harry sighed, and opened his book, flipping through to the last section he remembered. "Just so you know, we're going to get a date in there before we get to all the Defense."

Hermione turned a page primly. "It's a date then, Mister Potter."

* * *

A week later, Harry was sliding a casserole pan full of bread pudding onto the Grangers' dining room table next to a tureen of some pale soup. From the open doorway into the sitting room he could hear an impatient tapping. Harry went and fetched two glasses of water, setting them on the table as well. "Okay Hermione, you can come in now."

"Honestly Harry, I don't know why I couldn't- oh my!" Hermione pulled up short just inside the doorway. There were lit candles in low cut crystal holders, and place settings for two on the small table. She looked up to where Harry was pulling out one of the Queen Anne chairs out for her. "I see. It's a date."

"Do you like it?" Harry tipped his head to one side, grinning uncertainly.

Hermione broke into a radiant smile. "It looks wonderful."

Harry's posture slouched a millimeter, in what Hermione had noticed over the years was a sign of relief. He quickly and efficiently dished up two plates and slipped into the chair opposite her.

"I made that French stew you liked, from the Triwizard Tournament, broccoli, and Thursday Night's Bread Pudding for dessert." The Hogwarts house-elves made a different pudding nightly, and Hermione had long since resigned herself to the fact that Thursday Night's Bread Pudding was her fatal weakness. She'd always assumed they poured some mix of addictive potions into the bowls when they made Thursday Night's.

Hermione made herself start on the soup before sampling the bread pudding. "The bouillabaisse is excellent! And you remembered what foods I like!"

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a boyfriend if I didn't know what you liked to eat."

Her eyebrow arched at this. "Harry, you remembered a soup I liked from three years ago. I'm fairly certain we weren't dating then."

Harry toyed with his broccoli. "It was just unusual enough I remembered, that's all."

Hermione blinked. "Well, I'm impressed with this wonderful out-of-Hogwarts feast. I'd no idea you knew how to cook, Harry."

"Petunia Dursley might have been one of the least pleasant people I've ever met, but she made sure I learned how to cook and clean."

Hermione looked down at her plate without expression. "I know you're worried about them, and I know I should be, but I'm simply not able to bring myself to care about them."

Harry took a breath. "For today, I'm not worrying about anything." Hermione looked up at this to see her boyfriend smiling. "No horrible missing family, no Dark wizards, nothing. We've got hours 'til your dad is home, and I'm having our first date now."

She smiled tentatively. "It sounds like you've given this a great deal of thought."

Harry shrugged. "We finished our studying, and tomorrow we start in on everything I can remember from the fight in Malfoy Manor. So today's our day for a first date. Usually you come up with all the plans, and I'm the one who improvises. I thought that for our first date, I should plan."

Hermione pushed her soup away, and primly folded her hands atop the table. "Don't leave me in the lurch, Harry. Let's hear this plan."

"I found a comedy in your dad's collection of video tapes, so we can watch a movie after we eat." Harry ticked off the points of his plan on his fingers as he spoke. "I moved your radio into the sitting room, so we can listen to music, and there's plenty of room to dance if we want."

"That sounds like a plan I can support whole heartedly," Hermione answered with a smile.

"I hoped so."

Hermione toyed with her pudding. "So Harry, if you're doing the planning today, does that mean I'm in charge of improvising?"

Hermione's smile widened. as Harry's brow wrinkled in innocent confusion. "If you want to. Did I forget something?"

"More that you overlooked a couple of items," she replied as she leaned over the table. Harry realized she was going to kiss him, and grinned widely.

They were an inch apart when the front door creaked open, and Doctor Granger called out, "Harry! Hermione! I'm home!"

The two teens jumped apart fast enough to rattle the silverware. From the other room Mister Granger continued unabated. "And sweetie! You got a parcel from the Headmaster, it looks like you've made Head Girl!"

Hermione shot from the table with a high pitched noise. From the other room Hermione called out, "Oh Harry come quick! I made Head Girl. There's an instruction booklet! Can you bring my green notebook? I think it's in the kitchen!"

Doctor Granger wandered into the dining room, sniffing. "Do I smell that fish soup Hermione picked up in France?"

Harry got up and headed for the kitchen. "Let me get you a plate, and I'll get Hermione's notebook."

Hermione shot back into the dining room, reading Hogwarts Moste Anciente Head Rules et Regulations as she walked. "Oh dear, this is frightfully convoluted. It could take forever to decipher all the subsections."

Doctor Granger looked at the candles on the table, and all the good china in use. "Pumpkin, did I interrupt you two having a date?"

Hermione blushed and twitched, but persisted in her reading. "Yes, but it's fine. We'll get around to it later."

Her father plucked the rule book from her hands. "I didn't mean to break up your date with Harry just now. And please remember to leave some time for fun every chance you get."

Hermione sputtered, but he held up his hands to slow her down. "Date Harry, date whoever you want. Play in the snow, go for walks, whatever. I think I know how you feel about him, and I have a pretty good idea how he feels about you. You two enjoy spending time together, but you both need to learn to laugh together a lot more. Play footsie, even when I'm around."

Doctor Granger took a breath to organize his thoughts. "Your mum... I miss her every day, pumpkin. Just... remember to enjoy yourself. And your friends."

Harry returned with a plate, a bowl, and a glass of water, and quickly laid out a third place setting at the table. Hermione's notebook landed next to her bowl "Congratulations, although I'm not surprised at all you're Head Girl. Is that the rule book?"

"Apparently, it's only one of them," she muttered without paying much attention. Suddenly focusing on Harry , she shook her head. "I can read through it tomorrow. What do you say we sit in the garden for the afternoon?"

"Hermione, are you feeling okay? Are you sure-"

She grabbed Harry's hand and started dragging him toward the back door. "Remember, today I'm in charge of improvisation. In a month it won't be warm enough to lie on the grass, so it would be a shame to waste it now."

The two teens disappeared through the door, the louvered blind covering the window rattling as they left. Doctor Granger smiled after them for a beat, glad that he still had things he could teach his brilliant daughter. Then he looked down at the lavish spread on the dinner table. "Of course, it would be a shame to waste all this lunch..."

* * *

One September overtook Harry and Hermione before they'd even realized it had happened. Usually Harry counted the days until his return to Hogwarts, but on the eve of his last year he simply didn't have the burning desire to return to the world of magic. This was not to say that everything in Harry's life had gone his way. The Fidelius charm concealing the Granger household prevented either he or Hermione from hearing news from the Wizarding world, excepting those few occasions on which an Order member dropped in to check on them.

And this imposed isolation hadn't helped the two of them arrange their first date, either. Once Hermione set up a picnic in the garden as a break from their exhausting Defense work, only to be washed out by an unexpected summer shower. Another time Tonks and Remus arrived via Portkey in the sitting room while Hermione showed Harry how to waltz, which brought about a flurry of off-colour remarks from the purple-haired junior Auror for the rest of the night. Most recently and quite finally, Hermione's attempt to cook dinner set off the smoke alarms. An estate car from the fire brigade was dispatched, and circled the block futilely, unable to find the source of the alarm under the shield of the Fidelus. After Bill Weasley and Mad-Eye sorted the fire captain out with a couple of discrete memory charms, the two teens had written off managing a genuine date until school restarted.

Still and all, Harry wasn't eager to return to the real world of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Prophesies, war, and fate were all stalking him, and Harry didn't really want to set foot back on the path he'd been on for years. And in the interim, Hogwarts was full of well meaning friends who would want to spend time with him or his girlfriend, and he'd gotten all too used to spending whole days simply being near her.

No, the best way to describe Harry's mood was conflicted.

The knock at the front door startled Harry out of his reverie, and he went to let Bill Weasley into the Grangers. Behind him, Hermione and her father were making their goodbyes. As Bill stepped through the doorway, Harry frowned. The Gringotts' curse breaker was carrying a handful of necklaces made from butterbeer caps. Another looped around his neck, jingling just below his dragon-tooth necklace.

Harry shook his hand, and gestured toward the odd assortment of necklaces. "What's this? Did Luna give up her jewelry box?"

Bill's grin widened. "Actually, she did."

Harry blinked, and shook his head to try to clear it. "Alright, that's going to need explanation."

"Portkeys," Bill said, jingling the necklaces. "I'm your ride to Diagon Alley, so Luna very thoughtfully gave up something I could enchant and be sure wouldn't get lost."

Harry shook the knapsack that held all of his and Hermione's belongings shrunk down to doll-sized miniature. "Thanks for thinking of us, but I can Apparate and use magic, remember. I'll jut side-along Hermione, and-"

"Go nowhere fast." Bill dropped the necklaces over Harry's head. "First, the whole Alley's been warded against Apparation. Secondly, so has Platform 9 and 3/4. Thirdly, to the best of my knowledge you've never done a side-along. It's a lot more tricky, and not something you want to try out for the first time over a long distance. The phrase you're hunting for is 'Multi-Party-Splinching."

Harry flinched. "Okay, Portkeys."

"That's the spirit."

Harry used his off hand to pull one of the necklaces away to take a better look at the dangling caps. He thought for a bit, green eyes bright. "Say Bill, where exactly do these drop us?"

"There's two for each of you," Bill answered, pulling at the different caps as he spoke. "The two blue caps drop you in Diagon Alley, just off from Gringotts. That's a favor from the Goblins. The green ones go straight to the train platform, and bypass the Muggles. Bit of a good idea, not having you drop out of nowhere in the middle of a crowded Muggle transit station."

Bill stepped back. "So, now I'm off."

Harry looked up in surprise. "What? You're not coming along?"

"Yes and no." Bill shrugged. "I'll be going with Ron, Ginny and Luna. I think you and Hermione can look after yourselves, hmm? Without getting into too much mischief?"

Harry smiled widely, affecting a patently false expression of innocence. "Of course. I don't know why people think I go looking for trouble."

Bill just shook his head, and stepped back to clear the doorway before Disapparating.

Harry held out a hand. "Wait! Can you take Hedwig and Crookshanks? I don't want to try to take them along on a Portkey."

"Sure thing," Bill said as he bent to grab Crookshanks' cat carrier. "That's a certain recipe for a month of hairballs on your bed. But I think Hedwig might prefer to fly on her own, yes?"

Hedwig hooted, then clicked her sharp beak. Harry smiled at her. "Well, I see what you vote for. I'll catch up with you at Hogwarts. Just don't show off for the castle owls too much, alright?"

Hedwig hopped nimbly from her cage, and nipped Harry affectionately on the finger. Her huge white wings were nearly silent as she launched herself into the air, though the downdraft was enough to ruffle both men's hair. Harry quietly shrunk his familiar's cage and tucked it into his backpack.

Crookshanks meowed crankily as Bill adjusted his grip on the cat carrier. "I'll just drop this one off at the castle before I round up the Weasley clan. And I thought Ron was kidding when he said Hermione picked herself up a very small lion for a pet."

With that, Bill disappeared with a pop.

Harry turned back, and went to join Hermione and her father by the fireplace.

Hermione fingered Harry's new fashion statements. "Bill showed up to give you necklaces? Are these Portkeys, or should I worry about you fancying someone older."

"Well, technically you are older than me," Harry responded. Hermione tilted her head to glare at him, and Harry continued. "You're right though. They're Portkeys, whenever you're ready to go. Bill's taking Crookshanks straight to the castle, and Hedwig's flying."

Hermione nodded, and Dr. Granger held out his hand for Harry to shake. "It's been good getting to know the boy Hermione's been talking about for so many years."

Harry gave his girlfriend a disbelieving look as he shook her father's hand. Hermione huffed percussively, and tapped her foot. "Honestly! You make it sound like Harry was all I talked about."

"Honestly," Dr. Granger said with a smile, "you make it sound like he wasn't"

This drew the expected eye roll. Dr. Granger clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You take care of yourself. Both of you. I'm taking time off over winter hols, so when you stay here then we can catch up."

Harry smiled. "Sounds brilliant."

Hermione kissed her dad's cheek. "I'll owl, I promise!"

"Go on," Dr. Granger said with a small smile. "I hate long goodbyes."

Harry looped his arm around Hermione and triggered one of the Portkeys. There was a sharp and familiar tug, and Harry felt himself falling sharply toward the landing near Gringotts. Between them, Harry and Hermione managed to avoid tumbling to the ground.

Hermione straighted herself up, and pushed her hair back out of her face. "Didn't I see a Portkey for each of us?"

Harry stuffed the Portkeys into his backpack. "Yeah. But if we share, we have extras we can use later."

Hermione tugged Harry's shirt back into place. "You just wanted an excuse to put your arm around me."

Harry grinned. "You're not the only clever one. Now come on, if we hurry with our school supplies, we'll have time for a date at Florean Fortescue's."

"I think I might actually hurry through a bookseller's for once."

As they walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley, they quickly realized that hurrying wouldn't be difficult in the least. Almost every other store was closed, shuttered, and in some cases actually boarded up. One or two had menacing security trolls slouched in front, picking their irregular teeth and cradling knobby clubs. Gringotts itself had a full contingent of armed and armoured Goblins in ranks before the great golden doors, and nocked arrows followed them from the angled upper windows. Those few people on the Alley moved quickly about their errands, cloaks pulled tight around themselves. The last of the warm summer winds whipped loose newspapers across the nearly empty street.

Hermione dropped Harry's hand to retrieve a few of the littered pages. "'Attacks Slow, Continue,' 'Minister Refuses to Negotiate, Continues to Deny.' Wait, negotiate? And what exactly is Minister Percy denying?"

"I think I've a good idea," Harry answered softly from a few feet away. Hermione ran over to where he stood, looking at a handbill crudely nailed to a shuttered shop front. With an animated Dark Mark coiling and uncoiling across the heading, there could be no doubt it was placed there by the Death Eaters themselves.

"'Harry Potter is Dead!'" Hermione read the page aloud. "'Dumbledore Hides in a School! The Ministry Does Nothing! Surrender to Your New Lord Voldemort, and Peace Will Come to Britain.' Oh, that's rich."

"I guess his wizards brought back the news they got me." Harry shook his head. "Things can't be going well for Riddle, if he thinks that beating teenager is something to crow about. What's next, adverts saying he can steal candy from babies?"

Hermione reached out toward Harry's name printed on the handbill before snatching her hand back as though burned. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Harry, this is serious. Obviously the Ministry isn't doing much good, and Dumbledore has all but retired. He's old, Harry, older than the Lewis Carroll or Wagner. Everything on there is believable. People will think you're dead, Harry! And if they believe that, some of them will believe that maybe they should surrender."

Harry shook himself. "That's ridiculous! Why? What do they think is so important about me?"

"You may not like it, but you're still a symbol." Hermione grabbed his arm. "'Little Harry Potter stopped the last war.' You've heard people say that for years. If people think that you've died, that even you couldn't stand up to Voldemort..."

"For one thing, that's rubbish," Harry snapped. "For another, if it's so bloody important everyone knows I'm alive, why not just tell everyone?"

Hermione snapped one of the tattered sheets of newsprint up between them, forcing Harry to focus on it. "They have, Harry. Minister Percy's been telling everyone you're fine. But no one's seen you in public! Harry, everything he's saying is making it worse. Even the Prophet doesn't believe a word the Ministry's telling them. "

"Ah." When Hermione pulled the newspaper away, she could see how confused and frustrated Harry looked. "So what does this mean?"

"It means," Hermione started before hesitating. "It means you have to go show the flag."

Harry didn't look any less confused. "What?"

"Let people see you're alive and well, give them some hope." Hermione grimaced. "I know you hate it, but a speech wouldn't be amiss."

"Oh no, Hermione." Harry shook his hear hard. He pulled the newspaper out of her hand and pointed to a smaller article. "It says here that nothing's working at finding Voldemort. Scryers, Telepaths, and Divination; everything's a non-starter. What do you say we pick up some books on finding people magically, and... and we can read through them when we get to Hogwarts?"

"Harry!" Hermione's nostrils flared and she tipped her head to one side. "You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working," he asked hopefully.

A raised voice from Ollivander's doorway interrupted their tete-a-tete. "Look! It's Harry Potter!"

"No," Hermione said, turning Harry by the shoulders to face the handful of people running towards them excitedly. "I don't think you'll distract me with books."

Quickly the two teens found themselves at the center of a gaggle of excited witches and wizards, absolutely incomprehensible as they fought to talk over one another. The only things Harry was certain of was that they were happy to see him, and he was terrified of the lot of them.

Hermione leaned in close over his shoulder so she could be heard above the clamour of the rapidly growing crowd. "Say something!"

Harry turned to look wildly at her. "Nothing's coming to mind."

She pushed him forward a step, and silenced the crowd with a loud noise from her wand. Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper in the ensuing quiet. "If ever there were time for the old Mark Twain quote, it would be now."

"What?" Harry shook his head, deciding quickly he didn't have time to get Hermione to explain whatever brilliant and obscure idea she'd come up with. Instead he cleared his throat and started talking. His voice wavered at first, picking up confidence and volume as he progressed. The more he spoke, the less he worried he became about how many people were around, and the more he was caught up in his words.

"Hello. Well, if you're here you can see I'm alive and well. Minister Weasley was telling you the truth about that, and Voldemort was lying about my being, er... dead.

"Oh, please stop flinching when someone says his name. Voldemort. It's not magic, it's just a name. And a false one at that. Voldemort's just a man who hates every one and everything, pretending to be somebody he's not. He's just Tom Marvolo Riddle, an old man who thinks he deserves more than everyone else, and lies and pretends to be someone he's not to get what he wants.

"Over there is a handbill he wrote. Have you read it? He says there will be peace if you just surrender to him. How's that for a lie! How peaceful will it be when he's killing muggleborns, or people like me who wouldn't let him? How peaceful would it be when he demands everything you have, and threatens you if you don't give in again? His thugs, Death Eaters... They're murders, and torturers, foul loathsome excuses for witches and wizards. What do you think he's promised them, to get them to risk their lives for him? Gold? Land? You all, as their slaves? I don't know, but I know letting Death Eaters take what they want from us won't be 'peaceful.'

"Voldemort hasn't stopped me, and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of giving up just to make things easier for him. And I don't expect anyone here to give up, either. It might not be easy to fight back. It's cost us a lot already, and it'll cost us more before the Death Eaters are gone forever. But we have a choice; do what's right, or do what's easy.

"I say we do what's right."