Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 5 - Focusing

When Harry arrived at breakfast the next morning, Mr. Weasley was there. Ron and Ginny were poring over a single copy of The Daily Prophet while Mr. Weasley told the whole story to his wife.

"By the time Ministry aurors arrived," said Mr. Weasley, "it was pretty well over. The attack was on some people who had just come from dinner and were having a bit of window shopping before heading home. In a way, we were lucky about the time of the attack. There weren't many about at that time of night. Still, three dead and seven injured is no small matter."

"Did it look like a werewolf attack?" Harry asked. He knew, in the pit of his stomach already, but couldn't help asking - hoping for a different answer.

Mr. Weasley simply nodded. The porridge Harry had been eating congealed in his stomach and stuck in his throat. Would anyone believe that the attacks weren't really werewolves? Sure, the injured would heal, but no one had ever seen this sort of mess before. Harry had a sudden, horrible vision of Remus surrounded by a wizard lynch mob.

Breakfast was a silent meal after that. Once Ron and Ginny finished reading The Prophet's account of the attack, Ginny pushed the paper over to Harry. Her eyes were wide and her freckles were vivid in her pale face. Reading only the headlines was enough to tell Harry that the outlook wasn't good. The banner headline read,

WEREWOLVES ATTACK DIAGON ALLEY

and there was a list of related articles down the right side of the page which were even more damning.

No Full Moon - Werewolf Physiology Changing?

Is You-Know-Who Involved? Does He Control the Werewolves?

Werewolves Unpredictable - Who Do We Trust?

Harry skimmed the front page, but it didn't offer anything Mr. Weasley hadn't already told them. The inner stories said more. While they did admit the injured would not be permanently affected, there was no mention of Dumbledore's theory that these were not werewolves at all, but mere shells of humans, manipulated to behave like werewolves. Instead, there were accusations against the medical community, implying there had been a cover up hiding the volatility and unpredictable nature of Lycanthropy.

Shortly after breakfast, Mr. Weasley left to return to his office. Charlie arrived at the same time, bringing owl post from The Burrow.

"Oh good," said Mrs. Weasley. "I've been looking forward to Witch Weekly. A bit of light reading can do wonders for your state of mind."

"Gin," said Charlie with a grin, "here's one for you. Looks like Dean Thomas' writing. Shall I read it out for you, then?"

Ginny snatched the note from his hand, giving her brother a nasty look.

"Watch her, you should," commented Ron, meaningfully. "You haven't seen her use the Furnunculus curse yet." Ron shuddered. "Though I don't know what she sees in Thomas, anyway."

"Dean's alright," said Harry, wanting to stop one of Ron's tirades. "Mrs. Weasley, where is Annwyl?"

"Having a bit of a lie in. Last night's meeting was very hard on her. She should be up for dinner this evening," she answered.

Ron then suggested some flying and Harry was glad to agree. His head always felt clearer after a good quidditch workout. Charlie begged off, saying he had some work for Dumbledore, though he wouldn't say what. Ron and Harry set off for the clearing on their own.

In the afternoon, Harry and Ron, joined by Ginny, sat in the big sitting room, it's furnishings returned to their normal state. At first, they talked about the attack in Diagon Alley and about the Order meeting. However, it wasn't long before they had exhausted the subjects. Too little was known and, although Harry felt more in the loop than last year, there was nothing they could do while then waited at headquarters.

"I wish we could find out more about Legilimency," Ginny said, her fingers drumming on her knee. "Harry, are you certain that's all Snape ever told you? Just that it is more than just mind reading?"

"Well, yeah," answered Harry, frowning. "He never really talked to me much in those Occlumency lessons, you know? Mostly, we snapped at one another."

"Oh, drop it," sighed Ron. "We're just thinking in circles now. I say we need to give it a bit of a rest. C'mon and let's have some chess."

Harry suggested Ron and Ginny have the first fame and he would take on the winner. As the two red heads bent over the chess board, Harry sat back, watching, but not really seeing. He was thinking back to the aborted Occlumency lessons.

Harry thought it very possible that Snape had told him a little more about Legilimency, and he simply couldn't recall. He now had an ideal way of retrieving those memories, but Harry was afraid that if he suggested his Contemplation Sphere, Ron and Ginny would want to watch. There were definitely parts of those lessons he didn't feel like sharing with anyone, nor did he feel like explaining that fact. Sometime, when he could find a few moments alone, he'd check his memories in the sphere.

The rest of the afternoon passed in games of chess. Dinnertime brought Mr. Weasley with the latest news and, for the first time since their arrival, Annwyl joined them at the table.

They had all eagerly expected some new information by the end of the day, but found their hopes disappointed. No trace of the attackers had been found. While everyone believed it to be the work of Voldemort, officially, the Ministry was still refusing to comment. It seemed, having finally acknowledged the Dark Lord's return, Fudge had gone as far as he was willing to go. Though the resurrection of the Dark Order was undisputed, there appeared to be no plans to meet the threat posed.

"The good news in all this," said Mr. Weasley, "if you can stretch so far as to call it good, is that people are getting worried. Now that there has been an attack, everyone is asking what the Ministry intends to do."

"But," Mrs. Weasley put in, "if that scares Fudge into some foolish, hasty move..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

When the remark remained unfinished, Ginny spoke.

"What will happen, Mum?"

"Then, Remus and all those like him will find themselves in interment camps," answered Annwyl, coldly. "Of course it will be 'for their own safety.'"

Harry sat frozen as his mind raced through the possibilities. More and even less- justified restrictions - or imprisonment - on the werewolves would make some easy prey for anyone willing to promise them freedom. Voldemort would offer them everything the Ministry had denied them. The public, already largely biased against werewolves, would turn on them entirely. How long before there was a bounty placed on Remus' head, regardless of his unswerving loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order?

The rest of the meal was eaten in a heavy silence and the dark mood did not lift in the warmth of the sitting room fire later. Annwyl had gone straight back to her room from the table. Ginny lay on her stomach on the hearth rug, apparently trying to answer Dean's letter. Mostly, she stared into the flames, brushing her quill absently back and forth across her nose. Mrs. Weasley was knitting another jumper while Ron, Harry and Mr. Weasley tried to feign interest in chess and quidditch talk. No one fooled any of the others, however. The worry was so profound, Harry was surprised he couldn't see it washing about them in great, murky waves. At last, they all gave up and headed to bed.

The next morning was very much the same. In fact, the next several days passed with very little amendment. They did receive word from Remus, saying it seemed safest all around for him to spend the full moon (now only a couple days away) in a dungeon room at Hogwarts Castle. Dumbledore had, apparently, fixed up one, particularly, to accommodate Remus through his transformation with as much comfort and safety as possible.

Harry was relieved that Remus would be safe, but he couldn't help feeling restless and frustrated. The connection between Voldemort and any form of Lycanthropy was something Harry wanted, very much, to discuss with Remus. He was also worried about what new attack might come during the full moon when true werewolves were most dangerous. It was easy to see Harry wasn't the only one worrying.

After three days of this tense waiting, the first of three days of the full moon came. That night might be the night Voldemort tipped his hand. Throughout the day, Harry was restless. He went to the quidditch clearing with Ron and Ginny as usual, but not even flying could keep his worry at bay.

In the afternoon, he sat with his Charms text, trying to complete some of the homework Professor Flitwick had set them at the end of term. However, after reading the description of the wand movements for a weaving charm four times without taking in a word, Harry tossed his textbook aside in disgust.

Annwyl entered the sitting room where Harry had been studying with Ron and Ginny. Noticing the Charms text which had obviously been cast aside, her eyebrow quirked slightly.

"What a peaceful, intellectual scene," she said, idly lifting Harry's book and rifling the pages. "It seems a pity, really, to break it up, but that is precisely what I'm going to do."

The three looked at her blankly, but Annwyl merely turned to go, motioning them to follow. Ginny shrugged and rose, so Ron and Harry followed suit. Annwyl led them into the garden and, reaching an open stretch of grass, turned to face them.

"Now that I am sufficiently recovered, I intend to resume a daily training program. I could pursue this on my own but, in my brief opportunity to observe the three of you, I find you are as much in need of training as myself. Therefore, you will join me."

Harry's eyes narrowed at her tone and Ron's jaw dropped in surprise. It was Ginny who spoke up.

"Er, I wouldn't want to seem forward or anything," she said, her voice just touched with sarcasm, "but would you mind explaining what sort of training? I mean, what if we'd rather not?"

The corners of Annwyl's mouth lifted slightly. "My dear, you have been spending quite a bit of time with your twin brothers, haven't you?" She noted the surprise on Ginny's face. "Yes, I know about Fred and George. You see, in spying for the Order, I found it necessary to become rather well acquainted with the Weasley family. However, those are stories for another day. Right now, to answer your question, Ginny, I intend to teach you to fence."

With a wave of her wand, Annwyl transfigured her clothes. She now wore close-fitting white breeches, tall socks and flexible shoes. Her white jacket was hip length and also fitted with long sleeves and a high, stiff-looking collar. Her right hand was gloved and tucked under her arm, she carried a heavy-looking metal mesh mask, clearly designed to cover all the face and a fair bit of the head. Another wave conjured a long, thin, sword.

"Let's begin with why one learns to fence," said Annwyl. "The physical aspects of fencing are well and good, but a master relies as much on mental agility as physique. Fencing teaches one proper mental focus - an ability to master one's thoughts even in moments of pressure or disarray. Remember, one's mental control must be finely honed and quite connected to one's physical control."

Harry had to admit there was some appeal in what Annwyl was saying. He thought back, reluctantly, to his failed Occlumency lessons. If only he had been able to focus, despite his anger and his dislike of Snape... He glanced over at Ron, whose eyes were bright with interest. He remembered how eager Ron had sounded when Remus had told them of Annwyl's fencing experience. Ginny, too, was listening closely.

Annwyl then began to explain the equipment, transforming their clothes into proper fencing attire as she spoke - breeches and socks to protect the legs and permit movement, flexible rubber-soled shoes for maneuverability, the padded jacket to protect the torso and, last, the mask to protect the face and head along with its bib hanging down to protect the throat. Annwyl then conjured three more weapons which she called foils, showing them how to grip them properly.

Then, she began to work them earnest. She led them in footwork which seemed, to Harry, remarkably like dancing. He felt very awkward, shuffling back and forth in a semi-crouch as Annwyl called for them to advance or retreat. However, he did find that moving in the right direction while maintaining the position of his feet, body and foil required more concentration than he had guessed.

They spent much of the afternoon in the garden advancing, retreating, and even lunging forward with their foils extended. When Annwyl was satisfied they understood the proper movement, she conjured three targets, floating in front of them and set them to lunging, striking the targets with their foils.

Harry had often felt he was quite fit from quidditch practice but the constant demands on his legs, lower back, and even his arm from Annwyl's fencing training was beginning to make him question his fitness. When he dropped into bed that night, his legs aching with fatigue, he felt only gratitude as he dropped easily in to a deep sleep on a night he had not expected to sleep at all.

Much to everyone's surprise, morning came with no new attacks. Reports from various members of the Order were largely notable only for their lack of news. There was still no progress in figuring out how Voldemort's spells worked, but they could, at least, feel glad for the chance to catch their breaths.

Each afternoon, Harry, Ron and Ginny joined Annwyl in the garden for fencing lessons. They had made good progress and were learning the motions of simple attacks and defenses, or parrys, taking turns pairing with one another and with Annwyl.

About a week after the first night of the full moon, Remus returned, thinner and more tired looking, but cheerful. There still had been no new attacks and there had been, as yet, no rash reactions from the Ministry. He came upon them in the garden during a lesson and Harry was so surprised and pleased to see him, he allowed Ginny to complete a rather forceful lunge against him, unchecked.

"Rem... ugh!" Harry grunted as Ginny's foil point landed with precision in his midriff. Rubbing the sore spot vigorously, he tried again. "Remus, when did you get here?" Harry smiled.

"Only just arrived. Wyl, it didn't take you long to rope them in."

Annwyl didn't answer. Instead, she flicked her wand in his direction and went back to drilling Ron on feinting technique. Harry grinned at Remus' surprise. Annwyl's casual movement had transformed his shabby robes into crisp, white fencing garb, complete with a mask, foil and floating target. Remus just stared.

"Well, are you going to get to work or are you going to stand there gaping? I advise working, as that blank expression is exceedingly unflattering." Annwyl called, cheekily.

Remus gave a mock groan and fell into a routine of footwork and lunges like Harry and the others had been doing all week. Harry knew it had been some time since Remus had had such an opportunity, but he was impressed by the older man's obvious grace and strength as he moved lightly back and forth.

Thereafter, Remus joined them in the garden often. His work for the Order kept him away a fair amount, but he joined them as often as possible. Harry found these afternoon sessions very soothing. While he could immerse himself in the techniques, he could, to his surprise, focus himself and push away his worry over the attacks and his grief over Sirius. Even more valuable, perhaps, was the fact that he was too tired at night to have nightmares.

Another week passed in this way with no new attacks or information regarding Voldemort's new tactics. Remus returned after a two day absence bringing a letter for Harry, Ron and Ginny from Hermione. Remus had taken a guard shift at the Granger's house and Hermione took the opportunity to send her letter back with him. Mostly, she wrote of the numerous books she had been reading, preparing for NEWT level courses in the coming year. She had earned 10 OWLs with none below an E and had already begun plotting out study schedules. Still, despite all her studying, she was bored and lonely.

"...It's been lovely having a quiet summer with my parents, but I miss you all

very much. Remus tells me you have all been learning to fence. I wish there was

some way for me to join you. It must be loads of fun and Remus tells me it is very

good for your concentration. Maybe, you all can teach me a few things when we

get back to Hogwarts..."

Later that evening, Remus invited Harry to join him in the garden after supper. Sitting on a stone bench, they watched as the stars began to appear in the twilight. After sitting in companionable silence for awhile, Remus, still looking at the stars began to speak.

"Here it is, past the middle of August already, Harry. You'll be going back to school in less than two weeks and we've hardly had a chance to talk at all."

Harry nodded. He was afraid Remus might want to talk to him about Sirius, but he wasn't sure he really wanted that. It had been so much easier to just keep pushing it back in his mind... but Remus was speaking again.

"Wyl tells me you three have been doing well in your fencing lessons. She thinks she can have you begin some bouting tomorrow. I'm glad you're having this chance to fence, Harry. I want you to really make an effort to learn the mental focus Wyl is teaching you. I think it will help in your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape this coming year."

"My what?" Harry exclaimed in angry surprise. "You're joking, right? Dumbledore doesn't really expect me to go back to that... to Snape?"

"I'm afraid he does," Remus sighed heavily. "Professor Snape is in the best position to know what sort of Legilimency techniques Voldemort favors, plus, Snape is quite adept. Of course, this time, Dumbledore intends to supervise more closely. Don't fret, Harry. I know you don't want this, but you really have to do it. If Voldemort is developing new techniques, you need to prepare some defenses."

Harry didn't answer right away. He frowned thoughtfully at Venus shining brightly in the west. He then turned to look southeast at the brilliant red light which was Mars.

"Mars is unusually bright..." he murmured. "Remus, why do you think my scar didn't hurt me during those attacks?"

"There's been some speculation about that, Harry. Dumbledore believes, and I must say I think he's right, that Voldemort has found a way to block your connection to him, at least partially. However, what with blocking you and this whole soul-imposition magic, he must be draining his power pretty seriously. That could explain this long period of quiet since the Diagon Alley attack. That was a fairly big event. Voldemort must need time to recover before attempting anything like that again."

Harry thought about this for a moment, then turned to another question that had been bothering him for days.

"Remus, do you trust Annwyl?"

It was Remus' turn to not answer immediately. He rose and walked a short way along the garden path and stood, his back to Harry, looking up at Mars, now the brightest point in that part of the sky.

"I don't know. I want to trust her. I want to believe all she'd told us. Certainly, her information about Voldemort is proving accurate. Too accurate, maybe..." He turned to face Harry. "Once, I could trust Annwyl King with my life. Now... just be on your guard, Harry. Just for awhile and maybe, then, we'll know..."

With that, they went back into the house, each lost in thought.

That night, Harry tossed restlessly in his sleep. He awoke often, listening carefully in the darkness as if expecting to hear something unusual. There was only the quiet of the sleeping house - quiet, that is, aside from Ron's snores. Harry had to smile, even as he sighed in frustration. Why doesn't his nose hurt every morning?

When Harry awoke for the seventh time, he saw the gray hint of dawn through the window. Rolling over and stuffing his head under his pillow, he gave one, last, valiant effort for sleep. The familiar vague prickling of his scar kept him restless. As uncomfortable as it had been, receiving Technicolor broadcasts of Voldemort's moments of intense emotion, it had, at least, the advantage of giving him some inkling of when something was happening. Now, he definitely felt, even more, at a disadvantage.

Giving up on sleep at last, Harry dressed quietly and went to the kitchen. When Mrs. Weasley joined him a short while later, he had the table set and the tea steeping.

"You're an early one this morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted him cheerfully. Then, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, said, "You've had a bad night. Anything the matter, dear?"

"Nothing special, Mrs. Weasley, thanks. Just didn't sleep well is all."

Despite a strong cup of tea, however, Harry still felt rather foggy from fatigue. The vague, faraway feeling persisted through the day. Annwyl frowned at his inability to concentrate that afternoon. As Remus had said she would, Annwyl began bouting with them, but even though he had looked forward to this very much, Harry was having too much trouble pulling himself together to really enjoy it.

At dinner, Harry was particularly quiet, picking listlessly at his plate and paying little attention to conversations going on around him. Ron was watching him with a concerned look and finally spoke up.

"Harry, what's wrong with you today, anyway? It's like you're on some other planet."

Harry looked up, trying to focus on his friend's face but his eyes seemed to be playing tricks or something. His vision blurred and Ron's voice seemed to be coming from very far away. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but in that split-second a searing jolt of pain shot through Harry's scar, turning his words into an agonized cry. It was too much - his consciousness fled and slid into darkness.

Harry found himself, to his great surprise, in the high street of Hogsmeade. It was early evening and there were people hurrying from one shop to the next, finishing last errands before returning home.

He walked forward with the odd sensation that it hadn't been his decision to move at all. As he walked, he noticed four others, three men and a woman, fall into step on either side of him. They approached a small group of witches who stood, surrounded by shopping bags, chatting animatedly.

To Harry's horror, he and his four companions barged directly into the group, grabbing the women by the shoulders and striking them with hands that had become, as Harry now saw, vicious-looking claws.

Harry's mind recoiled and he could feel his stomach churning as he saw himself and the others biting and scratching the now helpless women. He realized that, even as his body continued the attack, his mind was forcing him to scream.

NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With a wrenching sensation, Harry seemed to float backwards and away from the bloody fray. As his vision blurred and darkened, he saw bloody, wrestling groups scattered all around the street and the air was thick with the sounds of screaming and the metallic stench of blood.

Slowly, Harry felt his body again, but he still didn't seem to have control over it. He was comfortable, however, so he cautiously opened his eyes. He was in his own bed in the room he was sharing with Ron. Mrs. Weasley was leaning over him, gently sponging his face with something that smelled wonderfully of ginger, clove and orange. Remus sat on the foot of the bed, watching anxiously. Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Annwyl were crowded in the doorway.

"There now, dear, it's alright. Don't try to move just yet." Mrs. Weasley laid a gently restraining hand on Harry's shoulder as he tried, vainly, to stir.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"You collapsed," Remus replied. "It must have been your scar because you were grabbing your forehead and yelling. Harry, did you have any sort of vision?"

"I think so, but I can't really remember... My head hurts."

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke from the door, "maybe after some rest, it'll come back to you. If you feel up to it, we can give your Contemplation Sphere a try, as well."

Remus nodded agreement and rose from the bed, patting Harry's leg encouragingly. Wishing him well, they all turned to go, leaving only Mrs. Weasley in the room with Harry. She poured a glass of water from the decanter on the bedside table and added six drops of a bright purple liquid from a small vial.

"Here, Harry. Drink this down now. It should help with that headache and let you relax." She helped Harry raise himself up enough to drink. "Now, just rest. We can talk about all this in the morning."

Mrs. Weasley kept Harry in bed much of the next morning and really, he felt too worn out to argue much. However, by noon, Harry was feeling well enough to be getting restless. Fortunately, his improvement satisfied Mrs. Weasley and Harry was allowed to join the others at lunch.

"Well, Harry," said Remus, "you're looking more yourself today. How's the memory?"

Harry shook his head in answer. "I can't remember any of the vision, but I know there was one."

"Dumbledore will be here after lunch," replied Remus. "When he gets here, I think we'll try Arthur's suggestion and use your Contemplation Sphere."

The headmaster arrived as the table was being cleared. He greeted everyone pleasantly and gave Annwyl a fond hug, but his worry was plain to see.

"Remus, Arthur, if you would be so good as to join me in the sitting room while Harry fetches his Contemplation Sphere, I believe we have much to discuss."

Harry retrieved the sphere and returned to the sitting room. The three men waiting for him were very grim.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, gently, "I realize this will be tiring for you and the memory of your vision is unlikely to be a pleasant one, but it is imperative that we know what you saw last night."

Harry nodded and sat on a low stool facing the three men. Supporting the silvery ball on his outstretched palms, he gathered his concentration and spoke.

"Memorarae last night's vision."

The silver contents swirled and cleared, showing the Hogsmeade street as Harry had seen it. Harry felt all his horror and dread returning as the memory progressed. By the time the memory had played out and the sphere had faded back to the swirl of silver, Harry was pale and shaking. The three men facing Harry had watched the entire memory without comment. Arthur Weasley was the first to speak.

"It looks as though Harry's vision of this attack was much like his vision of the attack on me last winter. I thought Voldemort was blocking Harry from this sort of thing."

Harry looked questioningly at Dumbledore. "Then, this really happened."

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "I take it you haven't seen this morning's edition of The Daily Prophet, Harry. To answer you, Arthur, I suspect that Voldemort's ability to block Harry diminishes when his power is heavily taxed. It seems he was manipulating at least fifteen soul-imposed victims last evening. Evidently, the power expenditure was too great for him to sufficiently block Harry. How does your scar feel today, Harry?"

"It's throbbing some, sir, but nothing like last night."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, my boy, I certainly appreciate your help. It has been... very enlightening. However, I can see that this has been a draining session for you. The Memorarae charm requires a great deal of the caster, I know. By the by, Arthur, I congratulate you and Molly and on the excellent charm casting. Harry's Contemplation Sphere is one of the most responsive I've ever seen. The clarity of image is extraordinary. Harry, I suggest you rejoin Mr. and Miss Weasley. They have, no doubt, completed their session with Annwyl by now and will be most impatient to see you."

Harry rose and, nodding politely to the others, left the room. He considered lingering in the hallway outside the sitting room door, but figured Dumbledore would have anticipated that. Sure enough, the Everyflavor bean he pulled from his pocket and flicked at the door sailed right off, making no contact with the panels. So, Dumbledore had, in fact, set an Imperturbable Charm. Harry set off, instead, to find Ron and Ginny.

They were still in the garden although the training session was over and Annwyl had left them. Ron lay in the shade of a tree, chewing a grass stem while Ginny was nearby with a textbook open before her. Ron sat up and beckoned eagerly when he saw Harry approaching.

"Harry, there you are! Are you alright, mate? You look a bit peaky, you know?"

"I'm okay," Harry answered, dropping down in the shade beside them. "Just sort of tired from that Memorarae charm and this headache."

Harry proceeded to tell them all that had happened in his meeting with Dumbledore. However, when he began to describe the attack, Ron held up a hand.

"You don't have to go through it again," he said with unexpected compassion. "It was like when you saw the attack on Dad, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, relieved that he would not have to relive that particular memory, yet again. Ginny had looked up from her book at the beginning of Harry's story and was staring at him, thoughtfully.

"Ginny, what are you staring at?" Harry asked, irritably.

"You were pretty tired yesterday," was her only answer.

"Yeah, I was, so?"

"I think I'm going to get Tonks or Remus to get a letter to Hermione."

As she picked up her book and disappeared into the house, Ron and Harry just looked at one another and shrugged.

Fatigue and the lingering headache sent Harry to bed early that evening, but he next day he resumed training with Annwyl and the others. He was glad for the discipline which prevented him dwelling on his memories of the Hogsmeade attack.

After the initial report of the attack in the paper, there was nothing new to be said. As in the attack in Diagon Alley, no trace of the culprits had been found. In the absence of actual news, the paper was, again, resorting to wild theories regarding werewolf physiology. The latest suggestion was that werewolves were reacting to tides as well as the full moon.

A week passed with still no new information. Mr. Weasley made the trip to Diagon Alley to get their school books and supplies since it didn't seem wise for Harry to be away from the protective wards of Order Headquarters. Harry was disappointed as it had been a couple of years since his last visit and he had been looking forward to seeing Fred and George's new shop, but he knew there wasn't any point in arguing.

At last, it was the evening of August 31. Tomorrow, they would travel by portkey to a safe location outside London. From there, they would travel to King's Cross by muggle taxi. Remus had gone to the Granger's to be on hand to escort Hermione to platform 9 ¾ in the morning.

Harry and Ron were in their room packing when Harry opened the package of books Mr. Weasley had brought from Flourish and Blotts.

"Uh oh. Ron, I think your dad misunderstood," said Harry, holding up a Potions text. "I missed NEWT level Potions."

"Well, then he misunderstood for me, too," replied Ron, brandishing his own copy of the text. "Let's go ask."

They found Mr. Weasley in the sitting room and posed their question.

"Ah, well," Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit. "You see there had to be a bit of a shuffle in the faculty. The headmaster had thought to bring Remus back to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but with anti-werewolf sentiment growing greater than ever, well, you can imagine. Still, there needed to be a reliable person in the position, someone powerful, preferably a member of the Order. So, the headmaster appointed Professor Snape."

"WHAT?" exclaimed both boys together.

"Dumbledore's slipped a cog, Dad!"

"Now, now," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, "I realize it takes some getting used to, but it solves some problems, really. Of course, there is a new Potions professor - Annwyl, in fact, and she accepts students with Es on their OWLs. So, there's your answer."

"But, Mr. Weasley, why wouldn't Annwyl teach Defense? I mean, she was an auror and all," Harry objected.

"Well, she'd been gone so long, you see. We can't really call her a member of the Order and it is such an important subject these days..."

"Dad, don't you believe her story?" cut in Ron, bluntly.

"I don't have and answer for you, Ron. I just don't know what to think."

Harry thought for a moment. "Is she qualified to teach Potions?" He couldn't help worrying about the idea of Annwyl, someone not entirely trustworthy, coming to Hogwarts.

"Oh, certainly. She's quite an able Potions brewer. Took top NEWTs, I understand. I'm sure she will do quite well."

"So long as it isn't Transfiguration," Annwyl's voice spoke from the door behind them. "Or Divination, or Arithmancy either, for that matter." She gave a slight smile. "Probably ought to steer clear of History, as well. Well, at least it will be easy for the Order to keep and eye on me, this way." She held up a hand to stifle Mr. Weasley's polite objections. "Nonsense, Arthur. Of course, you'll be watching me. I expected nothing less. I just came in to say goodbye. I'm taking a portkey to Hogwarts tonight so I can get settled. Ron, Harry, I guess you'll have to get used to Professor King." She smiled a grim sort of smile and left them.

Harry lay awake quite awhile that night. Tomorrow, he'd be back at Hogwarts, at last. However, Snape was finally getting his chance at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and the new Potions professor wasn't to be trusted any more than the previous one - probably less.

Well, thought Harry, no one ever said it would be a quiet year.