Harry Potter and the Ancient Secret of War

Chapter Five

The Signs of Things to Come

Minerva McGonagall sat at the desk in her office, doing her work. She had been doing this since the last twenty years, ever since she had been appointed Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. It was her job to send the school letters to all the students. She quite enjoyed this work. It was not enough to keep her busy during the vacations and being the workaholic that she was, Professor McGonagall thought that some work was at least better than none.

However, this year around, it was different. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and besides her normal work, she did some voluntary work for the Order as well. Not that she minded though. But at seventy, and two months after she had recovered from a potentially fatal attack, Professor McGonagall found herself behind schedule for the first time in her life. She was the kind of person whom students like Hermione Granger looked to as role models and she did not think that being late would serve a good influence for the students.

However, late as she was, Professor McGonagall couldn't help it. The Ministry had made a mess of the O.W.L. results and so, it was left to her to cope with the delay and send letters to the sixth-year students nearly one month behind schedule. Most wouldn't really mind, thinking that it was best if the results were delayed, but few would definitely take notice. At this, the name of Hermione Granger popped into her mind. But then again, with all that was going on, maybe she was too occupied to notice, Professor McGonagall thought.

Normally, Professor McGonagall would use magic to do all the work with the letters. But for the fifth and seventh years, she always made it a point to skip the routine and do everything the Muggle way. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction reviewing the performances of all these students that she had taught over the years. Sure, not all the students did very well, but Professor McGonagall had been in the profession of teaching long enough to know that results did not convey the full meaning of what a student had learnt at school.

She smiled to herself as she thought this. The names of Fred and George Weasley came to her mind. They had each got three owls only during their fifth year and had left school without appearing for the NEWTs last year - their seventh and last at Hogwarts. And yet, here they were, doing very well for themselves in the outside world. Their shop, Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, located at 92, Diagon Alley, was creating ripples in the wizarding world. (They had long overtaken Zonko's as the most popular wizard joke shop in the whole of England and had even started exporting their goods) Professor McGonagall had been to their shop once that summer, not for making any purchases but because the Weasley twins had specially invited her to the opening of their summer collection of joke items. And she had to admit that although the nature of the things on display didn't please her to say in the least, they were indeed, good specimens of magic. Professor McGonagall shook her head. The twins had joined the Order about a month ago and to her surprise, were very serious and helpful when it came to its affairs. Clearly, there was a part of them that knew when it was fine to be funny and when they had to be dead serious.

Professor McGonagall came upon her next letter. It read 'Granger, Hermione' at the top. Unlike the usual letters that were sent for all students, the letters for the fifth and seventh year students were also accompanied by transcripts of their performance in various exams. Professor McGonagall looked the letter up and down and a smile made its appearance in the corner of her mouth. She could trust Miss Granger to perform as well as she did. She had got herself eighteen owls and in the process, had created a new school record. So much so for the fact that Professor McGonagall had thought her own record of sixteen owls couldn't be beaten.

She took the letter folded it neatly and put it an envelop that had Hermione's address on it. She also added to the envelope, the usual letter informing the students about the re-opening of Hogwarts and the book list. After that, she sealed the envelop using her magic and put it on her 'out' tray. The owls would take care of the deliveries later.

After some more time of examining each letter individually to detect any flaws and sealing them up, Professor McGonagall came upon the one document she had wanted to see all along. The name 'Potter, Harry' was written over the transcript and Professor McGonagall looked it up and down with the hawk-like look that many of her students had come to be wary of over the years. She was quite surprised by what she saw. So much so, that she did not see a sallow-faced man with greasy, black hair enter her office and approach her desk.

"Professor McGonagall?" came the voice of Severus Snape. "Still busy with work, I see?"

Severus Snape had great respect for Professor McGonagall. She, along with Professor Dumbledore, was one of the two persons in the world against whom he felt no grievance. Even when he was at school, she was probably the only one who saw James Potter and his gang in true light - like that of mischief-makers. Over the years, she had become a big sister of sorts for him, and although the students felt that the two had great animosity, due to the fact that they were the Heads of Houses of the two most competitive houses at Hogwarts, they were in reality, good friends.

Hearing Snape, Professor McGonagall looked up and said, "Severus! How very surprising to see you! I don't suppose it is time for the meeting yet." She was referring to the Order meeting that she was supposed to attend with Dumbledore and Snape that evening.

"In fact, it is," Snape replied. Then with a pause, he smirked, "Tell me, what has made always punctual Professor McGonagall forget about time?"

McGonagall did not seem to mind in the least as she heard Snape's remark. She was quite used to his sarcastic comments and knew better than to take them to heart.

"You would too," she replied in a business like manner, "if you saw this."

She handed over Harry's transcript to Snape. A faint look of surprise registered itself on his normally expressionless face as he scanned the document up and down.

"I must admit," he said slowly, "this is surprising, to say in the least."

"I wouldn't think so," Professor McGonagall said, "After all, his parents were just brilliant, I wouldn't be surprised if he had come into his own this time around."

"You must be joking," Snape continued in the same silky dry voice, "With all that he had done last year and with all that he had on mind, I would have been surprised if he even got one owl. And now I see his official transcript in my hand, telling me that he has got no less than, well, twelve owls!"

"I think I will have to talk to Dumbledore...," Professor McGonagall began, but stopped as Dumbledore's voice floated in from the doorway and Dumbledore himself made his way towards her desk.

"Talk to me about what?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He walked up to the desk. Professor McGonagall asked him, "Shall I draw you a chair?"

"No," Dumbledore answered, "I think I will do that myself."

With that, he waved his wand and conjured a chair out of thin air. It was quite a comfortable and squashy armchair and Dumbledore seated himself firmly upon it. Once seated, he looked first at McGonagall and then at Snape.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked again.

"Who else, Albus? About Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall replied dryly.

"What is it now?" Dumbledore asked.

"You remember how you vetoed my recommendation for making him a prefect last year. Then you did the same with my recommendation for making him the Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year, despite the fact that he is the only one on the team who has been playing for more than one year?" Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore. He nodded slightly. Obviously, he remembered it well. Snape, meanwhile, continued listening, without saying a word.

"Why are you saying this? Isn't Mr Weasley carrying out his duties well?" Dumbledore asked.

Professor McGonagall continued, "No, Mr Weasley is okay. It's nothing against him. But I must say that I had told you then and I tell you even now that not making Harry a prefect and now, not giving him a chance to lead the Gryffindor Quidditch team were both wrong decisions on your part."

"And why would you say so?"

"Because the boy obviously has a knack for leading, Albus. And not only that, even his grades have picked up. Look! He has got twelve OWLs. That is more than anyone else has got, except for Miss Granger. That too, at a time when he was obviously not concentrating fully on his studies. You cannot deny it, Albus. He has got considerable talent..."

Dumbledore interrupted, "I never once have questioned his talent."

Professor McGonagall however continued, "I never said that you did. All I am trying to say is that he has finally started realizing what he is capable of. He is finally starting to use his potential and I think we ought to show more faith in him."

"Minerva, I don't think there has ever been any time when we have failed to show faith in Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Too much faith," Snape muttered in a whisper that was clearly audible.

"Excuse me, did you say anything, Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked him.

"No," Snape replied, "But now that this has come up, I would like to say, Headmaster, that although I believe Potter, being the mischief-maker that he is, should not be given any school responsibility, I do believe that he has done curiously well in these exams."

"And what may you mean by that?" Dumbledore asked him, fixing his blue eyes on Snape's black ones.

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but Professor McGonagall spoke before he could, "What Severus means, Albus, is that we believe it is time for Harry to step up and do what he has been destined to do."

"And may I know what he has been destined to do?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly.

"You know it yourself. It was you who told the Order," Professor McGonagall replied.

"Then may I hear it again, just to make sure I have not forgotten any of it?" Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall dropped her voice into a hoarse whisper and said, "You said that Harry is the one who will defeat Vv - I mean, You-Know-Who."

"Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said, "May I remind you that I said that Harry is the only one who can defeat Voldemort? The prophecy doesn't say that he will, it only says that he can. And may I also ask you what you are implying by telling me all this?"

"What I am implying, Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "is that I think Harry is ready."

A long moment of silence prevailed in the room after Professor McGonagall said this. It was only broken by the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace. Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

Finally, Snape broke the silence and said, "Headmaster, I think Professor McGonagall is right. I think Potter is ready. And I don't believe that there can be a better opportunity to fulfil the terms of the prophecy than this. The mind of the Dark Lord is shrouded with doubt. He overestimates Potter. He thinks that Potter is more powerful than him. All this has made him overcautious. Let us strike now that the iron is hot."

"Minerva, Severus, we are at war here," Dumbledore said, "And the decision on the fate of a war, especially one with so much at stake here, cannot be taken by a few persons alone in a few minutes, even as the one who has the power to end all this is unaware of everything."

"War! War! That is what we have been at for so long," Snape replied smoothly, "The war was never over, Headmaster. It has now gone on too long. Everyone is tired of it. If it stretches any longer, everybody's patience will begin to wane. What would you do then?"

"The desire for the end to come has clouded your rational thinking, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "I have said it repeatedly and I will say it again now, I do not think that Harry is ready. Not yet."

"Then when will he be ready?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"He will be ready when he has to be," Dumbledore replied. "I don't know when that will be, but one thing that I know is that it isn't now. No, it isn't. But at the same time, I will also say this, he has started on that path - the path on which he will get all that he needs to fulfil the prophecy. He has just started looking beyond the apparent and into all that lies underneath. Soon, he may succeed in getting the powers that he needs to fight Voldemort as an equal. But though that time is approaching, it is not now."

"Fifty years ago, I took some actions in haste and that haste proved very costly. Fifty years ago, I made a mistake - a mistake for which the whole wizarding world is having to suffer till today. And I don't want to repeat it. I will not hasten the end in the hope of getting it to come soon. I will not interfere with things as they are. No, if Harry needs time to be ready, I will give it to him."

"Don't you think you care too much for him?" Snape asked.

"Call it what you may," Dumbledore replied, "If this is care, then let it be said that I care for a person whom I would trust with my life. I care for a person whom, I trust, can find a solution to all this turmoil. And I would also advise you to put aside the thoughts of your rivalry with James and look at Harry for who he is." Dumbledore put a stern emphasis on the last sentence as he spoke.

Snape, however, didn't seem to hear what Dumbledore had just said.

"Don't you think your trust is misplaced and misdirected?" Snape asked again. But as soon as he asked the question, he regretted it, for Dumbledore's eyes became lifeless and he looked at him with a stony expression on his face.

He said slowly, emphasizing each and every word, "I do not think, Severus, that it is your wont to question me about who I trust. Many people may not have believed in the persons I trust, but they have always proved me right. And remember what happened fifteen years ago. When no one believed in someone, I trusted him."

At this, Dumbledore looked directly into Snape's eyes and all colour drained from his face. Dumbledore turned around and said loudly, "This has taken far too long. I think we must all get going. We have a meeting to attend."

Just as Dumbledore said this, the fireplace came to life and the head of Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the fire, "Albus," he panted, sounding as if he had just run a marathon, "The Granger home, it has been attacked."

* * * * *

'Why do things always have to be so complicated?' thought Ronald Weasley, as he lay back on his bed in his room at 12, Grimmauld Place. It was the same room that he had shared with Harry for about two months during the last year. The room was pretty much like what it had been then, except for one fact - the fact being that the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus - a great-great-grandfather of Sirius had become unusually quiet. Harry had told Ron and Hermione about how Phineas (he was immortalised as a portrait in the office of the Hogwarts Headmaster) had taken in the news of Sirius' death. (That was just about the only thing that Harry had let his friends in on about his talk with Dumbledore that night.) Ron believed that he had not yet gotten over the death of the last of his descendants.

Ron had been in this miserable house along with his family for the last three days - ever since they had abruptly left Harry's birthday party. Once there, he had been left alone with his sister Ginny in the house for a couple of hours. From what he had gathered, Ron realized that the rest of his family as well as some other members of the Order of the Phoenix had gone off to fight a group of Death Eaters somewhere. If Ron had known that 'that somewhere' was his home, he'd definitely have had a fit, but of course, he didn't know all this, not at that time. Neither did Ginny. He had endured the excruciating wait for more than two hours, before anyone returned. In the meantime, Ginny had already fallen asleep, tired from all the partying they had done earlier in the day.

The miserable house did nothing to cheer Ron up. Personally, he had always disliked this house filled with stuff related to Dark Magic, a nasty house elf and (to Ron, the nastiest things of all!) spiders. In the beginning, he had thought that the house was quite 'cool' - it was definitely bigger than the Burrow and his room was undoubtedly bigger. But soon, he had found out that bigger is definitely not always better. During his stay in the house during last year, Ron did not mind the house that much, especially since Harry and Hermione had been there with him. But now, having to wait there alone, without an inkling of information as to what was going on, Ron could not wait to get out of this dark, dusty house and breathe the open air again.

It was two hours before anyone came back to Headquarters. Whoever it was rang the doorbell and this resulted in Sirius' mother starting to scream again. Apparently, she hadn't been in the least affected by the news of her older son's death and was still as nasty as ever. Ron, however, ignored her shouts just then and without even bothering to pull back the curtains over her portrait, he ran to the door. In the way, he tripped over the umbrella stand made from a troll's severed leg. This only served the purpose of adding to the din. As he opened the door, Ron found himself thinking that all the people outside would probably be prepared for a Death Eater attack, hearing all the noise that had been produced inside.

However, when he opened the door, Ron faced only a group of tired, haggard looking wizards and witches. They had obviously returned after the fight and from their tired yet cheerful demeanour, it was clear that they had won, at least this time. They seemed apparently unaware of all the din that was going on inside. They entered and conjured up some dinner for all of them. Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt were there along with his parents and brothers (except for Percy, who had apologised to his parents and was now trying for a full reconciliation. He had shifted into the Burrow with them now and things were almost back to normal, although they were just a bit strained).

From what Ron gathered, he heard that the Burrow had been attacked by a group of Death Eaters. He did not know why. He did not know that the attack had been planned to coincide with the attack on Hermione's home. Ron felt strangely happy. He'd never realized how much he loved his house until then, at a time when it could have been destroyed and all of them could have been killed.

But the joy was short-lived as his father told him about the attack on Hermione's parents and the critical condition that they were in. Ron wanted to go and visit Hermione but his parents as well as the other Order members (who irritatingly included his twin brothers as well). So, Ron had to be content with hearing bits and snippets of news from here and there while he was stuck up in this dark and gloomy house.

'Why do things have to be so complicated?' he thought as he lay in his bed. 'I want to be with Hermione, tell her I am sorry and help her, but all I get is to be stuck up in this house for three days, without any news of what is happening. How I hate being a Weasley, being driven around in a pack with my brothers and sisters!'

'I wish I were in Harry's place; I would at least know what is going on, I would at least be with Hermione,' he wished for the umpteenth time. And then suddenly it hit him, an idea! An idea that could earn him the scorn of everyone but Ron felt that it was worth it.

So, he quickly and quietly went downstairs. Once in the living room, he picked up a handful of Floo powder and flooed to a place in Hermione's neighbourhood. It was a wizarding shop that sold all kind of junk (to be honest). The proprietor of the shop was not there and Ron was thankful for that. He did not want anyone to ask him what he was doing there at this late hour.

Ron made his way up to Hermione's home. He had been to her house once, when they had gone out together. Ron tried not to remember what happened at their date as he made his way slowly through the darkness.

Finally, he reached Hermione's house. He stood nervously on the porch and fidgeted around a bit with the doorbell. That proved costly, for Ron did not see a group of black hooded and cloaked figures lurking nearby. One of them directed a spell at him. He did not feel anything, but just fell onto the porch. And before anyone knew, another of the figures sent a powerful spell at the door and the door burst open, letting out the light inside the house.

* * * * *

Lupin, Tonks and Nick were sitting comfortably downstairs in the living room as they saw Hermione and then, Harry go upstairs.

"Any bet for what's going on between them?" Tonks asked after sometime.

"Who?" Lupin asked her back.

"Who else? Harry and Hermione." Tonks replied.

"I think, Nymphadora, it is better that we don't get involved in this. Harry is sixteen now and Hermione will be as well in a few days. I don't think it is a good idea for us to interfere in this. If there is anything, they are mature enough to realize it and act accordingly," Lupin lectured.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me that. They have been hanging around each other for the last five years and when they have finally noticed each other, you tell me to buzz off! That will just not do," Tonks muttered.

Nick, who had been quiet till now, said, "I don't know them well, to say in the least, but if you ask me, I think -"

But what he thought, no one was able to tell afterwards because just then, the door to the house flew open with a loud bang and a group of Death Eaters entered and it started raining spells.

It was really fortunate that all three of them were very quick, with both their wands and their movement. They quickly got over the initial shock of the Death Eater attack and started trying to hit them with their spells in turn.

A battle ensued, then and there, as the three Order members tried to fight off those five Death Eaters. Meanwhile, no one was aware of the fact that Ron Weasley was lying on the porch, injured.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, as the duels progressed downstairs, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, their wands out before them.

"What do you think it is?" Harry asked her.

She shook her head. Clearly, she had as little idea as he did. Suddenly, they hear Tonks scream out, "STUPEFY!"

That was all the cue that Harry and Hermione needed. They sprinted down the stairs and into the living room. There they were met with sight that they had feared. Lupin and Nick were fighting two Death Eaters at once, while Tonks was fighting one that was almost double her size.

Upon seeing the Death Eaters, Hermione joined the fray quickly, but Harry stood there, rooted to his place.

'Something is wrong. These are not Death Eaters,' a small voice in his head told him.

'But they are dressed like Death Eaters,' the rest of his brain reasoned.

'Maybe they are just an illusion, created by Voldemort. Maybe they aren't real then,' the small voice said again.

At this, Harry became convinced that it was indeed the case. He wondered just what to do. Just then, a spell came flying by him and missed by millimetres.

'That was close,' thought Harry, 'What should I do now though?'

Even as he said this, he did not move from the spot where he was standing. Hermione was getting really worried about what was happening to him, even as she conjured up a shield to protect herself from her opponent's spell.

Suddenly, Harry found himself trying to remove the illusion. As he did so, the voice in the back of his head egged him on, 'Yes, think they are not there. Believe in that, like you believed that the vision you saw today was a lie. Look at the room, but remove them from it. Believe in what you think, and not in the illusion. Use your mind.'

Harry found himself thinking more forcefully as time passed. Suddenly, the sensation passed over and Harry found himself looking at the living room. But how different it was from the living room of a few moments ago.

Lupin was getting up from the floor, dusting his robes as he did so. He seemed largely healthy, maybe it was the werewolf inside him that protected him as such. Tonks too, was not looking bad, if you discounted the gash on her arm. Nick was all right, although he was sweating from the encounter that they just had. Hermione looked a bit shaken, but was unscathed otherwise. Apparently, the Death Eaters had caused a lot of damage. Many things including the TV and several of the photos kept on the mantelpiece were broken.

Death Eaters? At this thought, Harry looked closely amidst the pile of rubbish that had been the result of all the duelling that had gone on. There he could discern clearly the shapes of five Death Eaters lying, apparently unconscious.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "We were just fighting each of them and suddenly, they dropped to the ground and fell unconscious."

The others went around now, checking the Death Eaters and removing their hoods and masks to reveal their identity. But Harry still stood there, wondering. What had happened to the Death Eaters? And more importantly, what was happening to him? He had taken the Death Eaters to be a mere illusion and yet here they were, lying unconscious before him but in flesh and blood. How did it happen? Was he responsible? Had he done this to them?

Harry was abruptly brought out of his musings as Hermione shrieked, "There is someone out there, on the porch."

The five of them went slowly to the porch, fearing another attack that might happen. But when they reached the porch, Harry was stunned as were all others. Lying on the ground before them was the apparently lifeless body of Ron Weasley.

Nick regained his composure, probably either because he was a trained Healer and his professional capabilities came to the fore on seeing this or because he didn't know Ron as well as the others. He bent down and felt for Ron's breathing. He looked up at the others and said, "He is just stunned. Otherwise he's okay and yes, breathing. He's alive."

Those words seemed to bring everyone out of their shocked states. Lupin quickly pointed his wand at Ron and muttered, "Mobilicorpus!"

At that, Ron's body floated up in the air as if he was supported by an invisible stretcher. They took him inside to the room where Harry was sleeping and made him to lay on Harry's bed. Lupin looked at Tonks and said, "Inform everyone at Headquarters regarding what has happened."

She nodded and made her way out of the room, undoubtedly to apparate from there. Then Lupin turned to Nick and asked, "What do we do now?"

"Nothing," he replied, "Not for the time being. We have to first ascertain whether we can use magic on him and then I will do the 'enervate' spell."

Lupin nodded and then spoke to Harry and Hermione, "Undoubtedly, you want to be with your best friend. In case you need any of us, we will be downstairs."

After Nick and Lupin had gone away, Hermione asked, "Harry, do you think he will be all right."

Harry went to Hermione and pulled her in a hug. He said, "Yes, of course. You heard Nick. He'll be okay."

Hermione buried her head in Harry's shoulders. Slowly, she pulled away from him, as if she was doing so with great reluctance.

"Harry," she said. "We've to tell Ron about...you and me...about us."

"Not now."

"If not now, then when? Harry, he's our best friend. He has got the right to know. And if he finds out from anyone else, then he will never speak to us again."

"Herm, please. I don't think I am ready to tell anyone. Please don't feel bad but I am confused about all this. I am even confused about our relationship. I need time to think things out."

"I will give you time, Harry. All the time that you need. But couldn't we just tell him, as if it is just nothing more than a plain boyfriend-girlfriend thing?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "I don't think I could tell anyone that especially since it would be a lie, especially since I think-"

With that, Harry broke off and looked straight into Hermione's eyes. And for the first time, Hermione saw something there that she never had seen in those eyes - a feeling of true love.

"Think what, Harry?" she asked him.

But he didn't answer her and said instead, "Never mind. But promise me Hermione, that you will wait till I am ready to tell everyone this."

Hermione nodded and said softly, "I promise."

With that, Harry swept her into her arms and gave her a long, sweet kiss on the lips. Suddenly, they heard a low moaning sound emanating from Ron's direction. Hermione pulled away before he could give her another one and said, "I think we should go and tell Nick."

Harry nodded and they both went off together downstairs with Hermione thinking, 'This is going to be a very interesting year.'

* * * * *

Albus Dumbledore stared into the fire into the face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He never allowed himself to be surprised, yet he had to admit that he was surprised with this news. He asked Kingsley, "What happened?"

Kingsley told him everything. Even as he listened to him, Dumbledore couldn't help but appreciate the reason why Kingsley was one of the top Aurors in the Ministry. He was always concise with his words and knew when to speak and when to attack. It was the former ability that he was exhibiting as he told Albus all that Tonks had reported at the Headquarters.

"Is Mr Weasley okay?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Kingsley replied, "Nick checked him up. Tonks said that he is just stunned and Nick told to wait before using 'Enervate' on him."

"The ones who attacked them - were they real Death Eaters?" Snape asked, coming to the fore.

"Yes," Kingsley replied, "They were undoubtedly so. But Tonks tells me that Potter apparently didn't believe so."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "What did he do?" he asked.

Kingsley replied, "Apparently, he just stood there, muttering something like 'They're not real'. And then something happened as the Death Eaters suddenly collapsed on the floor."

Dumbledore nodded. He said, "I understand all the Weasleys are by now at the Grangers."

Kingsley nodded.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Tell them to be there for tonight and then tomorrow, they will have to return to the Headquarters. And Kingsley, (his voice became softer and more thoughtful as he said this) go and check whether they really are Death Eaters."

Kingsley understood what Dumbledore meant. He wanted him to check the attackers' left arm. If they were Death Eaters, the Dark Mark would definitely be imprinted there. With an almost imperceptible nod of his head, he went and the fireplace returned to normal.

After Kingsley departed from the fire, Dumbledore turned around to find Snape and McGonagall looking closely at him.

"How do you think he did it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"What?" Dumbledore asked as if he didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening,

"You know what I am talking about. How did Harry get rid of the Death Eaters? And that too, without his wand? How did he learn wandless magic? What does this mean?" McGonagall asked.

"It means that he used his mind for doing magic and not just his wand," Dumbledore replied slowly. And then, he continued, emphasizing every word that he was saying, "It means that Harry is finally starting to believe...It means that he is finally and firmly on the path which may take him to the ancient powers that he can get."

With this, Dumbledore looked at both the professors. But by the looks on their faces, it was clear that neither of them understood what he meant.

* * * * *

Chapter Six

The Sign of the Raven

Harry and Hermione fell asleep in each other's arms that night as they waited for Ron to awake. Ron had been placed in the room that Harry had been sleeping in since he had arrived there at Hermione's house. It was quite a crowd. All the Weasleys were there, along with Nick and Lupin. Tonks, meanwhile, had excused herself from the scene, saying that she had been given an urgent assignment by the Ministry. Kingsley had dropped by at about midnight and exchanged a few words with Lupin and Mr Weasley, after taking them into a corner.

They had waited well into the night. The room was too cluttered with so many people in there. So, Mrs Weasley, after about an hour had passed, ordered every one of her children to go back to Grimmauld Place. She stayed behind, as did Mr Weasley. Before sending them away along with Lupin (who seemed to be really tired. Harry remembered that it would be full moon the next day, so obviously Lupin would have to go into hiding for the next three or four days), Mrs Weasley had sent a strict warning to Bill, "Look after them well and don't let them wander about." Harry could have laughed about it in ordinary circumstances since it was obvious that Mrs Weasley had forgotten that the only underage wizard or witch among her children was her fifteen-year old daughter, Ginny. However, with what had happened to her youngest son - the will-be-of-age-in-less-than-a-year Ron, Harry couldn't blame her or even smile at her seemingly silly orders.

Nick had decided that Ron was too weak to use the counter-spell on him. So he'd wake him up from his sleep in the morning. No one bothered to argue with him. They knew that it would be best if they followed the Healer's orders. Even Mrs Weasley didn't ask him even once to reconsider his decision. Harry was glad though, that she didn't cry or sob, she merely looked dejected, as if she was to blame for Ron's current condition. But one thing was clear - she knew that Ron was going to be okay; the only thing that worried her was how okay he was going to be.

Seeing that they would have to wait the whole night for this, Mr Weasley had asked everyone to go to bed. But no one budged. So, he conjured up a sofa in one side of the room. It was the one that Harry and Hermione sat on and later fell asleep in. Mrs Weasley was sitting on a chair near Ron's bed. Her husband conjured up another chair beside his wife's and taking her hand in his, tried to console her.

It had been a long day for both Harry and Hermione, especially for Harry, whose body had felt like water after his encounter with the Death Eaters. They tried to keep awake for sometime, but their exhaustion soon got the better of them and they fell asleep about an hour after midnight.

Harry was the first one to wake in the morning. He still had his glasses on and so was quite stunned when he opened his eyes to see a clear world. It was then that he realized where he was. He looked instinctively at Hermione who had her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulders. She looked so peaceful, so innocent and so stunningly beautiful that Harry had to resist the sudden urge to wake her up with a kiss. She had never seemed so attractive before, and it took Harry every ounce of willpower that he possessed to resist the thought and tear himself and his mind away from her and onto Ron.

Harry found that Nick was standing near Ron's bed, examining his condition as he pointed his wand at Ron's prostrate body. He turned to Mr Weasley who was standing nearby, "I think we should be able to make him conscious again within the next hour."

Harry was relieved to hear this. He gently shook Hermione and woke her up.

She woke up in an instant but he could tell that she was still sleepy.

"Good morning, Harry," she said as she stretched out her arms.

Suddenly she remembered what had happened the previous night and asked, "Ron, is he okay?"

Nick seemed to hear this question and he turned around to answer it, "Hermione, you will definitely be glad to know that your friend is going to wake within the next hour."

"That means you are going to use 'Enervate' on him," she asked.

Nick nodded. He said, "Yes, he was too weak to be able to face any magic yesterday. But it seems that he has gained back some of his strength in the last eight hours. I am just waiting for Molly to arrive before using the spell on him."

"Why? Where is Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked.

At this, Mr Weasley replied, "She has gone back to Headquarters just to check on the others. She will be back in about fifteen or twenty minutes."

Both Harry and Hermione nodded. They went out of the room to freshen up. When they came back to the room where Ron was, they found that Mrs Weasley had already arrived and Ron was sitting up on his bed, talking to Nick.

Mrs Weasley was scolding him, "WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU THINK WHEN YOU LEFT HEADQUARTERS WITHOUT A WORD TO ANYONE? AND KNOWING HOW DANGEROUS IT IS...IN THESE TIMES...YOU'D THINK WE HAD PUT SOME SENSE INTO YOU WHEN WE TOLD YOU THAT NO ONE WAS GOING TO LEAVE THE PLACE..."

On and on she went, as Ron listened, his face growing more and more scarlet as time went by. But no one, not even Ron, argued with her. They all knew how worried she always was about her children (and Harry, whom she regarded as one of her sons). They knew it was her way of letting go of her worry and expressing relief.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Mr Weasley cleared his throat and said, "Molly, I think we can talk about this later."

His wife nodded but she glared at her youngest son.

Mr Weasley, however, continued, "I think I will proceed to work now. Molly, you can fix something up for breakfast for everyone."

Nick nodded at this and said, "Good suggestion, Arthur. Harry, I think I need you to come with me for just a moment." He walked towards Harry as he said this and then added to him in an undertone so that no one could hear, "Dumbledore wants to know about the attack."

So, everyone went out of the room, to do the job that was assigned to each of them. Everyone, that is except, Ron and Hermione.

As everyone exited the room, Hermione too, tried to follow them, but Ron called out to her.

"Hermione, can we talk?" he asked.

Hermione didn't want to talk at all, least of all to Ron, at the moment. But she couldn't help it. She nodded and sat down at the side of the bed. She remembered when she had been in this bed the last time, it was with Harry when they were sleeping side by side, wanting nothing more than a night's peaceful sleep.

"Hermione, how've you been?" Ron asked.

"How've I been?" she repeated softly and then laughed out aloud, "About as well as I can be with both of my parents in hospital, recovering from injuries that were caused just because their daughter happens to be friends with the nemesis of the Dark Lord."

"So, you blame Harry for this. You know I'd have done the same and-" But Ron stopped seeing the look on Hermione's face. It was full of disgust and contempt.

"Blame Harry?" Hermione said, "I thought you were his friend." Then she took her face as close to his as she could without actual physical contact. "You don't get it, do you?" Then she threw back her head and said, "I'd never blame Harry for any of this. This happened because I chose to be friends with him, and not because he allowed me to be his friend. I thought you would understand, but obviously you don't."

Ron was shocked at this. He had expected Hermione to be angry at Harry, but obviously she wasn't. He gave a sigh of relief. So, there was no immediate danger to their friendship.

He looked at Hermione and asked, "So, what have you been doing here?"

Hermione replied, "You know, crying, going to the hospital, crying again, coming back to wonder what will happen, all that stuff."

"There is no need to be sarcastic," Ron said.

"Sarcastic, am I?" Hermione retorted. "And can you tell me what for you decided to come here without informing anyone? Imagine what could have happened. You could have been killed. After what happened to my parents, I'd think you would have enough sense in your mind."

Hermione felt a strange surge of emotions in herself. She didn't want to talk to Ron, afraid that her love for Harry would come to the fore, that their friendship would be tainted for ever. So, she was acting so angrily with Ron. Ron, on his part, was confused. He didn't know why Hermione was acting like this.

"So," Hermione began, "why did you try and come here?"

"Er-" Ron began his reply, "I wanted to meet Harry and you. Especially you." He added in an undertone.

"You wanted to meet us?" Hermione asked. "Do you think that gives you a good enough reason for risking your life?"

"I think I could do without a lecture, you know," Ron replied. His temper was beginning to rise and he didn't think he could hold it off much longer. "I already got one from my mother. And what do you know about this? You have been here along with Harry all along. I've been the one who was alone."

Hermione replied angrily, "You think I've been enjoying myself? You think watching your parents lying there helpless and lifeless with only the doctor's word that they are alive, you think that is easy. Do you think you could face that? Do you think I wanted that? I would gladly have had no company only if my parents were all right at the moment."

Ron looked at her, open-mouthed. He couldn't understand the change that had come over her in the last month or so. It was as if she didn't want to be with him anymore. However, he realized nevertheless, that what he had said was horrible and he should apologise to her for the same.

"Hermione," he said slowly, stressing every word and syllable, "I am sorry."

"What?" she exclaimed. Of all the things that she had expected from Ron, 'I am sorry' wasn't one of them.

"I said I am sorry," Ron repeated. "It's just that I like you very much and want to be with you. All the time."

"Are you sure this is liking and not lust?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean? That I lust for you," Ron asked.

"What I mean is that you treat me like a prize catch, and not like a normal person. You treat me as if you want to own my body, not be my soul mate. And that is why I say that you lust for me."

"I don't," Ron replied, but he lacked conviction in his voice. In his heart of hearts, Ron knew that what Hermione said was true but he was too proud and straight-backed to acknowledge it.

"Yes, you do," Hermione said, "You don't realise it Ron, but I am not who you are looking for. I don't want someone pining and drooling over me, I want someone who loves me and I am quite sure that I have found that person. I am quite sure that I have found my true love."

Even as she said this, Hermione regretted it. The very thing that she didn't want to tell Ron was what she had said. Okay, so she didn't say Harry's name but she knew Ron. He would nag her to death until she told him who it was.

"So," Ron said, "I was right all along. There is somebody else."

"Yes," Hermione replied, realizing that there was no use backing down now. She bit her lip as she said, "There is someone and it is not you. That's for sure."

"Who is it? Is it Krum?" Ron asked angrily.

"No," replied Hermione. "And I would rather not tell you anything, not yet, not till I see my best friend back in you, not till I see this infatuated maniac been driven out of you."

"Maniac, am I?" Ron roared. He quickly got up and went over to where Hermione. He gathered all his strength and slapped her hard on the cheek. Hermione sank down to the floor.

"THAT IS WHAT YOU GET FOR REJECTING ME," Ron spat at her.

At that very moment, Harry opened the door and saw Hermione sprawled on the floor, sobbing and Ron, standing over her obviously shouting. He ran over to Hermione and picked her up from the floor. He saw that a bruise was forming on her cheek.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Harry roared at Ron. He lifted Hermione and nestled her against his chest.

"Harry," Hermione said weakly, "Get me out of here."

"But Hermione-" Harry began.

However, Hermione interrupted him, "Please Harry."

Suddenly, a look of comprehension dawned on Ron's face. He saw his friends, arms locked together, Hermione taking Harry's support and leaning on his chest. It was obvious to him now.

"It's you," he began, "IT'S YOU, ISN'T IT?"

"What?" Harry asked. He didn't know all that had happened before he had arrived at the scene.

"SHE LOVES YOU, DOESN'T SHE?" Ron roared. "IT'S SICK. YOU ARE BOTH SICK."

"I can't believe from what you are saying that it is you, Ron," Harry said, catching on with what was happening. "Come Hermione, I think we should get out of here."

With that he took Hermione by hand, and took her out of the room, shutting the door behind them. As the door closed, Ron lifted a book from the nearby table and threw it against the door. With that he collapsed to the floor and leant against the desk that was there. He took his head in his hands and began muttering, "What have I just done?"

* * * * *

Nick had called Harry from Ron's room since Dumbledore had made it clear he wanted to talk to him. Harry had gotten quite used to the fact that he had seen Dumbledore so many times in the past days, especially since the circumstances warranted for that to happen. He still trusted him, even after Sirius' death. Although he had reflexively thought that he could not trust Dumbledore anymore, he came to realize that he was still, the only person he could trust fully, except perhaps Hermione and Ron.

Nick had taken Harry down to the living room and handed him an old newspaper. Harry understood what it was. As soon as he touched the newspaper portkey, he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel that told that the magical transport was working and soon, he found himself on the floor of Dumbledore's office.

The last time that Harry had been in this room was at the time of Sirius' death. He had ruined the whole room, destroying almost everything that he could lay his hands on. Although the office looked as if nothing ha disturbed it for years, Harry knew better. Some of the strange instruments that he had destroyed were no longer there.

Harry went over to one of the walls behind Dumbledore's desk. The portraits of all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts were hung on those walls. Harry could see all the portraits looking at him and pointing his way, but he didn't care at the moment. His gaze was drawn by the portrait of Phineas Nigellus - a great great grandfather of his beloved godfather.

Harry called out to Phineas' portrait, not sure how he should address him. Finally he decided that Professor Nigellus would be the best option. So he called out, "Professor Nigellus?"

The man in the portrait seemed to have been sleeping. However, when Harry called out to him, he woke up. He looked around and seeing that it was Harry who had called him, settled down with a 'hmph...'

"Professor Nigellus?" Harry said. "Are you all right?"

Phineas replied, "Well, seeing that my worthless great great grandson was very dear to you and you have quite recovered from the shock of his death, I would think that I would be well myself." With that, he moved out of his portrait. But Harry did not see him reappear in any other of the portraits adjacent to his own. He suspected that he had gone back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry knew that Phineas was lying. He loved Sirius, even though he denied it wholeheartedly, even if it was for the fact that he had been the last person in the line of his family. He knew that he had grieved over Sirius' death, even if it was a conjecture from the way he had reacted on hearing of Sirius' death. In a way, Harry felt, that Phineas' condition had been just like him (except for the self-imposed guilt that it was he who was to blame for Sirius' fate). He too, had lost one of his family, and like Harry he had been devastated by this, even though his devastated form was only a portrait and not his actual self.

"I see that you have been trying to talk to Phineas, Harry," came the voice of Dumbledore from behind him. Harry turned around to see Dumbledore walking calmly towards him. He nodded at the Headmaster who acknowledged this with a nod of his head.

He continued, "Phineas hasn't been the same ever since Sirius died. He has been quiet, very quiet and even his sarcasm doesn't sting anyone anymore. It's like he has lost all hope. It's like he has forgotten that he is dead and maybe, with Sirius at this very moment."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Wizard portraits, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "are only an imprint of those who are dead. These wizards are those, who choose the path of death for themselves, but in their hearts, they are the ones who also want to leave behind their imprint on this world, an impression of themselves, so that the world might remember them when the time comes."

"Like ghosts?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"A bit like ghosts," Dumbledore replied, "But very much unlike them. The owners of magical portraits have long passed into the Realm of the Dead. They don't know what goes on there, they only know what concerns them, what the present holds, what the present asks of them."

"You mean that the real Phineas might be with Sirius' spirit at this very moment?" Harry asked Dumbledore again.

"Yes, he might be," Dumbledore replied patiently, "He might be, for all we know, or he might not. I do not know what goes on in the Realm of the Dead, and neither does anybody on this planet. Our business is only with the present, with our time and we cannot concern ourselves with what goes on in worlds that are beyond our own. Of course, we may think and imagine, what we may never know the truth. Not until we ourselves die.

"Don't you see this, Harry? Don't you realize now why death is but the next great adventure. It is because it is a mystery. The enigma that is attached to the phenomenon of death is what makes us all take this path. Yes, Harry, death is a path which all of us, must take, it is a path which marks the end of a life time and a beginning of another. That is why we must not let death cloud our thoughts. That is why we must live around death, because it is inevitable. Because life without death, is unimaginable."

"You are talking about Sirius, aren't you?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I am. Sirius died, not because of your fault, Harry. I said this that night, and I will say this again, please do not hold yourself responsible for Sirius' death. If you do that, all you will get is pain and nothing else. It is time, Harry, that you look past what happened and start living your life."

Harry turned around and looked away from Dumbledore. He said, with anger rising in his voice, "I don't want to talk about it, okay. It's bad enough when I get lectured by Hermione on this. I don't want you to touch upon this as well."

"Miss Granger is right, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, "You have to accept Sirius' death. You have to realize that Sirius' death has affected all those who knew him and hence, it is difficult for all of us to accept the fact that we will never see him again. However, it is necessary that we accept this fact, for acceptance is the first step to recovery."

"You think I am a nut, is it?" Harry asked angrily.

"I never said that you are insane-" Dumbledore replied, but Harry interrupted him.

"Oh, is that so?" he said angrily, "That's why everyone tries to get me into accepting the fact that Sirius is dead, that Sirius died because of my fault. That's what everyone implies."

"No one implies that this is your fault, Harry," Dumbledore said, "It is you who have withdrawn into a shell. It is you who have put this blame upon yourself. And remember this, Harry, it is you who has to accept the truth that it is otherwise. That is what everyone is trying to tell you. You have to accept this, because as I said, acceptance..."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said grudgingly, desperately wanting to change the topic then and there, "I heard it, acceptance is the first step to recovery. Anyway, was this why you called me here? Because if it is, I don't see how this has benefited both of us, or the Order for that matter."

Harry turned around and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. His emerald green eyes were fixed onto the gaze of Dumbledore's blue eyes, as if daring him to pursue the topic further. He knew it was of no use, Dumbledore was too powerful, he didn't mind these actions; but at the same time, Harry thought, let him get it how I feel that he betrayed me, how he shouldn't be talking to me about Sirius like this.

Dumbledore turned his eyes away from Harry's and sighed. He said, "The reason why I called you here, Harry, is the attack that occurred last night."

"Huh?" Harry asked. He did not know what Dumbledore meant. He would have guessed that either Lupin, Tonks or Nick would have informed Dumbledore about all this.

"I need to know," Dumbledore said, stressing upon every word that he spoke, "what happened last night, from your perspective."

Harry did not feel that it would be good to hide anything that happened last night from Dumbledore. After all, maybe Dumbledore had not been honest with him, but Harry knew well that he was the only one who he could trust in the war, he was the only person who could be trusted to lead them into the growing darkness.

So, he recounted everything to him, right from how he felt that the Death Eaters weren't real, just an illusion, how he had tried to remove them from the scene with the help of his mind, how he'd seen them collapse to the ground...

Just as Harry reached the part about seeing Ron's prostrate body on the ground, Dumbledore stopped him and said, "Very well, that's all I needed to know from you."

Harry looked at his Headmaster uncertainly. He now felt sure that Dumbledore wanted to interrogate him about how he had dealt with the attackers. (Not that it would take Hermione's intelligence to decipher all this)

"Professor," Harry said slowly, "I believe now that you wanted to know about how the attack was thwarted."

Dumbledore nodded but did not say anything. However, Harry could see that he was listening very intently to whatever he was saying.

"So," Harry continued, "could you just tell me what I did then?"

"I don't understand-" Dumbledore began. Harry felt unsure now. He had never heard Dumbledore say 'I don't know' before this and now here he was saying the very same thing that Harry had hoped he'd never hear from his Headmaster.

"I mean," Harry said, "do you know why I did what I actually did then?"

As soon as he heard this, Harry knew it was an absurd question, but he was surprised when he saw Dumbledore nodding. So, at least, Dumbledore had understood him clearly this time.

"You used your mind, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "And that's how you performed wandless magic."

Harry was speechless. He never knew he could perform wandless magic. It had been more like accidental magic on previous occasions. But wandless magic? Definitely not. He couldn't have done magic without a wand. Of all the wizards that he knew, only Dumbledore could do so. Maybe Voldemort could do it as well, but Harry had never seen him do that. (Not that he would like to, Harry shuddered as he thought this.)

"I-I," he stuttered, "c-can perform wandless magic?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "It does seem so. You know Harry, what the function of a wand is?"

Harry shook his head.

"I told you once," Dumbledore continued, "that magic is all about the mind. All your magical powers reside here, in your mind. A wand is just a means of channelling this magical energy that your mind possesses and using it the physical world, in the real world. However, there are certain wizards, who have so much power, so much magical energy in them, that they can use this energy even without a wand. That is why you could perform wandless magic. Because you have the gift...Because you have the power."

"But why couldn't I know of this earlier?" Harry asked.

"Wandless magic, Harry," said Dumbledore, "is a very rare gift. It can be learnt, yes, to some extent, but it does still require a powerful bit of magic behind the wizard or witch who uses it. This gift is very much similar to the gift of being a Metamorphmagus, only it is even rarer."

"And I have this gift?" Harry asked slowly, getting submerged in thoughts even as he found his voice choking with surprise.

"Yes, you do," Dumbledore affirmed. "Unlike the ability of being a Metamorphmagus, the ability to perform wandless magic manifests itself comparatively later in a wizard's life. It manifests itself only when the wizard or witch in question gets rid of his insecurities and inhibitions and starts feeling confident about his or her own abilities."

"But I don't really have that confidence, not even in myself, let alone in my abilities," Harry reasoned.

"Then something must have happened in the last few days which has changed...or rather at least started to change all that. Could you think of something that might have happened on these lines?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry's face wore that same contorted expression that he wore on his countenance every time he tried to think or concentrate on a particularly difficult question. Then he got it. The answer was there, right before him.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed loudly and then realizing what he had just said, he groaned loudly. He began blushing very furiously. Dumbledore, clearly, noticed all this.

"I assume then that you might have found the reason," he said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Harry nodded.

"Very well then," Dumbledore continued, "You must be wondering why I am telling you all this, especially at this moment?" Harry nodded again He obviously wanted to know the answer.

"I am telling you this because you need to know," Dumbledore said, rather cryptically, "You need to have confidence in yourself, and faith. You need to work on your powers so that you become more adept at using them; and above all, you need to be careful."

"Careful? That's what I have been since day one, haven't I?" Harry argued.

"Not exactly," Dumbledore said with a light chuckle, "The things that you have done since joining the magical world...No, I think they would hardly be called the actions of a careful wizard...But anyway, we are not here to argue about all that you have done in the past five years. What I have to tell you is very important and you have to listen carefully."

"I am all ears," Harry told him.

Dumbledore began, "Performing wandless magic not only requires great magical strength, Harry, but it also requires great physical strength. When you are not using your wand, the strength that is required for you to initiate a spell is far greater than it is otherwise. That is why it surprises me when I hear that you stunned five Death Eaters, in one go, using your ability and yet nothing happened to you; you didn't even get tired."

"Well I was a bit tired," Harry said, "But you say that the fact that nothing happened to me is a bad thing."

"It is not a bad thing," Dumbledore said, "but it is very interesting indeed. Most wizards cannot even do a simple levitating spell without a wand. And here you are - you not only did five stunning spells without your wand, but your physical strength remained almost the same even after that. This means that you have this gift, in fact, it is far stronger than anybody's ability."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Dumbledore replied, "For the time being, it is enough that you know what ability you have. Let it take its natural course. You will soon learn to control your gifts at your own will, and then...who knows. Anyway, it is not our job to look so far ahead of us."

Harry nodded. "Is that all you wanted to say to me?" he asked, his head swimming with all the information that he had just received.

"Actually," Dumbledore replied, "There is one more thing."

"What?" Harry asked, almost involuntarily.

"It's about the attackers," Dumbledore said, "You tell me that you believed they weren't Death Eaters."

Harry nodded.

"Do you know why?"

Harry shook his head. His heart got caught in his throat as he wondered what Dumbledore was going to reveal now.

"Why don't you try and reason it out!" Dumbledore suggested.

Harry started thinking. He was sure that he could almost hear the whirring sound of the wheels in his brain as he thought hard and long.

"Maybe because they weren't really Death Eaters," Harry said finally.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "They weren't real Death Eaters. They didn't have the Dark Mark on their arms. And what's more, they weren't even wizards."

Harry gasped at the latest revelation. "What?" he sputtered, wondering if he had heard Dumbledore's words correctly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, these attackers weren't even wizards. At least, they weren't wizards that we know of. My belief is that they were plain and simple Muggles, kidnapped maybe, from different parts of Britain."

"But Professor," Harry reasoned, "How could they use magic if they were Muggles?"

"There are certain potions, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "which use Dark Magic to convert even ordinary Muggles into wizards. They are strong potions that seduce the mind and give the drinker of the potion enough strength to believe what he is made to believe. Personally, I think that the Death Eaters gave them such potions, so that they got the ability of wizards for a brief time interval."

"I didn't know that could happen," Harry said, shocked at what Dumbledore just told him.

"It is one of the secrets that the Ministry and those who know about it keep from everyone," Dumbledore said. "Otherwise, it would make the work of Dark wizards easier than ever. However, it seems that Lord Voldemort has found out about this, or he has finally put his knowledge in this matter to use. But the interesting thing is that he did give these Muggle attackers a sign."

"What sign?" Harry asked.

"The sign of a raven," Dumbledore replied. With that, he waved his wand and a slow mist emanated from the tip of his wand. Soon, Harry could see the sign of a raven, wide-eyed and aware, sitting on top of a dead branch.

"The raven," Dumbledore spoke, "is a symbol of hopelessness, of impending disaster and we can safely say that Lord Voldemort plans for all that to happen in the future."

"Then this is just a threat?" Harry asked faintly.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "But it is a threat that cannot be taken lightly, for this signals the first rumble of this war that we are being drawn into."

"So what should we do?" Harry asked.

"We...we do nothing," Dumbledore replied. "All we can do is to keep doing what we are supposed to and exercise 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE' while hoping that nothing happens."

"Professor, can I ask you something?" Harry asked, tentatively.

"Only one question, Harry. I'm afraid that it will be time for you to go back after that," Dumbledore replied.

"Do we have any idea regarding what Voldemort is up to?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry. And that's what worries me. This time, Voldemort is keeping all the cards close to his chest. I doubt if even his closest followers know of his plans. But one thing is certain, his plans are still far from ripe. I believe that he is setting the initial part into motion, what with these attacks and all, but I still have reason to say for sure that it will be some time before he rolls out his masterstroke, with which he plans to destroy you, the Order, the Ministry and all that we have worked so hard upon to establish peace and order in the wizarding world. I am afraid that this is going to be the end of the wizarding world as we know it. War is brewing, soon it will begin on a massive scale, and after it ends, the world as we know it, the world as we created it, will change...for good or for bad...either way this ends."

With that, Dumbledore held out the newspaper for Harry to take in his hands and began counting, "THREE...TWO...ONE...ZERO"

With that, Harry felt the jerk behind his navel and found himself on the floor of the Grangers' living room within an instant.

* * * * *

Harry took Hermione with him, downstairs and into the living room. He sat him down as she sobbed. He tried to calm her down but to no avail. He couldn't help but think that the developing bruise on her cheek was something to do with Ron, and he swore that in case it were so, he would make the redhead pay for what he had done.

He saw that Hermione wouldn't stop crying, so he took out two envelope that had been in his pocket for some time now. He gave Hermione the envelope with her name on it and said softly, "Here is something that will cheer you up. Look, the school letters arrived a few minutes ago."

Just as Harry had reached the Grangers' living room, he had found an owl (he recognised that as one of the school owls. It had given Harry two letters (both his and Hermione's) and flown off. Harry had been stunned for a few seconds. So, the OWL results are out, he had thought.

He had thought about opening the letter but decided against it. He had felt that it would be proper to open it before Ron and Hermione. So, he had put both the letters and gone upstairs to search for his best friends. It was then that he had found Hermione and Ron in the guest room, obviously having a fight.

Hermione was scanning through her letter at a speed that made Harry feel dizzy. She finished reading the letter and then looked at Harry with a very happy expression on her face.

"Harry," she squealed with excitement, "I got eighteen OWLs."

"Wow Hermione," Harry exclaimed, "That's brilliant. That is a school record, Hermione. Congratulations."

With that, he hugged her. Mrs Weasley, hearing their excited squeals came up to ask what the matter was and was treated to the sight of Harry and Hermione in each others' arms.

She cleared her throat. Harry and Hermione quickly let go of each other and smiled at her. "What is going on here?" she asked, "I heard excited voices from here."

"Mrs Weasley," Harry said, "Hermione has got eighteen owls."

Mrs Weasley looked at Hermione with wonder in her eyes and then walking up to her, she hugged her and congratulated her.

"And what about you Harry?" she asked.

Harry felt a dull sinking feeling in his stomach. He had never dreaded his OWL results. Actually, truth be told, he didn't have the time to worry about results, of all the things. Still, now that the letter was in his hands, he couldn't deny that he was feeling very nervous.

He sighed and opened the seal of the letter. The first page was the usual letter-

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have passed your O.W.L.s and are hereby admitted to sixth year at Hogwarts. Please note that the new term will start on September the First. Students can take the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three Quarters at the King's Cross Station at nine o'clock.

The sixth years will not have classes till the second week of term, in which time, they have to choose the subjects that they wish to pursue for the N.E.W.T.s. Hence, the booklist for the year is not enclosed with the letter. Please note that further details on this matter will be given to you upon your return to Hogwarts.

The transcript of your O.W.L. results are hereby enclosed with this letter.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry turned over the letter and onto another piece of parchment that was attached. First of all it did not look like a parchment at all, but it was. It was the smoothest form of parchment that he had even seen. It was the transcript of his performance in the O.W.L.s. He realized that it must be like those certificates in the Muggle world which one had to keep carefully.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDY

It is hereby declared that Harry James Potter, has obtained TWELVE Ordinary Wizarding Levels in the examinations held by the Wizarding Examinations Authority, Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.

Details of Performance:

Signed, Signed,

Griselda Marchbanks, Albus Dumbledore,

Chairman, Headmaster,

Wizarding Examinations Authority Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"I-I," Harry stuttered, unable to believe that he had got twelve OWLs, "got twelve."

"What?" Hermione asked, "Twelve?"

Harry looked up at Hermione and Mrs Weasley, dazed. But he saw nothing as Hermione chose that very moment to fling herself at him and congratulate him. After Hermione, it was Mrs Weasley's turn. She hugged Harry and congratulated him. After that, she got up and said, "This warrants a celebration. But I am not sure if we can do it now. Maybe, we can do it back at Headquarters after you to arrive there. Anyway, Harry, mind if I borrow Hedwig? I will have to tell Arthur about this."

Harry nodded. Mrs Weasley went off into the kitchen still bustling with happiness. Now, only Ron's performance remained to be seen.

Hermione meanwhile collapsed onto the sofa and said, "Imagine that, twelve owls. You did really well, Harry. If I had to bet, I'd bet that you will be the Head Boy next year."

"Well," Harry said, collapsing beside her, "I am not sure about that, but I am sure now that my girlfriend will be the Head Girl next year."

Hermione blushed. Harry had never said that she was his girlfriend before this. He went near her and kissed her softly on the lips. But even as Harry's face came in contact with her cheek, she seemed to be in some pain. Harry drew back. He knew he had to ask her about what had happened between her and Ron.

"Hermione," Harry asked, not wanting to dent her happiness but he knew he had to do it, he had to know what was going on, "are you okay?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, but her eyes betrayed something else. The bruise that was on her cheek at the place where Ron had hit her was turning purple and she was obviously feeling the pain.

"Hermione," Harry said, "look at me."

She looked into his eyes and felt those emerald green orbs looking into the depths of her mind.

"Tell me what happened there upstairs," he said.

Hermione shook her head, "I don't think I can, Harry."

"Fine," he said, "Tell me when you will want. But just answer this one question. Did Ron do this? (he brushed his hand lightly over the bruise on her cheek, but even then she felt some pain) Did Ron give you this?"

Hermione didn't answer, but started sobbing once again. But Harry knew the answer now. He ran up to the guest room, and yanked the door open. Ron was sitting on the bed with his back to the door.

"DO YOU THINK IT WAS VERY BRAVE OF YOU TO HIT YOUR BEST FRIEND, ESPECIALLY KNOWING THAT SHE IS A GIRL?" Harry shouted.

Ron turned around. He decided to play innocent on this. He got up from the bed and said, "What are you on about?"

"YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. I AM TALKING ABOUT WHAT YOU DID TO HERMIONE. I AM TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU HIT HERMIONE," Harry answered not bothering to keep his voice down. Anger was coursing through each and every pigment of his body and he didn't want to tame that anger, no, not this time, not after what Ron had done.

"What does this have to do with you?" Ron asked calmly. It was unnerving, the way he was keeping calm amidst all this. Normally, he would have started a shouting match with Harry in return but here he was keeping a dignified calmness while Harry was shouting at him for all he was worth.

Harry was now exasperated at Ron's play-acting. He shook his head and said softly and disbelievingly, "What does this have to do with me? This has everything to do with me. She is my best friend, damn it!"

"And?" Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry said this.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry retorted, trying to muster as much contempt in his voice as he could.

"You are still only best friends?" Ron asked. "Do you expect me to believe such a blatant lie?"

Harry was getting really hacked off now. This conversation was not going the way he had obviously wanted it to. He had expected to shout his head off at Ron while he did the same in return. But the way Ron was holding on, it was clear that he had the upper hand in this war of words.

"Yes," Harry replied his voice oozing with sarcasm, "We are still best friends, inspite of being more than that at the same time. Unlike you, we know how to value old relationships as well as new."

"You know she doesn't love you," Ron said in return, "and neither do you love her...Not like that."

"Who?" Harry asked and almost as soon as he said this, he wished he hadn't. He didn't want to go into an argument about his relationship with Hermione, least of all with Ron. But he was being drawn into it and he felt that backing down would only mean that Ron had won.

"Hermione." Ron replied calmly.

"I think I'd rather not talk about our relationship with anyone, least of all with you," Harry retorted.

"Why? Does the truth hurt?" It was a genuine taunt and Harry felt his hands getting clenched into fists involuntarily.

"No one knows the truth, not even you," he replied, slowly and with as much contempt and hatred as he could muster.

Ron was real glad that he was getting to Harry's nerves. 'This will show him,' he thought happily. Even though a portion of his mind told him that he was wrong to do this to his friends, that it was he who was in the wrong, and unknown part of his mind egged him on. It was as if he had no control over that part of his mind; it was as if he could not disobey his command...not even if he tried to.

"Yes, I do," Ron put on a know-it-all voice as he said this and Harry suddenly had to fight the urge to hit him in the face, "You want to know why Hermione is trying to start a relationship with you."

"I don't know why I am listening to this rubbish in the first place," Harry muttered to himself.

"You are listening," Ron said, "because you believe this is the truth. You know that Hermione has started this only because she wants to repay you for being with her at a time when her whole world was turned upside down. You helped her through this as her friend, and she wanted to repay you with the only thing that you lacked, and that is love. She did this so that she wouldn't be in your debt."

"This," Harry felt his temper rise to new heights as he said this, "is a blatant lie."

"No, it isn't," Ron said, "You know this, you have felt this. Only you are afraid to acknowledge this. Believe me, Harry, I am your friend and Hermione's too. It is my job to look after both of you, to ensure that both of you are safe."

"What do you mean?" Harry said, angrily.

"What I mean," Ron replied slowly, "is that I intend to save Hermione from meeting the same fate as your parents, and Sirius."

Harry couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that this person standing before him and spitting venom with every word of his was his best friend.

"Shut up," Harry told Ron.

"It hurts," Ron said, "doesn't it? But it is true and that is why it hurts. Face it Harry. Every person who loved you, who cared for you, who was close to you; every person who was a family to you has ended up dead. I don't want Hermione to end up the same way. I don't want her to die because she just chose to be your girlfriend out of obligation."

Harry lost control when he heard this. He marched up to Ron and took him by the collar. Even though Ron was taller and stronger than himself, he easily pushed himself into the nearby wall hard and taking his collar by his left hand, he pointed his wand right at Ron's face and said, "IF YOU HADN'T BEEN MY BEST FRIEND ONCE, I WOULD HAVE CURSED YOU WITH EVERY HEX I HAVE EVER KNOWN TILL NOW."

* * * * *

Harry pinned Ron against the wall in the very same position for what seemed like ages. For the first time since this argument was started, Ron felt scared, really scared. The expression on Harry's face was pure fury. His eyes flashed with unadulterated anger and seemed to pierce right into his body. He felt needles pricking him everywhere as he looked into Harry's face, the face that was the mask of death.

For one fleeting moment, Ron thought that Harry would really carry out his threat, but he was saved - saved by a voice that was calling out to them from downstairs.

"HARRY! RON!" came Mrs Weasley's voice. "Come downstairs, breakfast is ready."

As he heard that, Harry relaxed a bit. He had got an overwhelming sense of satisfaction seeing the panic on Ron's face. He let go of Ron, pulled back and said slowly, making sure that Ron heard every word of what he said (even though he had collapsed to the floor when Harry let go), "Our friendship is over...And if you try to go near Hermione, I will make sure that I carry out my threat."

With that, he turned around and without so much as a look back at Ron, he walked out of the door and went downstairs.

Meanwhile, Ron sat on the floor, in a pile. His head was throbbing wildly from where it had hit the wall. But he was preoccupied with the questions before him - what had come over Harry? And more importantly, what had come over him?

* * * * *

Harry reached his room that night. He was feeling very tired, what with all that Dumbledore had told him, his fight with Ron, Ron's treatment of Hermione and the O.W.L. results, he didn't have any mental or physical strength remaining.

Breakfast that morning had been a very quiet and tense affair. Ron shot several timid glances at him but Harry ignored them all. After breakfast, the two Weasleys had said goodbye and Flooed to the Headquarters. Mrs Weasley had noticed the uneasy tension between Ron and Harry, but she thought that they must have fought over some trivial matter and they would make up soon enough. She was still too excited over the number of OWLs that Harry and Hermione had received.

After the Weasleys were gone, Nick had joined Harry and Hermione. He fixed up Hermione's swelling bruise in an instant. She had explained that she had tripped and fallen down the stairs. Harry felt that Nick didn't buy that, but was glad when he asked no questions.

But avoiding Hermione was no easy matter. That evening, while they sat trying to make some headway into the enormous pile of vacation work before them, she confronted him and asked about his encounter with Ron. Harry could tell that she was so scared that she couldn't even say Ron's name properly. He felt a sudden rush of anger in the pit of his stomach, but ignored it.

Harry put an arm around Hermione and caressing her back, said, "Don't worry about us, Herm."

"But Harry," she had said, "I want to know."

"Okay," Harry replied. "Then listen. Our friendship is over."

A long and eerie ensued after Harry said this. Hermione's heart sank. She had hoped that this wouldn't be so bad. But it had proved to be. She knew how hard it would be for Harry to break his friendship with Ron, but she didn't pursue the matter further that evening, and Harry was thankful for that.

Harry turned away from the door and took a tentative step towards the bed. However, he was at that precise moment, blinded by a searing pain in his head. Voldemort had struck, again.

A vision appeared before his eye, even though he knew that his eyes were closed. He was torturing some people who were kneeling and writhing in pain before him, and curiously, he was enjoying the pain. It seemed that he lived off that pain. Yes, he was Voldemort. He was once again, inside the Dark Lord.

Standing or rather, kneeling before him was Emmeline Vance. Harry recognised her as one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. She had been one of the members who had brought him to Grimmauld Place last year. But Harry was startled by the change in her appearance. She was no longer the blonde-haired stately looking witch who personified health and well-being. In fact, she looked a mere shadow of the person that she must have been once.

Her hair was flying about wildly, her eyes were shrunken and looked haunting. But they lacked one thing - they lacked fear. Her wand was in her hand but before Voldemort, she did not stand a chance. He felt Voldemort raising his wand and say the deadly spell.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"

And with that as he felt Emmeline Vance's body drop to the floor without so much as a moan escaping from her lips, Harry screamed with pain. He vaguely heard someone come up to lift him up and take him somewhere so that he could lay down.

But even in the turmoil and the pain in his scar which meant that Emmeline wasn't the only one Voldemort was torturing, Harry couldn't help but think -

The Order of the Phoenix had lost its second member in as many months.

* * * * *