The Twilight Year

Chapter One -- Lord, It's Hard To Be Harry When You Don't Use The Metric System

    Albus Dumbledore surveyed the man before him over his steepled fingers. From the corner of his eye, he could see his Potions Master, Severus Snape, pacing about the Head's office, muttering distractedly to himself, running his hands through his lank hair.

    The light tinkling sound of a cup and saucer being set down on his desk drew the Headmaster's attention back to the conversation.

    "Of course, I always knew Severus was a traitor," the man infront of him said in his cold, eerie voice. "But, you must admit, the boy is so charmingly snarky, I just had to keep him around." The man looked over at Snape, who stopped his pacing to stare back. The man smiled, stretching back his lipless mouth to reveal pointed teeth. Snape shuddered and resumed his pacing. The man sighed disappointedly and turned back to Dumbledore.

    "When my followers turned against me, I knew that Severus was the only one I could trust to help me, to bring me to you. I hope, Professor, that you will give me the same second chance that you gave him."

    Dumbledore smiled delightedly. "Of course, Tom!," he said cheerfully. "I've been after you to give up this whole Genocide thing for almost fifty years now, and I'm perfectly thrilled that you've come around at last! Sherbert Lemon?" he offered, proferring a small tin.

    "Why, yes. Thank you, Professor," Voldemort said, snaking a long finger into the box of candies. "Only, I must ask you," he continued, popping the sweet into his mouth, "not to call me Tom. While I have forgiven my father's transgressions, I'd prefer not to be called by a name associated with such bad Karma."

    "Understandable, understandable," Dumbledore said, nodding wisely. "Are you sticking with Lord Voldemort, then?"

    "Oh no, I'm dropping the 'Lord' part," Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissively. "Makes me seem a tad big-headed. But yes, I will keep the name Voldemort. Brings back fond memories of my school boy days here," he said, smiling fondly around the office. "My, how things have changed ... "

    "Indeed. Age must always step aside in favor of youth," Dumbledore mused.

    Snape, meanwhile, stopped his pacing again and stared malevolently at his two masters. The two men, both powerful magical forces, that had jerked his life around for nearly twenty years, were now on the same side, together, quietly pondering the meaning of life.

    Making a decision, he strode to the Headmaster's desk and slammed his hands down upon it to get their attention. "Excuse me," he growled, carefully avoiding Voldemort's curious gaze. "Headmaster, if you allow -- him -- to stay here under Hogwarts protection, surely the remaining Death -- "

    "Oh, nonsense, Severus," Voldemort scoffed. "They wouldn't dare attack Hogwarts with me, they're not about to do it without me."

    "I must agree, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "They're all talk now, but without proper guidance, they will soon disperse. It worked once, did it not?"

    "But Headmaster," Snape forced out through gritted teeth, "the scandal this will cause. Think -- think of the students," he said, as if each word caused him great pain.

    "Never fear, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled. "Voldemort and I are giving a joint interview to the Prophet later this week to explain the situation. The people will understand. Sherbert Lemon?"

    "Or perhaps a cup of tea?" Voldemort offered politely. "Chamomile always helps to calm one's nerves, and I daresay yours need calming." He flicked his wand and a steaming mug appeared on the desk infront of Snape.

    Snape stared in horror at Dumbledore, holding out his tin of infernal sweets. He chanced a brief glance at Voldemort, who sat smiling expectantly up at him.

    "You're both completely mad," he said jerkily, turning away from the desk. "Utterly insane. People wonder why I'm so out of sorts, they don't see the two raving lunatics I have to listen to constantly!"

    "Oh!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "I completely forgot! Severus, would you kindly contact the Order? We have a new member to induct -- "

    "You're inducting the Dark Lord into the anti-Dark Lord movement?" Snape asked blankly, wheeling around to stare daggers at the Headmaster.

    " -- and speaking of raving lunatics," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Snape, "I must draft yet another advert for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hopefully, someone will have the man-bits to apply," he said, making a cupping gesture with one hand.

    "Professor! I've just had the most brilliant idea!" Voldemort said, leaning foward eagerly. "Since I am to stay at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future, please allow me to offer my services as your new Defense professor!"

    Dumbledore stared avidly at Voldemort for a moment, as if seeing him in a new light. "Why didn't I think of that?" he asked excitedly. "Who would be a better teacher than the man right in front of me?" he said, beaming.

    "Albus! Surely not!" Snape exploded, striding back to the desk. "I've been after that job for nearly eighteen years! You said teaching Defense would bring out the worst in me, what do you think it will do to -- him? Besides, he knows the actual Dark Arts, not how to defend against them," he shouted, flinging an arm towards Voldemort.

    "Severus, really! You're going to poke someone's eye out!" Voldemort scolded, leaning back out of harm's way.

    "Yes, do calm down, won't you?" Dumbledore said absently, rifling through his desk for a Defense Against the Dark Arts job description. He didn't want Voldemort going into the supposedly jinxed position unprepared. "Now, go contact the Order. We'll schedual a meeting when it's convenient for everyone."

    "Headmaster, don't -- oh, forget it!" Snape snapped. "I'll go contact the bloody Order. At least it will get me away from you two!" he growled and stalked to the office door. Wrenching the door opened, he muttered to himself "Why don't you make him Head of Slytherin while you're at it? Seems more appropriate than my doing it now ... "

    The two older wizards looked up at the sound of the door banging shut, the sound of it's slamming still ringing around the office. "I suppose I should wait a while to tell him that he's my son, then?" Voldemort wondered aloud, raising the patches of skin where eyebrows should have been.

    "Ah, don't worry about Severus," Dumbledore said comfortingly. "He'll come around; he always does. Now, I've been wanting to speak to you about your meditation techniques. Whatever it is you're doing, it seems to have done a universe of good...."

                             * * * * *

Harry was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was back at Hogwarts, sitting cross-legged by the egde of the lake. It was early morning and a dense fog hovered over the bleary surface of the water. The cool air flowed over his bare skin, making him feel free, yet connected to the Earth somehow. Birds sang to the misty morning, a light breeze russled through the trees behind him. He breathed in the crisp air, preparing to stand up and go back to the castle.

    As he started to rise, a tiny bluebird flitted infront of him, chirruping. Feeling himself smile, he sank back down to the dew-covered grass and held out a hand. The little bird fluttered down to his fingers, gripping them with its small talons. Harry felt behind him for his wand. Finding it, he plucked a blade of grass and Transfigured it into a fat worm.

    Harry smiled again, watching the little bird devour the worm dangling from his fingers. His long, thin, deathly white fingers....

    Harry's eyes snapped open, nearly blinding him with the orange glare of Ron's bedroom. He stifled a giggle and rubbed irritably at his scar. It had been tickling on and off all summer, but over the past couple of weeks it had gotten worse. It felt as if some invisible person were constantly brushing a feather across his forehead.

    Suddenly, the door to the bedroom banged open and Ron came bursting in, looking very harrassed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief; he'd half expected a naked Voldemort fresh from morning meditations.

    "C'mon, Harry, wake up. I let you sleep as long as I could," Ron said distractedly, piling school robes into his trunk.

    "I'm awake," Harry informed him, throwing back the covers. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?" he asked, irritated.

    "Well ... you know ... circumstances and all ...." Ron continued throwing robes and other clothes into his trunk, carefully not looking at Harry. Harry had been rather touchy since news of Voldemort's conversion reached him, and even more snappish when Voldemort had been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix and made a Hogwarts professor on the same day.

    Ignoring Ron's last words, mainly because he didn't want to think about it until he absolutely had to, Harry got out of bed and started to pull on a random pair of jeans when Hermione came skipping into the room, in her usual start-of-term high spirits.

    Just as Harry was about to pull up his pants and say 'buenos dias' to Hermione, time seemed to slow down. Looking about for the cause, he saw Ron, his mouth twisting open to produce a long 'Noooooo' as he dived in slow motion towards Harry. Harry stared wide eyed at Ron, then looked down to see his pants still only halfway up, his boxer shorts fully exposed.

    Harry glanced up at Hermione. Her hands were clapped to her face, which was brightly blushing. He looked back to see Ron sailing through the air towards him, his arms outstretched ...

    Time resumed it's normal speed again as Ron tackled Harry. Fortunately, they landed on the bed and Ron scrambled to cover Harry's very semi-nakedness with a blanket. "Dammit, Hermione! Don't you ever knock?" Ron screeched as he pulled the blanket up to Harry's chin.

    "I -- I'm sorry," Hermione stammered, still blushing. "I thought he'd be up and dressed by now."

    "Well, you thought wrong," Ron snapped, still holding Harry under the covers. "What did you see?"

    "Nothing, I swear!" Hermione said, looking slightly scandalized. "Just a bit of Harry's underthings."

    Ron's ears went dangerously red. "Are you sure that's all? Nothing was poking out?" he demanded, his eyes boring into Hermione's and reminding Harry of Snape trying out a bit of covert Occlumency. "Because I'm always telling him not to wear boxers. Things tend to get loose!"

    "Eek gads, Ron!" Harry cried, trying to push the blankets away from his face. "Nothing was 'poking out'. You think I'd be up and getting dressed infront of you if it were?"

    Ron relented at this, but only let Harry up after Hermione left the room and the door was securely locked. Harry wondered, as they finished packing their school things, if Ron would have reacted so strongly if it had been Ginny instead of Hermione. Laughing to himself as they hauled their trunks outside, Harry entertained the idea that with all the blatant hints Ron had been throwing their way, Ron would have jinxed his shorts off instead of smothering him with a blanket.

    "What's so funny?" Ginny asked from behind Harry, making him jump.

    "Oh, uh -- nothing. Just something Ron said," Harry told her, and provided a distraction by lifting her trunk and marching it over to one of the waiting cabs.

    Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys made it to King's Cross with time to spare. Stowing their things in a compartment mid-way down the train, they came back out onto the platform to say good-bye to Ron's parents. Mrs. Weasley embraced her two youngest children and then turned to Harry, as Mr. Weasley was deeply immersed in conversation with Hermione, discussing the nature of Muggle taxi drivers.

    "Oh, Harry, dear," she crooned, hugging him tightly. "It's so wonderful to send you off to school not fearing for your life."

    Harry's stomach did a backflip at these words. Everyone knew that even indirect mention of the newly dubbed Professor Voldemort was strictly off limits around Harry. "There's still the Death Eaters," he blurted out before he could stop himself. Strangely, that thought was quite comforting.

    "Oh, pish-posh!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "You read that article in last Sunday's Prophet! Voldemort has sworn to personally protect you, Harry. You're as safe as safe can be."

    "But Voldemort's a pacifist now," Harry persisted. "What's he gonna do? Meditate at them? Blind them with his bright orange Buddhist robes of Doom?"

    "Nonsense, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley admonished. "He doesn't wear orange robes."

    Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, to try to convince her that Voldemort being anywhere near him or other students was a terrible idea, and he could very well start wearing orange robes, but the clock above the platform entrance struck eleven and steam began to billow out from beneath the train.

    "My goodness! Look at the time!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, pushing Ron and Ginny towards the train as Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione a quick hug. "On board with you lot, let's go."

    The four students quickly made their way to their compartment and leaned out the window to wave to the Weasleys.

    "We'll write loads, Mum!" Ginny cried, blowing her mother a kiss.

    "You three study hard for your N.E.W.T.s!" Mrs. Weasley shouted back. "And Ginny, make sure you help Harry relax," she added with a mischevious glint in her eye.

    Harry's mouth dropped open in shock as he stared at Mrs. Weasley. Was the entire family after them to get together? The train began to move then, and Ron pulled him back inside the train. "Close your mouth, mate. Look, the new Head Girl and I -- " he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Hermione " -- have got to go to the Prefects' cabin. Keep the lady company," he said, pushing Harry down on the seat next to Ginny. Grinning broadly, he and Hermione left, sliding the door tightly closed behind them.

    "Don't pay any attention to him, Harry," Ginny said, sighing and leaning back into the seat. "It's only because you're his best friend and he knows you'd rather die than snog his little sister. Safety zone, I guess."    

    "Er -- uh -- what do you mean?" Harry asked. He knew perfectly well what she meant, but didn't feel comfortable with her knowing that.

    "Oh, come on, Harry. The fact that Ron wants us together is almost as obvious as his and Hermione's feelings for eachother."

    "Is it?" Harry asked, shifting nervously in his seat and hoping desperately that someone would drop by to say hello to them.

    Ginny sighed impatiently and turned to look at him, pushing her long red hair behind her ears. "In your fourth year, who was Ron's first idea of a Yule Ball date for you?"

    "Er -- that would be you, I guess," Harry admitted, suddenly wishing he smoked. He could use something to do with his hands.

    "In your fifth year," Ginny continued, obviously set on proving her point, "why did he get so upset when he found out I was dating Michael Corner?"

    "Because he hates him?" Harry asked hopefully.

    "Well, yeah, he does, but that's not why. He was surprised that I was dating someone else because he was still stuck on the idea of me being stuck on you, and you know it!"

    "The topic might have come up at the time. I don't really remember," Harry said shiftily.

    "And when I broke up with Michael, and he said he hoped I'd 'chose someone better next time', who did he look at when he said it? Because he wasn't looking at me."

    "We were playing chess. Probably checking to see if I'd made my move," Harry muttered.

    "Checking to see if you'd made your move, indeed," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Alright, Mr. Denile, why did he keep Levitating mistletoe over our heads at Christmas last year?"

    "He's a prefect," Harry said quickly, grabbing onto the excuse Ron had given him at the time. "He had to help with Christmas decorations and was trying to see where it would go best."

    "So the best spots just happened to be directly over where we were standing every time we were near eachother?" Ginny asked, her flaming eyebrows quirked.

    "Well, he had to hang alot of mistletoe!" Harry said defensively, wishing she wouldn't do that thing with her eyebrows. It was too cute.

    Ginny shook her head and got up. Rummaging through her trunk, she pulled out her new Charms text book and sat back down. Flipping it open to a back chapter, she said casually, "I suppose all those time he 'accidentally' locked us in the Quidditch locker rooms together were just innocent mistakes, then. Glad I don't have to wonder about that any more."

    Harry flushed Gryffindor scarlet. He remembered a particular incident when Ginny had still been in the shower ....

    All in all, he was relieved when Ron and Hermione came back half an hour later. Ron looked extremely disappointed to see Ginny burried in a book and Harry staring gloomily out the window. Desperate, he blurted, "Ginny! Have you been working out? Your bum looks fantastic! Doesn't it, Harry?"

    Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Hermione slapped Ron on the arm, saying, "Oh, honestly!" Ginny frowned up at him from behind her book. "Gods, Ron, I'm sitting down. Couldn't you have said something more appropriate?"

    Ron looked rather confused for a moment, but suddenly, his expression brightened. "You know, you're right," he said thoughtfully. "Is it just me, or are your -- "

    "Oh, good Lord, sit down," Hermione hissed, grabbing the back of Ron's shirt and forcing him onto the seat beside her. "And please, for all our sakes, shut up."

    Luckily, the witch with the snack trolly came by not long after Ron had been subdued. Harry shelled out a handful of coins, hoping sweets and drinks would be a worthy distraction. There was an uncomfortable moment when Ginny leaned across Harry to snag a Chocolate Frog, and Harry guessed what Ron had been about to comment on.

    Ron, his attention diverted from his snacks by his little sister's close proximity to his best friend, was siezed with a sudden idea. "Hey, Gin, you don't have the Morgana card, do you?" he asked casually.

    "No, I don't think I do," Ginny said, her chest brushing against Harry's arm again as she leaned back. "Why?"

    "Oh, no reason," Ron said, grinning at Harry's petrified look. "It's just that I've got one right here if you want it," he said, waving the elusive Morgana card for Ginny to see.

    "Yeah, sure! I've been looking for that one for ages!"

    "It's all yours," Ron said, now smirking in a somewhat evil fashion at Harry. He leaned foward, the card held out towards Ginny. Her hand was several inches away from it when Ron's fingers opened, and the card fell to the floor between them. "Oops, so clumsy," Ron said innocently.

    "Dammit, Ron. You'd think with all the chocolate on your hands, the card would stick to it," Ginny grumbled as she got out of her seat and bent to pick up the card.

    "HA!" Ron said triumphantly, pointing at Ginny's bent form. "I told you, Harry. I told you she had a great bum! Look at it! Go ahead, look!"

    "I think it's time for us to patrol the train. C'mon, Ron," Hermione said loudly, jerking Ron off of his seat and pushing him out the door.

    "Sorry," Ginny murmured after they were well gone. "Since it's your last year and all, I think he's getting a bit desperate."

    "Aren't we all ... " Harry said quietly, staring out the window again.

    Ron and Hermione came back a long while later, Hermione poking Ron in the ribs every time he opened his mouth. The sky darkened and lamps flickered on in the compartment. The train began to slow as they pulled on their school robes over their clothes.

    Relieved that classes would soon provide respite from Ron's determined tormenting, Harry gratefully stepped off the train and spotted Hagrid gathering the first-years for the traditional journey across the lake. Thinking of the lake made Harry's stomach lurch. It was bad enough to dream of Voldemort meditating in the nude on it's shores; he ferverently hoped he wouldn't have to actually see it.

    He and Hermione took seats in one of the many Thestral-pulled carriages. Ron joined them a short time later, dragging Ginny with him and depositing her next to Harry. "Hope the ride doesn't get too bumpy," he said, sitting down next to Hermione. "Wouldn't want you to end up in Harry's lap, would we?" he said, winking at Ginny.

    Ginny groaned and shot Harry an apologetic look at the carriage began to rattle it's way towards the castle.

    A few minutes later, they were there, disembarking and climbing their way up the stone steps to the large front doors. Once in the Entrance Hall, they had a veiw of stundents scrambling to get into the Great Hall, every one of them looking determined to be the first at their House table.

    "What's everyone in such a hurry for?" Harry asked, frowning around at the jostling students. He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

    "Ooohh, look!" Hermione cried, grabbing Ron's arm. "There he is!"

    "There who is?" Harry asked, spinning around to see what Hermione was pointing at.

    The crowd of scurrying students suddenly grew quiet and the ones near the doors to the Great Hall began to move back. A cloaked black figure was sweeping through their whispered excitement. Sweeping straight towards --

    "Harry!" cried that cold, high-pitched voice that he knew so well. Harry staggered backwards as Voldemort threw his arms around Harry's shoulders, hugging him tightly. "Harry, my dear boy! How are you?"