Harry Potter and the Soul of Chaos

Harry Potter and the Soul of Chaos

Chapter 1 - We Begin With the Heroes

The beginnings of all human undertakings
are untidy.

~~Anonymous

July 15^th

It had all really started with Albus Dumbledore's death, Harry knew. His true role in this war had begun the moment Snape stepped out onto that tower with the intent of killing the elderly headmaster. With that death, the death of hope, the handle of this war had been passed to him, even if no one acknowledged that.

After the term ended and after Dumbledore's funeral, Harry had returned to the Dursleys for all of ten days as he thought about and learnt to accept what the old headmaster had left for him with his death. It had not been a teary farewell two days ago at Privet Drive, when the Order had come and taken him to the Burrow. Still, in that time he had done a lot of thinking.

First and foremost was the responsibility that he now carried. To himself, to the wizarding world, to his friends. Voldemort was his problem now, had really always been his problem, because he had come to realise he believed in the prophecy. It gave him a fighting chance at least.

So, ten days spent at the Dursleys in which he did not speak to them once, bought his own meals from the corner shop, and waited out the week seriously thinking about what he was going to do with his life from this point on. Well... really how he was going to find and destroy the remaining four Horcruxes, the four parts of Voldemort's soul before facing the monster himself and ending the war.

Harry currently sat in the garden at the Burrow, on the dry stone wall that ran around the house and most of the property. Over to his right he could see a forest, only a quarter of a mile away, and on his left was the odd collection of pieces of houses that had been thrown together to create the Burrow.

Down in the garden, the gnomes were currently under a forced exodus as Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, had been capturing them all morning and... well, reducing their population exponentially.

Dressed in a simple pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, Harry had his wand shoved into his front pocket, alongside the heavy locket for which Dumbledore had really given his life for. The false horcrux, the one Harry had taken from Dumbledore's body at the base of the tower...

For the hundredth time that week, Harry unfolded the piece of parchment that had been in the locket, the only clue he had as to who had taken the real horcrux - and whether or not it had been destroyed. He had to find it to make sure. The parchment was falling apart from the number of times it had been creased, but Harry wanted to see the words again, even though he knew them off by heart.

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

"R.A.B..." Harry muttered into the warm morning air. He absently pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Harry had shown this note to no one, and for now that was the way it was going to stay. Whether this Horcrux, the locket - the real one - was destroyed or not Voldemort could not know about it and create another one. It seemed he could not sense when one of his Horcruxes was destroyed... and that made sense really. They were not in him anymore, he couldn't feel them, but they were his soul, Voldemort's life.

But then again maybe he could sense their destruction. Harry didn't know and couldn't ask anyone about it. Seven was the magical number and he'd created six Horcruxes to achieve that... but two were destroyed leaving four. One was maybe Nagini... another Slytherin's Locket... Hufflepuff's cup... Ravenclaw or Gryffindor artefact... Bugger...

Harry rubbed his temple, over his hot prickly scar, as he was getting a headache from thinking about it. He shook his head to clear it, realising he'd already broken his promise to himself that he would not think about this today.

Today was his day off, so to speak. Saturday, his first at the Burrow, and there were plans afoot for the day - wedding plans, shopping plans - which meant Diagon Alley. So folding the parchment over again, Harry slipped it into his pocket and jumped off the wall, almost landing on a gnome which muttered a string of curses after him as he strode towards the house.

About halfway across the gravel of the yard the kitchen door opened and Ginny, dressed in jeans and a white blouse, emerged and waved him over, smiling warmly as she did.

"We're about ready to leave, Harry," she said, her auburn hair shining in the sun down to her waist.

"Right," he called, jogging forwards. "I'll just nip upstairs and grab a jacket."

She held the door for him and then followed him as far as the living room. Harry continued on up the stairs... trying not to think about Voldemort... or Ginny.

Okay, so there was Voldemort. And then there was Ginny.

Despite what he had said to her just after Dumbledore's funeral, which was another thing he did not want to think about, he could not just simply turn off his feelings for the fiery redhead. They were still there, strong as ever, and both he and Ginny knew it.

It would have been a damn-sight easier if he could switch his hormones and feelings off, but it wasn't going to happen. Ginny, bless her, was a problem, a good problem, one Harry would like to solve a certain way - but knew he couldn't... ever.

Because, of course, the Ginny-problem was linked with the Voldemort-problem. Distancing himself, Harry believed, might be the only thing that saved Ginny Weasley. But she wasn't making it easy, and neither was Hermione.

Ron, being Ron, was oblivious to most of the inner workings of the problem.

But Ginny over the last two days had almost always seemed to be there when he was alone, or thinking about her, and Harry suspected Hermione was spying on him for Ginny, which was very unlike Hermione, but he wasn't a complete idiot not to notice it.

Bloody friends and their bloody plots against him.

Harry was chuckling under his breath when he kicked his trunk open in Ron's room and pulled out his jacket, slipping it on as he exited the room and darted back down the stairs to the fireplace.

"You are to wait at the Leaky Cauldron for all of us to arrive before we move into the alley, Ron," Mrs Weasley was saying when he arrived. "Ah Harry, dear, you're here - good. Line up everyone."

The sitting room was packed with the Weasley flock, plus Harry, Hermione and Fleur. Ron, Ginny, Mrs Weasley, Bill, Fred (not George), and Charlie. Everyone save Harry and his friends were wearing robes and a cloak. Bill and Fleur were making final arrangements on their wedding today, and Mrs Weasley would be helping. Fred was off to the shop and Charlie... well, Charlie was coming along as an extra wand, really, should the worst happen.

"What do reckon, Harry, Quidditch shop first up?" Ron said as they lined up in front of the fireplace.

"Charlie, you first, dear," Mrs Weasley said, holding the dish of floo powder.

A moment later Charlie disappeared in a blur of green flames and blue cloak.

"Gringotts for me," Harry answered Ron. "I've got about three galleons and two knuts at the moment."

"Diagon Alley," Bill said from the fireplace.

Harry watched him go with a frown, trying hard not to look at the scars on his face. Greyback had certainly done a good job of tearing his face to shreds, and even now, three weeks later, magic and Muggle medicines had only managed to fade the coarse lines minutely. Given time, they'd probably get better....

Bill had a lot more wolf in him than was probably healthy as well. He enjoyed his meat almost blood rare, and he was a lot more hairy than the last time Harry had seen him at the end of term... after Dumbledore had....

Stop it, Potter, he told himself. Today is not for that!

No, a thick beard covered Bill's cheeks and neck, flaming orange of course, and it hid some of the scars. His eyes were wolfish as well. Fleur still loved him and, since his fight with the vicious werewolf, followed him everywhere with her wand always at the ready. She was next through the floo network, elegance and beauty second nature to her as the green flames whisked her away.

Fred went next

"Has anyone seen the Prophet today?" Harry asked, trying hard to keep the dread out of his voice. It seemed when the whole world wasn't against him, it was behind him, and the mood varied on the whim of that paper. There had been a lot of owls since the term ended, with people declaring their support for him... or not.

"No," Hermione said. "I don't have a subscription for the Saturday paper."

"Unless you go out and capture some Death Eaters," Ginny said, "then the Chosen One probably won't make the front page."

"Or they'll just start making the news up," Ron offered, snickering, slapping him on the back and pushing him forward into the fireplace. Ron had enjoyed reading the comments some people had made in their letters, most of them female in the 18-25 age bracket.

"Your concern is overwhelming," Harry commented dryly, taking a pinch of floo powder from Mrs Weasley.

Dropping it, he said, "Diagon Alley," and a moment before the flames took him he winked at Ginny, his lips quirking into a small smile.

If she could play games with him then he could with her. Keep 'em guessing! Harry had heard that somewhere before and thought it genius right then. He knew he should keep her at arm's length, but what with all that had happened and his new found freedom away from the Dursleys forever, he was feeling a little rebellious.

Even against himself and his own rules concerning Ginny, it seemed, as he tucked his elbows in and spun passed grates in a whirlwind of ash and magic. He managed a not-so-steady landing in the Leaky Cauldron five seconds later, almost falling until Charlie grabbed him underarm and hauled him up.

"The trick is to bend your knees a little more," Charlie laughed, and Harry scowled, mumbling under his breath whilst brushing the soot from his clothes.

"'Ere, 'Arry," Fleur said, one arm around Bill, waving her wand in his direction. There was no incantation but Harry felt a warm breeze and then his clothes were soot free.

"Cheers," he said, as Ron came stumbling through the fireplace and landed in a tangled heap on the ground, washing a new wave of soot and ash over Harry.

"Bugger," he sighed, brushing it away again but only succeeding in smudging it in. Fleur laughed and cast the cleaning charm again on him and then Ron, once he'd stood up.

Ginny and Hermione came through next, one after the other, and only stumbled slightly - something which made Ron sigh, and finally Mrs Weasley walked through briskly, looking busy and showing not a sign of the floo-stumble that had afflicted Ron and Harry.

Ginny did not show any sign that she had caught Harry's sly smile, but he was sure she had.

"We were pushed through pretty fast," Mrs Weasley commented, counting heads. "Floo network must be busy today."

"I'll say," Ron grumbled. "Didn't see it coming...."

As a group they made their way out of the back of the pub and towards Diagon Alley. The brick wall was already 'up' and the alley busy with weekend shoppers. Fred said his goodbyes and immediately headed off towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which, despite the threat of war, was still doing a roaring trade.

Harry and the others wanted to pop in later on, but first....

"Follow me you lot," Mrs Weasley said to the group. "Bill, Fleur, dear, should we do the flowers first? Or the wedding robes?"

Bill was stroking his beard, but since they'd flooed in Harry had seen him scanning everything and everyone that came close. His sharp eyes didn't miss a thing, and Harry was certain he was grasping his wand in his pocket.

"This lot won't want to come along for all of that, Mum," he said, motioning towards Harry and the others. "Nor will Charlie, for that matter."

Ron and Ginny were nodding and, after a moment, Charlie did as well. Fleur was also watching the magical folk in the alley, but she agreed with her husband to be. "We will be done much quicker, this way," she said.

Mrs Weasley bit her lip in indecision. "It mightn't be a good idea to split up," she said carefully.

"We'll be right, Mum," Ron laughed. "The Chosen One here can fend off anything, except Ginny!"

Ginny stamped her foot and hit Ron in the arm none too gently.

Harry glared daggers at Ron, punched him in the arm also, and then nodded. "Yeah, Mrs Weasley," he said. "I'll even watch over Charlie if he wants to come along."

"Thanks, Harry," Charlie smiled.

"Well...." Mrs Weasley said eventually. "If Charlie's going with you...."

It was settled at that. They decided to meet back at the Leaky Cauldron in and hour or two and then Mrs Weasley, Fleur and Bill headed off one way down the alley together, whilst Charlie, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione made a quick line for Gringotts, the wizarding bank.

Just like last year, the alley was a whole lot different than it had been before. The Ice Cream Parlour, as well as a few other shops and stores, were still boarded up. Posters from the Ministry were pasted over the windows, detailing the latest war news and safety procedures, and there were still the shoddy little stores selling everything from werewolf protection to veela aphrodisiac.

Harry kept his head down as they walked, not wanting to be recognised. It would only take one voice screaming his name to cause a flood of people wanting to see, wanting to talk to, wanting to touch their Chosen One - the Boy Who Lived. There was a strong Auror presence, in the alley, Harry noticed.

Almost at every shop door stood a man or woman in the white robes of an Auror, eying the busy street suspiciously. Harry would also bet his wand that there were Aurors not wearing robes as well.

It made Harry wonder if Hogwarts would open again on September 1^st. The Ministry wanted it to, mainly because of the potential anarchy that would reign if hundreds of magical children grew up without an education, and the Muggleborns never even learnt of the wizarding world. But the parents weren't happy with the safety of the school....

If Albus Dumbledore could be killed by a professor at Hogwarts itself, then what chance did a half trained teenager have. It was being heavily debated by the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors. Undecided at the last meeting three days ago.

"I don't want to spend the day in the Quidditch supply store, Ron," Hermione said as the group approached Gringotts. "You three probably will, but with things as they are I want to buy the books for seventh year...."

"What?" Ron said, hands in his pockets. "All of them?"

Hermione blushed. "Well... yes...."

Ron was silent for a moment, and he looked at Hermione as if he were confused. "Great," he eventually said. "Yeah... em... it might be a good idea to teach ourselves."

Ron seemed as shocked as Hermione was that he had said that. But his shock faded into a blush of his own when Hermione beamed at him and brushed his hand with hers.

Harry smiled at the two of them, and he agreed with what Ron had said. He wanted to buy some books as well. Defence books, and some offensive ones. Books containing strong, powerful and deadly curses, jinxes, incantations, and hexes. Also on Occlumency and how better to hone his silent magic.

Snape - he even snarled when he thought of that name - had stopped him easily that night where.... when Dumbledore had.... and if he'd been faster, quicker, stealthier then maybe the bastard would be buried under six feet of cold earth now.

"What're you glaring at, Harry?" Ron asked as they walked up the steps of the bank towards the ornate marble doors.

Harry, with a great deal of difficulty, managed to wipe away the scowl. "Same old, same old," he sighed. "Snape, Voldemort, life...."

Ron nodded. "We'll beat them all," he said, briefly clapping Harry on the shoulder.

They entered Gringotts.

Riding a cart through a cave at high speeds had lost a lot of its thrill since Harry had done it the first time on his eleventh birthday. Too much had happened for it to be much of an adrenalin rush now and it was, as he and Ginny with their goblin guide careened through the caves and tunnels, rather boring.

The swinging cart came to a screeching stop in front of Harry's vault, number 687, and they all climbed out. Ginny stepped over Harry to do it, and nudged him back into his seat with a sly smile. Harry mentally made a note that that was one point to her. He would win it back with interest somehow.

Again, showing no sign that anything untoward had happened, Ginny and Harry waited whilst the goblin, whose name was Tuskstrorn, stepped out of the cart with a small lantern.

"Key, please," Tuskstrorn said, wobbling forward towards the intricately locked security door.

Harry handed the little fellow his key.

"Now, Mr Potter," the goblin said, setting about opening the door. "With the transfer of the late Sirius Black's funds last year, the security on your vault has been increased exponentially. These new security measures came into effect on the night of July 31^st, last year."

Harry sighed, it was a tired sigh, but one mixed with acceptance. Sirius was gone, gone beyond life into a place Harry did not want to follow yet. Couldn't follow, even if he wanted to die... there was still too much for him to do in this world. "What measures?" he asked the goblin.

"A drop of your blood is now required to open the last lock," Tuskstrorn answered. "If it is not your blood, should you be an impostor under glamour or polyjuice, then the dragons will be summoned immediately."

Harry swallowed slowly, thankful he was himself, and held out his hand towards the small sharp point on the door, as directed by the goblin. He wondered if Voldemort, who had his blood, could open the door. The sharp needle pricked the tip of his index finger and a clear drop of crimson blood flowed down its length.

For a long moment nothing happened, and Harry strained his ears very hard, listening for the wings of a dragon. The goblin was grinning, showing a lot of pointed teeth, and Ginny seemed amused as well. The door swung open a second later.

It swung open to reveal several hillocks of gold, many times inflated since the last time Harry had been here. His jaw dropped as torches flared to life in the vault around the far wall and glittered off the piles of gold, silver and bronze that arced up towards the ceiling. Harry half expected to see snow and low lying clouds on the peaks of the coins.

"Well," he managed. "Colour me surprised."

"Due to the large amount of present funds, and the growing interest," the goblin guide said, stepping into the vault after Harry and Ginny had entered it. "Gringotts has provided you with a range of magically enchanted purses - you can see them hanging on the wall to your left - for your convenience. They range in size, small to large, and are feather light even when full."

Harry nodded. "Tell the bank I appreciate it." He discarded the small grey bag he had been planning on filling full of gold and walked over to the wall and the leather purses hanging on hooks.

"What'd you think, Gin?" he asked. "Can I get away with calling it a wallet?"

Ginny smirked. "It's a change purse, Harry, and Ron'll see it as that."

Harry sighed and took down the nearest purse. It took a few minutes to cram it full of gold - it was bigger on the inside than out - but weighed nothing when he tied the gilded cord around his belt so it hung down alongside his jeans.

One short boring cart ride back to the surface later and Harry and Ginny were reunited with Charlie, Hermione and Ron in the bank's foyer, where the counters were bursting with patrons and goblins counting gold or precious stones. Charlie handed Ginny a small bag of coins and Hermione had a bag of her own from converting Muggle money. They headed back out towards the alley.

About three quarters of the way across the foyer, someone nearby in the crowd of people near a teller shouted, "HARRY POTTER!"

Almost as if it had been choreographed, Ron and Hermione moved up to flank Harry from either side, Charlie got his back and Ginny boxed him in from the front. They increased their pace towards the door, pulling Harry along, and were soon back out in the sunlight of Diagon Alley.

"That was quick thinking," Harry commented, his voice tight, once they had moved a fair way down the street. "And beautifully executed," he continued. "One might think it was planned in advance."

Ron, at least, had the grace enough to look at his feet. Hermione and Ginny had such expressions of innocence on their faces that Harry knew they had arranged it, if something like that happened. Charlie just shrugged, smiled uncertainly, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Harry appreciated the gesture, of course, but he could not like it - ever. What was to stop a Death Eater blasting away a part of his human shield to reach him? Nothing at all was the answer, and Harry would be damned if his friends would die for this war. He gave them all a look which said they would talk about this later, and then moved off on his own towards Flourish and Blotts.

By silent agreement, it wasn't mentioned again.

The bell on the door rang as they entered the bookshop, which wasn't as busy as Harry had expected it to be. Maybe half a dozen customers he could see were wandering through the shelves of books, when on a day like today the store should have been bursting at the seams.

"We'll need both the normal and advanced books for seventh year," Hermione said once they were all inside. "Though we won't need Divination, or a few others, but it'll take some time to find them all."

Charlie smiled. "I'm going to check out the section on dragons - don't leave the store!"

When he was gone, Hermione assigned tasks. "Ron, you can go and find the Charms and Transfiguration books. Harry, you're our resident Defence expert so it's the Dark Arts for you - we might need quite a few from there so Ginny can go with you."

Hermione and Ginny shared a small smile and Harry realised that he was working against a team here on his own. They had just scored another safe point in this matchmaking/hormone game. That put Harry on about two points, trailing by about a hundred. He shook his head with a small smile and moved off towards the back of the shop, winking at Hermione to tell her he knew what she'd done.

He saw her surprise and wondered just how oblivious women thought men were.

"So," Ginny smiled. "Professor Potter, what do we need?"

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hermione, your little partner in crime, ordered defence books." He grinned mischievously when she stumbled. "And I want some Occlumency texts and any on non-verbal spell casting."

"Why?"

Harry stumbled then. Why...? For everything and nothing.... "Dumbledore's killer escaped because I couldn't keep my mouth shut," he said after a moment had past. "Snape..." Harry drove his fist into a shelf of books - hard. "He won't get away next time, Ginny."

She just nodded, looking a tad unnerved. Harry shook his head and began to scan the large section on Defence Against the Dark Arts. The books were many and varied, but didn't even beginning to cover the vast topic. There was a section of the Hogwarts standard books so Harry grabbed a set of those, which were bound with a black strap, and tucked them under his arm.

"Look out for Occlumency and non verbal spells, Gin," he said absently, running his fingers along the spines of a row of books, picking up one or two every now and then.

"You'll want 'O' for Occlumency," she replied. "Is it even considered a defence against Dark Arts?"

"Suppose it all comes back to the intent of the caster," Harry mused, coming to a stop alphabetically after 'N'. There were a few books on the art here. "Flourish and Blotts consider it a defence against dark arts. Can you grab those three please, my hands are full."

Ginny did and they headed back towards the counter to pay. Ron and Hermione met them halfway and they dumped a fair stack of books on the counter in front of the young sales wizard. A short man with wisp of a beard and purple robes. He was wearing a matching wizarding hat.

"Oh, best sale of the day," he commented. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "One more - hang on."

Harry jogged over to the spell casting section, which was in the general stacks, and quickly tracked down what he was looking for. A thick tome on non verbal magic. Pulling out his wand, he actually managed to cast a silent summoning charm to bring the book towards him. Back at the counter, he dropped it on the pile as the sales wizard tallied up the total.

"Seventy nine galleons, six sickles and eight knuts for the whole lot," the man said with a smile. "Those Occlumency books are first editions, pricey - worth ten galleons each."

"I'll get this, guys," Harry said, reaching down to untie his wallet from his waist but Ron was having none of it.

"Harry," Ron said, "put your purse away. We can all pa--"

Harry had expected something like this. Ron was touchy about money. "This is for the war," he cut in. "Ergo it is my responsibility. Consequently I'm paying... Sirius would want his gold spent on something like this."

There were, of course, more arguments, from Hermione and Ginny as well as Ron, but Harry wouldn't budge. He simply wouldn't be moved on this, and in the end his friends gave in. He did, after all, have more money than he knew what to do with.

The books fit into eight bags, and Ron dumped two on Charlie when his older brother saw that they were ready to leave and came back over. Harry poured the galleons onto the desk and began to count them out. He made it eighty galleons even and pushed it across to the sales wizard.

"Are you... are you Harry Potter?" the man asked as Harry began to move away.

He shook his head. "No, but I've been told we look a lot alike."

Harry could tell the wizard did not believe him but he spun on his heel and made a quick line for the door before he could say anything else. Outside in Diagon Alley again, Harry saw the boarded up abandoned wand shop, Ollivander's, and wondered what had happened to the eccentric old man that had made wands.

Charlie saw him looking at the empty shop. "He's not been seen in over a year," he said. "That doesn't mean You Know Who's got him."

Harry nodded, and they set off back up the cobbled stone street towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Via Eeylops Owl Emporium and the apothecary, when they finally made it to the extravagant forefront of Fred and George's business, the five of them were laden with bags. With any luck they could ditch them behind the counter here until they were ready to go.

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes hadn't changed since Harry had last seen it. There was still a small fireworks display going off in the windows, it still stood out against the dull and dreary backdrop of the rest of the alley, and the famous U-NO-POO poster still adorned the window.

Harry knew, with Voldemort getting stronger, that that poster may soon be enough to make Fred and George marked men.

Inside, Harry had to duck when a small flying figurine on a broomstick tried to knock him out with a tiny bludger bat. He didn't have to think hard as to where Fred and George had gotten their inspiration for that little product. He rubbed the side of his head where McLaggen had knocked him out last year.

The product range had definitely been extended since the last time Harry was here. He saw dozens of items that made no sense, but loud noises, as well as the old favourites like Nosebleed Nougat, Shield Hats - shield everything along the far wall - Decoy Detonators and Instant Darkness Powder. He intended to buy some of that - just to carry around in case of emergency.

"Harry, my good man," Fred or George said, throwing up his hands in greeting. "How is our primary investor this fine morning?"

Harry assumed it was George, as Fred had asked him that an hour or two ago. "Fine, George," he said. "Can we drop these bags somewhere and rifle through your merchandise?"

"Yeah, put them in the back. Fred's out there with Verity so fair warning - he may be naked!"

Harry wasn't entirely sure if George was joking or not - when could he be sure when the twins were involved - so he sent Ron, who hadn't heard a thing, in first.

Ron moved ahead and pushed aside the dark curtain near the range of Muggle tricks which led back into the storeroom. Harry waited five seconds after he entered before going in himself, and smiled slightly when he saw Fred counting the boxes of merchandise on one side of the storeroom, and Verity, the blonde-haired sales witch, counting on the other.

"What do you lot want?" Fred asked.

"Somewhere to leave these bags until we're ready to go," Ron said.

Fred waved them on and then smiled at Harry. "You seen the Prophet today, Harry?" he asked.

Harry chewed his tongue for a moment after putting his bags down. "Do I want to?"

Fred laughed and turned away, but Harry saw the pain in his eyes and the sadness. He was still laughing as he slipped away down a row of towering boxes marked WWW.

"Well I don't think that bodes well for me," Harry sighed.

"The paper's out on the counter," Verity said, smiling warmly and gazing after Fred. She added, with a small blush, "I believe you can do it, Mr Potter."

The Daily Prophet was indeed resting on the counter, where George currently stood serving a gaggle of young customers and demonstrating choice products to older ones. He nabbed the paper and unfolded it, already groaning when he saw the picture of himself and the headline.

HARRY POTTER - THE CHOSEN ONE

With the death of Albus Dumbledore, the country and the world lost
a valiant and brave man when they needed him the most. Long belie-
ved to be the only man He Who Must Not Be Named ever feared, has
his death cleared the field for You Know Who's bid for power?

One would think so, but there have been no Death Eater attacks in the
long weeks since Dumbledore's death, no sightings of You Know Who
and no disturbances in the Muggle world. Speculation is strong that
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is the reason You Know Who has
not made his move against our world.

June 1996. Death Eaters broke into the fabled Hall of Prophecy at
the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, and You Know Who
himself duelled Dumbledore in the atrium. Was there a prophecy
marking Harry Potter as the one destined to defeat the most
evil wizard our history can remember? If so, why was it not made public?
Surely such a prophecy would give hope to thousands of people living
in a state of fear and hopelessness after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Potter has faced You Know Who more than once and survived, and is the only
wizard alive now that can claim that. He (continued page 2, column 4)

Hermione and Ginny had been reading the paper over Harry's shoulder, and gently now Hermione asked. "Harry... are you okay?"

Harry realised he was crushing the paper between his fists, and made a small effort to smooth it out. "I'm... not too pleased with this, Hermione," he said after a moment, taking a deep breath. "No, not pleased at all."

Ron intervened in typical Ron fashion. "You're probably just hungry," he said, casting a wary glance at Hermione. "Come on, let's knock off some of Fred and George's gear and go get lunch at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry laughed at that and didn't see the small smile Hermione threw at Ron. "Actually," he said. "I reckon we should get some of those shielded wand holsters, and a few other bits and bobs."

They did, and because it was Harry, George insisted that he not pay a thing. And just like in the bookstore when Harry couldn't be budged on his decision, neither could George be moved on his. Ron was a bit put out about it but got over it fast when Harry took four of the shielded wand holsters - one for each of them - and a few of the other products. Most notably the Instant Darkness Powder and the Decoy Detonators.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron half an hour later, after perusing the twin's shop for quarter of an hour, carrying even more bags, Mrs Weasley, Bill and Fleur were already there and waiting for them. Mrs Weasley was relieved to see them and quickly took control, pushing them into the sparsely populated pub.

"We'll have lunch at home, dears," she said, making a fast line for the fireplace. "Harry's been here too long and I fear some people may have recognised him. We heard it mentioned three times on the way back from the flower shop, Harry dear. It is too dangerous to stay now."

Harry sighed and slumped against the brick wall next to the fireplace. "I understand," he said, grabbing a pinch of floo when Mrs Weasley offered it. He was about to step into the fireplace when Bill stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll go first, Harry," he said. "Make sure no one's at home who shouldn't be."

Harry didn't argue, even when Charlie went next, but he did push to the front of the line ahead of Fleur and threw his powder down with a short, "The Burrow...." before anyone else could go.

He hated it when people he cared about treated him like a child. He even thought, a bit unfairly, that none of them had even seen Voldemort, let alone duelled him; none of them had destroyed a bloody Basilisk; none of them had been unable to do anything as Snape killed Dumbledore....

Harry was shaking his head, angry at himself, when he stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow. He didn't wait for his friends and walked briskly up the stairs, dumping his heavy bags of books and Weasley products on the top of his open trunk in Ron's room.

Moving over to the window, Harry stared out of it into the cloudless sky, over the distant forest and to the foothills near Ottery St. Catchpole, where the River Otter meandered through Devon. He raised his arm and laid his elbow flat against the window, leaning forward until his forehead did the same, hitting it with a dull clunk!

"Damn you, Voldemort," he whispered, his breath fogging on the window for a moment, before the warmth faded it away. "Damn you, Snape, for killing him." Closing his eyes, Harry heard his friends climbing up the stairs. Finally, before they arrived, he whispered, "Damn you, Dumbledore, for letting him...."

*'*'*'*

Matt Tristan lay on his stomach half naked on the bed in the room he and Courtney had rented in Rome, at an out of the way motel, for a few days whilst they waited for the heat to die down over that fire in Merton's apartment building.

He and Courtney had been back here only a day, and even now Matt was listening for the sound of that... that... demon. The terrible screeching, the rush of flames, the searing heat... he was certain it would chase him. He only hoped someone else managed to destroy it before it found him again.

Courtney was on the bed next to him and she was gently applying antiseptic and a few magical potions to the burn wounds on his back, caused by the white hot liquid metal. They hadn't healed that much in a day, and still burnt. He'd been bed ridden for the last twenty hours.

"Ow, ow, ow, OW!" he complained, when the friction of her fingers began to peel away the dead and burnt skin.

Courtney chuckled - she was used to Matt being injured and taking care of him. "Stop being such a baby," she chided.

Matt grumbled under his breath. "Alright then, next time a bloody helldemon can bloody melt a bloody set of stairs on top of you, and we'll see how you bloody cope!"

"I think I'll cope with a bit more grace and elegance than you are, honey," she smiled, gently blowing on the cool cream across his back. Matt shivered and she smiled.

Matt sighed and put his head down into the thin motel pillow. "I think there's a burn or two lower down as well... just below my belt. Here, I'll roll over so you can get in there--A-A-OW!"

Still smiling pleasantly, Courtney finished applying the cream to the fairly serious burn on Matt's shoulder. He had been in a real state last night when she cut away his shirt, some of which had melted into his skin. If it wasn't for the magical potions and creams then he would have been in serious trouble.

Courtney recalled how many times she had had to take care of him over the last five years, when she had met him on her nineteenth birthday and saved his life. Her life, which had been going down hill fast, picked up when their paths crossed. She was twenty four now, and he was twenty five.

Yes, there had been a lot of incidents over those years that required her having to heal Matt as best she could - and she had gotten quite good at it. But it made her wonder how he had survived the first twenty years of his life. He was... accident prone, if that was the right turn of phrase.

"So what do we do next?" she asked.

Matt sighed and turned his head so he was looking at her sideways. He had a winning smile on his lips and raised one eyebrow. "Well, babe, there's adventure on the horizon."

"Again?" she sighed. "When are we going to settle down and have two and a half kids, Matt?"

Matt's eyes widened until Courtney began to giggle. He smiled and threw a pillow at her sideways. It bounced off her and landed on his back, making him wince. "Careful, dear," Courtney whispered. "You'll peel."

"Ha ha...." Matt said. "But seriously, Court. If we find this next treasure - which I'll tell you all about later - we can retire and live comfortably for the rest of our lives. Hell, if we find it I'm willing to bet all those Ministries will drop the charges against me and call off the bounty."

"There wouldn't be a bounty if you were more subtle during that Egypt business," she said. "There wasn't even any treasure map in that sarcophagus anyway!"

Matt pouted and shook his blackish-red hair out of his eyes. "How was I supposed to know it was the most sacred tomb in three religions!?"

"Bless you, Matt," Courtney said dryly, patting his leg and pushing a strand of her long blonde hair back behind her ears. "But okay, what's this next job? Was it something Merton told you about?"

Matt nodded. "Something he died for, something he looked into Hell for, Court... and something looked back." There was no humour in Matt's voice now, he was shockingly serious. "The Source... of all magic. A prize beyond anything. We just have to find this Chosen One he was talking about and go from there. It could take months though."

Courtney was frowning thoughtfully when she hopped off the bed and walked across the carpeted floor towards the table that was strewn with papers and paraphernalia. She picked up a copy of the wizarding paper Matt had delivered under a false name most days. The British one, The Daily Prophet.

"Harry Potter," she said, reading the headline and walking back over to the bed. She sat on the edge against Matt's arm, mindful of his healing back, and showed him the paper. "Harry Potter," she repeated. "The Chosen One."

Matt blinked... blinked again, and then his face split into the biggest grin Courtney had ever seen. "Now that is convenient," he said, and began to laugh. "Harry bloody Potter."

*'*'*'*