Changes Come

Chapter 3:

Lupin was at the door around eleven the next day holding a box of biscuits. He had a hard time convincing Ron not to eat them. It was the portkey they were to take to Grimauld Place.

"But, I'm starving," Ron groaned, clutching his stomach for emphasis.

"Ron, you just ate breakfast an hour ago," said Harry in response.

"So. I'm a growing boy. I need sustenance."

Lupin broke in, "Look, we can eat when we get there. We don't have much time."

They all touched the box and counted down, "Three. Two. One."

Harry's feet landed on the worn rug in the entrance hall to Sirius' house. It was still dreary and tatty looking, but it was clean, and sunlight poured in through gleaming windows. Mrs. Weasley had obviously been working round the clock. He wondered how much time the Weasleys had spent at the cheerful Burrow in the past year, because from the looks of things here, it couldn't have been nearly enough.

Lupin put his finger silently to his lips, reminding them to be quiet. They apparently hadn't yet figured out how to take Mrs. Black's shrieking portrait down.

"The meeting will be in the kitchen," Lupin said as he led the two boys down the corridor.

They walked into the kitchen, where Ron headed straight to the plate of sandwiches Mrs. Weasley had ready for them. Mrs. Weasley crossed the room from where she was chatting with Ginny to wrap her arms tightly around Harry with a warm, motherly hug the moment she'd spotted him come through the door.

"It's so good to see you, Harry, dear. How are you holding up? I do wish you could stay here for the summer. I hate to think of you alone with those awful people. . ." Her voice trailed off, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye with the hem of her apron before turning around and quickly busying herself with making tea.

Harry found it hard to look at either Mrs. Weasley or Ginny in the eye. Before he had time to lose himself in the sickening, looming guilt that had never fully receded, Ginny also had her arms around him, hugging him closely. "It's good to see you," she said into his shoulder.

"You too," Harry replied into her long hair, as he rested his chin on the top of her head. She smelled of Earl Grey tea, warm bread, and lavender. He let her go.

"So, when's everyone else getting here?" Harry said, trying to find some comfortable footing in small talk.

Mrs. Weasley handed him a cup of tea. "They should be along very soon. I believe the meeting's to start in half an hour or so." She handed a cup each to Lupin and Ron, and they all took seats at the table.

As if on cue, they heard a loud crash, and someone said, "Bollocks!" before the deafening cries of Mrs. Black could be heard ringing throughout the house.

"You who have contaminated the noble house of my fathers! Mudblood scum! Blood traiters! Filth! Out of this place, you loathsome-"

Tonks rushed through the kitchen door, which she shut hastily.

"Wotcher, everyone," she said sheepishly under her hands, which she had brought up to cover her face. They did not cover, however, the bright green and violet spikes of hair that shot out of her head.

Lupin chuckled and raised his teacup in her direction. "Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance, Tonks. We've moved that umbrella stand to, what, about eighteen different spots by now. And you still manage to trip over it every time you come. It is a foot, you know. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was walking itself to get in your way."

She lowered her hands to her hips and nodded her head. A bright smile plastered over her slightly flushed, pixie-like face. "Yes, let's do blame it on the troll foot umbrella stand. I take no responsibility. I am innocent and graceful. I'm giving up my career as an Auror to become a ballerina. Didn't I tell you?" At this, she made to do a twirl, but she knocked over a cup of tea when her hand bumped it, so she hastily sat at the table.

They all laughed. Harry pictured Tonks in a pink tutu and her Dr. Martins, smacking forcefully into the other dancers in a ballet chorus.

Soon, the kitchen was bustling with people who had come for the meeting. Mr. Weasley, Charlie, Bill, Snape, Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, Dung, Professor Dumbledore, and several other people whose names Harry couldn't remember took places at the table, which never seemed to run out of space. Mrs. Weasley rushed around, getting everyone cups of tea and setting out plates of sandwiches and biscuits.

When Dumbledore called the meeting to order, Ron and Ginny were shooed from the room, despite their protests. Harry gave them a look he hoped was sympathetic and apologetic as the door to the kitchen closed, and he could no longer see them.

His heart was racing. He looked around the table. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt younger, less like a grown-up. He was very aware of his hands, which he couldn't seem to still. Where did he normally put them? His lap? No. That seemed too formal. On the table in front of him? No. He looked like someone getting ready for a job interview. God, had they gotten bigger? He hoped Dumbledore would start talking soon. He was ready to get this over with.

"As I know we all have other places to be, let us call this meeting to order." Albus Dumbledore was standing at the head of the table.

"You might notice that Mr. Harry Potter has joined us today. I thought it in the best interest of both Harry and the Order that he be granted full membership, so that is what I have offered. I have given him the talisman, and he is to be regarded just as any adult member."

Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely at ease with this decision. Professor McGonagall's expression was not much different, and Snape's lip was curled in a contemptuous sneer that showed a sliver of his yellowing teeth. Lupin looked proud, and smiled warmly at Harry, who could feel little beads of sweat sliding down his neck, trickling below the collar of his tee shirt.

Dumbledore spoke again. "Harry, I need you to tell everyone here about the vision you had yesterday."

Harry recounted the vision, but he did not tell everyone that he knew the identity of the Death Eater. He looked over to Snape, who was staring back at him - what little color he had in his face had drained. Snape broke eye contact first.

"As you can see, and as we had suspected, Voldemort is working to break the wards of blood magic that are protecting Mr. Potter at the home of his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore explained. He added, "Severus, do you have any news to report from the Death Eaters?"

"The Dark Lord is focused on breaking the wards, at getting his hands on Potter. He has put me in charge of analyzing the potions that restored him to his body. He has several other teams of curse breakers working on the situation as well. I don't think Potter is in any immediate danger, but I do think the Dark Lord is getting restless."

Harry listened as others gave their reports. A letter from Hagrid spoke of progress in the continued recruiting of the giants. He'd gone again with Madame Maxime and Grawp as soon as term ended. The vampires and many of the werewolves had joined Voldemort, and Veelas and Centaurs refrained from aligning themselves with either side. Since the Ministry's acceptance of Voldemort's return, several families had fled the country, and a general sense of disease had settled throughout much of Europe.

-***-

After the meeting, Harry met Ron up in the room they shared last summer. Ron was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing Exploding Snap with Ginny. The moment Harry shut the door, they both bombarded him with questions about what he had learned in the meeting. Harry told them a little of what he heard, but he didn't feel right divulging everything. Dumbledore had trusted him enough to allow him in, and he didn't want to betray that trust.

The forgotten pack of cards exploded from it's spot on the floor and showered down on them in a twirling flutter of white and red.

"You lot up for another game?" asked Harry, scrambling to retrieve a card that had gotten caught up in the cuff of his over large jeans.

"Yeah," came Ron and Ginny's response, and they reset the game and all began to play.

They were interrupted when Ron's tiny owl zoomed in through the open window and smacked right into the middle of Ginny's forehead before it hovered, twittering madly in front of her. Ginny struggled for a moment or two, trying to still the bird long enough to retrieve the letter he'd brought, before Harry easily plucked him out of the air as though he were a feathery Snitch. He gently untied the parchment and released Pigwidgeon, who happily resumed springing off the walls like a fluffy pinball.

"That bird's just not right," Ron said as his eyes followed the manic loops and dives the small owl was now executing.

"Ooooh! A letter from Dean," Ginny squealed, the tops of her ears going pink. She quickly got to her feet and ran out the door. Ron and Harry could hear the door of her room down the hall bang shut.

"Ginny's still seeing Dean, then?"

"Yeah, they've been writing all summer. She always does that," said Ron, waving his hand in the direction of the door his sister had just gone through. "Do all girls do that. . .squealing thing?"

"So, you seem pretty well adjusted. I thought we were going to have to medicate you back on the train," Harry observed.

Ron, very matter-of-factly responded, "Yeah, well. You know, Dean's a decent bloke. I've known him for five years. And, besides," he said, raising his eyebrows but looking very sincere nonetheless, "I know where he sleeps, and if he ever does anything to hurt her, I'll kill him."

"Too right. You and me both, mate," said Harry, more darkly than he had intended, suddenly very bothered by the idea of anyone hurting his friend's sister.

After dinner at Grimmauld Place with Lupin and the Weasleys, Harry portkeyed back to Privet Drive alone. When he got up to his room, he held the talisman in his hands.

"Molly Weasley," he said clearly.

"Harry, dear. Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to thank you for lunch and dinner and let you know that I got back all right. Tell Ron and Ginny I'll owl them soon."

"You're quite welcome, and come back whenever you can. I think we'll see you on your birthday."

"See you then. Bye, Mrs. Weasley."

"Bye, Harry."

-***-

Lupin was once again at the door just after lunchtime the next day for Defense training. Harry was glad to see him, even though he'd just seen him at dinner the night before. He really did feel much more a part of things than he had last summer, and he was positively bursting to do some magic with his former professor. When Lupin came last week, they both felt too tired to do any training, so Harry had only used magic when Snape had come for Occlumency and to fix his glasses after the vision.

After several harsh looks and nasty threats from Aunt Petunia to mind the perfectly manicured flowerbeds, Lupin and Harry made their way into the back garden. The summer sun was bright and hot, and Harry smiled as he felt it warm the skin on his arms and neck.

"What do you reckon? Want to work on shields today?" Lupin asked, rolling up his sleeves. He retrieved his wand from a long pocket sewn into the inside fabric of his jacket, which he had flopped over the back of the garden bench.

Harry pulled his own wand from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Right. That sounds good."

Lupin adopted his professor posture. "You already know the Protego shield, so let's first use that to practice. I'll send hexes your way, and you can block them." He held his wand ready in front of him.

Harry drew his own wand in front of his face. "Okay. I'm ready."

Unlike Snape, Lupin did wait until Harry gave word, but as soon as he did, he sent a curse toward Harry with alarming speed.

"Protego!" Harry shouted, and blocked the curse without much difficulty.

"Well done, Harry," came Lupin's response. "Ready?"

They repeated this action several times. Harry was ready for a different challenge. Sensing this, Lupin sent another curse this time; it was harder to block. Harry got the shield up quickly enough, but the force of the spell knocked him backwards, and he stumbled over a stone toad in one of the flowerbeds.

Lupin paused to allow Harry to reorient himself.

"You really do have fantastic reflexes," said Lupin, as Harry walked back to their starting positions.

"Thanks. I think it was all those years trying to avoid being pummeled by Dudley," Harry said, trying not to look too proud of himself.

"Let's try a different shield spell. You are quick enough to block with the one you know, but it's not a very good match for powerful spells," Lupin said, squaring up to Harry once more. "Let me show you. Attack me."

Harry aimed his wand.

"Petrificus Total--"

"Obmolio!"

Lupin performed a looping motion with his wand, and a large barrier that looked very much like a thick wall of water surrounded him. It absorbed the spell and glowed a pale pink before the wall became transparent once more and then vanished.

"Wow! That's amazing," Harry gasped, his wand arm hanging limp at his side as he walked in awe to where Lupin was standing.

Lupin worked with Harry for about a half an hour, showing him the wand motion and helping him learn to focus properly to get the shield up. By the end of the session, Harry was able to produce a thin shield for a few seconds before it faded away.

"Don't worry, Harry. This spell is a lot like the Patronus charm. It requires a great deal of concentration, and not every adult wizard is able to use it effectively. We'll keep practicing, and hopefully by the end of the summer, you can teach it to the DA."

Harry felt tired, but he wasn't yet ready to quit. He looked to Lupin and said, "Fancy a regular duel? I'm fairly sure you can wipe the floor with me, but I could use the practice with the things I already know."

"Of course," Lupin said back. He stepped forward in a traditional dueling stance and said, "Wand at the ready."

Harry positioned himself directly in front of Lupin and brought his wand in front of his face, mirroring his counterpart. Both wizards quickly brought their wands to their sides, then they walked five paces away from each other and bowed. Harry was first to start sending spells, the moment he regained his posture.

"Expelliarmus!"

Lupin was ready--he easily ducked the curse, and sent one back swiftly. They made ample use of the back garden as they blocked and dodged spells they sent soaring at each other. They had been at it for a quarter of an hour or so when Harry ducked a jet of turquoise light that hit the rose bush behind him with a pfft, leaving a great hole in the middle. Leaves and pink petals sprinkled the neatly trimmed yard like confetti.

"Aunt Petunia's going to kill you," Harry chided as he sent another spell at Lupin; he blocked it and returned it with his own.

"Not to worry, I am really quite adept at restoring spells. Rictusempra!"

Harry dived out of the way of the tickling curse, but was alarmed to hear someone behind him burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Dudley was on the ground, clutching his stomach and rolling from side to side. Harry ran to him, a look of horror on his face. He aimed his wand at his cousin.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Dudley stopped laughing and was sitting up, gasping for breath and wiping tears from his eyes.

"What was that! I'd just come out to see what was going on, and then I couldn't stop laughing." He made his way back onto his feet.

"Sorry, Dudley," Lupin said, "Harry and I were dueling, and it looks like you got caught in the crossfire."

"Yeah, sorry, Dudley," Harry added, feeling very nervous. He and his cousin had certainly been on much better terms, but he wasn't sure that Dudley would be okay with being hit with a curse--even if it was only a tickling charm.

"Er. 'Sallright," he said, shrugging his beefy shoulders. "It was completely weird, though." He looked puzzled. "Is that what you do with that. . . stick-thing?"

"I guess we should call it a day, then, Harry," said Lupin. He walked over to the rose bush and examined the sizeable hole in the center of it. He pointed his wand at it.

"Rosarius Instauro!"

Harry and Dudley both watched, fascinated as the hole filled in with new plant growth. The branches entwined in on themselves like thorny, slithering snakes, and three fat, pink rose buds popped out. The only evidence that there was ever anything wrong with the plant was the smattering of shredded leaves and soft petals under their feet. Noticing these, Lupin pointed his wand to the ground.

"Evanesco!"

The broken bits of the old rose bush vanished, leaving only a neatly groomed lawn underfoot.

"Whoa!" was Dudley's astonished reaction. He kept staring at the plant, then at the ground.

-***-

Harry somehow made it through the next week and a half - more Occlumency lessons with Snape, who was as unpleasant as ever, more Defense training with Lupin, where he was producing a stronger shield, and Uncle Vernon's growing animosity, which was making life at Number 4 as foul as any of the time he'd spent there. It seemed as though Aunt Petunia's indifference toward Harry and Dudley's acceptance of him was too much for Uncle Vernon to cope with, so instead he gathered up all of their old hatred for Harry as his own, and seethed with anger every time he and Harry were in the same room together.

On top of that, Harry had received a letter from the Ministry of Magic informing him that there would be a delay in posting the scores to the OWLs because of Professor McGonagall's duel on the night of the Astronomy practical. So, he didn't even have the impending promise of a visit from Ron and Hermione or using magic without an adult with which to look forward.

He had been counting down the days to his birthday, longing for the moment he could leave Privet Drive and stay with the others at Headquarters. Hermione had returned from holiday last week, and he spent much of his days owling back and forth from Grimmauld Place, reading long, silly letters scribbled on by all three of his friends that made him laugh, or talking with Lupin through the talisman.

As he lay on his bed reading the newest copy of Quidditch Quarterly, he watched the clock roll over to midnight. He was sixteen years old. It was his birthday. He turned out the light and smiled at the thoughts of being with his friends that filled his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

-***-

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, breathing rapidly, drenched in a cold sweat. His scar was pulsating in pain, and what disturbed him even more than this were the immense feelings of relief and anticipation he knew did not belong to him. Voldemort was looking forward to something--but what?

The palm of his hand rubbed roughly at his forehead, trying to soothe the aching. He felt like he might be sick. He fumbled about for the talisman, which had twisted around so that it was behind him on the chain, halfway down his back. Lupin's sleepy voice filled Harry's buzzing head.

"Harry?"

"Sorry. It's my scar. It woke me up."

Lupin's voice instantly lost the sleepy haze it held only seconds before. "Have you had a vision?"

"No, I mean - I don't think so. I don't remember if I did. Voldemort is feeling happy."

"Harry, I don't think there is much we can do tonight. I'll talk to Dumbledore. Try and get some rest, and I will talk to you in the morning."

"Right," Harry sighed. He felt helpless, like there was nothing to do. The visions weren't pleasant, but at least with them, he had some real information to share. Voldemort is happy? Harry thought, So what! What good does that do anyone!

"Goodnight. And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."

-***-

Harry didn't sleep well. It seemed that he could only shut his eyes for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. A barrage of owls swooped in just after dawn, carrying birthday notes and parcels from his friends and motivating him to finally give up on sleep all together.

He was more interested in the owl that hadn't come yet. He quickly removed parchments, cards and a couple of parcels from the owls that had come, including Hedwig, but he continued to pace his small room, stopping only to glance out the open window, straining to see any sign of the owl that would bring him the Daily Prophet. He needed to know. He was unable to do anything useful last night, and he was frustrated to the point of wanting to scream.

At last, the large brown owl that brought the morning paper plunged in through the window.

"Finally," Harry said shortly. "What took you so long?" He paid the owl, who ruffled his feathers indignantly. He shot Harry a condescending look, and left quickly, like he rather had other places to be.

"Prissy bird," Harry muttered as he quickly unfurled the paper. He still wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. He didn't have to look far. In big bold letters across the top of the paper:

He looked at the clock - it was a quarter passed six. He decided it was too early to contact anyone yet. He settled on opening his cards and gifts to pass some time and get his mind off of Voldemort. Lupin, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys sent cards, saying that they couldn't wait for him to get to Grimmauld Place, and they would give him his presents there.

Hagrid sent three rock cakes along with a roughly carved wooden phoenix. It wasn't fancy, but Harry thought it was one of the best things he had ever gotten. It was about the size of his hand, and it had been stained the rich, dark color of coffee. Harry read the short letter Hagrid sent with it.

Neville sent him an interesting plant, about six inches tall. It had a sturdy, woody-looking main stalk, and from there, an intricate lace-work of branches wound their way into a tangle of deep green, spidery leaves. Small, delicate looking orange blossoms peeked out from the top branches. His letter told Harry that the dried leaves were extremely useful in truth potions, and the flowers boosted the power of most healing draughts.

Luna sent him an interesting. . . what was it? Harry held it up to the weak, early morning sun and screwed up his face in contemplation. It was a thick line of twine with catches on either end, making it just long enough to be worn around his wrist as a bracelet. It had what looked to be bits of small bones and dried flowers and twigs tied to it in about one inch intervals and smelled strongly of mothballs. Perplexed, Harry opened her letter.

That was helpful, he thought, as he chuckled, setting the gift aside. He put the cards and his new things carefully into his trunk, except for the plant, which he didn't want to crush. He then spent some time as he sent notes of thanks to everyone.

He had killed a little over an hour, and he wondered if it was still too early to contact Lupin. Before he had time to consider the point for very long, Lupin's voice echoed in his ears.

"Harry?"

"Lupin! Have you read the paper?"

"I have, Harry. I guess we know what all that was about last night," he said. His voice was grim.

"Yeah," Harry replied darkly. "Will there be an Order meeting?"

"Dumbledore has been meeting with Fudge and others at the Ministry since the news came in. It seems that our friend, Cornelius, has no idea how to handle this situation. Albus will likely call a meeting when he returns. Now that he has more of his trusted Death Eaters at his side, Voldemort will gain more power and confidence, I'm afraid."

"I can't believe Malfoy's out--or any of them! We only just got them!"

"This is war, Harry. Since the Dementors left Azkaban, it was only a matter of time before something like this was to happen. Fudge refused to grant the funds necessary to increase security. The Aurors were overwhelmed."

The Aurors! Harry almost forgot. He gulped, "Lupin, are Tonks and Mr. Shacklebolt okay?"

"Yes, they're fine. The Aurors who were kissed were not members of the Order."

Harry sighed in relief. Not that he was glad that anyone had been kissed by a Dementor, but he didn't want to think about anyone else he knew losing their lives.

Lupin continued, "I'll be there in an hour or so to portkey with you to Grimmauld Place. So far, the plan is still for you to come here."

"All right. I'll see you soon."

-***-

Harry had packed most of his things last night. His trunk stood like an awkward island in the middle of the floor. His room, once again, bore no evidence that he lived there. He looked around at the walls, bare except for a framed art print of a flowered meadow and a handful of Dudley's old things that littered a section of shelves. He was ready to go. He felt so useless here. He needed to be in the wizarding world again. He needed to be near his friends and the people who cared about him.

Haphazardly, he grabbed his jeans off the floor and put them on. His white tee shirt was the same one he wore yesterday, and it had deep wrinkles where it had been crumpled on the floor. He shrugged on some socks and his worn trainers and grabbed the handle of his trunk. He heaved the heavy box almost all the way down the stairs before a corner hit the banister and he lost his grip. It landed hard on the third stair from the bottom, with a loud thud. He dragged the trunk into the living room, where panting, he left it next to the front door. He went back up the stairs to retrieve Hedwig's cage and Neville's plant.

On his way back downstairs, he ran into a sleepy Dudley in the corridor. He walked with Harry as they made their way down to the kitchen.

With a stifled yawn, Dudley said, "You know, you really should make more noise when you get up in the mornings." He then noticed Harry's disheveled clothes and sizable bags under his eyes. " What's the matter with you!"

"Er. Couldn't sleep," Harry said as he placed Hedwig's cage on top of the trunk, and lightly set the plant down beside it.

Dudley eyed the luggage. "So, are you leaving today?"

"Looks like." Harry didn't really know what to say. He had never felt the need to bid anyone a proper good bye at Privet Drive before. He and Dudley weren't good friends, but they had become more cordial to one another over the past few weeks. He noticed that his cousin had not been as active with the gang of thugs he usually hung around in the summers. He never thought to ask why.

"Where are you going to go?" Dudley asked.

"My godfather's old place. In London."

"Right."

His aunt and uncle were sitting at their usual spots at the table. Uncle Vernon looked up briefly from his paper to cast him a nasty look before growling, curtly grabbing his briefcase, his lunch, and bolting out the door.

Harry was too tired to care. He brewed a pot of coffee. The lack of sleep he'd gotten last night, along with the news of the Death Eaters' escape had left him feeling heavy. His legs seemed to weigh a million pounds each.

Petunia's snappy voice cut through the fog that was over taking his head. "Leaving today, are you?"

"Mm-hm," Harry grunted as he poured his blessed cup of coffee into a faded blue mug that said World's Best Dad! in red lettering. He added some milk and sugar, took a sip, and instantly felt some of the static buzz inside his head soften.

He wasn't hungry at all. He picked at his breakfast in silence with Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who had flipped on the kitchen television to a loud morning chat show. He watched the glowing blue dots on the microwave clock blink unnaturally slowly, and the minutes changed over in what had to be hours.

The program on the television switched to a different loud chat show. Harry was still watching the blinking clock. Another chat show later, there was a knock at the door. Harry practically ran to it and yanked it open.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Lupin said with a kind smile as he stepped through the door and hugged him.

Dudley had come through the kitchen door and stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. "Yeah, happy birthday," Dudley mumbled, and he shoved something from his thick hand into Harry's.

Harry looked down at what his cousin had just given him. It was a baseball. He looked closer at the scuffed up leather ball; Dudley had written something on it.

Harry laughed out loud, and Dudley soon joined him. He couldn't believe it. He never would have imagined a day where he would be laughing with his cousin in the middle of the living room at Number 4 Privet Drive. He walked over and clapped him on his large shoulder. "Thanks. You know I live to make your life more interesting, Diddums."

Lupin cleared his throat. "Harry, the portkey will activate in just a minute or two. . ." he let his voice trail off.

"Right," said Harry. He turned back to his cousin, "Well, I guess I'll see you next summer."

"Yeah."

Lupin summoned Harry's things with a flick of his wand and pulled an empty Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans box from his jacket pocket. Harry grabbed the handle of his trunk, Lupin grabbed Hedwig's cage and his new plant, and they both took a corner of the colorful box. Harry looked up just long enough to see Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway of the kitchen before, with a quick tug behind his navel, he was gone.

-***-

The next moment, he felt his feet touch the ground in the entrance of Grimmauld Place. Hermione had instantly launched herself at him and engulfed him in a frantic hug. She was talking non-stop, holding him tightly. Her fuzzy brown curls were tickling his nose, and he could feel two wayward strands that had gotten caught up in his eyelashes.

"Oh, Harry, you're here! How are you? I mean, I can't believe I wasn't here when you were here a couple of weeks ago. You're in the Order! That's a lot of responsibility. I can't believe you've been at your aunt and uncle's all this time, and . . ."

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, gripping her shoulders and pulling away from her. He looked her steadily in the eye, and gave her a small smile. "Take a breath." He let his hands drop back down to his sides, and she smoothed her hair back from her face with the flat of her small hand.

She gulped in a great breath of air before she spoke again. "It's just really good to see you. I've really missed you. How are you, anyway?"

"Fine," Harry said, looking quickly at the floor instead of his friend's pleading eyes. He wasn't fine. He was a nervous wreck. Looking back to Hermione, and then around to Ron and Lupin, he felt the weight of the prophecy pressing down on him, and he knew the time was coming when he would have to tell them.

Looking around the house, he was strongly reminded of Sirius, and his absence had never been quite so prominent. He half expected to hear his thundering footsteps coming down the stairs; a part of him waited for his godfather to come out from where he was hiding to engulf him in a great bear hug.

When he'd come last time, he was so nervous about the Order meeting that he didn't really have time to miss Sirius here. He'd missed Sirius at Hogwarts. He'd missed Sirius on Privet Drive, but he hadn't yet missed him here, and Harry wondered if staying at Grimmauld Place the rest of the summer was such a good idea after all.

"Well, let's get your things upstairs, shall we," Lupin's voice broke in.

Ron walked round, clapped him on the shoulder, gave him a friendly smile, and seized a handle of Harry's trunk. Harry took the other handle while Hermione took Hedwig's cage and Lupin took the plant. They lumbered up the stairs and dropped Harry's things next to his bed in the room he was to share with Ron. Lupin exited quietly, leaving Harry alone with his two best friends in the world. He sighed heavily and sat on the corner of his bed.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said gently, perching next to him on the old threadbare bedspread. "Tell us how you really are - because, you keep saying your fine. We know you're not. Ron said that he talked to you a little about Si-Sirius. . ." Her voice broke as her gaze trailed off for a moment, and her eyes began to shine thickly with unshed tears. "Sorry," she sniffled, "I miss him, too." A fat, heavy tear landed in the middle of her thigh, leaving a small, dark circle on her jeans.

Ron, who had been sitting on his own bed opposite of where Harry and Hermione were sitting, got up quickly to put an awkward arm around her shoulders. With a large, clumsy hand, he squeezed her petite shoulder gently and said, "We all miss him," then he moved to sit on the other side of Harry.

Harry cleared his throat lightly. "I notice he's not here. . .I didn't before. When I was here for the Order meeting, I didn't notice. But now I do." His own voice broke as he choked out, "How am I going to do this?" with a great sob. He rested his elbows on his knees and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead, just above his eyebrows. How was he going to stay here? How was he going to get over losing Sirius? How was he going to defeat Voldemort? How was he going to tell Ron and Hermione about the prophecy? He suddenly felt like he was once again carrying one of Aunt Petunia's book-laden boxes.

He felt his two friends put their hands on his back - Ron's large and gawky, Hermione's light and delicate. The warmth of the weight through his tee shirt was very much like having Fawkes singing on his lap in the living room on Privet Drive. He put his arms across each of their backs, and they all sat there for a while, resting the sides of their foreheads together in a comfortable line and not saying anything.

Harry straightened up slowly. "I have something I need to tell you both," he said, trying to bring some strength back into his tone. They both straightened up as well, pulling back a little and dropping their hands back to their laps, but still staying very close to each other.

"It's more than just Sirius," Harry said, losing the momentary strength he'd only just mustered. His voice came out in what was barely more than a whisper.

"What is it, mate?" Ron said, looking concernedly from Harry's face to Hermione's.

"The prophecy. The one from the Department of Mysteries," Harry began. He swallowed hard. "I know what it said."

"I thought it broke," Hermione said.

"It did. But, Dumbledore. . . he was the one who originally heard it. He had it in his Penseive. He showed it to me."

Both of his friends looked at him curiously. He cleared his throat again, and let the words escape that had been running like a broken record through his brain all summer:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . .Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. . . And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. . .And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . .the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. . ."

There was a heavy silence.

"Is that it?" Ron asked, loudly.

"What!" Harry turned to face his friend, who wore an expression that was strangely unreadable.

"It's just. . .I mean. . .It had to be something like that, didn't it!" Ron said; he was almost smiling. He ran a large, freckled hand roughly through his flaming red hair. "Of course you have to defeat him. . . of course! It's always been that way. Even first year. . .I just knew you would have to get that stone by yourself." He smacked his hands down on his knees with a large clap.

"But, I'm going to have to kill him, Ron," Harry said, standing up and walking to the other side of the room, not having near the confidence in himself that his friend obviously did. Maybe Ron didn't understand.

"Honestly, Harry!" said Hermione. She was also wearing an expression that didn't seem to fit. "It just makes such perfect sense! It's why your parents were targets. It's why Voldemort went after them in the first place." The triumphant look she always got when she figured out a troubling Arithmancy problem faded quickly as she saw Harry's face, which was stricken and white looking.

"Oh, Harry," she said, rushing over to grab his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. . .you probably think you're the reason that. . . I don't know what made me say it that way. . .I mean, how could I. . ." Her large brown eyes were filling once again with tears.

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Ron said, looking very puzzled.

Hermione cast a severe look in his direction.

"It's all because of me. Voldemort killed my parents because of me. Sirius. Cedric. It's all because of me and that dammed prophecy," Harry said dully to the wall.

Ron cuffed Harry lightly on the top of his arm before he firmly grabbed him high on his shoulder and looked him steadfastly in they eye - it was Ron's way to make sure he was paying attention. "V-Voldemort killed your parents because he's a great sodding lunatic! You had nothing to do with it."

"Ron's right, you know. You can't blame yourself, Harry." Her voice was soft, but firm.

Harry didn't say anything for a long time. His friends simply stood beside him, and he couldn't have been more grateful to them for this support - the kind that didn't need any words.

-***-

Three days later, Ron and Harry rushed out of their room at a loud shriek from Hermione. They bounded out into the corridor and down the stairs to where she was standing, in the drawing room. Her face was a dull gray color, and she looked like she might be sick.

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Ron, rushing over to where she was standing.

She held up a thick, official looking parchment envelope with the Ministry of Magic seal on the back. "Our OWL results. They're here."

"Excellent," came Harry's reply, as he took the envelope with his name on it from the table. Ron snatched his as well.

Hermione still did not look well. "I don't think I can. . .What if they're awful? I can't bear to open it."

"C'mon Hermione," Ron said, giving her an encouraging smile. "You're the best witch in our year. You'll do fine. We'll all open them together. I mean, I'm only really worried about Potions--I don't know what to do if I can't get in NEWT levels. You have to have them for Auror School." His smile dwindled as he spoke his last two sentences.

Harry added, "Yeah, you've got nothing to worry about, Hermione. I'm the one who fell asleep in the History of Magic exam. Anyone who was conscious would do better than me on that one."

Hermione took a steadying breath, "All right, then. Let's open them, shall we?"

Harry ripped open the envelope and read the scores:

A wide grin spread across Harry's face. He passed Potions! He'd topped his year in Defense Against the Dark Arts! Some of his marks weren't all that high, but hadn't Percy gotten 12 OWLs...?

He looked up to see Ron smiling, too.

"How'd you do?" Harry asked.

"I got twe-"

Ron's reply was interrupted by an ecstatic Hermione. She was jumping up and down and giggling so much, her face glowed red, and tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.

With a smirk, Ron asked, "How'd you do, Hermione?"

She stopped jumping long enough to look up at both Harry and Ron, a glittering smile lighting up her entire face. Breathlessly she said, "I got best in year! They say that I've done better than anyone has in twenty years!" She held out a handsome parchment certificate with a deep violet ribbon attached to it.

She started jumping again. She hopped over to Harry and hugged him. The corner of her envelope poked him just behind his ear, making his glasses go crooked.

Then, she leapt over to Ron, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. They stayed that way for a long moment, before Hermione pulled away. She looked at Ron, dazed.

Ron, with a goofy grin, face as red as a strawberry, and looking as though someone had hit him hard over the head, staggered a bit before he said, "Er. . .Hermione. . ."

Hermione seemed to come to her senses. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and squeaked out, "Oh, God!" and fled the room, hands covering her very red face.

Harry, very seriously looked at Ron, who was still deep crimson from the tips of his hair to the tip of his chin, and said, "So, I guess you never told her, then." Then he cracked a huge smile.

Ron was seemingly incapable of human speech. He opened his mouth several times as if to say something, but always seemed to think better of it and promptly shut it again. Harry imagined that if goldfish were capable of making noises, that is exactly what Ron would have most closely resembled.

-***-

Harry knocked softly on the door of the room where Ginny and Hermione were staying. He waited only a couple of seconds before he heard Hermione's voice.

"Go away," it said.

"Hermione, it's me. Let me in."

Hermione opened the door and peered out into the corridor before silently bidding Harry to come in. She quickly found her spot back on her bed, where she sat, feet crossed at the ankles, arms on top of her knees, which she had drawn close to her chest. Her muffled voice came out behind her folded arms, where she had buried her face. "I can't believe I did that," shaking her head. She looked up at him wearing an expression that oozed worry and embarrassment.

Harry didn't really know what to do or say. He sat beside her and asked, "Why did you?"

"I don't know! I was so happy. It felt like that was what I was supposed to do. It just...happened." She was still shaking her head.

"Well, if it will help anything - he likes you, too. You do know that, right?"

A look of immense relief washed over her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure." A quick half-grin broke the right side of his face. "You should talk with him."

"I know. But, what do I. . ."

"I thought you had the whole relationship thing down. You seemed to know everything there is to know last year when I was making a right mess out of. . .whatever that was. . . with Cho."

"Yes, but Harry, that is other people's relationships. I've never been very good at my own."

Harry said, "Where's Ginny? Isn't this more of a 'girl talk' kind of thing?"

Hermione lowered her legs so she was sitting Indian style. "Yes, well, she's spending the day with Dean. His summer league is in London for a football tournament. She's been gone since early this morning."

Harry took that moment to look around the room. He hadn't been in here since sometime last summer. He first saw Hermione's side. It was neat and orderly, every spare inch was covered in books. Stacks of parchment with her neat handwriting were visible on the desk next to a translucent cut glass cup of a rich deep blue that held several quills; a matching ink well sat efficiently next to it.

Ginny's side was less tidy. There were a couple of jumpers thrown over the hastily made bed. Scattered chocolate frog cards and Droobles Best Blowing Gum wrappers littered her desk. What Harry noticed most, were the dozen or so drawings that hung on a spot between the window and the wall, above the head of her bed. They didn't move - they were just simple, Muggle drawings made with what Harry supposed were pastels or colored pencils.

There was one of a small black girl of about four years old, with fat, twisted pigtails sticking out all over her head - she was playing with a set of alphabet blocks. One had of all of Harry's roommates - He, Dean, Neville, Ron, and Seamus were all sitting on and around his favorite couch in the common room. There was one of Dean and Ginny sitting by the lake - Dean's arm was around her, and Ginny's head rested on his shoulder. They both looked relaxed and happy. There was one of Ginny where she wore that infectious smile she had, just before she started laughing. Harry didn't notice his own face break into a smile at seeing it.

Hermione said, "Yes, they are quite good. He sends one with almost every letter."

Harry snapped back to attention. "Right," he said. "I think you should go talk with Ron."

-***-

Ron never told Harry exactly what he and Hermione talked about, but it was easy enough to guess. Ron and Hermione were rarely seen one without the other, and they couldn't have a conversation without breaking off every twenty seconds or so to make huge cow eyes at each other. Harry was a little unnerved at the lack of bickering between the two, and sometimes they were so sickeningly sweet to one another that he just left them to themselves. He was glad Ginny was there. It was good to have a friend to talk to, and he found himself talking with her often.

Their Hogwarts letters arrived about a week and a half before term was to start, and they made plans to go into Diagon Alley to get new books and supplies. Harry was looking forward to seeing the twins' new shop. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes had done so well that they were able to get a flat just above it, so Fred and George had only been at Grimmauld Place a handful of times since Harry's birthday.

Harry was still practicing Defense with Lupin and Occlumency with Snape. He was getting much better at the Obmolio shield and marginally better at controlling his mind. His scar felt a lot like it did before his first vision this summer; it was in a constant dull ache, but nothing significant.

The Leaky Caldron looked as it ever did to Harry, dark and dingy while still feeling homey and comfortable. The smell of perfumed pipes filled the air as curls of different colored smoke twisted around one another until they met toward the ceiling in a brownish haze. Tom, the old bartender, tipped his hat and had four Butterbeers waiting for them by the time Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny reached their table.

"Thanks, Tom," Harry said as he took his seat.

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Potter. It's always a pleasure," he said, flashing a toothless grin before hurrying off to a table where a small child had emptied the entire contents of her lunch plate on the ground.

"Well, where to?" Ron said.

"I simply must get to the stationary shop. I'm almost completely out of parchment and ink. I could use a new quill as well," Hermione said, listing off the items on her fingers as she said them.

"Well, I'm meeting Dean in just a few minutes. Maybe we can catch up later," Ginny said.

Ron replied, "Yeah, why don't we meet up at Fortescue's in a couple of hours. I have to go get some new robes. I tried my old ones on the other day, and they stop about three inches above my ankles."

"Right, I need new robes as well. And, I'd like to go into Quality Quidditch Supplies. There's supposed to be a new broom model out. I wonder how it compares to the Firebolt," Harry added.

They finished their Butterbeers and made their way through the bricked archway that led them into a very crowded Diagon Alley. Harry was happy to see many of his school friends, and he always found it interesting to see all sorts of witches and wizards with their families.

Flourish & Blotts was the first place they went. They all needed to get the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, and Ron and Harry were happy (well, as happy as could be expected) to be able to get the NEWT level Potions text.

They had been in the junk shop, where Ron was looking for an original first issue of Number 8, Volume 3 of The Adventures of Marvin Miggs, the Mad Muggle comic book. Harry laughed as Ron tried to explain to a very disinterested Hermione that this issue was key due to the story arc that made Marvin a manager at the supermarket where he worked. He finally found the copy he was looking for, and nearly jumped up and down when as he breathed, "Original condition! There's not even one bent corner!" Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically, but Harry could see a grin break through her superior façade.

Just as they all walked out of the shop, Harry bumped hard into someone walking very quickly down the street.

"Ooof. Sorry." The moment the apology was out of his mouth he wished he could take it back.

"Sorry does pretty much sum it up, doesn't it, Potter?" came the lazy, arrogant drawl of Draco Malfoy, who was using his pale hands to smooth out the front of his robes, as if he'd brushed up against something dusty. "You really should watch where you're going."

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, and he could feel the pulse in his clenched fists pound against each one of his fingers. The sight of Malfoy's sneering face made him want to hit something - and Malfoy was top on the list.

"What's the matter, Potter? You look as though someone killed your dog."

Ron, who had been standing hand in hand with Hermione, broke loose to stand beside his friend. "What did you just say, Malfoy?" and he pulled out his wand, aiming it at Malfoy's throat.

Malfoy looked at the sign of the shop they'd just come out of, and then at the bag from the second hand robe shop hanging from Ron's hand. "What's your problem, Weasel? Couldn't afford to get your Mudblood girlfriend anything better than pureblood castoffs?" He then sighed despairingly and said with mock pity, "Not that she could ever do any better, I suppose," with a dismissive wave of his perfectly manicured hand.

Ron's face was very red, but his narrowed blue eyes burned almost black as he stepped forward, pressing the tip of his wand into the skin just below Malfoy's Adam's apple.

Through gritted teeth, he snarled, "Say something like that again, Malfoy, and you'll be wishing the only thing I do is turn you into a bouncing rodent."

Draco stared icily back; his arrogant posture betrayed only the slightest twinge of fear when, for only an instant, he dropped his gaze down at the point of Ron's wand.

"Ron, don't," came Hermione's voice from behind them, as she rested her hand on Ron's shoulder. "He's not worth it."

Ron didn't lift his wand. He pushed it further into Draco's throat.

Draco backed away from the point of Ron's wand and said, "I don't need your help, Mudblood."

Harry stepped forward, and with a satisfying thwack, he felt the flat of his fist come in contact with Malfoy's jaw. Draco staggered back, and fought to keep up on his feet. There was already a grayish-blue mark appearing just under the left side of his cheek, and a small trickle of blood ran in a thread down his chin from his open lip.

"Just get out of here, Malfoy," Harry said. He then looked to his friends, and all three of them walked passed Malfoy down toward the twins' joke shop.

-***-

With a merry jingle of door-bells, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the joke shop trying to forget the scene from a few minutes ago. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was packed with customers, most of them Hogwarts' students, stocking up on practical jokes and Skiving Snackboxes before fall term started.

Every now and then, Harry could hear a pooft, and where there was once a person, there would be a canary, or an aardvark, or a porcupine. Then with another pooft, there was a person again. He looked at the small shop, amazed at all Fred and George had done. The walls were lined with large glass bins, filled with colorful sweets that were sure to cause plenty of havoc. There were entire shelves devoted to fake wands, portable swamps, and Weasleys' Wild Fire Whiz-Bangs. A table in the center of the shop stood just under a sign that said Mayhem to Order: Customize Your Chaos Today.

Fred and George looked up at them from where they were tending the till.

"Well, Merlin's Ghost! If it isn't the one..." said Fred

"...the only...," said George.

"...Harry Potter," they said in unison, walking over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing.

"We are so pleased to have such a brave..."

"And famous..."

"And noble..."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook Fred's hand. Smiling, he said, "Enough. I get it."

George clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "Really, Harry. It's about time you came to see us. You are our partner, after all." He said his last sentence under his breath, close to Harry's ear.

"Yeah, you'd think he'd want to see how his investment was doing," said Fred, who had also moved in very close.

"Honestly, though. What do you think of the place?" asked George, backing up and speaking loud enough for the others to hear.

"It's brilliant! It looks like you are really doing well." Harry was still looking wildly around. Every time he blinked, there was another fantastic joke to take in.

Fred said, "We are, mate. We certainly are." A bright firework flew past him, painting the word, BOGIE, in glowing letters that changed from yellow to green to brown and back to green, before it zoomed off to another part of the shop.

The twins took Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the shop and showed them all of the newest inventions. They joked around and gave Ron a significant amount of razzing about his dating Hermione.

"Well, little brother," Fred said, pulling Ron into a headlock, "It's about time. That's all I have to say."

They decided to head over to Florean Fortescue's for some ice cream - it was time to meet up with Ginny and Dean. Fred and George said they'd catch up in a few minutes. They needed to attend to some customers and wait until the afternoon help arrived before they could leave the shop.

-***-

Their pockets were full of candy from the sweets shop they stopped by on their way to Florean Fortescue's, and they were talking animatedly about the fact that they had just run into Neville Longbottom, who was holding hands with Luna as they walked out of the ice cream parlor. He had blushed at them, and Luna seemed just as unattached to this world as she always did.

They were all slurping on their large ice cream cones at a table outside when a very happy looking Ginny walked up with Dean, their hands laced together at the fingers. The couple sat down with them once they had their ice cream - they were sharing a sundae.

Ginny had just said something that prompted Dean to plunk a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her nose with his long, red spoon. Ginny retaliated by returning the gesture and plopping a large blob of cream on Dean's nose. Harry was starting to feel a little out of place amongst all the couples. He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair. Hermione looked over to him, and her bright smile seemed to fade a little.

"So, who do you suspect Dumbledore has gotten for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" she said, looking to Harry.

"Dunno. Can't be anyone worse than last year, can it?" Harry said, looking at some point off in the distance. He really did wonder if they'd have someone who knew what they were doing. It hadn't been since their third year that there was a decent professor in the post, and with the war coming on they were going to need all the knowledge and practice they could get.

"Maybe they'll bring Lupin back. He was good, wasn't he?" Ginny said, tearing her eyes away from Dean's.

"Yeah," Harry said, "but I doubt he'll be coming back. I think he would have told me if he was."

Harry took a bite of his ice cream. It hit that funny part of his mouth, just behind his front teeth, that made him shiver. It was colder than he'd expected. He noticed Ginny shiver, too.

"Has it gotten colder out here?" asked Ron.

"Nah, it's just the ice cream," Dean said.

But the very next moment, Harry saw his breath curl in front of him in a mist of silver vapor. Then he heard them, the voices of his nightmares.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl. . .stand aside, now. . ."

"Kill the spare."

"There's nothing you can do, Harry. . . nothing. . . . He's gone."

He wasn't aware that he had is wand out until he had screamed the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A massive silver stag erupted from the point of his wand, which was aimed at the Dementor who had been gliding toward Madam Malkin's.

People were running everywhere. Schoolbooks and new robes peeked out of the abandoned shopping bags that littered the cobbled road.

"Is everybody okay?" Harry said, looking to his friends at the table.

Ron looked determined, wand out and ready. Hermione looked a little weak, but she, too, had drawn her wand. Dean was holding Ginny back, but she was struggling free herself from him, looking frantically down the Alley. Both of them also had their wands out in front of them, ready.

"We're all right. How many are there?" Ron said, searching the area around them.

When Harry took a moment to really survey the scene, it was as if things had switched into slow motion. There were close to ten Dementors that he could see, and to his utter horror, Death Eaters - at least twenty of them, were attacking people as they frantically tried to run for cover.

A street vendor cart next to them was upended as it got caught in the crossfire of a Death Eater dueling with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry grabbed the talisman anxiously.

"Albus Dumbledore."

Dumbledore spoke very quickly. "I know, Harry. The Order has been guarding you all day. I've already notified everyone and contacted the Aurors. Get yourself and the others into a safe place. I shall be there shortly."

He looked to the others, "We have to move. They're coming straight for us. We have to get back to the Leaky Caldron."

"No, Harry," said Ron, "They'll be waiting for us there. We have to find a place where they won't be looking for you."

"Right. Let's go this way," Harry said, and they all ran toward a less open area of the Alley. They were almost to a smaller passageway behind one of the shops, when Harry looked back. A Dementor was closing in on Hermione, who was cowering close to the ground. She was uttering the Patronus charm, but her wand was only emitting feeble sparks.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry saw Ron's Patronus for the first time. A great lion, larger than his stag, tore gracefully down the street and sank it's teeth into the Dementor, who backed away with an unearthly shriek. The lion went further down the way to attack another Dementor that was trying to get into a store full of terrified shoppers.

Ron helped Hermione to her feet. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out a chocolate frog, which he gave to her immediately. She ate it quickly, and they both ran toward a place where a Death Eater was cursing a small family. Ginny and Dean ran toward the bank, where they spotted Tonks trying to take on three Death Eaters by herself.

A young father was suspended about two feet off the ground, where he was convulsing in pain. His wife and daughter looked on the scene, bound by magical ropes that kept them from leaving.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Hermione. Her spell struck the Death Eater squarely between the shoulder blades. He froze mid-curse, and the man he was torturing fell to the ground with a dull thud and didn't move.

Harry pointed his own wand to the frightened mother and daughter. "Finite Incantatem!" The ropes vanished, and the mother wrapped the little girl tightly in her arms before falling onto her husband's motionless form.

Soon, Aurors arrived and swept the family off to safety. Most of the Dementors had been taken care of, but several Death Eaters were still about, although they were stealthily hiding and doing battle from behind makeshift covers.

Harry walked closely to Ron and Hermione as they searched for a place to hide out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Aurors dueling with Death Eaters. Bright bursts of spell light could be seen coming from behind vending carts, large crates, and small walls that winged the porches around cafés.

They found a small lane behind the main Alley, and ran to take cover behind a dumpster that hummed with the suffocating sweet smell of rotting rubbish. As they got closer to the bin, Harry noticed that his breath was once again forming in a mist before his face.

A Dementor was bent low to the ground, head bent dangerously close to the face below it. Small, weak whimpers seeped feebly from the figure who the creature held, grasped by the shoulders, with its long, rotten-looking gray fingers.

Bravely, Hermione rounded the corner first, wand out in front of her at the same time as Harry shouted, "Keep you mouth shut!" They both paused for only a moment when the Dementor shifted its position just long enough for Harry to glimpse a shock of silver-blonde hair.

"Oh, God," Hermione said flatly before aiming her wand and yelling, "Expecto Patronum!"

Her beautiful silver otter Patronus bounded from the tip of her wand and batted the foul creature about the head with it's wide, shimmering tail. The Dementor retreated, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking once again at Draco Malfoy, who had passed out cold on the damp ground, his hair soaking up the liquid that was leaking from the dumpster.

"Wake up, Malfoy," Ron said, kicking the sole of one of Malfoy's now scuffed expensive black leather shoes with the toe of his worn, brown boot.

Draco let out a long, low moan as his head lolled in the spot where it was lying in the putrid dumpster juice. Ron kicked at Draco's feet again, and the pale boy uncertainly raised his head and shoulders off the ground.

Ron snorted at him, "Better born in a bin, than dying in one, eh Malfoy."

"Weasel King," Draco said, pulling himself up into a sitting position, "What in Merlin's name-"

Harry handed him a section of the chocolate bar he'd pulled from his pocket. "Here. You need to eat this."

"Don't tell me that Saint sodding Potter, everyone's favorite little hero, came to my rescue." Draco was pulling himself up to stand inadequately, like a toddler just learning to do it on his own. He looked at them, as though trying to come up with something clever to say, but his posture wavered and his pallor turned to a dull green. He braced himself against the dirty brick wall.

"No. It was Hermione. She set her Patronus on that Dementor just now. Eat the chocolate, Malfoy," Harry said, shoving the piece of candy into Malfoy's dirty hands.

Draco ate it, and the green tinge backed off of his cheeks, leaving only smudges of grime, and the promise of a sizable bruise from where Harry had hit him before. A trickle of dirty dumpster water ran in a line down the right side of his face where it had dripped from his dingy hair.

The four of them eased their way back into the Alley, searching for any sign of Dementors or Death Eaters.

"Any of your mates still around, or can we go back to the Leaky Caldron now?" Ron said, looking ferociously at Malfoy.

"What do you know about anything, Weasel Face? Whatever. I best be going. Father will be unhappy if I don't make our appointment." He walked off in the opposite direction, his gate once more permeating with aristocratic arrogance.

The aftermath of the attack was apparent everywhere. Broken windows, upturned tables and chairs, and panicked people made work difficult for the Emergency Healers and Aurors tending to the wounded.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the war-torn Alley toward where they had last seen Dean and Ginny by Gringotts, hoping to find them still in one piece. Harry saw Ginny first, and the others jogged after him. He swooped Ginny up, and hugged her tightly.

He said, "I'm so glad you're safe."

"You, too," she said back. He let her go and turned to Dean, whom he clapped heartily on the shoulder. Ginny was hugging her brother and Hermione.

BOOM! The ground shook beneath their feet.

"What was that!" yelled Dean.

Huge billows of smoke, thick as velvet blacked out the sun. They ran toward where they heard the explosion.

"Oh, my God!" Ron exclaimed as he paused briefly, face stricken, and then he started running as fast as his long legs could carry him. The others struggled to keep up.

Harry almost asked where they were running and why so fast, when he saw a green skull suspended in an eerie glow over a building burning in the distance, a serpent slithering from its open mouth. The next thing he noticed was an enormous series of brightly colored fireworks, plastering Diagon Alley's smoky sky with thousands and thousands of very rude words.

-***-