Thicker Than Water: Year Six

Chapter 18 - Making Contact

Thinking about Dumbledore's suggestion to reinstate his blood protection had put Harry in a dismal mood, recalling the previous couple of years. The lingering protection his mother had left in his skin had been twice stripped from him: once by the use of his blood during Voldemort's resurrection, and then by the explosive killing of his aunt and her family in the previous summer's Death Eater attack.

Harry's glum mood lasted through the weekend. Overwhelmed as he was with schoolwork, he didn't even have the solace of intensive quidditch practices to help exhaust him and distract him from his thoughts. Ron and Ginny were out on the quidditch pitch most of the day Sunday, preparing for the following week's match with Hufflepuff. Ron's ability as a keeper was unrivalled: the confidence he had gained since the win of the quidditch cup the previous year only served to enhance his existing skill at the game. It helped that he had grown up playing with other stars of the Gryffindor team: Charlie, Fred, and George. Even Bill, whose tactical mind was similar to Ron's, had terrific knowledge of team tactics, though his interest in the sport didn't quite rival that of his younger brothers.

Harry used the extra weekend time wisely, finishing assignments and studying alone with Luna while Ginny was out at quidditch practice. He also took Sean out for some coaching, giving him flying and quidditch tips, though wisely refraining from getting on a broomstick himself. Hermione was little seen; aside from homework and prefect duties, she seemed to be spending lots of time documenting the oppression of house elves over the centuries. Harry didn't dare ask her to what end she was working.

Over lunch on Monday, Hermione finally had a chance to observe Harry and noticed his pensive mood. She cut him off on his way out of the Great Hall. Ron had left the meal early to get in a team discussion of quidditch strategies, now that the Hufflepuff seeker was out of commission with a worsening case of spell induced twitchy-ears. The seeker's replacement had just been announced, with less than a week until the match between the two houses.

"Leo - wait up!" called Hermione breathlessly, trying to keep up with the stride of his longer legs. When they had made their way into a far corner of the nearly deserted Entrance Hall, she asked, "What's up? You seem - out of sorts today."

"A lot on my mind, I suppose," Harry said with a shrug.

"Is there anything I can help you out with? Are you keeping up with your school work?" she asked.

Harry nodded absently, then remembered of a favour he had meant to ask of her. "Hermione, you could do something for me. It may be a bit tricky, though."

That caught Hermione's attention; her eyes widened, and she leaned in conspiratorially to hear Harry's request.

"Do you think you could make a potion for me?" Harry blurted out quickly. "It's called the Revellius potion, and it should be in any advanced Human Transformation book in the library. I haven't had the time to look it up, but you're way better than me at brewing potions anyway."

At the compliment, Hermione gave a satisfied smile and said, "You're doing just fine in potions this year. But I'll look up the instructions and give it a go, if I can get the ingredients... When do you need it by?"

"Well, anytime, I guess. It's just something I might need, in case... In case something happens. Thanks for doing this for me, Mione!" Harry reached over and gave her a quick, tentative hug. He didn't tell her what the potion was for, knowing she would figure it out the instant she got her hands on the recipe.

In response to Hermione's query over what "something" he expected might happen, Harry cut the conversation short, and made to leave her. That afternoon was his turn, along with one Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaw students, to interview their chosen Magical Creature. He had chosen to do his essay on centaurs, because Firenze was a known entity and Harry had already seen centaurs interacting in the wild of the Forbidden Forest. Besides, he wasn't too keen on his other choices. The vampire they met at the start of the winter term had thoroughly creeped him out; she was a beautiful and sexy vampire named R.J., and seemed to look at all the boys in the class as though she were ready for a feed.

As he turned to leave, Hermione caught his sleeve and hissed, "Leo!"

He drew back towards her, curious as to her urgent tone, and Hermione continued, "I know you're pretty close with Ginny. Kenslie says she's been having nightmares lately, and she's skived off a few classes. She won't talk to us girls about it. You don't by chance know what's going on with her, do you?"

Harry wondered if Tom's voice was still whispering in her mind. He recoiled slightly, but decided to keep the redhead's confidence, at least until he had the chance to talk to her about it. That wasn't a conversation he was eager to start. He shook his head and told Hermione that he knew nothing about what was bothering Ginny. Looking slightly troubled, Hermione walked off to the library, hoping to find the Revellius potion before her Runes lesson started.

Preoccupied as he was, Harry got through the rest of the day's schedule quietly, trying to focus on his interview with Firenze as a distraction from his thoughts. The afternoon ended with Double Potions, his least favourite class. He sat next to Anthony Goldstein, who spent the intervals when Snape's back was turned tugging at the matching braids that hung down the backs of the Patil sisters seated in front of them.

Harry snickered as both Parvati and Padma turned simultaneously and shot Anthony identical petulant looks. He then turned back to his Heartening Potion, and added the carefully measured dried St. John's wort, stirring five times counter-clockwise before reducing his flame for a prolonged simmer. Glancing back at Anthony, Harry didn't notice Snape walk up and stop right beside his cauldron.

He jumped, as Snape's oily voice unexpectedly rang in his ear. "Mr. Evangy, can you tell me why the Hypericum perforatum has to simmer?"

A few students looked over to hear his answer, and Harry quickly tried to recall what he had read in his new Herbology book. "Er... simmering St. John's wort enhances its anti-depressive properties?"

"And what circumstances would make the use of this ingredient undesirable?" pressed Snape. Harry racked his brain and came up with the answer. "St. John's wort can interfere with anticoagulant and immunosuppressive potions, rendering them ineffective. Sir."

Snape surveyed him coolly for a few moments, before addressing the class loudly. "Mr. Evangy's potion has taken on the exact shade of yellow that you should have achieved at this stage of brewing. If your potion is not this colour," Snape paused to glare unpleasantly at Susan Bones' orangey concoction, "then you can be sure it won't work properly when administered. Ten points to Gryffindor for answering my questions correctly."

Far from being heartened, Snape's approval only put Harry into a fouler mood. He sat simmering like his potion, eager for the class to end. At such times that Snape showed him fair or respectful treatment, his irritation with the potions master only increased as Harry recalled his vindictive behaviour of the past.

Luna found him following afternoon classes. She tapped the cube on her ring, which was swirling grey with angry black flecks, and said, "You don't look very happy today. Maybe we should talk about it?"

Harry looked cantankerously at her, but some of his anger melted when she leaned in tantalizingly close and whispered, "Come tell about your day. We still haven't discussed the blood protection that Professor Dumbledore mentioned. It may make you feel better to talk about it."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as she began to lead him to the dungeon route that would take them to the hidden music hall, but he pulled her back and said, "No, not there." Taking her to the Room of Requirement instead, Harry paced three times and a door materialised that led them into a replica of the Manor sitting room.

"What a lovely room!" exclaimed Luna, looking around at the richly decorated but comfortable space. Harry's breath caught, though, as he noticed a piece of furniture that didn't belong in the room he had imagined. Walking up to it, he ran his finger along the wooden frame; Luna came up from behind and read, "I show not your face but your heart's desire."

He looked at her in surprise. "What did you say?"

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," she repeated, pointing in a right-to-left arc at the letters carved into the top of the frame.

Harry murmured in amazement, "How come I never noticed that?"

Luna shrugged and said, "I like to read things backwards - it makes the most mundane things sound interesting."

Harry shook his head briefly as though to dislodge her bizarre answer, and stepped right up in front of the mirror, saying, "It's called the Mirror of Erised, and it..."

His eyes flew open as he registered the image staring back at him. As in his first year, his parents stood behind him, looking lovingly at their grown son. But - in addition to a few ancestral Potters and Evans - a whole slew of familiar people crowded around behind him in the mirror. Most of the Weasley family was present; Ginny's image jostled with those of George and Fred for the most prominent position, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, Bill and Fleur were there, even Charlie made a rare appearance. Ron and Hermione were standing off to one side, Ron tall and gangly, Hermione waving happily at him. Tonks kept trying to peak out from behind the taller Weasleys while Hagrid towered over the lot of them, in the back. At Harry's side stood Luna, her protuberant eyes patient and kind, and her dirty-blond hair gleaming the light.

Warm fingers interlocked with his own and he looked down at his hand, which held Luna's. He looked over at her, and back at the mirror. She was reflected exactly as she really was, standing beside him and holding his hand.

"Do you see it?" he asked her breathlessly.

She looked wonderingly in the mirror and said, "I see a place I've always wanted to go to, clear but ever-changing, as though I'm flying above it. The mythical nine kingdoms! What do you see?"

Harry looked back at the plethora of people gathered behind his mirror image, and replied softly, "I see my family."

As he spoke, Remus strolled into the frame, holding hands with Sinéal. Harry looked fondly at him, but then his eyes started darting wildly around the mess of faces.

"Harry, what's the matter?" asked Luna, startled by the sudden tension of his body.

Harry reached his hand out to touch the mirror and called in an anguished voice, "Sirius!"

Look as he might, and despite the fact that the mirror showed him people who had already died, there was no sign of his godfather.

Luna looked at his stricken face, and abruptly pulled Harry away from the mirror. Harry kept saying in a numbed voice, "He wasn't there - why wasn't he there?"

Luna stroked his arm, trying to calm Harry down. He jerked away and looked at her intensely. After a moment, Harry said in an urgent tone, "Luna, I need to show you something! Will you wait here for a sec? I'll be right back."

She nodded, and he hurried to the door. Before leaving the room, Harry glanced back and saw Luna stepping in front of the remarkable mirror again.

Harry dashed down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower. He went quickly through the common room, trying to pretend that there was nothing bothering him. Sprinting up the stairs to his dorm, Harry rummaged at the bottom of his trunk under he found the well-wrapped and carefully concealed package. He then hurried back to the Room of Requirement.

When he walked in, he found Luna perched on the sofa, playing a sad melody on her flute. The Mirror of Erised was turned away from her, towards a side table, upon which Mrs. Norris sat. The cat was very still, staring intently into the mirror, with only the occasional flick of her tail providing any sign of life.

Harry strode over and sat down beside Luna, who pocketed her flute. He placed the package in his lap and carefully unwrapped it. Inside lay the mirror Sirius had given him after Christmas last year. Its face sported multiple cracks - consequences of Harry's anger - but only a very few shards were missing.

"This was a two-way mirror from my godfather, Sirius. I forgot about it until it was too late," said Harry sadly, looking into Luna's eyes. "Do you remember those voices whispering behind the veil, Luna? I sometimes wonder if I couldn't reach him there, if he didn't have the other mirror with him... I don't know why, but I can't see him in the Mirror of Erised, with everyone else I care about."

"Maybe it only shows the living?" suggested Luna delicately.

Harry shook his head vigorously and replied, "It shows my parents, and others!"

"Sirius Black!" Harry said clearly into the mirror, but nothing happened. He reached into his robe and - as he often did when he was alone with Luna, or in the safety of the Manor - pulled out his old wand, the one with Fawkes' tail-feather at its core. Touching the mirror, he repeated Sirius' name several times, sometimes adding words such as "reveal yourself" or "contact Harry Potter!"

Luna reached over very gently to still his wand arm, but she was looking at the mirror with intense concentration. She took it slowly from Harry and, pointing her own wand at it, said, "Speculum reparo!" The cracks in the glass disappeared leaving the mirror whole except in the places where the missing shards had been.

Harry sat on the edge of the sofa watching tensely as Luna turned the mirror front to back, examining it minutely. She pointed her wand again, and said, "Aparecium Sirius Black!"

When nothing happened, Luna tried again, using variations of spells in futile attempts to summon Sirius from the other side. Frustrated, she called out, "Aliquisne domum est?" but the mirror remained blank. They fell into silence as Luna continued to stare at the mirror intently. She finally drew in a deep breath and tried again.

"Sirius Black, Loquitur ab imo aevum!"

A sudden crackle of lines appeared across the surface of the mirror, like an impossibly bad reception on a muggle television. Harry shot forward in his seat, with bated breath, waiting to see if anything else would happen. The lines, however, faded and the mirror emitted only a couple more crackles before it went blank again. Harry gasped and said to Luna, "Do it again!"

"No! This time, you try it," she replied, staring pointedly at him. She repeated the words to him.

"What does that mean?" asked Harry, glancing up from the mirror, somewhat awed by the way the Latin words rolled off her tongue.

"Speak from the depths of eternity," said Luna softly, watching him. Pointing his wand at the hand-held mirror, he repeated Luna's words clearly and touched its surface.

Nothing happened. Harry was crestfallen, but Luna touched his arm and said with scarcely concealed excitement, "Try it again, but use your other wand!"

Harry looked at her curiously, but pocketed his old wand and pulled out his new one. Hand trembling slightly, he aimed and recited, "Sirius Black, Loquitur ab imo aevum!"

With a sudden shock like the discharge of static electricity, the lines in the mirror returned and a figure resolved itself somewhat. The haggard face of Sirius Black appeared through the static, eyes staring blankly past Harry. As though echoing across a vast hall, his whispers had an ethereal quality to them. "Harry! Must go save him! You can do better than that, Bella! Wait... No!!"

"Sirius!" cried Harry in anguish, trying to reach into the mirror to his godfather. Sirius' eyes narrowed into a haunted expression of agony and he cried out a whispered, "Vengeance!" before he was displaced by other forms in the swirling mist. An older witch with dark locks matted down with grime appeared in his place, and shouted, "My son! Payment for my son!"

She, too, was displaced, this time by an unpleasant looking man with long hair who howled angrily, his fierce eyes flashing with hatred. Other faces moved into the line of the mirror's vision, all raging against the wrongs they had been subjected to, wailing for their revenge. Once or twice, Harry heard the name "Tom" and one gaunt face of an elderly warlock shouted, "He is from the devil his self, but he shall surely pay for his sins!"

All the forms that swirled into the mirror were blurred by the lines across its surface. Like a worsening reception, the lines became more pronounced and the figures obscure, their voices fading into the indistinct whispers that had emanated from beyond the veil at the Department of Mysteries. Finally, nothing could be seen or heard amidst the crackling static, which itself diminished until the mirror wore an innocuous blank face again.

Harry - who had sat in stunned horror watching the faces of countless, angry victims - dropped the mirror onto the sofa and fell forward, his head collapsing into his hands. Luna shook herself from her stunned silence and said quietly, "Harry?"

He didn't reply. In his worse dreams, he could not have imagined the horrific collection of trapped souls calling out from the depths of eternity through the portal that was his mirror. His body shook, but he did not shed a tear; there was just the unfathomable comprehension that Sirius was trapped there with them, on the other side.

Harry willed his pounding heart to slow, and his panting breath to subside. He had succeeded somewhat when a strong hand began to knead his shoulder blades. He jerked away reflexively, and looked over at Luna, impulsively snapping, "What are you doing?!"

She looked sadly at the hunted-rabbit fear in his eyes, and replied soothingly, "I'm just trying to help you relax. Harry, please, it's okay: I won't hurt you!"

He shuddered with a nervous aftershock of the mirror's vision, and tried to focus on what Luna was saying. After a struggle, Harry said in a defeated voice, "I'm sorry. I just... nobody's ever touched me like that before."

Luna reached over and pulled Harry into a close embrace. He fell into her lap, head resting against her torso as she rubbed gentle rhythmic circles against his back. The pressure increased as Luna massaged his shoulders and neck, and some of the tension began to seep out of his muscles. When Harry had calmed down significantly, he sat up and looked into Luna's sympathetic eyes. "Thanks."

She drew in his face and tenderly kissed his eyes. He reached up, and their lips locked into a long, warm kiss. Pausing for a breath, Harry leaned in for another, and another after that. With her firm embrace and gentle kisses, Luna seemed to draw the poison out of the sting; Harry clung desperately to her, instinctively finding the only real antidote to the haunting images he had just seen.

They remained locked together through the supper hour. After more of Luna's intimate therapy, Harry was finally able to talk about the purgatory they had glimpsed in his mirror. He told Luna all he had found out from Remus about the accursed veiled archway. His voice only broke when he tried to utter Sirius' name.

Only when Harry's stomach began to rumble audibly did Luna declare it time to return to reality. She picked up the mirror and gently re-wrapped it for Harry, reluctantly slipping it back into his robe pocket. Harry let out a deep sigh, bracing himself for the real world of Hogwarts that lay outside the apparent Manor sitting room.

Hand in hand, Harry and Luna left the Room of Requirement. The silence in their wake was marred only by the faint purr emanating from Mrs. Norris' throat. Oblivious to the two students, she remained seated, still, gazing intently at her reflection in the Mirror of Erised.

*

After seeing the tormented souls from behind the veil lurking in Sirius' mirror, Harry wasn't certain how he should tell Remus, or whether he should tell him at all. He knew that Remus was as devastated as he was by the loss of Sirius, but he wasn't sure if he could share with his friend the haunting images he had witnessed.

Harry was mulling about the issue when his next visit to the Manor rolled around. His concern about what to tell - or not tell - Remus took precedence even over his disappointment at having to miss the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match that Sunday. Unfortunately, that was the only time Tonks was available for his touch-up, so Harry had to give up the game with a heavy heart.

Tonks met him in the Manor kitchen, where she sat enjoying a fruit salad and bowl of ice cream courtesy of Dobby. She exclaimed cheerfully, "Hey, it's our harry friend, Leo! Come join me for a morning snack!"

"Where's Remus?" Harry asked abruptly.

She waved a spoon and said, "He has some Order business to attend to today. He's been holed up in the library since I arrived, neck deep in maps and charts. Some sort of reconnaissance missions the Order is planning. Nothing I'll be involved with, I'm just too clumsy for that stealth and tracking work..."

Dobby appeared with a happy squeak, and entreated Harry to let him prepare a snack like Tonks'. Harry had just eaten breakfast an hour or so before, and turned down the ice cream; Dobby looked crestfallen, so Harry requested an apple and Dobby bustled off happily to get a basket of fruit.

After she finished eating, Tonks retrieved her cosmetic case and set to work on Harry. He closed his eyes and tried to relax as she worked, but images of an anguished Sirius kept flashing through his mind, causing his temples to throb with the beginnings of a colossal headache.

Remus came in towards the end of the cosmetic touch-up, helped himself to a cup of coffee, and watched Tonks work. Harry looked over at his guardian, and noticed that he looked careworn, tired rings marking the skin beneath his eyes.

Remus began to talk about getting Dobby away from the Manor. "Now that I'm no longer living here, he seems deathly bored, and overeager to serve when we do come in for a bit. Maybe you should ask him to come to Hogwarts? Or alternately, we could use him at Grimmauld Place: there are always people coming and going there, and lots for a house elf to do."

"What about Kreacher? He's still there, isn't he?" Harry asked as Tonks finished up and packed away her cosmetics.

Remus replied, "No, his mind was already going and he didn't survive long after Dumbledore's questioning last spring. In the end, Kreacher took his own life. He had already put a plaque up on the wall, and died trying to decapitate himself beneath it."

Harry grimaced with disgust, and quickly promised to talk to Dobby about a move. He then scrambled around for a change of topic. "How's the top-secret work going?"

Remus frowned and sipped at his coffee, before replying. "There's so much to do, Harry. We're trying to anticipate the Death Eaters' activities, and every day there are more details to worry about. The Order has managed to stop some key Death Eater offences, and the aurors have halted others. Yet Voldemort's devastation continues as the ranks of evil slowly swell."

Harry looked sadly at Remus, knowing he couldn't add the burden of a tormented Sirius, lost to any real contact, to his guardian's already weighty load. Remus turned to leave the kitchen, murmuring, "I've got several more maps to study today. It's imperative I get the recommendations to Kingsley by this evening..."

"Oh yeah," smirked Harry, "Tonks' admirer! Have you spilled the beans at work yet and told him who you are?"

"You know I can't do that!" Tonks rolled her eyes. "But he caught me at the train station after I dropped you off. Aurors aren't even posted for menial security duty anymore, but he volunteered to see the students off in order to ask me out again! I decided to try what you suggested, and met him for a coffee. I was atrocious, I really was, a regular wreck! I was sure he'd run out on Mrs. Evangy."

"Did he?" asked an amused Harry.

Tonks dropped her face into her hands and shook her head vigorously. Her voice came muffled from behind her fingers. "We're going to the opera on Sunday!"

Harry's jaw dropped then, wearing a big grin, he called out, "Hey, Remus! Tonks has a second date with Kingsley!"

Remus reappeared around the frame of the doorway and said, "You what?!"

Tonks pitched an apple at Harry's head that Harry - his quidditch reflexes undeterred for lack of practice - easily caught and began to eat, a saucy look on his face.

"Shack's been hitting on me since August, when you sent him shopping with young Leo here," she explained to Remus. "I took Harry's suggestion and met him for coffee. I made it quite clear that Mrs. Evangy was not interested..."

"So what's with the second date?" asked a perplexed Remus.

Tonks returned a horrified look and said, "I just couldn't shake him - he was so kind and concerned and said that he understood that I needed more time after the loss of my husband. Then next thing I knew, I was being roped into going to the opera with him next week! It's Carmen, he said it was great and... and... I've never been to an opera!"

Remus looked dumbstruck at Tonks' faulty defence as the young auror dropped her head back into her hands, groaning.

"Opening a can of worms, you are!" muttered Remus. "After all, you still have to work with the man. And we can't afford to drop Harry's cover to any more people, not even to Order members, Tonks."

Tonks nodded. "I'll blow him off at the opera: tell him it's not my thing, he's not my type, and I'm fatally attracted to kumquats or something..."

Harry laughed and turned to Remus. "How's it going with Sinéal?"

"Oh, pretty good!" Remus' reserve went back up like a shield, and his tone was cautious. "I mean, we've been apart for so long, they have a daily routine that doesn't include me anymore. I'm also here every other weekend, and busy working for the Order fairly late some nights. And then off to Grimmauld Place for my monthly... I try not to get in the way too much at home. Still, it's nice seeing Liam every day, and we'll try to get Sean home over Easter."

"But everything's okay?" asked Harry again, concerned by his friend's aloof manner. A big smile burst through Remus' reserve, and a light kindled in his eyes; that answer was clear enough to make Harry smile back, reassured of his friend's happiness. He felt his stomach sink knowing that he was withholding information from his friend about Sirius in the mirror. But seeing Remus really happy was a rare thing for Harry, and he didn't want to intrude with his portrait of victims from beyond the veil.

*

To add to his other worries, the knowledge that Voldemort's ranks were steadily increasing weighed heavily on Harry's mind. More than ever, he recognised the importance of training other students to defend themselves in confrontations, which were inevitably approaching at this stage in the war.

When the evening of the next D.A. meeting arrived, Harry - as usual - joined Neville in setting up the DADA classroom. As they moved the desks, Neville recounted some of the more memorable Defence classes of the past five years for Leo. He told Harry about the useless Lockhart lesson on Cornish pixies, and the destruction they had caused. Harry chuckled at the memory, thinking of how the starry-eyed Hermione had defended the ineffective teacher.

As they spoke, Neville reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a couple of chocolate frogs. When he offered one to his friend, Harry declined and produced a package of bubble-gum instead. He unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it into his mouth, as Neville examined the card that came with his chocolate frog.

"Mathilda Bagshot again! Do you want the card?"

Harry shook his head, and looked down at the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper he held in his hand. "I guess you don't need any more of these, do you?" Harry said quietly, half to himself, conjuring the image of Neville's mother in the closed ward at St. Mungo's.

Neville's eyes moved to the wrapper in Harry's hand, and he made the connection. It wiped the smile off his face as he turned abruptly on Harry, wand at the ready. With a look of angry indignation, Neville asked forbiddingly, "How do you know about that?!"

Harry jumped to his feet, stumbling at the realisation of his inauspicious mistake set in. He tried to come up with a response but couldn't think of anything plausible to say. Mouth opening then closing, Harry gave Neville a horrified, apologetic look.

"I said, how do you know about that?" Neville barked menacingly, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

"I just... I... Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Harry's voice faltered as Neville took a step towards him, wand pointed straight at Harry's chest.

"Nobody knows about that!" Neville shouted. "Who are you?"

"Put the wand down, Neville! It's me, it's Harry..."

Neville's eyes narrowed and he looked at Leo with angry mistrust. He jabbed his wand forward and opened his mouth--

"Expelliarmus!" roared Harry first, conditioned by all his duelling sessions to act fast.

Dodging the spell with surprising speed, Neville shouted back, "Stupefy!"

Harry put up a shield and jumped out of the way at the same time. The hex hit a stack of desks that came crashing down spectacularly.

"Petrificus totalus!" Harry aimed at his friend. Neville dove just in time, and the spell split a torch bracket mounted on the wall. Neville hollered back, "Incarcerous!" Harry dodged.

The battle continued. Harry had the advantage in duelling, but he was trying to disarm Neville without injuring him. To his credit, Neville had the advantage of righteous - though misguided - rage. Desks were knocked over, a scorch mark darkened the stone wall, and one window was broken, letting in a blast of icy air.

In the meantime, members of the D.A. had begun to arrive. Terry Boot and Padma Patil made it several steps into the room before diving for cover and beating a hasty retreat. Other faces peered in at the door, but neither of the duelling students noticed. All of a sudden, a loud bang went off and both Harry's and Neville's wands flew out of their hands and into the clutch of Professor MacGonagall.

Neville had been knocked, panting, to the floor and one sleeve of Harry's robe was torn. Professor MacGonagall, initially too livid to speak, surveyed the room with eyes popping.

"In all my years at this school... I have never...!!" she shouted apoplectically. A throng of students pressed in around her, trying to get a glimpse of the devastation.

"Students! From my own house! Trying to kill each other!" Professor MacGonagall continued in a high voice and an even higher rage. "I want you! and you! to pack your bags this instant!"

She was interrupted by Dumbledore, who swept into the room with a look of grave concern on his face. Noticing the state of the room and of the two duellers, he turned and said sharply to Professor MacGonagall, "Please remove the other students. I would like to question these boys alone."

"They've destroyed the classroom, Albus!" Professor MacGonagall continued to holler. "I have never witnessed such utter...!"

"Alone, please, Minerva!" repeated Dumbledore in his most authoritative voice. She snapped her mouth, lips pressed into a tight line, and turned aside to disperse the students crowded around the door.

"Professor, sir," said a contrite Harry. "I... I tried to tell him..."

"We will talk in my office, Mr. Evangy," said Dumbledore warningly. Neville was still on the floor, his eyes fixed on Leo's face.

"H--Harry? Is it really you?" he stammered in a small, shocked voice.

Harry nodded miserably, extending an arm to help Neville up.

Dumbledore looked once more around the classroom and said, "To my office, boys."

Neville continued to stare at Harry in disbelief as they were ushered out of the Defence classroom and down the corridor by the Headmaster. With each step they took, Harry could hear the whispers of scandalised students erupting behind them. Word of the duel had spread like wildfire, and the whole student body probably believed it was the last they'd ever see of Neville and Leo; they were marching to sure expulsion.

Except that there's no Dursleys to send me back to, thought Harry in a moment of bittersweet irony.

When the two boys were seated in his office, the Headmaster drummed his fingers on the desk and looked from one to the other. The silence lengthened, but neither of the sixth year students spoke.

"I see you've let Mr. Longbottom in on your real identity, Harry," Dumbledore said, understating the duel. Though his face was stern, he had an amused gleam in his eyes as he turned to Neville.

"Is that really you, Harry?" Neville looked beseechingly at the boy he had known as Leo. He reached out to clutch at Harry's torn sleeve, as if doing so would make him more real. "I thought you were dead!"

"It was a near miss. They killed the rest of my family," said Harry in a dull monotone.

"I know," Neville replied with compassion. He looked anxiously at Dumbledore. "Sir, we fought: he said something... There was no way Leo would have known... I thought he was a Death Eater or something!"

"Harry?" the Headmaster turned to him for corroboration of the story.

"Sir," Harry looked boldly at Dumbledore and made an unexpected request. "I would like Neville to train with me. And I think he should be told about the prophecy."

"I told you before that I'm quite certain it refers to you," Dumbledore said, "But I will leave that particular decision to you, Harry."

Neville looked confused. "The prophecy? But... that was destroyed last year, at the Ministry... We saw it break!"

"It was destroyed, but not lost. Professor Dumbledore was the one who heard it, before we were born," Harry said to his friend. "He repeated it to me last June. It goes: The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh months dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his 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."

After his recitation, Harry continued, "Your parents also defied Lord Voldemort thrice before the prophecy was made."

Neville sat stunned, then suddenly said, "But he hasn't marked me like he did with you!"

"Has your parents' madness left no marks on you?" retorted Harry.

Neville sat thoughtfully quiet for a minute, then asked Dumbledore, "Could it really be me?"

"I do not think so," Dumbledore replied gently. "Harry may want to believe it possible, but that may be to all our peril."

"Still, you don't know for sure!" Harry exclaimed, grasping at straws, hoping beyond hope that another might be found to share - or relieve him of - his burden.

"Nothing is ever certain, Harry," sighed the old Headmaster wearily. "But I do not object to your training together, if Mr. Longbottom should agree to it."

"What do you say, Neville? You could join me in the extra Defence training and duelling practices I'm getting," said Harry eagerly. "You did a terrific job today, there are some great things we could teach you!"

Neville thought it over and nodded solemnly. He murmured, "...And all this time, I though I was helping Leo with defence!"

"Speaking of duelling, you do realise that I'm going to have to punish you both for that rather violent confrontation you had in the Defence classroom," said Dumbledore sternly.

Harry and Neville hung their heads as Dumbledore meted out their punishments: detentions to be served in the restoration of the classroom, and thirty points each taken from Gryffindor.

"I have a feeling we'll be hearing cries about this leniency. Please don't discuss your duel with the other students and, above all, we must keep Harry's identity a secret. Is that understood, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville nodded and Dumbledore turned once more to Harry. "In addition, I believe a suspension from the D.A. would be in order for you, Mr. Evangy. I have faith that Mr. Longbottom can lead the club on his own, and we wouldn't want other students egging you two on to a repeat performance!"

Harry agreed to the terms, smiling sheepishly. He and Neville were then dismissed from the Headmaster's office, and the two walked back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. When they arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait, they found her huddled in gossip with Violet from the portrait off the Great Hall. "Ah, the wand-eager students! Tell me, am I seeing the last of you tonight?"

Neville and Harry exchanged a look of anxious trepidation, knowing how much more intense the grilling would be once they stepped in to the common room. Harry uttered the password - "Clairvoyant" - and the Fat Lady was forced to swing open without receiving the answer she wanted.

It wasn't yet curfew, but the entire of Gryffindor House seemed to have congregated in the common room to discuss the night's fight. The voices fell momentarily silent as they entered, but then rose to a higher pitch as questions were hurled at the two boys. Harry and Neville squared their shoulders and walked quickly through the common room, tight-lipped, almost dashing up the spiral stairs to their dorm room.

They walked in to the familiar room to find themselves under scrutiny by three sets of eyes. Ron and Dean stared dumbly at them, while Seamus let out an impressed whistle and said, "Quite the show you put on tonight! Who'd have thought it - you two levelling the Defence classroom! So, have you been expelled?"

Harry threw Seamus a look of silent disgust, while Neville glanced nervously at Harry. Yanking off his trainers, Neville disappeared fully clothed into the sanctuary of closed curtains around his four-posters.

"We haven't been expelled," muttered Harry in irritation, throwing the subtlest of looks at Ron before he, too, retreated behind the hangings of his four-poster.

The next few days were horrid. As Dumbledore had predicted, students in all houses were shocked that Harry and Neville hadn't been thrown out of school, and several Slytherins complained loudly of Gryffindor favouritism. More annoying were the bands of students continually assaulting both boys to find out what had happened. Harry shrugged off the attention and kept mum about the incident. He assured Neville - who wasn't used to being the subject of whispered campaigns and mobbing - that people would soon tire of repeating the story and find something else to talk about.

It took four nights of detention with Filch and Professor Panthera to restore the DADA classroom to its original state. Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were held in an unused main-floor classroom until the repairs were completed. Worse was Professor MacGonagall's treatment of the boys: in Transfiguration classes, she ignored both Harry and Neville, only reluctantly acknowledging their existence when it came time to return an assignment, her lips pressed into a tight grimace of disapproval.

What was most puzzling was that the duel between the apparent friends had only served to make them closer. Mutually avoiding talk of the fight, the two walked to classes together and - unbeknownst to the general population of the school - Neville joined Harry in his weekly duelling practice with Bill on Thursday morning.

As Harry had foretold, the talk died down significantly after a few days. The story of the duel that levelled the DADA classroom, however, was destined to be remembered and repeated to new students for years to come. It became a contemporary favourite, second only to the story of Fred and George Weasley's magnificent escape from the contemptible Umbridge.