31 August - 1 September 1994

On the evening of the last day of August, Harry was sequestered up in his room late into the night trying to get his trunk packed, since he'd neglected to do it earlier in favour of working on a Biology assignment all day, then fretting most of the evening over a new letter from Lord Voldemort accepting his proposed truce.

Under the swiftly negotiated terms neither of them was to face the other in battle or otherwise try to kill or capture the other, nor were they to directly or indirectly order any others (including followers, allies, clients, or animals) to do so on their behalf. Harry felt pretty confident the precise wording should cover any attacks by 'Pettigrew' too, unless the possessed wizard went completely rogue, and even then, he should theoretically be covered under 'Lord Voldemort'.

Harry had clarified that he was allowed the right to self-defence should some rogue Death Eater or "other associate" attack him, provided that they made the first aggressive move, and conceded a matching exemption that if he attacked one of the Dark Lord's followers first, they were at similar liberty to defend themselves to a level of ferocity matching his own attack. Attacking or destroying each other's known properties or business interests was likewise forbidden. Their shared correspondence and details of their truce must remain confidential, and letters must not be shown to any other person or to the papers – the contents must remain secret between the two of them. Voldemort even taught him a charm that could be cast on parchment that was one of the two used in the creation of a Howler – it would ensure that the letter destroyed itself after it was read. However, Voldemort said he would be using different charms on his own correspondence that would merely prevent others from reading his letters to Harry, as Harry's owl wards blocked all letters with the Howler charms on them. Harry wondered if this meant people had been able to send angry Howlers to Lord Voldemort, complaining about the attack at the Quidditch World Cup.

While Harry had been eager to secure safety for his friends and family as part of the truce, he had been stymied by the traditional etiquette that ruled that truces only covered those in one's own House. It was doubly difficult for Harry, because he wanted safety for people who might vehemently oppose Lord Voldemort, given an opportunity to do so. The Dark Lord, who seemed eager to renew a friendly acquaintance and open to compromises, had proposed a solution which Harry had reluctantly accepted as the best offer he was likely to get: Harry was to maintain a cordial correspondence with him, and for each month the truce was maintained and his return letters kept regular, Harry could ask for safety for one additional person, so long as they were not a member of the Order of the Phoenix or otherwise working actively against Lord Voldemort or fighting his followers.

It felt like a trap. The Dark Lord would slowly accumulate a list of all the people most important to Harry, in agonisingly honest order. That information could be used against him, and them. However, Harry was not so naïve as to assume that the Dark Lord couldn't find out that stuff anyway. Even if the Malfoy family was as innocent and lily-white as they liked to publicly claim, and none of his Slytherin friends had any family members who were Death Eaters (two propositions which Harry very much doubted were true), there was at the very least Snape standing ready to report on Harry's associations. Whichever side he was truly loyal to, sharing information about Harry's friends would be a painless bit of gossip to leak to Lord Voldemort to ingratiate himself further in his Lord's regard. So what choice did Harry have? He wasn't risking any information that the Dark Lord couldn't find out for himself, and he couldn't expect his friends to be protected if the Dark Lord didn't even know who they were.

As Harry packed away his clothes and books in his trunk and hid his latest letter from the Dark Lord in its secret compartment, he pondered who to bargain for safety for first. Neville? Hermione? Or even someone he was less close to but who had been established as being at clear risk of attack, like Luna? Neville was a pure-blood and thus theoretically safer, but on the other hand, his family had a history of opposing the Dark Lord. Harry agonised over it all evening – he had a month to reach a decision, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

In the end he decided to ask for safety for Hermione first. If she got infected by a werewolf, she'd lose everything. She'd be devastated to have to leave Hogwarts and would lose her planned career in the Ministry. She might not even be allowed to return to live in the Muggle world with her family, for if they were unable to reliably source some Wolfsbane Potion and didn't have a secure room to lock her up in for three full days and nights every month, she wouldn't be permitted by law to live with them. She would also be totally banned from working in the Muggle world under the new laws Madam Umbridge had recently pushed through the Wizengamot, allegedly due to the higher fatality risk werewolves posed to Muggles.

When Harry had discussed the new anti-werewolf laws with Lupin, Lupin had crossly argued that the law wasn't about safety for Muggles at all. He said it was just an excuse to cut off the primary way werewolves earnt a living – working amongst Muggles where they could hide their condition and escape prejudice. Those who broke the law could now be arrested as criminals who posed a risk to public safety.

If Neville was infected, he could still potentially have a promising career in Herbology as it didn't rely on wand use. He would be able to afford the potion and private tutors and could convert a room in the manor to a cell as required. As a Muggle-born, Hermione would be a more valid target, while Neville's blood status and position as the last scion of his pure-blood House might make some Death Eaters hesitate to harm him. Harry would ask for Neville's safety second. And really, what were the odds they'd be attacked by werewolves or cursed by Death Eaters at Hogwarts in the first month? Very slim indeed, he hoped. There should be time to get a promise of safety for both of them.

Harry packed up the last of his clothes, and then stood staring into the old wardrobe for a moment.

"Kreacher!" he called.

With a pop, the house-elf appeared instantly despite the late hour and gave Harry a servile bow. "Yes, Master Harold?"

"Do you know if I should take Regulus' old formal robes or the gardening leathers? I don't remember if I'm supposed to keep them, or if they were just a loan."

"Mistress said young Master may keep them," Kreacher said. "Will young Master needs them at Hogwarts, or does young Master want to keep them here at home? Kreacher will looks after them until you returns at Yule."

"I uh… I haven't moved in, Kreacher. I'm just visiting. I'm probably going to stay with my aunt and uncle at Yule, though I might visit here again." Glad as he was at this time every year to have the Extension Charm on his trunk, Harry packed one of Regulus' formal robes and the green gardening tunic (which might come in handy if Herbology was tough this year), but left the other robes in the wardrobe.

Kreacher's face fell into miserable lines. "Kreacher was wrong, please forgive Kreacher his foolish mistake," he apologised, pulling unhappily at his ears. Then he added in a mutter under his breath, "The Heir should live here, not with filthy Muggles. Mistress says so. Kreacher will do better until young Master wants to stay. He will be a good influence on the Master."

"You're muttering again," Harry said wearily. Kreacher gave a rote apology, but his heart wasn't in it, for he wasn't actually self-aware enough to realise he mumbled under his breath.

"Is there anything else Kreacher can do for Master Harold?" the house-elf asked with a woebegone face, eyes wide in his face like saucers. He wrung his hands anxiously.

Harry looked around the room for inspiration for something for the little house-elf to do, but there really weren't any tasks left undone. The room was spotlessly clean now. Storm's tank hadn't been shrunk yet – he was out exploring the house one last time, looking optimistically for Doxy eggs to eat. Packing his tank needed to be left for tomorrow morning.

"You dropped off the box of books for William Weasley to check for curses, right?" Harry checked. "We agreed on a rate."

"Yes, Master Harold. I has done this already. He is promising he will be bringing them back here the next time he visits, all secret-like, or getting Dobby to take them to Potter Cottage. All safe for Master Harold to read. He is saying he will makes a note if he is sees any useful Egyptian curses or counter-curses in them while he is checking them, so young Master can read them at Hogwarts or gives them to Master Sirius."

Harry hoped he could find something useful, that would both help and impress Sirius, who was still intermittently gloomy about his cursed arm. Harry had proudly reported in a while ago about his discovery of information on the green bubbling Dragon Pox Curse in Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, however, Sirius explained kindly that he already knew all about it from the Healer who'd treated him at St. Mungo's.

Looking around his room for inspiration, Harry's eye was caught by the swathe of black cloth affixed to the wall above the headboard of the bed, underneath the Black family crest Regulus had painstakingly painted on the wall. "You know," he said slowly. "I must admit I've been a bit curious about what the newspaper articles underneath that are all about. Do you think you could unstick the fabric, so I can read them, then magically stick it back up again so it looks just like it did before?" He wanted to know what the old Order had fought against, and what Voldemort had been like in the war. He suspected that articles from the era might give a more accurate accounting than the patchy and sensationalised versions in the history books.

Kreacher looked delighted to have something to do, and with a snap of his fingers the fabric fluttered loose and fell onto the bed. "Kreacher will return to restore the fabric when Master Harold is calling for him," he promised.

Harry climbed onto his bed to peer curiously at the collage of old yellowed newspaper cuttings. They were all about Lord Voldemort, and his followers. As Sirius had promised ages ago, there was nothing about his parents there – the clippings were all older than that. But there was a short article about the attack on Potter Manor, with an eerie black-and-white moving picture of smoking ruins, with the Dark Mark floating above it in the sky. There was a quote from Harry's grandfather from before his death, apparently said during the middle of a meeting of the Wizengamot where he'd been calling for more funding for the Aurors. He'd publicly described the "self-styled Lord Voldemort" as a "pretentious nobody with delusions of grandeur". The manor had burnt down within a fortnight of that meeting. One witch interviewed for the article said that Charlus Potter "should have known to keep his Jarvey-mouth shut", like he'd had it coming. Like he should've expected he and his wife would be murdered. Like he was to blame for the consequences, having publicly spoken out against the Dark Lord. That made Harry fume angrily.

There were stories of people going missing, reports of rises in the numbers of vampires and werewolves, fearful speculation about Death Eaters infiltrating the Ministry, and sensationalised stories of deaths – though not as many as he'd expected. Just one or two about "brave Aurors" fallen in the line of duty. References to "Muggle deaths" weren't of as much concern and had been given little attention in the selected clippings except to number them.

There wasn't much written about Lord Voldemort's agenda at all except by inference, such as one clipping of anti-Voldemort propaganda urging people to stay firm in their faith and their loyalty to Queen and country, and not to "fall prey to the rising tide of Dark superstition". Harry thought Regulus must have liked the sound of that last phrase, to have saved it within his collage of favourite clippings. Really, the best source of information about Lord Voldemort's agenda – at least in his earlier days – would be found in The Knights of Walpurgis. However, now Harry knew it was propaganda by the Dark Lord rather than an interesting rambling treatise on magical theory and politics, it was much less appealing, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to re-read it or not.

Harry found the most frightening news clippings weren't the ones about murders. They were in fact the ones that seemed the most ordinary. There were a number of snippets from the Daily Prophet's "Witches and Wizards Write" column. In most of the clippings there was a general attitude of indifference to the war from many of the writers rather than the terrified panic he'd expected to read about.

One week the topic of the column was focused on "so-called Ministry corruption". One witch agreed that corruption in the Ministry was a problem, and went on to say that what she really wanted to know was if Lord Voldemort would fix the disgraceful problems with the Floo network, as she hadn't been able to afford the "fees" to push her own personal case through. A wizard commenting on a question about politics said that he didn't think the "so-called Dark Lord" was any worse than Minister Minchum with his deals with the Dementors, and that he liked the idea of having a proper Republic again based on real merit rather than a Wizengamot stuffed full of "Noble" families, so maybe that was worth a try.

Another week's column contained responses to the reporter's question posed in the previous issue: "What do you think about the disappearances of Muggle-borns?" One wizard was quoted as saying, "Good riddance. Only the criminals and trouble-makers trying to ruin our society are being weeded out, you know. The wizarding world will be all the better for it." Another, expressing what the paper described as a "moderate" view, said, "It is not as dire a situation as some complain about – those Muggle-borns who assimilate and avoid provoking trouble are doing just fine and we should welcome them to stay in our society where they belong. My maid is a Muggle-born, and she is still hale and hearty. Some people always just want to complain about something, making mountains out of Niffler mounds. I think Minchum is doing a fine job keeping this Dark Lord's feud with some of the Houses from spilling out of control."

That was moderate. People with blinkered, bigoted views of the world were the moderates. When Lupin and Sirius talked about the last war – which wasn't often – they had made it sound like everyone was running scared. No doubt some people had been – those who actively opposed Lord Voldemort. If the picture painted by the clippings was correct – and of course it might not be, being selectively one-sided – a lot of wizards and witches were indifferent about the war or sympathetic to Lord Voldemort's goals, willing to wait things out. In the meantime, the pure-blood and half-blood wizards and witches unconcernedly got on with their lives, ignoring what they saw as more of a feud between Houses than a true war.

It all reminded him a little of the Quidditch World Cup. A lot of people had been literally running scared – probably a big majority. The Death Eaters and werewolves had been few in number. If everyone had stuck together, they might not have posed much of a threat. But it hadn't been just the actual attackers who were the problem – it was the cheering crowd. The laughing people happy to see Muggles bullied or even tortured, standing between the Death Eaters and those trying to stop them. How did you fight that? If most people didn't think the Dark Lord was doing anything wrong, then the war was practically already lost.

Was he helping lose it, by standing aside? Harry hoped not. One fourteen-year-old boy's participation shouldn't really make a difference, surely? Unless… that prophecy Voldemort had mentioned said something about it. But no, it had been fulfilled when he was a baby. If it was still active, someone would surely have talked with him about it by now.

Harry got Kreacher to put the cloth back up on the wall and went to bed, trying not to feel like he was an old witch just worried about the Floo system, her head stuck in the sand like a proverbial ostrich. Was trying to keep his head down and stay out of things just another way of selfishly focusing on his own problems, just like she had done? Surely it wasn't selfish to not want to die. It wasn't. He wasn't hurting anyone by his actions – in fact, he was actively protecting all his friends too, the best way he knew how.

He'd even tried to cautiously warn Sirius about Snape's probable mixed allegiances, even though Snape was, if not precisely a friend, perhaps something like an ally.

Sirius had promised he was already suspicious of "Snivellus" and didn't trust him with anything personal.

"I trust in his hatred of Voldemort, and we are certain that he wants vengeance for your mother's death. She was his best and perhaps only friend when he was younger. He appears to be loyal to the cause and has gathered valuable information for the Order. As for anything else? Well… let's just say that I haven't told him where Remus spends the full moons when he's not here with me. I also lay false leads about where I'm going and what I'm doing if I know Snape will hear about it. I'm not much inclined to trust, these days. Do not worry – I'm as careful as I can be, while still being involved in the Order."

-000-

It was a grey and gloomy morning with rain splattering the windows at Grimmauld Place in gusts when Harry awoke on the first of September, ready as he ever would be to return to Hogwarts. Sirius and Lupin seemed as dull as the miserable weather, Kreacher was burning toast for breakfast, and Dobby was sobbing inconsolably about how he would miss seeing Master Harry every day while he was at Hogwarts. Harry patted him on the back awkwardly, and promised he would see him again at Christmas, as Dobby snuffled snot and tears into Harry's t-shirt. Only the irascible Mrs. Black was sanguine about his departure when he bid her a polite farewell on the way out the door to a Muggle taxi, but that was soon fixed when Sirius goaded her into frothing anger by informing her that Harry wouldn't necessarily be returning for the Christmas holidays at all, as he liked living with Muggles.

"Harold Black Potter you vow to me right now that you will cast off those lowborn Muggles and take your proper place here with your true family!" she screeched. "I shall not countenance another blood traitor in this household! It shall not be borne! Do you hear me?!"

"Goodbye Mrs. Black, I have had a lovely stay here, it's a beautiful house and I promise I shall return," Harry said vaguely, with a conciliatory smile. "Our taxi's here so we really have to go, or I might miss the Hogwarts Express." Harry pushed hastily past Sirius as he scurried out the door with his leather satchel (with Storm napping inside) over one shoulder, and his Healer's bag in the other hand. The taxi really was waiting, ordered for and parked outside the neighbours' house at number thirteen, since number twelve was invisible to almost everyone.

It was a rainy journey to King's Cross station, and Sirius made awkward attempts at small talk about whether Harry was looking forward to going back to "boarding school", which Harry answered with the vague affirmations necessitated by the presence of their Muggle taxi driver. Their driver seemed a curious fellow, who'd asked what had happened to Sirius' right arm.

Sirius arm was eye-catching. It was still withered despite the Healers' best efforts. It was just dry, papery skin shrivelled taut around the bones. The muscle tissue underneath was almost entirely gone, leaving his arm looking skeletally thin. The muscle had been desiccated away to a highly condensed and totally unusable thin layer. Sirius called it his "beef jerky" arm and tried to laugh about it, with a twisted smile. It always hung limp at his side – the only way Sirius could move it at all was to physically pick up his right arm with his left. He insisted he still didn't want it amputated, however, a stance that Lupin and Harry both supported, being ever-hopeful that something might change, or a cure might be found.

"His arm was injured in a motorcycle accident, a few years ago. Lot of broken bones and some nerve damage," Harry volunteered, as Sirius floundered with umms and ahhs as he tried to think of a plausible Muggle-worthy response.

"You still ride?" the driver asked.

Sirius' face drooped in sad lines. "No. No, I guess I can't anymore."

"You can still ride a broomstick," Harry whispered, leaning in close so he wouldn't be overheard.

It seemed to cheer Sirius up nicely, and he cautiously reached out to ruffle Harry's hair, which made him laugh and smooth it back down again.

Platform nine and three-quarters was crowded as usual and fogged up with clouds of billowing steam from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Owls hooted from all around, families chattered their farewells and last-minute instructions, and new students exclaimed excitedly at the sights.

As he wished Harry a good year, Sirius offered Harry a farewell hug (with one arm), tentatively suggested and cautiously received. It was odd. Harry had never had someone say goodbye to him on the platform like that. Like he was family. Wanted family. He decided on the whole he liked it and offered a shy smile.

"You had better get going, and secure a good compartment before they're all taken," Sirius said gruffly, then thrust a small cloth drawstring bag at him. "Here, some pocket money for sweets from the trolley, and a little extra for Hogsmeade visits. Don't forget to come and visit me at my new house! It will be all set up for your chemistry practice, I promise."

"Really? Oh, thank you very much. You really didn't need to, but it's very kind of you," Harry said with amazement, peeking inside the purse and admiring the gleam of gold. There were more than enough Galleons for as many treats as he wanted. He wondered if Dudley felt amazed and pampered like this every time the Dursleys gave him money for frivolities, or if one got used to it. It didn't feel like something you could get used to, but Harry guessed you would eventually.

"Nonsense, of course I did. Off with you, now. Don't forget to write!"

Harry was glad his trunk was enchanted to be feather-light, since he had that plus two bags to juggle as he shuffled down the train's narrow corridor. He cheerfully greeted a few people he knew (and several he didn't) as he peeked into compartments looking for his friends. He found Hermione after a little searching and settled his trunk and Healer's bag up in the luggage rack, keeping his satchel with him so Storm wouldn't get accidentally squashed while he was napping in there.

"Harry, I have great news!" Hermione announced excitedly, as he wrestled his trunk into position. "Rumihart Books has agreed to publish the book I wrote with Greg as a two-volume set! So, if Greg and I can make enough cuts and shuffle things around, they'll publish what they think is key information in the first volume, then if sales are good all the stuff we have to take out will go in our second book! Isn't that fantastic?!" She beamed a great big toothy grin that lit up her face with joy.

"That's wonderful news!" he agreed. "I'm glad you could come to a compromise that works for everyone. It would have been a shame if you'd missed out on publishing your very own book! Say, am I going to get to read a copy at any point?"

Hermione promised he would, and then burbled happily about drafts, research she'd done with pure-bloods and fellow Muggle-born students, and how many advance copies she'd been promised once it was published. Then she repeated all her news twice more as Neville and then Luna separately found their way to their compartment.

When the trolley witch appeared, Harry bought a good stockpile of treats – half a dozen pumpkin pasties, a pile of cauldron cakes, and a whole box of chocolate frogs.

"I think you shall be sick if you eat all of those," Luna warned Harry, with wide eyes. "Or are you going to share them with us?"

"Oh! Oh! I know!" Hermione said excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat with her eagerness to explain. Harry was frankly surprised she didn't forget herself and wave her hand in the air. "They're probably for a sportula – gifts of food or money to visitors making the morning rounds of salutatio to their patrons! Patrons have an obligation to ensure their visiting clients are well fed."

Luna decided this meant she was entitled to a treat, and nabbed herself a cauldron cake, thanking Harry politely with a handshake.

"Did you hear how Harry saved my father and I at the World Cup?" she asked Neville. Neville hadn't heard about that part of Harry's adventures at all, and he listened with rapt attention to Luna's retelling. Harry thought he and Hermione sounded a lot more glamorously brave than they'd really been, and the danger more intense than it was in real life. Still, the basic facts were all there.

Turning to Harry at the end of her account, she added, "Daddy wrote about it in The Quibbler, you know. Here – he sent you a complimentary copy." Luna dug a copy of the magazine out of her dark blue shoulder bag for Harry to keep.

Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder as he read through it curiously. "You're front page news! Hmm. Right next to a report about the 'Rotfang Conspiracy' working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using 'a combination of Dark magic and gum disease'. Luna… you don't actually believe that, do you?" Hermione asked with concerned scepticism.

"Of course I do," Luna replied with a serene smile. "It's the truth. Daddy always prints the truth, even when people don't want him to. He's very brave, you know. He says when the press is silenced, tyranny has already won."

"There's nothing in there that gives you the teensiest bit of hesitation that maybe it's not completely true? Have you ever met a member of the Rotfang Conspiracy?" Hemione asked, pleading for rationality.

"Not that I know of, but they are very secretive, after all. I don't think you're in it. Why, your parents are dentists! They'd be very opposed to gum disease, obviously," Luna said, gently patting Hermione's arm in a gesture of reassurance.

Hermione huffed in frustration and stared out the window at the passing countryside the train was chuffing through. There wasn't much to see, unless you enjoyed watching heavy rain drenching houses, or paddocks with a few sad, wet cows.

"There could be some kind of conspiracy," Neville said loyally. "Stranger things than that have happened in wizarding society. Perhaps you could explain a bit more about it, Luna? Because I don't understand what gum disease has to do with anything."

"Oh, it's a code of course," said Luna, very casually. "You have to think about it more. Daddy doesn't want just anyone to understand it."

Hermione's head spun back to her, mouth agape. "It's a code? Why didn't you say so?"

"You didn't ask."

Hermione immediately borrowed Harry's copy of The Quibbler to carefully study the article about the Rotfang Conspiracy. Harry thought about it. It could be hinting at the Dark Lord's followers – they were a secretive group that might be undermining the Ministry. "Is it Death Eaters?" he asked, looking for confirmation.

"Well obviously," Luna said.

"Of course," Hermione muttered out loud, not really paying attention or looking up from the magazine. "It's like a cryptic crossword, isn't it? Rot – meaning decay and death. Fang – indicating teeth, associated with eating. Death Eaters are infiltrating the Ministry! The 'Dark magic' part is obvious, but what's this about them giving out toffees and cakes so Ministry workers get gum disease, Luna?"

"They want other people to get rotten teeth too, just like them," she explained. "The taste is honey-sweet, but the consequences are horrible."

"Ah, recruiting new members or sympathisers with bribes and favours, perhaps some propaganda people metaphorically swallow!" Hermione said excitedly. She seemed delighted to have puzzled out the magazine's code and was focused happily on that as she pored over the article, rather than the actual content of the disturbing news that was revealed.

A second-year student stopped by while Hermione was still intently reading the magazine, to hand out parchment invitations for Harry, Hermione, and Luna to join Professor Slughorn for tea and cakes in his compartment a little later on for a "Slug Club" meeting. She left them happily having gained a chocolate frog in return.

"Snubbed again," sighed Neville, but he didn't seem genuinely upset about it. "I might go and visit Ron while you're at Slug Club. He has been having a rough time of things. He wrote to me about it."

Neville didn't need to venture out in search of the Weasleys, however, as they visited Harry and his friends before he had a chance to go looking for them. The twins, Ron, his sister, and their cousin Mafalda Prewett – whom Harry forgetfully called Amanda at first, to their mutual embarrassment, and a secretive little smile from Ginny – all stopped by to share thanks, gossip, and a few snacks from Harry's offerings.

"Dad is healing well, thank Merlin. He sent his thanks and says he owes you a life debt. Mum says thanks again too and sent you a box of caramel fudge – here you go," Ron said, handing it over. "She's been crying a lot, so I don't care if it tastes like goblin dung, it'd be nice if you would send her a thank you letter to cheer her up." Ron frowned worriedly, and Harry gave him a serious nod.

Ron took a deep breath and continued with his messages. "Bill said to say he's busy with all kinds of work and thankfully still has a job with Gringotts, as least until the end of the month, and he will write to you again soon. Uh, let's see… Percy had a long message and I don't remember all of it, but it was all about how he's doing well at the Ministry and hopefully in line for a promotion, and you should write if you need anything. If you thought he was a social climber before, you should see how he's acting now he thinks he has to be the provider for the family! Mind you, Charlie says he'll send part of his pay home now, so it's not like Percy's the only one helping. That's the lot, I think."

"Our own best wishes and continuing gratitude too, of course," said one of the twins.

"You want someone pranked, you need anything at all, you let us know," the other twin added, and they bowed in unison with a dramatic flourish of sweeping hands. Harry wished he could tell them apart – he never knew who was who.

"Charlie said he'll see you soon," their sister added shyly, "and all of us, too. But he wouldn't explain why. Something to do with Hogwarts. I think he might be planning a visit."

"Perhaps he'll visit for a Yule Ball?" suggested Hermione. "It used to be traditional for the senior years last century – it says so in Hogwarts, A History – and we did have formal robes on our supply lists this year. Professor Slughorn might have pushed for it to be brought back – he loves parties."

"You're all most welcome," Harry said to the Weasleys. "I'll note down all the favours. Which reminds me, I owe you a book for your mum, Ron!" Harry dug in his satchel, disturbing Storm who hissed at Harry crossly for waking him up, hissing in open-mouthed threat.

Storm got promptly dumped on Luna's lap and Harry told him off sternly with a wagging finger in front of his snout. "Hush! I know I woke you up, but there is ssstill no call for that kind of language! Cut it out right now! And you will not display your teeth like that at me or any of my friends, do you understand me?!"

"I'm sssorry Commander, I didn't truly mean any threat, I won't do it again." Storm sounded chastened and apologetic, and rather shocked by Harry's rare rebuke on his behaviour, and it softened Harry's temper instantly.

"Look, I know you're tired, but you're napping in my bag, Ssstorm. I need a book from there, and you're on top of it," Harry explained. "Now, be good for Luna. I shall put you back in a sssecond."

Storm subsided obediently, coiling up quietly on Luna who hadn't seemed at all disturbed by having an angrily hissing snake unexpectedly dropped in her lap. Mafalda was really the only one in the group crowded into their carriage who seemed unnerved by the altercation and hissed exchange and was clutching Ginny Weasley's arm tightly.

Harry retrieved the promised book and handed it over. "There you go Ron, one signed copy of Battles with the Basilisk like I promised you. It's only signed by me, since Lockhart is… well… he's still alive at least, and that's something."

"I don't remember you promised that?" Ron said, scratching his head in confusion. "Thanks all the same, though. Mum will love it, and Ginny can read it when mum's done. She's been really wanting to know what's in it too."

"I wrote my promise down in a notebook, that's how I remembered. I'm starting to lose track of favours and stuff, so I've been making notes," Harry explained.

"The poor man," Ginny murmured sadly. "He couldn't help himself any more than I could. It's terrible what happened to him."

Neville asked curiously, "Am I in there? In your book of favours, that is. I know I'm in the Basilisks book, even with the changes."

"Yep. One life debt owed to me for saving you from the Basilisk, and one promise from me to invite you along the next time I do something unbelievably dangerous," Harry said, finishing with a grin. Neville looked pleased, and slightly nervous, as he returned Harry's smile.

"What was that about Lockhart?" Hermione asked. "What's happened to him? There wasn't anything in the paper."

Hesitantly, Harry said, "I heard a rumour that he's just been found in a sorry state in Ghana, affected by Fwoopers and with various health problems from wandering around the jungle for too long. I think they're transferring him to St. Mungo's soon, so I expect the Prophet will write something about it once reporters catch wind of it."

"Is that why he hasn't been answering my letters?" gasped Hermione. "Oh no! What's wrong with him? Is it life-threatening?"

There was some more sympathetic and worried chatter about Lockhart before the Weasleys and Miss Prewett went on their way.

"We're going to visit Bones," said a twin. "Werewolf victim solidarity, you know. We think she could use the support."

"She is coming back to Hogwarts?" Neville asked, frowning. "How is that legal? That is, I am happy for her but… won't she get in trouble?"

The twins looked at each other, and both shrugged. "We don't know," they chorused.

"So, we're going to find out, and do what we can to help," one of them concluded.

After they'd left (Mafalda with a cheerful farewell to 'Harold'), there was a steady trickle of visitors… or potential clients, depending on perspective. Macmillan, Theodore, and Tolipan made brief visits, while Colin Creevey lingered for a while to introduce his younger brother Dennis, who was a tiny little thing who was buzzing with excitement about getting to go to Hogwarts, and fiercely determined to get into Gryffindor like his big brother. Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, and Millicent visited as a group for a brief chat.

There were a couple of relatively new faces stopping by. First was Zacharias Smith, whom Harry only knew from the Junior Potter Watch group (and whom Harry quietly thought was a bit of a prat) as he was a year below them in Hufflepuff. He wanted to personally thank Harry for looking after his Great-Aunt Margaret at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Though fair's fair, it sounded to me like she looked after you too, Potter," he added at the end. It was perhaps a little ungracious, but Harry didn't take offence.

Harry replied, "She was very capable – I think she would have been fine without me, but it was sensible for people to gather together for safety."

Smith seemed very content with Harry's modest summation, and went on his way in a good mood, munching on a proffered chocolate frog.

Another Hufflepuff stopped by too – Megan Jones from their year. Daphne had written a response to Harry's enquiry to let him know that Hestia Jones who'd died at the Quidditch World Cup had indeed been related to their classmate – she had been Megan's aunt on her father's side. Harry made sure to offer his condolences to Megan, which were accepted gravely. She also expressed polite thanks for helping out a relative of hers, Hermes Jones, who was the fearful man who'd sheltered with Harry at the Cup after he'd lost his wand in all the chaos.

"He's my first cousin once removed," she explained. "It's not a close relationship, but you know… he's still family. So, I have a message that the House of Jones is grateful for your provision of Sanctuary for Cousin Hermes and would like to repay you. Are you a fan of the Holyhead Harpies, by any chance? I've got a second cousin once removed on the team – Gwenog Jones. She's a Beater. We could get you Top Box tickets to a match?"

"Hmm!" Harry said interestedly, thinking of Millicent who was a fan of the Harpies. "I wouldn't say no to a couple of autographed photos I can give to friends as gifts, or a signed poster of the team or something. That would repay the debt nicely. For I was happy to help, you know."

They shook hands on it, and Megan went on her way.

"Are you going to visit anyone?" Luna asked Hermione. "I am going to go and visit MacDougal, before Slug Club starts. She is the only girl in Ravenclaw who has really been nice to me – Harry asked her to. So really, he is my patron, not her, but I think it would be polite to visit anyway, don't you?"

"Well it wouldn't hurt, so you may as well, especially if you don't have many friends in your House," Hermione said sympathetically. "I thought about it a lot, and I'm just going to visit Greg. I'm still cross at him for grabbing me and trying to haul me around like a sack of potatoes at the Quidditch World Cup, mind you, but we're pretty good friends now and I understand why he did it."

"He was just scared for you, I guess?" Harry said.

"He grabbed you when he took you to Harry's tent? He should not have done that, it's a dreadful breach of etiquette," Neville commented with a frown. "Did he apologise properly?"

"He only grabbed my hand," explained Hermione, causing Neville to look relieved. "And no, I don't think it occurred to him that he did anything wrong. I'll have a quiet word with him about it later. I'm not a damsel to rescue! I'm twice the dueller he is! But I'm not really mad about it because I get how he was thinking. The world was all out of order – everything was chaotic with rules out the window. He hates situations like that. So, making sure I was safe, following the old pure-blood etiquette – it wasn't just because he was scared and wanted to help me. It was his way of restoring a bit of order to the world."

"He did not have to help you, however," said Neville. "Surely, he could have remained with his family, like Malfoy did. I think it was very gentlemanly of him to seek you out and escort you to safety." He gave Hermione a soft smile, which made her look embarrassed for a moment, before a distracted frown crossed her face.

"Malfoy," she hissed crossly. "You were quite right about his family, Neville. They're nasty pieces of work. I don't want to associate with him any longer, Harry, so please don't try and push me to do so."

Neville looked surprised but pleased, while Luna seemed indifferent, but Harry was quite upset by her pronouncement.

"Hermione!" Harry said rebukingly. "Look, if this is about the Malfoy's garden party or the ball, Draco really wanted to invite you, it was just that his parents said no, alright? He didn't mean to snub you. He tried his best to include you, I promise."

She scowled. "I heard about all about that from Millicent. But no, it's not that, though being left out of everything didn't help. Harry, I don't know if you noticed – I only heard about it from Ron as it wasn't in the paper – but there was aconite at the front door of the Malfoy tent. Wolf's Bane – like the Death Eaters were handing out to all their supporters who laughed at a spot of Muggle torture. To help deter werewolves from attacking them."

Harry thought about it and remembered there had been some flowering in the planters next to the Malfoy's tent entrance, admittedly along with a bunch of other plants as well. "Yes… I think there was, but it could have been a coincidence. Those planters had a few other magical and poisonous plants in them. Maybe give him a chance to explain?"

"I don't believe it's a coincidence, Harry. I really don't. Not with his attitude to Muggles and Muggle-borns, and his father's record."

Harry sighed. "You can't blame him for what his father did. Draco didn't even necessarily know the Wolf's Bane was even there, even if it was positioned there with foreknowledge of the evening's events."

"I didn't know the Malfoys were part of the Rotfang Conspiracy," Luna said worriedly. "I thought they were nice. Draco has always been friendly to me."

"Well, you're a pure-blood. I'm not even allowed to be on a first name basis with him," Hermione said.

"What about Pansy?" Harry asked. "And the others?"

"I'm not going to visit her like she's a potential patron, but I'll still associate with her, and the others. But just so you know in case it wasn't clear - I don't like Pansy, Harry. Being courteous isn't the same thing as being actually friendly, and she can be very selfish, and catty at times – though I don't see her do it as much while you're around. We tolerate each other, but that's about it."

Harry sighed. It was probably true. He stared out the window at the pouring rain.

"I think your cousin is nice," Luna said comfortingly to him. "There are three other girls in my dorm and they are all much meaner than her."

"Well, I'm just her token Muggle-born friend when it's convenient for her, and it's annoying. She's a fair-weather friend," Hermione said. "Don't you remember how she and Millicent dumped you when it looked like Sirius Black might be hunting for you last year, Harry? They barely even talked to you for months and didn't even bother to visit when you ended up in the Hospital Wing after the Dementor attack!"

"They both had family pressure to do that, it wasn't their fault. Pansy and Millicent talked to me last year more than you probably realised because they were sneaky about it," Harry explained defensively. "They both snuck in to visit me in the Hospital Wing right before curfew, when no-one would see them, and brought some chocolate frogs. They hung around after everyone left at the end of Potter Watch meetings too, sometimes. Are you mad at Millicent too? I thought you liked her."

"Oh, I never heard about that. Well I do like Millicent – we're becoming proper friends," Hermione said, as an apologetic concession. "She's got hidden depths – still waters run deep and all that. I feel like I'm only just getting to know her, even though we've been socialising for over a year. Did you know that in the past couple of weeks she's traded away just about every favour she's accumulated for the past few years to secure herself a practical guarantee of getting to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team this year? She's that keen to establish a Quidditch career and avoid getting pressured into settling down right after school to be a good little mother of the next generation of pure-bloods. She's stressing out a lot over not knowing who the Slytherin Quidditch Captain is going to be this year though – neither Derrick nor Montague got sent the team captain badge, and neither did that prat Malfoy for that matter."

Harry sighed. "Language, please. He's still my friend, even if you don't want to be friends with him any longer. I don't want you insulting each other – at least not in front of me."

Hermione thought about it a moment, then nodded. "That's fair."

Thankfully for Harry's peace of mind, the topic was then dropped, and they engaged in a peaceful discussion with Luna about what she could expect from her new third year elective classes – Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Their group scattered after that, with an agreement to meet up at Slug Club – Luna left in search of MacDougal, while Hermione went hunting for Greg, muttering unhappily about how he always stuck to Malfoy like glue.

Draco made an appearance not long after that, accompanied by Greg and Vincent. They'd run into Hermione just as they were leaving their compartment, and she'd said hello and chatted briefly to Greg before she'd hurried away.

"She said she had other people to see before Slug Club," rumbled Greg, "and that she didn't want to be late."

"I thought we might all go together," said Draco to Harry, "but she just scurried off. I did not even get a chance to share my news. Harry, you will never guess what I learnt from father just this morning! The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts!"

A/N: All done! I hope you've enjoyed this rather lengthy account of Harry's summer. The next fic in the series will cover Harry's fourth year at school, as the Triwizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts. As it will be another novel-length fic and I don't like to post WIPs, it will be another long wait until it starts coming out, so you'll have to be patient. After I finish one of my long works I also give myself "time off" to write other assorted fics. But rest assured this series will continue! As of Dec '18 I've just finished the draft of chapter five of the next fic, and the ending is already plotted out. You can peek at my writing progress by keeping an eye on my fanfiction dot net profile page, or you can follow my author blog on Goodreads. Or, you might like to follow me as an author if you don't want to miss out on an alert about the next fic when it's eventually posted, many months from now.

Gwendolyn McCormick, mirabilos, and ladyofsilverdawn – thanks for your discussion about the train ride for this final chapter.

Thanks again to all the wonderful people who helped beta or spot check this fic: Zu Wang (my wonderful beta), Jennybeth (my loyal Britpicker), Veysha, ladyofsilverdawn, My blue rose, Stefan Bathory, alias64, John, kuonji, Denubis, Beastcallisto, EssayofThoughts, Twyla, and the Accuracy in Fiction FB group. Thanks also to all my readers who pointed out little typos when they spotted them! They're sneaky and pernicious things, even after multiple rounds of editing.

Last but by no means least, thank you to all the wonderful people who've written reviews – both short and long – on this fic and others in the series, or favourited my fics. Your support is encouraging to me as a writer and greatly appreciated.