Author's Notes: Last chapter, woo! I want to thank everyone for reviewing, favoriting, and/or following this story (and/or me!) I do not know when the next arc (Harry and the Flanking Bishops) will be out since I have a lot to edit and a ton of scenes to write. I'm going to predict somewhere around December as a safe bet, just because my life has been hectic to the nth power and I don't like once-a-month updates. Every other week or weekly updates are more to my style, but in order to get that I need the bulk of the fic finished.

As always, I'm open to comments, questions, or criticisms via review or PM.

18/04/2015 Edit: Added some details about the SI students' goodbyes and some elucidating details that explained how Snape could still be teaching Potions.

I truly hope you enjoyed your reading adventure. This arc was a lot of fun to write! Next arc is up, Harry Potter and the Flanking Bishops.

Waking came slowly as the grey surrounding came grudgingly to life. The mustiness of old stones and the antiseptic smell hanging in the air told Harry that he was still in the Hogwarts infirmary. His hand immediately went to the weight on his breastbone.

The leather pouch that Professor Dumbledore had given him hadn't been taken with what was left of his wand was inside. Obviously, someone had made a necklace of it. It was probably Dobby. Silently thanking the busybody house-elf, Harry squeezed the pouch tightly in a fist and took in a tight breath. Attempting to move his legs or torso failed. Madam Pomfrey must have Adhered him to the bed again, so he couldn't do more than raise his arms, turn his head, twist his neck, shrug shoulders, and wiggle his feet.

As soon as he set his glasses on his face, Harry saw that the bedside table was crammed with vases of magical flora, sweets, and get-well notes. There was also an envelope with his name on it. Reluctantly he let go of the pouch.

Sirius is gone? From the awkward angle, he could look about the empty room of neatly made beds and blinds pushed against the walls and felt disappointment well up. He stretched an arm to pick the letter awkwardly. With a pleased noise, he snapped it up between his fingers and quickly dropped it on him before it slipped from his grasp and onto the floor.

Opening it, Harry let his eyes quickly scan over the fine calligraphy, which reminded him of the writing from Draco's mum years ago.

Harry—

As much as I would love to stay and watch over you, I have urgent tasks to complete in the three days you're supposed to be under. In addition, the Black ancestral home is not even fit for the doxies that no doubt have taken residence within it. I will be back before the term is out. I promise.

With love,

Sirius Black

Setting it down, Harry looked at the extended bedside table full of a variety of gifts. It was much more than his first year and had spilled over the floor too. Absently, he wondered how Diggory had gotten on after he returned to Hogwarts grounds. Had the Hufflepuff officially won the Quadwizard Tournament?

"Poor dear agonized over the wording," Madam Pomfrey said, nodding towards the letter in Harry's lap.

Harry chuckled finding the idea of his godfather lacking confidence ludicrous. "Sorry?"

"I had to Vanish a good twenty sheets of used parchment. He hated leaving you alone without a proper apology. It seems he felt guilt about leaving you alone. Nonsense, I say." She tutted, brushing the long green strands of one lopsided flower that had petals of silver. It was a futile gesture as the plant slowly leaned back to its original position.

Wanting to deny that his godfather should hold any blame, Harry held the words back. "I wish he wouldn't blame himself. I'm the one who hadn't grabbed the Portkey with Diggory."

"Don't you start that. I hoped you had better sense than him." The healer shook her head. "Neither of you have any blame in this situation. You did an admirable job escaping after being swept into that one's evil schemes. Your safe return was the best gift I've had all year."

"Have I had any visitors?"

With a nod, the healer negligently gestured towards the gifts next to his bed. "You have. The most persistent was Wynch. He came by many times. Lucky thing he had. He mentioned that he had a feeling that there was something wrong, you see. If he hadn't noticed, I wouldn't have caught the earliest, very subtle symptoms of core damage from your inexpert nonverbal channeling until the damage was irreversible." She lightly sighed, a hand going to the bun to check that stray hairs hadn't escaped the numerous pins. "I hadn't even considered that you could cast nonverbally at your age, and I do feel bad that I missed the indicators. It was why you were under for as long as you were. After all, patching a person's MVS is delicate work best done while the patient is in a potion-induced coma."

So, he had been insensate for days. Little wonder there were as many gifts as there were. "Would I have been a Squib, if he hadn't?"

She placed her hands on her hips, looking sternly at him. "You aren't yet out of the woods, but the short answer is yes, if you survived the MVS collapse. If you take it easy where casting is concerned, you'll be fit as a fiddle before the month is out."

Harry looked at his hands, particularly at the callouses developing on his fingers from holding a wand and waving it about. He gazed at them all delighted that Wynch had watched out for him when Harry most needed it. "You're a lifesaver, Madam Pomfrey. I would have hated to lose my magic."

Her face crinkled with concern. "Better your magic than your life." She patted the front of her white apron down. "Now, I will remove the Adherence spell so you can stretch your muscles for the next hour and accept a few visitors. If I so much as get a hint of you wishing to sneak away, you won't be leaving your bed until I discharge you. Is that clear?"

Harry couldn't help the grin. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

She waved her wand, and Harry luxuriated in his ability to move about. As he sat up, vertigo swamped him, but he caught himself.

"Be easy with yourself," she warned.

He took a deep breath, nodding. "So, who's first?" Remaining where he sat, he stretched his back by raising his weak arms over his head and then folding forward to touch his toes. He remained where he was a bit to catch his breath. He felt strangely raw. Perhaps it wasn't so strange. He had been hit with Unforgivables by Voldemort and severely overexerted himself in his frantic getaway.

"Aurors. They have been twitchy to get a firsthand report of your abduction ever since Albus announced that you would be recovering here." Her frown turned a bit annoyed. "If you hadn't a godfather, Minister Fudge would have convened the Wizengamot to have you moved to St. Mungo's. Hmph, as if my care were so substandard that healers I personally trained could do better."

Harry sat up and smiled. "Let's get their visit over with then."

"Would you mind terribly if I stand by?"

"No, it's alright, considering that I feel about as weak as kitten," Harry answered. He was rewarded with a beaming smile before the healer swept away to grant admittance to the Aurors standing outside the double doors. Shortly, there came a familiar noise.

Clunk. Thump. Clunk. Thump. Clunk.

Harry looked up at the ex-Auror, who was followed by Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks. They stopped short of the foot of his bed and gazed at him.

"Before you begin," Madam Pomfrey announced beside him, "as Mr. Potter's attendant healer, I reserve the right to cast you out."

"Of course, Healer Pomfrey." The broad-shouldered Head Auror with a single gold loop in his ear smiled. "We wouldn't dream of bringing any more harm to your charge. We just have a few questions. If we may, Mr. Potter?"

As soon as Harry consented, Professor Moody scrutinized him from top to bottom and nodded curtly. "Roll up your sleeves."

Complying with the strange request, Harry looked between the Aurors. That's when it struck him that they were checking for Voldemort's brand. Harry felt his face go hot, and he rolled his sleeves down angrily. Before Harry's temper was unleashed, Mad-Eye Moody thumped his staff and huffed in approval. His eye whirled in its socket, until only white showed towards Harry.

"I told you lot that he's without it," Madam Pomfrey said fiercely. "Have you satisfied your morbid curiosity?"

"It is a relief that one rumor was definitively proved false," Auror Tonks said a bit too cheerfully.

"If you ask me," came Moody's gruff response, "you've got bigger allegations than whether the Boy-Who-Lived survived a Marking from a Dark Lord. Say, the resurrection of said Dark Lord."

All three adults turned to Harry, who nodded tensely. "It's true. He used me to resurrect himself. Lord Vol—" Harry took a deep breath. "Lord Voldemort is back. He wants to 'usurp control' from the Ministry."

"Do you mind if we get that in writing?"

"That's fine," Harry said, watching the large wizard pull out a magical quill to place on the floating scroll he had taken from a pocket. "So long as it's actually accurate."

"It's a Transcription Quill, so it better well be," he said and then nodded. "Mr. Harry James Potter, you were witness to a dreadfully Dark ceremony. Did you also recognize any of the Death Eaters around you?"

"Yes." Harry hesitated. He didn't care about either Ms. Oke or Crouch, Jr, but spilling the beans about Lucius would enrage Draco. As for Snape, it was a simple decision.

At his long silence, Shacklebolt and Tonks exchanged a knowing glance. "How many?"

Harry opened his mouth, but the steely grip of the soul-shard crept up. "There were nine, but only four I knew," Harry's lips answered as if it were very difficult to do so. He wrenched out of its grip. "I recognized all of them. Linda Oke from the States was one of them. So was Barty Crouch, Jr. The other two…"

Mad-Eye leaned forward on his staff with his lips pursed in an unfriendly manner. "We know of the other two, since one is an informant of ours. With your testimony and his, Lucius Malfoy won't be able wiggle away this time."

Harry blinked up at him. "…Sorry, Severus Snape is a spy?"

Auror Shacklebolt bobbed his head secretively, while Auror Tonks grinned broadly towards the Head Auror. The bobbing quill paused from its smooth scribbling when no one else spoke.

With a pensive look, Moody rubbed his jaw. "He's a known double-agent to the Wizengamot. How else did you think he was kept from Azkaban? It was always a possibility that he would be needed in the future since the Death Eater's soul brands hadn't faded completely."

"You've got to be joking. You'll trust him?" Molten fury curled in Harry's gut, which must have appeared on his face for their faces grew more serious.

Auror Tonks raised a hand and waved it to the side. She simply said, "You-Know-Who would have killed him ages ago if he couldn't play a convincing toady."

"You trust him too?" Harry spat out, as an ache spiked from his forehead in conjunction with his anger. He held his head as it grew worse. A breeze with no source teased the blinds standing around them and their clothes, leaving Harry untouched. He glared at them. "He's on Voldemort's side! Why can't you see that?"

"That's enough, Harry," the firm voice of Madam Pomfrey said, placing a gentling palm on his shoulder. "You haven't mended from your ordeal in Godric's Hollow. Rousing your temper will only delay your recovery."

Harry allowed himself to be eased back onto the bed as vertigo swamped him. He was out of breath and dizzy as if he had run thousands of meters on a track without properly hydrating himself. "Snape is a servant of him! Why can't you see that?"

The Head Auror sighed. "Harry, the Wizengamot won't accept your testimonial alone. You aren't of age yet, and Dumbledore vouches for him. Regardless of your personal crusade against Potions Master Snape—"

Harry nearly jumped out of bed, but Madam Pomfrey firmly kept him lying back. "Well, tell the headmaster to stop protecting that bloody Death Eater! Sirius was right. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!" Pain bloomed in his head, and he folded on his side clutching it. The ringing noise in his head morphed into cackling. The soul-shard blotted out everything else for a time. When Harry reopened his eyes, he was momentarily confused since he was flat on his back and tucked into the bed. There was a commotion between several new voices. With some effort, he tiredly grabbed his Glaxxes again and placed them on his face.

"See here, Auror, Dumbledore has kept the Boy-Who-Lived from a team of qualified Healers in St. Mungo's. Aurors can't continue to keep the Minister out of matters that concerns the Ministry of Magic!"

"I fail to see how. Mr. Potter hasn't been a ward of the Ministry for years," Auror Tonks said brightly. "Just recently Sirius Black went before the Wizengamot on his adopted son's behalf, didn't he?"

Minister Fudge blustered a bit, but he was far less intimidated than Harry ever remembered him being. "You're deliberately preventing me from corroborating hearsay!"

"Minister Fudge, we haven't finished questioning him ourselves. His health is not what it should be due to the Cruciatus Curse he was subjected to," the Head Auror said calmly, physically blocking the minister from pushing forward. The pudgy wizard sputtered.

Harry slowly tilted forward and saw that Aurors Proudfoot and Savage had joined the others at the foot of his bed with Minister Fudge on the other side of them.

"Ah! Harry, you're awake now," the minister beamed, while Harry blinked sluggishly at him. "I have the most urgent of questions for you."

Madam Pomfrey politely raised a hand to forestall any interruption. "Mark my words, Minister. I will cast you out of the hospital wing if you cannot maintain a modicum of respect for this space. Harry Potter was badly injured after his kidnapping. Your questions, no matter how urgent, do not supersede my authority on the matter," she said evenly.

"But it will take very little time to verify," the minister complained. "I only need a few moments." He huffed angrily when she didn't immediately give into his demands. "The boy is the only viable witness to the so-called Resurrection Ritual of You-Know-Who. I will not take Dumbledore's words at face value when I suspect foul play at work."

Harry slowly sat up. "I saw the ceremony with my own eyes, Minister Fudge," he said tiredly. Every adult turned to look within their protective barrier. Auror Tonks' expression was more reserved than normal. Matching frowns of disapproval were on Auror Shacklebolt's and Madam Pomfrey's face, while the other adults seemed somewhere between relieved and agitated. "There was a circle of Death Eaters, but four weren't wearing masks. I know who they are."

Minister Fudge budged his way through the Aurors. "And because we were able to find evidence of their nefarious plot to create mass pandemonium, Barty Crouch, Jr. and Linda Oke are now known fugitives."

"And the other two?"

"Both Lucius and Severus are in Auror custody. We take charges of Death Eater activity very seriously," the Minister simultaneously reassured Harry and sent pointed glares at the Head Auror. "No doubt the Potions Master will be placed where he belongs."

"While the former will be released by the grease of gold," Mad-Eye Moody growled out, startling Harry. Behind him, the wizard was leaned against the wall, staff propped next to him. "Polyjuicing makes an effective alibi, and when one can afford it—"

"If there is no other evidence besides the conjectures of an old, paranoid wizard and an accusation by someone who may well be addle-brained, then it is right that Mr. Malfoy should be released," the lanky, scar-faced Auror retorted acidly. "Is it Ministry protocol now to lock up those who have not been proven to be a danger to magical society?"

"Rightly so, Auror Proudfoot! Malfoy was acquitted thirteen years ago of being a Death Eater. I will have no innocents in Azkaban under guard by those mad-inducing Dementors!" Minister Fudge announced, unable to smother a shudder at the thought of the Dark creatures. "That business with Sirius Black has given me nightmares to last a lifetime."

Harry was so choked with dismay that he could no more than stare at the unwitting minister. Moody snorted loudly, but said nothing else as he reached for his canteen.

"While Malfoy is certain to be cleared again, Potions Master Snape is no such innocent," the minister continued. "He knowingly and repeatedly cast the Unforgivables on You-Know-Who's enemies, but escaped rightful punishment because that Dumbledore vouched for his rehabilitation. If the eminent Headmaster of Hogwarts, who is also the Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, was suppressing important information about the Boy-Who-Lived, then to what purpose has he protected a known supporter of You-Know-Who? What I mean to say is whether we should expect a hostile takeover from the Grand Sorcerer by the deliberate sowing of terror into the British magical populace?"

Stunned silence met his question. Madam Pomfrey had a hand over her mouth, frozen by the crazed assertion. Harry didn't miss how the Aurors had placed their hands by their wand holsters. Minister Fudge was too busy sweeping his arm across as he pronounced that You-Know-Who hadn't come back from the dead at all and that it was Dumbledore's fault that things had gotten along as far as they had.

"You must be mad to suggest that Dumbledore manufactured the whole enterprise. As if he would scheme to have Harry Potter whisked away and tortured only to incite panic in the public," Auror Savage said finally as soon as the minister's anti-Dumbledore rant had finished.

"He intends to drag my incumbency as Minister of Magic through the dirt by playing his power games! And look where it has brought us!" Minister Fudge roared. "The Boy-Who-Lived traumatized beyond belief and my competence besmirched and laughed at by my international peers."

"So you would stoop this low to throw blame at the feet of one of the greatest wizards of the century when he is not here to defend himself?" The deep baritone of the Head Auror countered. "If you make these declarations public, you know you'll be made a laughingstock."

The Minister's face reddened with anger. "Dumbledore hires werewolves and half-giants as teachers and wants to send friendly envoys to the Giants and remove Dementors from Azkaban! We only feel safe as we do knowing those wretched creatures are standing guard!" He jabbed a finger towards the ceiling. "I've held a lot of respect for Dumbledore and have not always agreed with him, but now I see that he uses the Boy-Who-Lived to his own end gains. The boy lies at the center of Dumbledore's web of deceit, beginning with the horrible placement with his mental, anti-magic Muggle kin. It's clear the boy is soft in the head due to his traumatic—"

"I am not insane or daft, Minister Fudge," Harry said coldly as the soul-shard constricted tightly inside of him. Damn that Rita Skeeter. Damn Fudge for believing her lies. "I'm the victim of misfortune, not some twisted conspiracy. The excruciating head pains revealed in Skeeter's gossip column are due to surviving the Killing Curse. I don't appreciate her telling everyone about them, since it's nobody's business but my own. Despite these recurrent pains, my head is clear and I don't suffer from phantasms or the like." Harry fisted his hands into the covers on either side of him. "I know what I saw and am prepared to swear it in front of the entire Wizengamot if need be."

"What you saw was You-Know-Who's rebirth?" came the quivery question.

Harry fixed his eyes on the minister's. "Yes."

The eye contact was quickly broken. "Perhaps you were mistaken. Perhaps you were meant to see these illusions, drugged to the gills with potions… It is not so difficult if one has a master of the craft do it. That Snape could have easily led you into a trap since you held him in such regard. He had plenty of access to the Quadwizard Chalice." Minister Fudge eagerly stepped closer when he saw Harry hesitate. "It's a possibility, isn't it?"

Harry's head lowered slightly and then raised again, eyes glinting coldly. The soul-shard spoke quietly, "You remember three years ago when I was recuperating from an attack at the end of my first school term?"

"Y-yes. How could I forget that? Dumbledore roused terror in everyone by saying You-Know-Who's spirit attacked you, when it was really Quirinus Quirrell."

Harry shook his head. "You only heard part of the story. Voldemort was possessing Quirrell at the time. Quirrel attacked me by his master's command."

"You can't seriously think anyone will believe that nonsense." The minister waved his hands to the other adults standing near. "Auror Proudfoot, what do you say?"

Arms already crossed, she glared at Harry. "If that's true, how did Quirrell sneak through the wards? Evil spirits cannot enter any more easily than the occupants of the Forbidden Forest."

"The turban." Harry locked eyes with her.

"What about it?"

"Quirinus had gone on sabbatical the summer before Harry's year and mysteriously acquired it," Madam Pomfrey said, "Ever since I had heard reports from students that he would hold entire conversations with himself when no one else was around. At the time, I believed the term would be his last because he had become deranged. However, I recall seeing strange runes woven into the turban once, when Quirrell was adjusting it. It was of the like you see for the truly dangerous contraband that the wards set into Hogwarts' very stones repel. I hadn't thought anything of it until later." She looked very grim.

The lanky witch looked taken aback, but Minister Fudge laughed. "A flimsy piece of fabric? That's mad!"

"No, it's not," the Head Auror countered. "Quirrell was keyed to the old wards as a professor of Hogwarts. Not only that but as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher he was permitted to allow certain Dark creatures inside for teaching purposes. Hogwarts' warding spells could not keep him out. It was very unfortunate that Quirrel's body and clothes had disintegrated before the Unspeakables could study the phenomena."

The minister looked scandalized. "Doesn't it make much more sense that Dumbledore had destroyed every scrap of evidence?"

The Hogwarts Healer cleared her throat. "No living vessel could withstand harboring such an evil spirit for long. Furthermore, did you not know unicorns were being murdered in the forest that year? At each death site, there were ghastly bite marks in their hides and bloody footprints beside the carcass."

Minister Fudge's eyes had grown wide, the whites of his eyes very noticeable. "Unicorns were killed then?" His head swiveled to Auror Shacklebolt. "Why wasn't I notified?"

"I sent you the report, but you blamed poachers at the time, sir," the tall wizard answered. "You could ask the two Gryffindors who witnessed the black-robed figure lapping up the silver blood under the light of the full moon."

A violent shudder went through the adults.

"Their parents had sent official complaints to the Ministry about their concerns regarding the safety of Hogwarts then, which also landed on your desk."

Minister Fudge looked very peaky. "I had thought Dumbledore had it well in hand. He never requested Auror assistance. I would have taken it much more seriously then."

The soul-shard decided that this was the most prime opportunity he would get. "The point you should be getting, sir, is that Voldemort's soul had been clinging to the here and now. He only needed to build a container to house himself. One that wouldn't fall apart like Quirrell's body.." Harry's fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands as memories flashed through his head. "I'm sorry, sir. He took my blood to refashion a body for himself. I couldn't stop him. It's my fault."

"Surely… surely, that cannot be true?" The minister whispered.

"Believe what you want, Minister Fudge," Auror Tonks said sharply. "What is true will become clear in a matter of years. If Voldemort has arisen, then he will not stay to the shadows for long. At the same time, if it's a stunt pulled off by desperate Death Eaters, then surely we will see no mysterious disappearances of numerous people like at the start of the first war. Right?"

"Exactly!" The wizard boomed. "I will have no more of this manufactured bedlam! The culprits will be jailed indefinitely and we will all be safe once more." Minister Fudge took in a deep shaky breath and then gave Madam Pomfrey a firm look. "Have you called a Psych Healer here to have the boy checked for Mind Twist curses?"

The healer thought for a moment and then shook her head. "I would not allow it yet, but we could arrange for someone to confirm if a block exists. I remember old Anise, my mentor, saying that the Endless-Knot Blocks from the war with You-Know-Who were the worst she'd seen. Any attempt to unravel them caused madness or catatonia."

"I don't want either. Thank you," Harry said, suddenly retaking charge of his body. He loosened his cold fingers from the blankets they had been latched on and slowly rubbed warmth into them. "Were there any other questions? I'm rather exhausted by the topic."

"You gave me everything I needed, Harry." The minister flipped out what looked to be a business card from his pocket and flicked it to Harry. The Slytherin quickly raised his hands to catch it as it fluttered unerringly towards him. On it was a moving picture of Minister Fudge, smiling and bobbing his head congenially. The other side was blank save for a pair of solid black runes. One was an Ansuz and the other was a Wunjo. "Send me an owl, would you? I want to be better prepared to answer reporters when they ask about your health other than 'I don't bloody know'."

"Certainly, sir."

Minister Fudge tipped his hat and left, Aurors Proudfoot and Savage tagging along after him. Do Aurors get assigned guard duty? Dismissing the thought, Harry tilted his head towards the Head Auror. "How long has he been paranoid like that?"

"It's grown worse over the years. Nobody likes the thought of You-Know-Who coming back, least of all Minister Fudge," he answered. "Well, we appreciate your time, Mr. Potter. You may be called to testify in the future if either Malfoy or Snape get a full trial before the Wizengamot." Auror Shacklebolt snatched the quill from the air and it went limp in his meaty hands. Harry caught a snatch of the writing on the scroll and it looked very neat and absolutely tiny before it too was put away. "Healer Pomfrey, would you mind if Auror Tonks remained to ensure his safety?"

"So long as she doesn't interfere with my work, then she's most welcome." Madam Pomfrey smiled at the recent Hogwarts alum.

The Head Auror dipped his head in farewell and turned to leave, a clumping and thunking silent Mad-Eye Moody with him. Harry wondered why Tonks couldn't just stay outside the doors as the Aurors had likely been doing. Maybe the other two had to discuss something. Even so, Harry had a feeling he was being watched by that ever-questing magical eye.

The young Auror's hair turned into a shocking yellow and black mass of quills. The healer chortled at the sight. "Miss Metamorphogus, do stop showing off." She waved a wand and a used washcloth and water basin Vanished as if it never was. She may have conjured it after he had gotten so dizzy that he passed out.

Auror Tonks winked at Harry and her hair reverted to a familiar platinum blond though short and spiky instead of the hot pink. She glanced towards the double doors that had closed behind Shacklebolt and Moody and towards the open door to the healer's office. She grinned broadly, leaning to look at Harry eye-level. "Excellent work escaping You-Know-Who and stealing his wand."

Harry grew flustered at her attention. "Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, that's from a source of intel that you evidently despise," she said cheekily.

"I'll have no more talk of that business," Madam Pomfrey's voice boomed from her office. "Even if his MVS has matured, he's still Underage."

Auror Tonks clucked her tongue like she wished to say more on the subject, but respected the healer too much. "At any rate, even if that yew wand obeys you now, do me a favor and don't ever forget where its true loyalties lay."

"You must think I'm an idiot."

She laughed. "No, just inexperienced. If you ever want to be an Auror, look me up, okay? You seem to have a good head on your shoulders and a daring inclination towards survival." Her bared grin was wild and excited. "By the time I graduate, I should have put enough Death Eaters away for the higher-ups to let me get a rookie."

"I don't think I want to spend the rest of my life hunting those who use the Dark Arts, but thanks."

"Yeah, I won't lie. This profession takes a certain kind of person."

Harry offered, "Brash thrillseekers?"

Auror Tonks held a hand over her heart as if she were about to swear on her life. "I am but a simple justice-seeker."

The Slytherin straightened as a grin split his face when he remembered his father's occupation. "Was my dad good at it?"

There was a pronounced nod from Tonks. "One of the best for only being officially on the force for three years. There was an accelerated training program back then when the war was in full swing." Her face fell and her hair lost its shine, "Aurors were in high demand but few were willing to join. Not many lived to tell war tales. It was brutal."

A silence hung over them as if the mention of the war had summoned a privacy spell. Harry hesitated to break it, but burrowed through. "Do they mind House affiliation?"

"They'd be out of their bloody minds not to let you in. Are you interested?" She leaned closer, and Harry fought the urge to lean back as his face heated.

"Maybe?"

"You'll need to get an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding on five N.E.W.T.s, including Transfigurations." The Auror gave him a pointed look, which caused the heat to creep down his neck. "Potters in general are good at the Terra Arts. S'why so many ended up in Hufflepuff." She pulled back suddenly when Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat from across the room. "Oh, alright. So most of them were Gryffindor, but that doesn't mean I can't claim commonality is all I'm saying."

The healer cleared her throat again suggesting that she hadn't interrupted because she disagreed. "You have another visitor, Harry."

The Slytherin turned away from the energetic Auror. He saw Draco standing quietly beside Madam Pomfrey. Being tense, Harry's roommate looked somewhere between nervous and agitated.

"I'll leave you to it," Madam Pomfrey said, sending a warning look towards the Auror, who smiled confidently.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked after waiting a long time for the smug, chatty prat to say something.

"You're joking. Am I alright? Me?" Draco scoffed, "Honestly, you act like you didn't get whisked off and used in a Dark blood ritual." Harry could see the false bravado for what it was. Draco's right hand kept opening and closing compulsively. Grey eyes flicked over him. "How are you holding up? Have any new battle scars to show off?" The greedy, admiring tone wasn't unexpected, but the coldness in his eyes belied anger.

Auror Tonks cleared her throat, but Draco ignored her as if she was of little consequence. Weren't they cousins?

Knowing that snitching on Draco's father about his loyal Death Eater habits was the most obvious cause for the anger, Harry raised an eyebrow. "Actually, no. I don't have any."

The Malfoy heir fidgeted, crossing his arms tightly against himself. "No?"

"The foulest wizard of the century healed the cut on my arm," Harry said. "I don't have any scars from my encounter, besides the after-effects of a Torture Curse. The damage that required medical intervention was my doing. I was reckless."

Draco spluttered, staring at Harry as if he'd grown a parasitic Skrewt on his shoulder. His eyes kept flickering towards the Auror. Harry knew he had to be brimming with questions.

"It was strange," Harry agreed. "Thought he was going to kill me when I was cheeky with him. He did break my wand, though."

"…I heard about your wand," Draco said smoothly grasping hold of that to steer the conversation away from talk of the Dark Lord. "You have my condolences. Do you plan to get a replacement from Ollivanders?"

"Might. Can't get a decent education without a proper wand, can I?" Harry chuckled, reaching up to clutch the pouch that was hanging from the leather cord around his neck.

His roommate shifted uncomfortably. "Are its remains in that?"

"Yeah…" Harry wasn't sure what to call the substance. "Dumbledore said it wanted to serve me in a different way, but I don't know what that means. Do I sprinkle it into special kinds of potions?"

Draco was barely able to stop rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "No… Not potions. You can use powdered wand to key Magical Objects to you, so only you or your descendants can use it."

"That's it?"

"That's it? Of course not! I was just giving you the simplest example. You know I don't like being used as a Reference to All That Is Magical."

Harry's hand tightened on the pouch as he watched Draco move to rest a palm on the windowsill and look out the window. For a long moment, the other teen said nothing. Auror Tonks had leaned quietly against the wall on the opposite side of Harry.

The sound of birds flitted by, possibly Post Owls by the sound of the wings. Then his friend murmured, "When Diggory appeared holding the Quadwizard Chalice… At first, no one knew there was anything wrong. He had to use an Amplifying Charm to tell everyone that the cup had taken the both of you to a graveyard far from Hogwarts and that you had been left behind." He took a deep breath and turned to look at Harry with a sour look. "Professor Dumbledore calmly ordered us to Hogwarts Castle, though many fled to its doors in panic. The Aurors enforced a headcount and asked if anybody was missing. The Salem Institute principal and the Durmstrang high master were gone without a trace. It wasn't long before the Aurors caught Karkaroff, and he confessed that he was fleeing the Dark Lord's summoning. That principal is officially a fugitive on the run."

"I heard about the last bit." Harry dropped his hand from the pouch. "I'm thinking of joining the Aurors when I graduate."

Draco snorted very loudly. "You're too smart for the work. I'd say you'd be bored to tears within a month of employ."

"Oh?" Auror Tonks intruded into the conversation without even a by your leave.

With a sneer, Draco gave her a dismissive look. "If he really wanted a challenge and decent pay, he ought to be a bounty hunter."

"If Aurors and bounty hunters catch Dark witches and wizards, who catches the evil, but otherwise normal wizards and witches?"

The two gave Harry a blank look. "Not following," the Auror said.

Harry grinned when he saw the dawning recognition in Draco's eyes. "You want an analogue of a practitioner of Dark Arts, who aren't law-abiding?"

"Yes," Harry said.

Auror Tonks frowned down at him. "Illume wizards and witches who go evil are corrupted the moment they fall from grace. They've turned Dark," the Auror said.

"I just mean to say that it seems prejudiced to call yourself a Dark Wizard Catcher," Harry continued, "Couldn't the description just say Evil?"

The young Auror snorted and then smothered a laugh. She shook her head as if slightly confused by the reasoning. "Dark is evil."

"He always worries about the most peculiar things," the prat explained dryly to the puzzled Tonks. Then he directed at Harry, "You do realize that most," and here Draco glanced towards the Auror, "magical folk wouldn't see the distinction."

"But it's there, and if there's a way to widen that distinction then maybe the balance will eventually get restored…"

"Balance?" Draco now was looking at him most peculiarly.

"The world's magic is unbalanced, especially between the Dark and the Light. That's a problem because magic brings forth life. To maintain that life a balance has to be maintained between the two. Too much of either result in death."

Draco's eyes had taken on a calculated gleam as his lips curled in abject pleasure. It was perhaps a good thing that the Auror couldn't see it.

"There's no conclusive evidence to substantiate that," Auror Tonks said, sending a pointed look at Draco. "Whoever you heard that from was spouting antiquated mumbo-jumbo. Unbalanced magic is the reasoning used to justify the use of the full spectrum of the Dark Arts."

"Oh. Yes, that sounds like that'd be a serious problem…" Draco twisted his body to face her. He asked sarcastically, "I don't suppose you have any solutions to prevent the end of all magic?"

She snorted. "Magic isn't fading, you lout. That's propaganda spread by pureblood supremacists because they keep churning out Squibs. Muggles can't steal magic from the magical to create Muggleborns. It's incongruous with the many laws of magic, not to mention patently absurd."

"Obviously if you don't think there's a problem then no solution is needed," Draco said with a pompous air. "I wouldn't expect a Halfblood to do anything more than to keep their head under the sand."

"I can be no more blind than the person who declares that Crumple-Horned Snorkack don't exist!"

"I see only that you've completely closed your mind to the possibility." The prat smugly turned to Harry. "What do you propose we do to stop the end of life as we know it, Harry?

If Harry hadn't spent so much time around the bloody prat, he might have thought he was being mocked. But there was a fine line between Draco's brand of derisive ridicule and his suppressed disbelief. "Legalize the ethical forms of the Dark Arts? Give proper pay to those people hailing from traditionally Dark families and allow them to take prominent positions in the Ministry," Harry answered semi-seriously.

"You want to start a revolution you do," the witch said with a flat smile.

"Oh, I don't think a shakeup within the Ministry is that bad of an idea." There was a wolfish grin on Draco's face, apparently finding the proposal to his taste.

"I ought to report you for insurrection." Auror Tonks appeared to be suppressing her glee at the idea.

"He leads no army and has no post at the Ministry of Magic. The charge would never stick."

"I could make a case that his barmy fans are his sworn subjects," she mused.

"Hmph. Well, speaking of subjects, your exam scores came in, Harry." Draco pulled the rolled parchment from his jacket and unfurled it. "I've never seen such terrible marks."

"Give it here, you prat." Harry leaned forward and snatched it from his hands. He stared at it in amazement. "This isn't possible. I made an E in Transfiguration."

Draco laughed.

"Stop that."

"Your Grace is simply that amazing."

"Transfiguration is my worst class! And the rest of these, I made Outstandings!"

"Well, the teachers might have made an error in scoring you, since you were supposed to be exempt."

"I guess that makes it alright." Harry set the parchment on the table next to him. "Who's next in line?"

"Sally-Anne."

Not moments later, Poppy exited her office and bustled towards them. As she checked on Harry, Madam Pomfrey said to Draco that he only had a few minutes more.

Draco exhaled lightly, meeting Harry's curious expression. Draco opened his mouth and then closed it. When Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat impatiently, the prat lightly touched Harry's shoulder. "I'm glad you made it relatively unscathed. I just wish you had the good sense to shut up so you don't keep inconveniencing yourself and others."

While Harry blinked up at his fellow Slytherin, the hand on his shoulder squeezed gently and pulled away. Draco exited the infirmary without a look back.

Under the watchful eye of Auror Tonks, Harry had received the rest of his year-mates who all brought him little bits of news and congratulated him on unofficially co-winning the Quadwizard Tournament. Sally-Anne had hugged him tightly complimenting him on his safe return. She passed Lord Slytherin's message about the wounded Lionsnakes recovering and then spent the remaining time practicing the heavily accented phrases of Parseltongue the dead Founder had apparently taught a few interested Slytherins. Theodore hadn't yet arrived back due to the recent full moon; otherwise he would have visited.

Hermione had told Harry that she'd been shocked to find out the impostor had been Professor Moody at first because the adult had asked her, Neville, and Ron to keep an eye on Harry in case anyone tried anything. When the Slytherin had relayed to her about how Ms. Oke had been instrumental to completing Voldemort's resurrection, Hermione admitted to being in shock to hear that the principal was a wanted fugitive. They'd had no reason to suspect her before that. Hermione admitted that she would have bet on Mr. Crouch, not his son… that is, before the Ministry Official had been hauled away and left to rot in Azkaban. She was exceptionally glad that everything had turned out alright. "It's too bad that Crouch Jr. got away. He could have provided testimonials for everyone he killed. You know, clear up what You-Know-Who's been attempting to accomplish besides the obvious plot to resurrect himself and do you in."

Harry didn't enlighten her about Voldemort's new plans for him. In fact, he hadn't enlightened anyone that Voldemort wanted him Marked. He had to wonder if Dumbledore knew because of Snape or if that bloody Death Eater had done the right thing and kept it to himself.

When time with Hermione was up, Harry thanked her and said goodbye. She smiled, hugged him, and left.

Then it was Neville's turn. He was heartbroken, as expected, to learn that Harry would be living with his godfather that summer. "But you'll come visit me right?" Hope was positively brimming in Neville's voice.

"Of course, as long as you come and visit me." For the remainder of the time, Neville rambled about many things, though they centered around one Ravenclaw by the name of Luna Lovegood. He seemed absolutely smitten with her. Harry thought they made a sweet couple… as long as Neville didn't give him any details of the kissing.

And then his blood-brother was shooed out, and Harry was told to eat dinner. The only visitors remaining were all Slytherins and they had been turned away for the day so he could rest up.

Once they had gone, the adult remaining said, "I'll keep watch, so rest easy."

Harry grimaced as he swallowed the run-of-the-mill sleeping potion that the Hogwarts Healer had left for him. He lay back, waiting for it to take effect. Suffice it to say, he was a bit disappointed that Ginny hadn't come to see him, but thought that she probably hadn't wanted to wait among mean-spirited Slytherins for a chance to talk to him.

As for Mervyn, Harry knew he'd see the seventh-year around. A blood fealty wasn't something that simply disappeared after a year.

Harry was released into the care of his housemates by evening of the next day with a stern warning from Madam Pomfrey. Daphne and Tracey were on either side of him as Sally-Anne led their entourage to the Great Hall. Goyle and Bulstrode walked behind Harry and the others, speaking in hushed tones. Harry was a little numbed when the wash of noise from the Gryffindor table came over him after entering the Great Hall. The SI students were completely spread out among the Lions, only noticeable by their pin-striped uniforms and hats. Harry hated how their eyes itched on his skin.

Most of the other students avoided his gaze even while they attempted a smile; the Beauxbatons students furtively whispered to one another, glancing at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Victor Krum had given him a hearty pat on the back. A few had hugged him, but only Dennis Creevey had needed to be pried off him by a flick of Prefect Sykes' wand. From the ones who hadn't been able to come to personally greet him in the infirmary, Harry was constantly being bombarded with questions of his general well-being.

Beside Sally-Anne, Harry took a seat on the far end of the bench, closest to the double doors, in case he needed to leave in a hurry. The Durmstrang students were quietly respectful towards Harry.

A hush fell over the Great Hall when the headmaster stood up.

"The end," Professor Dumbledore said solemnly, in dazzling robes of periwinkle blue, "of the term is mere days away. And what a year we've had with international guests and the revival of a tournament meant to forge strong bonds between our schools."

A series of images swam up in Harry's mind unbidden; a simmering cauldron, a helpless witch, a stone angel's cold embrace, the sound of his heart beating hard, the raspy entrance of seven Death Eaters…

An elbow nudged him in the side, breaking his stare with Professor Dumbledore. "Harry? You alright?" It was Sally-Anne.

When he came back to himself, he was staring at the empty golden plate in front of him and finally noticed that the Great Hall was swathed in blue and bronze. The Ravenclaw House must have won the House Cup.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all this evening," Dumbledore was saying, "but I must first acknowledge that we are facing dark and difficult times."

That got a sudden influx of murmuring from the students from the other tables. The Slytherins and Durmstrang students sat motionless waiting on bated breath to hear what the headmaster would say.

"Many of you have noticed that Harry Potter's health has returned after a harrowing experience. You have heard the British Ministry of Magic's official statement about the matter. However, Harry Potter was not spirited away for a Death Eater reunion. No, it was on Lord Voldemort's direct orders that he was taken hostage at a place of his choosing in order to resurrect himself with ancient Egyptian magic."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief and horror. The headmaster looked perfectly calm, reminding Harry of Slytherin's words on maintaining composure as a leader. Eventually, the frightened students muttered themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so—either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are."

Some of the horror was trickling out of their faces as understanding began to blossom; Harry saw it all.

"It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Harry did not suffer a traumatic event at Lord Voldemort's hands is an insult to the soundness of Harry's mind. It was not a mirage or a delusion brought on by an old injury of magic most dark. Lord Voldemort is back, and with him the rekindling of violence that marked his era of power."

"Wish he'd stop saying the Dark Lord's name," Draco muttered to Harry. He blinked at the blond. Normally he would have noticed Draco's seating arrangement by his boisterous bragging and condescension, but lately he had been abnormally silent.

A sick swoop of chilling anger had settled to the bottom of his stomach. He forced himself to look back at the headmaster, though a strange anger rose at the sight of him.

"With cunning and determination, Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort and his supporters. He unwaveringly refused Lord Voldemort's plans for him. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards or witches have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Professor Dumbledore turned towards Harry and bowed. The rest of the Great Hall—including the staff, nearly all of the visiting Aurors, and even Mad-Eye Moody!—somberly followed suit, standing and bowing, murmuring Harry's name.

Mortified, Harry felt a flush burn right up the back of his neck, reddening his face and ears. The cold presence retreated.

When everyone had returned to their seats, the headmaster continued, "The Quadwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding despite our cultural differences. In light of what has happened—of Lord Voldemort's return—The bonds of friendship we've made this year will be more important than ever. For Lord Voldemort has the great ambition to succeed where Grindelwald failed, and we must not allow that to happen."

While Professor Dumbledore met the gaze of Madam Maxime and Hagrid, the Beauxbatons' students quietly and nervously chattered to one another in French. The Durmstrang students along the Slytherin table were scowling and shifting uncomfortably. Viktor Krum in particular was looking very nervous; he looked even surlier than he had at the thought of asking Hermione to visit him over the summer. Then the headmaster looked kindly at the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table. High Master Igor Karkaroff's absence had caused the tension in the Durmstrang students.

"Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all—we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."

"This man's a bloody genius," Draco murmured. "Rousing up an army of magical children… Only the childless and the vulgar would knowingly destroy their future over an ideal."

"Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight him only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts beat as one."

Each and every Slytherin was listening to the headmaster with rapt attention. The Gryffindors and their guests were also captivated by the old wizard's powerful message.

"Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. It was his hand that opened the Chamber of Secrets and its purpose was to provoke anger and distrust amongst you, conquering you with your own fear before he had even fully regained his powers. Additionally, many of your families were torn asunder during Voldemort's war; old rifts formed thirteen years ago still have yet to mend." Here the headmaster paused deliberately as the murmuring of Hogwarts students began again. Once it had faded, he continued, "If the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to the boy who is good and kind, who is brave and cunning. I ask you now to put aside your differences and realize the truth of my words."

Barely hearing a word, Harry shrunk down on the bench and slipped under the Slytherin table so people would stop looking at him. Sally-Anne and Draco shifted closer to Harry sandwiching him between their outer thighs. He pulled his knees up and rested his forehead on them. Are you so afraid of attention that you cower in the light?

I never asked for any of this. The soul-shard didn't respond. Harry could smell the smoke of the magical fire and the fumes from the potion. He locked his arms around his knees, forcing himself to focus on the present.

"It may have been a quirk of Fate that Harry Potter survived Lord Voldemort's attack when he was an infant barely a year old, but upon their most recent meeting he chose to defy Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter chose to do this greatly outnumbered by Lord Voldemort's supporters twice his age and many times more experienced. This was his choice even knowing that the consequence would likely be the end of his noble bloodline."

"Harry?" Sally-Anne whispered from above. Harry didn't answer her as terrible memories seared across his mind, leaving flashes of images in his eyes: the Blessing desperately trying to stay in his skin, his blood on a dully glinting knife, painful light and agony, a pale foot sinking into his cheek. The thigh shifted and a body sat beside him on the cold, stone floor. Arms wrapped about him and a soft chest was pressed against his head. "Shh… it's alright," she soothed as she carded a hand through his hair.

"For Harry Potter's noncooperation, the wounds he sustained from his encounter are deep and have not fully healed. In respect of his sacrifice, none of you will ask what transgressed that night. When he is ready, he will tell us his story, and we will listen in silence without judgment."

Is that why he couldn't stop obsessing about what happened in the graveyard? The shivering began to subside. The warmth from Sally-Anne was seeping into his skin, and he relaxed.

"Do not expect to hear his story next year. It has been over a decade that Lord Voldemort was last seen and many of your war-scarred parents cannot utter the horrors that they themselves witnessed." There was quiet and then the headmaster said, "A toast to Harry Potter's daring escape and our righteous efforts against those who would harm others in the name of power. Cheers!"

The answering toast was so loud Harry felt it reverberate through the chilly stone under him. The cloying memories were retreating now and he sighed in relief.

"You alright?" Sally-Anne pulled away still crouched next to him.

"I think so," Harry said.

"Excellent. I'm hungry and it's stuffy down here." She crawled back onto the bench and offered a hand to help him up as well. He settled in to a hearty meal, ignoring the stares as best he could. His ears heated in shame for huddling under the table like a small child.

"I don't think this outpouring of solidarity will last," Draco muttered under his breath. "I think the headmaster has overestimated a child's propensity to defy their parents."

"But child I am not," Krum said to him. "If Dumbledore's vords are true, then those who fought the darkest Dark Lord in two centuries vill provide support. My comrades do not take kindly to tyrants."

"That's right! Ve did not bend our heads to Grindelwald, nor do ve to this Voldemort character," Poliakoff said with a cross look. Much of the remainder of the dinner had Durmstrang students speaking in this way.

By the end, Harry was not precisely hopeful that other magical governments would support theirs, but at least they had made some allies in the year.

The next day, Sirius surprised Harry with a letter delivered by Hedwig. Just as Harry opened it, his godfather's shadow overtook him. The Slytherin greeted his godfather with enthusiasm amid his friends who seemed relieved to see Harry with raised spirits.

Though the final exams were over, the students of Hogwarts had a remainder of a last week of classes. Harry had missed nearly all of them since he had been recovering. Regardless of his absence, Sirius had gotten Harry special permission to skip Wednesday classes so that he could get a new wand at Ollivanders.

This time, Harry spent hours trying nearly every wand in stock. Some wands Ollivander left on the shelves and Harry never questioned it. Sirius had gone out several times when he needed to pace. Night was falling when Ollivander declared, "A new wand may be in order."

Sirius' head swiveled so fast that he nearly hit the coat rack next to him. He dug into the front pockets of his trousers. "Let me give you a down payment for your troubles then."

The wand-maker held a shaky hand up to push the palm full of Galleons back. "It's not every day that I must carefully craft a wand for a customer. Let me enjoy myself, Mr. Black. It is really no trouble at all."

"Sir, would it help if I gave you this?" Harry took the pouch of powdered wand off his neck and opened it for Ollivander to inspect. When the wand-maker looked within, he made a soft sound.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. I sense, however, that your old wand wants to serve a new purpose…" He peered at it closely, dipped a finger into the sand careful not to drop a single grain on the ground. "Ah, yes. A protective amulet or an emergency Portkey… Yes, she wants a special purpose…" He cleaned off his finger on the inside of the bag and pulled the purse-strings tight. "Don't disappoint her, or she might be temperamental in her new role."

"You-Know-Who called his wand and mine, wand-brothers," Harry said as he received the pouch in his palm.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not a Master of Wand-craft. They were wand-siblings." Then Ollivander began to measure Harry's wand-hand with that odd measuring tape. It kept track of many more dimensions than it had done when Harry had first walked in three years ago. The thickness of his knuckles, the distance between the tip of his thumb and the tip of his pinky when his hand was splayed, from the bottom of his palm to the inside of his elbow, and then measuring his right leg from where Harry's hand rested to the middle of his thigh… just all sorts of odd measurements that Harry didn't think were needed.

When a murmuring Ollivander shuffled off to the backroom of his store, Sirius had steered Harry out of the wand shop before Harry thought to seek advice about where he might get the sand re-purposed. They popped into the Leaky Cauldron for a quick meal. Dumbledore was there carrying a cheerful conversation with the bartender. Sirius took the stool next to the old wizard and ordered two Butterbeers.

"Haven't seen you in ages. Has life been well since your release?" The bartender asked Sirius politely as he polished a pint-glass.

"As well as it can be, Tom. It takes some adjustment after being in the dark for so long, but I manage." Sirius clasped Harry's shoulder. "Harry's been managing well, too."

"That is very good news. All this bad news brewing has kept people locked up in their own homes too afraid to get out." Tom the bartender nodded his head towards the empty tables. "Bad for business too."

Harry nodded and then turned to the quiet Professor Dumbledore nursing a small glass of fiery-red alcohol that slightly smoked. "Not to offend you, sir, but what are you doing here?"

"Ollivander wrote that you had not been matched with a wand. It's very rare that a person is incompatible to wield even one of the ten thousand he has in stock." The headmaster's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "I came to deliver a few trifles that should be in your possession." His thin hand dipped into his pocket and withdrew a key hanging from a knotted-silver keychain and a narrow, long box.

Harry gazed down curiously at the key and opened the box to check to see if his guess was spot-on. It was. Voldemort's wand lay within except the knucklebone handle had been replaced with one that was just like Harry's old one.

"The key to the Potter vault?" Sirius asked lowly, eyeing the key in Harry's palm.

"And a replacement wand," Harry said with devilish smile. He really liked the thought of using the weapon of someone so full of themselves.

"Take heed, Harry," Dumbledore warned. "That wand is not your ally."

Sirius frowned. "Not Harry's ally… But how can that be if he's compatible?"

"Wands are temperamental objects, but those of yew are particularly demanding."

"He can use a yew wand?" Sirius attempted to rein in the judgemental look, but didn't quite manage.

"All that says of your godson's character is that he is neither mediocre or timid," Dumbledore stated. "Harry knows the danger in using it."

"I do. I won't wave it around for fun." Harry solemnly pocketed the key and clutched the box to his side.

"Well, Tom, I must be going."

The bartender gave a jaunty wave. "Always a pleasure, Dumbledore."

With a smile, the headmaster gently set the empty shotglass upside-down and left several Galleons on the counter. "Take care, Sirius."

"And you," Sirius murmured.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he said, "I sincerely hope Harry surprises us with his brand of mischief by the end of the year."

Harry lifted a shoulder carelessly, staring at his half-drunk pint of Butterbeer. The drink had relaxed him, but he didn't feel very cheerful. "I won't be."

With a sad, understanding smile, the headmaster nodded. He turned grabbed a handful of powder from the mantle and threw it into the fireplace, calling out the address to his office in Hogwarts. In a flash of green, the blue robes and frizzy white hair disappeared.

"I can't keep you too late. There's curfew to mind," Sirius stated gruffly. Setting his empty pint down, he shoved back from the counter, leaving several gold coins as well. "Thanks, Tom. Let's go, Harry."

"Are we going through the fireplace?"

Sirius chuckled. "No, not by Floo. We Apparate again." After they had gone out into the streets of Muggle London, they walked into an unoccupied alley. A firm hand fell on his shoulder, whisking them away to the outside perimeter of Hogwarts gates, where they had left earlier. They were met by Professor Flitwick. The adults chatted about Sirius' time at Hogwarts and the general mayhem he and Harry's father got up to two decades ago.

Harry listened to the details with amusement as they made their way over the grounds. Night had fallen and it was cloudy so the faint moonlight could not be seen. After a quick hug from Sirius, Harry was shooed inside. Professor Flitwick led Harry through the Entrance Hall to the dungeons where the painting to the Slytherin house was. "I will see you during Charms tomorrow morning."

Waving awkwardly, Harry bid the short professor a good night. The portrait swung open and at the top of the stairs his friends were eagerly waiting.

"Well?" Theodore asked. "What's it look like?"

"What?" At his friends' look, Harry grinned. "Just winding you up. Give me a moment." He carefully opened it. Lifting the yew wand from its container, Harry brandished it.

"Just looking at that gives me the creeps." Sally-Anne rubbed her arms as if she had gotten chills.

"What's the wand-wood? The core? It's a couple inches longer than your old one, looks like." Theodore leaned over it, moving back and forth to examine it at different angles curiously.

"Thirteen and a half inches, Yew with phoenix feather." Harry grinned, doubting anyone his age would recognize Voldemort's wand on sight.

"I'm knackered. See you two tomorrow."

"Ta," Theodore said after lightly kissing her cheek. As soon as Sally-Anne had gone up, he and Theo went upstairs to their dorm-room. On the way up, Harry put the wand back into its box, not fully trusting the wand in his pocket. It might full well burn a whole straight through.

When they entered the dormitory, the others were in various states of alertness. Draco looked completely insensate to the world. Deep, dark circles were painted beneath his eyes on a face that was entirely too cherubic for an absolute prat. Crabbe looked wide awake and in deep thought as his fingers deftly made knots from a many-stranded string, while Goyle had looked sleepily up from a glossy magazine that featured a glowing crystal ball on the cover with two hands lit from below.

After inspecting his old wand holster laying on the desk, Harry slipped off his shoes and cloak, turned up the covers of his bed, and slipped in. It seemed he closed his eyes only for a moment before he woke up with sunlight streaming into the room again. "Bother," he muttered under his breath, rubbing at his gritty eyes. He hadn't taken a sleeping draught from the drawer in his desk, yet he had had no dreams. It felt as if he had hardly slept at all. He went through the motions of getting ready for the day.

On their way to breakfast the next morning, Draco commented on how stylistically similar Harry's 'new' wand was to the old one.

"It's a bit longer, and it's made of yew, not holly. But the core's a phoenix tail feather like my old one."

"I'm glad Ollivander had it. How many wands did you have to go through?"

"Essentially all of them," Harry said with a trace of irony.

"No wonder it took all bloody day," Draco shook his head. "You would have thought he could match you with one better than that."

"I guess I was lucky the first time I went in."

"I suppose," he said with the air of someone who had lost interest in the topic.

As the last days passed like molasses, it was as though he had been through enough that it was hard to take anything more in, though there wasn't anything fancy or extreme about the lessons. It was supposed to be a fun pass, and yet Harry struggled to focus.

Every now and then he'd have painful recollections without meaning to. Seeing someone trip and land on their belly in the dirt when they ran out on the Hogwarts lawn during Double Herbology had reminded him of Draco's father begging for mercy. The statues situated around Hogwarts' courtyard where students hung around during lunch brought him back to the visceral pain echoing in his scar and the smell of burning.

And then there was the Death Eater. Because of the accusations leveled on him, the Potions Master had a two Auror escort at all times. Harry thought that it was unfortunate that he hadn't been dragged off to Azkaban straightaway because Potions was the last class of the term. Harry thought that Dumbledore must have interceded on Snape's behalf. Perhaps there were valuable Potions mid-brew that couldn't be left unattended for long periods of time? The Stasis Cupboard had its limits after all.

Aurors Proudfoot and Savage had taken up sentinel positions on either side of the door to keep an eye on the active Death Eater while he directed the class to prepare ingredients for summer brewing. Harry hadn't even managed to harvest a single bat spleen before he was shamefully dismissed from class for his wayward attention. Of all the adults Harry interacted with, only Snape was the one he loathed to be around for immersion into memories Harry would rather leave unsettled.

"Potter, why are you dawdling in the corridor?"

Harry blankly looked up at the greasy-haired Death Eater and then through him. He thought for sure he'd feel hate burn through him like a wildfire, but instead Harry saw him he'd remember the bastard twitching on the ground silently—

"Potter. Where are your friends?" Black eyes looked down at him, a lip curling distastefully at him.

Harry blinked, realizing then that his eyelids hurt from drying out. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there staring past the wall of black with splotches of pale skin. The two Aurors hounding the Potions Master were looking at Harry with pity. "Sorry. I'll quit dawdling, sir." He turned slowly, eyes sluggish as they took in the brightly lit courtyard where his year-mates sat past the window. He didn't go to them because he had sensed the change in himself and was irrationally afraid it would pass to them. Besides, they had followed him around enough. Hadn't he relied on them too much?

There was an irritated noise followed by measured footsteps stalking away with two sets matching his speed with different rhythms.

Harry's eyelids fluttered when black robes billowed towards Theodore and Sally-Anne. A thin arm pointed in his direction, a pale hand gnarled and contorted like the other limbs in tortured repose by Voldemort. Ragged breathing filled the corridor, and the cool air and dim light thrust Harry back into the stone angel's cold, hard embrace.

"This is my family," a raspy voice proclaimed, gesturing to the grim-eyed Death Eaters.

"Harry?"

He turned, not knowing how long he had zoned out. It was Sally-Anne.

"Where are you going?"

Harry came to himself, his hand trailing on the cold stone wall. "To the toilet…" He murmured. His voice was too loud, the corridor too cold. The beams of sunlight were too bright, like the cauldron exploding silver.

"I'll take you then." A warm hand slipped into his chilled one. Theodore's. "You're going the wrong way." When his hand was tugged, Harry followed along. If he had been more embarrassed, he might have pulled away, but he hardly felt anything.

Another tagged along next to him, speaking words that passed through Harry like a ghost. Ah, it was Sally-Anne. He tried to grasp the thread of conversation, but he hardly felt real at all. Then they stopped abruptly. He wavered in place as if the entire world shook.

"Should I go in with you?" Theodore gave him a concerned look.

Harry smiled falsely, his cheeks hurting. "I think I can manage to wipe my own arse, thanks."

As soon as he stepped past his Pursuivants, he slumped into the settee in the old-fashioned rest-room right after the door. He held his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He was so scattered, everywhere. He was afraid he was descending into a dark place where sanity barely lingered.

Someone touched his shoulder, and Harry ripped out his wand before he thought twice about it and stood at a crouch.

Diggory backed away with his hands up, showing that he meant no harm. "You weren't responding to me. You… You're not alright, are you? Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, re-holstering the over-eager wand that sang with violence.

"Ah, it's alright. Really. You missed the Champion's ceremony while you were stuck on bed rest and… well. Take it." Diggory thrust a lumpy sack at Harry. The Slytherin skittered back a few paces, his heart in his throat.

When Harry just stared in askance at it, the Hufflepuff continued with a worried smile, "It's not going to explode on you or anything. This is half of the winnings of the Quadwizard Tournament. Five hundred Galleons. I cast a Counting Charm on it five times just to be sure."

Carefully, Harry took the pouch that was much lighter than it appeared and stared at it. He'd forgotten there was a monetary reward for winning. He had a feeling that Diggory wouldn't want it back.

"And I wanted to thank you again. I can't thank you enough for your help in the tournament and the graveyard." Diggory fell silent. "I could have died then."

"But I—"

"You inadvertently saved me, and a save is a save in my book. My parents are proud of me and have asked me to do whatever I can to repay you. Life debts aren't cheap." His smile was broad, flashing white, straight teeth. It was little wonder why everyone fawned over him.

"I'm not interested," Harry said, and then at Diggory's confused look he continued, "It's not you. I don't want to date anybody since it would involve kissing. That doesn't look remotely like fun."

"Er…I'm involved with Cho Chang." Diggory stared at him and then hesitated. "…Potter… when I told you about taking a bath in the prefects' bathroom. Ehm. I wasn't suggesting anything…well, illicit then." At Harry's puzzled look, a bright grin grew on the Hufflepuff's face. "I was trying to give you a hint about the egg, but I suppose I shouldn't have worried since you had the Second Task well in hand. I would have never thought to seduce a mermaid myself." He tilted his head back with a light laugh.

"Oh," Harry said, a rush of hot embarrassment flooding his cheeks. The world came sharply back into focus.

Diggory aborted a gesture to pat Harry's shoulder. "I had wondered why my hint had garnered such a cold response from you. I thought I might have offended your intelligence. I shall remember next time that subtlety is lost on you."

"I was really hoping to avoid any participation with another International Doom Tournament," Harry muttered.

The sixth year laughed again. "Well, no, I meant that if you ever have need of anything, you can ask anything of us Hufflepuffs."

Harry frowned. "What?"

"I wouldn't have won the tournament if you hadn't helped me. I told everyone about it, and we all agree that this business with You-Know-Who… well, it's not any good and we want to help you." Diggory paused uncertainly, his smile faltering. "We've made you an Honorary Hufflepuff with Professor Sprout's blessings of course. You're invited to come to our common room any time you'd like. It's like a solarium, plants everywhere and plenty of open space and sunshine. You look a bit spread thin lately."

"Mm…" Harry's eyes slipped past him to look at the mirror image of the back Diggory's sandy brown hair. "That sounds nice."

"You know where the entrance to the kitchens are?" Harry watched himself nod. "The main entrance to the Hufflepuff common room is at the end of the hall where the stack of barrels are. You tap the barrel that's two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', and the lid will swing open. But you have to be careful because if you do it wrong you'll be doused in vinegar."

"There's no portrait?"

"No, no portrait. They have a nasty habit of eating the food studies lining the hallway. We can't have that, can we?" Diggory chuckled at what must have been an inside joke.

"Erm. Thanks for the offer but I wouldn't be able to go alone. Ever since…" Harry's eyes slid from the mirror, trying to forget that night. "I've been very scatter-brained."

"That may be problematic. I'll have to talk it over with Professor Sprout."

Harry nodded.

"Harry?" Theodore poked his head in and saw the two of them. "Come on out. You're looking peaky. I've got some chocolate if you need it."

"See you next year," Diggory said, leaving the bathroom.

Harry gave the Hufflepuff an awkward wave, and the of-age teen left.

"Mate, you sure you don't want to go see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Positive," Harry answered his friend firmly ignoring the offered chocolate. No doubt his concerned friends thought he should see a Psych Healer. He didn't think he could open up to one at all. His Occlumency might as well get in the way of any mind healing that might take place.

After hardly sleeping any at all the following night, Harry had spent the time stretching out sore muscles and packing his trunk by hand. Hours after sunrise, the room was bustling while he calmly waited for the others to finish. Hedwig was in her cage.

Blinking into the silence, Harry looked around the empty room as if he had missed another chunk of time. He glanced at the slant of sunlight beaming beside his bed. He supposed it was time to go. Had someone told him to wait here? The Slytherin cocked his head and thought. Theodore said he'd be back to tell him what End-of-Term notices their Head of House announced and Harry hadn't really been there to respond. It was probably for the best. He hadn't wanted to stand in the crowded common room, when looking at the hook-nosed Head of House caused him to relive the night of Voldemort's resurrection.

"I never liked the bed curtains," Sirius' voice said from across the room. Harry's head jerked up as his godfather casually leaned against what was Goyle's bed. "James jinxed them to bound me up our first year." He chuckled. "It was the beginning of our pranking war."

Surprised that Sirius would be let into the Slytherin dormitory, Harry looked back down at the floor. He felt the bed sink in as Sirius sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you, Harry," his godfather said with a grim tone, broaching the subject that he had never raised on their outing together.

"You did your best. I heard you Apparated all the way to Albania…?" Harry glanced up at his godfather.

"Yes… Stupid of me, really. But my heart often doesn't listen to my head." Sirius scratched his chin. There was a thoughtful look on his face. "Harry, my behavior around your friends… Well, it wasn't right of me, but most of your year are the children of Death Eaters…"

"Doesn't mean they'll let themselves be Marked by him," Harry bit out. 'Surely there are other contenders more worthy of your Mark,' the memory whispered. "Unless their parents make them…"

"…You truly believe that they wouldn't want to join the likes of Voldemort?"

"Draco is dying to serve a Dark Lord."

There came a snort. "Well, that's a Malfoy for you."

"…but I think he'd sooner die than hurt me."

Sirius held Harry's gaze. "You believe that?"

"Yes… even though my friends are drawn to the Dark Arts that doesn't make them inherently evil. Misunderstood and isolated, yes. And I know that most the Dark spells maim people, but I understand why people want to learn them. They think that to be able to perform nasty curses and hexes will protect them from others out to kill them."

A hand lightly placed itself onto Harry's shoulder and squeezed. "You know how I said that you remind me of my brother? I'd never met a decent Dark Wizard before him."

"Is he…?"

Sirius nodded, dropping his hand. "Dead? Yes. My brother, Regulus Black, was a curse-breaker for Gringotts. He always had an affinity for Dark curses, and not just for the defense of them. Not for creating new ones, mind you, but breaking ones that were centuries old. And, there's always a danger to that. A particularly nasty curse that no one had seen before killed him. Started on his chest and spread from there, rotting his magical core from the inside-out." Instead of looking distressed, Sirius' lips flattened as if he'd smelled something foul.

"And then…?"

"And then he was found out to be a Death Eater. He had his foul Mark on his arm." Sirius' face was stormy. "I was so furious then. I didn't understand how he of all people would submit like that. I blamed him for siding with the enemy, for not being strong enough to refuse Voldemort."

Reminded of Ron, Harry did not say why Regulus Black may have accepted the Mark afraid that it would come too close to what almost happened to him.

"Truth be told, Reggie likely didn't tell me because he was probably afraid of how I'd react. Back then… Death Eaters were all the same to me." Sirius looked down at his calloused hands. "And I've met a lot of them in Azkaban. There wasn't much you could do there but talk. No other guards but the dementors, and they didn't care." Sirius paused. "After years of plotting of how I would find Wormtail among the millions of rats out there… One of the Death Eaters started a conversation with me. Thought I was innocent or else I would've gone crazy by then, since I'd been there for years."

Sirius stared into the distance as if he could see beyond the walls of Harry's dormitory. "I resisted at first, but after so long without human interaction I gave in. I learned why people chose to take his Mark. It's true that all of them beg to be Marked before it happens, but most of them aren't treacherous to begin with. Voldemort tricks, jinxes, and blackmails the nicer ones into recruitment. He twists them to his ends. That's what makes him terrifying, his ability to reshape a person into a tool to use at his disposal."

Harry smothered the fear that arose at his words. He was afraid of how his godfather would react if he learned what Voldemort intended for him.

"Harry, are you ready to go? We're to wait in the Entrance Hall with the other fourth years." It was Theodore, who walked up to his trunk and tapped it. Suddenly Harry's trunk sprouted tentacles. It looked rather unwieldy, so Harry was glad that his friend was holding Hedwig's cage.

Harry looked at his godfather. "Are you taking me straight to Grimmauld Place?"

Sirius shook his head with a nostalgic grin. "Have fun with your friends. I'll see you soon enough at King's Cross."

Harry hopped from the bed, taking hold of Hedwig's cage from Theodore. She flapped her wings when he jostled her and screeched lightly in complaint. "Sorry," he said to her. She snicked her beak at him. "See you, Sirius." Harry looked over his shoulder, and his godfather half-raised a hand to wave lightly. Harry then followed his weirdly crawling trunk down the stairs after Theodore.

In the Entrance Hall, Harry stood at the edge of the crowd of the fourth years nearest to the exit, waiting for the reptilian horse-drawn carriages to whisk them away to Hogsmeade station where Hogwarts Express would take them to King's Cross station in London. Mervyn had already come and gone, excited to have earned ten N.E.W.T.s. He made Harry promise to write him. When the Hogwarts graduate left with 'Manny' one of the SI graduating students in tow, a peculiar ache of loneliness formed in Harry's chest. He would have to read more into blood fealties so that he would no longer be taken by surprise. No doubt the texts would be difficult to come by.

Through Hogwarts' open front doors, Harry could see it was another beautiful summer's day. He could hear cicadas thrumming in the distance in the Forbidden Forest. Tension that had been coiled at the base of his neck released and a pleasant sensation traveled through him. The world seemed much clearer. It reminded him that he heard the insects after passing his First Task as well. Students of the four schools intermingled. Harry had already been given several hearty shakes of his hand by the US students. He had been told that they would be departing by aeroplane via Glasgow Airport and 'deplaning' at the JFK International Airport in New York City.

"We'll be taking those horseless carriages to Hogsmeade. Seems like fancy magical transportation we don't wanna miss," the SI witch said, as her classmates all nodded vigorously. "It's sad that they didn't consider the interference of Voldy-what's-his-face as foul play. Otherwise you would have taken first place with that Diggory guy."

With an uncomfortable smile, Harry felt a bit guilty that he didn't remember any of their names.

"I kinda wanted to knock the guy's block off," the SI wizard who liked whistling fizzy drinks said, smashing a hand on his palm. Harry had to take a step back as the wizard stepped forward with an aggressive intensity. "It's unfair, unjust! You were the winningest champion of them all!"

"Neil, you're scaring him," another witch from the States stated evenly.

"Oh, whoops. Heh, my bad." Neil ran a hand through his hair and awkwardly backed out of Harry's personal space. Theodore quickly stepped into the vacated space in case any of them decided to drop all sense of propriety and attempt to hug Harry at the drop of a hat.

"It is what it is," sighed another SI wizard. "Look, you've been such a good sport through all this. Don't hesitate to reach out to us if something crops up. Okay?"

"Alright, I'll send a post Owl if I need something."

Someone in the back of the group snickered. Harry frowned.

"Liz, don't be rude. Y'know they don't have email," the witch with the soft twang said sharply.

"I'm sorry, Agnes! I can't help it if it's the height of ridiculosity! How do these people survive without reception for their cell phones?"

"Owl post, obviously," Neil batted back with an obnoxiously bad posh accent.

"Ridiculosity?" Daphne murmured to Tracey behind Harry. "Is that even a word?"

"They used winningest, Daphne," came the low reply. "I don't think they're meaning to mangle English. They can't help that they're yankees."

Overhearing them, Sally-Anne tried to cover her giggle politely as the SI students quickly grew distracted by their other acquaintances. They were wholeheartedly cheek-kissing one another with tearful goodbyes. Harry would not have called himself uptight, but even he was discomfited by the sight of the emotions splashing around so publicly.

"'Arry!"

Harry saw Delacour hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, on the sloping lawns, Harry could see Hagrid helping Madam Maxime to back the last two of the giant winged horses into their harness. Evidently, the Beauxbatons' powder blue carriage was nearly prepared to take off.

When Delacour reached him, she held out her hand in a rather dainty manner. Harry grasped it and politely brushed his lips against her knuckles before letting it fall. "We will see each ozzer again. I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish," she said. "I find Britain is much too interesting to leave forreverr." Her eyes seemed to hold a strange glimmer as she looked at Harry.

Theodore stepped forward, nudging a shoulder in front of Harry. "I think it's very good already," he said. "Don't you, Harry?"

"Not good enough!" She proclaimed with a finger. "I want to work az a diplomat to ze British Mineestry. Zis business with 'Oo-Know-'Hoo is bad for everyone. Professeur Dumbledorre is right. We must work together."

Harry smiled.

Pale cheeks coloring, Delacour looked over her shoulder quickly. Her silver-blond hair rippled, turning every boy's head towards her. "I must depart! Good-bye, 'Arry." She cupped his face and kissed one cheek and the other. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting 'oo!"

Harry's spirits couldn't help but lift slightly as he watched Delacour hurry back across the lawns to Madam Maxime. Then he remembered that Durmstrang had a ship and their high master was gone. He turned to the ever-quiet Draco, thinking he might know if he had visited the school before. "Can the Durmstrang students steer the ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer it," a gruff voice said behind him. "He stayed in his cabin und let us do all the vork."

"Oh," Harry said, watching the Beauxbatons' horses thunder down the lawn, wings spread. The powder blue carriage was in the air when it whizzed past Hogwarts' open doors. There came a loud roar of approval from the Hogwarts students standing outside the castle.

"I like you," Krum said abruptly to Harry. "Hyu hav alvays been polite. Even vhen hyu knew about Karkaroff." He scowled and then held out a hand to Harry. Harry took it and his hand was shook firmly once. When their hands parted, Krum clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook Harry a bit. "Hyu are now my comrade! Come visit if hyu are ever in the area."

"Er, okay."

Sally-Anne spoke up next, cheekily. "Krum, before you leave, might you give Harry your autograph? He's a huge fan."

Harry glared at her. "I don't need—"

"Vas vondering vhen you vould ask." Krum pulled out a small tube from a pocket in his robes and offered it to Harry. "It is very valuable. Small printing, highly collectible."

Harry accepted it graciously and cracked open the lid. The inside of the tube was lined with velvet and inside was a white, glossy rolled paper. He pulled it out, and it unfurled into a large poster of Viktor Krum in full Bulgarian robes, shifting on his inwardly-turned feet as he posed unblinkingly next to his broom.

To Harry Potter, the crazy man who ran towards dragon-fire—I had heard you were reckless but I did not believe it until the First Task. I hope to see you fly one day; Malfoy has told us many tales of how you handle the broomstick before you victoriously seize the Snitch.

Happy Seeking,
Viktor Krum.

"Thanks," Harry croaked out.

"Do not mention it," the world-famous Bulgarian Seeker said appearing gratified. "I must go now. Do not be a stranger, Harry Potter." And then the slouch-shouldered student disappeared down the stone steps.

"Do you think we'll ever have a quiet year at Hogwarts?" Tracey asked Daphne. Before she could respond there came a simultaneous 'No' from Draco and Theodore, who exchanged a look and laughed.

"Augh," she muttered looking glum.

"You know, my mum's grandparents said they were in the same year as the Dark Lord," Sally-Anne said. "They said it wasn't nearly as chaotic. Well, besides the whole dreadful business with the basilisk." At Harry's surprised look, she smiled, "They were Ravenclaws, so they were rather surprised to hear that I was Sorted into Slytherin. My parents didn't care as long as I didn't incur the wrath of the Malfoy family by insulting their only heir. My mum had heard horror stories about Abraxas from her parents."

"How cold," Draco said, flicking a hand with a disdainful swipe. "As if I'm anything like my grandfather."

Harry smiled, while the others laughed. He looked around. "Draco, what've you done to Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Oh, them? I gave them a well-deserved break. They're chatting with relatives," Draco nodded to where Harry could see them chatting with sixth-years Warrington and Cameron Boyle. "I have a feeling I've outgrown their protection anyway. Not that my father will allow it, I think."

There was the sound of a cannon firing off in the distance and another cheer of approval outside. The Durmstrang delegation must be departing...

And then the black carriages trundled to a stop in front of the stone steps, and the Hogwarts and Salem Institute students barreled forward to embark on their homeward journey.

The weather on the journey back to King's Cross could not have been more different than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Draco had remained unhitched from Crabbe and Goyle and sat in the train compartment with Harry, Theodore, Sally-Anne and Neville. Harry was a bit surprised that Daphne hadn't opted to call her favor in, since Dean Thomas had stopped by and cryptically said that Harry's mission had been a complete success. They had shared a private grin, and Harry had withstood some ribbing from his friends because he wouldn't explain the meaning behind it. Harry had taken Hedwig out of her cage; she dozed with her head under her wing next to him. Neville's toad, Trevor, would croak now and again, especially when it was thirsty.

Harry's friends talked more fully and freely than they had ever done around a Gryffindor who was not precisely known for keeping his lips buttoned. Watching the scenery fly past as the train sped southward, Harry felt as though whatever had come stuck inside of him was unraveling. Somehow, it was less painful to think of what had happened. Harry even talked a little about what would make him stare off into space, though only vague impressions. He never spoke about what had happened to him to his friends. His tongue would always act as if it'd been glued to the top of his mouth and his throat would constrict around his vocal cords. He hated that feeling as if he were not in control of himself.

When the lunch trolley arrived, the four broke off their conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort. Draco added scathing remarks about why something wouldn't work. Otherwise, he calmly listened.

After they had ordered what they wanted, Harry asked for some cauldron cakes and pumpkin juice and nearly bumped into Ginny Weasley who appeared to have been waiting for the old witch to finish. "Hullo, Ginny."

The Gryffindor opened her mouth and then looked unsure about what she was going to say.

"Is something the matter?" Harry asked cradling the cakes and bottle from the witch, who pushed the trolley back to the engine-room. He passed the cauldron cakes into the compartment for the others to share and then shut the compartment door on their curious faces.

"Well," she said with a burst of air and then thrust a wrapped gift to him. "I made this for you." She pulled a strand of her red hair back and then looked at him expectantly.

Aware that he had an audience watching them, he unwrapped whatever-it-was. It was a crumpled piece of wire smaller than his palm. "Er, thanks…" He peered at it.

"It's an Emergency Portkey. Takes you directly to the Burrow. Dad gave one to each of us kids before we went to Hogwarts. As a precaution. When I got back, I'm going to tell them that I lost mine. The passphrase to activate it is 'lacy smock."

Warmth flowed through him, and he gave in to the urge to hug her. She stiffened in his grip. "Thank you, Ginny. It's perfect."

"Ginny? Harry?" Ron's voice lashed out.

Ron's little sister backed away with a flushed face. "Have a good summer break, Harry," she whispered, her freckles hidden by the sheer redness of her blush.

"You…" Ron stammered at his sister, "With a Slytherin."

"Oh, shut it, Ron! You're so annoying." Ginny continued down the tiny corridor her brother following with his tiresome tirades. They left a sour-looking Hermione Granger behind, who thrust a newspaper towards Harry. "I finished reading today's Daily Prophet. No news about You-Know-Who at all, not even a byline."

Harry took it flipping it open. He opened the compartment door again, retaking his seat next to Neville. He ignored any questions about Ginny as his eyes scanned the headlines.

"If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet," Hermione said.

"Come in and have a seat," Sally-Anne said excitedly, pulling her in. She shut the compartment door as Hermione squeezed into the space between the door and Neville. "We were just discussing—"

"Granger, your deductive reasoning has led to the wrong conclusion. Fudge does want to keep it all hushed up, but he's not the one who owns the paper," Draco said with a snide tone and took the edition from Harry's lax fingers. The blond lifted the newspaper so Theodore could read it with him. "So, were there any riveting articles about a fickle-hearted Muggle-born today?"

"No, Rita hasn't written anything about me since the Third Task," Hermione said in an odd voice, slightly quivery. "As a matter of face, Rita Skeeter won't be writing anything at all for a while…"

Every Slytherin turned to look at her. Feeling a bit left out, Neville's roved around at the others before settling on her too.

"Oh really?" Draco drawled. "And why do you say that?"

"Well," Hermione said faintly. Then she reached into her bag and pulled a small, clear and sealed glass jar from it. "I caught her," she said with quiet triumph, brandishing the container in which a few twigs, leaves, and a very large beetle had been placed.

"You're kidding," Theodore said sounding impressed. "Rita Skeeter's an unregistered Animagus?"

Neville squeaked in surprise, and Sally-Anne's eyes were brimming with glee.

"That's—never—I—May I see it?" Draco asked with the most polite tone he'd ever managed to Harry's very first best friend.

Hermione frowned a little. "Oh, I think not," she said with a huffy tone. "I've told her I'd let her out when we get back to London, not before."

Draco snorted in surprise. "You've blackmailed her?"

"Oh, yes. There's an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people." Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the jar back into her schoolbag.

"Merlin, that's very clever," Draco breathed out, unable to help himself.

"Thank you," Hermione said, though she didn't look as though Draco was being sincere.

Before anybody could react to Draco's unexpected compliment, the compartment door slid open. Ron Weasley gripped the side of the door tightly. "Hi, Harry. Just to be clear, you aren't dating my sister are you?" He said sounding as if he'd eaten too much cheese and was lactose intolerant. A large ginger-haired cat prowled inside rubbing against their legs before stopping in front of Hermione. She reached down to pet Crookshanks.

"No, I'm not," Harry said, glancing at the blond prat who was actively ignoring Ron's presence.

His Pursuivants also looked at Draco, who continued to read the newspaper as if it were the most engrossing thing in the world.

"Ginny already said as much," Hermione said with a stern tone as she lifted the long-haired cat into her lap. "So, if you've got nothing nice to say to Harry then go."

Ron's mouth worked. "I… uh… Harry, I heard that Viktor Krum gave you an autographed 1994 Bulgarian Seeker poster. Pristine condition."

Harry shot a look at Draco before the prat could open his mouth and infuriate the easily enraged Lion, but Draco didn't appear to have heard a thing. "Yes, he did."

"Um, maybe… you can show it to me, I dunno. Next year?"

"Why not right now?" Drawing Voldemort's wand, Harry cast, "Accio Quidditch Poster."

A tube came flying through the air from the luggage carrier and knocked Ron on the side of his head, who made an indignant noise, before it landed in Harry's hand. "Better yet, I'll give this to you—"

"What?!" Ron squawked, looking like he was about to wet himself with excitement, while Draco said in an irate manner, "You can't just hand that off—"

"On loan until the end of the year, of course," Harry added, mostly so Draco would shut up and go back to pretending to read the newspaper.

Ron stiffened as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dropped on his head. "And what do you want from me?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"Stop treating every Slytherin you come across like they're evil."

"I—I don't—" Ron spluttered.

"Yes, you do. You thought I was evil when I was Sorted into Slytherin. You thought I was going to be the next Dark Lord because you actually believed I was setting the basilisk on people in our second year. And then last year you treated me like dirt. Every time I didn't want to do something, you called me a bloody Slytherin like my House was a dirty word."

"I—um. Well," he said finally, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry, mate…"

"And if you can apologize to me then you should give one to Hermione too," Harry said, nodding towards her. "You insult her intelligence every chance you get. Just last year you were convinced, convinced that her cat—"

"Kneazle," Hermione said quietly with Crookshanks in her lap.

"—had murdered your rat. Then this year you were too scared to ask her out to the Yule Ball and then had the audacity to insult her again! If you really liked her at all, you wouldn't act like a pompous prat to her like Draco does to you."

Ron's face was red everywhere. His fists kept clenching and unclenching where he stood. "You think it's really funny to rub it in my face with your groupies here to laugh at me behind my back, don't you?"

Harry didn't know what to say to that, but he glared at Draco when he dared to open his mouth again. Draco's lips came together in a broody sulk.

"You do seem a bit preoccupied with whether people are talking about you when you aren't around…" Sally-Anne said. "We don't find you that interesting, Weasley."

"Why don't you say something about my family again, Malfoy? Insult my mum or my sister or how poor we are again?" Ron's face had gone red. "I know you and your thugs think it's funny, you bloody wanker!"

"For your information, Weasley, I only ever laugh openly at you," Draco said, "Why would I bother wasting my time doing it behind your back?"

"Take a deep breath, Ron," Neville said with a soothing tone, like Harry had heard him speak to plants at Longbottom Manor.

Ron actually did take a deep breath. "If it wasn't for your father I might've met my Uncle Marty!"

Harry's eyes widened as he looked between the two, but Theodore placed a hand on his chest to keep him from getting up to stop the ensuing fight.

"My father offered blood money for your family's loss at the hands of the Dark Lord," Draco sounded weary. "He's offered countless sponsorships to each of you Weasleys as you've come of age. If you'd just accept and forgive—"

"I'd rather be a poor and destitute blood-traitor for the rest of my life than to accept anything from a Malfoy, especially one who's a Death Eater!" Ron spat out viciously. "Your dad was hauled off to Azkaban again because his name's all over this!"

Draco sighed. "A pity you want to keep the Pureblood families divided in the face of adversity… How are we going to stop the coming tide of evil if we don't join hands as arms-brothers?"

That startled Ron so soundly that he stumbled against the door-frame. "I've gone mad," he said weakly. "A Malfoy renouncing evil?" He began to chuckle softly.

Dropping Crookshanks on the floor, Hermione stood and grasped Ron by a shoulder. "Let's go back to our compartment…"

"Wait," Harry said, thrusting the tube at Ron. "Take it. Give it back by end of next term."

Reverentially drawing the tube from Harry's fingers, Ron still had that same dazed look on his face as he was pushed out the door by Hermione. "Hermione, he's right. I've been a right git. I didn't mean to make you cry," was all they heard before another compartment farther down was shut.

Two people bounded up to their compartment and poked their red-heads in.

"What was all that about?" George said, hanging into their compartment.

Fred waggled his eyebrows. "Our brother finally owning up to his character weaknesses?"

"I don't know. Some element of Pureblood culture I don't understand," Harry said, looking at the prat who'd gone back to his newspaper.

"Malfoy offered to close the blood feud between your families," Sally-Anne answered. Draco as ever looked like he had smelled something foul when the twins looked over to him.

"Ah," Fred said on the other side of George, "Exploding Snap anyone?" He lifted up a pack of cards.

"Sure," Theodore and Neville said, nearly simultaneously. They smiled at each other and then went out to the narrow, cramped corridor to play a game. Neville sat on the floor in the doorway. Theodore was turned sideways and pressed up against the wall across from him and the twins sat on either side of them. Money soon became involved, and the two younger students lost their first match badly.

Harry settled in, stroking Hedwig's feathers as he looked out the window.

"Not going to ask?" Draco's reflection looked pensive.

"Hm? It's none of my business," Harry said to the window.

After more silence, Sally-Anne asked, "Harry, do you think your godfather will let you come visit me?"

"I don't see why not."

"It's just… with the Dark Lord rising. Wouldn't it be safer if I come over…?"

"He should let you. I don't think he'd refuse anything I wanted." Harry remembered how Sirius had dragged him to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley before they went to Ollivanders, trying to get him to pick something out. But Harry hadn't wanted anything. He grinned. "I'll even ask if he'll let you over, Draco."

"Your Grace, some things are better left undisturbed," Draco intoned sagely.

"I was joking."

"I never can tell with you," came the dry response.

Theodore and Neville soon returned to their seats. "Five games and we've lost every time! If I hadn't checked the deck myself, I would've said they cheated," Theodore said, pressing his head against the bench seat.

"You don't seem very sore about it." Sally-Anne grinned at the werewolf.

"That's because we're brilliant at winning," Fred said. "Any other takers?"

A thought struck Harry then. "How much money do you still need to start your business?"

"We don't want a sponsorship, your Grace. We're going to earn every last Knut," George informed him.

"And we like our independence and full use of magic," Fred said.

"You are speaking to someone who recently had a landfall of Galleons that they don't even want," Harry said. "Now do you want the money—no strings attached—or not?"

The both of them frowned, and so did everyone else in the compartment.

"But Cedric Diggory won all thousand Galleons. Unless he—no, he didn't!" Fred did a little dance.

"Well, technically, our Harry did touch the Quadwizard Cup at the same exact moment Diggory did," George said with a saucy grin.

'Our'? Harry nodded. "He did. A sum of five hundred Galleons. Though I didn't count, I doubt he lied about it." And then pulled out the lumpy sack from his Extended pouch. "See it as payment due. Your Christmas gift from last year is invaluable."

The Weasleys exchanged a look and then matching mischievous grins overtook their faces. George took the money pouch from Harry's hand, like he wasn't sure quite what he was seeing.

"It certainly pays to have a filthy rich friend, doesn't it George?" Fred said teasingly.

"Especially when they're mental," George added, weighing the bag in his hand. Neither of them looked like they were actually interested in taking it.

"If you don't put that away, I'll take it and donate it to Hermione's S.P.E.W. organization—"

"You mean, H.E.L.F., right?" Neville said to Harry.

"Right, that," he said. He'd forgotten that she had changed the name.

"Harry, we can't take this," George said weakly.

"I don't want it or need it. But… I could do with a few laughs." He looked at all his friends in the compartment. "We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them soon."

"Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand and that got their attention.

"If you don't take it, I'm going to hex you. I know a lot of good ones."

His year-mates were agog at Harry like they weren't sure what they were witnessing.

"As much as I like to see you put your foot down, I don't think that's going to work," Theodore murmured, hardly moving his lips.

When the Weasleys insisted on mulling over the bag of money, Harry sighed and put the wand away. "Look, if you don't need all of it, spend some on your family. I sort of made a mess of their kitchen when I had a little fight with Snape, and it should be fixed now but I feel bad about that."

They blinked at him… well, everyone blinked at him.

"Why—" Draco started.

"It's not important," Harry told Snape's godson quickly before turning back to the twins, "I'm just saying you could buy Ron new dress robes that don't look so crummy or new textbooks and school supplies for Ginny or a pet for either of them or things for the Burrow. You can spend this money on anything."

"Fred?"

"What, George?"

"Did Harry Potter actually threaten to hex us if we don't take the money and run?"

"I do believe so…"

The Weasley twins grinned. "Well, nice talking to you all, but we have dastardly rainbow-colored dungbombs to work on! Cheerio!" And off they trotted cackling madly down the corridor. Sally-Anne shut the compartment door behind them.

"You forge the strangest alliances," Draco remarked.

Sally-Anne let out a sigh and sat back down. "Personally, I'm a little terrified of what those two are going to make."

Theodore grinned. "Whatever it is, it should make life interesting at Hogwarts, don't you think?"

"They are going to make a lot of Canary Creams with all those Galleons," added Neville.

Harry muffled his giggle. Canary Creams were the least of their problems. The full creative potential of a pair of pranksters unleashed onto their unsuspecting school? Harry couldn't wait to see what they did.

All too soon Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Harry helped Neville with his trunk and soon they were all pulling their trunks—excepting Draco, whose trunk followed him two paces behind him wherever he went—to their families.

Sirius Black was chatting animatedly with Molly Weasley and her family of redheads when Narcissa Malfoy approached Harry. A step behind his mother, Draco kept looking worriedly towards Harry's godfather.

Hand hovering near his wand holster, Harry looked up at the tall, long-haired Malfoy Matriarch who was gazing at him steadily. Surprisingly, Harry's mind didn't immediately flash to the image of her desperate husband crawling belly-down through mud towards a mad dark lord.

"I offer invitation for you to visit my estate."

"I will politely decline, Mrs. Malfoy. I may be called to testify against Mr. Malfoy," Harry said dryly.

Mrs. Malfoy's lips twisted with annoyance. "Then I shall, happily, allow Draco to visit you at your residence. With your guardian's permission, of course."

The hand of Harry's godfather clasped Harry's shoulder tightly as if worried that he might make off with the Malfoys. "I would sooner die than give the location of my home to a Malfoy," Sirius said.

"I would not be so hasty to throw away your second chance at life, cousin; it might crush what's left of your godson's heart," Draco's mum said coolly. As they stared each other down, Harry saw that Draco's mother was tense as if ready to draw her wand and strike.

Then Harry noticed that Draco had backed off. The prat seemed to be flicking his eyes to the side. Harry gave him a puzzled frown. Draco added in a little gesture with his hand that seemed to scream, 'Get out of the way!'

Harry shifted in a non-obtrusive manner to the side and saw how wound-up the two were. He had never seen two adults look so close to hexing each other.

"Let's go, Harry, and leave this Dark witch to her duplicitous ways." Sirius grabbed the handle to the trolley that had Harry's things. When he stepped close enough, he pressed a hand on Harry's shoulder, pushing the both of them towards the exit.

"Bye, Draco," Harry said over his free shoulder. He saw only a little wave of fingers and then Draco's mother placed a protective arm around her son's shoulders turning him away.

Sirius insisted that Harry go through the barrier first, and beyond it Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting as they stood by their four children currently attending Hogwarts, along with Bill and another Weasley son, who must've been Charlie. Percy wasn't there, but Hermione was.

Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, "Dumbledore will let us come visit you later over the summer."

Harry broke out into a dopey grin. "Really? Even after I…" He faltered as his throat went tight. "Even after I made a mess of your kitchen?"

She nodded looking not at all put off by the thought. "Don't worry about that, dear. Fred and George have done worse."

"What happened to the kitchen?" Ron asked sounding cross. Hermione also looked interested in knowing.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Ron! It's all fixed up," the twins caroused together, while Ginny silently watched their interactions.

"Have you met my sons, Bill and Charlie?" Mr. Weasley said, gesturing towards them.

Harry shook both of their hands. "No, I haven't. Er. Not formally…"

"Nice to meet you," long-haired Bill said.

"You work with dragons, right?" Harry asked Charlie.

"Yes, I helped bring the ones used in the First Task over from Romania. Nice work on the Horntail."

Sirius clapped his hands on both of Harry's shoulders, startling him into grabbing the handle of the yew wand. He was relieved that he hadn't yanked it out. "Harry and I have a lot planned for this summer, so we really must go. Keep in touch?"

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Bye, Harry!" Ginny said cheerfully, and then did something she had never done before and chastely kissed Harry on the lips.

Hermione beamed at the both of them, while Ron made a gagging noise.

"Bye, Ginny…" Harry touched his lips with a puzzled expression, and then Sirius was steering him out of the station, dragging the trolley behind him.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, Harry?" Sirius teased.

"Hardly."

"Got yourself a boyfriend then?" His godfather didn't sound like he cared either way.

"Actually, I'm not interested in dating or any sort of illicit activities."

Sirius snorted. "You'll grow into it I'm sure. Just wait a year."

With a soft sigh, Harry decided it might be better not to argue the point.

They made it to a dark niche in the corner of the station and Apparated away.

~*The End*~

Preview of Harry and the Flanking Bishops

"So, if I screw up somehow and mess up the timeline, the only person who gets hurt is me?"

The aged wizard nodded. "You appear to be a very responsible individual, Harry. So I will share something about the nature of this device I gifted to you." The adult paused as if he might change his mind, but then said, "It is not a time turner."

"It's not?"

"No. Had you used such a device your mere presence would have irrevocably damaged the timeline."

Harry stared with obvious confusion.

"In addition, without the time limiters to prevent a witch or wizard from going backwards greater than five hours, it is entirely possible you would have un-born yourself the moment you removed the time turner from your person. The erasure of your existence would be the event that would have harmed the timeline."

This talk of being un-born sounded rather horrifying to Harry. "Then… what is it?"

"An invention of my own devising: A Wrinkle Advancement Dis-Placer," the headmaster said as if this made complete sense.

"…which doesn't work with time?"

"Not precisely no. It discovers the nearest Wrinkle in the wearer's timeline and transports them to that point in space. At this very moment, you are Dis-Placed from your original time."

Harry blinked, and then he blinked again as relief flooded into him. "So, I won't be un-born."