Harry Potter

and the Death Eater's March

by

Heather Sinclair

[email protected]

Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix

Pairings: H/Hr, R/Luna

Rating: PG-13 Parents Strongly Cautioned.
This story contains some material that many parents would find unsuitable for children under 13 years of age. Parents are strongly urged to exercise greater care in, and are cautioned against letting children under the age of 13 read this story unattended. This story contains one or more of the following: intense violence, intense sexual situations, strong coarse language, or intensely suggestive dialogue.

Disclaimer: This story, and any content relating to the Harry Potter franchise is not authorized by J.K. Rowling, or Scholastic Press. I own my computer ... Can I have Harry and Hermione instead?

Read the story in the author's intended format at her Yahoo group. The direct link is in my profile. Due to the formatting restrictions allowed at ff.net it this highly recommended as certain portions will not understandable. otherwise.

Fonts: This story is best viewed with the following fonts: "Harry P", and "Lumos". They can be found at Mugglenet.com in the downloads section. The story is written in "Garamond".

Chapter One

The Potter Family Estate

It was unseasonably cool summer's day at number four Privet Drive. Most of the residents of the square shaped houses were out in their yards cutting the grass or washing their over-pampered cars. Some of the younger inhabitants bandied a black and white checkered soccer ball back and forth along the street. Everyone was outside enjoying the break in the heat except for one unusual resident of number four.

The bespectacled, messy-haired, teen-ager sat in the upper bedroom looking rather melancholy out his open window. A worn picture album sat on his lap and he lazily flipped from page to page, not even looking at the pictures anymore, for the album contained nothing but bad memories of his deceased parents and their equally deceased best friend, the boy's godfather.

Harry Potter sighed for the 3127th time since summer break from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most of his days consisted of laying about the smallest bedroom in the house, and occasionally responding to innocuous owl posts from his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The times, being what they were, made corresponding by owl post a rather dangerous pursuit, so much so that the trading of letters must not contain any news of any import for fear it would fall into the wrong hands.

The rise of Lord Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters was finally recognized by the Ministry of Magic and thusly the entire wizarding community only five weeks previous. The resulting actions by the Ministry consisted of owling pamphlets on defense strategies to all wizarding families in their jurisdiction, placing a few articles in the wizarding newspaper the Daily Prophet, and following up on the numerous supposed sightings of Lord Voldemort walking down the street in broad daylight or taking residence in certain people's attics.

Fear along with distrust were the most prevalent of emotions displayed on the faces of those in the know. All except a select few, one of which was Harry Potter. With the death of his godfather, the closest thing he had to a parent, Harry's attitude had fallen into despair and general apathy.

Last year at this time he was eagerly awaiting any news on the whereabouts of Lord Voldemort either in the Daily Prophet or any mysterious deaths in the Muggle news. Now, he couldn't care any less if Voldemort turned up in his room or out on the front lawn ... at least that was what he was trying to convince himself.

"Why don't you take a vacation, girl?" he told his snowy-white owl, Hedwig, who was standing on his desk trying her best to cheer up her master.

"It can't be fun hanging around here with me," he paused. "Go on, push off. Go visit Ron or Hermione or something."

Hedwig nipped affectionately at his hand and took off through the window leaving Harry alone in his self-imposed misery. Harry, with some difficulty, repressed another sigh and set about finishing his summer Transfiguration essay: Increase and decrease in subject mass. Advantages and disadvantages. Discuss. (Three Scrolls)

The cool day passed on into a warm night, when the sun eventually fell. The essay had not progressed any further than an additional two lines in the previous three hours when a brown colored barn owl lit upon the windowsill.

"Hello," said Harry, mildly surprised at the owl's arrival.

He reached over and the owl hopped onto his wrist so that he could detach the letter.

"And who are you from?"

The owl hooted and once Harry had retrieved the message he fed one of Hedwig's treats to him and off he went back into the night. He watched as the owl disappeared into the sky before he turned back to find, not one, but two letters addressed to him. Harry recognized one as being his yearly Hogwarts letter detailing his book and supplies needs but the other was addressed from a place called the W.E.A.

He dropped the Hogwarts letter on his desk and chose instead the W.E.A., since he had received mail from someone other than his friends, and he already knew what to expect from Hogwarts.

Mr. Harry Potter

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Mrs. Griselda Marchbanks

Head - Wizarding Examinations Authority

Ministry of Magic

London

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Level's exam taken June, last. If you feel the scores are in need of review please contact this office no later than three days after this notice with just reason.

Subject:

Grade:

Overall Scoring

Practical/Written

Astronomy

A*/A

A

Care of Magical Creatures

O/O

O

Charms

O/E

O

Defense Against

the Dark Arts

O/O

O

Divination

P/A

A

Herbology

E/E

E

History of Magic

Ø /D

D

Potions

E/E

E

Transfiguration

O/O

O

Total O.W.L.'s

8

Future Course Recommendation : N.E.W.T. Level Acceptable

*Special circumstances taken into account for disruption of testing due to Ministry official's interference. One grade level curve increase.

Sincerely,

Mrs. G. Marchbanks

"You're joking!" he barked.

The sound of heavy footfalls resounded outside his bedroom.

"What was that, boy?" his uncle's voice called out.

Harry's mood was shaken by the news of his grades and he replied in kind.

"I said you're a fat, ugly, git."

The door slammed open and his uncle stood, filling the doorway. His face was purple and his eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

Harry just didn't care anymore. He arranged his parchment and closed the lid on his ink bottle. His uncle glowered, but still stood in the doorway.

"I asked you a question, boy."

Harry ignored him and pulled his trunk out, filling it with his books, robes, and sundry other school related items leaving nothing behind he would miss.

"What is it you think you are doing?" spit the elder Dursley.

Harry took one last look around the room and sighed one final time at number 4 Privet drive before he lifted Hedwig's cage and took hold of his trunk.

"I said you are a fat, ugly, git and I'm leaving. Now get out of the way."

Dursley had gone an even darker shade of purple and Harry thought the man's heart was going to fail at the strain. His uncle's large bulk had not moved and it looked as if Harry had finally stepped over the line that would make his estranged extended family member do something that he wouldn't regret in the slightest.

He stopped, dropped Hedwig's cage, and pulled out his wand. Dursley smiled. "You can't do that. You'll be expelled," he almost sang with joy.

Harry smiled back. "It'd be worth it for one really good curse, and I learned a lot of good ones last year."

Dursley weighed his chances that Harry might be tempted to fulfill his threat, and decided not to take the risk.

"You leave this house and you're never to come back."

Harry grinned brightly, "Tell me this isn't my home."

Dursley was flummoxed and was about to do just that. "Erm ... well, it's not your home."

He shuffled to the side as Harry passed. "Thank you, Uncle. It's the best birthday present you've ever given me."

Harry let his trunk bang into the wall on the way down the stairs leaving small and large gashes in the sheetrock purely for spite. He set it down at the bottom, retrieved his Firebolt from his old cupboard and secured it to the lid of container holding all his worldly possessions.

Dursley was standing at the bottom of the stairs, open-mouthed at what his nephew was doing then followed him to the front door and watched as Harry Potter, who had been dropped at his doorstep at only one year of age was leaving his life forever.

Harry turned around and smiled as he took out his wand and raised it into the air. There was a deafening BANG, and he stepped back from the curb. The violently purple, triple-decker, bus slid to a stop right in front of him.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transpor ... Hey Ern, it's 'Arry Potter. Becomin' a regular customer 'e is. Where to 'arry?"

Pimply faced, Stan Shunpike helped him with his trunk, over to one of the first beds on the lower deck.

"London, please. Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley, Ern. That's eleven Sickles, 'Arry, 'lessen you want some 'ot chocolate, then its fifteen."

Harry dug out exact change and handed it over. "Just the ride is fine, Stan, thanks."

After another loud BANG, they were speeding along. Harry looked out the side windows briefly watching the lights and colors streak by until he started feeling queasy from the rocking motion of the bus.

"Be there in a flash, 'Arry. You're our only customer ta'night."

He knew why the Knight Bus was empty. People were scared of leaving their houses at night for fear of encountering Voldemort or one of his Death Eater's. Harry now knew what it was like back during Voldemort's first reign of terror. People were simply afraid.

Before he knew it, Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight bus slid to a halt in front of the Leaky Caldron. Stan wasn't joking when he said they'd be there in a flash. Harry was helped again with his trunk through the front door.

"See ya', 'Arry."

"Bye, Stan," replied Harry and waved as the door to the Knight Bus closed.

He turned around and saw the small amount of people brave enough to be out and about were silent and staring at him.

"How are ya, Harry."

He looked over at the bar and saw the toothless innkeeper, "'Lo Tom. Spare a room?"

Tom came over and pumped Harry's hand. "What'cha doin' out at night, with what's been going on? Get in here."

He wasn't aware that anything was going on. "Did something happen?"

Tom shook his head. "No, nothing like that. You just can't be too careful with You-Know-Who being back, and all." He looked over at the staircase. "I suppose you can take number nineteen at the end of the hall, first level."

Harry nodded and picked up an end of his trunk. "Tom, is the fireplace in the room on the floo network?"

The bald man nodded, "For calls only. Had someone try to slip out without paying, one time. Took'em off after that."

Harry took the hint and passed him a couple of Galleons for the night.

"Will you be wanting anything? Butterbeer? Somthin' to eat?"

He nodded. "Both would be great, Tom. I'll be back down after I talk to someone."

The room was much like number eleven that he had stayed at before his third year at Hogwarts, a small desk, a bed, and a chest of drawers. The flames in the fireplace felt recently lit because the room was still cool. Harry dropped his trunk on the floor and placed Hedwig's cage on top of the chest before taking a bit of floo powder from the tray sitting on the modest mantelpiece.

He tossed the powder in and called out, "Number twelve Grimmauld Place." Then he stuck his head in the flames.

The familiar spinning occurred and eventually when it stopped he opened his eyes to the long kitchen of the Black Family Estate. he thought he spotted a pair of legs at the end of the kitchen, but couldn't be sure for the forest of chair legs blocking his sight.

"Hello, anyone there?"

A small yip issued forth and the form of Ginny Weasley stuck her head out to see Harry's head floating in the fireplace.

"Harry?"

"Hey, Ginny. Is everyone there?"

She closed in and he could see her quite clearly now. Each year she had become taller and taller filling in certain places and thinning in others.

"Just us. Ron and Hermione are upstairs. Do you want me to go get them?"

Harry shook his head no and immediately regretted it. The spinning resumed for a few seconds then slowed so her could see her again.

"Um ... no. I'll be there tomorrow after I pick up my supplies at Diagon Alley, maybe about lunch time. I just wanted to tell someone I'm safe in case people start to look for me."

Her face showed a little shock. "Harry, did you run away?"

"Sorta, the Muggles kicked me out, but it was mutual, so I'm at the Leakey Cauldron, but don't tell anyone. I want to spend the night by myself before I have to answer a million questions.."

She frowned. "Mum already sent Errol with a post saying we were picking you up tomorrow on our way to Diagon Alley."

Harry smiled. "That's fine. I'll see you here, then. What time?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "She said early, so probably around nine."

Harry raised his eyes at that. He had planned on sleeping in."

"Alright, see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye, Harry."

The next morning, after a robust breakfast, Harry found himself entering the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley and made his way down to Gringotts Wizarding Bank to refill his pockets with much need Galleons. He hadn't personally visited Diagon Alley since his third year and he only had a few gold and bronze coins left.

He was cast a few interested looks here and there as some people had recognized him from the many times his picture had appeared in the Daily Prophet. However, Harry ignored them and kept on down to the street to Gringotts. He checked the time on his watch and it read 7:30; the Weasley's would be here soon and he still wanted a little time by himself to do some shopping.

Earlier that morning, when he was dressing, he looked at the hand-me-down clothes of Dudley's and put on only what he could wear today and tossed the rest into the fire, along with Uncle Vernon's old sock collection he had accumulated over the years. His first stop after getting a good amount of money was to a clothier for some clothes that actually fit, and didn't hang off him like some great tent.

A well dressed Goblin greeted him and opened the large doors for entrance to the bank. Harry was still unfamiliar with anyone but the teller-Goblin who had helped him out his first time at the bank with Hagrid so he approached with a minimal amount of trepidation, gripping his vault key in his right hand.

The goblin leaned over the overly tall counter area with what Harry assumed was a smile on his face.

"Mr. Potter, it has been a long time since you have graced us with your presence."

It was exceedingly hard to tell if the Goblin was being cordial or sarcastic with his remark. He supposed that's why there were so many Goblin wars; wizards didn't know if they were being insulted or welcomed. Harry chose to be welcomed.

"I need to get into my vault, please."

The Goblin held out his hand. "Your key?"

He handed it over and watched as the teller inspected the key. Soon after, an assistant was summoned and led Harry to a small cart which would lead him to his vault.

They sped through the tunnels deep beneath the streets of London making sharp turns here and there which Harry was sure would topple the cart and send him sprawling for miles, until they eventually came to a stop in front of his vault. The assistant slipped the key into a small hole in the center and pulled the door open with a great tug.

Before he stepped into the vault he stopped and looked inside. torches lit on either side of the walls inside and something appeared different.

"Are you sure this is my vault?"

The Goblin nodded once, not saying anything. Harry stepped inside and knew the contents were not his own, at least not all his own. For one thing there were way too many gold Galleons, and silver Sickles lining the walls, almost three or four times as much as the last time he was here. Including a large chest off to one side with a large ornate lock securing the lid.

He turned around and saw the assistant watching him.

"This wasn't in here the last time I was here. Are you sure this is my vault?"

The Goblin, again, nodded once. "All inquiries toward a customer's account must be answered by a bank official."

Harry didn't like mysteries, even more so since his godfather's death so he approached the large chest with a small amount of caution. He looked for a way to get around the lock since he didn't possess a key, but when he crouched to take a closer look the lock snapped open with an audible POP.

The lid to the chest slowly opened to reveal the contents: numerous stacks of parchment, a large amount of books (judging from the titles, dealing in the Dark Arts), and a single envelope sitting on top of it all, address to Harry.

He recognized the script and his hand trembled as he reached to pick it up and open the seal.

Dear Harry,

Well, if you're opening this letter then I must gone. I made arrangements with Gringotts for this chest to be transferred to your vault, along with any money that might be left in the Black Family vault and ownership transfer of the house at Grimmauld Place. It should give you a good head start on any life you choose.

I'm sorry for leaving you as I know your parents are as well. You deserve so much more than what life has given you, Harry, and I had hoped to be a part of making that a little better.

There is something I wanted to share with you regarding your parents and what I've seen of you.

As everyone's been telling you, you look just like James and also have Lily's eyes. Well it's true. But there's something else you got from both of them and I know the Dursley's had nothing to do with this. You've got your mother's heart, Harry. I've never seen someone care so much for his friends as you do except for Lily and James.

You have James' flair for adventure and your mother's even-headedness to keep you safe. You have inherited your recklessness from your father but it is tempered with love for other people besides yourself. And lastly, your courage and sense of what's right, you got from both of them.

I hope you have a chance to experience a somewhat normal life after Voldemort has been dealt with. I know with your fame it will be somewhat difficult, but you have friends to lean on in times like these and believe me when I say they want you to lean on them; especially that Gryffindor girl. She cares about you, Harry. She'd probably make sure I was dead if she found out I was telling you this, but I think it needs to be said and who says I make good choices about when to open my mouth.

Well, I can't think of anything else to say just right now and hopefully I'll think of something else and have time to include it with this note.

Take care of yourself, Harry, and know that I am so very proud of you and what you have accomplished so far with your life. I know you'll do great things.

With love from eternity,

Sirius

It wasn't until he dropped the letter that he realized tears were streaming down his face. He wiped them away with the heel of his hand and sniffed loudly as he looked for another envelope with his name on it, somewhere in the chest, to no avail. He did find the deed to Grimmauld Place with his name entered as current owner, and laid it beside Sirius' note.

After finding nothing else of immediate interest he closed the chest and stepped back watching the ornate lock close itself, securing the chest for his return. The note and the deed found their way into his pocket. Then he retrieved his money bag filling it with nothing but gold Galleons, and left the vault along with his heavy heart, behind.

Harry checked his watch upon leaving Gringotts and thought he better step up the pace if he was to meet the Weasley's at the Leakey Caldron by nine.

He found Calderon's Clothier to the left of the bank as he stepped out into the morning sun. When he entered he found himself to be the only customer in the little shop.

A short balding man in bright red robes scurried forth from the back of the shop. "Morning, young sir! How may I be of service."

Harry looked around the shop at the different styles, all for men and shook his head. He had never been clothes shopping with his Aunt and didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was supposed to do.

"I ... um. I want to buy some clothes, sir."

The little man laughed heartily. "I figured as much, young sir. I don't sell Quidditch supplies here -- no sir." He held his arms out showing off the store. "Is there any particular style that you like?"

Harry was still a little nervous in the unfamiliar situation. "Sir, I've never really ... that is ... erm."

The little man wasn't held back for a moment. "First time out on your own?"

'In more way's than one,' Harry thought to himself.

"Yes, sir. I've been living with Muggles and all I've gotten is hand-me-downs from my cousin."

The little man took in Harry's current wardrobe and tutted to himself. "Don't mean to be indelicate, young sir, but can you afford the items in this shop?"

Harry smiled at that and dug his money bag out to stick his hand in and pull out a fist full of gold Galleons.

"Great Merlin, sir! Don't bandy that about. You'll be robbed quicker than a shop keeper in Knockturn Alley." He motioned Harry to the back of the shop and took a look at what he had. "I'd say that you have enough for ten wardrobes sir, got family you want to clothe as well, I take it?"

Harry shook his head, "No, sir, just me."

"Then come right this was, and I'll introduce you to some of the latest fashions this season, fresh in from Paris."

He followed the little man around the store listening to his advice and choosing a few pairs of pants, shirts, sweaters, shoes, socks, undergarments and accessories, creating quite a pile of clothes on the counter before he was done.

"If you'll take a these selections I picked out for you and step into the changing room for your fitting."

Harry followed his directions and pulled on a black turtleneck sweater, with matching slacks. He wasn't so sure about he sizing though. It seemed these were just as big as the clothes that he inherited from Dudley. When he stepped out from behind curtain the little man tapped each piece of the clothes in turn. Harry watched as the sweater shrunk to fit, as well as the slacks and shoes.

He felt strange to be wearing clothes that actually fit.

"Wonderful, young sir. Excellent taste if I may say so myself."

Harry didn't argue since it was the shop owner that did most of the choosing.

"If you want to continue your shopping I will have the rest of your clothes ready in an hour's time."

Harry checked his watch and saw that it was five minutes until nine. If he didn't' hurry he was going to be late.

"Thank you, sir, for all of your help."

Harry made a dash for the door, but was held up.

"Sir, don't forget your cloak. Must look your best for the ladies out there."

He threw the cloak around Harry's neck and tied it off. "Pay attention to the inside pocked of this cloak. There is one on either side. You are right-handed, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. The right pocket is quite normal as you can see."

The pocket was pulled inside out and seemed normal just as he said.

"Now the left pocket here is charmed. Here, drop your money sack inside."

He did as directed and when he dropped it inside, Harry didn't feel the slightest tug at his cloak.

"It's called an Always Accessible Pocket. You can store up to twenty pounds worth, inside. When you reach in, just think of what you want and it will be the first thing that appears in your hand. Go ahead, give it a try."

Harry stuck his hand in and thought of the exact amount he owed the shop owner and stuck his hand inside the bag to retrieve a fist full of gold Galleons to hand to the little man.

"I think this should cover everything."

The shop keeper's eyes lit up and he smiled broadly. "I'll have the rest of your clothes in an hour sir."

Harry dashed down the street, his cloak flying behind him, until he reached the end, in front of the large fireplace up against the back of the Leaky Caldron, that served as floo access to the outside world.

He checked his watch and saw that it was exactly nine o'clock. the green flames raised high in the fireplace as figures stared leaping out.

The first was Mrs. Weasley. "Harry, dear. what are you doing here?"

"Came to do my school shopping," he replied.

Ginny was up next and then Ron and Hermione. Their faces lit up when they caught hold of Harry.

"Hey, mate. Mum didn't know what to think when Errol turned up last night with your letter. Thought maybe he was getting too old."

Ron let go of his hand and let Hermione take a hold of him in a hug. "Hi, Harry. Looks like the Dursley's finally bought you some clothes that fit properly."

He laughed, "That would never happen in a million years Hermione. I got fed up and bought my own."

She smiled and took him in from head to toe. "Good taste."

Ginny stepped up and ran her hand down his arm. "Is that real cashmere?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't have a clue.

"Get off, Ginny," Ron chided. "He doesn't want girls pawing after him."

Ginny eyed him. "Well then, if you don't want that, I would suggest getting back your Muggle clothes."

"Ginny Weasley!" cried Mrs. Weasley. "Honestly." She tugged at her daughter's arm and whispering something to her that Harry couldn't hear.

"Oh, Mum, you are so old-fashion sometimes. It's alright for girls to talk to boys like that nowadays. It's almost the twenty-first century after all."

Harry smirked as he felt a tug on his arm.

"Did you get your O.W.L. Grades yet, Harry?" asked Hermione.

He nodded.

She bounced in place. "Well?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You might as well answer her. She bugged me to death last night until I finally told. Wouldn't even let me eat dinner in peace."

Hermione frowned at him. "Well, it's important."

Harry laughed. "Eight out of nine O.W.L.'s. I fell asleep during the History of Magic test. I really didn't expect to ..."

He didn't have enough time to finish his sentence before he was pulled into another hug. "Oh, Harry. That's wonderful!"

"Did you hear that, Ron? Harry received eight O.W.L.'s." Mrs. Weasley chastised.

Ron screwed up his face. Harry had a feeling his best friend hadn't done as good.

"I still beat out Fred and George, didn't I?" he flung back.

It was a sure thing to get Ron's mom on the subject of disappointments, all you had to mention her twin sons.

"I saw their shop back there," mentioned Harry. "I thought they were doing good.'

Hermione slid her hand down Harry's arm and pulled him closer. "They're doing more than good. They put Gambol & Japes out of business. That's what annoys her," she whispered.

He nodded in understanding. "Ready to go shopping?"

After a couple more hours shopping, Harry, Ron and Hermione returned to his room at the Leaky Caldron to pack away Harry's school supplies and pick up the rest of his things before heading back to the fireplace in Diagon Alley, and finally through to number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"I can't believe you bought all of these clothes, Harry," commented Hermione.

Ron scoffed, "You can't? I had to carry most of them!"

Hermione bounced on Harry's bed and watched as he hung up his new clothes and unstrapped his broom, standing it up in the corner out of the way.

"What classes are you taking this year, Harry?" she asked with great interest.

He shrugged, "Um ..." he opened up his trunk and pulled out the required course-books. "Let's see, ... Interesting Creatures and Where to Find Them volume 3 for Care of Magical Creatures. Advanced Transfiguration, that's self-explanatory. Um ... The Standard Book of Spells years 6 and 7, thought I'd see if there's something interesting for Charms class next years as well. "

Hermione smiled brightly at that thinking she had finally got one of the boys to look ahead for once, or so he thought.

"What else, oh yeah. Extraordinarily Difficult Potions For the Advanced Student."

"You took Potions!" said Ron before he fell off the bed.

Harry shrugged, "I only scored 'Exceeds Expectations' on my Potion O.W.L.. I 'm gonna try to write Dumbledore and McGonagall to see if they can make Snape take me anyway."

Severus Snape, the Hogwarts Potions Master announced a number of times the previous year, that he positively would not accept any student that scored less than an Outstanding on their Potions O.W.L. However, seeing as Harry depended on the Potions N.E.W.T. to get him into Auror training after graduation, he needed the course.

"Moving on ... to Magical Thumb: A Guide to Useful Exotic Plants, Herbology, of course he tossed it aside and pulled another Defending against the Dark, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Pulling Something out of Nothing, Evocation."

Hermione almost jumped off of the bed with shock. "You took Evocation!"

For one of the first times in his life Ron didn't have something to add to the conversation except, "What's Evocation?"

Hermione continued, "Evocation is an extremely advanced course, Harry. Are you sure?"

Ron was lost. "What's Evocation?"

"Evocation spells manipulate energy or tap an unseen source of power to produce a desired end. In effect, they create something out of nothing," explained Hermione. "Very few wizards even bother with it because it borders on the Dark Arts."

Now Harry was surprised. "I thought it was like making squashy armchairs appear and things like that. That's why I signed up for it. Well, that and I wanted to have something extra in case Snape is a pillock, and won't let me take Potions."

Ron sounded confident when he said, "Dumbledore won't let him keep you out if you want to take it, Harry. He knows you'd be a top notch Auror."

He set the books on the desk and closed his trunk back. "So what about you two."

Hermione cut Ron off before he even started. "We're in many of the same classes, Harry, even Evocation. But I'm not taking Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology. I have Arithmancy and Ancient Ruins instead."

"Ron?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology."

Something was wrong and Ron wasn't telling. "Only four courses?" asked Harry.

His best friend looked down at his shoes and mumbled, "Only got four O.W.L.'s and barely those."

Hermione didn't seem to mind in the least and treated it like that was Ron's plan the entire time. "I keep telling him to enroll in Muggle Studies. He can have an excellent job with the Ministry in a number of departments."

Ron almost exploded off the bed. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to work at the Ministry. You've seen how they treat Dad?" He turned to Harry. "Harry, tell her how small my dad's office is."

Harry shrugged, "It is kind of small."

"Kind of? It's a closet and he shares it with another person."

Hermione was disappointed. "Ron, I thought you were proud of your father it doesn't matter what kind of job he has."

"It does matter! I'm not gonna go off and get married and have twenty children with a job like that and not be able to give them what they want." He pulled at his maroon colored Weasley sweater. "Why can't I have, just once, some clothes that are new, or an owl that isn't bloody senile, or completely bonkers. Or be able to take a girl out on the town without worrying whether or not if I can impress her."

Hermione's eyes widened and Harry stood his ground for he knew he was worse last year and Ron put up with his ranting, so he would put up with his. That's what friends were for, after all.

"You and Harry have it nice. Hermione, your parents are dentists and Harry's parents left him a load of Galleons. Harry, I know you'd trade them back for your parents any day, but ..." he scuffed his shoe along the floor. "I hate being poor."

Hermione inched over when she was sure he had let it all out and wrapped her arms around him. "This'll be your year, Ron. You'll see."

Harry being a boy, tried to suggest a way to fix his problem. "You could always do what Fred and George did."

"I don't want to have a joke shop, Harry. I don't think I could come up with any good jokes in the first place."

Harry shook his head. "No, I mean start your own business. We just need to find out what you're good at and work on it that way."

Hermione beamed. "I think that's an excellent idea, Harry. Ron, what are you good at?"

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Nothing."

"Oh, posh," she commented. "You have to be good at something."

"Ron, Harry, Hermione! Lunch is ready!" Ginny yelled from downstairs.

They heard Mrs. Weasley's voice in the background. "Ginny no!"

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, freaks, leave this place at once! Blood traitors, abominations!"

Sirius' mother still haunted the front hall in her life size portrait screaming obscenities at anyone and anything that disturbed her peace.

Harry cocked his head. "Still haven't got rid of her portrait yet?"

"Mum's tried everything she could think of to un-stick the old bat. Nothing works." said Ron.