A/N: Yay! This is now officially AU, because of the emergence of OoTP, however, I wrote this chapter before I read the book, so there are no spoilers in the body of the story. Thanks to Quoth the Raven for contributing dialogue ideas and for beta-reading, and thanks to Smitha for the email. Thanks also to everyone who left plot ideas in reviews, as well. I think I know where I'm headed now.

Disclaimer from chapter one still applies. I've run out of clever little disclaimer taglines, but that's probably just as well.

"Albus, we've got problems."

Dumbledore looked up slowly from the massive stack of Ministry forms he had been poring over for half the night, and raised a silvery-white eyebrow. "New ones, you mean?"

Professor McGonagall waved a sheet of parchment at him impatiently. "Potter's run afoul of the Improper Use of Magic Office again. We've been instructed to suspend him."

The other snowy brow ascended toward the Headmaster's hairline. "'Instructed'?" he repeated mildly, "Have we really?" He removed his spectacles and polished them on his sleeve, pursing his lips in thought.

"It's as much as an order," she told him, indignation quivering in her voice, "The ministry owl dumped the envelope right on my head." She was still in her pajamas, which were gray with navy stripes. Over them, she wore a red terrycloth robe with a gold lion embroidered on the left breast. Her salt-and-pepper hair was disheveled. "Why you had to give them *my* name as contact, I don't know." She hated being awakened in the middle of the night; it conjured up all sorts of unpleasant memories. And now Albus was looking amused. Annoyed, she shoved the paper at him, and he accepted it, resettling his glasses on his nose.

"Hmmmmmm," he said after a moment, slow and thoughtful as was his wont.

"It *is* standard procedure," Minerva said, collapsing into a seat, "I don't like their tone, but casting three wand-necessitating spells in less than twenty minutes…"

He nodded, inspecting Mafalda Hopkirk's signature absently.

She was silent a moment, waiting for him to say something, then burst out again, "Still, we can hardly leave him wandless with…with You-Know-Who out there. Even with his relatives."

"Quite true," he agreed.

Her wand was in the bathrobe pocket behind the gold lion. For a moment she toyed with the idea of pulling it out and casting a Tangling Hex on his beard, just to get a reaction out of him. "Well?!" she pressed at length.

"Do we know *why* Harry cast those particular spells?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Does it matter? They'll have us take his wand regardless, unless it was in self-defense."

"Knowing Harry, self-defense is entirely possible. I think perhaps we should get his side of the story before we act further."

"Damn it, Albus, do you want to be removed as Headmaster?" she pounded his desk, making his forms jump. "This is a direct order from the Ministry of Magic!"

He straightened his papers primly, looking tired and a bit frustrated. "I am aware of that, Minerva. I am aware of how precarious my position is. The Ministry has been very thorough in reminding me." He silently counted the number of pages he had left to fill out. It topped a hundred.

She watched him a moment, then sighed, "*Our* position, Albus. I cannot handle this without you. I cannot protect this school on my own if they make you leave."

"My dear Professor," he smiled at her beatifically, "You underestimate yourself."

"I'm serious, Albus," she told him, "I can't do it. I don't see how it is you can."

He sobered. "A great deal of practice." He patted her hand, then leaned back in his chair. "Well…it seems we are between a rock and a hard place. If we act to deprive Harry of his wand, we place him in immediate and obvious danger. If we refuse in an attempt to protect him, his wand is likely to be confiscated anyway; moreover, his situation at school will become less safe, as I will most likely be removed as Headmaster. It seems, Professor, that the wisest thing to do is to stall for time."

"How?" she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling stressed.

He glanced back at the papers littering his desk and grinned a little alarmingly, "By following the Ministry's own example. Minerva, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to ask Dobby to send up some very strong tea, then go wake Madam Pince and bring her here."

"Whatever for?"

"We are going to draw up some very long and intricate Student Suspension and Confiscation of Wand forms."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"All right," Dudley whispered, "All right, it's ringing…it's…hello? Is this Mr. Granger?"

Harry bit his lip. He was hiding under the kitchen table in case Vernon or Petunia woke and came downstairs to find out why Dudley was on the telephone at four in the morning.

"I know it's late, but it's kind of an emergency…I need to talk to Hermione. Um…Dudley Dursley. My cousin goes to school with her. Hogwarts, yeah. Harry Potter. I know, but it's really important. Really really really important. I'll wait. Thanks." He turned back to Harry, "He's getting her."

Harry sighed with relief. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Hermione.

Dudley sat down. He felt a little funny about calling friends of Harry's, but he did want to help, and he could explain away a long-distance phone call much more easily than his cousin could. He just hoped this Hermione person could fix things for Harry. Also, he hoped that she wouldn't be angry with him for calling so early, because if she were as clever as Harry seemed to think, she could probably curse him into next week.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the phone was young, sleepy, and unmistakably female.

Dudley stammered a bit. Girls made him nervous. "Ahh…hullo…er…Hermione?"

"Harry? What's on earth is going on?" the words spilled out in a torrent as the owner of the voice awoke more fully, "You said it's an emergency? It had better be, I've been up late packing, you know, and I'm leaving for Bulgaria tomorrow afternoon. Are you in danger? You're not hurt, are you??"

"Erm…I'm not Harry…I'm his cousin…um…" Dudley took a moment to remember why he was calling. "He's not hurt, but they want to take his wand away and he had a nightmare about a crucifix and he needs a lawyer."

"Excuse me?"

"His owl's in a burrow, so he can't send her to the school, but he had your phone number written down, so that's why we're calling."

"What…? What are you talking about?" She sounded agitated, and Dudley realized he wasn't conveying his message properly.

"Hang on a minute…" He listened to make sure there were no sounds of movement from his parents' room. All he heard was his father's snoring. The coast, it seemed, was clear. He shoved the phone at his cousin, "You talk to her. Here."

"What about Uncle--"

"I'll watch for them. Just talk quiet."

Hesitantly, Harry took the receiver. "Hello, Hermione. I'm in trouble."

Dudley moved off to stand at the kitchen door, listening alternately to Harry's conversation and his father's snoring.

"…nightmare, yes," Harry sounded embarrassed. "About…you know…the Third Task. No, I'll be all right. Only I cast some spells while I was asleep. Sleepwalking. I know, I know, but I couldn't exactly help it, could I?"

There was a pause as the girl replied. Dudley thought back to picking up Harry from the train station at the beginning of summer. There had been a girl there who'd hugged him goodbye, a girl with thick, bushy hair and bright, clever eyes. He wondered if that was Hermione.

Harry's voice dropped an octave, as if with shame. "Yes, with my wand. I can't sleep anymore unless I know it's right next to me."

Another pause. Come to think of it, Dudley had seen the same girl a couple times before, waving goodbye to Harry and the redheaded boy whose father had fixed Dudley's tongue. They must all be friends.

"Three of them. Right. And they've suspended me. No, I haven't heard from him."

Pause. Dudley wondered what it was like to have a friend that was a girl. He never had. He hadn't thought much of girls when he was in grade school with Harry. Now that he was at Smeltings, and was older and more interested in them, they didn't seem to think much of him.

"Well, that's why I've called; you see, I sent Hedwig to Ron, so I'm owl-less. I can't ask Dumbledore anything."

Pause. Come to think of it, Dudley'd never even been hugged by a girl his own age, only older women who were related to him. He wondered if it felt different.

"Do you think Crookshanks…No, I suppose not. I didn't realize how much I depended on owl post. They don't have a telephone at Hogwarts, and Ron doesn't have one, either. I think he called me from a pay phone before."

Pause. Dudley wondered if Harry actually had a girlfriend. It was conceivable. If one girl liked him enough to be friends with him, other girls might like him even more than that. He made a face. It was weird to think of Harry kissing a girl or holding hands or whatever girlfriends and boyfriends did.

"You think it would get to them? Oh, please, yes. I can't get to an office from here, and I only have a few sickles anyway."

Pause. Dudley felt a bit jealous.

"Thank you, Hermione. I'll pay you back. Yes, I will. Well, I owe you."

Pause. Truth be told, Dudley thought Maria Hennessey was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Only he'd started off on the wrong foot with her, trying to bully the smaller students around in front of her in the hopes of impressing her. It had impressed her, actually, just in the wrong fashion. She hated him now.

"Have fun in Bulgaria, I suppose. Tell Viktor I said hello. Yes, please write if he's got an owl he doesn't mind lending. I'll send Hedwig once I get to the Burrow. In a week or so."

Pause. She could be cruel when she wanted to, Maria. Maybe all girls were like that, but he hoped not, because that would mean he'd probably never have a girlfriend.

"Thanks again…You, too. Bye." Harry crept out from under the table to replace the receiver on the cradle. Vernon was still snoring peacefully upstairs.

"Is it okay?" Dudley asked softly.

"In the morning, she's going to send a telegram to Mr. Weasley. He'll know what to do. I hope. Or at least he can send Hedwig back and I can get a message to Dumbledore or Sirius."

"Oh. So that's it?"

"That's all we can really do tonight. You should go back to bed. You'll want the sleep."

Dudley stifled a yawn. "What about you?"

"I'm not sleepy," Harry said automatically, but there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Right." Dudley replied skeptically. He was tired, but the night's events had left him too keyed up to go back to bed just yet. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to let Harry out of his sight. He might have nightmares and sleepwalk again, and Dudley didn't want to have to break anything else to keep the peace. "Well…we could watch a movie…"

Harry looked surprised, "One of yours?"

"Yeah. We'll have to keep the noise down, that's all." Dudley shuffled upstairs quietly, returning after a few moments with his blanket and a tape. The two cousins settled at opposite ends of the sofa to watch. It was an action film, with lots of explosions and car chases, but with the volume of the television turned to its minimum, it came across as almost soothing. Dudley was asleep within minutes, but Harry watched the movie all the way through. It was so different from his own world, the world of wizards and wands, dragons and Death-Eaters. It was all machines and bombs and sweaty men with big muscles. Harry felt an odd sensation of relief spread through him, even as he watched a car plunge off a bridge into a river hundreds of feet below. The flickering images were hypnotic, distracting him from his own troubles. When the film ended, he got up and rewound it and started it over again. He didn't fall asleep until the sun had risen and the sky was rosy with dawn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You want me to prosecute Harry Potter? Harry James Potter? As in, The-Boy-Who-Lived??" Gibson McInnis, Magical Attorney at Law, was dismayed. "Are you insane?!"

"No, but it's entirely possible he is." Cornelius Fudge steepled his hands calmly.

"It's pretty cut-and-dried," Mafalda Hopkirk smiled sweetly from behind her desk. "There's no denying he cast the spells, with his own wand. The signature's quite distinctive." She was pleasantly plump and had a round, apple-cheeked face, a maternal appearance that was very much at odds with the relentless precision with which she went about her work.

"But…but…public relations! There'll be an outcry! My career could be ruined!"

"Not if you win," Mafalda continued to smile, her gray eyes glimmering.

"Had you been following the series of articles by Rita Skeeter, covering the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts school?" Fudge inquired politely.

Gibson was quiet for a moment, struggling for a way to word his sentiments politely, "I…have little respect for Ms. Skeeter's journalistic integrity. I followed her work when I was in law school and noted…multiple inconsistencies."

"Oh? Well, consider this, anyway." Cornelius handed Gibson a clipped article titled 'Harry Potter: Disturbed and Dangerous?'.

The young lawyer skimmed it carelessly. "Does she have any sources that are not either anonymous or schoolchildren?"

"That's beside the point," Mafalda told him, waving a small, pretty hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Forgive me. What *is* the point?"

"This, Mr. McInnis, is the last article Rita Skeeter ever wrote." Minister Fudge said somberly.

"You mean she's dead??"

"No," Mafalda corrected, "Retired. And she hasn't really given a good reason why."

"She vanished," Fudge said, "Shortly after the publication of this article. She reappeared in Diagon Alley a couple weeks later and promptly handed in her resignation. She's on an extended holiday in Barbados."

"Something scared her," Mafalda brushed a lock of pale hair out of her face, "And I know Rita Skeeter. We went to school together. She's no coward; the more dangerous the story, the more it interests her. She also loves the sound of her own voice. So what do you think could have shut her up so effectively, Mr. McInnis?"

"You think a fourteen year old boy scared her into retiring?" Gibson was skeptical.

"I think we can all agree that Harry Potter is no ordinary adolescent boy," Fudge said, offering McInnis a folder full of papers. "Read over his file and see for yourself."

Gibson accepted the folder reluctantly, "I will. If what you say is true…well, then we'll see." He sighed deeply, "Why must we always knock our heroes from their pedestals? Next you'll be wanting me to prosecute Albus Dumbledore."

Mafalda and Cornelius exchanged glances.

"We're still working on that one," Fudge said quietly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Petunia Dursley habitually woke before her alarm went off, and despite the chaos the previous night, this morning was no different. She turned off the alarm clock, so it would not disturb Vernon. She could wake him for work herself, preferably with breakfast already prepared for him. The scent of fresh grapefruit and plain yogurt wasn't as welcome a wake-up call as sizzling steak and eggs, but it would have to do.

She plucked her robe from its hook on the back of the door and shrugged it on. It was lush yellow-orange velour, and reached her bony knees. There was always an elastic hair-band in the robe's right hand pocket. She pulled it out and smoothed back her hair. It needed a good washing. She'd shower right after breakfast.

On the way downstairs, she paused to peer into Dudley's room, and was surprised to find it empty. Continuing down to the living room, she was further surprised to find her son asleep on the arm of couch, swathed in blankets. The Potter boy was on the other arm of the couch, in nearly the same position, only reversed and without a blanket. They looked like mismatched bookends. The television was on but was flickering between static and bluescreen, suggesting that they had been watching a video. She turned it off and hit the rewind button on the VCR, then regarded the sleeping boys with a frown.

If it had been just Harry, she would have shaken him awake, berated him, and set him to work cooking breakfast. If it had been just Dudley, she would have cooed over the cuteness of it and tucked him in more carefully. But it was both of them, and she just wasn't quite prepared for the conflicting instincts that produced. Wake them both and send them up to bed? Wake them and feed them? Let them sleep?

She studied the dark-haired boy with a frown. He always had to complicate things, didn't he? From the day he'd arrived on their doorstep. Still…he looked so peaceful. She didn't mind him so much with his eyes closed, even with that horrid scar. She mainly disliked him when he looked at her with her sister's eyes.

It wasn't fair that Lily was dead and he was alive.

Petunia swept into the kitchen without waking either of the boys, and got out the grapefruit. She had resented her sister, even hated her at times, hated her for going somewhere Petunia couldn't follow. But some part of her had always hoped her sister would give up on magic and come home again, and things would be the way they were when they were little, when Lily was the admired eldest, and Petunia the cosseted youngest. That hope had died with Lily. Instead, Petunia was left with bitter memories and a scrawny boy whose gaze she couldn't meet without anger.

She cut two grapefruits irritably and set them in bowls, then placed them and the yogurt out on the dining table, along with a little artificial sweetener for Dudley. She put the tea on before heading back into the living room to wake the boys. A knock on the front door interrupted her and startled Harry awake. She scowled at him as he blinked sleepily, then turned and opened the door.

On her doorstep was a woman who reminded her of nothing so much as Cinderella's fairy godmother. She wore a tall, pointy hat with a tartan ribbon around the crown. Her hair was longish, but pinned back, and she wore glasses that made her look rather severe. Her body was draped in deep green robes, and an opal brooch glimmered at her throat. There was a large sheaf of papers under her right arm. "Petunia Dursley?" she asked coolly, giving her an appraising look.

Bristling a little, Petunia answered, "You're from that school, aren't you? What do you want?"

"I'll take that as an affirmative. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I'm here to see Harry Potter."

A/N: Thank you to all reviewers! And especially to those of you who have been reading from early on in the story. I think repeat reader/reviewers are absolutely the best compliment a story can get and I hope I continue to live up to your expectations.

As for the direction this story is taking now…well, I don't want to mess with 5th-year canon too much, but I can't help but twist the events of Harry's summer, so I hope purists will bear with me. I do intend to adopt a few of the underlying political currents and possibly a couple of the new characters from Order of the Phoenix. I'm sure you can guess which one(s) if you've read the book through. Consider this an advance spoiler warning, though I will post an additional one at the start of next chapter, and the spoilers will be fairly minor.

About OotP…it's interesting to me how drastically different my diabetic!Dudley is from what is now canon (juvenile delinquent) Dudley. And yet, observe the interaction between him and Harry in the book. They're far from friendly, but Harry's certainly not being bullied anymore. Something may come of their blood relationship yet. I also love the Petunia development in OoTP.

Okay, that was a pointless digression.

Finally, I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this update, and for not including responses to reviews. I've been a bit overwhelmed with creative projects (actually, this is usually the case), and I also wanted to take a bit of time to give OoTP a good, thorough reading to pick up on foreshadowing and nuances therein. I was a bit shaken by the character death, as well, as the deceased was one of my favorites. I won't go into specifics here, though I suspect anyone out reading fanfic has finished the book by now, or at least heard rumors enough to be immune to spoilers.

I actually completed this chapter a few weeks ago, but I hadn't posted it because I wanted to respond to reviews as usual. Well, time has gone by and I haven't found time for detailed responses yet, and it occurred to me that most reviewers would probably prefer a new chapter as soon as possible. To those who feel differently, let me apologize again. I intend to continue to respond to reviews, as I think the dialogue between writers and readers is one of the best aspect of ff.net and similar fiction sites, but just this once, it's not going to happen. If there's a question you've left in your last review that you still want addressed, feel free to reiterate it in another review, or to email me, and I'll answer it next update.

But to answer a question I've gotten repeatedly (because I'm a slow updater to begin with and I've been even slower than usual lately): Yes, I intend to continue this story all the way to the end. It may take me a very long time at this rate, but I haven't given up. Moreover, if I do give up I'll post an author's note to that effect. So be of good cheer and all that. ;-)