Harry’s stomach lurched as a small horde of Dementors surged out of the woods. His hand reached toward his wand, but he knew it would likely be futile. There were too many of them, and they could come at him from too many angles.

Then he remembered the wards.

Harry dashed forward, ignoring the faint screams bubbling up from his memories. His Occlumency barriers were, at best, slowing down the effects of the Dementors, but he couldn’t count on them for long.

The huge black dog was almost oblivious to his presence until Harry grabbed the fur on the back of his neck and began hauling on it. He supposed he should be glad the presence of his godfather’s mind kept the dazed animal from snapping at his hands as he half-dragged him back the way he’d come. He could feel the animal shivering fiercely through the thick fur.

Harry had no idea how closely they were followed as they scrambled through the overgrown woods. He didn’t dare waste a moment to look back over his shoulder as they staggered around trees and crashed through lesser vegetation. Surely the underbrush wasn’t this thick going the other way.

His best gauge was the chilling presence the mass of Dementors were having on his mind and body. He could feel the barriers around his mind rime with ice and grow brittle under the influence of the unwholesome creatures. Their very presence sought to suck the joy out of any nearby mortals, leaving them with only the worst of their memories echoing through their minds.

And Harry had a lot of bad memories aching to be set free.

The faint sound of screaming voices became louder and louder, threatening to drown out the rapid pulse of his heart. Harry wondered if he should have spared the time to fire off a Patronus and hope it delayed them for a few moments. As spread out as they were, he doubted it would have worked.

Fortunately, Sirius was starting to recover. Harry’s touch seemed to have reawakened his awareness of their situation, and now his steps grew steadier. Instead of Harry half-dragging his godfather, the Animagus was surging ahead, pulling Harry along by the grip he still had on the loose skin on his neck.

"More to the right," Harry gasped as he recognized the tree they’d just passed, despite the frost that frosted the bark. He could hear the bushes behind them break off as their pursuers closed in on them. The air grew chill and the springiest vegetation became frail and brittle wherever Dementors approached.

Against his will, Harry felt his mind drifting back to the aftermath of the Hogwarts Massacre. No matter how hard he blinked, he’d see Ginny’s red hair spread out on the ground next to her cold, still, mutilated body…

"She’s not dead!" he snarled as they burst out of the woods and the pair staggered past the stone hut. The instant they passed the plane of the property line, the voices and the disturbing images cut off, and the air returned to its normal late-summer warmth.

Harry fell to his knees as Sirius collapsed, panting, onto the grass. Harry let go of the thick fur, patting the animal’s shoulder as he whined softly. No sooner had Harry staggered to his feet than he felt eyes on his back, making him spin around.

Arrayed all along the border of the property, at least twenty Dementors hovered, seeming to stare hungrily into Harry’s soul. Ever so slowly, the one immediately across from Harry raised a glistening, skeletal hand. He froze in horror as the creature calmly reached forward, pushing through the wards.

The fused stone blocks of the outbuilding began to glow slightly as an ominous hum made Harry’s feet tingle inside his new boots. A lattice of multicoloured light appeared around the Dementor’s outstretched hand, glowing brighter by the second. The hand jarred to a halt as the lattice turned red and abruptly began glowing brighter. A grating screech erupted from the creature and it abruptly pulled backward as the hand suddenly began to smoke.

"Oh no you don’t," Harry spat, pulling out his wand. Whatever the wards were doing, this was the first time he’d ever heard a Dementor exhibit anything akin to pain. "Accio Dementor!" he growled, stabbing his wand at the thing.

The Dementor lurched forward, and the cries that erupted threatened to rupture Harry’s eardrums as its whole body was outlined in an angry blaze of crimson light. The exposed flesh he could see was visibly withering away as the tattered black robes began to smoke. In seconds, all that was left was a foul-smelling pile of burning cloth.

Harry quickly glanced at the ward-anchor. The stones were only glowing a little brighter than before. None of the warning signs of an overload were present. Harry glared at the remaining Dementors, which had started to drift backwards, reluctant to give up their prey. He brought his wand around in a sweeping gesture.

"Accio Dementors!"

OoOoO

Remus John Lupin was never one to overstay his welcome. The fact that he was welcome within a wizarding home was miracle enough in itself, given the fact that they knew about his ‘condition.’

He would have left by now, but he had wanted to say goodbye to Harry before he left. The boy’s birthday had fallen on a Saturday, so he wouldn’t see him again until the day after tomorrow. He’d have all day Sunday to prepare a ‘special test’ for their little defence seminar, but he wanted to get Harry’s thoughts on how realistic to make it. On the other hand, he could understand why the boy might want to take a walk by himself on such a day. He was no doubt thinking about his parents. The Weasleys were very understanding as he lingered in their kitchen after helping with the washing up.

It was… odd, really… teaching James and Lily’s son. The boy was surprisingly mature for his age, though the circumstances of his upbringing were far from ideal. While Remus had the utmost respect for Professor Dumbledore, Arthur had hinted at some things that were highly disturbing. If it were not for Harry’s obvious enthusiasm at having him for a teacher, he might have reconsidered his decision to apply at Hogwarts.

Not that he could really afford to, he mused wryly. His finances were far from stable, and he was ashamed to admit that the tutoring stipend he accepted in order to satisfy the Ministry was a windfall he’d sorely needed. It galled him to have to accept money from Harry for doing something he’d ordinarily do for free, but it might be no less mortifying than to show up at Hogwarts with little more than the robes on his back.

He looked up and smiled as Molly Weasley freshened his tea. He thanked her politely, and complimented her on one of the best meals he could remember ever eating. She blushed at the praise, but as far as he was concerned it was the unvarnished truth.

The Weasleys were quite probably one of the kindest families he’d ever met, and in the absence of James and Lily, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see taking care of Harry. All the same, he could tell they were a little… guarded… in their conversations. At first he thought their reticence might be related to his condition — many people were uncomfortable in his presence, but reluctant to say so directly. But over time he’d ruled that out. Today, with several people from Hogwarts around, they were similarly guarded. And the fact that their children were apparently in on it as well was equally surprising.

Harry himself had dropped a few hints that there were things afoot that he couldn’t safely speak about. Lupin desperately hoped that he was correct in assuming they had to do with Sirius. He had a lot of things to say to his oldest surviving friend, starting with an abject apology.

His mind was jerked from its gloomy introspection when a shrill whistle erupted from a small brass fixture near the back door. No sooner did the noise begin than half the people in the room had their wands out.

"Something’s trying to breach the wards," Arthur hurriedly explained as he followed his children toward the door. As fast as the adults had reacted, the youngsters he taught were even faster, and Molly called after her two youngest as they dashed out the back door.

Remus had no idea what could even consider an attempt on the wards as they had been described to him. On the other hand, it was easy to see where the breach had been attempted. A reddish glow lit up the treetops over the southern end of the property. A faint keening wail echoed through the evening air.

"Ron, Ginny, wait!" Molly shouted again from behind them.

"Harry’s out there!" Ron puffed as he ran, but he did slow his pace slightly so the adults could catch up. The morning runs they’d described were definitely having a positive effect.

"We need to stay together," Arthur said, puffing a bit.

"Concentration of force," Remus added, which caused his students to slow even more. "We’ll be more effective if we arrive together," he said quickly, which got a quick nod from Ron, who never ceased peering into the deepening gloom. The half-moon visible didn’t shed enough light to see very well this late, not after being inside a well-lit house.

Not that he wanted it to be a full moon, of course.

The wailing and the hints of redness faded from the tree tops as they advanced, and the whistle from the open back door abruptly cut off. Remus hoped that was a good sign as they cut through the orchard.

"They must have held up," Arthur murmured next to him. "If they’d gone down, there’d be a lot more noise than that."

Remus nodded, grateful for the information, but they still pressed forward. There was light up ahead, flickering like a fire, as well as voices.

When they broke through one last thicket, Remus could see Harry standing next to the corner outbuilding, leaning with one hand resting gingerly on the stones as their glow slowly faded. He and another man, lying sprawled on the ground, were silhouetted against several piles of dark fabric burning fitfully in a line along the border.

Remus froze in shock as a very familiar voice came from the man laying with his back to them. "Do you think the Weasleys would take it amiss if I gave Bill a big sloppy kiss the next time I see him?"

"S-Sirius?" Remus gasped.

OoOoO

Harry bit back a curse as he stiffened at the sound of Remus’ voice. He really had only himself to blame though — he should have remembered that any significant load on the wards would signal an alarm inside the house. Of course that meant the Weasleys and any remaining guests would be there in seconds.

But there was something extremely satisfying about watching Dementors burning down to ashes. Rogue Dementors were almost unheard of in modern England, especially given the rather cushy deal the Ministry offered them at Azkaban. Nonetheless, Goldfarb hadn’t even reacted when Harry specifically requested that the wards be made capable of stopping the horrid creatures.

Of course, this went a good bit farther than ‘stopped’. On the other hand, given the number of warnings he’d received from various parties concerning the strength and dangerous nature of the new defences, he shouldn’t have been at all surprised. Seconds after incinerating a score of creatures that were immune to most magic, the ward anchor, drawing on the local geo-magical fields, was almost back to normal.

Sirius, who changed from a large dog back to his human form as he watched the show, seemed particularly gratified — not that Harry could blame him. And he agreed with his godfather regarding Bill. The oldest Weasley brother was getting a very sincere thank-you when he returned from China.

But that was in the future. For now, he had to deal with an extremely gobsmacked Remus Lupin. Sirius, for his part, was cringing like he’d been caught with his hands in the biscuit tin. Harry sighed. It was probably safe for Dumbledore to know that he’d had contact with Sirius. The Headmaster acknowledged his former student’s innocence and had received at least one report that the Ministry’s intransigence on clearing his name had ulterior motives behind it. As long as he didn’t discover from Remus the reason Sirius had been away from The Burrow…

"Padfoot, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Harry asked his godfather.

Sirius shook his head and stood up, leaving a large sack on the ground. He dusted the grass from his clothes before he turned around. "You’re looking good, old man," he said with a smirk.

Lupin seemed to snap out of his trance at the words and bounded forward, seizing his friend in a rough embrace as he babbled apologies. Sirius’ eyes widened for a moment as his normally reserved friend lifted him a few inches above the grass in his enthusiasm.

Harry couldn’t resist laughing at the sight, but the chuckles died in his throat when he saw Ron and Ginny’s faces. He sighed and rubbed wearily at his eyes. He was definitely in trouble again.

OoOoO

A few minutes later, they were all back in Molly’s kitchen, drinking tea and munching on left-over birthday cake. Sirius, in particular, was famished, and had to dissuade Mrs. Weasley from getting out her frying pan. Harry held onto the sack Sirius had given him with a wink. It took no small amount of willpower to avoid opening the bag and checking out his ‘Birthday Present’ from Padfoot.

Of course, his other hand was not available at the moment. Ginny had it in a death-grip under the table as she sat next to him, on the opposite side from Sirius. Harry might have been a little awkward with this display normally, but he wasn’t about to argue with her right now. Ron and Ginny had been clearly vexed with him as they walked back to the house, and he rather hurriedly explained why he hadn’t had time to come back for help when he heard Padfoot’s cries.

Eventually, Ron just let out a disgusted sigh and shook his head. "It’s unreal, mate, the way things happen to you. This gets much worse, we’re not letting you go to the loo by yourself. You know that, right?"

Harry snorted and looked over at Ginny, but she wasn’t enjoying her brother’s jibe. In fact, she looked rather miserable. She didn’t say a single word on the way back to the house, so Harry didn’t protest when, after they sat down at the scrubbed wood table, he felt her fingers wrap around his.

"I’m sorry we had to conceal things from you," Mr. Weasley apologized, "but it was necessary if you were going to be teaching at Hogwarts."

"How so?" Remus asked.

"Even if you wanted to keep it to yourself," Harry spoke up, "Professor Snape would have pulled that information right out of your head, using Legilimency."

Remus’ eyes widened in alarm.

"Hermione figured out how he seemed to always know things he couldn’t have. Legilimency lets him view your thoughts and memories," Harry explained. "Both he and Professor Dumbledore can do it. The Headmaster believes Sirius is innocent now, but Snape would love to put him back in Azkaban."

Sirius muttered something under his breath that earned him a sharp look from Mrs. Weasley.

"We’ve all learned Occlumency to block out Snape…" Harry said. "I can loan you a book if you are interested in the process."

Remus nodded gravely.

"Furthermore," Harry continued, "Professor Dumbledore knows that he needs me to deal with Riddle… so if he views this memory he’ll hear me saying that if he tips off the Aurors, all agreements between us are null and void. I understand that Australia is rather nice this time of year." Harry scowled directly into Remus’ eyes as he said this, hoping that if the Headmaster picked out this memory, he could tell Harry meant business.

Despite himself, Remus looked rather shocked.

"Looks just like James when he had that row with his father, doesn’t he?" Sirius asked with a grin. "That first weekend you came to visit?"

Remus nodded slowly.

"I’d say he’s well on the way to becoming the next Marauder," Sirius added with a smirk.

Harry tried not to cringe as Fred and George’s heads snapped around with an audible crack. "Marauders?" they asked in unison.

Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius frowned. "Yeah," he drawled, "that’s what they called us when we went to Hogwarts."

Fred dashed out of the room and pelted up the stairs with audible thumps. George just stared at the two men until his brother returned with a very familiar piece of folded parchment. Their parents looked back and forth between the twins and Sirius in obvious confusion.

"If you’re who you say you are," Fred said quickly, "you’ll know what to do with this."

Sirius plucked the parchment from Fred’s trembling hand with a large toothy grin. "I thought this had been lost forever," he murmured as he pulled out his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said.

As the map activated, Fred and George got up from their chairs and dropped to their knees on the floor of the kitchen. "We’re not worthy! We’re not worthy!" they chanted as they kowtowed to Sirius and Remus. Harry wondered if this was something else they’d learned from Lee Jordan’s cousin…

Remus at least had the grace to look embarrassed, while Sirius nearly fell out of his chair laughing at the twins. Remus shook his head and tapped the map, murmuring "Mischief managed."

"How did you get hold of this?" Sirius asked when Fred and George stood up again.

"We nicked it from Filch’s office," Fred said with a grin. "Took us nearly a fortnight to figure out the command words."

Mrs. Weasley looked back and forth from her sons to her guests, her face slowly reddening. "Mischief managed?" she asked. "So it’s you two I have to thank for all the trouble my sons get into?"

With his guardian radiating a palpable sense of malice, Harry quickly spoke up. "Er, look at it this way, Mrs., er, Molly," he said. "Look at Sirius." He paused. "I mean, look at how Remus turned out. Doesn’t that mean there’s still hope for Fred and George yet?" He ignored the betrayed look Sirius gave him.

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth, and then paused, peering at the genteel tutor-and-soon-to-be-professor. Remus shifted uneasily under her gaze, and then attempted a faint smile.

"I suppose you are right, Harry," she said after a moment, visibly subsiding.

OoOoO

Remus didn’t leave until nearly midnight, and only Molly’s offer to let him sleep over made him realize how late it had become. With several apologies that were promptly waved off, he departed through the Floo.

Once the green flames died away, everyone turned toward Harry and Sirius expectantly. Harry hated leaving Remus out of the loop on things, but he couldn’t risk Dumbledore knowing of the Horcrux hunt just yet. "Should I open my present now?" he asked Sirius.

Sirius glanced at the Weasleys.

"They know," Harry said quietly.

"Then feel free," Sirius said with a broad grin.

Harry gingerly poured out the sack’s contents onto the table. Along with the ring and the locket was a small golden cup engraved with a badger. He looked up sharply at Sirius. "You nicked the cup as well?" Harry demanded. "We aren’t ready for Voldemort to know we’re on to him yet!"

"Relax, Harry," Sirius said with a grin. "I thought I’d just pop by and have a look-see. With what you told me, it wasn’t hard to spot the alarms he’d placed on it. Dark Lord or not, he’s not skilled with some of the finer details. We had far more trouble getting itching powder into Flitwick’s wardrobe our fifth year."

"See, Mum," Fred quipped, "there is some practical use to what we do!"

A quick glare from Mrs. Weasley silenced her son.

"I also stopped by Little Hangleton," Sirius added. "All of Tom Riddle Senior’s bones have been pulverized and banished to the four winds. I Transfigured some twigs and left them inside the grave though. If they don’t notice, they’ll be in for a nasty surprise if they try that ritual."

Harry nodded slowly, trying to assimilate it all. With these out of the picture, that left only Nagini and the Sorting Hat. Voldemort’s familiar was eaten by Norbert in the original timeline, and its death proved to be sufficient to release the piece of Voldemort’s soul that it housed. And he knew where the Hat was.

"Good work," Harry said. "But how did you acquire that entourage?" he asked.

Sirius made a face. "I’m not precisely sure. They were roaming around in a grove of trees near the river… about ten miles from here. I didn’t think Dementors would recognize me as a dog, but they immediately began chasing me. I wasn’t sure if the wards would stop them, but if they didn’t, I planned to drop the bag here and then lead them as far away as I could." He shrugged uncomfortably under Harry’s glare.

"Now you know how it sounds," Ginny murmured, bringing Harry up short.

"It’s been a long day," Mr. Weasley interjected, "perhaps we should all get some sleep."

Sirius was all for sleeping in the shed again, just in case someone came to call, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t hear of it. The twins quickly volunteered to double up so Sirius could use their other bed. Harry smiled faintly as they dragged their idol up to their room. He walked up the stairs with Ginny, pausing at her landing.

"I’m sorry I worried you today," he said in a low voice as Ron passed them.

Ginny made a face and rubbed at her eyes. "I know you didn’t do it on purpose," she said. "But that doesn’t make it any easier."

Harry sighed. "How about I promise to be as careful as I can, and to get you and the others involved whenever possible?"

Ginny looked up at him suddenly. "You really mean that?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "If I had you and Ron with me, and all three of us were able to cast the Patronus charm, I think we could have driven them off. I’ll admit I enjoyed seeing them burn on the wards, but it was a close thing getting back here."

"You really mean that?" Ginny asked. "No more of that ‘keeping us safe’ rubbish? And what is the Patronus charm?"

"It’s one of the few spells an individual can do to hold off a Dementor," Harry answered. He took a deep breath. "And as for the rest… I can’t promise I won’t ever think that again, Ginny. I really don’t want anyone else I care about getting h-hurt. But I’ll try."

"I suppose that’s all I can ask for," she said ruefully.

"It’s not that I don’t think you are capable," Harry reminded her, "it’s the… other things. You know?" Like seeing you dead again.

"I know," she said, looking down. "Good night, Harry. Happy birthday."

"Good night, Ginny."

OoOoO

Harry did not sleep well that night. He dreamt of another time when Dementors had almost consumed the souls of himself and his godfather. When he awoke, he was still thinking about the foul creatures.

The fact that they immediately pursued Padfoot was quite… interesting. He mulled this over as he awoke and walked the bounds of the property in the early pre-dawn light. He carefully banished the charred remnants of their cloaks and removed any sign of their struggle against the wards.

A colony of rogue Dementors would have preyed on nearby humans, Muggle or wizard, until they were stopped. The fact that these had kept to themselves was highly suspicious.

Their pursuit of Sirius in his Animagus form was even worse. According to what he’d been told long ago, the emotions of animals didn’t excite them very much. They had to know, in some way, that Padfoot was no ordinary animal.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

And only Wormtail could have revealed that particular piece of information.

Since the traitor had been given over to the Ministry, it seemed likely that the Dementors that attacked yesterday had been sent, more than likely on the orders of whoever now controlled the island prison.

This did not bode well. For any of them.

As Harry walked back to the house, he pondered his options. Whoever had sent the Dementors wasn’t likely to publicly admit it — most wizards and witches hated the damned things. The implication that the Ministry was severely compromised at high levels was troubling though.

He sighed as he wandered into the kitchen and fired up the stove. Perhaps if the Dementors just disappeared, whoever sent them might wonder if they’d gone rogue. Best if no one at The Burrow ever mentioned seeing them, at least for now. He let his hands begin the preparations for a large breakfast as he wondered what they should do next. Perhaps Remus should jump ahead a bit in his syllabus.

As appetizing smells began to fill the kitchen, Harry sighed. This was a lot easier when he knew what was going on, and what would happen next. He’d truly taken the bull by the horns altering the timeline, and now he was stuck with everyone else, wondering what the hell was going on.

OoOoO

The following Monday, Remus had a surprise for them. He arrived at The Burrow with a large trunk in tow. Once they were assembled for class, he popped open the catches on the trunk and opened it to reveal a large number of Quaffle-sized spheres.

Clearly enjoying the curious stares from his audience, the wizard lifted one out of the trunk, revealing it to be fairly light. He tapped it once with his wand, whispering something under his breath, and the ball abruptly lifted into the air. It floated about ten feet in front of them and began to shimmer. Suddenly, it seemed to expand as if black fabric was sprouting from it surface. In seconds the sphere was replaced with the form of a wizard in black robes with a featureless blank white face.

It wasn’t a Death Eater mask, but it was close enough for Harry to feel his insides freeze up. He didn’t even recall drawing his wand, but it was nonetheless pointing squarely at the target. "What are you playing at?" he snapped.

Remus raised his eyebrow at Harry’s vehemence. "I’ve prepared some targets for you to practice on. I thought you might prefer something with a bit of realism, but faces are devilishly hard to get right."

Hermione gave Harry a careful sideways glance before clearing her throat. "Er, it does look a bit like a Death Eater, doesn’t it, sir?"

Remus frowned. "A bit, I suppose, but how did you…? Never mind." He raised his wand and, with a flick, changed the robes to a dull brown. "Is that better?"

Harry nodded, trying to get his heart to slow back down. He knew he was over-reacting, but he just couldn’t seem to help it. For an instant when he first saw it, the smooth white face was replaced with the hated mask of one of Voldemort’s murderous sycophants. The rage engendered by that visage was very familiar to Harry’s older self, but it was nonetheless a nasty surprise to him now.

It took several moments, while Remus set up the other targets, before Harry could get himself completely under control again. He didn’t even want to imagine what Remus thought of that display. Or what Dumbledore might make of it if he viewed the memory.

Ginny gave him a careful nudge as Remus finished. He had them line up so there was a figure opposite of each of them, and on his command they started to duck and dodge like a real opponent. Objectively, Harry had to admire the thought and workmanship his teacher had put into them.

Subjectively, his face was still burning from his earlier display.

When Remus signalled for them to start, Harry’s wand was a blur of motion. They were instructed to just use Stinging Hexes — the magical field surrounding the orbs would register each hit and signal when twenty had been made. While Harry was using the suggested spell, he had no doubt that he was letting a bit more power flow into them than was strictly required. His brown-robed opponent tried to twist and turn to avoid his hexes, but each one struck, jarring it backwards a little each time. It seemed that he’d hardly started before the ball let out a loud ding. The simulacrum surrounding it faded away.

Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, ignoring the tiny wisp of smoke curling from the end of his wand. From the sound of things, his friends were all still firing. From the sound of Ron’s muttered swearing, they probably would be for a while. Harry bowed to the inevitable and turned toward Remus.

The man was staring at him with unabashed concern etched on his features. Harry shrugged helplessly.

Ginny finished next, then Ron, Hermione, and Luna all completed the exercise at roughly the same time. Percy, Fred, and George were the last to finish.

Remus nodded. "Very good. Ron, you kept up an impressive rate of fire, but your accuracy suffered. Hermione fired less than half as many hexes, but completed in roughly the same time. That said, Hermione, you would do well to loosen up a bit and try to go a bit faster. Percy, that goes doubly so for you. While a direct hit is preferable, it’s not necessary for most curses that they strike the exact centre of the target. Fred, George, both of you would do well to work on smoothing out your wand motions — less jerking back and more follow-through." He continued, critiquing each of them, but not mentioning Harry’s performance at all.

Harry couldn’t help but notice that the twins were even more attentive than usual.

The rest of the session continued as normal, but when he was preparing to leave, Remus asked Harry to help him with his trunk. As they made their way toward the Floo, the older man spoke in a low voice. "I’d like to apologize, Harry. The resemblance hadn’t even occurred to me as I was finishing the orbs. Of course, if I was in your position, I would have read up on everything I could find concerning the war. That was frightfully insensitive of me, and I must apologize."

Harry shook his head. "It wasn’t your fault," he insisted, "I was just overreacting. I do that, a bit."

"Like when you sent the Slytherin Quidditch squad to the hospital wing for a fortnight?" Sirius asked as they entered the kitchen.

Harry scowled at the shocked look on Remus’ face, and the wide grin on Sirius’. "I see the twins have been carrying tales again," he observed sourly.

"Well, I did ask how the Quidditch season went," Sirius said innocently, "but it seemed that more action happened off the field last season."

Remus, of course, was not about to leave until he’d had the whole story out of Harry. He supposed the man worried he’d be partially to blame if Harry misused something he’d taught, but he really wasn’t in the mood for any second-guessing.

Fortunately, the man’s reaction was a pleasant surprise. "That’s quite an interesting use for a Noise-Making Charm," Remus murmured thoughtfully when Harry was done. "And an ingenious way of ending a fight without inflicting permanent harm. Top marks, Harry!"

"I just wish Dumbledore agreed," Harry snorted.

"I heard about that as well," Sirius commiserated. "But he did come around in the end, right?"

Harry nodded. "I suppose he had no choice once he knew they were lying. I practically dared him to view their memories of the ambush."

"This Legilimency business seems very questionable to me," Remus said. "But it appears I have little choice but to learn Occlumency if I wish to teach at Hogwarts and keep my thoughts to myself."

"At least now you know why it was so hard to get anything past Dumbledore," Sirius said with a grin.

"Quite," Remus replied, deadpan. Then he grinned at his childhood friend in a way that seemed to melt years off his face.

OoOoO

Harry was mostly calmed down by the time they arrived at the Grangers’ house. He was also sufficiently aware to notice the concerned looks Ginny was giving Luna. The blond girl had grown increasingly quiet and withdrawn over the summer, despite their best efforts — including letters relayed from Neville.

After Ginny’s last attempt to draw the girl out as they marched out into the Grangers’ back garden, the redhead gave Harry a very direct look. Harry nodded back, earning a quick smile as they paired off for some warm-up exercises.

Paul Ishimura couldn’t make it today, so Harry was leading the group. While Harry ordinarily liked working with Hermione’s godfather, today he was glad because it gave him a chance to talk to Luna.

When he paired everyone off to spar, he held Luna back and suggested she do some extra stretches with him. The ‘Drunken Boxing’ style she’d adopted often sorely pushed the limits of her flexibility. It also gave him a pretext to talk to her as they moved off a ways from the others and dropped onto the soft grass to do some hamstring stretches.

Trying to mince words with Luna Lovegood was futile at best, so Harry decided to borrow a page from her grimoire and go for the incredibly blunt approach. "You seem very sad today. Ginny and the others are worried about you."

Luna’s expression didn’t change, but she did pause as she leaned her torso forward until it almost touched one thigh. "I miss Neville," she said.

"We miss him too," Harry agreed. "But you two do at least get to write each other." Hedwig was visiting the Longbottom house at least as often as she’d visited The Burrow his first year.

"That’s part of the problem," she said quietly. "Even though he doesn’t come right out and say it, he’s been dreadfully unhappy this summer. He misses his friends, and he’s worried about getting behind in the training and becoming a liability." She sniffed. "And most of the reasons for why he is unhappy have to do with me. I really don’t care for that feeling."

Harry scowled. "I think it’s a load of rubbish if you are blaming yourself, Luna. I think his grandmother is the only one responsible for this mess."

"She wouldn’t have confined him to their house if it wasn’t for me," she said. "I think I went a bit too far, too soon. I wanted him to like me, but now he’s probably wishing he’d never met me."

Harry grew rather alarmed at the tone of his friend’s voice. He’d never really seen Luna so focused like this before. For once, that faraway, dreamy look of hers was completely absent. But in its place was a visage of pure misery and guilt. Harry didn’t have to think twice about which one he preferred.

"Luna," he said firmly, "I think he does like you. And he’s not stupid enough to blame you for his gran’s actions. In fact, I bet he even misses the gentle teasing you put him through."

"You do?" she asked suddenly, looking up. "You know, don’t you?" She peered at him rather intently, the wire-frame glasses making her gaze seem even more intense. "Were we… together? In the future, that is?"

Harry looked down and swallowed. "I don’t know, really. You didn’t date when I was at Hogwarts," he said, looking up. Luna’s frown made him quickly qualify that statement. "But then again, you were in Ravenclaw, and we’d never got to know you until fifth year. And I was gone for Neville’s seventh year, so I really don’t know." He paused, swallowing. "But I do know that you two were friends. And after Hogwarts fell, we found the two of you lying next to each other where the students made their stand."

Luna’s eyes were shining, but she didn’t seem quite so sad, so Harry pressed on. "And remember, the Neville I knew then was a lot different than the one I know now. He hadn’t really come into his own until later. That Neville had very little confidence for most of the time I knew him. He was afraid of Snape, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of failing."

"My Neville isn’t afraid of anything, is he?" Luna asked softly.

Harry stifled a grin at the possessive pronoun. "No, he isn’t," he agreed. "And I don’t think he’s afraid of his grandmother anymore, either."

"No… no, he’s not, is he?" Luna said slowly. After a moment she finished the stretches and they both stood up and got into ready stances.

As Harry led them through a three-step blocking drill with a palpable sense of relief, he wondered what they could possibly do about Neville’s situation. He had a feeling things might get worse before they got better.

OoOoO

The last month of the holidays passed with much less drama than it started. At Harry’s request, Remus had taught them the basics of the Patronus Charm. While Harry allowed no more than a thin silvery vapour to escape his wand, none of his friends could even get that far. Remus consoled them that the spell was highly advanced magic, and not something children of their ages could be expected to know, let alone master.

All the same, Harry couldn’t come up with an innocent explanation for the presence of the Dementors that ambushed Sirius. None of his friends could either. So they all practiced the charm on a daily basis.

Finally, the end of August arrived, and with it the annual trek to Diagon Alley. This year the plan was a little different than normal, for more than the usual reasons.

Harry awoke early on a slightly overcast Tuesday, taking care not to wake Ron or anyone else as he took a shower and did his normal daily grooming with somewhat greater than usual care, and finished by donning the plain black robe he’d worn to the custody hearing. When he softly crept down the stairs, Mr. Weasley was waiting for him in the kitchen, reading the Daily Prophet and frowning.

"You know, you don’t have to take off from work for this," Harry said quietly as he poured some tea.

"It’s not a bother," his guardian said. "And it’s important that Molly or I be present when this interview takes place."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I know you don’t approve of this."

Arthur made a dismissive gesture. "At the time, your agreement made sense. We had no idea where… your godfather was, or what condition he was in. Using her to put pressure on the Ministry was rather resourceful. I just hope you don’t have cause to regret this all later."

Harry nodded. "I think I’ve demonstrated to her satisfaction that she has a lot more to gain by being civil with us. Exclusive interviews with The Boy Who Lived let her name her price with most editors." Harry grinned ruefully. "She was a holy terror, er, before, and I’d much rather have her on our side than our enemies’."

"I suppose you would know," Arthur agreed thoughtfully as he put the paper down. "Have a bit of toast and we’ll be off. Molly would flay me, but I’d rather not keep this woman waiting. We can always get something to eat afterwards."

Harry nodded and ate quickly.

He was slowly getting better at Floo travel… the emphasis on slowly. This time he managed to only fall to one knee when he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Arthur gave him a hand up and they made their way to the bar.

Old Tom brought them up to a private room reserved for this meeting and bid them a good day. Harry was sort of relieved that the man didn’t make a huge fuss over him, or even stare too long.

Harry took a deep breath before opening the door. A tall woman in a venomous-looking green robe was sitting in a chair pulled up to the table. Her stiffly-curled hair didn’t sway in the slightest as she turned toward him and smiled, rising to her feet. "Mr. Potter!" she said in a falsely cheery voice. "It’s so good to finally meet you in person!"

Harry nodded and shook the hand she extended toward him, careful not to jab himself on her long red fingernails.

"And this must be Arthur Weasley, your guardian?" she asked. "I understood this was to be a one-on-one interview," she observed, though her smile didn’t waver at all.

"I’m afraid I did insist that one of us be present for this interview," Mr. Weasley explained in a friendly, but firm, voice.

Harry shrugged. "He’s completely within his rights to do so. If you prefer, Ms. Skeeter, we could conduct this by owl post," he offered.

"Oh no," Rita said, waving one of her manicured hands. "That won’t be necessary. I’d have prepared some questions for him as well, if I’d known he was coming."

Arthur looked somewhat startled by this admission, but quickly busied himself moving an extra chair up to the table.

Harry moved the unoccupied chair to one side so that he and Arthur both sat facing the reporter. "I don’t think Mr. Weasley is ready to be the subject of an interview," Harry said carefully. "And I don’t have the right to promise anything on his behalf. I’d prefer it if his name was left out this, for now."

Rita seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding her agreement. "First of all, I would like to thank you for consenting to this interview," she said in a somewhat ironic tone as her words were taken down by a floating quill. When it was done, she tapped it with her wand and wordlessly handed the parchment to Harry. "As you can see," she continued, "this is a standard dictation quill — and not a Quick-Quotes Quill."

Harry nodded. "I appreciate that, Ms. Skeeter. If all goes well, we may be able to do this again in future."

Rita’s pencilled eyebrow lifted as she absorbed Harry’s implied offer. "I think… we can be helpful to each other in future, Mr. Potter. I have no interest in roasting the goose that lays such golden eggs."

Harry carefully ignored the tightening muscles along Arthur’s jaw. "That would be nice," he agreed. "And if you ever have… difficulty… in persuading your editor to run a story as it is written, I have a friend who may be able to help."

"The Lovegood girl?" Rita asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone with time and resources could find out quite a bit about you and your friends at Hogwarts," she explained. "I’ve had both as I prepared for our little talk. All the same, I’ve never really been interested in writing for The Quibbler."

Harry shrugged. "Once the story is out, if it’s good enough, it will spread on its own. That alone will put pressure on your editor."

Rita nodded. "But do you really anticipate anything of that… nature?"

Harry smiled. "Anything’s possible. I think you may find that The Quibbler is a bit less subject to… outside influences… than other publications."

Rita’s eyes narrowed and her nails tapped a staccato on the worn varnish of the table. "The Ministry?" she asked quietly, darting her eyes toward Arthur.

"Anything is possible," Harry said blandly. "I appear to have attracted the attentions of a wide variety of people."

"That’s one way of putting it," Rita said as she reactivated her quill. "Let’s start at the beginning. I understand you were raised by your aunt and her family?"

Harry felt a muscle in his cheek twitch at the mention of the Dursleys. "Yes," was all he said.

"Why did you leave?" Rita asked, her features taking on a slightly predatory cast.

Harry had no doubt she knew exactly why he’d left Privet Drive, but this wasn’t something he wanted discussed in the press. "It didn’t work out," he said shortly. He took a breath. "They were terrified at the idea of magic, and it was unacceptable to them that I continue living under their roof. After my first year at Hogwarts, it was necessary for me to find somewhere else to live. Fortunately, my friend’s parents agreed to take me in."

"Do you agree with the members of the Wizengamot who maintain that Muggle-born witches and wizards should be removed from Muggle households as soon as they are discovered — both for their own protection and to maintain the Statute of Secrecy?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at that while Arthur’s face slowly reddened. "No, I do not," he said firmly. "I think that would be a complete overreaction. Not all Muggles hate magic — they vary as much as wizards and witches do. One of my close friends is Muggle-born and her parents are not only supportive, they are completely fascinated by what they’ve learned of magic. They even host our study group in the afternoon."

"Ah yes, your study group," Rita said. "Quite a bit of luck, having a Hogwarts professor teach you over the summer, isn’t it?"

Harry shrugged. The Ministry records were, of course, open to the public, and Rita was displaying an unnerving tendency for having done her homework on him this time around. "He was a good friend to my parents, so I suppose I had an in there. Of course, the underage magic laws not really fair to the Muggle-born students, since they don’t really have access to tutors who can train them over the summer."

"Perhaps," Rita agreed, "but it is the law. On the other hand, do you think it will be hard for him to mark you fairly during the coming term?"

Harry sighed. "Remus Lupin is what I would call a ‘tough but fair’ teacher. If anything, I’m afraid he’s going to expect more from us than he will from the other students. In the end though, what will really matter is what I get on my Defence OWL and NEWT."

"You’re already worrying about those?" Rita asked. "Your OWL exams are not for almost three years, correct?"

Harry nodded. "Perhaps, but I’m always looking forward."

"Is that why you started a… Duelling Association, I think it was, at Hogwarts?"

"I didn’t really create it," Harry said diffidently. "Professor McGonagall is the faculty sponsor, and she established most of the curriculum."

"You are far too modest, Harry!" Rita said with a somewhat predatory smile. "I understand that you teach most of the sessions, and that you’ve become quite an accomplished duellist yourself!"

Harry felt his stomach roll over. Who the hell had she been talking to? "Well, I only came in second in the tournament at the end of the year," he temporized. "I suppose I was inspired by Gilderoy Lockhart," he said.

Rita’s eyebrows rose at this. "How so?" she asked.

Harry didn’t know what kind of favours or currency Lockhart’s publicist had used to keep Rita from pressing charges against his comatose client, but Harry doubted anything he said would be included. "Well, he tried to organize a duelling club right before winter holiday, but it was a complete shambles. The man didn’t know the first thing about it and Professor Snape trounced him without even trying. That, among other things, clued me in that whatever he might be teaching us in his classes was extremely suspect."

"So you are pleased the he is to be replaced this year with Professor Lupin?" Rita asked archly.

"Words cannot convey the depth of my gratitude that I will not have to sit another class with that utter fraud," Harry said firmly.

That earned him a smile. "You said earlier that you came in second in a duelling tournament… who won?" Rita asked.

"That would be Ginny Weasley," Harry said as Arthur let out a sigh.

Rita looked faintly surprised. Harry mused that she apparently hadn’t consulted her source since the end of term. "How did you feel about being defeated by a witch who is, I believe, a year younger than you?"

Harry shrugged. "She’s a founding member of the Duelling Association and she’s dead quick with her wand. I tried to snag her legs, but she leapt over the spell and Stunned me senseless while she was in midair. It was a beautiful move."

"She also lives at The Burrow, doesn’t she?" Rita asked. "Is there a bit of romance brewing for you, Harry?"

Harry tried not to let any tension show as he sensed Rita falling into habits he knew all too well. He very carefully avoided looking over at Arthur. "Er, we often get stuck together on kitchen duty. But she’s not the only witch to join the Duelling Association. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood also helped found it, and we have students from all houses and years now. And I’m a little young to have a girlfriend yet."

"Why all the sudden interest in duelling by Hogwarts students?" Rita asked, smoothly ignoring his glare. "It’s been outlawed by the Ministry as a way of settling disputes for many years now."

Harry took a deep breath as he formulated his answer. "Well, Rita, an accomplished duellist is far more capable of defending themselves from attack than an untrained witch or wizard. If anything, the last war should have taught us that it doesn’t hurt to be too careful."

"I see," Rita said, watching the quill move. "How are you adjusting to your new home?"

Harry smiled. "I feel very fortunate that the Weasleys took me in. They are a great family and they’ve gone out of their way to make me feel at home. I’ll be a lifetime paying back what I owe them."

Arthur’s face turned very red at this and he opened his mouth to protest, but glanced at the quill and shut it quickly. Harry smiled at him fondly.

"I understand that the decision regarding where you would live was rather hotly contested at the Ministry," Rita said, her eyes glittering behind her bejewelled spectacles.

It occurred to Harry that this was probably why she got into journalism in the first place. She genuinely enjoyed the thrill of the hunt as she put people on the spot and winnowed out all their secrets. Even in this setting, with all she had to lose by antagonizing her interview subject, she couldn’t completely suppress that side of her nature. Instead of opposing it, it occurred to him that it might be better to point her at more deserving targets and then get the hell out of the way. "Yes, it was," he replied. "Lucius Malfoy tried to have me delivered to his mansion so I could be brought up to hate Muggles and non-pure-bloods like that murderous thief he calls a son. Fortunately, Madam Bones saw through his design and assigned me to more suitable guardians."

Rita blinked and her mouth dropped open slightly. "That’s quite an accusation," she said carefully. Arthur just stared at him.

Harry nodded. "The incident that precipitated my removal from the Dursleys occurred when someone sent me a box full of angry Doxys on my birthday. I was bitten and poisoned, and my familiar nearly blinded. As you can imagine, for a family that disliked and feared magic, this was the last straw. As the sole wizard in a Muggle house, I was, of course, monitored for magic use. Defending myself, I risked expulsion from Hogwarts and the destruction of my wand."

Rita’s face was rapt as her quill moved over the parchment, so Harry doubted she’d learned all these details.

"When I mentioned this incident at the Ministry hearing, and how I’d been rescued by the Weasleys, Mr. Malfoy’s fury was clearly visible. As a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, he was no doubt ready to have me expelled at the first hint of trouble. Fortunately, the investigating Auror had the charges dismissed under the self-defence clause." Harry took a deep breath to collect himself. "His son, Draco, was also involved in my injuries this past term. I was hit in the back with a Stunning Spell while climbing a flight of stairs. I didn’t see my attacker, but I did hear him and Draco’s nasal twang is very distinctive."

"Why would he do something like that?" Rita asked as she placed a fresh sheet of parchment under the quill.

"He needed me out of the way so he could use a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate me and burgle my dormitory. He stole a family heirloom and some other items that were used in an attempt to murder another student the day you arrived at Hogwarts."

Rita just stared at him for a moment. "Can you prove any of this?" she asked.

"Only indirectly," Harry admitted. "Draco was caught red-handed with the item that was stolen from my trunk and was expelled for it. As for the rest of it, the timing of certain events doesn’t allow for any other interpretations."

"If you are so certain, why wasn’t this brought to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Rita asked.

"Well," Harry explained, "I knew that without overwhelming evidence, it would be useless."

Rita paused, frowning. "Would you care to explain why, Mr. Potter?"

"Certainly," Harry said. "As you can imagine, when I became aware of the Magical World and my place within it, I read every book I could find on recent history, especially with regards to the war. The more I read, the more I came to one inescapable conclusion." He knew he was being a trifle theatrical, but his audience seemed to appreciate a little showmanship.

"And what conclusion was that?" Rita asked, her eyes glittering.

"As a whole, the Wizarding World is almost irretrievably corrupt," Harry declared. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur turn to stare at him again.

"Can you elaborate, Harry?" Rita asked.

Harry shrugged. "One of the first things I looked up was what happened to Voldemort’s followers. Naturally, I was wondering who I needed to keep an eye out for. I noticed something rather odd… All of Voldemort’s followers who were captured before he disappeared went to Azkaban and, with very few exceptions, never repudiated him. But after his disappearance, practically every captured Death Eater claimed to have been placed under the Imperius Curse, and most were released by the Ministry. That’s quite a statistical anomaly, isn’t it?" He pretended to ignore the start Rita gave when he used the Dark Lord’s name.

"So you maintain that those claims were false? And that they were willing followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita asked.

"It’s awfully fishy, isn’t it?" Harry observed. "Besides that, I looked up some old articles in Forensic Thaumaturgy regarding the Dark Mark. The terminology is pretty dense, but it implies that it’s a modified version of the Protean Charm, and according to my NEWT study guide, the Protean Charm is awfully fussy. Casting it on an unwilling magical subject or one already subjected to powerful magic like an Unforgivable Curse would be nearly impossible."

Rita’s eyes were wide as the quill continued taking down Harry’s words. "And so with respect to the Ministry…?"

"Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?" Harry said. "Those forgiven Death Eaters were all from wealthy and influential families, or were closely allied with them. Money and/or favours had to change hands for that many people to drop the ball and let them go free. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Look at my godfather, and the Ministry’s complete failure to give him a trial while he rotted in Azkaban — for a crime he never committed. Look at the goblins, treated as second-class citizens, despite the vital role they play in the Wizarding economy. Look at house-elves, who are treated even worse. Sometimes I wonder if the Statute of Secrecy isn’t maintained more to prevent the Ministry from being scrutinized too closely by the Muggle governments. By Muggle standards, I’m afraid the Wizarding world would be considered hopelessly backward and barbaric."

Rita’s eyes were bulging now, though Harry couldn’t blame her. She’d just watched the Boy Who Lived declare war on half of the Wizarding world.

OoOoO

Harry was very stiff and absolutely famished by the time they were done. They left Rita with a fat stack of parchment. Her photographer arrived near the end of the interview and Harry reluctantly allowed them to take a picture of him sitting with Rita. He tried to look as calm as he wasn’t.

Afterwards, they took the stairs back down to the tap room. Arthur led him to the back wall, where he quickly tapped the bricks and opened the passage into Diagon Alley.

The Alley was already full of families purchasing school supplies and various sundries. To Harry’s surprise, Arthur led him to Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, where he purchased both of them an ice cream sundae.

"Ordinarily, this isn’t my idea of a proper luncheon," Arthur said quietly as they sat down at a table in the back, "but you look rather worn out. Just don’t say anything to Molly, all right?" He looked left and right. "I sometimes duck in here when work has been particularly vexing."

Harry nodded wearily and smiled. "Your secret is safe with me," he said.

"I just hope you don’t have to do that again any time soon," Arthur said, frowning. "That woman was absolutely insatiable with all her questions. I mean, why should she even care if you wear boxers or briefs? You’re thirteen years old!"

Harry shrugged; glad he hadn’t brought up other issues. "I think she may be planning to sell a story to Witch Weekly as well; that question sounds right up their alley. I suppose I can’t blame her for trying to get as much mileage out of this as possible."

"Perhaps," Arthur said dubiously. "Harry, I do hope you know what you are doing. When that interview is published, you’re going to make a lot of very powerful enemies."

Harry nodded, and then leaned forward, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper. "I know. But the way I see it, it’s inevitable. Do you know what the Ministry did the first year after Voldemort returned?"

Arthur shook his head.

"They attacked me and Dumbledore for making up stories. Dumbledore was removed from most of the offices he held, and the Daily Prophet published story after story about how I was a mentally unstable, attention-seeking liar," Harry said, his eyes hardening. "It was a nasty surprise when Fudge turned on Dumbledore, and the free year Riddle was given to build up his forces cost us dearly. The Ministry didn’t even fight until Dumbledore and Voldemort duelled in the Atrium practically in front of Fudge. By then, Tom was nearly ready anyway, and his second reign of terror started where the first one left off."

Arthur looked sick.

"I’m just striking first this time. Right now, Fudge barely goes to the bathroom without Lucius Malfoy’s permission. Both of them have got to go. And if they start their smear campaign second… well, then it just looks like payback — and people might not take everything they claim about me as the gospel truth." Harry looked down at his melting ice cream. "I don’t see a better way to stop them than taking the offensive."

"I understand, Harry," Arthur said. "But I hope you are ready for the repercussions from this."

"I’ve been publicly vilified before," he replied, "I’m sort of used to it by now. And Rita knows that if she wants any more from me, she’ll keep your name out of this. If anyone approaches you at work, you’re not sure, but you think we made contact through owl post, and you don’t want it to get back to her that you’ve forbidden us to communicate. You can also imply that Dumbledore is involved."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "That’s hardly honest," he said.

"No, it isn’t," Harry agreed. "But anyone asking you to silence me is at least probably an enemy. You planted disinformation during the first war when you were part of the Order, didn’t you?"

Arthur’s eyes bulged in their sockets for a moment. "How did you-? No, never mind. You’re right, though, I suppose this really is a wartime situation." He sighed. "I’d hoped my children would never see it in their lifetimes."

Harry nodded. "The Horcrux situation made it likely we would, and the Ministry guaranteed it. But maybe, if we do it right, your grandchildren won’t."