For Harry, this was one of the most abnormal holiday seasons he’d ever experienced. No looming threat of war, no one murdered yet, staying with people that were actually glad to have him there; it was utterly bizarre and without precedent. Even in his younger memories, Harry didn’t have many happy holidays. Aside from the Dursleys competing to make him miserable as they spoiled their own child, he’d always spent most of the Christmas season wondering how things would have been if his parents were still alive.

It wasn’t that Harry stopped missing his parents — there was an empty place inside that would never be completely filled — but he supposed it was natural to miss people more when he actually had some memories of them.

And now he was seeing the various Weasley Christmas traditions unfold, and wondering if his parents would have had a live tree. Perhaps the ornament his father made for McGonagall was Quidditch-related as well. Maybe a broom, or a Quaffle, Harry wondered, and resolved to ask his Transfiguration Professor if she remembered. Sirius didn’t remember; being distracted at the time by a rather elaborate prank he was pulling on a stuck-up red-haired witch named Lily.

Not that he’d gotten away with it, of course. The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up as he remembered the pride in Sirius’ voice when he described how she turned his plan back on him.

Ginny gave him a questioning look, but Harry just shook his head. They were in the kitchen at The Burrow, waiting for the first arrivals for an informal New Year’s Eve party. It required some hasty negotiations through owl and Floo call before they arrived at a time and place. Augusta Longbottom had been invited to a Ministry celebration that Neville successfully escaped. The Grangers were likewise attending a celebration at some dental association that Hermione was less than enthused about. "Being paraded about like a particularly clever pet" was how she described the last one she’d attended. It wasn’t that her parents felt that way — she told Harry that most of their colleagues just didn’t know how to react to a little girl that despised being talked down to.

Luna said she could put off finishing her story for The Quibbler about Nargle trap construction. Harry did not ask for any details beyond that.

Mrs. Weasley hadn’t objected to them coming to The Burrow. She and Arthur didn’t have anything planned, and the majority of the people were already there. However, once the decision was made, the Weasley matriarch acquired a very determined air and a steely glint in her eye. Ron observed all of this with an expression on his face reminiscent of a trapped animal. After that, Harry watched the woman descend into what one of the twins described in a tense whisper as her "apocalyptic house cleaning frenzy".

The two days leading up to the thirty-first were quite full, as the inhabitants of The Burrow seemed to be all but taking it apart and putting it back together again — cleaning all the bits and pieces as they did so.

Harry, who was used to doing all the cleaning at Number Four Privet Drive without assistance, followed her instructions without a word. He later heard Mrs. Weasley bring this up when Ron began to grumble.

Harry froze, just around the corner, when he heard Ron’s reply. "Mum, Harry’s used to those Muggles making him do all their cooking and cleaning, he’ll never complain no matter what you ask him to do."

Harry did his best to show no reaction as he walked into the kitchen. "Bedrooms are done. Ron, why don’t you help Percy in the attic, and I’ll go see if your dad needs any help with the shed." He left quickly, ignoring the expressions on their faces.

Mr. Weasley, of course, immediately volunteered to see to his beloved shed. Only Harry knew that he’d done it to prevent Sirius from being discovered, rather than to keep his Muggle junk from being thrown out. "One of these days," Harry muttered to himself, "I’ll be done with all these secrets."

As he approached the shed where his godfather was hiding, Arthur emerged and carefully latched the door behind him. "He’s asleep again," Mr. Weasley said in a low voice. "I think he was in worse shape than he let on."

Harry nodded, having entertained similar suspicions himself.

Arthur’s face clouded over. "I promise you Harry," he said soberly, "one day we will track down the people responsible for his treatment and extract the full punishment the law allows."

"If it’s possible," Harry agreed, which earned him a questioning look from his guardian. Harry paused, considering if now was the time to take another step. The less concealed, the better, he concluded, especially in case something happened to him. "If Voldemort somehow finds a way to come fully back to life, I expect we’re going to see another war again - at least, until I can get to him. You know," he continued in a thoughtful tone, "I don’t think he knows the full prophecy, or else he might not have been so eager to confront me last year. Anyway, if that happens, I think some of those people infiltrating the Ministry might end up caught up in the conflict, which wouldn’t break my heart at all."

"You’ve given this a lot of thought," Mr. Weasley said after a moment.

Harry nodded. "Starving someone to death, locked in a cage, is pretty monstrous. I have no doubt that people willing to do that would follow Voldemort in a heartbeat. You’re going to be a target if things go bad, so please keep an eye on the people you work with." Harry’s voice went a little unsteady at the end. He could still remember that awful scene at St. Mungo’s when Arthur finally succumbed to the poison from Lucius Malfoy’s dagger.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully as he replied, "I’ll admit I’ve had a few more questions in the cafeteria since Lucius’ arrest. Some of them may just be idle curiosity, but…"

"But some of them probably aren’t," Harry said, finishing the thought.

Arthur chuckled, surprising Harry. "You remind me of someone Molly’s brothers introduced me to, an old Auror named Moody. He was always after everyone to practice Constant --"

"-Vigilance," Harry said completing the motto along with his guardian.

Mr. Weasley blinked in surprise and Harry wanted to kick himself. "Er, I have a friend at Hogwarts, and his dad’s an Auror." Which was true, Neville’s father had not entered another profession. "I’ve heard stories about this bloke named Mad-Eye Moody, always going on about ‘Constant Vigilance’," he continued. Which was also true — Harry heard plenty of stories from Tonks, Kingsley, and other members of the Order.

"I suppose he is quite a memorable chap," Arthur agreed affably.

Harry suppressed his desire to let out a sigh of relief as they walked back to the house. He was getting rather sloppy lately, and he didn’t really know why. Was he just getting that comfortable around the Weasleys? Or was his subconscious getting just as sick of all this secrecy as the rest of him? Talking to Sirius had left him feeling better than he’d thought possible since he had that first dream about his future self. Now he wanted to come clean with everyone else, especially his friends. The ones closest to him were the ones that worried him the most. He taken steps to help them as much as he could, to become all that they could be, but a less charitable interpretation was that he’d manipulated them from the start.

It didn’t matter if they hated him for it, Harry reminded himself. His future self failed to keep them alive, and now it was his turn. Keeping them all alive was more important than hurting his feelings. They probably would hate him, and they’d be right to. He was doing things that he’d condemned Dumbledore for, though he honestly didn’t see a way around it - not with Snape around. Maybe they’d eventually forgive him, if he survived removing Tom from the picture. And if he didn’t, none of this touchy-feely stuff mattered anyway. What he did know was this: Right now his friends could probably outfight their future selves when they’d gone to the Department of Mysteries on his fool’s errand. Even if they didn’t want to have anything to do with him after learning the truth, Harry hoped that knowing what was to come would encourage them to continue training with each other.

Of course, Harry reflected as Arthur went upstairs and he waited with Ginny near the kitchen fireplace, his objectivity was questionable where the youngest Weasley was concerned. It was true that he’d gone to great lengths to draw her out of her shyness, so she’d have the most reason to resent him - and her hatred would wound him the worst. But he also had memories of her talking about her first years at Hogwarts, and how miserable and alone she’d been. He couldn’t let her go through that again, even if it meant losing her again. If Ginny were to turn against him, it would be devastating, but if that was what it took to keep her alive, so be it.

Harry sighed and his thoughts returned to his godfather in the shed. He’d suggested attending the party in his other form, so he could get to meet Harry’s friends, but Harry didn’t think that was a good idea. Snape might see an image of him in their memories and make the connection.

"Come on, Harry," Sirius cajoled. "What’s life without a little risk?"

"Longer," Harry replied, deadpan.

"James would have thought it was worth it," Sirius said quickly.

"I’m not James," Harry snapped, "and I’ve learned not to assume that everything will work out all right."

Sirius got a pained look on his face. "I didn’t mean it quite like that."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh, "and we’re both probably going to poke each other’s sore points every time we talk. I think that’s part of being a guy."

Sirius chuckled at that and the awkwardness between them faded.

Harry was distracted from his circling thoughts when the fireplace roared and the green flames spat out Neville Longbottom, who looked around curiously as he straightened up. Neville was wearing formal black robes, which he promptly started pulling off when he saw Harry and Ginny in jumpers and trousers.

"I told Gran that it wasn’t going to be that kind of party," he said, his voice muffled as he pushed the fabric over his head, "but she insisted I be ‘properly attired,’ just in case it was."

Neville jumped a little when the Floo roared again. Luna didn’t miss a beat as she stepped out of the fireplace and helped Neville with his robes.

"Thanks, Harry, I er -" Neville said when he got his face uncovered and saw Luna.

Luna was wearing a light blue knee-length dress that was the same shade as her eyes. Her hair was arranged in somewhat less than its usual disorder and was held in place by a plaited circle of mistletoe. She frowned thoughtfully at Neville, who was standing there in trousers and a plaid button-up shirt. "I suppose I am the one over-dressed now," she said with a sigh. She raised her hands to the top button on the front of her dress.

Harry had to bite his tongue at the panicked look on Neville’s face. "That’s okay Luna," he said, struggling not to laugh, "we’re not really picky about fashion here."

Luna nodded and let her hands fall to her sides. "That’s good," she said absently, her eyes still on Neville’s beet-red face, "I think without my dress I’d have been a little too informal anyway."

Harry looked over at Ginny, who had her lips pressed together in what he knew was an effort to avoid laughing out loud.

Ron saved her from rupturing herself by walking into the kitchen. "I heard the Floo, is everyone here?" he asked.

"Just waiting for Hermione," Harry said. "She still has to go across town to use someone else’s Floo."

Ron frowned. "Someone really ought to see about getting them hooked up to the network," he said.

"I think she’s still working on her parents," Harry agreed.

At that point the Floo fired up again and Hermione stepped through, wearing a heavy coat. Ron actually remembered his manners, to Harry’s mild surprise, and took her coat and hung it up in the hall.

Mrs. Weasley came in as he returned and shooed them all out into the sitting room.

The evening passed in a fun, but rather sedate fashion. Ron couldn’t sucker anyone into a chess match, so they all played Wizarding board games with Fred and George, who cheated outrageously. Percy looked rather bored with the whole thing and soon retired to his room.

Harry hadn’t had much opportunity in either lifetime for playing Wizarding games, so he was rather intrigued. Snitches and Seekers was a rather obvious choice, involving little animated figures on brooms that chased a tiny snitch across an elaborate checkerboard. Players had to roll dice to move their Seeker, while the Snitch moved on its own in random patterns.

After some suspiciously spectacular dice rolls, Hermione excused herself from the game so she could devote all of her attention to monitoring Fred and George. Every so often she would catch them cheating and they would change tactics. Harry was just amazed that they’d worked out so many ways to cheat, though it was probably just to annoy Percy.

Rather than getting annoyed themselves, Fred and George’s grins just got wider every time they were caught. Harry wondered about this, until he remembered their words about recruiting Hermione to help with their pranks. He had to suppress a chuckle as he recognized the game within the game within the game he was witnessing.

Truth be told, Hermione seemed to enjoy trying to catch them more than playing a game which was at least fifty percent luck. Instead, she was engaged in a struggle which was one hundred percent mental. Not to mention that the twins’ playful demeanours kept everything on a friendly level.

Dragon-Hunt was a little more cerebral, and it evidently tapped into some of the same strategic thinking as Wizarding Chess, because Ron easily dominated that game.

Harry was a little distracted, because he noticed something odd. The twins seemed to be playing an inordinate amount of attention to Hermione — if he didn’t know them better, he’d swear that they were flirting with her. First they praised her astuteness in being able to catch them out when they switched the dice. Then they began asking her questions about her transfiguration classes, and listened with rapt attention as she described an extra credit project she was doing for Professor McGonagall. He wasn’t the only one to notice that, either.

Ron began to frown, and then scowl as the evening wore on, but he didn’t say anything. Harry waited until George was heading into the kitchen for a butterbeer before he made his move. Draining his mug as well, Harry got up and followed the red-haired young man out of the room.

Harry cleared his throat as George filled his glass and took a sip. George turned to look at him with a blasé expression that Harry recognized as his ‘dealing with interrogators’ face. "Something I can help you with, Harry?" he asked in a bored voice.

"Yeah," Harry replied in a drawl and then leaned forward and snapped "You could explain what you and Fred are getting at in there."

George flinched a little, seemingly in spite of himself, before he shrugged. "What? My brother and I can’t pay attention to a pretty, unattached young lady?"

"Not if you two are playing games again. She’s a very good friend of mine, and I don’t want to see her hurt," Harry said firmly. Then he smiled. "Although I’m sure certain of our team mates might find this topic of conversation fascinating."

George’s face took on a trapped expression for a moment, but then he sighed. "You are getting damned tricky to put anything past, Harry. And I mean that as a compliment. So - you may have noticed that my brother and I are a bit handier with potions than our grades reflect."

Harry nodded, but didn’t say anything.

"We’re also rather good at charms," George continued modestly, buffing his nails on the front of his jumper. "All in the name of a good prank, of course. But we chanced to overhear a conversation back at Hogwarts. It seems that Professor McGonagall was discussing our favourite bushy-haired little witch, and described her as the best Transfiguration student she’d had in a generation, perhaps the best in her career. Now, of course, we can’t let such a talent go to waste at the Ministry, or some other, lesser cause, now can we?"

Harry groaned. "You know Ron is likely going to kill both of you. And if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll help," he growled.

"Oh, we’re counting on it, ickle Harrikins, we’re counting on it," George chuckled. "Ron is quite good fun to wind up when he doesn’t catch on to what you’re doing, without all the scariness that happens when The Boy Who Lived At The Burrow gets irritated. If our attentions persuade him to - act on his feelings, so much the better. A girlfriend is almost as good as family and we’d still have access to her most marvellous brainpower if anything were to - arise."

Harry stared at George Weasley, shocked at the rather cold-blooded way they were going about this. Of course, Harry wondered if their ploy could help some of his ‘social objectives’ along as well — not that he could easily make them stop without creating a mess and ruining the party… Though it never hurt to take the wind out of the Twins’ sails when given the opportunity. "If anything were to arise?" Harry asked sardonically, "You mean at that joke shop you two are cooking up?"

George’s eyes widened and his mouth actually fell open.

Harry savoured one of the few times he’d actually caught Fred or George off-guard. "Oh come on," he chided the older boy, "it’s fairly obvious. You and Fred spend most of your time coming up with new concoctions and new magic for your pranks. Would you really spend all that time on it, if you weren’t planning to make some sort of career out of it?"

George didn’t answer that question, for which Harry was glad. Instead he laughed out loud. "Oh my, Harry. You are definitely going to keep us on our toes! Not even Mum has an inkling about that, and we’d prefer to keep it that way."

"Good," Harry replied. "You can trust my discretion, and I will trust your discretion where Hermione is concerned. Don’t rub Ron’s nose in it too hard. I’ve spent no small amount of time nudging those two towards each other, and I don’t want you Johnny-come-lately’s mucking things up. Besides, if you crowd Ron, he’s likely to muck things up so bad that Hermione would never speak to him again."

George nodded, a wry smile on his face. "Not a problem, Old Man, you see, over the long haul, Weasleys are irresistible." He then made his exit from the kitchen, sipping his butterbeer.

Harry let out a sigh and barely remembered to refill his drink before he went back to the sitting room.

~+~

For the most part, the rest of the party went well. Fred and George became a little less obvious with their flirting, and Ron subsided a little. Harry did notice that Ron was still being a little more attentive toward Hermione than usual. Possessiveness wasn’t a particularly attractive personality trait, but it did at least indicate that he was interested. Hermione had always been a little insecure about everything non-academic, and in a weird way it was probably reassuring to her that Ron was completely unable to hide his jealousy. Harry just needed to make sure his friend expressed his feelings in more constructive ways this time around.

Not that he seemed to be doing so badly on his own. To Harry’s eye, Ron was making an effort to stay civil with everyone, aside from giving his brothers a few withering looks. Neville didn’t even appear to notice, though it was fair to say he was more than a little distracted by Luna. The blond witch sat next to him on the couch, and as she leaned forward to watch the game, she just happened to be supporting herself by placing her hand on Neville’s knee. Her behaviour appeared innocent enough, but Harry also noticed Mrs. Weasley giving the girl a few odd looks as well.

Hermione, however, was a bit more alert, and her eyes flickered back and forth uncertainly between Ron and his brothers. Ginny, sitting curled up in one of the armchairs, also appeared to notice, but her expression was of unabashed amusement. Harry suppressed a groan.

Somehow they made it to midnight with no blood being shed.

Harry hadn’t given much thought to traditions regarding what happened as the year turned. Others, however, were better prepared. Before the countdown ever started, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went into the kitchen ‘to prepare a special treat’.

As the minute hand snuck up on the number twelve, George clapped his hands. "Children, the traditions must be upheld," he said cheerfully. Neville looked mystified, Ron looked nervous. As the chimes echoed from the Wizarding Wireless, Fred and George looked at each other, sighed in unison and each took a piece of left over mistletoe from their pockets and tossed them to Hermione and Ginny with rather sadistic leers.

Luna needed no prompting; when the clock began to strike midnight she gave Neville a very long kiss on the lips. Harry watched his friend turn magenta, wondering why he was even surprised at this point.

Hermione glared at Fred and George before tossing the sprig back to them with a percussive "Honestly!" She then looked at Ron, who was sitting perfectly still, though his ears were already red. With a sigh, she leaned close to Ron, whispering "Happy New Year, Ron."

With a convulsive motion, Ron quickly leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. In a flash, he was back in his seat and glaring furiously at an amused Fred and George. Hermione seemed as composed as McGonagall, but Harry noticed a small smile on the corner of her mouth.

Ginny looked first at the clock and then at Fred and George, who were smirking at her. Her left eyebrow went up into a sharp curve that Harry’s future self had identified as a danger sign. She tucked the sprig into her hair and marched over to Harry.

For his part, Harry’s feet were rooted to the floor. You didn’t dare Ginevra Weasley to do something, and then expect her to back down. Not the Ginny Weasley another Harry Potter had known, and not the Ginny he saw in front of him now. This fact was about the only bit of cogent thought in his head, as he was locked in a panic as to what he should do next.

Ginny grabbed a handful of the front of his jumper and pulled. He remembered another kiss from another time. His hands moved to her shoulders of their own accord, but his lips bussed the crown of her forehead instead of her intended target. As it was, this position put his nose just above her hair, and her scent triggered an avalanche of misplaced memories that threatened to undo him. Harry knew he squeezed her shoulders in an effort to keep his hands from shaking, and he had no doubt she noticed that as well.

When Harry pulled back, Ginny was frowning up at him, with a strange glistening in her eyes. He tried to smile, but he feared his efforts were a trifle lop-sided. He squeezed her shoulder again, trying to express something he didn’t know how to say, but she smiled uncertainly and stepped back, letting go of his jumper.

Fred had his mouth open to say something, but George elbowed him rather sharply and he changed his mind.

Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen with a large tray in her hands. For Christmas, Kingsley Shacklebolt had given them a panettone he brought back from Italy, and Molly was cutting the sweetbread into thick slices and passing them out on small dishes of her best china.

Harry tried to enjoy the treat, but he could feel Ginny’s eyes cutting towards him every so often. He didn’t know why he’d reacted the way he had, only that the entire situation felt - wrong - somehow.

Soon everyone was getting ready to leave. Hermione’s parents would soon be arriving at the Leaky Cauldron to pick her up, and everyone else’s parents would soon be seeking their beds.

Harry noticed Luna whisper something into Neville’s ear, and for once he wasn’t blushing furiously. Instead, he nodded and smiled at the girl. Then he walked up to Mrs. Weasley and thanked her for having him over. "I just wish my home was more like yours," he concluded. Mrs. Weasley was blushing furiously, but Harry didn’t think he’d seen her so happy all night as she patted the dark-haired boy on the arm and handed him his formal robes.

Harry forced a smile as he saw his friends off. They were all taking the Hogwarts Express back to school in a couple of days, but he still got an unsettled feeling whenever he said goodbye. Objectively, he knew it was just an echo of future paranoia and grief, but that didn’t make it go away.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Harry finally gave up around four in the morning and crept out of the room he shared with Ron, after pulling trousers and jumper on over his pyjamas. He had some vague notion of walking the inside of the wards, but that went flying out of his head when he saw Ginny, in her nightdress, curled up on the couch.

Harry found himself staring at her face. Her features were relaxed with slumber, her lips slightly parted. She looked so innocent, this girl who’d never been tormented by Tom Riddle. Just the sight of her gave him a dull ache in his chest. He vaguely remembered some other feelings as well, but this body was just starting puberty, and the reality of this Ginny was drowning out the memories of the older, taller version from his future past. The thought of what could happen to her in this time line drove him to the brink of madness. He knew he’d do whatever it took to keep that from happening, but this Ginny wasn’t his Ginny - there were still walls between them; walls of time, walls of lies. Things he’d had to do, but still…

Harry suspected she’d come down here hoping to talk to him after everyone had gone to bed. But instead of waking her, he removed a quilt from the linen closet and tucked it around her. She stirred in her sleep, smiling. Harry looked at her for another long moment, and then he straightened, checked his wand in the holster attached to his wrist, and stepped outside to walk the grounds.

~+~

Everyone slept in a bit the next day, even Mrs. Weasley. Harry, who didn’t sleep at all, had a rather sumptuous breakfast ready for his surrogate family as they stumbled down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley thanked him fondly, even as she insisted he needn’t have gone to the trouble. Ron and Ginny, on the other hand, were eyeing him rather suspiciously.

Harry avoided giving either of the two youngest Weasleys a chance to talk to him privately. It wasn’t all that hard. Despite it’s size, the main house had eight people in residence, and the cold rain outside encouraged everyone to stay inside. Catching an unwilling Harry alone was almost impossible with everyone milling about.

Of course, subtle manoeuvring is useless when someone completely different button-holes you at the top of a flight of stairs. Harry stumbled as Percy gripped his elbow and steered him, quite firmly, into the older boy’s room.

"Oh Percy, this is so sudden!" Harry quipped in an airy falsetto, trying to buy time.

"Don’t be an idiot, Harry," Percy snapped.

"Does Penelope know about us?" he asked, bringing the other boy up short.

"You’ve been reading my post!" Percy snarled, outraged.

"Oh please," Harry said dismissively. "Gentlemen do not read each other’s mail. I do have eyes, though; I can see how you act differently around her, how hard you’re trying to impress her. I didn’t read those psychology books for nothing, you know. And I haven’t breathed a word of this to Fred or George."

Percy paled, though his eyes still blazed. "I’m not the only one hiding something, Potter."

Harry snorted, though his mind was racing. "And what am I supposedly hiding, Percival?" he asked contemptuously.

Percy began ticking points off on his fingers. "You have an odd talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You act far too mature for a second-year. You know too much magic for a second-year raised by Muggles. Your magic itself is too powerful for someone your age," the boy concluded with a scowl. "Who are you, really? When did you sell out for Dark Magic?"

"Very impressive, Percy," Harry said. "How long did you have to argue with the Sorting Hat to avoid Ravenclaw? Of course you conclude that I’m a dark wizard and then decide to confront me, alone, without a wand in your hand." Harry moved his right hand forward as he finished, and the wand he’d removed from his sleeve jabbed the older boy in the stomach, making him flinch. "Maybe you really do belong in Gryffindor after all," Harry concluded. He sighed. "For your information, I haven’t been normal since the night my parents died."

Watching the fear blossom in the older boy’s eyes, Harry was surprised at how he still held his ground. Harry also became a little disgusted with himself. This was the man who reportedly stayed at his post in the Ministry when Voldemort attacked, fighting to buy time for most of Scrimgeour’s staff to escape — at the cost of his own life. Misguided as he’d been, Percy hadn’t been a coward.

He rotated his wrist holding the wand up between them, and spoke. "I swear upon my magic that I am Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter and I also swear that I am acting to benefit the interests of the members of the Weasley family, provided those members stay loyal to the family themselves."

Percy frowned even as he squinted at the glow coming from Harry’s wand. "What the blazes is that supposed to mean?"

"It means this, Percy," Harry said in a tense whisper. "I don’t know you that well, but I do know that you like power. You enjoy being a prefect, but that’s just the beginning for you. One of these days you are going to have to make a decision. You’re going to have to decide exactly how far you are willing to go for power. If you turn against your family, then my actions may not be in your best interests."

Percy’s eyes went wide with shock and denial. "I would never do that," he said in a shocked voice.

Harry was taken aback by the genuine revulsion he heard in the boy’s voice. How did this Percy become so much at odds with his family in a few years? Did he still hold an idealized image of Arthur Weasley at this time? Or had someone manipulated him farther down the line? Harry held out his wand, his face a mask of granite. "Prove it," he said.

Still outraged, Percy gingerly took hold of Harry’s wand. "I, Percival Ignatius Weasley, swear upon my magic, that I will do nothing against the best interests of the Weasley family." The glow was much more subdued that when Harry had sworn, but it was still a Wizarding oath. Percy was scowling as he handed the wand back to Harry. "I will have you know that while my parents are acting as your legal guardians, your name is still Potter, and my oath does not include you."

"Fair enough," Harry said, and then smiled as he felt a surge of triumph. If Percy was hedging on including Harry, then he obviously meant what he said where the other Weasleys were concerned. "And to answer your next question, yes I am up to something. Several somethings, depending on how you count them. I’ll let you know what is going on when I know Snape won’t find out."

"If you are trying to help my family," Percy observed coolly, "I’d be breaking my own oath if told him and he interfered."

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t say it would be voluntary. Snape is a practicing Legilimens, and can pull the memories right out of your head without you knowing."

That little revelation rocked the prefect back on his heels. "How do you know this?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Hermione figured it out," Harry explained. "She’s smarter than both of us put together. That’s just one of the reasons Snape hates her."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Does this have something to do with all the meditation you lot have been practicing?"

"Yes," Harry said blandly. "Occlumency is a technique for blocking Legilimency. I can loan you the book she found if you promise to keep it hidden."

"Why haven’t you reported him to Dumbledore?" Percy asked, as he seemed to gather himself again. The wide-eyed look of shock was replaced with a thoughtful frown.

"What makes you think I haven’t?" Harry replied calmly. Percy was much easier to deal with like this. He made a mental note to talk to Fred and George. "He knows. Dumbledore is a Legilimens himself, and although he’s stopped trying to do it to me himself, he won’t make Snape stop. He’s supposedly using it to keep tabs on the Slytherins and keep the school safer," he continued in a bitter tone.

"All right, Harry," Percy said in a resigned tone. "Get me the book; I’ll play along for now. But if I see an opportunity to deal with this situation, I’m going to take it."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. Can I ask you to consult with me before doing anything? There are factors which prevent me from taking action that I can’t discuss right now. You probably don’t want to run afoul of them either."

Percy blinked, but returned Harry’s nod. "I can accept that, but I don’t consider us friends."

"I am aware of that," Harry agreed with just a touch of irony.

Percy gave him a sour look. "Under the circumstances, I think we have some common interests. Pursue those, and don’t let me catch you doing anything I’ll have to take action on."

"I can’t promise that won’t happen," Harry said carefully, "but I won’t go looking for it either."

With that, they rather formally shook hands and Harry continued up to the room he shared with Ron, pondering the puzzle of the third Weasley child.

~+~

The Hogwarts Express was returning on the Sunday afternoon before start of term, so Arthur was off from work and decided to drive them all to King’s Cross in the Anglia. They made a stop in the village, no doubt arranged by Mrs. Weasley, and picked up Luna as well. After joining them in the magically expanded rear seat, the blond girl explained that her father was pursuing a Sirius Black sighting in Cornwall.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Harry kept his face carefully neutral at this news, and was pleased to note that Arthur gave no indication he’d even heard her words. After returning to The Burrow, he’d be introducing his wife to her unknown guest. Mr. Weasley was confident that his wife could also do a much better job of restoring the escaped convict to full health.

Provided she didn’t hex them both first.

Harry supposed that the man knew best how to handle his wife, and Mrs. Weasley’s compassion usually overruled her temper when both were invoked. All the same, Harry was glad that revelation would occur after he was safely far away. And out of ear-shot.

Harry was a little nervous about riding in the car again, and noticed that Ginny subtly manoeuvred herself so she sat next to him. He was a little touched that, despite any hard feelings she may have had regarding his behaviour on New Years Eve, she still wanted to make sure he was all right for the car ride.

Despite his concerns, he only had a few twinges when he sat down in the back seat. At least he had recollections of his last time in there to shroud the worst of his memories. Ginny’s elbow resting on top of his while she talked to Luna helped as well. He stared at her hands, folded on her knees, and marvelled at how tiny her fingers really were as he dozed off.

Harry hadn’t really intended to nap all the way to King’s Cross, but that was exactly what he did. The sound of a car door opening finally roused him, but he snapped fully awake when he realized that almost everyone in the Ford Anglia was staring at him. He felt his face reddening, even though he had no idea what had just happened.

"Well then," Mr. Weasley said suddenly, "we don’t have too much time. Better get you loaded before the Express leaves without you."

Harry’s surrogate family slowly began to move. Fred and George were smirking, Ron and Ginny looked concerned and a little scared, but worst of all, Percy was looking very thoughtful. Harry fought down a rising sense of embarrassed panic. Had he said or done something in his sleep?

As they sorted out the trunks and began to carefully slip through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry edged up next to Luna, who seemed the least affected by whatever had happened. "Er, Luna?" he asked in an undertone.

"Yes, Harry?" the girl replied blandly.

"Did - did something happen while I was asleep?" he asked.

"Why yes," she answered. "We rode from Ottery St. Catchpole into London."

Harry fought the urge to say something coarse. "I mean, did anything unusual happen?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "there were nine people inside a Muggle automobile enchanted to comfortably hold more people than a trolley car. I suppose that is a bit unusual. I’m also fairly sure I saw a fump-gizer nest in a hedgerow we drove past."

Harry sighed. He really wasn’t at his best at the moment, and getting a straight answer out of Luna was proving to be a challenge. "Luna, why was everyone staring at me?"

"Oh," she said quietly as they moved forward and stopped to watch Fred and George weave through a crowd of back-packers. "They were probably a bit surprised by what you were saying."

"What I was saying?" Harry asked stupidly.

"When you were asleep," Luna clarified.

Harry tried to maintain a façade of calm as his heart gave a rather large thump. "What did I say in my sleep?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Luna turned to look at him. Her gaze seemed unusually focused behind her silver wire-rimmed glasses, and Harry felt distinctly exposed. "You seemed to be quite angry with someone. You kept saying ‘you can’t have them this time’ and ‘I’ll kill you first.’ You also used some words I’m going to have to look up when we get to school. But from the look on Mrs. Weasley’s face and the grins Fred and George were wearing, I can probably guess. You stopped talking, though, after Ginny began rubbing your forearm."

"Oh," Harry said. Bugger, he thought.

Luna faced forward as it was their turn to approach the barrier. The crowd of people was rather heavy for a Sunday afternoon, so Harry’s attention was mostly occupied by steering his trunk.

Once they cleared the illusionary wall, the two of them made for the growing cluster of red-heads gathered on the chilly platform. Harry almost didn’t notice when Luna began speaking again.

"I don’t see why they are so surprised," she said, picking up their conversation again with no preamble. "Whatever you have to do, which you can’t tell us about until everyone learns Occlumency, is obviously unpleasant. If I had to do something I didn’t want to do, and wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about it, I’d be rather cross as well. Oh good, there’s Neville."

With that, she veered off to park her trunk next to Neville and his grandmother. Harry watched as she greeted them both, and he was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the frown that momentarily passed over Augusta Longbottom’s face.

Harry tried to relax as he brought his own trunk to a halt. It didn’t seem like he’d spilled the beans. What they’d heard could just have easily applied to his parents as well. As for the language, he could say he’d learned those words attending public school.

Sirius was right. The longer he tried to maintain this deception, the harder it would become. Their conversation after dinner last night had been unusually serious.

"Once I get my strength back," Sirius promised, "I think I’m going to do a bit of travelling. While I can’t compete with your on-going prank, I think that nicking Voldemort’s Horcruxes and destroying them would qualify as my personal best." His face lit up in an evil grin. "Can you imagine his surprise next time you nail him and he finds out his life insurance has lapsed?"

Harry couldn’t help but smile as years seemed to melt away from his godfather’s face. "I’m looking forward to it," he said, "but you better be careful, or else."

"Or else what?" Sirius demanded impudently.

Harry frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "Or else I’ll have you buried in a dress. I’m sure Mrs. Weasley has a nice frock I can borrow. Pink sound good?"

The look of horror on Sirius Black’s face was priceless. Then he laughed out loud. "All right, Harry, I’ll be careful. Don’t want to know what James would say if I showed up in the afterlife wearing a dress."

Harry smirked, but the bone-bending hug he received when he said good night was worthy of Mrs. Weasley.

But that conversation was just one more reason for Harry to be tense as they boarded the train. He was entering enemy-held territory again, just as Sirius would soon be doing. There really weren’t any viable alternatives, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Everyone was still a little subdued as they said goodbye and the students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Percy left for the Prefects car, and the spring in his step told Harry he expected to see Penelope there. Fred and George also split off to ride with Lee Jordan and their Quidditch team mates. The six first and second-years settled in the last carriage again.

As soon as the train began moving, Harry locked the compartment door and tapped it with his wand. He noticed Hermione frowning at him curiously. "If someone opens the door without us knowing, it’ll make a loud noise," he explained.

Hermione looked mildly impressed. Which was only right, Harry reflected - it had taken her nearly two days of Charms work to invent that spell while they were searching for Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

Harry still didn’t know if the door had just been unlatched before, but he wasn’t taking any chances this time. He also had Tom Riddle’s diary in his pocket, rather than his trunk. It was safer to carry it until his trunk was back in Gryffindor Tower.

When he sat down, he noticed everyone was eyeing him again. "What?" he asked. "On the way home, we all fell asleep. When I woke up, the door was ajar. I’m just making sure if it happens again…"

Hermione nodded slowly. "So you’re just being careful," she said as her fingers scratched Crookshanks’ fur. As soon as he was let out of his carrier, the huge kneazle-cross draped itself across as much of Ron and Hermione’s laps as it could cover. Harry was amused to note that this also required them to sit rather close. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly how smart that cat really was.

Ron snorted. "I don’t think careful is the right word for Harry. He used some language in front of Mum that I didn’t think anyone could get away with."

Hermione looked at Harry, obviously shocked. Harry felt his face heating up.

"He was asleep, you prat!" Ginny snapped. "And having one of those rotten nightmares you’ve badgered him about. Mum wasn’t about to punish him for that!" Harry was surprised, and secretly pleased, that their recent awkwardness hadn’t stopped her from coming to his defence.

"You were talking in your sleep, Harry?" Hermione asked. "About what?" She looked around curiously.

"I don’t think we should…" Neville began, faltering when Ron sent him a glare. He swallowed and set his jaw. "I think we should leave it alone."

"I agree," Luna added. "Harry will tell us when he can, probably when our Occlumency is good enough. I imagine that’s all part of his plan."

"Plan?" Hermione asked curiously. "What plan?"

Harry felt himself frozen in place. He couldn’t say a word, one way or another, without risking giving even more away. Snape could still, with effort, pull the knowledge from their minds. Any answers he gave, positively or negatively, would probably highlight those memories in their minds. Hermione, in particular, would pay special attention to anything he said that could be seen as a clue. That attention, Harry knew, would make that memory stand out even more. In some ways, her extremely logical and well-ordered mind would be a liability for concealing such sensitive information. That’s probably one reason why she was Snape’s favourite target. Harry scowled, damning the Potions Professor all over again.

"Do you know what she’s talking about?" Ron asked Neville.

Neville just shrugged.

"I don’t know exactly what it is," Luna replied, "but he seems to have one. He’s training us and making little improvements here and there." She paused and glanced at Neville with her head cocked to the side. "I mean, look at me - I’m not as alone as I thought I’d be at Hogwarts. Neville said he used to be painfully shy, and in the past he was even a little afraid of that unpleasant boy he pounded." She smiled warmly. "I liked watching Neville do that, it made me feel very special. Anyway, we seem to get along better than most Gryffindors our age, and I’m sure that’s Harry’s doing as well. Harry’s plan seems to involve making us better, helping us work together as a team, so naturally I want to see where it leads. I also don’t think we should do anything that might interfere with it."

Harry wanted to sink into the seat as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. "Er, thanks for the vote of confidence, Luna. Will you lot accept a rain check until we can all keep Snape out? I promise I’ll explain everything at that point."

"Everything?" Ginny asked in a small voice.

The look on the girl’s face rammed an iron spike through the pit of Harry’s stomach. "You can ask me anything you want then," he told her.

Ginny seemed to rally a bit, and raised an eyebrow. "You know, I might just hold you to that," she replied.

Harry shrugged. "Appearances aside, I don’t like secrets."

~+~

The rest of the trip was uneventful, for which Harry was glad. Delicate confrontations and emotional upheavals seemed to exhaust him worse than duelling. He also supposed he was paying for his irregular sleeping habits.

After a couple of rounds of exploding snap, everyone settled down for a quick Occlumency practice. Harry was pleased to see the improvements everyone was making. At this rate, their minds would be secure before the end of term. Then he would know the answer to the question he was dreading: whether he’d still have any friends after they knew the truth.

Hermione also quietly confirmed Harry’s suspicions about Ginny’s defences. While Harry seemed able to bypass them rather easily, Hermione found her to be one of the most difficult to approach. The bushy-haired witch’s own progress with Legilimency was slow, but fortunately gauging how tough someone would be didn’t require nearly as much skill as actually breaking in.

Harry was glad this wouldn’t set them back, but he was also curious as to why this would be the case. He didn’t know if they shared some unusual mental affinity, or if it was just due to their close friendship. For purposes of his timetable, it didn’t really matter.

Everyone needed a break after such sustained mental effort, and the witch pushing the tea trolley knocked on their door at just the right time. Harry jumped up from his seat to deactivate the door alarm and his stomach gave an audible growl when he saw the contents of her cart. He promptly bought an armload of snacks and bid the smiling witch good day.

Ron frowned a little when Harry began passing out his largesse, but held his tongue. Harry knew he could always remind the boy of the two weeks of home cooked meals he’d just enjoyed with the Weasleys, but he was happier that Ron seemed to be mastering his pride on his own. Ron and Hermione also hadn’t argued yet, which had to be some sort of record.

Harry was soon soaring on the crest of a sugar high, but he still felt weary as he let his transfiguration book lie flat on his lap. Ginny was sitting cross-legged on the seat next to him, frowning down at her History of Magic book. Harry leaned against the window, staring into space. On the opposite seat, Hermione was reading ahead in charms. As she usually did, she mouthed the words silently as she mimed the wand motion with her forefinger. For some reason, the sight of her lips moving soundlessly disturbed him. As he dropped off again, he started to remember why…

Perhaps thinking about the alarm spell primed him to dream about the end of Hermione’s participation in the ill-fated Horcrux hunt. The war had ground on for most of a decade, destroying much of England as the Muggles pointed fingers and blamed terrorists, foreign governments, and even aliens. Voldemort’s recruiting methods let him gain the upper hand in a bloody war of attrition, and the three of them were pretty much all that was left of the resistance. But one of them was the Boy Who Lived, and Voldemort would never rest easily while Harry Potter still drew breath.

But the ambushes were growing more and more frequent, and as good as the three of them became at using stealth and mobility to foil superior numbers, the Golden Trio’s luck eventually ran out in Bristol.

The Death Eaters were no match for them, but their last opponent got off a final hex as Harry’s Reducto tore him apart. Without thinking, Hermione shoved Ron out of the way, only to have the cutting curse strike her squarely in the throat. She collapsed in a boneless heap before Harry even realized she’d been hit. Ron stumbled from her shove, and turned back, frowning. His eyes bulged when he saw the crimson flood pouring from his wife’s throat.

Harry’s wand was a blur as he cast healing charms as fast as he could. Even as he forced the words out of a throat gone tight with panic, a more rational voice in the back of his head knew it was a useless effort. From the angle of the wound, and the way Hermione dropped and laid perfectly still, the curse must have severed her spine. The best healers at the long-destroyed St. Mungo’s would have been hard-pressed to stabilize his friend. A trash-strewn back alley didn’t offer racks of potions, and even if they knew of a place that did, they’d never get her there in time.

So he watched helplessly, even as his magic poured over her, while Ron propped her up, carefully cradling her head. Her eyes were open and lucid, but her mouth moved wordlessly. Her destroyed throat wouldn’t allow her to speak, but Ron seemed to divine her meaning as her eyes flickered from her husband to her best friend.

"Yes, luv, I’ll take care of Harry," Ron whispered as he brushed the hair back from her forehead. He let his hand trail down to her cheek. She smiled then, and closed her eyes. The blood stopped flowing and Harry knew she was gone.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He fought the urge to do something immensely destructive. That was not a scene he’d wanted to relive. Ever.

His mind was still caught up in the future memories as he tried to calm his racing heart. Ron kept his last promise to Hermione, though he and Harry were usually taking care of each other, as each would have their own bad days and when they both had one at the same time, like on her birthday, there was always Firewhisky - until he lost Ron and the Boy Who Lived became the Only Boy Who Lived.

Harry made a concerted effort to get his emotions under control again. Even if his friends would accept his temporizing, there were others who would be less understanding. He took a deep breath and sighed.

The sight of Hermione and Ron studying together was a balm for his anguish. As far as this reality was concerned, that scene never happened. As far as Harry was concerned, it never would.

He felt a light pressure on his shoulder and knew Ginny was leaning against him again. He turned to give her a smile that he hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt.

Harry found himself hoping Peter escaped from the Ministry. He wanted this over with. He wanted Voldemort in front of him again, so he could kill him and be free. He wanted this whole mess over and done with so he can get on with his life, so he can see whether it would be Ron or Neville who got a clue first. So he can relax and just wait to see what Luna does next.

Ginny’s eyes were questioning, but she smiled back at him regardless. Harry’s stomach lurched as he remembered his impatience to round up the last of the Horcruxes so they could all get on with their lives. If they hadn’t all been so eager, would things have happened differently? Better?

There were no guarantees, even with his advantages. Harry knew he needed to remember that.

~+~

They made it back to the castle without incident, for which Harry was grateful. He was still a bit unsettled from the journey, and he didn’t trust himself to hold back if provoked. Filch would be annoyed if there were bones imbedded in the walls.

They did see Draco at dinner that evening, but he was unusually subdued, sitting between Crabbe and Goyle and eating without conversation. Harry supposed the boy might have received word of his father’s arrest. If Draco was any indication, Lucius’ situation might be worse than Mr. Weasley thought. Harry resolved to share that information in his next letter home. If the Slytherins can send their kids to Hogwarts to play at being spies, there was no reason others couldn’t.

After that, things settled back into their routine. The weather meant that their morning runs were usually around the courtyard, but running in snow was also good for building up calf muscles and improving ones balance. The occasional comic relief when someone went arse over teakettle was just a bonus.

Luna began behaving even more oddly than usual during their martial arts practices. When Harry paired off with her to spar, she began moving in a very peculiar manner. When he threw a face-level punch, she lurched to the side, avoiding it, and then stumbled forward and brought the heel of her hand up toward his jaw. Harry blocked the strike with his forearm, but it came surprisingly close.

Frowning, Harry spun backward and sent a round-house kick towards Luna’s head. She bent backwards at the waist, letting the kick pass harmlessly over her. She then moved in with a circling, staggering motion that almost got around Harry’s guard when she hooked a ridge-hand strike towards his floating ribs.

Harry blocked that one too, and stepped back, making a quick ‘time-out’ gesture. "Luna, what the hell was that?" he asked.

Luna straightened up and made a face. "I suppose it wasn’t very good was it?"

Harry frowned. "It’s not that," he said quickly, "you almost hit me twice. I just haven’t seen you move like that before. What is that?"

"Oh," Luna said, brightening. "Well, our neighbours are Muggles, and Father likes to be sociable. So, at least once a week, we go over to their house, or they come over to ours for dinner. Muggles tend to eat the oddest things, but it’s usually tasty and often educational."

Harry blinked. Luna Lovegood was one of the oddest witches he knew. He couldn’t imagine how the Statute of Secrecy remained unbroken. "I see. But what does that have to do with how you are fighting?"

Luna blinked. "Oh yes. The first time we went there during holiday, they were watching a program on what they called the ‘telly’. Though it seemed to be more of a ‘showy’ because it had moving pictures in addition to the sound. It seems much more interesting than the Wizarding wireless. You’ve been in Muggle houses before, don’t you agree?"

Harry struggled to keep his composure and gently guide the conversation back to his original topic. "You have a point, Luna, but what does this have to do with you staggering around like you’ve been drinking Firewhisky?

"Well, that’s the whole point, isn’t it?" She asked, frowning a little. "Oh, yes. The programme they were watching on the ‘Telly’ was about an old man who knew martial arts. But he did it quite differently from how we do it. They called it Drunken Style kung fu or something like that. I watched how he did it and practiced it a bit while I was home. It looked like it would be very surprising and quite fun to do."

Harry blinked. He noticed that Hermione and Ginny had also stopped and were listening in. "So you just picked it up from watching it on the telly?" he asked carefully.

Luna nodded. "But I’ve had to practice to get my feet to move right. It’s a bit trickier than it looks."

Harry grimaced painfully. "Luna, I think that’s just something they made up for the movies. I’m not so sure this is a good-"

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, "I think it was probably based on ‘Drunken Monkey’ Kung Fu. All the staggering and odd moves seem to match the descriptions. I ran across a few references to that when I was researching different styles."

"I see," Harry said slowly. "I don’t suppose you can see if we can find some books on it? Luna might want a little more - source material - than a movie she saw once."

Hermione nodded seriously, though her eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter. Just for that he made her switch partners with him.

"Maybe I’m getting too old for this," he muttered as he ducked under Ginny’s lightning-fast round-house kick.

At least their classes were predictable. Snape was as horrid as usual, and invented some pretext for giving Harry detention at least once a week. The others didn’t fare much better, and as their Occlumency improved, his temper seemed to worsen. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if they were all able to block him out, but it promised to be very ugly.

Their other classes went very well though. They were earning top marks in Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology. As Harry predicted, studying with them also seemed to help Ginny and Luna. Harry’s letters had given Ginny a leg up, and without her housemates sabotaging her, the would-be Ravenclaw was proving to be even more formidable in the academic arena.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was still proving to be a bad joke. Lockhart was still completely off balance, and Hermione seemed to take a particularly vindictive pleasure in questioning him about every inconsistency in his lectures. Harry suspected it was a combination of embarrassment over her prior crush and anger at the man for not living up to her expectations; not that he was likely to run that theory by Hermione at any point in the near future.

Harry was relieved when he received his first letter from The Burrow after their departure. Arthur assured him that his wife had taken nothing amiss at their security precautions. Instead, she was completely furious that Professor Snape’s regular invasion of her children’s minds made such measures necessary. She was a bit less sanguine about Sirius’ physical condition, and she was fairly sure he had at least a low-grade case of pneumonia. Because of the delicacy of lung tissue, this was nearly as difficult to treat in wizards as Muggles. His godfather was anxious to be off about his ‘nasty little scavenger hunt’, as he called it, but Molly was adamant that he undo years worth of abuse done to his body before she let him out of her sight.

Harry was somewhat glad circumstances allowed him to forgo witnessing, especially hearing, that little confrontation.

The embryonic Duelling Association began on the second Saturday night in January. As Harry suspected, without the threat of Voldemort, not to mention Harry’s more publicized encounters with the Dark Lord, the initial interest was lukewarm.

As it was, only Seamus and Dean showed up the first night. Harry, remembering seeing their bodies in the courtyard after the Hogwarts Massacre, spent almost the entire two hour session working with them. Despite any differences he may have had with them in the original time line, they’d both stood their ground to defend the school.

By the time they were done, both new-comers could cast both shield charms and disarming spells quickly and without a lot of effort. Working with his friends, Harry had already developed a good eye for when someone was making unnecessary wand motions when casting. It was picky, tedious work, but training it out of them gave each boy a significant increase in speed.

All this left both Seamus and Dean sweating and exhausted, but they were clearly appreciative of what they’d learned. Harry only hoped that word spread through the Gryffindor grapevine.

Quidditch practices resumed with Oliver’s typical fervour. True to his word, he organized a reserve team, who would use their old brooms to practice on. Ron, Ginny, and Neville immediately signed up. Hermione and Luna stayed out of it, though. The former, so she would always be in a position to levitate anyone who fell, the latter, because playing would make it more difficult to watch Neville. That last revelation effectively ended the conversation as the Longbottom boy turned bright red.

Harry watched with satisfaction as Oliver showed Ron some basic keeper tricks and subtly built up the boy’s confidence. Fred and George, already impressed by Neville’s upper-body strength after watching him demolish Draco, showed the boy some of the finer aspect of Bludger-beating. Ginny was a little shy about approaching the older girls who made the Gryffindor chaser trio a well-oiled scoring machine. Her fears were for naught, as they felt a certain affinity for any female that had to put up with Fred and George for her entire life. Ginny also discovered that her family memories were a treasure-trove of blackmail material. Harry supposed that might have been part of the reason for what happened on Valentine’s Day.

Oliver’s caution seemed to be well-founded. Despite their devastating defeat at the beginning of the season, the Slytherin team was playing hard. Cho Chang remained at St. Mungo’s during the winter holiday, and the Ravenclaw captain had been training his back-up Seeker mercilessly. Harry didn’t know if Cho’s presence would have made a difference in the outcome of the game, because the Slytherins on their new brooms trounced the Ravenclaw team, nearly as badly as the Hufflepuffs. Unless Gryffindor beat the other teams outright, it would come down to point totals, and the Slytherins were making it a point to run up the scores in their victories.

As February approached, the Duelling Association gained a few more members. Lavender and Parvati showed up, probably at the urging of their classmates. Fred and George came to the next meeting, and Harry acquiesced to their request for a mock-duel.

Ten seconds later he was Enervating both of them.

They took the next one a bit more seriously, and lasted almost thirty seconds. When Fred objected to his use of martial arts stances, Harry congratulated him for being observant and asked when it became illegal to dodge. The rest of that session became a workshop on how to move and dodge efficiently, without telegraphing or losing your balance.

After that, some of the older students, mostly from the Quidditch team, began to show up. Most of the Gryffindors seemed to realize that they weren’t going to learn much from Lockhart, even the witches.

Professor McGonagall was a bit perturbed to hear they’d actually been fighting in there, but was mollified when Harry explained they weren’t using anything more dangerous than stunning spells. She even began sitting quietly in the back of the room, observing the sessions, and giving Harry pointers afterwards.

Harry was glad of this when, the first weekend in February, Draco Malfoy showed up, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge anyone else, and marched right up into Harry’s face.

"Duel me, Potter," the haughty blond spat.

Harry suppressed a groan. He guessed that Lucius must have wriggled out of the worst of the charges if his son was feeling his oats again. "If you wish, Draco. Stunners and Disarms only."

"Coward," Draco sneered. "Are you afraid of getting hurt?"

"By you?" Harry asked. "Hardly. But I did make a promise to Professor McGonagall that we wouldn’t-"

"I don’t care what you promised that old hag," Draco snarled, but he stopped in confusion when several people behind him gasped out loud.

Harry swore he could feel the temperature within the room drop as Minerva McGonagall stood up, her lips compressed into a paper-thin line. "Mr. Malfoy," she said in a crisp voice, "I believe we have an appointment with your head of house."

"Professor," Harry said, making her pause as she approached the shocked Slytherins, "request permission to issue a formal challenge to Mr. Malfoy for insulting my head of house."

McGonagall frowned, though Harry thought he saw a hint of something else in her eyes. "Duelling of that nature has been outlawed by the Ministry."

"Not on the Continent," Harry said respectfully. Percy’s Christmas present was proving more useful than he’d thought.

Professor McGonagall’s left eyebrow raised a half an inch. "Indeed. Be that as it may, permission denied, Mr. Potter. I will deal with this personally." With that, she marched the three of them out of the room.

Harry frowned as the room broke into an excited babble of whispers after they left. When had Draco become this clumsy? The boy never exercised what Harry would call good judgment, but he was usually more circumspect than this.

After a moment of thought, Harry shrugged and called the class back to order.

~+~

The next day, in another part of the castle, the agent-in-place was becoming increasingly frustrated. The potions, so carefully and subtly administered, had done their job well. Unfortunately, his cats-paw seemed to be even more unstable and impulsive than anticipated.

Well, his ‘patron’ wanted him to use all means at his disposal, and he’d done so. Whether those means would be good for anything afterward was not his problem. The last communication he’d received had been quite clear on that point. The objective must be achieved.

Fortunately, the week-long detention would not interfere with the timeline. That would be… unfortunate… after the lengths he’d gone to in order to set up that particular chain of dominoes.

And so one of the few minds worthy of being associated with his house considered the possibilities and planned for all possible contingencies.

~+~

As Harry anticipated, Professor Lockhart began promoting the idea of a big Valentine’s Day celebration, no doubt hoping to divert attention away from his abysmal lessons. Fortunately, with his perspective, Harry was more amused by the ridiculous decorations than embarrassed.

As they filed into the Great Hall after their morning practice, Harry smirked at the lurid pink robes worn by the self-obsessed professor. Snape looked just as disgusted as he remembered, but McGonagall seemed more amused as well. Perhaps, Harry thought, it’s because she doesn’t have students in the Hospital Wing this time around. Harry squinted to avoid being blinded by pink glare from the walls as they made their way to their usual seats.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," Lockhart shouted, showing more teeth than seemed possible. "I’d like to thank the forty-five people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have arranged this little surprise for you all, and it doesn’t end here!"

Harry rolled his eyes as Lockhart introduced his valentine-delivering cupids — dwarves in little golden wings and carrying harps. None of the dwarves looked too happy about the situation either. He wondered as well if anyone would be stupid enough to take the smarmy git’s advice to hit up Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape for advice on Entrancing Enchantments and Love Potions. It might be worth the detention for skiving off a day of classes, just to sit in the back of the potions lab in his invisibility cloak and watch.

Hermione got a very disapproving expression on her face, and Harry knew she didn’t need Legilimency if she could see his face while he plotted.

It wasn’t that Harry forgot his own bit of personal melodrama associated with this day — he just didn’t think that, of all things, would be repeated. He and Ginny were still friends, and most of the unease between them from New Years Eve had dissipated. But he couldn’t see this Ginny doing it any more than he could the Ginny he eventually dated in his sixth year.

So he was a little surprised when a dwarf poked him in the stomach, bringing him to a halt as they made their way to Charms. "You ‘Arry Potter?" it growled.

"Yeah?" Harry said cautiously. He knew he could probably fight off the dwarf better this time around, but it hardly seemed worth it.

"I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ‘Arry Potter in person," the dwarf said as it unlimbered its harp.

Harry took a deep breath. "Right. Let’s hear it then."

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is a dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

Harry let out a chuckle as the dwarf finished. It didn’t seem like he would ever escape this poem. On the other hand, he didn’t really understand why this had mortified him so badly before. Sure, it was a little overblown, but it is a valentine after all. Maybe Fate was on his side in this regard? Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny standing next to Luna, frozen in place as her face began to redden.

"Well that was just pathetic," Draco sneered from behind him. "Are you that desperate for attention, Potter?"

Harry shrugged as he turned to face the Slytherin boy approaching with his bookends, Crabbe and Goyle. "Not really, I just thought it was funny. Why so outraged?" Harry asked, "Jealous you didn’t get one?"

Draco’s eyes flickered from Harry over to Ginny and his sneer became a nasty leer. "There’s only one thing I’d possibly want from her, and it’s not verse as cheap and tawdry as everything associated with her so-called family."

Harry and Ron were both reaching for their wands, but stopped when they heard another voice. "Fifteen points from Slytherin, for unprovoked, malicious, and degrading insults!" Percy pushed through the crowd, his face almost as red as his hair.

"You can’t do that!" Malfoy snarled at the prefect.

"I have the authority to deduct points from any student breaking the rules," Percy corrected him. "Your comments violated section 5, paragraph c of the Hogwarts student code of conduct. You are, of course, free to appeal my ruling by lodging a formal complaint with my head of house."

Draco spun on his heel and stormed off down the corridor, muttering things under his breath that Harry had no doubt would have cost Slytherin even more points if they’d been audible.

"The rest of you clear out and get to your classes. The bell rang three minutes ago!" Percy called out as he continued down the corridor.

"Thanks Percy," Ron said quietly as his brother approached.

"I’d have taken twenty points from Gryffindor if you’d pulled your wand out," the elder Weasley said severely.

Ron frowned, but Harry just smiled. "Then it’s a good thing you made that unnecessary, isn’t it?" he said lightly.

Percy shook his head as he walked off. Harry turned toward the crowd of first years. Luna was talking to the dwarf that just accosted him, handing the bandy-legged manikin a folded piece of parchment. Ginny stood there with her back to the wall, looking like she wanted to sink into it.

"Looks like everyone considered your poem to be a big joke," Pansy Parkinson sneered as she walked by. Ginny gave a visible flinch and Harry knew she was but a moment from bolting down the corridor.

Harry found himself with conflicting feelings regarding Ginny lately. He cared about her, and he was pretty sure it was for herself, not for whatever ghosts were still flitting around his memories. At the same time, his entire persona, the Harry Potter she thought she knew, was in large part a fabrication, a deceit played upon her and her entire family. Harry didn’t feel comfortable getting any closer to her while that was the case. Part of it was a question of ethics, but he also knew that if she rejected him, it would hurt even worse. He didn’t want to betray her trust either, not again.

But looking at her like that, embarrassed, mortified, with every dread she had of not being respected or taken seriously by her family becoming manifest… Harry couldn’t stand back and let it happen. Not and be the kind of person he wanted to be. He stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder. She froze in place, but he could feel her trembling a little. "Well, I thought it was brilliant," he said and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Ginny froze in place, eyes wide.

"See you at lunch," he said jauntily.

Luna pulled on Ginny’s elbow, giving Harry a small smile as she got Ginny moving down the corridor.

Harry turned around to see Ron staring at him. "Let’s get to Charms," Harry said quickly, hoping to forestall his friend.

As likely as making the sun rise in the west. "What the bloody hell was that all about?" his friend asked.

Harry sighed. "I’m not letting anyone make her feel like that, Ron, nobody. You’re forgetting the first and the second rule of Gryffindor."

Ron frowned. "Fine, I understand how ‘Gryffindors take care of their own’ applies. But what’s the second rule?"

"Never let Slytherin win," Harry said as he got them moving down the corridor again.

~+~

Of course, that wasn’t the end of it.

Ginny was quiet throughout lunch. She seemed okay, though, so Harry didn’t question it. They braced themselves when another dwarf trooped up to their table, but he just handed a folded parchment to Neville with a bow. Neville read the paper and swallowed. He looked up from the note and gave Luna an uncertain smile.

"What does it say, mate?" Ron asked curiously, looking up from his food.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, scandalized, "that’s private."

"It says, I like you quite a lot," Luna said without looking up from her lunch.

Everyone went silent as Neville slowly reddened.

Luna straightened in her seat and looked around. "Was I not supposed to act like I knew?" she asked curiously.

"Usually not," Hermione said. "Especially if you didn’t sign the note."

Luna frowned, then reached over and plucked the note from Neville’s fingers, fished a quill out of her bag, and signed it with a flourish. She handed it back to Neville with a smile. "I haven’t done one of these before, so I wanted to make sure I did it correctly."

Harry had to bite the inside of his mouth the keep from laughing out loud.

As they left the Great Hall, Ginny plucked at Harry’s elbow. He turned toward her and she nodded toward an empty classroom. Harry stopped to re-tie his shoe and let the others pass him. He was a little surprised it worked when the others turned the corner, but he supposed the whole Valentine’s Day furore had everyone off balance.

He straightened up and turned toward Ginny, following her into the classroom.

"First of all," she began, "I appreciate what you did, but I did not send that valentine."

Harry raised an eyebrow. During the short time they’d dated at Hogwarts, his future self and the other Ginny had laughed about that awful poem. Why did this Ginny feel the need to lie? He began to get a cold feeling in his stomach.

Ginny coughed. "Well, I did write the poem, but that was a long time ago, before we’d even exchanged letters, and I was having a particularly silly day, and…" She took a deep breath and appeared to calm herself. "I looked at that awful thing after I’d written it and decided it would never see the light of day. I most certainly did not send it to you with a dwarf to sing it!"

Harry put up his hands in a placating gesture as the light began to dawn. "I believe you," he said quickly, "and I don’t think we need to look too far for suspects, do we?"

"Their pranking ban ran out over two weeks ago, didn’t it?" Ginny asked with a scowl. "What really irks me is that the only way they could have found that poem was by going through my room. That’s way out of bounds, even for them."

Harry wasn’t about to question that pronouncement. "What do you say to a little payback?"

Ginny brightened at the prospect. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think I can lay my hands on a couple of their old essays," Harry said. "They’re a bit sloppy about picking up after themselves when they get excited about something. We can get a tracing of their signatures and… well you know the old saying, ‘Turnabout is fair play,’ right?"

Ginny’s answering grin was definitely predatory.

~+~

The last round of valentines was delivered with the evening meal, to the vast relief of a good portion of the student body. Five young men had been sent to the Hospital Wing that day. One was injured when he became a bit too vigorous in fending off one of the dwarfs. The other four were hexed by furious witches. No one really wanted the details on those.

One last dwarf approached the Slytherin table and rather nervously tapped on the shoulder of Melissa Bulstrode. The fifth year prefect was even larger and hairier than her sister Millicent, and many people stepped carefully around her. Rumour had it that a unicorn had gotten a little frisky during her care of magical creatures class last year and knocked her down. She promptly got up, dusted herself off, and decked the hapless beast, knocking it cold.

Melissa turned in her seat and scowled down at the dwarf, who quickly handed her two folded bits of parchment, then scuttled away. She read the notes, frowning, then got up from her seat. She stumped over to the Gryffindor table, causing several conversations to lapse as students began to look nervously at the imposing girl. She finally came to a stop behind Fred and George, who turned to look at her.

She gestured with the notes, eyeing them speculatively. "Both of you, huh? Not bad looking, but a bit weedy. Of course with two of you that might be less of an issue." She nodded. "All right then."

"Er, all right what?" Fred asked.

"I’m afraid you have us at a bit of a loss," George said carefully.

"I said," she grated, "all right to the next Hogsmeade weekend, and whatever happens… afterward."

Fred and George exchanged a single glance as her rather large hands descended toward their shoulders. An instant later, their bench was enveloped in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke as multiple dung-bombs detonated. By the time the smoke cleared, the doors to the entryway were already swinging shut.

And Melissa was only a couple of seconds behind them.

Ginny’s smile was a little too vindictive to be considered angelic, but Harry didn’t really care.

~+~

A week later, and Fred and George were regretting even having heard of Valentine’s Day. Or poetry.

Melissa Bulstrode stalked them relentlessly. In the halls between classes, during meals, finally even out to Quidditch practice, they never knew when she would appear, and want to talk about ‘Afterwards’. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, it was more like she refused to even hear the word.

Oliver had objected to her presence in the stands during practice, but as she rather loudly pointed out to him, Marcus Flint did not allow any girls to play on his precious team, no matter that she could beat him arm-wrestling, her left to his right. Besides, Gryffindor had already pounded the snot out of Marcus and his little crew of chauvinistic half-wits, so what damage could she possibly do?

Oliver Wood was a little non-plussed at being told such things, whether by a Slytherin or a woman, made no difference. Finally, Angelina pulled him aside for a brief conversation and Oliver decided to let it drop.

Of course, Fred and George opted for the most mature and level-headed way to handle the situation. When practice was over, they hid in the changing rooms and locked the door.

By this point, Harry was feeling a little guilty. Not so much for the twins as for their unwitting accomplice. With some trepidation, he approached the hulking girls sitting on the stands where she could observe the entrance to the changing rooms.

"Er, Melissa?"

"Yes?" she said in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

"I, er, I need to apologize." Harry said, stumbling over his words.

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"Well, we, I mean, I didn’t think you’d take that valentine so seriously," he said. "We were getting back at them for a rather nasty joke they pulled, so…

"I know," Melissa said, nodding.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"I know it was a prank," she clarified, "but they are kind of cute, in an overly Gryffindorish way, and I figure they’d probably done something to deserve it. So I decided to have some fun with it."

Harry let out a weak laugh.

"But you did use me, just a little, to get your revenge, so you owe me one," she said with a smile.

Harry didn’t think she smiled that way very often, because it seemed to transform her entire face. On impulse, he stuck out his hand. "Agreed - friends?" he asked.

She laughed and shook his hand. "I’m sure Salazar is rolling over in his grave somewhere. But I may need to cash that favour in for my little sister. I don’t think Draco or his little band of sycophants really care about her, not from the way they talk about her when they think no one’s listening."

The prefect got up and stretched, and Harry was reminded of just how large she really was.

"She won’t listen to me," Melissa continued, "but I had the same problem when I was her age — people just wanted to us me as an enforcer. Fortunately, a Hufflepuff prefect, someone I knew had no ulterior motive, overheard them talking and clued me in." She sighed. "That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me," she said, and then cracked a rueful smile, "If he didn’t already have a boyfriend I would have jumped him on the spot."

Despite himself, Harry felt his jaw drop open.

"You know Harry, for such a bright young wizard, you sure are easily flustered," the hulking Slytherin girl observed.