Ron and Hermione were starting to stir as Harry and Ginny returned to the compartment. Harry could tell they awoke simultaneously, because they both visibly cringed and immediately sat up, ramrod straight on the bench. The shuffling and coughing awoke Neville as well. The normally shy boy couldn’t react as the others, because Luna was still curled up on his lap, dead to the world. His face became a bit pink as he waited for someone to say something. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione were a little distracted by their own embarrassment, while Harry just shrugged and returned to his seat.

Ginny followed him and sat down beside him. She began rubbing her hands together and accepted Harry’s cloak with a grateful nod. Harry just smiled lazily. The persistent cold, followed by sudden warmth had left everyone sleepy and lazy, even after their unplanned nap. He felt ashamed to admit it, but it was also a relief to be away from Hogwarts for a while. Between the hostile professors and friendly ones that were just a little too observant, it had been a very stressful term. He was enjoying just sitting there like a lump and refusing to worry about things, at least until they got off the train.

As the Hogwarts Express entered London, Luna finally stirred and stretched. She smiled lazily and stood up.

"Thank you Neville," she said softly.

"Er, yes, well, uh, you’re welcome," Neville replied. Harry wasn’t sure if he could have kept a straight face if his friend replied ‘It was my pleasure.’

Luna sat down beside the flustered boy and folded her hands primly in her lap. "You were much warmer than the seat," she said.

Neville didn’t look like he knew how to reply to that. He merely said nothing and crossed his arms. Harry wondered if he suddenly felt a little colder as well.

When the train finally came to a halt, Harry and the others rose to their feet and began shuffling up the corridor. Ron was extremely careful with the carrier, but Crookshanks was evidently in a foul mood. The large cat hissed every time his container shifted the slightest bit.

Their trunks had been loaded directly from their carriage to the luggage car, located directly behind the engine. It took quite a while for them to make their way up the train, and then they found the passageway blocked.

Harry frowned at the matronly woman who normally pushed the refreshment cart. He didn’t recall seeing her this time, but maybe she looked in on them while they were asleep and didn’t want to disturb them.

"Come on, luvs," she said in a bored voice, "there’s going to be a slight delay. Go ahead and exit onto the platform for right now, there’s a good lad."

Harry frowned but moved as she directed and stepped down onto the platform. The cold December air seemed to pry cold fingers into his cloak. After a moment, he whipped it off and wrapped it around Ginny.

"Harry!" she objected.

"Hush, you," he said quietly. "I can get by for a while with just a warming charm." He was reaching for his wand when he felt a sudden rush of warmth. When he turned around, Hermione was just putting away her wand.

"Just keeping in practice," she said with a knowing smile. Her eyes strayed toward Ginny and her grin got a little wider.

Harry felt a little embarrassed by that look and was about to object when Ron interrupted.

"We aren’t supposed to use magic out of school, Hermione!" the redhead hissed.

Harry knew Ron was just worried she’d get into trouble, but seeing Ron nag Hermione about following the rules was simply weirding him out.

"Ronald," Hermione said with a slight sigh, "The notices said that we aren’t allowed to use magic at home over the holidays. We aren’t home. This is an area full of adult wizards, as well as being concealed from Muggles. Even if the Ministry wanted to, I’m not sure they could track down every bit of magic used here."

Ron was still frowning, but evidently decided to let it drop. Harry wondered if subtly coaching Ron to more closely observe people’s actions was the cause, but he was grateful for his friend’s increasing restraint. This was especially true where Hermione was concerned. Over the long years of war, the three of them had laughed about how clueless Ron and Hermione had been when they were younger, Ron even admitting he’d been the worst. It was a melancholy humour, gentle but painful, as they recalled happier years and all the friends they’d lost. No matter how fond their memories of previous spats, Ron and Hermione always had a faintly wistful air to them. Hunting down the Horcruxes was not a safe occupation, and all of them were acutely aware of their own mortality. Harry’s friends lived each day like it could be their last, but they always seemed to regret the lost time and missed opportunities of their Hogwarts years.

Despite Harry’s best efforts, there was no guarantee things would go any better this time. Harry was the only one left who understood how fragile all their lives were, and he wasn’t going to let them waste any of it.

Harry snapped out of his reverie when someone called his name. Mrs. Weasley emerged from the crowd. Trailing Percy, Fred, and George, she apologized as she jostled a middle-aged wizard in teal robes. Despite her harried expression, she smiled at the six of them standing together on the platform.

"You poor dears must be starving!" she huffed. "The stationmaster sent word that the train had been delayed leaving Hogsmeade, some sort of trouble with the luggage car, and the rails weren’t in good enough condition for them to make up the time. Now let’s get you home and get lunch on the table."

Ron frowned. "Er, Mum, can we wait for the Grangers? If the train’s been delayed, they might not know where to find us."

Molly Weasley eyed her youngest son for a moment, noting the odd look Hermione had given him as well. "That’s very thoughtful, Ron. I suppose if you can stand to put off lunch, then we can wait a few moments. Now, Harry, where is your cloak? You’ll catch your death out here!"

"He gave it to me, Mum," Ginny said crossly. "I left mine in my trunk because I thought the train would be too warm."

"Oh dear! Ginny, the Express doesn’t have any heat unless it’s moving. Now why didn’t your brothers tell you…" Her voice trailed off as she scowled at Ron. Then she sighed and glared at Fred and George.

"I didn’t ride the express last winter, Mum," Ron said quickly. "And we boarded separately from Fred and George, so they didn’t have a chance to warn her."

The Weasley twins exchanged glances. Harry supposed they were shocked that Ron spoke up to keep them out of trouble, rather than sitting back to watch the show. "Hermione put a warming charm on me, so I should be all right for a while. Did they say what happened to the luggage car?" He didn’t know why, but he was starting to feel a little uneasy. Things were going on that didn’t make any sense, at least not to him anyway. He didn’t know if the Hogwarts Express had been delayed in the original timeline or not.

"No, dear, they didn’t. But one of the guards mentioned waiting for Aurors to show up," Molly replied, frowning. "They said they would deliver your trunks by Floo if it took much longer."

"That’s quite all right," Harry said quickly as his stomach dropped toward his shoes. The Diary was inside his trunk. If something happened to that - he didn’t want to think about the consequences. The pistol would also be hard to explain, if a bit less catastrophic to lose. The same could be said for his invisibility cloak, though his photo album was important more for sentimental reasons.

His friends went quiet, as if they sensed the tension in Harry. "Let’s move over toward the car," Neville suggested. "That way we’ll be able to see when they open it up."

By this time, the empty passenger cars had been unhooked and pulled back. Harry couldn’t get a good look at the door the refreshment cart woman had blocked them from. But a brief glimpse revealed that the latch had scorch marks all around it.

A fair crowd of trunk-less students had gathered at this point. After a whispered consultation, the Aurors began carrying out the trunks, one by one. Each one was given a quick once-over and then the tags were read aloud so they could be claimed.

Ron and Ginny’s trunks surfaced first. Ginny quickly opened hers and retrieved her cloak. She returned Harry’s cloak to him, blushing with embarrassment. He smiled at her and shrugged without saying anything, and for some reason that made her even more flustered. She turned to Hermione and began asking her questions about transfiguration. The bushy-haired witch’s eyes lit up as she began holding forth on one of her favourite subjects.

Harry turned back toward the train with a smile. Inside, his stomach was still trembling with dread. A familiar-looking trunk emerged from the car and was being inspected by the Ministry employees. One of them was peering closely at something and suddenly straightened with a muffled oath. Harry stepped forward, bracing himself for bad news, and the startled man stared at him.

"Harry Potter?" he asked.

"Yes, is there a problem?" he answered, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice.

"N-no, no problem," the man replied, smiling now. "I suppose you would be old enough to be going to Hogwarts, wouldn’t you?"

Harry nodded.

"I attended Hogwarts with your father, James. M’name’s Rory Pratchett," he said, extending his hand.

Harry shook his hand calmly. He tried not to resent the man for inadvertently scaring him out of half a year’s growth. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

"Pleasure’s all mine. James was a couple of years older than me, but when he was Head Boy he got me out of a bad situation with a couple of Slytherins that were about to do me some damage," he said with a smile. "Your father never was one to back down from anything. He stunned them both before he even thought about taking house points."

Harry laughed out loud. He hadn’t heard many stories about his father, let alone positive ones. This tale was completely new to him.

"I see you never heard about that; that doesn’t surprise me a bit." He leaned forward a little and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I read that article. If you think he is innocent, that’s good enough for me. There’s a few of us that aren’t looking for your father’s best friend as hard as we could be."

Harry nodded, relieved. He just hoped Sirius had actually escaped.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Auror Pratchett said in his normal voice, "everything seems to be in order here. Enjoy your holiday!"

"I will, thank you!" Harry was too relieved to find the lock on his trunk intact to keep from smiling. As all the trolleys seemed occupied, he popped open the latches and retrieved the clip-on wheels he’d purposely left packed near the top. He wanted to check a few other things, but now was not the time. In thirty seconds he was easily pulling his heavy trunk up to the others.

"Good thing Dad isn’t here," Fred chortled. "One look at those wheels and he’d be ecstatic."

Harry shrugged. "Right useful until I can legally do a levitation charm. Don’t have to worry about the Muggles outside, either."

"Too true," George agreed. He exchanged glances with his brother. "We’ve been looking at some Muggle alternatives for… certain aspects… of our vocation. You interested in doing some consulting?"

Harry frowned, assailed by images of Fred and George studying for Holy Orders. Then the light dawned. "Ah, pranking."

"Well of course," Fred replied. "Some things work just as well as a potion, and better yet are magically non-reactive."

"Our last prank war with Bill showed us a few things to consider. Trying to slip something past a professional curse-breaker takes some doing. Towards the end, he was checking for magical residue on everything around him." George shook his head at their eldest brother’s paranoia.

"Ginny’s water bucket over the door idea worked like a charm though," Fred reminded him.

"That it did, oh brother of mine, that it did. Anyway, we figure at some point we will again want to go after… bigger game. As such, it might be handy to have some completely non-magical tricks up our sleeves." George waggled his eyebrows in such an exaggerated manner that Harry could only snort to keep from laughing out loud.

Harry had few illusions about what ‘bigger game’ might be - Snape being the most likely guess. While he wholeheartedly approved of the target, he wasn’t sure their Occlumency was up to keeping his involvement secret. On the other hand, Fred and George were awfully good at covering their tracks. Without some physical proof, the potions master couldn’t punish them too severely. The Hogwarts Board of Governors could hardly afford to acknowledge the man’s use of Legilimency on students, let alone expel two of them based upon it. Knowing they’d done it and being unable to do anything about it would probably irk the man even worse.

There was also the possibility that Dolores Umbridge might cross their path in the future. Harry couldn’t imagine anything worse than the pranking nightmare the twins unleashed on the usurping headmistress.

But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try.

Harry smiled as the twins looked expectantly at him. "All right, I’m game," he said and their eyes lit with glee. "But only if the target deserves it." That calmed them down a bit.

"I suppose you still want to make peace with perfect prefect Percy?" Fred asked, a trifle sourly.

Harry hoped he could head off the rift that might be coming in a couple of years after the ambitious boy graduated and began working at the Ministry. "Yes, I am. One enemy at a time, gentlemen. And there are far more deserving targets, yes?"

George elbowed his twin and they both nodded, albeit Fred a bit reluctantly.

By this time everyone’s trunks had made it off the train, all of them appearing to be intact. Molly talked to one of the Aurors who’d apparently worked with Arthur a few years ago. When Luna’s trunk was offloaded, she said goodbye and made the man promise to come around for supper some evening soon.

The Weasley matriarch led them away from the crowd gathered around the damaged car. Harry idly wondered if she’d been a military officer in a previous life. She definitely had voice of command down pat, as she demonstrated whenever Fred and George began acting up.

Once they were clear of the press, Hermione spotted her parents and waved. The Grangers looked a little less surprised to see their daughter standing in the middle of a large group of students. From what he’d heard, Harry knew that Hermione never had a lot of friends before, and never any that were really close. Mrs. Granger looked happy, while Mr. Granger frowned thoughtfully. Maybe he’s happy she isn’t the only girl in our little clique now, Harry mused as his friend introduced Ginny and Luna to her parents. He was just glad Luna smiled and nodded without saying anything.

The blond first year evidently had other things on her mind. As the Grangers left amid hurried goodbyes, Luna walked right up to Augusta Longbottom and held out her hand as she introduced herself. Neville’s tall, forbidding grandmother stared down at the cherubic first year girl, who was little more than half her height. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville standing rooted to the spot.

The head of the Longbottom family wasn’t scowling - quite. But Luna just continued to stand there, hand outstretched, smiling up at her. After a very long moment, Mrs. Longbottom unfolded one of her hands from around her purse and gravely shook hands with the girl. "Augusta Longbottom. Lovegood…" she said slowly. "Does your father work at, what was the name of that-"

"He’s the editor of The Quibbler," Luna supplied helpfully.

"I see," Augusta replied.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you Ma’am," Luna said. She turned and walked over to Neville, who was blinking rapidly. "I hope to see you after Boxing Day," she said. With that she went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Harry wasn’t sure if she whispered something else into his ear, but he did know that Neville’s face had gone very pink.

Luna sat down on her trunk as Neville and his Gran left. Harry and the rest bid them goodbye, but it was a little subdued after Luna’s performance. Mrs. Longbottom assured her grandson that there would be opportunities for him to visit after the Longbottom clan’s Christmas gathering.

After they left, Molly asked Luna if she saw her father.

"Oh, he’s not coming. He has to work, but he showed me how to catch the Knight Bus before I left for Hogwarts," the girl replied. "I just wanted to meet Neville’s Gran, and you all are very interesting. But if you’re leaving now, I’ll be going."

Molly’s eyes flashed, but she held back from saying anything negative about the girl’s father. "That’s all right then. We’ll all be taking the bus then."

"Why aren’t we using the Anglia?" Ron asked.

"Because it’s a lot of bother. It’s not like the Knight Bus is that expensive," she replied evasively. It was the first time Harry had heard Molly Weasley advocate splurging on something like that. He suspected she wasn’t as comfortable driving a Muggle automobile as her husband, but he wisely refrained from commenting on this.

Ron seemed to have picked up on this as well, and also let it drop.

In short order they were careening through the streets of London in a breakneck fashion. As they rode the Knight Bus back toward Ottery Saint Catchpole, Molly explained that the Hogwarts Express had been delayed because someone tried to break into the luggage car. The door was spelled against simple charms, like Alohomora, but the burglar then resorted to cruder means and tried to blast the lock apart. The door was heavily damaged, but none of the trunks appeared to have been tampered with.

Harry fretted about the Diary until he noticed the others were frowning at him. Even Luna was peering at him with her protuberant blue eyes. At that point he took a deep breath and tried to make himself relax. Hopefully his friends would chalk it up to ‘things Harry can’t talk about until we master Occlumency’ and leave it alone before Molly became concerned. The fact that his trunk was undamaged was reassuring, but Harry knew that was no guarantee.

Mrs. Weasley had a word with Ernie, the driver, as they boarded. She then sat down next to Luna. Harry wondered about this, until he noticed the Knight Bus roar past the path to The Burrow. When they did stop, it was on the outskirts of the village itself, in front of a slightly run-down looking house with overgrown flowerbeds. Luna bounced to her feet and Harry realized this must be her home. I shouldn’t be surprised, he reflected. Molly’s always looking out for any kids she runs into — I should know as well as anyone. He looked over at Ron and they both stood up and helped Luna wrestle her trunk to the front door before Mrs. Weasley could say anything.

She did, however, give them both a proud smile as they re-boarded the bus. Ron tried to act blasé, but his ears were red.

The bus didn’t have anyone else heading for the village, so the next stop was at the end of the two-track lane leading to The Burrow. Harry and the Weasleys disembarked with the normal chaos this entailed. When they were finally situated on the roadside and the bus left, Molly carefully looked around in the cold December afternoon. Finally, she pulled out her wand and tapped each of their trunks. When Harry shifted the bulky luggage, he found it was considerably lighter.

With that, they made their way to The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley started a pot of soup and told them they could come down for sandwiches after they carried their trunks upstairs. Harry was anxious to check on a few things, so he didn’t join into the chorus of groans this announcement provoked. He was up the stairs in little more than a minute, and threw open his trunk.

Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, and his father’s cloak was folded to one side. Harry let out a relieved sigh and stuck his arm down the corner and felt around the bottom under some of his clothes. His fingers brushed the cold barrel of the Glock before they closed around the worn cover of Tom Riddle’s journal. Harry sagged against the side of his trunk before Ron’s voice made him jump.

"All right, Harry?"

"Yeah, mate. Everything’s fine."

"You’ve been doing a fair impression of Nearly Headless Nick since we got off the train," his friend observed.

"I’ve got some things in my trunk I can’t afford to lose," Harry said carefully. "For example, can you imagine the disaster if we’d lost the Occlumency manual?"

Ron frowned. "We’ve pretty much got the theory down by now, it’s just practice we need."

Harry bit his lip. "I was just using that as an example. I’ve got some other books and things that I was worried about."

Ron sighed. "I know there’s more you aren’t telling me, Harry. As soon as you can’t break through our Occlumency, you need to tell us."

"I will, Ron," Harry replied honestly. "And with great relief, I might add."

Ron chuckled and dragged his trunk up to the foot of his bed. "We better get back downstairs or Fred and George won’t leave us a crumb."

~+~

When Mr. Weasley came home from work, he had a broad smile as his children greeted him. Harry thought he looked a bit tired and worn. He was glad Arthur was looking into Sirius’ situation, but he felt guilty as he wondered how much extra work he’d inadvertently piled onto the man.

Dinner-time conversation was dominated by questions about how their term had gone. Molly had very little to complain about with the marks, barring Fred and George, of course. Ron was horribly embarrassed that he and Percy were being favourably contrasted with their twin brothers. Harry knew that almost guaranteed a thorough pranking before holiday was over. Mrs. Weasley was also pleased to announce that Bill had been called in by Joshua Carpenter to assist with a tricky bit of warding near Vladivostok. The job paid extremely well, even if it did mean he’d be several time zones away for Christmas.

On the other hand, Mrs. Weasley was extremely disappointed in their universal contempt for Gilderoy Lockhart. Even Percy agreed with them, given the antipathy that most of their teachers held for the Defence professor.

"But I don’t understand, he’s written so many books…" her voice trailed off as Harry shook his head.

"We think they were mostly fabricated," he said soberly.

Ron began a slightly exaggerated re-telling of the whole Cornish Pixie fiasco that had Mr. Weasley trying hard to stifle his laughter. When his son got to the part where Harry back-fisted a pixie into Lockhart’s face, the man excused himself and quickly exited the kitchen.

A somewhat betrayed-looking Mrs. Weasley stared after her husband before turning back to her children, both born and adopted. "But why would he take a teaching position if he can’t do it? It just doesn’t make any sense."

"I think he’s just doing it for the publicity," Harry answered. "Plus, he’s made every student attending Hogwarts buy all of his books. I think he also wanted to make some kind of partnership to use my name as well. He was a little too frank in one of our little ‘chats’ outside of class." Harry then gave a rather detailed synopsis of his private talks with the gormless glory hound.

When he was done, Molly’s eyes had gone very hard, like frozen marbles. She got up from the table and went over to the fireplace. She pulled several books from the stack on the mantle, then opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and removed several more. When she was done, she chucked the stack into the fire.

Fred and George rose to their feet and gave their Mum a standing ovation.

"Oh, stop it you two," she snapped.

"He’s fooled a lot of people, Mum," Ron said, trying to cheer her up.

"Including Dumbledore," Harry added dryly.

"They have a point there, Molly" Mr. Weasley said from the doorway. "No use beating yourself up about it."

Soon after that, they were sent up to bed. Harry had a suspicion that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wanted some privacy to talk about a few things.

~+~

For various reasons, Harry had never had the chance to experience a ‘normal’ Christmas with the Weasleys. The atmosphere at Twelve Grimmauld Place had been rather strained, to say the least. Subsequent years, when they tried to celebrate the holidays, there were always distractions — like hoping no one was killed. That always put a damper on the festive spirit.

With all of their children away at school, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley delayed putting up their holiday decorations until they were home. The morning after their arrival, Mr. Weasley took a day off from work and led them through the woods outside Ottery Saint Catchpole. Harry thought his guardian looked a little odd hiking through the woods with an axe balanced on his shoulder, but he followed along with Ron, Fred, George, and Percy. The eldest boy was burdened with a coil of rope.

Mr. Weasley had evidently made some prior arrangement with the Muggle farmer who owned this plot of land, because he soon led them to a rather prominent evergreen, marked with a red ribbon tied around it in a bow.

"Nice tree, Dad," Ron said in an awed voice.

"It should be," Mr. Weasley agreed with a smile. "Cost us a case of your Mum’s best preserves."

It took nearly half an hour for Arthur Weasley to cut the tree down, and another fifteen minutes to carefully wrap it in the ropes. By that time, Harry was more than happy to help haul it back across the snowy ground; anything to get his blood moving again.

Harry didn’t think the large tree would fit in the sitting room at The Burrow, but it did. Or else the ceiling raised itself a bit. Either way, it was (barely) able to sit upright. Molly had Percy and George bring down several boxes of ornaments from the attic, and they all began decorating the evergreen.

With all of them helping, it didn’t take long at all. Harry was rather wishing he’d thought to bring the Snitch ornament he’d made in Transfiguration, instead of leaving it tethered to the tree set up in the Gryffindor common room.

It was then that a final small box was opened, and each member of the Weasley family removed a single ornament. They all looked quite different, and Harry was wondering what was going on when Mrs. Weasley tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry turned around and raised his eyebrows when she handed him the fluttering Snitch ornament. He turned to Ron, who was holding his own ornament from Transfiguration, a miniature replica of the Quidditch Cup that received an approving nod from Professor McGonagall.

"Just following orders, mate," his friend said, smiling.

"All of us had Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. "It’s become almost a tradition for her to have her second year classes create a simple ornament right before holiday. There’s a little bit of yourself in something you create like that, so we always hang those up last."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

One by one, starting with Mr. Weasley, they hung their ornaments on the tree. Ron’s father hung up what looked like a Wizarding chess knight, and Harry got an idea where Ron came by his fascination with the game.

Mrs. Weasley was next with a silver frame that enclosed a small Wizarding photograph. Inside was a pink-cheeked red-headed girl, flanked by twin brothers with auburn hair. After a moment, Harry realized that it wasn’t Ginny, Fred, and George. Though they were quite a bit younger, Harry recognized Gideon and Fabian Prewitt from the old Order of the Phoenix photograph that Alastor Moody had shown him. Molly sniffed quietly after hanging it on the tree, and her fingers lingered on the glass over her brothers’ faces.

She never really got over losing them, Harry thought, remembering the Boggart at Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Molly habitually carrying her clock from room to room… no matter that every hand was stuck to ‘Mortal Peril’ like it had been glued there. His heart wrenched with two entirely separate emotions. The first was compassion for Mrs. Weasley. For all her overbearing and overprotective ways, she was merely acting out of the same grief and worry that drove Harry as well. They were more alike than he’d ever guessed. The second feeling was an even more intense hate for Voldemort. He would never know how many families he’d destroyed, how many hearts he’d maimed. Just the thought of a single man being responsible for so much suffering made Harry question whether it was a good thing that magic even existed.

Of course, Harry realized, some Muggles managed quite a bit of evil without a single charm or spell. Hitler was a good example, though there were hints in the books he’d read that Grindelwald was involved in the Third Reich to some extent. Still, it was a disquieting thought, the power that magic could give a single man who was ruthless enough to misuse it.

Harry snapped out of his reverie when Ron nudged him. His friend had just hung his Quidditch Cup ornament, and Harry was the youngest of the boys. Feeling a little self-conscious, Harry found an unobtrusive twig that was sticking out and used the string attached to the hook to tie the Snitch securely in place. When he let go of it, it began flying in small circles near the end of the twig, which had Ron snorting with suppressed laughter. Ginny’s eyes were bright as well, but she managed to maintain a discreet silence, which Harry appreciated to no end.

Percy, on the other hand, was frowning. "You know you really shouldn’t be doing magic out of school. I won’t say anything," he said drawing himself up a bit pompously, "since I know you just wanted everyone to see how you originally made it. But reanimating it does count as magic use, you know."

Harry didn’t want to draw any more attention to the blasted thing, so he just nodded. Ron, on the other hand, was indignant. "Harry didn’t do a thing, Percy; it’s still going from when he made it."

It wasn’t for lack of reason that Percy was known as the most studious Weasley. His head snapped around to stare at Harry. "You made those ornaments on Friday. You mean to tell me it’s been moving for four days now?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, I know. It just… happened. Professor McGonagall was annoyed when I couldn’t tell her how I did it."

Ron laughed. "Too right; she went from looking almost happy to wanting to hex you on the spot."

Harry was rather grateful that Ron’s humorous summation distracted everyone away from what Harry had done when he transfigured the ornament. During dinner, however, he noticed that Percy would watch him from the corner of his eye as they ate. Harry knew he shouldn’t be too surprised. The boy really should have been in Ravenclaw with his girlfriend Penelope. He knew that even semi-permanent animation was hideously difficult and required a lot of magical energy if the materials were not properly prepared. It was a little… odd for someone to do it by accident.

Harry wondered how many slips like that he could make before he garnered more unfavourable attention than he could deal with.

~+~

The following day was the last one before Christmas Eve, and Mr. Weasley headed back to work to ‘tie up a few loose ends’ before the holidays. According to him, each Christmas brought a new wrinkle that cropped up for his department, usually involving enchanted toys. As he headed for the fireplace, however, he gave Harry a subtle wink.

In his last letter to Mr. Weasley before end of term, Harry mentioned overhearing an interesting conversation between Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Phrases like ‘Dark Arts artefacts’ and ‘secret chamber under the drawing-room floor’ were the most interesting. Harry didn’t know for sure if Lucius already had it, but he threw in a warning about the poisoned dagger concealed in the cane as well. Fate seemed to be a little too fond of repeating itself, given half a chance. If Lucius were furious about being discovered, then Harry didn’t want Arthur Weasley to die at the man’s hand… again. It did, however, delay the raid while he cajoled a couple of extra Aurors into accompanying him and Perkins. Evidently, today was the day.

"Good luck with your loose ends," Harry said, which earned him a smile.

Fred, George, and Percy were able to do their Christmas shopping on Hogsmeade weekends. As such, they stayed home with the fire and the eggnog, while Mrs. Weasley escorted Harry, Ron, and Ginny as they braved the holiday crowds at Diagon Alley.

Harry was forcibly reminded of how tense things got after the Tri-Wizard tournament. The huge crowd of witches and wizards buying things for Christmas… well, it would have been far too tempting a target for Voldemort and his Death Eaters after the second war began.

Not that Mrs. Weasley was willing to let them completely out of her sight, Christmas shopping or not. They all simply visited one shop at a time, and separated once they were inside. Once their purchases were made, they’d proceed to the exit where Mrs. Weasley would be waiting.

This worked fine for the bigger shops, but for the really small ones, they simply went in one at a time… and then only if they were buying for one of the people present on the expedition.

Harry would have chafed a bit at how careful Molly was being… it wasn’t like they were completely helpless. But then he remembered the expression on her face while she stared at her brothers in her ornament and his resentment withered away. Ron and Ginny seemed accustomed to this level of supervision, so Harry surmised that she’d always been that way. He abruptly felt a little worse about talking Ginny into leaving with him during their trip to Diagon Alley last summer.

He was glad he’d splurged a little on her present. He noticed that Molly’s cloak was getting a little frayed, so he’d purchased a new one for her, sturdy wool with a silk lining, and spelled against wind and rain. For the most part though, Harry kept his purchases modest. A set of Keeper’s pads for Ron, a copper hair-clip for Ginny, some potions ingredients for Fred and George, and Flourish and Blotts credits for Hermione and Percy. Mr. Weasley told Harry that the information on Lucius Malfoy was the best gift he could imagine, but Harry still picked up a socket wrench set from the ironmongers down the street from the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Weasley told him that she’d invited Remus Lupin over for Christmas dinner. She said he looked like he could use a good home-cooked meal, but Harry knew better. From the letters, Harry could tell the Weasleys often talked to the man regarding Sirius, and Harry also knew the man was usually alone for the holidays. He thanked her despite her protests and for Lupin he picked up a set of robes, inexpensive but at least new. Harry didn’t know if Remus Lupin would still become his Defence teacher, but he didn’t want Draco or anyone else dismissing the man over his wardrobe.

Ginny was very secretive in her purchases, while Ron spent an inordinate amount of time in the sweets shop. When he emerged with a stack of parcels, announcing he was done, Harry just had to laugh. At least Ron had good taste in chocolate.

By dinner time they had their presents wrapped and safely placed under the tree. Fred and George, of course, made a big production out of trying to figure out what was in each package. Their guesses were also slightly humorous digs at everyone. Ron’s ears went red went everything he’d wrapped was guessed to be either Quidditch-related or chocolate. Percy went very quiet when they guessed he’d purchased rulebooks of some sort for everyone. Ginny just glared when they suggested she’d bought Harry a book of poems.

Harry wasn’t sure what that was all about, but that prompted him to join in the conversation as they waited for Mr. Weasley to come home for dinner. The fact that he was a little worried about his guardian also didn’t hurt. "I suppose she should have bought you two a sense of humour," he suggested dryly.

"Now, now, Harrikins," Fred gently remonstrated, "mustn’t be snippy. Though I suppose you must be tired from carrying home all those books."

"Right," George agreed, "such weighty tomes as How to Kill with Your Bare Hands, How to Maim with Your Feet, and Places to Stick Your Elbow that Are Hardly Polite. Such gems of Muggle literature, yes?"

Harry folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I’ll wager that I found at least one book that you two would consider to be of high literary value," he said in a snobby sort of voice.

"You’re on," Fred replied avidly. "Now what are the terms?"

Harry smiled. "If I’m right, you two refrain from all pranks for a month after we get back to Hogwarts."

Fred went pale at the idea, but George eyed Harry warily. "That’s quite a forfeit, you know. What if you lose the bet?"

Harry shrugged. "Name your price, Tweedle-dee." It was probably a good thing that none of the Weasleys had read Lewis Carroll for school.

Fred’s eyes narrowed. "Too ickle for a Hogsmeade weekend as yet, but no reason they can’t go over the summer, is there?"

George’s grin was predatory. "Make talking Mum into it part of the forfeit."

"Too right," Fred agreed happily. "If you lose, you have to take Ginny to Hogsmeade for tea. I think Madam Puddifoot’s, yes?"

"That would be entirely appropriate, oh brother of mine," George agreed.

Ginny seemed incapable of speech, but her eyes were blazing, her face was red, and her fingers seemed to be curling into claws.

"What’s Madam Puddifoot’s?" Harry asked warily, though he already knew the answer. What are they playing at? He wondered.

"Oh, it’s just a tea shop," George replied innocently.

"It sounds a bit dodgy from what I’ve heard," Ron interjected, "all that frilly stuff."

"You’re on," Harry said.

The look Ginny gave him seemed like it should have set his hair on fire. Then she stood up and angrily stalked off.

Harry sighed and stood up himself. He looked over at Fred and George and shook his head. "I hope you two plan on doing your own laundry while we’re on holiday." He savoured the look of horror that came over them for a moment before he went upstairs.

Ginny’s door was closed, but at least he couldn’t hear any crying or breaking sounds. Still, he was hesitant when he knocked.

"Come in Harry," Ginny’s voice was rather even for someone who’d supposedly fled to her room.

When he opened the door, she was sitting on her bed with her legs curled up under her, reading a book. "How did you know it was me? I felt like I was knocking on Dumbledore’s door for a moment."

"I told you Harry," she replied, "you’re the only one who bothers to knock."

Harry leaned against the doorframe. "You seem to have recovered rather quickly."

Ginny made a face. "When Fred and George are trying to get a rise out of you, sometimes it’s less trouble to play along than see to what lengths they are willing to go to."

Harry smiled. "You’re probably right. Not that I think there’s much chance of me losing, but I don’t consider buying you a cup of tea to be a horrible forfeit."

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. "Of course, you’d also have to talk Mum into it."

"That’s the beauty of it," he replied. "We just tell her about the wager. Maybe ask her to come with us. Fred and George never said we had to go by ourselves."

Ginny smirked. "They didn’t, did they? Of course Mum will want to kill them anyway for trying to embarrass us."

Harry nodded. "More than likely; but as I said, I don’t think the issue will come up."

"Too bad, I’ve heard some of the girls in the dormitory talk about that place. I’d like to see it some day," she said wistfully.

Harry shrugged. "We’ll go then, when we’re old enough to go on Hogsmeade weekends, if you still want to."

Ginny’s eyebrows went up. "You heard what Ron said."

"Maybe I’m just morbidly curious," Harry said with a smirk. "I mean, how bad can it be?"

"I might hold you to that, you know," Ginny said archly.

Harry just shrugged again and went downstairs to wait for Mr. Weasley to get home.

~+~

If Harry had any doubts about the accuracy of Draco’s words from the other timeline, they were dispelled when Arthur stepped out of the Floo. He wore an expression that Crookshanks would have been proud of, had the cat eaten an entire flock of canaries.

Harry couldn’t help but grin back. "Good day at work?"

Arthur chuckled. "Let’s just say Lucius Malfoy and his solicitor won’t be seeing much of their families over Christmas holiday."

Mrs. Weasley looked worried. "Arthur, what did you do?"

"Just my job, Molly," he replied in a serious voice. "We got a tip about him concealing some contraband items, and it turned out to be true. He was more than willing to let us into his manor, after he saw the writ anyway, but when the Aurors started rolling up the carpet in his drawing-room he began to lose it. He tried to order us out like we were his house elves or something. Poor things looked quite beaten down too. One of them didn’t look right in the head."

He shook his head abruptly. "Anyway, in a hidden room we struck pay dirt. Sure enough there were several Muggle items that had been enchanted in very nasty ways. We found a wrist-watcher that prematurely aged whoever wore it when it was wound up. A set of kitchen knives was poisoned and enchanted with a fumble-fingers jinx. Even if you were lucky enough to not cut yourself and die, the food prepared with them would still kill you, only slower."

"That- that’s horrible!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. Harry realized that the idea of kitchen implements that would poison her children evidently hit a little too close to home for her.

"And that was just the tip of the iceberg, dear. Kingsley was back from Italy, and he brought along one of the archivists from the Department of Mysteries. There were some items in there that only he could identify, but what he saw seemed to shake him up a bit. One of them was an iron sceptre he claimed was the Hand of Magtherium, and that was said to have disappeared back in the forties."

Mrs. Weasley was still absentmindedly wiping her fingers with a dish towel. "What happened after that?"

"Lucius and Narcissa are still down at the Ministry answering a lot of questions. He’s trying to act like he had no knowledge of the room’s existence, but we could all see there wasn’t enough dust or cobwebs for that to be true," Mr. Weasley said with a frown. "He may still wriggle out of this, but it will cost him a good piece of his influence. More importantly, he won’t have access to those items any longer. From the look on the archivist’s face, some of them were quite dangerous."

Harry couldn’t suppress a smile. Lucius Malfoy’s influence on the Ministry was a cancer on the body politic of the Wizarding world. He certainly had a role in Fudge’s waffling for the first year after Voldemort’s resurrection. Destroying the bastard’s political capital wasn’t nearly as satisfying as watching Ron behead his father’s murderer, but it would have to do for now.

Even such an indirect success made it difficult for Harry to sit still during dinner. Mrs. Weasley still fussed over her husband, worried about the implications this might have in the future. Harry didn’t blame her, as he knew that Lucius was deliberately targeting his enemy’s family with the Diary. It was just too bad Malfoy’s plans would run afoul of an enraged wizard willing to kill himself to travel back in time to stop him.

Still, indirect victories weren’t always the most satisfying ones. After the brief confrontation at Lockhart’s abortive Duelling Club, Harry found himself hungry for more. All this sneaking around and manoeuvring was wearing, in its own way. He’d always felt sorry about the way Sirius had been confined to Twelve Grimmauld Place, and now Harry found himself locked into a role he’d outgrown decades ago. He wanted to start rounding up the Horcruxes, at least the ones that weren’t trapped like Helga’s Cup.

But there was no way a twelve year old boy could disappear for days at a time — especially if his name was Harry Potter. He also didn’t think he could safely Apparate yet. The Ministry maintained that wizards and witches younger than the allowed age couldn’t do so safely. Harry ordinarily took anything the Ministry said with a large grain of salt, but the few times he’d had do a lot of Apparating in a short period of time, his whole body ached abominably afterward.

One of the Dark Lord’s followers spotted Harry six months before the end of the war, paying his respects on the anniversary of the Hogwarts Massacre. Unfortunately for them, Voldemort was engaged in moving his base of operations yet again. The Death Eaters, which now included many who attended Hogwarts with Harry, decided to act quickly to remove their master’s last remaining enemy. That was their mistake.

Harry was moving as soon as heard the first distinctive pops from people Apparating onto the grounds. Harry spent the best years of his life there, and he knew it like the back of his hand. He’d even spent enough time in the ruins, looking for survivors and later for bodies, that the irregular rock pile had become dreadfully familiar.

It also didn’t help that he’d spent the day thinking about all the people he’d lost, and trying to find a reason not to turn his wand on himself. Hate seemed as good a reason as any when he saw the Death Eater masks.

He’d killed nearly thirty of Voldemort’s remaining followers in a two hour running battle through the ruins of Hogwarts and the burning wreckage of Hogsmeade. Harry surprised himself with his inventiveness in finding ways to make Death Eaters die. He’d shattered skulls with Reducto, beheaded others with cutting curses, crushed them with banished stones, and sent a bolt of lightning into a pool of water, electrocuting three at once. He turned a section of stone floor into water and cancelled the spell after two Death Eaters sank out of sight, entombing them forever. A massive transfiguration turned a stone overhang into an incredibly strong acid, giving a trio of Death Eaters time for a few gurgling screams, but never a chance to see their killer.

He’d even roundhouse kicked one in the throat, collapsing the trachea and suffocating the bastard.

But through the course of the battle, Harry lost count of the number of times he’d Disapparated. He never stayed in place after a kill, knowing he couldn’t afford a single mistake. Besides, he usually made little or no sound when Apparating and the screaming usually was enough to cover it. His invisibility cloak had been lost years ago, but frequently reapplied Disillusionment charms served almost as well that day.

Only once had he popped back into existence near an enemy, and that was the last one. The kick was more reflexive than anything else, but it did its job. It also knocked the Death Eater’s mask away, and Harry watched dispassionately as Theodore Nott choked to death on his own blood and cartilage.

It was then that the pain hit.

Harry fell to his knees as the adrenalin wore off and his bones felt like they’d all been removed, ground to powder, and shoved back into his protesting flesh. He’d been nearly a week in Dumbledore’s sanctum recovering before he could move without pain. As far as object lessons went, it was fairly effective.

And so Harry found himself clearing the table with Ginny, rather than clearing away the pieces of Voldemort’s soul. He did, however, take consolation in the fact that the timelines hadn’t diverged before a little more than a year ago. That meant that the Horcruxes were still hidden in the same places that he remembered from his conversations with Dumbledore. And as long as Voldemort had no idea anyone knew the secret to his immortality, he’d have no reason to move them from their hiding places.

Not that it made the waiting any easier.

After dinner they practiced their Occlumency again. Harry suspected that everyone was working on their own as well, since he was starting to notice sharp increases in their resistance. He supposed Snape was a strong motivator — not that he’d be thanking the man any time soon. Harry could still get inside and read their surface thoughts, which was as far as he’d go. But he found it took a little longer each time.

Harry was of two minds regarding this progress. He was looking forward to being able to tell his friends everything. But at the same time, he was afraid of how they would react. In the end it came down to one thing. They would be safer, both by knowing what was going on, and if no one could use Legilimency to read them. So he continued to push them to improve. By the time they finished, everyone was tired and ready for bed. Mr. Weasley, however, entered the living room and asked Harry if he could talk to him for a moment.

Harry was half expecting this, ever since he told Mr. Weasley about the Malfoy’s hidden room. Nonetheless, he was still a little nervous as he sat down at Molly’s scrubbed wood table with a cup of hot tea steaming in front of him.

"It’s got chamomile and a touch of rosehips," Mrs. Weasley explained as she and her husband sat down with a cup as well. "It might help you sleep a little better."

Harry’s eyes snapped up at that, but Molly’s gaze didn’t waver. "I remembered you and Ron talking about how little sleep you seem to get," she said. "I know for a fact you are usually awake before everyone else."

Harry nodded slowly, but didn’t volunteer anything. Ron did sort of blurt things out when he was angry, but Harry couldn’t blame him. He’d participated in that argument of his own free will.

"Your information on Malfoy Manor was spot on, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, getting straight to the point. "I’m reporting it as an anonymous tip, but is there anything you’d like to tell us about how you knew?"

Harry shook his head. "Not much to it," he said simply. "Draco’s got a big mouth and he’s not very discreet. He likes to brag a lot and I overheard him talking about it." It was all quite true; he just hadn’t specified how long ago he’d heard it.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances. "Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, leaning forward and laying her hand on his forearm. Her fingers were surprisingly warm. "Arthur and I have both noticed that something is bothering you. We wanted to give you time to bring it up at your own pace, but we’re not sure that’s for the best now. You’ve given Arthur information on some very dangerous people. There’s that whole business with your Godfather. Not to mention stopping You-Know-Who last spring. We don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do, but we also have our other children to look out for."

Harry sat there like he’d been brained with a club. He knew her concern was entirely unfeigned, but her last words still flooded him with conflicting emotions. The implication that she considered him one of her children wasn’t lost on him, and he nearly lost it right then and there.

Arthur, bless his soul, immediately picked up on Harry’s turmoil. "Tell us as much as you can for now, all right Harry?"

The man’s willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt shamed Harry even more. He let out a sigh. "I’ll be right back," he said and went up to the room he shared with Ron. He picked up his copy of Occlumency: the Hidden Arte and made his way back to the kitchen. After he sat down, he wordlessly slid the book across the table to Mr. Weasley.

"This is for your school project?" Mr Weasley asked, but then his eyes narrowed.

"Well, it’s a project for school… more like it’s based upon something going on at school," Harry said with a sigh. "Some rather odd things occurred last spring, and Hermione figured out what was behind it. Legilimency is a form of magic that lets you enter another person’s mind and read their thoughts and memories."

Now it was Mr. Weasley’s turn to look upset. "And someone at Hogwarts was using this on you?"

Harry shook his head. "I’m apparently somewhat hard to read, but that didn’t stop him from going after everyone else."

Arthur gave Harry a very piercing stare. "Harry, does this mean you are involved in things you have to keep secret?"

Harry wracked his brain to find a way to reassure his guardians, without giving anything away. When it suddenly came to him, he was almost embarrassed at how simple it was. He pulled out his wand, making sure it wasn’t pointed at anyone, and began to speak. "I, Harry Potter, swear upon my magic, that to the best of my knowledge, I am not involved in anything that is contrary to the interests of any of the current members of the Weasley family."

Harry was prepared for the faint surge of magic that signalled the closure of a magically binding oath. But instead of a faint glow, the visual signature lit up the entire kitchen, dazzling Harry’s eyes as it reflected off of Mrs. Weasley’s polished tea pot.

When his eyes cleared, Mrs. Weasley was still blinking, though her expression was embarrassed. "Harry, that wasn’t really necessary dear."

Harry shook his head doggedly. "I am involved in something, but I can’t tell you what it is. Not yet." He pushed the book toward them.

Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, looked even more troubled. "You need us to learn this so we can keep your secret. Harry? Is it really that bad?"

Harry nodded. "It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Severus Snape is another matter entirely. Not when he can use that information against me."

Molly’s eyes grew flinty. "That man is using this, this Legilimency, on my children!" she exclaimed. Harry remembered his first visit to The Burrow, and how Molly reminded him of a sabre-toothed tiger. "Albus Dumbledore is going to hear about this." She stood up from the table, nearly knocking her chair over as she marched to the fireplace.

Harry, however, stopped her with just two words. "He knows."

Mrs. Weasley spun around, clearly shocked. "He knows about this? And he allows it to go on? Harry, why…?"

Harry sighed. "I think Snape uses it on the members of his house. Many of their parents are involved in the Dark Arts, and he reports anything important he learns to Dumbledore."

"How do you know this?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry shrugged. "I overheard part of it, but I also confronted Dumbledore about it last Christmas. He said they would do ‘whatever it took’ to guarantee the safety of their students," he said, making a sour face. "So I should just give up and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I, on the other hand, don’t trust Snape to be impartial with anyone named ‘Potter’."

Mrs. Weasley looked sick and angry at the same time. Mr. Weasley, however, looked more resigned. "Albus always did what he thought was right," he said.

"No matter how many people disagreed with him?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley nodded. He carefully picked up the book, almost like he was handling a dangerous artefact.

Harry quietly cleared his throat. "I, er, can feel it when Snape tries to pry into my mind. I’ve also felt something like it a couple of times when I was alone with the Headmaster. He hasn’t tried it recently," Harry added quickly, "but I think I bought myself a little credibility with the Stone. But he will likely know when you start practicing this."

Arthur Weasley frowned. "We always supported Dumbledore because of what he did, rather than who he was. He was one of the few wizards who could match Voldemort’s power, but he also lead and organized those willing to fight against the darkness," he said with a defeated sigh. "But I haven’t been able to agree with his latest actions, particularly where you are concerned, Harry."

Harry felt a peculiar mix of awe and remorse at the man’s words. "I don’t like putting you in this position,’ he whispered.

Mrs. Weasley reached out and grasped his hand. "Harry, you don’t have to make us do the right thing."

"I know," Harry replied. "I just wish this wasn’t so complicated."

"Well," Arthur said, "We will accept your oath for now, until it’s… safe, I suppose… for you to tell us more."

"Thank you," Harry said. He was surprised they were willing to settle for so little.

"I don’t think you are doing this just for yourself, Harry," Mr. Weasley said in a sober voice. "But you can tell us about that once it’s safe for you to do so."

~+~

Even a partial confession must have been good for Harry’s soul, because he slept like a rock that night, and actually had to have Ron wake him up well after the sun had risen.

"Come on. Mate," his friend said with a grin. "Mum always works herself into a frenzy getting ready for Christmas dinner. Better to be well out from under foot."

Harry sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. He couldn’t believe he didn’t have any nightmares, at least none that woke him up. By the time he’d showered and dressed, The Burrow was engulfed in a vortex of holiday cheer.

The Wizarding Wireless was playing a medley of Celestine Warbeck Christmas tunes, Fred and George were outside stalking Percy and Ron with an armload of snowballs, Mr. Weasley was tinkering with a set of Muggle Christmas lights, and Ginny had been drafted by Mrs. Weasley to help stuff an enormous goose.

Ron’s caution was well-earned, but didn’t prevent him and Percy from being drafted to pick up a few last minute items for tomorrow’s dinner. Mrs. Weasley sent them off to the village with instructions to hurry before the shops closed early for Christmas Eve.

Harry was helping Ginny open the chestnuts when Mrs. Weasley began digging through her cupboards. "Merlin, I can’t believe we’re out of marjoram," she sighed. "Ginny, can you still see Percy or Ron on the path?"

"They’ve been gone nearly a quarter of an hour, Mum," Ginny replied, and then straightened in her chair. "I can catch up to them though. How much do you need?"

"Just a spoonful dear, but I need you to finish quartering those chestnuts or we’ll never get done." Mrs. Weasley looked around and saw Harry. "Harry dear, could you run after the boys and tell Percy I need some marjoram for the stuffing?"

Harry nodded, grateful for something to do. He carefully ignored the rebellious scowl Ginny shot at her mother. He knew she didn’t like being singled out to help with the cooking, but he also knew Mrs. Weasley would rather not send her into the village by herself.

He ran up the stairs and dug an old jacket out of his trunk, and then slid his wand into the sleeve. I ought to rig up some kind of holster that I can strap to my arm, he thought, one of these days it’s going to slide right out of there, and probably at the worst possible time.

The sky was growing overcast and the wind was bitter as he walked down the two-track lane that led to the road. Harry hunched his shoulders a bit, but kept his eyes open for Ron and Percy. He tried to hurry along when he reached the road, but he didn’t catch up to them before he passed over the River Otter and entered the village proper. As cold as it was, they probably were in a rush to get out of the wind.

He looked around as he made his way between a few last-minute shoppers, but there was no distinctive red hair in sight.

In a village as small as this, the grocer wasn’t hard to find. That was fortunate, because by the sign and Harry’s watch, there was less than ten minutes before closing. He gratefully slipped inside the warm building, but was disappointed that he still couldn’t find Ron or Percy. He knew Mrs. Weasley had anticipated him catching up her third eldest son, and she probably wouldn’t be too thrilled to know Harry was roaming the village by himself, but it couldn’t be helped.

After a look around, he found the spices and picked up a jar of marjoram. He had no idea what it tasted like, but it was evidently essential for Mrs. Weasley’s chestnut stuffing. He paid for the jar, glad that he still had some pounds left over in his jacket from his forays on to Charing Cross road.

When he stepped back into the chill morning, the darkening clouds made it feel more like twilight. The cold wind cutting into the back of his neck made Harry wonder if it would snow soon. He was a little worried about his failure to find Ron and Percy. He turned to go back inside and ask if two red-headed boys had just been in, but the shopkeeper had just locked the door and pulled the shade over the glass. Harry cursed himself for not thinking to ask earlier, but he didn’t want to start pounding on the glass and make a nuisance of himself.

His mind wandered as he walked back toward the road. Harry wondered about the ‘strange faces’ seen around the village, and if they were still there. Of course, the Weasleys went into the village all the time, and no one had bothered them yet. But still it made him uneasy.

Harry hunched down into his slightly too large jacket and began wishing he’d borrowed a hat. He was about to turn onto the road, when he heard a commotion behind him. He turned and saw three men running across the street. They were dressed fairly nondescript, in dark coats, two of them with hats and one with a scarf. They could have been policemen, tradesmen chasing a shoplifter, or irate pet owners.

But the sight of all three of them chasing a very large black dog definitely caught Harry’s attention.

They were already across the street when Harry spun around. He trailed behind them, anxious to keep up, but wary of slipping on the icy cobblestones. This hesitancy wasn’t so bad, because he also didn’t want them to notice him following them.

Fortunately, Harry didn’t have to go very far. They turned sharply and cut into a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. Harry felt his heart constrict when he saw one pause at the mouth of the alleyway to reach into his coat and pull out a wand.

Despite the fear and adrenalin that made his hands quiver, Harry forced himself to slow down and listen before he reached the alleyway. Over the wind, he could still make out voices.

"Can you see him?"

"No, I think he’s behind those garbage cans."

"Ruddy mess back here."

"You know it. Now move up on the left and see if you can spot him."

"I’m not too keen on getting that close. Did you see the size of those teeth?"

"One stunner and they won’t matter."

Harry pulled out his wand and held it close by his side.

"This better be the real thing. We go to all this trouble to capture a stray and I’ll have your arse."

"I know what I saw! The bastard was standing there plain as day, messing with that latch. Soon as he closed the door, he turned into that bloody dog."

"Makes sense, you know, what with Pettigrew."

"Shut it you two. Your yapping will get you killed some day. Now… we do this by the numbers, and then we can haul him off to somewhere a lot warmer than this… for us anyway. Avery, you cover the right. Dawlish, you take the left and circle around. Got it?"

"Who died and put you in charge, Macnair?"

"You’re about to, if you don’t shut up. Now, on the count of three-"

Harry, who’d been waiting for them to get focused on their target, stepped around the corner into the alleyway with his wand up.

"Stupefy!" His first stunning spell caught the rearmost man squarely in the back. It threw him forward off his feet and he skidded several yards in the mucky debris in the alley.

"Stupefy!" The second stunner caught the man on the right as he was beginning to turn. He bounced off the brick wall behind him and crumpled to the ground.

By this time the man on the left had turned and brought up his wand. Harry dived to his right as he heard the man bark "Percutio!" Something tugged at the left sleeve of his jacket as Harry tucked his head and executed a perfect shoulder roll. He rotated smoothly and ended in a kneeling position with his wand extended at his opponent. Dawlish was just bringing his wand to bear when Harry’s stunning spell sent him crashing to the ground.

Harry rose shakily to his feet and looked around. Their impromptu duel didn’t appear to have drawn any attention. He carefully felt his left arm. There was a small hole bored through the fabric just above his elbow, but it appeared to have missed the flesh completely. Harry let out a shaky breath. He thought he might have been wounded and not felt it yet.

Of course, there were other kinds of damage to deal with. He walked further into the alleyway. A large black dog stuck his head out from around a garbage can and stared at him in a distinctly non-doglike fashion.

Harry kneeled next to the man he recognized as Walden Macnair after flipping him onto his back. He had a strong temptation to simply kill the Death Eater on the spot, but that might be hard to justify. Not to mention the extra attention that the murder of a Ministry employee would draw to Ottery Saint Catchpole.

"Obliviate!" A grey beam of light sprang from the end of Harry’s wand, connecting with the man’s forehead. He put a little more effort into the spell than a basic amnesia effect would require. If Harry’s calculations were correct, he’d just wiped away most of his memories from today. Then he smiled as an idea occurred to him.

"Vinomenti!" A jet of dark purple wine spewed from the end of Harry’s wand, soaking into the man’s clothes and rendering him quite aromatic. He let a little dribble into the man’s mouth, but feared that more would make him choke. Being found soaked with wine would supply a probable cause for his missing memory — not to mention destroying the credibility of anything he might recall.

When he looked up, the dog had edged out from around the garbage can and was peering at him. Harry remembered reading once that a dog’s vision was nowhere near as acute as its sense of smell, so he straightened up, smiling. "Don’t go anywhere, Padfoot. I still have to fix up the other two."

Harry had never thought that the term ‘gobsmacked’ could be applied to a dog. He was just proven wrong as the large black dog froze in place, except for its mouth, which dropped open. He knew from Remus’ stories that Sirius had often used his Animagus form to play with baby Harry, so he could always pass it off as a childhood recollection. But he wouldn’t have traded the shocked look his godfather gave him for anything in the world.

Harry Potter’s Christmas had come a day early this year.