The post-Quidditch party in the Gryffindor tower was truly epic in scale. Fred and George somehow ‘acquired’ several cases of butterbeer, and used warming charms to serve it piping hot. Percy looked a little upset, but after a whispered conference with the twins, he accepted a mug and sat down near the fire.

Harry noticed he looked a little pale and nudged George. "What did you say to him," he whispered.

"Old Perce started objecting to the butterbeer, so Fred and I said better this than Firewhisky," George whispered back. "If he objected to this, next time we’ll bring back a case of Ogden’s Finest and tell people it was his idea."

"But who’d believe you?"

"If he takes away the butterbeer, we wouldn’t have any choice then would we? We could swear to that under Veritaserum, and then he’d be sunk," George said with a wicked grin

Harry coughed. "Where did you two get your paws on Veritaserum?"

Fred ambled over to join in the conversation. "We made it, mate." He drained his mug of steaming butterbeer and opened a fresh bottle.

"You can make Veritaserum?" Harry was fairly sure his jaw had dropped open.

"Harry, my dear boy-" Fred chuckled.

"-and now adopted little brother-" George reminded him.

"Yes indeed, now Harry — what form do most of our pranks take?"

Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Liquids, powders, pastes, and assorted goops. You’ve been throwing your Potions exams, haven’t you?"

The twins shrugged in unison. "It’s not like Snape would give us a fair grade anyway," Fred assured him.

"We just save him the trouble of deliberately failing us," George added helpfully. "But we can brew just about anything in the textbook-"

"Provided we have the ingredients, of course," Fred stipulated. "Most of our brews taste good as well."

"You realize if Mum finds out, she’s going to kill the two of you. That’s a lot of blackmail material, right there," Harry said with a crooked grin.

The twins looked at each other. "Won’t work Harry," Fred informed him. "Not only are you far too decent a bloke to stoop to our level…"

"But even if you did tell her," George agreed, "we’ll just mention that you slipped and called her ‘Mum’ and she’ll forget why she was mad."

Harry shook his head and started laughing. Trust the twins to be highly skilled in a subject taught by the Professor they despise, he mused. Veritaserum is a NEWT-level potion.

He took his mug and walked over to one of the bay windows that opened onto the common room. He looked out across the darkening grounds and remembered joking with Sirius about being the Slytherin seeker. He scowled at the gathering gloom. It felt vaguely obscene that he was standing here, warm and safe with a mug of butterbeer, while Sirius might be dead or suffering goodness knows what.

He supposed he might be pushing people so hard on the training as some obscure form of penance. Still, he needed to make sure they were ready when Voldemort made his move. He could feel the difference in his own strength and endurance. He was also a little surprised at how strong his blasting curse had been when Ron startled him. No one confronted him about that, but he could tell it had been noted.

Harry saw Colin edging toward him with his camera. He’d toned it down a lot after Ron had a little talk with him, the contents of which Harry wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. Still, the first year would probably consider the Quidditch victory to be enough of a ‘special occasion’ to justify taking another picture. Harry downed the rest of his butterbeer, left the mug on a side table, and raced up the stairs to his dormitory.

Harry threw himself on his bed and stared up at the canopy. After a moment he unlocked his trunk and pulled out some of his recent correspondence. He sorted it by author and went through them again.

Remus Lupin had no idea where Sirius might be, or whether he even really escaped. The Black family home at number twelve Grimmauld Place was still abandoned. Owls with messages addressed to Sirius simply circled around in confusion, which could mean any one of half a dozen things.

Rita Skeeter hadn’t been able to interest her editor in a follow-up story unless she had new information to include. None of her contacts, voluntary or otherwise, in the Ministry knew anything useful. She also reminded him that he owed her an interview this summer, which Harry really wasn’t looking forward to. At least she’d have a vested interest in not smearing him this time around.

Mrs. Weasley reported that the new faces in the village were still there, and several suspicious looking people had been spotted near The Burrow. After one of these people triggered the outermost wards, the rest kept their distance. None of them wished to be stunned for the better part of a day. Harry was just glad the man had fallen backwards instead of forwards. If he’d been a little more stubborn about breaking through the results might have been - messy.

Goldfarb at least had nothing but good news. After a short legal proceeding, the Dursleys lost their home. It seems Vernon had taken out a second mortgage the previous year and his credit rating was rather shaky. With the loss of Vernon’s income, his arrest for fiscal malfeasance, and indirect pressure from Goldfarb’s agents, the holders of his note decided to immediately call it due. The icing on the cake was a newspaper clipping taken from the Surrey Advertiser. Petunia had been arrested for shoplifting at the grocers.

Harry cracked a nasty grin and wondered if he was an awful person for taking such delight in their misery. He shrugged. With all he was doing to save people he’d likely never meet, he figured karma owed him a little petty behaviour. Besides, he was just helping his so-called relatives pay their own karmic debts, right?

Harry set the letters aside and stretched out. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do now, but he nonetheless felt like he was forgetting something. He wished he could write down his plans and objectives so he could try to organize everything. But he couldn’t take the chance. Snape could demand he turn out his pockets any time he saw him. His seven-year plan for Destroying Voldemort and Saving the Wizarding World â„¢ would be very interesting reading — and damn hard to explain if it fell into the wrong hands.

He tried to relax and let the normal post-game adrenalin fade. He’d taken an unwholesome glee in making Draco wish he’d never learned to fly a broom, but something about the smarmy bigot made Harry want to thrash him. The little ponce played a key role in Dumbledore’s death, even if he didn’t have the stones to cast the fatal spell. The death of the only wizard Voldemort ever feared made the Hogwarts Massacre inevitable.

Harry sighed. He’d tell the headmaster everything he knew, if he could just be sure the man would act appropriately. Surprisingly enough, the man’s portrait had counselled against immediately disclosing future events. Evidently the personality-imprint remembered some fleeting concerns he’d had about Harry when he first came to Hogwarts. It also knew the reason for his unwavering support of Severus Snape. It made sense when put in the right context. Harry acknowledged this freely. It still didn’t mean that the consequences were any less severe.

On the other hand, the conversation he’d overheard between the two of them gave him some hope. He doubted Dumbledore would have rebuked Snape like that in front of others, but the fact that he did so at all was encouraging. The headmaster also hadn’t tried his Legilimency on Harry since the previous year. He hoped that stopping Quirrell and his master from reaching the stone last spring had earned him a little trust in Professor Dumbledore’s eyes.

The more he thought about his plans and his options, the more Harry Potter felt like Harry the lab rat, attempting to navigate a maze filled with deadly traps. He closed his eyes and tried to will his racing mind to rest. Surprisingly enough, it worked after a few minutes.

~+~

A couple of weeks later, the school was abuzz with what happened at the Ravenclaw Quidditch practice. Harry heard about it at lunch from Ron.

"Fred and George are friendly with some of their team’s supporters," Ron told them in between bites of chicken. "I think they studied together for Charms… Anyway, they play Hufflepuff Saturday, you know?"

Harry nodded and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Ron swallowed, ignoring the impatient look Hermione gave him. "Right, well, when they were practicing yesterday, someone decided to take out their Seeker."

Harry gulped. "What?"

"Cho Chang. Pretty Chinese third year girl, you’ve seen her around, right? She replaced Frobisher as Seeker when he graduated."

Harry nodded dumbly. He hadn’t said anything to her, but it was sort of weird to see the girl he’d briefly had a crush on in his prior life. "What happened to her?"

"Someone blew her off her broom during practice. Nailed her with a stunning spell when she was pretty high up. She hit the ground hard and broke a lot of bones. They heard it was touch and go whether she’d make it. They’ve got her at St Mungo’s now, trying to repair a lot of broken bones and re-grow her spine." Ron’s voice was subdued as he relayed the grim news. "They searched the woods where the spell came from, but didn’t find anything."

"That explains a lot of what I’m seeing now," Hermione said, frowning over her shoulder. Most of the Ravenclaw students were glaring at the Hufflepuffs, who looked confused and distinctly uncomfortable.

Ron frowned. "You don’t honestly think someone in Hufflepuff did it? If Ravenclaw was about to play Slytherin, I could see that. I’d line them all up and check their wands straight away. But the ‘Puffs? That’s mental."

Neville shrugged. "But that’s who they are playing in a couple of days; no one else has anything to gain. Professor Sprout was really upset about it yesterday. If it was someone from her house, they better hope an Auror arrests them before she gets her hands on them." He shuddered. "I never even thought of using a trowel like that before."

Hermione gave him an odd look as she spoke up. "That also explains why Professor Flitwick changed his syllabus. He taught the Prior Incantato charm in all the classes attended by Hufflepuff students. He must have wanted to see if anyone’s wand would show a stunning spell."

"That’s not how I’d want to get caught either," Ginny said. "I heard a rumour that he was a duelling champion when he was younger."

"I’d be more afraid of what the other Hufflepuffs would do," Luna added in that detached, toneless manner that Harry recognized as her ‘thinking while I’m talking’ voice. "They prize loyalty, only now the rest of the school sees them as disloyal. They feel betrayed and angry now. If this was done by one of their own, that person has betrayed all of them by making the rest of the school treat them as traitors."

Harry shook his head. "I doubt it was a Hufflepuff student," Harry said. "It’s just too obvious. I think someone is just trying to stir up trouble." Though he was outwardly calm, Harry found his thoughts were racing. He remembered Oliver telling him before their third year match that Cho previously had some trouble with injuries… but he knew he would have heard about it if someone had a near-fatal accident. Especially if it had obviously been no accident.

If this didn’t happen in the previous timeline, Harry knew it had something to do with him. Some change he had made this time around resulted in someone trying to murder Cho Chang. Or at least make sure she was in no shape to play. Try as he might, Harry could not reason out any connection between his changes and this incident. The fact that the perpetrator hadn’t been caught was even more unsettling.

Of course, after this, Ron was even more insistent on all five of them accompanying Harry to every Quidditch practice. Harry doubted someone had declared open season on Seekers, but he couldn’t dissuade Ron, or anyone else for that matter. "Better to be safe than sorry" had become Ron’s motto, and honestly Harry couldn’t disagree. He’d been operating under a similar strategy since the dream where he’d met his future self.

Harry also had to admit it was comforting when the lengthening shadows at the end of practice made the skin between his shoulder blades crawl. During the next practice he made a point never to hover and make himself an easy target. But if he did get stunned, the odds were very good that one of the five could levitate him before he hit the ground. Snape very grudgingly gave Hermione five house points for catching Bole after Derrick’s errant Bludger had knocked out the Slytherin beater. Hermione was very gracious when he announced this fact at their next Potions class, but Harry knew she’d remember the look on his face for a long time.

At the beginning of the practice, Oliver announced that the heads of house held a meeting regarding the incident with the Ravenclaw seeker. It was decided that since this was an overt act of sabotage, the Ravenclaw team would not be required to play this weekend. Fred and George looked a little outraged about that, given that usually teams were required to play whether they had injured players or not. Oliver told them off, saying Professor McGonagall said the healers weren’t sure whether Chang would ever ride a broom again.

Harry imagined Oliver had voiced the same objections to his head of house and been told to shut it in a similar manner.

To make a long story short, Professors McGonagall and Snape agreed to a coin toss. McGonagall won, so Slytherin would be playing Hufflepuff this weekend. Ravenclaw would take their slot and play the Hufflepuffs in early May. Harry was a little relieved that they wouldn’t be playing again on such short notice. Oliver made a point of scouting the other teams as much as possible when they played, looking for strengths and weaknesses in their game. Technically, the Slytherin team was at a slight disadvantage. However, after their crushing defeat in the first match of the season, their prospects for the Quidditch Cup were remarkably dim.

That weekend, the Slytherin team played like they had something to prove. The Hufflepuffs were still demoralized from being ostracized by their classmates. The fact that a fair number of Ravenclaw students were cheering on the Slytherin team must have been rather disconcerting as well.

The results were not pretty. Derrick and Bole knocked one of the Hufflepuff chasers unconscious minutes into the game after their Dopplebeater Defence caromed the Bludger off the boy’s skull. Soon another Hufflepuff chaser was sporting a dislocated elbow and could barely fly. After that, the Slytherin chasers ran the Hufflepuff keeper ragged while Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin keeper made a great show of lounging on his broom. The massacre only ended after Draco Malfoy on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One outran Cedric Diggory on his Cleansweep Seven to grab the Snitch. The final score was three hundred and twenty to forty in favour of the Slytherin team.

Harry’s stomach twisted to see Draco strutting off the field. He looked away and saw Cedric Diggory and the other Hufflepuffs limping toward the changing rooms. Harry spoke to his friends and they got up and began fighting their way through the crowd. The Hufflepuff captain, a seventh year Harry didn’t really know, had already left to take his injured chaser to Madam Pomfrey. But it was really Cedric that Harry wanted to see. Harry felt he owed the boy for inadvertently leading him to his death at Voldemort’s hand. More importantly, he remembered Cedric getting the other Hufflepuffs to lay off him after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Now it was time to return that favour.

"Diggory?" he called out.

Cedric stopped, wincing a little. But when he turned around he appeared confused. "Can I help you?" he asked politely. Despite the sweat and dirt, he still looked like he stepped off a recruiting poster.

Damn, he even looked like a movie star this far back, Harry mused ruefully. No wonder Cho went after him. He cleared his throat. "No one thinking clearly believes you lot had anything to do with Cho Chang. When they all calm down, they’re going to feel rather stupid," he said rather loudly as he stuck out his hand to the startled Seeker.

Cedric shook his hand, frowning. "I - well, thanks Harry. That means a lot, coming from you. Especially after that mess over Summer Holiday. My parents, they didn’t say anything about it until afterward - I would have told them you’d rather stay with…" his voice trailed off and he nodded at Ron, whose expression had gone a trifle frosty.

Harry shrugged. "It’s water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. It all worked out in the end. They were just there as Dumbledore’s back-up plan, I suppose. There were worse possible outcomes, you know."

Cedric nodded thoughtfully. "I heard. I do appreciate you Gryffindors not thinking the worst of us as well - not that we’ll take it easy on you when we play, even if we are probably out of the running for the Cup."

"We wouldn’t want it any other way," Harry assured him.

As they made their way back to the Great Hall for dinner, Ron eyed Harry curiously. "What was that all about?" he finally asked.

Harry just smiled at him. "It was the right thing to do," was all he would say. Hermione frowned as she tried to puzzle out his logic. Ginny nudged Harry with her elbow and nodded toward the bushy-haired witch. Harry gave her a small grin as they mounted the steps to the main entrance.

~+~

December couldn’t come soon enough for Harry and his friends. He was anticipating spending his first Christmas at The Burrow, while his friends were looking forward to a break from Snape over the winter holiday. Potions classes had slowly become a nightmare as the increasingly frustrated Legilimens took his anger out on them. Hermione and Neville could almost shut him out, and it would take him a while to get through their defences. Unfortunately, Snape picked up on Ginny and Luna’s friendship with the others, and began tormenting the Weasley girl during the first year Potions class. Luna, however, usually worked with Ginny, and sat as close to her as possible.

On one memorable occasion, they contrived to have Ginny drop her quill while Snape was ripping into her mind, and Luna bent over to pick it up at the same time as her friend. Luna’s head passed between Snape and Ginny before he realized what was happening. The results were quite gratifying as the Potions Professor stumbled and fell against his desk, gasping aloud. Slipping and accidentally entering Luna Lovegood’s mind was not a mistake anyone would want to make twice.

Nonetheless, his friends’ torment left Harry second-guessing himself. There were several types of Occlumency described in the book. He’d originally decided on the more straightforward version that used the person’s own magic to form a barrier against mental intrusion — mainly because that was the easiest to master. It did, however, have some disadvantages. It was very obvious to the Legilimens that they were being blocked — which led to Snape’s foul mood and constant abuse.

There were amulets that could be constructed or purchased that would also block mental intrusions. Unfortunately, Harry had no illusions about Snape abusing his authority as a Professor to confiscate or destroy any possessions of theirs. The man acted like he was incensed that mere students wouldn’t cede him access to their thoughts and memories as his right. And the man lambasted him as arrogant!

The more subtle Occlumency methods used misdirection to deflect probes away from sensitive memories. On the plus side, a skilful enough user could deceive a Legilimens without the invader even being aware of the resistance. Unfortunately, this method was much harder to master, and was less than effective if the user was upset or experiencing any sort of strong emotion. This was driven home to Harry when Snape tried to teach it to him during his disastrous fifth year at Hogwarts. Had Snape purposefully taught him the less effective version for himself at Voldemort’s orders? Or was it the only version he knew? The few times Harry had prodded the man’s mind, he’d felt some push back at the borders, but it might just have been the man’s natural resistance after spending so much time around Voldemort.

Harry stopped debating his choice of methodology when he realized that there was no chance of them mastering the harder method before Snape uncovered at least one memory of them practicing or discussing Occlumency. At that point they would have been in for the same abuse anyway.

That logic reassured Harry that he’d made the right choice, but watching his friends go through the mental wringer during Potions class was something he’d never forget. He found himself going through his mental list of reasons why he couldn’t just murder Snape on the spot. Each time Harry found his reasons sounded a little less convincing. A couple of weeks away from the man might serve to curb his homicidal impulses.

It was with some satisfaction that Harry watched Professor McGonagall collecting the names of students who would be staying at Hogwarts over the holidays. It felt a little odd to remember that he had a home to go to now. Nice, but odd. He hoped they would be able to visit Diagon Alley for some Christmas shopping.

As the holidays approached, Harry wasn’t sure if Lockhart would be pushing to start the Duelling Club or not. The fraud’s classes with the Gryffindors had definitely become more than he bargained for. Led by Hermione, Harry and his friends mercilessly pressed him for details on his supposed conquests. By the end of what was supposed to be a session of boasting, the man was often stammering and sweating. If he arrived for class early, Harry sometimes saw the man reading through his own books, or worse, a standard reference, trying to prepare himself.

In desperation at how difficult this ‘easy teaching job’ had become, Lockhart fell back on the Standard Book of Spells. He started them practicing the various curses and hexes on each other. Before long, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati refused to work with Harry or his friends. They weren’t nasty about it, but their classmates knew the four of them had been practicing a lot on their own. Whenever Lockhart told them to pair off, the two boys and two girls made sure they hooked up. Harry really didn’t mind, because he knew Neville, Hermione, or Ron would give him a much better run for his money than the others.

All the same, Harry was very careful to keep his power reigned in when casting indoors, especially at his friends. He didn’t want another wild surge to put someone in the hospital wing. It brought a lump to his throat when Ron agreed to face him the first time with no hesitation. Harry made a point of casting the jelly-legs jinx with as little power as he could. He was successful in that respect — Ron could actually force his legs to straighten up and stay rigid if he concentrated.

On the other hand, Harry felt it might be nice to face opponents he wouldn’t feel obligated to hold back against. So while their early mornings were filled with practicing dodging and drilling on shield charms, Harry kept an eye on the notice board in the entry hall. Finally, on a gray Thursday that threatened snow, he noticed a parchment had been posted that already drew a small crowd.

"A duelling club?" Neville asked.

"I wonder who is sponsoring it?" Hermione asked.

"I know one way to find out," Harry answered as he edged up to the board. "Eight o’clock tonight in the Great Hall."

That evening the Great Hall was decked out just like Harry remembered, complete with a large golden stage. Harry hoped his smile didn’t become too feral as Professor Lockhart pranced out.

"Good evening, everyone. Gather round, gather round. Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Excellent!" The man was practically preening in his dark plum robes. "Now Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this duelling club to train you all in how to defend yourselves. I’ve had to do so no small number of times myself, and let me tell you — there’s nothing more important than knowing how to protect yourself. See my published works for details!"

Harry felt his nails digging into his palms as he restrained himself from cursing the man on the spot. His hypocrisy was galling, given what he’d told Harry about how improperly trained students wouldn’t survive to complain.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart announced, grinning. "He tells me he knows a little about duelling himself, and has agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now, he’s being a good sport about this, so don’t worry, I won’t hurt him, never fear!"

Harry found himself looking forward to what he knew would happen next. Snape looked positively murderous.

Lockhart and Snape faced each other, bowing. Lockhart continued his narration, oblivious to the potion master’s disdain. "As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Never fear, neither of us will cast anything lethal!"

Ron mimed a disappointed sigh and Hermione muffled a snort.

On the count of three, both men raised their wands. Snape’s Expelliarmus struck first, the blast of red light blowing Lockhart off the stage and leaving him lying in a crumpled heap at the base of a wall.

The Slytherin students’ cheers broke off in confusion as Harry gave Snape a standing ovation. After a few nudges, his friends joined in as well. The Slytherin Head of House blinked twice, staring at Harry.

Although it was a close thing, Harry did respect Snape slightly more than Lockhart. The man was a complete bastard, but that was easier to stomach than the utter fraud teaching Defence. Besides, he’s probably going mad trying to figure out what I’m up to now, Harry reflected.

Snape must have been in an ill temper when he cursed Lockhart, because it took a couple of minutes before the man could climb to his feet again. Harry supposed that if it was Snape’s frustration about the Occlumency situation, then it was true what they said about silver linings.

Lockhart’s blather as he tried to laugh off his thrashing was less than convincing. That probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t stand up completely straight. Snape moved through the crowd and paired everyone off. True to form, Neville was set up with Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ron with Seamus (to the Irish boy’s noticeable dismay), Hermione with Millicent Bulstrode, and Harry, of course, with Draco Malfoy.

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"Face your partners!" Lockhart called out, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Harry gave Draco the barest of nods. If he remembered correctly, the little bastard was going to jump the gun a little.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart, getting into the theatricality of the moment again. "On the count of three, cast to disarm, only! One… Two… Three…"

Draco’s wand started moving on two, but Harry felt Snape’s eyes on him. He knew if he conjured a shield before ‘Three’, he would be called on it, no matter how Draco cheated. Instead he rolled his torso and ducked to the side, letting the Slytherin’s spell shoot past him. After the third count, he brought his wand up.

"Expelliarmus!" Let no one accuse me of breaking the rules here, Harry grumbled to himself as Draco tried to dodge his counterstroke. The spell clipped Draco in his left shoulder, spinning him around. The boy did, however, maintain hold of his wand.

Draco’s eyes lit with rage and he brought his wand up again. Harry braced himself and began the motions for a shield charm when Snape’s voice cut through the air like a whip. "Enough! Cease this instant!" He snarled in a venomous tone.

Harry raised the point of his wand, but didn’t take his eyes off Draco as Snape spoke to his student in a voice too quiet to hear. Peripherally, Harry was aware of Neville releasing Justin from a leg-locker curse as Ron handed Seamus his wand back. Hermione extended a hand to Millicent, helping the larger girl up from the floor. Bulstrode gave her a respectful nod as she rubbed at her right wrist and forearm.

The Great Hall was in chaos, with roughed up and afflicted students everywhere. Lockhart tried to sort things out, and finally suggested that they work on blocking unfriendly spells.

Of course, Snape’s voice rang out over the clamour and suggested Harry and Draco take the stage for the demonstration — something the Boy Who Lived had been anticipating with some glee.

Harry ignored Lockhart’s bumbling advice, instead focusing on Draco as Snape whispered something into the blond boy’s ear. Harry smiled as he stood on the stage in front of most of the school. He resisted the urge to twirl his wand in his fingers.

Lockhart counted off the start of the duel, this time counting down from three for some odd reason. Harry wondered idly if he’d been concussed by the wall.

Draco evidently wasn’t as eager to be caught cheating by the entire student body, so he refrained from casting until after Lockhart said "Go!" Serpensortia! the Slytherin yelled and a nasty great black snake flew out of the end of his wand.

The snake immediately began slithering toward Harry, who watched it coolly. Having absolutely no desire to be publicly identified as a Parselmouth, he waited until the snake reached the mid-point between himself and his leering opponent.

"Reducto!" Harry snarled and the snake exploded into fragments. A girl shrieked as she was covered in snake guts, but the fragments of the conjured snake almost instantly evaporated in puffs of black smoke.

"Furnunculus!" Draco called out, levelling his wand at Harry. A beam of sickly orange light leapt across the space between them.

"Protego!" Harry replied, angling his wand carefully and giving it a twist as he finished the incantation. A shimmering shield appeared in front of Harry, cocked at a slight angle. Draco’s spell struck it with a bang, and it rebounded off to one side of the stage. It hit Pansy Parkinson squarely between the eyes and she shrieked as huge pus-weeping boils covered her face.

Harry let the shield charm drop and smirked at Draco.

"Tarantallegra!" Draco spat.

"Protego!" Harry’s shield charm was cocked at a different angle this time. Draco’s spell shot back the almost exactly the way it came, but clipped Gregory Goyle. Draco’s bristly-haired bodyguard abruptly began dancing a clumsy jig, trampling on several peoples’ feet before he tripped and fell out of sight.

A deflected stunning spell dropped Vincent Crabbe like a sack of potatoes, and Draco started to really lose it. Harry was mildly surprised when the pale boy began firing off curses he definitely hadn’t learned at Hogwarts. It was rather obvious that the boy had been practicing over the summer as a column of flames spat from the end of his wand like a flamethrower. It was spread out enough that Harry’s shield charm just stopped it, rather than deflecting it. Not that Harry would necessarily risk killing someone in the crowd.

The cloud of flames did, however, obscure his vision for a moment. He wasn’t expecting it when the flames began to dissipate and Draco’s voice snarled "Diffindo!" The cutting charm punched through the weakened shield as Harry instinctively threw himself to the side. Something tugged at the sleeve of his robes as a hot brand was dragged across the top of Harry’s left shoulder.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry barked as he rolled onto one knee. Draco ducked and used another cutting charm. This time Harry saw it coming and his shield charm held.

It was purely coincidental that the deflected spell parted Snape’s hair. The man’s eyes blazed with fury as a few strands fell to the floor. His wand came up and Harry knew that play time was over.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry called out as Draco began another spell. He knew that loud verbalizations were technically bad form, but he didn’t want there to be any question as to what he was casting.

Draco didn’t duck in time, and was hurled backward as his wand was torn from his grasp. He rolled off the edge of the stage into some Slytherin upperclassmen as his wand flew end over end across the stage. Harry switched his wand to his left hand, wincing as his shoulder began to complain. As slowly as the tumbling wand descended, it was easy for the Gryffindor Seeker to catch it in his right hand. He held Draco’s wand gingerly as he rose to his feet. He wondered what horrors it committed in the future as a low murmur broke out among the spectators.

"Hand that over, Potter," Professor Snape demanded in a venomous tone. The man had already covered half the length of the stage, his eyes boring into Harry.

"I’d be doing him a favour if I snapped this," Harry replied. "There are many with far less tolerance for arrogant Purebloods than I."

Snape’s fury was almost palpable after Harry threw his own words back in his face. Harry tossed him Draco’s wand and jumped down off the stage. The jarring as he landed set his shoulder to aching again, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him wince. He ignored the murmurs of the crowd as he strode away.

Of course, the minute they followed him out of the Great Hall, Harry’s friends insisted on dragging him to the hospital wing. Not that he was too reluctant; his shoulder ached abominably and the sleeve of his robes was soaked with blood.

Madame Pomfrey fussed over him with her wand and a foul-smelling salve. "Duelling Clubs! What sorts of idiocy will that fool come up with next?" she muttered, scowling.

Harry resisted the urge to shrug. "If you are referring to whom I think you are, he is. But he did call for disarming spells only. Draco just doesn’t like to follow rules."

Ron and the others protested when they were asked to wait outside the treatment area. It would be curfew soon and they didn’t want to be shooed back to the Gryffindor tower without Harry. But as he sat there on a bed with his robes and shirt removed, Harry began to regret interceding with Madam Pomfrey. Ginny applied a great deal of concentration to casting Scourgify on Harry’s blood-stained robes.

"Mr. Malfoy’s conduct was reprehensible," Professor McGonagall said briskly as she entered the infirmary. "But there are also questions about your actions as well, Mr. Potter," she continued, ignoring the glares from five of her students.

"What sort of questions, Professor?" Harry asked blandly.

"While Mr. Malfoy displayed a - curious - knowledge of curses and hexes well above his grade level, his father has confirmed the boy received private tutoring over the summer. There are questions about your unexpected prowess as well. I would prefer to clear those up as soon as possible."

"I’m not sure what you mean," Harry said innocently. "I only used a shield charm and a disarming spell against him."

"I believe it was more the - facility - with which you were able to use those spells," McGonagall replied with some asperity.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said hesitantly, "Harry, well, we’ve all been practicing shield charms for over two weeks now. On our own."

Surprised, McGonagall turned toward Hermione. She was about to say something when she was interrupted.

"That is correct, Minerva," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling merrily. "I’ve been watching their exercises with some curiosity now, but I daresay their efforts have paid off, at least in Harry’s case."

Professor McGonagall turned toward the headmaster with a questioning look.

"Our colleague has - decided to retire to his quarters to recover his composure. He has had quite a trying day, from what I understand." Dumbledore then turned his attention back toward Harry. "Although I won’t fault a student for making efforts to improve, I will admit I am curious as to why you six are going to such lengths."

Harry wasn’t entirely sure if it was an honest question or not. He decided to simply take the bull by the horns. "We’re learning to defend ourselves because we’ve learned that Hogwarts isn’t the safest place to acquire an education." Professor McGonagall’s lips grew even thinner as Dumbledore paused. Maybe he’s surprised at my bluntness? Harry wondered.

"Harry, I assure you that we will take any measure necessary to ensure the safety of our students," the headmaster replied, his eyes no longer twinkling quite so merrily.

Harry just stared at the man for a long moment before laughing bitterly. He pulled on his bloody shirt and nodded thanks to Ginny as she handed him his robe.

Harry stalked toward the exit and the others followed him. Hermione turned back when Professor McGonagall touched her shoulder. The older witch frowned at the suppressed tears shining in the eyes of one of her favourite students. "Maybe it would be more believable, if it wasn’t a Professor that threatened to snap my wand for being an uppity Mudblood," the girl hissed.

Professor McGonagall looked like she’d been slapped and turned to Dumbledore in consternation. His face grave, the headmaster idly waved his hand and the infirmary entrance closed right before Harry reached it. The Boy Who Lived turned back toward the Professors with an icy glare.

"Harry, I would prefer that we could discuss this in a civilized manner," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry slid his wand back up his sleeve and stiffly walked back toward the Professors. "I’m not sure we really have much to discuss. Professor Snape obviously sets the tone for his house: abusive, bullying, and murderous when given the opportunity." He touched his shirt where the bloody fabric was torn away at the shoulder. "If I hadn’t dodged, Draco’s cutting charm would have gone through my neck. Instead of talking about that, I’ll bet Professor Snape was in your office complaining about the fact that I was able to deflect some non-lethal curses. Draco’s part in this whole mess is already being swept under the rug, isn’t it? Not to mention Voldemort himself sneaking into the school, and that prophecy he mentioned that you still won’t tell me about." Harry took a deep breath. "Now, Professor, why was it that I should I feel safe here?"

Dumbledore let out a low sigh. "Very well, Harry. I’d wanted to spare you this until you were older, but you deserve to know. Let us adjourn to my office and I will tell you what you want to know."

"No," was all Harry said.

Dumbledore looked at him again. "No?"

"No more secrets. These are my friends, and they deserve to know. They are likely going to be in danger just being around me. Secrets can kill…"

"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "If that is your wish." He gave a nod toward Madam Pomfrey and she quietly left the room.

Professor McGonagall started to leave, but Harry caught her eye and shook his head. "You may be in the middle the next time he tries to get me. You deserve to know as well." The stern-looking woman stayed, though she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Dumbledore paused, perhaps hoping that Harry would change his mind. With a resigned expression he closed his eyes and recited the words that had determined Harry’s fate. "The Prophecy was made shortly before you were born, Harry. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ..."

The silence that followed was deafening in its intensity. Harry broke it taking a shaky breath, one that wasn’t entirely feigned. After everything he had gone through, those simple words still had the power to chill his blood.

"My parents defied him three times?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "They fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters on several occasions after they left Hogwarts."

"My parents were Aurors," Neville said in a shocked voice, "they must have fought him at least three times as well. My birthday was at the end of July… C-couldn’t this apply to me too?" Harry noticed Luna staring directly at the boy as he spoke.

"That would be possible," Dumbledore agreed, "but Harry was the one Voldemort marked." He slowly pointed toward Harry’s scar."

"So it’s him or me?" Harry asked.

"Eventually," Dumbledore replied. "That is the only interpretation that makes sense to me."

Harry nodded. "Good."

The look on Dumbledore’s face was priceless.

Harry looked him squarely in the eye. Maybe it’s time to show a little more of who I really am. "The mad bastard’s tried to kill me twice. At least now I know why. The Prophecy doesn’t say he’s guaranteed to win, and I supposedly have some power he can’t comprehend." He took a deep breath and his face hardened. "And since he killed my Mum and Dad, I’m glad I’m the one that gets to punch his ticket," he growled. After a moment Harry sighed. "But thank you for telling me. I needed to know."

Harry could feel his friends’ eyes on him, but it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He knew they had his back covered.

Professor Dumbledore gazed at him thoughtfully. "I’ll admit, Harry, this wasn’t the reaction I expected."

"Given everything that’s happened, I’ve had to grow up rather quickly," he said with a hint of bitterness.

Dumbledore went rather still, and the twinkling in his eyes faded. Dumbledore glanced at the others and Harry could see the skin around his eyes go tight. "Harry, I —"

Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You thought you were doing the right thing. I can’t blame you for that - after all, we all make mistakes, don’t we?" he said the words calmly, but his eyes met Dumbledore’s the whole time. He waited for the feather-light touch of the headmaster’s Legilimency, but it never came. Point for you, old man, Harry mused.

"Indeed, Harry, you are - unusually mature," Dumbledore replied. Harry couldn’t tell if he was hinting or not. "Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to ensure the Prophecy is resolved in your favour."

"I appreciate that, Professor," Harry replied sincerely. "I think the largest question in my mind is how he keeps coming back from the dead. I mean, from what I read the Aurors concluded that the killing curse rebounded on him in 1981. And after I fought him last spring, his spirit seemed to remove itself from Professor Quirrell. What keeps him from passing on?"

"That is indeed, the key issue, Harry. I’ve done some research on means of cheating death, but I don’t have any definitive answers as yet."

Harry didn’t even have to look to know that Hermione’s eyes were lit up at the implied challenge. "Well then, I suppose we should continue preparing then."

"That would be for the best," the headmaster agreed. "Now if you will forgive me, Professor Lockhart has been waiting for some time now."

After he left, Professor McGonagall stepped into Madam Pomfrey’s office. She let the healer know she’d be escorting her students back to the Gryffindor tower.

As they were walking back, Harry broached another subject he’d been debating. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I understand that a faculty sponsor is needed for any sort of official student organization."

McGonagall gave him a sidelong look, but nodded. "That is correct. What kind did you want to start?"

"I was thinking about some sort of permanent duelling club."

"Harry," Ron asked curiously, "aren’t we already practicing enough?"

"We are," Harry agreed. "But don’t other people need to know how to defend themselves? Look what happened to Cho. Besides, it’s not like they’re going to learn anything useful from Lockhart."

"Mr. Potter!" the Deputy Headmistress snapped.

"I know, I know. He is a Professor. But seriously, Ma’am, have you ever seen him successfully cast a spell?" Harry asked. "I know we haven’t."

Professor McGonagall’s lips compressed into a line sharp enough to cut parchment. "What sort of activities would you propose?"

Harry spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing too extreme. Maybe start off on Friday nights, work on basic hexes and jinxes. How to cast accurately. How to dodge. Things like that. I doubt too many older students will be interested, at least at first."

"You might be surprised, Mr. Potter," his head of house responded with just a hint of amusement. "Word of your match with Mr. Malfoy has spread, no doubt growing more exaggerated with each re-telling."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Ron started warming to the idea. "What should we call it then? The Duelling Club?"

Harry smiled. "That seems awfully plain. How about the ‘Duelling Association’ so we can call it the DA for short?" Take that, Fate!

~+~

The next day was Friday, with the last classes of the term. Harry was extremely grateful for this, as it seemed that Professor McGonagall’s words regarding rumours were quite accurate.

Their morning started off rather poorly. The blizzard had finally begun during the night, and the grounds were already ankle-deep in a white blanket, with more snow spiralling down from the iron-grey sky. After their morning run degenerated into a pratfall festival of slips, slides, and spills, Harry gave it up as a bad job.

He led them to a spot in the courtyard that was partially shielded from the growing drifts for martial arts practice. Unfortunately, without a warm-up run, they were too cold and stiff to do very much. They finally gave up and headed back inside.

Quitting early at least gave them time for an extra-long hot shower before breakfast. Harry half-boiled himself before all the feeling returned to his fingers and toes. When he went down to breakfast, he wore his Weasley jumper under his robes and had the scarf Ginny made him wrapped around his neck.

The moment he entered the Great Hall, the normal quiet conversations among the early-risers ended abruptly. Harry noticed that several people were openly staring at him. The sounds of urgent whispering soon filled the room as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry fought the urge to duck his head.

Fred and George, he noticed, were watching this with great amusement.

"Honestly, I don’t see why you’re so surprised, Harry," Hermione gently chided him, "You did put on quite a show last night."

"Would you rather he acted like Draco?" Ginny asked tartly. "I suppose you might enjoy him strutting a bit, but I wouldn’t."

Hermione stared at Ginny, obviously taken aback.

"One of the reasons Ginny likes Harry so much is because he’s so modest," Luna said as she poured herself some juice. "Most wizards who could do what he did would get a very big head about it. Harry acts like he feels uncomfortable when he does something better than the rest of us. Especially you." She took a sip, oblivious to the blush creeping up Ginny’s face as well as Harry’s. She frowned at Hermione, who was gaping like a fish. "Surely you notice how reluctant he is to discuss grades until he hears how you did. If he did better, you have to drag the paper out of his hands. It’s almost like he feels guilty because he has some unfair advantage." She looked over at Harry and smiled faintly. "Don’t let that stop you from beating Draco when the opportunity arises. I rather enjoyed that last night, almost as much as I liked watching Neville."

Harry dodged to the side as Neville sacrificed a mouthful of Pumpkin juice to the gods of the spit-take. He was just glad the food hadn’t appeared yet.

Luna turned and looked at Neville. "What?" she cocked her head and stared at the sputtering Longbottom.

"You’re doing that on purpose," Ron accused the blond girl.

"Doing what?" she asked innocently. That couldn’t have been a glint in her eye, could it? Harry wondered.

Unfortunately, Ron’s inquiry was fatally distracted by the arrival of breakfast. As they loaded their plates, Harry tried to relax and sit up straight. He’d put up with being the centre of attention before, and usually for far less pleasant reasons. He sighed and bit into a nice warm chipolata.

Ginny, however, was still quiet, and a little red-faced. He took hold of the trailing end of his scarf and brushed it against her arm. She turned toward him so suddenly he had to stop himself from flinching back. "Told you this would be right useful by the end of autumn," he reminded her.

She nodded. "I know, I’m wearing two jumpers under my robes. Any more layers and I won’t be able to bend my elbows."

Harry chuckled quietly. "Might be hard to take notes that way," he said airily.

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked from the other side of his sister.

"Harry agrees that I need to not wear too many clothes," Ginny said, grinning.

"We’re talking about how cold this rock pile gets in the winter," Harry corrected her, growling. "Do you really have to wind him up like that?" he asked. "I’m the one that has to go to class with him."

"Not immediately," Hermione corrected him. "Herbology was cancelled. The greenhouses are almost snowed under and Professor Sprout is worried about the mandrakes."

"Yeah, she needs to get something warm to wrap them up," Neville agreed, his embarrassment forgotten in the warm glow of herbology. "They’re used to a warmer climate than Scotland. I promised to help her this afternoon if she’s still at it."

"I’ll help too, if you want," Luna volunteered.

Neville looked at her, a little surprised.

"If I’m going to tease you, I should also be nice at times. That way you’ll be more confused," she explained.

Neville sent Harry a pleading look.

Harry just shrugged helplessly. "I’m not smart enough to figure out girls. No one is."

"I’m so glad," Luna said, beaming. "Are you two glad as well?" she asked Ginny and Hermione.

Hermione just groaned and began massaging her temples. Ginny snorted, then began giggling quietly.

"Mental. All three of them." Ron muttered. "Absolutely mental." He jumped, grunting with pain. "What was that for?" he asked, scowling at Hermione.

"If you call me mental one more time, I’ll do more than kick your - shin," the bushy-haired witch growled.

Ron blanched and then focused exclusively on his food.

Ginny smiled at Harry, who responded by shrugging, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

After they finished eating, the second-years escorted Luna and Ginny to charms, and then retired to their common room in the Gryffindor tower. Ron somehow talked Neville into a game of wizarding chess. Harry watched with some amusement, even though the outcome was practically preordained. The game was very popular with wizarding folk, but Ron could burn anyone out on it - like most of the Gryffindors.

For their last transfiguration class of the term, Professor McGonagall had them turning small metal spheres into Christmas ornaments. He remembered doing this the first time around. He managed to produce a shiny metallic green bauble with a hook that wasn’t too embarrassing. But in the aftermath of Justin’s petrifaction and the wild accusations that followed, he’d hung it on the smaller tree in the Gryffindor common room and forgotten about it. Between the whole Polyjuice fiasco and visiting Hermione in the hospital wing, he’d forgotten to retrieve it until after the tree was taken down.

Harry thought the ornament was lost forever, but it wasn’t. After they found Ginny’s body and Harry woke up at The Burrow - after he rationalized not ending his own life just yet, he’d gone to her room. He didn’t know why he did that to himself, but he wanted to feel closer to her, if only in his mind. The room hadn’t changed much over the years. Her bed and bureau were there, but her trunk was gone, crushed under the wreckage of the Gryffindor tower. The top of the bureau had a scattering of trinkets. A figurine he’d owled her for her last birthday. A dried flower pressed under glass. A silver hair-clip. And a metallic green ornament. One he’d made before he even noticed her, one that she saved from being discarded and put away as a keepsake of her horrible first year. Holding the worthless bauble like it was the most precious thing in the world, he sat on the foot of her bed, legs too weak to stand, and wept for all he’d lost, and all the time he’d wasted.

Harry blinked, swallowing to dull the prickle in the back of his throat. Ron was frowning at him as McGonagall passed out the spheres. Harry sniffed and coughed loudly to cover up.

"Don’t do that around Mum," he warned in a low voice. "She hears you cough she’ll have your shirt off and a mustard pack on your chest in an instant."

"Hmmm…" Harry murmured. "Then I’ll have to tell her I caught it from you and escape in the confusion."

Ron glared at him. "You need to stop hanging around Fred and George."

Professor McGonagall frowned at them as she handed them their spheres. They wisely decide to shut it at that point.

Harry glared at his ornament-to-be. He didn’t know what he wanted to make, but it definitely would not be metallic green. He knew they were starting with metal spheres, so whatever they made would be less likely to shatter if dropped or the transfiguration failed horribly. Harry’s Quidditch-obsessed mind immediately thought of another metallic sphere that was roughly the same size. He worked on visualizing exactly what he wanted, adding details and trying to make everything as clear as possible. When he was finally satisfied, he reached for his wand.

When the small puff of smoke cleared, the metal ball was replaced with a Golden Snitch ornament, complete with a hook protruding from the top, between the wings, so it could easily be hung from a tree.

"That’s brilliant, mate," Ron said in an awed whisper. He hesitantly reached over and touched one of the delicately moulded wings with his fingertip. The limbs immediately blurred into motion and the Snitch ornament slowly rose up from Harry’s desk.

Harry quickly grabbed it before it could get away, but a shocked silence descended around him.

"What’s happening over here?" Professor McGonagall asked, walking toward him. She’d been circulating around the classroom, offering help to those struggling, and ensuring that the students already finished didn’t start acting up.

"P-Professor, Harry animated his ornament," Hermione said in an awed tone.

Harry resisted the urge to hit himself in the forehead. Animating solid objects was a topic in his NEWT-level transfiguration seminar. Damn, I better just try to dumb it out.

"Mr. Potter, what did you do to your ornament?" McGonagall looked slightly impressed in spite of herself.

"Er, I’m not completely sure. I was trying to visualize a Snitch, and you know, I never see one when it isn’t flapping its wings like mad - it must have just - come out that way." Harry tried to make himself sound as confused as possible. Crabbe and Goyle would be proud, he thought happily.

"I - see - Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in a profoundly disapproving voice. She did not sound happy at the idea that Harry just bumbled into creating what originally appeared to be a nice bit of advanced transfiguration.

After she left, Hermione gave Harry a slightly disgusted look. Harry just shrugged sheepishly. At least this ornament is quite different, he reflected happily.

~+~

By dint of several warming charms, strategically placed Incendio spells, and no small amount of brute force, the six of them were able to beat a path from the courtyard to Hagrid’s hut that weekend. The groundskeeper and holder of the keys was a little surprised to see them so close to the end of term, but he quickly whipped up some hot tea (which was appreciated) and set out platters of rock cakes (which were politely ignored) and treacle fudge (which only Harry would eat, taking very, very small nibbles and chewing vigorously).

Harry knew the man would be lonely over the holidays, having no real family left, so he talked everyone into coming to see him. Honestly, though, it wasn’t that hard. The second years remembered the stories he’d told of their parents, or the tea and encouragement he’d given when Snape was being beastly. He’d also evidently hit it off with Ginny and Luna during their trip across the lake. He promised Luna he’d provide a breeding ground for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks if she and her father could bring back a breeding pair, so he was first rate in her book.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny clubbed up to get a new collar for Fang, made of dragon hide with metal fittings. Neville got him a new hat, since his old one was sporting an increasing number of holes and chew marks. Hermione gave him a book on Muggle veterinary treatments, since some of his charges were very sensitive to magic. Luna gave him a year’s subscription to The Quibbler, so he could stay on top of new species discoveries that seem to happen unusually often these days.

Hagrid was clearly touched and surprised. In no time he was starting to sound congested. As they bid him goodbye, Harry whispered "I look through that album almost every night."

Hagrid’s hand on his shoulder nearly brought Harry to his knees.

~+~

After Monday breakfast they loaded up their trunks and made their way down to the snowy courtyard. Hermione became very popular with the shivering first year students, as she would cast a warming charm on anyone who asked her. Harry was glad Draco was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, and wasn’t there to see Matt Harper, a Slytherin first year student politely thanking Hermione. Can’t have anyone ruining their image as a house full of complete bastards, now can we? Harry reflected wryly.

Harry was in such a good mood that he just smiled and nodded when Colin Creevey asked to take another picture. Ginny was sitting on her trunk nearby, so Harry sat down next to her and posed. Colin fooled around with the camera for a moment, then snapped the picture. Harry smiled at Ginny, who looked slightly cross, then got up to see what Ron and Neville were arguing about.

The two of them were working out the details with Hermione on when they could get together and exchange gifts over the break. They finally agreed to try for some time between Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve.

Harry looked up in time to see Colin running from Ginny, who’d just pasted him in the back of the head with a snowball. The fleeing first year unfortunately ran right past Ron, who hooked an arm around the smaller boy.

"Is there some reason my sister is angry at you?" Ron asked in a falsely cheery tone.

"No! I don’t know! I mean - I said something, but I don’t understand why she got mad." Colin looked back and forth between Ron and Harry. "I just took a picture of Harry and her sitting together and I told her you two make a good couple for portraiture. Your colours contrast well, and you two are roughly the same size…" his voice ran down as Harry’s face went pink. "I didn’t mean anything else," he added quickly. Then he wriggled out of Ron’s grip and got into the line to board the next carriage. Ron just chuckled at his friend.

One by one, the thestral-drawn carriages arrived and ferried them to the train station. As soon as their trunks were stowed, they claimed the last compartment. The idling train was a bit cold, even with warming charms, as they were out of the sunlight now, and the metal walls and hard seats seemed to leech the warmth from their bodies. It wasn’t long before Luna was sitting on Neville’s lap again. From the redness of his face, it seemed her solution was warming him up as well. Harry wrapped his cloak over himself like a blanket, but soon realized that Ginny had left hers in her trunk when they boarded the train.

To his credit, Harry tried to offer it to her. She was noticeably smaller than he was, and logically would be more affected by the cold. Ginny sighed theatrically and got up. To his surprise, she sat down next to him and wrapped the trailing edge of the cloak around herself and leaned against him. Ron and Hermione had both kept their cloaks, but they were soon leaning against each other as well.

There must have been some problem with the boarding, because they sat there for a good half hour before the train finally jerked into motion. The warm air that finally wafted from the vents was very welcome, and soon Harry found himself drifting off to sleep.

Harry awoke when the train jolted as it slowed. He was quite warm for a change, though he wished the reason was a little different. Ginny was still curled up under his cloak, only now she was burrowed into his side, and his arm somehow ended up wrapped around her shoulders. He froze when he realized what a compromising position he was in. Thank Merlin everyone else is asleep as well, he thought as his panic ebbed.

As gently as possible, he attempted to extract himself. Unfortunately, Ginny had a firm grip on his robes, so he had no choice but to wake her. He tapped her on the shoulder, hoping and praying that she didn’t let out a yell. He was tempted to put a hand over her mouth, but didn’t want to risk panicking her. As it was, Ginny’s eyes snapped open and she flinched back from his side like he was on fire. She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry shushed her before she could wake the others.

Ron and Hermione were still leaning against each other. Ron was snoring lightly (for him), but Hermione didn’t seem to be disturbed by that. Luna was curled up on Neville’s lap, but for once he didn’t look petrified. Instead, he was faintly smiling, and more surprising, had both his arms wrapped around the blond girl.

"I can see we’re almost there, but I still need to use the necessary," Ginny whispered as she stood up.

"All right," Harry said. "Give me a minute." Ginny looked at him oddly as he stood up, wincing as his back popped and his muscles twitched. "What? I’m not letting you go off by yourself, no matter how close we are to King’s Cross."

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Do I need to repeat back the things you said to me when I complained to Ron?" Harry asked her, smirking.

"All right Harry, you’ve made your point," she said as she reached for the compartment door. She tried to unlatch it, but it slid open at her touch.

"That’s odd," Harry said, frowning.

"Maybe Ron didn’t get it completely latched," Ginny speculated.

"No, I’m pretty sure I heard it engage," Harry said. He looked back at his friends slumbering in the compartment. Nothing appeared to be out of place. He shrugged. "Let’s get going before they wake up."