Harry had all his things packed the next morning before Ron had even gotten out of bed. Neville and Seamus were still sleeping and Dean was still not speaking to him. Harry tried to decide if he ought to say something, but he wasn't sure what to do. Anything he said would make Dean mad. And the only he could say that would make Dean happy would probably make Ginny look like a fool. Harry had a feeling she would never forgive him if he did. And, he thought, it wasn't really his fault that Dean had made a mess of things in the first place. Was it?

He went down to breakfast and found Hermione at the table deep into an article in the Daily Prophet.

"I see you're still taking a subscription to the ragsheet," Harry said.

"We have to keep up with the news," Hermione replied.

"You mean the Ministry's version of it," Harry said. He would never forgive the paper or the Minister for what they had done to him last year. The paper had pilloried Harry all year as a disturbed attention seeker. But the worst of it was that they had allowed Voldemort to dig in and draw back his followers and recruit more, all the while that the Ministry had denied he was back. And Harry thought savagely, Sirius might not have died if they had taken measures right away.

"They havent!" Hermione exclaimed. "Look at this!" she said. She shoved Harry's plate aside and put the paper down in front of him. The entire middle section was taken up with a report: Ministry Panel Rejects Attempt to Break Black's Will.

Beneath that, the report read:

A three judge panel rejected the suit of Narcissa Black Malfoy and Bellatrix Black Lestrange at a final hearing yesterday morning. The two witches had sued to try to undo the last Will and Testament of the notorious Sirius Black. Black was the last direct male descendant of the House of Black, the illustrious, ancient, pure-blooded wizard family from which the renowned wizard, Phinneas Nigellus Black, a Hogwarts headmaster, was descended.

As is well known, Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban prison for the murders of Peter Pettigrew and twelve others, just after You Know Who had his powers broken by his attack on The Boy Who Lived. Black escaped two years ago, and avoided Ministry aurors for two years. Ironically, Black had been wrongly convicted of the murders and of being a Death Eater. He died last summer fighting an attack of Death Eaters on the Ministry itself. Black was awarded a posthumous medal--the Order of Merlin, for his bravery, and his conviction was erased from the Ministry records.

The lawsuit asserted that Black was made emotionally unbalanced by his twelve-year imprisonment and that he was not competent at the making of the Will. The plaintiffs charged that no Black would ever have left his property or fortune to a person who was not a family member. In fact, although the contents of the will were secret, the Prophet has learned from a reliable source that Black left all his fortune, and all the Black properties, which were hitherto entailed upon the direct male descendants to none other than Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!
The three judge panel made two findings. First, the judges held that the properties, which were held in fee tail male to the direct male descendant, were Black's to dispose of freely because he had no children. There were no direct male heirs living and therefore the restriction was no longer in effect.

The judges also took testimony as to Black's mental state at the time the Will was written. Albus Dumbledore gave testimony that Black's will was actually written sixteen years ago, before Black was ever sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore testified and every test proved that the will was written in August of 1980, one month after Harry Potter was born and shortly after Sirius Black was named as the boy's godfather. The Black inheritance, together with the Potter family fortune, which went to The Boy Who Lived upon his parents' death, will make Harry Potter one of the richest men in Britain.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, continues to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His grade of Outstanding in last summer's Ordinary Wizarding Level exam in Defense Against the Dark Arts came as no surprise to anybody.


"They gave Sirius the Order of Merlin," Harry said. "Posthumously! Too bad they didn't listen two years ago, when we tried to tell them he was innocent."

"Well this explains why Draco Malfoy kept going on about you and Ginny." Hermione said.

"Oh," Harry said. "Who cares what that evil git thinks?"

"You should," Hermione said quietly. "This will make him hate you more than ever. He would have inherited all of that through his mother. And it's gone to you instead."

"I'd give it all away, to have Sirius back alive," Harry said. The smell of the food on the table sickened him, but not as much as the sickness that twisted his gut, when he thought again how much he was to blame for Sirius's death. If he had listened to Dumbledore and learned Occlumency, he would not have been fooled by Voldemort. If he had listened, Sirius might be alive right now.

His holiday mood soured by the article in the Daily Prophet and by the reminder of Sirius's death, Harry sat in the last compartment of the train and brooded most of the way back to King's Cross station. It didn't help that last year had been the only Christmas he had ever gotten to spend with Sirius. Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville had each come into the compartment and attempted to make conversation with him. He had given them each polite, but brief replies, and nothing had lifted his mood, not even the pile of Cauldron Cakes and chocolate frogs he had bought from the lady with the food cart.

As the train was nearing the end of the line, they changed from their Hogwarts robes into ordinary jeans and sweaters. The change of clothing added to Harry's depression. He felt peculiar, as if by returning to the Muggle world, even for a short while on the way to the Burrow, he might somehow be trapped back in that world as his other self--Harry Potter, the unwanted orphan; Harry Potter, the down-trodden, lonely, runaway; Harry Potter, one more anonymous statistic.

Ron and Hermione were patroling the train as part of their prefect duties. Ginny and Neville had both gone to look for other happier companions. So he was alone with his self-loathing and pondering what was the point of anything when the compartment door opened and Draco Malfoy looked in along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I don't see your girlfriend, Potter," Malfoy said. "Gone off her or something, now that you know how rich you'll be?"

"I was already rich," Harry said, "and you're already rich, so what difference does it make? Unless," he added, "your Mum was planning on handing over the family fortune for Voldemort's use? Maybe she or your Dad made promises they can't keep now?" It was a wild shot in the dark, just something to irritate his nemesis, but to Harry's surprise, Draco paled slightly, and the animosity in his face mutated to real hatred.

"What d'you know about it, Scarface?"

Harry lifted his eyebrows and said softly, "I know a lot more than Voldemort realizes. Tell your Dad to tell him that I won't be tricked by him again. Tell him, I see right through him now." It was mere bravado, but the pallor of Draco's face was purely satisfying at that moment.

"I'm not your messenger, Potter," Malfoy answered. "Get your house-elf to give the Dark Lord your messages."

"What house-elf?" Harry said.

Malfoy laughed. "I guess you don't even know what you own." He went away laughing, as if he'd got the better of Harry in some way.

Harry thought, perhaps he had. It occurred to him that Malfoy must have been refering to Kreacher, the repulsive Black family house-elf who had gone tattling to Narcissa Malfoy last year when Sirius had told him to get out of the way, and whom Harry blamed in part for Sirius's death. He thought bitterly that the only thing he could do to get sufficient revenge on Kreacher was to set him free. Except Kreacher knew too much about the Order of the Phoenix. He might just give away even more information. He could still do damage, Harry thought.

The train pulled to a stop at the station, but Harry sat in his compartment looking out the window instead of getting out himself. As other students descended from the train and ran to hug their parents, he felt colder and colder and more alone than ever. If only...Sirius could have been there. Sirius, exonerated, could have met him openly at the platform. He's dead, Harry told himself, just like my Mum and Dad. And he won't come back.

Ron poked his head in the compartment and said, "Come on, Harry! Mum's here and we can't keep the driver waiting."

Harry nodded and grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage. Hedwig squawked when he accidentally banged the cage as he was getting out.
"Sorry, Hedwig," he muttered to the bird. That seemed to be the whole range of his feelings right then. Sorry, sorrow. But sorrow, could easily turn into rage. There had to be a way, he thought, to pay Voldemort back for the endless pit of sorrow he had carved into the world.

"Come on, boys," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hurry up, now. The taxi's waiting."

The ride back was noisy and distracting. Crookshanks got loose and landed on the driver's head, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon clucked and screeched and the driver kept cursing and apologizing for his language. He missed the turn to get to the Burrow three times, but they finally arrived more or less in one piece.

"No thanks, ma'am," the driver said when Mrs. Weasley tried to pay him. "I'll pay you never to call me to drive you again."

"Is that usual," Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry shook his head. For the first time that day, he felt like laughing. They all piled into the house.

"Everything's a mess," Mrs. Weasley wailed, "Fred! George! What have you done?" Two identical heads poked over the bannister.

"Ah, Mum," Fred said, "we didn't expect you back for a just a few more minutes."

"But my tree! My fairy lights! All my decorations!" Harry could see Mrs. Weasley was building up to a good scream. Smoke was pouring out of the fireplace, but that was nothing to the smoke pouring out of her ears.

"Now, Mum," George said, "keep your wand in your pocket and stay calm. We can fix it. It's supposed to be a surprise."

"A surprise!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "I'll give you a surprise! Just when I thought you were going to grow up and amount to something. Look at this. Like you've never stopped being five. Leaving school without graduating. Going off and selling jokes and pranks!"

Ginny and Ron grabbed Mrs. Weasley and said, "A cup of tea? With lots of sugar?" Mrs. Weasley's face was red, her ears were red, and Harry was quite sure that her robes were going to turn red any moment.

Fred and George looked at each other solemnly, and Fred said, "On the count of three. One. Two. And Three!" The twins waved their wands and the Christmas tree appeared fully decorated and glowing with lights and candles. They waved their wands a second time and presents sailed into colorful heaps, already sorted by name. A third wave set the table with an assortment of red and green and gold crockery and a fourth brought heaping platters of sandwiches and salads and pitchers of egg nog, ready for the weary travelers to eat.

Mrs. Weasley stared with her jaw dropping. "So you did learn something after all," she said weakly.

George grinned and said, "Happy Christmas, Mum. Courtesy of Weasley's Wizards' Wheezes." He and Fred took turns bowing and everybody laughed.

Mrs. Weasley recovered and said, "Put your things away now, and wash up quickly. I'm sure you must be starving."

Harry grinned happily at Ron as they dragged their trunks up the narrow stairs to Ron's room. "You've gotta admit," he said, "Fred and George do have a certain flair."

"Yeah," Ron said, "but I wonder what they were actually trying to do before we got there."

"That's a point," Harry said, "that is a point."

Harry sat down at the festive table and all of his gloom fell away. He was suddenly ravenous. He heaped his plate high with sandwiches and salads and drank down a foamy butterbeer as fast as he could. Mrs. Weasley kept pressing more on him. "You've got to feed up a bit, Harry. You had us all scared there for a bit."

Harry smiled at her and said, "I'm fine, now, Mrs. Weasley. And I'm totally stuffed. You'll be roasting me on the spit instead of the turkey this year." There was a good bit of laughter at that.

The kitchen door banged open and Mr. Weasley arrived. "Everyone back safe and sound?" he said as he bent to give Mrs. Weasley a peck on the cheek. "Wonderful!" he said. He rubbed his hands and sat at the table. Harry looked up at the Weasley's clock and saw that the hand with Mr. Weasley's face on it had swung to the position that said HOME. With a shock, he saw that his own face had been added, and it, too, was on the HOME position.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.

"I'm on your clock!" he said.

"Of course you are, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered. "I have to keep track of you now that I'm your guardian. And mind you stay out of trouble this year. You've already nearly stopped my heart once this year with that dragon pox."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it back again. He thought he might cry and that everyone would think something was wrong if he did. He swallowed the sudden obstruction in his throat and said, "I don't go looking for trouble, you know. It just has a way of finding me."

Hermione and Ron and Ginny were laughing at that, and he said, "No, really."

"We don't mind a bit of trouble in this house," Fred said.

"Yeah," said George. "In fact, next to me and Fred, you're positively well-behaved and respectable. Not to mention, you got more OWLs alone than the two of us together."

Harry snorted at that. "Respectable? Me? Tell that to my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I can't possibly be respectable and be a wizard according to them."

"Muggle nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley said. "And don't you defend them either, Arthur."

"I have no intention of defending Harry's relatives, my dear," Mr. Weasley replied.

"They would be unpleasant people whether they were Muggles or wizards. That's their character. They're not all that different from our lot who think anyone with a bit of Muggle blood is defective. It's the same disease, you see, Petty small-mindedness and prejudice. The downfall of so many."

After dinner, Harry was feeling warm and full and about as happy as he'd ever been. Hermione and Ginny had gone off to Ginny's room, and from the sound of their giggles on the way up the stairs, they were in for a session of the kind of talk girls didn't want boys listening in at. Fred and George had cornered Ron, and Harry had an inkling they were up to something, but he didn't have the energy to get up and join them. In any case, he had something else on his mind just then.

Mrs. Weasely was still puttering about in the kitchen. Several pie shells were filling themselves up with mince and blueberries and lemon meringue. A couple of knives were chopping vegetables and Mrs. Weasley was cutting cookies out into various shapes--stars and angels and unicorns and snowflakes--with her own hands.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, "can I ask you a question?" She finished cutting out the last cookie and with a wave of her wand, the cookie sheets flew into the oven to bake. A second wave stopped the knives and a third covered the pies.

"Sit down," she said, "and tell me what's bothering you."

"It's about Sirius...well, about his will," Harry said.

"I see," Mrs. Weasley said. "You read the article in the Daily Prophet." Harry nodded. "It's quite all right," Mrs. Weasley said. "As you saw, the court dismissed the challenge. Everything in Sirius's estate goes to you."

"That's what I wanted to know," Harry said. "Just what is everything? What exactly do I own?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed a little. "There's rather a lot. I haven't got through everything myself yet. There are lists of the accounts in Gringotts and lists of the various properties."

"Like Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Are you...is the Order still using it for its headquarters?" Harry asked.

"No," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Because of the question of ownership. And also, because we were worried that Kreacher might pick up things again."

"And what happens to Kreacher?" Harry asked.

"Well, house-elves go with the house," Mrs. Weasley answered. "I guess he belongs to you now, too." Harry shuddered.

"I don't want him. I don't want to own a house-elf. It's not right, owning another thinking being. Hermione's right about that, you know."

"You are right about that, but you must not dismiss Kreacher," Mrs. Weasley said. "He knows too much about the Order."

"He's done enough damage already, hasn't he?" Harry said.

"He could still do more," she answered. Mrs. Weasley got up went to a small desk in the parlor. She opened a drawer and then another drawer inside that drawer. She pulled out a sheaf of parchments and brought them over to the table. "These are the lists of what you own. Some of it is from you father and some is from Sirius," she said. Harry looked at the first page.

The Potter vault at Gringotts Bank containing seven hundred thousand gold galleons, five hundred thousand silver sickles and two hundred thousand bronze Knuts.

The Alphard Black vault at Gringotts Bank containing five hundred thousand gold galleons, three hundred thousand silver sickles and fifty thousand bronze Knuts.

The Phinneas Nigellus Black vault containing eight hundred thousand gold galleons, two hundred thousand silver sickles, and six hundred thousand bronze Knuts.

Harry was stunned. "You couldn't spend all that in a lifetime if you tried. Not even if you lived to be six hundred and sixty five like Nicholas Flamel."

"That's because it's been collecting over quite a few lifetimes," Mrs. Weasley said gently. Harry continued looking at the papers. There was the house at Number 12 Grimmauld Square, there was a listing for the rents of the village of Godric's Hollow, there was another house in London, and something called Old Griffin Castle, which had no address.

"What am I supposed to do with all of this?" Harry said. "I don't need all of this. It's too much!" Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"You do what your ancestors did before you. You pass what's left on to your children and their children."

"And what happens," Harry asked, "If I die before I have children? Who gets it then?"

"Well, I don't know," Mrs. Weasley, said. "To your relatives, I suppose, if you don't designate someone yourself."

"The Dursleys?" Harry said. "I don't want anything going to them," he said.

"It's yours, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can do with it as you please."

"Well," Harry said, "I think I ought to make a will, then. Just in case."

"But you're only sixteen!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"People die every day, Mrs. Weasley. Even people who don't have an evil murdering wizard after them. I could get run over by a car, or die of dragon pox or something. And all of that is just sitting there."

"You've already had dragon pox," Mrs. Weasely said. Her kind face was troubled and Harry was reminded of Mrs. Weasley's boggart last Christmas. He felt badly that he was reminding her of her fears. "But, if you want to make a will, I will have Arthur help you obtain a solicitor." She hugged him and said, "You are not to be worrying about You Know Who and all of that, this holiday. I want you to rest, and get strong again and have fun."

Harry smiled and said simply, "Thanks."

Harry dreamed that night of the chained man. The body strapped to the table writhed helplessly against its bonds. Its cries were meaningless, pitiful, less intelligent than the meow of a cat or the bark of a dog. The hooded men brought in another donor. A wand drew from it, mind, and life, and strength, until the struggling donor sank to the floor, all energy drained. The green light of the curse blew the remaining bit of soul right out, painlessly, and without a fight. They threw the empy vessel onto the bank of the river for the river to take it softly to a dark and watery grave.

He was swimming in the water again, and the jewels glittered on the cave floor. The red one glowed with a special fire. He kept trying to reach it, to pluck it from its place, but it wouldn't budge. He floated back to the surface, and was swept along under the velvety stars and out to sea.

Ron was already up and gone downstairs when Harry woke. A pile of torn wrapping made a colorful mound where Ron had already opened his presents. Harry sat up and saw with pleasure that a pile of presents was waiting at the foot of the bed for him, too. He rolled out and started opening them immediately. There was the usual new Weasley sweater and an assortment of fruit pies from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. There was a new book on Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hexes, Counterhexes, and Charmed Objects by Vindictus Viridian from Ron. Hermione's present was a bit odd. She had also given him a book, but this one was clearly a Muggle book--Transcendental Meditation for Everyone. It had a picture of someone who looked rather like Nora, all twisted in a peculiar sitting position with her eyes closed and a beatific expression on her face. Harry couldn't figure out what that was for, but he was sure Hermione would explain it.

There was a package from Fred and George that contained a sealed box of Honeydukes' best with a note that read: "We haven't done any experimenting on this, so nosh away." They had also given him a smaller box and this one had special instructions on it. "For use in emergencies. An assortment of Underwater Breathing Beans (underwater escapes), Fainting Fancies, Stinky Sweettarts (make you smell so bad no one will go near you for miles), one dungbomb and one Weasley's Exploding Fireworks Special (for the direst of all emergencies, when you want to be expelled from any school or job.) We think you'll really find this lot useful."

And there was a package from Ginny. That one contained a scarf that matched his new Weasley sweater --green, with gold stripes--and a Self-charming Snitch that could be charmed to return to you when you called. Very useful for Seekers wanting to practice without fear of losing one's Snitch. The last one brought a "Whoa, cool!" from him. Harry cleaned up and dressed pulling on his new sweater and scarf and went downstairs to join the others.

Mrs. Weasely was bustling about putting the final touches on her Christmas feast. The table had been set and Hermione and Ginny were adding strings of ribbons and wreaths around the walls for added color.

"You really slept late," Ron, said. His face was flushed and he was shedding snow on the floor. Fred and George came in after him adding to the mess.

"Yeah," said Fred, "you missed the fun. We were playing quidditch in the snow. It's an extra challenge when the quaffle gets all wet and cold."

"The last thing Harry needs right now is to get himself frozen and wet!" Mrs. Weasely said. "Come on, then. Everyone to the table." She rang a bell that played "O Come All Ye Faithful" long after she set it down.

Harry sat and ate his way through turkey and roast potatoes and trifle until he thought he would burst. Everyone was happy and silly, except that Mrs. Weasley would look up and down the table and turn sad for just a moment when she thought no one was looking. Harry thought that might be because Percy wasn't there. He didn't know if Percy had apologized for his behavior last year, but he suspected not. Percy probably still thought Voldemort hadn't really returned.

Afterwards, Hermione said, "Happy Christmas, Harry. And thanks for the book. It's fantastic."

"I thought you'd like it," Harry said happily. He got as much fun out of giving gifts as he did in getting them. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he really belonged. He looked at the clock where his own face was pointing at HOME, and felt a funny ping of joy, as if happiness were a harp and someone had plucked the most lovely string of all.

"Thanks for the book you gave me, too," he added.

"It's to help you with Occlumency," Hermione said. And seeing his puzzled face, she continued, "It will help you to learn to focus and calm your emotions. I know it's not magic really, but I think it might work just the same."

Harry smiled and said, "I expect it will. I just hope I don't have to actually sit like that picture to do it."

"What picture?" Ron asked.

"On the book Hermione gave me. She thinks it will help with Occlumency," Harry replied.

"Oh," Ron said. "Well, have you decided to try teaching it to us?" he asked. "I still think that would help you more than anything."

"I dunno," Harry said dubiously. "You really have no idea how awful it is."

"So what?" Hermione answered. "Why would it be any worse for us than it would be for you? You're the one who has to deal with having your mind broken into. We would just be helping you to stop that."

"By having me break into your mind," Harry said. "You won't like it. You'll hate it. And maybe you'll hate me for doing it."

"As if," Ron said dismissively. "That's settled then," he added. "We can start next week. It'll give you a head start before you have to deal with Snape again." Harry started to say, it's not settled, but Ginny interrupted.

She tugged on his sleeve and said, "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Harry said. Ginny pulled a little at his arm, and Ron and Hermione walked off. Hermione turned her head as they walked away and smiled a tiny smile at Ginny.

"So, what is it?" Harry asked. Ginny didn't answer immediately. She led him up the stairs to her room and shut the door behind them.

"Good," she said. "Now we can talk without anybody listening." Harry grinned at her.

"Unless they pull out their Extendable Ears."

"Not even then," Ginny said with just that hint of mischief. "I've put an Impervious Spell on my door and walls so no one can listen in. Getting a bit of privacy in this house is nearly impossible." Harry thought with grim amusement that he might have had a bit too much privacy in his life, what with being shut up in the cupboard under the stairs half his childhood, or locked into the smallest bedroom at Privet Drive. He waited for Ginny to say what she wanted to talk to him about, but now that they were alone, she seemed to be gripped with that paralyzing shyness she had when they first met.

She flushed just a little and finally said, "Sit down, if you want." He shrugged and sat and tried to figure out what he might have done wrong now.

"It's about the present you gave me," she said at last.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"Oh, no," she said. "I...it's really pretty. I just didn't know..." She picked up the gift -- a small book covered in violet silk. The inside pages were blank and it was bewitched so that the words would instantly vanish when written, and only be revealed to be read when the writer said the spell that served as its password to unlock it.

"I thought you'd like it," Harry said. "I mean, I know you like to keep a diary still." He stopped and thought, "It didn't upset you, did it? Did it remind you of things...? I could exchange it if you don't like it." He thought, I am an idiot. How could I have picked that of all things, a reminder of Riddle and his diary.

"No, no!" she said. "That's not it at all. I like to write in a diary. And it's lovely. I just...well, I feel bad that, well, you bought it for me because of my stupid antics. Dragging you into my fight with Dean and all."

"Don't be silly," Harry said. "I always give my friends a Christmas present." He grinned at her, relieved that she wasn't upset or angry and added, "Besides, after that boat bogey hex you got Malfoy with, you deserve a medal." Ginny looked relieved herself.

"You're sure?"

"Of course," he said. He thought a moment and said, "Listen. If you really like Dean and you want to get back together with him, we could stage a fight or something, and erm, pretend to break up, then."

"Well, I don't want to get back with Dean," she said. "He acted like an idiot." She watched him thoughtfully a second and said, "But maybe we should. Stage a fight, that is. Because of all the stories, and the gossip, you know?"

"What gossip?" Harry said.

She bit her lip and said, "About...well, about you being rich and all. I don't want anyone thinking I trapped you into dating me because I'm trying to..."

She flushed again, bright red, and Harry couldn't tell if it was anger or humiliation. "Don't be ridiculous," he said sharply. "If I ran my whole life by what the Daily Prophet printed about me, I'd be locked away on the closed ward at St. Mungo's by now. Don't you remember what trash they printed about me and Hermione and Viktor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament? I didn't stop being friends with Hermione just because they printed some stupid rubbish, did I?"

"This is different," Ginny said.

"How?" he answered. "Are you going to let that git Malfoy get to you? As far as I'm concerned, we can keep dating right now just to show that stupid git his insults are meaningless." Harry stared at her and waited. He could see she was still upset. It occurred to him then that he might have made a big mistake. "Unless," he continued slowly, "you just don't really want to be dating me at all. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don't like..."

"Now you're being an idiot!" Ginny said. "It's not that at all. I like you fine, and if you want to...to show Malfoy...or well..."

"Good," he said, "and let that stupid git squirm. Because he thought his Mum was getting half what Sirius left me, you know. That's what he's really on about. And it makes it better that I'm dating you. I hate it when he and his loathesome Dad sneer at your Dad and your family. Like all their money could make them anything but worthless evil scum."

Ginny stared at him oddly and said, "You know, Harry. You are really the best." She gave him a hug and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

He looked at her and something in his brain turned off or on--he wasn't sure. He grinned at her with his most mischievous grin and said, "Well, we might as well have a bit of fun with it, then," and he kissed her as he had in Hogsmeade square the other day.

On Boxing Day, Bill showed up with Fleur. Harry didn't know wich was funnier, Mrs. Weasley's reaction to her, or Ron's and the twins. Mrs. Weasley gave Bill a big hug, but Harry could see her sizing up Fleur even as she said, "Come in! Come in!" She called out, "Arthur! Your son's here! And see who he brought!"

Mr. Weasely smiled and greeted Fleur with the same pleasure he always showed when Harry and Hermione came to visit. "Hallo!" he cried happily, "how's your job at the bank?"

"Vairy good," said Fleur. "Bill eez so helpful. I am learning to speak Engleesh much bettair." Harry grinned to himself. To his ears, Fleur sounded exactly the same as she had two years ago.

"I remember you," she said to Ron, who blushed as red as an overripe tomato. "You were one of ze ones who was in zzze water and helped save my seester, Gabrielle." She swooped down on him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ron turned even redder, which Harry wouldn't have thought was possible. Harry also couldn't help noticing that Hermione wasn't looking very thrilled to see Fleur.

"I see you're recovered," Bill said to Harry. "Mum was fairly having kittens when you came down with dragon pox."

"I'm fine now," Harry said. He was dying to ask Bill if he was still doing any work for the Order, but before he could, Fleur had swooped down on him, too.

"It's you!" she said. "You got tall!" she said as she gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, too. Harry could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks, too.

"How do you do that?" Fred asked.

"Yeah," said George. "Is that a spell, or just you? Maybe we could bottle it and call it Hypnotic Flower Essence. One drop and every man in town will swoon."

Fleur looked quite embarrassed for once and Bill said, "Don't mind them. The only NEWTs they got were in total prat-hood."

Fred said, "Yeah. But we're very entertaining, you know. Entertainment sells very well."

As the days of their vacation slipped by, Harry felt as if he were wrapped in a warm comfortable cave, a sheltered hiding place where no sorrows could intrude. It was Ron who made the first crack in his peace. After a particularly violent game of wizards' chess in which Harry won for the first time, Ron said, "Don't you think it's about time we started those Occlumency lessons?"

Harry started to say, it'll never be time, but Hermmione and Ginny both said, "Yes."

"Now's as good a time as any," Hermione said. "And the sooner the better. You'll have lessons with Snape as soon as you get back, and you really want to have practiced before then."

"No, I don't," said Harry.

Hermione simply gave him one of her looks and said briskly,"It might be better if we went outside. Then Mrs. Weasley won't ask what we're doing and try to stop us."

"She'd be right to do it," Harry said. "It could be dangerous and it will definitely be damned humiliating and miserable. I told you that already."

"You've already seen us some of our most humiliating moments," Ginny said. "And so what? We want to help."

The three faces stared at him with determination. Harry felt as if he were sitting an odd kind of examination, and what he did would mean the difference between failure and success. He shrugged at last and said, "All right. But I want your word you're not going to hate me after."

"Sometimes, Harry," Ron, said affectionately, "you can be such a total berk."

Harry thought, as they swept him along outside, that none of them would want a second lesson for sure. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to go on with Occlumency after the first time, if they didn't have a life or death reason to do so.They went around the back of the house to a sheltered nook in the garden. There was quite a bit of snow on the ground and Harry couldn't resist digging up a fistful and flinging one snowball right at Ron. Ron grinned and took up the challenge. He grabbed a fistfull himself, but it melted in the air when Hermione sent a jet of blue fire at it.

"Honestly," she said. "We're supposed to start by trying to calm our minds and block our emotions." She looked at Harry and said, "That is right, isn't it?" Harry sighed and nodded.

"Well," Hermione said, "maybe we could start by trying some of the meditation techniques from that book I gave you."

Harry started guiltily. He hadn't even opened it up yet. But he cast his mind back to Nora and her daily yoga exercises and said,"Erm ... well...you can try to just focus on a single thing or word to the exclusion of everything else. Or you can just empty your mind and think of nothing at all. It's sort of similar to when you focus on something happy for summoning your Patronus, but harder, because you don't want to have that emotion either." The other three nodded eagerly and his heart sank. The three faces looked so earnest and determined, but he had an inkling they wouldn't in a minute or two. "Right," he said. "Who wants to volunteer to go first?"

Hermione looked at him with some exasperation. "How exactly are we supposed to try to break into your mind so you can block us out if we don't know the spell for it?"

"There is that," Harry said. "Well, there is no counter-spell. That's first. It's like the Imperius curse. Keeping someone else out is pure will, in a way."

"You mean being stubborn and pigheaded is an actual advantage in this?" Hermione said. "In that case, Ron should be the best of all of us."

"Hah," Ron said, "and that little insult comes from the Queen of Elf Rights Movement." Hermione glared at him and Ginny laughed. They both glared at her instead.

"You're not very calm, are you?" Ginny asked.

Harry coughed. They all stared at him and Ginny said with just a twitch of a smile, "You sound like Umbridge on a bad day."

"Yeah?" Harry said. "Well, detention with Umbridge is a happy thing compared to this." He went on, "The spell for seeing into someone's mind is Legilimens. And that takes a bit of strength as well. You can each try it on me, and then we'll see if you want to try it the other way."

Harry took a deep breath and built the wall in his mind again. He bricked up the corner where he kept Voldemort, and every thought of him into the walls of a castle or a fortress, as impervious and enchanted as Hogwarts itself. "All right. Hermione, why don't you have a go first? Then Ron and then Ginny." They all nodded.

Hermione repeated, "Legilimens. I think I've got it. Did I say it right?"

Harry nodded and said, "Go on, then."

Hermione raised wand and said "Legilimens!"

Harry felt a tickle, a touch of something, then it bounced off his wall and was gone. Hermione looked at him and said, "Did I say that right?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Did it work at all?" she asked.

"Not much," Harry said bluntly. "It's difficult to do both ways." Neither Ron nor Ginny were able to make more headway than Hermione, although he felt a bit more of a tingle when Ginny tried it.

"I dunno, Harry," Ron said. "It seems like you don't need help after all."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like that when Snape or Dumbledore do it. Then I can't really keep them out at all."

"Well," Hermione said, "why don't you try it the other way, so we can see how it works from the defensive side."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I'll go first. How much worse can it be than going in Aragog's den anyway?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Ron said.

Harry raised his wand. Just as Snape had done, he said, "On the count of three then, and try to block me out."

Ron squared his shoulders and stood very tall. "Okay," he said.

"One, two, and three!" Harry gave Ron one more instant and said the spell.

He was three years old and he'd had so much fun playing with Fred and George's toy broomstick. He had flown his favorite teddy bear on it and no one had noticed because stupid baby Ginny was throwing a tantrum about something. He was tucked into bed and had his bear cuddled up to him. He was so sleepy, but Fred and George were still whispering and the moon outside was really bright. Fred said something and he felt something moving on him. It was hairy and black. It was the biggest thing. Was his bear alive? Could his bear talk? Eight long legs crawled up his tummy. Eight huge eyes looked at his face. Terror ate at his gut and he screamed and screamed and screamed. Harry withdrew hastily.

He was shaking and Ron was on the ground saying, "Get it off! Get it off!"

"What did you do?" Hermione yelled. She and Ginny looked white and scared, even though they hadn't been in Ron's memory.

"Ron!" Harry said. "Ron! It's not real. It's just a memory." He went over and pulled Ron up. He stared in Ron's eyes and said, "Ron! It's just a memory. It can't hurt you."

Ron stood up shaking. "That's awful," he whispered. "That's about the most awful thing. It's got to be worse than the Cruciatus Curse."

"I know," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"You've had to do that over and over again?" Ron asked. "I didn't realize...no wonder you didn't want to go to lessons."

Harry shivered. He hated everything about himself and his whole life just now, except for his friends. "Now you know," Harry said. "You've got to be the best friends in the world," he added, "to offer to put up with something like this." Harry could feel his own guts twisting. He backed away as Hermione ran over to Ron to put an arm around him. Ginny was still looking icy white, but he couldn't deal with that just then. He turned away and ran into the bushes to throw up his lunch. He leaned against the nearest tree and tried to compose himself.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Weasley said. She was huffing and had run out without a cloak. "I heard yelling," she said anxiously, "is everything all right?"

"Of course, we're okay," Ginny, said calmly. "They just caught each other in the face with their snowballs," she added. Harry turned to stare at Ginny.

Hermione and Ron said together, "You worry too much." Then they laughed together, too.

Harry felt grateful that they hadn't said anything to Mrs. Weasley, but he couldn't help noticing that neither one was looking at him just then. Ginny came over to him and tugged at his arm. "I think we could all use some hot cocoa," she said as she pulled Harry back to the house along with her.

"Hot cocoa and crumpets and I've some lovely butter cookies just baked," Mrs. Weasley said. "Oh, dear," she continued, "you've all stayed out too long and gotten too wet and cold. Come along, or you'll all be in St. Mungo's with pneumonia next week."

Harry was surprised at how much better he felt after drinking the cocoa. Ron also perked up quite fast and whispered to Harry, "Don't think you're getting out of this now, just because of me and my phobia."

Hermione leaned over, too, and whispered fiercely, "And don't you dare blame yourself, either. We badgered you, okay?"