The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Chapter Eleven
"What did you do," Hermione asked as she and Ron entered the marbled halls of Gringotts Bank, "feed your Mum one of Fred and George's concoctions? I can't believe she agreed to this."
Ron looked down at her and said, "Yeah, well. She's so preoccupied lately you could practically ask her for permission to join a Muggle circus and she'd say yes, dear, just be back in time for dinner." Which was exactly what Mrs. Weasley had said when Ron had asked for the key to Harry's vault so they could get enough money to buy him some decent clothes.
They had cornered her at sunrise when she was on her way out of the door and at first she had frowned and said, "You haven't got your letters yet. What's the use of going to Diagon Alley now, if you haven't got your letters?"
"Not school stuff, Mum," Ron had answered swiftly. "Hermione and me want to go shopping. Harry's got no clothes and we know Dumbledore won't let him out to go himself."
Mrs. Weasley had given them an anxious glance. "I don't know," she said, "I don't want you two wandering around Diagon Alley either."
"Yes," Hermione had said quickly, "but we're only going to get some money changed. Then we'll go shopping in the Muggle stores. We'll be all right. And it's just pathetic really. He hasn't got pajamas or jeans or t-shirts that fit. You must have noticed."
Mrs. Weasley looked harrassed and guilty. "I haven't had time."
"I know, Mum," Ron answered. "I'm seventeen. Let me help with this. Hermione and I can take care of this for you."
Mrs. Weasley had looked sadly at him and said, "All right. Just be back in time for dinner, dear. And don't let Harry know you're going. Dumbledore's very worried about him. And we've had information, Voldemort is sending out Death Eaters looking for him everywhere."
Ron handed the key to Harry's vault to the goblin behind the desk. The goblin looked suspiciously at them and bared its pointy teeth. It examined the key and said under its breath, "Not stolen. Right, then."
Another goblin came at his signal and led them to the carts. As usual, Hermione's stomach got left somewhere behind when the cart swooped dizzyingly around and up and down through the underground caverns that housed Gringotts' vaults. They stopped with a jolt before vault 637. The goblin held out his hand for the key and opened up the vault. Insde the vault, there were mountains of gold galleons, rivers of silver sickles, heaps of bronze knuts.
"Gawd," Ron said, "there's enough there for ten lifetimes." He shook his head and scooped out three bags full. The goblin gave him an unfriendly look. Hermione couldn't help wondering why the goblins were so much less welcoming than usual. They changed half the money into regular pounds and shillings. Ron refused to have anything to do with euros.
"It's bad enough to have to use Muggle money at all. But at least we can use British money if we have to." Hermione shook her head and muttered to herself about exchange rates. She knew the stubborn set of his face, though, and thought to herself there were some things that weren't worth the trouble of fighting over. Although a good fight, she mused, would be fun and break the tension.
They bypassed Flourish and Blotts, which had several new books temptingly displayed in the window, and Ron gave a tiny moan of longing as they passed the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. But he walked right past without stopping and Hermione could hardly do less. They passed through the archway into The Leaky Cauldron and continued right on out to the dull bustle of the Muggle Street outside.
"Going somewhere?" Harry asked as they stopped to look up and down the street. Hermione couldn't help it. She gave a little shriek as he swung his leg off his huge motorbike.
She turned to Ginny, who had been riding pillion and said, "I thought you were keeping him inside the house!"
"He snuck out," Ginny answered, "and he nearly left without me, the stupid git. I had to jump to get on or he wouldn't have stopped." Harry grinned happily.
"Give it here, then. This is going to be fun. I've never been to Harrods before."
"You are not going there," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Help me, here!" she said to Ron.
"Why not?" Harry answered. "Voldemort's already attacked there. It's the one place he won't expect me to go. And I'm tired of being cooped up and babysat like I'm a child. I can pick out my own clothes and make my own decisions."
He held out his hand and Ron looked as though he'd refuse to turn over the money. But after a second, he dropped all three bags in Harry's hand and said, "All right. But you're not straying away from us. I'll take your wand and lock that bike myself if you try to go off alone."
Harry stared at him and said, "What do you think I'm going to do? Challenge Voldemort?"
"I dunno," Ron answered. He stared right back and waited for a response. And when Hermione started to speak, he gestured for her to stop.
"Well, I'm not that stupid or crazy," Harry, answered. "I just want to get out of that house for a bit." He tucked the bags in the pockets of his dragonhide jacket and surreptitiously waved his wand over the motorbike.
"What was that for?" Hermione asked.
"Anti-theft charm," Harry answered. "I looked it up in the library. That's about the only good thing about that house. It's got a really good stock of spellbooks, hasn't it?"
He smiled happily again and said, "Come on. I think the tube is up the street that way.”
***
Harry knew he was probably wrong to ignore everyone's worries and instructions, but he just couldn't stand being stuck in that house for another day. He remembered how Sirius had seemed to grow bitter and trapped there and he thought if he had to stay there for very much longer, he'd find himself feeling ever more bitter and trapped himself. He felt comforted by the swelling mass of people who rode the tube with them. They went about their business with no notion, he thought, that an evil wizard inhabited the same world as they. He felt, even, that just by being there with all those unknowing Muggles, he could almost be one himself, and forget.
When they arrived at the huge department store, Harry stared up at it. It was, he thought, a monument of kind. A temple of commerce, where the average Muggle went to tender his money in exchange for the blessings of things...all those things. He walked up and down the aisles and both Ginny and Ron also were terribly initmidated. Only Hermione was perfectly comfortable. When a beautifully dressed woman in the cosmetics section offered her assistance, Harry's tongue stuck in his mouth and Ron looked as though he wanted to flee.
Ginny looked at the place with fascination, but Hermione calmly answered, "We want the men's department. My friend needs clothes."
The lady smiled at Harry and said, "I expect you'll want some things to go with that gorgeous jacket. I don't remember seeing that here. It looks like some really posh designer's."
The lady's golden eyebrows were raised with curiosity and Harry wondered if he'd made a mistake wearing the jacket. But it was almost the only thing he owned that looked clean and fit and he'd been afraid they'd actually toss him out if he didn't have something decent on.
He smiled at her and said, "Thanks. And erm, which way did you say we should go?"
The woman's carefully mascaraed eyes opened a trifle and she gave them a very complicated set of directions involving two sets of escalators and a series of turns through various other departments.
She ended by saying, "If you need anything else, just come back here. Some after-shave, perhaps?" Harry rubbed his chin and thought, I did shave today. He smiled again and hurried after Hermione feeling like a total fool. When they arrived in the men's department, Harry nearly turned around and fled.
But another salesclerk hailed them cheerily and Hermione firmly answered, "Yes," when he asked if they needed help. The salesclerk also eyed Harry's jacket with interest and he steered them over to cupboards full of jeans and t-shirts and sweaters of all kinds. There were racks of jeans with patches on them. And racks of jeans that were stonewashed down to nearly white. And racks of jeans that were stonewashed and had patches and had holes in them. Harry marched past those and found the ones that were perfect and new and were dyed a deep indigo or unblemished black. After a half hour, he had bags full of jeans and shirts and socks and pajamas. And he insisted over Ron's protests on buying pajamas for him and one sweater that wasn't maroon.
He cut short Ron's protests saying simply, "I've got enough for all four of us to last forever. And who else do I have to share it with?"
He looked at Hermione and Ginny and felt the heat creep up his face. What did girls like anyway? He took the escalator back down and found the lady with the mascaraed eyes. And when they were done, he'd got both of them crystal flagons of perfume and a necklace for each. When they were done, he felt light and free and wonderful.
And when Ron said grumblingly, "I'm starving," he answered, "So am I."
Feeling quite grown-up and sophisticated, Harry turned to the mascaraed lady and asked, "Where's a good place for lunch around here?'
They ended up in an American hamburger restaurant of the kind Dudley had liked to go to before he'd become a boxer. Ron had regarded the place with great suspicion. "I think we should go back to the Leaky Cauldron," he said. "We know the food's good there."
"Oh," Hermione answered, "and have everyone in there tell everyone else that Harry Potter was there? I doubt we'll get the first sip of butterbeer in before we've got Death Eaters down our throats."
"Come on, Hermione," Harry had to protest. "They've got other things to do than spend their entire time looking for me."
It was Ginny who decided the matter. She left the three of them arguing and asked the hostess for a table for four. Harry caught her by the arm as they followed the woman to the back of a room full of tourists and city workers on their lunch hour.
"That was brave of you," he said softly.
"Not at all," she answered. "Sometimes the three of you drive me mad arguing over everything."
"The three of us!" Harry said. "It's Ron and Hermione that argue mostly. I just get caught in the middle from time to time." They were in fact arguing right then.
Hermione was hissing under her breath, "We ought to just go back. We're going to get in trouble. And the longer we stay out, the bigger trouble we're in."
"Mum said be back by dinner," Ron answered. Hermione made one of those tutting noises she was inclined to make when she thought one of them was being particularly stupid.
"That was if it was just you and me. She didn't want Harry going out at all."
Ginny looked back up at Harry and said not so quietly, "They're always arguing. But it's amazing how much of the time what they're arguing about is you."
Harry flushed and sat down at the restaurant booth trying to decide whether to be angry or embarassed or depressed. What he felt was all three at once. In the spirit of defiance, he ordered the largest hamburger on the menu, complete with chips and a bottle of beer. He cheered up considerably when the food came.
Ron stopped grumbling after the first bite of his, and he devoured his food with the enthusiasm of one who's been starved for many months. It was amazing, Harry thought, how much better everything when you didn't feel locked up. Even Hermione had stopped nagging and was heard to laugh when Ron joked he wished they had the spell for making a meal like that.
***
A photographer was making the rounds of the room, snapping pictures and then trying to sell them to the patrons. When the flashbulb went off, Harry jumped half a foot and Hermione saw that he had come within inches of drawing his wand before remembering where he was. With fury, she noted that his face had turned tense again, although he had controlled himself admirably, even smiling cautiously at the photographer when he asked for money for their picture. Surprisingly, he even fished in his pocket and pulled out the two pounds for the price of the picture.
"I can't believe you're spending money on that," Ron said. "Just ask Colin Creevey. He'll take your picture and it'll wave right back at you. I mean, really, what do you need that for?" The photographer had frozen in the act of handing Harry the picture, thinking perhaps that he would change his mind.
Harry shook his head and said, "It's a souvenir, you git. A reminder of my one happy day of freedom." He took the picture, which being made by a Muggle camera, had caught them all in a moment of laughter, and left them that way forever.
The photographer smiled at him and said, "You've got a great face, you know. Even with the scar. Rather romantic, you know. I bet the girls love it."
Harry gawked at him and Hermione could see his face change again. He muttered thanks and tucked the picture away and she felt her heart sink at the expression on his face: fatigue, defiance, and then calculation. His green eyes narrowed and he got up quickly. "Let's go," he said.
They followed after him as they always did and not one of them considered stopping him for the rest of the day. Even Hermione was startled, though, when Harry asked the hostess where the nearest chemist's was. In a moment, they were crossing the street, trailing behind him as he entered the nearest Boots and made his way to the section that displayed make-up.
"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked. "I can make you any kind of potion you need."
"I'm sure you can, Hermione. In fact everyone's so keen to dose me that I'm starting to feel like a permanent invalid. But that's not what I'm here for. And even you can't whip this up as fast as I want it." He walked up and down the aisles until he spotted what he wanted. Then he pulled down a container of cream foundation that advertised it covered any blemish and stalked through the aisles looking for something else. That turned out to be a bundle of hair extensions in blond and a rather large beret. He added in a sweatshirt with the logo, THE CLASH on it and said, "I think that's everything."
Then he turned and said, "I think the rest of you will need some things, too."
"You're joking, right?" Ron said. "You do know what that's for don't you?" He pointed to the make-up with a combination of disgust and alarm. Hermione, however, giggled.
"It's for a disguise, Ron," she said.
"Disguise?" Ron said. "Why not use polyjuice potion? And what do you need a disguise for? Mum's not going to be fooled by that."
"I don't need to get past your Mum," Harry replied serenely. "Just past Tom at The Leaky Cauldron."
He returned to the hat rack and found a knit cap to cover Ron's bright hair and a couple of berets for Hermione and Ginny. And when they entered The Leaky Cauldron a short while later, nobody gave them a second glance. The make-up had nearly covered Harry's scar and it was at least three shades darker than his normally rather fair complexion. The beret covered his black hair and the blond extensions stuck out from under the cap. With the sweatshirt and sunglasses covering his regular glasses, he looked like an escapee from a French punk group.
They strolled casually through to the entryway to Diagon Alley and followed him through the crowds of shoppers without a peep. Afterwards, Hermione thought they had all been perfectly stupid not have expected what he was up to. Nevertheless, it was a complete shock to her when he turned right into the dark mouth of Knockturn Alley. The first shop they went into was a nasty place called Borgin and Burkes.
There were displays with skulls of dead men, cut of hands of gorillas, rows of books bound in cracking old leather and bins full of poisons and things only used in the worst kind of dark potions. The shop itself had a peculiar odor: a compound of mildew and incense and fear. The shop owner had appeared from behind a dark curtain and he made them all jump when he said softly, "What would you like to buy, my friends?"
His voice was nearly as oily and unctuous as his hair and his cold eyes weren't friendly at all.
"We're not buying," Harry answered. "We're selling. I've a number of dark objects I'd like to dispose of. I came into an inheritance lately, and erm, there're a few things that I wouldn't want the Ministry to find, you know."
"I don't buy usually," the man replied more coldly. "It would have to be something really fine and rare."
"What about a really good wand, and a crystal ball and a cursed knife?" Harry asked. Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from speaking. So that's what he was after.
"A cursed knife?" the man answered, "Maybe. I'd have to see it. As for the rest, no one wants a used wand. And anyone can get a crystal up the street, unless it's got special powers?"
The man waited and when Harry contrived to look disappointed, he said, "We’ll, try old Biggle. He's a Squib who sells junk to the muggles. I heard he even took on Nott's old things. Well, no one else would touch them, really. Even I can't be seen to sell a Death Eater's things. It's a bit tricky just staying open these days."
The man started to go behind the curtain, but he stopped and said, "I think I'd like to know your names before you go. I wouldn't like it very much if some Ministry rat were asking questions."
The door snapped shut and locked itself with a click and the atmosphere in the shop had thickened with the oppressive threat of malice. Hermione drew her wand and she saw that Ron and Ginny had, too. Harry, however, had not. His hand had snaked out with startling speed and seized the man's wrist on its way to drawing his wand. The man pulled away and looked furiously at Harry, but Harry hung on and forced the man's hand onto the counter.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Harry said softly. "We're not Ministry spies, we're much worse than that. You really do want to let us go and say no more."
"You're much too young to be Death Eaters," the man said icily. "And not very good at your job. I can spot an auror a mile away and I've got nothing here that the Ministry can close me up on." He tugged at his hand, but Harry held on.
"Unlock the door," he said quietly. Hermione wasn't sure whether he meant for the shop owner to do that or them. She hit the door with the unlocking spell, but it didn't work.
"I said, unlock the door," Harry repeated. Hermione jumped at his tone and thought she wouldn't like to be his target when he was in that mood. The man, Borgin? or Burke? tried to wrench his hand free, and when that failed he went straight for Harry's throat with the other and started to squeeze. She wasn't at all sure what had happened then, but the man yelled loudly and let go of Harry's throat, but he'd caught a handful of the yellow hair extension, and it came off along with the beret. None of them could get off a spell, as they would quite likely have hit Harry instead, so they watched as Harry flung the man back and drew his wand.
"Unlock the door" he repeated, "Or you won't have a door to unlock!" The shop owner snarled, "I've got some friends who can..."
But he stopped in midsentence as his eyes climbed up to take in Harry's face and the lightning scar that showed even through the cover up that was supposed to cover any blemish at all. The man stared from the scar to his now blistered hand and back again and he turned gray with fear.
"I know who you are," he whispered. "Don't kill me. I'm not a Death Eater. I'm just a businessman. A man's got to make a living, doesn't he?"
Harry went utterly still. Then he said hoarsely, "Just open the door, if you don't want me to blow it off." The door clicked open. Harry stared at the man for one more moment and said softly, "I do hope you're not a Death Eater, sir. I really do."
Then he turned and walked out of the shop and they followed him back. This time, heads turned and followed Harry as he walked through Diagon Alley without saying a word to anyone. And Tom the Bartender of the Leaky Cauldron simply plunked a glass down in front of him when he sat down at the bar and said, "I'd like a firewhiskey, please."
Ron stopped her when she started to object. And she watched incredulously as Harry tossed back the firewhiskey in one gulp. He coughed and seemed to come back to himself. Then he looked back at them and practically cringed in embarassment. "We'd better get going," he muttered, "Now that I've managed to get us all into trouble again."
Every single head in The Leaky Cauldron turned and a dozen pairs of eyes watched Harry go out the door and to the Muggle street beyond. No one tried to stop him. No one tried to shake his hand either. Hermione was almost certain they would arrive back before anyone caught Harry out. But when they entered the house, Mrs. Weasley was there and her colorless face and silence were worse than any lecture.
Harry simply looked at her and paled so far himself that the false color on top seemed to disappear. He opened his mouth and shut it again and fled up the stairs leaving his bags of new clothes tipped over on the floor by the vestibule. Mrs. Weasley drew in a deep breath like an opera singer about to begin an aria, but Ron stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.
She turned to look up at him, and her words came out as a whisper instead or her usual bellow. "How could you let him go? You promised me it was just you and Hermione. All of you! All of you! Not one of you stopped to think!" Mrs. Weasley looked reproachfully from Ron to Hermione to Ginny and then sank down on the sofa and crossed her arms and rocked back and forth as though she might blow apart if she couldn't contain herself somehow.
"Mum," Ron said. His voice cracked and he had to start again. "We didn't take him. He came after us and Ginny had to run after him to keep up with him."
"I thought better of him," Mrs. Weasley answered. "Here we are, all trying to protect him, and he goes off like that, without a thought, without thinking at all."
"You don't understand, Mum," Ron answered. "It's killing him, staying here in this house, where everything reminds him of Sirius. And the truth is...the truth is, he doesn't need protecting from anybody anymore. Except himself."
"What are you saying?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"You're not explaining it right," Ginny said. "What Ron means is, Harry doesn't need protection because no one but Voldemort himself will dare face him anymore. I don't think even two or three Death Eaters together will dare face him anymore."
"I understood that," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "But nobody, not even Dumbledore can stand up to twenty or thirty at once. And ... he must be prevented from going after Voldemort again. Especially the way he did the other night."
"He saved Percy," Ron answered. Hermione saw that his face was stern and there was nothing of the foolish, fun loving boy who made jokes and got himself tangled in his own way. Mrs. Weasley's face contracted in anguish, but Ron continued. "He did that, he risked everything, his mind and his life to save Percy. How can you dare say you think less of him after that?"
Tears ran down Mrs. Weasley face and she said, "But I could have lost all of you. I know it's hard, but you have to think for him sometimes, when he gets like that. It's not easy to find a place to keep him safe. It's here or back to those awful Muggles until he goes back to Hogwarts."
"Mum," Ron said, "you still don't understand. He is the one protecting us. Not the other way round. He didn't come out so he could go shopping. He came out so he could look after us."
***
Harry collapsed into the chair by the fire and wished he knew the animagus spell. He wished he could change back into the bird again and stay that way forever. He could not ever remember feeling so ashamed, not even when he had snuck out to Hogsmeade and Lupin had told him off for throwing away his parents' sacrifice for him so lightly. He watched the flames in the fireplace all night and when they threatened to burn out, he made them roar up again to have something to watch, to focus on. Sleep was his enemy. Emotion was his enemy. They would have to be squashed, or he would get his friends killed along with himself.
In the morning, he crept downstairs softly intending to catch Mrs. Weasley before she left so he could apologize for his foolishness. But though the fire was up in the oven and there were rolls and fruit and cereal laid out on the table, she was already gone. Mechanically, he swallowed down coffee. He drank it black and bitter and he was grateful for the jolt that woke his brain up and he went outside to the garden to yank up as many weeds as he could find in the old-fashioned, non-magic way.
The next days passed quietly. Every day, Harry slipped downstairs early hoping to catch Mrs. Weasley alone, but every morning she had already gone on whatever errand it was she had for the Order. He would drink his coffee and skim through the Daily Prophet looking for any news of Voldemort, but the only reports were rumor and gossip and more than half of them were about Harry himself. Oddly, their encounter in Diagon Alley went unmentioned. Instead, there would be opinions about how soon he could be expected to challenge Voldemort, and experts from the Dark Arts Defense League would analyze his powers versus Voldemort.
Then there were the other kind of articles -- gossip articles about whether he was dating and how rich he was or the ones that claimed he was wasting away from some unnamed disease. All those, he flinched at and skimmed past, but he forced himself to read the ones where Fudge had made some comment on his dedication to the fight against the Dark Arts and gave hints about secret training and the Ministry's certitude that all was under control. They were nearly as bad, in a way, as the ones where he'd been made out to be an attention-seeking prat.
"Pretty soon," Hermione had remarked, "they'll have you riding a crumple-horned snorkack and slaying a heliopath. If Voldemort didn't have other reasons for wanting to kill you, he'd want to just to show he's stronger than you and maintain his reputation."
Harry tried not to cringe at her comment. He knew she meant well, but it still horrified him that the awful, evil dark arts merchant had assumed he would kill him as casually and as easily as Voldemort killed his own victims.
And every day he went out into the garden and tackled another corner of the wild, overgrown labyrinth. Ron and Hermione and Ginny had come out the first day and kept him company, but after an hour of digging and pulling in the hot summer sun, they had each faded away to some other hideaway in the house.
As the days slipped away, Hermione had begun to worry obsessively about school and NEWTs again. She had dragged Ron into joining her in doing their summer homework assignments and she had created agendas for each of them that laid out the entire year's study in preparation for their NEWTs. Harry, however, hadn't done a single assignment since arriving at the house and he steadfastly ignored Hermione's attempts to get him to join in their NEWT preps. None of them, not Ron, not Hermione, not Ginny, tried very hard to persuade him though.
They seemed content to leave him alone, so long as he showed up for each meal and ate something and made no further attempts to leave the house. None of them speculated very much on why the Order had virtually stopped meeting at the house. It was apparent to Harry that Dumbledore had found a secondary meeting place and that he wanted Harry and the others kept out of things as much as possible. Once, this would have infuriated him. Just now, he was grateful for it, though he knew it wouldn't last.
Finally, the day of Bill's wedding dawned clear and bright. Harry woke up rested for once as he had drunk the potion they had given him for the first time in days. He bathed and dressed hastily and then hesitated before going downstairs. He could hear the excitement humming through the house as various Weasleys ran up and down the stairs chattering about the food and decorations and getting everything ready for the first and oldest of them to start a family of his own. He stood at the door and listened to them all. Hermione giggling with Ginny...Fred and George teasing Ron about his dress robes...Mrs. Weasley fussing over Bill's hair...then the exotic French accents of Fleur and her sister Gabrielle and her Mum..."tres belle"..."plus joyeux"....and Mr. Weasley giving a great shout when Charlie came in.
Others were arriving--all people from the Order. He heard Tonks's voice saying, "Wotcher, Ginny!" and Lupin's voice, calm and quiet, congratulating Bill. But still he stayed in his room and waited, though he couldn't say why. Then a relative quiet descended and the house felt to Harry as though it were waiting, catching its breath for the main event. And he realized that something was missing still. Or rather, someone.
He slipped down the stairs and right out the front door, but no one noticed. He drew out his wand and tapped the motorbike and sped away toward the heart of London, hoping that things would go right just once. Harry forced himself to obey the traffic laws and squelched the urge to take the bike up into the sky. He pulled up at the telephone booth that was the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic and waved his wand over his bike to reset his anti-theft spell.
Entering the booth, he dialed the numbers that would get him in - 6 -2-4-4-2 and the cool impersonal female voice greeted him. "State your name and business, please."
"Harry Potter to see Percy Weasley."
"And what is this in regard to, Mr. Potter?"
The voice was still cool and indifferent. Harry paused and said, "Ministry business."
A badge shot out of the place where one would feed coins in a regular public phone. It read, "Harry Potter, Dark Arts Defense Champion."
He swore and when the female voice came back and said, "Was there a problem?" he answered, "Never mind," and held his breath till he turned blue in the face trying not to lose his temper.
The elevator took him to the main lobby with the grand ceilings decorated with golden runes and the fountain with the sign by it asking for donations to St. Mungos. The old one had been damaged the last time he'd been there. Voldemort had wrecked it trying to get at Harry to kill him. A new one had taken its place, and one would be hard put to know that it wasn't the same as the original. He turned resolutely away from it and got in line to have his wand checked and gain a slip of paper admitting him where he wanted to go. The guard weighed his wand, glanced at the paper and said in a bored voice,
"Eleven inches, holly, with a phoenix feather core." Then he gawped at Harry and pointed as Harry took his wand back and walked briskly to the first elevator down. A small purple airplane flicked into the elevator just as the doors closed. Harry kept his gaze straight ahead and tried not to notice that the people in the elevator with him had gasped and then edged away from him giving him as much room as possible in the carriage. They all cleared off at the very first stop. One woman stopped back and whispered, "Good luck," as the doors shut back on him.
He sighed and got off at the Minister's office. Harry strode into the office. The outer area had cushiony armchairs and a young girl was sitting at the desk lacquering her nails a deep royal purple with her wand.
"Take a seat," she said, "The Minister's in a very important conference. He'll see you when he's done."
"I'm not here to see Minister Fudge," Harry answered. "I need to see Percy Weasley. Can you just tell him it's a family emergency? Please?"
"Oh, no," the girl answered, "Mr. Weasley's in the meeting, too. The Minister will be most displeased." Harry looked at his watch and ran his hand through his hair, trying to decide what to do.
The girl made a funny noise and pointed her wand at him. Harry shook his head and said, "Don't be silly. I'm just here to collect Percy so he can go to his brother's wedding."
"You can't go in there!" the girl said. Her wand shook just a bit and Harry didn't bother drawing his. He just pushed hers aside and walked through the double glass doors into the inner office.
Fudge was there dictating something to Percy about "The safety of our money supply," and Percy was carefully transcribing every word Fudge said. Seated at an eight-sided table were Dolores Umbridge and a very elderly wizard. The old wizard was dozing and his hat had fallen off to the side. Umbridge's toad-like face creased in hatred at the sight of Harry, but he ignored her as well.
"Excuse, me, Minister," he said swiftly, "Percy forgot to tell you, he needs to take a few hours off. A family thing, sir."
Percy drew himself up stiffly and said, "What are you doing here? You haven't gone off on another of your crazy antics, have you?" Harry found himself torn between wanting to turn Percy into a stone statue or trying Ginny's bat bogey hex. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said,
"Let's go, Percy, if you don't want to be cursed forever for the grief you've given your Mum."
Fudge had swung around and he said, "What's all this? We're in the middle of very important business. Very important. Personal considerations have to take a back seat, here. You'll understand these things better, I'm sure, when you grow up son."
Harry stared at Fudge and said softly, "I understand very well about personal considerations taking a back seat, sir. You educated me quite well in that concept when you introduced me to the Muggle Prime Minister. And if you need a special secretary, I'm sure that Under-secretary Umbridge will be able to supply you with a very special quill."
He turned to Percy and said, "This is your family. It's a special and ancient magic when families gather for celebrations. Or so I'm told. Having no family left, I've never had the experience myself." He gave Percy a shove and marched him out of the Minister's office.
Percy said, "You are just as mad as they said you were two years ago, Potter."
"Then humor me, Percy," Harry answered. He poked Percy in the back every step of the way and wondered whether he ought to just drop him off the side of his bike. But he hoped, he thought, that the sight on Mrs. Weasley's face when her one missing child walked in would be worth putting up with the stupid git for a few hours. This time, Harry tapped the invisibility button and took the bike up in the air.
Percy spluttered, "Muggles. They'll see us!"
"Shut up, Percy," Harry answered. "I could do magic in front of a hundred Muggles these days and no one would think of expelling me. They're all just waiting for me to kill myself getting rid of Voldemort for them. So why bother disciplining me, when they figure I won't be a problem much longer?"
"That's utter rot," Percy answered.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" Harry asked.
"Merlin's beard," Percy said peevishly. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm only afraid you'll ruin my career for good."
"Don't worry," Harry answered, "only you can ruin your career. And you know what, Percy, I'm quite sure that you'll spend the next hundred years at the Ministry. So shut up and be nice to your Mum, okay? 'Cause you don't deserve her. But she deserves better from you than you've given her."
They landed in Grimmauld Place with an earsplitting roar. Harry tapped off the Invisibility button and then the engine and the street was shatteringly silent after the sound of the bike's engine ceased. Not one Muggle, however, peered through a curtain or turned a head. It was as though they were ghosts, noisily inhabiting a different plane altogether, but utterly silent and unnoticed in this one.
"What a charming place for a wedding," Percy muttered. But he looked less surprised than Harry might have expected when the door to Number 12 appeared at his mental command. The door swung open for Harry and he bowed to Percy to enter first. As they entered, they found the house in an uproar.
"Gone again!" Mrs. Weasley was bellowing, "How can he?" Her eyes opened wide and she stopped yelling instantly upon seeing Percy.
"Oh, my," she said faintly. Everyone else had stopped and stared in shock or perhaps in anger, but Harry didn't care. Mrs. Weasley opened her arms up wide and said, "Oh, you came! Now everything will be perfect!" Percy stood rooted there for only one second.
Then he strode forward and hugged his mother and answered, "Well, of course I came. It's not every day there's a wedding in the family."
Then he shook Bill's hand and Charlie's and he only paused again when he came face to face with his Dad. He put out his hand and Mr. Weasley took it, and after looking at Percy's face with a most penetrating stare, Mr. Weasley said, "This is grand," and he hugged Percy as well.
There was quite a hubub after that as everyone was talking all at once. Harry remained where he was standing in the vestible and watching with rare pleasure his very favorite family in the whole world all harmony for once.
"That was a very fine thing you did," Professor Dumbledore said quietly. Then he gave Harry a very stern glance and said, "You might have told someone what you intended, though. We all had quite a scare when we saw you had gone."
"I didn't think anyone would notice," Harry said. He didn't mind the lecture too much. The look on Mrs. Weasley's face had been worth it. "Besides," he added, looking back at Professor Dumbledore, "I wasn't sure he would come. I didn't want to raise anyone's hopes if he wouldn't." Harry hesitated, but seeing everyone would be preoccupied for a while, he said, "Might I speak with you, sir, for a few minutes?"
"You are speaking with me, Harry," Dumbledore answered, but then seeing the serious look on Harry's face, he nodded and gestured for Harry to go downstairs. Harry followed him into the library, but didn't sit, even when Dumbledore gestured for him to.
"I've been thinking, Professor," he blurted out, "that I ought not to return to school this year. I think it would be better, that is..." Harry paused because Professor Dumbledore looked quite stunned and he had expected Dumbledore would have anticipated Harry's decision and even agree with it. "You do see," he stumbled on, "that it would be far better if I stayed away. I mean, we know Voldemort's going to come after me again. And ...if I go back, he'll have to come to Hogwarts to get at me. Like he did last year."
"It is probable he'll come after you wherever you are," Dumbledore answered. He was frowning and looked terribly worried. "We have taken precautions to increase security at the school. You will be as safe there as just about anywhere."
Harry sighed. "But Professor, it's not my own safety I'm worried about. It's everyone else's. So long as I'm there, every other student at the school will be in danger and every Professor as well. Last year...last year, a professor and a student died because Voldemort came after me there. I won't have it happen again. It's not right." Dumbledore sat still for a moment and Harry had again that sense that the professor was weighed down and that the burden grew too heavy.
Striving to ease the load, Harry said, "It's all right, really. I can stay here. This is quite safe. And I can join Professor Lupin and the others that you have who training people. Or they can give me extra training here. And this place has a huge library. I can probably learn anything else I need at this point that way."
Dumbledore considered Harry and as he sometimes did, Harry felt that Dumbledore was reading, not only his thoughts, but also his heart. Then he shook his head and said, "You must finish school. You must not miss your NEWT year. There is much to learn yet and you cannot possibly learn all that on your own. Nor will Professor Lupin and the others have time to teach you individually." A faint gleam of humor returned to the blue eyes. "Nor can you possibly teach yourself Transfiguration, for example, as Professor McGonagall would. And not even she can manage her job and her duties in the Order and to give extra lessons away from school."
"Then I should have to forego that," Harry replied.
"If you do not complete your NEWT year," Dumbledore said, "your hopes of being an auror will be ended. The Ministry does not accept applicants who have not passed their NEWTs."
"The Ministry will not accept me anyway," Harry answered, "not even if I received an Outstanding in every subject, so long as Fudge and Umbridge are there." He looked soberly at Dumbledore and continued, "And it doesn't matter really if they don't. I've enough money to live on forever. I only want a job to keep me occupied. And the odds are...that Voldemort will kill me before I get around to getting a job. And who would want to hire me while Voldemort is still alive. Anyone working with me is like a Snitch without wings, just waiting to be killed. Just like any student near me at Hogwarts is in danger. You know it, sir. You can't tell me you don't."
Dumbledore considered Harry, and he seemed to be searching for words, for the exact thing to say that would change Harry's mind. He set himself though, against it. He knew he must not be moved.
"Do you think yourself ready to fight Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked. "Do you think you can truly defeat him? Forever?"
"No, sir," Harry answered. He flinched a bit. He had not expected that.
"Do you think, Harry, that you could even defeat me, if you had to?" Dumbledore asked. The blue eyes were stern and the blue was like the steel of a blade just cooling from a fire. Harry could feel his eyes widen.
"No, sir," he answered. "But, not even Voldemort can defeat you. You had him at your mercy two years ago, sir. You ought to have killed him then." Dumbledore sighed then and his gaze turned inward for a moment.
"Do you think, Harry, that the result would have been any different than last year's, when you killed his body, and yet he lived?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "He didn't have another body ready to possess then...He..." Harry stopped there, for he understood something he had not before. "Oh," he breathed in painfully, "You thought...you didn't kill him, because you thought he would possess me, for good. That's why you didn't."
Dumbledore said quietly, "Yes. I did fear that. And I should then have had to kill you as well. And I was not at all sure that I could, because I feared that Voldemort would acquire all of your powers in addition to his own."
"I'm not sure I understand that Professor," Harry answered.
"I'm not sure I understand everyhting either, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "What I thought then, was that somehow, because you and he are connected by that scar, that he could use the connection to take you over, to see through you, to manipulate you, as he did."
"But," Harry protested. He felt they were straying far from the thing he had wanted to talk about; yet he felt, too, that they were coming as close as they ever had to the problem of his survival, his destiny.
"Listen," Dumbledore said, "you have come far since then. You have fought him, you were able to prevent him taking you over."
"But I wasn't just last week," Harry answered. The remembrance of it brought back the taste of fear and his resolution to do as he had decided.
"No," Dumbledore replied. "That was a very risky thing you did. But it was different, you see. He only was able to do so because you opened yourself up to it. You attacked him first. And you are not yet strong enough to attack him that way and overcome him, because you have not finished growing yet. If you are to have a chance to truly match him, to defeat him, you must finish your schooling and you must finish growing. You are still too young, Harry, to be out on your own."
"I was not too young for you to induct me into the Order," Harry answered. "I was not too young for Minister Fudge to hand me over to the Muggles as his champion."
"It was against my better wishes," Dumbledore answered. "But if you think yourself old enough to be in the Order, then you are old enough to obey orders are you not? And as I said at our last meeting, your job is to return to school to complete your training. And I will not take no for an answer."
"You will risk the other students, then, to have me at school?" Harry asked finally.
"They are already at risk," Dumbledore answered. "There is nothing Voldemort would like better than to have Hogwarts for his own. There is no greater magical stronghold than Hogwarts anywhere. Even the Ministry is an open place next to it. And he has other objectives than just destroying you. That is why every student at Hogwarts will be trained as of this year as none have ever been. We are fighting a war, Harry, though it does not look it at this point. Soon, sooner than you think, he will begin the first real advance against everything that is. You are only one small hiccup in his plans." Dumbledore looked at him then said, "I will hear no more of this, Harry. You will return to Hogwarts. It is vital that you do." Harry sighed then and he felt an enormous relief that the matter had been taken from his hands.
"Well, sir, there is one other matter, if I must return."
"We shall miss this wedding, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "I really like a good wedding. They are quite magical you know."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, "it's just, about who would be headboy, then."
Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise and then he said quite happily, "I was planning on choosing you."
"I was afraid of that," Harry answered. Dumbledore frowned and Harry hurried on, "You were right when you made Ron prefect. And it would be right to make him headboy. You can't have a headboy, sir, who might at any moment be possessed by Lord Voldemort. And I won't have time for it either."
"I'm not very concerned any more that Voldemort will possess you, Harry, if you don't open yourself up to him as you did," Dumbledore answered. "And you deserve it."
"No, sir," Harry said quietly, "Ron deserves it. He's every bit as good as I am in all our classes. And he's not got the same troubles, preoccupations that I have. If it weren't for Voldemort and my mother's sacrifice, I should be just an average student and a decent quidditch player. Ron is better than I am. He's more responsible and less inclined to rush off and take foolish risks. He's the truest and the best student of our year among the boys and you should pick him."
Dumbledore did not answer right away, so Harry pressed on, "Look, it was me that got you fired just when you were needed most. I'm the one that ran around making a fool of myself with Umbridge. I'm the one that went off had secret classes so we could defy her warty face. I'm the one that got you into trouble. If I had listened to you, you would have been there when Voldemort tricked me. If had listened to you, Sirius would be alive."
"They would have found another way to fire me," Dumbledore answered. "That was convenient for them, but there would have been some other reason that served. Or they would have published a decree that gave them the power to remove the Headmaster at will." The blue eyes met his and Dumbledore said softly, "I was never so proud of you as I was that moment, when I saw the honor you did me in calling yourself my army. You have no idea how much good you did in teaching those students what they would not have learned from their teachers. You gave Neville Longbottom the confidence he needed to become a better student. You taught twenty-seven students how to fight and you have no idea how important that may be some day."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Truly," Dumbledore answered. "Now," he said, "Let's go and see Mr. Bill Weasley be married. That's a thing that Voldemort will never enjoy and never comprehend." Harry followed him up and out into the garden. His heart swelled with pleasure again when he saw how beautiful it all was. The white marble folly gleamed in the sun and they had decorated it with branches of pine and holly and woven in white and pink and red roses and scattered through out were the gleam of moonflowers. Dumbledore proceeded to the folly and Harry took a seat next to Hermione. First Bill walked up the path to the folly and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked on either side.
Then Charlie followed carrying a purple velvet bag that was embroidered with flowers and stars and moons in gold thread. Next came Ginny and she wore velvet robes in the same deep purple and as she walked she laid a path of flowers before her composed of rose petals and moonflowers and violet forget-me-nots. Then Fleur came next, and Harry thought he had never seen anything more exquisite in his life. She wore ivory silk embroidered with silver and gold and her shining blond hair fell to her waist entwined with the delicate blooms of the moonflower. The sun shone above turning her hair into a river of gold and she glowed with a radiance no human could match. On either side of her walked her mother and her sister, and they too were beautiful beyond words.
Fleur stood opposite Bill and Dumbledore spread his arms wide and said, "By the authority vested in me as the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, let the wedding begin."
"Seven is the number of perfection," Dumbledore said, "Therefore, let the groom and the bride take each other hand in hand and inscribe upon the earth a circle seven times in number." Bill held out his hand and Fleur clasped it and they walked around each other seven times, and neither let their gaze fall from the other. Then Dumbledore recited the vows, which they each repeated dutifully, and that part was quite like a regular wedding. But instead of finishing and pronouncing them man and wife, the ceremony continued.
Charlie pulled out of the velvet bag a small crystal bottle, two rings, and a slender silver knife. He handed the knife to Bill and drew the stopper out of the bottle. Bill took the knife and slid it down the outer palm of his hand below the thumb and then he took the empty bottle from Charlie and let his blood run into the bottle until it was half full. Charlie then handed the knife to Fleur and she did the same, so that when the bottle was full, their blood had mixed together to create one ruby red fluid. Charlie then handed the stopper to Dumbledore and he place the stopper in the bottle and waved his wand over it.
"So are you sealed to each other," he said, "now take each other, hand unto hand, and seal your hearts unto each other with these rings, as the symbol of the circle, perfection, and completion." Then Bill took Fleur's hand and they pressed the open cuts on their palms to each other, so that their blood might mix as it had in the bottle and each placed a ring on the other's hand.
"Be as one," Dumbledore said, "for you are now man and wife, and what has been joined may not be put asunder." Then Bill kissed Fleur and Ron gave a great whoop of laughter and Mrs. Weasley cried and hugged Fleur's Mum.
Hermione turned to Harry and said, "Wasn't that just lovely?"
He nodded and tried to think of something to say. Hermione gave him a funny glance and said, "Is something wrong? You look a bit pale, Harry."
He shrugged and said, "That bit with the blood. Does everyone do that?"
Ron grinned at him and said, "Most wizards." Then his face fell a bit and he said, "I forgot about that. The blood bothers you, doesn't it?"
Harry shrugged. He had a feeling Ron would knock him flat if he knew what Harry was thinking.
"That's why wizards don't have many divorces," Ron said seriously. "It's ancient magic, the blood exchange. It makes the family have a special life of its own. It's not dark magic, if that was what worrried you."
"I never thought that," Harry said calmly, though his thoughts were anything but calm.
"Good," Ron said, "Now come on, you should see the food Mum's made!" He drew Harry into the crowd and all around him, people were hugging each other. He blushed when Fleur came up and hugged him and when her Mum said, "Oooh, Il est tres beaux,"
Harry flushed and said, "Sorry, I don't speak French." But he put out his hand and said politely, "Congratulations Madam," and he was heartily embarrassed when she hugged him instead.
Harry drifted on the edge of the crowd waiting for a chance to speak to Ginny. She was laughing at something Tonks had said, and when she saw Harry she said, "Have some punch. It's quite good."
He took the punch and swallowed it down and then said quietly, "I need to talk to you."
"You are talking to me silly," she answered.
"Alone," he said. "Away from everybody." He took her hand and tugged at her, and she looked at him as though she would be annoyed. But she followed him anyway when he pulled her away from everyone and off to one of the farthest hidden nooks in the garden.
"What wrong?" Ginny asked. "It's not Voldemort, is it?"
"Not Voldemort," he answered. Then he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?" He knew his voice must be quite harsh, but that didn't matter just now.
"Why didn't I tell you what?" she asked.
"Don't look at me like that," he said impatiently, "like you're so amazed. You knew. Why didn't you say something?"
She frowned at him and said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Tell me," she added, "something's terribly wrong. I can see it."
"You must have known," he insisted. He took her hand and ran his finger down the scar on her palm where the veelas had cut her last spring. Then he turned his own hand over and showed her the scar on his own that ran right down the center of it where his lifeline had been.
"Our blood mixed, in the veela circle. That's why..." He stopped there because the whole thing was just like the rest of his life, strange chance, making stranger destiny.
"I didn't realize," she said. Her face was now as pale as his own, and she whispered, "I was too busy trying to get you out of there before they bled you to death. I didn't think about it. And afterwards..."
"Afterwards," he said, "everything changed. Before, it was all a big joke. You just wanted to punish Dean for being jealous. And I was just having a good time, getting Malfoy and trying to keep Ron from being mad at me in case he thought I was upsetting you."
"I know," she said. "It's not very fair. But it's not the end of the world. It doesn't mean you have to do anything about it. You've got other things to think about."
"Have I?" he answered. "I'm having a good deal of trouble thinking about anything else," he added. Her eyes went quite wide and he saw there surprise and maybe anger and also excitement. She started to turn away and he would have let her go, but her hair was so bright in the sunlight and there were petals of flowers in them. He reached, as if hypnotized, and crushed one in his hand and the scent of moonflowers rose like magic.
"You've got moonflowers in your hair," he said, and she turned to look up at him, waiting for she had made a pact with herself that this would have to come from him first. He stepped forward and captured her, wrapping his long fingers in her long mane of bright red hair and kissed her. And it was just it was when he had kissed her beneath the moon with the scent of moonflowers and the magic of the veelas still upon him. A great hunger was in him and he couldn't seem to think.
They sank down into a bed of leaves and moss and there was nothing but the wild rush of blood and a sizzle of magic that possessed him utterly. With some part of him, his mind noted the faint crunch of footsteps, and then their pause. If he had been capable of thought, he would have expected to hear the dry, sarcastic voice of the Potions Master slicing through this rare moment.
Instead, another voice floated through his mind, an older one, that whispered, "Make an Heir, Harry. Make an Heir for Gryffindor," and it seemed as though they were enclosed in a warm golden world of their own, where no evil, no malice could reach them.
When he came back to himself and he could think again, he said quietly, "What do we do now?"
She turned over and laid her head on his chest and said just as quietly, "Nothing."
"Nothing?" he repeated. "That's impossible. You know that."
She looked at him and said, "No. This, it stays between us. We have school to return to and Voldemort is out there, always waiting."
"I know," he answered. "I know. I have only to reach out, and I can tear down the veil that divides us. I'm so sorry, Ginny, that this should happen to you."
She looked at him squarely then and said, "I'm not. I'm glad."
He stared, because he thought that he had stolen something from her. She laid a finger on his lips, to hush him and said quite fiercely, "There is nothing you took from me that I did not give freely, with my whole heart." And when he shook his head to deny it, she said, "Hush and listen. I remember, the very first time I saw you. You were so small, not very much bigger than I was. Smaller than Ron. And you looked so alone and so lost and so lonely. And then you came up to Mum and asked how to get onto the platform and I saw how much courage it took for you to stop her and ask her when you were so alone. And I loved you for it. It wasn't until later that I knew you were you. Harry Potter."
And when he would have replied, she rushed on, "Sometimes, even now, quite often, I look at you I see that very same boy, all alone and lost and so lonely, and still you go on no matter what. You give everything you have, you risk yourself, for everyone, and still, in the end, they leave you to it. Alone. And I love you for that. And I don't want for you to ever feel you are entirely alone again. So we say nothing and it will be between us. A secret of the heart."
"But," he started to say; only she interrupted him once more.
"It doesn't matter if you don't feel the same way as I do exactly. I know you liked Cho. I know it was all a joke to you. But just for once, Harry, let someone else give something back to you." He closed his eyes and thought he would weep, but he had sworn off emotions. So he opened them and gave her back what truth he could.
"I wasn't in love with Cho you know. I mean, I liked her, but that was all. And mostly, you know, she cried and talked about Cedric. And when she didn't, we didn't seem to have very much to talk about at all."
Ginny sighed and said, "I know that, Harry. I guess what I'm saying is that, I love you. I know you don't really love me. But, it's all right. I'm glad you know it, that's all." He closed his eyes again and it was so difficult, so very difficult to keep his feelings concealed in that tiny corner he had reserved for the biggest things of all. It was too much, really.
So he said the one thing that mattered to him most of all. "Nobody ever loved me, before. Not really. Not since my Mum and Dad died. And not just, friendship, but love." He opened his eyes then and what he saw in her face made him want to kiss her again, but he was afraid if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop. Her velvet robes were full of leaves and moss, and so were his clothes as well.
She laughed and said, "Hold still. I've never seen anyone who could manage to look so untidy without even trying." She flicked her wand and he felt the whoosh of her spell, like a vacuum, drawing off all the leaves and dirt, and he felt as if a weight of gloom had been vacuumed away with it. She laughed again and led him back toward the house, but he stopped her when they came nearer to where everyone else was still gathered.
"Listen," he said, "I have to talk to Dumbledore about something, and then I'm going to do something and I don't want you to be mad at me like everyone else will."
She stared at him and said, "I've a feeling I won't like this at all."
"No, you won't" he answered. "But just keep in mind, it's not what you think. But everyone must believe it or it won't work."
"Tell me," she demanded. He shook his head.
"No. I'm warning you. I'm not even warning anyone else. I'm trusting you to keep silence, all right?"
"Yes. All right," she said reluctantly. "I will make you pay, though, you know."
He flinched. "Just as long as you don't do that bat bogey hex before I learn the counter-curse."
She laughed again, quite wickedly, and said, "I'd rather have another kiss than mess up your lovely face with bats."
He blushed bright red then and muttered, "I'll never understand girls," which made her laugh even more.
Ginny didn't laugh, though, later, when he made the announcement that angered everyone. He had cornered Dumbledore again; anxious to see the thing through before the elderly wizard could leave again.
"Professor," he had said, "I need your help with something." Dumbledore had stopped and said, "Very well, Harry. What do you need?"
"I want you," Harry said, "to have a story published in the Daily Prophet. I want it announced that I'm not going back to school."
"We discussed this," Dumbledore answered. "I will not let you do this." Harry sighed.
"You don't understand, sir. Voldemort will come after me. We know this. Right now, he can't reach me. When I get back to Hogwarts, it will be very difficult for him to reach me. But the one moment when he will know and everyone will know I can be reached is at eleven o'clock on the first of September. He'll attack the train at King's Cross and people will be killed. Hogwarts students and Muggles, too."
"We have guards arranged for," Dumbledore answered.
"It would be safer," Harry, insisted, "if I go another way, and if everyone, including Voldemort, believes I am not returning at all."
"Everyone?" Dumbledore asked.
"That's right," he answered. "Everyone. Not even Ron and Hermione will know I am coming back. They'll be furious with me, but that doesn't matter."
***
After Bill and Fleur had departed, everyone continued to celebrate at dinner. Even Harry, for once, ate well and he smiled when Fred teased him about how much fun Potions would be that year.
"I expect it will be Fred," he answered, "it's only too bad I won't be there to see it."
"What are you saying?" Fred asked.
"I'm following your brilliant example," Harry answered, and "I'm not coming back to school."
Hermione picked her jaw up off the table and she saw that Harry's face was set and determined as it got when he had decided something.
"Yes, you are," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dumbledore has everything all planned."
"Well, he didn't bother to consult me, did he?" Harry replied.
"You're much too young, you must go back to school," Mrs. Weasley said.
And immediately, Ginny said, "You're not serious, you can't be."
"I am," he answered. Mrs. Weasley started to shout, but this time, Hermione got there first.
"What are you going to do, go out and challenge Voldemort and immolate yourself in one grand act of heroism?"
"Not at all, Hermione," Harry replied calmly. "I shall stay right here in my own house and make myself available to the Order or the Minister. And no one can stop me. I'm legally of age and I can continue with school or not. The decision is my own."
Mr. Weasley stood up and everyone was surprised. "That is not acceptable." He said this very firmly and Hermione felt relieved. Of course, Harry would listen.
Harry, however, simply shrugged and said, "That's too bad. It's what I'm doing."
He narrowed his eyes and then opened them quite wide, as he did when he was being very bad and said, "I don't want another year of detentions and Snape making my life miserable and mountains of homework I can't keep up with whilst I'm supposed to be figuring out how to defeat Voldemort so everyone can sleep quietly at night. I'm not doing it. And that's flat."
Nothing anyone said could change his mind. Ginny had fled from the table and that was the only moment he looked at all shocked. When their letters came with their book lists, he refused to open his, just tossed it in his trunk as if it were one more souvenir of a not very happy past.
And when the headboy's badge fell out of Ron's letter, Ron said quietly, "You told Dumbledore, didn't you? That's why he made me headboy."
Harry had rounded on him and said very vehemently, "No! He made you headboy because you deserve it. You were prefect, not me. Even if I went back, I wouldn't be headboy. And he'd be right, too."
Harry had smiled then, a reckless, challenging kind of smile that reminded her too much of Sirius and no doubt would have reminded Sirius of his reckless father James. "After all, just look at me. A drop out and a ruffian, just like my Aunt Petunia always predicted."
The look on Ron's face had been so bewildered that Hermione had lost her temper altogether then. She had slapped Harry right on the face and he had stared at her in shock and fury.
Then he had said quite ruefully, "I deserved every bit of that, didn't I?" And he turned and walked away from them as if he were going into a far dark place, all alone.
