Hail Odysseus

By: Brennus

Fandom: harry potter

Summary: After believing that Harry Potter died in a house fire at the age of ten, the Wizarding world is shocked when he emerges, out of the blue, just in time to attend his seventh year at Hogwarts. They're even more shocked when he's Sorted into Slytherin.

Status: Completed

Fic type: Books/Harry Potter

Pairings/Main char.: [Harry P., Ginny W.]

Published: 2014-08-25

Last updated: 2014-11-21

Words count: 157,425

Chapters count: 17

Converted using www.FF2EBOOK.com
Date: 2020-11-08

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Odyssey

AN

I'm pleased to announce that my long promised Slytherin! Harry story is completed and the first chapter is presented here for your reading pleasure.

Right, a few warnings first: this is the darkest thing I've ever written and no one in this tale is particularly nice, not even Harry. This will definitely be a Grey! Harry tale, although I prefer to think of him as a ruthlessly efficient soldier who is highly motivated and not afraid to do what it takes to win. Ginny (who will make an appearance in chapter 2) is also quite unlike her canon character, although nothing like she's portrayed in many Slytherin! Harry tales (either a victim or a slut).

After this introduction chapter, I'll only be telling part of Harry's backstory, mainly by using flashback sequences, which will appear in italics. These sections will mostly appear at the start of chapters and, just to be confusing, aren't chronological. They will generally have some relevance to the attached chapter, however.

I'm delighted to say I have Arnel back on board as my beta and she's already done sterling work weeding out my errors. It's great to be working with her again!

Note on the story title

Odysseus, also known to the Romans as Ulysses, was legendary Greek hero and subject of Homer's epic poem 'Odyssey'. While the Greeks revered him, the Romans believed him a villainous falsifier, and referred to him as 'cruel' or 'deceitful' Odysseus. I felt that character had many similarities to Harry in this story, although, to be fair, Harry doesn't get any nymphs or witch-goddesses pregnant here. I'll probably save that for my next story…

"Hey, Gellert, I've got a present for you!" cried a cheerful voice.

Gellert Grindelwald opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the small, barred window set into the heavy door of his cell. He could just make out the bright smile of Stefan, one of the younger guards assigned to Nurmengard Prison, through the metal bars. Smiling to himself, Gellert climbed to his feet and approached the door.

"Good morning, Stefan, you are well, I trust?" Gellert greeted the young man pleasantly.

"I'm more than well, my friend. I did as you suggested and asked Marina out last night and she said yes! I'm taking her out this Friday. I think I'll take her to the fair to start with, then on for a meal and drinks," Stefan said enthusiastically.

A chuckle escaped Gellert's throat. "Did I not say that all you had to do was ask? Trust me, I may be an old man now, but I know a thing or two about the minds of pretty young girls," he laughed softly.

"You were right. I can't wait until Friday. Marina is the most beautiful girl in the whole village, I can't believe she agreed to go out with me," Stefan said, shaking his head.

"There is nothing wrong with you, my young friend. Marina sounds like a delightful young lady, and I'm sure you'll both have a splendid time," Gellert assured him.

"I hope so. Anyway, as a small thank you, I've brought you a copy of today's newspaper," Stefan said and pushed a rolled-up paper through the bars of the window.

"Why, thank you, Stefan. You know how much I enjoy reading the news," Gellert replied, pulling the gift through the gap gratefully.

"Oh, there's a British newspaper there, too. Someone brought it in a while ago and left it. I thought you might like that, as well," the guard added.

"Undoubtedly, although my English is a little rusty, I'm afraid. I'm sure it will be an interesting challenge to see what I can remember," Gellert replied with a smile.

"Well, I'd better finish my rounds. Thanks for the advice again," Stefan said and, with a wave of his hand, was gone.

Gellert took his gifts back to his bunk and sat down to read. A newspaper was a rare treat for him. None of the older guards would ever consider giving him such a thing, as most of them had lost family during the last war. Stefan was young enough that the terrible battles of the forties were just something he read about in history books. Removing his glasses from his top pocket, Gellert sat on his bunk and began to read.

After an hour or so, he sadly put the paper down. The world outside was moving on, and most of the stories just had no meaning or relevance to him. He looked about at his small, barren cell and sighed. If he truly wished to, he had little doubt he could engineer an escape from this place, but he chose willingly to remain where he was. It was pretty much by personal choice that he was here in the first place, serving penance for the terrible crimes that he committed. Too late had he realised the folly of his actions and how misguided were his attempts at world domination. Remorse had filled him, and he therefore readily allowed himself to be confined here in the prison he had once held captive so many of his enemies.

Feeling depressed, he reached for the English language paper, hoping this would provide him with some distraction. He snorted with derision when he unfolded it and found it was a copy of The Daily Prophet, a worthless rag of a paper. Still, anything was better than sitting here stewing in his own misery.

His interest was captured by a small, grainy picture on page two which appeared to show a young boy staring into the camera lens in surprise. Wondering why the paper would publish such a thing, he read the accompanying text.

The Daily Prophet can now confirm that this picture is definitely of Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived. Freelance photographer, Miles Juniper, managed to capture the shot in the Muggle town of Slough purely by chance. Mr Juniper was quoted as saying that as soon as he saw the legendary lightning bolt-shaped scar on the boy's forehead, he knew who he was looking at.

Little is known of Harry Potter's home life, and the Ministry has refused to comment on the matter. It is widely rumoured, however, that Mr Potter's magical guardian is none other than Albus Dumbledore, who took the role after Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, were tragically killed by You-Know-Who on the thirty-first of October, nineteen eighty-one. Harry remains the only known person to have survived the Killing Curse, which was responsible for giving him his famous scar.

Mr Juniper commented that young Harry was dressed in a strange Muggle fashion and…

Gellert stopped reading and stared at the picture once again. Sure enough, he could just make out the scar on the boy's forehead. He put the paper down and started to think. Too many things here didn't make sense. The Killing Curse worked, much like the Cruciatus Curse, by attacking the nervous system. Once it hit its intended victim, the Killing Curse would instantly shut down all electrical energy in the body, causing every major organ to stop functioning within milliseconds. There was no way it should ever leave a scar.

More to the point, why was his old foe Albus Dumbledore getting involved in the boy's life? It was possible he was a good friend of the Potters and was named as Harry's guardian in their will, but somehow Gellert doubted it. While Albus was happy teaching children, he could never imagine the man actually looking after one. Mind you, the boy looked badly under-nourished and Gellert doubted that those pitiful rags were some 'Muggle fashion'. They were probably exactly what they appeared to be: rags.

Gellert shifted himself further back onto his bunk, as he considered what he knew about this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or, more correctly, Voldemort, if you chose to ignore all that rubbish. He'd followed the man's rise with muted interest. Britain was, after all, far away and he had no connection with this new Dark Lord. Gellert did abhor Voldemort's politics, however. When he'd been trying to take over the world, it was in an effort to improve it and lead the Muggles to a brighter future. This madman just wanted to kill everyone who wasn't magical. It reeked too much of the death camps his former lackeys had insisted they set up. Blaming all your troubles on the Muggles was just the same as blaming it on the Jews, and Gellert had learnt what rubbish that was to his cost.

Even if he was deranged, this Voldemort was clearly immensely powerful. One thing that Gellert had noticed with interest was the way the man strangely changed in appearance as the years progressed. When the war in Britain had begun in earnest in the early seventies, Voldemort had looked relatively human, but by the time this Harry Potter caused his downfall in nineteen eighty-one, his appearance was oddly altered. If anyone had chosen to ask him what might have caused such a thing, Gellert would have answered honestly, but no one did. Still, the knowledge made Voldemort's defeat at the hands of a small boy even stranger, to his mind.

Something was rotten here, and he would lay odds that Albus Dumbledore was at the bottom of it.

But even if Dumbledore was involved, what was it to do with him? He'd long since vowed that he would die within these four walls, a fitting ending for someone who had caused as much pain and suffering as he had. The woes of the world were no longer anything to do with him.

On the other hand, if he just ignored this situation, wasn't he guilty of causing more suffering by his inaction? Gellert had very little faith that Dumbledore would handle the situation well. The man simply didn't have the strength of will to do the right thing and was far too forgiving. If left to his own devices, Dumbledore would probably lead them all to ruin. Did he dare to stand back and let Britain and, eventually, Europe burn again? It was a frightening thought.

For two days, Gellert meditated in his cell. He refused the meagre meals he was offered, and didn't once move from his position of sitting cross-legged on his bunk. On the second day, clarity came to him and he gingerly unfolded his stiff legs. After an unavoidable trip to the bucket that served as his toilet, he stood and stared out of the tiny, barred window, set high in the wall. The sky outside was an iron-grey colour, without a single break in the thick, snow-filled clouds. Soon, for the first time in over forty-five years, he would walk a free man under those clouds, and feel the weak winter sun on his face. But first, he had to free himself in such a way that wouldn't draw attention. He sat back on his bunk and began to formulate a plan.

Several hours later, Stefan came by on his rounds and Gellert called to him. It was a simple matter to overwhelm the young man's mind just by establishing eye contact. Although he was a fine fellow, Stefan's mental defences were non-existent and Gellert was able to implant his instructions into his mind without difficulties. Forcing down the feelings of guilt he had at using the only friend he had in such a manner, Gellert returned to his bunk to wait.

It was three days before Stefan was able to find what he needed. At two o'clock in the morning, Gellert was awoken by the sound of his cell door opening and Stefan entering. The young man held his wand out in front of him, like he was going to cast a spell, but Gellert realised he was really Levitating a Disillusioned object. Stefan set his invisible burden down on Gellert's now vacated bunk and cancelled the Disillusionment Spell.

Gellert examined the corpse of the old man intently. He was approximately the same height and build as him, and his features weren't too dissimilar. No, this body would do perfectly.

"Where did you find him? Will he be missed?" Gellert asked the young man gruffly.

"In a mortuary at Stuttgart," Stefan replied. "The man is a tramp and was found dead in a park yesterday. I Confunded the Medical Examiner, and I was able to remove the body without problems."

"Ah, I always thought you were a smart, lad," Gellert praised. "Did you manage to find me a wand?"

Silently, Stefan reached into his robes and pulled out a wand made of dark wood. Gellert gave it an experiment wave and was pleased to see that it responded to him reasonably well. He would probably get a better one later, but this would certainly do for now.

Setting to work, Gellert began to Transfigure the old tramp's face into a perfect match of his own. He then continued to work down the dead man's body until he was satisfied that he was an exact replica of himself.

"Did you bring me new clothes?" he demanded of the young guard. Stefan's only response was to hand him a small bag which, on examination contained a complete change of clothing. Eagerly, he shed the tattered prison uniform he had worn for many years and dressed himself in his new outfit. He then transferred his old clothes to the tramp. Once he was finished, he turned back to Stefan.

"You have done me a great service, my friend, and I am sorry that I have had to treat you in this manner. Tomorrow, you will return to this cell and find the body. My Transfigurations should last a good few weeks, so as far anyone will be concerned I died a natural death. I will leave here now, and we will not meet again in this life. Before I go, I must remove your memories of these events for both your safety and mine. Goodbye, my fine friend," Gellert said warmly, before pointing his new wand at the young man's head. "Obliviate!"

Once that was done, Gellert walked out of the cell without a moment's hesitation and immediately cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. A second later, a confused looking Stefan followed him out, locking the door behind him. The young guard then hesitantly headed down the corridor, clearly unsure why he was in this part of the prison, at all. Gellert watched him go sadly.

After allowing Stefan enough time to get ahead, Gellert headed down the corridor himself. He'd helped design this prison and knew it like the back of his hand, and he was confident he could get out of the building without difficulties. He would then need to find a place to stay for a few days while he gathered money and supplies. Once that was done, he would head for England and see if he could discover exactly what was happening over there. Something wasn't right, and he was certain that Albus Dumbledore was behind it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

One day, Harry Potter's life became so miserable that he wished to die.

It was the evening of the twenty-fifth of December, nineteen-ninety, and Harry had just crawled onto his thin mattress inside the under-stairs cupboard that served as a bedroom for him. He was bone tired and in considerable pain, but no tears fell from his eyes. What good would crying do other than to attract more ridicule and hurt?

Like many young boys, he had been up since the early hours of the day. However, it was not the anticipation of what toys and gifts he was to receive that had pulled Harry from his bed at six o'clock that morning, for Harry had never received a Christmas present in his life. Rather, it was his bad-tempered aunt who had awoken him with strict instructions to start to prepare the family feast for later in the day.

While the rest of his small family had gathered in the front room to exchange gifts and celebrate the day, Harry had begun to prepare the large turkey that would be the centre piece of the Dursleys' Christmas dinner. He had been forced to pause in the middle of his preparations to fix the family's breakfast. Despite the promise of an enormous dinner later, he was instructed to cook a full English breakfast sufficient to feed a small army for them. He was permitted one piece of toast himself before he was told to get back to work.

In between preparing the vegetables for dinner and washing-up the breakfast things, Harry would occasionally pause and listen to the sounds coming from the other room. His Uncle Vernon had switched on the television and it sounded like he was watching a war film. No doubt his Aunt Petunia sat beside him on the sofa, probably daintily picking at the large box of chocolates she had received as a present from Vernon. Harry's cousin Dudley could be heard running in and out of the front room, yelling at the top of his voice as he tried out each of his many Christmas gifts. Harry doubted any of Dudley's new toys would last more than a week knowing how his cousin treated them.

Despite receiving no help whatsoever, Harry managed to get Christmas dinner ready for the stroke of three o'clock. The table was set and groaning with food and Harry felt a small flicker of pride at having prepared such a mouth-watering meal all by himself. In hope, he had set the table for four, but he was to be disappointed. When he had timidly began to take a seat at the table, his uncle had harshly demanded to know what he was doing and knocked him to the floor with the back of his hand. His aunt had harshly ordered him to begin the washing-up, scolding him for getting so many dishes and plates dirty, even if it would have been impossible to cook a meal of that size without using them all.

With his stomach growling with hunger, and the sound of crackers being pulled in the dining room echoing in his ears, he began to fill the sink with hot water. Only the hope that there might be some left-overs he could eat kept him going.

He was interrupted in the middle of his chores by the Dursleys demanding he clear the dinner things away and bring in pudding, which he duly did. Once his family was safely tucking into their Christmas Pudding with custard, Harry picked over the plates and bowls to find what food had been left. He was bitterly disappointed. It seemed like every dish had been emptied in a deliberate ploy to spite him. In the end, Harry's Christmas dinner comprised one squashed roast potato and a small sliver of turkey meat that had been hidden under the bird's breast bone.

Eventually, he was summoned to collect the desert bowls and clear the table. This at least meant he could finally finish the washing-up. Petunia had berated him for making a mess, even though he was in the middle of cleaning-up, and promised him a thrashing if her kitchen wasn't spotless by the time he had finished. Wearily, Harry continued putting away the plates and bowls, and started wiping down all the work surfaces. Knowing his aunt would inspect the kitchen meticulously, he mopped the floor, as well.

In the front room, there was a comedy program on the television and Vernon and Petunia were laughing uproariously at it, no doubt aided by the bottle of sparkling white wine they had opened after dinner. Exhausted by his busy day, Harry gratefully headed to his cupboard to lay down, thankful that the Dursleys had apparently forgotten about him for the moment.

Just as he entered the hallway, a movement caught his eye and he turned just in time to see Dudley lunging at him with a cricket bat in hand. Harry managed to throw up an arm in time to stop the bat smashing him in the side of the head, but his forearm took the full force of the blow. He heard a sickening crack, and he fell to the floor clutching his arm in agony.

He must have screamed when the bat hit him, because a second later a red-faced Vernon charged into the hall.

"What the devil is all this noise?" he demanded. "What are you up to, you little freak?"

"Dad, Harry tried to take my new cricket bat off me!" Dudley lied, glee clearly evident on his face.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Vernon snarled. "Dirty, good-for-nothing, thief! Get in your cupboard, and don't expect to be fed tomorrow. I'll show you how we deal with nasty, little freaks in this house!"

"Please, sir!" Harry begged. "I think my arm is broken."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Vernon yelled. "You should be more careful, shouldn't you? Get in the cupboard, now!"

Knowing arguing would only bring more punishment, and desperate to protect his injured arm, Harry crawled into the cupboard. He heard the bolt being slid into place on the outside, and the living room door being slammed shut.

He was alone.

Biting his lip against the pain, Harry stared into the darkness. His arm was pure agony and he felt faint with hunger. Somehow, despite his discomfort, he managed to drop off to sleep. His last thought before his eyes closed was that he wished he would never wake up.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, Harry awoke and blearily looked around. He was startled to see that the door to his cupboard was wide open, but neither his aunt nor uncle was anywhere to be seen. Cautiously, he rolled over and poked his head out, but there was no sign of life. It was only when he had crawled out of the cupboard completely that it dawned on him that his arm wasn't hurting. True, it felt a little numb, but other than that it was fine. Tenderly, he touched his arm where Dudley had hit it with his bat, but nothing felt broken. If there was one thing Harry had become an expert on, it was broken bones.

Carefully, he walked down the hall and peeked into the front room through the open doorway. He was surprised to see Vernon, Petunia and Dudley all sitting rigidly on the couch, staring straight ahead of them. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Something strange was going on and he was becoming concerned.

"Come in, my boy, no need to be afraid," a voice said calmly.

Harry jumped in surprise. The voice was rusty and had an odd accent he couldn't place. He didn't recognise the voice at all, and wondered why there was a stranger in the house.

Timidly, he edged into the front room. There, sitting in Vernon's favourite chair, was a man dressed in an impeccable dark blue suit. He appeared quite old, but his brutal features and near-shaved head gave him a fearsome appearance. Harry stared at him with a feeling of dread mounting inside of him.

"I assure you, Harry, there is no reason to fear me. Indeed, I would never have been able to enter this house if I had any intention of hurting you," the man told him.

Harry nodded, although he didn't feel very assured. "Please, sir, who are you and how do you know who I am?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"My name is Gellert Grindelwald. As you might have guessed from my accent, I am from Germany, although I did briefly live in this country when I was younger. As for how I know you, you will be surprised to learn that you are quite a famous young man," he explained.

"Me? Famous? I think you must have the wrong person, Mr Grindelwald," Harry said, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Oh, no, I have exactly the right person," Gellert replied with a reassuring smile. "That scar on your forehead is quite distinctive, after all."

"Oh," Harry said lamely, rather unsure how to respond to this odd man. He glanced warily at his aunt and uncle, who had strangely not spoken a word.

"Don't worry about them, Harry," Grindelwald told him, obviously having seen where he was looking. "I have cast a magical spell on them so they have no free will. Similarly, I cast a spell on you to heal your arm. Tell me, my boy, do your guardians often lock you that tiny cupboard after breaking your bones?"

Harry gawped at the man, not quite sure what to do or say next. This Grindelwald character was clearly insane, wasn't he? Even so, Harry's eyes drifted to where his hated family sat, immobile and silent, and his left hand caressed his right forearm, which showed no signs of ever being hit with Dudley's cricket bat.

"Yes, Harry, magic is very real. I myself am a very powerful wizard, as was your father, while your mother was a talented witch. Do not believe the lies that your dreadful relatives have told you, your parents didn't die in some drunken car-crash, they were killed fighting an evil wizard who also tried to kill you when you were just a baby," Grindelwald explain.

By this point, Harry was becoming extremely alarmed and began to edge backwards out of the room. Grindelwald, seeing this, raised a small piece of wood he was holding and pointed it at Harry. A second later, Harry felt his arms and legs go totally rigid and he was unable to move a muscle. He felt himself slowly topple to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Grindelwald stand and walk over to him. The man waived his little stick again, and Harry found he could once again move. He stared at the old man in surprise and fright.

"As I said, Harry, you have nothing to fear from me. I did feel, however, that a practical demonstration of magic was in order for you to believe me. Do you accept that magic is real now?" he asked.

Not trusting himself to speak, Harry nodded. Grindelwald just chuckled.

"I think the world has just markedly changed for you, hasn't it? Fear not, young Harry, magic is a wonderful thing and you should be grateful that you have the ability to wield it," Grindelwald smiled.

"What do you mean?" Harry spluttered. "I can't do magic!"

"I strongly suspect that you have already performed acts of magic many times without realising it," the man disagreed. "However, I can assure you that you are indeed magical. I can almost feel the power rolling off you. That power needs to be harnessed and controlled, however, and for that you will require training. That is why I am here, Harry, to offer to train you and turn you into a great wizard."

"But…" Harry stammered, "but… my aunt and uncle will never allow that! They've said loads of times that magic isn't real."

"That was only their petty fear and jealousy speaking. Besides, they have no say in the matter. For you to become my apprentice you will need to leave this place and come and live with me. Your lessons will take up most of your waking hours and you need to be in an environment where you can cast spells and charms freely. In short, I'm offering to take you from this place and give you a proper home where you can learn and flourish. I promise that the place I will take you will have a decent bed for you, and you will get three square meals a day. How does that sound?" Gellert asked warmly.

"It sounds too good to be true," Harry mumbled in confusion.

"I don't blame you for being suspicious, my lad," Gellert nodded in approval. "You do not know me and all of this must have come as an incredible shock. I assure you, however, that I can teach you many, many wondrous things and you will gain knowledge and power like you never dreamed of! I will teach you how to read the minds of others and how to alter the very fabric of the world around you. You will learn how to magically transport yourself hundreds of miles in just the blink of an eye, or, if it's your preference, to fly through the sky. You will be taught how to take the form of an animal and how to make yourself invisible. These are just a few of the marvels I will show you."

Amongst all the incredible abilities that Mr Grindelwald described, one leapt out at immediately. Wide-eyed, Harry looked at the old man and gasped, "Fly? You'll teach me how to fly?"

Gellert smiled at the boy. "Indeed, Harry. Witches and wizards commonly fly on brooms, although other objects can be enchanted to make them fly, also. Does the idea appeal to you?"

Harry just nodded, memories of the dreams he'd had about flying motorcycles filling his mind.

"I understand your father was very good on a broom. Although I never met your parents, I have learnt a lot about them in the past few weeks and I will be happy to tell you all that I know. This is not something your aunt or uncle have ever done for you, am I correct?" Gellert prompted.

"No, they told me my mum and dad died in a car crash, and that they were drunken layabouts, but that's about it," Harry admitted, a little bitterly.

"All lies," Gellert confirmed. "You have an impressive magical heritage, Harry, and it will be my honour to educate you. Will you come with me?"

Harry looked over at his immobile guardians. This all seemed too fantastic to be true, and he half expected the Dursleys to suddenly burst out laughing at him. Besides, he had no idea who this scary old man was, and he might be trying to harm him for some reason. On the other hand, what had Harry left to lose? He remembered the wish he'd made the previous night, and surely anything was better than this? Besides, just on the off chance this might actually all be true, imagine what a joy it would be to fly on a broom. He made up his mind.

"Yes, sir, I will," Harry said decisively. Did he really have a choice?

"Excellent. We'll leave immediately, so go and gather anything you wish to take with you. You will never be returning to this house, so don't leave behind anything you may need later. Off you go," Gellert instructed him and Harry scampered off to gather his meagre belongings.

As soon as Harry left the room, Gellert went into the kitchen. After a brief examination of a pipe that led directly to the back of the cooker, he waved his wand and ripped it in two. A hissing sound immediately came from the ruptured gas line. With a smile, Gellert walked back into the front room and addressed Petunia Dursley.

"Do you keep candles in this house?" Gellert asked gruffly.

"Yes," the woman replied unemotionally.

"Good. In fifteen minutes you will go and retrieve all the candles you own and take them into the kitchen. You will then start lighting them until they are all lit. Do you understand?" Gellert instructed her.

"Yes," Petunia confirmed.

Nodding absently, Gellert turned and walked out the room. He found Harry crawling out of the small cupboard that he had been locked in, clutching what appeared to be a small bundle of rags.

"I'm ready, Mr Grindelwald," the boy declared.

"Is that all you have to take with you?" Gellert asked sadly.

The boy just nodded.

"Very well. Clearly, getting you some new clothes will be the first priority. But never mind about that just yet. We will shortly be travelling to a place called Godric's Hollow, to the house of my great-aunt who has agreed to look after you. Aunt Bathilda is a kindly old woman who has been very much looking forward to meeting you, Harry. Come, let us go so you can see your new home," Gellert said, offering his hand to the young boy.

Nervously, Harry took the man's hand. "Should I say goodbye to the Dursleys?" he asked uncertainly.

"No, I don't think that's necessary, my boy," Gellert assured him and led him out of the house.

They were long gone before a fireball ripped the house apart, instantly incinerating the three occupants.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Tragic Kingdom

AN

Well, what awonderful reception the first chapter got! I'm delighted so many of you are excited about this story. Considering the number of times I stopped and restarted it, it's a great relief. Clearly the idea of a Gellert Grindelwald raised Harry caught a few people's imaginations.

This chapter is where the story starts properly, kicking off with the first of many flashback scenes. Hopefully with this story I've avoided the clichés that other Grey! Harry tales fall into: Harry will be powerful, but not godlike. He'll be cunning, but not all of his schemes will work. He'll be ruthless, but not evil. I'll let you judge if I've got the balance right.

I prostrate myself in honour of the wondrous Arnel and her superior beta skills. Trust me, she had a lot to do on this chapter…

Harry shivered and weakly tried to drag himself forward. He knew it was a futile gesture as there was simply nowhere to go. The rough, stone floor of his cell cut and scratched his naked body, but he barely noticed.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Bellatrix's voice called out cheerily. "You're not leaving me, are you? That would just break my heart!"

The woman cackled in amusement at her own joke. Harry could hear her footsteps approaching him. He ceased trying to move and curled into a ball, but he received a sharp kick in the ribs for efforts, knocking the wind out of him.

"It's a bit late to start getting all shy, handsome," Bella chuckled and bent down to grab the hair at the back of Harry's head, forcing him to look up at her. "You're my little toy, Harry, and I can do exactly what I want with you."

"Kill me," Harry begged in a broken voice. "Just kill me and have done with it."

"Kill you?" Bella repeated in mock surprise. "Oh, my goodness, no! The Dark Lord will be the one to end your miserable little life. I just get to play with you first."

She pushed his head down with enough force that his nose smacked into the floor. Harry could hear himself sobbing softly. Everyone had a breaking point, and he had long since reached his.

"Hmm, what shall we do now? Shall we play with my little knife, or would you like me to cast your favourite spell on you again? Oh, decisions, decisions," she teased.

He didn't bother to look up. He knew either option would only mean pain and suffering for him. A second later, he discovered the Bella had chosen to play with her knife, as he felt the cold blade pressed against his shoulder.

"You know, last night I asked my Lord if he needed you completely intact when he kills you. Do you know what he said?" she breathed into his ear. "He said no! I can cut whatever bits off you that I want. Won't that be fun?"

Harry felt a shudder of fear pass through him. What was this madwoman planning to do now? He felt her trail her fingers down his back and over his backside, her nails lightly dragging against his skin. A second later, he felt a wave of agony hit him. He flipped himself over with strength he didn't know he still possessed and stared at his left foot in horror. Blood was pouring from the gap where his little toe used to be.

"This little piggy went to market…" Bella chanted, waving his severed toe at him.

Terror and revulsion filled him. The deep-rooted fear of permanent mutilation all humans possess overwhelmed him and he was nearly sick as a wave of nausea rose within him. He gazed at the blood running down his foot in disbelief as Bellatrix's harsh laughter rang in his ears. She stood and pointed her wand at him, barely able to pronounce the incantation she was laughing so manically.

"Crucio!"

White-hot knives tore into his flesh and it felt like his skin was being melted from his body. Harry's world became one unending realm of agony as he thrashed and beat the stone floor in his anguish. He heard himself scream until he thought is vocal cords would split. Screaming, never to stop, never to end…

With a start, Harry awoke and blinked owlishly. It had been a long time since he'd had that nightmare and it left him feeling shaken. Instinctively, he glanced down at his left foot, but the shiny, black boots he was wearing hid his mutilation.

A soft giggling sound made him look up sharply. When he'd drifted off into sleep the train compartment had been empty, but now he was surprised to see four young girls sitting looking at him with mixed expressions.

"Where you having a bad dream?" the dark-haired girl sitting just over from Harry asked, concern clear in her voice.

"Something like that," Harry admitted, sitting up in his seat. A glance out the window revealed lush, green countryside, suggesting they had left London behind them. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order.

He looked back at the four girls, only to find them all staring at him intently. They were all dressed in Hogwarts uniforms displaying the distinctive black and yellow colours of the Hufflepuff House, so they were second years, at least. Harry ran a hand over his face, while surreptitiously breathing in deeply. At once, his keen sense of smell detected various feminine odours: delicate soaps, fragrant shampoos and even a few dabs of a flowery perfume from the dark-haired girl. He also smelt hints of a more earthy, irony smell.

Concentrating on that scent, he realised that the dark-haired girl and the one with short light-brown hair had both started their menstrual cycles, while the nervous-looking girl with long, straight brown-hair was right on the verge of it. The small, giggly blond child who sat nearest to the door had yet to have her first period, however. Harry pondered this; puberty in both boys and girls was immensely important to their magical development. It was the reason most children didn't begin their magical training until eleven, when puberty had at least begun to start. These girls were only just beginning their magical development and had a long way to go before they were proper witches.

"How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked the girls, offering them a pleasant smile.

Three of the girls instantly burst into giggles. The dark-haired girl who had previously spoken just turned a spectacular shade of red and hurriedly looked at her feet. Harry suppressed a grin. He knew a crush when he saw one.

"Umm, we just passed Birmingham a while back," the short-haired girl replied with a bright smile. "Who are you? I've never seen you at Hogwarts before."

"I'm just starting this year," Harry supplied. Deciding that engaging the young girls in conversation would be a good way of learning more about Hogwarts, he began to elaborate. "I've been home schooled up to this point, and actually took the German equivalent of the O.W.L. exanimations as my guardian was from that country. Sadly, he died last year, so I decided I'd come to Hogwarts to take my N.E.W.T.s."

"Oh, how old are you, then?" the dark-haired girl asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I was seventeen last July," he replied. "By the way, my name is Harry."

"I thought you looked too old to still be going to school," the girl admitted shyly. "My name is Michelle, and this is my best friend Imogen. Over there is Cerys and Hannah. We're all second year Hufflepuffs."

"And a very pretty group of Hufflepuffs you are, too," Harry told them and was rewarded with more giggling and some very red cheeks. Getting these girls to talk should be easy, he decided. "So, what's Hogwarts like, then?"

"It's brilliant!" Hannah piped up, her blond curls bobbling as she bounced in her seat. "We get to do magic every day and our Head of House is wonderful."

"It's okay," the quieter and more reserved Cerys supplied. "Most of the teachers are great, but there are a few that aren't so good."

"Yeah, like Snape!" Michelle spat. "He's Head of Slytherin and he's a right nasty git."

"All Slytherins are like that," Cerys agreed. "They're all a bunch of bullies."

"Really?" Harry asked in mock surprise. In truth, he was already aware of Slytherin's reputation and particularly that of its malicious Head of House. It was partly his desire to confront the man that had convinced Harry to attend Hogwarts in the first place. Still, it always paid to gather whatever information was available before walking into any new situation.

"Oh, yes!" Michelle declared hotly. "They're all horrible. Half of them have parents who are Death Eaters and I bet most of them end up serving You-Know-Who in the end. The seventh years are the worst of the bunch. There are some real evil gits in that year."

"Pansy Parkinson is the worst," Hannah decided, her normal bubbliness subdued for the moment. "She's just cruel."

"Yes, particularly to anyone who isn't a pure-blood," Cerys noted. "I'm only a half-blood, so they pick on me a lot. What are you, Harry?"

"I'm like you, a half-blood," Harry confirmed. "Blood purity is just a fantasy, anyway. There's absolutely no evidence that being a pure-blood makes you magically stronger. Besides, there aren't enough witches or wizards in Britain for them to sustain the magical-population that way, not without them marrying their close relatives."

"Ugh, imagine you having to marry your brother, Imogen," Michelle said pulling a face.

"Oh, that's disgusting!" Imogen declared. "I feel sick just thinking about it."

"What are the other houses like?" Harry asked, grinning at the girls' banter.

"Well, the Gryffindors are alright. We Hufflepuffs get along with them pretty well, I guess. The Ravenclaws are a bit snooty, though. They tend to look down on us like we're all thick or something," Michelle explained.

"Yeah, what a load of rubbish that is! Why, Cerys is far smarter than most of the Ravenclaws in our year," Imogen said angrily.

"What house do you think you'll be in, Harry?" Michelle asked shyly.

Harry smiled at the girl warmly. In a few years, little Michelle would be stunningly beautiful, he thought. It was a shame she wasn't a little older, as she held the promise of developing into a vibrant and potentially exciting witch.

"I expect I'll become a Slytherin," Harry announced casually. The smiles dropped from the faces of the four girls instantly.

"But why would you want to go there?" Michelle demanded, sounding heart-broken. "Didn't you hear us tell you that they're all nasty bullies?"

"Yes, and I hate bullies," Harry explained. "When I was much younger, I lived with my aunt and uncle, and my cousin used to bully me all the time. Since then, bullying isn't something I will tolerate. If I'm going to stamp that sort of thing out, I'll need to be in Slytherin to do it, won't I?"

"Oh, Harry, you can't do that!" Michelle wailed. "They're a really nasty bunch in that house, and they'll all gang up on you. You might end up getting really hurt!"

"Yeah, and Snape protects all of those gits, too, so they wouldn't get in trouble for attacking you, or anything," Hannah added.

"Can I let you all into a secret?" Harry asked in a conspiratory tone. The girls nodded eagerly. "I'm really, really good at fighting. If any of them try and attack me, they'll end up regretting it."

"But… you'd be on your own," Cerys objected. "They'd outnumber you."

"You'd be better off trying to get into Hufflepuff," Michelle decided. "We could help you then."

"Thank you, Michelle," Harry said, favouring the girl with a genuine smile. She ducked her head and flushed red again, while Imogen tittered beside her. "But you girls don't need to worry about me. I know how to look after myself."

The four girls all exchanged nervous glances.

"You don't really think you can do anything about the bullying, do you?" Cerys asked hesitantly.

"I probably can't stamp it out completely, but I might be able to do something about the ring-leaders," Harry acknowledged.

The girls looked at each other uncertainly.

"That type only picks on those weaker than them. Trust me, if you four stand together, you'll soon find that those Slytherins will decide that you're not worth the trouble of upsetting. Weakness only encourages them; be strong and they'll leave you alone," he said decisively.

"Did your cousin leave you alone when you stood up to him?" Cerys asked tentatively.

"I actually left my uncle's care before I'd realised this," he explained, "but I've encounter his sort many times since. If those types aren't stopped when their young, they grow up thinking they can just get whatever they want by intimidation and violence. It's best to discourage that sort of behaviour early."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Cerys shrug, clearly unconvinced. He decided to let the matter drop, after all, chastising Slytherins was not the reason he was going to Hogwarts this year, although if a few sons and daughters of Death Eaters got in his way… well, he wasn't exactly known for turning the other cheek. Mercy was a quality that had long been driven from him.

"So, tell me more about the school," he asked kindly.

"Well, the food is great!" Hannah began enthusiastically.

Harry sat back and listen to his new friends as they happily described Hogwarts.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"You can leave your trunk on the train, Harry," Imogen informed him knowledgably. "The elves will bring it up later."

Harry nodded. There were many items in his trunk that he wouldn't want falling into the wrong hands, but there were enough Locking Charms and security devices that he felt reasonably confident in leaving it unattended for the moment.

The trip had passed reasonably quickly, and the four girls had proved useful sources of information about Hogwarts. Indeed, they had seemed to be competing to see who could tell him the most. Clearly having a handsome young man paying attention to them had turned their heads.

It wasn't with false modesty that Harry thought of himself as handsome. He knew he was good looking, although it wasn't something he tended to flaunt. His guardian had often told him he could achieve more through his good looks and a bit of charm than with the more blunt tactics he usually favoured, and Harry had to admit that over time he'd come to understand that the old man was probably right. Aunt Bathy, too, had repeatedly told him his piercing green eyes and wild, untamed hair would drive young witches wild, bless her soul. Merlin, he missed that dear old woman.

"It's your first year, so you'll get to travel to the castle in the boats!" Hannah declared brightly, shaking him out of his musings.

"Don't be silly, Hannah," Michelle practically spat. "Harry's far too big to go in the boats!"

"I guess I'll just tag along with you girls until someone tells me differently," Harry said, smiling reassuringly at Michelle. The small girl blushed prettily and smiled shyly back.

The girls ushered him off the train and onto the crowded platform of Hogsmeade Station. The mass of bodies were all shuffling towards the exit, situated just beyond the station buildings, so Harry let the girls lead him in that direction. They had just passed the door to the ticket office when a sharp, clear voice called out.

"Mr Potter?" a female voice with a distinct Scottish burr said forcefully.

Harry turned and saw a tall, severe-looking witch with black hair tucked into her pointed hat. She had a prim expression on her face, although her eyes seemed to be examining him in minute detail.

"Yes?" Harry said, stopping and turning to face the witch. The four girls also stopped with shocked expression on their faces. Harry supressed a grin, he'd purposely not mentioned his surname and clearly they had just realised who they had been talking to all this time.

"My name is Professor McGonagall and I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. The Headmaster has requested to have a few words with you before the Sorting. If you would kindly follow me, I will take you directly to him," she stated.

"Of course, Professor," Harry agreed politely before turning back to his new friends. "Ladies, I fear this is where we part company for the moment. Thank you for being such wonderful travel companions and I hope to see you at the castle."

The girls looked disappointed to have to leave him, especially so soon after his true identity was revealed, but none of them were going to argue with their Deputy Head. They all bid him goodbye before hurrying off. Michelle, in particular, looked rather sad. Harry gave her an encouraging smile and a small wave as she left.

"It appears you've already made some friends," McGonagall noted in what Harry thought was a slightly disapproving tone.

"They came into the compartment I was in and virtually adopted me," Harry smiled. "They were extremely helpful, actually, and told me quite a lot about the school."

"Very gracious of them," McGonagall noted, her inflection rather less hostile this time. "Well, come along, Mr Potter, our transport is waiting."

Without a backward glance, the tall witch strode towards the exit with rapid steps. Harry followed on behind, slightly amused that McGonagall had not even bothered to check if he was still behind her. Clearly, this was a witch who was accustomed to having her instructions followed without question.

Once they left the station proper, Harry saw a line of carriages positioned along the far side of the road. The pupils were all hurrying to try and find seats within them, and there was a great deal of pushing and shoving going on. Several older children, no doubt prefects, were attempting to restore order with limited success. Harry could only smile at the chaotic scene and briefly felt a pang of regret that he was never given the opportunity to experience Hogwarts in more carefree days. Not that he really had a choice in the matter, but still.

McGonagall led him away from the crush and they headed towards a solitary carriage situated well away from the others. She opened the door to the carriage and held it open, pointedly looking at Harry. With a gracious nod of his head, Harry stepped inside, but not before he noticed that a Thestral was pulling it. A slight tightening of her eyes suggested McGonagall had noticed his reaction. Very little escaped this witch's notice, he surmised.

Once they were both seated, the carriage began to move without any visible instruction from McGonagall to do so. She sat opposite him, her back ram-rod straight and her face unreadable. Harry took the opportunity to breathe deeply and take in her scent, an almost automatic reaction for him after all this time. What he discovered surprised him.

At first all he could smell were McGonagall's freshly laundered clothes and a hint of her scented soap, but underneath he caught a distinctly animalist aroma, almost feline in nature…

His eyes widened before he quickly hid his surprise. Animagi were extremely rare, and he had only ever encountered a couple of other people with that gift in his life. To find another sitting right opposite from him was both shocking and troublesome. If she detected he was also an Animagus, that would eliminate a huge advantage for him. Unfortunately, it appeared the confined quarters of the carriage had allowed the stern witch to capture his scent, too, judging by the look of disbelief that appeared on McGonagall's features.

"Mr Potter, am I correct in believing that you have inherited some of your father's talents?" she asked carefully, her eyes watching him calculatedly.

"While I have no memories of my father, I do believe I've inherited many of his skills, yes," Harry hedged carefully.

"I believe you know exactly the one I'm referring to," she said bluntly.

"I'm not sure as to what you're referring to," Harry replied blandly.

"What are you; some sort of dog?" McGonagall demanded.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Harry said firmly. "I know you can't be suggesting that I'm an Animagus, because that would require me to be registered with the Ministry, which I can assure you I'm not."

"Where have you been all this time, Harry?" McGonagall asked, her curiosity finally spilling over. "We all thought you had died in that fire at your aunt's house. Why didn't you let us know you were alive until now?"

"I was well looked after," Harry said evasively. "As I had only just escaped from an abusive home, I wasn't exactly in a hurry to reveal myself to the people who put me there in the first place."

McGonagall stared at him like he had just slapped her in the face. Her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes seemed to be trying to bore a hole through him. He merely returned her gaze blandly.

The rest of the journey was conducted in silence, which suited Harry just fine. He stared out of the window and watched the scenery roll by. The weather in London had been grey and overcast, and here in Scotland there was a fine drizzle falling. Although it was only the afternoon, it was already becoming dark and a mist hung in the air, partially obscuring the pine trees that lined the road. A strange sense of melancholy filled Harry as he pressed his forehead to the glass.

The carriage followed the road as it took a sharp turn to the right and Harry got his first glimpse of Hogwarts. The uppermost towers were lost in the grey haze, but even so, he was impressed by the sheer presence of the place. The building's multiple towers and spires dominated the skyline and gave the place an ominous, foreboding feel. Lights were already twinkling from hundreds of windows and contrasted starkly against the dark grey/brown stone work. Harry was left with the feeling that the place looked less like a school than some massive, deranged cathedral built for the worship of some omnipotent god. It gave him a strange feeling of excitement that he couldn't begin to explain.

As the carriage pulled through the main gates, Professor McGonagall stirred and looked at him with expectantly, like she was waiting for him to ask her something. Harry kept his silence until the carriage finally came to a halt directly in front of pair massive oak doors. McGonagall immediately stood and exited the carriage, pointedly holding the door open for Harry to follow her. He did as he was bid and stood, looking around him interestedly.

"If you would follow me, Mr Potter, I will take you directly to the Headmaster's Office. Please try to keep up as I'm required elsewhere to look after the first years," she told him primly and without another word turned and entered the castle.

Harry followed obediently behind her. He was slightly surprised at the woman's frosty attitude to him as he was aware from his research that McGonagall had been very friendly with his parents. Possibly her hostility was down to the fact he'd allowed the world to believe he was dead for years, or maybe the outrageous articles printed in that worthless rag the Daily Prophet about him following his re-emergence this year had coloured her perception. Either way, it was painfully obvious that she didn't trust him.

Once inside the castle proper, McGonagall led him up a massive staircase which she climbed at a rapid pace. Harry was somewhat taller than her, and in superb physical condition, so he had no problem matching her speed, but even he had to admit that her fitness was impressive for her age. Her speedy ascent didn't falter once until they reached the seventh floor, where she turned and marched through a dark archway that led to a long corridor with numerous portrait paintings mounted along it. Her heels clicked rhythmically on the bare, stone floor until she halted crisply in front of an impressive statue of a gargoyle.

"Ginger Newts," McGonagall said firmly, causing Harry to cock an eyebrow at her in surprise.

A second later, the statue swung aside, leading Harry to believe that the Deputy Head's strange exclamation had been a password, not that she had suddenly become peckish. He followed her as she stepped onto a circular stone staircase which began to move as soon as they both had mounted it. Despite himself, Harry couldn't stop himself smiling as he rose upwards in a corkscrew fashion, as if he was on some sort of medieval-styled fairground ride. The staircase halted in front of an exquisitely polished oak door boasting a highly-decorative knocker fashioned after a griffin. McGonagall knocked once and the door swung open, seemingly by itself.

Harry was presented with a large, beautiful circular room. Several windows were set into the walls and through the furthest one Harry could just make out the imposing sight of the mountains that surrounded the school. Numerous candles and lamps were already lit, giving the room a warm glow. More portraits, this time apparently of previous Headmasters, glared at him as he walked into the room. Harry's eyes drifted over to a number of spindly-legged tables upon which sat a curious collection of metal devices, some of which omitted puffs of white smoke while others made whirring or ticking noises. He could hazard a guest to most of the devises' uses, but some were beyond his knowledge.

Finally, Harry turned and faced the large, claw-footed desk that dominated the room. Behind it sat an old man with a long white beard who was watching him intently through bright, blue eyes. He wore rich purple-coloured robes which were decorated with intricate silver markings. His fingers were lightly entwined and resting on the desk in front of him and Harry wondered if this was a deliberate act to show that he wasn't holding a wand. Irrespectively, he had to keep a tight rein on his emotions as he looked at him.

So this was the legendary Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Bastard.

"Mr Potter? I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. In case you didn't know, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore." He rose sprightly from his seat and offered his hand. Harry stepped forward and shook it firmly. The man smiled and sat back down, gesturing with his hand that Harry should sit one of the chairs arranged on his side of the desk. Harry sank down onto one of the straight-backed chairs gracefully and regarded the old man with a polite smile.

"I must say, I was extremely surprised to receive your letter requesting acceptance into Hogwarts this summer," Dumbledore began in a conversational tone. "While I am, of course, delighted that you wish to continue your education here, I must enquire as to why you chose to do so now?"

"I think the letter made my intensions quite clear," Harry replied carefully. "Following the death of my guardian late last year, I decided that taking my higher qualifications in this country would be beneficial to me. As you will have seen from the certificates I sent, I took the equivalent to the O.W.L. exams in German the year before last, but I felt that having actual N.E.W.T. level qualifications would be of more use to me later in life."

"Ah, your guardian," Dumbledore pondered. "I wonder if you could provide me with a few details in that regard. You see, most people in this country thought you dead until this year, and I'm most curious about the circumstances that led to the death of your previous guardians, Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

"I understand that my uncle and aunt died in a tragic gas explosion," Harry said blandly. "I really can't tell you anything about that as I'd already left their care by that point. I should mention that they were most happy to see the back of me, and had hated looking after anyone with a magical heritage and ability. Personally, I believe that as I'd been forced to do most of the cooking and cleaning for them, when they suddenly found they had to look after themselves they simply forgot how to use a gas cooker and left the damn thing on. That would certainly fit with what I remember of their intelligence levels."

"You don't seem very upset that they're dead," Dumbledore noted sternly.

"I'm not," Harry replied calmly, his smile not faltering once.

"What do you mean? You were forced to do most of the cooking? Why, you must have only been ten years old!" McGonagall said in an outraged tone from her position behind him. Harry turned in his seat to look at her.

"Yes, I was ten when I left Privet Drive," he confirmed, "and by that point I'd been cooking and cleaning for the Dursleys for several years. If I was lucky, they occasionally even allowed me to eat some of the food I cooked. Still, the playful beatings and all that delightful verbal abuse more than made up for any lack of sustenance."

McGonagall stared at him in horror.

"While I am deeply distressed to learn that your relatives didn't treat you well, Harry, the fact remains that they were your legal guardians and you could not just up and leave them without agreement from the correct authorities," Dumbledore said forcefully. "Who exactly was this guardian you mentioned?"

"I can't tell you," Harry said regretfully.

"Come, come, Harry. Removing you from your aunt's home was a potentially criminal act, and I must insist that you provide me with more details," Dumbledore replied strictly.

"I see we need to set some ground rules here," Harry began. "Firstly, I don't recall giving you permission to address me by my Christian name. I am legally an adult in the Wizarding world, not to mention the last remaining member of an ancient and respected family. I would appreciate if you addressed me as 'Mr Potter' during this conversation. Secondly, I fail to see why you feel you can insist on asking me anything about my family. I'm fully aware that you are Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, but today you are acting in your capacity as Headmaster of Hogwarts. I have already answered all the Ministry's questions regarding my disappearance, entirely to their satisfaction. I also believe I have already supplied you with all the information required to gain admittance to your school, so you have no basis for demanding anything further."

"My apologises for my presumptuousness, Mr Potter," Dumbledore apologised formally. "However, as befitting my role as Headmaster, I have to be satisfied as to the character of anyone I permit to attend Hogwarts. With that in mind, and taking into account some of the stories that have been circulating about you in the press recently, I feel I have no alternative other than to demand further background information from you."

"Then we have a problem," Harry admitted. "You see, I gave an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal the identity of my guardian to anyone. I could give you a name, but I would instantly lose all my magical powers, which rather defies the point of me trying to enter Hogwarts in the first place, don't you think?"

For a second, Dumbledore looked frustrated, but then he looked at Harry directly with a penetrating stare.

Harry resisted the urge to sneer at the man. Everything he'd been told about Albus Dumbledore appeared to be true. He was an infernal meddler who couldn't stand to think that someone knew something he didn't. Somehow, he'd appointed himself as custodian of the Wizarding world's greatest secrets, and believed that only he had the wisdom and knowledge to decide how that information should be used.

What a stinking pile of Hippogriff shit.

Almost contemptuously, Harry blocked the old man's Legilimency assault on him. Dumbledore would need to use his wand to have any chance of breaking through his defences, and that would be illegal for him to attempt. Being Chief Warlock didn't give him any special legal powers, not outside of the Wizengamot, anyway.

"Headmaster, I need to look after the first years," McGonagall interrupted impatiently. "Can we please Sort Potter so I can take the hat?"

Dumbledore reluctantly tore his gaze away from Harry, and regarded his deputy with a faint smile.

"Of course, Minerva," he replied graciously. "Please do carry on."

McGonagall walked swiftly round the desk and picked up a battered and extremely dirty hat. She turned to Harry expectantly.

"Mr Potter, this is the Sorting Hat which…" she began.

"…will sort me into one of the four school Houses. Yes, I know the story," Harry interrupted. "Please, I know you're a busy woman, do continue."

With a disapproving look, McGonagall strode over to where Harry was sitting and placed the hat on his head. Harry relaxed back into his seat.

After several minutes of silence, Harry began to frown.

"I know you're sentient," he thought clearly. "Are you going to actually do something, or are we going to sit here all day?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Potter," the Hat's voice said in Harry's mind. "I'm rather used to looking into the minds of eleven-year-old children. You are rather a fascinating subject in comparison."

"I don't doubt that," Harry agreed. "Still, if you don't sort me quickly, I suspect that McGonagall will explode. She's getting rather impatient, you know."

"She can wait," the Hat snapped. "Frankly, I'm wondering if you should even be allowed into this school. You're clearly not here to learn."

"But you can see why I am here, though, can't you? You know that I won't allow anyone, or anything for that matter, to get in my way," Harry countered.

"Indeed, and I can also see what will happen if I refuse you entry," the Hat noted bitterly.

"Well? I would have thought that you would choose to do what's best for the school in that case. Just let me in, let me do what I have to do, and I'll just walk out of the front gates. Everyone will be happy," Harry reasoned.

"But it's not that simple, is it?" the Hat pointed out. "We both know what will happen if you encounter the sons and daughters of the Dark Lord's supporters here. You would delight in the slaughter of any relative of Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance. Can I in all good faith accept you into Hogwarts knowing you have an agenda of death and destruction?"

"It's a problem partly of your own making, anyway," Harry retorted. "This ridiculous system of sorting has just created a cesspool of intolerance that has been a breeding ground for racist attitudes. If you'd separated the pure-blood extremists and left them as minorities in other houses, we wouldn't have half the problems we have today."

"I can only act as my creators intended," the Hat argued. "The Founders were dedicated people and is it so wrong for them to want witches and wizards who closest match their personalities to carry on in their name?"

"Yes, when one of those Founders was a mad, racist bastard," Harry snapped. "Salazar Slytherin should be mocked and derided, not emulated. Do you know what affect his teachings have on our society? Do you even care what happens beyond these four walls?"

"I can only do what I was created to do," the Hat repeated. "It is not my place to question the morality or wisdom of my instructions."

"Then what use are you? Just sort me, before I decide to turn you into a pile of smouldering ashes," Harry threatened.

"Do you have any preference in what House you are placed in? You could, after all, be realistically placed in any of them," the Hat said stiffly.

"There's only one place you're going to put me, so just get on with it," Harry growled.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat bellowed and was silent.

Harry reached up and removed the hat from his head, before handing it to a shocked Professor McGonagall.

"A Potter in Slytherin? Unthinkable!" she gasped in an appalled voice.

"First time for everything," Harry replied breezily. "Sorry, are you suggesting there's something wrong with being a Slytherin? That there's some sort of problem with that House? As Deputy Headmistress, you should probably try and sort out any problems that exist, shouldn't you?"

"Slytherin is a fine and respectable House," Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall was just surprised that a member of your family was Sorted anywhere else but Gryffindor. Both your mother and father were in that House, you know."

"Numerous Potters have been Sorted into Houses other than Gryffindor," Harry said dismissively. "My great grandfather, for instance, was a Ravenclaw."

"But no Potter, as I recall, has ever been sorted into Slytherin," Dumbledore pointed out coolly.

Harry looked at the steely expression on the Headmaster's face. It was clear that McGonagall already believed he was the devil incarnate, and he suspected Dumbledore was well on the way to forming that opinion, too. As loath as he was to give these two any information, there was no point causing problems for himself so early on.

"I admit I am rather an ambitious sort, Headmaster, which is probably why the Hat placed me in Slytherin," Harry explained in a placid tone. "I can see you're worried, however, and perhaps I can dispel those worries, a little. While I can't say who my guardian has been for these past seven years, I can tell you who it wasn't. It wasn't Voldemort, or anyone associated with him."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair with a surprised look on his face. "Mr Potter, I never once thought any such thing," he protested.

"I find it pays to be absolutely clear about such matters," Harry clarified.

"Perhaps while you are in such a frame of mind, you could confirm if any of the stories in the papers hold a grain of truth," Dumbledore pressed. "I'm aware that you were definitely involved in the capture and imprisonment of Lucius Malfoy, but perhaps you could clear up some of the other rumours?"

Harry smiled darkly. It was just bad luck that Malfoy had been taken into custody at all. Those Aurors had turned up just at the wrong moment. He'd been forced to watch them cart the slimy bastard off to Azkaban, instead of gutting him like a pig as he truly deserved. Still, Voldemort was bound to break the arrogant arse-wipe out of prison sometime, so he'd have another crack at him then.

"You're quite right. I was responsible for Malfoy's capture," Harry confirmed. "I even received a commendation from Minister Scrimgeour, you know. As for the other stories, I have been forced to defend myself against Death Eaters several times now, and, yes, I was at Godric's Hollow that day when Voldemort's forces attacked."

"You just happened to be there?" Dumbledore asked lightly.

"No, I was living there at the time," Harry told him. Might was well throw the old prick a bone.

"Really? I'm most surprised. You are a striking young man, and that scar on your forehead is very distinctive. I would have thought your presence in a village with such a large magical population would have attracted some attention," the old wizard pointed out.

"There are such things as Glamour Charms, you know," Harry smiled in a slightly condescending manner.

"Headmaster, we really must go," McGonagall interrupted urgently.

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore agreed. "Mr Potter, perhaps you would accompany me to the Great Hall, where you will be able to meet your new Housemates. Your coming here was a complete secret, so naturally most of the school is aware of it. I suspect your placement will cause some controversy, however."

"I've never been one to play things safe," Harry said with a shrug, and let himself be guided out of the door by the old man.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry allowed himself to be led out of the Headmaster's Office and down the stairs. Conversation was thankfully kept to a minimum and consisted mostly of everyday chit-chat that two strangers standing in a queue in a shop might share. Even so, Harry was on the lookout for hidden subtext and meaning in the Headmaster's bland questions. The man was a master of subtle interrogation, and Harry was wary.

They entered the Great Hall to find it already packed with pupils, all noisily reacquainting themselves with their fellow students. Harry found himself rather disappointed by the Hall, which he had been told was quite spectacular. The enchanted ceiling just seemed a cheap gimmick to him, and the grandeur of the room diminished by the presence of so many juveniles mindlessly chattering away. It was safe to say, Harry wasn't greatly looking forward to his time at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore led Harry over to the table situated against the far right wall and identified it as being the one belonging to Slytherin House. With a cheerful exclamation that he hoped Harry would settle in well, the old man turned and strode purposefully towards his seat at the top table.

There was a notable drop in the volume around the Slytherin table as its occupants began to notice Harry's presence. Walking slowly up the length of the table, Harry took the opportunity to observe his new Housemates. He caught sight of many half-familiar faces, obviously relatives of Death Eaters or other such undesirables. He was halfway up when he glimpsed a pale-faced boy with white-blond hair glaring at him with a look of utter hatred on his face.

Harry suppressed a smirk. He was fairly certain that this was the son of Lucius Malfoy. Clearly, the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree with that one, but it remained to be seen if the boy inherited any of his father's talents. Although he hated the senior Malfoy with all his heart, Harry would never deny that the man was a dangerous foe.

The younger Malfoy appeared to have gathered himself a cluster of hangers-on, judging from the sycophantic behaviour of those closest to him. Harry noted the dark stares coming from the two burly boys situated to one side of Malfoy and the hard-faced girl who sat practically in his lap. A dark-skinned boy with a prominent scar on his cheek just gave him a withering look, while a small, weedy looking youth sneered at him evilly. What a delightful bunch.

Deciding now was not the time to cause a scene, Harry kept walking towards the end of the table. This end was not so heavily populated, no doubt due to its proximity to the teachers table. Spotting a gap near the end, Harry sat himself down, while cautiously keeping an eye on Malfoy's merry bunch of toadies.

"There are other seats, you know," a female voice said in a flat, unfriendly tone.

Harry turned his head, for the first time noticing the girl he had taken the seat opposite to. She was small, almost petite, but could never have been mistaken for a little girl. She had fiery-red hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her skin was pale, which highlighted the dusting of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. Her large, brown eyes were calculating, and not particularly welcoming. She possessed a distinctive sent of wild flowers and thundery weather. All in all, Harry had to admit the girl was bloody gorgeous. If all the Slytherin girls looked like her, maybe his time here at Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad, after all. Shame she looked like she wanted to hex him.

"True, but most of the other free places are close to the Malfoy boy, and I'd rather not be anywhere near him if I can possibly help it. I suspect his presence would spoil my appetite," Harry replied in a polite voice.

For just a second, Harry was certain he saw a glimmer of amusement in those hard eyes, but it was gone before he could be certain. The girl continued to stare at him for a moment before speaking.

"I guess I can't blame you for that. Draco Malfoy is enough to turn even the strongest stomach. I suspect that putting his darling father in Azkaban means the two of you aren't going to be bosom buddies, then?" she noted calmly.

"I highly doubt it," Harry said with a grin. "Will that fact put us on opposing sides?"

"I'm not on anybody's side, apart from my own," the girl responded. "If you're not part of Malfoy's little clique, it's best to keep your head down and mind your own business. Still, if you two intend to be at each other's throats, it might provide a little light entertainment, Potter."

Harry nodded, not surprised that the girl knew who he was. After all, that stupid lightning bolt scar on his forehead did make it rather obvious, even if the damn thing wasn't real. His guardian had dealt with the problem that had been lurking behind the scar years ago, with the result that the blemish was barely visible now. However, fame was a tool he could use to his own advantage, so a little Muggle make-up had helped make him more recognisable.

Harry was about to ask the girl another question, but he was interrupted by the entry into the hall of the first years, led by Professor McGonagall. As he watched their progress through across the hall, he happened to glance over at the table one over from the Slytherins', and his eyes briefly locked with a startled Michelle's. He gave her a quick wink, and she broke into a smile.

His attention was diverted by the first of the new arrivals being called forward. Harry watched with detachment as each of the children was Sorted into their respective houses, thus labelling them for the rest of their lives. He almost snorted with disgust as the members of each House clapped and cheered each new arrival, delighting at the stereotyping of the young, impressionable minds.

Bloody sheep, the lot of them.

He turned away, only to find the redheaded girl staring at him with a frown. Clearly he had allowed his disgust to show on his face. He schooled his features into a more neutral expression, and returned her questioning gaze impassively.

"Welcome, one and all, to new faces and old hands alike," Dumbledore's voice boomed out, signifying the end of the Sorting. "There is a time for speeches, but this is not it. Tuck in, everyone."

No sooner had the Headmaster finished speaking, then the table filled with plates of food, seemingly out of thin air. There was an explosion of activity as all the occupants of the table immediately began to grab food off the platters, as if afraid that it might vanish at any moment. Sighing at their lack of decorum which seemed unbefitting of a group of pure-bloods, Harry picked up a fork and served himself some chicken breast, followed by several spoonful's of mixed vegetables. He began to eat with a dignity that most of his Housemates apparently completely lacked.

He'd just eaten his first mouthful when a blond-haired girl slipped into the seat next to the redhead. She smiled at Harry warmly.

"Hello, Mr Potter," she began sweetly. "As I'm sure Ginevra here won't have done so, may I be first to welcome you to Slytherin. I'm sure you'll be very happy here amongst all the blood supremacists, traitorous backstabbers and assorted evil arseholes."

Harry snorted with laughter despite himself.

"Thank you for that warm welcome," Harry responded, "and you would be…?"

"Davis. Tracey Davis," she replied holding out her hand to shake.

Harry offered the girl a warm smile as he shook her hand. She was undeniably attractive, with bright blue eyes and long, curly blond hair. She wore slightly too much make-up for Harry's taste, and her blouse was unbuttoned sufficiently to allow her impressive cleavage to gain even more attention than it normally would. Despite her slightly slutty appearance, the intense and calculating glean in her eyes suggested an intelligence that was at odds with the image she presented. Her perfume was rather subtle, too.

"Well, you obviously know who I am. I gather my appearance here today wasn't a complete secret," he noted, watching her intently. He was getting the feeling that no one here was going to be exactly as they presented themselves.

"No, most of us knew you were coming before you stepped onto the Hogwarts Express this morning," she confirmed cheerily. "I very much doubt, however, that any of us were expecting you to be wearing green and silver."

"It just proves that assumption is a bad habit, doesn't it?" he countered.

"That's true, I suppose. Although I do have to say, it's not normal that someone so apparently dedicated to fighting Death Eaters such as yourself would end up in Slytherin," Tracey noted. "Or were those stories in the Daily Prophet not true?"

"Bloody hell, Davis, the poor bastard has only just stepped through the doors. You don't waste much time trying to interrogate him, do you?" snorted the redhead that Tracey had identified as Ginevra.

"We're just having a friendly conversation, Weasley," Tracey replied stiffly, looking a little irritated at the girl's words. "No harm in that, is there?"

"Depends what you do with the information you manage to weasel out of him," she responded, before turning to face Harry. "You'll need to watch this one, Potter. Tracey Davis is Slytherin's go-to girl if you want some dirt on anyone. I'd be careful what you say around her, if I were you."

"Thanks for that kind description of me," Davis growled, now clearly angry. "Don't be too put off by the lovely Ginevra's description of me, Harry. It's not that she dislikes me, especially; it's just that she hates everyone equally. Be careful not to breathe too deeply in her presence or she's likely to hex you for stealing her air."

"I'll try to be careful, then," Harry agreed calmly as he watched the two witches glare at each other. "So, you're the person I go to if I want information, are you?"

The blond turned her attention back to him, her smile immediately returning. "Absolutely, although nothing for nothing, eh?" she said sweetly, before picking up a serving spoon and scooping several helpings of roast potatoes onto Harry's plate. She then reached over and picked up one of the carrots already on his plate, and began to nibble on it in a rather suggestive manner.

"Eat up, Potter," she said in a sultry voice, "we can't have a big, strong boy like you wasting away, can we?"

Harry ignored the girl's actions. "So, what exactly will this information cost me?" he asked.

"More information, of course," Davis shrugged as if her answer was obvious. "Knowledge is power in Slytherin, and that's what I trade in."

Harry frowned. While what the girl said was true, information was only useful if you had a purpose for it, otherwise anything you gathered was just so many useless facts. If Davis wasn't after money, which had been his first thought, what was she after?

"So, what's in this for you?" Harry asked bluntly. "If I give you information about myself, which is obviously what you're after, and you give me information on my new Housemates, what's the benefit to you?"

Weasley snorted at Harry's direct questions, her face showing outright amusement for the first time. "Go on, Davis, you might as well tell him. He's got you worked out already," she laughed.

Davis scowled. "I'm a half-blood," she said simply.

If the blond girl's statement was meant to immediately explain her actions, it was rather lost on him. Clearly, being a half-blood meant something significant within Slytherin, probably something detrimental if the number of junior Death Eaters he had already seen was anything to go by. Why would trading information be so important to someone of a lowly status in her own House? Unless…

"I take it half-bloods are not treated well within Slytherin," Harry began cautiously.

"Oh, we're treated like dirt," Davis confirmed. "You're a half-blood, too, aren't you, Potter?"

"Yes, I am," Harry agreed. "So, I take it this… information gathering service you provide is very useful to all the pure-bloods around?"

"Got it in one," Davis smiled tightly. "If you're not part of a powerful pure-blood family, or don't have a ton of Galleons to splash about, life can be pretty miserable in this place, assuming you survive at all. If you're not in with the in-crowd, you'd better find a reason for them to leave you alone. Take sweet, little Ginevra, here. She's from a family of blood-traitors who have been Sorted into Gryffindor for generations. She found that being the exception to that rule came at a heavy price, so she realised she needed to use her natural talents if she wanted to survive. Weasley here is one of the most vicious duellists I've ever seen. Basically, she keeps her head down and makes sure that it's simply not worth anyone having a go at her, not if they don't want to be hexed from here to Diagon Alley, that is. Me, I was never that powerful, so I had to find another way of making myself untouchable. Now the pure-bloods leave me alone, simply because I'm too useful to them."

"I don't remember saying that you could talk about me," Weasley growled dangerously.

"Yeah, well, you were happy enough to blab about me, so I thought I could return the favour," Davis retorted sarcastically before addressing Harry again. "This doesn't mean that I won't give information to you, Potter, for the right price. The fact that I'm completely neutral is what makes me so valuable. I'll deal with anyone."

She smiled at him and, very deliberately, picked a piece of chicken off his plate and popped it into her mouth.

Harry pondered her words and her food-stealing activities. Davis was obviously a smart girl and she could prove very useful to him, even if she was rather annoying. Why didn't she just get her own food if she was… oh, wait. He resisted grinning as he realised what the girl was up to.

"I'm sure we can trade information in the future," Harry confirmed with a smile. "You don't have to try and confuse me by breaking social conventions, either. I understand this food-stealing bit is just a ploy to distract me, as is that low-cut blouse of yours. Sorry, Davis, I'm sure your breasts are lovely, but I'm not going to blurt anything out just because you wave them in my face."

Weasley broke out into peals of laughter, while Davis just looked annoyed.

"Well, it looks like I shouldn't underestimate you, eh, Potter? We were all thinking you were going to be some brainless, noble hero who charged into danger without a moment's thought, but it actually looks like you have a brain in that pretty head of yours," Davis noted in a detached voice.

Harry was going to reply, but Weasley interrupted by pushing her empty plate in front of her and standing up.

"As fun as this has been, I've things to do," the red-head declared. "It was almost nice meeting you, Potter. I would say that I was looking forward to hearing whatever other little secrets you have, but I don't think you'll last the night here. One word of advice: Malfoy hates you. He's been boasting about how he's going to get even with you for getting his father imprisoned. If you've any sense, you'll leave Hogwarts immediately. See you later, Davis."

With that, Weasley walked off without a glance. Harry's eyes watched her as she left.

"Oh, trust me, Potter, you can forget about that," Davis snorted.

Harry turned to look at her. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Weasley. You can forget about trying to get in her knickers. No bloke has ever succeeded in that feat and the last one who tried ended up scarred for life afterwards: literally. Nah, if you're looking for female company, you'd be better off trying elsewhere," she told him earnestly.

"I really wasn't thinking along those lines," Harry replied, which was only a slight lie. "I was just thinking there must be more to her story then you told me. I mean, that's one very dangerous young woman. I thought she was going to curse you right in front of everybody when you started talking about her history."

"Yeah, and the sad thing is that I get on better with Ginevra than anyone else in this House. We're just two girls trying to survive in this shit-pool called Slytherin," Davis said regretfully. "Still, you have more important things to worry about than her. What Weasley said was right: Malfoy will be coming after you tonight. Unless you have some amazing trick up your sleeve, I'd suggest faking an illness so you can stay in the hospital wing tonight."

"Not really my style," Harry replied dismissively.

"Then I hope you know what you're getting into. Malfoy never fights fair, you know. He'll probably get all of his horrid little entourage involved, including Crabbe and Goyle, and they're nasty pieces of work," Davis informed him sagely.

"Should you be telling me all this?" Harry asked in amusement. "What happened to nothing for nothing?"

"I like you," Davis replied lightly. "Besides, if you do come out of this alive, you'll owe me, and I like the thought of that."

"I may just surprise you," Harry told her, before taking a sip from his goblet.

"Anyway, it looks like your time is up," Davis told him looking down the table. "The fifth year prefects are starting to round up the first years. You'll need to go with them, unless you want to spend the evening wandering around Hogwarts wondering where the Slytherin common room is."

"It's hidden behind a stone wall, down in the dungeons," Harry responded while rising to his feet. "I do, however, want to know what room they've assigned me. I am correct in thinking that all Slytherins get their own private rooms, aren't I?"

"Bugger, you're going to put me out of business," Davis laughed. "Have fun, Potter."

Grinning to himself, Harry turned and made his way towards the group of first years. It was time for him to make his mark.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – The Practical Applications of Violence

AN

Welcome to the next chapter which, as the title implies, is about fluffy kittens and flower arranging. Possibly.

Actually, I should flag up a violence warning here: for the first time in the story you get to see what a Grindelwald-trained Harry can do, and it's not pretty. On the other side of the coin, I hope the later part of the story shows that that he isn't some evil, unfeeling machine, either. There are no absolutes in life, unless it's on a bottle of vodka.

Huge squidgy thanks to Arnel for her wondrous beta skills, and thanks to everyone who's left a review of this story, too. The feedback on this one has been tremendous, and it is appreciated.

Harry followed the group of nervous first years as they trailed behind the pair of Slytherin prefects. Although he hadn't said anything to anyone, he'd already memorised the layout of the castle from the extensive set of plans his Aunt Bathy had left at the house. She'd been planning a book on Hogwarts, but had only got as far as gathering reference material before she died. He suspected those plans were going to be a major help in the coming months.

The nameless prefects halted in front of what appeared to be a blank, stone wall.

"Right, this is the entrance to the Slytherin common room," the male one explained forcefully. "Currently, the password is set as 'Glumbumble', although we change it weekly. We tend to use Potion ingredients for passwords in honour of our Head of House."

"You will not disclose this information to a member of any other House," the dark-haired female, who was the other prefect present, declared vehemently. "If it's found that you've revealed this information, the consequences will be extremely unpleasant for you, understand?"

The first years all mumbled a positive response, clearly intimidated by the authoritarian prefects. The male prefect repeated the password, and the stone wall slid aside, revealing a dark passageway. Both prefects entered the passage without hesitation, and the rest of the group shuffled after them in a rather more timid manner.

A few moments later, Harry had his first look at the Slytherin common room. He had to confess, this was much more to his taste then the rather tacky Great Hall had been. The most striking aspect of the room was the large, arched windows that dominated the far wall, through which the dark, murky waters of the Great Lake could be seen. Harry remembered reading that the common room extended partway under the lake, although the waters outside were shallow enough to allow rays of green-tinted light to penetrate through the windows. The effect gave the room a dark, mysterious aura, like walking through some atmospheric underwater shipwreck.

The furnishings only added to the eerie atmosphere. Low-backed, black sofas were scattered around the room, while dark-wooden tables and cupboards were positioned at various points. Medieval tapestries hung from the walls, interspersed with grand paintings of fierce-looking witches and wizards, no doubt respected Slytherin alumni. More intimidating still were the bleached skulls that were mounted in prominent positions. While the place could hardly be called welcoming, indeed, it was rather chilly and bleak, Harry had to admit he felt strangely at home here.

"Right, the boys' bedrooms are through that corridor on the right, the girls' ones are to the left. As befits our status as the greatest of the four Houses, we are the only ones that provide our students with individual rooms," the female prefect lectured. "It is a privilege that you should not abuse. The penalty for finding a boy in a girl's room, or vice versa, is particularly harsh. There will be no fraternisation in your rooms, even for those of you entered into betrothal agreements, is that clear?"

The first years all nodded vigorously.

"When you enter the corridor, you'll find the first year's accommodation clear marked. You will already have been assigned a room and your name will be marked on the door. Do not attempt to swap rooms," the male prefect added, before turning towards Harry with a sneer on his face. "Potter, you have a room allocated in the seventh years' wing. I understand it used to be a store room."

"I'm sure it will be adequate," Harry replied blandly.

The prefect's sneer only got uglier, although he refrained from saying anything further.

"Right, we'll expect all of you back down here at seven-thirty sharp tomorrow morning. You will be washed and dressed to a standard we would expect from a member of this House, which is to say, immaculate. If I see any grubby, unwashed faces or dirty uniforms, you will find yourselves in detention with Professor Snape and, trust me, you don't want that," the female continued while glaring at the youngsters. "Okay, off you go to your rooms where you'll find your trunks have already been delivered. Get a good night's sleep, because you'll need it tomorrow. Off you go, now!"

"Not you, Potter," the male prefect said firmly. "You stay here. Your fellow seventh year pupils all wanted the chance to say hello. They'll be here soon, so make yourself comfortable. While you can, anyway."

The two prefects turned and walked away, leaving Harry standing in the deserted common room. With a shrug, he took a seat on one of the sofas, specifically choosing one that faced away from the entrance. He relaxed and watched the green waters outside the window calmly.

It was several minutes later when he heard the door swing open behind him, and the low murmur of voices disrupt the silence. Listening intently, he gauged the progress of his fellow pupils as they entered the common room. There was little of the rumbustiousness that had filled the Great Hall earlier, he noted. Indeed, Harry could almost sense the tense atmosphere around him. Surreptitiously, he began to stretch his arms and legs, warming his muscles up in preparation of what was to come.

"Potter! Stand up and face me like a man, you miserable piece of excrement!" a sneering voice said loudly from somewhere behind him. Obediently, Harry stood and turned to face his aggressor.

It was all he could do to keep a smile from forming on his face. There, perhaps ten feet away, was Draco Malfoy with his two thuggish companions standing at his shoulders. The rest of the House had arranged themselves around the walls, many of them openly grinning at the prospect of impending violence. Keeping his face expressionless, Harry walked around the sofa towards Malfoy, halting once he was just a few feet away from the boy.

'Boy' was absolutely the correct word to describe the Malfoy heir, he decided. Now he could look at him closely, Harry could see that Draco was a pale, slender young man who gave the impression of being outrageously pampered all his life. His clothes were expertly tailored and his white-blond hair smoothed back with scented oils. He smelt of expensive soaps and cologne. Judging by his slim, almost delicate, build, Harry suspected the boy had never done any hard, physical activity in his life. He was a soft, mollycoddled little prince. Of course, this may be no reflection on his magical abilities, and Harry doubted any Malfoy would be a slouch with a wand. Just looking into the boy's cold, grey eyes, Harry could sense that Draco had abilities in Occlumency. What other talents did he have, Harry wondered?

The two thugs were a more obvious problem. Even if they were as ungainly as they first appeared, their bulk ensured that if they could get a good punch in, it would probably put him down. He'd need to take that pair out quickly.

"Well?" Draco demanded loudly. "Are you dumb as well as stupid? Or are you so arrogant that you thought that you could just waltz in here with impunity? We don't take kindly to half-blood scum like you in Slytherin, Potter."

Harry took the opportunity to look around him. He saw Davis leaning against the far wall with an impassive expression on her face. Lounging casually near the entrance to the boys' sleeping accommodation was the Weasley girl, who actually looked amused by the whole thing. He offered the girl a quick smile before turning back to Draco.

"I don't recall us being introduced," Harry said in a steady voice. "I take it I'm addressing Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estate and only son of Lucius Malfoy, the degenerate shithead that I arrange to have thrown in Azkaban?"

There was an audible gasp from around the room. Malfoy's face started turning red as his anger grew. Harry smirked; a fight was probably unavoidable, so he figured he might as well goad Draco into action sooner rather than later.

"How dare you refer to my father like that, you filthy vermin! You're going to regret that, Potter. In fact, I'm going to make you regret ever showing your ugly face at Hogwarts. Get him!" Draco snarled.

The two thugs standing beside Malfoy clenched their fists and took a step forward. A stab of fear rose within Harry in anticipation of the coming confrontation. A foolish person would have suggested that only a coward feels fear before entering any sort of fight, but Harry knew better. Fear was the body's natural response to danger. It heightened the senses and sent adrenalin into the system, increasing blood-flow to the muscles and oxygen to the lungs. As long as you didn't allow your fear to dissolve into panic, it was an essential tool in any fight.

Bracing himself for action, Harry took a deep breath. As he half expected, he caught the scent of two people behind him: a boy and a girl. The boy smelt of a spicy aftershave and shoe polish, while the girl's scent was dominated by an overpowering perfume that turned Harry's stomach. As the two thugs stepped closer, Harry detected the boy behind him coming closer.

Letting out a primal yell, Harry kicked backwards with his right leg as hard as he could. He was gratified when his foot made contact with soft tissue, and a started grunt sounded from behind him. After taking a split second to regain his balance, Harry took a half-step forward and kicked the fatter of the two thugs squarely in the groin. The boy gave an agonised scream, and fell to his knees, clutching himself. While a far from noble tactic, when you were fighting in close-quarters and were heavily outnumbered, you had no choice other than to put your opponents down as fast as you could, by any means.

Harry turned and saw that the girl, who turned out to be the hard-faced female he'd seen fawning over Malfoy earlier, had drawn her wand and was pointing it at him. Ducking down, he grabbed the scar-faced, dark-skinned boy who he had kicked in the stomach, and shoved him in the girl's direction. The boy stumbled into her, knocking them both over.

Knowing that he'd been immobile for far too long, Harry threw himself into a forward roll, just in time to see a bolt of purple light streak over his head. Harry scrambled to his feet with lightning speed, to find himself face to face with Malfoy, who was attempting to cast another spell at him. Harry grabbed the front of the boy's robes, and rammed his forehead into Draco's face. Malfoy went down hard, blood cascading from his nose.

The taller thug, who bore an uncanny resemblance to a gorilla, had by now managed to close the gap between them and grabbed Harry by his robes. He raised his fist to deliver a knock-out punch, but Harry was faster. With the rigid fingers of his right hand, he jabbed the boy in the throat. The thuggish brute instantly let go of Harry, and clutched his neck while making choking noises. A second later, Harry's elbow made contact with the side of the boy's head, knocking him out.

Without wasting a second, Harry leapt back towards the girl and the dark-skinned boy, who had just about managed to untangle themselves and were starting to scramble to their feet. Harry kicked the girl hard in the stomach, and she emitted a high-pitch squeal of pain, and fell back clutching her mid-drift in agony. The dark-skinned boy just stared at Harry in complete shock, until Harry's fist connected squarely with his face. The boy crumpled to the floor and didn't get back up.

Taking a breath, Harry quickly took stock of his foes. Malfoy was on his knees with his hands pressed to his face, blood dripping between his fingers. One of the thugs was rolling on the floor, his hands pressed between his legs, whimpering, while the other was out cold. The dark-skinned boy was also unconscious, while the girl had risen to her hands and knees, and was vomiting on the floor.

Movement caught Harry's eye and he turned to see the weedy, rat-faced boy that had been with Draco's group earlier pulling out his wand. With a practised flick of the wrist, Harry's wand slipped into his hand, and he aimed it at directly the sneering young man.

"Just try it, you little turd, and I'll smear you all over that wall," Harry growled.

The boy paled noticeably, and the tip of his wand dropped for a second, before he suddenly snapped off a Stunning Spell in Harry's direction. Harry dropped his shoulder and the red bolt of light passed harmlessly by him. He returned fire with a Banishing Spell, which caught the rat-faced boy squarely in the chest and slammed him hard into the back wall. There was an audible crack of breaking bone, and the boy collapsed in a heap.

A stunned silence greeted him. Filled with an immense anger, Harry strode over to where Malfoy was kneeling and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up. He then dragged the boy forward, as Draco's fingers clutched desperately at Harry's wrist. Malfoy screamed like a stuck-pig as he was dragged along.

"Everyone enjoy the show?" Harry yelled at the gathered Slytherins, who all watched him in complete shock.

No-one seemed willing to speak.

"No? Oh, what a shame. I expect you were all hoping to see me get beaten to a pulp, weren't you? Sorry to disappoint," he snarled, taking another step forward and causing Draco to scream again. "Well, I'm here to tell you that your sad little lives have just changed. There's a new order to the universe, and if you don't like it then you're going to have problems."

Disgusted by the greasy feel of Draco's hair, Harry pushed the boy's head forwards, before kicking him hard in the stomach. Malfoy curled into a ball, his arms cradling his mid-section. The arrogant young man sobbed as he pressed his face into the lavish rug that covered the floor.

"This miserable little worm's day is over," Harry continued with a contemptuous wave at the grovelling boy. "I'm here now and things are going to change. I have zero tolerance for moronic blood-purists and Muggle-haters. Anyone who thinks they are instantly superior because their families practiced in-breeding for several generations is a cretin, in my book. Blaming your problems on Muggles is stupid, too. They don't need us and we don't need them. Let them do their own thing, I say."

Harry walked over to where the dark-haired girl was still on her hands and knees, having pretty much emptied her stomach out by this point. He placed the sole of his boot on the girl's backside and shoved. She fell forward with a screech, landing in her own vomit.

"But if there's one thing I truly hate in this world," Harry continued, smirking at the sobbing girl, "it's Death Eaters. Voldemort killed my parents and he has tried, and failed, to kill me several times. Well, I've had enough. It's my intention to bury that snake-faced bastard six feet under, and, if he's lucky, I'll kill him before I do it."

A gasp of horror escaped from most of the assembled Slytherins.

"What? Frightened by the name, are you? It's only a made-up name, created by a pathetic little half-blood whose mummy and daddy didn't love him. He so despises what he actually is, the sad prick has to take it out on the rest of the world, attacking those not of 'pure' blood in a desperate effort to hide the fact that he's one of them. But you know what the saddest thing is? Some of you pitiful fools actually follow him! Unbelievable!" Harry snorted, prowling around the room like a caged tiger.

He stopped and slowly looked around him.

"Let me explain what happens now," he said in a cold voice. "Someday soon, I'm going to kill Voldemort. In addition, I fully intend to massacre all of his arse-licking Death Eaters, too. If I find anyone bearing a Dark Mark, I will kill them without hesitation or remorse. If anyone tries to stop me or gets in my way, I promise I will put them in hospital for a very long time. Do you all understand me?"

A stunned silence was his only response.

"I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Harry yelled in a voice like thunder.

"Yes!" came a ragged chorus of voices. Many of the Slytherins just stood staring at him with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"I suppose that will have to do. Now, someone pick up these worthless little shits and take them to the hospital wing. Oh, and if anyone else wants to have a go at me, please feel free, although I should tell you that I took it easy on this lot. Next time I won't be so lenient," he spat and strode towards the entrance to the boy's dormitory.

As he passed through the entrance, he noticed Weasley still leaning against the wall. As he approached, she broke into a slow, silent handclap, the amused expression still on her face. Harry winked at her as he passed, intent on finding his room.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Around an hour later, Harry was to be found lounging elegantly on his bed, surveying his new accommodation.

To be honest, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared. Although it was small, it wasn't the matchbox that the prefect had implied. A four-poster bed dominated the room, but there was still enough space for a small writing desk and a chair. His trunk had already been deposited at the foot of his bed, he noted, and no attempt had been made to try and open it. Next to the bed was another door, which on examination led to a small bathroom which boasted a toilet, sink and shower. While it certainly wasn't luxurious, it wasn't uncomfortable, by any means.

Harry lay back and allowed himself to relax. Although the door to his room boasted only a simple sliding lock, he had reinforced this with a complicated series of wards and protections that should ensure that nobody, student or teacher alike, could enter without his express permission. A simple Blood Magic ritual would guarantee that anyone who tried would bitterly regret it, assuming they survived, that is.

Thinking back over his day, Harry realised that things here at Hogwarts were both simpler and more complicated than he had feared. This was a school divided, he realised, and a potential powder-keg. His new, small friends in Hufflepuff had made clear how sick of the racist attitude of Slytherins the rest of the school actually were, while here within the House he could already see divisions that he could utilise. Of course, he had yet to meet his Head of House, but he suspected that meeting wouldn't be too far off. In a perverse way, he was looking forward to it.

In the meantime, he would present a very visible face to the rest of the school. Smiling to himself, he recalled the lessons his guardian had imparted on him.

"Most of what we believe to be true is not," Gellert explained in an amused voice. "Everyone has an image we like to present to the world, and frequently this has little to do with the person we actually are."

"So, everyone is a liar? I don't believe that," Harry snorted, looking at the old man warily.

"Oh, it's true! Every single person on the face of this planet is a liar, to some extent. The trouble is, most of us don't realise we are lying," Gellert continued. "Take me, for instance. For years, I lived under the self-imposed belief that witches and wizards needed to take over the world, and lead the poor, misguided Muggles into a new era of prosperity. It was utter rubbish, my boy. I was merely looking for excuses to justify what I was doing. I was lying to myself."

"But you realised that in the end, didn't you?" Harry pressed. "That's when you gave up searching for the Deathly Hallows and stopped trying to take over the world."

"Well, not immediately. To tell you the truth, at first, I just accepted that I wanted total control. I was honest enough to realise that I wanted to be king of the world. An all-powerful, magical emperor, to whom everybody bent their knee. That's what I wanted to be," Gellert admitted before sighing deeply. "Only later did I come to understand how foolish my dream was. One man cannot rule the world! The very idea is preposterous. All men have free-will and an in-built desire for freedom. The only way one man will ever rule entirely will be if he kills every other living being on the planet. Even Voldemort, with all his insane dreams of power, knows this. He seeks to subjugate the Muggles by turning the entire magical population against them. He, in turn, will rule the witches and wizards through fear and intimidation. Divide and conquer, my boy. But, in the end, even that idea won't work for long."

"Why not?" Harry asked in fascination.

"Because Voldemort cannot impress his will on everyone. It only takes one person to start a revolution, and the people who you subjugate the hardest will always be the ones to rise up and destroy you. That is a clear lesson from history; just ask your aunt," Gellert said with a wink. "Besides, wanting to rule the world is just childish."

"Childish?" Harry repeated in surprise. "How can wanting to rule over everybody and everything be childish?"

"Because it's an impossible dream," Gellert responded gently. "Can you stop the tides turning, or the rain from falling? No, of course you can't. Neither can you control the thoughts and actions of seven billion people completely, nor, in my opinion, do you actually need to. Some of the most powerful men in history have been virtually unknown to the general public. They have worked in secret, moulding the world to their desires and reaping the rewards from their positions in the shadows. Contrarily, others have used fame and public opinion to get what they want, effectively using the population's own beliefs and assumptions for their own benefit. Either way is better than just trying to take over and force your will on others, which will just create anger, bitterness and hatred of you."

"So, which path do you think is best?" Harry asked.

"For you, Harry, there is only one path available. Unless you chose you spend your life wearing a disguise, you will have no option but to be in the public eye. You are famous, don't forget, and if you are wise you will use that fame to your advantage. Remember, if you don't use your name, someone else will. As soon as you reveal yourself to the outside world, the press will be onto you like a pack of wild dogs. Make sure they are saying what you want them to say, not what they just think will make a good story," Gellert advised sagely.

He paused to take a drink from his coffee cup before wincing. Bathilda only ever drank tea, and her choice of brands when it came to purchasing his coffee left a lot to be desired. Irritably, he pushed the cup away.

"Being in the public eye is all about image," he continued. "You must think carefully about what image you want to portray at any given time. Situations will change and you must adapt. There are times when you must present yourself as a strong and decisive person, a true leader and someone to be trusted. At other times, it may benefit you to show a more vulnerable, tender side. You must always be careful about your appearance, Harry. You would be amazed how much of an impression dressing well makes. I suspect that you will want to project the image of a powerful, intelligent wizard, and making sure that you wear sensible, well-styled clothes is an important way of conveying that. I ask you, who would you trust more to make important decisions: a man dressed in a suit, or one dressed in jeans and a t-shirt?"

"It all sounds a bit superficial," Harry protested. "Surely most people would see through what someone was wearing and just choose the person who was best for the job, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, my poor naïve child. You credit the general public with far too much intelligence. Yes, a few people will look beneath the surface and ask the truly important questions, but most people will just make their first impressions based on image. You never get a second chance to convey a first impression, so always be sure to grab that opportunity!"

Harry smiled, thinking back to those involved conversations he used to have with his guardian. Gellert had a world of experience, and never once tried to hide his terrible past. It was based on the old man's knowledge and wisdom that Harry had laid out his plan of action.

Handling the Ministry had been easy. While Scrimgeour's predecessor, Fudge, had been an incompetent idiot who relied totally on either Dumbledore or Lucius Malfoy to tell him what to do, the present Minister was more of his own man. This didn't mean, however, that he couldn't be manipulated. It had been a simple matter to convince Scrimgeour that Harry had remained hidden for so long because he feared attack from Death Eaters and the interference of Albus Dumbledore. The Minister had readily agreed to Harry's idea that he should attend Hogwarts to act a spy on the Headmaster. Hell, Scrimgeour had practically creamed his pants at the thought that the Boy Who Lived would be a Ministry mole. He'd bought into Harry's lies eagerly.

Dumbledore, of course, would just be delighted to have Harry back under his influence and would use the opportunity to try to mould him into a useful tool, completely unaware that Harry was totally aware of his intentions. Neither the Minister nor the Headmaster realised that Harry had manipulated both of them to get himself positioned in exactly the place he wanted to be.

Apart from his primary mission here, Harry had other tasks he wanted to perform. After so long in the shadows, he had to create a public persona for himself. If he could take control of Slytherin and curb its aggression towards the other Houses, he would make a very positive impression as a young man who could get things done. Likewise, if he could bring the more extreme elements of Slytherin to heel, he would simultaneously cut off a source of new recruits for Voldemort and gather useful allies. If that meant a few sons and daughters of Death Eaters happen to end up having unfortunate accidents, well, so be it.

Harry rolled off his bed and entered the small bathroom area. He looked at his reflection in the (thankfully) non-magical mirror and smiled. With the index finger of his right hand, he reached up and ran his finger along the length of his famous scar. The make-up wiped off on his finger, leaving only a thin, barely-noticeable lightning bolt-shaped line on his forehead. Muggle make-up was so much better than Glamour Charms, which could be easily detected, and was a necessary addition.

After all, it wouldn't do for Albus Dumbledore to learn that Harry's guardian had known exactly what that scar represented, and unlike the meddling Headmaster of Hogwarts, had done something about it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, Harry casually made his way down to the common room. A brief examination of the Charms he had cast on his door revealed someone had attempted to enter his room the previous night, but had failed miserably. As none of the nastier traps had been sprung, Harry assumed whoever it had been had at least had the common sense to cast a few Detection Spells on door before trying to gain entry. Lucky for them.

As soon as he entered the chilly common room, he was confronted by a nervous girl he recognised as being one of the prefects that had guided the first years here after the welcome feast. Her previous arrogant manner appeared to have vanished Harry noted with some small satisfaction.

"Um, Potter?" the girl practically stammered. "Professor Snape wants to see you in his office immediately."

"Very well," Harry agreed calmly. "Where is his office?"

"Oh! It's just down the corridor, on the right," she said, her words tumbling out in relief that Harry didn't appear that angry at the summons.

"Show me," Harry commanded, and the relieved expression vanished from the girl's face. Reluctantly, she made her way out of the common room with Harry at her heels. As soon as she passed through the hidden entrance, she turned right and made her way down the dimly-lit stone corridor. After only a short walk, she halted in front of a sturdy wood door, set into the dark, grey stone.

"Here you are," the girl said, indicating the door. She was about to walk off when Harry stopped her.

"What's your name?" he asked in a commanding voice.

"Sadie Baldock," the girl replied, practically flinching his tone.

"Tell me, Baldock, you're a prefect here, right? Why didn't you or any of your fellow prefects try and intervene during the fight in the common room last night?" Harry asked, taking a step forward so he was deliberately intruding in the girl's personal space.

"I… err…" she mumbled, looking terrified. "Well, Malfoy is Head Boy and…"

"So, if the Head Boy decides he's going to break the rules and attack someone, it's okay, is it?" Harry demanded, his voice colder than a Russian winter.

"No one crosses Draco," Baldock said hurriedly. "He practically runs this school. His father is on the Board of Governors and can get anyone expelled."

"Draco's father is in Azkaban getting cosy with the Dementors," Harry pointed out harshly. "Draco himself is an insignificant little worm whom I'm going to take great delight in squashing. Is that understood?"

The girl's eyes glanced towards the wooden door, perhaps silently begging her Head of House for help.

"Snape's not going to help you," Harry snapped, "and in case you were hoping that he is going to expel me for teaching those idiots a lesson last night, think again. I'm going to leave Snape's office still a pupil of Hogwarts, and completely unpunished, too. What you and your fellow prefects need to understand is that things have changed around here. Unless you start doing your jobs and acting like prefects should… well, let's just say I'm going to have to take steps. Understand?"

The girl nodded furiously. Harry reached out and gently ran his fingers down the girl's cheek. She recoiled slightly, but stayed rooted to the spot in fear. He leaned in towards her.

"There's a good girl," Harry whispered, his lips only a couple of inches from her ear. "Run along now, and maybe I'll see you later."

Baldock's eyes went wide with fright, and she took off like a bat out of hell down the corridor. Harry smiled as her footsteps gradually became fainter and fainter. Fear and intimidation were what the Slytherins understood, and this would be the tool he would use against the weaker members of the House. If he was totally honest with himself, he did rather enjoy it… sometimes.

He turned and knocked three times on the door. There was barely a pause before an angry voice yelled 'enter!'

Harry pushed open the door and stepped into a dark, gloomy room. At first, his eyes were drawn to the great number of shelves mounted along the walls, all lined with bottles and jars of every shape and size. A large, brown cupboard occupied one corner of the room, and a small desk was situated opposite the door. Behind that desk sat a hook-nosed man with greasy, shoulder-length black hair. At the sight of Harry, the man sneered, revealing a row of yellow, uneven teeth.

So this was Severus Snape, former friend of Harry's mother, reformed Death Eater and Dumbledore's personal lap-dog.

He had to push down his emotions at the sight of the man who had, apparently, begged Voldemort to spare his mother, uncaring if Harry and his father were slaughtered. Snape was an expert Legilimens, apparently, and would probably pick up any stray thoughts and emotions that Harry projected, so it was vital to remain calm.

He walked forward until he was a few feet away from the desk. With his hands folded behind his back, Harry looked directly into the man's cold, dark eyes.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Snape?" Harry asked in a polite voice.

"Harry Potter," Snape snarled with venom and spite practically dripping in his voice. "For years I've lived comfortably in the belief that you were dead. But no, you have to turn up here, thinking that you owned the place as soon as you stepped through the doors. What you did last night was inexcusable, you wretched brat, and I'm going to see you expelled immediately!"

"No, you won't" Harry replied calmly.

"What?" Snape raged, spittle flying from his mouth. "You think you can attack and seriously injure six students, including the Head Boy, and you can get away with it? You're even worse than that arrogant father of yours."

"I wouldn't know, seeing as my father was killed when I was fifteen months old. But you would know all about that, seeing as you were a Death Eater at the time, wouldn't you?" Harry said in a cool tone.

Snapes eyes bulged slightly. The knowledge that he'd been a follower of Voldemort had been tightly suppressed, mainly thanks to Dumbledore.

"You don't deny you attacked those students, then?" Snape yelled, carefully avoiding the subject of his former employment.

"Yes, actually I do. They attacked me first, so I was merely defending myself. I would also mention that several prefects were in the room and not one of them tried to intervene. I'm sure that's going to look odd when the matter is brought up before the Board of Governors," Harry responded.

"Board of Governors? Why would we need to involve them? This is an open and shut case. You are a dangerous psychopath who needs to be removed for the safety of the other students," Snape growled back.

"I should probably point out that only the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress are empowered to expel students, so please don't make threats you can't back up. I should also mention that I'm more than willing to supply a Pensieve memory of the event, something I doubt Draco and his little band of idiots will be prepared to," Harry said in a conversational manner. "If the Headmaster does then still feel the need to expel me at that point, I will be forced to appeal to the Board, and I'm more than willing to share all the knowledge I have about the staff and pupils of this school."

Snape stared at him with such utter hatred that Harry thought he might burst into flames, such was the anger the man was generating.

"Can I speak frankly, Professor, off the record?" Harry continued more bluntly. "We both know you're not going to expel me. The Minister for Magic has very publicly stated how pleased he was that I had returned to the Wizarding world, and that I was attending Hogwarts. Expelling me the day after I arrived would create such political waves that you could kiss your career goodbye. Secondly, we also both know that there is no way in hell that Dumbledore will allow me to be expelled. I'm quite aware that he's known I've been alive all this time, and that he's been searching for me. Now that I'm back within his sphere of influence, there's no way he's going to let me just vanish again. So, let's be realistic here, eh?"

"What are you doing at this school, Potter," Snape ground out. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists in rage.

"What I assumed every other pupil comes here to do: learn," Harry replied, a little anger creeping into his voice. "Mind you, I'm starting to wonder about the motivation of some of my Housemates, who seem to think that this place is their personal fiefdom. Within hours of stepping foot into this school, I was attacked by Draco Malfoy, that in-bred piece of crap whose murderous bastard of a father I helped to get locked up. He seems to think he runs this place, and I'm fully aware that he and half the pupils in Slytherin want me dead, but I really don't give a shit about that. I should state clearly, however, that I will defend myself most vigorously if attacked, and as I've already proved that I'm more than a match for one of Voldemort's Inner Circle, I would suggest that it would be a very bad idea of any pupil here to try."

"I will not permit you to act in any manner you see fit…" Snape began, but Harry cut him off.

"You know as well as I do that Draco and his gang attacked me. Tell all the junior Death Eaters here to leave me alone, and I promise that I won't put any more of them in the hospital wing," Harry said sharply.

"Even if they did attack you, you responded with unnecessary force! Nott will be hospitalised for the next three days, and poor Draco had to have his nose re-set. Not to mention that Parkinson was kept in overnight. Do you get your thrills by hurting girls, Potter?" Snape snarled.

"I do when they try and Curse me in the back," Harry retorted. "Parkinson, if that was the little bitch's name, got exactly what she deserved, as did the rest of them. Better still, practically the entire House got to witness the event, so now they know that Malfoy isn't untouchable. Hopefully, once that little fact has sunk in, we'll have fewer problems."

Snape shook his head. "Never in all my years have a met someone as arrogant as you, and that includes your idiotic father and his friends. If you think I'm going to let this matter rest, you are sadly mistaken. You're clearly a delusional lunatic, and a menace to all those around you! Oh, and let me tell you, Potter, if you hurt any member of Slytherin House again, you will have to face me personally!"

"Has it escaped your notice that I'm a Slytherin?" Harry asked sarcastically, "I'll expect you to offer that same level of protection to me if I'm attacked by anyone."

"Get out!" Snape screamed. "Get out before I do something I'll regret!"

With a curt nod, Harry turned and started to walk out the office. As he reached the door, he paused and looked back at the angry Professor.

"Don't you get tired of it? Having to follow Dumbledore's orders all the time?" Harry asked.

"What the hell are you raving about, Potter?" Snape demanded furiously.

"Having to act the way you do all the time," Harry clarified. "I mean, you allow the pure-bloods to behave any way they like, you're blatantly biased towards your own House and you let prefects ignore misbehaviour from Slytherins when it's directed at the other houses. There's no way Dumbledore would allow you to act in that manner unless it's part of his plan."

"And, pray tell, what possible motive would the Headmaster have for allowing such actions?" Snape growled.

"Isn't it obvious? He's ensuring that the other houses will never support Voldemort. By making the Slytherins the bogy-men of Hogwarts, he's ensuring that three-quarters of the school end up hating the racist pure-bloods and their beliefs. All the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs will leave this place having suffered seven years of abuse and violence at the hands of the Slytherins, who are generally believed to all be supporters of the Dark Lord. Instantly, all those abused ex-pupils become opponents of Voldemort and, by default, supporters of the light side. It's simply a matter of divide and rule: by sticking all the blood purists into one house and encouraging them to misbehave and flaunt their supposed superiority, Dumbledore has made followers out of everyone else. It's quite a clever strategy, when you think about it," Harry noted.

Snape stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"Still, it's a bit unfair on the more moderate students who get placed into this House, isn't it? They instantly get labelled as wannabe Death Eaters, no matter what. Still, I'm sure their sacrifice is for the greater good, wouldn't you agree, Professor?" Harry asked pointedly.

Not waiting for an answer, Harry left the office, closing the door firmly behind him. As he started to walk towards the Great Hall, he pondered the meeting he had just had, and his first impressions of the man he'd fully expected to hate.

Snape had raged, and as expected he'd made several comments about Harry's father, but the man's anger had seemed rather unfocused. Harry had, after all, just severally injured six of his fellow pupils and Snape's brief comment about 'unnecessary force' hardly began to cover it. Harry had deliberately sent out a message to the other Slytherins, and Snape would have had good reason to take him to task for the level of violence involved. Instead, Snape had just yelled vague warning about expulsion which they both knew he couldn't enforce, and the Head of Slytherin didn't seem the sort of man to make empty threats.

Harry was still deep in thought when he reached the Great Hall. Sensing all eyes on him, he straightened his back and adopted an untroubled smile as he made his way to the end of the table where he'd sat for dinner the previous day. Sure enough, the Weasley girl was sitting in the same seat by herself, an evil grin on her face.

"Still with us, Potter?" she asked mockingly. "I'm surprised. Are they letting you eat breakfast before you have to pack your trunk?"

"Why on earth would I be packing my trunk?" Harry exclaimed in mock surprise. "I only just got here."

"Oh, the fact that six of our illustrious number our currently breakfasting in the hospital wing might be a good reason," Weasley pointed out. "As I heard you just had a meeting with our beloved Head of House, I assumed he would be asking you to get your cute little arse out of here."

"You think my arse is cute? Why, thank you. I think yours is lovely, too," Harry smirked, as he began to fill his plate with breakfast items. Further conversation was briefly halted by the arrival of a blond whirlwind.

"Whoa! Hold up, there," Davis declared as she threw herself into the seat next to Weasley. "You two aren't allowed to start talking without me here. Okay, now you can talk."

"Weasley was just complimenting me on my cute arse," Harry explained in a deadpan voice.

"Really? You're developing good taste as you get older, Ginevra," Davis giggled.

"I can admire from a distance," Weasley shrugged as she carried on eating her breakfast. "I have absolutely no interest in doing anything further than that. After all, Potter here is a walking target now."

"Very true," Davis agreed, stealing a sausage from Harry's plate.

"Are there any breakfast items you'd particularly like me to put on my plate for you?" Harry asked in a flat tone.

"Oh, just pick whatever you like best," Davis smiled. "I'm not a fussy eater and this way I get to try new things."

"Interesting way of expanding your culinary horizons, I suppose," Harry agreed as he took a forkful of scrambled egg.

"So, the question on everyone's lips this morning is where did you learn to fight like that? Malfoy and Zabini are both excellent duellers, Crabbe and Goyle could wrestle bulls for a living and Parkinson is a vicious little bitch, yet you put all of them down with your bare hands. You only drew your wand to take out Nott, for which I'd like to thank you, by the way. That weedy little runt has wandering hands, if you know what I mean," Davis said.

"He only tried to grope me once," Weasley noted. "He never made the same mistake again."

"I've had some excellent teachers, let's just put it that way," Harry said mysteriously.

"Why the Muggle style of fighting, though?" Davis pressed. "A lot of people are saying that maybe you're no good with a wand. In fact, a few have gone so far as to suggest that you had to fight like that because you're little more than a Squib."

"Despite that fact that I nearly plastered that Nott guy all over the wall, and I've previously duelled Lucius Malfoy and won? Oh no, Miss Davis, if you're going to try and get me to react to inflammatory statements, you're going to have to do better than that," Harry snorted in amusement.

"Oh, he's so got you pegged, Davis," Weasley chortled.

"So, you're even better with a wand then you are with your hands and feet? Is that what you're saying?" Davis demanded irritably.

"I'm significantly better with my wand, yes," Harry confirmed cheerfully, "although I did rather tame things down a bit last night. Normally, it's my policy to ensure that anyone I put down on the floor doesn't get back up again, but I guess the friendly and welcoming atmosphere here at Hogwarts just turned me into a big softy."

"If you wanted a warm welcome, you really shouldn't have got yourself put in Slytherin, should you," Weasley pointed out, not unreasonably.

"And missed out on your smiling, friendly face and engaging conversation? Unthinkable!" Harry exclaimed.

"Sarcastic git, aren't you?" Weasley noted, although she did seem rather amused. "Just because you managed to cream those idiots last night, don't think you can get fresh with me."

"I won't dream of it, Miss Weasley," Harry replied in a neutral tone. "I live to serve you."

"Good, you can serve me by buggering off someplace else. As I said, Malfoy and all his little followers will be coming after you now and I'd rather not get caught in the crossfire," she informed him archly.

"Charming, isn't she?" Davis noted with a smile. "Relax, Potter, Ginevra is always this cranky on the first day of school."

"Then I look forward to taking classes with her. That should be educational," Harry replied with the faintest of smiles.

"Oh, bad luck. The lovely Miss Weasley is only a sixth year," Davis said in a tragic voice. "You'll just have to put up with me, instead."

"That's not a terrible prospect, I suppose," Harry noted. "Although I am disappointed that you abandoned your tactics of wearing your blouse unbuttoned to distract me."

"What can I say? It's bloody cold in that common room, and that strategy didn't seem to be working, anyway," she grasped her chest with both hands. "Oh, I never thought I'd see the day when these puppies wouldn't reduce a boy to a slobbering wreck."

"Perhaps he prefers boys," Weasley suggested with a leer. "Is that it? Do you like a bit of meat up your seat?"

"What a charming way of putting it," Harry observed blandly. "No, Weasley, I can confirm that I'm one hundred per cent heterosexual."

"Oh, really? Got a girlfriend hidden away somewhere?" Davis asked, her eyes suddenly alight with curiosity.

"No, not anymore," Harry confirmed quietly.

"What? You do surprise me," Weasley scoffed. "A famous bloke like you, I'd have thought you'd have girls dropping their knickers for you left, right and centre. What happened to your last girlfriend, then? You dump her so you could play the field when you got here?"

"No, the Death Eaters killed her, actually," Harry said coldly.

He stood, and without another word walked out of the hall.

"I think you pushed a bit too hard there, Ginevra," Davis noted as she watched him disappear.

"Yeah, a bit," Weasley agreed, before continuing to eat her breakfast.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, his insides twisting with rage. He knew he was over-reacting, but he couldn't help himself. The Weasley girl had just been winding him up, he understood, but it had just hit a raw nerve with him.

It had only been four months since Voldemort and his cronies had attacked Godric's Hollow, seemingly at random, and he had lost two of the most important people in his life: his guardian Gellert and his girlfriend Melinda. He'd still been reeling at the death of his friend and mentor when he'd stumbled on Melinda's body, lying bloody and battered in the street. It had sent him on a wild killing spree that had only ended with the arrival of the Aurors and the capture of Lucius Malfoy.

A familiar feeling of guilt rose within him. Guilt that he'd not been there to save Melinda and that his entire relationship with her had been based on lies. Never once had she seen him as he truly looked; to her he was a sandy-haired boy with blue eyes. She'd also never known his real name, either. He'd been known as James Bagshot, a distant relative of Bathilda whom she'd taken in following the death of his parents. The fact he'd never been totally honest with his dark-haired girlfriend had never sat well with him, but he'd had no choice if he'd wanted to continue seeing her. Now she was gone, and he'd never be able to tell her.

Trying to calm himself, Harry decided he might as well head to his first class. As luck would have it, this was Transfiguration, the classroom for which was situated on the ground floor, just on the other side of the middle courtyard. He took a sharp turn and headed in that direction.

As he suspected, he was the first to arrive. Fortunately, the classroom door was unlocked so he entered and took a seat towards the back. He began to regulate his breathing and tried to let his rage slip away. It was a hard task, as once raised, the images of Melinda's broken body kept intruding into his mind.

He slammed his fist on the wooden desk in front of him. Desperately, he tried to control his emotions and push down his mounting anger. Turn the anger into something productive, he repeatedly told himself. Hate = energy. Pain = motivation. Remorse = strength. Regret = revenge.

With effort, he managed to get his feelings under control and locked them away, for now. He would let them surface again when they were required: his emergency supply of hatred, ready to be tapped into should a suitable situation present itself. Shame the little Malfoy bastard wasn't here, he would have provided a fitting target for his wrath.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall into the room. She looked rather startled that a pupil should already be present, but said nothing. Instead, she made her way to the front of the room and took a seat behind her desk in preparation for the class. Harry could feel her eyes boring into him, an expression of disappointment and mistrust faintly evident on her face.

Soon, other pupils began to file into the room. The class was to be taken jointly with the Hufflepuffs, and it was members of that House that arrived first. Without exception, they eyed Harry warily and took seats as far away from him as possible. Clearly, the rumours about him had stared to spread.

The first Slytherin to appear was an elegant-looking blond girl who swept into the room like she owned the place. She barely gave Harry a glance, and sat a few desks away from him. Next was a large, square-jawed girl with black hair and a fearsome scowl on her face. She glared at him, before taking a seat directly behind the blond. Tracy Davis appeared shortly afterwards, and sat next to the blond. She briefly glanced at Harry with an apologetic look on her face, before turning to face the front.

"We appear to be missing a number of people," McGonagall noted, looking around with a frown. "Miss Bulstrode, where are the rest of your Housemates?"

"Potter put them in the hospital wing," the large girl spat accusingly.

"What?" McGonagall exclaimed, shock evident on her face.

"There was a slight disagreement last night," Harry supplied in a calm voice. "I spoke to Professor Snape this morning about it, and he's handling the matter."

"Are you telling me that you hospitalised five of your Housemates, Potter?" McGonagall asked in a dangerous tone.

"Six, actually, Professor," the blond supplied. "Theodor Nott was hurt, too. He doesn't take this class, so you wouldn't have noticed that he was missing as well."

"Explain!" McGonagall snapped at Harry, her voice trembling in rage.

"Last night six of my Housemates attacked me as I was sitting quietly in the Slytherin common room. As the leader was Draco Malfoy, I assume the attack was in revenge for me putting his father in Azkaban. I restrained them with the minimum of force," Harry explained. "As I said to Professor Snape, I'm more than happy to supply a Pensieve memory of the incident."

"Minimum force?" snorted Bulstrode. "You kicked the crap out of them! They're all still in the hospital wing!"

"You hospitalised six pupils?" McGonagall demanded furiously.

"I assure you that I was just defending myself," Harry insisted. "As it was six against one, I felt I had no choice other than to ensure that each of my aggressors was incapacitated. I do have to say, I'm shocked that I should have been subjected to such a terrible assault mere hours after entering the school. I shall be forced to write to the Board of Governors about this, I fear."

"Why was I not informed of this incident? I am the Deputy Headmistress and I should have been told immediately," McGonagall announced sternly.

"I'm afraid I couldn't tell you why, Professor," Harry shrugged. "I assume it would be up to Professor Snape to alert you to any problems."

For a second, McGonagall looked like she was going to rage at him. However, she obviously thought better of it and instead stormed back to her desk. She turned and faced the class.

"Today we will be studying Conjuration in all its many forms," McGonagall started to lecture.

Harry leaned back in his chair, barely listening to the stern witch. He did, however, notice the Hufflepuffs eyeing him with a mixture of fear and loathing.

It was, he suspected, going to be a very long day.

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Alma Mater

AN

There was meant to be some author notes here, but after a day attending a work seminar at our regional head office my brain has turned to mush. Just move directly to the chapter… nothing to see here…

Duh… oh yeah… must remember to thank Arnel for beta reading this… oh, I just did.

"Who's there?" a rusty voice called out. "I know someone's out there. Show yourselves!"

Harry padded up to the iron bars. His golden eyes, subtly tinted with green, were able to pierce the darkness easily. Dimly, he could see a wretched, filthy man peering out of the small cell at him.

"What the… you're not a true animal! You're an Animagus, I can tell!" the man rasped as he stumbled forward to grip the bars of his cell tightly.

Calmly, Harry changed back into his human form and stepped forward until he was just inches away from the man. It was all he could do to stop himself gagging from the smell. The prisoner stank of rotting food and his own excrement.

"Who… what…" the man mumbled before letting out a miserable sob. "Oh, Merlin! It's finally happened. I've finally gone insane! James, why are you here to torment me?"

"I'm not James," Harry said quietly, "and I can assure you that I'm not a figment of your imagination, either."

"Then who the hell are you?" the man growled. "Why do you look like a young James Potter? Is this some sort of evil joke?"

"I can't help looking like my father," Harry explained gently.

"Harry? But you can't be! My god, it is you! What are you doing here? How did you even get into this place?" the man demanded.

"How I got here is a bit complicated. As for why I'm here, well, I'm here to break you out of this hell-hole," Harry told him. "Stand back for a second, and I'll get you out of this cell."

With his eyes wide in amazement, the filthy man shuffled backwards a few feet. Harry reached into his robes, and removed a small box which he opened. Inside the box was a lump of orange, plasticine-like material which Harry pressed against the keyhole of the cell door. He then took a small, match-like object and pressed it into the material. Taking his wand, he cast a Silencing Charm at the door, before removing a lighter from his pocket and using it to light the end of the match-like object. He then scurried back.

"Stand as far away from the door as you can, Black," Harry told him urgently.

Harry watched in fascination as the plastic explosive detonated without any apparent sound. It was made even stranger by the fact he could feel the force of the explosion through the floor. He grinned as the lock on the cell door shattered to pieces.

Yanking the door open, Harry hurried in and grabbed the stunned prisoner's arm, dragging him out of the cell. As soon as they were out, Harry turned to the man.

"Black, I'm going to need you to transform into your Animagus form. You then need to follow me, as I've got a secure route out of here," he instructed the man.

"But even if we get out of the prison, how do we get off the island? It's a bloody long way to swim, you know," Black pointed out in a shaky voice.

"There's a Disillusioned boat waiting outside. My guardian is waiting there for us, and he'll take you to a secure place for you to hide," Harry explained.

For a moment, Black stared at him in disbelief, before he let out a soft chuckle.

"It sounds like you've got everything planned out," chortled quietly. "A fine godfather I am, needing to be rescued by my thirteen year-old godson."

"I've always been precocious," Harry admitted with a smile. "Now, quickly, transform into Padfoot, before the Dementors return."

There was a slight blur, and where there had been a man moments before, there now stood a large, black dog. A second later, Harry also transformed and looked over at the dog, who was staring at him expectantly.

With a flick of his tail, Harry took off at a furious pace, the dog close on his heels.

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"Mr Potter, can you please remain behind, if you would. I need to talk to you," McGonagall called out.

Harry sighed. He'd been hoping to make a rapid escape, but clearly the stern Scottish witch had other ideas. He sank back into his seat as the other pupils started to file out of the classroom. He couldn't help but notice the rather smug looks on the faces of most of the Hufflepuffs.

The class, as Harry had expected, had been an hour of complete boredom. Although McGonagall was obviously a talented teacher, the subject matter was old hat to him. He'd been performing Conjuration Spells such as they had practiced today since he was twelve and Gellert had chosen a lot more practical items for him to conjure than the pincushions and butterflies that McGonagall favoured.

Once the last pupil left, shutting the door behind them, Harry looked expectantly at the witch.

"Look, Professor, I really think this is a matter you should be discussing with my Head of House," he began, but McGonagall waved his objections away.

"No, Mr Potter, it's not about your altercation with your Housemates that I want to talk to you about, although I will be talking with Professor Snape about that, rest assured. No, I wanted to continue the discussion we started in the carriage yesterday," McGonagall stated. "I have taken the liberty of contacting the Ministry and, as you stated, you are not registered as an Animagus with them. The fact remains, however, that you are indeed one. I smelt it on you yesterday and I can smell it again today. I can definitely smell a canine presence about you, Mr Potter."

Harry smirked. If the old witch was going to keep pressing this matter he might as well have some fun with it.

"Really?" he replied vaguely. "Funny, when I get a whiff of you I smell… pussy."

McGonagall glared at him.

"That's right, isn't it? I can definitely smell pussy. I'd know that smell anywhere," Harry insisted.

"If you are referring to the fact that my Animagus form is feline, you are indeed correct, although I would ask that you not refer to it in those terms," McGonagall snapped, her anger barely under control.

"Oh, but it's a much nicer way of describing it," Harry said in a rather sultry voice. "Pussy… it kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"

"Mr Potter, are you trying to deliberately anger me?" she asked heatedly.

"Heavens, no! Why on earth would I want to upset you, Professor? After all, such an experienced witch such as yourself obviously has a lot that she could teach a young man such as myself. I promise to be an attentive pupil, and comply with your every demand. What would you like me to do for you, Professor?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

For a second, McGonagall looked completely shocked. Harry was willing to bet that this was the first time in her career that she'd ever had a pupil making suggestive comments to her. Of course, this was all part of his plan to put her on the back foot, and it appeared to be working. The only risk was if she suddenly decided that she did indeed want a handsome, young toy boy, in which case Harry would probably be breaking several speed records in getting out of that classroom.

"I— what— I mean—" McGonagall stuttered for a second, before her face resumed her stern expression. "Mr Potter, please stop acting the fool and explain to me why you have not registered yourself with the Ministry? I would be quite within my rights to report you."

"Indeed, you would," Harry admitted, "although I would hope that you would speak with the Headmaster before doing so. I'm sure he would understand that someone in my position needs every advantage when facing the forces of evil that he can get. Being a secret Animagus has allowed me to escape the clutches of the Death Eaters more than once, and should I be forced to register myself that advantage would be lost."

"Well… I can see how that would be useful," she admitted. "May I see you transformed, please?"

Harry stood and stepped away from the desk. He transformed immediately and regarded the witch calmly as she inspected him.

"A most impressive transformation," McGonagall admitted. "You are clearly extremely skilled at this. Your form is most striking, too, although I'm a little disappointed that you didn't take after your father in your choice of animal."

Harry changed back into his human form. "You knew my father was an unregistered Animagus?" he asked.

"Of course, I did," McGonagall scoffed. "Who do you think it was that subtly left out a few helpful text books for him to find, occasionally. I presume that you know the reason your father became an Animagus?"

"To help Remus Lupin each full moon," Harry confirmed, being careful not to let his ambivalence for the werewolf show. The man had been quick to condemn Sirius when he'd been accused of the murder of those Muggles, and his betrayal had hurt his godfather deeply. In addition, Lupin had never once made any attempt to find Harry while he'd been living with the Dursleys, even when he'd been named in his parents' will as a guardian and they had not.

"That was an act of great kindness on your father's part, and of his friends," McGonagall stated firmly. "There was absolutely no way the Ministry would have agreed to register three teenage boys as Animagi, so, to enable them to provide Remus help and support, I turned a blind eye. My silence was bought on the clear understanding that their abilities weren't used for immoral or unjust uses. If I am to keep quiet about your abilities, then I will expect the same restraint from you. Do you understand?"

"Oh, absolutely," Harry agreed readily, silently thinking that his definition of an immoral or unjust acts probably differed greatly from the old witch's.

"Good. While I have you here, I would also like to ask why you didn't appear to be exerting yourself in my class today. You are clearly a talented young wizard, but you certainly didn't appear to be putting much effort into your studies. I will not accept sub-standard work, Mr Potter and I would like an explanation," she demanded in a harsh tone.

"Was my work substandard?" Harry asked in surprise. "I thought I achieved every task you set me."

"Indeed you did, but nothing beyond that," she retorted. "Clearly, you were capable of achieving more, but you seemed happy to just put in the minimum effort. I expect my pupils to try their very best and will not accept anyone thinking they can just coast through this class."

"Then perhaps, Professor, you should set me rather more demanding tasks. Not engaging your pupils with challenging work is the fault of the educator, not the student, is it not?" Harry asked mildly.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Exactly why did you come to Hogwarts, Potter?" she asked bluntly.

"As I told the Headmaster, to get my N.E.W.T. qualifications," Harry replied, his tone becoming colder.

"You could easily have hired a private tutor and taken the exams independently without ever once setting foot in this school," McGonagall challenged. "It's patently obvious that in Transfiguration at least you are above N.E.W.T. level. I don't believe that taking your exams had any bearing on your presence here."

"Oh?" Harry said, feigning ignorance.

"Indeed, I believe that you have unwisely come to Hogwarts to act as a spy for the Ministry," McGonagall accused him.

"Really? Now, why would I do a thing like that? But, just for argument's sake, why would you think that acting for the Ministry would be an unwise course of action?" he asked calmly.

"There are many things you don't know, Mr Potter, things that could result in you getting seriously hurt or even killed. The Ministry has been painfully slow to react to the return of the Dark Lord, and even now they hide from the general public the true extent of the problem. If you allow yourself to become Scrimgeour's puppet you are dooming yourself to defeat at Voldemort's hands. The only person who truly stands a chance of defying the Dark Lord is Albus Dumbledore. You must stop trying to aid the Ministry's misguided attempts at discrediting Albus and work with him! Only Dumbledore can help you, Harry, you must understand that," McGonagall implored him.

Harry considered her words for a moment. "Would you say you trust the Headmaster, then?" he asked.

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed, seemingly shocked to be asked such a question.

"Completely? Do you trust him to tell you the full truth?" he pressed.

"He— yes, I do, I suppose," she hedged. "There are times, I'm sure, when he is forced to keep certain things secret, but I'm certain that only occurs when he feels he has no choice and that lives are at risk."

"Really? So what if I was to tell you that he has lied outright to you purely to manipulate matters to his own advantage? Would you still have such complete faith in him?" Harry asked intently.

"What rubbish is this? How can you, who has been in hiding for years, suddenly pop up and claim that Albus Dumbledore, one of the most respected wizards ever, is a liar? Mr Potter, I would ask that you keep such filthy insinuations to yourself!" she scowled.

"I must say, I'm disappointed that you can dismiss what I have to say before you've even heard it," Harry tutted. "You referred to me as Scrimgeour's puppet, but it seems to me that you're little more than Dumbledore's."

For a second, McGonagall looked like she was going to explode.

"Very well, Potter, I'll listen to what you have to say," she growled. "What terrible secrets has the Headmaster been hiding from me?"

"Have you ever questioned the circumstances that led to me being placed with the Dursleys after my parents were killed?" Harry asked. "Didn't it seem odd to you that Sirius Black never received a trial, or that there was never a public reading of my parent's will?"

"I… I must confess I never really thought about your parents' will. Was there definitely never a reading?" she challenged. Harry shook his head. "I assume that their executor must have had a good reason, I suppose. As for Black, a trial wasn't needed: there were multiple witnesses to the murder of the Muggles, everyone knew that he was your parents' Secret-Keeper and the man virtually admitted his crimes when he was caught. A trial would have been superfluous."

"We'll come back to the issue of the trial," Harry noted, "but what if I told you that Dumbledore himself was appointed as my parents' executor, and that their will remained sealed in Gringotts until I was able to order it read on my seventeenth birthday?"

"I assume that Albus had a good reason for that, I suppose," McGonagall ventured hesitantly.

"You assume rightly. Specifically, I would guess that he didn't want the part of the will where my parents categorically state that I am not to be left in the care of Petunia Dursley to become common knowledge, especially after he went to so much trouble to invoke all that wonderful magical protection on the Dursley's house. Strangely, he seems to have raised that protective magic long before he knew what my parent's wishes regarding my care were. In fact, bearing in mind how tricky most blood-based spells are, he seems to have been pretty quick off the mark in getting them in place. It was almost as if he'd already had the spells already prepared as a contingency. Of course, he would have only have done that if he had some reason to believe my parents were in danger of being found by Voldemort," Harry informed her.

"I really don't know what you're implying," McGonagall said hotly. "Perhaps Dumbledore suspected Black would go bad and wanted a back-up in place. There's no harm in planning ahead."

"Indeed, and the Headmaster seems to have planned ahead so well, too," Harry agreed. "It doesn't, however, explain why the will was sealed. If it had received a public reading, I suspect things would have gone very differently. Did you know that all magical wills include references to any appointed Secret-Keepers?"

"Yes, I was aware of that," McGonagall sniffed.

"Imagine my surprise, therefore, when, on opening my parents will, I found that Sirius Black was not their Secret-Keeper, at all," Harry stated.

"What? What rubbish is this? Everyone knew that Sirius was James and Lily's Keeper!" McGonagall shouted in outrage.

"Yes, and just think about that for a second. Everyone knew Sirius was their Secret-Keeper? Do you really think it's good practice to let everyone know who you use as your Keeper? Of course not! But, if you want to keep your true Keeper a secret, it's a bloody good way of diverting attention away from them," Harry reasoned.

"So who was the real Keeper?" McGonagall demanded.

"Peter Pettigrew. They picked a person no one would ever suspect they would use. Poor, weak, little Peter! Unfortunately for my parents, Voldemort had already identified Pettigrew as a weak link and recruited him. Imagine Peter's glee when he was just handed the information that his Lord so desperately wanted," Harry said grimly.

"But— that doesn't make any sense!" McGonagall protested. "If that was the case, why did Peter go after Sirius Black? And why did Black kill all those Muggles? No, you're spinning me a fairy tale, Mr Potter! Black virtually admitted he'd betray James and Lily when he was apprehended, remember."

"You've got it all backwards! It was Sirius that went after Pettigrew and his exact words were 'I'm sorry I let you down, James' when he was arrested, and he was referring to the fact that he'd been the one to suggest Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper. It was Pettigrew who killed the Muggles as a distraction, allowing him to change into his Animagus form and escape. You do remember what his Animagus form was, don't you, Professor? He cut his own finger off, too, just so people would think he died in the explosion. Pettigrew might have been a snivelling little rat, but he wasn't stupid," Harry snarled.

"But if Peter is alive, where is he? Why has no one seen sight nor sound of him for fifteen years?" McGonagall demanded, although she didn't sound as confident as she did earlier.

"I didn't say he was still alive, did I?" Harry pointed out. "No, he may have escaped from Sirius, but the little bastard is dead now. My only regret is that he died in such a way that his body couldn't be produced to help clear Sirius's name."

"You seem to have a very callous view of death, Mr Potter," McGonagall said disapprovingly. "I must confess, I was shocked to hear your heartless comments about the deaths of your aunt and uncle. I'm sure your mother would have been horrified at the unfeeling way you described the death of her sister."

"Oh, I know for a fact that Mother thought her sister got exactly what she deserved," Harry growled dangerously.

"And how could you possible know that? I know that Lily didn't become a ghost, so I fail to see how she could have communicated her opinions to you," McGonagall snapped.

"You really would be surprised at what I know," Harry said, in a low voice. "I probably know a damn sight more than is good for me, I dare say. But please, never, ever, assume that I don't know the wishes of my parents. My mother had come to loath her sister and truly despised that fat piece of shit that she married. If she'd been alive to see first-hand how the Dursleys treated me for the nine years I was under their roof, she'd have killed them both on the spot, assuming my father didn't do it first. Lily Potter was a kind, compassionate woman, but if you hurt someone she loved, she would turn into a vengeful demon, believe me. The war hardened both my parents, and they weren't afraid to curse those that they believed deserved justice."

"There's a significant difference between fighting and killing Death Eaters, and hexing your own kith and kin! Lily would never have attacked one of her own family, no matter what the justification," McGonagall protested.

"Probably not, but I doubt she would have stopped my father from doing it," Harry shrugged. "But this is all beside the point. My parents tried to ensure that I would never be placed with the Dursleys, and their wishes were ignored and, indeed, suppressed. Sirius Black was innocent of the charges made against him, but was still imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial. In both cases, the esteemed Albus Dumbledore either wilfully conspired in, or pointedly ignored, those acts of injustice."

"So this is why you're here? To spy for the Ministry and get your supposed revenge on the Headmaster?" McGonagall accused him angrily.

"I've told you repeatedly why I'm here," Harry counted, "to get my N.E.W.T. qualifications. On that note, I should point out that our little talk has made me late for my next class. I very much doubt if I'm going to pass Herbology if I never attend classes."

"What? Oh, I didn't realise how long we'd been talking. Here, I'll give you a note to give to Professor Sprout explaining why you're late," McGonagall promised, hurrying back to her desk to find something to write on. She returned a moment later clutching the promised note.

"Here, Mr Potter, this explains why you were delayed. Don't think that this is the end of our discussions, though. Your presence at Hogwarts troubles me greatly, and there's far too much about your recent history that you haven't explained. We will talk again," she informed him sternly.

"I look forward to it," Harry said and turned to leave. As he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back.

"Yes, Mr Potter, was there something else you wanted?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, no," Harry said smiling. "I was just taking one last sniff. I do so love the smell of pussy."

Fortunately, Harry was out the door before McGonagall was able to draw her wand on him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry hurriedly made his way to the school greenhouses where his next lesson had begun a good ten minutes before. Sure enough, as he entered greenhouse three, he found the class was well underway. The squat little Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, scowled at him as he joined the group.

"Ah, decided to join us at last have you, Mr Potter?" she glared. "Ten points from Slytherin for your tardiness!"

The rest of the class, which Harry noted consisted predominantly of Hufflepuffs, openly sniggered at him, some of them looking distinctly pleased at his reprimand. Without comment, he stepped forward and handed Sprout his note from McGonagall.

"What's this?" Sprout snapped, taking the parchment in her grubby fingers.

"A note from Professor McGonagall explaining why I'm late," he explained in a neutral voice. "She needed to discuss some matters with me and I'm afraid the time got away from us."

Sprout viciously unfolded the parchment and scowled at it. She then thrust it into a pocket in her robes before resuming the lesson. Harry interrupted her before she could get too far.

"Excuse me, Professor, but I think that you forgot to rescind the points deduction from my House," he pointed out mildly.

Sprout glowered at him. "I should keep that deduction in place," she spat. "In future, if you want to discuss matters with Professor McGonagall you should do it in your own time and not disrupt everyone else."

"It wasn't me that wanted to start the discussion," Harry replied, a hint of coldness entering his voice. "If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with the Deputy Headmistress."

The assembled Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors all glared at him with barely concealed contempt in their eyes. Clearly, Professor Sprout was a popular teacher and any pupil daring to cross her was held in disdain.

"Very well, the points deduction is cancelled," Sprout snapped angrily. "Now, if you have no objections, perhaps we can carry on the lesson, or do you have some other matter you wish to bring up that is more important than your fellow pupils' education?"

"Not at all. Please, do continue," Harry replied graciously, although he couldn't resist grinning rather smugly at the teacher. She huffed at him and continued with the class.

The next hour passed quite quickly for Harry. On one hand, he actually found the class genuinely interesting. The subject matter had been an assortment of particularly deadly plants, all of which were highly poisonous. Neither Gellert nor Aunt Bathy had been particularly skilled in Herbology, and most of Harry's education in the subject up to this point had been book-based. It made a nice change to learn in a more hands-on manner from an obviously skilled and knowledgeable teacher.

On the other hand, his fellow students appeared to have all taken a strong dislike to him. The Hufflepuffs, who made up three-quarters of the class, had all apparently decided to take offence at him on behalf of their Head of House. The two Gryffindors present also seemed to be offended by his presence, and scowled at him whenever they had the chance. The remaining two pupils were both Ravenclaws and seemed happy enough to ignore him. As chances had it, when they were instructed to pair-up to complete practice work there was an odd number present, so Harry worked by himself which suited him just fine. It didn't stop a couple of Hufflepuff boys from trying to sabotage his work when they thought he wasn't looking, however. He decided he would deal with them at a later date.

When the bell sounded signifying the end of the lesson, Harry hurriedly handed the tray containing his dissected plants to Professor Sprout, and made his way out of the greenhouse. His fellow classmates stared at him in an unfriendly manner as he left, and he could hear the whispered accusations and insults directed at him as he walked out the door. He had the feeling that no-one cared if he heard what they were saying or not. That was something he was going to have to stamp down on, and soon. He wasn't going to stand for disrespect from a bunch of Hufflepuffs.

His black mood from this morning only deepened as he strode towards the Great Hall for lunch. People seemed to be lining up to insult him at the moment, and he had a feeling that things would get worse before they got better. Even most of the teachers here at Hogwarts seemed deeply distrustful of him, and he suspected they were all under orders from Dumbledore to watch him closely. Morons.

"Hey, Potter, wait-up a second!" called a voice. Harry turned to see Tracy Davis running towards him. With a barely-suppress scowl, he turned and kept walking in the direction he'd been going.

"Potter, please, just wait a second," she begged as she caught up to him. "Just hear what I have to say, please."

Harry stopped and regarded her coolly. "Okay, I'll listen, but make it fast: I'm hungry. No doubt the friendly and welcoming atmosphere here at Hogwarts is increasing my appetite."

"What did you expect?" she snorted. "You're a blood-traitor who's been Sorted into Slytherin. Everybody hates you, probably for wildly conflicting reasons."

"Thank you for that thoughtful analysis, Miss Davis. Have you got anything else to add before I start hurting people?" he snarled.

"Hey, I'm on your side," she said hurriedly throwing up her hands defensively. "I only came to apologise to you about what happened this morning. Believe me, it wasn't Weasley's intention to offend you, or mine either, come to that."

"It's not you that has to apologise," Harry replied coldly.

"Well, I'm not so sure. Ginevra and I do have a bit of a partnership-thing going when it comes to winding people up. I gave her the opening for those comments, really, so I should share the blame," Davis admitted. "But you do have to understand, her cynicism isn't without justification. She's used to boys around here viewing witches as sex objects, just placed here for their pleasure. Over the years, Weasley's had dozens of offers from various Slytherin boys offering their 'protection' and 'influence' if she'd accommodate them, if you get my meaning."

"So most of the blokes in Slytherin are pure-blood idiots who think they have an automatic right to have a mistress," Harry shrugged. "It doesn't mean that I should get judged by those standards."

"Why not?" Davis challenged. "You've flirted with both Ginevra and me, and clearly you know how the Head of a Noble House should act, so why shouldn't we assume that you'd behave in the same manner as all those other inbred cretins? Trust isn't easily given in this House, Potter. Just last year, Weasley had one boy spend a good three months buttering her up, saying all the right things and assuring her that he was different, only for him to get frustrated and try and force her into shagging him. Tell me, if you've had that happen to you, wouldn't you assume that anyone acting half-decent to you was ultimately just after the same thing?"

Harry paused. He hadn't really thought about what it would be like for a girl from a light-sided family to be placed into Slytherin. He'd been here only a couple of days and was already getting a feel for how bad things were.

"What about you?" he asked carefully. "Weasley's a beautiful young witch and I can see boys resorting to anything to try and bed her, but you're enough to make a corpse get a stiffy. Do you have similar problems?"

"Why, thank you, I'll take that as a compliment," she laughed, "but you forget: I'm a half-blood. Most of the boys want a dirty, willing slut to fulfil their every perverted fantasy, but they don't want their shrivelled little todgers infected by any witch who isn't one hundred per cent pure-blood. Oh, that's not to say that I wouldn't end up raped and dumped somewhere if I wasn't careful, but I'm not about to receive any of those gracious offers to permanently whore myself to some rich wizard that Ginevra gets."

"So this is why your role as the go-to witch for information is so important?" Harry pondered. "Without it you'd just become a target."

"I still am a target, every day of my life," Davis replied bitterly. "I walk a tightrope constantly while I'm here at Hogwarts. Yes, I'm useful to the pure-bloods, up to a point, but no one is going to get too upset if something bad happens to me. That's why I'm always so careful. I make sure that I always stay in public places whenever possible, and that I'm always in the company of other witches when I can. I keep my head down and don't antagonise the pure-bloods, and I try and be a good little Slytherin so I at least get some protection from Professor Snape. If that all fails, I make damn sure I've got my wand handy at all times."

A thought occurred to Harry. "What happened to the low-life that tried to rape Weasley, then?" he asked. "I mean, do these scum just get away with doing these things?"

"Normally that scum, as you correctly describe them, are careful enough not to leave witnesses that are capable or willing to kick up a fuss, and even if they do, they always back each other up and provide alibies. You'd be amazed how reluctant the D.M.L.E. is to insist that minors who belong to Noble or rich Families are subjected to Truth Potions or have them submit memories of incidents," Davis said bitterly. "Malfoy and his cronies would have to rape a girl in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner for anyone to take the matter seriously. But they don't always get away scot free. The one that attacked Ginevra, for instance, has a lovely curse scar for his troubles."

"Ah, the dark-skinned friend of Malfoy's, was it? Zambini, was that his name?" Harry said, remembering the boy who had joined in the attack on him the previous day.

"Zabini," Davis corrected. "Have you never heard of his mother? She's quite famous, you know."

"Can't say that I have," Harry admitted.

"Oh, yes, she's known as the Black Widow in certain circles. She's been married seven times, and all seven of her husbands have died in mysterious circumstances, most leaving her a pot of gold in their wills. She's either a complete jinx, or the cleverest criminal in Britain. I'm sure you can guess which one I tend to believe. Blaise is every inch his mother's son. He's a sneaky, manipulate, back-stabbing bastard who I wouldn't trust to tell me the time. Ginevra did the world a service by cursing him, believe me," Davis informed him.

"Did she get in trouble for leaving him permanently disfigured?" Harry asked.

"Nah, he wouldn't even admit it was her that did it. It would be too much of a blow to his pride to admit a mere witch bested him. He just goes around boasting that he got the scar in a duel without mentioning any of the details. Slimly parasite," she spat.

By now they had reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Before Harry could enter, Davis grabbed his arm.

"Look, Harry, please don't be too hard on Weasley. She's had a difficult time here at Hogwarts and she's been a good friend to me. More than once I've been saved from something extremely unpleasant by a few of her curses. If she apologises, please accept it," Davis begged.

Harry thought about it for a second. In truth, he was appalled at what the two girls had suffered at this school, and was more than disposed to accept an apology, assuming one came his way.

"Okay, Davis," he agreed. "Assuming Weasley gives me a half-decent apology, I'll accept it. But both of you are going to have to learn not to judge me by the standards of the filth that pass for pupils here."

"Thanks," Davis said, looking relived.

They continued into the hall, and Davis guided them to the end of the Slytherin table. Unsurprisingly, Ginevra Weasley was already seated there.

Harry sat down opposite the red-haired girl and began to fill his plate with food. He pretended not to see Davis give the girl a subtle nod.

"Potter?" Weasley began. "I wish to give you my unreserved apologies for the inappropriate comment I made this morning. It was not my intention to cause you distress, or insult the Ancient House of Potter."

Harry looked up at her in surprise. He had not expected the formal wording of the apology, but quickly realised that a pure-blood such as her would know how to address a Head of an Ancient House. He nodded once.

"Weasley, I accept your apology and trust that I will not see a repetition of your rash words again in the future," he replied in a measured voice.

"Thank you, I will choose my words with more care, I promise," Weasley agreed, before returning her attention to her plate.

"So, how long did it take for Davis to convince you to apologise?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Most of the morning," Weasley admitted, not looking at him. "I wasn't convinced it was worth my effort, but Tracy seems to think that you're actually a half-decent bloke, for some reason."

"Wow, your kind words are nearly overwhelming me," Harry noted sarcastically, "although from what I've seen in the short time I've been here, I can understand you not thinking highly of any male Slytherin."

"Oh, trust me, most of the females are just as bad, too," Weasley replied, this time looking at him directly with blazing brown eyes. "Most girls here are either whores or psychopaths, or a pleasant combination of the two. If you try and walk your own path, like me and Tracy here, then you're certain to be hated and singled out for abuse."

Harry chewed his food thoughtfully. "You seem to have done a pretty good job looking after yourself, though," he pointed out. "That scar-faced friend of Malfoy's is a good example of that."

Ginevra snorted. "Zabini is an idiot. He thought he could just pay me a few compliments and flutter his eyelashes at me and I'd be begging him to screw me. I mean, did he really think I'd trust him with the reputation he and his murdering bitch of a mother have? I knew what he was up to immediately."

"Which was?" Harry asked with genuine interest.

"He's practicing for his future career," Ginevra shrugged. "His mother has made a packet by finding wealthy, single wizards and marrying them. I've never met her, but I gather most men instantly cream their undies as the mere sight of her, and she uses that to lure wealthy men to her. I gather Blaise is preparing to carry on the family business. He's planning on using his pretty-boy looks to seduce any wealthy widow or heiress that takes his fancy, and then rob them blind. I shouldn't wonder if most of the poor bitches don't end up unexplainably dead, too."

"Of course, this means that Zabini has to hone his seduction skills," Davis continued. "He might be bloody gorgeous, but he's still a teenage boy and, just like anything, he needs to practice charming witches. Ginevra here, apart from being stunningly attractive, has a reputation of being unapproachable. Our boy figured that if he could get in her knickers, he could pull anyone. Oh, and you'd better watch out, Potter, I hear he's not too bothered if it's a witch or a wizard he seduces, just as long as they're rich."

"I think after the kicking I gave him, he won't want anything to do with me," Harry smirked. "I take it he doesn't handle rejection well, then?"

Weasley shrugged. "I guess not. I mean, I was actually thinking of giving him one, after all, he's a good-looking boy, but he got impatient. Besides, I knew he was just intending to use me for practice, and I didn't want him deciding that he would continue that by trying to bump me off, too."

"How does his mother do it?" Harry asked. "I mean, the Aurors must be wise to her by now. She can't just go around poisoning or cursing wizards as she pleases, can she? That would be the first thing they checked for."

"No one knows," Weasley admitted, "and, frankly, if the Zabinis are that good at killing people without getting caught, then I don't want to make myself a target."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Harry pointed out.

"If I wanted I could have done a lot worse to Blaise then just give him that scar," Weasley responded fiercely. "At the time, he was on his knees and I had his wand in my hand, with no witnesses around. Unfortunately, if I had finished him off I would have been murder suspect number one, the way he'd been following me around for weeks beforehand. Unfortunately, my family is poor as dirt and wouldn't have been able to pay the bribes required to ensure that I didn't end up with a mouthful of Veritaserum, not that those bastards would spend a Knut to save me, anyway."

"You can't pick your family," Harry agreed sympathetically.

"That's the bloody truth, and I've had the added joy of having most of my assorted brothers attending Hogwarts at the same time as me. Still, at least next year I'll be free of them. Ronald is the last Weasley to uphold the honour of the family by being a Gryffindor, and he graduates at the end of the year. I might actually be able to go five minutes without being constantly reminded what a disgrace I am to the family, and what an evil, little bitch I am," Ginevra spat angrily.

"Oh, but you are an evil, little bitch, darling," Tracy teased.

"I know, but I don't have to be reminded all the time, do I?" Weasley responded with a half-grin.

"Did you notice that most of Malfoy's gang are out of the hospital wing?" Tracy said, changing the subject.

"Yes, I could feel them sending Killing Curses at me with their eyes," Harry confirmed. "I note the blond bum-boy himself is missing, though."

"Blond bum-boy? I must remember that one," Tracy sniggered. "No, darling Draco will play-up his injuries for all they're worth. He once had to spend a week in bed after getting a parchment-cut."

"Yeah, he's a fine example of pure-blood masculinity," Weasley smirked. "Quite why any witch would look twice at him, I don't know. Mind you, I always said Parkinson was a bit soft in the head."

"Oh, I know exactly what Parkinson sees in him," Tracy disagreed. "It's all that lovely gold he has clogging up his vault at Gringotts. She's been after a marriage contract from day one. I really must get around to telling her that she's too late, one day."

"Really? What poor cow has to marry that git?" Ginevra asked in surprise.

"Astoria Greengrass," Tracy supplied. "It was going to be Daphne, but she rather cleverly faked a medical examination so it suggested she wasn't very fertile, so her poor younger sister coped it, instead. Still, Astoria's such a stuck-up idiot that I hear she's actually quite pleased about the whole thing. No doubt that will change when she actually gets to spend some time around Draco. Stupid cow."

"Yeah, she's brain-dead, that one. She'll probably quite happy to pump out a few brats to continue the Malfoy name while swaggering around in that poncey manor of theirs. Honestly, did you see those pictures of the place published in 'Witch Weekly' a few years back? It looked like an explosion in a gold paint factory! Ick! Still, all that ostentatiousness and tackiness probably suit them to a tee," Ginevra smirked.

"Yeah, but still, the Malfoys are a rich and powerful family, even with Lucius Malfoy locked away," Tracy noted. "You need to be careful, Harry. They underestimated you the first time, they won't do that again.

"The next attack will come from an unexpected direction," Ginevra said sagely. "I doubt they'll openly fight you again, so they'll probably try and curse you in the back, or something. Just do me a favour and don't stand too close to me at any time, alright?"

"There will come a time soon when you two ladies will have to pick a side, you know," Harry told them seriously. "You may think that you can just keep your noses clean and stay out of trouble, but that won't work for much longer. There's a war coming and neutrality isn't an option."

"Why not?" Tracy challenged, sounding a little alarmed. "It's worked fine up to this point. Why should I be forced to pick a side suddenly? I don't give a shit about all this blood purity crap, so I'm certainly not going to fight about it, for either side."

"I'll tell you why," Harry responded intensely. "Because the Dark Lord considers anyone not actively for him to be against him, that's why. I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that Voldemort has been more active in recent months. I can tell you that he's gathered a lot of support and he's nearly strong enough to start an outright war against the Ministry and Dumbledore. You may think you can sit on the side-lines and watch the two sides slug it out, but the Dark Lord remembers those that defied him far more than he remembers those that helped him, and his definition of defiance includes anyone who didn't actively fight alongside him."

The two girls shared an apprehensive look.

"Besides, imagine if Voldemort does win, think what it would mean for you two. A half-blood who attempted to remain neutral and a witch from a light-sided family who refused to let herself be bound to one of the Dark Lord's supporters? Do you really think he'd turn the other cheek and let you two be?" Harry asked pointedly.

"What's the other option?" Ginevra asked defiantly. "Hope the Ministry will save us? Fat chance! My brother Percy joined that mob and I've seen just how incompetent they are. Support Dumbledore, perhaps? Trust me, I know first-hand that he hasn't got the balls to fight a war against the Dark Lord. If those are our only options, then keeping my head down and legging it overseas if the Ministry falls seems a much more attractive idea."

"You could try escaping overseas, assuming that any country will take you in and that you can leave in the first place," Harry agreed, "but most other countries are in a similar state to us. There's lots of trouble in Poland and Russia, for instance, and blood purity is becoming a big issue over there. America's virtually closed its borders to immigrants because of all the problems in Europe, you don't stand a chance of getting in there. Not unless you have a contact in the country already, of course."

"So, what's the answer? Support the Ministry, like you've done?" Tracy scoffed. "Scrimgeour will last five minutes once the Dark Lord starts openly declaring himself."

"I agree, but don't believe everything you read in the papers, Davis," Harry responded. "Scrimgeour and I might have come to an accommodation, but I certainly don't support the man or his corrupt government. As for Dumbledore, I wouldn't trust that old bastard as far as I could throw him. An undisputed victory for him would nearly be as bad as Voldemort winning."

"Okay, so I'll ask again: what's the answer?" Tracy demanded.

"There's a third option. Both the dark and light factions are too extreme in their own ways, and too rigid in their beliefs. We need a new path to follow, one that ignores all this blood purity bullshit and does what's best for the Magical Community. One that treads a path smack in-between the two extremes, and recognises practicality and common sense, not century-old traditions and ludicrous racism as its cornerstones," he explained passionately.

"Oh, and who is leading this third option, then? You?" Weasley asked sarcastically.

"Got it in one," Harry declared seriously.

Weasley began to snort with laughter, but stopped almost immediately. Harry could almost see the wheels turning within her head.

"Not to be rude or anything," Tracy began, "but are you serious? I mean, you're just one bloke with no support. How are you going to start a revolution by yourself?"

"I won't be by myself," Harry countered. "I do have a support system in place, but I just haven't really begun recruiting yet."

"So, we have the honour of being your first recruits, do we? Come off it, Potter, you don't stand a chance! The Dark Lord has an entire army behind him, and the Ministry aren't exactly going to stand aside and let you gain power, either. That's ignoring Dumbledore, too. I get the impression he's not exactly thrilled with you ending up as a Slytherin. He won't sit about and let you gain influence without being sure you can be trusted, and judging by the way you handled Malfoy, I doubt he would approve of your methods," Tracy pointed out.

"You're assuming that I'm going to tackle this head-on like some Gryffindor would," Harry countered. "That's not the way I work. Yes, the Dark Lord has an army and I don't; that's why I have no intention of fighting him fairly. I intend to eliminate his support slowly and methodically, before dealing with him when he's alone. If that requires me to be an assassin, then so be it. The Ministry is the same. I intend to infiltrate it slowly, gathering support quietly and operating from the shadows. Dumbledore, for all his power and influence, is a rather simple fellow. He thinks about primary causes and motivations, and seldom considers that people may have ulterior reasons for their actions. It was why Voldemort was able to beat him so easily in the first war."

Harry ignored the fact that both girls had cringed when he used the name Voldemort, and looked at them challengingly.

"What would you want us to do?" Weasley asked quietly.

"At the moment, very little," Harry confirmed. "As I stated, I intend to work from the shadows and I would expect my allies to do the same. Tracy, you would need to remain visibly neutral if you are going to continue to pick up information, otherwise no one would trust you again. I would, however, want you to be selective in what information you give to the other side while being open and honest with me. Ginevra, you can't afford to be seen openly as my friend, but I do need your wand on my side. I have various objectives that I need to accomplish while here at Hogwarts, and you'd be invaluable help."

"Why us?" Weasley asked suddenly. "Why have you asked us two to help you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked earnestly. "We're the same, us three. Tracy, you're a half-blood like me, trying to make your way in a world ruled by pure-bloods who look down on us and think we're inferior. Ginevra, you're from a light-sided family but was Sorted into Slytherin, as a result no one trusts you anymore. You've been slandered and abused for what you're perceived to be, rather than what you actually are. We, ladies, are all in the same shitty situation and, I suspect, we all want that to change."

Silence fell as the two girls considered his offer. Then, abruptly, Weasley stood and grabbed her bag.

"I'll think about it," she announced quietly, before walking off briskly without as much as a backward glance. Harry almost smiled at her actions, which seemed rather typical of the girl.

"Sorry, Potter, I'm not convinced," Tracy said, shaking her head. "I've fought a hard struggle to get where I am, and if there's the slightest hint that I've been helping you, my life won't be worth jack-shit. I promise I won't mention this conversation to anyone, and I'll give you an Unbreakable Vow on that if you want, but please don't expect me to become your supporter, because it won't happen."

"Fair enough," Harry said, hiding his disappointment. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what will happen if you do talk to anyone about this."

"Yeah, I was there when you demolished Draco and his friends, remember? Look, I really like you, Harry, and I think your goals are just, but I just can't believe that you have the power to change anything. I know that you defeated You-Know-Who when you were a toddler, but I'm sure he's not going to make the same mistake, whatever that was, again. As much as I hate to say it, I think you're doomed," she said sadly, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "I'm sorry."

Then she stood and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Harry sighed. He suspected that he'd made his move to recruit the girls far too soon, and blown his chance. Davis, in particular, had seemed sympathetic to his cause and would have proved to have been an incredibly useful ally here in the castle. Weasley was more of an unknown factor, and he was intrigued that she hadn't actually turned him down yet, although she would be more of an asset for the future when he had to take the fight to the Death Eaters. Still, what was done was done, and he was new to this power struggle. He would just have to learn from this failure and try to move on.

As he picked up his fork and began to pick at his food, he speculated that there had been another reason why he'd approached the two girls so soon after meeting them. Loneliness had been eating at him for months now, and he'd been too desperate for some friendly company. Here, sitting at the now empty end of the Slytherin table, that loneliness suddenly felt more intense than ever.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The rest of the day dragged for Harry. In the afternoon, he'd taken lessons in Ancient Runes and Charms, both of which had been enjoyable, even if he did really learn nothing new. Tracy had been in both classes, but had religiously kept her distance from him, preferring to partner the blond Greengrass girl. Although he'd known the Davis girl for little over a day, he felt her rejection keenly.

Neither she nor Weasley were at dinner, and Harry sat by himself while he ate. To add to his dismal mood, Malfoy made an appearance at the dinner table, and Harry could hear his offensive remarks about him from where he was sitting. Eventually, his appetite diminished, he stood and left the Great Hall.

He walked out of the school and headed towards the Forbidden Forrest, barely aware that he was doing so. It was a fairly warm September evening, and to Harry's keen ears and eyes the forest appeared bustling with life. A smile crept onto his lips and he entered the shade of the trees and took a deep breath. A dozen different scents filled his nostrils as he savoured the wildness of the woods, with a primitive yearning building inside him.

Succumbing to his unconscious desires, Harry blurred and, a second later, in the spot where he had been standing there was a magnificent wolf, it's grey fur streaked with black and it's golden eyes, lightly tinted with green, were looking around watchfully. Then, in a flash, he sprinted from the spot he'd been standing and plunged deeper into the forest, intent on following the scent of his intended prey.

The wolf never noticed a pair of brown eyes watching him silently from some distance away.

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Uneasy Alliances

AN

I wasn't going to post this yet, but I've had such a rotten couple of weeks that I wanted something to cheer myself up. Strange how writing this stuff has become so important to me.

Thanks, as always, to Arnel for picking out my numerous errors. I swear, I wasn't making this many cock-ups when writing 'Thorny Rose'. If anyone finds my brain, can they return it to me, please?

"Now, sit up straight, Harry. You know I can't abide it when you slouch like that," Bathilda lightly scolded him. Harry immediately straightened his back and sat up in his chair.

"That's better. Now, Gellert has suggested that we begin your Animagus training and I understand that you're quite keen to try, too," she said, smiling warmly at him.

"Yes, please, Aunty Bathy," he said earnestly. Ever since Gellert had told him that his father had been an Animagus, Harry had been desperate to become one himself.

"Well, learning to become an Animagus is a long and difficult process, and twelve years old really is far too young to begin, in my opinion. Still, you've already proved what a talented young wizard you are many times, Harry, and it never hurts to learn the basics early," she admitted, before pausing to take a sip of her tea.

Harry smiled. When he'd first met Gellert's Great Aunt Bathilda, he really hadn't known what to expect. He'd had very little experience with old people, other than an elderly couple who had lived at the end of Privet Drive who had always scowled at him when he walked past, and Mrs Figg, of course.

The revelation that she was a Squib sent to watch over him had been a bitter shock to Harry. If she was supposed to watch over him, why had she done nothing about the constant abuse he had received? Hadn't she seen his cousin and his gang beat him up constantly, or noticed the ill-fitting clothes he was forced to wear, or that fact he was skin and bones? Gellert had asserted that Mrs Figg's sole purpose had been to alert Albus Dumbledore of any magical attack against Privet Drive, not to oversee his welfare, and that had sounded believable. Still, he'd been at Mrs Figg's house quite a few times and the old woman had never been particularly warm to him. He'd had to spend many boring hours looking through her photo albums that contained nothing but pictures of her cats, or occasionally he'd been treated to a piece of cake that tasted like sawdust. Surely she could have treated him a little better in private, couldn't she?

Aunt Bathy, as Harry now called her, was completely different. The woman had been a scholar all her life, and had written a number of important magical texts, some of which still featured as part of the school curriculum to this day. She was also an immensely kind woman, who had known Harry's parents and often told him stories about them. Bathilda wasn't without her own eccentricities, but they only made her more endearing to Harry. For instance, he suspected the only reason that she gave her lessons to him in the kitchen was so she would have a ready supply of tea on hand to fortify her. She was rarely to be seen her without a steaming cup of Twinings finest to hand.

"Now, the Animagus transformation is the most Shamanic of all magic that we use on a regular basis," Bathilda began, shaking Harry from his thoughts. "A witch or wizard may only take a single animal form, as that form is a representation of their own character and personality. In many ways, this is similar to the selection of a spirit guide, used in Shamanic meditation, and it's through such meditation that your animal will be revealed to you."

"You don't get to choose?" Harry asked in disappointment. "What if you don't like the animal you end up with?"

"As the animal is a reflection of the sort of person you are, I'm afraid you're stuck with it," she chortled. "It's the same as you being stuck with that wayward hair of yours, my boy."

Harry attempted to flatten his spikey hair in irritation, which only amused the old woman more. She reached over and ran her fingers through his black mop of hair, making it even messier than usual.

"One day, when you're older, I suspect you'll find that a lot of young ladies rather like your hair, Harry, and that it's a blessing, not a curse," she told him fondly and chuckling when he pulled a face when she mentioned 'young ladies'. "But getting back to the point, I think it's highly unlikely that anyone would be disappointed with the animal they discover. The only exception to that rule would be if the person intensely disliked themselves, and therefore it's unlikely they would have the mental discipline to maintain a form that they hate, anyway."

"So, my dad's personality was like a stag, was it?" he asked in fascination.

"Yes, a stag fitted James to a tee," she confirmed. "The thing about the transformation is, just like the Shamanic spirit guides, it often represents an element within ourselves that we require to make us grow and develop as a person. Although I never knew him when he was younger, your mother told me that James was quite a childish and arrogant young man in his early years at Hogwarts. Once he had discovered his stag form, however, he began to change. Subconsciously, he probably realised that he had to grow up and become a man, and his stag represented that. He became far more noble and protective than he had been before, for instance. That nobility, in the truest sense of the word, had always been within him, but the transformation unlocked it and enabled him to embrace his adult personality."

"Wow," Harry gasped. "So, becoming an Animagus will change me as a person?"

"Oh, indeed," she smiled. "Invariable it helps a person become what they were truly meant to be. That's not always a good thing, however. If someone is by their very nature weak or untrustworthy, that will reflect in their form, although remember, no animal is actually evil as we could understand the term. Morgan le Fay is a good example of that; she had a carrion bird as her Animagus form. A creature that survives by feasting on the dead. It doesn't make the birds evil, they have to eat to survive, after all, but it does show that the woman had some unpleasant personality traits if she took that form."

"I hope I don't become anything like that," Harry said fervently.

"I very much doubt you will," she chuckled. "The Animagus form will also have other, more physical, benefits, too. Someone who had a cat as their form could, for instance, become more agile and graceful, while someone who had a dog form might gain an improved sense of smell and hearing, although it does vary from person to person. Likewise, when transformed, the Animagus animal might also bear character traits from that person's human form. Your animal, for instance, might have green eyes or black markings like your hair."

"I hope I get an animal with good eyesight," Harry muttered. "I hate these glasses."

"We'll see," Bathilda said kindly. "Now, the first thing we have to do is enter a meditative state. Close your eyes, and try to relax, Harry."

Harry tried to do as she instructed, desperately forcing down his excitement at the thought of meeting his animal form…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, Harry made his way up from the Slytherin common room towards the Great Hall in search of breakfast. His trip to the forest the previous night had greatly improved his mood, and he was intent on making the most of the new day.

He'd just reached the Entrance Hall when the sound of raised voices attracted his attention. He looked over to see Ginevra Weasley slouched against the railing of the central staircase, while a tall, red-haired boy shouted at her. Initially, Harry was rather alarmed at the aggression that this angry young man was showing, but Ginevra appeared completely unconcerned. Indeed, she just examined her fingernails with a bored expression on her face. Harry approached them.

"…don't care, do you?" the boy raged. "Mum's worried sick about you, but you only care about yourself, don't you? Typical selfish, bloody Slytherin!"

"Oh, Mum's so worried about me, is she?" Ginevra spat, looking up suddenly in anger. "Funny, all I thought she cared about was the family's reputation, not about me. In fact, I seem to remember her yelling something about me being no daughter of hers this summer."

"You can hardly blame her, can you?" the boy yelled back. "You've single-handedly blacked the Weasley name. Why don't you just run off and join your Death Eater pals and leave us in peace?"

"Funny, I thought it was you that came up to me and started moaning. I was quite happy to ignore you, Ronald Weasley, so why don't you piss off and join up with your dorky Gryffindor pals and leave me alone?"

"I bloody will," he growled, his face a bright shade of red. "I don't know why I bother trying to talk to you! Ever since you became a Slytherin you've turned into a total bitch. You're heading for a sticky end, Ginny, no doubt about it. Come on, Hermione."

With that, the boy stormed away into the Great Hall. A bushy-haired witch was nearly running by his side to keep up with his long strides. A few other Gryffindors glared at Ginevra before turning and following the angry youth. Harry walked up to Weasley, who looked equally furious.

"That was one of your brothers, I take it," Harry asked sympathetically.

"Yes, Ronald, to be exact. The stupid, arrogant, pig-headed moron! Gah! If he dislikes me so much, why does he feel the need to constantly seek me out just so he can tell me how disappointed he is in me? Why doesn't he just leave me alone?" she demanded.

"No idea. Does he think that if he yells enough that silver and green on your uniform will turn into red and gold?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"It could be," she said, grinning back. "Ron seems to believe that most things in life can be accomplished by yelling. It says a lot about his intelligence levels."

"Did your mother really say that you were no daughter of hers?" Harry asked, the disgust plain on his face. "That's awful."

"Yes, but to be fair it was in the middle of a rather heated argument and I don't think she knew what she was saying," Ginevra admitted sadly. "These days, I can't seem to be in the same room as my mum for more than five minutes before an argument breaks out. It's been like that ever since I was made a Slytherin. It's like that one act just changed my family's opinion of me overnight. It's stupid really. It's not like I asked to be put in Slytherin; the Sorting Hat just said it was the best place for me, but everyone seems to think it was some master plan of mine."

"Yeah, family can be like that, can't they," Harry agreed. "Before I lived with my guardian, I lived with my maternal aunt and uncle. They were Muggles who despised magic and grew angry if the word was even mentioned. I can't tell you how relieved I was to be taken out of that environment."

"What? How could that be?" Ginevra protested. "You were the Boy Who Lived; you were famous. How could the authorities have stuck you with a pair of idiotic Muggles?"

"Oh, my self-appointed magical guardian at the time took it on himself to stick me there. He thought it would be the safest place for me, away from the attention and distractions of the Magical world. Of course, he never bothered to check with my aunt or uncle if they actually wanted me, or lifted a finger to make sure I was alright once I was there. As a result, I was treated like a house-elf for nine years, and regularly beaten by my whale of a cousin, for good measure," Harry told her bitterly.

"Who, exactly, was this magical guardian of yours who dumped you there?" Ginevra asked suspiciously.

"Who do you think? Albus Dumbledore, of course. He sealed my parents will and dropped me on my aunt's doorstep before the authorities had a chance to blink. Naturally, he claimed he was just acting to protect me, but in truth he was just ensuring I would be right where he could lay his hands on me if he needed me again," Harry growled. "He didn't reckon that someone would see through his game and rescue me."

"Bloody hell, and I thought I had problems at home," Ginevra snorted. "Who was it that rescued you?"

"I can't tell. I've taken an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal his name, for obvious reasons," Harry explained. "But let me tell you, the day he took me away was the single greatest day of my life. From that point onwards, I was actually treated decently. I had a proper bed and was actually fed, which never happened before. I received my own clothes, not worn hand-me-downs that were five times too large for me, and I wasn't treated like a slave. More importantly, I started to receive a proper magical education. My new guardian was immensely talented, and he had relative that helped me a great deal, too. Between them, I expect I received the most comprehensive training in magic that any teenage boy has ever had. Now I intend to use that training to obtain vengeance on those that killed my parents and made me a slave."

"Do you hate Muggles, then?" she asked curiously.

"Nah, not all of them, anyway, just the ones named 'Dursley'. Actually, I don't even hate them, anymore. They died in a house fire not long after I left their care, and I just don't have it in me to hate them anymore. They were bigoted, cruel and stupid, but they're gone now, so why worry?" Harry shrugged. "As for the other Muggles, I don't think you can just lump them all in one pot and label them. Just like us, some of them are good and some of them are bad. The fact remains, however, that by law we have to hide our existence from them, and I have no problem with that."

"So, live and let live, eh? That's your attitude to them?" Ginevra pressed.

"Yeah, I think that sums it up," Harry agreed. "I'm never going to turn into another Muggle-hating Dark Lord, if that's what you're worried about."

"Perhaps a little," she agreed. "That sort of experience can change people, and stop them thinking rationally. I would hate to think that you're some sort of deranged psychopath, intent on destroying anyone that gets in your way."

"That never works," Harry said automatically. "Violence begets violence, and irrational, racist violence always blows back on the people who practice it. As I said yesterday, I would rather work from the shadows, and try to be a bit more subtle. Of course, that only works up to a point. I don't doubt that all the Death Eaters will have to be killed or imprisoned for life, as it's simply impossible to re-educate them. That kind of fanaticism can never be erased totally."

"I think you're right," she sighed. "Ever since I got to this bloody school, I've had to fight. I'd have been mincemeat if my oldest brother Bill hadn't taken pity on me after my first year and shown me some cool curses to use. Of course, lately he doesn't have the time of day for me, but that's only because some part-Veela he met at work has started shagging him and he's besotted. The French bitch hates me, so she's been turning him against me. Do you know any good anti-Veela curses, Potter?"

"Ha! Most of the ones I know are meant to attract Veelas, not destroy them. Still, I imagine that an Entrail-Expelling Curse will work just as well on them as it would a normal human," Harry replied with a grin. "So, your brother taught you to fight, did he? What is he, an Auror or something?"

"Curse-breaker for Gringotts," she clarified. "You can imagine all the interesting and imaginative spells he knows."

"I can," Harry agreed, impressed. "Your first year here was rough, then? Before you learnt how to properly defend yourself?"

"It was horrendous," Ginevra snarled. "Malfoy and his gang were already established, and you can just imagine the warm welcome they gave me, especially as Ron and Draco hate each other's guts. I had three other brothers here at the time apart from Ron, and they all disowned me as soon as I was Sorted into Slytherin. Then, if things couldn't get any worse, some bastard slips me an enchanted diary which tries to take possession of me! Bloody marvellous!"

"An enchanted diary?" Harry exclaimed. "That sounds a bit weird. What did this diary look like?"

"Oh, it was weird, believe me. The pages were completely blank, but when you wrote in it, the damn thing replied. It said it had been the property of some boy called Tom Riddle, who had left his memories in it, a bit like a magical portrait painting, I guess. It was a shame really, I thought Tom was a really nice bloke. At least I did until they told me that the pissing diary had taken control of me for a while. Apparently, I killed a load of Hagrid's chickens under its influence, so he hates me now, too," Ginny growled.

"What happened to this diary?" Harry asked carefully.

"Snape saw me writing in it one day and confiscated it immediately. He then gave me a long lecture on what an idiot I was to trust a strange magical object and how I should try using my brain. Bastard," Ginny replied.

"Do you know what Snape did with the diary?" Harry pressed urgently.

"I've no idea," Ginevra said with a frown. "Do you know something about this, Potter, because no one could ever figure out how the damn thing ended up in my possession, anyway?"

"Well, I have heard of something similar," he admitted. "The diary I heard about was last seen in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, though, and I severally doubt he would try and plant it on an eleven-year-old girl. It was quite valuable, you see."

"Malfoy? Bloody hell, it could have been him, you know! He got into a scrap with my dad in Diagon Alley just before I started school. We'd been in the book shop and he'd been taking the piss out of us because I had second-hand books we'd been buying. He could have slipped it to me then! As for a motive, I suspect that was due to my dad, too. He works for the Ministry and was trying to introduce a new Muggle Protection Act at the time. Lucius desperately wanted that bill to be defeated, and turning me into some evil, possessed killer would have been the perfect way of discrediting dad. That bastard! I'm going to chop Draco into little pieces in revenge!" she snarled.

"Steady, Ginevra, this is all just speculation, at present. We have no proof it was him," Harry said, but privately he thought differently. As soon as Ginevra had mentioned Tom Riddle, he had known who had been involved. It was best that the Weasley girl didn't know that for certain, however.

"It must have been him, it all fits!" she protested.

"Probably, but there's no saying Draco knew about it, is there? Besides, Lucius is currently keeping the Dementors company at Azkaban, and that's a pretty fitting punishment, don't you think?" he reasoned.

"Possibly, but gutting his only son would be icing on the cake," she muttered.

"I like how you think," Harry told her with a grin. "Look, we'd better get to breakfast or we won't get to eat before the first class."

"Yeah, you're right. Look, no offence or anything, but I'm going to sit with Tracy. I'm still thinking about what you said yesterday, but I need a bit more time. Besides, it probably doesn't pay to be seen with you too much, anyway," she noted.

"True, although we have been standing out here for ten minutes chatting in plain sight, so that probably wasn't the smartest thing to do," Harry pointed out. "Still, you can always say I was trying to chat you up and you were just laughing at me."

"Not that far from the truth, then," she smirked. "I'll talk to you later, Potter."

Harry stood and watched her enter the Great Hall, allowing himself the indulgence of admiring her shapely backside wiggle slightly as she walked. One thing was for sure, even if she decided not to help him, there had been a definite thawing of their relationship. Nothing like comparing how shite your respective families were to help you bond, he mused.

With a small smile, he entered the hall in search of food. He might have had to sit alone again, but he did so with a lighter heart this morning.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days proved extremely frustrating for Harry. Although it wasn't his primary reason for being at Hogwarts, he'd hoped to be able to gather allies while he was here, but that was proving next to impossible. Apart from Weasley and Davis, virtually everyone in Slytherin House was openly hostile to him. While no one had yet had the courage to openly confront him, Harry suspected that Draco Malfoy had the whole House tightly under his control. That was something he probably couldn't change in the short term, not without escalating matters to a level he deemed unadvisable at present.

The Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs were nearly as bad. The Gryffindors had seemed to have taken the fact that he wasn't Sorted into their House as a personal insult, and had unanimously decided that he must be a Dark wizard. The Hufflepuffs had latched onto this idea, too, and appeared to loath him, although what he had done to offend them so much, Harry couldn't recall. Only the Ravenclaws appeared indifferent to him. Sadly, they seemed to take this indifference seriously and had pointedly ignored him when he'd tried to initiate a conversation with a group of them in the library the day before.

So much for that approach.

Harry was also intrigued by the conversation he'd had with Ginevra, following her altercation with her brother. The diary she described sounded exactly like Tom Riddle's, and the fact that there could be two Horcruxes at Hogwarts rather than just the one he had suspected, excited him. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he could find out what had befallen the diary. It was just one more thing that he'd have to work on while he was here.

He was just walking along a third floor corridor, pondering his next move, when the sound of raised voices caught his attention. Intrigued, he followed the voices which led him down a side corridor away from the main passageway.

As he turned the corner, he was shocked to see the four Hufflepuff girls he had befriended on the Hogwarts Express being confronted by a group of fifth and sixth year Slytherin boys. The boys had their backs to him and had failed to notice his approach.

Looking over the Slytherin boys' shoulders, Harry saw little Hannah on her knees, crying, while Imogen attempted to comfort her. Both Cerys and Michelle had their wands drawn and were defiantly pointing them at the sniggering Slytherins. Harry could smell the girls' fear from where he was standing.

"Why don't you all just piss off and leave us alone!" Michelle was yelling. "I'll tell Professor Sprout about this, I will."

"Yeah, and I'll tell Professor Snape, and he'll believe us 'cos were pure-bloods, while you lot are a bunch of Mudblood skanks," a boy Harry thought was called Harper snarled.

"Anyway, you're assuming we'll leave you in any condition to talk to anyone," another boy sneered. "We don't like squealers at Hogwarts, and we're going to show you what happens to those that do go running to teacher."

Having heard enough, Harry pulled out his wand and silently cast Incarcerous Charms on the three boys standing at the back of the group. They all tumbled to the ground, bound and gagged. Unfortunately, their movement caught the eye of one of the other boys, who spun around with his wand in his hand. He paled noticeably when he saw who was standing there.

"Hello, lads," Harry announced cheerfully. "What are you all up to?"

The remaining two boys also turned around rapidly and grimaced at the sight of him.

"This is nothing to do with you, Potter," Harper declared nervously.

"Oh, but it is. Don't you remember what I said back in the common room on the first day of term? You know, just after I kicked in the heads of Malfoy and his gang? No? Let me remind you; I told you that I had zero tolerance for blood purists and Muggle haters. Perhaps I wasn't clear enough for you. I should have mentioned that includes those that are abusive to Muggle-borns and half-bloods, too, because you lot are obviously too stupid to have taken the hint," Harry snapped.

"You can't touch us!" one boy yelled desperately. "Snape will have your guts for garters."

"Yes, just like he did after I hospitalised Malfoy. Oh, wait! No, he didn't, did he? Maybe you stupid little shits aren't as safe as you think you are," Harry told them with an evil grin forming on his face. "Besides, we don't like squealers here at Hogwarts, remember?"

The three boys all shared worried glances. Harry decided he needed to put his point across in a more convincing way. He took a couple of steps forward, and kicked one of the bound boys hard in the stomach. The gag around his mouth muffled his cry of pain, and the ropes wrapped tightly around him inhibited his movement, but the boy managed to curl into a ball and lay there whimpering.

"Leave him alone!" Harper shouted in horror.

"Are you going to make me?" Harry challenged and, before any of the boys could react, soundlessly cast three Disarming Spells at them. Their wands were ripped from their grasps, and Harry effortlessly caught them.

"Give those back!" Harper screamed and took a step forward, but halted immediately when Harry pointed his wand at him.

"Pure-blood, half-blood or Muggle-born, everyone's the same without a wand, eh?" he pointed out. "So tell me, without your little pieces of wood, what makes you so superior to us mere half-bloods?"

"Of course we're superior," one of the boys yelled angrily. "We pure-bloods are better in every way! Were magically stronger, more intelligent and of better breeding!"

"Magically stronger? That's funny, because I've yet to meet a pure-blood that is stronger than me," Harry pointed out in a deceptively calm voice. "More intelligent? Again, I've yet to see anyone get higher marks in class than me, not to mention that most of the Ravenclaws all seem more intelligent than you lot, and not all of them are pure-bloods, by any means. Hell, that annoying Muggle-born in Gryffindor makes you all look like idiots, so that theory is a load of crap. Better breeding? Oh, that's a laugh! You think that inter-breeding with family members makes you better? That, my friend, is an evolutionary dead-end. Just because your father shagged his cousin, or maybe his sister, to give birth to you, does not make you better in any way, shape or form."

"You bastard!" the boy yelled and sprang forward with his fists clenched.

Harry almost laughed, it was so easy. He took a small side step and used the boy's momentum to smash him against the wall. He screamed, and fell to the floor with blood pouring from his nose. The boy scrambled back towards the dubious safety of his friends.

"You really are a bunch of stupid little shits, aren't you?" Harry spat. "Now, I'm going to tell you once and once only. If I catch any of you causing any trouble to anyone in this school again, I'm going to shove your meat and two veg into a meat grinder. Got it?"

"Yeah, we've got it," Harper spat. "Now, give us back our wands!"

"Sure," Harry said, and snapped the boy's wand in two before throwing it at him.

"You bastard!" Harper raged, staring at the broken pieces of his wand now lying on the floor.

"Oh, boo-hoo," Harry snorted. "Maybe this will teach you to behave yourself. Remember, next time it might be your neck I snap."

He then took the wand of the boy who had tried to lecture him on the superiority of pure-bloods and looked at it meaningfully.

"No, don't!" the boy shouted in alarm. "That wand has been in my family for generations! My father will kill me if anything happens to it."

"Oh, your story has touched my heart," Harry said pleasantly, before snapped the wand into four pieces. "Out with the old, in with the new," he grinned.

The boy fell to his knees, staring at the shattered wand with tears in his eyes.

Harry then threw the one unbroken wand at the remaining boy, who had stayed silent throughout the exchange. He caught it in surprise. The boy was even more surprised when a second later he was hit by an Incarcerous Charm, and he tumbled to the floor. Harper and his prideful friend followed seconds later.

"Are you girls alright?" Harry asked, finally having the chance to address Michelle and her friends.

"Oh, yes, Harry," Michelle cried and, to his surprise, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him. The other three girls tittered at her behaviour.

"Well, let me know if any of these fools give you any trouble in future, okay?" he said, hugging the upset girl gently and smiling knowingly at her friends.

"We will, Harry," Cerys agreed. "Normally, we wouldn't get caught like this, but these gits grabbed us as we were walking along the corridor and dragged us here."

"If they try anything like that again, they won't have any fingers left to grab anything," Harry said in a loud voice, knowing that the bound boys could hear him perfectly. "Come on, we'll leave this bunch here. I'm sure someone will find them eventually."

The three girls hurried past the incapacitated Slytherins, although Hannah did stop to blow a raspberry at Harper, and back towards the main corridor. Harry gently began to lead Michelle after them, but she tugged him back and looked up at him with a serious expression.

"Harry, I have to talk to you in private," she hissed. "It's really important!"

"Okay," Harry agreed warily. "Meet me at the Sundial Garden at six tonight. Is that alright for you?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," she whispered, before letting Harry go and hurrying after her friends.

Harry watched her leave, wondering what was so important that the young girl had to speak to him in private about.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After lunch, Harry decided to grab the bull by the horns and seek out his Head of House before be received the inevitable summons. He made his way to Snape's office and knocked firmly once.

"Enter," he heard Snape's voice drawl.

Without hesitation, Harry opened the door and marched in, stopping a few feet in front of Snape's desk. The man looked up at him with thinly-disguised contempt.

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape snapped at him.

"I assumed you would want to talk to me about that little altercation I had with six of my fellow Slytherins this morning," Harry said blandly. "I thought I'd save you the trouble of summoning me."

"No one has mentioned any altercation to me," Snape sneered.

"But you know about it anyway, don't you?" Harry countered.

"Indeed, and I seem to remember you promising not to attack any of your fellow pupils in this very office just a week ago," Snape pointed out coldly.

"The boys in question had managed to corner four second-year Hufflepuff girls and were tormenting them," Harry explained calmly. "If there is one thing I truly hate, it's a bully."

"Really? That surprising, bearing in mind your own father was one," Snape growled.

"I understand my father wasn't the most pleasant of people when he was younger, but he grew out of it," Harry said. "Besides, his bullying was quite selective, wasn't it? As I understand it, he tended to target those that supported pure-blood supremacy, or had a liking for the Dark Arts. I've never heard of him going after a bunch of defenceless female Hufflepuffs, for instance."

"James Potter was an arrogant, childish, pig-headed idiot who should have been expelled from Hogwarts a dozen times!" Snape raged. "You accused me of bigotry, but Gryffindor's golden boy received far more preferential treatment than I have ever given out to one of my Slytherins. Apparently, being a Quidditch star is sufficient for all your sins to be forgiven."

"Really? I rather understood that James Potter and Sirius Black held the record for the number of detentions they served, not to mention House Points lost. Of course, they were both talented students who won as many points as they lost, but I'm sure that's immaterial to you, isn't it?" Harry pointed out. "Besides, do you really think my mother would have married him if he was as bad as you make out?"

Snape glared at him with undisguised hatred, but said nothing.

"People do change as they get older, you know," Harry continued. "James Potter became a kinder, more compassionate man as he grew, which is why Lily Evans fell in love with him. You, on the other hand, became an angry, bitter individual as the years passed, interested in Dark Arts and eventually taking the Dark Mark. Do you really ever believe that my mother would have ignored those things and ended up with you? Honestly?"

For a second, Harry thought he had pushed the man too far, as his pale face turned a spectacular shade of red and he started to fumble in his robes, presumably for his wand.

"Life isn't fair, sir," Harry said in a placating tone. After all, Snape had information he needed, and that changed the rules of the game. "I can't blame you for loving my mother, either. From what I know of her, she was a remarkable woman."

Snape paused and stared at Harry in disbelief. He seemed to be struggling to find the words to speak. After a long pause, he seemed to calm down enough to articulate himself.

"You're not what I was expecting, Potter, not by a long chalk. How do you seem to know so much about everything?" the greasy-haired man demand.

"I have many sources of information," Harry replied evasively.

"McGonagall says that you deny being a spy for the Ministry," Snape pressed. "Personally, I don't see how you could have remained hidden for so long without their help, or be privy to so much classified information. Is that it, Potter? Are you Scrimgeour's little pet?"

"That's rich, coming from someone who's been on the end of Dumbledore's leash for years," Harry retorted. "Is it worth it? I mean, you're playing the most dangerous game in the world, acting as a spy in Voldemort's inner court. Are you really convinced that Dumbledore will really do anything useful with the information you collect at such person risk?"

"What choice do I have? The Dark Lord has to be stopped and the Ministry are incapable of opposing him. Our only chance is to back Albus Dumbledore. He's defeated one Dark Lord, remember, and he still might defeat a second," Snape snapped.

"Except he can't, can he? That idiotic bloody prophecy that you so neatly dropped into Voldemort's hands clearly states that he won't be the one to stop the Dark Lord. This stupid bloody scar on my forehead says that's my job," Harry replied, anger creeping into his voice.

"How can you possibly know these things?" Snape gasped.

"Oh, I know a great deal, but there is more that I still need to learn. What I would like to propose is a trade of information, including things I'm certain Dumbledore would never have dreamed of telling you. In turn, you have to answer my questions. How does that sound?" Harry asked intensely.

"Oh, no, Potter! I'm not betraying Dumbledore's confidence in me without good reason. More to the point, I want some assurance that what you'll tell me is truthful, and without knowing how you've come by your knowledge, I don't see how you can confirm anything," Snape replied in a low growl.

Harry pondered the matter for a moment, debating how much to tell him. In the end, he knew he'd have to give away more than he'd intended. He had to know what had become of the diary Ginevra Weasley had briefly possessed, and Snape was the only man who could tell him.

"Alright, I won't disclose all my sources, but I will tell you one," Harry said. "Peter Pettigrew."

"Pettigrew?" Snape gasped. "Is he still alive?"

"No," Harry confirmed flatly.

"Did you kill him, then?" Snape sneered. "The Dark Lord had most of his Inner Circle out looking for him for months. Most of us assumed his nerve had gone, and he'd fled overseas."

"It wasn't me that killed him, it was my guardian," Harry corrected. "Before he passed on, however, Peter told us many interesting things. Pettigrew probably knew a lot more about Voldemort than the Dark Lord ever intended him to. Being a rat and lurking in dark places just seemed to come as second nature to that man."

Snapes eyes narrowed. "This guardian of yours," he began, "he wouldn't have anything to do with that old man Lord Voldemort encountered in Godric's Hallow a few months ago, would it?"

Harry remaining steadfastly tight-lipped, but Snape seemed to take his silence as confirmation.

"That man greatly troubled the Dark Lord. In all his years, he has only every encounter one man who was a match for him with a wand: Albus Dumbledore. To find there was another person that rivalled that capability whom he knew nothing about was something of a shock," Snape mussed.

"Has Voldemort recovered from his injuries, then?" Harry asked mildly.

"Yes, although it was touch and go for a while. He barely got out of that building before it exploded," Snape confirmed. "The eight Death Eaters he had with him weren't so lucky."

A faint smile came to Harry's lips. Dear old Gellert would have been happy to know he'd taken so many of Voldemort's followers out with him, and even more pleased to know he'd hurt the Dark Lord so badly, too.

"That man was your guardian, I presume," Snape asked intently.

"He was, but please don't ask me for his name, because I won't give it. You can obviously see he was immensely talented, however, and I assure you he was an excellent teacher," Harry noted.

"Indeed, and now I find myself… intrigued as to who he possibly could have been. Only an incredibly powerful wizard would last more than five seconds against Voldemort, and this man nearly beat him," Snape pondered, his beady, dark eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"Beat him, possibly, but we both know that my guardian couldn't have killed him, right?" Harry challenged. "The best he could have hoped for was to have destroyed his current body."

Snape stared at Harry in amazement.

"You do know about Voldemort's Horcruxes, I assume?" Harry asked.

"I had suspicions that… wait! You said Horcruxes, as in plural?" Snape bellowed, nearly leaping out of his chair.

"Correct, plural," Harry confirmed. "He intended to make six Horcruxes in total which, along with the piece of his soul he retained in his body, would make the magically significant number seven, which appears to be the maximum number you can create without your soul degrading rapidly."

"Not even Herpo the Foul would have done such a thing! There was no way Pettigrew would have known this information," Snape challenged. "How did you discover this?"

"Ever heard of a man called Horace Slughorn?" Harry asked.

"Of course, he was my Potions teacher here at Hogwarts. In fact, Dumbledore tried to track him down last year in an effort to convince him to take over my present teaching post so I could move on to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was never able to find him, though," Snape explained.

"Well, you won't be able to track him down now; he's dead," Harry said bluntly. "I wouldn't feel too sorry for him, though. It appears dear old Horace was the one who gave the young Tom Riddle a lot of the information he needed to create his first Horcrux, which he did right here at Hogwarts when he was just sixteen. Slughorn refused to tell anyone exactly what he'd taught Riddle, at least until we found him, that is."

"Another dead body in your wake, Potter? You seem to be well on the path to becoming a Dark Lord yourself," Snape said angrily.

"Slughorn couldn't be allowed to live after we'd extracted a confession out of him. Voldemort was already hunting for him and if it had been discovered exactly what the man had told us, the Dark Lord would have tripled the protection around his Horcruxes. Besides, Slughorn discovered that blurting out details of the Darkest of magics comes at a price," Harry retorted.

"I see your logic," Snape agreed reluctantly.

"Anyway, my guardian and I have made a start on the destruction of these items and three have already been accounted for. I believe one, maybe two, other Horcruxes are right here at Hogwarts. I'm sure it doesn't take a genius to work out why I've come to this place now, does it?" Harry smirked.

"No, indeed," Snape pondered before looking at Harry intently. "Why are you telling me all this, Potter? Aren't you concerned that I'll just tell Dumbledore all this information, which, if I'm not mistaken, you would not wish to see happen? You seem very keen to keep him out of the hunt for these items, for some reason."

"You're correct, I don't want him involved, at all," Harry confirmed. "But to answer your question, no, I'm not concerned that you'll go to Dumbledore. In fact, before I leave this office, I'll have expected you to give me a Magical Oath not to disclose this information to anyone."

"And why would I do something like that?" Snape sneered.

"Because if you don't, I'm going to send Voldemort incontrovertible evidence that you've been acting as a spy for Dumbledore all these years. I'm sure you appreciate that if he learnt of your duplicity, your life span could be measured in minutes," Harry told the man bluntly.

Snape looked at Harry without malice. "You're most certainly not your father's son, are you?" he said, sounding almost impressed. "Alright, I'll give you your vow, but my question remains: why are you telling me all of this?"

"Very simply, you have information that I need to help track down the Horcruxes in this castle," Harry told him.

"Information? About the Horcruxes? Potter, until you confirmed it just a few minutes ago, I only suspected that such things could even exist. I didn't truly believe that even the Dark Lord, in all his madness, would go as far as to vandalise his own soul. I'm not sure I can help you," Severus said earnestly.

"Ah, I think you can," Harry smiled. "Back in her first year, you confiscated a magical diary from Ginevra Weasley. What happened to that diary?"

"Why would you… sweet Merlin! You believe the diary is a Horcrux?" Snape gasped.

"It certainly sounds like it could be one, a very dangerous one, at that. I believe the diary was planted on Weasley by Lucius Malfoy in an effort to discredit Ginevra's father. Lucius, fool that he is, didn't realise exactly what he had been given to look after, and thought it was just a Dark magic item he could use to his benefit. Weasley was bloody lucky you took it off her, otherwise she would probably have been possessed and killed, and Voldemort would have been back a few years earlier. What happened to the diary?" Harry asked urgently.

"It's in Dumbledore's office," Snape confirmed. "After I took the diary from Weasley, I showed it to the Headmaster who was fascinated by it. I left it in his care so he could research it further."

"Hmm, that's pretty much what I expected. Do you know why the old man hasn't tried to destroy the diary at all?" Harry asked thoughtfully.

"To be honest, once I handed the damn thing over to Dumbledore, I never gave it another moment's thought," Snape admitted. "I only happened to notice once when I was in his office. He has it locked away in a display case, no doubt heavily protected."

"I'll have to figure out a way to get it at some point. I suspect Dumbledore has some other items of mine, too, but it remains to be seen if he'll admit to it. I wonder if he intends to use the diary in some way?" Harry pondered.

"What do you mean? What possible use could he have for such an evil object?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know, but there must be a reason he's kept it intact. I wouldn't be surprised if he uses it in some attempt to test me, or to draw me into his sphere of influence. Of course, that would mean planting it on someone, just like Lucius did, but I wouldn't put it passed the cunning old bastard," Harry growled.

"I find it hard to believe that the Headmaster would stoop to such levels," Snape objected.

"Really? I believe he has a history of manipulating and using people. I'll have to head that off, if I can," Harry decided. "One other question, do you know of any secret room or space that could be used to hide an object anywhere within Hogwarts?"

"There are many secret rooms and passageways within the castle," Snape confirmed. "In fact, there are probably dozens that even the Headmaster is unaware of."

"That's what I was afraid of. I'll have to try questioning the resident ghosts, or perhaps the elves, to see what they know," Harry sighed, before glancing at his watch. "It will soon be time for my next class. I'd like you to give that Magical Oath now, please."

Snape pulled out his wand and gave the oath. While not as binding as an Unbreakable Vow, it didn't require a third person to act as a binder. Besides, Harry still held the sword of Damocles over his head, so a simple oath would suffice.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he stood to leave. "You know what we're up against now, so if you can think of anything that will be useful…"

"I'll let you know," Snape confirmed. "Don't be late for your next lesson. I've already had Professor Sprout complaining to me about your timekeeping.

With a simple nod, Harry left the room. He was fairly certain that he'd just collected his first ally, admittedly an unwilling one. Feeling happier, he hurried to get to his next class on time.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Severus Snape continued to stare at the door long after it had closed.

As he had stated, Potter was nothing like he had been expecting. He'd fully expected to hate the boy before he'd even met him, and he was pleased to say that he'd been correct in that assumption, even if his hate was for rather unexpected reasons.

The boy's comments about Lily Evans had cut him to the quick, even if he had to reluctantly admit they were probably true. He'd long harboured the hope that Lily would see that idiot of a husband in his true light and leave him. When Harry had been born, that hope had dwindled into nothing. Lily was not the sort of person to abandon a son, or ever deprive a child of a proper family. Even if she had come to hate James Potter, she would have remained with him out of a sense of obligation to her son. Of course, that was ignoring the fact that Lily and James appeared to have been perfectly happy together, damn them.

Now, Harry Potter had appeared from nowhere, and within the space of a single week had managed to turn Severus's world upside-down. Minerva had already confided that some of the things the boy had said sat very uneasily with her, and had led her to question her relationship with Albus Dumbledore. Following the short conversation he'd just had, Severus found himself in a similar position.

Why had Dumbledore kept him, his most important spy, in the dark about the Horcruxes? If he'd known about them, he could have tried to gather information on them. It caused Severus to start replaying many previous conversations he'd had with the Headmaster in his mind. There were many times when Albus had asked him strange, seemingly random, questions about events and people. Was the old man trying to interrogate him, without him even knowing? Suddenly, the world seemed a much more confusing place than it had been just a few hours before.

Severus knew he would also have to decide what he was going to do about Potter. Oh, he hated the boy without question. He hated his handsome looks, so reminiscent of his father. He hated the fact that whenever he looked at him he saw Lily's beautiful green eyes staring back at him. He hated him for the skill and knowledge he possessed, and his damn cocksure attitude.

But despite all that, Severus would not make the mistake of underestimating the boy. Potter clearly knew how the game should be played and, from what Severus could tell, was a powerful wizard. He was beginning to suspect that if anyone was going to take the Dark Lord down, it was more likely that it would be Potter rather than Dumbledore who succeeded.

As disgusted as he was by the idea, it appeared that he would have no choice other than to work with the boy. After all, it wasn't the first time that he'd been forced into an uneasy alliance, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Sighing bitterly, Severus stood and made his way out of the office. He had a lesson scheduled, and he needed time to think.

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Hunter and the Temptress

Phew, that was lucky! What would have happened to Harry and the gang if Scotland had gone independent? The Hogwarts Express would have been stopped at the border for passport checks, Dumbledore would have been sacked as Headmaster as the new government wouldn't have wanted a 'foreigner' in charge and McGonagall would probably have left to become the new Scottish Minister for Magic! Just as well they voted no.

Massive thanks as always to my rock, Arnel. Thank her for these rapid updates, folks!

The snow was lying patchily on the pine-needle covered floor of the forest, but it still made things difficult for Harry. Carefully, he slunk forward, avoiding the large piles, and letting his ears and nose do all the work. The crisp February air carried scents much further than normal, and he could occasionally catch the odour of his prey. He paused, knowing Gellert, who was trailing him in a Disillusioned state, would also halt.

There! Somewhere off to his three o'clock, he heard a twig snap under a heavy boot. His ears sprang up and he held his tail high, knowing that it would alert his guardian to the fact he had located their foes. Then, moving forward at a slow pace, he headed in the direction he had heard the sound.

The group proved to be further away than he had thought, a dip in the ground having carried the sound. As he caught sight of them, he went flat onto his belly and peered at them through the undergrowth. As they had expected, there were five of them; all dressed in the black robes and gruesome masks of Death Eaters. They were trudging along a narrow forest track, apparently oblivious to any danger.

"Remember, we need to identify the bodies," he heard Gellert whisper from behind him. "Avoid head-shots, and do try not to burn them to a crisp this time."

Barely aware he was doing it, Harry transformed back into his human form. "That was an accident," he hissed.

"Even so, be more careful!" Gellert insisted. "I'll take the three in the lead and you take the remaining two."

Nodding, Harry changed back into his wolf form and sprinted away. He widened the distance between him and his guardian so that when they did begin to attack the Death Eaters they would hopefully catch them in a cross-fire. As soon as he had set off, Harry had begun to count silently in his head. As soon as he reached ten, he dropped down again and transfigured. Drawing his wand, he took aim at the last Death Eater in line, now no more than fifty yards away.

Suddenly, a bright bolt of purple light shot out of nowhere and struck the lead Death Eater. He was literally blown off his feet, and landed in a mangled heap of twisted limbs. Before his body had hit the ground, a second beam of light was heading towards the next Death Eater, who had no chance to avoid it. Harry had not been idle, either. He watched in satisfaction as the chest of the last Death Eater in line seemed to explode, and he quickly sent two more curses at the other target.

This Death Eater was quick and managed to get a shield in place to deflect one of Harry curses. However, the man wasn't so lucky with the second one, which clipped him and sent him spinning. Harry sent two more spells towards the fallen body, and was relieved to see them both find their target. Even from this distance, he could hear the screams of his victim as he was ripped apart by the spells. With a grimace, he realised that Gellert would chastise him later for allowing the man to get a Shield Charm in place, at all.

Glancing over, he saw that his guardian had put all three of his nominated Death Eaters down. No one was faster or more accurate with a wand than Gellert Grindelwald, save perhaps Voldemort himself. Harry stood so his guardian would be able to see him. Sure enough, Gellert walked rapidly over to him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Well?" Gellert demanded as soon as he was within a few feet of Harry.

"I'm sorry, Gellert," he said apologetically. "I wasn't quite fast enough targeting the second Death Eater and my second curse was slightly off target."

"There is no 'not quite fast enough' or 'slightly off target' in combat, Harry, you should know that by now! You were too slow and your aiming was sloppy. When we get home I want you to spend three hours practising target shooting. I will expect a ninety per cent hit rate and an average engagement time of under a second. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed. In truth, he was annoyed with his own performance and couldn't fault the old man for calling him out on it.

"Good. Now, let's see what rewards our ambush has given us," Gellert said, and began to walk towards the fallen bodies. Harry followed him closely.

When they arrived at the bodies, they split up and began to remove the dead Death Eaters' masks. The first person Harry had killed proved to be a young witch with black hair that had purple streaks in it. He didn't recognise her at all and assumed she must have been a recent recruit. The second body proved to be more familiar.

"Over here," Harry called as crouched down next to the wizard who had managed to cast the Shield Spell. He knew the fact that the man was a skilled wizard and a fighter with a fearsome reputation would not lessen his punishment for not putting him down with his first spell, but it did make Harry feel slightly better.

"Ah, the very wizard we were hoping to see," Gellert nodded in approval as he peered at the body. "Is he dead?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent. Sever his hand and bring it with us. Hopefully, we will learn much useful information tonight," Gellert said with grin. "You may want to mutilate the body a little more, so it's not immediately obvious the hand is missing."

Harry nodded again, and grimly began dismembering the body of Amycus Carrow…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry walked down the busy corridor with many things on his mind. His conversation that morning with Severus Snape had radically changed his game-plan, and he would have to completely re-think his approach to the time he spent here at Hogwarts. On top of everything, he still had to have his promised conversation with Michelle that evening, too. What problems would the pretty young girl drop in his lap?

He was barely concentrating on his surroundings as he walked, when suddenly a familiar scent reached his nostrils. Trying to look casual, Harry took a glance behind him. Although the corridor was fairly busy, a chubby-looking girl with long, straggly blond hair caught his eye. She was dressed in the uniform of the Hufflepuff House, and Harry would lay odds he had never seen her at the school before. Seeing Harry was looking in her direction, the girl suddenly stooped and began fiddling with her shoelaces. It was all Harry could do not to growl in anger.

Picking up his pace, Harry headed along the corridor and then turned abruptly left. This took him down a less populated walkway. Listening carefully, he was certain that he heard footsteps following him. Time to spring an ambush.

As he reached the end of the corridor, he again turned left, and as soon as he was out of sight broke into a quick run. He then darted into a disused classroom and pressed himself against the wall, listening intently. He waited until the sound of footsteps were right outside the door, before he lunged out and grabbed the chubby girl roughly, dragging her back into the room. Slamming the door shut with his foot, he pressed the girl up against the wall with his left arm. In the meantime, his right hand reached into his robes and withdrew the knife he always kept with him. Bellatrix had harshly taught him the benefits of having a backup blade years before.

He pressed the knife forcibly against the girl's neck and she gasped in shock at his actions. Fearfully, she stared into his eyes, panting slightly. Grinning, Harry used his now free left hand to grab the girl's ample left breast and squeezed hard.

"Nice tits, Tonks," he smirked.

The girl's mouth dropped open in surprise, before an angry expression appeared on her face. Instantly, her face morphed into a more familiar heart shape, while her hair became shorter and turned bubble-gum pink. She glared at him.

"How the bloody hell did you know it was me?" she spat. "And do you want to stop touching me up, you pervert?"

"Might as well," he agreed. "After all, this pair you have now aren't nearly as impressive as the ones you just had. You should have kept them. Who knows, it might have actually put a smile on the lips of that miserable bloody werewolf you hang around with."

"You leave Remus out of this," she raged, "and while you're at it, get that bloody knife away from me."

"Nah, I can't do that, my dear Nymphadora," Harry said apologetically, and he increased the pressure of the blade against her skin just to prove his point. "You see, I might need this knife in a minute. That really depends on whether you tell me who sent you to follow me."

"Go to hell," Tonks snapped.

"Shut it, bitch," Harry growled. "One way or another, you're going to tell me who sent you here. Are you acting for the D.M.L.E. or the Order of the Phoenix? Which one is it?"

"How do you know I didn't just to decide to do this, anyway? You're a dangerous bastard, Potter, and I don't trust you in a school full of children. From what I hear, you've already hospitalised a bunch of kids," she said angrily.

"A bunch of kids? For your information, that was Lucius Malfoy's little brat and his gang of thugs, and they attacked me! If Draco hasn't taken the Dark Mark already, he will be doing soon, so don't give me any crap about me assaulting some harmless bunch of teenagers. Anyway, I know you don't wipe your own arse without orders from either Bones or Dumbledore, so don't give me that load of old bollocks. Who sent you?" Harry demanded drawing the blade against her pale skin slightly so it cut into her flesh.

"Aaaggh! Leave me alone, you traitorous bastard," she yelped.

"Me, traitorous? You little bitch! I should cut your throat for even daring to say that. You're the traitor to the House of Black, you hypocrite. You were the one who was going to sell Sirius down the river, you backstabbing cow," he raged.

"Sirius is a wanted man and, despite what you say, I've seen no evidence to prove he didn't kill those Muggles. If he's innocent like he claims, he should hand himself in and face a fair trial," she retorted.

"Fair trial? Are you really so stupid? The Ministry would set a Dementor onto him as soon as he showed his face. I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to try and polish him off, either, bearing in mind how much effort he expended to make sure Sirius didn't raise me. So don't spout the party-line at me, Nymphadora, it won't wash," he spat.

Tonks just glared at him defiantly. Realising he wasn't getting anywhere, Harry pressed her tightly against the wall, ensuring she couldn't move, at all. Then, with slightly more groping then was strictly necessary, he fumbled inside her robes until he found her wand, which he tossed over his shoulder. He then grabbed her and threw her roughly to the ground. She caught her shoulder on a desk as she fell, and lay on the floor moaning. Harry sheathed his knife, and drew his wand.

"Imperio," he cried. Instantly, Tonks stopped moaning and rolled over to face him. On his silent command, she rose to her feet, and stood meekly in front of him with her arms dangling at her side.

"Legilimens!" he cried out, entering her weakened mind. Fortunately, as Harry's question had been fresh on her mind, he found what he was looking for quickly. After a quick scan through her recent memories for anything else useful, he left her mind and began to ponder what he had just learnt.

It appeared he had been right with both of his guesses. Madam Bones, the head of the D.M.L.E., had agreed to Tonks taking a leave of absence from her usual job as an Auror on the suggestion of Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster had then tasked Tonks to follow Harry and learn what she could about him, on the understanding that he would share any information with Bones. The fact that he had a faction of the Ministry working against him, as well as the Headmaster, complicated things.

Harry glared at the still passive Tonks. She truly was a traitorous bitch, and had been quite prepared to hand her cousin into the Ministry, and certain death, just because Albus bloody Dumbledore had suggested it was the 'best course of action for everybody'. What he meant, of course, was that it was the best course of action for him and his grand master plan, the bastard.

Deciding that forewarned was at least forearmed, he Obliviated Tonks of the last fifteen minutes of her life, and sent her on her way after tucking her wand back into her robes. He would lift the Imperious Curse from her once she was a sufficient distance away.

Swearing to himself, Harry left the classroom and headed back along the deserted corridor. Things were already getting complicated, and he'd only been here a week. He was beginning to regret not leaving with Sirius when he had the chance.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was nearly six o'clock, and Harry had just made his way across the wooden bridge and was approaching the circle of stones that was known to all as the Sundial Garden. The sun was already low on the horizon, and autumn was already making its presence known. The dim light and falling temperatures suited a clandestine meeting perfectly.

He strode to the centre of the circle and looked around. There was no sign of Michelle yet, and Harry wondered if the young girl would, in fact, make an appearance. Almost the second that thought went through his head, Harry heard footsteps approaching. He turned and saw the pretty young girl running towards him.

"Harry, I'm so glad you came," she squealed. "I have to…"

"Not here," Harry interrupted. "Let's head over to the gatehouse. We'll be hidden from prying eyes there."

"Okay," she agreed nervously, and followed him to the small, stone gatehouse that divided the garden from the rest of the grounds. Once under cover, Harry turned expectantly to the small girl.

"What did you need to speak to me so urgently about?" he asked kindly. "Have those Slytherin boys been giving you trouble again?"

"No, nothing like that," she said. "I just had to warn you about all the horrible rumours that are being spread about you."

"Rumours? What sort of rumours?" Harry asked interestedly.

"There's this girl in our House called Susan Bones, and she's been spreading all sorts of filthy lies about you," Michelle said angrily. "She's been telling everyone that you're a Dark and evil wizard, and you shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts. She claimed you've killed loads of people and are really in league with You-Know-Who! Me and the girls have tried to tell everyone that you're not like that, but no one will listen to us. Bones and all her friends have convinced everyone in Hufflepuff that you're not to be trusted, but I know you're not like that. I don't know why they're saying these things."

Harry pondered this information for a moment. So, Madam Bones was getting her niece to do her dirty work for her, was she?

"Don't worry about it, Michelle," Harry began gently. "Susan Bones is the niece of Amelia Bones, who's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ever since I returned to the Magical world, she's had it in for me. She was one of the main contenders to become the Minister for Magic, but Rufus Scrimgeour beat her to it. The fact that I've publicly supported Scrimgeour annoyed Bones greatly, and she's been looking for ways to discredit me ever since. No doubt she's the one who's been passing on these rumours to Susan."

"So, she's trying to blacken your name just to help her career? That's awful," Michelle gasped.

"That, my dear, is politics," he smirked. "If I'd publicly supported her, she'd have been preaching what a wonderful person I was, and I'd bet I'd have loads of new Hufflepuff friends by now. I'm sure if Scrimgeour had a relative attending school now, he'd be using them in a similar fashion."

"But that's just wrong," Michelle insisted with a pout.

Harry just smiled, but secretly couldn't blame the stern Madam Bones from having a few concerns about him. He had, after all, killed quite a few Death Eaters, many in circumstances where he could have incapacitated them or accepted surrender from them. Of course, there was the whole thing about harbouring a wanted criminal, too.

"It can't be helped," Harry sighed. "Hopefully, my actions will silence a few of the doubters in time. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. That was very considerate of you."

Michelle beamed, before her smile faltered and she began to look nervous.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked as he noticed her changed expression. "Is there anything else wrong?"

"No, well, not exactly," she replied, looking embarrassed. "It's just that, err, I know I can't go to Hogsmeade or anything yet, but I was just sort of wondering… um… Harry, would you go out with me?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He'd realised that the young girl had a crush on him, but he never imagined for a moment that she would have the nerve to actually ask him out. Mentally, he sighed. She was truly a lovely little thing, but far too young for him. The last thing he wanted to do, however, was hurt her feelings. How could he let her down gently?

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm truly honoured that you would ask me out," he began carefully, "but…"

"But you think I'm too young, don't I?" she challenged, her voice wavering a little. "Can't you just me a chance? I'm really mature for my age, and I'd be a really great girlfriend, I really would!"

"I don't doubt that," Harry confirmed fondly, "and I'd be lucky to have such a beautiful witch as you, I really would. But, as much as I hate to say it, I am too old for you. I'm an adult in the wizarding world, and you're only just starting your second year. People would be up in arms if I started dating you. Imagine what Susan Bones would say, for instance."

"I don't care what they say," Michelle said, clearly fighting back tears. "We could keep it a secret, if you like. We could sneak out and meet, just like we're doing now."

Harry grimaced at her persistence. He needed to convince her that a relationship with him wouldn't be a good idea, perhaps even scare her off, a little.

"Michelle, you know I'm seventeen, right?" he began warily. "Well, seventeen-year-old boys have needs that we generally require our girlfriends to fulfil. Err… do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Sex," Michelle said bluntly, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Umm, yes, sex," Harry confirmed, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about this approach. "I'm afraid that your young body just isn't ready to give me what I need, sweetie."

"I'd… I'd be willing to try," Michelle stammered. "I'd do anything for you."

Harry gulped, his head suddenly full of images that would probably earn him a twenty year stretch in Azkaban if he ever tried to turn them into reality and, for once, he wouldn't be able to call it an injustice.

"Oh, my little angel, I'd simply be too worried about hurting you," Harry reasoned. "Plus, if anyone ever found out, I could be thrown in prison for a very long time. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

"No, I guess not," she replied, the first tear starting to drip down her cheek.

"Look, I'll make a deal with you. If on your seventeenth birthday you still want to date me, and we're both free, we'll get together. How does that sound?" he asked kindly.

"Seventeen?" she wailed. "But that's years and years away!"

"It's not so long," Harry disagreed, "and if we're meant to be, it will happen eventually. Besides, I promise we'll still be friends before then, if you still want me to be?"

"Of course I do," she said sadly, clearly beginning to accept defeat.

"Good, because I want to be your friend, too. Now, how about a hug for me?" he smiled.

Michelle leapt forward into his arms and clung on fiercely. He could feel her small body shake as she sobbed quietly against his shoulder. Gently holding her, he let the young girl cry herself out. Eventually, her weeping subsided, and she pulled away slightly, looking at him with red eyes.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked softly.

"Yeah, I… I bet you think I'm some stupid little girl, don't you?" she said in a raspy voice.

"No, actually I think you're wonderful," he countered.

"I should go back now," she replied, straightening her back and wiping the last few tears away from her eyes. "Someone will notice I'm gone soon."

"Will you be okay?" Harry asked and was met with a firm nod and a forced smile. He slowly leaned in, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Michelle blushed prettily. "Seventeen; I'm going to hold you to that, you know," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Harry smiled.

Then, with speed that astonished him, Michelle leapt up and kissed him firmly on the lips, before turning and running back in the direction of the school. Harry watched her go wistfully, wondering if everything at this school was going to be complicated. He had just turned to head back himself, when he caught a familiar scent.

"You might as well come out, I know you're there," Harry called out.

A second later, a smirking Ginevra Weasley appeared from behind the gatehouse. She leaned against the stone wall casually.

"Well, that was a shame. I thought I was going to get some juicy blackmail material, there," she grinned.

"You think I'm into fiddling with little girls, do you?" Harry asked, anger creeping into his voice.

"Calm down, Potter, I was only joking," she replied nonchalantly. "Actually, I thought it was rather sweet the way you dealt with that situation. That little Hufflepuff minx really has the hots for you."

"Yeah, that's me; a babe-magnet for twelve-year-olds," Harry snorted. "How much of that conversation did you hear?"

"Pretty much all of it," Ginevra admitted. "So, that top-heavy cow Susan Bones is spreading shite about you, is she? I gather she plans to follow in her aunt's footsteps and work at the Ministry, so being a lying bitch is probably a job requirement. You should probably knock her on her fat arse."

"Believe it or not, I'm not really a big fan of beating up girls, despite what I did to Draco's pet slag. Besides, if I do threaten her, all I'll do is confirm what everyone has been saying about me," Harry grumbled.

"Hmm, I guess you'll just have to look for an opportunity to take her down some other way, then," Ginevra mused. "Still, the other Houses always take anything the Hufflepuffs say with a pinch of salt. They do tend to be like a bunch of old washer-women."

"Unfortunately, I suspect that the Gryffindors will lap-up any dirt on me, and our fellow Slytherins won't care either way. As I haven't actually found any Ravenclaws that were willing to talk to me, I haven't got a clue what they would think," Harry groused.

"Your little recruiting drive isn't going so well, is it?" she laughed.

"Why exactly are you following me, Weasley?" Harry asked wearily. "Come to think of it, how did you find me out here?"

"By using my extreme cunning and fearsome intelligence, Potter, qualities that you appear to be lacking," she smirked. "Stick to beating people up, that seems to be what you do best."

"Maybe I should start now?" Harry countered.

"Oooh, so much for not wanting to beat up girls!" Ginevra taunted. "Anyway, I've actually come to tell you that I've considered your offer, and I'm willing to help. I do have some conditions, though."

"What conditions would those be?" he asked, trying to hide his surprise at Weasley's offer of support.

"Well, firstly, as discussed, my involvement would remain completely secret. If it was discovered that I was helping you, I suspect I'd be dead or crippled within a day. I'll help with any reasonable task, but only if I remain incognito, okay?" she declared in a no-nonsense way.

"Fine, so far. You'd be a lot more valuable to me working from the shadows, anyway," Harry confirmed.

"Cool. My second request might come as a bit more of a surprise, though," she told him with a mysterious look in her eye. "I want you to teach me to become an Animagus."

"What makes you think I know how to become one of those?" he hedged.

"Oh, come off it, wolfy! "she snorted. "You aren't nearly as careful as you seem to think you are."

"How do you keep managing to follow me without me noticing?" he demanded. "No one has ever been able to stalk me like you seem to be able to do."

"A girl has to keep some secrets," she shrugged. "Anyway, this is a deal-breaker. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Not many people actually succeed in becoming an Animagus, you know," he pointed out. "What happens if you have no natural ability to do it?"

"I'm positive I can do it," she said fiercely. "I'm sure I'm right on the edge of changing, but I just can't take that final step."

"What's your animal form?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know," she frowned. "I'll find out once I change, won't I?"

"No wonder you haven't managed to change," Harry scoffed. "You've got the whole process backwards! You're supposed to discover your inner-animal first, and then concentrate on changing. I'm surprised you haven't ruptured something by trying to force a change without a form in mind."

"Damn it, I knew I was doing something wrong," she cursed. "All I had to go on was an old, partially burnt book. I gather the school removed most of the literature concerning Animagi a few years back for some reason. I found an old text book that someone had obviously tried to destroy in a disused store room, and that's what I've been working from. It appears the pages on selecting your animal were burnt. So, will you help me fill in that missing information?"

"Okay, I'll help you," Harry said after a brief pause. "By the sound of it, you'll do yourself a mischief if I don't give you some guidance. But tell me, why do you want to become one so badly?"

"Are you kidding? That would be the coolest thing ever! Think of all the advantages it gives you. Personally, I've always hoped I'd be some kind of bird. I love flying and that would be a really useful skill to have," she said, her eyes shining at the idea.

"I guess I can't argue with that," Harry conceded. "I'll have to teach you the basics of meditation, unless you already know that. We'll also need a secure place for you to practice, away from prying eyes. You seem to know this place pretty well, can you think of anywhere?"

"Oh, I might know a little out-of-the-way spot we can use," she purred. "Meet me in the left-hand corridor on the seventh floor tomorrow night at six. We'll begin then."

Then, without another word, she turned and walked off. Again, Harry's eyes were drawn to the sensual swing of her hips and the graceful movement of her buttocks, which was emphasised by the tight Muggle jeans she was wearing. Poetry in motion.

With a grin, Harry began to slowly walk after her. Perhaps teaching the feisty Miss Weasley how to become an animal might be fun. Now, could he get away with convincing her that you had to be naked to transform the first time?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As was becoming usual, Harry sat alone at breakfast the next morning. In truth, he quite enjoyed the peace and quiet, which allowed him to organise his thoughts for the day. It only tended to be at lunch and dinner that the solitude began to eat at him. He rather missed those playful little talks he'd had with Weasley and Davis during his first few days here, but he doubted they would be repeated anytime soon. He was surprised, therefore, when Davis unceremoniously dropped into the seat opposite him and smirked at him.

Looking up at her, he noticed she had once again reverted to leaving the top buttons on her blouse undone sufficiently to reveal a glimpse of her amble cleavage. Her hair looked like it had just been washed and was positively luxurious, while her lush lips were a rich shade of red. With her tie unknotted and a mischievous grin on her face, she looked like every red-blooded male's dream of a naughty school girl. Harry tried to ignore the sudden tightening of his underwear and looked her in the eyes.

"Can I help you with something, Miss Davis?" he asked coolly.

"Oh, don't be like that, Harry," she purred. "I haven't seen you for days. I just thought I'd come and say hello."

"Hello," he said blandly, his expression remaining unchanged.

"You know, you and I should really get to know one another better," she began, leaning across the table slightly to permit Harry a good view down her blouse. "I'm sure we could become really good friends."

Harry frowned. He knew Davis was a smart girl, and this clumsy seduction was not like her at all. He watched distrustfully as her fingers gently caressed his.

"You didn't seem interested in becoming my friend before," Harry noted carefully as she continued to stroke his hand.

"I realised I was being a fool; after all, big, handsome boys like you just don't grow on trees, do they? Maybe I decided we should get more… intimate," she admitted, looking at him lustfully, before whispering in a low voice. "You get me so turned-on. Would you like to slip your hand under the table and find out just how exactly how turned-on I am?"

It was all he could do not to leap over the table and shag her right there and then. Her voice, so low and sultry, sent shivers down his spine, while her body was lush and desirable. Still, he was not stupid and he knew there must be a reason for her sudden change of attitude. Davis had said it herself, if she displayed any signs that she was friendly with him, she could expect a world of hurt from Malfoy and his goons, unless…

"Did Malfoy put you up to this?" he demanded harshly.

"What? Of course not! Why on earth would he want me to be friendly to you?" she spluttered, looking highly flustered.

"Oh, so you could discover information about me? I'm sorry, Davis, as much as I would love to help you with your little dampness problem, I don't trust you an inch. I'm not about to be caught with my pants down, if you get my meaning," he said firmly.

"Your loss, you big poof," she huffed and flounced off.

Harry continued to eat his breakfast. Once he'd finished, he stood and walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring the hate-filled stares levelled in his direction by his fellow Slytherins. He headed up to the third floor and found an unused classroom which he entered, locking the door behind him.

Only when he was certain of privacy, did he start to unfold the small, tightly-wrapped piece of paper that Davis had skilfully slipped into his hand while she'd been blatantly flirting with him. The paper unfolded to a size of about four inches square, and was filled with miniscule writing. Taking out his wand, Harry enlarged the paper so he could read it better.

Potter

Apologies about the naff pass I've just made at you, but Malfoy had the wonderful idea that I should seduce you so I can lure you into an ambush. I told him that there was no way you'd fall for such an obvious ploy, but Malfoy is an idiot, as you know.

As I'm sure you'll see through my clumsy attempt to bed you (and, really, you don't know what you're missing) I suspect they'll come up with something else very soon. I gather their plan is to try and entice you to some deserted corner of the castle and waylay you. Again, I doubt that you'd be daft enough to fall for such a stupid idea, but I thought I'd better warn you, anyway.

Just remember, you now owe me! I never intended to get dragged into any of this, and I'm putting my neck on the block by passing on this warning. I'll expect to be rewarded for my efforts and, no, I don't think that a good shag is sufficient payment (although it does sound quite appealing).

Tracy

Harry grinned to himself. Despite her assertion that she couldn't help him, Tracy had obviously felt compelled to pass on a warning that Draco was planning to make a move. Perhaps she would still be useful to him after all.

Feeling a lot happier, Harry left the classroom, memories of Tracy's husky voice and nubile young body filling his mind. It was just a shame he didn't have time for a cold shower before his next class.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"What is this place?" Harry asked as Ginevra led him through the door that had miraculously appeared in the wall just moments before.

"The elves call it the Come and Go Room," Ginevra informed him. "I quite often make a habit of eating meals in the school kitchens, and I've made friends with some of the elves. They told me about this place a while ago after I asked them if they knew of any out-of-the-way places I could use to avoid my fellow Slytherins. This is my secret place, Potter, and I'm trusting you with that secret. If you blab about this to anyone, I swear I'll cut your balls off with a rusty penknife and make you eat them."

"That's what I like about you, Weasley, you're so sweet natured," Harry laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm not joking about this. This room has been a godsend to me, and if any of my fellow Slytherins find out about it, you're dead," she snapped.

"I promise not to tell another living soul," Harry told her earnestly. "So, why does this room look like someone's kitchen?"

"The room changes to match whatever you wish for," Ginevra explained, sounding a little embarrassed. "I figured we'd want a safe and friendly environment to practice in, so I imagined the kitchen at home. My mother used to give me lessons in there when I was young, and it was the one room where all my family gathered at the same time. Of course, these days the real thing is a lot less welcoming for me, but I still have fond memories of how it used to be. Come on, let's grab a chair and begin."

She led Harry over to the large kitchen table and sat herself down on one of the miss-matched chairs positioned around it. Harry grabbed the chair next to her, and turned it so he would be facing her directly.

"Okay, as I explained before, you need to discover your inner-animal before you can progress any further," he began. "In many ways, selecting your animal is a similar process to a shaman discovering his spirit guide. To do so, you need to enter a meditative state. Have you ever done that before?"

"No, never," she replied nervously.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured her. "It's a relatively easy thing to do. You need to be completely relaxed, though. The first thing I want you to do is just become as calm as possible. Whatever problems or hang-ups you have, just put them aside for the moment. Just take some slow, deep breaths and relax your body."

"Okay," Ginevra said, and breathed deeply. Harry watched her patiently as she sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to centre herself. When she was ready, she looked up at him expectantly.

"Nice and calm? Good. Right, what I want you to do next is close your eyes and imagine yourself in a place where you feel completely safe and at peace. Do you have a place like that?" he asked.

"I… err, yes. The woods near my home, I guess. I always used to love playing there when I was a kid, and later when I wanted to avoid my family I'd go there and hide myself away. There's a river that runs by the edge of the wood where I like to sit with a book and read. It's really peaceful there," she said with a faint smile on her lips.

"That sounds perfect," he said approvingly. "Imagine that it's a beautiful day, and the sun is shining. You're lying in the shade of one of the trees, and you can hear a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The river is flowing nearby, and you can hear the water trickling past. How does that make you feel?"

"Wonderful," she replied, her smile becoming more radiant. "It's heavenly."

"It certainly sounds beautiful," Harry agreed, a matching smile coming to his lips. "Now, breathe in the air. What exactly can you smell in the wood?"

"I can smell the grass and, oh, the bluebells! There was always loads of bluebells growing in the wood during spring. The air's always so fresh and clear, here, too," she told him dreamily.

"That's wonderful," he said, watching her carefully. He'd never seen the girl so relaxed and happy, and it made her look a completely different person. While he'd thought her extremely attractive before, when she let her guard down and allowed herself to relax, she was truly beautiful. "Okay, remember, this is your place. Here, no one can hurt or upset you, okay? If, at any time, you feel threatened or unhappy, come back to this spot."

"Alright," she agreed.

"Now, is there a large tree anywhere near you?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah. There's a large willow tree just next to me, with its leaves dangling in the river. I always love sitting here," she told him.

"Excellent. Now, I want you to imagine a door in that tree, large enough for you to pass through. Got that?" She nodded in confirmation. "Now, I'm going to count down from ten, and when I reach one, I want you to go through that door. On the other side is the otherworld, a spirit realm, where you should encounter your animal. Ready?"

"Yes," she said, a hint of excitement evident in her voice.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, get ready, five, four, three, two… and one. Pass through the door, Ginevra," he instructed her.

For a few moments, there was complete silence, before Ginevra let out a gasp.

"What do you see?" Harry asked.

"It's… it's… bloody incredible," she gulped. "I'm standing at the edge of a great forest, and I can see huge mountains in the distance. There's a huge lake off to my right, and it's so blue! Oh, it's just breath-taking. The grass is so lush and green, and there are flowers everywhere. This place is so beautiful!"

"Your animal should be nearby," he reminded her. "Perhaps just in amongst the trees?"

"No, I can't… wait! There!" she exclaimed excitedly. "It's… oh, she's stunning!"

"Talk to your animal," he encouraged her. "Make friends with it."

"Hello," Ginevra called out hesitantly, before a radiant smile appeared on her face. "She's come over to me! She's sniffing my hand and… oh, she rubbing her face against me. Can I touch her?"

"Of course," Harry confirmed. "She's part of you. Do whatever you think feels right."

It was a long while before Ginevra spoke again, but the look of happiness on her face suggested she was bonding successfully with her animal form. A good half-hour passed before the smile suddenly vanished from her face.

"She's gone!" Ginevra exclaimed, sounding a little panicky. "She just suddenly upped and left! What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry assured her. "It's just time for you to return now. You've met your animal now, so it's time for you to come back and learn how to join with her completely."

"Oh, good," she replied sounding relieved. "How do I return?"

"Just turn around and pass back through the door in the tree," he told her. "Return to your safe place."

"Okay, I'm back in the wood," she confirmed after a second.

"Open your eyes," he said simply.

She did as she was instructed, and Harry found himself looking into her large, brown eyes as they stared back at him. He couldn't stop a wide grin from forming on his face.

"That was brilliant!" she exclaimed, and she launched herself forward to hug him. Harry laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. The embrace only lasted a moment, but it made him feel genuinely happy, perhaps more happy than he'd felt since Melinda had died.

"You did really well," Harry told her as she pulled away. "Very few people discover their animal on the first attempt. What was it?"

"I'm like you: a wolf!" she declared happily.

Harry's jaw dropped. The chances of them both having the same animal were astronomical, the shock must have registered on his face, as Ginevra instantly frowned.

"What? What's the matter?" she demanded. "Is there something wrong with being a wolf?"

"No, of course not," Harry said quickly. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I mean, just think of all the possible types of animal you could be. There are millions of different creatures out there. The chances of you having the same one as me are just enormous."

"Yeah, but didn't you say something about your animal being a reflection of the person you are? That's going to limit your choices a bit, isn't it?" she reasoned. "I mean, who's going to turn into a slug, or something?"

"Actually, I'm met people who do have insects for the Animagus form, so it is possible," he countered. "But I do see your point. The thing is, like a spirit guide, the form is not only a reflection of personality, but is also generally demonstrates a facet of yourself that you require in order to grow as a person. For you to become a wolf, you must need some of the character traits of that animal to become a more rounded person."

"What was it that you required, then?" Ginevra asked curiously.

"Well, in my case it was an unspoken need to distance myself from normal society. Wolves tend to live on the edge of civilisation and are only concerned with their own, small packs. I also needed to embrace a certain ruthlessness and single-mindedness, too. In terms of physical requirements, when I was younger I was terribly skinny and had appalling eyesight. My wolf form gave me strength and endurance, not to mention enabling me to throw away my glasses. Trust me, those things were the greatest virginity protectors ever invented," he snorted.

"Okay, so in my case, it could mean that I need to find myself a new pack, too," she speculated. "My family have virtually disowned me in recent years, so maybe it's a reflection of my need to let them go and move on."

"It's possible," Harry agreed.

"I'm not sure about what physical attributes it would bring to me. I've got good eyesight and hearing, and I'm pretty fit, so I don't know what else it could help me with," she mused.

"How is your sense of smell?" he asked. "That's one thing my wolf-sense has brought me in spades. It's incredibly useful to be able to detect a person just from their scent, I can tell you."

"Ah, so that's how you do it," she declared triumphantly. "I could never work out how you knew Parkinson and Zabini were behind you that first day of school. You're right; that would be a wonderful skill to have. So, what's my next step?"

"Well, as we've been here over two hours, I think we should call it a night," Harry said, before rapidly silencing the girl as she started to protest. "I do have some homework for you, however. I want you to start visualising your wolf. Think about every single detail of it: its fur, its claws, its tail, just everything. You'll need a vivid image of her in your head when you start to try to change."

"Okay, I can do that," Ginevra agreed. "When can we meet up again?"

"I don't think we should establish any sort of pattern to these sessions," Harry pondered. "Someone is bound to notice it we're both missing on the same days at the same time. Tomorrow's Friday, so let's meet up on Saturday morning. How does that sound."

"That sounds good," she agreed.

"Excellent," he said, standing and pushing his chair back in preparation of leaving. Ginevra, however, apparently had other subjects she wanted to discuss.

"So, did Tracy manage to pass on a message to you?" Ginevra asked, her expression returning to the guarded one that she normally wore.

"Yes, she did. Did she mention it to you then?" he asked.

"I was hanging around the common room when Draco came up with his marvellous idea that she should seduce you," Ginevra noted coolly. "Davis told him repeatedly that it wouldn't work, but as he'd seen you two talking several times, he got it into his head that you had a thing for her."

"It was a pretty obvious pass that she made at me, though," Harry pointed out. "Was Malfoy annoyed at her that it didn't work?"

"Nah, with all that make-up she wore, and the fact she practically had her tits hanging out, Draco couldn't believe that you hadn't taken the bait. In fact, he now thinks your gay," Ginevra smirked, clearly amused.

"Yes, well, I'm not going to get too worried about the opinion of a boy who uses that much hair product," Harry replied smugly. "Besides, he's shagging a girl with a face like a bulldog and the personality to match, so what does that say about his taste?"

"Oh, Draco has other girls on the go, apart from Parkinson. Still, I'm surprised that you didn't at least try to play along for a while," she continued. "If you'd played it right, you could have at least got a quickie out of it. Davis did say she wouldn't have minded too much if she had to go through with it."

Harry looked at the red-haired girl carefully. The happy, carefree young woman he had just seen had vanished, to be replaced by the guarded, aggressive girl that now stood before him. Had he just been privileged to get a brief glimpse of the real Ginevra Weasley, he wondered?

"If I'm going to shag a girl, it will be because both of us want to, not because Draco Malfoy thinks it's a good idea," Harry said adamantly. "Besides, it would have seemed too much like manipulation on my part, and I hate being manipulated myself."

Ginevra nodded and actually favoured him with a brief smile. "Come on, then," she said. "We'd better get back to the common room."

She stood and made her way to the door with Harry following closely behind. He had the feeling that he'd just passed some sort of test, and for that, he was very glad.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Come, Death, Come…

So, why do I think I'm going to get a storm of protest after the end of this chapter? Never mind, I've got my tin helmet on and the bunker is built.

Thanks to Arnel for beta reading and her persistence in looking up the word 'jacksie'. Yes, America, it does mean what you think it does.

The three men all crowded around Bathilda's bed, all wearing matching sorrowful expressions. Gellert leaned over and smoothed back the old woman's thinning hair.

"Gelli, is that you?" she croaked in a feeble voice.

"Yes, Auntie, I'm here," he replied, the emotion thick in his voice.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, "and little Harry, is he there, too?"

"I'm here, Auntie," Harry said quietly, "and Sirius, too."

"All my boys," she whispered. "All my sweet, sweet boys are here."

For a second, it seemed that Bathilda was going to drift off to sleep, but her eyelids gradually opened and she blinked, as if trying to focus.

"I'm so glad you came back to me, Gelli," she said in a trembling voice. "I was so worried about you after you ran away. They said such dreadful things about you, you know."

"And most of those things were true, remember?" he replied gently. "Don't you remember that I went to prison for my crimes?"

"Oh, yes, I remember now," she said absently. "You always were such a rascal, you know. Your poor parents virtually despaired of you, but I knew there was a kind heart beating within that chest of yours. You always were my favourite nephew."

"And you were always my favourite relative, bar none," Gellert told her with a smile. "You always had time for me when no one else did. Without you, my soul would have been damned a long time ago."

"You'll look after young Harry, won't you?" she begged in a slightly panicky voice. "The poor boy has such a difficult journey ahead of him. Promise me you'll look after him."

"I will. I promise," Gellert told her solemnly, taking her frail hand.

"You're a good boy… so good…" she trailed off.

"Bathilda?" Gellert said cautiously. He put a gentle hand to her cheek and then turned her wrist over, seeking a pulse. He found none.

"Is she gone?" Sirius asked reluctantly.

"Yes, she's passed on," Gellert replied with a sigh, before laying her hand across her chest tenderly.

"Can't we do anything?" Harry asked, sounding close to tears.

"She was extremely old and very sick, Harry. It is a mercy to let her go," Gellert told him sadly.

"Merlin, I'm going to miss her," Sirius said quietly. "She really was a saint."

"Indeed , without her I would have probably ended up treading a path considerably darker than the one I chose, which is saying something considering my long list of crimes," Gellert noted. "I owe her everything. Even when I came to her as escaped convict with a famous boy snatched from his home by my side, she didn't turn me away. She truly was a most wonderful woman."

By now, Harry had tears running down his cheeks. "What are we going to do without her?" he demanded shakily.

"We carry on, my boy," Gellert told him firmly. "Death comes to us all eventually, as that is the way of the universe. Without death, our lives on this planet would be meaningless. One day, hopefully a long time from now, you will meet Bathilda again in some far distant place, just as you will meet your mother and father again. Remember Bathilda warmly, and keep her in your heart, Harry, but do not mourn for her overlong, because that is the last thing she would have wanted. Death is the natural order of things, and the one thing that unities all men."

"Not all men," Sirius disagreed bitterly.

"Indeed, and that travesty against nature will need to be dealt with soon," Gellert agreed. "Come, let us go into the other room a while and let dear Bathilda sleep in peace. I feel the need for a strong drink."

"Yes, I agree," Sirius said, before reaching over and gently stroking the old woman's hand. "Rest easy, Bathilda, my dear. You gave me a home here despite of everything, and I'll always love you for that."

He turned and slowly left the room. Harry, his emotions running high, just grabbed her other hand and kissed it once, before practically running from the room. Gellert watching him go, before turning and once again gently stroking his Great Aunt's hair.

"I'll keep him safe, Bathilda," he promised, "even if it costs me my own life."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Walking along a quiet corridor the next day, Harry caught the scent of a familiar person. Taking a swift left turn, he walked down a set of spiral stairs and found Tracy Davis waiting nonchalantly at the bottom. She smirked at him.

"Well, if it isn't the Boy Who Lived, himself. Fancy meeting you here," she said teasingly.

Harry smiled as he approached her. "You've been talking to Ginevra, haven't you?" he asked, figuring that would have been the only way that she would have known he would find her down here.

"Oh, you know us girls, we do so love to gossip," she replied. "So, I take it Draco hasn't tried anything yet?"

"Not as yet," he confirmed. "I can't believe that idiot actually believed that terrible pass you made at me was for real. I'm glad to see you've wiped all that muck off your face, by the way. You really don't need it."

"Oh, what a sweet thing to say," she grinned. "Although I am disappointed you didn't play along. Just think of the fun we could have had, all with Malfoy's approval, too."

"That was the bit that I didn't like. I refuse to do anything that little prick actually wants me to do. Besides, I genuinely thought he would get suspicious if I caved in to that act you pulled. Are you actually telling me that he thought that was a genuine attempt at seduction?" Harry asked in an incredulous voice.

"Draco expects all witches to act like sluts," she shrugged. "If Pansy Parkinson is your main frame of reference, you tend to get a distorted idea of what women are actually like."

"What exactly does he see in her?" Harry asked curiously. "I mean, she's a vicious little bitch and she's not the most attractive person in the world, is she? I saw that girl you said Draco's betrothed to the other day, and she's a million times better than Parkinson. Is Draco genuinely in love with Pansy, or something?"

"Love?" Tracy snorted. "The only person Draco loves is himself. I tell you why he keeps Pansy about: she'll do absolutely anything for him! She's a grade 'A' slut who will perform any act for her darling Draco, no matter how degrading. Plus, I share a bedroom with the girl and I have to admit she's got quite a nice body, one she's quite willing to share, too."

"Really? And here was me thinking this was a school. I seem to have walked into a brothel by mistake," he snorted.

"You'd certainly think so sometimes. Draco likes to keep it quiet, but most of the Slytherin upper years know that he, Pansy and Blaise are fond of having little threesomes together," Tracy grinned evilly. "Many are the time I've seen Parkinson come down to breakfast walking bowlegged AND finding it uncomfortable to sit down, if you get my drift. Mind you, I've seen Zabini sitting down a bit tenderly, too, a few times. I guess Draco's not too worried about where he sticks it."

"Wow," Harry said, a little surprised at the level of depravity that existed at Hogwarts.

"You have to remember, Draco Malfoy has ruled the roost here for years. What he wants, he gets. You put that power in the hands of a perverted little teenager like him and anything can happen," Tracy informed him bitterly. "Of course, there was a tradition of 'breaking in' young witches within Slytherin long before Draco got here, but he's turned it into an art form."

"Have you…" Harry began.

"Don't ask about my experiences here, Potter," Tracy interrupted angrily. "I did what I had to just to survive, and I won't let the likes of you judge me."

"I wasn't trying to judge you," Harry told her calmly. "I was just trying to understand what you've been through."

"Yeah, well, as I told you, being a half-blood does at least mean that a lot of boys wouldn't touch me, but not all of them. I was a fourth year when one of the seventh years at the time decided I needed to be broken in," she told him regretfully.

"I'm sorry," Harry said simply.

"It happens," she shrugs. "The bastard wasn't exactly gentle with me, but I got off lightly compared to some."

"What about Ginevra?" Harry asked suddenly. "Has she had to go through this crap, too?"

Tracy's eyebrow arched. "Still interested in the lovely Miss Weasley, are you? No, Ginevra is something of an exception within the House, but she's had to fight for it, tooth and nail. By her third year, she had boys lining up to be the first to have a crack at her. Unfortunately for them, her eldest brother is a curse-breaker and taught her all sorts of nasty little spells. She's been vigorously defending her honour ever since, as the number of Slytherin boys that have had to visit the hospital wing will testify."

Harry nodded. For some reason, the fact that Weasley had managed to protect herself made him feel better.

"So, how are we going to play it from here on?" Tracy asked. "You realise that it might be a good idea to let Draco think I've managed to seduce you? Hell, if you're a good boy I might actually do it, just to give the whole thing extra realism, of course."

"Of course," Harry agreed with a smirk. "The trouble with that plan is that Draco will then expect you to lead me into an ambush, or order you to try and stab me in the back, or something."

"Yeah, but at least we'd know when he was going to make his move that way," she pointed out.

"Maybe, but what happens when it doesn't work? If Malfoy even suspects that you've tipped me off, he'll be vicious, and I can't always be there to protect you," he replied.

"I guess," she agreed, although didn't look total convinced. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to wait for him to spring his ambush, and then I'm going to kick his arse," Harry grinned confidently. "I've fought off attacks from fully-fledged Death Eaters, so Draco and his little gang don't worry me too much."

"Don't underestimate him," Tracy warned. "He's received loads of extra training, most of it in the Dark Arts. He might be a cowardly little shit, but he's a sneaky bastard, too. Try to stay away from deserted places and keep your guard up, okay?"

"Oh, Miss Davis, you do care!" Harry smirked at her.

"You're fairly easy on the eyes, and you do have a cute little arse. I'd miss looking at it if anything happened to you," she shrugged.

Harry laughed and turned to go.

"Oh, and Potter? If you do change your mind about the whole seduction thing, do let me know. I'm sure I can arrange… something," she purred.

"I'll keep that in mind, Davis," Harry confirmed with a wink.

He climbed back up the stairs and headed to his next class, all the time wondering why the hell he hadn't accepted Tracy's offer.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As it turned out, Malfoy made his move the very next day.

Harry was just leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, when a scared-looking second year Slytherin boy rushed up to him clutching a note. Harry took it from him and looked at it suspiciously. The note said that Professor Sprout wanted to talk to him in greenhouse six as soon as possible.

The fact that it was a Saturday immediately put him on his guard. Why on earth would Sprout want to talk with him on a weekend? The fact it was the Herbology teacher was suspicious, too. Sprout often missed meals in the Great Hall simply because she spent so much time in her greenhouses, a fact well known to most students and therefore something that could potentially be used to someone's advantage. Still, the note appeared authentic, and the handwriting certainly looked like Sprout's.

Deciding he had no choice, Harry started to make his way towards the greenhouses. The fact that his route would take him through a lot of corridors that would probably be deserted on a weekend was not lost on him. He patted his wand, which was safely tucked up his sleeve, and remained vigilant. Getting over to the greenhouses would involve crossing over a lot of open ground, but he was more worried about the dark corridors he had to traverse before he got to that point.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, his keen ears heard the sound of scurrying footsteps behind him. A moment later, he caught the scent of hair oil and expensive aftershave from somewhere ahead, the smell being carried by the frigid air that circulated around the ancient castle. He was walking into an ambush.

Taking a couple of quick steps forward, he darted into an alcove set into the wall. Once out of immediate sight, he cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, followed by a Silencing Charm. Once he was invisible and could move in complete silence, he stepped forward and looked back the way he'd come. After waiting a short while, he saw a flash of a face as it briefly peered around a corner before vanishing again. A few seconds later, the face reappeared, revealing that it was Theodore Nott who was following him. Nott had a worried expression on his face, and appeared to be highly concerned that he couldn't see him. The boy hurried forward, and Harry stepped back to let him pass.

Once Nott had jogged passed the spot where he was standing, Harry hurried after him. They carried on down the corridor before they reached the small hallway that led to an outside door, normally the quickest route to the greenhouses. As they reached the hallway, Nott stopped and quietly called out.

"Where's Potter? Have you seen him?" the rat-faced boy asked nervously. A second later, Draco Malfoy's head appeared from behind a suit of armour that was situated there.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?" Malfoy hissed. "Potter will be here any second!"

"But I was right behind him," Nott protested. "He should be here by now. There's no other way he could have come."

"Bollocks!" Malfoy swore, and leapt out from behind the suit of armour. A second later, he was joined by Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle, who had all hidden behind various objects or had lurked just outside the door. They congregated in the middle of the hallway.

"He can't be far away," Parkinson protested. "Do you think one of us had better go and see if he found another route to the greenhouse?"

"Yeah, if he's already talking to Sprout then we can try and get him when he makes his way back. Nott, you go and check, okay? Zabini, you double back and make sure he hasn't just turned off somewhere. Don't be longer than five minutes, though, we'll need you here when Potter makes an appearance," Malfoy instructed them.

Harry was surprised; it appeared that Professor Sprout had indeed summoned him, and somehow Malfoy and his gang had found out about it. Still, now was not the time to speculate about how that happened, he needed to strike while they were all in one nice, tight little group. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small cylindrical object. Pulling out the pin that was attached to it, he counted three seconds and threw it at the group of Slytherins, before turning his back and covering his ears.

The device exploded. Although it was designed primarily to produce a blinding flash of light and a loud noise, in the confined space of the hallway its effects were amplified. The results were devastating.

Harry stood, a little shaken by the force of the stun grenade, even though he'd been prepared for it. Malfoy and his gang weren't so lucky. All six of the Slytherins were rolling on the ground, most holding their heads and moaning. Crabbe seemed to have caught the worst of the blast, and his face was bleeding profusely. Wasting no time, Harry sent a Stunning Spell into each of them, leaving them unconscious on the floor. Although they had probably been temporarily blinded, he wasn't taking any chances. He then searched each of the inert bodies until he found their wands, before snapping them and dropping them into a neat pile.

As he started to make his way out the door, he noticed Parkinson's skirt had ridden up, revealing a lot of very shapely leg. Tracy had been right; the girl did have a very attractive figure. Deciding to have a little fun, he knelt down beside her and gently lifted up her skirt, revealing lace-trimmed, red panties. Quickly, he hooked his thumbs around the waistband and slid them down her shapely thighs and over her feet, admiring her neatly-trimmed black bush as he did so. He then pulled her skirt back down and shoved the liberated knickers into his pocket. Parkinson was going to have something of a mystery on her hands when she woke up. Smirking, he left the building and headed towards the greenhouses, which were situated about fifty yards away.

After locating greenhouse six, Harry entered and immediately heard the sound of rather tuneless humming. Making his way along a row of wooden tables laden with boxes of seedlings, he located Professor Sprout busy re-potting a large plant with spiky green leaves and purple flowers. Noticing his arrival, she stood and frowned at him.

"Ah, Mr Potter, you're here at last. While I'm aware that it's a Saturday, if I request the presence of a pupil of this school, I do expect them to come and find me in a timely fashion," she scolded him.

"I'm sorry, I got delayed," he replied blandly. "May I ask why you've summoned me on a weekend? If this is some sort of disciplinary matter then surely my Head of House should also be attending."

"Well, it's not exactly a disciplinary matter… yet. Whether that changes very much depends on what you have to say for yourself," Sprout said stiffly. "Tell me, Mr Potter, do you know a girl named Michelle Chambers?"

"Michelle? A second year in your House? Yes, I know Michelle. Nothing's happened to her, has it?" he asked in concern.

"Would you care to explain how you know this young lady?" Sprout demanded.

"I met her and her friends on the Hogwarts Express. We shared a compartment together and they were very helpful in telling me all about the school. Later, I caught a group of Slytherin boys trying to intimidate them and broke it up. Why do you ask?" Harry said, looking at the small, grubby teacher intently.

"I've recently had to discipline Miss Chambers for attacking one of her fellow pupils," Sprout explained. "The poor girl was merely sitting chatting to her friends, when Miss Chambers, completely without provocation, attacked her. Later, when I questioned Miss Chambers and inquired why she did it, she just repeatedly stated that that the group had been telling lies about you. Now explain to me, Mr Potter, why a twelve-year-old girl, in a different House from you, should feel the need to viciously attack one of her Housemates merely because she was gossiping about you. What exactly is your relationship with Miss Chambers? Do I need to get her parents involved in this, perhaps?"

Harry bristled at the implication of Sprout's words.

"As I stated, I'm very fond of Michelle. She and her friends have been extremely friendly and welcoming to me, which is considerably more than can be said for a lot of people at Hogwarts, both staff and pupils alike," Harry said sternly. "If, however, you are suggesting that there is some sort of physical relationship between the two of us, then you are very much mistaken."

"Am I indeed?" Sprout huffed. "I have heard several people say otherwise."

"So, am I to understand you are accusing me on the strength of some common room gossip? Because if you are, Professor Sprout, you need to be very careful," he spat. "I would remind you that I'm the head of an ancient and wealthy house, and I would take any accusation of impropriety with Miss Chambers as a direct slur on the honour of House Potter. Perhaps you would like to detail your evidence against me in front of the Wizengamot?"

"Do not take that tone with me, Mr Potter!" Sprout raged. "The pupils I overheard making the accusations against you are also from worthy families, and whom I trust implicitly."

"Oh, and would one of these 'worthy' people happen to be Susan Bones?" Harry sneered.

"Who it was is of no concern to you, Mr Potter. The fact remains, accusations have been made and you cannot deny that Miss Chambers seems completely enamoured of you! I want the truth!" Sprout yelled angrily.

"You want the truth? Fine, I'll tell you the truth: you're getting involved in political games that clearly you have no understanding of. As you are no doubt aware, I recently came out in the press in support of our current Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. That has immediately put me at odds with his most ardent political rival, Amelia Bones. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you the relationship between Amelia and Susan Bones, do I? Amelia has been using her niece to try and discredit me from the moment I stepped through the doors of Hogwarts," Harry snapped. "This rubbish being circulated about Michelle and me is just another example of that."

"Ridiculous," Sprout snorted. "Amelia is a fine woman, and would never resort to such underhand tactics."

"You really are naïve, aren't you?" Harry laughed bitterly. "Amelia is first and foremost a politician, and such tactics are second nature to her. From what I gather, Susan is looking to follow in her aunt's footsteps, and bringing shame on me and thus indirectly on the Minister would be quite a feather in her cap."

"I don't believe it," Sprout declared adamantly.

"I don't care if you believe it or not, but I will say one thing to you; be very careful about what accusations you make against me. You have absolutely no proof of wrongdoing on my part, and I am quite willing to give a binding Magical Oath that I have not had sexual relations with Miss Chambers," Harry stated. "I would also suggest that you might want to rein in some of your pupils, too. I will take aggressive legal action against anyone I find making such unwarranted accusations against me, or, if I feel the situation requires it, I will demand a Magical Duel. Have I made myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Mr Potter, and I would also like to state that if I do discover any truth to these rumours, I will not rest until you are safely imprisoned in Azkaban. Am I clear?" Sprout snarled.

Harry took a couple of steps forward until he was practically nose to nose with the witch. He looked unflinchingly into her eyes.

"Don't make me your enemy, Professor Sprout," he snarled in a low voice. "You're playing games beyond your wit or intelligence, and you're going to get your fingers burned if you keep doing so. Just pass on the message to Bones that I know what she's up to, and unless she wants to face me in single combat, she'd better keep her big mouth shut. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, Harry turned and stalked out of the greenhouse, leaving a flustered and angry professor in his wake.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"I don't bloody believe it," Harry raged as he stormed into the Room of Requirement.

Ginevra, who had been relaxing in a comfortable chair whilst reading a book, looked up at him in surprise. "What's happened now?" she asked.

"That grubby little cow Professor Sprout virtually accused me of paedophilia!" Harry spat, his face red with anger. "It appears some of those pissing Hufflepuffs have been starting rumours about Michelle and me, and that fat piece of excrement believed them!"

"Well, that little minx did offer to spread her legs for you," Ginevra smirked, before balking at Harry's enraged expression. "Okay, okay, it was just a joke! I heard you tell her that you weren't interested in her like that."

"Yeah, but stupid comments like that won't help the situation," Harry growled.

"I'm sorry," Ginevra told him earnestly. "But how did the 'Puffs get wind of the fact that you even know the girl? Did she say something?"

"Nah, Michelle heard one of Bones's little band of followers spouting shite about me and hexed the bitch," he explained.

"I'm starting to like this little Hufflepuff minx. She sounds like a girl after my own heart," Ginevra grinned. "So, how has this been left? Have you been accused of anything?"

"No, for the very good reason that Sprout has no evidence of any wrong-doing other than the idle chatter of a few gossiping bitches," Harry pointed out. "I made it quite clear to her that I would take any unfounded accusations very seriously. Anyone who wants to make up lies about me will either find themselves being sued or facing me in a duel."

"Neither very attractive options," Ginevra noted. "You might well have to make an example of someone, though. Most of the 'Puffs are born gossip-mongers, not to mention a bit thick. They probably won't get the message until one of them is lying bleeding on the Duelling Arena's floor."

"I suspect you're right," he sighed. "Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Are you ready for your next lesson on becoming an Animagus, Miss Weasley?"

"I am indeed, Professor Potter," she smirked.

"Good. I do like an attentive and willing pupil," he smiled before taking a seat next to her. "Right, what we're going to do today is the basic building block of becoming an Animagus. Have you been visualising your wolf like I instructed you?"

"All the time," Ginevra confirmed. "In fact, I can't get the image of her out of my head. I know I said initially that I wanted to become a bird of some kind, but this is much cooler. I can really identify with the thought of becoming a wolf, you know."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. It was your own subconscious desire that picked a wolf to be your form, after all," he pointed out. "Now, you've told me that you've already been practicing trying to change your form, but without a specific animal in mind, and that will be useful. What I want you to do firstly is to enter your meditative state. Transforming for the first time is much easier when you're completely relaxed. Once you've managed to change that way, we'll work on doing it instantaneously."

"Okay, that sounds logical," she agreed.

"Now, I have to warn you, Ginevra, that it will probably take a long time for you to achieve your first transformation," he informed her. "It takes a lot of practice for you to be able to build up a complete image of your animal in your mind, and then harness your magical power to effect a change into that form. Don't become discouraged if you don't achieve anything the first time, or the hundredth time for that matter. It's just one of those things that you have to keep persevering at, I'm afraid."

Ginevra nodded, but didn't look very happy with the idea. Harry could understand her impatience, as he'd been exactly the same.

"Right, find your safe place, Ginevra," Harry instructed.

The girl closed her eyes and concentrated. "Okay, Potter, I'm in my wood, lying by the river," she informed after a few minutes. A peaceful expression was on her face.

"Excellent, now, what I want for you to do is imagine your wolf standing right in front of you. Try to include every single detail of the animal that you can, right down to the smallest hair. Can you do that?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes, I… oh! She's right there. She's so beautiful!" Ginevra gasped.

"You're doing really well," Harry praised. "Now what I want you to do is merge the image of your wolf with your own body. What's really important here is to totally accept the presence of your animal and welcome it to you unreservedly. Be prepared to subjugate your own form in favour of it. Become one with your wolf, Ginevra."

Ginevra frowned for a second, before a look of determination came onto her features. A few seconds later, her body shivered and she let out a gasp.

"You felt that, did you?" Harry noted. "That's a really good sign, Ginevra. That means your body has recognised your other form. Hold the image and try and force your will into it."

"Harry, I… I can't seem to keep the two images overlapping," she moaned in frustration.

"It's a very hard thing to do. Just keep trying," he urged.

"I can't seem to… gah! I lost the image," she groaned and opened her eyes. She looked bitterly disappointed at her failure. Harry, however, was staring at her in wonder.

"Ginevra, look at your hand," he gasped.

She looked down and let out a surprisingly girlie shriek. The back of her right hand was covered in reddish-brown fur.

"There's no way that you should have been able to do that on your first attempt," Harry told her in astonishment. "It took me months to get to that stage, and I was told I mastered the transformation faster than anyone in recorded history!"

"But this is exactly what I've been trying to do for the last two years," she protested. "This is why I've been so frustrated; I've been convinced that I was about to change, but nothing ever happened. I knew I was close to achieving something."

"Well, congratulations," Harry laughed. "You've managed to make your first partial transformation. Quite how you managed it after approaching the whole process arse over tit, I have no idea!"

"I don't play by the rules," she replied smugly. "Now, how do I change back? I'm likely to get a few comments if I start walking around covered in hair."

"You do exactly the same as you did before, but give your human form priority," he explained. "Don't panic if you don't manage it, though. Without the image of your wolf firmly implanted in your mind you'll just revert to your natural form in a few minutes. Half an hour, tops."

Ginevra closed her eyes once again and, sure enough, within five minutes the hair on her hand began to vanish.

"Did you manage to transform yourself back, or did you just revert naturally?" Harry asked.

"I think I just changed naturally," she admitted. "But that was great! I've made more progress in a couple of days than I have in the last year and a half."

"You're doing incredibly well," he agreed. "Continue at this pace and I think you'll manage a full transformation within a few weeks."

"Brilliant," she beamed, before wiping her brow. "It's bloody hard work, though. I've only been at it ten minutes and I'm knackered already."

"Forcing an Animagus transformation is incredibly hard, at least until your body becomes accustomed to changing," he agreed. "I think we'd better stop now. Trying to do this while you're tired is very dangerous."

At first it looked like she was going to argue, but then appeared to change her mind. Instead, she sat back in her chair and looked at him intently.

"So, I heard that you had a bit of an altercation with Malfoy and his gang. How did that go?" she asked.

"Yeah, I… wait a minute. How did you know about that? I looked in on those bastards as I made my way here and they're still lying where I left them. How could you possibly know that I'd clashed with them?" he demanded.

Ginevra smirked at him. "You can't expect a girl to give up all her secrets, can you?"

"This is linked to how you keep managing to sneak up on me, isn't it?" Harry insisted.

"Let's just say I have a means of being able to monitor the castle and track people's movements, and just leave it at that, shall we?" she replied in an infuriating tone. "That should keep you on your toes, anyway."

"Great, I have an invisible spy following me about now, do I?" Harry growled.

"Oh, get over yourself," she replied irritably. "I have better things to do than watch you all day. Still, it's worth remembering that if you get up to no good, I'll probably know about it."

"I'm a Slytherin; surely I'm supposed to be up to no good," he pointed out with a faint smile.

"Very true," she agreed in an amused tone. "What do you think Draco will do now, then? His big ambush might have failed, but I can't see him just giving up."

"Actually, I suspect he'll be totally harmless for the next few days, as what I did to him will probably leave him deaf for that long," Harry informed her with an evil grin. "After that, I'm not sure. Tracy seems to have a pretty good eye on him, so hopefully I can expect some warning from her if he tries anything else."

"I hear Tracy made you another offer for you to seduce her, but you turned her down again," Ginevra noted. "What's the matter? Don't you like blonds, or something?"

"Nah, I have no special preference regarding hair colour. A girl could have purple hair and it would make no difference to me. I just feel that if I start shagging Davis on Malfoy's instructions, it will compromise her. From that point, Draco will be expecting either information about me that's actually useful, or he'll want Tracy to take direct action against me, herself. Either way, when Davis doesn't deliver, Draco will get mad and she'll probably end up getting hurt."

"So, is that the only reason you're not giving her one? That you're trying to protect her?" Ginevra asked calmly.

"That and I've only known her a short while. In my position, you don't risk getting intimate with someone unless you know and trust them completely. I'd hate to be happily banging away and suddenly find a wand pressed against my neck," Harry replied coolly.

"Very wise," Ginevra agreed. "I've managed to ambush a few couples I've had grievances with while they've been getting down and dirty. I'm just a bit surprised to meet a boy who doesn't actually think with his dick."

"No, I reserve it for much better uses," he grinned. "Do let me know if you ever require a demonstration."

"Are you flirting with me, Potter? Didn't Davis warn you about what happened to the last boy to try that?" she replied, although she looked more amused than angry.

"Oh, yes, but I'm not stupid enough to try anything funny with you. I can clearly see that you're a witch to be reckoned with, and wouldn't do anything to get myself in your bad books," Harry informed her.

She looked him approvingly. "You are a smart boy, aren't you?" she smirked.

"I'm still alive, which must prove I'm not totally stupid," he laughed. "I suggest we pick this up again on Tuesday. Is the same time okay with you?"

"Fine," she replied, sinking back into her chair and picking up her book again. "Close the door on your way out."

Harry walked to the door, but halted just short of it. Looking back, he saw Ginevra engrossed in her book and apparently not watching him.

"Oh, Ginevra? If you do decide you want a demonstration of my capabilities, do let me know," he called out cheekily.

Ginevra didn't look up from her book once. "I'll keep that in mind," she said simply.

Harry walked out the door, noting the smug grin on her face when she'd replied.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Four days later, Harry received another request to visit the Headmaster's office. Frankly, he was amazed the man had taken so long to arrange another meeting.

As he made his way up to the office, Harry mused over what would be discussed. Professor Snape had been the one to inform him that Dumbledore wished to speak with him, and had warned him that the old man had deep reservations about him and his behaviour since arriving at Hogwarts. Forewarned, Harry approached the meeting cautiously.

"Ah, Mr Potter, do take a seat," Dumbledore greeted him warmly as soon as he entered the office.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely, sitting in the chair indicated. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"Oh, I just wanted to have a friendly chat," the old man smiled magnanimously. "I just wanted to find out how you were settling in here. I understand there was some unpleasantness on the day you arrived?"

"Yes, and I believe Professor Snape dealt with the matter adequately," Harry replied blandly.

"A most regrettable incident, I'm led to believe. I was particularly distressed to here that a number of prefects were present at the time and did nothing to stop the altercation. That is most concerning, and I've asked Professor Snape to speak to those concerned sternly," the Headmaster informed him.

"Indeed, he said something similar to me," Harry confirmed. "He also said he would also speak with Draco Malfoy to ensure there was no repetition of the incident."

"Poor Mr Malfoy has been under some strain lately," Dumbledore said sympathetically. "No doubt the shock of discovering his father was a Death Eater has unsettled the young man, and Lucius's subsequent imprisonment must have come as a terrible blow. I'm afraid you will have to forgive Draco for his somewhat rash actions but, taken in that context, they are somewhat understandable."

"Of course," Harry agreed, secretly seething inside. It was clear to him that Dumbledore knew exactly what sort of person Draco was, but was unwilling to do anything about it. No doubt the boy's attitude was at the very heart of his 'divide and rule' plan.

"He's certainly having a rough time of it, at present," Dumbledore continued. "Were you aware Mr Malfoy and several of his friends were hospitalised for a number of days recently? Apparently, they were conducting a Potions experiment which went badly wrong, and caused an explosion that left them all deaf for several days."

"As you can imagine, I'm not particularly close to Draco and his friends, so I was unaware of such an incident," Harry replied, amused that Draco was blaming his predicament on a Potions accident.

"Shocking business," Dumbledore noted. "Still, it does bring up a matter that I wanted to discuss. You do seem to be struggling to make many friends within the school, Mr Potter. Is there any reason for this, do you feel?"

Ah, nice turn around, Harry thought. "Well, I do understand that a number of slanderous rumours about me having been making the rounds," he replied, deciding to grasp the bull by the horns. "It appears that I can't even hold a conversation with a second year girl without scandalous accusations being made against me."

"Yes, Professor Sprout brought that matter to my attention," Dumbledore nodded. "I took the liberty of speaking directly with Miss Chambers, you know. While I'm most disappointed by her aggressive behaviour, I would note that you've made a very favourable impression on the young lady. I understand that you warned off a number of boys from your own House who were acting in a hostile manner towards her and her friends?"

"That's quite correct," Harry confirmed frostily, infuriated that Dumbledore would interrogate Michelle.

"While I do understand your desire to protect the young and innocent, I would ask that in future you bring such incidents to the attention of the proper authorities," Dumbledore reprimanded him lightly. "I've received a number of letters of complaint from the boys' families upset that they've had to replace their children's wands. One family, in particular, was incensed at the loss of what was an old and valuable heirloom."

"The destruction of those boys' wands was purely accidental," Harry lied, "but I would suggest that if they don't want any similar unfortunately occurrences, they should stop trying to bully other pupils."

"Granted, and their actions are why I've chosen not to take any further action regarding this matter, but I must stress that if you discover any further incidents of bullying that you alert either the nearest prefect or a teacher. Is that clear, Mr Potter?" the Headmaster said sternly.

"Quite clear," Harry replied simply. Any further discussion on the matter would be counterproductive, he suspected.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly.

"So, is anything going to be done to curb these rumours?" Harry pressed. "When Professor Sprout discussed them with me, without my Head of House being present I would add, she seemed rather inclined to believe them. I was rather disappointed that such a senior member of the teaching staff would make accusations based only on an unsubstantiated rumour."

"Now, I'm quite certain it was not Professor Sprout's intention to accuse you of anything, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said dismissively. "I'm assured she just wanted to broach these rumours with you before there was any escalation. In those circumstances, I can quite clearly understand why she would choose not to involve Professor Snape. I have, having now spoken to Miss Chambers, assured her that there is no substance to any of these foul rumours."

"Will she be taking any action against the perpetrators, then?" Harry demanded.

"Professor Sprout has promised to keep her ears open for any further innuendo or gossip, and will deal with the people responsible accordingly," Dumbledore assured him.

In other words, nothing would be done, Harry realised. Ginevra's assertion that he would have to make an example of one of the Hufflepuffs was looking more and more likely.

"I trust she will," Harry said in a controlled voice.

"I'm glad that matter has been put to bed," Dumbledore agreed. "Well, this has been a most useful discussion, Mr Potter. I do hope we can chat again soon, hopefully regarding more pleasant subject matters. I hear that academically you are performing superbly in all your chosen subjects, and I wanted to congratulate you on that."

"Thank you, Headmaster, that's appreciated," Harry smiled, standing to leave. As he did so, he took an exaggerated look around him. "You know, I do enjoy being invited up here, sir. This is the most remarkable room you have up here. I could spend hours admiring your collection of books and magical artefacts."

"When you get to my age, my boy, you'll find that gathering a large assortment of such possessions is unavoidable," he chortled. "I do have a rather fine collection of rare books, if I do say so myself."

"Indeed," Harry agreed, casually wandering up to the nearest bookcase. "Is that really a first edition copy of 'Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration'? That must be quite valuable."

"Oh, yes, it is, indeed. I'm afraid the school's copies of the later editions have been somewhat defaced, so naturally I keep this copy under lock and key. Should you wish to peruse this copy, however, do let me know," Dumbledore said warmly.

"That's extremely kind of you," Harry replied with a grateful smile. He continued walking along the bookcases until he found what he was really looking for. He could almost imagine the smile sliding off the Headmaster's face when he realised what he was looking at.

"What's this book, then, sir?" he asked, pointing to a black diary that was resting in a glass display case. "This looks like a plain diary, although the name on it, T.M. Riddle, that sounds strangely familiar to me. Who was this person?"

"Oh, no one of any great significance," Dumbledore said dismissively, although Harry was sure he could detect a hint of underlying frustration in the man's words. "Riddle was one of Hogwarts' Head Boys back in the forties. Unfortunately, the book itself has been rather corrupted, and I keep out of the way."

"Probably for the best," Harry agreed. "While I think about it, you don't happen to still have any of my parents' things, do you?"

"Not that I recall, but I will have a search through my things to see if there are any items that slipped my memory," Dumbledore promised with a polite smile. Harry felt his jaw clench. He was certain the old bastard knew exactly to what he'd been referring, but had chosen to keep his options open as to whether he returned the item or not.

"Well, I shouldn't take up any more of your valuable time. I look forward to our next chat, Headmaster," he said, having decided that further conversation would be useless. Besides, he'd achieved what he'd set out to do here.

"As do I, Mr Potter," Dumbledore agreed, nodding benevolently.

Harry left the office, struggling to stop a triumphant grin from appearing in his face. He really couldn't believe that the old man had been so arrogant as to openly display a Horcrux in his office, particularly as he knew Harry was visiting that day. Still, he wasn't going to complain. Should the diary now mysteriously 'reappear' in the hands of some unsuspecting pupil, Harry would have the perfect excuse for recognising it. He had the distinct feeling that he'd just managed to shoot holes in one of Albus Dumbledore's misguided schemes. He hadn't really expected the old man to just hand over his father's Invisibility Cloak, but he was still hopeful that he might be able to get it back, one way or another.

Humming happily to himself, Harry walked back to the Slytherin common room.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

For once, Harry was having a good day. It had been a full week since his conversation with Dumbledore, and things had been mercifully quiet.

Two days previously, Michelle had managed to corner him. In an excited voice, she informed him that several senior Hufflepuffs, including Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan, had been pulled into Professor Sprout's office earlier in the week. Since then, the gossiping and general bad-mouthing of Harry had reduced markedly. He had warmly thanked the small girl for her support of him and given her a quick kiss on the cheek. He'd succeeded in holding in his laughter as she turned bright red and practically sprinted away.

Malfoy had also been keeping his nose clean and, indeed, had seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Harry completely. That was a situation Harry was more than happy with, and he made no attempt to antagonise the blond boy or his followers. He did keep a watchful eye on Pansy Parkinson, however, and was beginning to see what Tracy had meant when she'd talked about the dark haired girl's figure. Parkinson really did have the body of a goddess. Shame she had the face of a Pit Bull, and a personality to match.

Tracy was another Slytherin girl who could boast of a divine figure, and, on Draco's misguided encouragement, she had resumed her campaign of seduction with Harry. This time, he wasn't so outwardly dismissive of her efforts, and they had been flirting outrageously with each other. Harry was still having trouble believing that Draco accepted that her efforts were legitimate, but he had to admit that some of the things that came out of Tracy's mouth were hilarious. Utterly filthy, but still hilarious.

Today, however, he was graced with a different female presence at the dinner table. Ginevra had decided that as a precedent had already been set, eating with him occasionally wouldn't draw undue attention. Between this revised attitude, and Tracy's campaign of seduction, it meant that he had company during meals at least once a day. It was amazing what a difference it made to his morale, having an attractive witch to talk to occasionally.

Ginevra's Animagus training was moving along rapidly, too. Harry's prediction that she would achieve a full transformation within a few weeks looked to be on schedule, and the redhead was now to the stage of being able to change individual limbs to animal form. He'd been especially impressed when she'd sprouted a tail, although he had nearly earned himself a hexing when he laughed a little too loudly at her revised look.

The girl in question was currently sitting opposite him, rapidly demolishing her dinner at a fearsome pace.

"Where do you put it all, Weasley?" Harry asked in amazement as Ginevra speared another slice of beef and dropped it onto her plate.

"All my family are the same," she shrugged. "If you think I can eat, you should see my brother, Ronald. He practically needs a shovel to get all the food in his mouth quickly enough."

"Aren't you worried it will all catch up with you one day?" he persisted. "I mean, at the moment you have a wonderfully trim figure, but aren't you afraid that once you hit thirty you'll balloon?"

"I doubt it. I think it's something in the Weasley constitution that keeps us thin. My mother is a bit on the dumpy side, but I think that has more to do with having seven children than her diet. Even after her third kid, Percy, she still had a knock-out figure, I'm told. I think it was having the twins that changed all that," she informed him with a smirk. "Personally, I'm damned if I'm having more than three children. If I ever get to that number, my husband will be getting the snip at that point, whether he wants it or not."

"I've always thought that two or three children would be the perfect size for a family," he noted absently.

"Trying to tell me something, Potter?" she smirked. "If your bank balance has enough zeroes at the end of it, I might consider it."

"There's hope for me yet. I'll fetch my latest statement of account from Gringotts to show you as soon as possible. I think it's safe to say the balance contains more than a few zeroes in it," he teased.

"As long as that's not all there is," she laughed mirthlessly. "That's the problem with my family's bank balance, it has loads of numbers in it, but they're all zeroes."

Harry was about to reply when he was interrupted by the arrival of Tracy. The curvy blond plonked herself down next to Ginevra and grinned.

"I hope you weren't flirting with the lovely Miss Weasley here," she commented saucily. "You know we're destined to be together, Harry, and I'm not having some ginger strumpet pawing my property."

"How would you like a Reducto Curse up your jacksie?" Ginevra asked, although without malice.

"Classy, as ever, Ginevra," Tracy laughed. "So, what are you two yattering about? Malfoy is currently boasting about the villa his mother is buying in Greece, and I had to get away. I can only take about five minutes of his showing-off per day without the need to vomit."

"Really? I don't think I could take that much," Harry laughed as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. Of course, Tracy immediately snatched up his goblet before he'd had a chance to take a drink.

"Thanks, Harry, I was a bit thirsty," she smirked, before taking a long drink. "I think I've been desensitised to his bullshit over the years. Why, one time he…"

Tracy suddenly stopped speaking and a distant look came into her eyes. The goblet dropped from her fingers and clattered loudly against the table. A moment later, she started to make a choking sound and her body began to shake.

"Tracy?" Ginevra said, looking at her friend in alarm. "Tracy? What's wrong?"

The girl ignored her, and began to clutch at her throat. Her body was starting to spasm violently, and her face had turned a bright shade of red.

"Madam Pomfrey! Professor Snape! We need you!" Harry bellowed in the direction of the teachers table. Virtually every head in the room turned in his direction as he leapt over the table and grabbed the shaking girl.

"Try to breathe through your nose," Harry urged her as he pulled her down onto the floor. He then forced her mouth open and shoved a finger down her throat, trying to see if she had a blocked airway.

"Make way!" Madam Pomfrey yelled as she arrived at the table. She fell to her knees and immediately pulled out her wand. A second later, Professor Snape arrived.

"What happened?" he demanded briskly.

"I don't know," Harry said, looking down at Tracy in distress. "She'd just taken a drink of pumpkin juice and…"

His voice trailed off as his head snapped round at the overturned goblet lying on the table. Snape obviously saw where he was looking and grabbed the goblet, which he sniffed cautiously.

"A very faint odour of walnut and Ashwinder venom," he announced. "Merlin! This girl's been poisoned! Poppy, we need to get a bezoar down her throat, now!"

"It's too late," Pomfrey said sadly. "She's gone."

Harry looked down at Tracy in shock. The girl was completely still, with an expression of surprise and horror frozen on her face. He felt his stomach clench and a wave of overwhelming anger wash over him.

He spun round and looked down the Slytherin table. Most of the pupils were looking on in shock and dismay, although two people didn't seem to share that reaction.

Draco Malfoy was looking directly at him, his jaw clenched and his expression one of anger. Slightly further down the table, another boy sat, resolutely staring at the table top, completely expressionless.

A wave of burning hatred fill Harry as he realised he'd found the person who had just killed Tracy.

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Primal Urges

Hmm, I might need to throw out a few violence and sexual content warnings with this chapter (stop cheering at the back, there, you sick puppies!). If you are particularly fond of fluffy bunnies you might want to skip the odd bit of this, too.

Huge squidgy thanks to Arnel for beta reading/background info checking. As neither of us could find a canon-quoted first name for Blaise Zabini's mother, that's good enough for me to start inventing things!

"How the hell did this happen?" Ginevra demanded angrily through gritted teeth.

Harry sank down into his chair. Although it was late, he had no thoughts of sleep. His stomach was a stewing pit of acid, and he lusted for vengeance. However, Gellert had drilled into him enough that it was exactly at times like these that you had to take a step back and assess the situation before acting. Running off blindly would help no one.

"I think that Tracey was unlucky. The real target was me," he answered bitterly.

"Well, duh! That's not the bloody issue, Potter. Some low-life scum is dishing poison out, and I want to know who it is!" she raged. "It's obvious that you were the target, no one would have bothered to poison Tracey, but whoever it was is a bloody idiot. I mean, it's common knowledge that Davis was always nicking stuff off your plate or drinking from your cup; she did it all the time. Actually, come to think of it, how the hell did this person even manage to get the poison in your goblet? It's not like you sit in the same spot every meal and no one came near us once we sat down. The food is all magically transported to the tables straight from the kitchens, and the elves would have made sure nothing was tampered with there."

"I'm not sure," Harry answered slowly, "but I suspect that this was the work of someone with a bit of skill in these matters. Remember, Tracey snatched that goblet off me right before I was going to take a sip. I can only think that the poison was magically transferred to my goblet as I was pouring the juice."

"That's not an easy bit of magic," Ginevra noted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "The person would definitely have needed to have a clear view of you, too."

"Yeah, but it's the poison itself that really intrigues me. I heard Snape tell the Aurors that the concoction doesn't even have a proper name, he's only ever heard rumours about it," Harry explained darkly. "Not only is the stuff extremely fast acting, it's virtually impossible to detect. If Snape hadn't been able to smell the goblet so quickly, the poison would have evaporated within a minute. It requires a reaction with human saliva to become active, otherwise it just evaporates. It's the tool of a professional killer."

Ginevra stared at him with her fury mounting. "Are you saying…" she began.

"Who do we know who has a relative that keeps having her husbands drop dead, apparently for no detectable reason?" Harry growled. "You said that he wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps. I think he just expanded his repertoire to include assassination."

"Zabini!" Ginevra bellowed. "I'll rip him to shreds! I swear, I'll bloody kill the bastard."

"It's a shame you didn't kill him when you had the chance," Harry agreed. "Still, that's an error we can soon rectify."

For a second, Ginevra looked uncertain. "You mean that, do you?" she asked. "We're actually going to kill him?"

"The Aurors won't get anywhere; there's simply no evidence. More to the point, he's proved he has access to a deadly poison which he can drop into a cup or bowl completely undetected. I simply can't afford not to take him out," Harry pointed out.

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to try that again, would he?" she argued. "I mean, people are already going to be linking his name to this. If someone else ends up poisoned, he might as well paint a big arrow on his forehead with the words 'I did it' written above it."

"Oh, he might not try immediately, but he'd always be a threat. Besides, we don't know what sort of pressure he's under to finish me off," Harry mused. "In my experience, once a person kills once, he's likely to do it again. It's always easier a second time."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" Ginevra asked in a strangely distant voice.

Harry looked at her. "Yes, I am, although the only people I have ever killed have been working, directly or indirectly, for Voldemort. I have a rule: if a person works for that twisted bastard then I will kill them. I'm pretty sure that covers Blaise Zabini."

Ginevra nodded, suddenly not looking so sure.

"Don't worry," Harry told her kindly. "I'll take care of it. You won't need to be involved, at all."

"No," Ginevra said fiercely. "Tracey was my friend. Like you said, I had the chance to finish Zabini before and I didn't take it. This is my fault."

"It's not your fault," he assured her, "and if you had killed him back then, you'd probably be in Azkaban right now."

"But Tracey would still be alive," Ginevra said bitterly.

"You two were pretty close," Harry noted softly.

"She was virtually my only friend in this whole bloody school," Ginevra complained quietly. "As soon as I was Sorted into Slytherin, no one wanted anything to do with me, including any of my brothers. Even my best friend from when I was growing up started distancing herself from me, although that was probably more due to pressure from her fellow Ravenclaws. Tracey was like a kindred spirit, and we looked after each other."

"It must have been tough. I can't believe some of the crap they put kids through at this place," Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Welcome to my life," she snarled. "So, what are we going to do about Zabini, then?"

"Well, this is how I think we should do it…" Harry started to explain.

The two of them worked on the details of their deadly plot well into the night.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Blaise Zabini lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling moodily. The last couple of days had been a pain in the arse, and it was all the fault of that stupid bloody half-blood Davis.

He'd been questioned repeatedly, both by the Aurors and the teaching staff, but he'd remained cool and given nothing away, confident that there was no solid evidence against him. More troubling was Draco's attitude; the boy was livid. He'd told Blaise in no uncertain terms that if he didn't finish Potter like he'd promised then the consequences would be severe.

The trouble was that all eyes were on him now, including Potter's. He'd seen the boy glare at him with undisguised hatred as he'd left the Great Hall. If the reputation of the Boy Who Lived was even partially true, then Potter wouldn't bother looking for evidence against him, he'd simply act. It was clear in Zabini's mind that it was a case of kill or be killed, and he wasn't going to be the one pushing up the daisies.

In frustration, he kicked out against nothing. Damn that Davis girl to hell! He'd been so close to taking Potter out. Still, the filthy little half-blood whore was no loss to anyone.

A soft creaking sound made him look up. To his horror, he saw the heavily-warded door of his room swing open revealing Ginevra Weasley standing there with a furious look on her face. Worst still, standing right beside her was Harry Potter with a murderous gleam in his eyes.

Zabini flung himself to the side in a desperate attempt to grab his wand which was lying on top of his bedside cabinet. Unfortunately, he'd barely begun to move before he was hit by a Full Body Bind, and he fell face down onto the bed. He heard the door close and footsteps approaching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter walk up and grab his wand. A second later, it was just so many pieces of broken wood lying on his bed.

He was just getting over this shock when he felt conjured ropes wrap tightly around him and the Full Body Bind was cancelled. Desperately, he began to yell at the top of his voice in the hope that someone might hear. A moment later, he was wrenched off the bed and something hard connected with his head. He blanked out for a second, before he regained his senses and found himself staring into the hard, green eyes of Harry Potter.

"We cast a Silencing Charm, so you can cut that crap out," he snarled.

"What do you want?" Zabini asked fearfully. He knew, the longer he could keep them talking, the less chance there was that they would kill him. His best hope, he guessed, would be trying to convince them to turn him over to the Ministry. After all, hadn't Potter done exactly that with Lucius Malfoy?

"You know what we want," Potter replied coldly. "How easy this is depends entirely on you. I want to know how you put that poison in my goblet, where you obtained the foul stuff, and who else was involved."

"Poison? You think it was me that killed Davis? No, no, I swear I had nothing to do with that! Please, search my room. You won't find anything here," he begged.

"Zabini, you might be a murderous scum-sucker who takes it up the arse from Malfoy, but we don't think you're that stupid," Weasley growled. "You wouldn't keep anything incriminating in your own room."

Blaise looked helplessly at Weasley. Thinking about it, she may be his salvation. She might be a viscous little bitch, but she wasn't a killer, he didn't think. Hell, if he hadn't got impatient with the prick-teasing whore, he would probably have screwed her by now.

"Ginevra," he begged, "you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt Tracey. Why would I? I really liked her."

"Oh, we know you weren't trying to kill Tracey. You were trying to kill me," Potter stated categorically.

"Why are you listening to him, Ginevra?" Blaise asked, ignoring Potter. "He's a bloody maniac. You saw the way he attacked me and my friends the moment he got here. He's got it in for poor Draco. Come on, Ginevra, you know I wouldn't do something like this. I'm sorry about what happened between us, but you know I wouldn't hurt you or your friends, right?"

"Friends? I only had one friend, and you killed her, you shithead!" Ginevra shrieked.

"Potter, if you think you have a genuine reason to accuse me, then you should turn me over to the Aurors," he said, turning his attention back to the young man after realising that Weasley was just too angry to see reason at that moment. "Let them judge any evidence."

"Evidence? Oh, but I don't have any evidence," Potter said in a worryingly pleasant voice. "But I soon will have."

As fast as lightening, Potter pulled out a large dagger from his robes and thrust it into Zabini's thigh. White-hot pain lanced through him and he screamed in agony.

"Legilimens!" he heard Potter yell, and looked up to see the young man pointing his wand directly at his head.

Desperately, he tried to ignore the searing pain in his leg and get his mental shields in place. Nearly everyone in Slytherin House had been taught some form of Occlumency from an early age, and he was no exception. Old, powerful families generally had dark secrets to keep, the Zabinis more than most. His mother had paid for training from the finest of teachers, but none of his tutors had taught him how to defend his mind while he had a knife embedded in his leg.

Potter swatted away his hasty defences like they were tissue paper. Zabini grimaced as his memories were ransacked without mercy and his mind, quite literally, was raped. Visions of events from throughout his life flashed before him, some discarded almost instantaneously, and others were perused in detail. He lay helplessly as his life was exposed, examined and judged.

"Well?" he heard Ginevra demand.

Blearily, he looked up, realising, to his surprise, that Potter had vacated his mind. Not that it mattered, the bastard had seen everything there was to see, and Blaise didn't think he'd react well to what he'd witnessed.

"He used a variation on the Banishing Charm. It allows him to move small objects with precise accuracy. The poison was contained in a tiny capsule, which dissolved as soon as the pumpkin juice touched it. The capsule was so minute that we wouldn't have noticed it. It didn't need to be large; the poison was so potent that only a drop would be needed," Harry explained. "He has a further supply stashed away in unused room on the fifth floor. We can get it later."

"So, what are you going to do now?" Blaise demanded through gritted teeth. The dagger was still lodged in his leg and hurt like hell. "They'll lock me up for life if you turn me in. You know this wasn't anything personal, Potter. If I hadn't done as Draco demanded, I'd be dead meat."

"Ah, but you were more than happy to try to kill me, weren't you? You've been looking for a chance to try out that poison for ages. You'd have killed me even without Draco's threats, or even that big bag of gold he promised you. I guess that kicking I gave you when I first got here really pissed you off, eh?" Harry taunted him.

Zabini desperately considered his options. Potter had been in his head and he'd seen everything. He witnessed a vision of him and his mother laughing as his sixth step-father died in horrible pain. He'd seen him rape a fourteen-year-old Muggle girl and then Obliviate her. Hell, Potter had even watched the debauched games that he, Draco and Pansy played in private. More importantly, Potter had seen Blaise transfer the poison into his goblet just as he was pouring juice into it. His guilt was unquestionable, and he doubted Potter would be merciful.

No, his only hope lay with Weasley. The simple fact that the girl hadn't hexed him while he'd been trying to seduce her was evidence enough that she liked him. He'd got bored of the game before he'd had a chance to have her, but she hadn't complained about his company before then, had she? No, she was the weak link, and his chance at salvation.

"Ginevra, please, you have to help me," he begged. "I'm sorry I got excited and tried to take things too far! I just couldn't help myself. You're so, so beautiful, and I'd wanted you for so long, I just got carried away."

"Carried away? You tried to rape me, you bastard!" Ginevra yelled.

"I thought you wanted what I wanted," he protested. "After all, why did you go into that deserted classroom with me, otherwise?"

"It wasn't to have sex with you, you arrogant shit," she spat. "If you remember, you told me you had something important to tell me. I certainly didn't give you permission to stick your hand up my skirt."

"You wanted it as much as I did," Blaise snapped, his anger getting the better of him.

"I said no! N – O, no! What part of that didn't you understand, you vile arsehole? Did you really think I believed all that crap you spouted to me? All those lies and deceptions? Didn't you think I knew what you were getting up to with Malfoy and Parkinson all the time you were telling me that I was special? Do you really think I'm that stupid?" she screamed, magical energy crackling around her.

"Please, Ginevra, I love you," Blaise gasped, his last-ditch attempt at winning her over.

Weasley lunged towards him as quick as lightening. He felt the dagger being wrenched from his leg and rammed forcefully into him. In disbelief, Blaise looked down to see the hilt of the knife protruding from his chest. A wave of intense pain hit him, and he felt himself go faint.

The last thing he ever saw was a pair of brown eyes glaring at him in hatred.

Harry watched in shock as Ginevra staggered back few steps. She was holding her right hand out as if it was causing her pain, but he quickly realised that she was distressed by the fact it was covered in Zabini's blood. Carefully, he walked up to her and cast a Cleaning Charm on her hand. She turned and looked up at him.

"I knew they'd force me to this one day," she told him, her voice trembling. "I knew they'd turn me into a killer. It was destined to happen from the moment that fucking hat Sorted me into Slytherin."

"Ginevra…" Harry began softly.

"They all forced me to become this," she continued, close to tears. "Everyone: the pure-blood idiots, the teachers, even my stupid family. They stuck this label on me and watched me turn into a monster."

"You're not a monster," he told her, gently taking her into his arms. "Getting rid of Zabini wasn't murder, it was justice. The bastard killed Tracey, and would have killed me. Hell, he would have killed just about anyone if there was profit in it for him."

"We could have turned him over to the Aurors," she pointed out weakly, her face pressed against his shoulder.

"We could have, but his mother is a rich and influential woman. There was no saying he would have ever been charged, let alone been convicted. From what I saw in Blaise's memories, Mrs Zabini has bribed and screwed her way out of trouble before, and she wouldn't hesitate to do so again to save her son. If he'd been allowed to remain free, in a few years he would have left a trail of bodies behind him, and it's very likely yours would have been one of them," Harry told her.

"Do you think he would have gone after me?" she asked, sounding oddly child-like.

"Yeah, he hated you for disfiguring him," Harry explained sympathetically. "Do you know why he tried to pull you? He thought you were vulnerable. Underneath that hard exterior, he thought you were just a lonely, frightened little girl, desperately hoping someone would love her. That's the way he operated, he sought out people he thought was susceptible and took advantage of them."

"Maybe he wasn't so far from the truth," Ginevra said in a tiny voice.

"You might have been sad and lonely, but you were never weak," Harry told her firmly. "I may not have known you long, but I can tell that you have a core of pure steel in that small body of yours. Zabini would never have realised that, because he thought that everyone was inferior to him. He never realised that you were better than him in every way."

Ginevra wiped a tear from her eye, and broke the embrace. "What do we do now?" she asked, sounding more confident.

Harry smiled at her, proud to see her getting herself together. "We follow the plan we worked out. We gather up his belongings, and pack them in his trunk," he told her. "Then, we'll transfigure both the trunk and his body into something small, a twig or something, and take them somewhere to burn them. The Room of Requirement is probably the best place."

"And after that?" she pressed.

"We carry on as before," he told her. "We'll continue your Animagus training in secret, but to the rest of the school we'll just be casual acquaintances. There is one more thing we'll need to think about, though."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Zabini might have planted the poison, but it was Draco Malfoy that ordered him to do it. We'll have to decide when we take that rat bastard down, too," he said grimly.

Ginevra looked at him for a moment, before nodding. She wanted vengeance for Tracey, not to mention for being given that damned diary back in her first year, and Draco would be next to pay.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days were rather tense. Zabini's absence was noticed almost immediately, and everyone within Slytherin was questioned about the boy's whereabouts. Harry was pleased to note the look of seething anger that Draco wore most of the time, not to mention the more wistful expression on Pansy's face.

By mutual agreement, he and Ginevra avoided each other in public, and only met in the privacy of the Room of Requirement. He'd initially been a bit worried about her reaction to having killed Zabini, but the girl was made of strong stuff. The years of abuse and misery at the hands of her fellow Slytherins had toughened her up, and the murder of her only real friend in the school had apparently made her actions justifiable in her own mind. Harry was worried that the young redhead was bottling things up a bit too much, but otherwise was pleased to see that she seemed to be coping. He'd keep an eye on her, though.

He was unsurprised, however, when he received a summons from Professor Snape three days after Zabini's disappearance. He made his way to the man's subterranean office and soon found himself seated in front of the hook-nosed professor.

"Well, Potter, you do seem to have some very powerful men extremely interested in you," Snape drawled, his dark eyes gleaming in the gloom.

"Oh? Who's been talking about me now?" Harry asked flippantly.

"Both Dumbledore and Voldemort have been questioning me at length about you recently," the man explained. "Dumbledore is becoming increasingly concerned about you and the depth of your knowledge. He quizzed me extensively on everything I know about you just yesterday, and I think he suspects you of having some involvement in Zabini's disappearance. Of course, the Magical Oath you extracted from me severally limited what I could tell him, but even so, I suspect he's beginning to think that you are a threat to him."

"He doesn't need to worry. I don't intend to confront him unless pushed to it," Harry replied carefully. "What about Voldemort? What was he saying about me?"

"The Dark Lord is actually beginning to believe that you might be persuaded to become an ally of his," Snape said in a slightly amused voice.

"Come over to the Dark side: we have cookies," Harry muttered.

"What?" Snape asked with a frown.

"Sorry, just my pitiful attempt at humour," Harry apologised. "Of course, that will never happen. My mother would give me a thick ear when I meet her on the other side should I even think of such a thing."

"She would, indeed," Snape confirmed, a slight smile on his lips.

"While I'm tempted to try and use this to my advantage in some way, should it ever become remotely suspected that I'd reached any form of accommodation with Voldemort the Wizarding world would turn on me instantly," Harry mussed. "I think any attempt at communication with him would be more trouble than its worth."

"I suspect you're right. Besides, I doubt any alliance would be more than temporary, and you would quickly find a knife sticking in your back," Snape informed him.

"Very true, and I certainly don't want to give Dumbledore any more reasons to doubt me," Harry agreed. "Do you know if he's moved the diary after my conversation with him?"

"Not when I was in his office yesterday," Snape confirmed. "He was, however, very concerned about the disappearance of the Zabini boy. Tell me, Potter, did you kill him?"

"No, I didn't," Harry replied categorically. "I'll give you a Magical Oath confirming that, if you want."

Snape's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You think he simply ran, then?" he asked.

"I admit I did have a few words with him," Harry admitted carefully. "We both know he was responsible for Tracey Davis's death, and that he was actually trying for me at the time. The boy was a sociopath and didn't care who he hurt if they got in his way. He was as twisted and demented as that murderous bitch of a mother of his."

"Granted, but allowing him to flee may have left a dangerous enemy at your back," the professor point out. "He's clearly learnt a lot from Dayana Zabini, and she is obviously a highly accomplished poisoner."

"He won't be a threat in the future, I can promise you. I would, however, appreciate if you kept my name and Blaise's unconnected in the future. If his mother is as good as you say, I'd rather not have to watch out for her coming after me," Harry noted.

"I'd really rather not have anything to do with the woman, no matter how beautiful she is," Snape snorted.

"Beauty is only skin deep," Harry noted.

"Truly," Snape agreed fervently. "In any case, I have reported to the Headmaster that I didn't think you were involved. Maybe we should point the finger of suspicion elsewhere. Perhaps the Weasley girl? She, after all, had…"

"Leave her alone!" Harry yelled, surprising himself greatly at how passionately he defended her. "What I mean is, she's becoming a useful ally to me. I don't want her implicated, at all."

Snape looked at him appraisingly. "I thought something was going on there," he said knowingly. "Be careful of the girl's family, however. The Weasleys are ardent supporters of Dumbledore, if none too bright. I know that idiotic brother of Ginevra's watches her closely, and they may try to protest to the Headmaster if they feel you are having any… influence… over the girl."

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry promised. "I've seen that Gryffindor moron in action already and, frankly, I can't believe he's actually related to Ginevra."

"Be thankful the twin brothers are no longer here at Hogwarts. They were quite possibly the most annoying, troublesome pair of empty-headed cretins I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. The older brothers are more dangerous, however, and you should be wary of them," Snape advised.

"I'll keep that in mind. Besides, it's hardly likely I'm going to get an invite to family dinner, is it? We're keeping our alliance quiet, so hopefully she won't attract any attention from the more undesirable elements with our House," Harry advised.

"Indeed," Snape mused. "On another topic, your relationship with Draco Malfoy is somewhat troubling to me, I have to admit. The Malfoys have been good friends to me over the years and I wouldn't want anything too damaging to happen to young Draco."

"Then, for the love of all that is holy, get the idiot to stop funding assassination attempts on me," Harry shouted angrily.

"So, it was Draco who encouraged Zabini to make the attempt on your life, was it?" the professor asked in a weary voice. "I told the stupid boy repeatedly that taking any action against you was a bad idea. I thought I'd gotten through to him, but clearly not."

"No, I'm afraid the Malfoys are too arrogant and stupid to take too much notice of anyone's opinions, other than their own," Harry noted.

"I suppose it's not worth me asking you to spare the boy now?" Snape asked in a defeated voice.

"He was ultimately responsible for killing Tracey Davis. Even if I chose to let him live, I very much doubt Ginevra Weasley would," Harry replied firmly.

Snape looked up in surprise. "Did the Weasley girl kill Zabini?" he asked, sounding extremely shocked.

Harry remained silent.

"I would never have believed a Weasley would go so far," Snape muttered, ignoring Harry's non-response. "Now I see why you are so keen to protect her. You've got yourself a little fire-haired assassin, haven't you, Potter?"

"Don't refer to her in those terms. Just remember, Zabini killed Davis and would have killed again without remorse or hesitation," Harry snapped. "Zabini was dead the moment he tried and failed to slip that poison into my goblet, and who actually did the deed is irrelevant."

"Okay, Potter, you've made your point. I'll keep an eye on your little friend and try and deflect any attention away from her should it occur," Snape promised, before he changed the subject. "May I enquire what your next move is to be?"

"At some point I suspect I'm going to have to break into the Headmaster's office, which I doubt will be easy," Harry pondered. "Any ideas on that front?"

"Gaining entry will not be a major problem. Albus's choice in passwords generally leaves a lot to be desired, I must confess. Your main problem will be Fawkes, his phoenix. The bird is in virtual permanent residence there, and will alert the Headmaster to the presence of any intruder. I suspect you may need to make your attempt on a burning day, when the bird is at its weakest. That, however, does not occur very often, although, if desperate, you could attempt to destroy the bird and force it into a re-birth," Snape advised him.

"That's not something I want to do if I can help it," Harry noted. "Attempting to kill such a creature can have serious repercussions that I'd rather not have to deal with. Still, I'll bear it in mind. I have a few other things I need to deal with before I make the attempt, so I'll give the matter some thought."

"Oh, you'll be pleased to note that the Bones girl has been reigned in from her campaign of slander against you. Dumbledore had words with Sprout, who in turn conveyed her displeasure at being reprimanded by the Headmaster to her pupils. I understand some harsh words were exchanged," Snape informed him with mild amusement.

"I'm surprised that Dumbledore took any action," Harry admitted.

"I think the Headmaster is very much keeping his options open with regards to you, Potter. He is still hopefully you can be guided back onto the path of light," Snape smirked.

"The only trouble with that is that Dumbledore thinks the 'path of light' lies directly underneath his thumb," Harry snarled.

"Undoubtedly," Snape grinned. "I will keep you informed of any major developments."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely, before leaving the office.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After his conversation with Snape, Harry headed back to the Room of Requirement where, as usual, Ginevra was waiting for him.

"How did it go?" she asked as soon as he entered.

The Room of Requirement generally took shape to match the young girl's moods and today she was obviously feeling slothful. The room was smaller than usual and rather cosy looking. It was dominated by a large sofa situated in front of a roaring fire. As the weather outside had been cold and damp, Weasley must have decided that this was a day for lazing in front of the fire.

"A bit of a mixed bag, actually," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore is becoming rather suspicious of me, but as he made an effort to silence the Hufflepuff bullshit factory, he can't be totally against me yet. I should warn you, though, I think Snape suspects that we got rid of Zabini."

"Is that going to cause a problem?" Ginevra asked hurriedly.

"No, Snape agreed that the boy had to go. I wonder if he'd ever had a run-in with Blaise's mother, actually, as he seemed rather hostile towards her. But in any event, I don't think we have anything to worry about in that regard. Snape knows that I can sell him out to Voldemort anytime I want, so he's not going to antagonise me over some stupid shit who likes poisoning his fellow students. I'm not totally sure that will be the case if we take out Draco, though," Harry admitted.

"Why? Does Snape fancy the little poof? He probably found out that Draco was shafting Zabini and wants a bit of that action," Ginevra smirked evilly.

"He described the Malfoys as being good friends to him in the past," Harry explained, ignoring the girl's smutty comments. "I'm not sure how far that loyalty will go, however. Snape apparently warned Draco off attacking me, and seemed to be appalled when he found out that he'd ordered Zabini to try that stupid stunt. I've a feeling that our beloved Head of House is only really loyal to one person: himself. When the time comes, we'll just deal with Draco and warn Snape that it's in his best interests to keep quiet. I'm sure we can come up with an incentive or two to help him come to the same conclusion."

"That's what I like about you, Potter, you're a sneaky bastard," she laughed. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I thought we'd just press on with your Animagus training," Harry confirmed, slumping onto the sofa next to her. "Unless you've got anything else you'd prefer to do?"

"Oh, getting hopeful, are we, Potter?" she teased. "You think I've suddenly fallen for your dubious charms, do you?"

"I should be so lucky," he smiled back. "But, seriously, I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about anything. This has been a rough week for you, and I didn't want to dump too much pressure onto you. Are you holding up okay?"

"Of course I am," she replied irritably. "Why, don't you think so? Do you just think I'm some weak little girl who's just going to break down and cry? Screw you, Potter, I'm doing fine!"

"I'm just checking," Harry said in a conciliatory tone. "If I thought you were some sobbing little princess, do you honestly think I'd have anything to do with you?"

"No, I guess not," she replied, calming down a little. "I just hate it when people think I'm weak. I was a scared little child once, but that was a long time ago, and I'm never going back to being that girl ever again."

"There's a difference between being weak and allowing yourself to show your true feelings, though," he pointed out. "You took a human life for the first time just a few days ago, and that's a pretty big deal, no matter how justified the act was. I have to say, you're handling it a lot better than I ever did, but, please, don't just try and pretend it never happened. You have a right to be upset, and I'll support you through this, I promise. I know it's a bit of a cliché, but talking about it does help sometimes."

Ginevra was silent for a few minutes, and just stared into the fire. "What was your first time like?" she asked eventually.

"It wasn't long after a person very dear to me died of old age. It was a huge shock, seeing someone I loved just slip away right in front of my eyes. I mean, I probably saw my mother being killed by Voldemort when I was fifteen months old, but I have no memory of it. I loved that old woman like she was my own flesh and blood, and it was a huge blow to me to lose her," he explained. "Anyway, shortly afterwards, my guardian and I were out one day when we ran into trouble. We'd been hunting for a specific person, but when we found him, he'd unfortunately got a few friends with him. Rupert Gibbon was only a minor Death Eater, but we suspected he had information we wanted, and we'd hoped to take him down quickly and cleanly."

"What happed?" Ginevra asked curiously.

"Gibbon had joined Voldemort very late in the first war and was one of those arseholes who claimed to have been acting under the effects of the Imperius Curse. Like all the other shitheads who tried that lame excuse, he managed to get off, mainly as his family had a few Galleons to rub together, if you get my meaning. We'd intended to ambush him outside his house in Lincolnshire; Gibbon worked for the Ministry and it was fairly easy to find out where he lived. What we hadn't counted on was him having a bunch of his fellow ex-Death Eaters staying in his house at the time," Harry explained, shaking his head at the memory of their bad luck.

"How many of them were there?" Ginevra pressed, clearly intrigued at this rare view into Harry's past.

"Eight, counting Gibbon," he confirmed. "Now, I'm not saying that I was some naïve little boy here. I'd seen my guardian kill many times before, but I'd never been in direct combat myself. He'd always ordered me to hide myself if we were attacked and he would take care of the situation. Well, after seeing the woman I thought of as my grandmother die just days before, I wasn't in the mood to just hide in the bushes. I leapt into the middle of the battle and started chucking curses around."

"Then what happened?" she asked eagerly.

"Apart from nearly getting my head blown off and causing my guardian to have a seizure?" he chuckled. "Well, I'd been trained really well up to that point, but very little of that training was of a combat nature. Basically, I was slow to move, inaccurate in my spell casting and in such a rage that I wasn't using my head. Needless to say, after about a minute I got hit with a Cutting Curse. Gellert had put four of the bastards down by then, but Gibbon had managed to separate me from the main battle before I got hit. I was laying on the ground, bleeding, with my wand knocked out of my hand, and this ex-Death Eater bastard bearing down on me. I really thought I was done for."

"What did you do?" she asked in alarm.

"I performed wandless magic," Harry admitted calmly. "I know very few people can do it, but I, apparently, have a strong enough magical core that I can perform small tasks like that occasionally. Gibbon was standing over me, just about to administer the killing blow, when I held out my hand and willed my wand into it. I was in such a panic that as soon as the wood touched my fingers, I cast an over-powered Blasting Curse at point-blank range. It hit Gibbon in the stomach and tore him open. My guardian found me later, magically exhausted and sobbing like a baby. I'd hit Gibbon so hard that I ripped him to shreds. I was traumatised for weeks afterwards, but my guardian nursed me through it. Shortly afterwards, he started teaching me to fight properly, which is just as well."

"And your guardian was called Gellert, is that right?" Ginevra asked.

"What? How the bloody hell did you know that?" Harry yelled, leaping to his feet.

"You said his name," Ginevra replied warily. "You said 'Gellert had just put four of them down' just then."

"Oh, shit," Harry cursed. While letting slip Gellert's name wasn't the disaster he had implied it would be to Dumbledore and Snape, Harry still hadn't wanted anyone to know who had been looking after him. Quickly, he considered his options. Did he need to Obliviate Weasley, just to be on the safe side?

"Harry, you do know that I'll keep any of your secrets, don't you?" she asked nervously, somehow reading his mind.

He sighed and sat back down. "Ginevra, it's not necessarily you that I'm worried about discovering all this. The Headmaster is a grifted Legilimens, and so is Snape, for that matter. If they start rummaging around in your head, they might pick the information out of your mind without you even knowing it."

"You do know that nearly everyone in Slytherin practices Occlumency, to some degree, don't you?" she asked cautiously.

"Really? Everyone? I thought that was limited only to the very rich and powerful families," he replied in surprise.

"It's practically a cottage industry in our House, Harry," she replied. "Tracey actually helped me a great deal in learning it. I guess it was the price of being her friend, really. I might not be able to keep a determined attack out, but I would instantly know if someone was trying to perform Legilimency on me."

Almost by reflex, Harry locked eyes with her and tried to enter her mind.

"Oi! Cut that out! That wasn't a bloody invitation to try and rape my mind, you git!" she yelled slapping him hard across the face.

"Sorry," Harry apologised whilst rubbing his face. "I had to test your abilities, but I promise I only attempted a surface reading. Your shields are pretty good but, as you say, they won't keep a skilled Legilimens out. Still, if you promise me that you won't dig into this anymore, I'll let the matter drop."

"Okay, but I really don't know what you're making such a fuss about," she huffed.

"Trust me, Ginevra, if it became common knowledge who was looking after me for all those years, there would be an uproar," he muttered.

"Alright, I'll forget I ever heard the name Gellert, alright?" she confirmed testily. "So, is that a German name, or something?"

"Weasley!" Harry protested angrily.

"Oh, you're just too easy to wind-up," she laughed. "No more questions, I promise."

"Thank you," he said grudgingly. "Now, how are you coming along with your training?"

"I've cracked it," she smirked arrogantly.

"What? You've achieved a full transformation already? Well, what are you waiting for? Let's see it," he insisted.

Ginevra stood with a grin on her face and stood a few feet in front of Harry. She closed her eyes and her face took on a distant expression. Around a minute later, she seemed to blur and a suddenly there stood a small wolf where she had been standing moments before.

"Sweet Merlin!" Harry gasped, before holding his hand out towards the wolf. The animal sniffed it once, before licking his hand.

Grinning like a madman, Harry examined the animal in detail. Ginevra's wolf was still fairly small, no doubt reflecting her age and own diminutive stature. Her fur was a reddish-brown, streaked with grey in places, while her eyes were a golden-brown colour and seemed to sparkle with mirth.

"Brilliant, Ginevra!" Harry praised her. "Now let's see you change back."

A minute later, a very smug-looking Ginevra Weasley was again looking at him with a barely-supressed look of triumph.

"You didn't think I'd get it so fast, did you?" she challenged him.

"No, I'll admit that I didn't," he confessed. "Of course, this isn't the end of your training, you realise?"

"I know I've got to make the transformation quicker and easier, but that will come with time," she said confidently.

"Absolutely, and you will need to practice that a great deal, but that wasn't what I was refereeing to," Harry informed her. "You also need to spend some time in your wolf form and really start to understand the animal. Wolves think very differently to us humans, and you need to start to embrace that difference."

"How do I do that?" she asked with a frown.

"Don't make any plans for tomorrow evening," Harry told her with a smile. "You and I are going hunting in the Forbidden Forest."

The smile that came to Ginevra's face was almost feral.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

In the gathering twilight, the forest looked magical to Harry's eyes. The shadows seemed to dance in the light of the fading sun, and the fragrant smells of night-scented stock and honeysuckles filled his senses. The recent rains had left everything feeling fresh and alive, despite it being late September. Truly, it was a wondrous evening to be out and about.

"Are you ready, then?" Weasley asked.

He looked down at the fiery redhead and smiled. Harry could hear the eagerness in her voice and her eyes were shining with excitement.

"Oh, yes," he agreed. "You transform first so I can check you've got your form down one hundred per cent, and then I'll change, too. Remember, I'll be expecting you to keep up."

"Pah, it will be you who'll be struggling to keep up with me," she replied cheekily, before closing her eyes and slowly beginning to change.

Very soon, Ginevra's wolf stood before him, looking up expectantly. He paused to examine her form in detail and couldn't help but be struck at what a beautiful animal she made. While he'd been surprised that she'd shared the same Animagus form as him, he had to admit that being a wolf suited her down to the ground.

Finding no fault with her animal form, Harry quickly changed into his own wolf. He was much larger than she, with his grey fur streaked with black. His green-tinted eyes looked at her and he was pleased to see her show him the proper respect. After all, he was the alpha wolf here, and Ginevra was his pack. For some reason, that very idea filled him with such pleasure that he thought he would burst. He was brimming with energy and nervous tension, and urgently needed to find a release. Without warning, he leapt forward and began to run.

There is a joy that wolves find in running. Their bodies are perfectly designed for pursuit and they live for the hunt. He'd barely gone more than a hundred yards into the forest before he caught the scent of prey: a colony of rabbits off to his left. His mouth began to salivate at the thought of fresh meat and he instantaneously changed the direction he was running.

Harry didn't need to look around to know Ginevra was right on his heels. He could hear her light footfalls and smell her magnificent scent. In her wolf form she was intoxicating to him, nearly indescribable in her gloriousness. Sleek and powerful, beautiful but deadly, she was the stuff of his very dreams.

At the furious pace they were setting, Harry and Ginevra reached the rabbit warrens within half a minute. Harry slowed his pace and began to creep stealthily forward, with Ginevra matching him exactly. A moment later, Harry went down flat on his belly behind some bushes. Through the leaves, he could just make out around a dozen rabbits, all blissfully eating grass and unaware that death lurked just a few yards away. Harry had deliberately angled his run so that the slight breeze wouldn't be behind him when he closed in on his prey. Even a hint of their scent would send the skittish rabbits diving for cover, and Harry wanted Ginevra to make her first kill in wolf form that night.

Suddenly, one of the rabbits looked up nervously and sniffed the air. They were so close now that it was probably unavoidable that their presence wouldn't be detected, but he had hoped to be able to stalk a little closer before launching his attack. No matter. Bunching up his body, he sprang forward with blinding speed towards the rabbits. Ginevra was right beside him, and they curved their run so that they would be between their prey and the safety of the warrens.

The rabbits scattered in all directions. Harry's eyes locked onto one fat animal that was frantically hopping towards the relative safety of the trees. His jaws locked around the animal's neck and with a quick flick of his head, he snapped the rabbit's neck like a twig. Dropping the dead animal to the ground, he looked round and was delighted to see Ginevra's teeth sink into the soft flesh of her own rabbit. She shook her head furiously, nearly ripping the plump rabbit to pieces, before she dropped it to the ground and looked up at him with triumph in her eyes. Unable and unwilling to stop himself, Harry raised his head and let loose a howl of victory, and Ginevra's higher pitched voice joined him momentarily. Together, they sang a song celebrating their conquest and the fact that they were the rulers of this forest.

A burning hunger within him halted his song. He picked up his kill in his mouth and padded over to Ginevra. Dropping the rabbit on the floor, he began to tear into it with his teeth. For some reason, rather than devouring her own rabbit, Ginevra stepped forward and began to share his meal. In seconds, the razor sharp teeth of their wolf forms stripped the meat from the bones of the dead animal, and they turned their attention to Ginevra's kill, consuming that in short order, too. As Harry picked at the shattered bones of the small animal, Ginevra began to lick the blood from around his muzzle, emitting a low growl of pleasure as she did so.

Their meal finished, they began to run again. Although Harry had spent many hours in his wolf form, he had never before felt such uninhibited joy as he did now. Dimly, he realised that this was the first time he'd ever had another wolf by his side and Ginevra's presence completed him. He was no longer the lone wolf, but the alpha of his own pack He was king of the forest, and all other animals made way for him. He was alive and life was wonderful.

Finding himself in a clearing, Harry slowed to a stop. The moon was beginning to rise in the sky, and the sharp, fresh smell of pine trees filled his nostrils. Ginevra padded up to him and again began to lick his face. The smell of the pine trees faded from his senses as he became aware of her own musky scent. It filled him with desire and a burning need, as he looked at her longingly, only to see her own golden-brown eyes blazing back at him. Without a sound, she turned and raised her tail, looking at him expectantly over her shoulder.

Harry mounted her in a second, his front legs wrapping around her body as he began to thrust himself into her. He heard himself yowling in pleasure, his lust overwhelming him and driving all rational, human thought from his brain. Ginevra was silent during their coupling, but her trembling body and the overpowering smell of her vaginal secretions left him in no doubt as to how much she was enjoying this. He felt her tighten around him, trapping him inside her in a wondrous embrace. His thrusting became frantic and he knew he was close to ejaculation. Without conscious thought, he swung his back leg over her while turning around. They stood, with their hind ends touching, as he emptied himself into her.

It took nearly ten minutes before he softened enough to separate himself from her. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he again turned his snout to the skies and howled in triumph. He had taken his mate, and all was right with the world. Ginevra howled too, and a second later they were both running back through the forest, their legs a blur as they shot through the dense undergrowth without difficulty. Somewhere during the run, Harry's human awareness exerted itself and he became conscious that they had been out here for a long time. Reluctantly, he began to head for the edge of the forest so they could return to the school.

Ten minutes later, he reached the edge of the treeline and changed back into his human form. He found himself breathing heavily, not just from the exertion of the run, but from the lingering excitement of the fabulous experience he'd just had. With a massive grin on his face, he turned to face Ginevra, who was just returning to her own form. As soon as he saw the expression on her face, his smile faded.

"You bastard," she growled in a low voice. "So, this was your plan all along, was it?"

"Ginevra?" Harry stuttered in surprise.

"You couldn't get me to shag you in human form, so you lure me out into the woods so you can screw me as a wolf? Or do you prefer it like that, Potter? Is that how you get your rocks off, by doing it doggie style?" she snapped, the volume of her voice rising rapidly.

"What? I… no! I swear I didn't plan this! I had no idea your wolf would be in heat, it just… happened," he protested.

"Oh, come on! You're the one with all the experience of being an Animagus! You must have known something like this would happen!" she bellowed at him.

"How could I have known? You're the first female wolf I've ever encountered! Besides, I didn't see you putting up much resistance out there. You seemed to be enjoying yourself pretty well," he yelled back, his anger rising. As soon as the words left him mouth, however, he realised he'd said the wrong thing.

"You bastard!" she howled, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. "I thought you were different! I thought I could trust you, but you're just like all those other boys, aren't you?"

Her face red and puffy, she turned and began to storm back towards the castle.

"Ginevra…" Harry began in a pleading voice, starting to follow her. He stopped instantly when she spun round with her wand pointed directly at his face.

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked, before nearly running off into the darkness.

Harry watched her go with a sinking heart. How had something so wonderful turned so sour? For a moment out there, he'd felt like he'd joined with his soul mate, the person he was going to be together with for the rest of his life. Ginevra was the only one who understood him, and shared his desires and dreams. Apparently, he'd been mistaken.

Slowly, he began to trudge back to the castle, his heart breaking into a million pieces.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days were pure misery for Harry. Ginevra avoided him like the plague, and he suspected that any attempt he might make at trying to talk to her would not be well received.

On top of this, the rest of the school seemed as hostile to him as ever. The senior Hufflepuffs might have been banned from spreading gossip about him, but it hadn't altered their opinion of him a jolt. Wherever he went, he was met with angry glares and whispered accusations from those wearing yellow and black. Even Michelle and her friend seemed a little wary of talking to him.

They weren't the only ones. The Ravenclaws all still meticulously ignored him, to the point of taking wide detours around him if they saw him coming the other way in a corridor. This was at least preferable to his treatment from the other two houses. Both the Gryffindors and his fellow Slytherins hated him with a passion, united in their loathing of the Boy Who Lived.

He spent the days alone, stewing in his secluded misery. Despairingly, he tried to focus on his main purpose in coming to Hogwarts, and spent hours in the Room of Requirement, hunting for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, which he strongly suspected must be hidden in there somewhere. Unfortunately, after a number of attempts, the room had changed itself into a massive space full of all manner of objects. It was the perfect place to hide the diadem, but it would probably take him months to search the entire place. Still, at least it was progress and it gave him a purpose here. Introducing the room to Harry had been Ginevra's gift to him, it was just a shame that he couldn't thank her for it.

It was an early Thursday afternoon, four days after the incident in the forest, when Harry found himself in the library. Although he found most of his lessons child's play, some of his homework assignments simply couldn't be completed with recourse to reference books. He sat alone at a table, leafing through a thick book on Ancient Runes, scribbling down half-remembered translations and formula, desperately trying not to fall asleep.

He was brought back to wakefulness by a presence standing near his chair. He looked up and saw Daphne Greengrass; an attractive blond girl who he recalled had been friends with Tracey. As he couldn't recall saying two words to her previously, he was surprise to see her standing there.

"Potter," she hissed in a low voice. "Malfoy and his friends are up to something bad. I just had to warn you."

Harry frowned at the girl, feeling somewhat uneasy about her presence, but unable to access her mind. The girl was obviously an accomplished Occlumens.

"What's Malfoy up to?" he asked cautiously.

"Here, take this. I can't be seen talking to you," she said, urgently thrusting a piece of paper at him.

Maybe recent events had put Harry off his game, or perhaps he was just feeling a little sleepy. Either way, he failed to notice the slightly reflective sheen on Greengrass's hand until his own fingers closed around the slip of paper. The sickening lurch of an activating Portkey told him that he'd been tricked, and that the blond girl had been wearing see-through protective gloves to prevent her skin activating the key. As he tumbled through space, he cursed himself for his own stupidity.

A moment later, he slammed forcefully into the ground. Almost immediately, he felt a Full Body Bind spell hit him, and his arms and legs snapped together. Desperately, he rolled his eyes trying to discover where he was.

"Hello, Harry darling," a taunting female voice said from somewhere behind him. "I can't say how happy I am to have my little toy returned to me."

Harry felt his insides twist in horror as Bellatrix Lestrange's leering face appeared above him. At least it answered his question about where he was, he realised.

He was back in hell.

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – The Gates of Purgatory

Chapter 9 already? My word, we're shooting through this, aren't we?

Apologies about the rather wordy start to this chapter, but as we switch to Ginevra's POV for the first time in the story there was rather a lot of ground to cover. Hopefully it will provide a bit of a glimpse into the mind of the lovely Miss Weasley.

Thanks as always to the wonderful Arnel for converting my frantic keyboard bashing into something resembling English.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Ginevra Weasley glared at the piece of parchment resting on her legs. She wiggled her toes under the bed covers, silently cursing the fact that the Slytherin dormitories always seemed so cold.

The last four days had been horrible for her, even by her normal standards. Ever since that night in the forest, she had been feeling angry, confused and betrayed in equal measures. Once again, she cursed the misfortune that brought Harry bloody Potter into her world. Damn the boy.

Before his arrival at Hogwarts, things had at least been straightforward. From her earliest days at the school, when she'd had the misfortune to witness her female classmates being threatened or coerced into satisfying the lust of the older Slytherin boys, she'd vowed that she would leave Hogwarts with her pride and virginity intact. No puffed-up, pure-blood bastard was going to force her to drop her knickers for them, she'd decided. That, of course, meant accepting that she was not going to have an easy or peaceful time within Slytherin House. She realised she would have to fight tooth and claw to protect her honour because, Merlin knows, no one was going to do it for her.

To protect herself, Ginevra realised, meant getting good with curses and hexes: really good. It was during the summer between her first and second years that she had really begun to study and practice. She'd begged her brother, Bill—about the only family member that she really still got on with—to help her and he'd come up trumps for her. His training as a curse-breaker meant he knew all sorts of interesting and effective spells, which he had shared with her liberally. Unfortunately, her time with her favourite brother had always been limited, mainly due to the fact he worked most of the year in Egypt, but he always helped when he could. He'd even continued her education via the post, writing long letters describing useful curses and providing support and encouragement. Sadly, that support had dried up when he started dating that part Veela bitch he'd met when he transferred back to England. The Delacour girl had hated Ginevra on sight, and had gradually used her sexual prowess to turn Bill against her, the cow. Still, by that point, through the help Bill had already provided, not to mention her own relentless studying, she'd built up a reputation as being a witch not to be messed with. Several Slytherin boys had discovered that fact to their cost.

The only trouble about building a reputation as a cold-hearted, vicious bitch was that it frightened off the boys she did like as well as the ones she had intended to discourage. Her six years here at Hogwarts had been a lonely and frustrating time, with only her own fingers to provide any form of relief. She'd accepted it, however, and believed it was a price worth paying if it got her through her time at the school. Better to be lonely than a victim.

Then, of course, Potter had to show up and wreck all her plans.

When she'd heard that the famous Harry Potter was not only alive and well, but planning on coming to Hogwarts, she'd been irritated. He would, she'd speculated, undoubtedly turn out to be some sickeningly noble, cloth-brained cretin who would immediately join all the other noble, cloth-brained cretins in Gryffindor. Ginevra would have put money on him and her brother Ron getting on like a house on fire.

But, to her amazement, Potter had been Sorted into Slytherin. Rather than the stuck-up, pretentious do-gooder she was expecting, he'd turned out to be smart, devious and cunning. His ravishing good looks, fabulous body and penchant for casual violence had also greatly endeared him to her, too. Nevertheless, she was wary of him. All boys, especially Slytherin boys, were only after one thing. She'd deliberately not allowed herself to get too friendly with him, despite his welcoming overtones, purely as she'd expected him to disappoint her at some point. They always did, just look at how that slime ball Zabini had tried to woo her for months last term. She'd been rather pleased with the attention, but knew that all he'd wanted was screw her and then brag about doing the most unapproachable girl in the school to his mates. No, it was better to just keep all boys at arm's length while she was in school.

Potter, damn him, just had to mess up that plan, didn't he? Despite herself, Ginevra found herself more and more drawn to him. She'd nearly soiled her knickers watching him effortlessly deal with Malfoy and his goons, and everything he did after then just seemed to endear him more to her. When he'd expressed his disgust at the way the Wizarding world operated, and told her that he wanted to forge a new, better path, he'd awoken something buried deep inside her; a desire to change this broken, corrupted system and fight for a better life. At that point, Potter had won her over completely.

The icing on the cake had really been discovering he was an Animagus. For years she'd been desperate to become one herself, but the burnt, half-complete textbook she had tried to teach herself with was just not up to the task. She'd been extremely pleased that Potter had agreed to help her, and astounded at the rapid progress they'd made. As for having the same animal as him, well, that was just beyond belief.

Ginevra had still desperately tried to maintain some distance between the two of them, however. She still believed, deep down, that Potter would let her down in some way. The most likely cause of that, she felt, was her only other friend in the whole castle, Tracey Davis. She could tell that Tracey fancied the pants of Harry, and with her heaving breasts, flirtatious nature, and greater sexual experience, Ginevra was certain Potter would fall for the charms of her blond friend.

It had been a major surprise to her when, strangely, it hadn't happened; even when Potter had the opportunity to shag Tracey handed to him on a plate. She'd understood his wish not to do anything that Draco actually wanted him to do, but it had still shocked her, and filled her with a tiny spark of hope. Then, of course, Tracey had been murdered, and Ginevra had been wracked with guilt at ever feeling jealous of her best friend.

She still wasn't sure how she felt about killing Blaise. The boy was a total bastard and deserved to die, undoubtedly, but she'd just wished it hadn't been her that had to perform the deed. To his credit, Potter had stood by her throughout those difficult days, and she wouldn't ever forget that.

That's what made the events in the forest so hard to deal with. Her virginity, she had so closely guarded, was gone, and while she was a bloody wolf, too. She'd been mounted and rutted like an animal, defiled in the most primitive of ways. Harry Potter had shown his true colours, and he'd screwed her over, in every sense. This was what she got for trusting someone.

Her anger, however, had begun to wane. While she'd been happy to bathe in her righteous fury for a day or two, doubts had soon started to enter her mind. Potter's biting words about her not offering much resistance had been true, after all. During her time in the forest, she'd experienced a world she couldn't ever have imagined. She and Harry had bonded in the most profound of ways, and she still remembered the fierce joy of her first kill in wolf form. They had been two ghost-like predators, gliding through the dark woods skilfully, before bringing down their prey without effort. She could almost taste the hot blood on her lips, and it gave her a strange thrill. She and her alpha, stalking the forest like gods…

Her alpha. As much as she wanted to deny it, she had wanted him that night. It had been pure instinct that caused her to raise her tail and stand there invitingly for him. In fact, she'd never wanted anything so badly in her life, and when he had mounted her the sensation had been orgasmic. She had given in to the most primal form of lust, and it had felt good. Damn good.

So why had she reacted so badly once they had returned to their human forms? Part of her had wanted to jump on him and repeat the act in their normal bodies, but her ingrained survival instincts had kicked in, and her anger at his supposed betrayal had exploded within her almost automatically. Part of it, she had to admit, was anger at herself for allowing a boy to dictate events. Harry had been the alpha and subservience didn't come easily to her. She was also angry that her first time had been in her Animagus form. Did that even count? Somehow, despite that satisfaction she'd felt on the most basic level, the event seemed cheapened to her. Getting screwed for the first time in her wolf form felt like being taken to a cheap hotel and then waking up the next morning alone: seedy.

The trouble with that line of thought was that she apparently really enjoyed seedy. At least, she did when it was with Harry. The memories of him being inside her still made butterflies appear in her stomach and her nipples harden. Damn it, if he was here in her room right now, she'd probably beg him to do her again, in human or wolf form. Possibly both. No, definitely both, one after the other. Damn him! Why the hell did he drive her so insane?

Sadly, she realised that the distance she was keeping between them was only hurting herself. She ached for his company, and longed to stare into those beautiful green eyes of his. Ginevra knew that she would need to make peace between them, but was just unsure how to go about it. After all, she really wasn't really too good at apologies.

That, she had to admit, was why she was stalking him now, admittedly in an unusual way. For the last few days she had been tracking his movements via the Marauder's Map; a fiendishly clever piece of magic that allowed her to see where anyone was within the castle. The map had been a lifesaver for her in recent years, even if its procurement had been responsible for widening the split between her and some of her family members. The map had belonging to her brothers, Fred and George, and she had covertly observed them using it during her second year. Originally, she'd intended to just try and steal it from them, but when a prank of theirs went disastrously wrong and they had been scrambling to hid evidence of their involvement, she had been given the perfect opportunity for a bit of blackmail. The teachers had never found out who had been responsible for that third-year Ravenclaw ending up in the hospital wing, but equally her brothers would never forgive her for extorting their precious map out of their hands under the threat of being exposed. She'd felt bad about blackmailing them, but it wasn't like they'd been supportive of her after she was sorted into Slytherin, so sod them.

Ginevra leaned back into her pillows and stared intently at the dot that represented Harry Potter. He'd been in the library for the last half an hour, probably doing homework, she surmised. How much time had she wasted in the last few days watching that bloody dot? Why couldn't she just build up the courage to go and talk to him? Hell, she didn't even need to make a proper apology, just some sarcastic, off-hand comment would probably do.

She was wracking her brains for the best way to proceed when she noticed another dot approaching Harry's. With surprise, she saw it was Daphne Greengrass. Daphne was a strange girl, outwardly a real cold-fish, but Tracy had once told her that that the oldest Greengrass girl was a bit of a pervert on the quiet, and had a thing for younger boys. Apparently, a number of first and second years had their first ever sexual experiences in Daphne's hands. Ginevra felt a bit sick at the idea, but she doubted the young boys in question had complained much. But, more to the point, what did Greengrass want with Harry?

Ginevra was pondering the matter when suddenly Harry's dot vanished. She blinked in surprise, and began to look around the area marked as the library for him. Not having any luck, she widened her search, becoming more frantic as she did so. Five minutes later, she'd looked over the entire map, and there was no sign of him. A cold fear began to settle in her stomach.

Quickly, she sought out Greengrass's dot again, and she gasped in anger when she saw who the girl was now standing next to: Draco Malfoy. Draco had been standing outside the library and, as soon as Harry had vanished, Daphne had apparently headed straight to the Malfoy boy. That was too much of a coincidence in anyone's book.

Desperately, she tried to think what to do. She'd seen first-hand how effective the teachers were at policing the castle, so she rejected going to one of them yet. She needed more information, and only one person could give that to her. Intently, she watched as Greengrass's dot began to move, apparently heading back towards the Slytherin common room.

Leaping out of bed, Ginevra flung on a set of robes and jammed her trainers on her feet. She made sure she had her wand and a small back-up knife with her. Harry had convinced her recently that carrying a blade was a good idea, and she'd stolen this one from the castle's kitchens just last week. She slipped it into a side pocket of her robes, and left her room.

By now, Daphne had reached the common room and, as a stroke of luck, looked like she was heading up to her room. Ginevra hurried along the corridor that contained the sixth-year girls' rooms, and casually lounged in the stairwell. Daphne would have to go right past her to get to her own room. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she waited until she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

As soon as Daphne caught sight of her leaning in the doorway, her face blanched. Looking uncharacteristically nervous, the blond girl continued up the stairs, staring rigidly ahead of her. Once she was a few feet away, Ginevra nodded at her casually. Greengrass actually smiled back, obviously pleased that she wasn't showing any signs of hostile intent. Ginevra almost snorted in disgust, to think, the girl called herself a Slytherin!

Once Daphne had passed her by, Ginevra whipped out her wand and sent a Stunner into the blond girl's back. She crumpled to the floor instantly, never knowing what had hit her. Quickly, Ginevra levitated the fallen girl back to her own room and laid her on the bed. She then locked the door securely, cast a couple of Silencing Charms, before conjuring a number of thick ropes to tie Greengrass securely to the bed. Only then, did she wake the girl.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Help! Help!" Daphne screamed as soon as she gained consciousness. It earned a sharp slap across the face from Ginevra.

"Shut it, bitch," she growled. "What have you done to Potter?"

"Potter? What are you talking about? I haven't seen Potter all day!" Daphne protested.

Ginevra smirked evilly, glad that Greengrass had inadvertently already confirmed that she was lying. That would make what she was about to do a little easier. Slowly and deliberately, Ginevra drew the knife from out of her robes and waved the blade slowly back and forth in front of Daphne.

"What are you doing you madwoman?" Daphne shrieked in fear.

"Why, I'm going to cut you up, unless you tell me what you did to Potter," Ginevra said sweetly, while climbing onto the bed. She straddled the confined girl between her legs, and trailed the sharp blade down Daphne's cheek.

"You'll never get away with this! They'll throw you in Azkaban," Daphne yelled in a panic.

"They'll never find your body, bitch, not unless you tell me what you did to Harry. I know you went and talked to him in the library, and then reported to Malfoy. So, I'll ask once more, what did you do to him?" she growled, letting the knife draw a little blood.

"Ouch! I… I can't say!" Daphne sobbed. "Draco threatened to hurt Astoria if I said anything. They have a Betrothal Contract which he can activate at any time. Astoria could just vanish into Malfoy Manor and never be seen again."

"You'll never been seen again if you don't start talking," Ginevra warned her. "Or if you do, you'll have some lovely scars to show. What do you think, blondie? Do you think all those little boys you give hand jobs to will like you if you're all scarred? I doubt it."

"Please," Daphne sobbed.

Thinking she wasn't making the message clear enough, Ginevra grabbed Daphne's left earlobe and began to cut. She only severed a few millimetres of flesh, but it was enough to make Daphne scream in pain and thrash against her bindings.

"What's next, bitch?" Ginevra hissed. "Your nose? An eye, maybe? Perhaps I'll cut of one of those flabby tits of yours and mount it on my wall!"

"Please, I… a Portkey! Draco gave me a Portkey to hand to Potter. He knew I was a friend of Tracey's, so he wouldn't be suspicious of me. I didn't want to do it, I swear!" Daphne wailed.

"Where did this Portkey go?" Ginevra demanded.

"I don't know; Draco didn't tell me. Please don't hurt me," Daphne sobbed.

"Stupefy!" Ginevra yelled, pointing her wand at the girl. Daphne instantly slumped back onto the bed and remained still.

Ginevra fought down a wave of panic and tried to think. She had no idea where Harry might have been taken and no means to get there even if she did. She could try and confront Draco, but he was likely to be with his goons, whom he was rarely seen without. No, she needed help.

Leaving Greengrass tied to the bed, she sprinted out of her room, locking it securely behind her. Hurriedly, she ran down to the common room and out through the hidden door. Sprinting down the dark corridor beyond, she halted in front of Professor Snape's door and knocked loudly. She offered a silent prayer of thanks when his voice bid her to enter.

Snape was sitting at his desk, and looked up at her with obvious distaste. "What do you want, Weasley?" he drawled.

"They've got Potter," she panted, slightly out of breath. "Draco Malfoy forced Daphne Greengrass to hand him a Portkey, and now he's vanished from the castle."

"What?" Snape gasped. "How do you know this?"

"I have a… err, secret means of tracking people in the castle and I just saw Harry vanish about ten minutes ago, just as he was talking with Greengrass. She then reported to Malfoy and headed back to the dorms, where I ambushed her. She's currently tied to my bed, having admitted giving the Portkey to Harry after her sister was threatened by Draco," Ginevra spat out in one breath. "We have to do something. They could kill him!"

"No, if Draco is involved, then Potter has been sent to the Dark Lord. He will want to interrogate Potter extensively, no doubt after prolonged torture. We still have time. Quickly, take me to Greengrass," he commanded.

Ginevra led him back to the common room and up the stairs to her room. Fortunately, no one was around so they both could enter without difficulties. She then awakened Greengrass, but left the ropes firmly in place.

"Wha… I… Professor! Weasley attacked me with a knife, sir! Please help me!" Daphne screeched as soon as she regained her senses.

"Silence, you stupid girl," Snape snapped and pointed his wand at her. "Legilimens!"

A few moments later, he lowered his wand and turned to Ginevra. "She was telling you the truth," he said angrily. "While Greengrass was never told the destination of the Portkey, it's obviously Malfoy Manor. If Potter has been sent there, then we cannot help him. It is the Dark Lord's main base and extensively protected. Potter, regrettably, is already dead. All we can do now is Obliviate Greengrass and pretend none of this happened."

"Aren't you forgetting something, sir?" Ginevra growled. "You said Potter would be interrogated extensively? Well, he knows that you're a double agent, and I'm sure that will be about the first thing he'll give up under torture."

Snape scowled. "Damn that Potter! I knew he'd be the death of me. You're right, it's probably suicide, but I must make the attempt to rescue him. I, at least, can get through the protective wards at the Manor without difficulties. You had better…"

"I'm coming with you," Ginevra interrupted him.

"You? You'll only be a liability. What possible use would a sixteen-year-old girl be?" he demanded angrily.

"I'm an Animagus, and I can pick up Harry's scent from some distance away," she blurted. "That's got to be helpful in finding him, hasn't it?"

"Animagus? You? Merlin's beard, girl, what form do you take?" Snape exclaimed.

"A wolf, just like Harry," she admitted. "Just get me into the Manor, and I guarantee I'll be able to find him."

"So, that's what the pair of you was up to together. How… cosy," he sneered. "Alright, you can accompany me, but you must obey my orders instantly. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she replied determinedly.

"Good. We'll need to return to my office to collect a number of things, and then we'll need to head out of the castle's grounds. I'll Obliviate Greengrass before we go, but we'll leave her here in case we need her later," Snape instructed.

Ginevra nodded and waited by the door while the Professor wiped the last half an hour of the blond girl's memory and then placed a Sleeping Charm on her. They then hurried back to Snape's office where the man immediately began hunting through the large collection of potion bottles that he kept there. He selected a number of bottles and placed them inside his robes, before he went back to his desk and unlocked a draw. From inside, he withdrew a plain black bag.

"What's that for, sir?" Ginevra asked curiously.

"It contains my Death Eater robes and mask. We will need them once we reach Malfoy Manor," the man replied sharply.

Ginevra stared at the bag in shock. While she hadn't been surprised to learn that Snape was a spy within the ranks of the Dark Lord's followers, the idea that he kept his Death Eater paraphernalia right here in this room chilled her for some reason. Suddenly, the war didn't seem so remote and Potter's words about having to choose a side felt very relevant.

Having found what he needed, Snape lead her out of his office and toward the Entrance Hall.

"We'll need to get off the school grounds before I can Apparate to the manor," Snape explained as they headed for the front door. "The quickest way will be to…"

"Ah, Severus," a voice interrupted them. They turned and saw the very person they had hoped to avoid: Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Snape drawled in greeting, being careful to hide the bag containing his mask and robes behind him.

"I was just heading to dinner. Would you care to accompany me?" Dumbledore asked with a pleasant smile.

"Unfortunately, I have an incident involving a couple of my Slytherins that I will need to deal with outside first," Snape lied smoothly.

"Oh? Nothing serious I hope. I could accompany you, if you like," Dumbledore offered.

"No need, Headmaster," Snape said graciously. "It is a simple matter involving some banned items that appear to have been smuggled into the school. Miss Weasley here alerted me to the problem."

"Most commendable, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore praised. "What manner of banned items are we talking about?"

"A case of Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bangs, sir," Ginevra leapt in. "I believe my brother Ronald might be trying to sell them here in school on behalf of Fred and George."

"Ah, I must say, your twin brothers do possess the most remarkable talent when it comes to the creation of such objects. I did always rather think it a shame they could never raise the necessary funds to open their own shop," Dumbledore noted. "Tell me, how is their mail-order business doing these days?"

"I wouldn't know, sir," she replied stiffly. "They only tend to involve me in their affairs when they need a test subject, not that I'm ever consulted on the matter, of course."

"Most regrettable," the old man replied, seemingly finding the whole matter amusing. "Well, I mustn't delay you in your attempts to foil this most heinous of crimes. I trust I will see you at the dinner table later, Severus."

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape replied, watching the old man warily as he headed into the Great Hall. "Interfering old busy-body. Come, Weasley, let's get out of here before we have any more interruptions."

The pair of them hurried out the door and along the path that led down to the main gates. As part of the teaching staff, Snape was able to open the gates without any difficulties, and they soon found themselves standing outside the castle grounds, and beyond the protective magics that prevented Apparation.

"Grab my arm," Snape instructed her. "Have you ever Apparated before?"

"I'm afraid not," she admitted.

"Try not to vomit over me, girl," Snape growled threateningly and made a twisting movement.

A second later, Ginevra felt her body being pressed hard from all directions and her chest felt so constricted that she could barely breathe. Incredible pressure was exerted on her, and she felt like her head would cave-in any second. Then, mercifully, it all stopped and she collapsed onto soft grass.

"Congratulations, Weasley, you've just Apparated for the first time. Now, gather your wits and get back on your feet," Snape snarled.

Ginevra climbed shakily to her feet and looked around. They were standing on an immaculate lawn that was situated in front of an imposing stone wall. Set into the wall was a large set of wrought iron gates which stood directly in front of them, with tall hedges lining the path leading to it. She stared at the ominous gates in trepidation. Maybe insisting on coming hadn't been such a good idea?

By this point, Snape had donned his Death Eater mask and robes, giving him a foreboding look. "Hold out your hands, child," he ordered.

Ginevra did as she was instructed, only to find her wrists being bound together with a thin rope seconds later.

"Hey!" she protested.

"A necessary precaution, I'm afraid," Snape's muffled voice explained. "You are to pretend to be my prisoner. When we encounter the guard, pretend to act terrified. I will then get us inside the manor itself."

She nodded, but felt deeply unhappy at losing the use of her hands. A moment later, she felt the Professor grab the back of her robes and shove her forward. Somehow, they passed through the metal gates as if they were smoke, and she found herself standing in front of a large, three-story house. A large, brutish-looking man dressed in black robes instantly started walking towards them.

"What's all this, then?" the man demanded gruffly.

"A prisoner for the Dark Lord," Snape replied in a deeper voice then he usually talked in. "He specifically ordered her capture as she comes from a family of know blood traitors."

"Ah, pity, I was hoping she was going to be shared round," the man grunted before he turned and leered at Ginevra. "Still, maybe our lord will let us play with her once he's finished, eh? What do you say to that, pretty? I'm sure we could find some fun games to play."

Ginevra stared at the man in horror. Although Snape had ordered her to look terrified, it really didn't require much acting ability on her part. The man was positively loathsome, and the idea of him laying as much as a finger on her made her want to be sick.

"We'll see," Snape replied simply and again pushed her forward.

They passed through a pair of ornate wood doors, before entering a grand hallway. Ginevra recognised the room from the article in 'Witch Weekly' a few years back. Then, the house had looked impossibly ostentatious, but now that she stood on its polished floor, it seemed far more sinister. It suddenly occurred to Ginevra that the magazine article had just been a PR exercise to make the world think that the Malfoys were a normal, if extremely wealthy, family. She guessed that the Death Eater guard out front had been missing the day the magazine's photographer had turned up.

As soon as they were clear of the doorway, Snape grabbed her by the collar and pushed her into a side passage.

"The dungeons are down this way, which I assume will be the most likely place to find Potter," he growled in a low voice, before pulling a knife from his robes and cutting the rope tied around Ginevra's wrists. "I suggest this would be a good time for you to transform into your animal form and sniff out your missing boyfriend."

Ignoring Snape's snarky comment, Ginevra tried to calm herself and change into her wolf. Fear, apparently, is a great motivator and she found herself transformed before she knew it.

"Well?" Snape demanded looking at her in an unimpressed manner.

Ginevra resisted biting his leg and instead tried to concentrate on the smells around her. At first, it was extremely confusing as there were a great many scents that she could detect. Instead, she tried to focus on the freshest scent trails that she could find, and soon got a hint of a familiar odour. Immediately, she took off in the direction of the trail, with Snape hurrying after her.

They moved along a dark corridor and then down a set of stone stairs that led, apparently, to a dead end, much to Ginevra's confusion. Snape, however, was unfazed by this turn of events, and tapped a stone wall with his wand. The wall immediately vanished like smoke on the wind, revealing a long, dark passageway that seemed to lead on forever.

"We must be especially careful from this point," Snape whispered. "These are the main dungeons, and we could encounter Death Eaters at any point."

Nodding her understand, Ginevra began to slink up the passageway, her senses on full alert. They had gone perhaps fifty yards when she caught an unfamiliar scent heading towards them. Her ears folded back onto her head and she dropped down onto her belly. Snape, realising what was happening, walked ahead of her, signalling her to try and hide in the shadows.

A few moments later, a figure dressed in the full regalia of a Death Eater appeared, walking in their direction. Ginevra tried desperately to press herself against the wall, but there was little to no cover in the bare corridor. The Death Eater approached Snape rapidly, seemingly unconcerned to meet someone there.

"It's about time you showed up," the Death Eater growled before glancing down and spotting Ginevra. "Hey! What's that bloody animal…"

The man got no further as Snape rapidly drew his wand and shot a green Killing Curse into his chest. The Death Eater dropped like a stone onto the cold, hard floor.

"Damn it," Snape cursed quietly. "We'll have to hope the fool won't be missed for a while. The cells are located just up ahead. I'll have to Levitate his body and hide it in one of them. You scout ahead and make sure the coast is clear."

Without further prompting, Ginevra leapt up and ran ahead. She was shocked to the core at the casual way the man whom she only thought of as her Potions Professor had killed another human being in cold blood. True, just days before she had plunged a knife into the chest of Blaise Zabini, but she'd been in a blind rage when she had done so, and the boy had just killed her best friend, after all. She doubted she could ever so casually kill a foe such as Snape had done.

Ahead, the corridor split into two, and she could definitely detect Harry's scent down the left hand one. She looked back to see Snape approaching, his wand held in front of him as he Levitated the limp body. She padded down the left-hand corridor a few feet to indicate that was the way they should go, and Snape followed without question. By this point, she began to notice heavy, iron doors built into the walls, and assumed these must be the cells the professor had mentioned.

Snape tried several of the doors, until he found one that was unlocked. He opened it and vanished inside for a moment, taking his victim with him. A second later, he emerged and cast several spells on the door, one of which Ginevra knew was an advanced Locking Charm that Bill had once shown her.

When he had finished, Snape again turned to her. "Have you located Potter yet?" he asked intently.

Realising she had become distracted, Ginevra turned and began to follow the scent again. It had become fairly strong, and she suspected Harry must be close by. Suddenly, she stopped in front one of the iron doors. This was it, she was certain! Turning, she looked back at Snape expectantly.

"This one?" Snape queried, before pointing his wand at the cell door and casting several Detection Spells. "This must be it. There are a number of Locking Charms on it, not to mention a few traps. This may take a few minutes. Keep watch while I get this door open."

Obediently, she padded back down the corridor a little way, trying to ignore what Snape was doing and concentrating on keeping a look out. She was fairly confident her keen nose and ears would detect anyone approaching long before they could see her.

Minutes seemed to drag by like hours, until Snape triumphantly muttered "got it!" and she heard a click as the cell door opened.

"Change back into human form, Weasley, I'll need an extra pair of hands," he ordered.

Ginevra quickly reverted to human form and hurriedly entered the cell, Snape closing the door behind her. It took a moment for her now human eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they did she spotted a naked form huddle in one corner. With a gasp, she ran over to it.

Harry was curled into a ball, shivering. His body was filthy and there were a number of deep cuts on his arms and legs. He seemed completely unaware of their presence.

"Harry," she hissed, "it's us! Professor Snape and I are going to get you out of here."

Potter remained unresponsive, however. Snape roughly pushed her out of the way, before pulling a vial from his robes.

"Lift his head up so I can get this potion down his throat," Snape ordered.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Ginevra demanded. "How did he get in this state already? He couldn't have been here more than an hour."

"Foolish girl! Potter is showing all the signs of repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse," Snape snapped. "More than ten minutes continuous exposure is normally enough to drive a person insane. I've seen this before; it's a standard Death Eater tactic for breaking a prisoner. They are subjected to the curse three or four times a day, at random intervals, for no more than five minutes at a time. Imagine, if you will, laying in the dark, constantly shivering from the cold, hunger gnawing at your stomach, all the while listening to see if your captors are coming to inflict more unspeakable agony on you. Imagine enduring that routine for days on end. Potter would have been begging them to kill him before the end of the second day."

"Oh, god! Harry!" she gasped and hugged him tightly.

"His head, girl, his head," Snape spat. "I need to get this Healing Potion down his throat or he'll be deadweight to us."

Stroking his hair, Ginevra managed to get him to look up. He looked at her with wild, unseeing eyes. Snape immediately grabbed his jaw and forced it open, pouring the contents of the liquid down his throat, before snapping his mouth shut. Potter swallowed it without protest, and, after a few seconds, began to stop shaking.

"Gin… Ginevra," he murmured.

"Yes, it's me," she confirmed softly. "We need to get you out of here. Can you stand?"

"Think… think so," he stammered.

With both their help, Harry managed to climb to his feet. Guiltily, Ginevra averted her eyes. She realised that she'd been staring at his naked form and, despite the dirt and the blood he'd been covered in, she had been admiring his body. Her eyes had been lingering on his manhood which was hanging limply between his legs. Somehow, it felt like she was violating him, leering at him while he was in this helpless state.

"Give him your robes," Snape commanded, perhaps noticing her examination of Potter's physique. She shrugged the garment off her shoulders and quickly wrapped it around Harry.

"Potter, do you think you can transform into your Animagus form?" Snape asked. "It would be the easiest way to get you out of here."

Harry just shook his head, all the while looking like standing was a major feat for him. Performing an Animagus transformation was difficult and draining at the best of times, and Ginevra realised asking him to do it in his current condition was impossible.

"Okay, we do this the hard way, then," Snape drawled. "Weasley, change back into your wolf form and scout ahead. I'll support Potter."

Nodding, Ginevra performed the quickest transformation she had ever achieved, and was soon back in her wolf body. Snape cracked open the cell door a fraction, allowing her to sniff the air outside. Finding nothing, she pushed herself out of the gap and ran back the way they had come, determined to give the two men as much warning of any hostiles as she could.

Luck was with them, for a change, and there was no sign of any of the manor's inhabitants as she ranged as far as the stairway. She paused there, waiting for Harry and Snape to catch up. She heard them long before they came into sight; Harry was leaning heavily against the Professor, who had to keep one arm around the young man's shoulders to support him. As soon as they were within a few yards of the stairs, she turned and darted up to the next level to reconnoitre their escape route.

Again, their luck held and the dark corridor was empty, as was the entrance hall. That just left the problem of the guard stationed outside. Once the two men caught up with her again, she looked up at Snape with questioning eyes.

"I think we'll have to abandon stealth from this point," Snape decided. "I'll go ahead and take out the guard. My actions might be spotted by someone on the upper floors, but I don't see we have any choice. I think…"

Snape's words were interrupted by the guard in question unexpectedly entering the entrance hall through the main door. He took one look at the three of them gathered in a huddle and let out an angry cry. Desperately, Snape tried to untangle himself from Potter, while the guard drew his wand. Ginevra, seeing that the guard would beat Snape to the draw, did the only thing she could. Leaping forward, she sank her teeth into the guard's meaty thigh. The man bellowed in agony and lashed out at Ginevra with his fist. Ginevra, however, had her teeth firmly locked into the man, despite the pain of his blow.

"Sectumsempra!" Snape cried and, instantly, blood spurted from the guard's chest, causing him to stagger backwards. Ginevra released her grip and watched the man fall to the ground in a pool of his own gore.

"Come on," Snape cried. "Someone is bound to have heard that commotion. We need to get out of here."

Grabbing Harry, who seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and was limping as fast as he could, Snape virtually dragged the injured boy through the doors. Ginevra's keen ears could hear shouts of alarm from somewhere behind her, but did not dare look back.

"Change back and grab my arm, otherwise you won't be able to get through the gates!" Snape yelled at her. With panic mounting inside her, Ginevra transformed back into a human and grabbed hold of the Professor as instructed. They lunged through the gates just as a beam of red light shot past them, missing Harry by inches.

"Keep hold of me, I'm going to Apparate us out of here," Snape commanded, and seconds later Ginevra again felt the horrible feeling of compression as she was jerked off her feet. A moment later, she found herself back outside the gates of Hogwarts, as the three escapees all collapsed in a heap.

"Damn it, "Snape cursed. "Side-Along Apparation is hard enough with one person, let alone two. That took a lot out of me. Weasley, help me get Potter to his feet. He needs medical attention urgently and I barely have the strength to stand myself."

Between them, they managed to get Harry onto his feet. By this time the young man looked like he was on the verge of collapse and seemed to be only dimly aware of his surroundings. It was a long, hard trip back to the castle and several times they all nearly collapsed. Harry was barely able to remain upright by the time they reached the main doors. They staggered into the building gratefully.

"Weasley, go ahead and…" Snape began but then stopped.

Looking up, Ginevra was horrified to see Malfoy, Parkinson and Nott, all coming down the main staircase directly in front of them. As soon as he saw them, Draco's face turned red with anger and he virtually sprinted past them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, his companions right on his heels.

"Professor, we need to stop them!" Ginevra cried.

"It's too late," Snape groaned. "We'll never catch them now and I'm too weary to even try. Within minutes the Dark Lord will know that it was us who helped Potter escape."

Gritting her teeth, Ginevra glared in the direction that Malfoy had disappeared. Her life had suddenly become a lot more complicated, to say the least.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes.

At first, he was confused as to where he was, but slowly, his memory returned and he remembered he was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. He'd awoken briefly sometime before, but it had been dark, so he'd just rolled over and gone back to sleep. Now, sunlight streamed through the windows, signalling a new day.

"Awake are we, Potter?" a voice drawled.

Harry looked over and saw Professor Snape sitting by his bedside with a grim expression on his face. Ginevra Weasley was lying on top of the bed next to his, fully dressed. She looked at him with a faint smile.

"What… ah… damn! Every single part of my body hurts," Harry moaned.

"That's hardly surprising. I'm told you were displaying symptoms of extended exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, not to mention several deep lacerations caused by a knife. I take it you had the pleasure of Bellatrix Lestrange's company again?" Snape asked in a dead voice.

"Yeah, and I really don't want there to be a third time with that mad bitch," Harry groaned. "I really thought I was going to go insane this time, she kept the curse on me for so long."

"What do you mean?" Ginevra asked, leaping off the bed. "Had you been captured before?"

"Indeed, Miss Weasley, Potter here was a guest of the Dark Lord about a year ago, isn't that right?" Snape confirmed, turning his head back to Harry.

"It is. Last time, I was held captive for over a week, and it took me nearly a month to recover from the experience. My guardian was responsible for rescuing me back then, but this time it looks like I have the pair of you to thank. Really, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you. Being back under Lestrange's heel was my worst nightmare come true," Harry said sincerely.

"I guess you really owe me, now," Ginevra smirked. "I'm sure I'll think of a suitable way for you to make it up to me. You did say you were rich, didn't you? I'll just start writing out a shopping list, shall I?"

"Yes, you can," Harry laughed softly, "and make it a long one."

"I'm glad you both find the situation amusing," Snape sneered.

"Sometimes you have to laugh, otherwise you'll cry," Harry commented drily. "So, what's been happening while I've been out of it?"

"A great deal and none of it good," Snape said with a note of anger in his voice. "You'll be please to know that Miss Greengrass is no longer in the castle. Her parents came and collected her this morning and she has been officially expelled."

"Wait, what do you mean, she's gone? She was the main participant in my kidnapping," Harry protested. "Surely, she'll need to be interviewed by the Aurors."

"No charges have been brought against Miss Greengrass, and the Headmaster is satisfied that she was forced to act against her will. He merely informed her parents that it would be best for all parties if she did not return to the school," Snape explained in a detached manner.

"Like hell! I was the one kidnapped and used as Bellatrix's plaything, and it's my decision if charges are to be brought," Harry yelled.

"The Headmaster felt, and I have to agree with him, that a court case involving Miss Greengrass might raise a number of questions that you would be unwilling to answer," Snape replied coldly.

"Think about it, Harry," Ginevra interrupted. "Professor Snape would have to explain how he was able to gain access to a Death Eater stronghold and I would have to admit to being an illegal Animagus. I'm pretty sure there are a few things you wouldn't want to have looked into in greater detail, either."

Harry took her meaning immediately, and huffed in frustration.

"So, I guess this means Draco Malfoy gets off the hook again," he said bitterly. "I take it the little shit blabbed to the nearest Death Eater about your involvement?"

"Oh, he did indeed," Snape growled. "I am now officially a dead man. It's only a matter of time before Lord Voldemort extracts his revenge on me."

"What has Dumbledore had to say about this?" Harry asked with a frown.

"He expressed his great disappointment that I would act so foolishly, and lectured me on how my exposure as a spy may cost the lives of countless witches and wizards in the future. I have now been informed that I am banned from leaving Hogwarts for my own safety, although I doubt that will keep me particularly safe," Snape noted bitterly.

Harry thought for a moment. "You can't seriously be satisfied with that, can you?" he asked. "You've effectively become a prisoner within this school."

"I fail to see what other option I have," Snape spat.

"Professor, do you seriously think I would have made my presence known to the Wizarding world, or ever stepped foot in this school unless I had an escape plan?" Harry smirked.

"Escape plan? What do you mean?" Snape demanded.

"Quite simply, I have a pre-planned escape route out of the country. Give me a day or two, and I can guarantee to get you out of here and somewhere safe," Harry assured him.

"But to what end? I have only meagre savings, and how would I survive in a foreign country with no immigration papers?" he pointed out. "Besides, where are you talking about sending me?"

"America, actually," Harry explained calmly. "Due to the problems in Europe at the moment, the USA has virtually closed its borders to magical immigrants, but I have a contact already established there. With a little notice, I can arrange an international Portkey to transport you to a safe location in America, and have false identification papers ready and waiting for you. You can just fade into the population, and no one will be any the wiser."

"America? You would have me become an exile from my own home?" Snape snapped.

"You can stay here and be killed if you'd prefer," Harry replied pointedly. "But just think about it. You'd have the chance of a completely fresh start. You'd have a completely new identity and be able to pursue any career you wanted to. Merlin knows, Professor, you seem to loath children, so this would be a great opportunity to try something different. Just think, a different haircut, some snazzy new clothes, maybe a suntan: you'd be a new person. Just remember, too, all those American girls love an English accent."

"You'd be beating those Yankee babes off with a stick, sir," Ginevra chuckled.

Snape just stared at them with his mouth open.

"Is staying here really worth dying for?" Harry asked reasonably. "You can't be happy here, can you? Hogwarts must hold a lot of bitter memories for you, sir, and you've been hanging onto the past for too long now, anyway. Perhaps going somewhere new would be the best thing you could do. Let go of what couldn't have been, and embrace a fresh, new start. Lily would have wanted you to, Professor."

At the mention of Harry's mother, Snape flinched like he'd been struck. He looked down into Harry eyes for a moment, before sighing in defeat.

"You are correct, Potter. Lily would indeed have wanted me to take this opportunity. In fact, she'd probably have hexed me into oblivion for even hesitating. Very well, I will accept your offer. How much time do you need to arrange this?" he asked wearily.

"Not long, in fact I should have everything ready by Saturday, providing I can get to my trunk this morning. I'll need an excuse to get out of the castle, however. My wand will need replacing, Bellatrix snapped my last one in front of me, and so I'll need to go to Diagon Alley to replace it. Can you inform the Headmaster that I'll be away from the school all of Saturday. Obviously don't mention that you'll be accompanying me, but suggest that you'll arrange a suitable escort. We'll smuggle you out of Hogwarts and you'll be away before anyone is the wiser," Harry suggested.

"Very well, I'll imply that Hagrid will be escorting you. Dumbledore trusts the man completely, and he would make a suitable person to accompany you. I'll mention the matter to Hagrid, but be somewhat vague about when you'll be travelling," Snape pondered.

"Excellent idea," Harry agreed, before looking over at Ginevra quizzically. "Do you have a back-up wand, Ginevra?"

"Back-up wand?" she snorted. "I'm lucky to have the one I've got. It's seen better days, too."

"Right, you're coming with us, too," Harry decided. "You're a target now, and only having one wand is a recipe for a quick death."

"He's right, Miss Weasley," Snape said, nodding. "You should always carry at least one spare wand, and some other back-up weapon, too, if possible."

"It was just as well Bellatrix burnt my clothes as soon as she stripped them from my back," Harry continued. "If she'd search my robes, she would have found several Extension Charms cast on them. When I was captured, I have two back-up wands, a knife, several types of hand grenades, a few landmines, and a Muggle sub-machine gun hidden away. Oh, and a long sword. You, my dear, need to get tooled-up. I have several sets of enchanted robes in my trunk, and I'll let you have one of them later."

"Really? Well, okay. I must admit my brother Bill tends to carry more than one wand, so I guess it must be a good idea. Besides, I think I deserve having you splash out a few Galleons on me," she grinned.

"Now that's decided, I'll need to start making plans. I will begin to discreetly tidy up my affairs here, not that I have much that I won't mind leaving behind," Snape noted with a faint hint of sadness in his voice.

"Have everything in your trunk, ready to go by eight o'clock on Saturday morning," Harry instructed. "Ginevra and I will meet you in your office, and we'll go from there."

"Very well, I'll speak to you later," Snape confirmed, before marching out of the hospital wing without a backward glance.

"I should be going too, Harry," Ginevra said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Harry begged, grabbing her wrist. "I really need to talk with you further. Please stay a little longer."

"Okay," Ginevra agreed cautiously and sat herself on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Look, about what happened in the forest," Harry began.

"Don't!" Ginevra interrupted. "Let's just say that I overreacted a bit and pretend it never happened, okay?"

"Alright," Harry agreed, deciding not to argue, before continuing in a serious tone. "I have to say again, I can't thank you enough for rescuing me. Really, if there is anything that I can do to repay you then just tell me. I owe you my life."

"I'll bear that in mind," she replied, actually looking faintly embarrassed.

"One thing you do have to realise, however, is that things have now changed. Voldemort might now want Snape's head on a plate, but you've just been placed on his target list, too. That means we have to do things a bit differently now, if you're agreeable," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.

"Ginevra, ever since I met you, I've thought that we would make a great team together. I can practically feel your magical power, and the fact that nearly every boy in Slytherin is scared of you is proof enough that you're a great fighter. I want you by my side," Harry told her intently.

"I…" she began hesitantly.

"Just hear me out," he begged. "From this point, both of us are going to have every single one of the Dark Lord's followers coming after us. We stand a much better chance of survival if we work together, with one of us covering the other's back. I'm willing to bet that together we could make a team that even Voldemort would think twice about taking on directly. We've already proved that we work well together in our Animagus forms, and I'm certain we can extend that to our normal forms, too. Together, we could do great things, Ginevra,"

She looked at him in shock, clearly not sure if he was being serious or not.

"I told you a while ago that a time would come when you had to pick a side," Harry reminded her gently, "and this is it."

For a moment, she looked undecided, before she let out a weary sigh.

"What choice do I have?" she said in a defeated voice. "By coming after you I've already made my decision. I guess from here on in, we're partners."

Harry grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Ginevra," he said warmly. "I can't guarantee that this will be easy, in fact, you've picked a dark and dangerous road to tread with me. The rewards, however, will make it all worth it. I tell you, they'll be singing songs about our exploits for centuries to come."

"As long as they put my name first," she smirked. "So, what happens now?"

"Well, firstly, I need to get out of this bloody hospital bed and get to my trunk. I have some goodies that I want to share with you and I'll need to arrange for Snape's passage out of the country. After that, we'll start training together, and practice working as a team. We'll spend some more time in our Animagus forms, too," Harry decided.

"Oh? Hoping to get your leg over again, are you, Potter?" Ginevra asked archly.

"Actually, I was rather hoping that the next time that happens we'll both be in human form," he said, smiling suggestively.

"In your dreams," she teased, leaning towards him dangerously.

"You're always in my dreams, sweet Ginevra," he replied.

With an evil smile on her lips, Ginevra slid off the bed and started to head towards the door.

"See you later, Potter," she called as she left, wiggling her fingers at him.

Harry just lay back on the bed and watched her go, his eyes never leaving the fluid curves of her buttocks. Was it his imagination, or was she swaying her hips a little more than normal as she walked?

Either way, he had a feeling that this could be the start of a beautiful partnership.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Abstinence and Indulgence

You may (or may not) be pleased to know that this is the lightest, least violent chapter in the whole story. For me, it was great fun to write and I enjoyed fleshing out Gellert's backstory and giving some explanation as to why he abandoned his ambition to rule the world. Researching alcopops brought back a few memories, too, and British readers might be able to identify the brands I describe (assuming they can actually remember the nineties – it's all a bit hazy for me).

Huge squidgy thanks to Arnel for making me look more competent then I actually am.

"Come on, Melinda, just five more minutes," Harry begged.

"James! If we're not careful my dad will come out here looking for me. I was supposed to be inside twenty minutes ago," she protested, but then let out a moan as Harry's lips started to place a trail of kisses down her neck. "James…"

She pushed him in the chest and he reluctantly took a step away from her. She stood glaring at him with her arms crossed against her chest, although the mischievous smirk on her lips rather ruined the effect.

"I know, I know; time for you to go inside," Harry noted with a tragic sigh. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe, as long as you can keep your hands to yourself," she replied saucily.

"Why? You've never complained before," he grinned back.

"Pig!" she laughed, before stepping forward and placing a quick kiss on his lips. "I really have to go, James," she apologised. "Swing by about seven o'clock tomorrow. I should be ready by then."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Harry agreed. "Sweet dreams."

"You, too," she replied with a brilliant smile, and vanished up the path to her family's house.

Harry watched her go with sigh. He couldn't believe that he'd got so lucky as to have Melinda as his girlfriend. She was just perfect for him: beautiful, intelligent, funny, and being a Squib, he didn't have to hide his magical abilities from her. It was a match made in heaven.

With a dreamy smile on his face, Harry turned and walked back through the darkened streets of Godric's Hollow. He loved living here, he truly did. After having lived in the urban drabness that was Little Whinging for nine years of his life, this little West Country village was a breath of fresh air. Its quaint cottages and rural setting were much more to his liking than the unyielding conformity of his former home.

He soon reached Bathilda's house and let himself in through the front door. As always, Gellert was waiting for him in the living room, a book on his lap and a cup of coffee steaming beside him. He looked up as Harry entered.

"Ah, Harry, you're home," he noted with a smile, "and how was your date with the enchanting Miss Cooke?"

"Really great," Harry replied, smiling so hard his face hurt.

"She is a most delightful young lady," Gellert agreed, the amusement plane on his face.

"She is, Gelli," Harry agreed, before looking at his guardian nervously. "I… I think I'm in love with her."

Gellert suddenly looked serious. "Well, it is possible, Harry, but first loves are always tricky things. Some will last forever, growing stronger as time goes by, but only if they are nurtured correctly. Others simply disappear, like a leaf on the breeze, leaving only a lingering sadness."

Harry looked distressed at Gellert's words. "That won't happen!" he said angrily. "Why would I stop loving Melinda? She's brilliant!"

"I wasn't denigrating Miss Cooke in any way, my boy, it's just that you are both young and have so much growing to do. As people age, they change, you know. In a year or two, you may well not be the same person that you are today," Gellert said gently.

Harry huffed and threw himself down on the sofa. "I wish I could tell her who I really am," he moaned, "or even just let her see what I really look like."

"If you do that, you make not only yourself a target, but her too. Do you really want to put Melinda's life at risk?" the old man challenged.

"Of course not," Harry replied moodily. "I know I can't, I just wish that I could, that's all."

"I suspect that in a few years it will be time to reveal yourself to the Wizarding world. At that point you will be able to tell her everything. I'm certain she will understand your need for secrecy," Gellert said soothingly.

"I suppose so," Harry mumbled sourly, before fixing his guardian with a hard stare. "If you're so knowledgeable about girls, how come you never married?"

Gellert looked at him pointedly, before sighing. "Perhaps this is a story I should have told you, Harry, but it is one that hurts me even to this day. Once, long ago, I was engaged to be married."

"Really? Why have you never mentioned this before?" Harry demanded, his earlier surliness vanishing in an instant.

"As I said, it is a painful tale for me to recount, but one that I think you will learn some valuable lessons from," Gellert replied sadly. "Her name was Paula. Paula von Schirach, although her maiden name was Hoffman."

"Maiden name?" Harry repeated in confusion. "You mean she was married?"

"Widowed, to be exact. Her husband had been an army officer of fine Prussian descent, but was killed in during the Polish campaign in the early part of World War Two. I was in my fifties when I met her, and she was nearly fifteen years my junior, but being a wizard, of course, I appeared much younger than I actually was. I can honestly say, I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her," the old man sighed.

"What happened?" Harry prompted.

"I met her back in forty-one, at a party thrown by some high-ranking army officer. Paula was invited because she was a friend of the man's wife, and I attended to drink expensive champagne and laugh down my sleeve at the Muggles. In the end, the joke was on me because I became captivated by her the moment I saw her. She had long, dark curly hair and the most wondrous brown eyes, so deep and clear. Naturally, I introduced myself and was delighted when we seemed to hit it off," he said, smiling at the memory.

"Wait, you mean she was a Muggle?" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"Indeed! Just imagine it, me; an all-powerful Dark Lord who was well on his way to engineering the conquest of all of Europe, suddenly humbled by a pretty brunette with a disarming smile. They said the face of Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships, well, Paula's face stopped a thousand tanks! From the moment I met her, I could think of nothing but being with her. Obviously, my plan for global domination and subjugation of the Muggles took something of a dent," he chuckled.

"Wow, it sounds like you had it bad," Harry laughed.

"Oh, indeed, my young friend, I did! At first, I thought only to satisfy my lust with her, something I achieved remarkably quickly. I was handsome and charming, she was lonely and in need of comfort. Well, there was a war on, you understand. People's morals change somewhat in such times. But even after I bedded her, I wanted more. Soon, I persuaded her to move to Berlin where I was living at the time and, after some coaxing, I got her to agree to marry me. Do you know, my boy, I could have used magic on her, or a potion, but instead I spent nearly a year begging her to accept my proposal! Proof positive, I feel, that love is stronger than magic," he smiled wistfully.

"So, why didn't you get married?" Harry asked.

"As I said, I'd somewhat neglected my duties and responsibilities since Paula came into my life, and it came back to bite me. That egotistical Muggle idiot I had placed in charge had managed to make a mess of things. I'd left him strict instruction that the capture of Moscow was his priority, but instead he'd tried to take the Russian capital and the oil fields to the south, simultaneously. Stupid little man," Gellert snapped, clearly still irritated after all this time. "A greater problem then occurred, which, sadly was a direct result of my inattention. A group of Russian wizards had entered the fight, and magically managed to hide large-scale troop movements by Soviets in the south. They managed to encircle and destroy an entire German army at a place called Stalingrad."

"Oh, I've heard of the battle," Harry gasped in awe.

"I would be disappointed if you had not," Gellert nodded. "Anyway, the situation had deteriorated so badly by early nineteen forty-three that I realised that I had to go and take command of the situation personally. I kissed Paula goodbye, and told her to remain in Berlin in the house that I had provided with extensive magical protection, unbeknown to her, of course. Naturally, being a strong-willed woman, she completely ignored me."

Harry had a dreadful feeling he knew what was coming next.

"Paula's family came originally from Hamburg in northern German and, bored with being cooped up in Berlin where she knew no one, she decided to visit them. She was therefore in Hamburg in July, the month that the English started a series of heavy air raids against the city," Gellert said, his voice cracking. "A bomb hit the Hoffman's house and levelled it. She died instantly."

"I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely.

"For a while, I felt intense hatred for the English, you know. First, Dumbledore had wrecked all my carefully laid plans by fawning over his mad sister, and then your bombers had taken from me the only woman I had ever truly loved. I wanted revenge. I wanted fire to reign down over England. I wanted every last one of you dead," Gellert spat.

Not knowing what to say, Harry sat silently, looking at his beloved mentor apprehensively.

"But as soon as it had come, my hatred for the English slipped away, to be replaced by a much more intense hatred… of myself," Gellert moaned.

"I don't understand," Harry said, surprised by his guardian's words.

"By this point, I'd seen first-hand the horrors of war," Gellert continued bitterly. "The Eastern Front was unimaginable. The inhumanity of the conflict was beyond my most horrific nightmares, and will haunt me to the end of my days. I saw atrocities inflicted by both sides, and I came to comprehend that it was I that had unleashed this Armageddon on the world. The burning bodies of those women and children were my doing, Harry, and the guilt ate at me like a cancer."

Gellert stood and walked over to the sideboard. A number of bottles were sat there, and he poured himself a large Firewhisky.

"I was riddled with pain and regret, and I took less and less involvement in the war. The underlings I had appointed took over and it was like a madness infected them all. Death camps, executions, torture; it was a vision of hell, my boy, and I stood by, wallowing in my grief, and let it all happen. My little empire crumbled around me, and I could only be glad at its demise. By the time Dumbledore confronted me in forty-five, I was a hollow shell of a man. Albus could have fought me armed only with a feather and I would have capitulated."

"But the history books always describe the confrontation between the two of you as an epic battle," Harry protested.

"Yes, but remember that history is written by the winners, Harry, and Dumbledore was the victor. I suspect that he embellished the story of our meeting somewhat, and let the world think I was dead. I wanted to be dead, actually, but Albus, in his unthinking cruelty, had me imprisoned, instead. For forty-five years I sat in that tiny cell in Nurmengard Prison, a place which had ironically housed so many of my foes previously, and reflected on the disaster that was my life. It was a punishment that in time I came to welcome, and believe that I richly deserved. I still do, for that matter."

"If you felt that way…" Harry began cautiously.

"Why did I break-out to find you?" Gellert said, completing Harry's question. "Simply put, Harry, I was seeking at least partial atonement. I can never make amends for my crimes, but when I became aware of your treatment at the hands of my old comrade, I could not in good conscience sit back and do nothing. I hope that I have at least made one life a little better."

"You have, Gelli," Harry assured him, "and to me that means the world."

"Then I am glad," Gellert smiled, and downed his Firewhisky.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Buggering hell, Potter! How did you manage to do that?" Ginevra spat, climbing to her feet.

Harry resisted smirking and merely sat down on one of the chairs that the Room of Requirement had provided.

"A Shield Penetration Jinx," Harry explained. "It's particularly useful when facing opponents who can cast a strong shield, much like yourself. It creates a three foot by three foot gap in a shield, usually without the other person being aware of it. It's a simple matter then to send whatever spell you want through the gap. I thought you'd appreciate a Leg-Locking Curse more than a Blasting Charm."

"You are going to teach me that Jinx, aren't you?" Ginevra said firmly.

"Of course," he agreed readily. "You're definitely going to have to improve your soundless casting abilities, though. I could see your lips moving half the time."

"Yeah, well, no one's perfect," she growled, before looking Harry straight in the eyes. "Who taught you, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to tell you this, aren't I?"

"We agreed to be partners, Harry. That means no secrets," she declared forcefully.

"Everyone has secrets, Ginevra, but I suspect that this isn't one that I should keep from you. I warn you now, however, that what I'm about to tell you must remain completely secret. Your Occlumency Shields are okay, but even so, you must bury this information in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind, and never think about it while in the presence of anyone. Understand?" Harry stated in hard voice.

"I understand," she replied seriously.

Harry nodded. "Well, I've already let slip his first name…" Harry began.

"Yeah, Gellert, but I couldn't find any records relating to any wizard by that name, not recently living ones, anyway," Ginevra interrupted.

"I thought I asked you not to investigate that name," Harry noted coolly.

"You didn't seriously expect me not to, did you?" she asked in genuine surprise.

"I guess not. By the sounds of it, you probably saw the name of my guardian in your research and discounted it. You see, most people think he died in nineteen forty-five. Even those who knew better thought he passed on in nineteen-ninety," he explained.

"Nineteen forty-five? A man most people think died in nineteen forty-five called Gellert?" Ginevra gasped.

"You've got it," Harry confirmed. "My guardian and teacher was Gellert Grindelwald: Dark Lord and one of the most hated wizards in history."

"But…" Ginevra gasped. Harry had never seen her so utterly befuddled before.

"He didn't die in a duel with Dumbledore like most people believe," Harry continued. "In fact, there was no epic duel; Dumbledore made that bit up or, at least, never bothered to correct anyone when that story came out. Gellert was in fact imprisoned for over forty-five years in a prison in Germany. When one day he read a newspaper article about me, he faked his own death and escaped. He was actually killed just this summer by Voldemort when Godric's Hollow was attacked."

"So, does this make you the next Dark Lord in waiting, or something?" Ginevra asked a little uncertainly.

"Nah, I have no intention of becoming like Voldemort, thank you very much," he grinned. "In fact, Gellert was very much a changed man by the time I met him. He'd fallen in love with a Muggle girl in the forties, and that started to make him question everything he'd believed up to that point. When she was killed in the war he started, he began to feel remorse for his actions. The Gellert Grindelwald I knew was a very different person to the hideous Dark Lord that mothers still describe to frighten their children into behaving."

"But… but…" she spluttered lamely before her shoulders slumped and a look of amazement settled on her face. "Wow," she murmured.

"Yeah, wow about sums it up," Harry agreed. "Look, don't get too hung up on all this. Just remember that by the time he rescued me from my dreadful Muggle relatives, Gellert was a just man. I'm not saying he was a saint by any means, in fact, he could be an evil bastard when crossed, but he tried to do what was right, and I loved him for it."

"I guess this explains why you're so advanced magically," Ginevra mused. "You must have learnt loads of amazing things from him."

"Oh, did I ever," Harry grinned evilly.

"Will you teach me what you learnt?" she asked eagerly.

"Hey, we're partners! Of course I'll teach you," he assured her.

Ginevra walked over to him and sat down on the sofa next to him. To Harry's surprise, she grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly.

"The world isn't going to know what hit it by the time we're through," she said with a malicious smile.

Harry couldn't keep from matching her smile. "Oh, you are so right, Miss Weasley," he said, his thumb caressing her hand.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Can we get on with this? It won't take long for the Headmaster to realise I've left the castle, and I can guarantee that he'll come after me," Snape snarled miserably.

"Patience, my dear Professor, good things come to those who wait," Harry smirked, amused by the man's nervousness. "We just have to wait until Ginevra arrives."

"Why do we have to wait for your little girlfriend, Potter?" Snape spat. "I'm sure we can do this without her."

"That's rather ungrateful," Harry reprimanded him mildly. "After all, she was the one who came up with this escape route out of the castle."

"Contrary to what you believe, I was fully aware of this passageway, and could have recommended it if required," the man grumbled.

Harry ignored him. Despite Snape's moaning, this route out of the school was perfect. It did make Harry wonder, however, just how Ginevra knew of the passageway leading from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack in which they were now standing. It was an ideal way to get off the school grounds without being noticed.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew his attention. A moment later Ginevra entered the room dressed in Muggle-style clothing. Harry took a moment to admire her tight jeans and form-fitting sweater. The girl was looking good.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologised. "I got waylaid by my idiot brother on the way out. He was demanding to know where I was going 'all dressed up'. I'm afraid I had to hex him a bit."

"Ha! I don't believe you've ever hexed anyone just 'a bit', in your life" Harry laughed. "He's probably in the hospital wing, even as we speak, isn't he?"

"Can we please get on," Snape yelled, his temper at breaking point.

"But of course, Professor," Harry replied mildly, knowing that it would infuriate the man even more. "We need to Apparate to London; twelve Grimmauld Place, to be exact. It's the old Black family home. Do you know where that is, Professor?"

"I have visited the place in the past," Snape confirmed stiffly.

"Excellent. Ginevra, you'll Side-Along with me. Shall we?" Harry asked, holding his hand out to the red-haired witch.

Seconds later, they appeared in a rather messy area of scrub and bushes, contained within some metal railings. On the other side of the road was a line of three story townhouses. Harry removed a piece of paper from inside of the short leather jacket he wore and handed it to Snape.

"Read this and then hand it to Ginevra," he instructed the man.

"The address?" Snape noted. "I take it the house is protected by a Fidelius Charm, then?"

"Yes, and as you probably figured out, I'm the Secret Keeper," Harry confirmed, taking back the slip of paper Ginevra had just read.

"Is the house part of this escape network you mentioned," Snape asked.

"One small part of it, yes," Harry agreed. "Come on, let's get out of the open. Who knows who could be watching."

The three of them hurried across the road and into the house. Harry looked around critically, noting the thick layer of dust around the place. "Kreacher!" he called.

A moment later, an old, wrinkled house-elf limped into the hallway. "Master Harry has returned," he croaked. "Kreacher wondered if he would ever see him again."

"How are you, Kreacher?" Harry asked fondly.

"Kreacher is old and tired," the elf moaned. "He is afraid that the House of Black will fall into ruin, and that he will not live to see an heir grace this noble house."

"Merlin, you always were a cheery sort," Harry laughed. "Have you been told what's happening today?"

"Indeed, is this the wizard who is to leave today?" Kreacher asked, staring at Snape in an unfriendly manner.

"Yes, he is. Is the Portkey set up?" Harry asked.

"Yes, master, it is set up in the drawing room, and will activate in ten minutes," Kreacher confirmed.

"Excellent! Just time for a cup of tea, if you'll do the honours," Harry said happily. "Oh, by the way, Kreacher, this beautiful young lady is Ginevra Weasley. You are to treat her with

courtesy and respect, understand?"

"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher replied, looking at Ginevra critically. "She is an acceptable pure-blood witch. Will she be the one to bear you heirs and finally fill this noble house with children?"

"If I do, I bet they'll be covered in fur and have tails," she muttered under her breath so only Harry could hear her. He did his level best not to chuckle.

They headed to the kitchen, where Kreacher supplied them all with steaming mugs of tea.

"You'd better make the most of that, Professor," Harry grinned. "I'm told the Yanks can't make a decent cup of tea to save their lives."

"Quite possibly, but if I'm to avoid being tortured and killed by the Dark Lord, I rather feel it's a small price to pay," Snape replied acidly. "Are the arrangements all in place?"

Harry handed Snape an envelope that Kreacher had provided. "In there should be everything you need initially: identification papers, immigration documents, and a Muggle passport. Once there, my contact will arrange for you to find temporary accommodation and to open a bank account. We've set you up with enough cash to keep you going for a few months until you find work."

"Artimus Higginbottom? Is this to be my name from now on?" Snape asked peering at the passport. He didn't look amused.

"Yes, I rather thought it suited you," Harry replied with a straight face. "You'll have a reasonable choice of locations to settle in. America, being rather large, has numerous Magical communities so you can take your pick. I'd stay away from the main one at Salem, if I was you, but that's your choice."

"Who is this contact of yours I am to meet on my arrival?" Snape asked wearily.

"Oh, you'll recognise him when you see him," Harry replied, his eyes positively shining with suppressed mirth.

"Come, it's nearly time. Let's get this over with," Snape growled.

The three of them headed upstairs to the drawing room, where a small vase was waiting on the floor in the middle of the room. Snape knelt beside it and looked up at Harry.

"How long?" he asked brusquely.

"One minute," Harry replied after glancing at his watch. "Well, I wish you good luck. This really might be a good opportunity for you, you know."

"Potter, due to my misguided decision to aid you, I have been uprooted from my home and my career, have a murderous Dark Lord baying for my blood, and am having to flee into exile, probably never to return. Please do not attempt to present this like it's some wonderful life-choice," Snape growled.

"Sorry," Harry said contritely. "I just thought that you might actually welcome escaping from the life you had."

"Well, I don't," Snape spat. "In fact, I have only one thing that I want to say to you before I leave, Potter. Please believe me when I say, most sincerely, that I hope you will go and fuck yourself."

A blue light flared and the Portkey activated, leaving a shocked pair of Slytherins standing in its wake.

"Well, that was a bit bloody rude, considering you're saving his neck by arranging all this," Ginevra said indignantly.

"I suppose," Harry replied, before he stared to giggle.

"What are you laughing at," she demanded.

"Oh, I'm just thinking about what Snape's reaction will be just about now, when he discovers exactly who is waiting to greet him," Harry chortled.

"Who?" Ginevra asked curiously.

"No one you'd know, but I think it's fair to say it's just about the last person Severus would want to see right now, apart from Voldemort, of course," he grinned.

"Okay, keep your secrets," she said heatedly. "So, what happens now?"

"Now, my dear lady, we head over to Diagon Alley and see about getting us some wands. After that, the day is pretty much ours. Snape arranged it with Dumbledore that I wouldn't be back tonight, so we can do whatever we feel like. I suspect that as the Headmaster was expecting that Hagrid would be accompanying me, he was hoping that he'd discover something useful about me by staying out all night, such as where I'm living. Poor Hagrid got a bit confused about the date of the trip, however," Harry grinned.

"Really? I suppose you had something to do with that confusion," Ginevra noted with faint amusement.

"Not at all," Harry replied firmly. "I definitely told him the trip was on the seventeenth."

"Potter, today is the sixteenth," she pointed out, her lips twitching.

"Is it really?" Harry gasped, his mouth open in shock and his eyes wide.

"You really are the worst actor I've even seen," she laughed. "Right, let's get cracking. I hope you've already visited Gringotts, because you're going to need plenty of cash to spend on me."

"Yes, dear," Harry replied meekly. "By the way, when did we get married? I seem to have missed that bit."

Ginevra just winked at him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The trip down to Diagon Alley was brief and uneventful. They managed to make it through the Leaky Cauldron without attracting any attention, and headed straight to Ollivanders. As they approached the small shop, Ginevra revealed that although she had been passed the shop many times, she had never actually been inside, and was looking forward to it. Not wasting any time, they entered the narrow building and looked around.

Inside, the shop was cramped and everything seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust. Thousands of narrow boxes, presumably containing wands, were piled from the floor to the ceiling. The place was completely silent.

"Shop!" Harry called in an effort to attract some attention. His efforts were rewarded a few seconds later when a small, white-haired old man appeared, seemingly out of thin air. He stared at the pair of them intently.

"Mr Potter, a pleasure to finally meet you," the man said. "I've been expecting you for some time. Ah, and if I'm not mistaken this must be the daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley accompanying you, yes? Young Ginevra, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Yes, you are correct. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr Ollivander?" Harry asked formally.

"You do indeed, Garrick Ollivander, at your service. Do I presume that you are both here to purchase wands?" he asked.

"Actually, I popped in to buy a pet Pygmy Puff," Ginevra said sarcastically while eyeing the piles of wand boxes littered about the place.

"Ah, a sharp wit you have there, Miss Weasley, but I don't doubt my questions was rather foolish. After all, why else would you be here?" Ollivander noted with a faint grin.

"Yes, we both require new wands," Harry cut in, wanting to get things moving. "We are both rather pressed for time, so if you could…"

"Find the right wand for you and stop wasting your time? Yes, I rather think I can do that," the old man chuckled. He then turned and fixed Harry with an intense stare. "Normally, I find it rather amusing to play with my potential customers, somewhat. Generally, I let them try a few wands that I know will not be a good match for them, mainly so they can appreciate the difference when they finally do get their hands on the right wand. As I have no desire to be cursed by the lovely young Miss Weasley there, I will forgo that indulgence this time. Here."

Apparently without looking, Ollivander reached out and pulled a black box from a nearby pile and handed it to Harry. He opened it and found a light-brown wand inside. Gently, he picked it up and gave it a careful wave. Red sparks immediately appeared from the end of the wand, bright enough to leave spots before his eyes.

"Excellent, excellent," Garrick crowed. "Eleven inches, holly, with a Phoenix feather core. Nice and supple, too. A perfect match for you, if I do say so myself. I expect to see you do great things with that wand, Mr Potter."

"It feels amazing," Harry noted in awe. "I thought I had a good wand before, but this is just wonderful. Phoenix feather, you say?"

"Indeed, and from your surprised expression I suspect you've already made the connection. This is indeed the brother wand to the one that gave you that cosmetically enhanced scar on your forehead. The brother to the one still carried by the Dark Lord, himself."

"Bloody hell," Ginevra gasped. "You mean that you've got the same type of wand as Vo…"

"Don't say the name," Harry snapped, cutting her off.

"Why? You say it all the time," she protested.

"Yes, when I'm within a secure, protected environment like Hogwarts," Harry explained. "A person's name carries great magical power, and that power can be tapped into. It's quite possible that You-Know-Who has placed a Taboo on his assumed name, knowing that only strong-willed enemies of his would use it. Just speaking the name aloud might allow him to track our location."

"Very true, Mr Potter," Ollivander agreed. "It's heart-warming to see such a young wizard so well versed in magical theory."

"I had a good teacher," Harry replied distantly. "I'll take this wand, but we still need one for my friend, here."

"Ah, yes, Miss Weasley. You know, if you'd walked into this shop just a few months ago, I would, without hesitation, have recommended a dragon heartstring wand. Now, however, I feel something else is required…"

He shuffled off to the back of his shop and returned with a rather battered box that looked distinctly faded. He handed it to Ginevra with an expectant smile.

Rather nervously, Ginevra opened it and removed the dark-coloured wand inside. A quick wave produced a flurry of red sparks only marginally less bright than those that Harry had produced.

"Yes, I believe another perfect match," Ollivander grinned. "Hazel, nine and three-quarter inches. You really are most fortunate that I even have this wand in stock, Miss Weasley. The core is rather rare, you see."

"What is it?" Ginevra asked, still examining her new wand with an expression of delight on her face.

"Why, it's Phoenix feather, just like Mr Potter's and the Dark Lord's," Ollivander said with malicious glee in his voice.

Harry and Ginevra looked at each other in shock.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"So, what does this mean, Harry?" Ginevra asked as they walked back up the ally. "I mean, Ollivander said that Phoenix feather cores are really rare. Why have we both got wands made of the same thing?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Then again, the fact we share the same Animagus form is pretty rare, too. Perhaps it means that we are soul-mates, destined to be together forever."

"What? Really?" Ginevra said incredulously.

"Nah, but I thought I'd have a better chance of getting into your knickers if I said that," Harry smirked.

"Randy git," she snorted.

"You'd better believe it," he laughed. "So, we've done everything we needed to do here, the rest of the day is ours. What do you want to do now?"

Ginevra glanced at her watch. "Well, I'm getting peckish and it is nearly lunchtime, so how about you buy me a slap-up meal in the Leaky Cauldron. A few shots of Firewhisky might convince me not to hex you, too."

"Ginevra, I don't think I should draw attention to us by buying you, an underage witch, alcohol in a public bar," Harry said nervously.

"What? You're worried about that? After everything we've done in the last month or so, and you're getting cold-feet about buying me some booze? You've got to be kidding!" she snapped in disgust.

"Yes, I am," he replied with a totally straight face.

Ginevra glared at him. "Oh, you are so going to pay for that…" she growled.

Harry burst out laughing. "Come on, did you really think I'd pass up the chance to ply a pretty witch with alcohol? I'm not totally stupid, you know."

"Ha! Think you can get me drunk and take advantage of me, do you?" she challenged. "I'll have you know that I can drink you under the table."

"That, my fiery little witch, sounds like a bet, and one I intend to make you regret issuing. Come on, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he smirked.

"I'm going to enjoy hearing you beg for mercy," she laughed evilly.

"Oh no, it's you who'll be doing the begging," he retorted, before offering her his arm. "Shall we, then?"

"Let's," she agreed in a snooty voice, and linked her arm with his. With matching grins, they headed towards the pub. As soon as they entered the ancient establishment, Ginevra received an unpleasant surprise.

"Ginny? What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?" a voice demanded.

"I do believe our sweet little sister has bunked-off, brother-mine, and with a strange boy, no less," a second voice added.

Harry turned and saw a pair of identical young men with bright red hair and an abundance of freckles. They were stocky and well-built, and could be considered rather intimidating. Or rather would be, if you hadn't spent the last few years of your life battling Death Eaters, that is.

"Well, if it isn't the gormless brothers, themselves," Ginevra spat.

"Careful, ickle sis, you wouldn't want us to tell Mum that we've just caught you skiving from school, would you?" the left one said warningly.

"Yeah, and who's this with you? Found yourself a snaky boyfriend, have you?" the right one asked, glaring at Harry.

"I have no idea who you are," Harry began coolly, "but I can assure you that we have written permission from Albus Dumbledore to be here today. Ginevra and I both required new wands, and have been permitted to visit Ollivanders to obtain them. You do realise that it's a Saturday, today, when no classes occur, don't you?"

"Oooh, get Mister Lardy-Dar, here," right taunted. "I smell a stuck-up pure-blood."

"Yeah, and one heading for the pranking of a lifetime, if he isn't careful," left added.

"Pranking? Merlin, are you two ten years-old, or something?" Ginevra snorted, rolling her eyes. "Harry, I have the misfortune to introduce my brothers, Fred and George Weasley; a pair of childish idiots who think they can make a fortune by selling joke items. Cretins, can I introduce Harry Potter; the famous wizard who defeated You-Know-Who when he was only fifteen months old, and Lucius Malfoy in a duel last summer. Please feel free to try and prank him. I'd enjoy seeing him beat the stuffing out of the pair of you."

"Harry Potter?" the one called Fred exclaimed, a little too loudly.

"That's correct," Harry confirmed coldly, "and thank you for alerting the whole establishment to my presence. I was hoping to have a quiet lunch here, but that's not going to happen now, is it?"

"Err, sorry," Fred said contritely.

"Wait a minute, what are you doing walking around with your arm linked with my sister?" George demanded, clearly not as intimidated as his brother.

"A gentleman will always offer his arm when escorting a young lady," Harry replied, a faint look of disgust on his face. "I take it neither of you know anything about being a gentleman?"

"No, but we do know about beating the snot out of any git who tries to take advantage of our sister," George replied belligerently.

"Trying to take advantage of me?" Ginevra yelled in anger. "Harry, unlike the pair of you, is a respectable wizard. Besides, when have you two given a hoot about me? What did you call me just a few months ago? A 'slimy, back-stabbing, little cow who has no right to be part of the family anymore'; those were your words, weren't they?"

"You might have become a right little bitch, Ginny, but I'm damned if I'm going to stand here and let you whore yourself to the first famous bloke that comes along," George growled.

Harry's wand was in his hand instantly, and pointed directly between George's eyes. A second later, Ginevra also drew her wand and similarly pointed hers at Fred.

"You really should be careful about what you say," Harry said in a dangerous voice. "I've slaughtered Death Eaters that make the pair of you look like farts on the wind, and if you insult my friend again in that manner, I'll give you a free demonstration as to how I did it."

"Yeah, and remember what happened to the pair of you after you pulled that prank on me back in my third year?" Ginevra added. "If you don't get out of my sight within five seconds, I'll make what I did to you back then look like a gentle tap on the cheek. Got it?"

"Come on, George," Fred said, grabbing his brother's arm. "She's not worth wasting our time with. Let's leave her and her little boyfriend to do whatever they want to do. Probably hexing babies, or joining You-Know-Who, or something."

"Five," Ginevra said firmly. "Four… three…"

"We're out of here," George snarled, "but don't think this is over. I've read all about you, Potter. You think you're going to be the next Dark Lord, don't you? Well, don't count on it, and you'd better not try and drag Ginny down with you, either."

"Get out!" Ginevra howled.

With one last glare, George allowed his brother to drag him away. Harry lowered his wand and turned to Ginevra.

"What lovely family members you have," he noted sourly. "I thought your brother Ronald was bad, but those two bookends make him look considerate and thoughtful."

"They weren't always like that," Ginevra said quietly. "We used to be really close."

"I'd love to hear about it, but I think we'd better get out of here," Harry said looking around. "Our little slanging match with your brothers has attracted a lot of attention. I think we should rethink our plans."

"I agree," Ginevra said, noting them number of people openly staring at them. "Where do you suggest we go?"

"I know a great Muggle pub up in Camden," Harry suggested as they made their way out of the Leaky Caldron. "They do great food, have a wonderful selection of drinks and, more importantly, don't ask too many questions about their punters' age. I have Muggle I.D. that says I'm eighteen, but you don't."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" she said with a frown. "I've never been in a Muggle pub in my life. I won't know what to do."

"Oh, it's pretty much the same as the Leaky," Harry said dismissively. "The drinks are a bit different, and the toilets aren't always as clean, but you'll fit right in."

"Thanks, you're really selling it to me," she snorted. "What sort of stuff do Muggle's drink?"

"Do you like Butterbeer?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course," she replied.

"Then you're going to love alcopops," he said with a knowing grin.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was some two hours after they had made their hasty retreat from the Leaky Cauldron and Ginevra was in a good mood. Hell, she was in a great mood.

"This was a great idea," she said, probably for the eighth time.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Miss Weasley," Harry grinned, before taking another swig from his bottle of beer.

As Harry had said, the Muggle pub they were currently sitting in wasn't too fussy about checking the ages of their customers. The Muggle girl who first served them hadn't batted an eyelid at either of them when they ordered their first drinks. It had been a challenge for Ginevra not to stare at the girl, however. She had a large, metal ring pierced through her nose, and large amounts of dark make-up on. Harry hadn't given the girl a second glance, so Ginevra assumed this must be a normal look for Muggles, not that any of the other women in the pub looked like that.

Her initial uncertainty about the place soon vanished, however. Harry told her that this particular place was popular with younger people, and that certainly seemed to be the case. The dark-wood booths were filled with young Muggles all merrily getting pissed, despite the fact that it was only midday.

"Students," Harry had informed her knowledgably. "They'll get drunk at any hour of the day."

As Harry had promised, she'd also quickly taken to Muggle drinks. From his description, she'd thought that 'alcopops' was a specific type of drink, when in fact it was just a term to cover a multitude of brightly-labelled, super-sweet, alcoholic beverages. The first one she tried seemed to be just cloudy lemonade, but Harry assured her that it contained about five times the alcohol content of a Butterbeer. She'd gone on to sample a number of others, before deciding that a clear lemonade/vodka mix was her favourite. She was currently about to finish her fifth bottle, or was it her sixth? Either way, she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the massive amounts of sugar that was making her lightheaded.

Fortunately, the establishment also did a nice line in pub-grub, and the huge, greasy burger she'd demolished, along with a small mountain of chips, had helped line her stomach. Annoying family members aside, she was really enjoying her day out.

"So, what was all that business with your brothers about, then?" Harry asked.

Ginevra groaned, she was in too good a mood to ruin it by talking about Fred and George. Still, Harry had nearly been attacked in public by the pair of them, so he did deserve an explanation, she supposed.

"I used to be pretty close to the twins," Ginevra said, clutching her bottle tightly. "When I was little, I used to help them play pranks on my other brothers, and we used to cover up for each other. I'm closest to them in personality, I guess, and probably in looks, too. But, of all my brothers, apart from Ron, maybe, they took my Sorting into Slytherin the hardest. They seemed to take it as some sort of personal betrayal, and during my first year started playing pranks and tricks on me without mercy."

"They sound supportive," Harry snorted in disgust.

"Tell me about it. There was me, thrown into the snake pit, not knowing what's happening or what to do, my housemates all hate me and are bullying me constantly, and I had that bloody diary to deal with, too. Imagine how helpful it was to suddenly find my hair had turned green, or all my school books had suddenly vanished. I tried to reason with them, but that only seemed to make things worse. In the end, I just started hexing them whenever a prank was played on me," she recounted.

"I bet that went down well," Harry noted, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yeah, things dissolved into open warfare pretty quickly, and they had Ron and Percy on their side, as well. It's weird, the twins always hated Percy, but when he came out on their side against me, suddenly he was wonderful. I guess if I've done nothing else, I've brought my brothers closer together," she said bitterly.

"Fred and George still hold grudges against you, I take it?" he asked.

"Yes, the summer holidays are enormous fun for me, I can tell you. The twins were desperate to get their own place, but as all they do is sell tricks and games via mail-order, they've only recently been able to afford to move out. All the time we were living under the same roof, they took their frustrations out on me, or tried to, anyway. It's like a war-zone whenever we're all in the house together, with me verses the rest of my family. If it's not the twins trying to play nasty pranks on me, it's Mum lecturing me on what a disappointment I am! I don't even have Bill to back me up, anymore," she told him mournfully.

"You said that part-Veela bird turned him against you, didn't you?" Harry noted.

"Yeah, that French bitch," Ginevra raged. "I don't know what Bill sees in her."

"What, apart from the whole Veela thing?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yeah! Just because she's ravishingly beautiful, has fantastic legs, an arse you could bounce a Knut off, and tits that would make a grown man cry, he's infatuated with her," she pouted.

"Nope, from that description I can't see why he would be interested, at all," Harry chortled.

"Damn, now I think about it, I want to shag her, too," Ginevra giggled.

"Well, it would be a good way to get your own back at Bill deserting you," Harry noted with a smile. "Would I be allowed to watch, though?"

"You know, Potter, I'm just beginning to realise what a massive pervert you actually are," she said, waggling her finger at him.

"You're just beginning too?" Harry repeated in horror. "Damn it, I'm going to have to try harder. When we get back to Grimmauld Place, can I get out the spatula and the whipped cream?"

"Total pervert!" she said, punching him on the arm.

"Yes, it's working! I've already gone from being a massive pervert to a total pervert. That's progress," he laughed happily.

"Yeah, well, never mind about that. I've finished my drink and it's your round," she reminded him, plonking her empty bottle down in front of him.

"It's been my round ever since we got here," he protested.

"Yeah, great place this, isn't it?" she smirked.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was several hours later before they left the pub and started to stagger back towards Islington. The trip was made rather longer by the fact that Ginevra kept stopping to laugh at various Muggle objects along the way. At one point, she spent five minutes rolling on the floor laughing hysterically at a set of traffic lights.

Eventually, they made it back to Grimmauld Place and Harry managed to get a swaying Ginevra through the front door. As soon as the door closed behind him, he found her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips inches from his.

"I wanna do it properly this time," she slurred. "No wolfy shagging. Do me like this."

Harry sighed. "Ginevra, you're drunk. You should…"

"Whatsamatter?" she giggled. "You've been trying to get in my knickers for weeks! Come on, I'm up for it."

"You're too tired," he told her with a gentle smile. "I really think we need to get you to bed."

"In the bed, on the kitchen table, on the floor, anywhere!" she laughed drunkenly, before she started to kiss his neck and rub herself against him suggestively.

She never saw him carefully remove his wand from his jacket and casting a silent Sleeping Spell on her. She slumped in his arms.

Reaching down, he slid his arm under her knees and gently cradled her. He then carried her up the stairs, and placed her on a spare bed in one of the guest rooms. He removed her shoes and socks, before pulling a light blanket over her. Quietly, he left the room, extinguishing the lights as he went.

Heading towards the bedroom he usually slept in when he was here, he stopped on the landing and shook his head.

"Bloody hell, why do I keep turning down these free shags?" he muttered to himself, before entering his room and preparing for bed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the tea and toast that Kreacher had provided him, when Ginevra entered.

She definitely looked worse for wear, with her normally immaculate red hair sticking-up in all directions and her clothes rumpled. She glared at him as she threw herself down into the seat opposite to him.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Why what?" he asked innocently.

"Why didn't you screw me last night? I handed it to you on a plate, Potter. Why did you chicken out?" she said angrily.

"As I recall, you fell asleep on me," Harry replied mildly. "I rather like my sexual partners to be awake to enjoy my fine work, you know."

"Bullshit," she snapped. "I wasn't as drunk as I made out. You got me with a Sleeping Charm, didn't you?"

Harry looked at her and sighed. Lying at this stage would only make her angrier. "Yes, I did," he admitted.

"Why" she demanded again, a little hurt creeping into her voice.

"Because I didn't think that you were totally in control," he told her honestly. "I nearly lost your friendship because of what happened in the forest that night, and I wasn't prepared to have that happen again because I took advantage of you while you were drunk. If you genuinely want to take our relationship to that level, just tell me while you're calm and sober. I promise that in that event, I'll willingly screw your brains out and leave you a gibbering wreck."

Ginevra looked at him intently for a moment, while licking her dry lips. Slowly, she rose from her seat and walked round the table towards him. Bending down, she brought her lips just inches away from his. "Harry…" she began.

"Yes?" he said, looking into her eyes.

"Any more of that tea going? I'm parched," she smirked.

His jaw dropped. "You evil little cow!" he gasped. "Here's me, protecting your virtue despite temptation being thrown in my face, and all you can do is wind me up. Bugger that! Next time you get drunk and start begging for a shag, I'm just going to do it. Don't expect any foreplay, either!"

"Oh, I wouldn't expect that from you anyway. I imagine you're more a 'leap on, bang away for five seconds, roll over and go to sleep' kind of guy," she teased.

"Weasley, when we finally do get around to doing it, I'm going to make you scream my name – repeatedly!" he growled.

"That sounds like a challenge," Ginevra replied unfazed.

"Yes, it is! And, damn it, if we had time this morning, I'd prove it to you. As it is, we have to be back at Hogwarts within an hour, so drink your tea quickly," he said, slamming a cup down in front of her.

"Thanks," she replied sweetly. "Got any bacon? I'm hungry."

Kreacher, who had been upstairs all this time, chose that moment to return to the kitchen. He idly wondered why Master Harry was swearing loudly at the girl he'd brought with him yesterday, and why she was laughing uproariously at him.

Strange things, these humans.

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Painting in the Dark

Another lighter chapter, this, but one with quite a few loose ends being tied up, such as what Remus and Tonks did to annoy Harry, the issue of the Marauder's Map, and what Harry did with Pansy's knickers *snigger*. I should probably state, the rest of this story won't be this light, and we're currently just in the calm before the storm.

Thanks, as always, to Arnel for being wonderful.

"You worry too much, Harry. Trust me, everything will be fine," Sirius said while crouching in a rough patch of grass.

"You don't worry enough," Harry retorted nervously.

"Cub, this is Remus we're talking about. He won't let me down," the older man said confidently.

"Then why arrange this meeting here?" Harry demanded. "Why this abandoned warehouse? This smells like a trap."

"Remus wouldn't do that to me. He promised to hear me out and I trust him," Sirius said firmly.

"Yeah? Well, why in that case didn't you tell Gellert we were coming here today? Why all this cloak and dagger stuff?" Harry asked while staring accusingly at his godfather.

"Because Gelli is an old stick-in-the-mud and just about the most paranoid person I've ever met," Sirius retorted. "Anyway, we're here now. We might as well go in."

"Okay, but the same plan as before, remember? I'll stay a few yards behind you, Disillusioned. If we get into trouble, we've both got Portkeys," Harry reminded him.

"Yes, yes. Just come along, Harry. I can't wait to see my old friend again," Sirius announced and stood up. He then began to casually walk towards the large, run-down building in front of him. Although they were in a busy part of East London, no signs of life were to be seen anywhere.

With a bad feeling in his gut, Harry cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself and began to follow his godfather. He was kicking himself that he hadn't told Gellert about the secret correspondence that Sirius had entered into with his old friend, Remus Lupin. Although Remus had seemed willing to listen to Sirius's pleas of innocence, Harry knew the man was a fierce supporter of Albus Dumbledore, and that made him worried. The old wizard had seemingly done everything his power to prevent Sirius from looking after him following the death of his parents; what would the old man do if he became aware of this clandestine meeting?

They soon crossed the empty concrete loading-bay, and entered the actual warehouse. Inside, the building was completely bare apart from the odd pile of accumulated rubbish scattered here and there. Large parts of the roof had caved in, allowing sunlight to stream in. Sirius walked confidently towards the centre of the room, with Harry following hesitantly behind, his eyes darting this way and that.

The sound of a door opening caused Harry to stop. There, at the far end of the warehouse, two figures had entered. Sirius had also stopped where he was, and patiently waited for the pair to approach. Once they got closer, Harry recognised them as being Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius's cousin. Worryingly, Harry knew Tonks was an Auror and also a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Why was she here?

"Remus, my old friend, I'm so glad to see you," Sirius said in an emotional voice as they approached.

"Whether I'm pleased to see you remains to be seen," Remus replied sternly. "For the sake of our friendship I'm prepared to hear you out, but this better be bloody convincing, Sirius."

"It is, believe me," Sirius insisted. "Dora, I'm surprised you're here. Not that I'm anything but delighted to see you, of course. You were just a little girl when I last saw you."

"Yeah, well, I'm a big girl now, and ready to hex you into the middle of next week unless you can convince me that you're innocent," she snorted.

"I could have done that a long time ago if I'd been given a proper trial," Sirius said in disgust. "Look, I swear, I wasn't James and Lily's Secret-Keeper, and I didn't kill those Muggles. It was all Peter's doing! We swopped Keepers at the last minute because we thought no one would suspect him. After You-Know-Who killed James and Lily, I chased after Pettigrew seeking revenge. He was the one who blew up that gas main, before cutting his own finger off to make it look like he'd been blown up, too. He then changed into his Animagus form before I could stop him, and vanished."

"It's a good story," Remus acknowledged, "but I've yet to see any proof."

"Look, I've got a copy of James and Lily's will with me. It clearly states that Pettigrew was the Secret-Keeper," Sirius insisted as he started to reach into his robes.

Sirius was distracted, so failed to notice the grim looks that came over the faces of Lupin and Tonks at the mention of the will, but Harry did. Unfortunately, he was just a little too slow to prevent what happened next.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Tonks cried, her wand unexpectedly in her hand. Sirius instantly went rigid and toppled to the floor.

"You can all come out now," Remus called and half-a-dozen figures in the distinctive red robes of Aurors suddenly appeared out of thin air. Harry cursed that they hadn't thought to cast a Homenum Revelio Charm before entering the building. By now, the pair of turncoats had approached the still body of Sirius and were standing over him threateningly.

"Dumbledore said you'd probably pull a stupid stunt like producing a fake will," Remus snarled. "I should kill you right here and now."

"Don't, love," Tonks said, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "We'll let the Dementors have him. That's a fitting reward for a traitorous bastard like him."

Harry had heard enough. He started to move forward stealthily, hoping that no one would notice the blurring effect that moving while Disillusioned created. He wasn't that lucky.

"Hey!" cried one of the Aurors. "There's someone Disillusioned there! Finite Incantatem!"

As soon as he heard the counter spell, Harry began to sprint forward. He saw the startled looks on the faces of Lupin and Tonks and he hurtled towards them. Tonks raised her wand again, but she was too late. Harry flung himself forward and landed on top of his godfather. The second he made contact, he activated the Portkey that he'd had in his hand. Without even having time to yell an insult at the two backstabbers, he and Sirius were whisked away.

Seconds later, they landed heavily in the back room of the house at Godric's Hollow. Harry was just climbing tenderly to his feet when Gellert entered the room.

"Back from you little trip, I see. Things not go too well, then?" he said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I might have known you'd figure out what we were up to," Harry growled before removing the Full Body-Bind from his godfather. Sirius, however, remained still on the floor.

"Sirius?" Harry said in concern.

A faint weeping was his only reply. A second later, this turned into heaving sobs and howls of anguish. Harry fell to his knees and hugged his godfather tightly.

"They didn't believe me," Sirius wailed. "They think I was trying to trick them! The will was my only real evidence that I'm innocent, too."

"Sirius, we can…" Harry began.

"No! I'm not wasting my time with them, any longer," Sirius spat, his grief turning to anger in a moment. "Screw the lot of them."

"Am I to take it that Sirius's friends believed he faked your parents' wills, Harry?" Gellert asked soberly.

"Yeah, and guess who gave them that idea. Albus bloody Dumbledore, that's who!" Harry yelled in a rage.

"Sirius, I'm afraid this is a most serious turn of events. If Dumbledore has already managed to discredit the Potters' will, then you will find it impossible to clear your name, not now that Pettigrew is dead," the old wizard told him.

"So, that's it? I'm going to be hunted as a criminal for the rest of my life, am I? I can look forward to a Dementor's Kiss in the near future, can I?" Sirius spat bitterly.

"My friend, it's time for you leave this country, I think," Gellert told him earnestly.

"What, and leave Harry with all this going on? Never!" Sirius protested.

"Think for a moment, Black; what possible use to him are you here? As soon as you show your face you'll have every wizard in the country hunting for you. No, if you really want to help your godson, I have a much more useful task for you," Gellert smiled.

"What?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Everyone needs a back-up plan," Gellert grinned mysteriously.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"No one said a word about me being away," Ginevra told him airily as they relaxed in the Room of Requirement. "I guess they're use to me vanishing for long periods of time."

Harry nodded. "I've been pretty lucky, too," he admitted. "I was fully expecting Dumbledore to corner me as soon as I walked back in, but I've not seen him, at all. I did see McGonagall and Flitwick running around with a look of panic on their faces, so I'm guessing Snape's absence has been noticed."

"Nothing to tie it in with us," Ginevra shrugged.

"No, indeed," he agreed. "Anyway, now we've got some time to ourselves, I thought I'd give you another little present. I mentioned that I had a spare set of robes with an Undetectable Extension Charm on them that I intended to give you, and I've brought them with me."

Harry handed over a set of bundled robes. Ginevra unfolded them, and looked at them critically.

"Bit long, aren't they?" she noted. "Not all of us are lanky gits, you know."

"Don't you know how to transfigure them?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Actually, no," she admitted sadly. "Tracy did that kind of stuff for me. I concentrated on the nasty curses and hexes."

Without a word, Harry pulled out his new wand and shortened the robes for her. He then stepped forward and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You two really were close, weren't you?" he noted.

"She was my only friend in this whole stinking place. If one of us was in trouble, the other one would help them out," Ginevra said bitterly. "When are we going to take out that little shit Draco, Harry? It boils my blood to see him strutting around here without a care in the world."

"Soon, Ginevra, soon," Harry promised. "We just need the things to settle down a bit before we strike. If he vanishes now, Dumbledore will almost certainly know it was us, and I don't trust that old bastard. I swear, Voldemort himself could walk into Hogwarts and as long as he said he was sorry and promised not to be bad again, Dumbledore would welcome him with open arms."

"As long as we don't wait too long. Remember, Malfoy's trying to kill you, and I'm sure my name is on his to-do list, now," she told him firmly.

"Very true. We might need to remind him that we're not to be messed with," Harry pondered. "Putting one or two of his little friends in the hospital wing for a while should make him a bit more cautious," he suggested.

"Good idea, I call either Nott or Parkinson. I hate both of those little toe-rags," Ginevra spat.

"We'll see," he laughed.

"Well, while we're sharing things, perhaps now's the time for me to tell you how I managed to follow you about so easily, and how I knew you'd vanished from the school," Ginevra said, pulling a piece of parchment from her robes. "Believe it or not, this is a map that shows every single part of Hogwarts and the exact location of everyone in it. It's called…"

"The Marauder's Map!" Harry exclaimed. "Where did you get it?"

"Eh? How the hell do you know about the map?" Ginevra demanded.

"Would it help if I explained that my father was Prongs and my godfather was Padfoot?" Harry smirked.

"Bloody hell!" Ginevra gasped, her jaw quite literally dropping. "Who were Moony and Wormtail?"

"Wormtail is the traitorous bastard who sold-out my parents to Voldemort and Moony is the backstabbing git who nearly sold-out my godfather to the Ministry," Harry snarled. "I'll tell you the full story some other time. But this is great! I can't believe you have the map. It did cross my mind to create something like it when I first got here, but I would have had to spend hours casting Mapping Spells, so it just didn't seem worth it. With the original in our hands, I can just copy most of it: Padfoot gave me the magical passcodes to it, you see, just in case I ever came across it some time."

"You can make a duplicate? That's great!" Ginevra grinned. "With these, we can keep track of each other while we're attending different classes. It will be a lot harder for Malfoy and his lackeys to catch one of us unawares, now."

"I'll start the Duplication Spell immediately," Harry promised, "but where did you find the map?"

"Oh, my brothers Fred and George found it in Filch's office. I saw them using it once, and blackmailed them into handing it over. They were none too pleased, as you can imagine," she replied, not sounding particularly concerned.

"So Filch found it in the end, did he? Padfoot was never sure what happened to it," Harry mused.

"Yeah, I've been in his office a few times, but I never found anything as useful as this map," she admitted. "So, what do you want to do while we're waiting for your spell to create a second map?"

"Feel up to a bit of duelling?" he asked with a smirk. "Or did all that booze last night slow you down?"

"Ha! You wish. I'm going to wipe the floor with you now I've got this new wand. How about a little bet on the outcome? If I win the best out of three, I want a case of those alcopop things," she challenged.

"Very well, and if I win, I want you to flash your boobs at me," he grinned evilly. "For at least ten seconds, too."

"Potter!" she shrieked, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"What's the matter; chicken, or something?" he taunted.

Ginevra pulled out her wand. "No way, git, I'm going to put you down, and I'll be laughing at you as I get pissed on your booze!"

Harry also drew his wand and shoved off his robes. This was one duel he was going to go all out to win…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, as had now become the norm, Harry and Ginevra made their way down to breakfast together.

"Will you wipe that stupid grin off your face, Potter," Ginevra snapped as they headed up the stairs.

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry asked in mock surprise. "After all, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and last night I got to see a fabulous pair of…"

"Complete that sentence and die!" Ginevra snarled, her eyes flashing in a manner Harry found oddly arousing and yet simultaneously terrifying. He decided that perhaps not saying anything else would be the best option, although even his happy humming seemed to be annoying his red-haired friend this morning.

Harry's happy mood was abruptly interrupted by the presence of a slim, blond-haired young man standing in the main corridor, accompanied by his two bulky bodyguards and his Doberman-faced girlfriend.

"Still with us, Potter? Make the most of it, your days are numbered. Those of your little, red-haired whore, too," Draco snarled as soon as he caught sight of them.

Harry didn't pause, and walked straight up to Malfoy, stopping close enough that he was invading the boy's personal space.

"I know it was you that put Greengrass up to handing me that Portkey, just as I know it was you who offered Zabini a bag of gold to poison me," Harry whispered ominously. "Your little puppets may have fled, but you're still here within my grasp. Vengeance is coming, Draco, and it will hit you when you least expect it."

"You don't frighten me," Draco spat, taking a fearful step back.

"Snape's gone and so has Zabini, and those two were your best line of defence. I wouldn't trust those two knuckleheads to do much apart from standing there looking vacant, and the lovely Miss Parkinson is more practiced in spreading her legs than fighting. You're vulnerable, Draco, and I'm going to make you pay," Harry taunted. "Actually, now I think about it, it might be more fun to take out your remaining supporters, one by one. Who should we get rid of next, Ginevra?"

"Oh, I think that disgusting little sneak-thief Nott," Ginevra practically purred. "Although, it looks like he had the good sense to hide from us, just like the cowardly rat he is. I guess if we can't flush him out of his hidey-hole, then Parkinson should be next to go."

"What? Piss off, you midget!" Parkinson raged.

"Ooh, what rapier-sharp wit," Harry laughed. "Tell me, Pansy, did you ever find your knickers?"

"Eh? Bastard! I knew it was you that took them! What else did you do to me, you pervert?" she yelled, attracting the attention of many of her fellow Slytherins who happened to be passing by.

"Oh, nothing at all, my dear," Harry assured her with a charming smile. "In fact, once I'd removed the garment in question, I was hit by such a revolting stench that I nearly passed out. Really, Draco, you're braver than I thought, going down on that every night…"

"You bastard!" Draco screamed, reaching for his wand. "I'm going to make you pay! I'm going to…"

"Mr Malfoy, what on earth do you think you're doing?" a sharp voice demanded.

Draco spun round to find himself looking at the intimidating sight of Professor McGonagall glaring at him.

"Oh… uh… Professor, I was just…" Draco stuttered.

"Morning, Professor McGonagall," Harry said cheerfully. "Don't mind us. I'm afraid I'm just having a little joke at Draco's expense. You see, something fell out of his pocket, and I was refusing to hand it back. Just a silly little game, really."

"Mr Potter, I expect better of you!" McGonagall said sharply. "Whatever it is of Mr Malfoy's you have, give it back to him at once."

"Certainly, Professor," Harry replied cheerily, pulling Pansy's knickers from his pocket and openly displaying them. In truth, he'd held onto them hoping for just such an occasion. Letting them dangle between his finger and thumb, he offered them to the horrified Malfoy.

"Potter! I hardly think THOSE are Mr Malfoy's," McGonagall screeched in outrage.

"Well, of course not, Professor," Ginevra said, clearly eager to get in on the fun. "I rather think they belong to someone else, don't they, Pansy? Harry and I were just enquiring of Draco how they ended up being in his pocket."

"That's a lie!" Draco bellowed. "They're probably Weasley's."

"Oh, no, they're much too large for me; they'd probably slide straight down my legs. Besides, those are real silk and frightfully expensive. I could never afford anything that luxurious. As you've pointed out to me on many occasions, Draco, my family are very poor," Ginevra explained with her best 'butter wouldn't melt' expression on her face.

McGonagall strode forward purposely and snatched the offending garment from Harry's fingers. She then turned venomously towards Draco.

"We will be having words about this later, Mr Malfoy. You too, Miss Parkinson," she growled. "For the moment, you are to make your way to the Great Hall immediately. The Headmaster has an important announcement to make, and one that affects your House greatly."

Draco stood for a moment in impotent rage before he turned and stomped off, with his lackeys close on his heels. Harry and Ginevra just managed to keep their laughter in until they vanished out of sight.

"Oh, that was too funny," Ginevra giggled. "Have you really been carrying Pansy's knickers around all this time?"

"Yeah, did make sure I gave them a good wash first, though. I wonder what that girl thinks happened to her that day?" Harry mused.

"She probably thinks you gave her one. Not that she'd mind too much, I imagine. You'd just be another notch on her bedpost," Ginevra advised him sagely.

"Oh, and now I've gone and messed up her count! She probably doesn't know if she's shagged three hundred and twelve boys or three hundred and thirteen, now," he chortled.

"Yeah, well, she was probably already a bit confused as to whether farmyard animals counted, anyway," Ginevra chuckled evilly. "Come on, McGonagall will have our guts for garters if we're late."

"Definitely, besides, I want to know what this 'important announcement' that Dumbledore is supposed to be making is about," Harry agreed.

They quickly made their way to the Great Hall, taking their usual places at the end of the table. Harry noticed there was some heated conversation between Malfoy and Parkinson taking place further down the table, much to his amusement.

"Good morning, everyone," Dumbledore announced, rising to his feet and capturing everyone's attention. "Before we tuck in to what I'm sure will be a delicious breakfast, I have an announcement to make. It's with deep regret that I must announce that Professor Snape has had to unexpectedly resign his position here at Hogwarts. I understand that a family crisis was the cause of his unexpected departure, and I'm sure we will all wish him the best of luck in the future."

Dumbledore began to clap and the rest of the teaching staff immediately joined in. The pupils, no matter what house they were in, were rather more reluctant and a very half-hearted round of applause followed, which quickly ground to a halt.

"Well, that's one way of spinning it," Ginevra whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, it's kind of nice seeing Dumbledore having to make up that crap, just because he hasn't got a clue what really happened to Snape," Harry grinned. "Still, Draco seems a bit put out by the announcement."

Malfoy was indeed sneering at the Headmaster, his anger barely supressed. No doubt he was the one that would have to carry the news that Snape had gone back to Voldemort. That information was unlikely to go down well.

"Unfortunately, I have yet to be able to obtain the services of a replacement Potions teacher, so both Professor Sprout and I will cover lessons in the short term," The Headmaster continued. "To replace Professor Snape as Head of Slytherin House, however, I'm delighted to announce that our own Professor Trelawney has agreed to step into the post. She will take over the role immediately."

There was stunned silence for a moment, before the whole room burst into noise. Reactions were very mixed, however, with the Slytherins displaying almost universal anger and contempt, while the rest of the school appeared to be enjoying the news immensely. Many of the Gryffindors, particularly, were hooting with laughter.

"Trelawney?" Ginevra gasped. "That dingbat? What the hell is Dumbledore playing at by appointing her?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry said, the annoyance clear in his voice. "The Headmaster is continuing his policy of divide and rule. Do you seriously think for one moment that Trelawney will stand a chance at keeping this lot in check? No, the Slytherins will be on the rampage now, and they don't even have the disapproval of Snape to worry about."

"But why now?" Ginevra demanded. "I can just see what's going to happen. The rest of the school are going to start taking the piss about our new Head of House, and our mild-mannered, good-natured Housemates are going to start chucking hexes about and, before we know it, there will be a war! Surely Dumbledore doesn't want that?"

"Unless he thinks the conflict with Voldemort is coming to a head, and wants to make sure that the other three Houses are firmly in his pocket. I'll lay odds that this is all going to escalate pretty quickly, and Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will all be united against us Slytherins, just like that cunning old bastard wants," Harry explained ominously.

"War's coming, then?" she asked nervously.

"Of course," he replied, "but I'm going to make sure that we're going to be the winning side."

Ginevra nodded and reached for a plate of bacon. "Nothing like a bit of optimism," she noted sourly, "Just as long as it doesn't get us killed."

"Trust me," Harry said firmly, hoping that he was telling the truth.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Several days later, they were walking along a quiet corridor when a hissing sound attracted their attention. Looking around, Harry saw Michelle Chambers beckoning to him from a deserted alcove. They went over and joined her.

"Harry, we need to talk," she said before glaring at Ginevra. "Can we trust HER?"

Rather than being offended, Ginevra seemed quite amused by the smaller girl's attitude.

"Yes, I think we can trust her, Michelle," Harry assured the Hufflepuff. "Have you met my friend Ginevra Weasley, at all?"

"Hello, Minx," Ginevra said with a grin. "Harry's told me a lot about you."

"He has? Oh," Michelle replied, looking a bit confused by Ginevra's friendly attitude. "Why did you just call me 'Minx'?"

"Because that's what you are," Ginevra told her. "I understand you hexed one of your fellow Housemates just because she was badmouthing Harry here; an older girl, too. I've got to say, I love your attitude, short stuff."

"Short stuff? I'm only a few inches shorter than you," Michelle huffed indignantly.

"Yeah, but I've had to put up with short jokes all my life. Imagine how pleased I am to actually find someone smaller than I am, even if that will change in a few years," Ginevra laughed, clearly enjoying herself.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" Harry asked the young girl gently.

"Oh, I wanted to warn you, Harry, those gossiping cows are at it again. Sprout may have warned her about it, but Susan Bones and her friends are starting to spread lies about you once more. They're just being a bit more careful about it, and making sure no teachers are about when they talk about you. Oh, they're talking about her, too," Michelle explained, looking at Ginevra pointedly.

"Really? What are they saying about me?" Ginevra asked interestedly.

"I'm not sure I should say. It's not very nice," Michelle said, suddenly looking embarrassed.

"I'm sure I've heard worst things said about me, I am a Slytherin, after all," Ginevra assured her.

"Well, basically, Bones has started calling you 'Potter's whore' and saying that you'll sleep with anyone for a few Galleons. She claims that Harry's been hiring you out, and acting as your… err, what did she call it? Umm, pimp, was it?" Michelle said with a frown.

"Wow, think of the money I could make," Harry laughed in delight.

"How stupid," Ginevra noted in disgust. "I mean, of all the girls within Slytherin, I'm just about the only one you couldn't call a whore. How come Parkinson doesn't have to put up with this crap or Gertrude Meads in the fifth year; she actually does do blowjobs for a few Galleons."

"Great, now you tell me," Harry moaned unconvincingly before turning back to Michelle. "What are they saying about me, sweetheart?"

"The same sort of things as before," Michelle replied, blushing brightly. "You know, you're a Dark wizard, you're evil, you killed that Zabini bloke and hid the body…"

"Oh, that's a new one," Harry noted, glancing briefly at Ginevra, who remained impassive.

"I don't know where they get this rubbish from," Michelle moaned, "but most of the school seems to lap it up. All the Gryffindors think you should be expelled."

"Oh, probably, but only for his unsanitary personal habits and his appalling school work," Ginevra grinned.

"Hey! I'll have you know I wash at least once a month," Harry replied indignantly. "Here, Michelle, sniff me and tell me what you think."

Michelle just laughed. "I don't know, Harry, you are a bit whiffy," she giggled.

"Oh, great, so you two are starting to gang up on me now, are you?" he groaned theatrically.

"Us girls do have to stick together, you know," Ginevra said, winking at Michelle.

"So, what are you going to do about this, Harry? I'd tell Bones to keep her mouth shut, but Professor Sprout already threatened to expel me if I got in trouble again," Michelle told him nervously.

"I don't want you to do anything, sweetheart, I'll take care of this," Harry said firmly. "I've been thinking for a while that I'm going to have to make an example of one or two of your fellow Hufflepuffs, and I guess the time has come."

"You shouldn't go after Bones directly, though, she's too well connected," Ginevra advised. "Tell me, Michelle, who are Bones's closest friends?"

"Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan," the young girl replied without hesitation. "They've been spreading these rumours since the beginning."

"Then we just need a pretence to teach those two a lesson," Harry decided. "Hopefully, we can catch them gossiping about us and challenge them in public. Even if they immediately back down and apologise, they'll lose face and no one will take them seriously again."

"That Abbott girl is a right cow," Ginevra said grimly. "You take Macmillan, Harry, and I'll deal with that blond bitch."

"You won't get into trouble over this, will you?" Michelle asked nervously.

"Don't worry, us Slytherins are skilled in underhand tactics and generally despicable behaviour," Harry grinned. "We won't get into any trouble, I promise."

"Good," she replied, before shyly looking up at Ginevra. "Are you Harry's girlfriend, now?"

Before Harry had a chance to say a word, Ginevra burst out laughing.

"Girlfriend? Oh, like he would be so lucky. Come on, Minx, do you really think a git like him could get a hot girl like me? Nah, actually we're both completely out of his league," Ginevra chortled. "Millicent Bulstrode is probably more his speed, or what's the name of that girl with all the acne? Oh, yeah, Eloise Midgen! You should ask her out, Harry. Make sure you take a bath before you do, though."

Michelle stared at Ginevra open mouthed for a second, before she burst out laughing.

"Yeah, Harry, you should totally snog Midgen! It would help clear up her spots in no time," Michelle giggled.

"Well, maybe I will!" Harry snorted indignantly. "I'm sure the poor girl would be more appreciative of my charms then you two. Beauty and intelligence isn't everything, you know."

Harry stuck his nose in the air and folded his arms in front of him, doing his best to look mortally offended. Sadly, this only amused the two girls more.

"We'd better get going," Ginevra declared. "Thanks for the heads-up, Minx, if you get any more problems with your Housemates you let us know, okay?"

"Yeah, I will. Let me know if he pulls with Midgen or Bulstrode, alright?" Michelle replied, her eyes shining with amusement.

"You can count on it," Ginevra laughed. "See ya, Minx."

Harry and Ginevra continued their way back along the corridor, heading towards their own common room. It wasn't until they were well out of earshot of the young Hufflepuff that Harry turned to his friend.

"That was really nice, the way you put Michelle at ease like that," he commented.

"I like her," Ginevra admitted. "She's got spunk and fire in her belly. Most of the Hufflepuffs are right wimps, but she's different. I can see why the two of you got on so well. So, when she turns seventeen, do you think you'll be getting together with her?"

"Nah," Harry said dismissively. "By the time she's seventeen, she'll have boys queuing around the block waiting to ask her out. She's going to be a real heartbreaker in a few years, and poor, broken-down me will have no chance. Besides, now you've drawn attention to my personal cleanliness, I think she'll have gone off me."

"Bad luck, Harry, you should have jumped in there while you had the chance," Ginevra joked.

"Of course, if I had some help, I'm sure I could improve my personal hygiene. I don't suppose you'd consider hopping in the bath with me and scrubbing my back?" he asked alluringly.

"In your dreams, Potter," she smirked.

"Always, Ginevra, always," he grinned.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Honestly, no one is safe with Potter still here at the school. He should have been kicked out months ago," Ernie Macmillan said, addressing the small group assembled in the Quad. "The bloke's bloody dangerous."

"Yeah, I've heard rumours that he's actually working for You-Know-Who," Hannah Abbott added.

"But why did the Minister say all those nice things about him in the Daily Prophet?" a third year Ravenclaw boy asked.

"Well, the rumours I've heard suggest that the Minister has been put under the Imperius Curse," Ernie advised in a conspiratory tone. "Potter apparently spoke to Scrimgeour in private for a long time back in the summer, and ever since then the Minister has been spouting this bullshit about how great Potter is and how much he's contributed to the fight against the Dark Lord. What crap!"

"Yeah, what was the first thing Potter did when he got here? He beat up a load of his Housemates so he could take over Slytherin. Slytherin! Have you ever heard of any decent, respectable wizard coming out of that house?" Hannah demanded.

"Wasn't Merlin in Slytherin?" a different Ravenclaw asked.

"That was centuries ago," Hannah snapped. "I mean in recent years. Ever since You-Know-Who emerged, Slytherin has been a breeding ground for his supporters. If Potter was truly fighting against him, he wouldn't have been Sorted into Slytherin, would he?"

"Yeah, Potter's a Dark wizard, and you should all watch your backs when he's around. He's just a murdering low-life who should have been thrown in Azkaban years ago," Ernie declared adamantly.

"Really? And why should I be imprisoned, Mr Macmillan? What crimes have I committed?" Harry asked, appearing seemingly out of thin air with Ginevra right behind him.

"Shit!" Macmillan cursed. "Where the hell did you spring from?"

"Never mind that, just answer the question," Harry demanded in a low voice.

"I, err… everyone knows you're a Dark wizard!" Ernie bellowed defiantly.

"Do they now? So, where is your evidence? What crimes have I allegedly committed," Harry asked again.

"Don't give us that crap, Potter," Hannah shouted, leaping to her friends defence. "Do you deny that you beat-up a load of your Housemates on your first night here? You're bloody dangerous!"

"Actually, Abbott, I was merely defending myself. The group that attacked me was led by Draco Malfoy, whose Death Eater father I helped arrest. Sorry, did you forget that bit? That I actually took down one of Voldemort's loyalist supporters and had him thrown in Azkaban? That kind of goes against your assertion that I'm on the Dark Lord's side, doesn't it?" Harry said firmly.

"Bollocks, it was probably all arranged just so you could gain access to the Minister," Ernie spat. "I bet you did put him under the Imperious Curse, didn't you? I bet you know all the Unforgivables, don't you?"

Harry grinned and stepped forward.

"Ernie Macmillan, you have publicly made slanderous and damaging allegations against me, Harry James Potter, head of the Ancient House of Potter, without evidence or forethought. I refute these allegations completely and demand satisfaction from you. I challenge you to a duel," Harry said in a loud, clear voice.

A gasp was heard from the group of third years that had been watching the events keenly. Others had also gathered upon hearing the raised voices, so around fifteen pupils had heard Harry's challenge.

"What? A duel? Are you mad?" Ernie spat.

"You will either issue a formal apology, which I want delivered in front of the entire school at dinner tonight, or we will duel. You're over seventeen, correct?" Harry demanded.

"Yeah, but…" Ernie stuttered.

"Then the choice is yours. Either a public apology or we fight. If you refuse to do either, I will take the matter to the Wizengamot and demand that you are sanctioned for your actions and publicly declared a coward," Harry told the angry Hufflepuff.

"A coward? You bastard! Screw giving you an apology, I'm going to kick your arse, you arrogant git. Remember, in a formal duel you won't be able to use any Unforgivables, which means we'll be evenly matched," Ernie yelled, causing Ginevra to laugh at his words.

"What are you laughing at, bitch?" Hannah snarled. "Who cares what a whore like you thinks, anyway?"

"Oh, Ginevra, it looks like we're going to have two duels, not just one," Harry smirked. "Hannah Abbott, you have insulted my friend who, as she is under the age of seventeen, cannot directly challenge you. On her behalf, therefore, I also challenge you to a duel. I name Ginevra Weasley as my second, however, and, in accordance with the ancient codes of duelling, I will allow her to stand as my proxy in the duel. She's going to smear you all over the walls of this school, Abbott."

"That doesn't make sense!" Hannah protested. "If Weasley's underage and can't challenge me, how the hell can you nominate her to fight me?"

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Ginevra butted in. "Harry is the head of an Ancient House. As long as I accept his request to be his second, which I do, he has the legal right to nominate whoever he likes to fight. It's a fairly well known loophole in Wizarding law, and one that I'm surprised you don't know about. I've heard what you've been saying about me, Abbott, and I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born."

"Wait! I… I'll apologise," Ernie said, a note of panic in his voice.

"Not accepted. You had your chance and you didn't take it. Now I want satisfaction, and I'm going to have that once they scrape your twisted, broken body off the duelling room floor. As I've issued the challenge, you have the right to decide the date and location of the duel. When and where are we to fight?" Harry demanded.

"I…um…" Ernie mumbled, looking like he was starting to panic.

"They don't have to decide immediately!" came a new voice. Harry looked round to see Susan Bones hurrying forward.

"That's true, Bones, but I will require a decision within twenty-four hours," Harry said coldly.

"I'm aware of that," Susan snapped.

"Good, I'll wait to hear from both of you," Harry said, addressing the pale-looking Macmillan and Abbott. He turned and marched out of the quad, with Ginevra at his heels, and an evil grin on his face.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Mr Potter, I must insist that you withdraw this challenge immediately," Dumbledore demanded in a harsh voice.

Predictably, within twenty minutes of him challenging Macmillan and Abbott to the duel, he and Ginevra had received a summons to the Headmaster's office. Already in attendance were Professors Sprout and Trelawney, the later looking totally lost.

"Absolutely not," Harry said firmly. "Slanderous allegations were made against me and Miss Weasley and they were not withdrawn when the chance to do so was presented. I warned you this would happen, Headmaster, but you and Professor Sprout have obviously failed to stem the tide of unfounded gossip that has been plaguing me ever since I arrived at Hogwarts. By issuing this duel I am insuring that people will think twice in future about spreading lies about us."

Sprout glared at him with barely disguised hatred.

"Come, come, Mr Potter, this is being blown out of all proportion. I hardly think that some schoolyard gossip is sufficient reason to start arranging formal duels. I demand that you withdraw your challenge, this instant!" Dumbledore said loudly, as close to losing his cool as Harry had ever seen.

"I will not. I would also remind you that I'm acting entirely within Wizarding law and any attempt to coerce either Miss Weasley or myself into withdrawing the challenge would be illegal. I'm sure the Minister wouldn't take kindly to any such activities, eh, Headmaster?" Harry said blandly.

"Miss Weasley cannot take part in this farce; she's underage," Dumbledore announced, changing tack.

"Professor Dumbledore, I understand that you are the Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, and as such I would have hoped that you were at least aware of our laws," Harry sighed. "As long as Miss Weasley accepts my request to be my second, and there are no age restrictions on that, remember, I can nominate her to be my proxy in the second duel. Please feel free to look up the laws of duelling if you have forgotten."

"I wonder what your parents would make of your involvement, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, glaring at the young woman. "Perhaps I should ask them to join in this discussion?"

"I very much doubt that my parents would care," Ginevra shrugged. "If they did, I would just point out that Abbott publicly said I was a whore and, as such, insulted the good name of Weasley. I very much doubt that my mother would take kindly to that."

"Maybe she would be interested to learn what her daughter had been up to," Sprout snarled.

"Oh, you think I'm a whore too, do you? Would you like me to give a Magical Oath that I have never had sex with a boy?" Ginevra asked acidly. Harry was particularly pleased about her wording. No one would ever think to ask Ginevra if she'd ever had sex with a wolf, after all.

"Pomona, please! No one here is questioning Miss Weasley's morals. This is just some mean-spirited playground chatter that has been allowed to get out-of-hand. Mr Potter, while I'm fully aware that you are well within your rights legally to issue this challenge, I would ask you to show a little common sense. This is all totally unnecessary; Mr Macmillan has already offered to apologise in public, and I would urge you to accept his offer," Dumbledore said, this time trying logic rather than intimidation to change Harry's mind.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I feel that this has to happen. Despite both you and Professor Sprout warning those within Hufflepuff House to stop spreading these foul lies, they have continued without remorse. A formal duel appears the only way that I can get my message across," Harry said firmly.

"Very well. I must inform you that I will not permit this foolish duel to occur on school grounds, however," the old man replied in a disappointed voice.

"That is your prerogative, Headmaster, although I must say it's a pity. We can, of course, stage the duel in Hogsmeade, but it will attract a lot of attention there. Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if the press don't turn up to cover it. Holding it in the school would also have allowed decent medical facilities to be on hand, as well, not to mention allowing one of the teachers to act as the arbitrator during the duel. Oh well, I guess we'll just have to slug it out in public, and hope that someone is on hand to Apparate anyone who is injured to St Mungo's," Harry said tragically.

Dumbledore stared at him with impotent fury in his eyes. "You make some valid points, Mr Potter," he said in a quiet, controlled voice. "I will agree to the duels being fought here at Hogwarts. I believe a date has yet to be set?"

"Both my pupils have requested the full month allowed in order to prepare," Sprout announced loudly.

"That's acceptable," Harry agreed coolly. "After all, that means it will only be a couple of weeks before the Christmas break when the duel occurs. That will give Macmillan and Abbott all the holiday period to recover."

"Rather sure of yourself, aren't you, Mr Potter?" Sprout retorted. "Well, if there's one thing we Hufflepuffs are known for, it's loyalty. I'm sure all of Ernie and Hannah's friends will rally around them and help them train. Both of them are excellent pupils, and I suspect that by the time you face them, you'll find that they aren't the pushovers that you seem to think they will be."

"Excellent, I like a challenge," Harry noted, "although I do find it amusing that you talk about House loyalty, even though your little Hufflepuffs are supporting a pair of malicious gossips who got called out. Loyalty is an admirable quality, Professor Sprout, but only when it's given to those worthy of it."

"And you think you're worthy, do you? Why, you're nothing but an arrogant bully, sent here by the Ministry to stick its nose into the Headmaster's affairs," Sprout barked.

"Careful, Professor," Harry said ominously. "I warned you once before about making unfounded accusations against me. Right now, you're not only slandering me, but the Minister for Magic, himself. I'm sure you wouldn't want to find yourself standing in front of him having to explain yourself."

"Enough!" Dumbledore yelled. "This bickering is pointless. Mr Potter, let me remind you that your true enemy is outside these castle walls, and making threats to my staff and your fellow pupils does nothing to help the situation."

"Maybe you should have thought about that earlier," Harry retorted. "I consider this situation a direct result of your staff failing to keep a tight rein on the gossip-mongers and slanderers that infest this place. Perhaps in future you will remember that and act accordingly."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry turned and stormed out of the office, with Ginevra close behind. As soon as the door to Dumbledore's office slammed shut, he heard Sprout starting to berate him loudly. He shook his head in disgust, and made his way down the stairs.

"Ernie and Hannah are both excellent pupils," Ginevra mimicked in a passable impression of Professor Sprout. "That's a load of bollocks, right there."

"What are they like?" Harry asked. "They won't give us any problems, will they?"

"Nah, Macmillan barely knows which end of his wand to hold, and Abbott is thick as two short planks. I foresee a rewarding career for her as a barmaid, or something," Ginevra snorted.

"Still, I think we can expect that pair to be getting some help between now and December. Don't forget that Susan Bones was keen to get involved, I'll bet she's contacted her aunt already about all this," Harry pondered.

"Do you think Madam Bones will try and stop the duel?" she asked.

"Nope, but I wouldn't be surprised if our current Head of Magical Law Enforcement arranges for a bit of training for those cretins. Think, if I should lose to Macmillan, that will be a major blow to my reputation. Indirectly, that would undermine the support I gave to Scrimgeour. Bones would just love that," he pointed out.

"So, I guess we'd better make sure we train hard, too," Ginevra suggested. "I'm confident that I could take Abbott down with one hand tied behind my back and my knickers pulled over my eyes, but there's no harm in getting in a bit of extra practice."

"Absolutely, and if you need any help in removing your knickers and placing them on your head, please do let me know," Harry winked.

"You really are a total pervert, aren't you, Potter?" she laughed.

"What can I say? You seem to bring that side out of me," Harry smirked, and they headed down to the Great Hall for dinner together.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Hello, Mr Potter, I wonder if you could spare me a minute or two," came a voice from behind him.

Harry spun around and found himself face to face with Albus Dumbledore. Silently, he cursed that he had not smelt the old man's approach. The old wizard had obviously spoken to Professor McGonagall at some point, and knew to mask his scent when approaching him.

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry replied politely. He casually glanced around him, and noticed that the corridor they were in was completely deserted; no doubt the reason why Dumbledore had chosen to waylay him at this point.

He'd been on his way to meet Ginevra after lessons had finished. As she had been in Herbology, he had chosen to meet her halfway rather than just head straight to the Great Hall for dinner. Sadly, his route had taken him off the beaten track. He had to admit that he didn't feel comfortable being alone with Dumbledore. He wouldn't put it past the old man to launch an all-out Legilimency attack against him, and then try to Obliviate him to cover it up. Who knew what the old bastard would justify doing if he believed he was acting for the greater good. Hopefully, Ginevra would have seen what was happening on her copy of the Marauder's Map and would be hurrying to this spot.

"I wonder if I might ask you to reconsider this duel, Mr Potter," Dumbledore began. "As I said previously, fighting amongst ourselves only benefits Voldemort, and Mr Macmillan has clearly stated his willingness to apologise."

"An apology that is worthless in my eyes," Harry replied dispassionately. "He and the Abbott girl were instructed to stop spreading their slanderous lies by Professor Sprout, to no avail. I'm afraid they've had their chance to end this in a sensible manner, and now they have to be taught a lesson. I'm sure you understand the need for discipline in a school, Headmaster."

"As long as that discipline is apportioned appropriately and the lesson being taught is beneficial," Dumbledore replied sternly. "Unfortunately, in this instance I have my doubts."

"We're all entitled to our own opinions," Harry noted coldly.

"I rather think that my opinions hold rather more importance, Mr Potter," the old man replied in an equally frosty tone.

"And I rather think that I have the law on my side," Harry pointed out, a trace of anger creeping into his voice.

"You do, indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged, backing off slightly. "They do say that justice is blind, but I cannot interfere if you are truly set on this cause of action. I just hope that you don't live to regret the results of this little confrontation."

"I'm sure it won't be me regretting anything," Harry replied firmly.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore nodded. "Now, while I have you here, I've been meaning to ask you something for a while. As I'm sure you know, Professor Snape has vanished and we are becoming extremely concerned as to his safety. I'm aware that you and he engaged in conversation before he disappeared, and I wondered if he might have said anything that would give a clue as to his whereabouts."

"No, he never once said where he was going," Harry answered truthfully. "All I know was that after rescuing me from that kidnapping attempt, staged in this school by a fellow pupil, I may add, he was extremely concerned about his safety. The Dark Lord has a very long arm and I know Severus felt that even Hogwarts wasn't a safe place for him."

"Really? He didn't convey any such concerns to me," Dumbledore noted. "I can't imagine any place that would be more secure for him than this school."

"Are you serious?" Harry gasped, stunned by the man's arrogance. "Can I remind you that just a short while ago, a pupil was poisoned within this very school? I was handed a Portkey that took me straight to Voldemort and that demented bitch Lestrange here, too. I fail to see how Professor Snape could possibly feel safe here with those two events so fresh in his mind."

"You think these events persuaded Severus that running was his only option?" Dumbledore asked seriously.

"Yes, I do," Harry confirmed.

"And yet you remain here, Mr Potter. One would think that you would be as much a target for Voldemort's retribution as Severus. Tell me, why have you chosen not to flee as your former Professor has?"

"The food's good and the place is full of pretty girls," Harry said flippantly.

Dumbledore actually chuckled. "I can't argue with that assertion, Mr Potter. Indeed, if I'm not mistaken, one particular girl seems to have caught your eye. You've been spending rather a lot of time with young Miss Weasley, have you not?"

"Well, I am captivating," said a smug voice from behind the Headmaster.

Dumbledore actually jumped, and, just for a second, Harry thought he saw a look of panic on the old man's face, before his normally calm exterior was resumed.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore greeted the red-haired witch. "I didn't hear you coming."

"I'm small and can move quite stealthily when I want to, sir," Ginevra replied calmly. "Sorry if I startled you."

"Not at all, my dear," the Headmaster smiled benignly. "No doubt that little shock I received was fitting punishment for discussing you behind your back. I take it you're here to meet Mr Potter?"

"That's right, sir. Potter owes me money and I like to keep an eye on him in case he tries to skip town. You really can't be too careful these days," she said blandly.

Harry managed to suppress a snigger.

"Ah, I see," the old man nodded. "Really, Mr Potter, prompt payment of debts is the mark of a gentleman. You really shouldn't deny Miss Weasley what she is due."

"It was just a foolish bet, sir," Harry explained with a perfectly straight face. "I never expected her to run halfway round Hogsmeade completely naked."

Ginevra's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I must confess that I accepted some foolish bets in my youth," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Although, I hardly think it's the weather to be out and about au naturel, Miss Weasley. May I suggest that next time you retain a nice warm vest, at least."

"Of course, sir," Weasley replied, her voice as cold as a Siberian winter.

"Well, I can see that you both have things to discuss, so I'll be on my way," the Headmaster said cheerfully, and promptly headed back down the corridor.

They waited until he was completely out of sight, before they turned to face each other.

"Do I get a head start?" Harry asked.

"You get three seconds," she snarled. "One… two…"

Harry was already running away from her, as fast as his legs would carry him.

12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – All the Lessons

Okay, this is the last 'light' chapter you're going to get, and even this gets a bit tasty in places. Oh, if anyone wants to know about the Potter family motto, I got it from a website that sells plaques with families coats of arms on them. I admit I only started looking because the same motto was used in Jeconais's wonderful 'This Means War!' story, but I assume he got it from the same site I did.

Just as a tease, I will mention that there's a major character death in the next chapter. I wouldn't want anyone to assume I'm getting soft in my old age.

Huge bouncy thanks to Arnel for beta reading.

"Ooh, bad luck, Potter!" Ginevra taunted as she dived to one side. "You'll have to do better than that."

Harry could barely keep a smile from his own face as he stalked forward. They were once again in the Room of Requirement, practicing their duelling techniques in preparation for their fight with the Hufflepuffs the next day. Over the preceding month they had spent a great deal of time training, and Harry was immensely impressed with the progress the small redhead had made. She was undoubtedly a natural at this.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're such a titchy target," he mocked her. "If you weren't such a midget that curse would have hit you straight between the eyes."

"Why, you…" she gasped and began to launch a relentless barrage of spells at him. If Ginevra did have a weakness, it was that she was too easy to wind up and her anger occasionally got the better of her. Harry concentrated on maintaining a decent Shield Charm in front of him, and waited for her to exhaust herself.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled suddenly as Ginevra took a brief rest from casting offensive spells at him to gather her breath. Her wand was ripped from her fingers and landed in Harry's outstretched hand.

"Oh, bugger it!" she raged, glaring at him in frustration. "A bloody Disarming Charm? I lose to a bloody Disarming Charm?"

"What have I said about you losing your temper in a fight?" he reminded her. "You've got to learn to keep your cool, otherwise you leave yourself open to a simple spell like that."

"Yeah, well, if you weren't so stupidly powerful, I would have had you. Who else can maintain a Shield Charm as solidly as you? Ninety-nine per cent of witches and wizards in the world wouldn't have been able to cope with the number of curses I threw at you," she grumbled.

"Yes, but it's that other one per cent that I'm worried about. Remember, that figure includes Dumbledore and Voldemort, and I wouldn't be surprised if we end up in a fight with either of them," he told her grimly.

"Really? I mean, Voldemort's a given, but do you really see yourself fighting Dumbledore one day?" Ginevra asked in surprise.

"It's a possibility," he admitted. "The old man seems to be compelled to control everything and everyone, and I'm not going to put up with that. I suspect at some point we're going to clash, and I'm not going to back down."

"I guess," she admitted reluctantly. "It just seems odd. I mean, you're going to have your hands full with Voldemort, surely you don't want to start picking fights with Dumbledore, too."

"Oh, I'm not going to antagonise him if I don't have to," Harry assured her. "I rather think that he'll be the one to come after me, not the other way round."

"If you say so," she shrugged. "Are we about done here? I'm getting a bit fed up having my arse kicked all the time. It's normally me who does the kicking."

"I'm sure you'll get the chance to dish out a bit of punishment tomorrow," Harry smirked, "but before we go, there's something I'd like you to have."

Harry walked over to his robes, which he'd discarded at the start of their duelling session. After rummaging around in the inside pocket for a few seconds, he stood and presented Ginevra with a carefully wrapped package. With faint amusement on her face, she ripped off the wrapping paper and unfolded the garment contained within it.

"What's this?" she asked in confusion.

"A duelling outfit," Harry answered. "I've got an identical set and I thought we should match."

Ginevra carefully examined the finely-tailored, one-piece garment. It was made from what was obviously expensive material, and had extra padding at the elbows and knees. It was mostly black, although the arms were coloured bright red and there was silver edging around the collar and wrists. On the chest was displayed a crest showing a black field with a diagonal white stripe and three cinquefoils on it. Below were the words 'Audaces Fortuna Juvat' written in black letters on a silver background.

"Is this your family crest?" Ginevra asked.

"Yes, and as you're my second and nominated champion in the second duel, I thought you should wear it. You want to try it on?" he asked.

"Trying to get me naked again, Potter? You really are a dirty old letch, aren't you?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"This is the Room of Requirement, remember?" he pointed out smugly. "Just think about a changing area and one will appear."

"Oh, that's a good idea. And here was me about to strip off right in front of you, too," she teased.

A second later, a simple wooden screen appeared a few feet away. Ginevra walked over to it, swaying her hips as she did so. Harry noted that the screen only came up to her shoulders and surmised that she was planning on tormenting him. For a moment, he pondered requesting the room to create a large mirror on the far wall, but thought better of it.

Ginevra went behind the screen, and indeed her head and upper shoulders were completely visible. With a wicked smile on her lips, she pulled off the long-sleeved t-shirt she had been wearing and casually draped it over the screen. Harry couldn't help but admire her pale, creamy skin which was dusted with freckles. After some wriggling around, her jeans joined her t-shirt on the screen, and she paused to smirk at him.

"This outfit looks quite snug," she noted. "I guess I'm going to have visible panty and bra lines if I leave my underwear on, won't I?"

A moment later, her bra and knickers joined her other garments. Knowing that only a thin, wooden screen separated him from her naked body, Harry started to feel distinctly aroused. Silently, he thanked the gods that he was wearing loose-fitting sweatpants, as anything tighter would have revealed exactly what effect Ginevra's striptease was having on him.

In the meantime, Ginevra picked up the duelling outfit, and began to pull it on. It took her a few moments to adjust it to her liking, before she stepped out from behind the screen.

"What do you think?" she asked, performing a twirl for him.

"Fantastic," he said in a breathy voice. Truly, she looked wonderful. The one-piece outfit seemed to be melted onto her body, revealing her shapely curves to advantage.

"So, don't I get to see you in your outfit?" she asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Umm, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. I don't have it with me at present," he lied. Actually, the outfit was in his robes, but if he put it on now his blood-flow issues would become completely self-evident for her to see.

"Shame," she said. "Still, this does feel wonderful. I've got so much freedom of movement with this on, it almost feels like I'm wearing nothing at all."

"Yes, shame you're not duelling Macmillan. With that outfit on, he'd be too busy drooling to remember to cast a spell at you," Harry noted in admiration.

"Perhaps we should swap opponents, then. Maybe you could distract Abbott with that boner you're trying to hide," Ginevra grinned.

Harry looked down at the front of his sweatpants and then back at the smirking girl. "This is revenge for that 'titchy' comment, isn't it?" he asked sourly.

"Why, yes, it is, indeed, Mr Potter," she smiled sweetly.

Harry swore quietly and adjusted the front of his trousers.

In the meantime, Ginevra had summoned a full-length mirror and was admiring her reflection in it.

"I must admit, I do look pretty hot in this get-up," she said, twisting this way and that. "If nothing else, it's guaranteed to give my brother Ron a heart attack. He's convinced himself that I'm still only about eight years old. I think it will come as a shock to him that I've got breasts."

"I meant to ask you about that," Harry said. "Has your family said anything about this duel?"

"My wonderful parents wrote to me saying how disappointed they are in my behaviour, so it was pretty much their usual correspondence. Actually, I'm surprised they don't start using a form letter to write to me, 'Ginny, we are bitterly disappointed at you about…' and just leave a blank space to fill in later," she chuckled grimly.

"How about your brothers, did they say anything?" he asked.

"Nah, well, Bill did write saying that he didn't teach me those spells just so I could go around challenging people to duels, and Ronald was his usual charming self. In fact, he made it clear that he'd be rooting for the Hufflepuffs, the big git," Ginevra explained bitterly.

"You know, the more I hear from your brother, the more I dislike him. Are you sure you two really related?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sadly, yes, although I do keep trying to deny it. This red hair and the freckles do sort of give it away, though," she frowned.

"Yes, they do a bit. You should probably get changed back. We need to get back to the common room soon," Harry noted.

"Yes, we can't have Trelawney angry at us, can we?" she agreed sarcastically.

Harry purposely turned away while she changed this time. The lump in his trousers was just subsiding and he didn't want to risk it reoccurring. This, of course, amused Ginevra no end, and she kept a constant barrage of smut and innuendo going while she changed. Harry remained quiet and instead just kept reciting Puddlemere United's team line-up for the last season, in his head.

Eventually, Ginevra changed back into her normal clothes and they left the Room of Requirement, intent on heading back to the Slytherin dungeon. They had just arrived on the ground floor when an airy voice called to them.

"Hello, Ginny, it's nice to see you again," the voice said.

Harry turned to see a young witch with dirty blond hair and slightly protruding eyes standing there looking at them serenely. The girl was wearing a necklace made out of what appeared to be Butterbeer caps and had earrings shaped like dirigible plums. For a second, Harry was uncertain whether to start laughing or to begin edging away slowly.

"Oh, you're talking to me again, are you, Lovegood?" Ginevra replied to the girl coldly.

"Yes, I suppose I am," the blond witch responded simply.

"So, after ignoring me for three years, you think you can just cosy-up to me again, do you?" Ginevra spat. "What's made you come crawling back, then?"

"You're yourself again," the girl said as if it was obvious.

"You what?" Ginevra exclaimed in exasperation.

"You've become Ginny again," Lovegood explained. "For a while you became that Ginevra person, and I didn't really like her. Since the start of this term, however, you've slowly become Ginny again. I'm very glad, actually."

"Merlin's beard, you really are a loony, you know that?" Ginevra said in annoyance.

"Many people tell me that, but if I am, I really don't care. Hello, Harry Potter," Lovegood said suddenly turning towards Harry.

"Err, hello," Harry said carefully.

"I expect that I have you to thank for bring Ginny back. She really is a much better person when you're around. When did you become lovers, exactly?" Lovegood asked with a somewhat unnerving intensity.

"What? Well, we're… umm, not actually… I mean," Harry mumbled, completely taken aback by the strange girl.

"My relationship with Potter is none of your business," Ginevra leapt in harshly. "You'd better not be spreading rumours like that around the school, either."

"Oh, no one believes what I say, anyway," Lovegood pointed out. "But really, Ginny, there's no need to be embarrassed. I see the way you two look at each other and it's quite a beautiful thing, really. I wish I had a boy that loved me like that. Or maybe a Umgubular Slashkilter. I'd like very much like one of those to love me, too; they make such wonderful pets. Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you back, Ginny."

With that, Lovegood pulled Ginevra into a quick hug and then skipped off in the direction of the Great Hall. For a second, Harry and Ginevra stood in silence.

"Well, she's very…" Harry began uneasily.

"Yeah! She is, isn't she?" Ginevra agreed quickly.

"Umm, about what she said…" Harry continued reluctantly.

"Oh, you don't want to believe a thing Loony Lovegood says. I mean, look at all that stuff about Umgubular wotsits. Ridiculous, really," Ginevra said purposely not looking directly at Harry.

"Umm, yeah, I guess," he reluctantly agreed. "Shall we head back now?"

"Yes, good idea," she readily agreed.

They were nearly back to Slytherin's common room before either of them spoke again.

"Ginevra, can I ask you something?" Harry began as they approached the hidden doorway.

"If you're going to ask to see my boobs again, then the answer is no," she joked.

"Damn," Harry smiled before turning serious again. "I've noticed that all your family call you Ginny, not Ginevra, and that Lovegood girl did, too. Why is that?"

Ginevra sighed. "I gave up being Ginny when I was Sorted into Slytherin," she explained bitterly. "Ginny was this playful, fun-loving girl that everyone loved, but suddenly through no fault of my own, I wasn't that person anymore. So I became Ginevra, which is a more fitting name for a House obsessed by blood-purity and status. Besides, it is actually my given name. Ginevra fitted into Slytherin much more comfortably than Ginny ever would have."

"So, are you really two different people?" Harry asked. "Ginevra is one side of your personality and this Ginny is the other? Was what Lovegood said true? Are you becoming more like you were previously? You certainly seem a lot more relaxed now than when I first met you."

"I don't know, Harry," she shrugged. "I mean, in many ways I am a lot happier than I was before, despite what happened to poor Tracey, and your arrival here at Hogwarts has had a lot to do with it. What you said about being a third way really got me thinking, and I realised I didn't have to become what others wanted me to be, not my family or those pure-blood idiots in the common room. I could just be me. Maybe I am becoming a bit more like I used to be, but, on the other hand, I'm still Ginevra and she will always be part of me, too."

"What do you want me to call you, then? Ginevra or Ginny?" he asked.

"Ginevra, for the moment. We're still Slytherins and that name still fits me the best. Perhaps one day that will change, but for the present I'm happy with the way things are," she admitted.

"I'll call you whatever you want me to," Harry told her seriously. "The name doesn't matter to me. The person you are does, and I like that person very much."

"Thank you," she said quietly, before a smirk came onto her face. "That still doesn't mean you're getting into my knickers, though, Potter."

"That's alright, Weasley," he smirked back. "I'll just wait until we're both in our Animagus forms again."

"See, I said you were a pervert," she laughed.

"And I never denied it," Harry grinned, opening the entrance to the common room for her to enter.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Great Hall was packed as nearly every pupil in the school had decided to turn out to watch the duel. The hall had been greatly modified, and now featured a central duelling area with raised seating surrounding it on three sides. The fourth side faced the teacher's table and had a podium on which the presiding official, in this case Professor Flitwick, a former duelling champion himself, would stand.

Harry peered out around the hem of his hood. Both he and Ginevra had slipped into the room earlier wearing their heavy cloaks to avoid recognition. They had loitered in a dark corner and watched as the room started to fill. It was with some amusement that Harry noted the number of banners supporting their opponents, and the sheer amount of yellow and black that was on display. In contrast, not a single silver and green garment could be seen.

A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd as Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott entered the room. A round of applause broke out as they walked to the centre of the room, accompanied by their Head of House and a grizzled, old man with a wooden leg. Harry snorted in disgust at the sight of him.

"Look, it appears Amelia Bones did indeed arrange for someone to come and give the Hufflepuffs a bit of extra training," Harry said to Ginevra.

"Bloody hell, that's Alastor Moody!" she gasped.

"Ah, heard of him, have you?" Harry noted grimly.

"Everybody's heard of him, Harry, but my parents actually know him quite well. He's a big supporter of Dumbledore, and I think he does little jobs for the Headmaster, here and there," she explained. "Harry, that bloke is bloody good. Do you think this is going to cause us any problems?"

"I shouldn't think so. No matter how good a teacher Moody is, he can only work with what he's given, and I don't think Macmillan or Abbott are up to much. Still, you might want to get your licks in early and make sure that Abbott doesn't have time to try anything fancy," Harry decided.

"Does that mean you're going to put Macmillan down quickly?" she asked, sounding strangely disappointed.

"Oh, hell, no. I arranged all this to make a statement and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Macmillan's going to be staring at the ceiling of the hospital wing for a month by the time I'm finished with him," he replied passionately.

"That's more like it," Ginevra practically purred. "I thought you were going soft on me for a second."

"Nah, you always keep me hard," Harry joked, earning him a punch on the arm.

"Well, we're all here, but it seems like our challengers are not," Professor Sprout called out. "Perhaps they came to their senses, or thought twice about facing my Hufflepuffs."

A roar of laughter greeted the squat Professor's words. Harry could barely keep the smile off his face.

"Ready to make a grand entrance?" he asked his red-haired friend.

"Always," she smirked.

They started to walk from their secluded corner of the hall and towards the duelling area, their cloaks still drawn around them and their hoods hiding their faces. Several people noticed their approach and the crowd started murmuring.

Once he reached a spot a few yards from the Hufflepuffs, Harry stopped and pushed off his cloak. Ginevra duplicated his actions and let the heavy garment fall at her feet. A gasp sounded from the assembled pupils and not a few murmurs of appreciation from girls and boys alike.

"Pretty outfits, Potter, but they won't help you in the ring," Moody growled.

"Why is Miss Weasley wearing the insignia of the House of Potter?" Sprout demanded, starting at the outfits in shock.

"Really, Professor, do you know nothing of the rules of duelling? Miss Weasley is my nominated second and, as such, she is representing my House today. Isn't that correct, Professor Flitwick?" Harry asked mildly.

The small Professor nodded enthusiastically. "Quite right, Mr Potter. Under these conditions, Miss Weasley is temporarily a member of the House of Potter and, as such, will enjoy all the privileges and legal protections of an Ancient House."

Harry smiled gratefully at the small man. He wondered if Ginevra had grasped the implications of wearing the Potter crest on her chest today, but he suspected that she did. No matter what happened in the ring later on, she would be legally protected from any repercussions short of her casting an Unforgivable. He most certainly didn't want an enraged Abbott family trying to sue her if their darling little Hannah got broken.

Interestingly, Abbott seemed to be rather distracted by the tight duelling outfit that he was wearing. It was rather form-fitting, and the blond Hufflepuff's eyes hadn't moved from Harry's groin area since he'd removed his cloak. Perhaps Ginevra had been right about distracting her. Macmillan also seemed to be staring at Ginevra intently, much to the redhead's evident amusement. She just put her hand on her hip and shot the boy a challenging stare.

"Everyone, can I have your attention, please," Flitwick shouted. "We are gathered today to witness a formal duel between four combatants, to settle the matter of an alleged slur on an Ancient House. A challenge has been issued by Harry Potter against Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot, in connection with comments made on the eighteenth of November of this year. An apology was offered by Mr Macmillan, but not accepted."

Boos rang round the hall at this comment.

"As a result of this, Mr Potter will duel Mr Macmillan, using standard rules of duelling, for this matter to be decided. Mr Potter has nominated his second, Miss Ginevra Weasley, to duel with Miss Abbot. The first duel will be Mr Potter verses Mr Macmillan, so can I ask everyone else to leave the duelling ring."

Shouts of encouragement sounded from all three sides of the arena, all of them in support of Macmillan. Although Harry could see most of his Housemates dotted about the place, none of them felt the need to offer him any support, he noted. Not that he cared, of course.

By this point, the ring had cleared, leaving just him and Macmillan facing each other. Flitwick scrambled over to his observation position and waved his wand once.

"Gentlemen, Shield Spells are now in place protecting the spectators. The duel will only finish when one of you has declared a clear wish to surrender and it has been accepted by his opponent, or one of you is physically incapable of continuing. No physical contact is permitted between the two of you, and only the wands in your hands are permitted to be used. If you lose your wand then your opponent will automatically be declared the winner. All spells are permitted to be used, apart from the three Unforgivables, naturally. I want to see a good, clean fight, and for the pair of you to uphold the honour of this school. Are you both ready?"

"I'm ready," Macmillan called out in a determined voice.

"Oh, yes," Harry declared, an eager expression on his face.

"Then you will start duelling from a countdown of three," Flitwick yelled. "Three, two, one… begin!"

Harry dived forward into a role, letting Macmillan's Stunner pass harmlessly over his head. With lightning speed, Harry untucked himself and adopted a kneeling position. He loosed a Severing Charm at the Hufflepuff, which caught the boy on the right thigh. Macmillan screamed in pain and pressed his hand to the bleeding wound.

"First blood to me, Macmillan," Harry taunted as he rose to his feet. "You really need to be quicker on your feet, you know."

"Petrificus Totalus! Expelliarmus! Impedimenta!" Macmillan shouted throwing three spells at Harry in quick succession.

"Protego!" Harry cast almost lazily before throwing another Severing Charm at his opponent. This time, he hit Macmillan on the left arm, ripping his school uniform open and sending a shower of blood spurting onto the floor of the ring.

"Oh dear, Macmillan, it looks like that barmy, old ex-Auror didn't train you very well. Perhaps Bones should have sent someone who was actually relatively sane, instead," Harry called out mockingly. "Ready to give up?"

"No, you bastard! Diffindo!" Macmillan yelled, sending his own Severing Charm back at Harry. With an arrogant side-step, Harry just let the spell sail past him. His return fire caught the Hufflepuff on the left hip, causing the boy to fall to the floor clutching his wound.

"Wait… I… surrender," Macmillan gasped.

"Mr Potter wins!" Flitwick called. "We can…"

"Not accepted!" Harry roared.

Macmillan looked up at Harry with fear in his eyes. The spectators started to boo and throw insults in Harry's direction, but he ignored them.

"Macmillan, you've slighted the honour of House Potter with your deceitful and insulting remarks. The fact that you only offered to apologise once I challenged you to a duel suggests you are a coward, something that your pathetic conduct in this ring seems to prove," Harry yelled, silencing the crowd. "You think that a couple of minor cuts satisfies me? You're a fool if you think that; a cowardly, craven fool! Get on your feet and face me like a man, not some snivelling little wimp!"

Gritting his teeth in pain, Macmillan climbed to his feet, only to be hit again, this time on his left shoulder. The boy cried out, and desperately tried to aim his wand at Harry, but to no avail.

Harry didn't even bother to move anymore. He stood where he was and systematically cut the Hufflepuff to pieces. The boy's school robes were by now in tatters, and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds. Harry couldn't believe the boy's stupidity; all he had to do was drop his wand and the duel would be over, but Macmillan still clutched it desperately in his hand, like his life depended on it.

Deciding he'd made his statement, Harry Levitated the hapless Hufflepuff into the air, and threw him hard towards the edge of the ring. The pupils in his flight path scrambled to get out of the way, obviously forgetting that there were protective charms in place. Macmillan slammed into the invisible wall and then fell to the floor, unconscious. Mercifully, his wand dropped from his limp fingers and rolled away.

"Stop!" Flitwick yelled rather unnecessarily, as Harry was already putting his wand away. "Potter wins. The Shield Spell has been removed. Madam Pomfrey, can you please see to Mr Macmillan?"

The nurse scrambled into the ring and immediately began casting Healing Spells on the inert boy.

"You bastard!" a female voice rang out and Harry turned to see Susan Bones on her feet, glaring at him. "Ernie surrendered! You didn't have to do that to him."

"But I did, Miss Bones," Harry replied loudly so the entire room could hear. "Macmillan slandered my honour, and then thought he could escape punishment by offering a half-hearted apology. He then assumed that casting a few pathetic spells before throwing in the towel would get him out of the duel. Well, it didn't! That fool got exactly what he deserved, and I hope whenever he looks at the scars on his body, he'll remember what happens to people who spread lies. You might do well to remember that, too."

"What the hell does that mean?" Bones yelled angrily.

"It means that if I catch anyone else insulting me or my House, or spreading lies and innuendo about me, I won't hesitate to call them out. What do you say, Miss Bones, do you fancy facing me in the duelling ring?" he challenged her.

Bones paled noticeably.

"I thought not," Harry sneered. "Just remember, I could have been a lot harder on Macmillan if I wanted to. None of his injuries will cause him any permanent disabilities, I believe. Next time, I may not be so generous."

The room was silent as the assembled pupils looked at him in horror. Harry just turned and walked back towards the teacher's table. He noticed Dumbledore and McGonagall both glaring at him in disapproval, but he ignored them. Instead, he walked up to Ginevra, who was standing nearby with an appreciative smile on her face. He reached out and took her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Your turn, my dear," he announced, with an evil smile on his lips.

"Yes, and I'm looking forward to it," she smirked, before sashaying towards the duelling ring. By now, they had Levitated Macmillan onto a stretcher and he was being taken off to the hospital wing. Hannah Abbott stood close by, fear evident on her face.

"This stupidity has gone on long enough!" Professor Sprout yelled suddenly, striding forward. "Miss Weasley, Hannah is fully prepared to issue you a full and frank apology for her unfortunate words. I suggest you accept that apology immediately and we can end this madness."

Ginevra looked at the stout little Professor with an expression of distaste. "Not acceptable," she said coldly. "That little bitch called me a whore in front of half the school, not to mention spreading numerous lies about Harry and me. No, Professor, she and I are going to duel, and you shouting about it isn't going to stop that."

"I warn you, Miss Weasley, you will regret this…" Sprout began angrily.

"Professor, did I hear you threaten a pupil?" Harry interrupted loudly. "That's a sacking offence, I believe."

"What? I never…" the woman spluttered.

"It sounded like a threat to me. Perhaps I should raise the matter with the School Board?" Harry persisted.

"I didn't threaten Weasley!" Sprout shouted. "Stop putting words in my mouth, you cocky little bastard!"

"Professor Sprout!" Dumbledore roared from the top table. "Control yourself, immediately. How dare you talk to a pupil in that manner!"

"Oh, I…" Sprout said looking mortified. "It just slipped out. I… oh, I… I apologise profusely!"

The small witch turned and practically ran from the room. Harry could barely believe that the Professor had lost it like that, but was immensely pleased she had. If Sprout caused any trouble in future, he could hang this incident over her head.

"Can we clear the duelling area, please," called out Professor Flitwick. "It's time for the second duel to begin."

"Have fun," Harry told Ginevra as he walked away. She just winked at him.

Harry went and stood near the teacher's table, from where he had a good view of the duelling ring. He could see Moody whispering into Abbott's ear, no doubt giving the girl some last-minute instructions. Frankly, the best thing the old Auror could do was tell Abbott to throw her wand away as soon as the duel began, but he doubted that would happen.

As soon as Moody returned to his seat, Flitwick cast the protective charms around the ring, and began the count to start the duel. Abbott was already holding her wand out in front of her shakily, while Ginevra held hers casually by her side.

As Flitwick reached three, Abbott instantly cast a Shield Charm to defend herself. Ginevra's first Blasting Charm blew the shield away like it was tissue paper, while her second threw the blond Hufflepuff off her feet and into a crumpled heap. Abbott's wand had been caught in the blast and had shattered into pieces in the process.

"Stop!" Flitwick yelled. "Miss Weasley wins. Poppy, you're needed."

Harry walked casually over to a grinning Ginevra. "That was a bit quick," he noted.

"Yeah, well, it's nearly lunch time and I'm getting hungry," she replied cheekily.

"When aren't you hungry?" Harry laughed. "I swear you could eat…"

"Ginny! How could you?" an angry voice interrupted.

Harry groaned as he saw Ginny's brother Ronald and his bushy-haired girlfriend stomping towards them. It seemed like everyone wanted to have their say today.

"Oh, don't start, Ronald," Ginevra groaned wearily. "I'm not in the mood to put up with your bullshit."

"Didn't you hear? You broke poor Hannah's arm in three places," the bushy-haired girl shrieked.

"Only three? Damn, I was hoping for four, at least," Ginevra smirked.

"How can you be so bloody mean?" Ronald shouted. "Hannah's a really nice person. She didn't do anything to deserve that!"

"She called me a whore, Ronald," Ginevra said coldly. "I don't take that kind of shit from anyone, especially not some gossiping Hufflepuff cow. Those gits have been spewing dirt on Harry and me for months. Maybe now they'll learn to keep their mouths shut."

"All this because of some tittle-tattle?" the girl demanded. "Ernie is scarred for life and it will be weeks before Hannah can use her arm again properly, just because they called you some unpleasant names? I think you need to get your priorities sorted out."

"And I think you need to keep your nose out of our business," Harry interrupted, annoyed by the girl's presumptuous attitude. "I've already had enough lies told about me in the press, and I'm damned if I'm going to allow anymore such rubbish to be spread here. You may think that we were unnecessarily harsh on those two idiots, but, I tell you, people will think twice now before they start spreading anymore uninformed hogwash about me or Ginevra now."

"Yeah, wind your neck in, Hermione," Ginevra growled. "You're a bloody hypocrite, anyway. You're always preaching about honest and justice, but you happily stood back and let those bastards spread lies about us. What's the matter? Doesn't your code of conduct include us because we're Slytherins?"

"No, I just wasn't certain that what was being said about you wasn't true!" the girl snapped.

"Bloody watch it, Granger," Ginevra snarled back. "I may just consider that a personal insult and call you out into the duelling ring, and we both know how that would end."

"Shut your mouth, Ginny, and leave her alone!" Ronald yelled.

"Your little friend needs to mind her P's and Q's," Harry said in a cold voice. "Both Ginevra and I have just got warmed up, and it wouldn't take too much effort to arrange another couple of duels."

"I don't know what's happened to you, Ginny," Ronald spat, ignoring Harry. "You used to be a lovely little girl. Ever since you became a bloody snake, you've turned into a right bitch. Well, I've had enough! I disown you; you're not my sister anymore. Bloody Potter there can have you, for all I care."

"I'm not yours to give away, Ronald," Ginevra shouted back, "and, for your information, you haven't been my brother since I started at Hogwarts! Just because I was sorted into Slytherin, you've turned your back on me. What did I do that was so wrong, Ron? I was still the same person, no matter what House I was in, but you treated me like I was a bloody Death Eater, or something. Well, screw you! I don't need or want you anymore. The same goes for Fred, George and Percy; you're all a bunch of stuck-up idiots too stupid to see past your own prejudices. As for you, Granger, you can go stick your head up your arse. Oh, and next time I catch you in a compromising position with my brother I won't be covering up for you. Got it?"

Granger flushed red and, with an angry flick of her untamed hair, marched off. Ronald paused long enough to shoot them both an angry glare, before he followed his girlfriend.

"What was all that about covering up for them?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Oh, Hermione often comes and stays at the Burrow during the summer holidays, and I get stuck sharing my bedroom with her. Last summer, I walked in to find her and Ronald on my bloody bed, with his hand up her skirt. Ick! I had to change my bedding after that," she moaned.

"Well, she acts like she has a stick up her arse, so I'm not surprised to learn she's has a finger up her…"

"Harry!" Ginevra protested. "I do not want to think about her and Ronald in that manner, thank you very much."

Harry just sniggered.

"Merlin, you are a dirty minded git, aren't you?" she laughed.

"Guilty as charged," he smirked. "By the way, have I mentioned how bloody sexy you looked while duelling Abbott? That outfit really suits you."

"You don't look too bad in yours, either," she purred. "It's very form-fitting… in all the right places."

"You know, we could go and find a nice quite place and help each other out of these outfits," he suggested.

"Down boy," she smiled, tapping him sharply on the nose. "I can manage to take this off without your help, thank you."

"Yeah, but just imagine how much more fun it would be," he pointed out.

"Not today, Potter," she laughed.

Harry pulled a disappointed face, secretly pleased she hadn't said anything about tomorrow.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days were comparatively peaceful, mainly as most of the pupils at Hogwarts were avoiding Harry and Ginevra like a case of the dragon pox. Many times, Harry had to restrain himself from frightening first and second years by yelling 'boo' at them as they hurried past him in the corridors. Filch would probably get angry if he made the little bleeders wet themselves, he reasoned.

He and Ginevra did have some fun harassing Susan Bones, however, making a point of being in the same place as she was whenever possible, and always engaging her in polite conversation. The young witch was obviously extremely uncomfortable around them, but didn't dare say anything. Ginevra, of course, took every opportunity to slip in unflattering comments about the Hufflepuff girl when they spoke. Miss Weasley definitely had an evil streak in her.

It was a few days before the school was about to break-up for the Christmas holidays when Ginevra received a letter from home. They had been happily sitting eating breakfast in the Great Hall when a raggedy grey owl suddenly crash-landed in front of them, sending Ginevra's bowl of porridge flying, and shedding feathers into a platter of fried eggs. Ginevra moaned at the sight of the bird.

"Oh, bollocks. That's Errol, our family owl. I guess that means I've got another loving missive from Mother. I wonder why she's bothered to write now? I'll be home in a couple of days," she mused.

"One way to find out," Harry said, fishing the unconscious bird out of a dish of baked beans and holding it so Ginevra could untie the letter attached to its leg.

She took the letter and began to read it unenthusiastically. A few moments later, she groaned again.

"It seems my darling brother has been telling tales," she said with a frown. "Mother's written saying how disappointed she is that I haven't told her that I have a 'boyfriend' now, and insisting that you come to dinner on Boxing Day."

"Really? So, bearing in mind I'm now official your boyfriend, does that mean my sex-life is about to radically improve?" he asked innocently.

Ginevra glared at him. "Why does it need to be improved? I'm sure that you and your right fist are very happy together," she growled. "Bloody hell, why does my family always do this to me?"

"You know, we could have a bit of fun with this," Harry speculated.

"Trust me, Harry, you really don't want to meet any more of my family. All my brothers will be home this year, which probably means that this is all a set-up so they can get together and intimidate you," she groused.

"When have I ever been intimidated by anyone?" Harry pointed out. "Besides, I'd be quite up for a re-match with your twin brothers. No doubt they would be looking to play some pranks on me, wouldn't they? I'm pretty sure we could turn the tables on them."

"Yeah, we could," Ginevra smirked. "I'm sure Bill and Charlie would try and play the protective older brothers. We could probably make them regret that, too, if we put our heads together. I doubt Ronald will be much of a challenge, and Percy will just sit there looking down his nose at you."

"What about your parents?" Harry asked, warming to the idea.

"I have an idea how to play that," Ginevra smiled. "So, fancy coming to my house for dinner, boyfriend?"

"I'd love to, my sweet, I'd simply love to," he grinned back.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry was in quite a cheerful mood as he stepped into the Floo. Professor Dumbledore had given him permission to use the one in his office, and had seemed delighted when Harry had told him of the dinner invite he had received from the Weasleys. That instantly made Harry suspicious, but he decided not to worry about it too much. He was determined to enjoy the day.

It was three p.m. sharp, and he was carefully to be exactingly punctual. He was dressed in his finest clothes, including an elegant plum-coloured shirt with a black and gold embroidered waistcoat over it, black trousers with a crease so sharp in them that you could cut yourself, and expensive black boots. A regal grey jacket completed the outfit, with a single gold ring bearing the Potter insignia providing the only accompaniment. Dress to impress; that was his motto.

He arrived at his destination in a flash of green fire, and stepped out into what appeared to be a cottage kitchen. Waiting to greet him was Ginevra dressed in a simple, but very attractive, blue dress. Gathered around a large wooden table was an assortment of redheads, with a blond and a brunette thrown in for a bit of variety. Most of the people there he knew, and the others he could probably guess their identity from Ginevra's descriptions.

"Harry, you made it, my sweet," Ginevra purred, her eyelashes lowered in a seductive manner and her body language submissive. Harry knew her behaviour was all pre-arranged, but he found it very appealing, nonetheless.

"Nothing could have kept me away, my darling," Harry declared and rushed forward to grab her hand. He then placed a soft, intimate kiss on the back of it, and stared into her eyes in a loving manner.

"Ahem," coughed a voice and Harry casually looked up to see a tall, balding man glaring at him.

"Oh, I quite forgot, some introductions are in order," Ginevra cried, taking Harry's hand and leading him forward. "Mother, Father, may I present Harry Potter, head of the Ancient House of Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord at only fifteen months old, and sworn enemy of the Death Eaters. Harry, this is Arthur and Molly, my parents."

"Delighted to meet you, sir," Harry cried in delight and grabbed Arthur's hand which he shook enthusiastically. "Ginevra has told me so much about her family that I feel I know you all already. Thank you so much for inviting me into your home."

Harry suspected he was laying it on a bit thick, but the bemused expression of the man whose hand he was still shaking suggested he was succeeding in throwing everyone off guard. Certainly, a quick glance towards the kitchen table revealed Ronald and the twins gawping at him in surprise.

"Ah, Mrs Weasley, or may I call you Molly?" Harry said, letting go of Mr Weasley's hand and grabbing his wife's instead. "Now I can see where Ginevra got her beauty from."

"Oh, my… umm, welcome to our home, Mr Potter. Do please call me Molly," the woman said in a flustered manner, as Harry kissed the back of her hand just as he'd kissed her daughter's.

"It would be an honour," Harry replied, giving her his most charming smile. "I can't say how grateful I am to be invited to your lovely home. As you may know, I lost my parents at an early age, and all the rest of my family sometime later, so Christmas can be rather a lonely time for me."

"You poor thing," Molly said sympathetically. "Do you really have no family left, at all?"

"Sadly, no. My aunt, uncle and cousin were all I had left, and they died in a tragic fire when I was ten. A kindly family took me in and cared for me, but they were killed during the Death Eater raid on Godric's Hollow last spring. I've been alone ever since," Harry explained sadly. "That was partly why I decided to attend Hogwarts this year, you know, just for the company. It was a marvellous decision because it meant I met your wonderful daughter."

A snort of derision came from the table, which caused Molly's head to snap round to glare in that direction.

"Well, I'm glad Ginny's been a good friend to you, Mr Potter… err, Harry," Mr Weasley began.

"Oh, how forgetful of me! A courteous guest never comes empty handed, so I took the liberty of bringing something for the table," Harry interrupted and reached into the small bag he had brought with him, which just so happened to have an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. "I hope you like elven wine, I've brought a couple of bottles of rather good vintage, thirty-eight to be exact, although I prefer the twenty-seven, to honest. I wasn't sure of everyone's tastes so I brought a couple of bottles of Muggle Champagne, too."

"Why, thank you, Harry," Mr Weasley said in amazement as Harry thrust the bottles into his arms.

"Think nothing of it," he replied graciously before turning to Molly, "and for you, dear lady, may I present these small tokens of thanks."

Harry pulled out a rather large bunch of red roses and an even larger box of quality chocolates, which be handed to the shocked woman.

"They're beautiful," Molly gushed, sniffing the flowers. "Oh, and these chocolates must have cost a fortune! Harry, you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense, these worthless gifts mean nothing compared to the generosity you displayed in inviting me to sit at your table. Ginevra has told me all about your wondrous cooking, and I can't wait to sample it, and enjoy the hospitality of your fine home," he told the matronly woman. Harry could almost imagine Ginevra sniggering at his performance behind him, but he had a little surprise for her, too. He turned to face her, and she did indeed have a large grin on her face, which he intended to remove immediately.

"Ginevra, I didn't have a chance to give you your Christmas gift before the holidays, so please accept it now," he said, handing her a small box.

The smile did indeed slip off her face. Before Ginevra had left for the Christmas break, they had planned what they were going to do today quite carefully, and this was not mentioned once. A little suspiciously, Ginevra took the box from him and carefully opened it. She gasped as soon as she saw what was inside.

"Harry, this is beautiful," she exclaimed as she removed the exquisite silver necklace, with four small and one large emerald mounted on it.

"Merlin's balls, that must cost a bomb!" a tall redheaded young man with his hair in a ponytail blurted.

"William!" Ginevra scolded him, beating her mother by a millisecond. "Don't be so rude! Besides, don't you know it's vulgar to speculate on the cost of gifts? Harry, thank you, your present is truly wonderful. Can you put it on me, please?"

With a smug smile, Harry helped Ginevra put the jewellery around her slim neck, and did up the clasp at the back. He then stood back and admired it. He had to admit, it did look spectacular on her.

"Oh, thank you!" she cried and threw her arms around him, giving her the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "We'll discuss this later, Potter," she murmured threateningly.

Harry just smiled benignly at her.

"You should meet the rest of my family now, Harry," Ginevra said as she pulled away. "I'm sure they're all dying to meet you."

"Of course, although I do know a few of them already. Why don't you start with those I haven't met yet?" he suggested.

"Naturally. Harry, this is my oldest brother, William and his fiancé, Fleur Delacour," Ginevra said graciously.

"Actually, everyone calls me Bill," the man with the ponytail said, standing and begrudgingly offering his hand. "So, I understand you've become quite close to my sister?"

"Indeed, Bill, I think the world of her," Harry replied mildly. "Ginevra's told me a lot about you. I understand that the two of you used to be very close, and that you taught her a lot about magic in the past."

The emphasis of Harry's words was not lost on Bill, who looked rather forlorn suddenly. Clearly, he seemed to regret the distance that had grown between him and his sister, even if he had been a willing party to it.

"I'm pleased to meet you, 'Arry," the beautiful blond woman next to Bill said, lazily holding out her hand to be kissed. "I 'av heard so much about you."

Harry offered the woman a polite smile and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Ginevra had warned him that Bill's intended was part Veela, and the woman was proving that now. She'd also said that Delacour might try something just to piss her off, which also appeared to be true. Veela were capable of mesmerising most wizards through a combination of a natural magical allure and the release of powerful pheromones. Harry's highly advanced Occlumency skills protected him from the former, while his wolf-senses defeated the latter. The same could not be said for most of the other Weasley men, with Ronald in particular drooling at the sight of her.

In truth, Delacour left him rather cold. Her flawless beauty just seemed sterile and boring to him. He released her hand and smiled pleasantly at her, but gave no visible sign of being otherwise affected, much to the woman's evident annoyance. Clearly, she was not used to young men being resistant to her charms. Ginevra took the opportunity to wrap her arm around Harry's waist and guide him towards the next family member, a barely suppressed smirk on her face.

Percy was next, and he regarded Harry aloofly.

"Please to meet you, Percy," Harry said in a friendly manner. "I understand that you work in the Minister's office?"

"Indeed, I'm currently Junior Assistant to the Minister himself," Percy announced pompously.

"Really? I'm surprised Rufus didn't mention you. I've become good friends with the Minister in recent months, you know. He was trying to get me to take up my hereditary position on the Wizengamot last time we chatted. I'll have to mention that I met you next time a talk with him," Harry said casually.

And that shut Percy Weasley up.

"Over here, we have Charles," Ginevra continued, indicating a squat, muscular young man who was staring at Harry in an unfriendly manner.

"Potter," Charles acknowledged him gruffly whilst offering his hand. He then proceeded to try and break Harry's fingers with his handshake. It was all Harry could do to stop himself rolling his eyes at the childish gesture. He was pretty strong himself, and knew how to tense his muscles so Charles did no real damage. After being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, having his hand squeezed by some muscle-bound moron didn't even register.

"Yes, Charles, the dragon handler, I believe," Harry greeted the young man. "Ginevra mentioned you, too, although she says that you rarely get the chance to return home. It must be such a shame, not being involved in your sister's life, at all."

Charles glared at him, the implication of his words clear. Unfortunately, there was little the boy could do to refute the statement.

"Of course, you know Fredrick and George," Ginevra continued. "I was rather hoping that these two would be decent enough to offer you an apology for their appalling behaviour when you met them, Harry, but, sadly, manners and descent conduct count very little with them."

"Eh? What's this?" Molly demanded.

"Something of a misunderstanding, Molly," Harry explained casually. "You see, a couple of months ago my wand was damaged in an unfortunate accident, and I was forced to visit Ollivander's in Diagon Alley to replace it. Professor Dumbledore approved the visit, and as I was largely unfamiliar with the Alley, Professor Snape kindly agreed for Ginevra to accompany me as a guide. We ran into your sons during the trip and, regrettably, they rather got the wrong end of the stick."

"You're being too kind, Harry," Ginevra interrupted. "These two accused us of skiving off from school and Harry of taking advantage of me! We tried to explain that we had permission to be there, but naturally they didn't listen. In fact, George went so far as to threaten Harry, didn't you?"

"Err… I," George stammered.

"GEORGE WEASLEY! How dare you threaten Mr Potter like that! Why didn't you listen to your sister? Besides, when did the pair of you start becoming so judgemental? You spent all your school years slacking off, so you have no room to talk!" Molly raged.

"I didn't know," George protested. "They walked into the Leaky Cauldron arm in arm, what was I meant to think?"

"A gentleman offers his arm to a lady when walking," Molly pointed out harshly, "and Harry is clearly a gentleman! I'm ashamed of the both of you! Apologise to Harry, at once."

"Sorry," George muttered unconvincingly.

"Yeah, sorry," Fred echoed.

"Apology accepted," Harry said magnanimously. "You were only protecting your sister, after all. It's just rather a shame you never did that while you were at Hogwarts, but better late than never, eh?"

The twins scowled at him in frustration and anger.

"Oh, and you know Ronald and Hermione, too," Ginevra said, finishing her introductions in an offhand way, guaranteed to offend her insecure brother.

"Ronald, Hermione," Harry nodded. "Have you just arrived, Hermione? Do you need to nip off and change for dinner?"

Hermione, who was dressed in jeans and a chunky jumper glared at him. "No, unfortunately no one mentioned that we would be dressing for dinner, and these are the best clothes I have with me."

"Oh, well, never mind," Harry smiled faintly. "You still look very… presentable."

If looks could kill, Harry would have been dead a dozen times over.

"Well, now we all know each other, let's take our places at the table," Arthur announced. "Harry, can I offer you a glass of wine?"

"Thank you, Arthur, that would be wonderful," Harry accepted gratefully, as Ginevra led him to table and sat him down, taking the spot immediately to his left. Bill and Fleur took seats opposite them, while Percy sat to Harry's right.

Percy seemed to have had a change of heart about him, and began to engage him in conversation about his relationship with the Minister. While chatting politely to the rather pompous young man, Harry kept his eyes peeled. This proved to be a wise move, as he noticed Fred taking Harry's glass of wine from his father and bringing it over. As soon as the glass had been placed in front of him, Harry gently tapped Ginevra's ankle with his foot.

"Let me help with those, Mum," she announced and hurried over to relieve her mother of a stack of plates. As she took them, however, the top plate slipped and crashed to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry. How clumsy of me!" she exclaimed.

"No harm done, dear," her mother assured her.

In the meantime, Harry had taken advantage of Ginevra's carefully planned distraction to slip his wand into his hand. Using a variation of the Banishing Spell that Blaise Zabini had used to plant poison in his cup, Harry switched the wine in his glass with that of George, who was busy smirking at his sister.

Hiding his wand again, he allowed himself to be served what proved to be a delicious meal. He was just tucking into his tender breast of chicken, when George unexpectedly turned into a peacock.

"FRED! GEORGE! I specifically told you there was to be no messing around today! Both of you get out! You can eat your dinner in the living room. I don't want to see sight nor sound from you in the next hour," Molly shrieked.

A rather sullen Fred picked up his and his brother's plates, and slouched out of the room, with the gaily-coloured peacock following him. Beside him, Harry could hear Ginevra barely managing to suppress her laugher.

The rest of the meal passed quite pleasantly, with good food and polite conversation. Despite his initial fears, the Weasley seniors didn't try to pry into his past too much, and on the rare occasions they did get a little intrusive, Ginevra scolded them lightly and told them not to 'interrogate her boyfriend'. Molly Weasley's cooking proved to be as good as he was told, and Harry ate rather more than he had intended. With the twins banished, and the other brothers impotent, the only disturbance was caused by Ronald.

"So, Potter," he called over to Harry during pudding. "Tell me, why did you feel the need to hospitalise those two poor Hufflepuffs, and why did you drag Ginny into it? She could have been hurt."

An awkward silence suddenly descended.

"Well, Ronald," Harry began conversationally. "As those two Hufflepuffs had been spreading scandal and lies for weeks about me, I felt a formal duel was the only answer. They had, after all, already ignored their Head of House's orders to stop such behaviour. I confess I was surprised they both proved such poor duellists, but Ginevra tells me that the standard of teaching has been a bit uneven in recent years, particularly in Defence. As for involving Ginevra, she told me quite plainly she wanted to be involved, and I respected her wishes. After that Abbott girl had the nerve to call her a whore in public, I'm not surprised Ginevra wanted to restore her honour. I must say, I'm surprised that you made no attempt to stand up for your sister, Ronald."

Ronald blanched as both his parents glared at him angrily.

The rest of dinner was mercifully free of any more such interruptions, and they all lingered at the table while coffee was served. Harry was lavish in his praise of the meal and the hospitality he had been shown, much to Molly Weasley's evident pleasure.

Eventually, it was time to leave. He shook hands with all the Weasley males, reluctantly in some cases, and kissed the female's hands. He was slightly amused at how much Granger blushed when he did so, and the anger on Ronald's face as he watched. Finally, he was left with just Ginevra to bid goodbye.

"Umm, Mother, I don't suppose Harry and I could have a few moments' privacy as I see him off?" Ginevra said pointedly.

"Of course, dear," Molly agreed with a smile. "Everyone, into the sitting room with you. Let's give these two a moment's peace."

They waited until everyone had disappeared into the other room before they spoke.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ginevra smirked. "My family have been driving me up the wall the entire holiday."

"Honestly, that wasn't as bad as you made out," he said. "Your parents were really nice, actually."

"Yeah, but only because you're here," she replied bitterly. "I've been getting my ear bent about that duel ever since I got home. They were definitely taken with you, you grovelling git."

"It's all part of my charm," he smirked. "In fact, I think your mum will start planning our wedding as soon as I leave."

"You wish," she grinned back. "Just because you bought me this shiny neckless doesn't get you extra privileges, you know."

"I just thought it would look good on you," Harry admitted, "and I was right. It looks spectacular."

"I just think it's an excuse to stare at my cleavage, personally," she sniffed.

"Nah, I'll just challenge you to another practice duel if I want to do that," he replied cheekily. "By the way, you do know we're being watched, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," she grinned.

"In that case, I think I'd better make our goodbye kiss something a bit spectacular, don't you? We should put on a bit of a show for our audience," he surmised.

"Oh, definitely. Let's see what you've got, Potter," Ginevra challenged, stepping forward.

Harry took her in his arms, and leant her back a friction. With agonising slowness, he dropped his lips onto hers, and tenderly kissed her. He immediately felt her arms snake around him, and she ran the fingers of her right hand through his hair. He found her lips soft and moist, and completely intoxicating. Her natural scent was enough to put shivers down his spine, and his lips caressed hers gently. For a moment, he lost all track of time and completely forgot that they were being watched.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and looked into her large brown eyes. Instead of the usual mocking glint he normally saw there, he could see her surprise and confusion. Apparently, neither of them had expected that reaction from the other.

"Wow," she whispered in a breathy voice.

"Yeah, wow," he replied, realising his own eyes much have also been full of wonder at the incredible kiss they had just shared.

"You and me are going to talk when I get back to school," she said decisively, but with a soft smile on her lips.

"I can't wait," he replied with a matching grin on his face.

Unwillingly, he broke the embrace and stepped towards the Floo. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Weasley," he said quietly, as he stepped into the fireplace.

The door to the sitting room gave a guilty twitch. "Nice to meet you too, Harry," Mrs Weasley's voice called after a few seconds' gap. The last thing he saw before he was transported back to the castle was Ginevra's grinning face.

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Leaving Here

He we go: chapter 13. This is the one that the whole story turns on. Things change rapidly from this point, and more of Harry's support structure crumbles into dust. He'll also learn that all actions have consequences to them, unfortunately.

Oh, a brief word about Muggle weapons. I know some people hate these being featured in Harry Potter stories, and generally I do too, if only for the reason that most authors who include them have quite obviously never fired a gun in their lives. Hopefully, I will be able to inject a bit of realism into their use here.

Huge thanks to Arnel, who for some reason seems enormously pleased that some strange team called the 'San Francisco Giants' have won something called the 'World Series'. Quite why the rest of the world wasn't invited to play in this 'World Series', I have no idea…

"Oh, what a busy day! I'm just about done in," Bathilda moaned, sinking gratefully into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Welcome back," Gellert smiled. "You've had a productive visit, I trust?"

"I most definitely have," she said resolutely, "but I simply must have a cup of tea before I tell you about it."

"I'll put the kettle on, Auntie," Harry declared and rushed over to the counter to prepare her drink.

"Bless you, my child," Bathilda smiled warmly. A few minutes later, she was sipping a cup of steaming tea with a look of ecstasy on her face.

"So, how was Hogwarts?" Gellert asked in an effort to get his great aunt talking.

"It hasn't changed much since my day," she admitted. "Albus was overjoyed to hear I was planning a book on the school, you'll be glad to hear. He was extremely helpful and gave me unlimited access to all of the school's records."

"How convenient," Gellert grinned.

"Indeed," Bathilda noted smugly.

"Did you find him?" he asked intently.

"Yes, within the first half-an-hour there," she confirmed. "Really, it wasn't difficult. Once we worked out his approximate age it was a simple matter to find him amongst the records. He was never going to be anything other than a Slytherin, was he?"

"I suppose not," Gellert admitted. "So, who are we dealing with?"

"His real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle and he was born on the 31st December 1926 to one Tom Riddle Senior and a witch named Merope Gaunt. Riddle Senior, would you believe, was a Muggle!"

"Lord Voldemort is a half-blood?" Harry gasped from where he'd been sitting on the other side of the table.

"Quite a shock, isn't it?" she smiled. "It appears he was equally a shock to his father, too, as the boy was raised in an orphanage virtually from birth. His mother appears to have died shortly after he was born."

"Interesting," Gellert noted. "This orphanage, it was a Muggle establishment, was it?"

"Of course, how many Magical orphanages have you ever heard of, Gellert? Really!" Bathilda said disapprovingly. "It does appear that the young Tom knew nothing of his magical heritage until he received his Hogwarts letter."

"What was he like at school?" Gellert asked.

"A most brilliant student" she confirmed. "In fact, he was Head Boy in his last year. Every report card I read described him in glowing terms, even that of Albus Dumbledore who taught him Transfiguration. I tried to question Albus about him under the pretence of wanting to interview notable Head Boys and Girls, but he claimed he could remember little about him and had no idea how to contact him. I must say, if you know what to look for, Dumbledore is a terrible liar."

"Oh, I remember," Gellert chuckled. "What else did you find?"

"Well, having found all I could at Hogwarts, I headed over to the Ministry and managed to get into their Records Department; being a famous author really does have its benefits, you know. From the tax and employment records, I found out that after graduation Riddle went to work at Borgin and Burkes. Interesting career choice for an aspiring Dark Lord, don't you think?" Bathilda grinned.

"Not what I would have picked, I must admit," Gellert chuckled. "I think that we can assume that as he chose to work at an establishment that specialised in rare magical items, he was already plotting to create his Horcruxes, if he hadn't already made one. He was certainly precocious."

"Not to mention insane!" Bathilda noted in disgust. "Didn't he ever read what happened to Herpo the Foul? Honestly, don't they teach children history anymore?"

"Apparently not," Gellert agreed mildly, "but his education is neither here nor there, for the moment. Did you find anything else that could help us?"

"I found both the addresses that his father and mother lived at," Bathilda stated, looking at a piece of parchment she had brought with her. "The father lived at a place called Riddle House in Little Hangleton, while his mother lived with her father and brother in a property nearby."

"Hmm, I think we will need to investigate both of those properties extensively," Gellert pondered. "Who knows what we might find in them?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room with a book in his lap, awaiting Ginevra's return. The Christmas holidays were over and those students who had gone home for the break were due back today. He had to admit that he'd missed his friend and the holidays had been pretty dull here by himself. Very few students had remained in the castle and the few who did wanted nothing to do with him.

He'd been sitting there for nearly an hour, when the secret entrance slid open and the returning Slytherins all trooped in. Harry noticed Malfoy and his entourage coming in, but fortunately they ignored him. He really couldn't be bothered dealing with that idiot today.

Seconds later, a grinning redhead came striding over and threw herself on the couch next to him.

"Well, if it isn't the handsome and debonair Mr Potter himself," she announced with a smirk. "Fancy meeting you here."

"And I do believe it's the beautiful and mysterious Miss Weasley," Harry replied. "You seem in a good mood. The rest of the holidays go well, then?"

"No, they were utter shite," she said breezily. "Why do you think I'm so pleased to be back?"

Harry snorted. "Glad to be back here with this bunch? Merlin, it must have been bad at home. So, what happened after our wondrous Boxing Day dinner?"

"Open warfare, basically," Ginevra started to explain. "Ron and the twins basically took every opportunity to slag you off and even demanded that I return your Christmas gift to you. Fat chance of that happening; I look great in emeralds. Anyway, they're all convinced now that you're feeding me a Love Potion, or I'm under the Imperius Curse, or something. Fred even went so far as to cast a Finite Incantatem Spell on me."

"I bet that went down well. What did you do to him?" Harry asked in amusement.

"Blasted him out of a second floor window," she admitted calmly. "Still, Mum managed to heal most of his broken bones immediately."

"Oh, shame. What about the rest of your clan?" Harry asked.

"Charlie buggered off back to Romania almost immediately, without even saying goodbye to me in fact, so sod him. Fleur and, strangely, Percy actually thought I'd been feeding YOU a Love Potion, not the other way round. Needless to say, me and the French tart had some great cat-fights. I even managed to burn a couple of inches of her hair off, which sent her absolutely mental. I was a bit disappointed she didn't turn into a fireball spitting bird, though. She mustn't have enough Veela in her to do that. Bill wisely kept out of it. In fact, the coward spent most of the break in Dad's shed out the back."

"I don't know, he sounds about the most sensible of all your brothers," Harry noted.

"Oh, definitely, but he's still a spineless coward. Fleur's got him by the balls, and he's too much of a wimp to do anything about it. He's terrified she'll stop him getting his leg over," she shrugged.

"She didn't do a lot for me," Harry admitted. "She just looked like some porcelain doll; perfect, but completely without character. I prefer my women with a bit more life to them. Having red hair helps, too."

"Good answer, Potter," she smirked. "You should be happy, then. My parents have pretty much decided that you're the only hope I have of a decent life and that I should do everything in my power to keep hold of you. Shows what faith they have in me, eh?"

"Should I be contacting your father to discuss a betrothal contract, then?" Harry asked wiggling his eyebrows.

"You couldn't afford me, Potter," she teased. "Still, it's comforting to know that my beloved parents are happy to throw me at the first half-decent bloke that comes along. You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think that they WANT to get rid of me."

"What? Get rid of such a sweet-natured and entirely non-evil girl, such as yourself? Unthinkable!" Harry exclaimed.

"Sarcastic git," she said, grinning at him.

"Vicious cow," he retorted, still smiling.

"I've missed you," she said simply.

"I've missed you, too," he confirmed.

And suddenly, everything was right with the world again.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Okay, Potter, what are we doing today that's so different to our normal routine, then?" Ginevra asked with her hands on her hips and an amused look in her eyes.

"Well, as the regular duelling training has been going so well, I thought we'd expand out and cover some of the other nasty tricks I have up my sleeve," Harry told her smugly. "Besides, I've got you a present."

"A present? You know I never turn down a present. What have you got me?" she demanded.

Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a small object made of wood and metal. He handed it to Ginevra reverently.

"What the hell is this?" she asked in confusion.

"That, my sweet, is a Skorpion submachine gun. It's a Muggle weapon that spits out bullets at a rate of seven hundred rounds a minute, and it's all yours," he told her with a smile.

"A Muggle weapon? What use is that? Surely this thing won't work around magic," she pointed out.

"A common belief amongst the Wizarding community, but one that is complete bollocks," he replied smugly. "It's electricity that reacts badly with magic, so that's why Muggle devices like televisions and digital watches don't work when exposed to a witch or wizard for any length of time. This is purely mechanical, and the bullet is propelled by a chemical reaction, so it works fine. Didn't you say your father ran a Muggle car? Again, that's mainly mechanical, although he would have needed to have replaced all the electrical elements, such as in the starter motor."

"You know, I never thought about that stupid car. I assumed Dad just ripped all the Muggle stuff out of it and the whole thing worked by magic, but now I remember, the engine actually does work," she pondered.

"Exactly, he probably used a mix of Muggle mechanics and magic. Actually, this gun does, too. Normally, that little magazine attached to the weapon would only hold ten bullets. Once those were fired, you would need to change the magazine. This one, however, has an Expansion Charm on it, and now holds a little over three hundred bullets. It's an awesome bit of kit," Harry explained.

"Okay, so the thing will work, but is it any actual use? I mean, most people can cast a Shield Charm. That would stop a bullet, wouldn't it?" she pointed out.

"Probably," he agreed, "but, remember, this thing doesn't just fire one bullet at a time; it spits them out like hellfire. A couple of bursts of three or four rounds apiece will soon overwhelm the strongest shield. The bullets from this gun travel at a comparatively low velocity, but they still move at over nine hundred and sixty feet a second. That's about two or three times the speed your average spell travels at. Dump that sort of kinetic energy into a Shield and it will soon crumble."

"How the hell do you know all this stuff about Muggle weapons, anyway?" she demanded.

"Oh, Gellert became quite proficient with German Army equipment during World War Two, and he realised how useful it would be to fight with both magic and Muggle armaments. He made a bit of a hobby of collecting this stuff," Harry explained.

"Right, well, I guess I should have a go then," Ginevra said, gingerly holding the weapon.

Harry smiled and walked behind her. He then gently turned her so she was facing the man-sized dummies that the Room of Requirement had created for them. They were situated about twenty yards away, and all bore a strange likeness to Draco Malfoy.

"Okay, the first thing to remember is not to be afraid of the gun. It's going to make a hell of a noise and kick like a Hippogriff, but you'll have to keep a firm grip on it. Never point it at anyone you don't intend to kill, either. These things can be temperamental and accidents do happen," he explained.

"Just hurry up and teach me how to shoot the bloody thing," Ginevra said impatiently.

Smirking, Harry threaded his arms around Ginevra's slim body, and placed his hands over hers. He amended her grip until she was holding the gun correctly, and got her pointed in the general direction of the dummies.

"We'll concentrate on aiming properly later, but let's get you confident with the weapon first," he stated, pressing himself against her more than was strictly necessary. "To make the Skorpion fire, you first need to cock it, so a bullet is pulled into the firing chamber. Just pull this knob back firmly, okay? You next need to slide that metal catch near your thumb forward, see? That's it, you've got it. Okay, gorgeous, you're ready to rock and roll. Just pull the trigger and hold it back for a split second. Ready?"

"I'm ready," she said in a determined voice.

"Fire at will," Harry told her.

A second later, the room exploded with noise. Ginevra squealed as the small weapon bucked in her hands and she would probably have dropped it if Harry hadn't been holding her firmly. She fired off about a dozen rounds before she remember to let go of the trigger. None of the bullets went anywhere close to the dummies.

"SHIT!" she bellowed. "I never expected anything like that! How can something so small make that much noise?"

"I think the same thing about you," he joked. "Okay, now you know what to expect, let's try again. Try and fire a few short bursts, and try hitting one of the dummies this time."

"I'll be bloody aiming at you, in a minute," she snapped, but shifted her aim slightly so the gun was once again pointing at the targets. Harry felt her body tense, and once again she pulled the trigger.

This time she was more accurate, and several bullets from her first burst hit one of the dummies, blowing large chunks out of it.

"OH, YEAH!" she screamed in excitement, before opening fire again.

Pretty soon, Ginevra started getting the hang of the submachine gun, and was sending short, controlled bursts into her intended targets with ease. Moreover, she seemed to be having the time of her life doing it. Harry removed his hands from hers, and let her fire on her own. He did let his hands come to rest on her hips, however, and let himself enjoy the feeling of her body vibrating up against his.

"This is the best thing ever!" she declared, before sending a long burst into three dummies at once. "You're like a one-man army with this!"

"Just remember Muggle army and police carry guns like this, too, and in many cases more powerful ones with longer range. This should be used as a back-up to your wand, not as your primary weapon," he lectured.

"It would be really useful if you caught a group of Death Eaters together," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I have a few other toys to use in those situations," Harry informed her.

"Oh, more presents for me?" she giggled. "I really like this one, perhaps more than that jewellery you gave me. What else have you got for me to play with?"

"Merlin, what have I unleashed on the world?" Harry laughed, before showing Ginevra how to make the Skorpion safe. He then went over to a nearby table and started laying items that he withdrew from his robes onto it. Ginevra came over and looked on in fascination at the strange objects. Harry picked up a metal tube and showed it to her.

"Let's start with the fun stuff. This, my dear Ginevra, is a disposable rocket launcher," he explained.

It was all he could do to stop himself laughing at the look of glee that came onto her face.

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Next morning at breakfast, both Harry and Ginevra were in a good mood. They had played with Harry's toys most of the previous evening, and had a great time doing it. He'd been impressed at just how quickly Ginevra had taken to Muggle weaponry, in particular the submachine gun and the hand grenades. She'd admitted that she was a very useful Chaser in Quidditch, and clearly throwing objects about came second-nature to her. Harry did vow never to let her near a rocket launcher again, though. She was just a bit too casual with the damn thing, as his singed eyebrows would confirm.

They were just tucking into seconds, when a worried-looking Albus Dumbledore, who had been strangely absent during the meal, came striding into the hall. He walked up to the teacher's table, and faced the assembled pupils. A hush fell on the room almost immediately.

"Can I have your attention, please," Dumbledore called out gravelly. "It is with great regret that I must inform you of the tragic events that occurred last night. I have just come from an emergency meeting at the Ministry of Magic, which was called following a vicious and cowardly attack on the house belonging to the Minister himself, in the early hours of the morning. The attack was undertaken by a group believed to be loyal to the Dark Lord. It is with great sadness that I must report that Rufus Scrimgeour was killed in the attack."

Gasps of horror filled the room.

"Quiet how the Death Eaters managed to circumnavigate the lavish protections placed around the Minister's property, we have yet to establish, but it goes without saying that this is a bitter blow to the Wizarding community," he continued.

"Sir, who will lead us now?" a voice called out from somewhere in the vicinity of the Ravenclaw table.

"A good question," the Headmaster agreed. "During the meeting I attended, an emergency vote was cast, and Amelia Bones was elected as the interim Minister for Magic, subject to ratification by a full vote by the Wizengamot. As many of you know, Madam Bones was previously head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and, in my opinion, the perfect person to lead us in these dark and dangerous times. I'm sure you will join me in wishing her luck in her new role."

Polite applause rang around the Great Hall.

"Now, please continue with your breakfast. Miss Bones? If you would please report to my office as soon as you're finished eating, we need to discuss some additional steps to ensure your safety. Professor Sprout, if you could escort the young lady, I would very much appreciate it," Dumbledore concluded, and, without another word, strode back out of the hall.

"Shit!" Harry cursed quietly.

"I take it this is bad news for us?" Ginevra noted quietly.

"Damn right. Scrimgeour was my main contact within the Ministry, and all the deals I cut when I returned to the Wizarding world were done directly with him. More to the point, I've managed to make Bones heartily dislike me, and there's no saying what she'll do now," Harry muttered.

"What can she do? You're legally an adult and just a pupil here at Hogwarts. What could she use against you?" she asked.

"Bones may try and reopen investigations as to what happened to my aunt and uncle, for one. Once that starts, I'm going to be faced with a lot of questions that I really don't want to answer," he admitted.

"I thought you said your aunt and uncle died in a house fire, or was there more to it than that?" Ginevra asked suspiciously.

"That's true, although Gellert may have had a bit of a hand in the fire starting," he admitted. "Still, it served the evil bastards right. No, Rufus agreed to ignore a lot about my past in return for my public support, and that just might come back to bite me on the bum."

Harry and Ginevra glanced over to the Hufflepuff table, where Susan Bones and her friends were sitting looking extremely smug.

"You think we shouldn't have given Bones's pals such a kicking?" Ginevra asked bitterly.

"Too late to worry about that now. We did what we thought was right at the time. We'll just have to see how this plays out," he growled angrily. "I might have known things were going too well."

Ginevra nodded, and returned her attention back to her breakfast. As Harry said, they'd know what this all meant soon enough.

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Harry got his answer several days later, when Madam Bones decided to make a surprise visit to Hogwarts. Susan Bones took enormous delight in acting as a guide for her aunt as they swanned around the school, peering into classrooms and asking inane questions of nervous pupils.

It was with very little surprise that Harry received a summons in the early afternoon to go to the Headmaster's office. With a little trepidation, he packed up his books and left the Charms class he had been attending. When he reached his destination, he was somewhat surprised to find Dumbledore waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Ah, Mr Potter," the old man smiled. "Minister Bones has requested a few brief words with you while she's here, and I have volunteered my office for her use. If you would just head straight up, I'm sure this won't take long."

Harry just nodded and stepped onto the moving staircase. He entered the office to find Madam Bone sitting regally behind the Headmaster's desk. She didn't seem especially pleased to see him.

"Well, it's our little schoolboy vigilante," Bones noted coolly.

"And the Minister who could only get the job over the previous one's dead body," Harry retorted.

Bones looked at him like he was something her cat had just thrown up. "Spare me the cheek, Potter, and remember just whom you are addressing," she snapped.

"If I'm not mistaken, I'm addressing someone who until recently was going out of her way to ruin my reputation for her own political gains," Harry shot back. "It's a shame that fat cow you call a niece couldn't even get that right, eh?"

"Don't make me your enemy, Potter," Bones advised angrily. "I'm already sorely tempted to launch an investigation into your activities here at Hogwarts. I could easily widen that to include all your activities in recent years. That idiot Scrimgeour might have been happy to take you at your word in return for your favours, but I'm not so easily swayed."

"What do you want, Minister?" Harry asked, tiring of trading insults.

"Oh, I'm just here to give you some friendly advice," she practically purred. "I'm going to be watching you like a hawk from now on, and if you make any attempt to threaten my niece or any of her friends, then you'll be in Azkaban before you can blink."

"Is Susan going to stop spreading lies about me, then?" Harry asked in a harsh voice.

"Lies? From what I understand, not much of what's been said about you lately is very far from the truth! I've seen the after-action reports of what happened to those Death Eaters you tangled with, and they make very disturbing reading. The idea that someone that is capable of that level of violence is attending this school is of great concern to me," Bones said haughtily.

"Are there any Death Eaters attending this school?" Harry asked innocently. "I would have thought that by now that I'd proved that my aggression is directed at them."

"Susan's poor friends Hannah and Ernie would say otherwise," Bones growled. "More to the point, who gave you authority to start a one-man war against the Dark Lord? Protection of the population is the responsibility of the Ministry, not some jumped-up teenager with delusions of grandeur."

"Maybe it's my destiny to fight Voldemort," Harry pointed out.

"Ah, I was wondering if you were going to bring up that stupid prophecy," Bones practically sneered. "Yes, I've already had Dumbledore wittering on about how you're the only one capable of defeating You-Know-Who. Complete claptrap, I say! I have very little faith in any prophecy I've ever heard. It's funny how those things always seem to be twisted to appear to have some actual meaning after the event. Besides, I'm also aware of who made the prophecy and that alone is enough to convince me to ignore it."

"I'm not sure I'd argue with you on that point," Harry admitted. "Even so, I would point out that I've defeated Voldemort once, and that carries a lot of weight in the public's eyes. I've also proved my value in fighting his forces. Are you going to punish me just because I took a stand against the forces of evil?"

"Don't make me laugh," Bones snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, you're little better than those misguided idiots who follow the Dark Lord. I don't believe for one second that you're fighting some moral crusade. You, Potter, have your own agenda and, if I'm not mistaken, it involves replacing Voldemort and becoming the next Dark Lord, yourself."

"Would you accept a Magical Oath that I'm not?" Harry offered.

"No, but I might accept an Unbreakable Vow swearing complete loyalty to my office," she retorted.

"Only a complete idiot would give that sort of undertaking," Harry said in disbelief. "A vow like that could be twisted in a million ways."

"Then, Mr Potter, we are done here. Before you go, however, I will make a few things clear. I will not stand for your reckless vigilante activities or your blatant disregard for the law. You will be watched very carefully from this point, and if you put a toe out of line, I will make you wish you'd never been born," Bones told him intently.

"Fair enough, just don't come crying to me when you find Voldemort won't roll over and die for you," Harry snarled, before turning and stomping out of the office. He ignored Dumbledore when he tried to speak to him, and stomped back to his class at a fearsome pace.

From this point, it seemed, he couldn't rely on the Ministry's support any longer. That greatly complicated things, and made his task a hundred times more difficult. Why the hell did Scrimgeour have to go and get himself killed? Actually, now he thought about it, how had he managed to be killed?

With a sinking heart, Harry wondered just how far Madam Bone's political ambitions went, and what it would mean for him.

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The next few days were trying ones for Harry and Ginevra. Their fellow students, who had been cowered by the devastating punishment dished out to Abbott and Macmillan, seemed to get their courage back following the appointment of Madam Bones as Minister, no doubt directly inspired by Susan Bones's emergence as the self-proclaimed queen of Hogwarts.

Bones, who now had an Auror assigned to her permanently for protection, had resumed her role as a mouthpiece for her aunt with a vengeance. She constantly harped on about how things were going to change in Wizarding society, and how Amelia was going to stamp out the curse of the Death Eaters, once and for all. The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors all flocked to her banner, as did most of the Ravenclaws. Soon, Harry began to hear dark rumours about him being spread once more.

The sea change in attitudes within Hogwarts was amply demonstrated by an encounter he and Ginevra had with a group of Gryffindors one day. They were walking along a second floor corridor when they saw five students, all in Gryffindor uniform, idly lounging against a wall. Harry saw that most of them were friends of Ginevra's brother, Ronald, and he hoped they didn't start shooting their mouths off. It was a forlorn hope.

"Hey, look out, guys, it's the next Dark Lord approaching," cackled a boy with a thick Irish accent as he noticed them approaching. "Do you think we'd better hide?"

"Nah, that git knows better than to try anything now," a dark skinned boy scoffed. "He knows that Madam Bones won't put up with any of his shit."

"I don't know why he's still allowed to attend Hogwarts. He should have been expelled months ago," an attractive blond girl groused.

"Just ignore them. They're a bunch of idiots, and not worth getting into trouble over," Ginevra hissed as they walked by. Harry nodded and kept a firm grip on his temper.

"Hey, Ginny," the dark skinned boy yelled as they went passed. "Why are you hanging around with that evil git? Why don't you ditch that loser, and come and hang out with me?"

Harry stopped and was about to confront the boy when he felt a calming hand on his chest. Ginevra looked up at him and smiled, as if to say 'let me handle this'.

"Hmm, what a tempting offer, Thomas," Ginevra replied calmly as she turned back towards the Gryffindors, "but I'm a bit confused as to why you think Harry is a loser. I mean, what makes you so much better? Are you richer than him, for instance? As I recall, your daddy buggered off leaving you to be raised by your Muggle mum in near poverty. Harry, on the other hand, is the head of an Ancient and extremely wealthy House. He has more gold than he knows what to do with. So, you're not better than him in that way, are you?"

The boy called Dean Thomas glared at her, clearly upset by her comment about his parents.

"Perhaps you think you're more intelligent than Harry? Nope, sorry, I don't think so. Harry passed all his O.W.L.s with flying colours and could probably take and pass his N.E.W.T. s tomorrow if he needed to. You, if I remember what my brother said correctly, barely scraped a handful of O.W.L.s in useless subjects," she said smugly.

"I did alright," Thomas protested angrily.

"Possibly you think you're more handsome than Harry?" Ginevra continued. "I hardly think so. You have that stubby hair and those ridiculous ears, while Harry has those long, luscious locks and eyes to die for. You are a scrawny little wimp while he, underneath those robes, has the body of a Greek god."

"I bet you've seen under those robes, too," a dark skinned girl taunted.

"Oh, I have indeed, Patil, and, trust me, if you had any idea what a body he has, you'd be prepared to pay a hatful of Galleons just for a peek," Ginevra smirked back at the girl. "So, all in all, I'm struggling to see why you think Harry is a loser. I mean, he defeated the Dark Lord when he was a toddler, captured Lucius Malfoy earlier this year, and is generally feared by Death Eaters in general. What have you achieved, Thomas? Blown up a few cauldrons in Potions Class? Fallen off your broom at Quidditch practice occasionally? Sat and played with yourself in class? No, if Harry is a loser, I dread to think what you are. Don't even think of talking to me again, you're beneath my contempt."

With that, Ginevra turned and began to walk away. Harry resisted smirking at the furious expression on the Gryffindor's face, and fell into step beside her. They walked away without looking back.

"Nice take down," Harry said quietly once they were sufficient distance away.

"Hardly a challenge," she sniffed. "Honestly, those bloody arrogant Gryffindors! They think they only have to look in a girl's direction and they'll come running. What a slime ball."

"Still, it's nice to know I'm appreciated," Harry noted with a slight smile.

"Don't let it go to your head, Potter," she growled. "I was just making a point. I wouldn't want to see your ego grow any bigger."

"Of course not, I'm Mr Humility, me," he grinned.

"You keep telling yourself that," she replied, shaking her head.

On a whim, Harry reached down and took her left hand in his right. She looked up at him in surprise for a second, before a neutral expression returned to her face. She didn't make any attempt to remove her hand, however.

Together, they returned to the Slytherin common room.

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Harry stared at the twisted lump of metal that a short while before had been Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. After all these months hunting for it, he could barely believe that he had found and destroyed it.

He'd been hunting through the Room of Requirement as he often did, and stumbled on the diadem almost by accident. A quick splash of the corrosive potion Gellert had mixed up several years previously, and the main objective for him coming to Hogwarts was achieved.

Of course, he now knew that a second Horcrux lay in the Headmaster's office, and he had a rough plan for dealing with that. The only trouble was, once he took that step there would be no going back. His time at Hogwarts was rapidly coming to an end, he realised, and that presented him with a massive dilemma.

Ginevra.

He knew he would have to leave the school soon; he couldn't fight Voldemort's Death Eaters from this place and, besides, he still had one more Horcrux to deal with. He needed freedom of movement and the ability to strike without warning. He needed to be away from Hogwarts.

But what would happen to Ginevra if he just left? Ignoring their growing relationship for a moment, Voldemort knew that she had helped him escape from Malfoy Manor and lately she had been completely open in her support of him. Without him to watch her back, he feared for her safety, especially as she didn't have her friend Tracey Davis to back her up anymore.

On the other hand, did he dare ask her to come with him? The Magical Trace on her wasn't a problem, Harry was certain he could remove it from her just as Gellert had removed it from him years ago, but the second they left the protective umbrella of Hogwarts they would become wanted criminals. Madam Bones had made it pretty clear that she would use any excuse to throw him in Azkaban; could he subject Ginevra to that risk? Could he ask her to give up everything for him? Frankly, he didn't know.

Numbly, he turned and walked out of the Room of Requirement. Normally, he liked to think of himself as a decisive young man, but today he simply didn't know what to do for the best. His personal desires battled with his sense of honour, and left him feeling completely muddled.

Realising he needed advice, he turned and walked backward and forwards three times. He re-entered the Room of Requirement, but rather than the jumbled mass of misplaced objects it was before, the room was now a large empty space. Just what he needed.

He withdrew his wand and carefully drew a protective circle on the floor, which he then stepped into. Reaching inside his shirt, Harry withdrew a beautiful golden locket that had once belonging to his mother. Opening the clasp with his thumb, Harry removed a small, black stone which had a strange triangular marking on it. He and Gellert had removed this stone from the ring that had been hidden in the home of Marvolo Gaunt. The ring, of course, had been a Horcrux, but they had been shocked to find that one of the legendary Deathly Hallows was embedded in it. The stone had proved to be a godsend, and had enabled them to recall the spirts of the dead who, under the right circumstances, could be forced to reveal their secrets. He and Gellert had learnt much hidden knowledge by this method.

Today, however, Harry wasn't in need of knowledge, but advice. He knew who he needed to talk to as well. He placed the locket gently on the floor. They had discovered long ago that summoning the dead was much easier if an object that belonged to that person could be placed within a summoning circle or, in the case of the Death Eaters, a body part would do. He turned the stone over in his hand three times, and suddenly felt the presence of another person there with him. He turned, and saw the ghostly form of his father smiling at him.

"Hello, Dad," Harry said warmly.

"Hello, son," James Potter replied. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry it's been so long since I spoke with you, but I've had rather a lot on. Where's Mum?" he asked, frowning.

"Harry… your mother has passed on. The midnight hour has struck, and she has passed beyond recall," James replied sadly.

"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "She's gone? But I… I never said goodbye. How could she leave without saying goodbye?" he cried in distress.

"It was her time to move on, my son, as it is my time, too. I have only lingered here on this plane of existence in the hope of speaking to you one last time," James said, his eyes brimming with tears.

"But most people are recallable decades after their deaths," Harry protested. "Why do you have to go so soon?"

"Because it is the way of things. We have little choice in the matter, Harry; when your time to move on comes, you have to go. It's different for each person, too. Some souls may linger for hundreds of years, while others pass on after just a few hours. Besides, it's been sixteen years since we died. That's quite a while," the ghostly figure pointed out.

"I'm not sure I can do this without you," Harry admitted sadly. "Gellert made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to be brought back, and with you gone, I just don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do, Harry. You're stronger than you think you are. While your mother and I didn't always agree with some of the things you've done, we recognised the necessity for them. You've grown into a strong, powerful young man with a good head on your shoulders. You've nearly managed to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and then you can defeat him for good," James said encouragingly, before grinning cheekily. "Besides, if I'm not mistaken you've found a certain young lady to draw strength from."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Dad," Harry said. "I really like Ginevra, and I'm pretty sure she likes me, and she's been an incredible help so far. Let's face it, I'd be dead without her, wouldn't I? But do I dare ask her to come with me? If we leave Hogwarts together, we'll become wanted criminals overnight. She'll lose her family and friends, and be in danger every day of her life. I'm not sure I can do that to her, even assuming she'll agree to come."

"Harry, Ginevra lost her family the day she was made a Slytherin, and as for friends, the only friend she had was poisoned by that disgusting piece of filth, Zabini. You know that if you leave her behind she'll be dead within a month," James pointed out.

"She may not even want to come," Harry responded lamely.

"She loves you, Harry. You may not believe it, and she does a good job of hiding it sometimes, I'll grant you, but that girl would die for you. As you said, she walked into Malfoy Manor to rescue you, didn't she? It would break her heart into a million pieces if you left without giving her the option to come with you. Besides, if you don't take her, I fear for what you'll become," James told him grimly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked sharply.

"You're in a very dangerous place right now, and I don't mean because of Voldemort or those idiots at the Ministry. By necessity, you've become quite ruthless in dealing with the Death Eaters, and I don't blame you for that. You're fighting a war, my son, and in a war the object is to kill your enemies. But, equally, you're walking a slippery tightrope. You have tremendous power, and I'm worried that power, combined with your merciless approach to dealing with Voldemort's followers, might turn you Dark," James said sternly.

"But I…" Harry began to protest, but James waved him down.

"As much as you want to deny it, it's a real possibility, Harry," he continued. "But one thing keeps you apart from Voldemort and his twisted, evil hordes, my son, and that's your ability to love. Take that feisty little redhead in your arms, Harry, and never let her go. As long as you have love in your heart for her, you will never fall into darkness as Tom Riddle did. Ginevra will keep you on the right path, and probably Hex you into the middle of next week if you stray off it."

"I guess she would," Harry smiled.

"One of the reasons your mother was content to pass on was that you had found Ginevra. As soon as she saw her, Lily knew that she was the right girl for you. You need a strong woman like that, Harry, you need Ginevra's persistence and determination. You wanted my advice on what to do about that girl and this is it: ask her to come with you. Beg her, if need be. I very much doubt she'll say no, but if she does, I would even advise waiting for her. You need her that much, Harry, believe me," James said passionately.

"I think I just needed to hear someone I trust say it," Harry admitted. "I'll ask her, I promise."

"Good lad," James beamed.

"Is this the last time I'll see you?" Harry asked reluctantly.

"Yes, son, it is. I have no idea what awaits me in the great beyond, but I feel it calling to me strongly. As soon as my spirit leaves this place, I will journey onward," he confirmed.

"I'm going to miss you," Harry said, fighting back the tears.

"And I'll miss you, Harry, more than I can say. But I thank the gods that Lily and I got a chance to spend some time with you, even if it was in this ghostly form. I wouldn't have given up that opportunity for the world," his father said.

"I…" Harry mumbled, but he just couldn't bring himself to finally say goodbye.

"My time is short, Harry, and I have one final piece of advice for you. Remember, the world isn't a perfect place and sometimes you have to cut your losses. You can't save everyone, and occasionally sacrifices have to be made. You didn't start this war and, heaven forbid, there are a lot of people putting obstacles in your way. Don't try and play the hero, son, not for those that don't deserve it," James said intently.

"Okay, I'll remember that," Harry confirmed.

"Goodbye, Harry, your mother and I both love you," James said simply.

"I love you both, too," Harry replied.

And with that, James vanished from sight. Harry collapsed to the ground and let out a huge howl of anguish and loss.

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It was sometime later before Harry composed himself enough to return to the Slytherin common room. He found Ginevra sitting in her favourite chair leafing through a book. She smiled at him as she noticed him approach.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted him. "What's up?"

"I need to speak to you immediately. Come up to my room, please," he asked her quietly.

"Up to your room?" she smirked. "Are you sure you're not just feeling a bit frisky?"

"Ginevra, please," he asked plaintively.

His unusual seriousness must have alerted her to something being wrong, as she leapt to her feet and followed him without further protest. Once they had entered his small room, Harry locked the door and followed that up with a series of complex Security and Privacy Spells. Ginevra just looked at him with a faint expression of concern.

"I have something to tell you," Harry began as he turned to face her, "and I'd really appreciate if you let me say my piece before you ask questions."

"Okay," she agreed slowly.

"As you might have gathered, my real reason for coming to Hogwarts wasn't to get my N.E.W.T.s, or even to act as a spy for the Ministry. Simply put, I learned there was an object hidden in the school that was of vital importance to Voldemort, and I've been hunting for it ever since I arrived. Well, about half-an-hour ago, I found the object and destroyed it," he explained.

Ginevra just nodded for him to continue, although she didn't look happy.

"The thing is, while I've been here, I discovered a second such object was here, too, one that you are extremely familiar with," he continued.

"The diary," Ginevra interrupted. "You were obsessed by that bloody thing."

"There's no fooling you, is there?" he grinned. "Yes, the diary is another of the objects I've been hunting for. I won't go into detail now but, suffice to say, unless the diary is destroyed, Voldemort can't be killed."

"Okay, I'm going to want more details about that later, but I'm willing to accept that at face value for now," she agreed. "So, you need to break into Dumbledore's office and destroy the diary, right?"

"Yes, and once I do so, I suspect that I'm going to have to make a rapid exit from Hogwarts," Harry told her flatly.

For a second, Ginevra looked at him in confusion, before her face clouded with anger. Harry held up his hands defensively.

"I have to leave, Ginevra. Dumbledore knows full well the significance of the diary, and he'll be livid once it's destroyed. I'm not sure why he hasn't tried to get rid of it himself, but I don't think that bodes well for me. Besides, there's another of these objects to find, and I can't do that if I'm stuck in a Charms classroom, can I? I need to start whittling down Voldemort's forces, too. The war is hotting up and I need to be out there," he explained quickly. "The thing is, Ginevra, when I leave, I'd like you to come with me."

The look of anger on the girl's face changed to one of shock, instantly.

"I want you by my side, Ginevra," Harry said earnestly. "I thought I could do this alone, but I can't. I need your strength and passion to see me through. Before you answer, however, I want you to think about this thoroughly. You'll be giving up everything if you leave now. Once we step through those doors, we will become outlaws, wanted by the Ministry and with no friends. We'll be hiding from Aurors as well as Death Eaters. You'll be estranged from your family, possibly forever. On the other hand, Voldemort already knows you helped me escape from Malfoy Manor, thanks to Draco and his goons. He's going to come after you with everything he's got. In fact, I'm surprised there hasn't been an attempt to get you here in school already."

"Well, actually there has," she shrugged. "Malfoy and his little gang tried to Stun me after an Ancient Runes class last month. I spotted him on the Marauder's Map just as he was about to attack and managed to get away."

"Why didn't you mention this?" Harry asked in outrage.

"I can fight my own battles, Potter," she snapped.

Harry shook his head. He knew now was not the time to get into any argument about this.

"Okay, but this just proves my point. There's been one attempt to get to you, and there are bound to be others. I think you'll actually be safer with me than remaining here at school," he pointed out.

"If I did come with you, what would be my role in all this?" she asked hesitantly. "Would we be equals, sharing all the information you had? Would I be fighting by your side or would you be intent on just hiding me away, in some stupid attempt to keep me safe?" she demanded.

"I'm not daft enough to try and do that," he snorted. "Ginevra, you are a skilful and powerful witch. We might need to ease you into things, as you haven't really got much experience in actual combat situations, but I promise this will be an equal partnership," he agreed.

"Okay, I'm in," she said decisively.

"Really? Don't you want a little while to think about it?" he asked in surprise.

"What is there to think about?" she asked. "As you said, I'm a massive target here at Hogwarts and, with you gone, Malfoy will be able to concentrate on me. Besides, what is there here for me? Tracey's gone, and I have no other real friends. My family largely hate me and will be glad to see me gone. My best hope is with you."

Harry walked over to her and took her hands in his. "Thank you, Ginevra," he said with a smile. "You can't know how pleased I am to have you by my side. I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you never regret this decision."

"You'd better, or there'll be trouble," she smirked. "So, what's the plan from this point?"

"Well, I do have some ideas for getting into the Headmaster's office, but I think there's another matter we need to attend to first," he said.

"What's that?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"We need to take our revenge on Draco Malfoy," Harry said fiercely.

Ginevra's smile was almost feral.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Trudging up the final flight of steps, Draco Malfoy silently cursed. Why on earth had Pansy elected to meet him in the Astronomy Tower of all places? He knew she liked doing it in strange places, but the Astronomy Tower, for Merlin's sake? So many of the commoners used it as a trysting place.

She was definitely up to something, Draco thought. First, the simple written note passed to him by a nervous first year, and now this strange meeting place. He had a perfectly good bed in his room, why the hell couldn't they use that? Unless she had something… interesting planned. He grinned; Pansy really was a dirty little slut.

By the time he reached the top of the tower, Draco was breathing heavily. Whatever Pansy had in mind, it better be bloody worth it, he grumbled. As he opened the door out onto the viewing platform, he caught sight of her leaning against the parapet.

"So, why have you dragged me all the way up here?" he drawled. "Got something special planned, have you?"

Pansy turned and looked at him blankly. Her face was completely expressionless, which, for a girl who was generally so emotional, was quite rare. Draco regarded her suspiciously.

"Pansy, what's all this about?" he demanded harshly.

"I know that you're betrothed to that Greengrass whore," she said in a dead voice.

Draco cursed. He'd been hoping to keep that bit of information quiet for a while longer, but no doubt Astoria had been boasting again.

"It wasn't my choice, you understand," Draco explained firmly. "Simply put, the Greengrass's have more money and political influence than your family. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. Still, it doesn't have to change anything. I'm happy to keep you as my mistress."

Without warning, Pansy pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. "Incarcerous!" she cried.

Draco instantly found himself restrained by thick ropes wrapped around his body. He looked up at the dark-haired girl with a mix of bemusement and anger.

"What the hell are you doing, you dopy cow? Release me this instant!" he demanded loudly.

"Now, why would she want to do a thing like that?" a smooth voice asked from somewhere behind him. Draco froze as he recognised whose voice it was. Sure enough, a second later, Potter and his little red-haired whore walked into sight.

"Potter!" he spat. "What the hell are you doing here? Pansy, why are you just standing there staring at me? Let me go, damn you!"

"Oh, she can't," Weasley smirked. "She's under our control. Harry cast the Imperius Curse on her."

"The Imperius Curse?" Draco repeated gleefully. "You'll go to Azkaban for this!"

"And who's going to tell anyone we did it?" Harry asked in amusement. "Pansy, Levitate him up to the edge of the parapet, would you, my dear?"

Draco felt himself rise into the air, only to be gently lowered onto the stone parapet a few seconds later. He could feel the chill night wind blowing through his hair and a gnawing terror began to grip him.

"It's all so tragic," Weasley sighed. "A beautiful young witch finds out that she's been betrayed by her one true love, and decides that if she can't have him, no one will. I've always thought that a murder/suicide is a very romantic way to go, don't you agree, Harry?"

"Why, yes, Ginevra," he agreed. "That suicide note that Pansy left in her room was particularly touching."

"You're bluffing," Draco cried desperately. "You wouldn't do something like this! I know you, Potter; you couldn't bring yourself to kill my father, and you won't kill me. This isn't the way the Light side operates."

"Who on earth ever said that I was on the Light side?" Harry asked in amazement. "The only reason I didn't kill Lucius was that I was interrupted by those bloody Aurors. Next time I'll gut your father like a fish. Anyway, Zabini found out to his cost that we're not above eliminating our enemies in messy ways."

"I knew it! You killed Blaise, you murdering bastards!" Draco raged.

"You filthy hypocrite," Weasley snapped. "You paid that poisoning shit to try and kill Harry! Tracey is dead because of you!"

"Davis was an accident," Draco protested angrily. "If the silly bitch hadn't taken a drink out of Potter's goblet, she'd still be here today. As for Potter, I was ordered to take him out by the Dark Lord. I had no choice in the matter."

"There's always a choice, Draco," Harry said coldly, "and my choice is to kill you. I think the world will be a better place once the Malfoy line is extinct, which should happen in… oh, I don't know. How long do you think it will take him to hit the ground, Ginevra?"

"I'm really not sure, Harry," she pondered. "It is such a very long drop."

"You bastards!" Draco wept. "You murdering, bloody bastards! I hate you both."

"Pansy, dear, I think it's time. Give your darling Draco a big hug and tell him how much you love him," Harry purred.

Pansy ran forward with her arms wide open and launched herself at Draco. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Draco felt himself toppling backwards with Pansy wrapped tightly around him.

Despite his screams, the last thing he ever heard was Pansy repeatedly crooning in his ear…

I love you…

I love you…

14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Love and War

NAUGHTINESS WARNING! This chapter contains scenes of extreme naughtiness, designed to shock the shockable and delight the delightful.

Massive thanks to Arnel for beta reading.

By breakfast the next morning, the school was awash with rumours of Draco and Pansy's death. Harry and Ginevra sat at the Slytherin table eating breakfast calmly, enjoying the sound of the urgent gossiping that was going on around them. Ginevra glanced up at the Teacher's table and noticed most of the staff was missing. No doubt they were scuttling around trying to find out what exactly had happened the previous night.

"When do we put stage two into action?" she murmured to Harry.

"If possible tonight, after dinner. Make sure you have everything you need packed," he replied without looking up from his meal.

"I'm already packed," she shrugged. "I can't wait to get out of this cesspool."

"Neither can I, gorgeous," he grinned, "neither can I"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The rest of the day passed slowly for Harry, and he found himself resenting the fact that he had to attend lessons. Eventually, however, classes ended for the day and he was able to meet up with Ginevra in the Great Hall for the evening's meal.

"If I can have everyone's attention," Dumbledore called out as dinner was about to be served. "It seems my fate to have to make tragic announcements of late, but I regret that I have more upsetting news to deliver. I'm sure you will all have heard the rumours floating around the school today regarding events that occurred yesterday evening at the Astronomy Tower. Now, I regret that I cannot say too much at this stage due to an ongoing investigation by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but I am most saddened to reveal that two pupils did indeed lose their lives in what appears to be a tragic accident. I would ask, therefore, that before we start we start our meal, that we share a minute's silence in memory of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy."

Silence did indeed fall over the Great Hall, but Harry suspected that it had little to do with honouring the memory of the two Slytherins. Most pupils were looking inquisitively at each other, as if to ask each other if they knew what had happened.

"Thank you for showing the proper respect," Dumbledore said after a minute. "Please, enjoy your meals."

Almost at once, the sound of subdued mutterings filled the hall as the pupils started to speculate amongst themselves as to what had happened. There was a noticeable lack of grief from anyone, except perhaps the remainder of Malfoy's entourage. Theodore Nott in particular looked confused and scared.

"Are you going to do it now?" Ginevra whispered to him.

"In a little while," he replied quietly. "Dumbledore always lingers at the dinner table, and I need to time this right."

Ginevra just nodded and started in on her meal. Harry ate sparingly, his concentration solely fixed on what he needed to do next. When he noticed most of the Professors had finished their food, he carefully pulled out his wand and held it under the table. He then gently withdrew a tiny pill from a pocket and placed on the table in front of him. With the utmost concentration, he silently cast the spell he had taken from Blaise Zabini's memory months before, and sent the tiny pill hurtling towards Dumbledore's goblet. Although too small to see from this distance, he was pretty sure that he managed to get the pill into the Headmaster's drink.

"Did you do it?" Ginevra whispered intently.

"Direct hit," Harry smiled, "and look! He's just taken a drink. In an hour's time, the old bastard should be flat on his back."

"Good work," she grinned triumphantly.

Dumbledore lingered at the table for another fifteen minutes, mainly chatting to McGonagall. As he stood and began to make his way out of the Great Hall, Harry leapt to his feet and intercepted the old man.

"Professor, I wonder if it would be possible to come and have a chat with you in a little while," Harry asked politely.

"Oh, and what is it that you need to discuss, Mr Potter?" Dumbledore asked civilly.

"Well, it's not something I really want to talk about out here in the open," Harry said furtively, "but it has something to do with You-Know-Who. It's quite urgent."

"Then we must not tarry," the Headmaster replied. "If you would like to accompany me…"

"Actually, I have to fetch something first," Harry interrupted. "Could I meet you in your office in, say, half-an-hour?"

"You have managed to intrigue me," Dumbledore smiled. "Pop along when you're ready. The password is Apple Rings."

"Thank you, Headmaster, I'll see you soon," Harry replied and let the old man go. He glanced over at Ginevra and smiled.

Forty minutes later, Harry entered the Headmaster's office, having used the password provided. He found Dumbledore at his desk, rubbing his head and looking rather uncomfortable.

"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, sir," he began.

"Quite alright, my boy. I realise by now that if you're seeking a meeting with me then you must have something important to discuss. Now, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore said with a rather forced smile.

"Well, as I stated, it's about Voldemort. You see, I've been doing some research on him and come to some startling conclusions and… are you alright, sir?" Harry asked with mock concern.

"Yes, I'm… just feeling a little… tired," he replied, blinking owlishly.

"If you're not feeling well I can come back?" Harry offered.

"No, I'm… I'm… what's happening to me?" Dumbledore suddenly gasped. "I feel like I'm…"

Groggily, the Headmaster struggled to his feet and pulled out his wand, although what he was proposing to do with it, Harry had no idea. Then, without warning, the old man toppled forward onto his desk.

"Night, night, Albus," Harry smirked.

A sudden screech made Harry look round. He saw Fawkes, sitting on his perch, glaring at him with his black eyes.

"He's just asleep, he hasn't been hurt in anyway," Harry assured the bird coolly. "I promise that I'm only here to destroy an object of great evil, as Dumbledore should have done years ago. I will not cause any harm to the Headmaster, or take anything that isn't rightfully mine."

The bird stared at him for a moment, before crooning softly, which Harry took as acceptance of his words. He quickly opened the door to the office and gave a sharp whistle. A second later, Ginevra appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Did it work okay?" she asked, eyeing the slumped Headmaster.

"Like a dream," he confirmed. "I'll give Zabini one thing; that was a bloody useful spell. That delayed-action sleeping pill was bloody handy, too."

"Yeah, it's nice to know Fred and George were actually good for something, although I doubt that knocking-out Dumbledore was what they had in mind when they came up with that tablet," she grinned evilly.

"Too right," he agreed. "Okay, the display cabinet is over here. Do you want first crack at getting it open?"

"Hey, sister of a curse-breaker here," she pointed out. "I'll have this open in a jiffy."

"Good, you crack on with that and I'll see if Dumbledore has any of my possessions around here, like I suspect," he replied. He strode to the middle of the room and took out his wand. "Accio James Potter's Invisibility Cloak!" he cried.

A definite thump came from a small cupboard situated in a snug on the far side of the office. Harry approached and cast several Detection Charms on the cupboard and, finding it unprotected, he carefully opened it. Inside was a jumble of objects, most of which he couldn't begin to identify, but sitting on a shelf he spotted a folded piece of material. He grabbed it and inspected it eagerly.

"That thieving old git," Harry snarled as he examined it. "I knew he bloody had it!"

"What's that, Harry?" Ginevra called.

"I've found my father's old Invisibility Cloak," he replied. "Dumbledore specifically told me he didn't have any of my parents' possessions, and yet here it is!"

He strode over to where Fawkes was sitting eyeing him distrustfully and waved the cloak at the bird.

"This rightfully belongs to me, and I'm taking it, got that?" he said forcefully.

The bird made no reply.

"Honestly, I thought phoenixes were only supposed to bond with pure-spirited people," Harry growled. "Dumbledore is nothing but a thief and a liar. If he had his way, I would have suffered a life of misery at the Dursleys, all ready to be served up as a sacrificial lamb to Voldemort. Is that behaviour you condone, bird?"

Fawkes just crooned sorrowfully.

"I thought not," Harry snapped before turning his attention back to where Ginevra was hunched over the display cabinet containing the diary. "How's it looking?"

"I think I can get it open," she confirmed. "Most of the Charms on the cabinet appear to be designed to alert Dumbledore if it was tampered with. As he's in the land of nod, I don't think that's an issue."

"I think you're right," Harry smiled. "Go ahead, then, try and open it."

Ginevra picked up a small statue of a griffin that was situated on a table nearby, and threw it hard at the display cabinet. The glass shattered in a million pieces.

"Okay, that's one way to do it," Harry muttered.

"Hey, who's the expert here?" she smirked. "You want to grab the diary? I'd rather not touch the bloody thing."

Harry reached in and picked up the diary. Shaking bits of broken glass off it, he turned and placed it on the Headmaster's desk. He then pulled a vial from within his robes, opened it, and carefully poured a little of the contents over the diary. A hideous screaming sound immediately filled the air.

"Bloody hell," Ginevra cursed, "it's like the damn things alive!"

"It was, in a way," Harry confirmed. "Was, being the operative word."

He examined the diary, as was pleased to see that the corrosive potion that Gellert created was more than up to the task of destroying the diary. A large, black hole had been burnt right through the book, and part way through the desk.

"Ha! That will teach… oh, shit!" Harry began, but his voice trailed off as he looked at the prostrate old wizard.

"What's the matter?" Ginevra demanded in a worried voice.

"Dumbledore's wand," Harry replied. "I just realised I should gone about this differently. I was so focused on destroying the diary that I forgot all about his bloody wand! The wand is extremely powerful and could have been useful to us."

"Should we nick it?" she asked, glancing at the wand still clutched in the old man's hand.

"Nah, we can't," Harry replied regretfully. "I gave Fawkes there a promise that I wouldn't take anything that didn't belong to me. I'd rather not have an angry phoenix attacking me, if I can help it. Besides, I would need to take it from him in such a way that it changes allegiances to me, and I don't think that just grabbing it while Dumbledore is asleep will do it."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "Are you going to just leave the diary there?"

"I think so. It will be a fitting notice that I've quit the school," he grinned. "Are you all packed?"

"Yep, all my meagre belongings are in my trunk, which I've shrunk and I currently have in my pocket. Are we leaving immediately?" she asked.

"I can't think of any other reason to stay," Harry confirmed. "I certainly have no desire to say goodbye to anyone here."

"What about your little Hufflepuff minx?" Ginevra pointed out. "She's going to be devastated that you're gone."

"Actually, I spoke to Michelle at lunchtime and hinted I was going to have to leave soon. I implied that with Madam Bones in charge, things were becoming very difficult for me here," Harry explained.

"How did she take it?" Ginevra asked curiously.

"Pretty well, actually, although she did remind me that I have to come and find her once she turns seventeen," Harry sighed.

Ginevra sniggered. "I'll bet she's completely forgotten about you by then. Why, you'll be positively ancient by that point!"

"Yeah, yeah, but you'll only be a year younger, so don't get clever," he grinned.

"But I'll always be younger and more attractive then you," she boasted.

"Well, duh," Harry muttered. "Anyway, I don't think this is the time or place to be discussing this. We've done what we came here to do, so I suggest we bugger off - rapidly."

"Agreed," she smiled. "So, we simply head out the main gates, but where do we go from there?"

"Oh, just wait and see," he smirked back.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

With a soft pop, they arrived at their destination. Ginevra immediately looked around her, and found she was in a narrow alleyway between two houses.

"Okay, Potter, are you going to tell me where the hell we are now?" she demanded acidly.

"Bristol," he replied simply. "Come on."

He grabbed her hand, and led her out into the main street. The houses were all terraced and narrow, and looked rather pressed together. She did like the fact that they were all painted different colours, like different flavours of ice cream. The end of the street opened out and she could see the houses were built on a slope at the bottom of which she could see a harbour. Numerous boats were moored along the edge of the water and she could just make out the rigging of a large sailing ship beyond. The place was quite interesting, she had to admit.

"Alright, I can see that this isn't somewhere the authorities would instantly look for a runaway witch and wizard, but what's the appeal of this city, exactly?" she asked him bluntly.

"Because this is the location of one of the safe houses Gellert and I set up a couple of years back," he explained. "We realised that if our home in Godric's Hollow became compromised we would need somewhere else to hide quickly. We set up four places in all, this one, a cottage in Wales, a house in Birmingham and a flat in South London. I've always liked this place, for some reason, so thought I thought we'd come here first."

"You're sure we can't be traced here?" she asked worriedly.

"The properties were all purchased the Muggle way, using a complex series of funding arrangements and false identities. Gellert was always a genius at that sort of thing. We managed to get the Goblins to release some of the funds from my family's main vault, and the rest we 'liberated' from various Death Eaters who suddenly found they didn't need the money, mainly on account of them being dead," he smiled blandly.

"Pretty good reason," Ginevra agreed. "So, where is this house then?"

"Just up here," he said, taking her hand again.

A short walk later and they were stood in front of one of the narrow-fronted terrace houses, this one painted a salmon-pink colour. Harry produced a key from his pocket and swiftly opened the door.

The inside was not quite what Ginevra expected, although she had to admit she had little experience with Muggle properties. The door opened up into a living area dominated by a large, black sofa. The floor was of polished wood and the walls were painted a stark white. Various Muggle devices were positioned around the room including a surprisingly large television set. The was a bare wood staircase that led upstairs, and further on Ginevra could just make out another room which looked like a kitchen/dining area. The whole place was modern, fresh and immaculate.

"Okay, this isn't bad," she admitted. "Are you telling me that this place has just stood empty in the off-chance that you might need it?"

"I do pop in now and again," he explained, "but, basically, yes. We hired a Muggle cleaning and maintenance firm to come in and give the place a once-over on a weekly basis, and now I think about it, I'll need to tell them to stop coming. We don't want Muggles traipsing through the place while we're here, do we? I've always liked this place, actually. It might be the view of the harbour from the upstairs window, I guess. Besides, the few times I've been to Bristol it's always struck me as being a pretty cool place."

"We'll see," she muttered. "Do all these Muggle contraptions work?"

"Yes, they do. Ground rule: no magic in the house! This is a purely Muggle area and the Ministry will detect any use of magic here. One of the reasons we bought this particular house is that it had a small basement, which Gellert and I expanded, somewhat. That area is heavily protected and shielded. Any magic that needs to be done has to be done in the basement, okay?" Harry told her.

"Sure, that sounds a pretty good idea," she shrugged. "So, what's the plan from here on in?"

"I thought tonight we'd just get settled in. We've already eaten dinner, so we don't need to worry about that, although if you do get peckish later, Miss Hollow-legs, I'm sure we can order a pizza," he grinned. "Tomorrow, we'll sit and plan our next move. I've been out of touch with things, and I think that a bit of intelligence gathering will be priority, but, as I said, we'll worry about that tomorrow. There are two bedrooms upstairs, so if you want to pick whichever one you want and I'll…"

"No," Ginevra interrupted him firmly.

"Eh?" he grunted in surprise.

"I said no," she repeated calmly. "You said that from this point we would share everything. That includes a bed."

His eyes went wide. "Ginevra, are you saying…"

"Come off it, Potter. We've been dancing round each other for months, now. Let's cut the crap and be honest with each other. From now on, we have to rely on each other totally, and I don't want a load of unresolved sexual tension getting in the way of that. In short, my hunky friend, I wanna get laid," she told him resolutely.

"I think I might be able to take care of that," he said with a wide smile. "I'm just a bit surprised, that's all. You always seemed so intent on protecting your virtue."

"Harry, I made a solemn promise to myself during my second year at Hogwarts, that no boy would ever have me while I was in school," she explained in a firm voice. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we both just cease being students at Hogwarts about half-an-hour ago?"

Harry's smile was positively lustful now.

"I was never sure that doing in wolf-form counted," she continued. "In fact, I convinced myself it didn't, and I think it's definitely fair to say no boy ever did me. So, as far as I'm concerned, I've kept that vow."

"And as I recall, I made you a promise that when we did it for the first time, I would make you scream my name," Harry said huskily.

"You did," she confirmed, desperately trying to keep her voice level.

"Then why don't we head upstairs so I can keep my vow, too?" he said, holding his hand out to her.

She reached out and took his hand, and let herself be led upstairs. She barely noticed the décor as she went; despite her bravado she was very nervous. Once upstairs, he guided her to a closed wooden door. Opening it revealed a small, light-filled bedroom, dominated by a double bed with a large, squishy white duvet on it. As Harry said, out of the window the harbour could clearly be seen.

"Nice view," she commented, her voice trembling a little.

Harry rightly ignored this, and turned towards her, his green eyes almost glowing with lust. With agonising slowness, he leaned down and captured her lips with his.

It had been when they shared a kiss on Boxing Day that Ginevra had finally decided that Harry was the one for her. Although that kiss had mainly been meant to annoy her family, she'd never experienced anything so wonderful in her life. Now, alone in this strange bedroom with him, she found that previous kiss paling into insignificance. As breath-taking as his previous effort had been, it contained none of the raw passion that his current kiss did. She could almost taste the wolf within him, and knew that she was going to be fully exposed to his animalistic side.

Frankly, she had never been as excited or terrified in her life.

His hands slipped around her, pulling her close to him, and she could feel his arousal pressed against her. For a brief second, she nearly pulled out of his embrace and ran, but the animal within her forbid it. She was a wolf, too, and she was determined to show him that she was his perfect mate.

Rough hands began to pull off her clothes and, almost automatically, she began to tug at Harry's shirt, too. Suddenly, those cloth garments seemed a hideous burden to her, and had to be disposed of immediately. Their lips barely parted for a second, but somehow they managed to undress each other completely, anyway.

Harry then pulled away and Ginevra blushed as his eyes ran over her naked body. She'd never considered herself bashful, indeed, growing up in a house with six ignorant brothers she couldn't afford to be, but for the first time ever she felt totally exposed to another person. It was a frightening but exhilarating experience.

She let her own gaze drift over his naked body. Although she had seen him like this before at Malfoy Manor, there he had been wounded and vulnerable. Now, there was nothing vulnerable about him in the least. His manhood was large and fully erect, and she could only stare at it in wonder. Seeing the direction of her gaze, Harry reached out and took her right hand in his, guiding it until her small fingers wrapped around him.

"Is this for me?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"All for you," he breathed, and began to place a trail of gentle kisses along her neck. She shivered, and her hand began to automatically stroke him. He growled in approval.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she suddenly felt his hand between her legs. Harry began to caress her, his fingers touching places no other person had ever touched. Her body began to respond, and she felt herself becoming moist. They stood there for an eternity, their breathing becoming ragged as they tenderly stimulated each other.

Harry's fingers began to increase in speed and intensity. Ginevra found herself practically panting as he began to rub her in a tight circular motion that set her legs trembling. She tried to move her own hand faster to match his pace, but for some reason her brain just couldn't seem to remember how to pass that instruction to her arm. Instead, she just gripped him as hard as she dared and hoped that her touch brought him pleasure.

Her first orgasm hit her like the Hogwarts Express, as intense as it was unexpected. She howled and pressed her legs together, trapping his fingers in the position that had brought her ecstasy. Whining pitifully, she wiggled around, savouring the last few tremors that ran through her body.

"On the bed," he snarled in her ear. It was only at this point that her befuddled brain registered that the experience had only barely begun, and that further delights awaited her. Eagerly, she dragged him over to the bed and climbed onto it.

Immediately, he pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her. Once again, hot, steamy kisses rained down on her neck and jawline, with him occasionally venturing up as far as her lips, but never lingering in one place for long. Without warning, he raised himself up so he could look into her eyes.

"It's time I made you scream my name," he said in a voice that was pure, raw passion. She shivered in anticipation.

Harry's head dipped and he began to kiss her neck and then her collar bone. Ginevra lay perfectly still, unable to move in breathless expectation of his next move. Silently, she prayed that he would continue his exploration of her body, and her prayers were answered.

His tongue encountered her left nipple and began a slow, exquisite dance over it. She let her hands desperately run over his strong shoulders and he slowly drove her insane. When his mouth closed fully over her painfully-hard protuberance and began to suck, madness did claim her and the world turned into a vast ocean of pleasure. She almost growled with displeasure when he released her, but she was silenced immediately when she realised that he was just continuing his downward journey. Excitement built in her as each gentle kiss on her flesh led him closer to the place she desperately wanted him to go. Then, to her joy, he reached his destination.

"Ohh, sweet bloody Merlin!" she cried as he licked her most intimate spot. Pleasure like she had never experienced washed over her as Harry's tongue made love to her. Her hands gripped him by the hair, encouraging him, begging him, to continue.

Time ceased to have any meaning. Her second orgasm hit her like a Bludger to the forehead and, amazingly, her third followed shortly afterwards. Dimly, she became aware that, as Harry had promised, she was screaming his name as she came. Slowly, reality returned and she began to come down off her pleasure-induced high. She as shaking so much she barely noticed Harry leap off the bed and began fishing amongst his clothes. A second later, he returned with his wand in his hand. He waved it over her abdomen twice, and Ginevra felt a strange tickling sensation for a second.

"A Contraception Charm," he replied to her unspoken question. "It should also make things a bit…easier for you, being your first time. Don't worry, it's only a tiny piece of magic. The Ministry won't even notice. "

"I want you in me… NOW!" she snapped, surprising herself with the lustfulness of her own voice.

With his eyes full of raw desire, Harry nearly leapt back onto the bed. He was on top of her before Ginevra could blink, but then seemed to pause. Then, with agonising slowness, he slid into her. She gasped, and could literally feel herself stretch to accommodate him. The pain she was expecting never came, however, whether a result of the spell that Harry cast or the aftereffects of her previous mating with him in wolf form, she didn't know. All she knew was that she ached for him, and the gentle way he was slowly entering her was unacceptable. Grabbing his firm buttocks in her hands, she pulled him forward, until he was completely inside her.

"Oh, yes," she gasped. "Do it; do it, now!"

At her urgings, Harry began to rhythmically thrust himself into her. Her hands roamed over his by now moist flesh, as if she couldn't touch enough of him. Her lips planted desperate, hot kisses along his shoulder and neck, as her fingers caressed every inch of his muscular body she could reach.

"You feel so good," he gasped, his breathing ragged, "so tight and wet."

She couldn't bring herself to answer. Her mouth was too busy savouring the taste of him. As he looked down at her, she took the opportunity to stretch her neck upwards and capture his lips. She began to suck on his lower lip, dragging her tongue against it languidly. This must have met his approval, as he moaned and his pace began to increase, causing the bedsprings to start squeaking alarmingly.

Almost giddy with pleasure, she released his lip and arched her back, savouring the feel of him deep inside her. Strangely, she then had a moment of clarity, and her lust-fogged brain was overwhelmed by a single thought. She and Harry were become one, in both a primal, animalistic way and a higher, spiritual way. Silently, she rejoiced that she had chosen to remain pure up to this point, and saved herself for this young man. Ginevra almost felt pity for the likes of Pansy Parkinson and even Tracy, who had viewed sex merely as a pleasurable diversion. This was more, so much more. With the right person, as she had found in Harry, the whole experience bordered on being a religious event.

Just as she was building nicely towards another delicious orgasm, Harry suddenly withdrew from her. Ginevra nearly screamed in protest, until she saw him throw himself down onto his back, with his glorious manhood directed upwards in his hand.

"Your turn on top," he growled.

Ginevra doubted she had ever moved so fast in her life, and in seconds she was straddling him. She shuddered as she lowered herself onto him, taking him all the way into her. Planting her hands on his chest, her hips began to move. This time it was his turn to let his hands wander, taking especial interest in her breasts, which seemed to fit perfectly in his hands. His thumbs rubbed her stiffened nipples as he roughly massaged them.

They were going at it now so fast, for a moment Ginevra was afraid they might break the bed. She briefly wondered if their Muggle neighbours, assuming they had any, could hear them and what they would think. Then as she reached another climax, she realised she really didn't care.

"Ginevra, I'm going to… going to… ahhhhhh," Harry groaned. His eyes were closed and a look of ecstasy was on his face. Realising that he was empting himself into her, Ginevra ground herself against him, as if to coax every last drop from him.

As their bodies stilled, Harry opened his eyes and looked directly into hers.

"That was amazing," he gasped.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that first times aren't meant to be that good," she panted.

Almost reluctantly, she moved forward and felt him slide out of her. She lay beside him, and they wrapped their arms around each other, their sweaty, sticky bodies pressed tight.

"Ginevra," he whispered, "would you be completely freaked out if I told you that I was falling in love with you?"

For a split second, she felt a desire to tease or make fun of him, but she found she just couldn't do it. Not after what they had just experienced together.

"No," she breathed in his ear. "I love you, too. You're mine now, Harry, and no one will take you away from me."

Their lips met, tenderly, lovingly. They continued to hold each other, exchanging gentle kisses and loving touches. For that moment, her whole world revolved around the young man in her arms.

Eventually, they lips broke apart and Ginevra laid her head against his shoulder.

"Promise me that it will always be like this," she begged. "Promise that we won't let things ever get stale and boring, that we'll always have this passion."

"Well, I can't promise anything once I turn eighty," he joked, "but up until then, I promise to love you like the goddess you are."

Smiling happily, she pulled him even tighter against her. It was then that she noticed he seemed to be becoming aroused once again.

"Bloody hell, Potter," she teased. "Again?"

"What, did you think I'm only a once-a-night man?" he asked, shocked. "Besides, it's your turn to make me scream your name."

With a wicked smile on her lips suggesting she approved of that plan, Ginevra began to slowly trail kisses down his chest…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry cracked the last of the six eggs into the bowl before adding salt and pepper, and began to beat the contents vigorously. Seeing the slab of butter he'd placed into the pan had melted, he poured the beaten eggs in and turned the heat down. The sausages were just about done, as was the bacon, so he just needed to pop a couple more rounds of bread into the toaster and he was finished.

A gentle creaking of the floorboards upstairs revealed his plans had just been scuppered. Sure enough, a few seconds later a pair of bare, shapely legs started to descend down the stairs. Ginevra emerged, dressed only in a t-shirt of his and peered cautiously around the frame of the kitchen door.

"That's bad timing," Harry greeted her. "If you'd waited another couple of minutes I would have brought you breakfast in bed."

She grinned at him. "I couldn't help it," she replied. "I smelt the bacon and I was drawn."

Harry couldn't help but notice that she seemed a little nervous this morning. Not wanting there to be any awkwardness between them, he open his arms to her. Her smile widened, and she hurried forward into his embrace. They hugged tightly, before he leaned down to give her a tender morning kiss.

"You must have been up early," she noted, looking around the kitchen.

"Yeah, I've been up for a couple of hours. I got washed and dressed before nipping out to the local supermarket. I figured you'd be wanting a decent breakfast and we had no fresh food in," he explained.

"Wow, I could get use to this. First, a night of passion, and then a slap-up breakfast to follow the next morning," she grinned impishly. "I knew coming with you was a good idea."

"The food's almost ready. Can you grab some plates from that cupboard behind you and some cutlery from the draw underneath?" he asked, turning his attention back to the scrambled eggs.

Ginevra laid the table as Harry began to dish up. Knowing his lover's eating habits, he'd cooked a lot more than he normally would, and judging by the appreciative way she was eyeing the feast, he had made the right choice.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked as she started buttering her toast.

"There's a few things I need to show you," he replied, tucking into his first sausage. "I haven't really explained quite how I manage to get so much secret information on the Death Eaters and old Tom, and it might come as a bit of a shock to the system. Later, I thought we'd explore the area a bit. It never hurts to know your immediate surroundings in case of trouble."

"Good thinking," she agreed. "Maybe we can find a good place to eat dinner tonight."

"You're just starting a huge breakfast. How can you possibly be thinking about dinner?" he protested.

"Just planning ahead," she smirked. "Besides, if you wine and dine me you might end up getting a repeat of last night."

"Okay, that does sound like a great idea," he laughed. "So, do you think this house will do for a while?"

"Yeah, it's a lot smaller than I'm used to, but with just the two of us that really doesn't matter. The place is clean and comfortable, the kitchen appears to be well stocked, and the bed comes equipped with a naked Harry Potter: what more could I need?" she asked, munching on her bacon.

"I'm glad it meets your approval," he smiled. "Seriously, Ginevra…"

"Ginny," she interrupted him.

"What?" he asked in surprise.

"I want you to call me Ginny from now on," she explained. "I've been thinking about the conversation we had after our encounter with Luna Lovegood awhile back. As much as I hate to say it, I think Luna was right. Since I've been with you, I have changed and I'm more like the person I used to be. I feel a lot more relaxed and I'm not as angry all the time as I used to be. Ginevra was a product of her surroundings and needed to be that way to survive alone in the house of snakes. Here, with you, I don't need to be that person anymore. I want to be Ginny again."

"Ginny," he repeated. "Actually, I think it suits you better than Ginevra. It's cheekier; more carefree. Okay, it'll be Ginny from now on."

"Great, and I'll just call you 'Sex Slave' from this point, shall I?" she grinned.

"Yes, Mistress Ginny, I live to serve you," he replied, bowing his head.

They giggled together as they finished the rest of their breakfast.

After they had finished, Ginny went upstairs to get washed and dressed, while Harry headed down to the basement. He knew they were lucky to find a house with one, especially here in the centre of Bristol. Very few modern houses in Britain had a cellar of any type, so even a small one was appreciated. He and Gellert had carefully expanded this one so it provided a useful space, and placed special Wardstones around it to shield any magical emissions. This hid them from the Ministry's magic detectors, and allowed them to run the fridge/freezer upstairs without it going haywire.

Opening the small trapdoor, he edged down the narrow steps into the dark space. A few flicks of his wand lit the lamps situated around the room and gave the bare stone room a warm glow. A few basic items of furniture were already scattered around the room, including a couple of hard, plastic chairs and a small table. There was also a large cork board mounted on one wall, and Harry approached this. He placed a box he brought with him onto the table and, from this, he began to remove various pieces of parchment and a few photographs, all of which he began to pin to the board. He'd been at this only a few minutes when he heard Ginny coming down the narrow stairs.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Putting up all the intelligence data I have on Tom's Death Eaters," he replied. "This is probably all out-of-date by now, as I'm sure he will have been recruiting while I've been at Hogwarts. Still, you have to start somewhere."

"Wow, does the Ministry have all this information?" she gasped, peering at the various lists of names.

"Nah, and even if they did, they couldn't legally use it," he snorted in disgust. "Half of this list is made up of low-lives who used the old 'I was Imperioused!' excuse to avoid prison. I, however, have definite confirmation that everyone named here is an active supporter of Mr Riddle junior."

"Okay, I'm probably going to regret asking this, but how did you get that confirmation?" Ginny asked warily.

Harry paused and reached inside the t-shirt he was wearing. He withdrew his mother's locket and popped it open, revealing the grey stone inside it.

"Since you're a good little pure-blood girl, I bet your parents read you 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' when you were little, right?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah. In fact, I'm pretty sure that 'Babbitty Rabbitty' is still Ron's favourite story," she smirked.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Harry laughed. "You're familiar with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' then?"

"Naturally, every pure-blood kid in the country grew up with that story," she confirmed.

"Then, Ginevra Weasley, you will be familiar with the Resurrection Stone," he smiled, holding the locket up to her face so she could clearly see the stone within.

"Yeah, but… NO WAY! Are you pissing telling me that this is the real thing?" she exclaimed loudly.

"Oh yes, the Deathly Hallows are very real, and this is one of them. In fact, you saw the second one yesterday, clutched in Dumbledore's hand; the Elder Wand. Trust me, if the circumstances had been right, I would definitely have taken it," Harry confirmed wryly.

"All right, if it was anyone but you, I would have said you were stark, raving mad for even suggesting that the Hallows were real, but I know by now that you're up to your neck in this kind of legendary stuff," she said, a little in awe. "But I don't understand how this stone, which I thought was meant to raise the dead, helps you get info on You-Know-Who."

"The dead cannot lie, Ginny," Harry said grimly. "Gellert and I found that if we summoned the spirit of a recently killed Death Eater, we could force it to reveal all its secrets. Generally, to make the summoning easier, we took an object or better still a body part of said Death Eater, drew a Summoning Circle to trap the spirit in one place, and used the stone to call the person back. We could then interrogate the bastard until we learnt everything they knew. The real beauty of this is no one ever suspected how we were getting information. Once a person's dead, you don't normally expect them to be a security risk, right? Tom has twice now launched witch-hunts within his own forces looking for a mysterious spy who was giving away his secrets. He's killed quite a few of his own followers, just to be on the safe side."

"Necromancy?" Ginny gasped. "That's pretty dark stuff, Harry."

"Says who?" he demanded. "The Ministry? Raising the spirits of the dead has been performed for centuries, and just because some bureaucratic tosspot suddenly decides its 'Dark Magic' doesn't necessarily make it so. Besides, most of the time this is used against Death Eaters, so who cares?"

"Most of the time?" she repeated questioningly.

"Well, I confess that I until quite recently I used the stone to temporarily call back the spirits of my parents. I never got to know them in real life, and as long as you just call them back for short periods of time they don't suffer in any way. Sadly, spirits are only recallable for a certain period of time, before the souls of the dead move on to the next plane of existence. Sometimes the spirits can linger between worlds for hundreds of years, other times they move on after only a few days. That's why it's important to interrogate any Death Eaters we kill as soon as possible," he explained.

"You talked to your dead parents?" Ginny asked in wonder.

"Yeah, but I can't anymore. They've both moved on," he told her sadly. "They both said they liked you very much, though."

"They were watching us?" Ginny nearly shrieked.

"That's what the dead do, Ginny," he replied in an amused voice.

"Great, so your mum and dad saw me getting shagged as a wolf, did they?" she asked, seemingly mortified.

"Yes, they did, and they still thought you were wonderful. In fact, my dad said one of the reasons they chose to move on was the fact that I had you in my life now. Mum was quite taken by you, apparently," he said with a smile.

"I wish I could have met them," Ginny said tenderly. "Of course, I wouldn't have been able to look them in the eye, but still."

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't worry. They were pretty young when they died and they weren't exactly prudish."

"So, I take it our next task is to bump-off a Death Eater, so you can pick their brains for up-to-date information," she said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, and that was what I was doing down here; picking my next target. We need someone who is an active member of society so we can find them easily," he pondered, eyeing the list of names pinned on the board.

"Harry, are you going to try and get the Elder wand off Dumbledore?" she asked. "I mean, I've heard all sorts of strange legends about what would happen if you unite all three Hallows."

"It has crossed my mind, if only to make sure the wand doesn't fall into Riddle's hands," he admitted. "Of course, no one has the slightest idea where the third Hallow is, so it's not much of a priority."

"The Cloak of Invisibility," Ginny murmured. "Hey, didn't you take a cloak from Dumbledore's office yesterday?"

"Yeah, but that was only really for sentimental reasons," he admitted. "My dad said that he had a cloak that Dumbledore had borrowed around the time they were killed. I was just annoyed that the old bastard had something that rightly belonged to me and wouldn't admit to it. The cloak's probably useless by now, those things never last very long."

"Well, get it out and let's see if it's still any good," Ginny insisted.

Harry grabbed his robes which he had also brought down to the cellar and began to rummage around inside the pocket. A moment later, his fingers closed around the soft material and he pulled it out.

"I doubt it's got any magic left in it," Harry said as he unfolded it. "I mean, it must be…"

He stopped abruptly. As soon as he had unfolded it, he had wrapped it around his shoulders and was shocked to see his body instantly vanish from sight.

"Looks to be working fine to me," Ginny announced triumphantly.

"But… it shouldn't be any good by now… unless," he muttered.

"Unless what?" she demanded.

"Unless I was bloody inches from uniting all three Hallows, and I didn't even realise it," he cursed. "Damn it, I knew I should have taken Dumbledore's wand!"

"Then you think this cloak is it? The actual Cloak of Invisibility?" she gasped.

"I do," he admitted, "and now we have two tasks we need to take care of quickly."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"He's coming," Harry hissed as he peered around the corner using a simple hand-mirror to do so.

"Get under your cloak, Harry," Ginny urged. "I know what to do."

As Harry quickly threw the Cloak of Invisibility over himself, Ginny took a deep breath, and casually walked around the corner. Harry saw her tense, as if in surprise, and then turn and run past him. He pressed himself against the wall, as a second later Walden Macnair came haring around the wall in pursuit of the red-haired witch.

Harry let him pass, before starting to run after him, managing to stay just a few yards behind the man despite the hindrance of the cloak flapping around him.

They had selected Macnair as their target several days before, partly as Harry believed the man was a fairly senior Death Eater, but mostly because Macnair's job with the Ministry of Magic enabled them to find and track him with relative ease. For a supposedly careful man, Macnair was pretty much a creature of habit. They had quickly discovered that he always ate lunch at a particular pub, and it had been child's play to lay this ambush. Macnair currently thought he was the hunter, but he would soon learn that he was the hunted.

As planned, Ginny ran into an alley, which they knew to be a dead end. She turned, faking terror as she faced her pursuer.

"Well, what do we have here?" Macnair sneered gleefully as he came to a stop behind her. "The Dark Lord wants a little word with you, girl. I'll be rewarded well for bringing you in."

"I don't think so," Ginny grinned, he previous fear completely gone.

"And why is that, little girl?" the ugly man mocked her.

Without pausing, Harry closed the gap between him and Macnair and placed his hand around the man's mouth, whilst thrusting his dagger into the man's side. Macnair stiffened, and a muted scream slipped past Harry's fingers. Without mercy, Harry wrenched the knife from the man's side and thrust it into Macnair again, this time angling the blade upwards so it would miss the ribcage. The Death Eater's body convulsed for a second, and then collapsed into a heap at Harry's feet.

"Good riddance, you sick bastard," he spat at the corpse.

"That worked out well," Ginny said, nervously glancing around. "Take what you need to and leave the note on his body, then let's get out of here!"

Nodding his agreement, Harry bent down and neatly sliced off Macnair's right ear, before tucking a piece of parchment into the front of the man's shirt. They had written the note yesterday, and it purported to be from a disgruntled person whose beloved pet had been executed by Macnair. They had kept the details deliberately vague so no innocent pet owner could be blamed. It was highly likely that a man like Macnair had many enemies, anyway.

Their mission accomplished, the pair Disapparated and a few seconds later reappeared in the tiny courtyard garden that served their small house. The garden was completely closed in by a high wall and it was unlikely that even a neighbour peering out from a back window would notice them. Hurriedly, they went inside and immediately headed down to the cellar.

The Containment Circle was already drawn, as Harry had wanted Ginny to practice creating one. They stepped inside and Harry unwrapped the ear he had taken from Macnair and placed it in the circle. With Ginny looking on uncertainly, he removed the Resurrection Stone from his mother's locket, and turned it in his hand three times.

A terrible groaning sound suddenly filled the air. A second later, the ghostly form of Walden Macnair appeared in front of them.

"You killed me," the man said simply and without malice.

"I did, and unless you wish to remain here in limbo, slowly going insane and unable to rest, you will answer our questions," Harry told him.

"I will do as you say," the ghostly form confirmed.

Harry nodded. None of the spirits he had recalled had ever argued with him. Simply, the Resurrection Stone was too powerful, and the dead knew the terrible fate that would await them if they refused his request.

"Tell me of Lord Voldemort's plans," Harry ordered.

"My master is well pleased," Macnair began. "He has recruited a follower in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement called Bryant, and she has been supplying him with much useful information. We were able to kill Scrimgeour due to her revealing details of the protective magic around his house."

"Why did Voldemort kill Scrimgeour?" Harry asked. "He must have suspected that Amelia Bones would take over, and she's a far harder nut to crack that Rufus ever was."

"Bones is no threat," Macnair shrugged. "She's far too trusting and she views the world as black or white. Scrimgeour was a shrewd man, and wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty when he needed to. Bones has a very strict code of morals that she will never break, and this makes her weak. My former master was confident that he could use the woman's beliefs against her."

"Okay, I can see that," Harry admitted. "So, what are Voldemort's plans now?"

"He intends to create a web of fear. More deaths, more disappearances; we intend to make this country shiver in fear of our name. The more devastating attacks that occur, the more desperate the Ministry will become. Your rift with Bones has played straight into the Dark Lord's hands. She is a stubborn woman, and it's highly unlikely that she will come to you for help, especially now you have fled Hogwarts with the Weasley girl. This gives my former lord a free hand to do what he likes, and those pathetic Aurors won't stop him. Only once he has cast a blanket of terror over the country will he make his move. Every day, more Ministry staff are corrupted, either willingly via bribes and promises of reward, or through blackmail. Later, key staff will be Imperioused and the Ministry will be ripe for plucking," Macnair explained in a detached voice.

"What about Dumbledore?" Ginny asked. "Isn't Voldemort worried about what he'll do?"

"Dumbledore is a sentimental idiot who puts too much stock in Potter here," Macnair replied, a glimmer of contempt in his voice. "The old fool will do nothing until it's too late. Although he preaches that we should be friendly to Muggles, he's as much of a blood-purist as the Dark Lord. No, Dumbledore will not want to see a drop of magical blood wasted if he can possibly avoid it, and by the time he realises that he cannot win without fighting, Lord Voldemort will have already won."

"Stupid old git," Ginny grumbled. "Does he think that Riddle will just give up if he gives him a hug, or something?"

"No, Dumbledore expects me to beat him," Harry pointed out, "but not in the way that I intend to do it. Remember, the old man is convinced that the Prophecy is all important, and I suspect he believes that Voldemort and I will destroy each other in the coming confrontation. It's the only thing that makes sense. Dumbledore thinks I'm the sacrifice that will enable the Dark Lord to be killed once and for all. It explains why he wanted to keep me as a virtual prisoner at my aunt's house, so that I would be conveniently at hand when Albus decides the time is right for me to die. He wanted me as a weak, malleable puppet he could control."

"Wow, that plan went to shit, didn't it?" she sniggered.

"Yeah, but it's only thanks to Gellert that it did. I've got an enormous amount to thank him for," Harry admitted.

"What do we do next, then?" Ginny asked, eyeing Macnair distastefully.

"We start by ripping holes in Tom's 'blanket of terror'. We start ambushing his Death Eaters, exposing his Ministry followers, and generally ruining his plans," Harry said decisively, before turning back Macnair. "Right, I want you to name every Death Eater and supporter of the Dark Lord you can think of. I want details of all his planned operations, and a breakdown of how his forces operate. Got that?"

"And if I do, will you release me and let me rest?" Macnair asked plaintively.

"Give me everything that I need, and I promise that I will let you pass on and never call you back. Try and hide anything from me, and I'll summon you and leave you here to howl out your miserable existence in pain and despondence," he replied harshly.

"It will be as you say, my Lord," Macnair agreed, and began to tell Harry everything he knew.

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 –Blind Men and Fools

Ah, chapter 15 and the body count is starting to rise nicely. In this chapter, Harry corrects an error, Madam Bones starts turning nasty and Ginny spends a lot of time on her back (off screen, naturally).

Huge thanks to Arnel who had to work overtime correcting my mistakes on this one. In my defence, I did have a bad cold when I did my final check through. *sniff*

Gellert Grindelwald strode forward, as angry as he'd ever been in his life. Even after his beloved fiancé had died, he had not experienced a level of rage as he felt now. No, this was a new experience for him, and one that boded ill for any adversary he met.

They had been tricked, simple as that, and he had lost precious days in discovering how. In the end, he had learned the betrayal had come from the goblins, of all people. A greedy and self-serving goblin named Griphook, realising that the Potter vault was again in use, had sold information to Voldemort. Furthermore, the treacherous goblin had helped the Dark Lord slip Harry a Portkey disguised as an official Gringotts document.

The fact that the goblins had been horrified that their prized neutrality had been compromised mattered little to Gellert, but the fact that it had taken three days for them to capture their missing employee had enraged him. Every moment that passed lessened the chances of finding him alive, although he took hope from the fact that Harry's body had not been dumped in some public place as a testament to Voldemort's victory.

No race can inflict pain and suffering as efficiently as the goblins, and Griphook had been broken within hours. Unable to endure the agony imposed on him, the goblin had revealed the name of a place that he had met servants of the Dark Lord: Little Hangleton. As soon as he had heard that name, Gellert had been out the door as fast as his legs could carry him. Making only the briefest of detours home to collect a few items, he Apparated to the Northern village with murder in his heart. He knew exactly where to start looking, too.

Pulling the black robes he had donned tight around him, he strode confidently up to the Riddle House. As he suspected, the Death Eaters hadn't had placed any serious protections on the place yet, a mark of their arrogance, he supposed, and it wasn't like they could hide the house from the Muggles, either. It was a well-known landmark, and its sudden disappearance would undoubtedly attract attention.

Approaching the house, a dark-robbed figure stepped out of the shadows and raised his hand.

"Who are you…" the man began, only to fall to the ground as Gellert's Killing Curse hit him squarely in the chest. Pausing only to pick up the dead man's mask, he continued into the house.

Inside, all was deathly quiet. Following his instinct that prisoners would always be kept below ground whenever possible, he began to seek an entrance to a cellar or dungeon. After some hunting, he eventually found a narrow stone stairway leading off from the kitchen. Putting on the Death Eater's mask, he descended into the damp, dark stone passageway.

He found himself in a small room which had two corridors leading from it in opposite directions. At random, he picked the left hand path, and strode confidently on. Turning a corner, he almost walked straight into another Death Eater who had been standing in front of a large, metal door.

"Hey, it's not time to…" the man started to say before he too fell dead. Mercy was not on Gellert's agenda today.

Hunting through the man's robes, he soon found a large, metal key which he slipped into the lock of the door. With a satisfying click, the door swung open and Gellert was able to enter. What he saw nearly made his heart stop.

"Harry!" he cried and hurried forward. There, lying naked on the floor, was his young apprentice. The young man was filthy and covered in blood, particularly his left foot, which was a crusted mass of red and black. There were dozens of scars over his body, and more bruises than Gellert could count. Harry was shivering uncontrollably and sobbing to himself.

"Harry, it's me; Gellert," he said urgently, removing his mask. The boy remained unresponsive, however, and Gellert cursed himself for not bringing some healing potions with him. He cast a few Healing Charms on Harry, but it was clear that he needed urgent medical attention. He needed to get him out of…

The faintest of sounds saved his life. Gellert dimly heard something rubbing against the stone floor and he turned his head to see a large snake slithering towards him, its jaws already opening, ready to strike. It was fortunate that his wand was already in his hand, or he wouldn't have had time to grab it. As it was, he just managed to fire off a Blasting Charm just as the beast lunged.

The snake was thrown backwards and slammed into the far wall, its head nearly severed. Gellert watched in shocked fascination as a green mist began to rise from the creature's body. For a moment, he was unable to process exactly what that meant, but even as the realisation struck him, he struggled to believe it.

A soft moan from Harry snapped him to his senses. Placing a Feather-Light Charm on the injured boy, Gellert tossed him over his shoulder and virtually ran out of the room. If the snake was what he thought it was, then surely Voldemort would be nearby. He couldn't afford for the Dark Lord to discover he was still alive, not at this time.

With a speed that belied his advanced years, Gellert sprinted back the way he'd come…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Alfred Crabbe landed roughly on the hard, tarmacked surface of the Muggle road. The soft popping noises that came from behind him informed him that the other eight Death Eaters had also arrived. He turned and surveyed his group, a feeling of pride gripping him that he had been chosen to lead this, the first of many planned raids against the despicable Muggles.

"Right, get organised, you lot," he growled. "Remember the plan; we make our way up this road, destroying everything in our path. Once we reach the centre of the village, we'll split up into pairs and we can have some fun. Our mission is to do as much damage, and kill as many Muggles, as we can. Get yourselves into two lines, one either side of the road, now!"

Crabbe knew that he wasn't destined to be a great general or leader. His forte was bullying the lesser ranks into doing what was required. If put into crude Muggle terms, he was the Dark Lord's Sargent-Major, shouting at the new recruits and instilling an iron-hard discipline into them. That was why he was leading this first raid: to control the less-disciplined members of the group and to make sure they did the things right. With the element of surprise on their side it was unlikely they would meet any organised resistance, thus allowing him to use this raid as an operational training exercise, and hopefully to have a bit of fun, of course.

He strode forward at the head of the line, and got the party started by launching a Blasting Charm at the nearest house. He managed to blow a large, ragged hole in the wall, and he could faintly hear screams coming from the inside. Grinning, he eagerly stepped forward, only to feel his leg impeded by something. Looking down, he saw he had caught against a thin wire strung across the road at about knee high.

"What the…" he managed to say, before several hundred small steel balls ripped into him at a speed of nearly four thousand feet a second. His face and upper shoulders literally disintegrated in this blast of steel.

The two Death Eaters nearest to Crabbe were also hit, one falling dead like a stone while the other, who only caught part of the blast, screamed in agony as his arm was torn off at the elbow. His compatriots looked around in confusion and horror. As no enemies appeared to be in sight, they had no idea what to do. Only one of them noticed the pair of metal, egg-shaped objects come sailing through the air towards them, and he had no idea what they were, anyway. He was as surprised as the rest of the group when the metal eggs exploded, sending ribbons of red-hot shrapnel into their bodies. As the Death Eaters had been packed close together, the detonations claimed another four of their number.

If the few surviving members of the group still standing thought their ordeal was over, they soon realised their mistake. A pair of bright flashes, accompanied by a thunderous rattling sound, erupted in front of them. The narrow street was suddenly awash with bullets, as a pair of submachine guns sprayed the area in a deadly crossfire. Screams echoed briefly through the still night, before abruptly halting.

"Hey!" a disgruntled female voice declared. "Yours is bigger than mine!"

Male laughter filled the air. "That's only right and proper, Ginny," the man replied. "Besides, I thought the Skorpion was a more lady-like weapon. It kind of suits you, you know."

"You're holding out on me, Potter," Ginny snarled, marching over to him. "Why do I get this titchy little gun and you get that thing?"

"Okay, okay, I'll get you your own MP-5 for next time, satisfied?" Harry promised.

"I should think so," she sniffed. "So, did we get them all?"

"Let's have a look," he replied, starting forward. "Yuck! I'd avoid the lead one, if I were you. It looks like the Claymore Mine took most of his face off."

"I guess we won't be identifying that one, then," she noted distastefully. "Do you recognise any of the others?"

Harry quickly went around the other bodies, pulling their masks off and making sure they were dead. A quick survey confirmed they had wiped out all nine of the Death Eaters.

"Nope, I don't recognise any of them," he said in a disappointed voice. "It doesn't look like we'll be getting any new intelligence from this lot."

"It can't be helped," she shrugged. "Anyway, don't you think we ought to get out of here? I think I saw someone watching us through the curtains in that house over there."

"You're right, love," Harry agreed. "Shall we?"

With a soft pop, both of the gun-toting teenagers disappeared.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Amelia Bones surveyed the carnage in disbelief. Nine Death Eaters dead and no sign of their attackers, at all! She was confused, and not a little concerned.

"The Muggle police have all been taken care of, Madam," a voice declared behind her. She turned and saw Auror Dawlish standing there. A good man, she thought, if a little impetuous.

"Very good, Dawlish," she responded. "Have your men found anything?"

"Nothing of note, Madam," he replied. "We're still mystified what could have caused all this."

"Muggle weapons, you blithering idiot!" a new voice shouted. Amelia didn't have to turn around to recognise who was speaking this time.

"Muggle weapons, you say, Alastor?" she queried in disbelief. "I find that a little hard to believe."

"Don't be foolish, Amelia," Alastor Moody snapped. "The Muggles have some nasty toys these days, as these worthless toe rags found out."

"Are you suggesting a bunch of Muggles killed these Death Eaters? Don't be ridiculous, Mad-Eye," Dawlish scoffed.

"Of course they bloody did," Moody spat, glaring at the younger man. "Look at the bodies, you fool. They're covered in gunshot wounds. There looks to have been several explosions around here, too. That could have been caused by a number of things: rockets, bombs, grenades…"

"You're serious, aren't you?" Amelia exclaimed. "You really believe that Muggles are responsible for this."

"Yes," Moody said firmly.

"Then we have a problem," she mused. "Despite the fact that the dead are followers of You-Know-Who, the Wizarding community will be up in arms if they find out a group of witches and wizards have been killed by Muggles. Indeed, if it becomes common knowledge that they have weapons that can harm us, we could be facing an all-out war! The community will flock to the Dark Lord's side! We need to suppress this."

"That shouldn't be a problem. The only people who know what happened are my Aurors and they're not going to say anything," Dawlish shrugged.

"Good, make sure they don't. Impress upon them that what happened here today is top secret," Amelia said sternly. "In the meantime, I want your people to start interviewing any of the local Muggles to see if they saw anything. Make sure they're all Obliviated once you're finished. Moody, I want you to get in touch with your contacts and see if they can shed any light on this."

"Certainly, Amelia," Moody agreed gruffly. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to contact the Muggle government to see if they know who's behind this, and pray that don't. If this was the work of a legitimate Muggle agency, we might well be seeing the start of a concerted attack on the Wizarding world," she said grimly.

"I don't know, Amelia," Moody said shaking his head. "If this was the work of the Muggle government, I doubt they would have just left the bodies lying around here."

"I hope you're right," Amelia sighed, and turned to leave. Being Minister for Magic was not proving to be an easy job.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next day, an emergency meeting was held in Madam Bones's office. Most of her Heads of Departments were present, as were Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody. Amelia sat behind her desk and explained the situation to the assembled group.

"I've spoken to the Muggle Prime Minister, and he assures me that they had nothing to do with the incident yesterday," she told them. "I took the opportunity to perform a Legilimency scan on him, and it confirmed what he said."

"My contacts with the Muggle Police certainly knew nothing about the incident," agreed Kingsley Shacklebolt, her newly promoted Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Could this be the work of some sort vigilante group?" the Senior Undersecretary asked.

"It's certainly looking that way," Amelia confirmed with a sigh. "I'm sure I don't need to stress how serious this situation could be. If the Wizarding world gets wind that a group of Muggles are out hunting wizards, even if they are Death Eaters, then there will be uproar.

"Surely the Muggles have a right to defend themselves?" the Head of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes protested.

"Those Death Eaters were butchered," the Head of International Magical Cooperation pointed out. "Irrespective of who they were, if the knowledge that the Muggles can do this sort of thing to us gets out, we'll have a riot on our hands!"

"Quite right," Amelia agreed firmly. "I want this incident suppressed completely! No one, and I mean no one outside of this office, must learn of it. If anyone does blab, they'll be spending an extended stay at Azkaban. Understand?"

Everyone meekly nodded.

"Good, now, I think I need to know what I'm up against. Kingsley, I want you to commission a report on Muggle weapons and their capabilities. Get some of those useless Unspeakables to help you, if you want. I want to know what they are using, how much damage they can inflict, and how we combat it. Got that?" Amelia ordered.

"Of course, Minister," Kingsley agreed softly.

"I also want everyone with contacts in the Muggle world to start putting out feelers. I want to know who it is that killed those Death Eaters, and why they did it. Give this top priority, but for Merlin's sake, keep it quiet," she told them, giving them all a steely glare.

They all nodded again.

"Right, unless anyone else has anything to add…" she began.

"Actually, Amelia, I'm afraid I do," Dumbledore interrupted.

"This isn't another of your lectures on how misunderstood Muggles are, is it, Albus?" Amelia asked sourly.

"No, it's a rather more worrying matter, I'm afraid," he replied calmly. "You see, Harry Potter appears to have gone missing."

"Missing?" Amelia snapped. "What do you mean, missing?"

"He appears to have absconded from Hogwarts several days ago, apparently in the company of one Miss Ginevra Weasley. I have mounted a search for him, but so far have been unsuccessful in locating the young man," Dumbledore explained breezily.

"Several days ago? Why the blood hell didn't you mention this sooner, Albus? You're fully aware of my opinions regarding Potter, and I specifically told you that I wanted him watched closely," Amelia spat.

"Harry is, I have to say, a most resourceful young man, and managed to vanish without me or any of my staff noticing. I would remind you that he managed to hide from the Wizarding community for nearly eight years, and clearly has some talent for remaining unseen," Albus explained apologetically.

"Wait a minute," Moody interrupted. "Ginevra Weasley? As in Arthur and Molly's youngest?"

"That's correct," Dumbledore confirmed.

"But she can't be of age yet," Moody noted.

"Indeed, she is sixteen at present, with her seventeenth birthday in August," the old wizard confirmed.

"Well, that's it then," Amelia cried, "our excuse to bring him in! Kingsley, issue a warrant for the arrest of Harry Potter on the charge of kidnapping a minor."

"Right away, Minister," Kingsley confirmed reluctantly.

Amelia noticed the man's reticence, but ignored it. She didn't trust Potter one inch, and this was the pretence she needed to bring him to heel. The boy was up to no good, she could feel it. If only this hadn't happened at the same time as this damnable mess with the Muggle vigilantes.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry opened the front door of the house and marched in. He found Ginny curled up on the sofa watching television; some sort of daytime soap opera from Australia, if he wasn't mistaken.

"Well, the balloon's gone up," he said, dropping a newspaper on the sofa next to her. Ginny picked it up and began to scan the front page.

"Harry Potter kidnaps underage girl," she read out loud. "Mr Potter! Have you abducted some poor, innocent, little girl and had your wicked way with her?"

"Numerous times, actually," he smirked sitting down next to her, "and, as I recall, she was very happy about it."

"Yeah, she was actually," Ginny winked. "Wow, The Prophet has really gone overboard with this, haven't they? I'll be of age in six months, for Merlin's sake. They make me sound about five here!"

"I sense the insidious hand of Madam Bones behind this," he snorted. "She's obviously decided to use this as a means of ruining me. I can't say that I'm surprised, but it is a pain in the arse."

"Are you regretting bringing me with you?" Ginny asked in a concerned voice.

"Never," Harry declared adamantly. "You'd have been dead meat if I'd left you back at Hogwarts, and I've loved every second of us being together. I was serious when I said I couldn't do this without you, and I stand by that."

Ginny leaned over and gently kissed him.

"See? I'm feeling better already," he joked.

"Glad I could help," she smiled. "So, apart from picking up the paper, did you have any luck in Diagon Alley? You spent long enough putting on those Glamour Charms, after all."

"Nah, a total bust," Harry admitted in frustration. "I'd really hoped that Rookwood would show up, but he seems to be keeping a low profile. I suspect that wiping out that group of Death Eaters the other day has made the rest of them a bit skittish."

"I meant to ask about that. There's no mention in the paper about that, at all. I would have thought that nine Death Eaters getting rubbed out would have been worthy of at least a few paragraphs," she frowned.

"Yeah, I would have thought so, too. I'm starting to wonder if the way we took them down has something to do with it. I mean, we used Muggle weapons because they were the best way to attack a closely packed group like that, but what if the Ministry read something else into it? Maybe they think that the Muggles are starting to attack wizards, or something," Harry pondered.

"That could cause a whole heap of trouble," Ginny admitted. "On the other hand, no one has the slightest idea that it was us who staged the ambush."

"True, but next time I think we'd better mix in some magic when we attack the Death Eaters. We don't want to inadvertently start a war between us and the Muggles," Harry decided.

"Fair enough. So, as we don't have a dead Death Eater to interrogate, what do you fancy doing this afternoon? And don't say shagging; I'm spending half my time on my back, as it is!" Ginny said pointedly.

"Funny, I didn't hear you complaining," he grinned. "Okay, if you're not up for some rumpy-pumpy, how about we head down the pub?"

"Now you're talking!" she said enthusiastically. "Let me go and get changed."

Ginny leapt off the sofa and ran upstairs. She returned about ten minutes later, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a black leather jacket.

"Hmm, I like the look," Harry grinned. "Sexy and dangerous. How about we hit that place down by the docks?"

"Sounds good to me. Just make sure you've got your wallet," she said, already heading out the door.

Half-an-hour later, they were sitting in the large, Tudor-styled pub they had spotted on their first day in Bristol, but hadn't previously had the chance to visit. By this point, both of them had fake Muggle ID's, so they had no problems purchasing alcoholic drinks.

"So, have you decided what to do about Dumbledore yet?" Ginny asked as they sat down in a secluded dark-wood booth. For some reason, she'd foregone her favoured alcopops, and ordered a bottle of lager instead.

"Yeah, I've given this a lot of thought," he admitted, taking a sip of his pint. "My main worry up to this point was that if I took out Dumbledore, our best mate Tom would feel free to start wreaking havoc unchecked. After what Macnair said, however, I don't think taking Dumbles out of the game will have much effect."

"Nah, he did say that Tom thought the old git was no threat anymore, didn't he?" Ginny agreed.

"Indeed, but that makes me worried, too. If Tom does move against the old man, he's bound to take his wand after he kills him, and I don't want Riddle anywhere near the Elder Wand. I think we need to ambush Albus sooner rather than later, if only to protect the wand. The fact that the arrogant bastard condemned me to living in hell during my early years is a motivating factor, too," Harry growled.

"It won't be easy," Ginny cautioned. "Dumbledore is still an incredibly powerful wizard, and with the Deathstick in his hands, he'll be nearly unbeatable."

"True, if I intended to fight him face to face, but you know me; I'm a sneaky bastard," he grinned.

"Very true, love," Ginny nodded appreciatively. "So, do you know how to take him down?"

"I've a few ideas, but I've got more important things to concentrate on at the moment," Harry informed her.

"Like what?" she asked with a raise eyebrow.

"Like drinking about a million of these," he said waving his nearly empty beer glass at her, "and then taking you home and shagging you repeatedly on the sofa."

"Throw in a Chinese take-away as well, and you've got a deal," she replied breezily.

Harry smiled in agreement.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Amelia, your Aurors are a bunch of blockheads!" Moody yelled as he threw open the door to the Minister's office.

Madam Bones looked up in shock to see her old friend standing in the doorway clutching a role of parchment in his hand. He stomped forward, at least, as well as anyone with one leg can stomp, and stood defiantly in front of her desk.

"Minister, I'm so sorry," gibbered her Senior Assistant, Weasley, as he meekly trailed Moody into her office. "I tried to stop him, but he just ignored me!"

"That's alright, Weasley, you can leave," Amelia growled, making a mental note to replace the toadying little twerp as soon as possible. The fact that it was his sister who ran off with Potter didn't exactly endear the young man to her, either.

"But don't you want me to…" Weasley began.

"Out, NOW!" Amelia bellowed.

Weasley nearly broke the door in his hurry to slam it shut behind him.

"Now, what's all this about, Alastor? What have my Aurors done to offend you this time?" she asked wearily.

"They've been doing their usual half-arsed job," he raged. "I've been going through the evidence collected from the Death Eater massacre, and I found this little gem. It's a statement taken from a Muggle who lived in the street where the attack took place. It was discounted as the woman didn't actually witness what happened to the Death Eaters. Here, read it yourself."

Amelia took the parchment from Moody and began to read it curiously. The statement had obviously been taken surreptitiously using an Auto-Inking parchment, judging by the rambling style of writing. She hurried over most of the background details, but came to an abrupt halt when she read the last but one paragraph.

"…rushed out but I couldn't see anything, I'm afraid. I'm sure there are other people who could be of more use to you than me. Actually, there was a young couple hanging around outside just before all the noise started, now I think about it. They caught my eye because they were such a striking pair. The young man was very handsome, with long, black hair and the young woman, oh, such a pretty little thing! She had the most vivid red hair, she did. I'd never seen them around here before, so perhaps they were visiting someone? Anyway, if you track them down I'm sure they would have seen something. It's terrible what goes on these days, isn't it? Why, if my Stanley was alive today he…"

Amelia stared at the parchment for a moment as her brain registered the significance of the words.

"A young couple with black and red hair who just happen to be hanging around before the attack?" she blurted.

"It's bloody Potter, isn't it? He's up to his old tricks again," Moody noted grimly.

"The little shit!" Amelia spat. "I specifically warned him not to pull any of his vigilante crap again, and he's ignored me!"

"You're losing your touch, Amelia," Moody sniggered.

"Shut up, Alastor," she growled, when a thought occurred to her. "He's never used Muggle weapons before. Do you think he was deliberately trying to make us blame the Muggles to stir up trouble?"

"I don't think so," Moody said, shaking his head. "Besides, I'm not so sure he hasn't used Muggle weapons previously. Some of those Death Eaters he killed last year were so mangled you couldn't tell what happened to them. No, I think he's just been using some of the toys he has in his locker. I may not trust the arrogant little bastard, but I will admit he's never had anything to do with all this pure-blood nonsense. Plus, if he was trying to blame the Muggles, he and the Weasley girl would have disguised themselves, wouldn't they?"

"Good point," she acknowledged. "So, it appears the girl is as implicated as he is."

"Seems that way. From what I saw, she's a vicious little bitch and quite handy with her wand. I'm not surprised Potter recruited her, she seems the type," Moody noted.

"Yes, Susan said as much. Weasley hospitalised poor Hannah Abbott, Susan's best friend, remember. No doubt she and Potter get on like a house on fire," Amelia sniffed.

"So what do you want to do about this?" Moody asked.

"Why, we go public with it," Amelia announced. "Amend the warrant for Potter's arrest; uprate it to 'Terrorist Activities' and include the Weasley girl in it. If that evil little bastard thinks he's going to get away with this, he's mistaken!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

At that exact moment, just a couple of miles north of where Madam Bones sat, an old man was looking up at a three-story house in trepidation. The fact that no one had been able to enter this particular property for some years had always intrigued him, and the knowledge that he was being allowed to concerned him.

Frowning to himself, Dumbledore reached into the pocket of the Muggle-style suit jacket he was wearing and pulled out the note that he'd received that morning. It was short, sharp and could only have come from one person.

Dumbledore

Sorry about the Sleeping Potion, but consider it payback for lying to me about having my Father's cloak.

We need to talk. Meet me at my godfather's old house this lunchtime. Come alone. If I even get a whiff of one of that hag Bones's Aurors, I'll be gone and you'll never see me again.

There was no signature on the letter, but there didn't need to be. Dumbledore sighed, and wondered how best to approach this meeting. The fact that Potter had destroyed the diary meant that he had at least an idea of the book's importance. What other secrets was the boy privy to?

Deciding that prevaricating would solve nothing, Albus walked up to the front door and raised his hand to knock. He was surprised when the door swung open before he could touch it. Clearly, the house was occupied and he was expected. With mounting trepidation, he stepped into the house and heard the door swing shut behind him. Feeling more nervous than he could remember, he slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped his wand firmly.

This was the only reassurance he had from this whole mess. The fact that Potter hadn't taken his wand when he'd had the opportunity to could only mean the boy was ignorant of the existence of the Deathly Hallows. He'd obviously taken the Cloak of Invisibility as a keepsake of his father's, or simply for its abilities. No matter, the damn thing had never worked properly for Albus, and without the third, missing Hallow, was of little use.

Striding forward with a confidence he didn't feel, Dumbledore strained his ears for signs of life. Hearing nothing, he quickly cast a Homenum Revelio Spell, and was interested to note that there was only one other person in the house. Albus had expected Miss Weasley to be also present, but clearly Harry hadn't wanted her to be included in this conversation. So much the better.

Sensing that Harry must be on the first floor, Dumbledore started to mount the stairs. He was a little surprised when he encountered a decrepit-looking house-elf on the landing, scowling at him.

"Master Harry is in the drawing room," the elf croaked, and beckoned Albus forward. He followed the elf warily, all the while noting that the house, which was supposed to have been abandoned years ago, was in remarkably good condition.

He was led to an ornate room decorated with lavish tapestries and expensive-looking ornaments. In the centre of the room, reclining on a plush sofa, was Harry Potter. Albus barely registered the twisted little house-elf scurrying out the door.

"Mr Potter, it's nice to see you in such apparently good health. I was extremely concerned when you chose to leave Hogwarts in that abrupt manner," Dumbledore said by way of greeting.

"I think you know very well why I left in such haste," Potter replied calmly. To Dumbledore's keen eyes the boy appeared relaxed and content. If he'd been taking refuge in this house as it seemed, that was probably to be expected.

"I must say that I was disappointed by your actions, Harry," Albus replied. "There was really no need to stoop to such measures. The diary was, after all, completely safe and I was just storing it until a suitable method of destroying it became apparent. Clearly, you possess such a method and, if you'd merely shared your knowledge, we could have dealt with the matter without resorting to unpleasantness."

"Unpleasantness?" Harry repeated in amusement. "Is that what you call it? No, with that bitch Bones in power at the Ministry, my time at Hogwarts was coming to an end. The fact that she was so quick to issue a warrant for my arrest proves my point."

"Miss Weasley is underage, my boy," Albus pointed out gently. "Where is the young lady, by the way?"

"Oh, she just popped out for a bit," Harry smiled mysteriously.

"I'm sure her parents would very much appreciate knowing that she is safe," Albus said with slight disapproval in his voice.

"They couldn't give a flying fuck about Ginny, so don't give me that crap," Harry spat.

Dumbledore sighed, realising that the Weasley girl would be a sensitive issue with Potter. He decided not to press the point and get straight to the heart of the matter instead.

"What is it that you wanted to discuss, Harry?" he asked. "I'm sure that if I intercede with Amelia that I can…"

"I have no desire to go grovelling on my hands and knees to the Ministry," Harry interrupted fiercely. "They've lost their chance of cooperating with me and will have to pay the price for that later. I assume you're totally familiar with the prophecy about me and Voldemort?"

Albus blinked at the bombshell that Harry had just dropped on him. Potter knew the prophecy? This was not good.

"Did Professor Snape tell you of its existence before he vanished?" Dumbledore asked, fishing for information.

"No, actually I told him the whole thing, as he'd only heard part of it, after all. I heard the complete prophecy in the Department of Mysteries some years ago," Harry replied smugly.

"The Department of Mysteries?" Albus stuttered in shock. "But the orb containing that particular prophecy is still sat on a shelf, there!"

"Sorry, that's a fake," Harry explained with a smirk. "My guardian and I replaced it ages ago. If you were to open the orb that's there at the moment, you would get a rendition of a popular German drinking song by a Bavarian Oompah band. Trust me, no sane person would want to hear that!"

Albus stared at the young man, completely speechless.

"Of course, the prophecy itself explained a great many things," Harry continued. "So, when did you propose to have me sacrifice myself to Voldemort for the good of Wizarding society, then?"

"What are you…" Albus began but stopped. He could see by the look on Potter's face that lying would be useless. He straightened his back and looked the young man directly in the eye. "I had hoped to allow you a happy and carefree childhood, Harry. I wanted you to have a few good years before the inevitable happened."

"Inevitable? That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?" Harry noted with an edge to his voice.

"Harry, my dear boy, there are things that you don't know…" Albus began.

"What, you mean like the Horcrux in my scar?" Harry interjected in mock surprise.

Dumbledore nearly fell over he was so stunned. His total confusion only increased when Potter casually reached up to his forehead and wiped it with the back of his hand. The vivid red scar that was previously there smeared and nearly vanished completely.

"But…" he gasped.

"I've been free of that disgusting splinter of Voldemort's soul for a good seven years now. My guardian, who, unlike you, actually knew what he was doing, got rid of it painlessly through an Exorcism Ritual. Tell me, Albus, why didn't you think to do that?" Harry asked coldly.

"I know of no such ritual," Dumbledore protested. "Only someone intimately familiar with Soul Magic and Horcruxes would even know where to begin to construct such a thing! How did this guardian of yours gain such knowledge?"

"Oh, you know, when you're a Dark Lord you pick up a few things, here and there," Harry replied casually.

"I knew it!" Dumbledore roared, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at Harry. "I knew that you were in league with Voldemort!"

"Oh, not THAT Dark Lord, you silly man," Harry snorted.

"Then which one?" Albus demanded in angry confusion.

"The one that you were quite prepared to drop to your knees in front of. Of course, that would have only been in the hope of sucking him off, but still. Would you, dear?" Harry smirked.

The last part of Potter's sentence confused Albus for a second, until he suddenly felt an awful pain in his side. Looking down, he saw a large knife protruding from his body. With a gasp, his legs buckled underneath him.

"Expelliarmus!" he heard Potter cry, and a second later Albus's precious wand was ripped out of his fingers.

With his hand pressed to his wounded side, he looked up at the young man, who was standing with the Elder wand held triumphantly in his left hand. A moment later, the Weasley girl appeared, seemingly from out of thin air, but through his pain Albus realised that she had just removed the Cloak of Invisibility.

"Why…" he managed to gasp.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry replied coldly. "With this wand in my hand, I now possess all three of the Deathly Hallows. I couldn't have just taken the wand from you in your office, as it might not have recognised me as its master. I had to lure you here, and my darling Ginny took care of the rest. I thought you'd try that 'Homenum Revelio' crap, so I had Kreacher fetch her from the nearby park where she'd been waiting as soon as you were in this room. You really are a naïve fool, aren't you, Albus?"

With blood now running freely down his legs, Albus knew his time was almost done. He stared in horror at the two youths, trying to convey his revulsion at what they'd done through his eyes.

"Consider this payback for being so willing to condemn me to death," Potter spat, "and for those years of hell you put me through with the Dursleys. 'A few good years'? What a pile of shit! You just wanted me stashed away safely until you could throw me at Voldemort. But don't worry, Albus, my old mate, we'll be seeing you again, shortly. Avada Kedavra!"

The green light hit him, and Albus knew no more.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stood pensively within the carefully drawn circle located in the basement of their cosy Bristol house. Ginny sat on a chair nearby and offered him an encouraging smile. Taking a deep breath, he opened his parent's locket and removed the Resurrection Stone.

After turning it in his hand three times, the transparent figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared. The old man blinked at Harry without undue malice.

"Ah, a most skilfully prepared trap, my boy," he noted in a detached voice. "I was foolish to fall for it."

"You know that you cannot tell lies to me, spirit?" Harry said forcefully.

"I do, Harry, just ask me what you will and then, I beg you, let me depart from this bitter life. My dreams have turned to ashes and I have failed in every conceivable way. I no longer wish to gaze at my own mistakes," Dumbledore replied sadly.

"Okay, let's start with what you know about the Deathly Hallows," Harry began. "Legend has it that the person who unites all three Hallows will gain great power. I now possess all three objects, but I've yet to see any noticeable difference. Tell me, what is the power of the Hallows?"

Dumbledore actually smiled. "Oh, Harry, you have fallen into the same trap that I did," he chuckled. "Uniting the Hallows does indeed make you Master of Death and, once you take that path into the next life, only then will you reap the benefits."

"What are you saying?" Harry demanded. "That the Hallows will only give me power once I'm dead?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Albus confirmed. "Death will greet you like an old friend and your reward will be unimaginable. It will, however, be unobtainable until you leave this mortal coil."

"Shit!" Harry cursed. He'd been counting on using the Deathly Hallows to defeat Voldemort and, if necessary, the Ministry.

"Do not despair, my boy, for you have achieved something no other person has done in history. It may not be of benefit to you now, but you will rejoice in the next life," the old man said with a touch of smugness in his voice.

"What was your plan for me?" Harry demanded, deciding not to dwell on the issue of the Hallows.

"You guessed much of it already," Dumbledore admitted. "I knew you were still alive, of course; my monitoring spells told me that you didn't perish in the fire at the Dursley household and, while I was unable to discover your location, I was able to ascertain that you were healthy and happy. Once you returned, I was trying to arrange a direct confrontation between you and Voldemort. That was why I kept the diary intact, so that it could be used to engineer such a meeting. I had hoped that your death would be the sacrifice required to defeat him. I knew you were a Horcrux from the moment I set eyes on you, and that your death was an unavoidable requirement for victory."

"Except it wasn't, was it?" Harry spat angrily.

"No, indeed, it appears not. I have met with Gellert here in this plane of existence already, and he was most vociferous in explaining my failings. In my defence, I knew of no ritual that would have removed that soul splinter from within you, Harry, but I will confess that I never sought out a method, either. I was convinced you had to die and I was a rather stubborn fellow, I'm afraid," Dumbledore confessed.

"You nearly condemned an innocent child to death," Ginny growled, unable to restrain herself any longer. "You call yourself a good man, but you're just as evil as Voldemort!"

"I fear you might be right, my dear child," he agreed. "Death has a way of making you revaluate your past actions, and I have come up short, it seems. My only defence is that I was doing what I believed was right at the time, and that I am as prone to errors of judgement as the next man."

"Another question: why didn't you do anything to clear Sirius's name?" Harry asked. "You suppressed my parents' will and did nothing to convince the Ministry that he was innocent. Was that all just so you could maintain control of me?"

"For the most part, yes, but I also wanted to keep my involvement in the matter quiet," Dumbledore confirmed. "You see, it was I who cast the Fidelius Charm over your parents' house, so naturally I knew who their Secret-Keeper was. That was bad enough, but should it ever have been discovered that I was fully aware that Pettigrew was a traitor, I would have…"

"Wait!" Harry bellowed. "You knew that Peter Pettigrew was a traitor, but you still made him my parents' Secret-Keeper? For the love of magic, why?"

"Because events had to unfold as set out in the prophecy," Dumbledore explained. "Voldemort had to mark either you or the Longbottom boy to make you his equal. Voldemort already had a way into Longbottom Manor, but would have had no means of getting to you should the Fidelius have been cast with Black as the Keeper. So, I implanted a few suggestions in Sirius's mind, and the wheels of destiny could turn unhindered. I confess, I was surprised that Voldemort chose to attack you first, but I suppose that he felt that a half-blood like himself would be the greater threat in the end. It was a shame; I was rather fond of James and Lily."

"You bastard," Harry growled. "YOU BASTARD! You killed my parents as effectively as if you'd cast the Killing Curse, yourself. You murdered them, you evil old shit."

"I did what was necessary," the old man replied sadly.

"No, you didn't," Harry spat back. "You did what was easy. Never once did you step back and think that the prophecy could be interpreted differently. Hell, if that damn thing was valid, fate would have found a way to put the conditions in place. You just had to stick your beak in, didn't you?"

"What you say is true, but the conditions may have been met at a far greater cost. For the sake of three lives, I saw the chance to defeat Voldemort once and for all. That had to be worth it, didn't it?" Dumbledore implored.

"It wasn't your decision to make!" Harry yelled. "For all you know, nobody might have had to die. You just appointed yourself god, didn't you?

"I…" Dumbledore began.

"No! I won't listen to your bullshit anymore," he roared. "You've made a grave error of judgement, Dumbledore, and one I intend to punish appropriately. You said my powers as the Master of Death only really effected the afterlife, well, I'm going to make use of that right now. I curse you, Albus Dumbledore. You will remain in the limbo for eternity, never resting, never moving on. You can rot there, you fucker!"

"Harry, no, please!" Dumbledore begged, his hands outstretched.

"Screw you, arsehole," Harry growled and let the Resurrection Stone drop from his fingers. Dumbledore's image instantly vanished.

Harry stood, trembling with anger and grief. A few moments later, he felt a pair of arms slip around him, and he inhaled a familiar scent as Ginny embraced him tightly.

"It's okay, love," she whispered softly.

"It's not, Ginny, it really isn't," Harry murmured in a broken voice.

"You avenged your parents," she said fiercely. "That's all you could do."

"Maybe, and that hypocritical old bastard certainly deserved his fate, but the fact remains Dumbledore robbed me of my family, and there's nothing more important than family, is there?" he replied mournfully.

Ginny just held him tighter. What could she say to refute his words?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny curled her legs up underneath her, and looked sadly at the empty pizza box. Was there still some ice cream left in the freezer, or had she eaten it already? Either way, she was probably too comfortable here on the sofa to get up and check.

She glanced over at Harry, who was seated next to her, absently staring at the television screen. He'd not been himself for the last week, not since he'd learnt of Dumbledore's malevolent meddling. Hell, they hadn't had sex since the incident, which was extremely unusual and, to Ginny's mind, completely unacceptable.

Truthfully, there hadn't actually been much time for the more pleasurable aspects of life. The information they had collected from Macnair several weeks before was getting stale and they'd been forced to act on it before it became totally out of date. They'd therefore launched a two-person war against all the Death Eaters Macnair had named who were still out in the open. In a series of lightning raids, she and Harry had killed eight of Voldemort's supporters, and had managed to salvage items or body parts from five of them. This in turn had yielded further intelligence which needed to be acted on. The last week had been a blur, and throughout Harry had acted like a ruthless machine, efficient and unfeeling. Ginny had decided enough was enough.

This night off had been at her insistence. Harry had accepted her argument that they would start getting sloppy if they became too fatigued, but hadn't seemed terribly happy about the enforced break. He'd silently eaten his share of the pizza she had ordered, and was now sitting through the video she had rented equally quietly. She needed to break him out of his current funk, but knew him well enough that the direct approach would only make him dig his heels in. She decided to start on a more work-related topic.

"So, have you decided what you're going to do about Lupin and his shape-shifting little tart?" she asked casually.

Harry looked at her in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there, before his face relaxed. "Nothing," he said simply.

"Nothing?" she queried, not quite believing she'd heard him correctly.

"Yeah, they're not worth it. Besides, in some ways they're as much victims of Dumbledore's lies as I am. They were stupid and they should have at least given Sirius a chance to explain himself, but I can't start attacking people just because they're dumb, can I? I'd have to wipe out the whole of the Ministry otherwise, wouldn't I?" he replied.

Ginny smiled. This was much more like the old Harry. Secretly, she was delighted that he'd decided not to take revenge on Lupin and Tonks. He'd been becoming a bit too ruthless of late, and she didn't want him turning Dark. The war they were fighting was a just one, and they didn't need to resort to becoming as bad as their foes.

"What about Voldemort's spy in the Ministry, that Bryant woman? Are we going to take her out soon?" Ginny asked.

"I've been kind of reluctant to do that," Harry admitted. "In the eyes of the Ministry she's still a loyal worker and if they get wind that we've killed her, then they'll think we're targeting them and take the appropriate steps. At least everyone we've taken out at this point has a history of being a Death Eater, even if they received pardons. I'm sure that Madam Bones is aware of that pattern."

"True," she replied, again pleased that he was showing restraint. "On the other hand, we can't just let the woman keep feeding Tom information."

"No, but I think we might have to make this one look like an accident," Harry admitted. "We have time to arrange that, though. I'm sure that Bryant isn't supplying Voldemort anything too important of late. No, I have a much higher priority target that I want to take down."

"Who?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. Aside from being an evil bitch, she's one of Tom's most trusted followers. Think how much useful intelligence we got from Macnair; if we can do the same to Lestrange, who knows what we'll discover. We might even learn where the final Horcrux is," Harry explained, his eyes almost glowing in anticipation.

"She's also bloody dangerous and well hidden," Ginny pointed out. "How are you planning to flush her out?"

"Oh, I have the workings of a plan, but it needs a bit more thought. Once I've got it all mapped out I'll tell you about it," he said, turning his eyes back to the screen.

Ginny also turned her head back to the television and watched a few more minutes of the film she'd picked out.

"Charlie would enjoy this film," she noted blandly. "Those dinosaurs look a bit like dragons."

"I wonder what Steven Spielberg would say if he knew that massive monsters really do exist," Harry chuckled.

"Harry, I want to visit my family," Ginny blurted, almost before she realised what she was saying.

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I thought you hated your family," he replied.

"Well, I do… sort of. But it's like you said, nothing is more important than family, and I want them to at least know that I'm alright," she explained sheepishly.

"Can't you just send them a letter? It would be a lot less risky," he pointed out.

"I could, but I don't think they'd believe it was from me or, at least, that I wrote it of my own free will. I just want to pop into the Burrow unexpectedly, say my piece, and then get out. I wouldn't be there more than a few minutes," she said hopefully.

"It's too risky at the moment," Harry replied firmly. "With everything that's been going on lately, I'm pretty sure that your family home would be watched."

"But I could…" she began.

"Please, Ginny, not right now. Wait until things calm down a bit, and then go. Okay?" he insisted.

"Okay," she sighed. She knew arguing with him when he was this adamant about something was futile.

"Look, I'm not saying don't speak to them, but just not right now. You were right; I did say nothing was more important than family, but getting yourself captured isn't going to help anyone, especially me. Right now, you're my family, Ginny, and it would kill me to lose you," he told her softly.

Ginny blinked and felt tears start to form in her eyes. It suddenly hit home to her that she was virtually all Harry had left.

"I am your family, Harry, and I always will be," she said, scooting over and throwing her arms around him, "and you're my family, too."

"Not like one of your brothers, I hope," he joked.

"Ick! The amount of shagging we do, I should bloody hope not!" she exclaimed, before pretending to be sick.

"Would you… I mean… err, would, one day, you want to make things official?" he asked, suddenly seeming extremely nervous.

"What, you mean like in getting married?" she asked in surprise. "Harry Potter, if that was a proposal, it royally sucked!"

"No, no, it wasn't," he laughed, "but would you even consider it, one day? Perhaps once we've polished off laughing Tom and his followers. I don't know how you even feel about marriage, let alone me."

"Well, you do have lots of lovely gold in your vault, and these pizzas don't grow on trees," she joked. "I don't know. I'm only sixteen, so I haven't really thought about it. I guess I would like to get married one day, and I suppose getting hitched to you wouldn't be too terrible, not now I've managed to get you taking a shower every day."

"Where did all this crap about personal hygiene come from?" he protested, sniffing his own armpit.

"I'm only teasing," she giggled, snuggling up to him. "I guess the answer is yes, one day I would like to get married and have a few kids. Now, however, is not the time to be thinking about such things, and if I even suspect you're going to go down on one knee in front of me, you'll get a swift kick in the bollocks."

"Well, that's a good way to kill the romantic mood," he snorted.

"Romantic? I'll have you know that you've been neglecting your duties as my boyfriend," she sniffed. "Do you know when the last time I got laid was?"

"Yeah, it was… bloody hell! I have been neglecting my duties, haven't I?" Harry exclaimed.

"You have," she agreed seductively. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

In answer, Harry slipped his hand up under her t-shirt and pulled it straight over her head, before he began to kiss her neck passionately.

"Well, that a good start," she purred as she felt his hands slide over her back, seeking her bra strap.

"Oh, you better believe it. It's been far too long since I heard you scream my name," he whispered into her ear.

Ginny felt a shiver run through her body. The day was definitely looking up…

16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 - Deceiver

The penultimate chapter, and I'm sure many of you will be able to guess how this is going to end by now.

I should flag up a violence warning here. The scene with Ginny and Dawlish is particularly gruesome and if you're in the least bit squeamish you might want to skip that bit. If you're male, be prepared to feel very, very uncomfortably.

Huge thanks, as always, to Arnel for beta reading.

"Okay, Harry, the outer Protection Jinxes are down," Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded and slowly opened the gate. It swung open with a soft creaking noise, making him wince slightly. There were no signs of activity from the small bungalow in front of him, however, so it appeared that their target remained unaware of their presence.

On his signal, Ginny came up and slipped her arm around his waist. Harry then threw the Cloak of Invisibility over both of them, allowing them to approach the house without any risk of detection. Upon reaching the front door, Ginny immediately began to cast a series of spells.

"Any problems?" Harry whispered.

"Nah," she grinned and with a slight push of her hand, the door swung open. Harry just shook his head at her cockiness.

Creeping into the darkened house, Harry sniffed the air. He caught the scent of a woman almost immediately, coming from the room to his right. Gently, he reached for the doorknob and with agonising slowness, turned it. The door opened to reveal a dark, but otherwise unremarkable, bedroom. A double bed took up most of the space, and in the pale light he could just make out the shape of a body lying under the covers. He raised his wand and sent a single Stunning Spell into it.

"Well, that was easy," Ginny declared in a normal voice.

"Let's check we've got the right person before we start slapping ourselves on the back," he admonished. With a wave of his wand, the lights in the room came on and he was able to see what he was doing.

"Ugh, what ugly wallpaper," Ginny noted.

Harry ignored her and went over to the slumbering body. He turned the woman's head so he could see her face clearly before he grunted in satisfaction. "It's her," he confirmed.

"Great, want to interrogate her here, or do we take her back home?" Ginny asked.

"Let's do it here," Harry decided. "I don't see the point of dragging her all the way home if we end up having to dump the body somewhere."

"I guess," Ginny agreed and Levitated the unconscious woman onto a chair that was situated in front of a vanity unit. A couple of flicks of her wand, and the woman was bound to the chair with thick ropes.

"Wakey-wakey," Harry called out and awoke the woman with a swish of his wand.

"What… who…" she mumbled groggily.

"Hi, we're conducting a survey," Ginny announced brightly. "We're asking one hundred Ministry traitors their most favoured way of being executed. Your choices are 'a' beheading, 'b', the Killing Curse, 'c' a sharp knife up the…"

"Who are you?" the woman screeched. "What do you want with me?"

"I think you know who we are, Miss Bryant," Harry said coolly. "If you think about it, I'm sure you can figure out why we're here, too."

"You!" Bryant gasped. "But what do you want with me? I've done nothing!"

"Bored now!" Harry yawned before point his wand at the woman's head. "Legilimens!"

There was a long silence, punctuated only by the occasional whimper from Bryant. After five minutes or so, Harry lowered his arm and relaxed.

"So, can we use her?" Ginny demand impatiently.

"No, she's really low on the pecking order," Harry said in a disappointed voice. "Getting Scrimgeour's address was her big coup."

"The weak-willed bastard got what he deserved," Bryant spat having obviously realised that deceit was pointless now.

"She's also a fanatical blood-purist," Harry noted with disgust. "Her boyfriend is actually a Death Eater, would you believe."

"Yuck, talk about having no taste. Still, that does explain the wallpaper," Ginny grinned.

"No taste?" Bryant yelled. "At least I'm not rutting a filthy half-blood like this vermin."

Ginny casually walked over to the woman and slapped her hard across the face. "You do know your precious master is a half-blood, don't you?" she asked tauntingly. "Hell, old snake-face is barely human any more. So don't give me that crap about 'purity', bitch."

"Lies, all lies!" Bryant screamed defiantly "You'll be begging for forgiveness when you're on your knees in front of the Dark Lord, miscreants!"

"Somehow, I doubt that," Ginny snorted. "So, what do we do with her now, Harry?"

"Simple, this," Harry declared. "Avada Kedavra!"

A brilliant green light shot from Harry's wand and the woman slumped in her seat, stone dead.

"Okay, efficient, but not very subtle," Ginny noted wryly. "I thought we were going to make this look like an accident?"

"I had a better idea, aided by a few memories I lifted from that last Death Eater we captured," Harry grinned. "Come outside, my pretty, for a have a new trick to show you."

The pair of them marched outside and paused in the garden. Turning back towards the bungalow, Harry raised his wand and shouted "Morsmordred!"

"Well, aren't you a clever boy," Ginny said, admiring the immense glowing skull that was forming in the air above the house.

"It's not perfect, but it will do," Harry announced. "Let's go home, love. I'm tired and I want nothing better than to cuddle up with a warm little redhead."

"As long as you don't put your cold feet on me again," Ginny declared. "I wake up with a start whenever you do that."

"Only because you keep pulling the duvet off me," he griped. "No wonder my feet get cold."

"Oh, poor darling," Ginny said unconvincingly. "I'm sure I'll find a way to make it up to you."

"I certainly hope so," he grinned, before Disapparating away. A second later, Ginny followed, leaving a huge, ominous green skull floating in the air for all to see.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

With mounting trepidation, Ginny stealthily approached the back door of the Burrow. For the millionth time, she questioned whether she was doing the right thing. It was bad enough that she'd already lied to Harry. He'd gone out on a reconnaissance mission trailing a Death Eater and she'd begged off, claiming she wasn't feeling well. As soon as he had left, she'd been out the door and had Apparated to a spot near her childhood home.

Harry had been right; the Burrow was being watched. Fortunately, she'd been able to bypass the lurking man in her wolf form with ease. Now, back in human form, she hesitated at the familiar kitchen door, uncertain of what welcome she'd receive inside. Taking a deep breath, she carefully opened the old wooden door and crept inside.

Familiar scents immediately assaulted her nose. Her family had eaten hotpot for dinner, she could tell, with spotted dick for pudding. The aroma was enough to fill her with pangs of sadness and deep yearnings for a simpler time before she'd been made a Slytherin. Concentrating, she used her wolf-enhanced sense of smell to establish exactly who was in the house. Her mother and father were here, certainly, but she could also detect the faint scent of Percy, which surprised her. With her brother Ron at Hogwarts and the twins renting a place with their friend Lee Jordan, her parents should have been the only people here. That said, Percy's scent was weak, so maybe he'd just visited recently.

Feeling reasonably confident that they wouldn't be interrupted, Ginny headed for the sitting room. Gently pushing the door open, she heard her parents chatting softly. With her heart in her mouth and her wand in her hand, she stepped into the room purposely.

"Hello Mum. Hello Dad," she said in a firm voice.

"Ginny?" Molly gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny, I…" her father began while starting to rise out of his seat.

"Please, stay seated and keep your hands where I can see them," she ordered, brandishing her wand. Arthur sunk back into his seat.

"I'll keep this brief as I know the Burrow is being watched," Ginny began. "I know that things haven't been particularly good between us, but you're still my family and I felt I had to come and talk to you. I just wanted you to know that I left Hogwarts of my own volition. There were no spells or potions involved; I just believe in what Harry's doing and I want to be a part of it."

"Ginny, love, the Ministry is saying that you and that Potter boy have been doing terrible things," Arthur said warily. "They're calling you a terrorist, for Merlin's sake! What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Dad, despite what lies Madam Bones has been spewing, what we're doing is right! The only people we're attacking are Death Eaters, a job the Ministry should be doing, not chasing us! Harry is the real deal, Dad, he's the one who's going to destroy You-Know-Who, and all the bloody Ministry are doing is getting in his way," Ginny snapped.

"What rubbish has that delusional boy been filling your head with?" Molly cried. "He's just a child; how can he possible defeat You-Know-Who?"

"There are things I can't tell you, but you'll just have to trust me on this. Hell, even Dumbledore believed Harry was special. It's only Bones that refuses to believe that prophecy," Ginny pointed out.

"Prophecy? What prophecy?" Molly asked indignantly. "Besides, Dumbledore has gone missing and no one can find him. We're in big trouble without him, so please don't drag your adolescent boyfriend into this!"

"Has he… touched you inappropriately at all, Ginny?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Dad, I love him," Ginny replied wearily. "I would do anything for him and he would do anything for me. We've even talked about marriage in a few years. Let's just say we're totally committed to each other and leave it at that, please?"

"This is ridiculous, Ginny," Molly scolded. "Your only hope is to hand yourself in. If you surrender willingly I'm sure they'll go easy on you."

"I'm not going to argue about this, Mum," Ginny scowled. "I only came here to let you know that…"

Ginny's voice trailed off as she noticed her father was not looking directly at her. She'd spent enough time within Slytherin House to learn that reading other people's body language was a skill that could save your life. It was this hard-won ability that made her realise that Arthur was in fact looking slightly over her shoulder. Tensing herself, she spun round with her wand raised.

"Stupefy!" a voice cried out.

As she turned, Ginny caught the briefest glimpse of her brother Percy, before everything went black.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny awoke suddenly, and it took a few moments before she realised where she was. She was sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, tied very securely to a chair. Several people were standing in front of her in a semi-circle. Her parents stood regarding her tearfully while Percy just glared at her with a look of contempt on her face. More worrying were the two other men present, both dressed in Auror's robes.

"Miss Weasley, I must inform you that you are under arrest by order of the Minister for Magic," one of the Aurors recited blandly.

"You traitorous backstabbers!" Ginny yelled at her family. "I only came here to let you know I was alright, and you turn me in, you bastards!"

"You're a dangerous criminal wanted by the Ministry. Of course we were going to turn you in," Percy said pompously.

"You total shit!" Ginny raged. "Where the hell did you spring from, anyway?"

"I was simply upstairs," Percy replied smugly. "My flat is being decorated so I'm staying here for a few days."

"Please, Ginny, this is for the best. You might not see that right now…" Molly started to say.

"Damn right I don't see that! Mum, they'll throw me in Azkaban until I rot. How can that possibly be for the best?" Ginny yelled in despair.

"You can't complain, you only brought this upon yourself," Percy noted coldly.

"Shut it, you!" she snarled. "You'd sell anyone out to your precious Ministry!"

"I'm sorry if I happen to believe in law and order," Percy retorted. "Of course, those are things you've never much concerned yourself with, are they?"

"This is getting us nowhere," one of the Aurors declared. "Weasley, we're taking you to the Ministry. I believe Madam Bones is keen to interrogate you, herself."

A wave of despondency crashed over Ginny. Harry had been right and she hadn't listened to him. She dreaded what he would think when he came home tonight and found her gone.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Wake up," a harsh voice bellowed.

Groggily, Ginny opened her eyes and looked up, only to see the imposing figure of Madam Bones glaring at her angrily.

"He wasn't there, was he?" Ginny said smugly.

"No, indeed, your precious boyfriend appears to have departed in somewhat of a hurry. He mustn't care too much about your fate, Miss Weasley," Bones replied sternly.

"What would getting caught have done to help me?" Ginny scoffed. "Besides, if you really wanted to catch him you should have been a bit quicker with the Veritaserum, shouldn't you?"

The Aurors had questioned her for most of the day after forcing a load of the truth serum down her throat. The location of their hide-out had been one of the first things she'd been asked, but Ginny had been confident that the delay in getting her from the Burrow to the Ministry's interrogation rooms had given Harry enough time to get out. He'd promised to only be gone around an hour, so he would have returned to their Bristol home ages ago. While he would have been alarmed she wasn't there, she'd been dropping enough hints about visiting her parents that he would probably have worked out where she'd gone. At least she hoped he did.

Madam Bones had taken over the interrogation personally a few hours before. Ginny was relieved that her line of questioning, and that of the Aurors previously, had concentrated on their activities against the Death Eaters. While the truth serum meant that Ginny couldn't lie, the information she revealed did entirely depend on the questions she was asked. As the questioning hadn't touched on the Horcruxes, Harry's possession of the Deathly Hallows, or their killing of Dumbledore, Ginny hadn't been forced to mention them. Indeed, all they seemed worried about was gathering enough evidence to convict her and Harry, without trying to learn anything useful to use against Voldemort.

"Where would he have gone?" Bones snapped. "Don't even think of lying, I can have another bottle of Veritaserum here in minutes."

"Harry mentioned that he had three other safe houses scattered around the country, but he never told me exactly where they were," Ginny shrugged. "Sorry, I can't help you."

"Oh, you can still help us," Bones growled. "With any luck, your evil sidekick will try to rescue you, and when he does we'll have him. Even if he leaves you to rot, I'll be happy knowing we've taken a dangerous criminal off the streets."

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny demanded. "You know that Harry and I were fighting Voldemort, and doing a bloody good job of it, too! Do you actually want You-Know-Who to win?"

"What I want, little girl, is a well-ordered and peaceful society. You may think you're some kind of heroes, but to me you and the Death Eaters are the same. You both think that you can ignore the law and carry on with your little war anywhere you please. Do you have any idea of the problems you're creating? The International Confederation of Wizards is putting tremendous pressure on us because of all the breeches in secrecy, and the Muggles are becoming suspicious, too. No, Miss Weasley, I don't want the Dark Lord to win, but equally I don't want you to win, either." Bones explained coldly.

Ginny thought desperately. Clearly Bones didn't know what she was up against and didn't understand Harry's value in the fight. Did she tell this woman more in an effort to get her to accept their help? Seeing Bones turn towards the cell door, Ginny hurriedly made up her mind.

"You won't defeat Voldemort without our help, you know. Not while he has his Horcruxes," she blurted.

Bones stopped in her tracks. She turned and looked at Ginny with an incredulous expression on her face. "What did you say?" she demanded.

"I said Horcruxes," Ginny repeated, feeling a bit more confident. "Harry has been attempting to destroy the Horcruxes that Voldemort created for years, now. You do know what they are, don't you?"

"Of course I do, you stupid girl," Bones snapped. "How did you and Potter discover about such things?"

"Oh, Harry has his ways," Ginny said evasively. "The point is that he's been trying to make Voldemort mortal for some time, and he has nearly succeeded. He's already destroyed five of them and just has one more to go. He'd probably have done it by now if he hadn't had to keep dodging your bloody Aurors."

"Voldemort made six? Oh, sweet Merlin!" Bones gasped.

"You need us, Madam Bones," Ginny said flatly.

"Need you? Of course I don't need you," the woman replied angrily. "We've known that the Dark Lord had created at least one since the day he attacked Potter. The Department of Mysteries came to that conclusion almost immediately. What I'm more concerned about is this information getting out. If the rank and file of the Wizarding world learn that it's possible to make yourself immortal through the creation of these vile objects, the effects would be catastrophic."

"It will be catastrophic if we don't finish off Voldemort," Ginny retorted. "Never mind about keeping the lid on all this, Harry Potter is your best hope of putting that evil bastard down and, I assure you, he won't be in much of a mood to help if anything happens to me."

Bones thought for a second. "I'll do you a deal," she announced. "It is vital that the existence of these disgusting, evil objects is kept secret. Your trial has been set for the day after tomorrow and nothing can change that. If you give me your word that you will keep quiet about the Horcruxes during examination, I'll arrange for you to receive a reduced sentence, to be served in the minimum security section of Azkaban. Then, if Potter agrees to work with us, I may see fit to arrange for an early release for you. That is dependent on Potter's co-operation, though. Do we have an agreement?"

Ginny thought for a moment. What Madam Bones said made sense; information about the Horcruxes should be kept secret. Besides, she'd been trained by one of Gringotts finest curse-breakers, and the 'minimum security section' sounded like something she might be able to arrange an 'early release' from herself. Even if she couldn't, she didn't doubt that Harry would be prepared to work with the Ministry if it meant finishing off old snake-face.

"Okay, you've got a deal," Ginny agreed.

Bones nodded curtly and left, the heavy door of the cell slamming loudly behind her. Ginny sat on her hard bench and wondered if she'd done the right thing. More than anything, though, she bitterly regretted not listening to Harry about her family.

Sweet Merlin, please let him be alright, she thought.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The court hearing was dragging on and on, and Ginny was struggling to pay attention. She'd been listening to various witnesses badmouth her for hours now, and she was getting heartily sick of it. Listening to her family condemn her had been the worst. Only her father and Bill had refused to give evidence against her.

The main courtroom in the Ministry building was full to overflowing. Ginny had noticed most of her family were now seated in the public viewing seats. She'd tried to glare in their direction, although none of them apparently seemed to notice. Madam Bones was also in attendance, sitting in the front row just in front of the assembled members of the Wizengamot, but she too was studiously avoiding looking at her.

As she had expected, the recordings of her being interrogated under the effects of Veritaserum featured heavily in the proceedings and were pretty damning. Unfortunately, the disappearance of Blaise Zabini was one of the things the Aurors had questioned her about and she had calmly admitted to killing the boy. The fact that he had killed Tracy Davis seemed of no interest to them, at all.

The Councils were just summing up at present so, mercifully, the trial would soon be over. The faster she was convicted and carted off to Azkaban, the quicker she could work on a way to escape. Her appointed Defence Council was currently speaking, although he didn't appear to be actually saying anything in her defence. Not that she was surprised, of course.

"Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot," the crusty old Judge said after the councils had finished speaking, "you have heard all the evidence against Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley. I now call on you to pronounce her fate. If you believe her innocent of the charges brought against her, please raise your hand now."

Not a single hand was raised.

"If you believe her guilty, please raise your hand now," the Judge continued. This time, every member of the Wizengamot put their hand in the air.

"Miss Weasley, the members of this court have found you guilty of all the charges brought against you," the decrepit old Judge intoned pompously. "You have been found to be a remorseless murderess, with scant concern for the laws of this land. You have committed the most heinous of offenses and, with this in mind, I have no alternative you to be sentenced to receive a Dementor's Kiss. The sentence will be carried out two days from now at Azkaban. Take her away."

"WHAT!" Ginny screamed. "That wasn't what was agreed! Wait, I have something to tell you all…"

Ginny stopped and shut her mouth. She'd just realised that although she was talking, no sound was coming from between her lips. Obviously, as soon as the sentence had started to be delivered, someone had hit her with a Silencing Charm.

Feeling panic mounting inside her, she looked pleadingly in Madam Bones's direction. The stern witch looked back at her without any expression on her face, before she turned and started to leave with everyone else. Ginny felt a pair of strong hands grab her and drag her away, presumably to taken her back to her cell.

Her mind was momentarily a whirl of confusion about what had just happened, before clarity hit her. She'd been duped! Madam Bones had never had any intention of giving her that lenient sentence; she'd just wanted to make sure that she didn't blurt out anything about the Horcruxes during her trial. Now the Minister had made sure that she would be silenced permanently. Clearly, the Ministry considered it more important to suppress information about the Horcruxes than it was to fight Voldemort. With a sinking feeling, Ginny realised that she'd been tricked into withholding the one piece of information that might have saved her.

As a pair of Aurors dragged her away, she swore at them bitterly. Not that anyone could hear her, of course.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next day was pure misery for her. She'd been transferred to the maximum security section of Azkaban that morning, after spending the previous night in the Ministry's holding cells. She'd never have dreamed that she could have considered her previous accommodation desirable in anyway, but now she bitterly wished she was back there.

Her cell here in Azkaban was freezing cold and damp. It reminded her in many ways of the horrid prison cell that she and Snape had rescued Harry from, and it brought her dark amusement that both the Ministry and Voldemort would share ideas about prisoner accommodation. In fact, Voldemort's dungeon was more preferable, simply due to the lack of Dementors.

The vile creatures had plagued her constantly throughout the day, sometimes just coming and hovering right outside her cell. Her throat was already raw from all the screaming she'd done and she felt like she would go insane at any moment. How some people survived years in this hellhole was beyond her. The thought that one of those monsters would be sucking her soul from her in the morning terrified her more than she could say.

Her only hope now was that Harry might stage a rescue attempt, but that idea worried her, too. If he was caught trying to free her, she would never forgive herself. If he had any sense, he would stay well away. Besides, that's what she deserved. He'd told her not to trust her family, and she'd ignored him. This situation was entirely her fault.

Feeling more wretched than she believed possible, she chewed on the lump of hard bread that had been given to her for dinner. A cup of rancid water was also provided, but despite this being the first sustenance she had been given that day, she really couldn't face any of it. Her only comfort was that the Dementors had apparently left for the moment.

"Well, you're in a pickle, my little darling, and no mistake!" a male voice chortled from outside of her cell. Looking up, Ginny saw an Auror, Dawlish, she believed was his name, lounging against the bars with a cruel smirk on his face.

"What do you want, pig?" she snarled, in no mood to listen to his taunting.

"Now, now, Miss Weasley, that's no way to talk to me. I'm just trying to be friendly, that's all," he grinned. Then, to her surprise, he pulled a key from his robes and opened her cell door. Once inside, he locked it behind him.

"You are a pretty little thing, aren't you," Dawlish said, a hungry smile on his face. With a terrible fear building in her, Ginny began to realise what the man was doing here.

"What do you want?" she demanded fearfully, trying to buy herself some time to think.

"I want you, you little red-haired whore," he hissed. "Why should that murdering bastard Potter have all the fun? Besides, this is your last chance to have a bit of fun. After tomorrow, you won't be enjoying anything, ever again.

Ginny watched in revulsion as the Auror opened his roles to reveal that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. The man was already fully erect, and clearly looking forward to having her.

Grinding her teeth in anger and fear, Ginny almost wept. She'd spent years fending off the forced advances of a host of Slytherin boys, and now she was going to be violated by a bloody Auror, of all people. The hypocrisy of Madam Bones and her 'law and order' speech made Ginny want to scream at the injustice of it all. But she had more important things to worry about at that moment.

Dawlish had by now taken himself in hand and was gently stroking himself, a look of almost insane eagerness on his face. The man stepped towards her, and Ginny felt herself tremble in fear. Focus, she angrily told herself, if you keep your head you might figure a way out of this.

But how? Dawlish was a big, strong-looking man and he had a wand. She was unarmed and severally weakened by her nightmarish day. She didn't stand a chance against him, unless… unless she thought like a Slytherin.

"Don't hurt me," she begged him. "I'll… I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt me, please."

"I knew you were a little slut," Dawlish grinned. "You want this, don't you? You want to be shafted one last time, eh?"

"Please, I'll…" she stammered, and nervously licked her lips. Dawlish saw her do it, and his smile became almost feral.

"Go on, suck it!" he commanded.

Reluctantly, Ginny knelt down before the man and opened her mouth. Slowly, she let him guide his swollen member between her lips… before she bit down, as hard as she could. An agonising scream filled the narrow cell. Ginny felt a hot gush of blood in her mouth, before something smashed into the side of her head, knocking her unconscious.

She awoke sometime later. It was dark outside so she guessed at least a few hours had passed. Her head throbbed painfully and her mouth tasted horrible. Scrambling in the darkness, she found the cup of rancid water and rinsed the blood out of her mouth the best she could. There was no sign of Dawlish, and Ginny assumed he'd limped off to seek medical help as soon as he'd knocked her out. A grim smile of triumph came to her face. She might face a Dementor in the morning, but she'd meet her fate knowing that only one man had ever had her, and that she'd given herself to him willingly.

Weariness and despair began to wash over her again, and she crawled to a corner of the cell. Pulling her thin robes about her as best she could, she let sleep mercifully claim her.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Wake up, Weasley," a harsh voice called out, rousing her from her blissful slumber.

Her body instantly protested as she moved, and she groaned out loud as she tried to stretch her aching limbs. Groggily, she tried to focus and was suddenly brought up short by the sight of the person looking through the bars of the cell at her: Madam Bones.

"Don't get your hopes up, Weasley, I'm not here to save you," the woman said coolly.

"Then why are you here?" Ginny growled. For the briefest second she'd had a faint glimmer of hope, but that was all obviously in vain.

"I thought I owed you an explanation," Bones replied. "Despite what you think, I take no pleasure in this. I genuinely wish I didn't have to send you out to that Dementor, but I have no choice."

"You're that eager to keep your secrets, are you?" Ginny spat bitterly.

"My secrets? Oh, you stupid girl! What I'm doing here is for the good of all the magical community, even the Muggles, too," Bones snapped harshly. "What I said before was true. If knowledge of what the Horcruxes were became common knowledge, we would have an epidemic of idiots trying to make themselves immortal. Even if the correct rituals aren't publicly known, I would guarantee we'd have untold murders committed by dim-witted fools thinking all they had to do was kill someone. It would be a bloodbath! Plus, imagine what would happen if some of the smarter ones may actually succeed in figuring out the correct procedure? If they're desperate enough to kill to obtain immortality, who knows what they would do once they had achieved it."

"Fair enough, I can't argue with that," Ginny agreed, "But I agreed to keep this secret. I could have given an oath never to reveal this information."

"My dear girl, do you seriously think I trust you with that information? No, I think the temptation would be too great for you and Potter," Bones told her coldly.

"But you trust yourself, do you?" Ginny replied in disgust. "You do realise that Harry will never help you now, don't you? In case you've forgotten, there's already someone with a working Horcrux out there, and I bet you have no idea how to kill him, do you?"

"Oh, we don't intend to kill You-Know-Who. We have a better plan for him than that," Bones said haughtily

"What?" Ginny exclaimed in surprise.

"Deep within the vaults of the Department of Mysteries, we have a special chamber. This chamber is designed to freeze a human being so they remain in stasis for eternity. It's our intention to place the Dark Lord in this chamber where he will be rendered completely harmless. We can, of course, then hunt for his remaining Horcruxes at leisure. It's a far less risky option then fighting him head on," Bones explained calmly.

"And how do you intend to lure Voldemort into this chamber? I don't think he's going to just step into it because you ask nicely," Ginny pointed out sharply.

"We have several options," Bones said breezily. "We may try and leek information that will draw him there, or we might be able to ambush and Stun him. We have many ideas we can try, but you don't need to know about those."

"I presume you're only telling me all this because in a short while I'll be incapable of remembering anything?" Ginny noted angrily.

"Precisely," Bones nodded. "I felt that you at least deserved to know why this terrible thing was happening to you. You see, the Wizarding world is in a perilous situation at the moment, and I don't just mean through You-Know-Who's actions. The Muggles outnumber us a thousand to one and that disparity grows every year. Our existence becomes harder and harder to hide all the time and, believe me, if the Muggles decide to stage another series of witch-hunts like they did previously, we won't stand a chance. We are running a very real risk of annihilation here if we are discovered."

"You're exaggerating," Ginny scoffed.

"Am I?" Bones asked earnestly. "The magical population drops each year while the Muggle one increases. Their technology is beginning to rival what we can do with magic and, believe me, if it becomes known that there is a secret race of witches and wizards living under their noses, the rank and file Muggle will not be happy! That's why we insist that all magical children receive a proper education and do everything we can to ensure they remain in our world. We can't afford to lose a single one! Even those idiotic Death Eaters need to be spared, even if it's just for breeding stock. No, we can't afford to take any risks here, which is why you, Miss Weasley, have to go."

Ginny stood up shakily and approached Madam Bones so she could look her straight in the eye.

"There's one thing you haven't taken into account," she said in a cold, calm voice, "and that's Harry. He's more powerful then you could ever guess, and once he finds out what has happened to me, he'll give you a war like you wouldn't believe. Oh, in case you didn't know, Harry's already killed Dumbledore and I expect you'll be next on his list."

"Dumbledore's dead?" Bones gasped. "Potter killed him?"

"Oh, yeah, and I'll tell you something else; for what that old bastard did to Harry when he was young, Dumbledore has been sentenced to roam in limbo for all eternity. You might have the upper hand here, but I assure you that you'll receive your punishment in the next life, Bones. Harry is the Master of Death, and you will feel his vengeance!"

Bones stared at her like she was mad, and then turned and walked briskly away without a backward glance. Ginny watched her go angrily. She knew she shouldn't have told Bones all that information about Harry, but she'd just wanted some way to hurt the woman. Hopefully, she might at least have some concerns now.

In the silence of her cell, Ginny felt fear starting to build in her. Soon, she knew, they would come for her. Slumping down in the corner she had slept in, she waited miserably for her soul to be ripped from her body.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

They came for her a short while later, at least meaning that she hadn't had that long in which to suffer. A pair of burly Aurors had come and bound her hands, before dragged her out of her cell and through the long, winding corridors of Azkaban. After a seemingly endless walk, she was shoved roughly through a heavy, iron door into the bright sunlight.

She blinked in the brilliant spring sunlight and looked around her. At that point, whatever faint hope that she had that Harry might be able to stage a last-minute rescue died. In front of her was a flat area surrounded by the raging North Sea. Although not large, the area was packed with people, most of them wearing Auror robes. Over on the far side were the Dementors; at least fifty of them Ginny guessed, all hovering menacingly. Even if Harry could reach this god-forsaken island, it would be suicidal for him to try anything in the face of these kinds of numbers.

A hard shove in the back got her moving forward again. She was marched past the assembled gathering and there she noticed her father and brother Bill, both looking at her mournfully. Despite her mounting fear, she tried to glare at them and convey the contempt she felt for them now. Soon, she reached the edge of the group and was brought to halt in front of Madam Bones herself. The woman stepped forward to address the crowd.

"My friends, we are gathered here today to witness justice being served," Bones announced loudly. "Ginevra Molly Weasley has been tried by her peers, and found guilty of numerous counts of murder and sedition. She has been sentenced to receive a Dementor's Kiss; a harsh punishment, but one that will hopefully serve to deter those that seek to undermine our society."

A polite round of applause broke out and Ginny was disgusted to see that it was Percy who had started it. He'd been lurking near where Bones had been standing and was resolutely refusing to look in her direction, the cowardly bastard.

"While some would say it was unfair that an underage witch be subjected to such a fate," Bones continued, "her actions have, regrettably, left us with no option other than award this sentence. While I had hoped…"

Bones's next words were drowned out by several large explosions. Ginny gasped as the space in which the Dementors were hovering was obscured by flashes of brilliant white light, and a thick, white smoke began to engulfed the whole area. Seconds later, the screaming started and she saw the Dementors were all on fire. It was only then that she realised what the flashes were: detonation of white phosphorous bombs.

Harry had taught her that the Muggles used white phosphorous in bombs, shells and grenades to create thick smokescreens. The chemical also had a terrible effect on whatever it came into direct contact with, and the tiniest lump could burn through someone's body in seconds. The only way to put the stuff out was to complete immerse it in water, but it didn't seem like the Dementors were aware of that. Although it was impossible to kill a Dementor, you could destroy its body, leaving it as a malevolent but largely harmless wraith. That seemed to be happening with ruthless efficiency right in front of her eyes.

A series of gasps and cries made her turn and look the other way. The Aurors were suddenly all choking and rubbing their eyes. Ginny caught a whiff of an acidic smell and realised that someone had let off several canisters of CS gas, so she quickly turned to face the wind. In doing so, she caught sight of a small, metal canister landing on the ground nearby. As soon as it hit the stone floor it began to spew out a thick orange smoke. Ginny nearly wept with joy as she realised what was happening.

Suddenly, she felt the something tug at the bindings that kept her arms clasped behind her and, a second later, she was free. Spinning around, she saw a pair of hands seemingly floating in mid-air.

"Get behind me," a male voice ordered, "now!"

Turning, she backed away until she was at the very edge of the island. Below her, perhaps ten feet or more, was the cold waters of the North Sea, and there didn't seem any visible means of escape. She turned back, and a wide smile came to her face at what she saw.

The smoke and gas had dissipated quickly in the cold winds that swept over Azkaban. This meant that Harry, who had by now shed his Invisibility Cloak, was clearly visible. What had made Ginny smile, however, was the fact that he held Madam Bones tightly in front of him, with a Muggle pistol pressed to her head.

"Everybody stand still: now!" Harry bellowed.

The crowd, many of whom were still openly weeping after their exposure to the CS gas, looked up in shock.

"It's Potter!" a nearby Auror shouted. "Get him!"

Harry instantly aimed the pistol in the direction of the Auror that spoke and fired one round. The bullet hit the man in the upper thigh and he fell, screaming, and clutching at his wound. The pistol was back against Bones's head a second later.

"Back off, or your precious Minister will be needing a new head!" Harry yelled angrily.

Everyone froze. The wounded Auror was curled on the ground, whimpering. Clearly, the rest of them now realised how dangerous the strange Muggle weapon Potter was holding actually was.

"Ginny, your robes are tucked into the right-hand pocket of mine," Harry said without turning his head.

"Potter, it's hopeless…" Bones began, but Harry just tightened his grip around her throat, making it impossible to speak.

Ginny wasted no time and retrieved her robes from her boyfriend, throwing them on without a moment's hesitation. Reaching inside, fingers found the welcoming feeling of her Skorpion machine-pistol, which she withdraw and cocked. Standing just to the left of the Minister, she levelled the weapon at the Aurors.

"If any of you even blink, I'll open fire!" she screamed at them, hatred burning brightly within her.

"Right, listen up! If you all play nicely, you might get your Minister back in one piece," Harry called out. "Firstly, I want you all to throw your wands in my direction, as hard as you can. If I even suspect one of you of keeping hold of a wand, I'll put a nine millimetre hole in Bone's head. Do it; now!"

No one moved. Deciding they needed encouragement, Ginny fired a short burst just above their heads, causing a large number of the Aurors to flinch. She then pointed the weapon directly at the nearest person, who just happened to be Percy.

"Do as he says!" Percy yelled fearfully. Soon, a veritable cascade of wands landed on the cold, stone floor.

"Very good," Harry praised them sneeringly. "Now, everyone turn around. You're not to look back until I…"

"Wait, Harry!" Ginny interrupted. "You, Dawlish! Step forward."

Ginny had spotted the man lurking in the crowd and she felt herself tremble with rage at the sight of him. Obviously, whatever injury she had inflicted on him had not deterred him from coming to watch her soul being sucked from her.

Fearfully, the tall Auror stepped forward. Perhaps sensing something bad was about to happen, his fellow Aurors backed away from him.

"You bastard," Ginny raged at him. "You miserable, low-life scum! Try and rape me, would you?"

"What?" Harry gasped.

"I made the mistake of letting the last person who tried to rape me walk away with just a scar, and that cost me my best friend. I'm not going to make the same mistake again," she spat and aimed the Skorpion directly at the horrified man.

Ginny pulled the trigger and sent a long burst into Dawlish's body. He jerked about like a puppet in a whirlwind, blood spurting from a dozen bullet wounds. Even as he fell, Ginny continued to pump rounds into his mutilated body. Only when he had fallen limply to the ground did she cease firing.

"TURN AROUND; NOW!" Harry bellowed.

In fear and horror, the Aurors reluctantly turned around, obviously expecting a hail of bullets to slam into their backs at any second.

"Ginny," Harry said urgently. "I've a rope in my robes. Grab it and tie the three of us together. Once you've done that, grab a couple of smoke grenades and chuck them at that mob."

"How are we getting off the island?" she asked even as she reached into his robes.

"I have a Portkey, but there's a Jinx on the island itself, so we have to get beyond its wards to use it. You up for a nice, bracing swim?" he grinned.

"I can't swim," Bones managed to grunt out.

"I guess you're going to be doing some drowning then, aren't you?" Harry growled.

By this point, Ginny had found the rope and tied it firmly around Bones's waist. She then threaded it around Harry, before securing it tightly around her own middle. She then pulled out a pair of smoke grenades, which she in turned pulled the pin from and hurled at the Aurors. In seconds, a thick purple fog enveloped the island.

"Quick, over the edge," Harry urged.

A bright red beam of light shot through the smoke, missing them by only a few feet. Someone had clearly kept hold of their wand and was shooting Stunners in their general direction. Ginny retaliated by sending a couple of short bursts of fire back into the smoke, and was rewarded by several screams. She then shoved the Skorpion back into her robes and grabbed Harry's arm.

"On three?" she asked.

"Nah, let's just jump," he smirked, before leaping off the rock, dragging both Ginny and Madam Bones with him.

The freezing cold waters of the North Sea hit her like a sledge hammer, but she only had to suffer the discomfort for a second before she felt the familiar tug of a Portkey and she was whisked away.

They landed roughly in a scrub-filled field. Harry instantly grabbed Bones and conjured ropes to bind her arms to her sides, giving Ginny a chance to look around.

She saw that they were somewhere rural, judging by the empty fields and the low, rolling hills that surrounded her. The only thing of note that she could see was a small, badly-maintained cottage about thirty yards in front of her. As Harry dragged Bones to her feet and roughly shoved the woman in the direction of the small house. Ginny guessed that this unwelcoming building was her new home.

They entered the house and Ginny noted that it was as pokey and run-down on the inside as it was on the out. Harry led them to a small, unfurnished room that contained a single chair, to which he tied Bones.

"Did you get her wand?" Ginny asked, staring at the bound woman with undisguised hatred.

"Yeah, that was the first thing I did after I grabbed her," Harry confirmed. "I snapped it and threw it away."

"They snapped my wand," Ginny noted dully. "I really liked it, too."

"They'll pay for everything they did to you," Harry snarled before turning to face Bones. "So, nothing to say, Minister? I would have thought you would have been threatening us by this point. You know, 'you'll never get away with this', or some crap like that."

"You're obviously going to kill me, so why don't you just get on with it," Bones snapped, her eyes downcast.

"Oh, no, I'll make you beg for death first, you bitch. A Dementor's Kiss? You sentence Ginny to have that done to her? Why? What did she ever do to deserve that fate?" he demanded angrily.

"I can answer that," Ginny interrupted. "She knows about the Horcruxes, and will do absolutely anything to make sure that they don't become common knowledge. Bones here is also convinced we're on the edge of an all-out war with the Muggles and that they'll wipe us all out if they become aware of our existence. Me having my soul sucked out was just her way of suppressing information."

"Okay, I actually think I feel a little better knowing there was a semi-logical reason behind it all and not just pure malice," Harry noted grimly, "not that it excuses her actions in any way. But why not just work with us? Scrimgeour was quite prepared to have me on his side, why not you?"

"Scrimgeour was a self-serving bastard," Bones muttered. "He would have sold his own grandmother if he thought it would have helped his career. I, however, have some standards. I refuse to do deals with scum like you two, who kill and torture to get what you want."

"The only people we have killed have either been Death Eaters, or have tried to kill us first," Harry yelled back angrily. "You, on the other hand, get your fat cow of a niece to blacken our names to help your career, try to arrest us on trumped-up charges, and finally nearly subjected Ginny to a fate worse than death, and you claim to have standards? You hypocritical bitch!"

"What about the Aurors you just killed?" Bones raged. "Or don't they count?"

Ginny strode over and slapped Bones hard across the face. "The only Auror that we definitely killed was Dawlish, and that bastard tried to rape me!" she screamed. "He came into my cell last night and was going to force himself on me. Is that the sort of thing that you expect from your precious Aurors, eh?"

"Ginny, he didn't…" Harry began with a horrified expression on his face.

"No, he didn't," Ginny assured him. "The stupid idiot started waving his dick in my face and was surprised when I bit it. Fucking cretin."

Bones remained silent.

"What, no comment?" Ginny asked sarcastically. "You don't seem surprised that one of your beloved Aurors would do such a thing. Or is that just a little on-the-job bonus that they get when they've been good boys?"

"Dawlish was a good man," Bones said firmly.

"He was a toadying bastard and a rapist!" Ginny yelled back. "Now, answer me, before I get a vial of Veritaserum and pour it down your throat. Did you know he was going to attack me like that?"

"Do you think I care what happened to you?" Bones growled, staring Ginny straight in the eyes. "So one of my boys wanted to have a little fun with you before you were thrown to the Dementors? So what? You'd be incapable of even remembering in a few hours, and I'd have a happy and content Auror who would do anything I asked of him. It was a win-win situation as far as I was concerned."

Ginny punched the woman so hard that the chair she was tied to toppled over backwards. Bones lay on her back unconscious.

"Come on, my love," Harry said soothingly. "Let's leave the bitch to rot."

She let herself be led out of the room into the small kitchen. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I was so scared I'd lost you, my love," he whispered into her ear.

A strangled sob escaped her and she threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. "I'm so sorry," she cried. "You told me not to trust my family, and like a fool I ignored you. You shouldn't have risked yourself for an idiot like me."

"Shush," he said soothingly. "I should have realised how important this was to you and taken your pleas to talk to them more seriously. I'm sorry. If I'd agreed to help we could have worked out a plan that didn't leave you at risk."

"I was stupid," she insisted. "I just never dreamed that they would shop me in."

"They've been brainwashed their whole lives to obey the rules by the Ministry, Dumbledore… the entire bloody system," Harry noted. "They probably didn't even realise the consequences of what they were doing."

"Oh, Harry, I betrayed you," she sobbed. "They made me tell them the address of our Bristol place, I couldn't help…"

"I know," he cut her off. "I knew you wouldn't have stood a chance of resisting them for long. Besides, I was out of the place as soon as I figured what happened. I've got all your stuff in the bedroom. I'm just glad that I've got the chance to give it back to you."

"I'm going to miss Bristol," Ginny said sadly. "That was our first home together and I really loved that place."

"I know," he smiled, "but as long as I'm with you, I don't care where we are."

"Speaking of which, where exactly are we?" she asked through her tears.

"South Wales; Dyfed, to be precise," Harry replied. "This is another one of the safe houses that Gellert and I set up. It's not very luxurious, I'm afraid, but I wanted somewhere very different from the Bristol house. It will do for the moment. We'll sort you out a wand from one of the ones we captured from the Death Eaters and we can start striking back. This time, we'll show no mercy for the Aurors or the Death Eaters."

"Harry, what are we going to do about Bones?" Ginny asked nervously. "We can't let her go, but if we kill the Minister for Magic, we'll be hunted for the rest of our lives. Every witch and wizard in the country will tear the place apart looking for us. They'll never give up until they've hunted us down."

"I know, and I'll give it some thought. But look at you; you're filthy and shivering with cold. Why don't you go and have a nice, hot shower and I'll knock up some breakfast. I'm sure you could use a decent meal," he smiled.

"The shower sounds great and I am starving, but right now I need you more than anything," she begged. "Please, Harry, stay with me."

"I guess I could do with a warm shower myself after that lovely swim in the sea," he grinned, before leaning down and capturing her lips with his own.

With relief that he'd forgiven her for her mistake, Ginny threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately. He then led her to the small bathroom with its tiny shower cubical. They barely managed to both fit in it, but Ginny wasn't complaining.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Wake up, bitch," a harsh voice called out.

Bones looked around her in confusion for a moment, before her aching jaw reminded her exactly where she was. With fear gnawing at her stomach, she looked up to see a sullen Potter and Weasley standing in front of her. She knew she was a dead woman, but dreaded to think what the vengeful pair would do to her first.

"We've had time to think what to do with you, Bones," Potter announced who, she noted for the first time, had changed into Muggle clothing.

"Do your worst," she spat defiantly. "Despite what you say, you'll never get away with this. Ever witch and wizard in the country will know your name and be on the look-out for you. No matter how careful you are, you'll slip up one day and the world will see how traitors who murder a Minister are dealt with!"

"Oh, but we're not going to kill you," Weasley smirked.

"What… what are you going to do, then?" Bones demanded, suddenly feeling a cold chill down her back.

"This," Potter smiled and raised his wand.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Alastor Moody stomped along Diagon Alley in a foul mood. The young Auror accompanying him walked fearfully a few steps behind him, apparently unwilling to tempt his wrath by actually talking. Smart lad, Moody thought grumpily.

"Come on, boy, we haven't got all night," Moody growled. "I want to check-in with my contacts in Knockturn Alley as soon as possible. Every second we waste lessens the chance of finding the Minister alive."

"Yes, sir," the Auror replied, increasing his pace.

Moody just grunted. He had spent most of the day cursing himself that he hadn't been at Azkaban this morning, as he felt sure that he could have stopped Potter from rescuing his little bitch from under the Ministry's noses. As it was, they had one dead Auror, several more seriously injured and thirty-nine Dementors without bodies, although he couldn't really bring himself to care about the latter. He stomped forward, desperately wracking his brains for an idea as to where Potter might have taken his friend, Amelia Bones.

"Moody," the Auror stuttered unexpectedly, "who's that up ahead?"

Moody looked up and saw a woman staggering towards them, her head turning this way and that in apparent confusion. His magical eye focused on the woman's face and he gasped in surprise. He hurried forward until he reached the woman, who flinched at the sight of him.

"What do you want?" the woman cried fearfully.

"Amelia, it's me, Moody," he said carefully.

"Who?" she blurted. "I don't know who you are. I've never met either of you in my life!"

Moody looked suspiciously at the shivering woman. "What do you remember?" he asked gently.

"I… the last thing I remember was being at home with mother and father," she began nervously. "I was really happy, as Daddy had said he'd managed to get me a job at the Ministry and I was excited about it. Where's Dad? Where's Mum? What am I doing here?"

"Minister, what are you…" the young Auror started to say.

"Shut up," Moody growled at him before turning his attention back to the frightened woman. "Easy now, my dear. Tell me, can you remember what year it is?"

"Of course," she said in confusion. "I just graduated from Hogwarts this summer, after all. It's 1971."

"What?" the Auror gasped.

"Dear Merlin," Moody announced angrily, "those bastards have Obliviated her all the way back to her teenage years!"

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – Turn the Sword

The final chapter, and I do find myself wondering how this will be received.

I think a bit of explanation regarding my thought process when writing this story is required here. When I decided I was going to write a Slytherin! Harry story, I decided that the ending of the story had to reflect the personality of a true member of the House of Snakes. Now, Harry for most of this tale is a pretty poor Slytherin, in my opinion, and I deliberately made him so. I reasoned that his true personality is more Gryffindor-ish, which is why throughout the story he'd been reacting with his fists and his wand, rather than his head. The result of this is that all his plans have gone pear-shaped and, as this chapter starts, he and Ginny are standing alone with both Voldemort and the Ministry after them.

The ending of this story reflects, I feel, Harry learning his lessons and (finally) behaving like a true Slytherin: he's sneaky, he has planned his final move out well and, above all, he's looking out for number one. I suspect some readers won't like this ending, but hopefully no one can deny that what Harry did was completely logical, bearing in mind the situation he was in.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, even the anonymous guest reviewers who left those badly spelt, angry rants during the early chapters: I giggled even as I was deleting them! Most importantly, thanks to Arnel who has been a tower of strength for me throughout this story. I don't know what I would have done without her.

"What was that?" Harry asked, looking up from the book he was reading in alarm.

Gellert was already on his feet and hurried to the front window. As soon as he looked out, a grim expression came onto his face.

"The day we feared has arrived, Harry," he announced. "It appears Voldemort has found us."

"What?" Harry gasped. "How?"

"How is irrelevant, my dear boy, the fact is that he is outside with a good dozen of his followers destroying the street house by house. It would seem that he only knows our general location, or else we have been staggeringly unlucky and he attacked this place by chance," Gellert smiled sternly. "Harry, get your emergency escape kit and get ready to leave by the backdoor. I can feel an Anti-Apparation Jinx already in place, so make your way across our neighbour's back gardens until you reach the fields. You should be outside of the Jinx's range by that point, and I suggest you make your way to Grimmauld Place initially."

"You will be coming with me, won't you?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, my dear boy, my time has come. You need someone to hold off Voldemort and his Death Eaters while you escape, and it is high time that this old Dark Lord faced his apparent replacement. I'm rather looking forward to showing the whelp that this old dog still has teeth," Gellert grinned.

"But…" Harry started to protest.

"No arguing," Gellert snapped. "I have been living on borrowed time since 1945, when Dumbledore should have put me out of my misery. Only having the chance to guide you through these difficult years has given my life any meaning. Besides, I yearn to see Paula once again."

"I can't do this without you, Gellert," Harry said emphatically.

"You can and you will," he replied sternly. "One other thing, Harry, you may be tempted to use the Resurrection Stone to bring me back on occasion. Please, do not. Once I leave this world I will have no desire to return to it. Promise me."

Harry stared at him in horror for a moment, before mutely nodding his head.

"Good, now grab your things and leave. I have work to do here," Gellert announced, pulling out his wand.

Harry rushed out the room only to return a minute later with a small rucksack on his back. "Gellert…" he began.

"Harry, we have no time for long good-byes. Know that I love you as if you were my own son. Now, go and fulfil your destiny," Gellert said firmly.

"I love you, too, and I'll never forget what you did for me," Harry replied, a single tear falling down his cheek. "Give that snake-faced bastard hell, Gelli."

And with that, the young man turned and ran out the backdoor. Gellert watched him go with a sad smile on his lips. That boy had quite literally saved his soul, he knew. He feared what Harry would have to go through in the coming years and hoped he would find someone to share that burden with.

A loud explosion somewhere close by roused him from his thoughts. Purposely, he strode to the window and blew out the glass with his wand. Just outside, a Death Eater looked over in surprise at the noise only to fall dead a second later as Gellert's first curse hit him.

"Over there!" someone shouted. "One of these vermin dares to try and fight back!"

Gellert almost laughed as a group of Death Eaters began to march towards the house menacingly. With a flick of his, he began to overload the protective magic that surrounded the house. Only his own power kept them in check for the moment, and should he fall they would, in all probability, explode. But first, he had to teach these fools a lesson.

A street away, Harry was busy climbing over a fence. Although Gellert had instructed him to get out of the village as fast as possible, he couldn't leave without Melinda. As a Squib, she would be helpless in the face of the Death Eaters and he refused to abandon her. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he broke into a run.

Everywhere there was noise and confusion. Numerous buildings were burning and he could hear someone screaming behind him, but he didn't stop to look back. Running as fast as he could, he sprinted around the corner into the street where Melinda and her family lived, and came to an abrupt stop.

The block of houses in which the Cooke family lived was on fire. Numerous bodies lay in the street, probably cut down as they fled their burning homes. Feeling sick, Harry stumbled forward, forcing himself to look at each of the bodies in turn. With a horrible sense of inevitability, he soon came across Melinda. She was lying on her back, with an expression of pain and fear etched onto her face. Harry stared at her numbly, unable to process what he was seeing.

Suddenly, a tremendous explosion rent the air. He turned and saw a column of black smoke rising lazily into the air. Dimly, he realised the smoke was coming from the approximate location of his home. Gellert was gone.

A burning rage gripped him. Harry was struggling to breath properly, such was the intensity of the hate that filled him. All thoughts of escape vanished from his mind as he pulled his wand from his jacket.

He only wanted to do one thing now: kill Death Eaters. His mind was suddenly gripped by a strange calmness and he was filled with a fierce determination. Purposely, he began to walk back towards the fighting.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry sat at the small table crammed into the tiny kitchen of their Welsh cottage. Although Ginny hadn't said anything, he knew that she hated this place. The last two days had been rough on both of them, with each of them realising just how close things had come to them both being killed. If he'd lost Ginny… well, he didn't even want to think about that. His father had warned him that without her he risked turning into the next Dark Lord, and Harry was beginning to think that James Potter had been right.

A yawn from the doorway signified that Ginny had finally crawled out of bed and come in search of sustenance. He grinned at the sight of her blinking at him sleepily, dressed only in her thick, white dressing gown.

"Morning, love," he greeted her, climbing to his feet. "Let me get you some breakfast."

"Harry, I'm not an invalid, you know," she scolded him. "I'm quite capable of getting my own breakfast."

"I know, I just wanted to do something nice for you. You've had a rough time lately," he protested, sinking back down into his chair.

"Darling, you've been doing nice things for me since we got here," she smiled. "Come to think of it, you've been doing a lot of nice things TO me, as well."

"Yeah, well, that was for my benefit as much as yours," he grinned back.

"So, I was thinking," she began as she reached over to retrieve the frying pan from the hook it was hanging from. "I'm pretty-much fully recovered now. I think we should get back to work."

"I was just thinking the same thing," he admitted. "We'll have to be careful, though. I nipped out and got today's copy of the Daily Prophet and look at the headlines."

"Hmm, 'Madam Bones takes hiatus from position as Minister'. Is that how they're spinning it?" Ginny snorted.

"Yeah, not a word about her memory loss," Harry noted. "I suspect they're trying to keep a lid on just how badly things went wrong for them at Azkaban. Maybe they even think Bones can resume her position sometime in the future. What does interest me is who they've appointed as her temporary stand-in."

"Saul Croaker?" Ginny read. "I've never heard of him."

"Not many people have," he confirmed. "Croaker was a Senior Unspeakable working at the Department of Mysteries. Judging from what Bones told you, I suspect he's one of the few people in on the plan to capture Voldemort and drop him in the deep freeze."

"Makes sense," she agreed. "Do you think that plan will work? Maybe we should just let the Ministry get on with it rather than sticking our necks out."

"The thought did cross my mind, too," he admitted. "The problem is I think that their plan is too risky. When Voldemort vanished last time, his Death Eaters searched high and low for him. They captured and tortured loads of Ministry staff trying to find out what had happened to their lord and master. If Riddle vanishes again, they'll be even more persistent this time. Remember, he's seemingly risen from the dead once already, and his followers will have more faith in him should he vanish again. I just don't believe anywhere is completely safe. The Department of Mysteries has been infiltrated before; Rookwood is proof of that."

"So, we have no choice other than to carry on," she sighed.

"Yeah, but remember we have only one more Horcrux to find. I think it's time we stopped farting about with the minor Death Eaters and went straight for one of the inner circle," he announced.

"You have a plan," Ginny said, a slight smile coming to her lips.

"Do I ever, and if you rustle me up a bacon butty, I might even share it with you," Harry smirked.

Ginny hefted the flying pan in her hand, trying to decide if she should indeed cook him breakfast or just threaten to hit him with the bloody thing. In the end, she decided to be merciful and ten minutes later they were both tucking into a stack of bacon sandwiches while Harry explained what they were going to do.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Bellatrix Lestrange marched up to the gate of Malfoy Manor and stood in front of them with her hands placed imperiously on her hips.

"Open," she commanded and, to her minor gratification, the gates swung open instantly. With a self-satisfied smirk on her lips, she marched into the grounds of the large house.

She paused in front of the large front door. The place was looking a little worse for wear these days, unsurprisingly. Her Lord had abandoned Malfoy Manor as a headquarters shortly after Potter had been rescued by that damnable traitor Snape. With Lucius still incarcerated in Azkaban, Narcissa had been lucky not to lose her life after that fiasco. It was hardly her sister's fault that Snape had betrayed them, but as the only Malfoy conveniently to hand, she'd borne the brunt of the Dark Lord's displeasure. Now, while they used Goyle's country home as their base of operations, Narcissa lingered in her home, stripped of the Malfoy's wealth, and with only a few house-elves for company. Bella was unsurprised to receive her sister's pleading note, requesting that she come and visit her as soon as possible. She was probably getting desperate by this point.

Feeling irritated by her sister's fawning request which took her away from her real work, Bellatrix banged her fist loudly on the door. A second later, one of the family elves opened it and grovelingly bid her enter. She kicked the pathetic creature as soon she had imperiously marched in.

"Alright, stop following me, vermin. I know the way," she screeched at the poor thing as it tried to escort her. The elf whimpered and ran for its very life. With a cruel smirk on her face, Bella strode into the drawing room, where Narcissa traditionally greeted her guests. Sure enough, the regal blond was waiting for her.

"Dear Bella," Narcissa greeted her sombrely. "Thank you for coming."

"You'd better have a good reason for dragging me here, Cissy," Bellatrix growled at her sister. "Your name is mud these days."

"I know, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Narcissa replied in an unemotional voice. "But first, please, take a glass of wine with me. The wine cellar is one of the few pleasures I have left."

"Very well," Bella agreed, flopping down onto a nearby sofa. A few moments later, Narcissa approached with a glass of dark, red wine and offered it to her.

"So, what's this all about, Cissy?" Bella demanded, taking the glass from her.

"I have come up with a plan to get back into the Dark Lord's favour," she explained, walking back to the sideboard and picking up her own glass. "I have worked out a scheme to flush out that wretched miscreant Potter, which I am certain will work. Once I hand him over to the Dark Lord, the Malfoys will once again be in his favour."

"Really?" Bella asked suspiciously. It was unlike her sister to come up with such a plan. Organising lavish balls was more her style.

"Yes, but come; let us drink to our success," Narcissa declared, raising her glass to her lips and taking a slip.

Bellatrix was just about to follow her sister's example when she paused. Something was wrong here. Narcissa had never involved herself in her husband's schemes and plans, and Bella couldn't see her starting now. Besides, her sister was acting strangely. Normally, Cissy was much warmer and exuberant; today she was acting like she was in a haze, almost as if she…

With an angry yell, Bella threw the glass of wine away from her as hard as she could and went for her wand. Unfortunately for her, she was a second too late and a purple bolt of light struck her hard in the stomach. She screamed as she felt herself being ripped open, and she fell forward onto the expensive white rug that was on the floor. Gasping for breath, she looked down and saw blood gushing from the wound and staining the rug a dark, red colour.

"Cissy…" she croaked, looking up desperately at her sister who was standing impassively in front of her.

"It's alright, Lestrange, she'll be joining you in death very shortly," a male voice declared.

Desperately trying to keep her guts from slipping out on the floor, Bellatrix turned her head and saw the inscrutable figure of Harry Potter standing there, with his red-haired whore just behind. Weakly, she tried to grab her wand which was lying on the floor just in front of her.

"Now, now, Bella, none of that," Potter scolded her, walking over and kicking the wand away.

"You… aaaggh… bastard… Potter," she spat from between gritted teeth.

"What's the matter? Surely you've killed enough people that you can't be a stranger to death," the Weasley girl taunted her. "Just hurry up and die, please, you're making an awful mess on the rug."

"Just think of all the times you were torturing me, Bella dear, that you could have easily finished me off. If you'd just done that, you wouldn't be in the position that you are now, would you?" he smirked.

"Bastard…" Bella whispered, her strength failing her.

"Just hurry up and die," the red-haired girl scornfully said.

With the bitter taste of defeat on her tongue, Bellatrix slipped into darkness.

"Don't worry, bitch," Potter growled at her corpse. "I'll be speaking to you later."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Carefully, Moody pulled apart the branches of the bush he was hiding behind, and peered at the small, dilapidated cottage.

"Any sign of them?" Kingsley whispered to him.

"No, no movement, at all," Moody grumbled. "They're here though, I can feel it. This is the place."

"Perhaps one of the other teams has spotted them," Kingsley suggested. "After all, there were two other…"

"Wait!" Moody said abruptly, cutting off the large man mid-sentence. Ahead of him, perhaps fifty yards away, a young couple had suddenly appeared, seemingly out of thin air. They paused for a second, before heading into the cottage. Moody nearly split his face open he was grinning so hard. "It's them! Potter and Weasley just Apparated in and entered the house. We've got them."

"I'll send a Patronus to the others," Kingsley advised. "We'll have the whole area surrounded in minutes."

"Just tell them to be careful. We don't want our prey to get spooked," Moody advised.

Kingsley gave him a sour look, like he didn't appreciate being told his business, but did as he was instructed. Moody turned his attention back to the house and watched it intently. His magic eye could see into most of the house, although a few rooms were magically shielded from him. It didn't matter though; he could see the pair of renegades clearly.

It had taken nearly a week of solid investigation work, but they'd finally tracked down all of Potter's safe houses. Their big break had come when they'd looked into the purchase of the house in Bristol. Unbeknown to Potter, the Ministry had contacts in the Muggle police and it was they who had conducted the investigation into the purchase of the property. Finding a false paper trail under an obviously assumed name, they had dug further to see if any other houses had been purchased in the same manner. They soon struck gold, and found no less than three other properties bought using the same convoluted system.

Once the Ministry had been passed the details of the three properties, they had set up around-the-clock surveillance on them. Moody, however, had always felt that this would be the one that Potter ran to. After basing himself in the centre of a large Muggle city, he'd felt that Potter would change tactics and go for somewhere completely different. After all, the boy had proved he was skilful at remaining hidden in the past, so why underestimate him now? As always, Moody's instincts had proved to be correct.

It was half-an-hour later when Kingsley crawled over to him.

"Everything is in place," the large, dark man informed him. "We can raise the Anti-Apparation and Anti-Portkey Jinx the second you give the word."

"Okay, everyone knows what they have to do?" Moody asked.

"Yes, but I can't say I'm happy about this," Kingsley grumbled. "We should be trying to capture this pair alive, so we can interrogate them and find out exactly what they know."

"They know too damn much!" Moody growled. "You heard Croaker's orders; they are to be killed on sight. Potter and Weasley are just too bloody dangerous. You don't want another fiasco like Azkaban on our hands, do you?"

"I guess not, but this just feels… dishonourable, I guess," Kingsley replied sullenly.

"I'm not risking the life of another single Auror just so those two can have a trial they don't deserve," Moody spat. "Honour be damned, let's kill the bastards! Give the signal."

Wordlessly, Kingsley shot another Patronus from his wand, and seconds later they both felt a strange tingling sensation that signalled the Jinx was in place. Moody rose to his feet and pointed his wand at the cottage.

"Confringo!" he yelled, sending a Blasting Charm directly at the house. It hit one of the walls, blasting a neat hole in it and sending a shower of dust into the air. Seconds later, his curse was followed by dozens of others, as the twenty Aurors surrounding the building all opened fire.

"Lay it on thick!" Moody roared send another Blasting Charm towards the house, which was already disintegrating under the weight of fire. A number of the Aurors had chosen to shoot Incendiary Spells at the cottage, which was now also on fire as a result. For over five minutes the group hurled deadly curses at the small house, until barely a brick remained standing.

"Stop!" Moody shouted loudly and the spell fire ceased.

"Did we get them?" a breathless Kingsley asked.

"I can't see; too much debris in the way," Moody grumbled, before starting to shout again. "Get in there and find the bodies!"

"No one could have survived that," the dark-skinned Auror said confidently.

"Don't count your chickens until we find their corpses," Moody said sternly, but he felt sure that they'd done it.

Harry Potter was finally dead.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Nearly half a mile from the spot where Alastor Moody was gazing at the burning ruins of a cottage, a rusted corrugated-iron shed stood. Nobody had been near this place in nearly fifty years and the place was complete abandoned. It was something of a surprise, therefore, when a young man with jet-black hair smashed open the door to the shed from the inside and stepped out into the light.

He looked around him nervously, before heading back into the shed and helping a young woman out. She was obviously badly injured, and the young man gently lowered her to the ground.

"Lay still, Ginny, and let me cast a Diagnostic Spell on you," Harry said, a hint of panic in his voice.

"It hurts, Harry," the girl moaned, "oh, shit, it hurts!"

"You've got some internal damage," he declared anxiously after waving his wand over her. "I know a few Healing Charms that will help, and I've got a few potions that will definitely sort you out over time, but we can't stay here too long. They're bound to start a search when they don't find our bodies."

"What was that tunnel?" she asked between gritted teeth.

"Oh, this whole area use to be used for coal mining," Harry explained. "That cottage was built on top of a subsidiary shaft leading to a large pit. Once Gellert found that out, he thought it would make an excellent escape passage, and he was right. Here, drink this."

Harry gently pressed a bottle he had retrieved from his robes to her lips. She drank deeply and then sighed in evident relief.

"The potion will help, but you need serious bed-rest," he informed her.

"Where?" she asked, sounding drowsy already.

"I don't think we should risk any of the other safe houses," Harry mused. "I have no idea how they found us, as I checked Bones for Tracking Spells quite thoroughly. The only thing I can think of is they somehow linked the purchase of this place to the Bristol house. I daren't risk Grimmauld Place, either. I think we'll have to find a Muggle hotel."

"Whatever," Ginny moaned. "Just get us out of here."

"Okay, love, I'll have to Side-Along you, so brace yourself," Harry warned her.

Two hours later, Harry was sat pensively on a chair in a hotel room in Manchester. Ginny was tucked up in bed with a large, thick duvet pulled up to her chin. He'd managed to convince the receptionist that she was just feeling a bit under the weather, and they'd decided to spend the night in town rather than head home. The woman had bought their story and handed over the room key. It was a close thing as Ginny had collapsed in the lift heading upstairs. Now that she was in bed and had received another dose of Healing Potion, he was fairly certain she'd be alright.

He stood and gazed out the window. Darkness had fallen and the lights of the large city were spread out before him. In the relative calm of the room, he tried to figure out what had just happened.

They'd only had a few seconds warning before the cottage had started to explode around them. Fortunately, they both recognised the distinctive feel of an Anti-Apparation Jinx and it had given them just enough time to get to the hidden trapdoor. Ginny had been hit when part of a wall was blown out next to her, and Harry had just managed to drag her to safety before the ceiling collapsed. It had been a very close call.

It had proved one thing though: the Ministry wanted them dead. There had been no warnings or demands for them to surrender. Whoever had been out there had just opened fire. He'd briefly seen the distinctive robes of an Auror through a blown-out window as he ran for cover, so he knew it hadn't been Voldemort's forces who had attacked them. No, his own government was trying to kill him.

Sighing deeply, Harry thought of all the things that had gone wrong recently. It was becoming clear to him that he'd approached this whole venture incorrectly. His first mistake had been relying too heavily on his relationship with Rufus Scrimgeour and not fostering other alliances within the Ministry. He'd paid heavily for that error when Rufus had been killed.

Not making more effort to ingratiate himself with the press had been a huge mistake, too. True, he's done a few interviews prior to going to Hogwarts, but he should have taken the time to groom some suitable journalist and improve his public image. It had been far too easy for Bones to blacken his name.

Once he'd arrived at Hogwarts, he'd acted too rashly, he realised now. He should have been more subtle and picked fewer fights. Perhaps not allowing himself to be Sorted into Slytherin would have helped, as well, although he wasn't too regretful at that. It was doubtful he would he have developed his relationship with Ginny if he's been in any other house, after all.

Harry turned back and looked at the sleeping form of his lover. Once again, he'd come a hair's breadth to losing her. Her words from the previous week came back to him and, on the spot, he made a decision.

It was no longer worth it.

He'd lost nearly everything to try and defeat Voldemort. His family, both real and adopted, were dead, he'd been tortured and mutilated by that deranged bitch Lestrange, and now the Ministry were trying to kill him for trying to defeat Lord Voldemort. All he had left was Ginny, and he was damned if he was going to lose her, too. Maybe if Gellert hadn't died when he did, things would have been different, but without his knowledge and experience, Harry wasn't going to put the life of the girl he loved in danger any longer.

He sat back down and pondered his next move. If he was going to remove himself from the field of battle he needed to do it in such a way that he wouldn't spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. As he sat in the darkness, a plan began to form in his mind.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Lord Voldemort sat at the head of a large, highly-polished table, methodically working his way through a pile of documents stacked in front of him. The war was going well, and the recent departure of Amelia Bones had greatly helped. Her replacement, Saul Croaker, was an intelligent man, but one who clearly had little knowledge of politics. He'd already made several mistakes which Voldemort had been able to capitalise upon, and he was certain the man would make more. He decided that he really should thank Harry Potter the next time he saw him for incapacitating Bones. Naturally, he would kill the young man shortly afterwards, but manners cost nothing.

His concentration was disturbed by one of his most loyal servants, Antonin Dolohov, shoving a low-ranking Death Eater through the door. Voldemort could not even recall the young man's name but, judging by the fearful look on his face, the youth had committed some transgression. Idly, he wondered why Bellatrix wasn't escorting the young man, as this was the sort of thing she generally enjoyed. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen his favourite follower for a couple of days.

"My lord," Dolohov declared, "this worthless vermin has something he needs to tell you."

"Indeed? Well, I am at his immediate disposal," Voldemort announced with a slight smile. He was well aware that particular smile generally invoked terror in all who had the misfortune to see it.

"M…m…m…y…Lord," the young man stuttered. "To my shame, I must inform you that I was… captured today."

"Captured, you say? By whom?" Voldemort demanded.

"Harry Potter," the Death Eater replied fearfully.

The smile instantly left Voldemort's lips. "Potter? You say that Harry Potter captured you? How remarkable. I must confess, I find it somewhat strange that if such an event did indeed occur that you now stand before me, apparently unharmed. How did you escape?"

"I didn't, he… let me go," the young man said.

"Let you go?" Voldemort repeated in disbelief.

"He let me go on condition I delivered a message and an object to you," the Death Eater explained.

"What message? What object?" Voldemort snapped.

Slowly, the young man reached into his robes and removed what appeared to be a small mirror. "He says that he wants to talk," he said fearfully.

Voldemort stared at him for a moment before he began to laugh. "So, Potter has finally come to understand the futility of opposing me, has he?" he announced joyously. "Too little, too late, I suspect; but I will hear what he has to say. Dolohov, has the mirror been checked for traps?"

"Err… no, my Lord," the dark-haired man said, suddenly looking frightened.

"Fool! Do so quickly, and then leave my presence. I will deal with your stupidity later. You, boy, put the mirror down on the table and then go. I will think of a suitable punishment for you allowing yourself to be captured at my leisure," Voldemort ordered.

Both men scrambled to comply with their orders. The mirror appeared to be completely harmless, so Dolohov set it before his master and practically sprinted from the room. With a satisfied smile on his lips, Voldemort picked up the mirror and held it up to his face.

"Harry Potter," he said simply.

A second later, his reflection vanished and the face of his young enemy appeared.

"Hello, Voldemort," the young man greeted him.

"Why, hello to you, too, Harry. This is a most unexpected pleasure," he replied smugly.

"Before you say anything else, I know about the Taboo on your name and I realise that you are magically tracking me even as we speak. I'll save you the trouble. I'm on Dartmoor and have cast a number of spells so you can't pinpoint my exact location. Besides, I can be gone in a second if I hear anyone Apparate nearby," Potter explained.

"Sensible precautions," Voldemort noted grudgingly. "What is it that you want to talk about, young Harry? Do you wish to join me?"

"No, but I do propose a deal; a truce, if you will," he replied.

"A truce?" Voldemort noted with amusement. "Why should I even consider such a thing?"

"Because we both know that I'm the only person in the world who stands any chance of vanquishing you," Harry said firmly. "We are both subject to that damnable prophecy and even if you believe yourself unbeatable, you must realise there is a chance I might defeat you. I've taken out enough of your Death Eaters, after all, haven't I?"

"What exactly do you propose?" Voldemort hissed angrily.

"What I'm proposing is that I cease all hostile action against you and your followers. I will leave the country, and give a Magical Oath never to return. In exchange, I want a similar Oath from you that you won't try and find me, or seek to harm me in anyway," Harry explained.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Why?" he demanded. "Why are you proposing this? I killed your parents, after all. Don't you want revenge?"

"What I want and what I get are two different things," Harry said bitterly, "and, frankly, I don't think the price I would have to pay is worth it. Why should I stick my neck out for a bunch of fools who have vilified me at every opportunity, and nearly executed the girl I love?"

"Ah, the Weasley girl," Voldemort pondered. "Isn't it strange how love makes weaklings out of men?"

"Weakling or not, I don't believe that I owe the Magical community of Great Britain a damn thing. Why should I struggle, and see all those I care about killed, for people who would spit in my face? No, you're welcome to this whole bloody country, Tom," he growled.

"But I don't just want this country, Harry, I want the world, and nothing can stand in front of that dream. Why should I take the risk, minor though it is, of leaving you alive?" Voldemort smiled menacingly.

"Why be impatient?" Harry asked. "You've said many times that you are immortal. I, however, am not. Like everyone else, I will grow old and die, and you will have won by default. I don't doubt that it won't take you long to take over this country, it's run by a bunch of idiots, after all, but expanding further will not be so easy. Once Britain falls, the rest of Europe, perhaps even the world, will unite against you. It will be a long, hard battle against them all, and you'll have to pick them off one by one. That's no great hardship to you; being immortal you have all the time in the world, don't you? But I suspect that I'll be dead and buried before the world falls entirely under your sway."

"How unlike your parents you are," Voldemort noted. "Your mother sacrificed herself so you could live, yet you will willingly stand aside and let me take over the world."

"The difference is that my mother loved me. I don't give two shits for any of the self-serving bastards in this country, and I doubt anywhere else is much different. I just want to have the opportunity to live a quiet, peaceful life, someplace nice, with Ginny, and everyone else can go to hell," Potter reasoned in a cold voice.

Voldemort considered the offer. He would dearly have loved to kill this impudent brat but, as the boy said, he was doomed to die, anyway. In a century at most, Potter would be rotting in his grave, while he, immortal and invincible, would forge an empire to last for eternity. Why risk that if he didn't have to? Besides, he relished the delicious irony that the people of Britain had forced out the one person who could have saved them.

"Very well, Potter, I believe we have a deal," Voldemort confirmed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The second that they had exchanged their Magical Oaths, Harry cancelled the connection between the two mirrors with the promise that he would be out of the country within twenty-four hours. In truth, he could leave now, but he still had a few minor things he wanted to take care of first.

"I can't believe he agreed so readily," Ginny said stepping towards him.

"Why not? We've been the only effective force against him, and taking us out of the fight makes his life a whole lot easier. Besides, I think he liked the idea of me growing old and dying. I think that image appealed to him, since he believes it will never happen to him," Harry snorted.

"He's in for a bit of a shock, then, isn't he?" she grinned.

"Yeah, he is," Harry laughed. From his robes, he removed the blacked remains of Helga Hufflepuff's goblet: Voldemort's last Horcrux.

"You were right, taking out Lestrange was a good idea," Ginny noted. "I doubt we would have ever found that thing without her."

"Yeah, although Gringotts was a logical location, when you think about it," he agreed.

"So, what happens now?" Ginny asked.

"Well, as I understand it, in time, Voldemort's body will decay and wither, just like everyone else's does. He'll undoubtedly perform some spell or ritual to transfer his essence into a new body, only to find that his soul has no anchors to this realm of existence anymore. Simply put, he'll die, and the funny thing is that he'll have done it to himself," Harry grinned evilly.

"Ha! Serves the bastard right. Still, that does mean that we're handing him a free-reign to do what he likes for years to come," she pointed out.

"You never know, someone might get lucky and hit him with a good curse," Harry shrugged. "Without his precious Horcruxes, he'll die just like anyone else."

"True," she nodded. "So, are we leaving now?"

"I just want to tidy up a few lose ends," Harry explained. "We don't have much more to do, though. I've already cleaned out my vault at Gringotts and we've packed all our possessions. I just want to make sure we're not leaving any evidence of where we're going. After I've done that, we'll head to Grimmauld Place and pick up Kreacher."

"And start our new life," Ginny smiled.

"Yeah, I can't wait," he grinned back.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Two years later

The young couple climbed out of their expensive car and headed up the pathway towards the large townhouse. Property in this part of Boston was ridiculously expensive, but the house did have the advantage of being positioned close to the city's magical community, hidden away in the Beacon Hill district. Once they reached the front door, the young man knocked loudly twice. A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a tall, darkly-handsome man. He broke into a wide smile as soon as he saw the pair.

"Ah, the newly-weds return!" he cried happily. "Come in and tell me how the honeymoon went."

The young couple were ushered into the house by the exuberant man who guided them to a plush living room area. Drinks were arranged, and they sat down to talk.

"Anthea isn't here then?" the young man asked cautiously, looking around.

"No, she's nipped down to New York to visit some art gallery there. I suspect I'll be considerably poorer by the time she returns," he grinned, "So, don't worry, Harry, we can talk freely."

"That's great, Sirius. You know, I just never feel right calling you 'Michael' all the time," Harry smiled.

"I know what you mean," Sirius agreed. "So, come on, tell me everything about the honeymoon."

"Do you really want to know everything about it, Sirius?" Ginny smirked. "A lot of it was pretty X-rated, you know."

"That's alright, my dear, I'm a pretty X-rated sort of bloke," Sirius leered.

"Pervert," Harry laughed. "We'll give you the edited highlights of our trip in a moment. But firstly, I want to get back up to speed. What's been happening around here while we've been away?"

"Oh, the usual," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "Our investments continue to skyrocket in value. Did you know, we've made over thirty thousand dollars just since I started the beginning of this sentence? Oh, it's such a terrible burden being rich!"

"I'm sure we'll manage," Ginny said firmly. "Now, what about that little scam we set in place before we left? Did the Department of Magic suspect anything?"

"Not a thing. Normally I don't approve of blackmail, but I'm prepared to make an exception for that slime ball. Having someone that well connected in our pocket will definitely pay dividends later on," Sirius announced smugly. "By the way, did you hear the news from Britain?"

"No, we didn't really spend much time reading newspapers," Harry grinned.

"I bet," Sirius chuckled. "Anyway, Amelia Bones was killed last week."

"Not really a surprise, is it? They must have been desperate to make her Minister for Magic again. I mean, she lost twenty-five years' worth of experience, how could they possibly think she'd do a good job?" Ginny snorted in disgust.

"I don't think they had much choice by that point. It's a miracle Voldemort hasn't taken complete control already," Sirius noted glumly. "Anyway, I think that was the last straw. The I.C.W. is talking about intervening, so you can imagine how bad things have become. The world would have to be ending for those old duffers to do anything. No, I fear the magical community in Britain has just about had it."

"Not our problem," Harry shrugged. There was no one left in his country of birth that he cared about anymore, not since he'd received word that Michelle and her family had managed to escape to France, anyway.

"No, although America has provisionally agreed to send forces to support any campaign. It looks like there'll be all-out war soon," the older man noted sadly.

"As Harry said: not our problem," Ginny said fiercely. "They had their chance to end all this and if they'd just backed us then, none of this would have happened."

"I know, it just all seems a senseless waste," Sirius bemoaned. "Oh, I must tell you something that will make you laugh. I saw Severus Snape the other day! He was in town on a visit and I ran into him. Can you guess where he ended up?"

"Not a clue," Harry confirmed.

"Texas! He's running an Apothecary shop in the magical sector of Dallas. Can you imagine a man less suited to living in a place like that?" Sirius laughed.

"Bloody hell," Ginny giggled. "Did he have a tan?"

"Yes, and even more amazingly, he had a wife, too!" Sirius said, barely able to contain himself.

"No!" Harry gasped. "Please tell me she wasn't a red-head."

"Nah, she looked Mexican, actually. Rather a pretty woman, I thought," he smirked.

"Don't let Anthea hear you talking about other women," Ginny warned.

"No, my life wouldn't be worth living," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'm glad he's doing okay," Harry noted.

"You did say that the move could be a good thing for him, and it looks like you were right," Ginny pointed out.

"I think it was a good thing for all of us. We've built a wonderful life for ourselves here, and I wouldn't change anything," Harry said adamantly.

"I agree, love," Ginny agreed warmly, taking his hand in hers.

Harry gazed at his beautiful wife of just a few weeks. Truly, the last two years had been fantastic. Once they had settled into their new identities, they had found a beautiful home and built up a strong business network that spanned a dozen companies each with a multi-million dollar turnover. Perhaps using magic to influence Muggle business deals wasn't exactly ethical, but Harry felt that karma owed him big time. Lately, they had begun to extend their influence into the Wizarding community here in America with promising results. His life had taken a definite upturn since he left Britain, and he hadn't had to face Voldemort to achieve it.

All was well.