FicWad

Chapter 2 : With Interest

The owl held up one leg, a small pouch hanging by a cord. Embroidered on the pouch in golden thread was the message 'Administration Cost 5 Sickles'. With a sigh Harry fetched a few coins from his school trunk and deposited them into the pouch, then removed the letter, keeping an eye on the sharp-beaked bird. He was halfway amused the Ministry had elected to charge him for a letter on his birthday, but shrugged it off. The large owl took off immediately, sparing no glance for Hedwig in her cage nor the owl feed and water he'd made ready for the expected barrage of birthday owls.

Harry rubbed a finger over the ministry seal, wondering what on earth this could be about. He remembered his last warning for under-age magic, and that certainly hadn't been formal, like this. Nor did he have to pay for it, Harry noted, throwing an annoyed glance out the window, though the owl was already far gone.

He heard a rumbling sound, and accurately concluded that Moody was making his way out of his trunk; the slight opening of the trunk's and the flash of a spinning eye was all the warning he got before the ex-auror smoothly jumped out of the trunk, wand at the ready - he'd rather gotten used to it, Harry observed. The ex-auror quickly glanced over the envelope Harry was still holding, and a ghost of a smile flickered over his face. "I'll be out for an hour or two," he announced, popping his spinning magical eye out of its socket with a sickening squelching sound. As usual, he dropped it into a conjured glass of water and ambled over to the window. "Need to do some recruitin' for Dumbledore. You keep yourself safe, right? Just be yourself and you'll be fine."

Harry had no idea what had gotten into Moody, but nodded anyway, to put the auror's mind at ease. He had the impression he'd not been terribly effective with alleviating his anxiety, but after a few more moments Moody apparated away, not mentioning it. Harry rubbed his neck and took a look out the window to see if anyone was around, but it seemed that even his birthday was particularly unexciting. The Dursleys, of course, had ignored it entirely.

Removing the seal on the Ministry letter, Harry pulled out a rather ancient-looking piece of parchment - which was entirely blank, save for a small drawing of what was unmistakably a wand. For a moment, Harry considered the Ministry playing a prank, but it seemed unlikely. With some hesitancy, he raised his wand to the paper and lightly tapped it, as he'd seen Dumbledore do before - he wasn't entirely sure if any spell was actually need, or if it was just intent - like with extracting memories. A moment later he reconsidered, but it was too late.

The moment the tip of his wand touched the paper he felt a sharp tug behind his navel - he had but moments to panic at his own stupidity for trusting a letter from the ministry - before the portkey whisked him away in a kaleidoscopic flurry of colours that left him dizzy and helpless.


He landed painfully on a solid marble floor, in a crumpled heap - he took in his surroundings quickly - he was in a dark stone hallway, similar to some he'd noticed last time he was in the Ministry. This particular hallway seemed to have neither doors nor windows. He heard someone chuckling, and snapped upright, his wand pointed at the source of the sound. For a brief moment Harry thought it was a Death Eater - he trembled and paled at the implications - before realizing that there was no white mask in sight.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, lowering his wand slightly. The woman - he was certain that hadn't been a man laughing - shrugged, then gestured for him to come. She was covered head to toe in a blue robe with a deep cowl hiding her face, though he thought he could see the outlines of a chin. "What's with the portkey?"

"It is the usual method of arranging a meeting here - we value our privacy. I'm afraid my identity, and many other things, aren't for you to know. Secrecy, you know - important in our line of work. For now, you're merely here to answer some questions. I'm afraid that you'll not remember anything else from here on out." She gestured with her wand, and Harry shivered.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I remember?" Harry asked, confused, shaking his head. He blinked at the woman, who was shaking her head in mirth, chuckling again. He jerked when he noticed that he wasn't in the same hallway as moments before - there were doors. How had he just moved without noticing?

"Those obliviators do a marvellous job, I must say." She commented dryly, her face still shaded in her cloak. "Your visit is over, mister Potter. I do hope it was a productive afternoon - though I suppose you are the worst person to ask at this point. You will find that some of your memories may return to you when they become necessary. Your letter will send you back to your home. Depending on what happens in the future, you may eventually find out what you spoke about, today." The woman turned and walked away, vanishing from the hallway quite suddenly, as if she'd apparated. "Have a good birthday - or what's left of it," her voice drifted from far away.

Harry shook his head, and looked down on the letter he'd received. His mind was racing - had he just been memory charmed? He tried the nearest door, but it was firmly locked. With a shrug, he figured he might as well think about this at the Dursleys, and let the portkey whisk him away again in a psychedelic spin - this time, his landing was better - right onto his bed.

It was dark outside.


"They DID obliviate me." Harry muttered angrily, eyeing the letter with suspicion. What on earth did the ministry achieve by inviting him over, then erasing the meeting from his memory? Evidently he'd been away for hours, and judging by the small pile of presents stacked up on his desk, he'd missed the arrival of his birthday presents entirely.

"About time for you to be back," Moody said, stomping into the room, his wooden leg tapping loudly on the floor, clearly in need of a new silencing charm. "My, they took their sweet time with you, didn't they?"

Harry sighed, and glared accusingly at Moody. "Alastor - you knew about this, about this whole--" he gestured widely, annoyed. "This whole kidnapping and memory erasing business? What on earth did they do to me? Couldn't you have given me a bit of a warning?"

"I head rumours back before summer. Nothing solid, but as it turned out, I still have some pull at the ministry. I managed to get into contact with a few of my friends in there and they made sure your appointment was properly guarded," Moody said, smirking. "Come now, you're clever. Surely you've some idea of whom you went to meet?"

Harry snorted, falling back on his bed. "I thought meddling by the minister or the aurors first, but it didn't seem their style. They're not exactly competent at the cloak and dagger thing, no offence." He smirked, as Moody frowned at the slight against his profession. "I figure that the woman I met must've worked at the Department of Mysteries - probably as an Unspeakable, whatever they are. I'm assuming it had something to do with the whole fiasco back before summer."

Moody grunted, "I've some idea what they're after, but I don't think I'm supposed to tell. Unspeakables are really into that whole secrecy hubbub, and they'd probably come and obliviate to correct my meddling. Heck, for all I know they've already done that - that's the trick with proper memory charms, you don't actually notice. Dumbledore told me that you'd all already been interviewed over the battle there."

"I haven't, at least," Harry answered truthfully. "I don't think I'd met an Unspeakable before today." He noticed Moody's cheesy grin, and groaned. "I suppose I wouldn't remember having an interview either. They're REALLY fond of that, aren't they?"

"You better believe it. Didn't meet any of them on the job - ever - and I know that's completely impossible. I reckon they've hit me with obliviates more times than I can count, cleaning up after yet another dark wizard I'd strewn all over the pavement. Glad they're good at it, at least - wouldn't want to get unbalanced, like you can get with amateur's memory modification."

Harry wisely didn't comment on that, opting instead to open his presents - the first one he opened turned out to be from Moody - a small portable foeglass that could be used to figure out if any enemies were nearby - a practical gift. He noted with some amusement that Uncle Vernon was quite distinctively glaring at him from it. Hermione, as per usual, had sent him something for school - books on defence and charms and one all about the use of common spells in combat - It'd surely come in handy, considering his shoddy experience in proper defence teachers had left him somewhat bereft of the better combat spells.

Ron's gift consisted of a small miniature quidditch set, with two teams of figurines played swift games, including a great many classic ones. The note that came with it informed him that it was an experimental product he'd helped create with Fred and George, and as a consequence it was placed firmly on the far end of the room. Knowing the twins, it was full of pranks that would go off at the most inconvenient times.

Remus had sent him a small photo album - a copy of his own, with a wide collection of wizarding photographs taken in the first few years of Hogwarts. The Marauders showed up most frequently, but a few of the photos also contained his mother, usually some distance away. In one or two pictures he'd occasionally see a glimpse of Peter Pettigrew, but it seemed that the album was enchanted to hide his presence. It quickly found a place with the photo album he'd received from Hagrid.

A few small gifts arrived from other Order members - one of them just sent the Daily Prophet, which Moody usually summarized for him. After nibbling on the cookies that one 'Devlin' sent him - apparently a new Order member - he also looked through the small instructional manual on wizarding cooking (Mrs. Weasley, of course), and tried on his brand new muggle-style sweater - apparently Ginny's gift. Unfortunately the sweater wouldn't do very well as muggle camouflage, as it had several drawings of golden snitches slowly fluttering all over it. Neville had sent some samples of gillyweed he'd grown himself - for future watery emergencies, no doubt. They were suspended in small globes of what seemed to be ice - quick-melt ice that would dissolve in the mouth, or so the included note said.

The oddest gift, though, was the one from Dumbledore. It was a tome of considerable size on Ministry regulations and procedures - hopefully not something he'd be needing in the near future. The note included was equally cryptic - It said to take extra care in reading pages 796 and onwards - which he would've done, had it contained that many pages.

"Knowing Dumbledore, it's a riddle." Moody commented as he made his way back into his trunk for a good night's rest. "I'd just keep that book somewhere close by. If you ever figure out where to find the missing pages, you'll probably find it quite a useful volume."

Harry nodded, stashing his presents safely into his trunk, thinking about the Ministry and what on earth they could be up to - Moody was evasive, Dumbledore didn't comment one way or another, and Remus just didn't know anything about it. At least, he acknowledged as we was falling asleep, the ministry hadn't hurt him - not that he knew of, anyway. Obliviation is SO annoying.



It was a few days before September First, which would be the day he went back to Hogwarts, and the last day he'd see Moody for some time - and he was spending the day sipping butterbeer and exchanging stories again. It had become something of a tradition, and even the Dursleys didn't seem particularly bothered any longer - Moody would conjure up some nice chairs and fireplace, and he'd expound on this or that battle - mostly against death eaters, but there was a considerable amount against the likes of Mundungus Fletcher - whom Moody had apparently caught red-handed several times. Dudley, for all his fear, had managed to dare ask Harry for a taste of butterbeer - on these comfortable evenings he'd always come by to get a mug or two for his personal consumption - he didn't even seem fazed by Moody any more, though he did keep looking over nervously.

Summer had, honestly, been quite brilliant. Spending time with Mad-Eye had been surprisingly interesting - the man, though paranoid like no other, seemed to be quite capable of being amiable and even kind - and though the frequent rituals of secret questions and answers got tiring, Harry admitted that Moody was probably the least likely person anyone could imitate well - he'd learned his lesson from Crouch Jr's impersonation and had gone to great lengths to prevent any such occurrence in the future.

"I'm going to miss this, Alastor." he said, chugging from his butterbeer, staring into the fire. "I could really get used to this lifestyle - perhaps throw in some excitement." Moody didn't answer - he was busy lurking from a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Don't worry about it, Harry - it's been an interesting summer for me too. It's been ages since I had a proper vacation. I'm itching to get back on the field, but I can't say it was a terrible few months." Moody rubbed a hand over his peg-leg and grinned vaguely. "Besides, I'm thinking you can probably arrange an apprenticeship in the future, with your history. Pretty much what we did with Occlumency, but about your chosen expertise. If I were still employed as an auror I'd offer it myself. First, you'd better get back to that school of yours."

"Will you be at the station tomorrow?" Harry asked, curious - Moody had been rather tight-lipped on what he was doing for the Order, particularly in these last few weeks. "I could use an extra eye or two, in case there's trouble."

Moody grunted non-committally, taking another drink. "I might be there. Don't know what Albus has planned, honestly - probably by design, that. I probably won't be at the school - 'Fraid I'll be burying an old friend. Death Eaters got 'im yesterday."

"That's terrible," Harry said, tiredly. There'd been quite a few deaths during the summer - Harry had mostly heard about them from Moody, who had a subscription to the Daily Prophet, though he didn't lend them out - if it was because it had more disparaging nonsense to tell about him or if it was just Moody's paranoia, Harry hadn't been able to figure out. He was somewhat embarrassed he'd been relieved when he didn't recognize the names, though Moody had sighed at quite a few - almost all the auror fatalities - and there were nearly a dozen at last count - turned out to have studied under then-auror Moody at some point.

With an intensity he didn't expect a sensation of pain and fire blazed through him, fading almost immediately into a mellow haze - Harry tiredly took out the small notebook in his pocket and noted the time and place. For some time now, the attacks through his link had been fading in intensity - this last one was too weak to really even distract him - he'd just jot down the basics and hand it over to Dumbledore at the earliest opportunity. "I really wonder what on earth this fire thing is about." Harry muttered, as he noticed Moody was watching him. "It's not nearly as wild as back in the beginning, but still... You don't suppose the Unspeakables did anything about it, on my birthday?"

"You didn't hear yourself, did you?" Moody asked, his voice soft. "You're creepy, you know. I'd be terrified of losing control like that - heck, I AM terrified, and it's not even me it's happening to! As for the Ministry, they'd probably not erase your memory if they were trying to help you with something important. Besides, the decrease in strength seems to have been pretty constant."

"I said nonsense again, I guess?" Harry figured it'd be the usual mix of silly poetry - it'd been that way for as long as Moody had observed the attacks. He'd think about the Ministry again when he'd learned something new on that. Dumbledore hadn't reported any significant progress in figuring out what was going on, so it seems he was stuck with this for now, and he didn't have a way to contact the Unspeakables in any case.

"Usual gibberish about clean bones, wind, moon." Moody said, nodding, brow furrowed. "You'd best warn your friends on the train about this, or they'll have a terrible freak-out the first time."

The attacks, though muted, had increased in frequency - there was now barely a day without a brief surge of fire and feeling like a megalomaniac - luckily, it seemed that Harry's training in Occlumency had advanced sufficiently to largely block it out, safe for turning into a loony for the duration, and whatever Voldemort was doing had also levelled out in intensity. It seemed that his scar was back to the way it had been early in summer - not much more than a regular scar. He supposed Luna, at least, would probably be able to empathise with being a bit loony.

Harry's school trunk had been packed for some days now, filled to the brim with his personal effects, his invisibility cloak, his photo albums and even - after some deliberation - the books his mother had left behind. His book of poetry was lodged firmly besides Dumbledore's book on ministry regulations and a few of Hermione's gifts. It'd be difficult to fit in another pair of socks at this point, and Harry briefly wondered if he should arrange for Moody to fetch a multi-compartent trunk of his own for Christmas. Perhaps he'd ask later.

A few times he found himself fingering the letter from the ministry he'd received - the one that had led him to a free obliviation and a lost afternoon - it was now entirely blank, not even showing the drawing of a wand as it had last time. He'd tried tapping it with his wand again one lazy evening, but it hadn't reacted. These days it spent most of its time in his back pocket - irrationally, perhaps, Harry was hesitant to throw it away.



Potions Master Severus Snape was having a rather boring holiday - he'd elected to spend some time refilling potion stocks for St. Mungo's hospital and the Hogwarts Infirmary, just to get his mind off things. Muttering under his breath he stashed another bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion into the square container he'd set up - it could hold about a hundred bottles in all, and would keep the potions for long-term use. The way it was enchanted now, it might well be good for two months, which made these some of the best potions of their kind available on the market. Few people knew the recipe had been - edited - by Snape himself to achieve this effect, though.

It wasn't a big surprise that few people knew the extent of his brewing skills, Severus considered, as he poured armadillo bile into two cauldrons that were softly bubbling away. For years now, he'd been busy trying to teach pathetically ungifted schoolchildren about the art, and the general opinion among practically all his students was one of intense dislike or fear of their teacher. Severus was well aware he was aggravating that situation, and it had been the source of many a heated discussion with the headmaster.

Only a few more days, and the halls would again stream full with the little tykes, and he'd be back on the job, having entirely too little time to finally study and of the myriad subjects he'd taken an interest in. If that wasn't enough, Albus had chosen today - just before a new year began - to tell him that he'd once again need to attempt an education in the Mind Arts for the Gryffindor Golden Boy, Potter. After the disaster that had been their last Occlumency lesson in the previous year, he'd been relieved that the impossible relationship was cut short.

Now Albus had to go and forcibly mix oil and water again. He wasn't so far gone he thought Potter had volunteered for this; it was beyond doubt it was the headmaster's latest attempt at nudging towards reconciliation.

Severus carefully measured out five short tentacles of Flitterbloom, and dropped them in the largest cauldron - an ongoing batch of the Wolfsbane potion, which he was once again supplying to Remus Lupin. This particular dose had a larger than usual concentration of Wolfsbane flowers, by Lupin's request, and Severus had to admit a certain curiosity in hearing the effects of his various variations on the potion; it wasn't easy to find werewolves willing to submit themselves to experimental brews like this, and felt some degree of pride that he'd be trusted in this manner.

Of course, he didn't get much praise or acknowledgement from most people, even within the Order; even his activities as a spy were infrequent and, thus far, decidedly unexciting - the Dark Lord had not requested Snape to be at any of his attacks, and had only very occasionally talked about his forthcoming plans in his presence; it was clear that there was little trust to be had between them. Of course, he'd noted that the Dark Lord had chosen to limit the number of people summoned at any one time; most likely a way to sift out traitors, though he'd not felt particularly threatened by the measures that were taken.

It was all rather amateurish, Severus had to admit. The Dark Lord had little experience in treacherous followers, as he knew most of his old followers as well as they knew themselves - or he thought he did, in any case. The new recruits - and there were a lot of those - were too many to keep track off individually, and spies would be ridiculously easy to slip in. The Dark Lord, realizing his predicament, had implemented the first measures, and dismissed the few who raised criticisms of his planned method; the behaviour of a Dark Lord, sure - but not terribly impressive. He'd noted the disappointed looks that a few purebloods had tried to hide, and couldn't help but smirk. He was glad that he, as a veteran member, was required to wear his mask at meetings, and nobody knew just what he thought of the situation.

"Severus?" a familiar voice called from the door, and the irritable Potions master threw open the door immediately, a scowl marring his face. Dumbledore. Of course. The old man was dressed in preposterous purple robes again. He didn't seem particularly joyful today, though, for which Severus was thankful. He'd seen quite enough of that side of the headmaster to last him two lifetimes.

"What are you doing at my door at one in the morning? I've potions to finish, and they won't take care of themselves," Severus snapped, gesturing to the chair while taking his own, while he made sure the brews could do without his attention for a time. "You were aware I'd be at breakfast, tomorrow?"

"I've been thinking on several memories I retrieved from one of our students, this summer. He's been experiencing atypical waking nightmares that seem to resemble, pardon me, an ancient, rather painful, purification ritual that's thought to have been destroyed." Dumbledore stroked his beard, glancing at Severus over his glasses, and gave a brief description. "I will not insult your intelligence - Mr. Potter has been seeing quite a bit of me over the summer, and I have promised to research the cause of his plight. I have been hypothesizing of Voldemort's-" Severus hissed, and Dumbledore rolled his eyes, "Tom's involvement, then. Evidence, however, suggests we may be dealing with something else - we've known Tom's activities during several of the episodes, and he has never been seen working ritual magic at those times, or any other. Indeed, several reports state that Tom seemed distracted and inaccurate with his spells at those times. I think that perhaps Tom, like Harry, is experiencing a certain mental backlash."

"Does the experience originate with Potter?" Severus asked, trying to ignore the seething irrational anger that was tempted to slip into his every description of the 'boy-who-lived'. "Is it possible that instead of the Dark Lord causing Potter's discomfort, Potter's instead causing the Dark Lord's?" Severus hesitated, then sighed. "It seems, I freely confess, beyond Potter's abilities."

Dumbledore stared at the bubbling broths around the room, deep in thought. "I had considered the possibility, but discarded it - although Harry has the potential to become quite a wizard, he's not tapped into this to the degree that Tom or I have - or even you, Severus. He's not powerful enough in his magic to overcome Voldemort's mental shields - I believe only a passive means such as intense emotion might be able to slip through. Without magic on either Harry's or the Dark Lord's part, though, I see precious few possible scenarios that are workable at all. The bond between them is not nearly the most powerful in existence, so it seems to me unlikely that it would have bizarre magical properties, even considering the method of its creation."

Severus shrugged, stepping over to the largest cauldron to give it a few good stirs. "If you want my thoughts on the matter - I believe it may be something left over from the Dark Lord's attempted possession in the Ministry of Magic. Possession is a particularly volatile magical connection, and it may have had unforeseen effects on their minds. Potter's, as the less disciplined, would likely have taken the brunt of the impact, and these experiences may simply be ghost pains from the damage done." Severus himself however, grimaced at his explanation. "The problem is, direct damage to the mind would be rather obvious. Mad-eye has been exploring the boy's for weeks in his attempts to teach Occlumency basics, and he's not come forward with anything significant."

"We find ourselves in quite the conundrum," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling slightly. "I have every confidence you are able to find an explanation where I can not - you have considerably more knowledge about the disreputable side of magic, which I believe may be involved. I've looked into elementalism, channelling, pyromancy - though it resembles all of the disciplines in that fire is involved, none of them have any obvious connection besides that - I believe you'll agree that magic involving heat isn't a sufficiently narrow research field."

"Potter should better be thankful for the time I spend on his problems," Severus muttered after a moment, though Dumbledore pretended not to hear. "Leave the memories, I will study them in my pensieve. I am still wakeful, I think it is best I finish these potions and make a start immediately. Hopefully it means I can get back to something riveting tomorrow."

"I have every confidence in your abilities, Severus. Never doubt those," the headmaster made his way out of the room, and vanished down the corridor. Severus was half tempted to acknowledge the praise. After the footsteps finally died down, it was back to brewing. Tonight would be another long haul - and that so very close to the new school year. It was enough to drive a man crazy.


"Get up, loafer." Moody said gruffly, as he exited his trunk and stepped into the smallest bedroom. It was the first of September, and Harry had ignored two loud bell charms that'd been ringing in his room for the better part of five minutes. "I'll be side-along apparating you to the barrier, and you'll be on your own from there. I have an appointment to keep."

The Dursleys, as usual, didn't have much to say - Aunt Petunia just sort of gaped at the two wizards, now fully clothed in wizarding robes. Harry had already put on his school robes, so he wouldn't have to change on the train - he didn't have a proper pair of pants left in the house to wear with his new sweater.

"I'll be going now," Harry said to his aunt - Uncle Vernon had already left for work - he'd barely been seen around the house at all while Moody was around, Harry noticed - and Dudley had already left with his friends. "Hopefully I won't have to come back here - but if I do, you'll see me sometime next summer. I'll remember not to call."

He grabbed hold of his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage when he heard a distinctive stomping gait - Hedwig, of course, had elected to fly to Hogwarts, as she'd been bored. Wizards taking care of the mail left her with little to do. Moody didn't even warn him - from one moment to the next, he felt like he was being sucked up through a straw - he couldn't quite breathe and he frantically tried to pull air into his lungs - before with a slight pop, he managed it, staggering. When he looked around he'd noticed they were standing in a small alcove, walking distance from the barrier to the train station.

"Here's where I say goodbye, I suppose," Moody said sadly. "Don't know if we'll be seeing each other again soon. I doubt I'll get stationed at Hogwarts - Dumbledore has plenty of people here already, I reckon. If you're every in the Ministry, look me up. I've got the sneaking suspicion I'll be frequenting my old colleagues a lot."

With a friendly handshake the two parted, and Harry quickly crossed through to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, which was already quite busy with wizards, witches, and a horde of young children. Harry felt old walking across the platform; he saw only a few familiar faces from his year, though there seemed to be first- and second- years all over the place.

"Bloody hell." Harry heard from somewhere behind him, and he spun on his heel, recognizing the voice. He almost immediately noticed the dense concentration of bright red hair, and sauntered over. Ron seemed to be having a strongly worded discussion with Ginny, while Hermione, also sporting a bright red hairdo, looked on in mixed amusement and exasperation.

"Hey, Weasleys," Harry said, prodding Ron in the side. A startled yelp and a cry of 'Harry!' later, he found himself being hugged - by Ginny, no less. Blushing tremendously she let him go, grinning widely. "The colour won't come off for a few hours." She said smartly, while Ron came up with a grin that mirrored Ginny's.

With a grimace, Harry grabbed his wand - he was terribly glad he could use magic again - and conjured a mirror. Sure enough, his hair was now bright Weasley red, and he noticed a number of freckles on his face that didn't belong. "Quite a nice effect, I admit. Fred and George's work, I suppose?"

Ginny chuckled, as she blushed again. "That's actually one of mine. Fred and George bought it from me for ten galleons though, so you'll probably see it in stores eventually. I hear they're also making ones to make you look like a Malfoy. I imagine they'll ask you too."

"Looking like a bespectacled git isn't our idea of a great day," George said, as he appeared from somewhere behind Mr. Weasley, who was conversing with another man who'd apparently also been the target of the Weasley hex. "Indeed Fred, whatever would we do all day? The one we have already beat all the giant snakes, werewolves and dragons. It would be rather boring."

"Good to see you two," Harry said, smiling. "How's your business going? Shouldn't you be out there, selling your stuff, instead of hanging out here? It's not like you're getting on the train."

"Business, of course, is booming. Not too many customers on the first day of school, though. We're just here to see off the little ones, here." Fred said with a fiendish grin. "Perhaps we planted a few pranks and hexes in the train as well, before everyone showed up. We might've done that." George nodded, and pointed at the very end of the train. "We might've put a rather strong wobbling charm on that last car there, which might mean you'd better search another compartment." Fred followed with a grin, "It might've been some other car."

"You two are incorrigible!" Hermione said, sounding both amused and appalled at the same time. Fred and George merely laughed, and with a wave they went to talk to a Ravenclaw Harry vaguely recognized - she'd had blond hair before, but it'd just turned into a fair approximation of Ginny's hair.

"How's your summer been, mate?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione. "Your letters were rather vague on the details, honestly. Wish you could've come over for some Quidditch at the burrow, even though we weren't home much."

"I think the letter situation is Alastor's fault, he's paranoid about being specific, and he's been rubbing off on me," Harry admitted - he received incredulous stares back. "Mad-Eye Moody, y'know. He's been living in my house for most of the summer."

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed. "A crazy deranged auror in your house, and you came here intact? You must've more luck than any of us realized."

Hermione joined Harry in a lighthearted laugh, as Harry relayed some of his more comical Mad-Eye observations. For one, he'd been able to hear Moody take out his eye so many times he could imitate the sound nigh-perfectly, and he entertained the Weasleys for a moment with his impression of the man - he glanced around himself suspiciously, making sure his wand was not in his back pocket, and ambled back and forth while complaining loudly of inferior peg-legs.

Hermione, it turned out, had been studying during summer. Harry figured this was news in about the same way 'Water still wet' was. Ron, astonishingly enough, had been joining Hermione for a while now, studying NEWT-level Charms and Transfiguration. Due to being in a magic-saturated house with many adult wizards present, they hadn't run any risk by using spells, though Mrs. Weasley had been quite cross with them when they'd been caught trying to transfigure dust bunnies into actual bunnies, who had then proceeded to nibble on all the antique furniture in the storage room. Evidently something in the charm went wrong and the bunnies in question had ended up with the mindset of a deranged termite - Hermione theorized it was the inflection on part of the incantation they'd gotten wrong, though Harry tuned that out. Judging from his expression, so did Ron.

"Shouldn't we be getting on the train?" Harry finally said, as the whistle blew. Most of the students had slowly been boarding while they talked. With a quick goodbye and a hug from Mrs. Weasley Harry was on his way, Ron and Hermione close behind him. Ginny trailed after, joining up with Neville and Luna, who'd been on the other end of the platform.

The six of them quickly found an entirely empty compartment, though the slight trembling they felt made them wary to stay there. Walking further along, there was another empty compartment, and this one seemed entirely normal.

"It's good to get back to the wizarding world," Harry opined, grabbing one of the sandwiches he'd prepared. "Living among muggles, even with a mad ex-auror, just doesn't get terribly interesting."

Luna, as usual, had pulled out the latest Quibbler and was dutifully reading it upside-down; or downside-up, as she'd surely call it. "We could always break into the ministry again." She said dreamily. "It didn't turn out like we thought it would, but it was quite an adventure, wasn't it?"

Neville coughed at that, and looked at her with some nervousness. "Luna, I think we're probably done with doing that kind of thing. I don't think they'd be very lenient the second time around."

Luna shrugged, continuing to study her paper. "The Unspeakables weren't awfully upset at what we did, I thought. I'm troubled they were just going along with the Rotfang conspiracy, but their compliments seemed genuine."

Harry snapped up at the mention of the Unspeakables. "Luna, you recall the ministry talking to you about what happened? I figured they'd have obliviated all of us."

"Oh, of course we were memory charmed," Luna started, finally looking up. "They use Wrackspurt magic though - and I'm protected from that. You could be too, you know - I'll make you a nice necklace when we get to Hogwarts."

Harry agreed awkwardly. Luna had always been a bit - odd - and he honestly wasn't terribly surprised that memory charms didn't work terribly well. He briefly wondered if she'd even need occlumency to ward off a Legilimens. Maybe he'd bring up the topic with Dumbledore.

Ginny, who'd been chatting with Hermione, suddenly turned to him. "Harry, what DID Mad-Eye do all day, in your house? I can't imagine the muggles were terribly interested in talking to him."

"We did quite a bit of Occlumency training, and he spent a lot of time recounting a thousand-and-one tales of his time as an auror. He also did who-knowns-what in his magical trunk, but I wasn't really privy to what that was. You might have noticed he's a bit paranoid."

Hermione beamed at him. "Occlumency training? I'm glad that Professor Dumbledore was able to find someone besides Professor Snape - I had been worrying how we were going to convince you to go back for lessons, this year."

"I am going back to Snape's lessons," Harry said, making a face - Neville responded by shuddering. "I hope that 'remedial potions' is more civil this year. Honestly it couldn't get much worse."

"We'll keep an eye out for the greasy git, you know that." Ron commented, snacking on one of a considerable number of sandwiches he'd taken from home. "Won't let Snape within a hundred yards of you outside class."

Harry nodded in thanks, thinking back on his OWL results, which had arrived a while ago. He had traded a few letters over the subject with Hermione, though Ron seemed largely uninterested in the topic. He had, with some relief, managed to score high enough to enter all auror-required NEWT subjects; the downside, of course, was two more years of Snape. "I suppose after fighting Death Eaters and being possessed by Voldemort, Snape's not entirely high on my list of scares nowadays."

Neville inhaled sharply at Harry's casual mention of 'Voldemort', but nodded resolutely. "I found a Boggart in our cellar this summer. It didn't turn into Snape any more. I'll not be taking his class this year, so I suppose I won't see too much of him. Thank goodness."

"We'll probably see a bit less of each other than usual," Luna said airily. "Especially you, Harry. Better keep an eye out for any lethal potions."

Harry nodded uncertainly, as Neville and Ron gave confused shrugs. Hermione had a calculating look on her face - Harry briefly wondered if she'd finally decided to try and decode what the Ravenclaw was talking about. He wished her good luck.

A voice resounded from outside the door, and Harry recognized that smug voice immediately. Malfoy was coming. It might as well be tradition at this point - Malfoy would come and insult them, and eventually stomp off in a huff. Harry resigned himself to yet another load of verbal abuse.

"Well, Potter, what have we here? A whole compartment of bad blood and incompetence?" Draco Malfoy drawled, as he slid open the compartment door. "I knew you had bad company before, but you're not improving matters. What's next, you'll get that oaf Hagrid in here?"

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron grumbled angrily. "We'll see quite too much of you during at school, I reckon."

Malfoy huffed, then looked straight at Harry. "You'd better be careful, Potter. My father might not be on the board of governors any more, but my family still has quite a bit of pull. Step over the line, and you'll find that they're quite likely to expel you."

"You'd better watch out yourself, Draco" Harry answered grimly, "I'm afraid that without your daddy, you'll have precious little to buy you out of your problems. Especially the more permanent ones - burned into your flesh, if you will."

Malfoy paled, his nostrils flaring. "You know nothing, Potter. You'd better watch your back, or it might just get stabbed. Keep an eye on your food, it might just be poisoned. And I'd stay off the towers at night - who knows what freak winds might appear."

"Get out of our compartment, Malfoy." Hermione said curtly, raising her wand. "Otherwise, we'll find out just what you look like without hair."

Malfoy took off instantly, sneering at Harry until he was out of sight. Hermione sighed and put her wand away - Neville was staring at her like he'd never seen her before, and Ron was grinning.

"Brilliant, Hermione! You should do that more often! Though - it doesn't seem like something a prefect would do. You ARE a prefect, right?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Professor McGonagall told me I'd have to pick between taking all my NEWT subjects or the prefect badge - otherwise we'd need another time-turner, and I'm doubtful they'd give me one again."

"Typical Hermione," Ron said, grinning. "A choice between more classes or the ability to boss first-years around and roam the halls after curfew. Guess which she picks?"

"You know," Harry said, "Three people have told me to worry about poisons today. I'm wondering if they're trying to tell me something." He looked apprehensively at the sweets Neville had piled in his lap. "Those aren't Fred and George's, are they? Maybe I should take these warnings to heart."

The rest of the train trip was spent bantering about summer, insulting Malfoy, or reminiscing on previous years; Harry shared a few of Moody's crazier tales - Neville actually recognized a few of them from tales his own grandmother had told him. Luna spent quite a bit of time just listening to the conversation, though she'd opined on the merits of eating carrots when Neville had described his summer's work, which involved gardening and creative disposal of magical pests.

When they were nearly at their destination and everyone had put on their school robes, Harry decided it was about time for his warning. "Listen, guys... The reason I spent most of my summer with Moody in the house is because of something Voldemort's been doing. It's like the visions from last year," Harry was glad to see there were no gasps this time, though Neville seemed unnerved. "He's been sending me weird visions - or whatever they are - and Dumbledore hasn't really figured out what's going on yet. If you ever see me space out or start talking gibberish, you'll know what's going on."

"You start speaking in Gibberish?" Luna wondered out loud, "It's a dialect of Gobbledegook, I believe. That's very interesting, Harry. I didn't know there were any human speakers of that language."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's just English, but it doesn't make much sense. Mostly poetry I've read before, really. I'm just saying so you'll not jump out of your skin. Honestly, knowing my luck, I'd expected it to happen when Malfoy strode in. At least It'd have given him a nice scare."

"Can you imagine?" Hermione said with a gleam in her eye. "Harry quoting some love poem at Malfoy? He would probably run to the other side of the train like a dementor was chasing him."

They shared a good laugh at that, as each came up with increasingly ludicrous scenarios. Harry briefly wondered what had happened to Crabbe and Goyle - he'd have expected them to be with Malfoy - and nervously thought what the would-be Death Eater might do if he'd ever find Harry twitching while quoting Hamlet. Expelled for temporary insanity? Harry mostly kept out of the conversation from then on, as Hermione made humorous hypotheses on why Voldemort would be reading poetry, or having Harry read it for him.


Later in the evening, Harry made his way through the castle's winding hallways - it was good to be back in Hogwarts. The opening feast, as usual, was delicious, and thankfully Dumbledore hadn't spent much time on announcements, beyond a warning on the presence of aurors on the grounds, due to the return of Lord Voldemort (There's been a lot of gasps at the name, of course.) Snape hadn't even been in the Great Hall, nor the new defence teacher - whoever it was, as he or she hadn't been introduced.

Harry took a left and finally the familiar gargoyle came in sight. "Ice Mice" he muttered, as he made his way up to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had tapped him on his shoulder just after the feast, and requested a quick talk.

"Come in, Harry" Dumbledore said before Harry had knocked, and with a shrug he strolled right in. He paled slightly as he noticed that Professor Snape was glowering at him from the other side of the room. Dumbledore wasn't expecting him to have an Occlumency lesson right here, right now, was he?

"Good evening, Potter." Snape said gruffly, his face a blank mask. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking on with interest. "I trust you had an enjoyable summer."

"Yes, Professor." Harry answered with some surprise, "Yourself?"

"It was satisfactory," Snape answered, still in that oddly neutral tone. Harry, for a brief moment, imagined Snape had actually grown up. What an idea.

"I asked you here tonight for a reason," Dumbledore suddenly started, after a brief uncomfortable silence had settled in the office. "I hope you don't mind, but Professor Snape here has been helping me analyse the memories you gave me over the summer.

Harry nodded, concerned. Professor Snape reached into his robes and retrieved a flask full of memories - they seemed oddly dark grey. "I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that your memories have gotten somewhat diluted, hence the colour change. I have been going through the first few particularly, but I've been limited somewhat by my inability to fully comprehend the experience - as it was not originally my own mind, the memories are approximations at best. The headmaster, intriguingly, doesn't experience anything whatsoever from these memories."

Dumbledore nodded, looking over his glasses with concern. "I have to apologize for my scepticism, but I had thought for some time that you were still possessed by Tom, or possibly damaged by his possession. I'm afraid that I was so certain of my own ability, I let it blind me. It took me some time to consider trusting my closest allies with the information - I asked Remus, who had a powerful reaction; I was able to gain a good description from him, though even his memories of seeing the memory - which would've diluted the experience further - did not apparently have any effect on myself."

"I have my hypotheses on why that is, of course." Snape commented, his eyes narrowing. "It might have something to do with Dark magic - as you know, Lycanthropy is considered to be due to dark magic, and I myself am intimately familiar with it due to experience. Although I'm not aware of Potter's experience with the Dark Arts, it seems plausible."

Harry swallowed, thinking back to the ministry, and what he'd tried to do to Bellatrix. "Would... would an attempt count?"

"Dumbledore looked at him with disappointment. "What are you trying to say, Harry?"

"I ... tried to use the Cruciatus curse." Harry began, and Snape hissed. "It was just after Sirius died - I wasn't thinking straight, and Bellatrix was right there in front of me. It just sort of knocked her down, it didn't actually torture her, I think - she said that you really had to mean it."

Dumbledore nodded, looking somewhat relieved. "Although I will admit to being disappointed, I am glad that your character, at least, does not allow you to take yourself too far into that darkness. The Dark Arts can be highly addictive." he looked up at Snape, and continued. "I'm afraid, though, that I have used the Dark Arts in the past - although I've never used them on human beings, quite a few of my earlier exploits had much to do with the darker side of magic. I have used the Killing Curse before, once, if only to find out if I could."

Snape nodded, looking somewhat surprised. "Very well. I'm afraid, Potter, that we'll have to step up our Occlumency lessons in order to get these - visions - under sufficient control that you will not be too distracted by them. If you were ever to be in a fight, it would be highly disadvantageous for you to stop in your tracks and expound on the birds and bees." Snape smiled sardonically, a truly frightening sight. "Furthermore, I request that during the weekend, you will spend some hours in close proximity to myself, preferably with your Occlumency inhibited. I will make an oath not to rummage in your memories as you did in mind, if that sets your mind at ease. I wish to use Legilimency to experience one of these visions first-hand - being in your mind, it should not have the same problems as the memories you donated."

Harry nodded dumbly, looking at Snape as if he'd never seen him before. "You're being... awfully reasonable, Professor."

Snape scoffed and glared. "You have caught my professional interest, Potter - for that reason, and that reason alone, I have chosen to ignore some of our differences. I will not be ignoring your many serious faults in class, believe me."

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore chided. "You will note that a conversation from neutrality has thus far not descended into petty squabbling and mutual insults; if you were both to spend some energy into avoiding unnecessary confrontation, you'd both be better off."

Snape didn't answer with anything but a glare, and left the office. Dumbledore, meanwhile, took out a sherbet lemon and sighed contentedly. "I am glad to have you back at Hogwarts, Harry, though I have my suspicions that certain - other parties - might make this difficult. I will always be able to help you out, though."

"Malfoy already warned me about it." Harry said, frowning. "It was sort of weird. I though he was insulting me at the time, but looking back -"

"You'll find that many people are more than they appear," Dumbledore said sagely. "Especially those that you think you've understood. Now, just a few words of advice : I would suggest silencing charms on your bed - both for any nightmares you may have, and any potential repeat of Tom's attacks on your mind. I'd also suggest scheduling a meeting with Professor Snape at your earliest convenience - not only is some swiftness advisable, but I do not believe that Professor Snape will be able to set aside his grudges for very long."

Harry nodded, and stood up, sighing. "I feel like the whole world is revolving around me between you, Professor Snape and Alastor. Honesty, I feel like I'm missing roughly twenty years of experience to even speak on equal footing with any of you."

Dumbledore smiled happily, walking over to the many little devices he remembered smashing. Quite a few new ones had appeared since last time. "I do not think many people other than us two can lay claim to fighting Lord Voldemort directly, Harry - particularly multiple times. We both have experience fighting Death Eaters as well, and we've both survived every encounter. I hope that in our future, we will also share the honour of having defeated a Dark Lord."

Harry nodded, as he twirled on one of the many devices - it gave a whistle and a hiccup. "I feel like I'm not really up the task, headmaster. I might be a decent enough sixth-year, but that doesn't seem like a very good foil for a powerful dark wizard."

"You were only a first-year when you first fought - and defeated - Tom." Dumbledore said simply. "And let's not forget you slew his basilisk at age twelve. I do believe you are underestimating yourself severely."

Harry, thinking back on his discussion at Privet Drive, held up his hand and concentrated on the little device he's just touched and said 'Accio'. Something, Dumbledore had admitted, he couldn't manage wandlessly.

The device flew up to his hand instantly. He turned it around in his hand, wondering just what it meant to be able to do that. Was he really powerful? He didn't think so - his spells hadn't ever been particularly overpowered, and he'd usually taken longer to learn them than a good portion of the class. With a frown, he placed it back where it came from, and concentrated on the globe he'd often seen at the other end of the room. 'Accio globe.'

With a rumble and a snap, the large globe came rolling at him - at the last moment Harry lowered his wand and it landed at his feet with a dull thud. That had quite some weight behind it. After a moment he recognized that the metal surrounding it was bent - the globe had been stuck to a device, which he'd just ruined. Embarrassed, he turned to Dumbledore, who was looking at Harry with mirth in his eyes. "I'm afraid I ruined another one of your possessions." Harry tried apologetically.

"Nonsense, nonsense," Dumbledore said, as he quickly floated the globe to his old position. One Reparo later, the globe seemed good as new. "I do believe that little demonstration should set your mind at ease. You have significant control already over your wandless magic - more so than most people I've know, certainly - and quite a bit of power. You'll find that with practice, you will be able to summon more and more heavy objects - perhaps you may be able to summon that globe through the air as you did with my letter opener, instead of simply rolling it over to you. Admittedly, I'd hope you would loosen it first, lest you break it again."

Harry nodded, staring wonderingly at his hand. He'd have to go and test this sometime soon - maybe get the rest of the Ministry Six together and see if he could figure out how it worked, and if any of them could also manage it. "I suppose if I train hard enough, I can make up for my age." he said lightly, then smirked. "I'm betting Fred and George would have a field-day with wandless spells."

On his way back to Gryffindor Tower - he'd used his invisibility cloak, per Dumbledore's advice, as it was past curfew - he'd come across Filch and spent some minutes whispering under his breath, trying to get a mild itching curse to work wandlessly. When the caretaker eventually started trying to get to the middle of his back with his broom, he let out a small cry and had to get away real fast before he'd get caught - the Weasley twins would be proud, he was sure.

Hermione, unsurprisingly, was reading. Ron, unsurprisingly, was sleeping. They'd clearly been waiting in the common room for some time - there was nobody else left, and the curtains were closed. "Good evening," Harry whispered, as he slipped off his cloak. "What're you reading?"

Hermione looked up, unsurprised. "Dumbledore must've had quite a talk with you, to take you this far past curfew." She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You didn't abuse roaming the halls with your cloak, did you? I could tell a prefect..."

Harry laughed guiltily, then launched into a brief summary of what he'd talked about. He left out some bits - he figured neither Snape nor Dumbledore would've liked him to blabber about their whole meeting - but concluded with his itching spell on Filch, which earned him a stern glance, though it was quickly replaced by Hermione's usual interest in weird magic.

"Could you, say, summon the poker near the fireplace from here? It's not too heavy -"

Harry did so with a softly spoken 'Accio poker.' and found that his spell, though fairly controlled, wasn't nearly as precise as his wanded one. He found himself, quite suddenly, completely covered in playing cards that'd come sailing from one of Dean's bags that was still against the common room wall. "I think I'll have to work on that one."

Ron, meanwhile, had woken up from his slumber and was trying to work a kink out of his neck from his awkward sleeping position on his fluffy chair. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I could use a good bed."

Ron and Harry found Neville in their dormitory, tending to a few tiny plants in little pots, arrayed besides his bed. "They'll make it smell nice and fresh," he explained. "I got a few of them from Professor Sprout for helping her out last year - she appreciated it. I even have some Flitterbloom and Dittany."

"That's nice, Neville." Ron commented sleepily, as he crawled into his bed.

"Night, Ron." Neville responded, winking at Harry. "Luna told me I should warn you about big cloaks. Not entirely sure what she meant, but there you have it."

Harry nodded uncertainly. The only image that came to mind was a vague outline of a chin in a long blue cloak, chuckling slightly.


The dark-haired man wasn't very fond of waiting, and tapped impatiently on his desk. "What's taking so long?" he asked the air. The air, surprisingly, answered - or rather, a blond woman did, who'd just stepped in from the long hallway.

"Stop your whining. If the boss takes his time, it means he's probably considering all his options. You know as well as I do that there've been times where the application procedure took months. There was that one time -"

"Yes, yes, I know my history," the man grunted, annoyed. "Seemed to me to be a shoe-in, that's all. Weirdness isn't so much ground for disqualification as it is for promotion around here."

"It's... complicated," the woman answered. "There's numerous sides to consider. We both know that if this ever came out, we'd have no choice of alliance any more. We'd be stuck."

She only got a grunt in response. After a moment, the woman continued: "Honestly, let the higher-ups decide. If they figure it's worth the risk, who are we to disagree? Besides, you have enough work to do : there's a whole new slew of D-class personnel coming in tomorrow."

"Freakin' zombies." the man muttered, glaring at the paperwork piling on his desk. "Very well, I think I can go without screaming in annoyance for a while longer."

The woman smirked and left the way she came - rhythmic tapping of fingers on desk swiftly resumed.