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Author: Hank Story: Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 8 Words: 126,113
With a feeling of dread Harry got up off the floor and approached the owl, taking the parchment off its leg and offering it an owl treat from Hedwig's cage. The owl hooted happily as it took the treat from Harry's hand and proudly flew off into the night, most likely wanting to devour its morsel in privacy. Unconcerned with the owl's doings, Harry broke the seal on the parchment and unrolled it. Dear Harry, Thank you for your notification of the incident you witnessed. I have made the appropriate corrections to our security measures. As far as your requested visit to the Burrow is concerned, please remain at your aunt's home until further notice. Sincerely yours, Albus Dumbledore Headmaster The letter trembled in Harry's shaking hands as he stared at it in ill-suppressed rage. He crumpled it up and threw it into his bin, where it exploded in a ball of flame. Harry made a mental note to check the bin later to ensure he hadn't accidentally bewitched it to burn everything that was thrown into it. The last thing he needed was Ron's dad showing up to inspect his room for illegally bewitched Muggle artefacts. Harry managed to smile as he thought about Ron's dad busting him for the rubbish bin. His smile faded though, when he remembered he would not be allowed to go to the Burrow. Furious with Dumbledore's recalcitrance, Harry sat at his desk and pulled a piece of parchment out of the top drawer. He dipped his quill into an open inkbottle and scribbled out a terse sentence. As Harry rolled the parchment up and sealed it, setting it aside until Hedwig returned from her hunt, he felt the familiar flicker of Voldemort's consciousness on the edges of his own. Determined not to fall prey to Voldemort's efforts to possess him, Harry got up from his chair and went back to retrieve his book from the floor. As he held the volume Professor Lupin had given him last Christmas, he allowed himself to remember his godfather and how happy he had been during that time. Harry smiled at the memory of Sirius singing Christmas carols and telling off his mother's portrait. As his heart filled with the bittersweet warmth of the memories, he once again felt Voldemort slip away and breathed a sign of relief. As he continued to think on his godfather, Harry wondered whether Sirius would ever be proud of him. Sirius' comment, 'You're a lot less like your father than I thought you were', haunted him. Given what Harry had seen in Snape's memory, he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Meditating on Sirius and his father's penchant for risk-taking, Harry wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not either. Sirius' tendency to take chances had got him killed. Harry wondered, if Sirius had played it safer, would he still be alive? Still, he thought, Sirius' death was not in vain. He had participated in a battle in which a resurrected Voldemort had been revealed to the world, most importantly to Cornelius Fudge, whose help the Order of the Phoenix desperately needed. Yet Harry still wondered. His own penchant for risk-taking had put his friends in grave danger, yet that had not been in vain either, for it had brought Voldemort out of hiding. Harry sighed in frustration and stared at the type on the page, watching it blur and then dissolve as his thoughts went beyond his studies. Was this what it was going to take to defeat Voldemort? Would he have to risk his life and the lives of his friends over and over and over again until Voldemort was defeated? How many would have to be sacrificed before it was all over? Would those who remained ever be able to find peace again? Would he ever be able to find peace, or was it just some illusion, always flitting a bit out of his reach like an especially elusive Snitch? He thought about Sirius and the lack of peace his godfather had enjoyed, despite being one of those who strove to defeat Voldemort the first time around. Twelve years in Azkaban had been his reward for a job well done. Harry remembered grimly the frustration his godfather exhibited at having to remain at the Black mansion instead of being allowed to participate in the fight. He remembered the joy Sirius derived from taking risks that would have driven ordinary people mad, and his exhilaration during his final battle. Harry also noted that Sirius had not chosen to become a ghost; rather he had taken his chances and passed on, perhaps to reunite with James and Lily in a trio, much like Harry, Ron, and Hermione were. Harry smiled as he thought of the threesome, knowing they would be happy together. He wondered what his mother might say at seeing Sirius again; she would probably chide him for forgetting to duck at the proper time. His father and Sirius would probably laugh at one another for having made similar mistakes. A tear fell from Harry's eye as he realised he would never be able to ask Sirius for guidance again. With his chin resting on the pages of the book, Harry watched the sky turn from starry black to vivid pink and orange to a brilliant cobalt blue. Realising he had to face another day, Harry sat up and gently closed the book. A moment later, he stood up and set it on his desk, hoping the day's chores would be enough to take his mind off everything. ***** Dumbledore looked up from the paperwork on his desk when he heard the soft hoot of an owl. He had not heard it light on his windowsill; his hearing was too age-worn to pick up the whisper of an owl's wings. He was surprised to see Hedwig's snowy white form and wondered if Harry had had another dream. He got up stiffly from his chair and walked to the windowsill, enjoying the soft morning light as he approached Harry's owl. He pulled the letter off Hedwig's leg, then paused before opening it to enjoy the view from his office. It was a cheerful, summer day and the grounds around Hogwarts were in fine order. The grass was vivid green and the roses, vines, and flowers everywhere were in full bloom. He smiled, taking delight in the beauty of it all. A flutter of wings brought his attention back to his office as Hedwig took flight, doubtless off to enjoy some hunting on the grounds. Looking back to the letter, Dumbledore unfurled it and frowned as he read it. Professor Dumbledore, If you will not give me your permission to go to the Burrow, I will go of my own accord. Harry "Oh dear," muttered Dumbledore. He moved back to his desk, where he sat down and pulled a blank piece of parchment in front of him. He penned his reply quickly then went to the Owlery to pass the letter on to a well-rested school owl. The last thing he needed was for Harry to leave the safety of Privet Drive with all the increased Death Eater activity. Harry's dream had marked the second event in a series of attacks that seemed designed to eliminate those members of the Order least likely to be missed by the Ministry of Magic. The attack Harry had seen was the only one in which Voldemort himself had personally taken part, necessitated, thought Dumbledore, by the fact that Hestia and William Jones were both former Aurors who had resigned in protest the previous year. Dumbledore shuddered at the thought of the couple and their precious daughter, wishing he had been there to defend them from the onslaught. Everything had happened so quickly that it had caught the Order off-guard. Instead of a single attack led by Voldemort himself as had always been done in the past, multiple families had been targeted on the same night. As a result of the Ministry's unwillingness to lend a hand, Dumbledore had had to regroup the Order for its own protection, one of the things which had led to the lateness of his reply to Harry's earlier letter. In all the tumult, he had completely forgotten about Harry's predicament. With the continued chaos Voldemort and his minions were causing, the poor boy would just have to wait. ***** "Are you certain this is where you want to be let off?" asked the driver as he stared out at the open meadow next to the road from behind the wheel of his cab. Hermione laughed to herself as she realised that the Burrow had a protective charm around it that prevented it from being seen from the road. She knew she was in the right place by the wide gravel path that led away from the road and seemingly ended in the middle of the open field. "Yes, I'm sure," answered Hermione as she got out of the cab and stood by the boot. "Oh well, it's your shilling," said the driver as he got out and retrieved Hermione's luggage from the boot. "Knut, actually," said Hermione quietly, happy to be headed back into the wizarding world again. She noticed her comment had earned her another strange look from the driver. "Are you certain you're in the right place, Lass?" he asked, still not quite at ease with leaving her out in the middle of nowhere. "Don't worry, this is exactly where I want to be," she answered as she handed him her fare along with a generous tip. "Do you need any help with your bags or anything?" "No, I'm quite all right," Hermione insisted as she hoisted her bags, which had permanent lightening charms on them, and walked down the gravel path. She turned to smile at the driver one last time and watched him shake his head in bewilderment. Not one to waste time, he hopped back into his cab and in a moment was speeding down the road, away from Hermione and the seemingly empty meadow. When Hermione turned her attention back to the path, she was pleased to see that the Burrow had become visible at last. She continued to smile as she walked down the path and up to the front door. The Burrow's delightfully homey shabbiness made a warm contrast to all of the fancy resorts her parents had dragged her to over the earlier part of the summer. All in all, she thought as she set her bags down on the stoop, she preferred to be here with Ron and his family, rather than at the festival of extravagant and conspicuous consumption she had seen on Majorca. She rapped on the door and then looked away to survey the pleasant green of the surrounding countryside while she waited. Her attention was brought back to the Burrow when the door flew open and Ginny gave her a welcoming hug. "Hello, Hermione. Welcome back," she said gaily. "Hi, Ginny," said Hermione as she returned Ginny's embrace. "Come in." Ginny released Hermione and beckoned her inside. "Ron will be down in just a minute." Hermione followed Ginny into the house and dropped her bags next to one of the chairs close to the fire. She grew nervous as she realised she was going to see Ron again in a moment or two, and began fussing with a lock of hair. "By the way, I need to talk to you after you read Harry's letter," Ginny said in a rushed whisper. Seeing Hermione's confused look, she added, "Ron's got it. Sorry, but I've got to go." She ran over to the fire and pinched a bit of Floo powder out of the pot on the mantel. "I overslept and now I'm late for work." "Where are you working?" asked Hermione, surprised that Ginny would have a summer job. "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," Ginny replied with a grin. "I'm minding the store and running the till while Fred and George are in the back manufacturing new stock. They blew all of their stock at the end of term and now they've got backorders coming out of their ears. They're working night and day to get caught up. I'll see you later," she finished as she threw the sparkly green powder into the fireplace. "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," she shouted and jumped in, vanishing in an instant. Watching Ginny disappear into the flames made Hermione grateful she had ridden the train and then taken a cab out to the Burrow from the local station. It was a much nicer way to travel. Footfalls from the stairwell distracted her attention from the fireplace. She laughed a bit at the sight of Ron coming down to meet her. He had a sleepy look on his face and was dressed in violently orange-coloured Chudley Cannons pyjamas with the players flying all over them. His hair actually looked worse than Harry's for once, but to Hermione he was a sight for sore eyes. "Hello, Hermione," said Ron sleepily. "Hi, Ron." She met him at the base of the stairs to envelop him in a hug and kiss him on the cheek. "Mm," Ron murmured as Hermione kissed him. "I missed you, Hermione." Hermione rewarded him another kiss. "I've missed you, too," she said. Hermione enjoyed the feel of Ron's arms wrapped around her as they stood together beside the stairs. She laughed as she watched Ron still trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. "So when are we going to tell Harry about us?" "As if he would believe it," Ron said. "Ron!" "Well, you know what I mean." "It's been almost six months. Don't you think we should tell him?" A pained look came over Ron's face as he contemplated Hermione's request and remembered how foul Harry's temper had become. "Do you think we could wait until he gets his temper in check? Maybe give it a decade or two," he added cheekily. Hermione sighed and then smiled at Ron's comment. "We're going to have to tell him some day," she replied, not wanting to argue the point any longer. "Come on," said Ron as he released her, "let's go into the kitchen. Mum's making breakfast if you want a bite to eat." "Ron, Ginny mentioned something about a letter from Harry," said Hermione, changing the subject. "Erm, yeah," muttered Ron nervously. Hermione gave him a curious look. "I'll fetch it for you," he said with a yawn and turned to go upstairs again. "Wait for me in the kitchen. I'll be there in just a moment." Hermione smiled and headed to the kitchen. She anticipated enjoying Mrs. Weasley's cooking once again. "Oh, hello, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said as she spied the girl entering the kitchen. She dropped what she was doing and went over to hug her. "It's so good to see you again." "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as she returned the hug. "It's good to be back." "Would you like a spot of tea? I've got some fresh scones, too, if you'd like." "Yes, I would." Hermione allowed Molly to seat her at the kitchen table and place a mug of tea in front of her. A plateful of scones appeared next, along with some Devon cream. "So tell me, how's your summer been so far?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she returned to her cooking. "My parents dragged me to Majorca again," sighed Hermione as she spread cream atop a warm scone. "Must be nice," Mrs. Weasley said with a dreamy sigh. "Oh, if you've seen one beach, you've seen them all," replied Hermione through a mouthful of scone. She washed it down, pleased to find the tea didn't burn her tongue and was sweetened just right. Hermione wondered if it was a spell, or if Mrs. Weasley was just the perfect hostess. "They wanted me to stay for a few more weeks, but I begged off. I enjoy the wizarding world much more than the Muggle one nowadays," added Hermione. Mrs. Weasley noticed Hermione's cheeks flushing pink just a bit and smiled to herself, imagining what it would be like to have her for a daughter-in-law one day. "I suppose Ron's told you about Harry's letter," she said with just a hint of a question in her voice. "No, not yet," replied Hermione, her expression turning serious. Ron's appearance in the kitchen in a threadbare maroon dressing robe over his pyjamas distracted her from the gloom of Harry's predicament. Hermione noticed with some alarm the length of the letter that Ron handed to her. His mission completed, Ron sank down onto the seat next to Hermione and proceeded to pull all of the food within easy reach onto his plate. "I don't know about you, Hermione, but I'm famished," he said as he buttered some toast and shovelled it into his mouth. Hermione looked longingly at the letter, but decided it could wait until later and set it next to her plate. She smiled to herself as she enjoyed Ron's nearness and the warmth of the Weasley kitchen. After he had finished with breakfast, Ron headed back upstairs to shower and change. In the meantime, Mrs. Weasley made Hermione tell her everything about Majorca. As it turned out, when she had been young Mrs. Weasley dreamed of a honeymoon in Majorca, but she and Arthur had never had enough money to make the trip. Ron re-entered the kitchen just as Hermione was wrapping up her description of her holiday. She was pleased to see Ron smile warmly at her as he came in. "We're going out to the back porch," Ron announced, butting in to the conversation at an opportune moment. Mrs. Weasley smiled, still dreaming about Majorca. "Have fun," she said as she turned back to her work. Ron grabbed his mug off the table, filled it full of sugar and tea, and motioned for Hermione to follow him. She got the letter and they went to the back porch. "You can read Harry's letter in peace now," said Ron as he dropped into a rickety garden chair and took a sip of his tea. Still not quite awake, he preferred to enjoy the weather and his cup of tea while Hermione read. It would give them plenty to talk about, he mused as he swirled his cup and watched the dregs settle into shapes in the bottom, wondering what rubbish Professor Trelawney would make of it all. He looked at Hermione, seated on a bench next to him, and saw she was intensely absorbed in Harry's letter. He sipped his tea as he continued to watch her, enjoying the way her bushy hair framed her face. He noticed a frown had replaced her earlier smile. As she read more and more of the letter, the frown turned into a scowl. "So what do you think?" Ron asked when he saw her finish and roll the scroll back up. Hermione sighed deeply. "It's no wonder Harry was so upset last year," she replied. "I just wish he would have told us about all of this sooner." She shook her head as she stared at the scroll. "We never should have kept him in the dark," she added, speaking quietly, as if to herself. "Is Professor Dumbledore going to allow Harry to come to the Burrow any time soon?" she asked suddenly, looking up at Ron. He shook his head. "It doesn't look that way. Mum's even sent a letter and he still hasn't budged." "This is not good," Hermione said. She was worried about what Harry's state of mind would be like after spending the entire summer with the Dursleys. "Ginny mentioned something about wanting to discuss Harry's letter with me. Do you have any idea what she wants to talk about?" "No," replied Ron. "I haven't got a clue, but she's been awfully thoughtful and quiet ever since she read that letter." "Hmm." Hermione wondered what Ginny wanted to talk to her about. "Oh well, I suppose it will have to wait for later," she said as her thoughts turned back to Ron. "So tell me, how did you do on the O.W.L.s?" she asked, a smile playing on the edges of her lips. Ron groaned. "I got six of them," he muttered, hoping Hermione wouldn't pry, although that was asking altogether too much. "And...?" "I got As in Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, and Charms and Es in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures." "That's not bad," Hermione said. "And how did you do?" Ron asked, though he already knew. "Not quite as well as I wanted to," replied Hermione with a slight frown. "I only got an E in Ancient Runes. I was hoping to get Os straight across the board." Ron groaned. She smiled at him teasingly and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on," she said as she grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. "Let's not waste this beautiful day worrying about marks. Let's go take a nice, long walk." Ron grinned and allowed Hermione to pull him up. He knew a path that would get them safely hidden in the woods for a couple of hours. ***** Ginny smiled as she hopped out of the fireplace at the Burrow, happy to be back home again and anxious for a chance to discuss Harry's letter with Hermione. She headed into the kitchen in the hopes that her mother would have a cup of tea and a fresh biscuit ready for her. "Hi, Mum," she said cheerfully as she came into the kitchen. "Hello, Ginny." Mrs. Weasley got a mug of tea ready for her daughter. "Biscuits will be ready in a few minutes," she said as she handed the mug to Ginny. "How was work?" "Busy. Fred and George have got more business than they can keep up with. Have you seen Ron and Hermione?" "Last I heard from them, they were going to the back porch, but that was around breakfast time." Ginny nodded in reply. "I'll be back in a minute," she said as she put her mug down on the table and headed up to her room. She took off her soot-blackened robes and changed into some clean ones. Next, she went to the bathroom and scrubbed her face and hands clean before returning to the kitchen. Her mother smiled at her as she retrieved her mug and got a couple of the biscuits, which had finally finished baking. "I'll be out back," Ginny said as she headed out of the kitchen, thinking she might as well start looking for Ron and Hermione there as any other place. When she walked out onto the porch, she was surprised to see Ron and Hermione chatting pleasantly. Usually things never worked out this easily for her. "Ron, Mum's got fresh biscuits in the kitchen," she said as she sat down in a metal garden chair across from the two of them. Ron perked up. "Would you like some?" he asked Hermione. "No thanks," answered Hermione, her mind not on food at the moment. She looked over at Ginny and saw a mischievous smile on her face. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Ron said as he got up and headed back into the house. "Works every time," Ginny said as she watched Ron go. "What does?" "If you want to get rid of Ron, just tell him Mum's got food in the kitchen and he's gone." Hermione laughed. "Have you had a chance to read Harry's letter?" Ginny asked, quickly getting to the point now that Ron was gone. "Yes," replied Hermione. "So what do you think?" Hermione turned pink. "Well," she said, "I really haven't had too much time to think about it since I got here." She wanted more time to examine the letter. Ron had managed to keep her thoughts elsewhere during their walk through the forest. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Ginny sighed. "Harry," she said bluntly. "Based on what he said in his letter, I sincerely believe that in order to protect his mind from You-Know-Who, Harry needs to be in love with someone." Ginny paused for a moment and waited for a response from Hermione. "Erm, Ginny, I really don't know about this," stated Hermione, a confused look on her face. "What I think Harry needs is a better Occlumency teacher. Hopefully Professor Dumbledore will agree to teach him this time." "I'm not talking about keeping You-Know-Who from reading his mind, Hermione," replied Ginny. "I'm talking about keeping him from being possessed. According to Harry's letter, You-Know-Who did manage to possess Harry at the Ministry of Magic." "Yes, but Harry threw him out, right?" asked Hermione, struggling to remember enough of the letter to discuss Ginny's theory. "Yes, he did, but You-Know-Who does not give up easily. Trust me when I say this: He's going to try again. What if Harry's not able to throw him out this time?" Hermione paused for a moment and looked at Ginny, truly not knowing what answer to give her. "Think about it. His ability to throw You-Know-Who out of his mind is based on love. When Harry's angry, it pushes the love from his mind and allows You-Know-Who the opportunity to possess him. You-Know-Who was thrown out of his mind when Harry thought about his godfather. In order to shield his mind, he needs to fill it with love. What better way than to have him fall in love with someone? I mean, how else could he do it? It might even help him with his Occlumency." Hermione stared at Ginny, a dead serious look on her face. "You do know that if you are correct, Professor Dumbledore played straight into Voldemort's hands last year?" Ginny nodded grimly. "I know." Hermione thought about the letter for a while, remembering everything Ginny had spoken of, and compared that with what Harry had written. "You know," she finally said, "I think you're right." She sighed, realising that Ginny's plan might be very difficult to accomplish. For starters, they had to find someone who was willing to risk getting in between Harry and Voldemort. Then they had to make sure the girl was acceptable to Harry, and then, somehow, bring the two of them together. From where Hermione stood, it seemed like a tall order, unless, of course, there was more to Ginny's suggestion than a simple mental exercise. She stared the other girl down for a moment, trying to decide whether or not Ginny still fancied Harry. "So who do you think we ought to get Harry to fall in love with?" she asked casually. She had to suppress a smile when she saw Ginny blush; she wasn't at all surprised. Ginny was intensely frustrated with herself. She had planned to remain indifferent, rattling off the names of the various girls that she thought Harry might fancy, but her tongue refused to cooperate. "Well, what about Cho?" she finally managed to stammer, unable to list the rest of the names she had planned to give Hermione. "I reckon Cho is out," said Hermione as she looked at Ginny, pleased at her reaction. "Parvati, too. I don't think she'll ever go out with Harry again after that Yule Ball disaster. Lavender and Padma are also out, for the same reason. And I don't reckon he's too keen on half-Veelas, either," she said with a laugh. Then she thought about Ginny's likely reaction to all this for a moment and realised the other girl was probably getting jealous. "So what do you reckon?" Hermione asked, egging Ginny on a bit more. "Luna, maybe?" Ginny wrinkled her nose at the mention of Luna's name. "Or do you have someone else in mind?" asked Hermione, desperately trying to contain her amusement. "A friend of yours perhaps? What about Susan Bones? I understand Hannah Abbott is a really sweet girl." Hermione ticked off the names of about a dozen other girls, most of them friends of Ginny's. As Ginny's expression grew more and more frustrated, Hermione had to exercise extreme self-control to keep from laughing out loud. "Erm, what about me?" asked Ginny softly, when she finally found her voice. "I thought you had chosen Dean Thomas," Hermione said as innocently as she could manage. "Erm, yeah, well, I kind of said that just to annoy Ron," Ginny muttered. "I mean, I had thought about him, but ever since that letter got here, all I can think about is Harry." Hermione looked at her and smiled. "You still fancy him, don't you?" Still blushing, Ginny nodded, too frustrated with herself to speak. "You do recall that you've already been a target for Voldemort. Shielding Harry's mind will put you back in the line of fire." Hermione wanted to be sure Ginny had considered all of the ramifications of a relationship with Harry, and to give her time to get her composure back. Ginny nodded. "I know." "You're not afraid?" "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," answered Ginny soberly, "but he's had me once before; I know what it's like. I want to help defeat him." "Yes, that's all well and good," said Hermione as she changed the topic once again, encouraged by Ginny's bravery, "but do you really love Harry?" "I would die for him," Ginny answered without reservation. Hermione nodded in agreement, remembering how Harry had saved Ginny's life once before, but she knew Harry needed more than just the devotion of a wizard's debt. "Yes, that too is all well and good, but would you live for him?" Ginny stared at Hermione, not really understanding what she was on about. "Would you be able to wake up every morning, your first thought being Harry?" asked Hermione. "Would your sun rise and set by him? Could you spend every moment of every day with him or thinking about him?" Hermione looked deeply into Ginny's eyes, searching for the answer she needed. Inwardly, she was glad she had fallen in love with Ron, otherwise she would not have known which questions to ask. Seeing that Ginny wasn't ready to answer, Hermione continued, "Because if your answer to all of my questions isn't yes, then Harry needs someone else. Deserves someone else." Ginny swallowed nervously. She hadn't expected such a thorough grilling about her feelings for Harry. She remembered when she was eleven, possessed by that infernal crush for The Boy Who Lived, and thought that if Hermione would have asked her these questions as little as two years ago, she would not have hesitated to answer 'yes' to each one. Last year had shocked her, though. All of the illusions she had held dear as a little girl had been shattered. Harry had seemed so human, so vulnerable, and so angry. He was not the marble statue on a pedestal she had worshipped from a distance, nor was he the self-reliant hero everyone else made him out to be and the Daily Prophet liked to tear down so much. In addition to all of that, he had forgotten that she had been possessed by Tom Riddle during her first year at Hogwarts. That had hurt her so much, although given everything that had been happening to him it had been excusable. Still it was an experience they had shared together and she had not expected him to forget so easily. The only indication of the old Harry had come when Luna told her how sweet Harry was when he came across her posting a plea for the return of her belongings at the end of term. "I'm not sure," answered Ginny hesitantly. Hermione smiled sadly. "It's okay, Ginny. It was a nice idea, but perhaps Harry should just go back to Occlumency lessons, albeit this time with Professor Dumbledore." "No," Ginny insisted, biting her lip. In her heart, she knew Harry needed something more than Occlumency. She was just unsure about this new Harry -- this human Harry she had never considered before. She looked up at Hermione. "Can I at least try and see what happens?" she said at last. "Erm, I don't see why not." "Then you'll help me?" asked Ginny. "Yes, I will," replied Hermione, giving Ginny a seriously appraising look. "Just promise me one thing." "What?" "Don't break Harry's heart. He's got enough to deal with already." "I won't, I promise," answered Ginny. "So how do I start?" Hermione lost herself in thought for a moment. "'You're trying out for the Quidditch team this year, aren't you?" "Of course." Hermione smiled deviously. "Once you make the team, hang around Harry. He's a brilliant flyer and a gifted Seeker, possibly one of the best ever. Get him to teach you the finer points of the game, especially the Seeker position. Tell him you want to be ready to take his place when he leaves school." Hermione looked at Ginny. "Try to get him to open up to you. Ask for help on your homework." Ginny snickered. "I know it seems funny," Hermione said as she laughed along with Ginny, "but Harry really is quite a good wizard. Perhaps the responsibility of helping someone else will help him to settle into his studies. And remember, just be yourself." Hermione smiled at Ginny's surprised reaction. "I don't see how he could resist." ***** Harry looked up from his Potions text, distracted by the soft flutter of wings. A large brown owl he recognized as a Hogwarts owl lighted on his windowsill. It carried a small letter bearing the official school seal. He took the letter off the owl's leg and unrolled it, anxiously wondering if Dumbledore would let him leave Privet Drive and go to the Burrow. His heart sank when he read the first line. Dear Harry, Do you really want to expose the Weasley family to the level of risk your visit would entail? Please reconsider your plans carefully. If you must leave your aunt's home I could arrange for you to be brought to number 12, Grimmauld Place, although your staying there would not be optimal either. After Sirius' death, Kreacher went to serve Narcissa Malfoy. As he now has a new mistress, he is no longer bound to ensure the Order's secrets. I don't think this will result in a security compromise. However, if attacked, Grimmauld Place has far more protection than the Burrow, not to mention that there are always several members of the Order staying there. Please let me know what you decide. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore Headmaster Harry looked at the letter in shock, his mind refusing at first to accept what Dumbledore had written. He felt the anger slowly rising in him as he realised that he would have to spend the rest of the summer at Privet Drive. Before he knew what he was doing, he shredded the letter and threw it at the owl, which was patiently waiting to take his reply back to Dumbledore. "Get out!" Harry screamed at the owl. "Get the hell out of my room!" Surprised by the force of Harry's fury, the owl jumped around and flew out of the window as fast as its wings could move it. "Dammit, not again," muttered Harry softly as he fell to his knees, staring into the darkness that was the night sky. Something snapped inside of him. All of his hopes for a home away from the Dursleys had been shattered by Sirius' death. That stupid prophecy hadn't helped either. Now, it was his fate to be either a murderer or the murdered. "Some choice," muttered Harry. He closed the textbook he had been studying and closed his eyes, feeling the sting of unshed tears. If he could choose nothing in his life, then he would choose not to care about it, either. After all, if he didn't care, then nothing could hurt him, right? He sat on the floor with his back against his bed and rested his head against his legs. As he sat there, he heard laughter echoing through his head and felt Voldemort's presence on the edge of his consciousness. He concentrated on Sirius as he worked at replacing his anger with apathy, even finally managing a smile as he remembered when Sirius had accompanied him to King's Cross as a great big, black dog. After a few moments he felt the laughter dissipating and relaxed again, falling asleep against the side of his bed. ***** Hermione awoke with a start on the sofa. Ron was leaning against her, snoring quietly. Looking around, she saw Ginny still seated in the shabby old armchair next to the fireplace, where a pile of embers smouldered away. It looked to Hermione as if Ginny was either lost in thought or had fallen asleep. She looked quickly around the living room and was pleased to find that the rest of the Weasleys had gone to bed. "Ginny, I need to talk to you," whispered Hermione. Ginny gave her a concerned look. "Sure." "In private." Hermione gently nudged Ron aside and stood up. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress nervously as she looked at Ginny. "Let's go up into my room," Ginny whispered. She got up and led Hermione upstairs to her room. Ginny lit a few candles as they entered and motioned for Hermione to take a seat. As they both settled on Ginny's bed, Hermione became more and more agitated. Ginny noticed, but decided to wait quietly for Hermione to begin speaking. "I've been thinking about what you said about getting Harry to fall in love with you," Hermione finally said. She sighed heavily and searched for the words and the courage to continue. "There are some things about Harry that you need to know. To begin with, Harry was raised by some very wicked people." "I know that," replied Ginny in a reassuring tone. Hermione paused to collect her thoughts, then continued. "I know you know that, but I'm not sure you know how badly it has affected Harry. He was raised in the total absence of love, Ginny. His friendships with us, his godfather, your mum and dad, Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore are all he knows of love. There's a ten-year period in his life when nobody loved him. Nobody tucked him in and kissed him goodnight. Nobody gave him a teddy bear or a toy train or anything else that allowed him to just be a child. Nobody cared about him at all. As a matter of fact, they hated him. They forced him to live in a cupboard underneath the stairs, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione stopped for a moment, her eyes flooded with tears. After wiping them away she looked to Ginny and saw she was crying as well. "With Sirius' death, Harry has lost all hope of having a home and he's become alienated from Professor Dumbledore. That's almost one third of all the people who've loved him for the last fifteen years. He's going to be really difficult to deal with." Ginny nodded as she listened to Hermione. What she heard broke her heart. She knew things had been bad for Harry, but she had never been face-to-face with the reality of the situation. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that he might be a tough nut to crack. He may hurt you very badly before he lets you get close. He's been very upset with Ron and me. I reckon we deserved it for leaving him in the dark last summer. Well, you read the letter.... I didn't think it would hurt him so badly," finished Hermione as her tears began to come harder. Her hands went to her face as her sobbing grew more intense. Ginny's arms soon wrapped around her, hugging and reassuring her. "Hermione, it's not your fault," Ginny said as she tried to console Hermione. "You did what you thought was right." "Yes, it is my fault," Hermione confessed through her tears. "Professor Dumbledore told me everything he suspected about Harry and Voldemort's mind link and he made me swear a wizard's oath that I wouldn't tell Harry what was going on. He wanted me to keep tabs on Harry in order to prevent something like what happened at the Ministry of Magic. I tried everything I knew short of telling him the truth to keep him from going after Sirius, but how could I stop him when one of his dreams had saved your father? I even tried to convince him he had a hero complex, for Merlin's sake! If only I had told him the truth, Sirius might still be alive today." Hermione paused, relieved that she had finally released her secret. Ginny pulled Hermione just a little closer. Hermione's confession hadn't surprised her in the least. As Hermione felt Ginny's arm pull her a bit closer, she came back to her senses. "Oh Ginny, this isn't supposed to be about me." She stopped crying and looked deep into Ginny's eyes. "Are you going to be able to handle this? Do you think you're going to be able to deal with Harry?" A serious look came across Ginny's face as she considered Hermione's question. "Promise me you'll come to terms with this if you decide to pursue Harry," demanded Hermione. "I promise," Ginny whispered, wondering what she was getting herself into. "I just wonder how many more heartbreaks it's going to take before Harry gives up," said Hermione as she sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm not sure how much more he can take. If he breaks, what will Voldemort do to him?" Ginny felt a wave of utter helplessness descend upon her. "I'll take it slowly," she answered, not knowing what else to say. The Boy Who Lived was turning out to be more complicated than anything she could have imagined. Her shattered illusions were being replaced more and more with the image of a struggling young teenager named Harry Potter. The scary thing was, the more she got to know him, the more uncertain she became. She liked who Harry was. He was kind and caring, generous and loving, but as he dealt with the struggles he faced she found herself scared of the angry young man he was turning into. She knew he had a right to be angry; after all he had been through, he had a right to be furious. But still, she was uncomfortable around all that anger. Unlike her family, where tempers flared but anger was gone after the explosion, Harry's anger festered and stewed. It kept building and building upon itself, and Ginny wondered where it would end. She worried it might allow Voldemort back into his mind, and wondered if Harry had the strength to fight him off. She knew how hard that was from personal experience. She paused in her thoughts as she remembered her own fight against Tom Riddle, and what he had done to her. Then she remembered that Harry had been the one to come to her rescue when everyone else had failed. She remembered how kind he had been and the comfort he gave her. He had risked his life for someone he hardly even knew -- a little squeak and a flash of red hair around the dinner table. She marvelled at the courage and compassion that must have taken, and remembered that he had almost died rescuing her. As a matter of fact, he would have died had Fawkes not come to his aid. Yet Harry had never held that against her. He had even managed to forget that Ginny had nearly got both of them killed! Ginny shuddered as the vivid images flooded her mind. Harry was great in a way few people knew or understood. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing, after all, that he had forgotten about her possession by Voldemort. At least Harry was willing to let her get beyond that horrible incident and become something other than the foolish little girl Tom Riddle had used in an attempt to destroy him. Ginny smiled and closed her eyes, forcing a few tears out. She had found what she needed to give her strength.
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