Chapter 1: Chapter One: Freedom

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter One: Freedom

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

Harry Potter bit his lip in frustration. Uncle Vernon had locked up his trunk, and all his
magical things along with it, in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry knew it better as his
former room. He was having a bit of difficulty with the padlock that Uncle Vernon had
fastened, never having picked a lock before despite the rumours.

He hated having to skulk around number four, Privet Drive like the criminal Uncle Vernon
told everyone he was, but he didn't have much of a choice. He needed to get at his trunk to do
his homework. He'd rather not have to answer Professor McGonagall's inquiry as to why he
didn't do any of his summer assignments, and he'd rather take a thousand detentions than
admit any sort of weakness to Snape. Not to mention the inquiry he'd suffer at the hands of
Hermione, would be the worst of all.

Harry sighed and dropped his hands to his side. The hairpin from Aunt Petunia wasn't
working very well on its own. He couldn't depress all the tumblers necessary with it alone, no
matter how much he tried to manipulate it, but the lock was too thin to jam another hairpin
through.

Try a paperclip next time with the hairpin, whispered a voice just over Harry's shoulder. He
turned, but found nothing there. A cold shiver ran through his spine as he thought of the
events just a few week prior--the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk, Parselmouth. He certainly
didn't want another repeat to happen on Privet Drive. Not that Voldemort could've hidden an
ancient snake under the floorboards of number four, but...

Get back to your room! Your uncle's coming! urged the voice. Harry spent half a second
deliberating before deciding it was better to hear an imaginary voice than to get caught by
Uncle Vernon.

He flew up the stairs just as the kitchen door began to open. That confirmed that the voice
was no longer imaginary. Either that or he'd developed some rather extremely accurate senses
with enough consciousness to speak warnings to him. Dead helpful for Quidditch, he
imagined.

Once inside his room, he leaned back against the door.

"I'm going mad," murmured Harry as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I've cracked... It's
finally happened. I'm gonna wake up tomorrow and find that there's no Hogwarts, and Uncle
Vernon's shipped me off to the loony-bin."

Harry pulled off his thick, clunky circular glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Maybe
it was some sort of remnant from the previous term? From using the diary? Did Ginny suffer
from this as well? Dumbledore had said she'd be fine, but... Well, she'd been almost drained
dry by Voldemort's memory. He'd less time with it and yet he's hallucinating.

Haven't you heard that brilliance and insanity are two sides of the same coin? chuckled the
mystery voice. It didn't sound like a snake, but then again, Harry wasn't always conscious of
when he spoke Parselmouth. The voice was deep and soothing in timbre with hints of youth
and play.

Harry noted that the voice was coming from the far side of his room, by his desk, and not
over his ear as it had downstairs. He narrowed his eyes, trying to find out if anything--or
anyone--was actually in his room besides himself. It could be another house-elf, like Dobby,
for all he knew.

"You've met Professor Dumbledore then?" question Harry aloud, trying to keep a
conversation going as he gave his room a search. Hedwig was the only other being in his
room and she was... Hang on, she was rotating her head as if following the movements of
someone in the room!

Well, I wouldn't say 'met,' said the voice. Harry could hear the smile in it. I've observed him
from time-to-time, yes. Curious fellow.

Harry's eyes tracked the movements of Hedwig's eyes and found that the voice moved
accordingly. Someone under an Invisibility Cloak, then? His Invisibility Cloak, maybe?

Screwing up his courage, Harry made a wild leap towards the spot he thought the man to be,
only to pass through thin air. His feet trodded loudly as he encountered no resistence at all.

"BOY!" roared Uncle Vernon from the otherside of the door.

"Sorry!" called out a perturbed Harry. "I--tripped."

Uncle Vernon's indistinct mutterings could still be heard through Harry's door. Something
sounded like "clumsy freak" to Harry's ears, but his skin had grown thick where the Dursleys
were concerned--mostly, at any rate.

A faint chuckle could be heard in Harry's room, rankling his skin and short temper.

Not bad, Master Harry, not bad at all, said the voice. I'm afraid the rules don't work that
way.
"Rules?" parroted Harry. "What rules?"

Harry got the distinct impression of a shrug. Rules. You can't touch something that's
intangible, and you can't see something that's invisible.

"Hedwig can see you," pointed out Harry, glancing over to his trusty owl.

Hedwi--oh... The voice had trailed off and now Hedwig was climbing up her cage backwards.
Harry took that to mean the apparition was moving towards her. Hmph. Never underestimate
the magic in a magical owl. And here I thought myself to be ever so clever.

"Who are you?" demanded Harry. "What are you?"

Who I am, I'm sorry to say, you probably wouldn't believe, said the man. The muscles around
Harry's eyes were quivering as he tried to focus on the air infront of him. Maybe there might
be a shimmer in the air, or a vague outline, or something. What I am, however, is a little more
plausible. You're taking Divination, yes?

"Yeah," said Harry slowly.

A sigh came from the air. The man had to be at least six feet, judging from the height of the
sound.

It's not all nonsense, you know. I mean, well, it is nonsense because the future isn't set in
stone. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. But that doesn't mean that we can't see some
ends--and beginnings too. Astrology truly does give one an accurate representation of a
person's base characteristics, and let's not forget that the celestial bodies possess a power all
their own--witness it with werewolves. Centaurs are particularly adept with scrying through
the stars. But it takes a keen eye and plenty of magic to pluck one thread from the ever
shifting fabric of time.

"So...you're projecting yourself from the future? The past?" inquired Harry with furrowed
brow.

No, no, laughed the man. I suppose I got a little off tangent, didn't I? I was merely saying that
Divination has its merits, but it's not faultless. For instance, I modified a measure of astral
projection, though it appears I'd also had some help from Zen Buddhism. I had no idea, of
course. I couldn't. Not when you consider my physical limitations.

"What limitations?" asked Harry, he collapsed into the seat of his desk and stared out his now
barless window. It was easier than trying to speak at someone who wasn't there. Or...was
there but couldn't be seen...

Well, I've been trapped for a very long time, Master Harry--well over fifteen hundred years,
point of fact.

"That's impossible! You--you have to be a ghost!" declared Harry, twisting around to scan his
room again.

I assure you, Master Harry, my body is quite preserved. She saw to that.
"'She?'"

Nimue. The woman I gave my heart to, but didn't give hers in return.

"Nimue?" Harry frowned. He swore he'd heard that name before. Something about it tugged
at his memory.

Ah, I probably shouldn't have dropped that at this juncture, said the man apologetically. It's
been much too long since I've actually interacted with another. I'm really amazed that this
worked, not to mention that you're receptive enough to hear me. But I suppose if you can
wrap your mind around the fact that I've been wandering for close to eight hundred years...

"You said you were trapped for fifteen hundred!" accused Harry.

I am, the voice assured him. It took seven hundred years for me to seperate my mind from its
body. Seven hundred years of seeing nothing but bluish crystals and the vague earth beyond.
I think I almost went mad--in fact, I probably did go mad--but eight hundred years of
wandering the world as a spirit? Catching up on lost history and watching it unfold? It
helped me exert some control over my predicament. It helped me regain my sanity.

Harry wasn't so sure the man was completely sane, but decided to play along for now. "Why
did this Nimue trap you?"

Because... Because I loved her and she didn't love me in return. Because I thought that if I
trained her, she would come to love me as I loved her. Because I thought that if I took her
away from the world, and it became just the two of us, then she had to love me.

"You didn't..."

No! said the voice vehemantly. Never! There are lines that men do not cross, or else be
branded as monster or worse. I never forced myself upon Nimue, but I suppose creating a
paradise for us to be lost in would be just as bad. She recognized it, at least, and trapped me
in that paradise that was to be our home. A word to the wise, Master Harry, never anger a
witch--or a woman in general. It is a lesson that I shall take to heart.

Harry thought of Ron's comment about Hermione in first year--about how she was brillant
but scary--and thought that the man had a fair point.

"But you've had eight hundred years, you said," pondered Harry thoughtfully. "Why haven't
you been able to free yourself?"

Ah, well, that is slightly more complicated, Master Harry, explained the voice patiently. I am
invisible and intangible, as I said. That limits my options, as you might imagine. Moreover,
few can hear me. More to the point, I must be cautious in who I trust. I cannot allow just
anyone to hold my fate in their hands. Trust, as I think you understand, is a very fragile thing.

"And you trust me?" Harry snorted. "Why, because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"

I won't deny that your title brought you to my attention. I am intangible, after all, not
omniscent. But I have been watching you ever since your Professor Dumbledore deposited
you on this hated house. I've watched you grow in adversity and become better for it. To be
honest, I see so much of myself in you.

"How can I help you though?" wondered Harry as he pondered over what the--well, ghost for
lack of a better word--had said. He'd been watched his whole life by this thing without
knowing? All the things he'd said and done, he heard? Harry thought he might've bristled, he
might've raged out at the indecency of it all, but there was something in the man's voice... An
understanding and camaraderie... "I can't do magic outside of school. I'll get in trouble."

I notice you split that into two phrases, chuckled the voice. Were you really concerned about
trouble, you would've joined it all together, or possibly have voiced the trouble part first. In
any event, Master Harry, I doubt you'll have to worry about your Ministry of Magic's
Improper Use of Magic office.

After everything that had happened last year with the diary, Harry knew he shouldn't trust
something when he didn't know where its brain was kept, but the surge to do magic outside of
Hogwarts--to do something fun and maybe teach the Dursleys a lesson...

"How can I trust you if I don't know anything about you?" Harry questioned at last. "You
might've been watching me, but this is the first I've seen--err, well, heard, I reckon--of you."

A fair point, agreed the ghost. Well, after fifteen hundred years, patience is probably one of
my better virtues. I shall make you a deal, Master Harry. Every night, I will teach you a new
trick, I will help you with your homework, and I will tell you a little about my life. I shall keep
my name a secret for reasons that shall become apparent once I reveal it. Fair?

"Fair," said Harry. "And it's just Harry. You don't have to call me 'master.'"

Well, I don't mean it in the respect you think, said the voice. To me, calling one 'master' is the
same as you calling someone 'mister.' I suppose you'll need some name to reference me by.
Hmmm... How about...Puck?

"All right, Puck. Pleasure to meet you."

And you as well, Harry. Now, let's get started on your first trick. It should help in liberating
your supplies from your old room.

*****

And so everyday for the next week, Harry learned wandless magic from Puck. It was
different from Hogwarts in that there was no specific incantation for Harry to learn, nor any
wand movement.

Restrictions, Puck had told him. When I was young and all alone, magic was mine only
friend. You've done magic yourself without a wand. You Vanished the glass when you spoke
to the snake in the Surrey Zoo.

The magic of the Founders, of Hogwarts, and of wands, are a strictly Roman philosophy.
They carried it over when they invaded these lands. They thought that magic could be better
controled if it went through more restrictions before producing an end result. Thus, they
taught that in order for a wizard to control their powers, they must speak an incantation and
do a proper wand movement.

"But if that's not correct, then why is it that I can't produce spells without them?" Harry had
replied, thinking back to his first year with Hermione and the Levitation Charm.

Because you were trained to think that way, was Puck's reply. What the mind believes, the
body follows. You believed that it was the only way, and so your mind would not produce the
result otherwise. Know this, Harry, that in your sixth year, you will begin to cast spells
nonverbally. Nonverbally. Curious, then, the reason they don't teach you that to begin with.

"And the wand? Mr. Ollivander said--"

Mr. Ollivander is not wrong. The wand focuses the wizard's power and intent--in a strictly
Roman way--and so it must be properly attuned to the wizard who will use it. However, if you
want to get by the Improper Use of Magic Office, you'd best not use a wand. They track it,
you see. They can tell how long a wand has been in use, which is a stark difference from how
long a wand has existed.

My philosophy? From my experience? Magic is a friend--a limb. You can do anything

through magic so long as you desire it hard enough. You wanted to escape your cousin and
his gang, and so you appeared on the roof; you wanted to regrow your hair after your Aunt
Petunia had cut it, and so you did; you wanted your cousin to fall through the glass, and so
you Vanished it. Desire, Harry. But more than just desire, I'm afraid, or else anything we
wish may transpire. You must have a specific intent. You must know what you want magic to
do and tell it so--it possesses some level of creativity and intelligence, but you must shape it
through your intent. You will find that things are similar between myself and Hogwarts in
that you are restricted by you intent, understanding, and power. But you know how a lock
works, and you want your school supplies--a sense of freedom, and I'm quite sure you have
enough power to manage it with such a small object.

Puck had been right. It was a simple thing to make the lock Vanish by simply asking it to.
Harry just had to concentrate on the lock and want it gone. There was no tingle of feeling of
power. It just...happened--like magic.

Puck assured Harry that the more he practiced, the quicker he would become at casting spells.
While downstairs, and with Puck keeping watch, Harry then focused on a Shrinking Charm.
All Harry had to know was that he wanted to shrink a trunk--which was basic enough to
understand. He didn't have to know what was inside the trunk. Then, all that was left was for
him to Conjure a duplicate lock to the one that he Vanished. Uncle Vernon would never
know.

Harry found himself growing rapidly proficient with small things. Puck had been right about
power. Harry could Conjure another chair for himself and make his bed larger, but when he
tried to expand the room, well, his magic didn't respond as easily.

It's like a muscle, Harry, Puck had told him. You need to work it out for it to gain strength.
Besides, you aren't even thirteen yet. You have much more growing to do.
Life at Privet Drive became much more manageable with Puck around. Harry had a friend
other than Hedwig to speak with and magic at his disposal. His chores became simple,
freeing up time to practice more wandless, nonverbal magic. At night, he could lock and
soundproof his room from the inside so that he could do his homework at his desk. Puck was
a well-spring of information on all subjects except History of Magic, although he never told
Harry answers outright; he prodded and pushed Harry into the right direction through
rhetorical questions.

At night, or whenever they had free time, Puck would tell Harry about his life, starting from
childhood. He was a half-blood, like Harry. Unlike Harry, however, his father took his
Muggle mother as he traveled through her village and then wiped her memory clean of the
event as well as wiping the village's memory of his passing. When the village discovered that
she was pregnant, they thought a demon or devil had impregnated her.

Not far off the mark, I suppose, Puck had commented wryly.

Rather than killing her child, as the villagers wanted her to do, Puck's mother left to carry the
child alone in the woods. There she built a small home, had Puck, and did all that she could to
ensure they would survive. She learned to farm and hunt like any man and learned of
herbology for medicine. All of which she taught Puck, who then used his magical powers to
help his mother by speaking to the plants, the animals, everything.

My mother told me while I was very young about the reason for our exile as she understood
it, said Puck. But the important lesson I learned was that I was not a devil spawn or monster.
She told me that I was a gift and meant for great things; that I was special, and that no
matter what I was, she loved me and would care for me.

When Puck was twelve, a wizard came by a recognized him for what he was. It was an island
nation full of wizards and magical creatures with their own customs and society. That society
just happened to be everything that the Malfoys cared about--pureblood and bigotry. Though
not everyone was openly contemptuous towards Muggles, they all carried a sense of
advancement and superiority.

Not that it was entirely unfounded, sighed a resigned Puck. Avalon was a veritable Eden, but
it was terribly...cold. Impersonal. No warmth or...passion. Nothing at all like my experiences
in the wild. Their philosophy was quite different from the Romans. It was more along the
lines of mine own, but even they had placed their own restrictions.

His earlier experiences with magic had made him a genius among his peers, but his humble
beginnings and his Muggle mother made him an outcast. It was then that Puck had learned
the truth about his birth. To find that his father hadn't been punished at all for it was an
outrage. Puck then realized that Muggles had a certain justification for fearing wizards and
magic the way they did, especially if wizards acted like Avalon.

And so, at eighteen, Puck left Avalon for the last time.

It had taken them a week to get that far along. Now, Harry laid on his magically cushioned
bed a week after Ron's disasterous, but hilarious, phone call. He was staring at the ceiling,
running over Puck's story in his mind. He understood why he'd chosen Harry. Puck's time at
Avalon mirrored his time with the Dursleys in an odd way. They both had mothers who
sacrificed themselves out of love for their children, although Puck's mother didn't sacrifice
her life.

"Puck?" Harry called out quietly.

Story time? chuckled Puck.

"You sort of left things off abruptly the last time," said Harry sheepishly. He couldn't help but
feel like a little boy again, getting a bedtime story from a parent. The strange thing was that
he didn't mind.

For good reason, said Puck. From here on out, I suspect you'll be able to deduce my real
name, so I leave it to you. Would you rather me continue as I have, or would you rather know
who you are really speaking to?

Harry thought it over for a moment before saying, "I know who I'm speaking to, but I
wouldn't mind knowing your real name."

He swore he felt Puck smile.

My name, as it was given to me by my mother, is Merlin. My father's name was Ambrosius.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he began to search the empty space of his room as if he might
confirm that with his eyes.

"Are you taking the mickey?" frowned Harry.

Not at all, Harry, laughed Puck--or was it Merlin? I thought Avalon might've been a large
enough clue. But shall we pick up where we left off? I was eighteen and had left Avalon. My
plan had been devised from the very moment I learned of my father, and the xenophobic
nature of those in Avalon.

My plan was simple--yet extraordinarily difficult. England was divided into tribes, the
Romans having left and the Germanic tribes invading. They would never learn so long as
they were in turmoil. I could never teach the Muggles understanding and enlightenment if
they were too fearful of the next warlord.

"King Arthur," exclaimed Harry. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and was
watching the space in front of him avidly. "Camelot!"

Quite so. If I could unify the Britons under one banner, one king, one kingdom, then I could
bring enlightenment. It was easier than I imagined. I was twenty when I tricked Uther and
played my role in his deception of Igraine. I was brash, then, arrogant. I was no better than
my father, and yet I thought the ends justified the means. I saw in the stars the potential of
Arthur--the union of Uther and Igraine. A brilliant boy, carrying all the favourable
characteristics of both parents. The ideal king.

Merlin gave a deep seated sigh of regret.

I brought a goblin-wrought sword to a coven of witches, the Ladies of the Lake, who imbued
it with many enchantments. That was, of course, Excalibur. I left it with them to work, while I
charmed a different sword to be set into a stone.

"You charmed it so only Arthur could remove it."

Smart lad, said Merlin. Another trick to fool the Muggles, and another thing I thought was for
the greater good. They say that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions. They might be
right, if this can be considered my private hell.

My plan was two fold, however. While I was teaching and tutoring Arthur, I called together
those who felt as I did. They became my Order. They were to search Britania for potential
wizards and to teach them to be beneficial and kind to Muggles. All of that was to be a
precursor for when I opened up my own magical school. Alas, when I retrieved Excalibur, I
fell smitten with Nimue... And thus began my downfall.

Ironic that it should happen while everything was at its best. Arthur had become king, and
with my help, united many under his banner through war and negotiation. He married
Guinevere, and I felt as proud as any father to a son. Camelot was at peace. And I...I was
ready to take a well-deserved holiday with Nimue. And I'm afraid you know the rest.

Harry breathed out a breath he hadn't been conscious of holding. It was a lot to take in. What
helped, although neither man knew it, was Harry's absolute lack of knowledge concerning
Arthurian legend. For that, the thanks truly lied with the Dursleys, who hated magic so much
that no story book or fairy tale was spoken in number four, Privet Drive. Therefore, Harry
had little problem accepting what Merlin had said as true, whereas someone who might've
considered themself an expert at Arthurian lore might be defensive.

There was no suspicion left for Harry, only sadness for a man that had tried everything to
make the world a better place, yet failed because of his own personal flaws.

You see now that after fifteen hundred years, I have learned patience, said Merlin in a very
quiet and distant voice. Impatience had been my downfall--that, and an inability to listen to a
woman when she said she didn't love me. If I had started my school before the Founders
learned their magic through the Roman influence; if I hadn't tried to speed up the unification
of Britania by playing god and making an ideal king, maybe my philosophies might've taken a
firmer root. But now? Now your Ministry is acting more and more like Avalon with every
passing century, only without any of the intelligence and brilliance. And century by century, I
saw my goals slip further away with each war and Dark wizard to rise...

"You want a second chance," said Harry softly.

I want a thousand other chances! said Merlin passionately. I want the life that I've been
denied! I want to be free! You understand that, of course, Harry. You've felt that desire ever
since you were old enough to understand that your relatives hated you--that they would never
love you. That desire grew all the more strong when you learned of Hogwarts and that you
were a wizard.

Harry's fingers twisted around the sheets. He trusted Merlin, but then, hadn't Ginny trusted
Voldemort? Now that Harry knew the truth as Merlin told it, it was time for a decision to be
made. Did he trust Merlin enough to go where he might ask? To free him?
Deep inside Harry's Gryffindor heart, he felt for Merlin the man, not the legend. He knew
the man, just as Merlin knew Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived. There was a wealth of pain in
their lives--of isolation, loneliness, and despair--yet through it all remained the hope and love
born of their mothers. The deep desire of knowing that freedom would make everything all
right again.

"If I free you," said Harry slowly, tentatively, "would you free me?"

Are you asking that if you free me, will I take care of you? posed Merlin for clarification, just
as they did when Harry was working.

Harry gave a nod.

My freedom for yours, is it? said Merlin speculatively. As if I would do anything else, Harry.
Fifteen hundred years is a long time to go without the comfort of company. And while my
track record with apprentices has not been the best, admittedly, I feel I had merely been
chosing for the wrong reasons. In you...in you I feel I can trust. And there is so much more
I've learned about you, so much that you don't even know about yourself. I can help you
prepare for the life ahead.

Harry didn't know what Merlin was talking about in the last statement, but a swell of boyish
enthusiasm rose within himself at the prospect of living and training under the great Merlin
Ambrosius. More than that, Harry felt he'd found a comrade--a kinsman--someone who knew
exactly what he'd been going through; someone who'd been there for it all.

"What do I have to do?" inquired Harry excitedly.

Well, a good night's sleep is recommended firstly, remarked Merlin dryly.

Harry groaned and settled himself back against the pillow.

Good night, Harry.

"Good night, Merlin."

*****

Before we begin, said Merlin the next morning after breakfast, a few secrets need to be aired
out.

Harry looked at the empty space of his room curiously. At the moment he was standing
beside his bed, packing up his trunk, his broom, and Hedwig's cage.

There is a reason your Professor Dumbledore keep you with your relatives, explained Merlin,
which drew Harry's full attention. You know of your mother's sacrifice and the blood
protection that saved you from your Professor Quirrell? Professor Dumbledore invoked that
very same protection--an extension of it, if you will--to encompass the dwelling of Petunia
Dursley. So long as you could call the place where your mother's blood dwelt home, you
would be safe from Lord Voldemort. Although, I happen to think that under the protection of
Merlin, and in a place where no one has been, you should be equally protected, don't you?

You understand why I tell you this, of course. I don't want you to hear it later and think that I
had wanted to trick you from...this place--I wouldn't dare call it home myself, or even a
sanctuary.

"I understand," said Harry, but truthfully he was a little shaken. Why hadn't Dumbledore just
told him that before? There must be a reason, of course. Dumbledore didn't do anything
without a reason, but it would have been much more simple to accept returning to the
Dursleys if he knew there was a spell protecting him. But then...protecting him from what?

"No," said Harry again. "No, I don't understand, actually. What do I need protecting from?"

Merlin gave a sigh.

I thought you might ask that, he muttered under his breath. Do not lay distrust at Professor
Dumbledore's feet. He has very good reasons for keeping this from you--reasons that I
actually agree with, after a fashion. Although, you had put him on the spot your first year,
when you awoke after confronting Lord Voldemort for the first time in a decade. He should
have told you a little then. Not everything, but at least a little. And the correct question would
be, who do you need protection from, not what.

"Voldemort," said Harry immediately. "You know why Voldemort wants me--why he tried to
kill me that night!"

I do, Harry, admitted Merlin. But now, I think, is not the time. You have already heard so
much from me. How much more can you take before it becomes too much?

Harry felt rankled at being considered too young to hear something. He'd done a lot already,
all things considered. A lot more than Lockhart ever did, the old fraud.

Merlin must've been able to see the emotion reflected clearly on his face for he sighed again
and said, Secret number two, Professor Dumbledore has kept an eye on you for your whole
life. Not a terribly intrusive one, just a passive one.

"What? How?" frowned Harry.

Your neighbour, Arabella Figg, is a Squib--huh, that has a certain rhyme to it, actually...

"Mrs. Figg?" gaped Harry in disbelief. He immediately thought of her numerous cats and
horrible, cabbage smelling home. She was a Squib? Like Filch? "Why didn't she ever tell
me?"

I would hazard that she was not allowed to, said Merlin; Harry thought Merlin might've
given a shrug as well. How would it look to the Dursleys, Harry, if you suddenly found
yourself enjoying your visits with Madam Figg? They would restrict you, undoubtably. Oh,
and her cats aren't really cats at all. They're a breed of animals called kneazles. Terribly
clever creatures. She, along with the blood protection, are probably why the Dursleys have
never treated you worse.
Harry gave a shudder at that. The Dursleys were neglectful of him, abusing him emotionally
and verbally, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia rarely ever struck him. That didn't stop
Dudley from doing it all the time, of course, but Dudley was Harry's age. Uncle
Vernon...Uncle Vernon could've done serious damage. Sure, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia
had dragged him around by the hair and ear, but neither actually hit him. They had the
cupboard for that, anyway.

It is Madam Figg that we need to be mindful of, Merlin went on to explain. If Hedwig can see
me, then it's likely her kneazles can as well. I could weaken my astral projection, but then I
wouldn't be able to coach you through everything.

"How are we going to do it, then? My dad's Invisibility Cloak?"

The kneazles would still smell you, pointed out Merlin. Then they would report that back to
Madam Figg, who in turn, would probably report it to Professor Dumbledore. Frankly, I
would not like many people to know of my return or existence just yet. I would like some time
alone to reorient myself.

"No, I get it," said Harry, thinking on his own fame and the gawks and the stares. Being
ostracized by the whole school for being the suspected Heir of Slytherin wasn't pleasant at
all, nor was the other alternative, being hounded by everyone for attention.

I thought you might, chuckled Merlin appreciatively.

"So how, then?" inquired Harry.

First, we are going to make use of that Invisibility Cloak, said Merlin, and so Harry drew it
out from his trunk. Now, shrink the cage and set it inside the trunk, then shrink the trunk and
set it in your pocket. Hedwig shall find us wherever we go. It is her way.

Harry did as Merlin asked. Hedwig gave a last affectionate nip to Harry's fringe, telling her
that she believed Merlin was real and to be trusted. That was enough for Harry to follow
through with everything else.

Now, this will probably be the most complex bit of magic you've learned yet, Harry, warned
Merlin, but the excitement in his voice was hard to hide. It brought on Harry's own thrill and
excitement. You know of Apparation, yes? The ability of a wizard to transport himself
instantly from one place to the next?

"Yeah," said Harry, thinking on Hermione's favourite quoted like from Hogwarts, A History.

Well, it's terribly uncomfortable from all I've seen and heard, said Merlin sourly. I never used
it myself--I wasn't taught it, you see--but I have observed other people learn it, and read
theories when I could. From what I understand, your magic basically compresses your body
and shoots it through a narrow tube to appear from one point to another.

"That doesn't sound very comfortable at all," said Harry with a wince. He could feel his skin
crawl, as if his body was tightening already.

No, it doesn't, agreed Merlin. It's also quite limited. For one, you require your wand, which
means you're likely to be picked up by the Ministry. For another thing, if you lack sufficient
determination--or as I've taught you, intent--you're likely to splinch a limb by having it fall
out of the tube you're passing through.

That definetely earned a shudder from Harry.

My way is better, of course. It also happened to be the way one traveled about in Avalon. The
same premise, naturally--you think of the place you would like to be and will yourself
there==but the fundemental philosophy is what seperates the two. Were I to be poetic, and I
was known to be quite the bard, I would say that the over-imposition of restrictions is what
creates the tight tube effect in Apparation, while the free unity of magic and man leaves
teleportation much more graceful. House-elves operate under the same principal, and you
remember how free Dobby was to travel around Hogwarts and in your home.

Harry nodded. Then, something occurred to Harry.

"But Dobby did wandless magic too and I got--"

Dobby wanted you to get in trouble, Harry. He tricked the sensors. Come to think it, I'm sure
you could do the same if you wanted, mused Merlin thoughtfully. In any event, that's the
method will be using. Now, your knowledge of locations are limited, so we'll take something
easy. The Leaky Cauldron? I'd have to you teleport straight to my Haven, but I'm afraid that
might be too far for your current strength. You'll be wearing the Invisbility Cloak because--

"We don't want anyone to see me," surmised Harry. Merlin was grinning proudly, he was
sure of it.

Picture a very specific place you would like to be, said Merlin. This is your first time, and it's
rather far, so you'll have to be very specific. Will yourself to be there with all your desire.

Harry did so, thinking of an alley next to the bookstore. He squeezed his eyes shut as he
willed his magic to take him there along with his clothes, Invisibility Cloak, and whatever
else he had on his body. The last thing he wanted to do was show up starkers. Sometimes the
magic could be quite fickle if one didn't concentrate enough, or understand enough.

A strong rush of wind slammed into his body, and while it sounded like a gale-force storm, it
carried almost no weight at all. The next thing Harry was aware of, he could hear the sound
of Saturday traffic on the street and the dull chatter of pedestrians. He swayed around on his
legs, feeling more than a little exhausted, and realized his breath was coming in sharp pants.
It was like he'd run a marathon in a second.

Well done, Harry! Very well done, indeed! applauded Merlin, although Harry couldn't hear
the sound of clapping. How did that feel?

"Like I just ran here," gasped Harry. "But--but at the same time--it felt like the wind carried
me..."

In a manner of speaking, both are correct, Merlin informed him. You scattered yourself to the
wind and it brought you straight here, thanks to your magic. Anyone who could see you
would've only noticed a small, ghostly flicker. At the same time, this is yet another aspect that
you need to strengthen. You are powerful for your age, but you are not yet mature. I will not
ask you to make another long distance port again.

"What--what now?" asked Harry, grateful for Merlin's lenience.

Now, you will summon the Knight Bus, but for that, let's move down a little--away from the
Leaky Cauldron and any wizards who might see you.

Harry distanced himself from the entrance to Diagon Alley, removed the Invisibility Cloak
when no one was around, and summoned the Knight Bus by sticking out his wand. He was
startled by the bus's sudden appearance and speed, not to mention amazed at the fact that
Muggles couldn't hear or see it.

When Stan Shunpike, the conductor, asked Harry for his name, he gave the pseudonym
James Puck, which Merlin found hilarious. Apparently, no one else could hear Merlin, even if
he was magical. The Knight Bus set out on a wild ride through Britain before crossing into
Wales, and depositing Harry at Cardigan, overlooking the Cardigan Bay.

Hedwig will help us from this point, said Merlin. Harry looked up and spotted his snowy
familiar circling above them. She landed upon his shoulder and nipped affectionately at
him. Hedwig, there is an island far off from the horizon. You shall need to guide Harry
towards it. Harry? You will need to conjure a simple boat.

"Couldn't I just fly?" questioned Harry in return. The sea breeze rustled his messy hair and
invigorated his lungs. It was a perfect day for flying, and he'd never flown with Hedwig
before. Aside from magic and his friends, flying was the other thing he missed over those
long summer holidays.

Merlin, he thought, was completely nonplussed at the suggestion.

Heavens, I had not even considered it! laughed Merlin. Although I'm not sure how you'll keep
yourself hidden from the Muggles. We haven't worked on illusions yet, and it would take too
long to explain the theory out here.

So Harry conjured a simple row boat with oars to carry him out to sea. A mist was something
easy enough to call forth, which obscured him from the view of Muggles who happened to be
outside. To aide him, he also willed the clouds to roll in. By the time he'd done that much
magic, he was pale, shaking, and soaked in sweat.

The clouds were a bit much for you, remarked Merlin softly, almost apologetic. You've
exhausted yourself. Perhaps I have not learned patience after all.

"No!" gasped Harry as he summoned whatever strength he had left to push the boat into the
water. "I can do this... I can do this..."

Harry... whispered Merlin in a voice thick with emotion. You've done enough, maybe you
should have the Knight Bus--

"How much further?" questioned Harry sharply. The stubborn preteen was in the rowboat
with oars in hand, fighting against the rolling waves to get out into the bay. Merlin had joined
him, sitting on the opposite end from Harry.

Not much further, said a resigned Merlin, but Harry got the impression that he was being
watched closely. The island should appear to you because I've told you of its existence.
Hedwig seems capable of perceiving it well enough, I think. I hid it, of course. A modification
of the magic Morgana invoked to hide Avalon from the rest of the British isles.

Once on the island, you will need to make your way inland until you reach a spot I designate.
From there, I will ask you to teleport yourself straight down. Keep your eyes open for that
one, you'll need to see where to stop. And then...and then you can rest. You are in no shape to
do anything else this day.

Harry nodded with gritted teeth. His mind was sharp, even though his shoulders were feeling
the strain of rowing. He concentrated on each little step, however. Now that he was so close
to his goal, he wouldn't give up. This was important not just to Merlin, but to Harry himself.
How could he give up on a friend? For that's what he felt Merlin was to him.

After what felt like hours, Harry spotted an island appear as if it were a mirage. The bump of
his rowboat against shore, however, told him it was anything but. He could barely extract
himself, having lost the strength and feeling in his jelly legs. Merlin was speaking to him,
telling him to stop and rest, but Harry knew they were close. Just a little more.

The island was black, full of patches of dark reeds, moss, and bits of grass. A few dark trees
reached upwards, filled with strange fruit Harry didn't recognize. It wasn't terribly big for an
island. Bigger than the island he'd gone with the Dursleys, however.

Hedwig guided them to a spot not far from the shoreline. Merlin's voice had receeded away
until Harry could hear him no longer. In fact, he was so exhausted he could barely hear the
rustle of the trees. There was a small circle of tiny pebbles and stones that was only a little
larger than the width of his shoulders. Once Harry stepped into the circle, Hedwig flew down
from a nearby tree branch to land on his shoulder.

"Hang on, girl," Harry muttered, taking the spot to be the one Merlin had spoken of. Keeping
his eyes open as best he could manage, Harry tapped into the magic once again, desiring to
go down into a cave.

The same wind pushed down on his body, and he felt himself rushing through the earth. In
the meanwhile, with his eyes open, he could see the blur of dark earth rush past. It wasn't
until a big blue object popped into his vision that he willed his magic to stop. His body
crumpled onto the hard floor of the cave; his legs gave out almost instantly. And, just like
that, Harry Potter fell into darkness.

*****

When Harry awoke the next morning--or was it the next morning? It was quite hard to tell
time in a cave--he first spied Hedwig standing protectively over his face. She offered a small
hoot as he blinked his tired eyes. His whole body was aching, but none more so than his
shoulders and thighs.

"Ugh," he groaned, rolling over onto his back. The cave was dark, almost a pitch black, but
for an eerie blue that danced over the walls like water. Harry swallowed thickly, his throat
painfully dry, and tried to sit up, only to find his abs happened to be on strike.

I warned you, admonished Merlin lightly, though Harry could hear the smile. We should've
rested at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm sure a night wouldn't have delayed us too much.

"But we're here, aren't we?" protested Harry, still trying to sit up to take a better look around.

We are, agreed Merlin, but you can barely move, and as I can't access magic in my current
state, there is nothing for us to do.

Harry had to admit that Merlin had a point. It wasn't that he had a lot of food saved up in his
trunk either. Actually, he was pretty sure that the only food in his trunk happened to be
Hedwig's owl treats. Well, if he was starving enough...

He took stock of the cave, having finally forced his abdominal muscles to allow him to sit up.
It wasn't any larger than his room back at Privet Drive. The cave was rounded with no
discernable entrance or exit except through Apparation or teleportation. There was a slight set
of steps cut into the hard rock opposite him leading up into a giant blue crystal, the source of
the dancing light.

Merlin Ambrosius stood in the crystal. He was slightly stooped, as if he was prepared to pass
through a doorway, half-turned towards the spot were Harry sat. Undoubtably, he'd been
beckoning for Nimue to follow him, and Harry felt a swell of sympathy and loss for the man.
Yes, Merlin wasn't innocent of his one-sided obsession, but at the same time, Nimue had
been allowed to live her life.

He was a young man, no older than his mid-thirties if Harry had to guess. Jet-black hair was
slicked back and held in place by a pewter headband around his brow. His features were
sharp and handsome, with glittering gray eyes and a strong jaw. He wore many layers of gray
clothes consisting of a cloak, robes, tunic, and breeches with matching gray boots. The
buckles of his belt and the the large bangles on his wrists were made of a brighter pewter.
Lastly, gripped loosely in his right hand, was a gray walking staff that formed a natural
crescent at the head, almost like a giant question mark.

I think she knew one day I'd get out, said Merlin absently from a place close to Harry's ear.
He must've sat or crouched down. Or perhaps she didn't expect it would send me into a state
of suspended animation.

"How do I Vanish all that?" questioned Harry.

You don't need to, replied Merlin. Just Vanish enough for me to get free. I should be able to
take care of the rest. Though do wait for my consciousness to return to my body. Give it, shall
we say, five minutes? If you're willing to try?

Harry gave a nod, but remained seated upon the floor of the cave. He couldn't even try to
work his legs to move. Staying sitting up was hard enough to manage. Thankfully, he
wouldn't need to stand or do anything. So long as he could focus and will his magic to work,
it would be enough.
When the five minutes were up, Harry began to do just that. After a few steadying breaths, he
focused on the crystal surrounding Merlin. He willed with all his desire, sympathy,
companionship, and hope for the crystal to Vanish. He poured every positive, desperate hope
into his magic.

The crystal began to crack as if assaulted by some invisible mallet. Harry focused harder,
willing the magic not to smash the crystal, but to just evaporate it. He shut his eyes, gritted
his teeth, and tensed every muscle. Soon, he heard a loud FWUMP sound, as if a giant mass
had just been displaced, followed by the distinct sound of a body crumpling to the ground.

"Merlin!" gasped Harry as he threw open his eyes. The sudden motion dizzied him, and when
he tried to stand, he merely collapsed forward. Hedwig hooted in concern and flew close to
Harry's head to see if he was fine.

Laughter greeted Harry's cry. Not an evil laugh of Voldemort's, but an honest, mirthful,
joyous laugh that echoed throughout the cave. Harry lifted his head to spy Merlin flat on his
back, rolling slightly as he laughed.

"You've done it, Harry!" said Merlin in a watery voice, wiping at the tears of joy flooding his
face. "By the stars, you've done it!"

He rolled onto all fours and used his walking staff to help him up to shakey feet. Merlin had
not been in a coma. He'd been frozen in a magical sense and therefore suffered no ill effects
like atrophy. After a few seconds, the man drew himself up to his full height, which was a
little over six feet, and breathed deep of the air.

Through the archway behind him, Harry could see a green country with a bright sun-filled
sky. Was he dreaming things? Weren't they underground?

"I owe you a great debt of gratitude, Master Harry," Merlin praised him, still blinking back
anymore tears. "And to start, I think you need a good rest."

The great wizard held out his staff towards Harry, and soon he felt himself lift off the ground
as if cushioned by a great cloud. As Merlin entered the adjacent cave, he Levitated Harry in
behind. Within that cave was the true Haven that Merlin had created.

An evergreen field greeted them, while a cobblestone path led from the entrance to a quaint
stone cottage somewhere in the midst of the field. Off in the distance was a wide expanse of
colour. A meadow filled with every flower imaginable swayed back and forth in the gentle
breeze like an ocean. There was a forest not far, divided from the field and cottage by a clear,
cool river that ran into a broad lake. And far from all that were picturesque snow-capped
mountains.

"Is this real?" whispered Harry.

"As real as you or I, Harry," said Merlin reverently. The sky certainly looked real, and the
sunlight felt real against his skin. It wasn't at all like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.
"It took me a very long time to build this for myself and Nimue. A little slice of paradise."

The gray eyes dimmed slightly at the thoughts of Nimue and his own foolishness.
"I'm sorry," apologized Harry as they neared the cottage.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Harry," said Merlin. "I made this place to be my Haven, and
that is what it shall be to us. It would be a shame for me to ignore all the time and energy I
put into creating this place. We will live here, and I shall take care of you as you have taken
care of me. You shall be my apprentice, and I shall endeavour to teach you all that you do not
know. In doing so, you will also be my lifeline of sorts. A starting point to integrate myself
back into the world."

Hedwig soared happily through the skies, confirming to Harry that it was all very real, and he
wondered just what the borders were to this place.

The cottage, Harry discovered, was every bit as homely as the Burrow was. There was a
simple den full of earthen colours and lightly decorated with antique, yet comfortable
looking, furniture. Off in the far corner was a door to a small study for Merlin to read and
ponder; to the left was the kitchen and its unassuming dining table; down a hall to the right
were a few other rooms that were barren.

"I was going to leave the decorating up to Nimue," sighed Merlin, the light again gone from
his eyes as he set Harry down on the bed of the master suite. "We were to decide what to do
with the other rooms."

Harry opened his mouth again to apologize, but Merlin just leveled him with a stare.

"Quiet," Merlin urged him gently. "You need your rest, and I...I need to add a loo and all the
modern amenities to this place."

A laugh escaped Harry's lungs at that. Yes, Merlin would certainly need to update everything.

"I'll also need to clear a room for yourself," went on Merlin. "Not to mention restock the
kitchens. Rest easy, Harry. It'll all be done by the time you awaken."

Harry wondered how Merlin was going to do that. Surely Gringotts wasn't around during that
time. Even the Ministry wasn't around during then. But before Harry could offer Merlin his
Gringotts key, he had settled in to a deep, contented sleep.

*****

When Harry awoke next, he felt more refreshed than he had before. The soreness was gone
from his muscles and his mind was very much alert. His stomach, on the other hand, well that
was a different matter. His stomach felt like it had caved in upon itself and was willing to
climb its way up his spinal cord if he didn't get food.

"What time is it?" Harry groaned to himself, reaching out for his glasses.

"It is eleven o'clock on the morning of July the sixth--a Tuesday, if you would like to be
exact," said a vaguely familiar voice as someone handed the glasses to him. As things
focused into view, he spotted Merlin seated at the very foot of his bed, dressed in a newer set
of robes, but unmistakably cut in his traditional fashion.
"Two days?" said Harry as he tried to sit up, glad that his body wasn't protesting the
movement, but rather welcoming it. "No wonder I'm hungry."

"Quite so," chuckled Merlin. He snapped his fingers and a tray of warm breakfast appeared
on Harry's lap. In all honesty, the food wasn't great, leading Harry to believe that Merlin had
cooked the food himself. But food was food in his stomach's mind. "I'm afraid I'm not much
of a cook. I do a bit to keep myself from starving, of course."

"'S'alright," slurred Harry, utilizing the same table manners as Ron at this point. "I can cook
for us."

Merlin opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Harry silenced him after taking a gulp of
orange juice.

"I don't mind," said Harry quickly. "It's not like I'll be cooking for the Dursleys ever again,
not that they needed me to do it this summer with Dudley's diet. I can also do all the
housekeeping things."

"Harry," huffed Merlin in exasperation, casting his gaze heavenward for a moment. "I've
watched you slave yourself for the Dursleys all your life. There's no need for you to work
yourself like that here. Besides, you can use your wand here. I've added further protections
and wards. The Improper Use of Magic office won't detect you at all." Seeing that Harry was
still going to argue the issue, Merlin added, "We'll share the load. Lord knows in this day and
age I should know how to do somethings. Heaven forbid I meet a woman who won't do it and
curse me for being chauvanistic."

Harry snorted at Merlin's self-deprication. They both agreed upon a division of chores, while
Merlin outlined a lesson plan for Harry. Neither wizard was foolish enough to believe Harry
would leave Hogwarts, and Merlin thought it best for himself to get some practical
experience with modern magic. As a spirit, he couldn't pick up a book and read it. He could
only read what another person happened to be reading, which was rather limited. He had
fifteen hundred years of magic to catch up on.

After he finished breakfast, Harry realized he was in a different room than before, one on par
with Dudley's back at Privet Drive, with his very own bathroom. All of his trunk and things
were unpacked, marking it the first time that Harry had done so since he learned he was a
wizard. The room itself brought forth memories of the Gryffindor dormitory, with dark
browns and reds.

"I thought you might like it," commented Merlin, taking in Harry's pleased face. "I know how
much you enjoy the Gryffindor dormitory. I tried to bring a bit of it here."

"How though?" said Harry, reminding him of his final musings before he slept. "D'you have a
Gringotts account?"

"Of a sort," coughed Merlin uncomfortably. "Obviously, this place was developed without
twentieth century banking and technology in mind. Back in the fifth century, it would've been
easy enough to barter whatever I'd need, or grow them if necessary.
"This is not to say that I did not have my fair share of gold and riches from my adventures. I
had passed them on to goblins, knowing how well they'd appreciate it. It was a gift, but they
treated it as something to safeguard. When Gringotts inevitably took shape, my treasures
were placed into a vault. As I had merely disappeared rather than died... In an event, Harry,
the long and the short of it is that I have quite the vault full of Galleons."

"And they believed who you were?" frowned Harry.

"Never question a goblin's intelligence, Harry," smiled Merlin kindly. "All I needed to do was
press my hand against the vault. If I wasn't Merlin, or a direct descendent, I would've fallen
victim to the enchantments around the secure vault. Bless those goblins."

"Wow," said Harry in shock.

Merlin chuckled a little at Harry before clearing his tray with another snap. "Get dressed,
Harry. We have quite a bit of errands to run before we can get everything settled."

Harry rushed to shower, relishing in the ability to actually take his time if he wanted. He
didn't have to sneak them by Dudley or Uncle Vernon. What Harry enjoyed most about the
bathroom was the fact that it was large, but not too grand. Everything had a "just right"
feeling about it--enough to be comfortable, rather than kingly.

"I thought the point was for me to run away without anyone knowing," said Harry cheekily as
he stepped into the den.

Merlin smiled as he conjured a mirror. He then stepped behind Harry so that they both were
visible. Another wave of his staff brought on a slow change for the both of them. For one
thing, Merlin's clothes shrank and altered to resemble Muggle attire. Harry's attire shifted as
well until it sat comfortable against his body, making him look much taller. His eye colour
shifted to match Merlin's, while his hair lengthened until it more managable thanks to its
weight. Finally, his scar receeded into a very faint line.

"Cool!" exclaimed Harry, brushing up his fringe to inspect the scar. It was still there, but only
barely visible. It looked like it might be a shed hair stuck to his forehead.

"Now, if anyone sees us, we'll look like a father and son pair," smirked Merlin, who set his
walking staff into an all purpose hat, cloak, coat, and umbrella stand. "I suppose I won't be
needing it any longer. Not a lot of need for strenuous walking these days. Pity. It felt good to
have the weight back in my hand. No matter. Come along, Harry, we have a long, hard day
ahead of us."

Merlin hadn't been kidding. Their first stop had been Flourish and Blotts, which they quickly
emptied. The manager thought Merlin had been kidding when he asked for one of every book
they had, only for Merlin and Harry to do exactly that. Harry couldn't help but laugh at
Hermione's reaction if she'd been with them. They bought dress robes and regular robes and
more Hogwarts robes for Harry at Madam Malkin's.

At Eyelops Owl Emporium Merlin bought a large barn owl for himself. It had a strange,
orangish set of feathers that had Merlin laughing instantly. The moment he spotted it, he told
Harry he had to buy it.
"And I know just the name," said Merlin as he coaxed the sleepy, almost lazy, owl into
opening his eyes. "Archimedes!"

That set Merlin off onto another round of laughter. Harry didn't get it in the slightest. Merlin
then had to explain the Muggle movie, The Sword in the Stone before Harry started
snickering along with him. They were still laughing when they exited the Leaky Cauldron
and stepped into Muggle London.

It surprised Harry a little to realize that Merlin knew his way around Muggle London, to
which Merlin had told Harry that he spent quite some time walking around. They purchased
Muggle clothing of all shapes and varieties for the pair of them, and then went on to buy
furniture and other supplies that they would need around the cottage. Harry then bought a
new set of eye glasses with a better prescription. They were still black and circular in shape,
but made of a springy metal. Merlin charmed them to be nigh-unbreakable.

All through their journey, Merlin acted as a tour guide, dropping interesting stories and bits
of trivia for Harry about all the things he had observed and heard. There was a way with
Merlin that made him easy to be around with, as if he weaved magic with every word he
spoke and every breath he took. Harry remained a silent, but attentive, listener. Merlin was
the one who had been imprisoned for fifteen hundred years. Harry felt the man needed to talk
to make sure air was actually passing through his lungs.

They did not return until late at night, at which point Merlin unshrank all their bags and sent
them to their corresponding rooms with a snap of the fingers.

"My, my, my," breathed Merlin as he settled himself into an armchair by the fire. "I forgot
how tiring walking can be. Or that I now need to eat and sleep and everything else. To think I
actually grew used to being something less than a ghost."

"Fifteen hundred years is a long time to get used to something," Harry pointed out sagely.

"Quite right, quite right," nodded Merlin in a very exhausted manner. "I shall have to
remember that I'm mortal once again. I think a bit of pain will bring about that reminder quite
nicely, don't you?"

Harry could barely manage a chuckle; his legs were killing him. In the end, they both ended
up stretching out to sleep in their respective armchairs by the dying fireplace. It was the start
to a brand new--and hopefully pleasant--summer for Harry Potter.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

Merlin is freed a little quickly, I know. First chapter, no less. Since I'm doing this as AU
starting from Prisoner of Azkaban, however, I need Merlin free. Otherwise it would be just
too damn easy to find Sirius. And considering nothing else happens in POA, that'd eliminate a
lot of my drama. So Merlin gets freed quickly. Simple as that.

And yes, Merlin does quote Tolkien a little. I take this a step further in the next chapter. I also
drop a few Sword in the Stone references as well. That's all tongue-in-cheek and part of
Merlin's dottiness of being locked up for fifteen hundred years. You can't expect him to be
completely okay.

There is a goof with Merlin talking about wands being a part of Roman influence, which is
purely my mistake. It skipped my mind that Ollivanders's establishment date was 382 BC not
AD. As I've placed Merlin in the 5th century AD, I was thinking them to be contemporaries
when they obviously couldn't have been. My mistake, but this is an AU tale, so...

The theory behind Merlin's magic comes from the nonverbal magic done in Book 6 and what
little psychology I remember. It seemed so odd that Harry would have such a difficult time
casting spells he could perform easily, such as the Shield Charm, nonverbally, and yet he
picks up on Levicorpus with barely any effort. My only explanation for it is some kind of
psychological block. The mind teaches itself to do things a certain way, even when there are
other ways of doing it. If you try to change the path, you'll meet some mental resistance.

So basically you have a lot of exposition in this first chapter, mainly surrounding Merlin.
That's how I envision him for the purposes of this story. He's younger than common
portrayals, but from the actual stories, he really was pretty young. He also shows more
Slytherin tendencies, using a variety of tricks and illusions to gain achieve his great ambition.
Though it's unsure where he'd be sorted if he attended Hogwarts. Like Harry, he could've
been either Slytherin or Gryffindor.

Don't expect Merlin to be an all-powerful, all-wise wizard that can kill Voldemort with a
snap of his fingers. One of the issues with this story will be dealing with Merlin the man, and
how he and Harry will have to adjust to their limitations and failings. Which is why I paired
the two of them up so quickly.

Back to index

Chapter 2: Chapter Two: Lessons and Revelations

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Two: Lessons and Revelations

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.
------

After that day, Merlin became insistent on them staying in shape. They stretched and went
out for jogs around the beautiful grounds. Merlin also suggested swimming in the lake for
their upper bodies, after teaching Harry how to swim. Of course, Merlin being Merlin,
Transfigured Harry into a fish--a flounder, to be precise--to let him get the hang of it.

"You call that teaching me how to swim?" sputtered a very confused Harry. Merlin's
shoulders were shaking upon the dry ground.

"No," said Merlin in a barely controlled voice. "Although were you an Animagus, that
might've been useful."

"An Animagus?" questioned Harry. At the very least he could tread the water in the deeper-
than-it-appeared lake. "What's that?"

"An Animagus is a wizard who can transform himself into an animal," explained Merlin as he
sank his own wiry frame into the lake. "It differs from standard Transfiguration because the
wizard gets to keep their own mind and intellect."

"What d'you mean?" frowned Harry.

"Did you remember anything about being a fish?" pressed Merlin.

"No," admitted Harry, after scrunching up his face in thought. "Well, bits and pieces, but
nothing specific."

"As it is with all forced human-to-animal Transfigurations," said Merlin. "However, an

Animagus keeps his mind, memories, and personality, but also benefits from the insticts of
the particular animal in question."

"How many animals can a person change into?" wondered Harry, tilting his head back to
stare up at the deep blue sky. The back stroke was pretty easy to get the hang of.

"One, as far as I know," shrugged Merlin.

"'As far as you know?'" said Harry, pulling his head up to gaze at Merlin.

"Well, I haven't tried it personally so I can't say," smirked Merlin. "I don't try to limit myself,
Harry. Rules can always be rewritten and reset, especially if they aren't pushed far enough.
Standards can always be raised. Magic has very few limitations, Harry. It can do everything--
although it may not always do what you want it to."

"Like what?"

Merlin licked his lips for a moment before asking, "How much would you give to have your
parents back?" Harry's eyes went wide, but he was too dumbstruck to answer. "Anything in
the world, I imagine? You'd pass any trial if it would bring you them, correct?" Harry nodded
again.

Then Merlin submerged himself under the lake and began to swim around beneath. Harry
could only stare at his dark silhouette against the light blue. He thought about what Merlin
said. He tended to leave his riddles like that, with only half the clues, and sometimes half the
riddle, for Harry to think over.

The only ominous clue Merlin had given him was "it may not always do what you want it to."
And then he brought up Harry's dead parents, and spoke about bringing them back...

Merlin pushed through the surface of the water like a shark, peering over the surface with his
gray eyes pointedly at Harry before emerging completely. He wanted an answer.

"They wouldn't come back," said Harry softly, staring down into the black depths of the lake.
"I mean, you could bring them back--reanimate their bodies--but...but their souls would
be...gone... It wouldn't be them at all..."

Harry took a shaky breath, emotional for no discernable reason. He heard the sound of Merlin
treading towards him through the water.

"I reckon it's like a love potion too, isn't it?" said Harry quickly; his mind was working in
overdrive now that it was thinking. "It can make someone, well, trick someone into loving
you, but then it's not really love, is it? Not if it has to be tricked or manipulated or influenced
like that. And--and death? Magic will make you immortal, but you can't ever be like you are.
You'll have to rely on something like the Philosopher's Stone, or be stuck in a half-life like
Voldemort."

"Very good, Harry," complimented Merlin softly. "Magic can do anything, but you just might
not get the results you desire. The wise see this, while the foolish ignore it. Know this for
yourself, Harry."

Harry nodded and then proceeded to learn the breaststroke from Merlin.

Aside from that, Merlin set him to work on his magic immediately. It never seemed like
Merlin had much of a lesson plan in the strictest sense; he had a vague outline of what he
wanted to cover, but followed tangents in conversations as they appeared. Most of the time he
would teach Harry wandless, nonverbal magic--of which Harry was nowhere near Merlin's
proficiency and speed in casting--or learn Hogwarts magic, as Merlin had dubbed it, with the
help of Harry's wand. Needless to say, Harry was more than a little surprised when Merlin
could wield Harry's wand just as easily as he. Those spells, however, were less practical and
more...cool. Unfortunately, they were also very hard for Harry to understand.

"There is no rush, Harry," chided Merlin from his spot in a conjured armchair and ottoman,
with a stack from their ever-growing library beside him. "You are a few weeks shy of
thirteen, and some of these spells go well beyond your NEWT-levels."

"If we're in no rush, then why do I have homework every night?" Harry groused irritably. He
waved his hand to create a thunderstorm localized over Merlin. Elemental magic was easy
because everyone had experience with the elements, although Harry couldn't do more than
create a small storm cloud. Merlin, on the other hand, had managed a tremendous hurricane
off the shore.

As if to display his mastery at that very moment, Merlin snapped his fingers to dispel Harry's
conjured cloud.

"You are my apprentice, Harry," said a nonchalant Merlin as he idly flipped a page.
"Apprentices have no summer holidays--no holidays of any sort, really. They live with their
mentor and learn all that he has to offer."

"Well bully for me," grumbled Harry, though not entirely unkindly. Merlin did assign
copious amounts of homework for Harry and most of it was reading. Not that Merlin didn't
explain things himself for Harry, but the two would often read and then break out into a
spontaneous discussion that led to other topics.

At night, Merlin made Harry read classic novels and poetry, which were published well after
his own supposed demise. Merlin knew them because he had attended lectures at universities,
seen movies, watched plays, or just heard them recited. Harry found the irony amusing after a
fashion. He'd been more imprisoned one than Merlin.

"I am your mentor," stressed Merlin with a dry look. "I'm teaching you more than magic. The
very last thing I want you to be is some boorish oaf with little to no understanding or
comprehension of how beautiful the world is. And once you have said understanding and
comprehension, you'd best learn to express it. You'd be hard pressed to find a girl who
understands grunts and shrugs in this day and age, Harry."

Harry had blushed a vivid red after that last statement. There hadn't been any girl he thought
that way, although Ginny Weasley had certainly made her attraction known. Still, he'd been
the Boy-Who-Lived to her, and she was Ron's little sister to him. He barely knew anything
about her. Good God, he didn't know anything about girls for that matter.

Lastly, Merlin tutored Harry at Potions, Astronomy, and Divination late at light. He had a
certain aptitude for Potions so long as Snape wasn't around. Merlin couldn't help him in
Hogwarts, but at the very least Merlin could prepare him so that he could focus through
Snape's barbs. Astronomy and Divination, Harry found, had a certain link to them. Divining
through astrology was difficult, but Merlin assured him that it was the most accurate method
for people who weren't Seers.

"Prophecies exist, then?" questioned Harry as they stared up at the night sky.

A queer shadow fell over Merlin's face, but Harry was sure it was just a trick of the light.

"A whole host, in fact," answered Merlin jovially. "It's in the Ministry of Magic. The
Department of Mysteries. I've been through the place many times. They never notice me, of
course. I'm sure my freedom would've been the last thing on their mind. They'd have loved to
keep me for their own experiments."

Harry was sure Merlin was joking--he hoped Merlin was joking.
"Keep in mind, Harry, what I told you that first day," continued Merlin more gravely, pinning
Harry with his gaze. "The future is not set in stone. It can be predicted, but it can also be
changed. All we can ever see is what might come to pass, not what will."

"What d'you see for me?" joked Harry to lighten the mood.

Merlin's brow raised up to his hairline, asking Harry if he really wanted the answer. Before
Harry could reply, however, he decided to speak--

"I see greatness, if you must know," said Merlin, gazing back up at the stars. "In all your
futures you do such remarkable things. Many of them, you do it without me even being
present."

"Really?" gaped Harry.

"Truly," replied Merlin, gazing up at the stars as if they were another of his books.
"Sometimes I did not escape; sometimes Nimue set me free; sometimes the trauma of the past
year was too much for you to listen to me until much, much later. In yet other lines, you die
in that Halloween twelve years ago. The past, the future, the present...it's all shifting...like
a...kaleidoscope..."

"Can you see my future exams and tell them to me?" grinned Harry cheekily, causing Merlin
to laugh himself.

"Perhaps, Harry, perhaps," shrugged Merlin mysteriously. "Keep an eye open for Archimedes
this term. I may just have hints to drop."

"What are we going to do about mail?" said Harry, staring up into the ceiling.

"Ah, you again underestimate the magic of post owls," chuckled Merlin. "You ought not to
do that so consistently, Harry. Hedwig would not be pleased."

*****

Speaking on letters, Harry had wrote none to Ron or Hermione, having received none in
return. He wanted to teleport straight to the Burrow for a visit, but that would prove too
suspicious. Merlin attempted to project his consciousness a few times, but found it difficult
now that his body was active and mobile. In any event, no letter from Dumbledore meant that
their disappearance hadn't been discovered yet.

"Your friends are trustworthy," said Merlin one breakfast. Harry had posed the question of
whether he could tell Ron and Hermione about Merlin. "Though I would wish you kept my
identity a secret. Your friend, Hermione, may very well choke on her own words in her haste
to get her questions out, and your friend Ronald may very well feel incredibly jealous that I
chose you."

Harry frowned. He didn't think Ron would be that jealous. They'd been best mates for two
years. Hermione might be carried away with the questions, but still...

"Don't you want other contact with people?" said Harry. "Wouldn't it be nice?"
"It would indeed," agreed Merlin eagerly in that hasty way people do when a "but" soon
follows, "however, a master takes only one apprentice, and I was not ready to start up a
school when I was cursed, though it had been my long-term goal at the time. A master
devotes himself to an apprentice as an apprentice devotes himself to a master. To spread the
attention is to lessen the impact. And besides, I chose you, not because you're the Boy-Who-
Lived, or because you are filled with tremendous power--although I freely admit that they're
valid arguments--but because of who you are as Harry James Potter. I chose you because you
needed someone who understands you--someone without parents as Mistress Hermione and
Master Ronald have. I am yours, Harry, and yours alone."

Though he felt bad that he could not tell Ron or Hermione, there was a swell of happiness in
him to know that he had someone that was just his. It was a bit much to consider that Merlin
was offering to become the father figure in Harry's life, but then Harry knew Merlin the man,
not Merlin the legend. He wondered if Ron or Hermione could see through the legend.
Especially Hermione, who must've read many books and grown up with the Muggle legend.

Therefore, physical interaction with people was done by visiting places around London,
which helped Harry strengthen his teleportation abilities. They went out to restaurants, or to
the movies, or browsed in Diagon Alley--Merlin could even weave Harry around Knockturn
Alley, not that there was anything of value to obtain from there, except a few dark and rare
books that Merlin desired.

"You'll find out eventually," he muttered through the corner of his mouth at Harry as they
hurried out of Knockturn Alley.

A week before Harry's birthday, the Daily Prophet ran an article about the Weasleys having
won the Grand Prize Galleon Draw and were going to visit Bill Weasley and the pyramids in
Egypt where he worked as a Curse Breaker. They were going to spend a month there.

"They're a good family," said Merlin, staring over Harry's shoulder at the black and white
photo.

"The best," agreed Harry. "If anyone deserves the money, it's the Weasleys. I wish I could've
visited them though."

"They'll be gone for but a month," said Merlin, pointing it out in the blurb. "I'm sure you can
see them when they return."

During the next week, Merlin started working Harry on magical creatures--apparently, the
equally magical forest could create them on command--and ancient runes, which, to Merlin,
was not so ancient. Merlin then pushed Harry into taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,
while dropping Divination.

"They are electives, Harry," Merlin pointed out as they read in the den. "If you can't stand
one of them--probably Arithmancy--then drop it. It's that simple. However, Divination is not
worth your time and effort. I would rather you focus on astrology alone than learn palmistry,
tarot cards, and crystal balls."

In the meanwhile, Harry realized that he could do the complex Hogwarts spells if he did them
through Merlin's method instead. The books certainly gave him enough understanding, and
his will was notably strong, therefore the only issue left was power. While they weren't nearly
as effective or destructive as Merlin's spells, the fact that he could cast them at all was
impressive.

"You'll have to be careful in class," warned Merlin. "I have no issue with you doing those
spells in my style, but your teachers might. You'll have to learn the wand movement and
incantation to cover up the real reason you can cast those spells. My only issue with that is
you may become a little confused..."

And Merlin was right. It was hard to split his consciousness into doing two things
simultaneously. Focusing on the wand movement and incantation lessened his determination
and desire to cast the spell. Fortunately for Harry, it lasted only a few days.

The day before his birthday, the Daily Prophet reported a break out from Azkaban prison.
Sirius Black had escaped and no one, not even Merlin, knew how he managed it. Harry knew
nothing of either man or place. So, in lieu of their regular lessons, Merlin explained all that he
knew of Azkaban and the dementors. Needless to say that Harry didn't ever want to come
across a dementor.

Still, Harry could sense that Merlin wanted to say more. Even after he stopped speaking on
dementors and Azkaban, they continued to walk along in silence. Merlin didn't seem eager to
start the day's lesson as he normally was.

"I believe it is time for answers," sighed Merlin as he stood upon the shores of the lake. "You
asked, and rightfully so, why Lord Voldemort is after you--why Professor Dumbledore
placed you with the Dursleys and invoked old magic. I am sure Professor Dumbledore would
wait until you were much older, and for very good reason, but the stars tell me that things are
moving quickly towards an end, undoubtebly much sooner than he might like."

"Tell me, Merlin," Harry urged. "I want to know."

"Then prepare yourself, Harry, for this will be a long and hard story to hear--all the more
because this story is your own," said Merlin with a humourless smile. "I ask that you keep
silent until the story is finished. Can you do this, Harry?"

Harry gave a nod, and they both settled themselves onto the grass; Merlin was staring out
over the lake, while Harry's attention was riveted on Merlin.

"It starts, as all stories should start, at an end.

"The war was the most interesting thing going on, so, naturally, I would be observing
everything. It was a like a movie or book, I knew who the major players were, their bases of
operations, and their plots and schemes, but all I could do was watch them. I hated it. Very
often I wanted to run off and watch a more peaceful part of the world. But this was home, and
this war was over the very values I believed in. I had to see it to an end.

"In the summer of 1981, Professor Dumbledore was interviewing prospective instructors for
the subject of Divination at the Hog's Head. He didn't have very high hopes for the search and
was considering doing away with the subject entirely. But a woman named Sibyll Trelawney
applied, and, as she was descendant of a famous Seer, Professor Dumbledore felt the least he
could do was interview her for the position.

"Imagine our surprise when Mistress Trelawney produced an accurate prophecy. It spoke of
Lord Voldemort's defeat at the hands of a child, born towards the end of July, to parents who
had thrice defied him. Unfortunately, Lord Voldemort had a spy waiting who managed to
overhear that part. That spy, Harry, was Severus Snape."

Merlin cut a sharp glare towards Harry, who had wanted to interrupt at that point with an
angry rant. The power radiating out of Merlin, however, made Harry rethink that outburst,
and so he fumed silently. Merlin waited until Harry seemed ready and open to hear the rest,
instead of brooding on his hatred for the Potion's Master.

"Severus Snape was a Death Eater, Lord Voldemort's 'loyal' army of servants, who was
applying for a position as Potion's Master at the Hog's Head. Had he heard the rest of the
prophecy, he would have learned that Lord Voldemort himself would end up choosing the
instrument for his defeat, for there were two children who were candidates--yourself, and
Neville Longbottom.

"The rest of the prophecy outlined that the Dark Lord would mark him as an equal, which he
did--" Merlin gestured to Harry's lightning bolt scar. "You, then, have 'power the Dark Lord
knows not,' which you do--" Merlin held up his hand to forestall Harry's question. "Trust me,
you have it, and it has already spared your life twice." It was then that Harry realized the
power was love, which Dumbledore had already explained to Harry after the event with
Quirrell. "And that 'neither would live while the other survived.' That, on the whole, is not
entirely surprising, for now that Lord Voldemort knows who his instrument of defeat is, he
will try to destroy you--not that he hasn't already tried to do so thrice.

"To protect you and Neville, Professor Dumbledore sent both families into hiding, as you
were all a part of the Order of the Phoenix, his answer to Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. He
invoked the Fidelius Charm, which involves hiding the knowledge of a location within a
person's soul, who then becomes the Secret-Keeper. This, Harry, is where Sirius Black comes
into play.

"Sirius Black was your father's best friend from Hogwarts, from everything that I've heard.
They, along with two others, Remus Lupin, a werewolf, and Peter Pettigrew, formed a tight-
knit group. I should have liked to have seen them in their heyday. They--well, Messrs James,
Sirius, and Remus anyway--were quite exceptional students, and notorious pranksters. Messrs
James and Sirius were as close as brothers, so, naturally, everyone believed that Master Sirius
would be the Secret-Keeper for your family.

"Unfortunately, Master Sirius was a little too clever for his own good and a little too trusting
of his friends. For you see, Harry, he convinced your father to switch at the last moment.
Master Peter became the Secret-Keeper because he was, if you'll pardon my frankness,
wholly unremarkable as a wizard. Everyone would think it was Master Sirius, when really it
was the last person they'd suspect. However, ironically, Master Peter was also the last person
they suspected to be a Death Eater.

"Yes, Harry. Master Peter betrayed your parents by telling Lord Voldemort the location of
your family. You know of the events that transpired that night. He killed your parents and
then was defeated himself. Master Sirius was the first person to arrive. He knew that his best
friend had betrayed them all, and so he ran off to gain vengeance. Master Peter was a terribly
clever deceiver, however, and killed himself, along with twelve Muggles, framing Master
Sirius for it all by shouting loudly that he was the betrayer."

When Merlin's story came to a close, Harry realized that his heart was pumping erratically,
sending heavy pain through his chest. It was hard to breathe. It felt like a hand was pressing
against his chest from the inside.

"So... So, Sirius Black is--is innocent?" asked Harry in a shaky voice. Tears were streaming
down his cheeks, his nose was running profusely, and his entire being was quivering with
emotions, but none of that registered at all to him. "He...he suffered in--in Azkaban--for
nothing?"

"Yes, Harry," said Merlin apologetically, laying a hand upon Harry's head and rubbing it
gently. "Alas, there is precious little we can do to clear his name. With the deaths of Master
Peter and your parents, there is no one credible to say that Master Peter was a Death Eater,
especially when he was heralded as a hero for trying to avenge the deaths of your parents."

Rage flooded through Harry's body at that cruel twist, sparking a rolling thunderstorm the
blotted out the clear skies. This time Merlin did not try to dispel it, but rather let Harry vent
his emotions. The boy needed to grieve for all the injustices done to him and those who
would love him.

"There is more, Harry," sighed Merlin heavily. Harry sagged under an invisible weight,
wondering just how much more there could be. Already there was so much pain and tragedy.
"You recall I said that Neville Longbottom was also a candidate? Well, after Lord
Voldemort's defeat, the Longbottoms were able to go out of hiding. Professor Dumbledore,
along with the Longbottoms, believed that as the prophecy no longer applied to them, they
would be safe. More to the point, Frank and Alice Longbottom were two of the most talented
Aurors the Ministry had ever seen.

"Alas, as you were safely hidden from retribution by Professor Dumbledore, a contingent of
Death Eaters went after the Longbottoms. It comprised of Lord Voldemort's most loyal Death
Eaters: the Lestranges, and Barty Crouch Jr. They tortured the Longbottoms into insanity for
information about the Dark Lord's disappearance before they were caught. I'm sure young
Master Neville heard their screams, although he was not a direct witness, as you were to your
mother's death. That is why Professor Dumbledore kept you at the Dursleys.

"You may question, when this has all sinked in, why Professor Dumbledore did not tell you
this sooner. The answer is simple, none of us know when Lord Voldemort may return to
power--if he ever does. Because of that uncertainty, Professor Dumbledore would much
rather you go through life as normal as possible. I imagine he would have told you when you
came of age and left Hogwarts. Indeed, he may have taken you on as his own apprentice to
teach you the tools to defeat Lord Voldemort.

"You may also ask why, when I told you that the future is not written in stone, would any of
that matter? I told you, when I taught you to swim, that only the foolish believe in such
things. Lord Voldemort believes in the prophecy, and because of that, he will see it through
to the end. You, Harry, can hide here until you die of old age if you like, but Lord Voldemort
would try to find you. He is trapped by his foolish beliefs and, as such, has drawn you in with
him."

The downpour had grown cold, but was not yet cold enough to be sleet. A harsh wind raked
through Haven, mirrored by the wild lightning that flashed in the sky. Harry was soaked to
his very heart, and while his body was bent so that his brow brushed the muddy ground, his
eyes were full of pain and awareness.

"Take however long you need, Harry," whispered Merlin softly, placing a kiss upon the top
of Harry's head, "but fear not. You have Merlin Ambrosius watching over you. I think I can
stand to handle Lord Voldemort, don't you?"

It was a meager attempt at humour, but it was enough to warm Harry's core just slightly.

*****

Harry didn't know how long he stayed by the lake. It might have been a few hours, days, or
even several life ages. He had been vaguely aware that something in the magic of Haven
prevented everything from flooding, as well as him from catching a cold. When he returned
to his senses, he was lying flat on his back, soaking in the warmth of the sun. His body was
thoroughly exhausted and washed out, but his mind was sharper than it had ever been.

"Good morning, Harry," greeted Merlin when he trudged back into the cottage. Merlin was
seated at the kitchen table with a simple breakfast arranged around him. A stack of packages
sat in the seat to his left and a book was in his hand. He looked as if nothing at all had
transpired.

"Morning," said Harry, plopping himself into the chair across from Merlin. Taking up
Merlin's cue, Harry drew some plates towards him and began to eat as if it was a normal day.

"Happy birthday," said Merlin, shutting the book and gesturing towards the packages.
"You've been gone the whole day. It is July the thirty-first. Congratulations on being
thirteen."

Thriteen... Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It felt like he was thirty, not thirteen.
Everything about Hogwarts seemed so far away...

"Before we get to that, there is one final thing I need to clarify." Harry gazed expectantly
towards Merlin with a calm face. Merlin stared him over for a moment before giving a nod.
"It concerns Severus Snape."

The placid look fell away as Harry's jaw set and his brow contracted into an ugly scowl.
Murder shone in his emerald eyes. Snape was a Death Eater! Snape brought about the death
of his parents! A rushing sound enveloped his ears, which he belatedly recognized as the
beating of his heart.

"Harry!" barked Merlin in a booming voice that seemed to cut straight through his dark
thoughts. Once more, power was radiating out from Merlin's being, though he sat calmly in
his chair. It was like a great shadow had fell upon him, and he had become a giant in stature,
yet he remained as he always had.
"Sorry," mumbled Harry, gazing down at his plate.

"It is understandable," Merlin waved off. "However, before you start picking a duel with
Severus Snape, I must explain something to you."

"Why Dumbledore keeps him around?" hazarded Harry bitterly.

"The very same," smiled Merlin defiantly in the face of Harry's anger. "I was likewise
curious, and while Professor Dumbledore has never revealed his reasons to another living
soul, I was present for the conversation. It seems that your father saved Professor Snape's life
when they were schoolmates in Hogwarts--their sixth year, if I recall correctly. Master Sirius
had told Professor Snape about Master Remus being a werewolf the night of a full moon,
including how to get past the Whomping Willow and into a secret passageway into the
Shrieking Shack of Hogsmeade, which were both built to assist Master Remus.

"Your father was horrified when Master Sirius told him what had happened and rushed off to
spare Professor Snape's life, just as Master Remus was about to lunge at him. In doing so,
your father created a life debt with Professor Snape. A very old and powerful bond."

"A life debt?" asked Harry.

"It happens when a wizard saves the life of another," explained Merlin, leading Harry to think
about Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets. "Though rather, I should say it happens when a
wizard spares the life of another. Anyone can save the life of another, but it takes a much
greater strength of character to spare the life of one you would consider neither friend nor
stranger. Nay, one you may even consider deserves to die.

"By invoking--unintentionally, I'm sure--the life debt, Professor Snape found himself owing
the favour to your father. However, Professor Snape was not aware of such a debt, and
instead, ended up being part of the machine that brought about the death of the man who
spared his life. In doing so, Professor Snape violated the life debt, bringing on the
consequences of great grief, depression, and madness. Inevitably, it would lead to death itself.

"Professor Dumbledore saved Professor Snape from that fate by invoking an Unbreakable
Vow. Professor Snape would now be bound to Professor Dumbledore instead of James
Potter, and what Professor Dumbledore asked of him, he would do. He cannot betray
Professor Dumbledore, or else suffer the same fate he had before. Why he hates you so, I
cannot say, though I'm sure the life debt plays a role. As I said, I was not observing your
parents and their life when they attended Hogwarts."

Harry stewed over what Merlin had told him, and he couldn't help but wish that Snape had
ended up dying. He'd been the start of it all. If Snape hadn't heard, then Dumbledore wouldn't
have needed to send his parents into hiding, then his parents would never choose Pettigrew as
a Secret Keeper, and then they wouldn't have to die! He told as much to Merlin.

"That is a possibility," replied Merlin carefully. "But is that the only possibility?"

Harry swallowed and stared stubbornly out the window. No, if he wanted to be honest with
himself, it wasn't. Things could've been much worse. Voldemort's reign would've gone on
longer, and there was no guarantee his parents would have survived either, especially if they
were fighting in the war. And they'd always have Peter Pettigrew as a traitor. And he'd
probably grow up in a world of fear, instead of a world of peace.

A soft sigh signalled his acceptance.

"I am not asking you to be friends with Professor Snape," said Merlin wryly. "I have told you
because understanding is the first step to acceptance. You do not have to excuse Professor
Snape's actions, just understand and accept them. I would hope that by knowing what you
know, you will pity Professor Snape, rather than hate him--pity a man who had the potential
to do great things, yet squandered them in his pettiness and bullying. You are a
greater man than he, Harry. Sink not to his level."

Harry thought it over and realized that Merlin was right. His father had saved Snape. Were
the situations reversed, he doubted Snape would've done the same. No matter what Snape
said, nothing would change the fact that James Potter had done the right thing.

Thinking on the psychology books Merlin had Harry read for homework, he might say that
Snape was projecting his own failures onto James Potter. He blamed Harry's father--and
Harry himself by proxy--for everything, probably including the life debt that would've killed
him. Snape was just an immature, petty, bully! Harry would then have to be the mature one.

The smile on Harry's face told Merlin everything. Understanding really did help with
acceptance.

"Now that we have the unpleasantness out of the way," said Merlin cheerfully. "Presents!"

It was the first time he had received birthday presents and cards, and he vowed to tuck them
away into his album later. Hermione was off in France, but had given him a Broomstick
Servicing Kit; Ron, in Egypt, had given Harry a Pocket Sneakoscope, though he doubted the
legitimacy of the thing.

"Seems all right to me," mused Merlin as he examined the device.

Hagrid had given Harry The Monster Book of Monsters, which surprised both Harry and
Merlin by coming to life and running about the kitchen. A wave of Merlin's hand stopped the
wild book, and Harry tentatively bound it shut with his belt. Merlin then turned it over and
around to examine carefully.

"Ah," he exclaimed with an amused glitter in his gray eyes. "Stroke the spine."

When Harry seemed reluctant to follow Merlin's instructions, he gave out an exasperated sigh
and demonstrated himself. The book cooed and fell limp, allowing Merlin to undo the belt
and let the book fall open harmlessly.

"See?" declared Merlin, arching his brow towards Harry. "And you doubted my genius."

"Not yours," laughed Harry, taking the book to flip through. "Wow, this must have almost
every magical creature in the world."
"Curious," mused Merlin as he read over the opposite end of the book. "I wonder why he'd
give you this. It almost looks like a textbook..."

The last letter was from Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had acknowledged Harry's request,
saying it wasn't uncommon for students to alter their decisions over the summer holidays, and
that Harry's term in particular had been trying. So instead of Care of Magical Creatures and
Divination, Harry was taking Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy.
Included was his booklist and a permission slip for Hogsmeade.

"Too bad you can't sign it for me," sighed Harry as he tucked the slip away.

Merlin gave out a snort.

"As if you needed permission to go," he commented dryly. "Or that you'd be limited to just
Hogsmeade."

"But Hermione said you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts's grounds!"

"But you don't Apparate or Disapparate," Merlin pointed out to Harry's great joy. Though, if
he did venture out into Hogsmeade, it would have to be under his Invisibility Cloak. "Now, I
debated what to get you for your birthday. It's not everyday I have an apprentice who turns
thirteen, is it?"

Harry laughed at the cajoling way Merlin had said it.

"You don't have to get me anything, Merlin!" protested Harry. "You're letting me live with
you! I'm your apprentice! Those are gifts enough, I think."

"Those are gifts, Harry," agreed Merlin brightly. "Wonderful and special gifts! But they are
gifts to me as well, for I get the share the company of a bright and honourable lad, and teach a
responsible student all that I've learned. What good is knowledge that is not shared? Or love
that is kept? And gifts can be given anytime, Harry, so now I wish to give you a birthday
gift!"

Harry shook his head in disbelief, but a silly grin had been permanently plastered against his
face.

"Alas!" said Merlin melodramatically, looking as if he might swoon. "What can I give you,
when I am giving you knowledge? You who desire nothing tangible? Day off from lessons,
perhaps?"

"But I've already had one yesterday," answered Harry quickly. Despite his griping at the
pace, he truly enjoyed what Merlin had to teach. His answer only made Merlin laugh.

"I thought you might feel that way deep down," he chuckled. "All that I can offer you is this."

Merlin pressed a leather tome into Harry's hands. It was soft and supple, filled with blank
pieces of parchment. It was vaguely familiar to him, however.

"Yes, Harry, it is a journal," said Merlin solemnly, "but it is your journal. I have burdened
you with a great deal of knowledge in a short amount of time. You will find, as I had, that
you will need an outlet on occasion. Things seem clearer after I write them down and read
them. Clues become more apparent if you keep a detailed enough account."

"Is it enchanted?" Harry wondered.

"Would I give you something that was not?" posed Merlin rhetorically. "There is a minor
level of sentience to it. Think of it as a computer. You could run a search of old entries if you
write that much, ask it for specific words or events, and other things. It will also never run out
of pages for you to write in. Moreover, should you wish to access any book in our library
here, you need only ask and the pages will appear. You can clear them by saying 'clear.' The
security measure is quite simple--it responds to your magic."

"So if I want to write in it, then I'd just need to desire it, and my entries would appear?"
Merlin nodded. "And when I'm done, I can just hide it by thinking it?" Merlin nodded again.

Harry wasn't exactly sure how good of a gift that was--not that he was ungrateful or anything-
-but he thanked Merlin all the same. That night, however, proved how valuable it was. He
managed to write pages upon pages about everything that had happened over the summer so
far--everything he had learned, his impressions about Merlin, everything he couldn't tell Ron
and Hermione. With the writing came new tangents that he would switch to and new insights
that brought around a different understanding. He could now see the value in having a diary,
and why Ginny had been so eager to trust Voldemort's memory.

He wondered if she would ever replace Tom Riddle's diary... He felt that she should. She
must've had some wonderful observations in there before... And she shouldn't allow
Voldemort to rob her of something so valuable.

*****

The rest of the summer progressed as it had before Harry's birthday, exercise in the morning
and lessons for the rest of the day. They talked on philosophy as well--Dumbledore's,
Voldemort's, the Ministry's--for Merlin often pondered how he might best facilitate his goal
of the unification of both worlds. Harry also brought up Sirius Black's escape, of which some
blurb could always be found in the Prophet.

"As I told you, there is very little we can do," explained Merlin over tea. "We cannot prove
his innocence, though we may be able to shelter him from the authorities. Indeed, I've often
wondered why he broke out now of all times. Unfortunately, I would not put a stop to your
education just yet. I will search for Master Sirius come September first, when you are on your
way to Hogwarts."

"Speaking on that," said Harry, "what are we gonna do when I'm at Hogwarts? I can't learn
from you, can I?"

"You have the journal," replied Merlin. "I'm sure you can keep up with your reading
assignments."

Harry slapped a fake grimace to his face.

"I figured there had to be an educational purpose for it."

Merlin laughed aloud and poured more tea for them both.

"Everything is an educational experience, Harry," Merlin told him delightedly. "Life itself is
our greatest teacher, but it is simultaneously our harshest grader. For you see, you get the test
first, and the lesson after. Something Mistress Ginevra is quite aware of after last term, I
would imagine."

"Ginevra?" said Harry in surprise. "Ginny? That's her name?"

A flicker of a smile passed over Merlin's face.

"Yes, Harry, her name is Ginevra," he said with his eyes twinkling brighter than
Dumbledore's, but Harry didn't know why.

"It's a pretty name," Harry blurted out unthinkingly; his mind was already back on his
thoughts and musings from when he had started writing in his own diary.

"It is," commented Merlin, wiping the grin off his face with a napkin.

"D'you think she'll pick up another diary?" mused Harry aloud.

"Ah, so you've overcome your skepticism and discovered its benefits, have you?" teased
Merlin lightly, earning a sheepish duck of the head from Harry. "To answer your question,
Harry, I do not know. I daresay she might be in need of a friend and confidant this summer."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry sharply. "She has the Weasleys! They're in Egypt!
Dumbledore said she'd be fine!"

"She will be," Merlin assured him. "That is the wonder of children--don't give me that look,
you're still barely thirteen! A child takes a fall, they cry, and then they're back walking
around. You are all very resilient, and lucky to be so. An adult would've been crushed by the
guilt and trauma, I think.

"And yes, Harry, she has her family to support her, but they are dealing with their own guilt
in the matter. They blame themselves for not seeing how Mistress Ginevra was slipping away
from them. If I have judged the character of the Weasleys appropriately, I would hazard that
prior to their trip to Egypt, they were probably smothering the poor girl with attention, when
all she really needs is time alone to digest things. It's so very hard to think when everyone is
crowding around you."

"Her birthday is coming up," said Harry, tapping his fingers thoughtfully upon the table. "I
remember because everyone got her presents and Mrs. Weasley cooked her a special
breakfast when I was at the Burrow."

"I remember as well," said Merlin.

"I was wondering if she'd like another diary," wondered Harry. "Like the journal you gave
me."
Merlin again hid a smile behind his hand, unbeknownst to Harry.

"What does your heart tell you, Harry?" asked Merlin.

"That she needs it," said Harry without reservation.

"Then I shall work on charming it. You had best work on composing a letter explaining it. I
trust you to take my lessons to heart when you write it."

Harry had no idea what Merlin meant by that, but went off to write a letter to Ginny all the
same. It was only when he sat at the desk of the study he shared with Merlin, which was
adjacent to the magically enhanced library that he realized what Merlin had meant. He didn't
know what to write Ginny because he'd barely spoken more than a few sentences to her in the
short year he'd known her.

It would be preachy, disrespectful, and downright arrogant for him to just give her the diary
and tell her it was in her best interest to use it again. He would need to word it carefully. And
then there was that Valentines that she sent him, and the crush she had on him. There was a
lot to sort out. So much, in fact, that Harry was beginning to doubt writing it.

Hedwig flew in through the study window and alighted herself on Harry's shoulder, as if
sensing his distress and desire to write a letter.

"This is gonna be harder than I thought, Hedwig," sighed Harry disgruntledly. His snowy
familiar could only offer her support by hooting softly and nipping at Harry's fringe.

It took a few hours and many, many drafts before Harry had a letter to Ginny that he was
satisfied with.

Dear Ginny,

Happy birthday! How is Egypt? Ron told me you were there, but he wasn't very forthcoming
with the details. I also read it in the Daily Prophet so now I've got two copies of it (Ron sent
along a clipping). One of them I tucked into a photo album I have. It's got pictures of my
parents, along with some souvenirs from my first two years at Hogwarts. Maybe I'll show it to
you sometime.

My present to you is a diary--please read the rest of this letter before you decide to bin it! If
you choose to do so, it's your choice. I won't ever ask if you've written it, or if you're using it,
or anything. It's completely up to you, I promise. Just let me explain.

I reckon that you might need some space, or something to help organize your thoughts and
put everything in perspective, or even just something to vent and rant that won't get angry at
you for language or content. I'd lend an ear if I could, but I'm not there. Ron told me you
'never shut up.' Well, I barely speak (this letter notwithstanding). So I could take anything
you can throw.

I've recently come to understand how important a diary (or in my case, a journal) can be. I've
one for myself. It works the exact same way as yours so you know it's not a trick. They're
dead useful, aren't they, Ginny? Even Voldemort knew how useful they could be, or else he
wouldn't have kept one for himself. I'd be willing to bet even Merlin himself had a diary. Just
because one was evil doesn't mean they all are.

Enclosed are the instructions for using it. You won't find this at Flourish and Blotts, I assure
you. They're specially made for you and me.

See you at Diagon Alley,

Harry

After showing the letter to Hedwig, who hooted her approval, he passed it on to Merlin, who
thought it was fine. Harry then wrapped up the journal and folded the letter into an envelope.
He wrote on the envelope that Ginny should read the note before opening the gift. He tied the
gift to Hedwig and then sent her off to Egypt, hoping she'd make it in time for Ginny's
birthday, but then it wouldn't be so bad if the gift was a little late. That way she could open it
without any of the Weasleys watching, or potentially embarrassing her.

That was primarily the reason he hadn't included a note for Ron. Besides which, Harry had
already told Ron and Hermione a general idea of his summer, along with his confirmation
that he'd meet them both in Diagon Alley on August the thirty-first.

No reply came for Harry, but then he hadn't asked one of her. By the time the end of summer
came upon them, Harry had grown far more proficient at wandless magic than Hogwarts
magic. Not that he was anywhere near Merlin with only three months of study under his belt.
Still, Merlin considered it a great accomplishment in such a short amount of time.

*****

August thirtieth rolled around and Merlin escorted Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, though they
both ported on their own. The Haven to London trip wasn't such a terrible distance anymore,
more like a brisk walk up a flight of steeps stairs. Merlin booked a room for Harry and
"helped" him to unpack, which meant that Harry did all the work to further practice.

"At least you didn't Transfigure me into a broom or something to teach me how to clean,"
muttered Harry under his breath, but just loud enough for Merlin to hear.

"Ah, now that'd be a rich lesson, wouldn't it?" laughed Merlin appreciably. "Perhaps to teach
you to respect your own broomstick?"

"You ought to give Quidditch a chance," said Harry. Then he turned to look at Merlin. "Are
you going to come to my games?"

"Of course, Harry!" Merlin vowed. "I've been to each one! I admit, it'll be difficult. I was
used to observing you in class and everything. There's a part of me that would enjoy making
up an excuse and saying that I should attend Hogwarts with you."

"A part of me would like it too," admitted Harry. "A part of me didn't want to come back for
once. I'd rather just stay at the Haven and learn magic from you."

"I know, Harry," said Merlin with a fond smile, kneeling down before Harry who was seated
at the edge of the bed. "A different perspective is always a valuable learning tool. You would
do well to see how others think of things. Sometimes, all it takes to learn a great deal is
walking a few steps in another person's shoes."

They finalized their plans for the term. Harry would head to the Haven over the Christmas
holidays for once; he would owl Merlin his schedule so they could plan some curriculum; and
he would stay out of trouble--well, too much trouble, Merlin had said he'd be disappointed if
Harry didn't get into some trouble. In the meanwhile, Merlin would search for Sirius Black
and see if he couldn't bring him back to the Haven before the Ministry.

The next morning, Harry woke up at five thirty as he was wont to do. He'd been up late doing
his reading thanks to his journal. Of course, he'd then spent the next few minutes reflecting
upon what he wrote, like writing an essay for any of his classes. Hermione would definitely
be in shock come the start of the term.

Unable to get in his usual exercise of running and swimming, Harry decided to do sit-ups and
push-ups. For his legs, Harry used the journal to see if he could find some kind of squats to
work out his legs and decided on Hindu squats. Once that was all done, he showered,
changed, and headed downstairs for a spot of breakfast. The Black Lake would be a good
place to jog and shower once he reached Hogwarts.

Soon his quiet breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of the Weasley family and Hermione.
He watched them all from his spot in the corner. Merlin's teachings had rubbed off as he
chose the spot that allowed him a good view of the pub, but left him relatively obscured. It
helped that he was dressed in clothes that fit him and had on a thinner, sleeker set of glasses.

After his summer, he just needed a moment or two to reorient himself. All the Weasleys were
more freckled than usual, but for the most part, nothing had changed. Ron was still growing,
now almost matching Mr. Weasley in height, but that was to be expected. Harry nearly
choked on his pumpkin juice as he realized Hermione was beginning to change, but in a
different kind of way. Not that they were gigantic, or anything, but it was the fact that they
were noticeable.

Her parents gave her what appeared to be a handful of bills, kissed her browned cheeks and
bade the Weasleys goodbye. She then dragged Ron over to Tom at the counter and began to
flip through the register, probably seeking out Harry's name. Upon finding it, they took off up
the stairs. Harry chuckled to himself and began to languidly eat his breakfast.

"Not the most observant, are they?" said a soft voice. Harry snapped his head up and was
surprised to see a blushing Ginny Weasley standing in front of him. He swallowed down his
bit of food before he could answer.

"Reckon not," he said, then gestured down at the empty spots around his table. "D'you want a
seat?"

Her eyes grew wide for a moment and the blush deepened. He took that to note that she still
had the crush on him and bit the inside of his cheeks. He wasn't sure what to make of that. No
girl ever had a crush on him before, and to be quite honest, it made him more than a little
nervous in his own right. But he decided the right thing to do would be to ignore it and treat
her no differently than he would Hermione.

Despite the blush, she showed she was a Gryffindor by taking a chair. Remembering his
manners, according to Merlin, Harry got up and held out her chair. It was almost automatic
for him, and he wasn't aware he'd done so until Ginny's blush soon matched the roots of her
hair. He realized that they were nearly the same height, although he was barely an inch taller.
He sheepishly took his own seat and resumed picking at his breakfast.

An awkward silence stretched between them, drowning out the din of everyone else eating
their morning meals.

"Egypt was cool," said Ginny into the silence, startling Harry. She was biting her lower lip
and alternating her gaze between her entwined fingers and the assembled Weasleys. Ron and
Hermione had just come from the stairs looking mildly disappointed.

"Uh, great," was all Harry could say.

"Bill, he--um--he understood," Ginny went on, pointedly looking everywhere but Harry. "He
used to be like Percy, you know? Prefect, Head Boy, top marks in all his classes, but then he
surprised everyone by being a Curse Breaker. Reckon he had a bit of an adventurous streak
like Charlie in him.

"He--he saw things, as a Curse Breaker. Not just mutated corpses that Mum wouldn't let me
see--" Ginny scowled a bit at that as Mrs. Weasley began to marshal her children up for their
trip into Diagon Alley. "It's--it's a really tough business, being a Curse Breaker. I mean, they
have to deal with the Egyptian curses, but then they have to deal with tomb raiders who
wanna steal the treasure for themselves. They--they can be pretty vicious and nasty,
according to Bill. He learned a lot about darker side of human nature rather quickly.

"Bill took care of me in Egypt. He made sure I got some time alone to think. Mum and
everyone else just wouldn't give me a break at the Burrow. Even when I was in my room they
knocked about every five minutes to see if I wanted something to drink, and I couldn't get
mad because I know they cared about me, but at the same time it was so frustrating because
all I wanted to do was sit and think, you know?"

Harry nodded. He'd stopped eating and turned his whole attention towards Ginny, but he
wasn't sure she was paying attention to him anymore. She seemed lost to her own rant.

"While everyone was treating me like I'd somehow de-aged about half my life, Bill treated
me like I'd aged five years. He taught me this really wicked curse, and learning it helped me,"
said Ginny enthusiastically. "It made me feel, you know, stronger, like I had this weapon to
pull out. It's called the Bat-Bogey Hex. It turns your bogeys into these half-bat things that
claw at your face. It's really cool, Bill was nice enough to let me practice on him."

Harry tried not to laugh. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd been busy learning
something over the summer. Instead they shared a brief smile, which made Ginny blush again
and look away. Harry was really beginning to feel he was doing something wrong, even
when, logically, he knew he wasn't doing anything wrong at all, or else she wouldn't be
talking like this.

After a moment more of a silence, Ginny turned her head back to Harry. She was biting at her
lower lip and still fidgeting in her seat, but her golden-brown eyes were hard and determined.
Something in that look told Harry that she really had aged some five years, maybe more.
Something in his eyes must've reflected that look, for she stilled and her eyes grew wider.

Of course, learning the full story of his parents' betrayal and the fact that Sirius Black wasn't
a murderer might do that to someone. If she'd aged five years, he'd have aged twice as much.

"I got your birthday present a day late," said Ginny softly. "I'm glad I did. I don't think I
could've handled reading it in front of everyone. You were right about a diary. It's why I
confided so much to Tom--Voldemort--I don't even know what to call him."

"Anything but You-Know-Who," remarked Harry wryly, but he smiled proudly at the fact
that Ginny had said the name without flinching. In fact, there was quite a bit of venom in it.

Ginny smiled a sad little smile at Harry.

"Do you really write in yours?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Quite a lot, actually. I could show you, if you like. I had no idea I could
write so much."

Ginny gave out a little giggle.

"No, really," protested Harry with a grin of his own. "Ask Hermione! She has to fight me to
get a few more inches out on my essays."

"Ginny?" called out Mrs. Weasley's voice. There was a hitch of panic in it that wiped the
smiles from their faces. Harry looked around to find that Mrs. Weasley was the only other
Weasley left in the Leaky Cauldron. "Ginny, where are--"

"Here, Mum!" returned Ginny. Harry didn't miss the look of relief that crossed Mrs.
Weasley's face at the sound of Ginny's voice. The Weasley matriarch then bustled over
towards them.

"Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you not to wander off like that. It's very dangerous.
And what are you doing, talking to strangers like this? I thought after--well, you should just
know better!"

Ginny's scowl in the face of her mother's lecture soon turned into hysterics at the mention of
stranger, and even Harry was trying to hide his own grin.

"What is so funny, young lady?" demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry managed through his snickers. He brushed aside his fringe to
show his tell-tale scar, thoroughly dumbfounding Ginny's mother.

"Harry? Is that you, dear?" breathed a nonplussed Mrs. Weasley. "Oh my! I'm terribly sorry,
Harry dear, it's just that...well, have you grown a little? Oh and you've changed your frames.
And look at how smart you're dressed! I suppose those relatives have started to take more
care of you?"

"Err, something like that," said Harry, blushing at the scrutiny. Mrs. Weasley then scooped
Harry into a big, crushing hug and smiled brightly at him.

"You really should have said something sooner, Harry," admonished Mrs. Weasley lightly.
"Ron and Hermione went looking for you. No matter. We'll catch up with them soon enough.
Come along you two. Do you have your book list, Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry politely.

Harry spread out a handful of coins on the table for old Tom and once again held the chair
out for Ginny as she stood. Mrs. Weasley beamed at his manners and then proceeded to walk
towards the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"I see what you mean," remarked Harry dryly as Ginny got up.

She gave him a pink smile and then got an odd look on her face. He could practically see her
deciding something behind those golden eyes of hers. Then, without warning, she launched
herself up at Harry, kissing his cheek.

It was only for a moment, but it felt as if he'd been struck with a Stunner. The skin her lips
touched tingled all the way to the roots of his unruly hair. Slack-jawed and red-faced, he
reached up to touch it.

"Thank you for the birthday gift, Harry," she told him quickly, blushing just as much as he. "I
promise to use it."

He then watched as she bounded out to the door. Meanwhile, something deep inside him
stirred. It felt like a beast taking its first breath of life. What on Earth was going on?

*****

Ron and Hermione were equally dumbfounded at Harry's change over the summer. They
commented on his glasses and clothes, but Hermione noted that there was something more--
some indescribable quality. Harry decided to let the subject drop rather than allow her to
speculate.

They bought their books for the next term, with the assistant almost in tears at Ron and
Hermione needing two of The Monster Book of Monsters. Harry explained that Hagrid had
already sent his copy for his birthday. He then told the assistant that he needed to stroke the
spine.

"Well, why didn't they say so in the invoice?" grumbled the assistant as Harry demonstrated.

Harry goggled at the sheer amount of books that Hermione was buying. For a moment, it was
almost a repeat of his shopping spree with Merlin at the beginning of the summer.
"I'm taking more classes than either of you, aren't I?" said Hermione as she and Harry picked
out their Arithmancy and Ancient Runes texts. Hermione noticed and commented on it,
"Aren't you taking Divination?"

"Huh? Oh, no," said Harry as he tucked them into his basket.

"What? How come?" said Ron, who'd been trying to amuse himself by whistling under his
breath.

Harry gave a half-shrug. "I got to thinking over the break. Didn't have much else to do, really.
I mean, the Dursleys let me out, so I took a few trips here and there... I got to asking around,
and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes seems more--er--interesting."

Hermione beamed at Harry, while Ron just gave a shrug of his own.

"Your funeral, mate," said Ron with a sorrowful shake of his head.

They headed out to Madam Malkin's next, but Harry had already bought his school robes.
Ron was really the only Weasley who needed new ones. None of his brother's robes would fit
him and Percy, Fred, and George's old robes were still fine, so they all left. Ginny didn't need
any robes on account of her size. Charlie's old robes had already been altered to fit her.

The talk of robe alteration brought Harry's mind to different observations. Like the fact that
while Ginny shared the height of her mother and the twins--perhaps, the Prewett gene--she
did not share their stockiness. No, she had the slender frame of Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Ron.
He wasn't exactly sure where Bill and Charlie fit in, but he was sure they could be divided
into either camp.

No, Ginny was something special. Not just the only girl, but also the only one to share both
traits of the family. She wasn't like any of them in a way--no one's sibling, and almost like an
only child.

Harry shook his head. He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking about, though he knew
he ought to turn his head as Mrs. Weasley insisted that Ginny buy some camisoles. Ron,
Harry, and Ginny all blushed as they heard that statement.

Next, Mrs. Weasley directed them towards Ollivander's. It was time for Ron to get a new
wand to replace the one that he broke early last term. They were going to use the leftovers
from the Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

"Reckon you should keep the old one," remarked Harry to Ron. "Never know when you
might meet some crazy teacher who wants to Memory Charm you."

They snickered together as Hermione huffed and turned slightly pink. Her infatuation with
Lockhart had been hard to get over. It seemed that even Hermione could be charmed by a
pretty face, although Harry was quite sure she wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

Mr. Ollivander was creepy as ever to Harry, inquiring about Harry, Hermione, and Mrs.
Weasley's wands. When they all replied that things were working fine, he then turned to Ron.
"I've not seen you here before," he announced, more to himself than anyone. Then his eyes
turned upon Ginny. "Nor you."

"We're just here for Ron," said Mrs. Weasley a little nervously. "Ginny already has a wand."

"Does she?" questioned Mr. Ollivander. He sounded more than a little affronted. "And did
you go some other place to acquire it, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Well, no, it's an old relative's. It works just fine, doesn't it, Ginny?" demanded Mrs.
Weasley. Harry recognized the tone from Aunt Petunia--the correct answer was "Yes, fine."

"A witch or wizard will get poor results without a proper wand," said Ollivander sharply. "If
Miss Weasley can indeed handle her schooling with a substandard wand, then it proves that
she is indeed very powerful and should have a wand of her own."

Mrs. Weasley appeared flustered and Harry knew why. She just didn't have the money to
spare on two wands. Ron looked as if he would like to be anywhere but in the shop at the
moment. Ginny, however, was blushing and glowering at the floor. Harry could tell that she
didn't enjoy being spoken to as if she didn't exist.

"Be that as it may," said Mrs. Weasley thinly, "we are here for Ron."

A short staring match erupted between the two adults for a moment before Ollivander broke
contact.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," intoned Ollivander sourly. "Let's get you a proper wand, shall
we?"

Ron gave a meek look at Harry and Hermione before doing as Mr. Ollivander asked. Harry,
in the meanwhile, gave a look around the shop. He wanted to do something to help Ginny,
but he didn't know what. Maybe share with her Merlin's secrets? Harry tried not to snicker at
the thought of Merlin and Mr. Ollivander meeting. Poor Mr. Ollivander. If Merlin had his
school, there wouldn't be need for him at all.

Harry started to skim his hands across some of the narrow boxes with his eyes closed. Mrs.
Weasley was observing Ron's progress, while Hermione sat in the long chair of the room.
Ginny stood by Hermione and the two seemed to be conversing in low tones.

Merlin could read the magic off objects--Harry had seen it for himself when he inspected the
Sneakoscope and The Monster Book of Monsters. Following that philosophy, Harry intuited
that it had to be a spell of some kind. He furrowed his brow, willing himself to see the wand
cores of the wands around him. That was easy to understand for Ollivander used only three:
dragon-heartstring, phoenix tail-feather, and unicorn tail-hair.

When Harry opened his eyes, he almost gasped out in shock. He could see, not the cores so
much as the magic within each wand. His jaw hung slack as he realized that Ollivander was
right; there is only one wand for one wizard.

There was a connection of bright gold that ran from the center of his chest into the multi-hued
green of his wand. For Hermione it was a pale carnation wand; Mrs. Weasley's was burning
red and mellow, creamy white wand. Though he knew Hermione's wand was dragon-
heartstring, and that Mrs. Weasley's was unicorn tail-hair, no other wand in the shop had the
exact same colour.

A web of gold lines ran out from Ginny's center and into the multitude of wands in
Ollivander's shop, showing that she had not chosen one for herself. The same was true with
Ron, and Harry noted that Ollivander was choosing wands that had the thickest connection to
Ron. He decided to search out the right wand for Ginny.

Show me, Harry pleaded to the magic, pouring everything he knew of Ginny--everything he
thought of Ginny, including the kiss on the cheek--into his magic. One-by-one the
multicoloured strands began to disappear in the air as Ginny knelt before Hermione and the
two began to whisper and giggle.

He felt a great influx of magic, corresponding with a sharp intake of breath. Her magic had
chosen one wand in particular--a wand that shone like the sun, bright gold and white. Harry
turned around and grabbed the box out from under a small pile, just as Mr. Ollivander had
announced Ron's wand--willow, fourteen inches, with a single unicorn tail-hair as the core.

Harry cancelled the spell he'd used for his vision and opened the box. If he had to guess, he'd
say it was about ten and a half inches, although he couldn't verify the wood or the core.

"Here," said Harry, bringing the box over to Ginny.

"What?" said a confused Ginny, blushing in proximity to Harry again.

"Harry, you shouldn't be going through Mr. Ollivander's stock," admonished Hermione as she
gazed at the wand. "Besides, you don't even know how Mr. Ollivander chooses a wand for
someone. Just because a wand looks pretty, and it is a very pretty wand, doesn't mean it's
right for Ginny."

Both Harry and Ginny blushed a little at that.

"Just try it, please?" Harry pressed, holding the box further out for Ginny. "I'll pay for any
damages if there are any, and I'll take full responsibility from your mum."

Harry turned to look over his shoulder. Ron was holding his wand reverently as Mrs.
Weasley counted out the proper payment for it. When he turned back, Ginny was chewing on
her bottom lip as her hand hovered over the wand; Hermione was gazing skeptically at the
scene, but made no movement to stop either of them.

Ginny picked up the wand and a great rush of power flowed out from the contact. Red and
gold sparks showered out from the wand tip like some creative fireworks display. If Harry
squinted, he swore he could pick out the shape of a bird. He would swear though, that he
heard a few notes of the phoenix song.

"I do believe that Miss Weasley has discovered her wand," said Mr. Ollivander with a note of
triumph in his voice.

Mrs. Weasley roused herself from her stupor at the sound of Mr. Ollivander and looked ready
to lay into Ginny. Hermione, fortunately, beat Mrs. Weasley to speaking, "Harry! How did
you--"

"Mr. Potter?" questioned Mr. Ollivander sharply. "You found the proper wand for Miss
Weasley?"

"Er," said Harry nervously now that he was put on the spot. "Lucky guess?"

The elevation of Ollivander's brow showed he thought that was hardly the truth.

"I think," said Ollivander, once more cutting off Mrs. Weasley before she could get worked
up into a good tirade, "that I may have to hire you one of these days, Mr. Potter. Yes, indeed.
I thought that you were meant for great things. Take the wand, Miss Weasley, as a reward for
Mr. Potter's...intuition. Ten and a half inches, maple, with a phoenix tail-feather at the core.
Very rigid and sturdy. Marvellous for Charms."

Ollivander trailed off with a misty expression, which Mrs. Weasley took as an option to open
her mouth again. Harry, however, got the distinct impression that Ollivander was toying with
her for arguing back at him, for he immediately began speaking again.

"That wand is quite special, Miss Weasley," Mr. Ollivander told her, sparing just one glance
to Harry. Mrs. Weasley looked as if she had to choke back her own words in irritation. "The
phoenix that gave you the tail-feather for that wand, gave many more, but only one other
remains in use to this day. Your wand is the--well, I should say sister wand to that of
Professor Dumbledore's."

Ginny's eyes flew as wide as saucers and even Harry stilled. He, whose wand was brother to
that of Voldemort's, found himself in shock that Ginny's wand was related to Dumbledore's.

"You are meant for great things, Miss Weasley," called out Ollivander as he turned to walk
away from the counter. "Just as Professor Dumbledore has done great things."

"W-wait!" said Mrs. Weasley, who obviously wanted to pay for the wand--either that or tell
Ollivander off for encouraging her children. In either case, Ollivander simply ignored her and
disappeared to the back of his shop. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips tightly at being ignored.
Harry shared a look with his friends and they all came to the same conclusion--

Retreat!

------

Author's Notes, Excuses, and...well...Justifications:

I know that Merlin does not change Arthur into a flounder in The Sword and the Stone.
Actually, I can't remember what kind of fish Merlin turned Arthur into since it's been so long
since I've seen it. I just thought a flounder was funny.
As to Merlin's desire to remain anonymous, think of it as the second coming of Jesus Christ.
The mythos of Merlin is so large, that probably everyone in the wizarding world might
consider him some sort of god--that is, if they could even believe that he was still alive.
Whatever scrutiny we've seen for Harry and Dumbledore, Merlin would face a hundred times
over because he is the Merlin. His desire for anonymity will be a slow, constant problem
throughout the story.

Yes, Merlin knows a little about Horcruxes, but as Voldemort is not a pressing threat at the
moment, he is making the same mistake that Dumbledore made. He thinks he has more time
than he actually does, and so he doesn't tell Harry about them. He does not, however, know
where each Horcrux is located, or what they all are. As he stated in the previous chapter,
Merlin was not omniscient. There was just too much to observe during a war. But as Harry
was just a baby, Merlin would naturally gravitate to Dumbledore to root for the current
champion of his cause.

That is my explanation of Severus Snape in a nutshell. Though, from my standpoint, it makes

logical sense. Snape was unaware of the life debt, since it's old and obscure magic. After the
Halloween of '81, Dumbledore discovers the life debt and then uses that information to
counsel Harry in POA.

And it is spare. Since Rowling says Harry and Ginny don't have a life debt, I have to think
Dumbledore is just too optimistic in saying "save," although if you were to call him on it, I'm
sure he'd argue semantics with you. Merlin recognizes it for what it is--showing mercy on
adversary. You've no idea how tempted I was to slip Gandalf's quote about Gollum in
there... This close...

The thing about the wands in Ollivander's shop... Somehow Mr. Ollivander can see the cores
of wands. He showcases this ability when he examines the wands for the Triwizard
Tournament, most notably identifying Fleur's very unique wand. Not to mention the security
desk in the Ministry's atrium could properly identify the age and core of Harry's wand.

The bit about Harry seeing the magic in the wands will come back at a later point in the story.

Back to index

Chapter 3: Chapter Three: Fear and Anger

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Three: Fear and Anger

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny burst out of Ollivander’s with laughter on their lips. They
could just hear Mrs. Weasley's voice calling after them before the door shut on the Weasley
matriarch.

"Come on!" Ginny urged, pulling them away from Ollivander's and back towards the Leaky
Cauldron.

"Did you see Mum's face?" laughed Ron uncontrollably.

"I could've sworn Mr. Ollivander sent you a wink, Harry," remarked Hermione, trying to look
reproachful, but the corners of her lips were twitching upward.

"Hermione, you're bags are slowing us down!" giggled Ginny as Mrs. Weasley emerged from
Ollivander's, looking down Diagon Alley for them. It was true. The sheer bulk of Hermione's
books were definitely slowing down the four children. With a surreptitious wave of his hand,
Harry lightened them, but didn't shrink them.

"I can't--oh!"

"What, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"My bags've just become lighter all of a sudden," said a thoroughly perturbed Hermione.

"Well don't stop to examine it now!" laughed Harry, picking up their slack. "I think Mrs.
Weasley is catching up!"

She was indeed, although she wasn't about to race after them outright, nor was she was about
to cast a spell on them in front of so many people.

"I need to get something for Scabbers," Ron told them. "He's been looking bad ever since
Egypt."

"Oh! I've still got ten Galleons from my parents!" said Hermione, pulling them up short. "It's
my birthday in September and my parents gave me some money to get myself an early
birthday present. I was thinking of buying myself an owl."

"Look there," said Harry, pointing a shop not far from them called Magical Menagerie.
"Maybe they've got something."

The witch who owned Magical Menagerie didn't have much for Ron but a tonic, saying that
Scabbers shouldn't have much time left as a rat typically lived for three years. Harry had
frowned at that bit of information. If Scabbers wasn't magical, then how did he get passed
from Percy on to Ron?

The question was pushed out of his mind, however, as a giant ginger cat called Crookshanks
jumped on Ron's head, chasing Scabbers out. It had a squashed face, a grumpy expression,
and bowlegs. Hermione and Ginny loved him, although Harry recalled that Ginny did love
cats, so that wasn't surprising.

After that, Harry, Ron, and Ginny--much to Harry's surprise--gawked at the new broom on
display: The Firebolt. Ron was gushing about, but Ginny wasn't saying a word. She just held
a deep, longing expression on her face that made him wonder if she knew how to fly. If so,
why hadn't Ron ever mentioned that before?

Harry then greeted the Weasleys formally and did his best not to laugh at the antics of Fred
and George as they continuously took the mickey out of Percy's appointment as Head Boy.
Even Ginny laughed, though she strayed from Harry to speak with Hermione. Mr. Weasley
tried to speak with Harry about Sirius Black, but Harry told the Weasley patriarch that he
knew all about Sirius Black--more than Mr. Weasley probably did.

As dinner was about to be served, Harry felt eyes boring against the back of his neck.
Turning to examine the Leaky Cauldron, he found no one out of the ordinary--relatively
speaking. Something shifted, however, in the midst of his cursory glance, and he spotted a
wizard dressed entirely in gray. He had long, graying hair and a great beard. A giant wizard's
hat sat upon his head, obscuring all of his face from view. Nothing about him seemed familiar
but the staff--the great walking staff with a naturally shaped crescent head.

Harry made sure the Weasleys were preoccupied as he moved towards the man, sitting at a
table beneath the stairs. He didn't bother to tilt his hat up in the slightest, but rather continued
to puff away at something like a pipe. There was no foul odour of tobacco; in fact, there
wasn't any scent at all.

"Hello, Gandalf," said Harry dryly, bringing to mind the Muggle wizard in the novel Merlin
had been working him through.

"Ah, you've been reading," said Merlin in his deep soothing voice of knowledge and charm,
though this time it was tinted with age. "Good, good. I thought it very appropriate, you
know."

"I imagine," remarked Harry as he leaned against a support beam and crossed his arms.
"What're you doing here?"

"Watching you, of course," said Merlin as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm
glad to see you've taken my lessons to heart. I was most impressed by the display of magic
you showed in Ollivander's this afternoon. I had hoped you would catch that little trick of
mine, but then you do show an amazing aptitude for observation, don't you? You figured out
to work complex magic through my way quickly enough, rather than submitting yourself to
the limitations of Hogwarts."

Harry gave a self-conscious shrug.

"I am going to have to teach you how to take a compliment," sighed Merlin, puffing out
another lung full of smoke. "Come closer, Harry, I've news on Master Sirius."

"Did you find him? Is he safe?" whispered Harry, shifting more into the shadows.

"No, no, I didn't find him--yet," answered Merlin irritably. Harry got the impression that
Merlin was glaring at him through the brim of the hat. "The theory is that he is heading for
Hogwarts to kill you. Now, we know that is the utmost foolishness, but I cannot deny the fact
that it is what the Ministry of Magic believes."

"That's why the Weasleys are here, isn't it?" said Harry shrewdly, and he swore he felt Merlin
smile. "They're here to escort me to the Hogwarts Express."

"I knew I chose well. Yes, Harry, that is the reason. I will take up residence in Hogsmeade
village for a time. As that is where the Ministry seems to be focused upon, so I must follow if
I am to beat them. I'm afraid I have no other leads at the time to follow, but it doesn't make
sense to me why Master Sirius would seek you out at Hogwarts."

"Me neither," said Harry, though he felt better that Merlin would be near.

"Harry, listen to me very carefully," whispered Merlin, shifting closer towards Harry in his
chair. "They've ordered the dementors to guard Hogwarts. They are not allowed into the
grounds, still, be careful. You know their vileness in a textbook way, but I have visited
Azkaban many times in spirit. I want you to look up the Patronus Charm tonight. Learn it as
fast as you can."

"I will," Harry promised.

"Think happy thoughts, Harry," said Merlin cryptically as he got up from the table. "Think
happy thoughts."

Archimedes sleepily flew from the table onto Merlin's shoulder and then promptly shut his
eyes. Harry didn't think he'd seen a more lazy and laid-back owl in his life. He returned to the
dinner table to find Ginny staring at him curiously. The moment their eyes met, she blushed
and immediately turned towards George.

That night, Harry curled up with his journal, after having chatted a little with Ron and
Hermione.

"Search: Patronus Charm. Location: Merlin's library," intoned Harry to his pages. A soft
white glow suffused the pages and when it dimmed, he cracked open his journal. The
Patronus Charm was a simple concept--one called upon a happy memory, which then became
the Patronus, a silver mist or corporeal animal made of pure happiness. As such, it was
immune to the effects of a dementor, with no frightful memories to overpower it. The
incantation was "expecto patronum," and it was above the OWL-level.

He was about to practice the spell as Merlin suggested, when a knock on the door roused him.

"Who's there?" called out Harry, while he wiped his journal blank.

"Ginny," came a tiny voice on the other side.

Ginny? Harry snapped his fingers to open the door. A shocked Ginny stumbled in and then
blushed. Harry winced, not having meant to embarrass her. She wore what looked like a soft
white nightgown and a carnation dressing robe. He was tucked under his sheets in his
pyjamas. Her eyes immediately fell upon the book in Harry's hands.

"Oh," she said softly. "You do use it."

"You doubted me?" questioned Harry, but kept his voice from being accusatory. He could
understand her mistrust of an object.

"No!" said Ginny emphatically. She winced at the volume of her voice and then closed the
door. It was then that she realized she was all alone in the room of a boy--a boy she had a
crush on and had saved her life--and then blushed all the more. "I don't--I don't doubt you,
Harry. I--I just--"

"You doubt the diary," supplied Harry sagely. Ginny nodded a little.

"You said--you said I could see your journal," she said lamely, focusing more on Hedwig
than Harry. "I--I promise I won't, y'know, read anything, but..."

"Show all entries," said Harry to his leather-bound book. The pages glowed white again and
when it dimmed, he shifted forward to pass the journal on to Ginny. She took it tentatively
and began to flip through the pages.

Even at a glance, he knew the sheer volume of times Merlin's name appeared would give rise
for curiosity, but helping Ginny trumped Merlin's secrecy in Harry's mind. If he had to, he'd
swear her to secrecy. But, to his mild relief, she was flipping the pages much too quickly to
read. Her brow rose not at the mention of Merlin's name, but at the sheer volume of pages
he'd written.

"You have written a lot," said Ginny, who seemed a little awed. She blushed and handed him
back the journal. "I wanted to write in it tonight. About today, you know? Getting my first
ever wand. Thank you, by the way."

"I didn't do anything," shrugged Harry uncomfortably, clearing the journal with another wave
of his hand.

"Yes you did!" said Ginny emphatically. "Mum would've never gotten me a wand! I would've
been stuck with Auntie Muriel's old wand. It works fine, really. I mean, it takes me two or
three tries before I can do a spell, but I'm used to working at getting something right."

"Like what?" asked Harry, settling back against the headboard of his bed.

Ginny rolled her shoulders in a little mini-shrug.

"Flying," she said under her breath.

"I thought you were staring at the Firebolt!" exclaimed Harry with a broad grin. "Why didn't
Ron ever tell me that you flew? Are you any good? Who taught you?"
For a moment, Harry was put-off by the blank stare that met his flurry of questions. She
blinked owlishly, a gesture mirrored by Hedwig, before snapping out of her reverie. Just as
Harry began to shrink back sheepishly, a shy bright smile crossed her features.

"Ron never told you because Ron doesn't know," she told him, her shy smile becoming a sly
one. "No one taught me. I'd sneak out to the broom shed when my brothers were all asleep
and take each of their brooms for a spin. They never let me play Quidditch, not even Ron. I'm
better than all of them, I reckon, except Charlie. Charlie's amazing on a broomstick! You
should see him!"

"That's great, Ginny!" exclaimed Harry, who'd seen the twins in action and heard all about
Charlie from Ron. He shifted forward eagerly again, folding his legs in front of him. "Are
you gonna try out for the House team? What position do you play?"

"I don't play anything, Harry," said Ginny dryly and with more than a little bit of bitterness.
"I can just fly. I don't think I've the build for Keeper or Beater though. I think the Seeker
position is filled nicely--" they both blushed at that compliment. "So I reckon it'll be Chaser.
Besides, I think it's more fun to score the goals. That's where all the action is!"

"I dunno 'bout that," drawled Harry, thinking to all the games he'd been in. The rogue
Bludger of Dobby definitely sprang into his mind. He shook himself from his reminiscing to
turn at Ginny. "We should go flying! I'd like to see how good you really are. I'll even let you
have a go at my Nimbus!"

Ginny's eyes bulged to the point where Harry was afraid they were going to fall out, and the
blush came back in full force. He couldn't understand it. Sometimes they were chatting on
and on and it seemed like he was with Ron and Hermione, and then she'd just shut down and
get quiet. It was a tad frustrating.

"Thanks," she murmured. "I'd--I'd like that, Harry." Swallowing thickly, Ginny made her way
towards the door. "I'd--um--I'd better go, Hermione's up and--um--I'm sure she'll wonder and-
-um.... Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night, Ginny," said Harry in return.

"Thank you again for--well, for everything," said Ginny before she stepped out into the hall
and closed the door. Harry gave a sigh and cracked open his journal. He didn't think he was
going to get any studying down on the Patronus Charm at the moment. Instead, he wandlessly
Summoned an inkwell and quill to write down an entry.

*****

Harry woke up early once more and contemplated shrinking everything just to be
manageable, but in the end he decided to leave everything normal-sized. Shrinking them
would just lead to uncomfortable questions. After coaxing Hedwig back into her cage, he
dragged his things down to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were already setting up.

The trip to the station was uneventful, although before they left, Ron was complaining about
Percy's girlfriend. For some reason, the way he stressed the word struck Harry as being
amusing. It was as if Ron thought it was still something disgusting, or perhaps, he thought the
idea of Percy with a girlfriend was disgusting. In any event, it appeared that someone had
spilt tea on Penelope Clearwater's picture, and she was now hiding beneath the frame.

Getting aboard the Hogwarts Express was a bit of a frenzy, and Harry and Ginny shared an
amused glance as Percy strutted towards Penelope, puffing out his chest to display his Head
Boy badge. They hurried aboard the train and stowed their things aboard an empty carriage,
then they ran out to say good-bye.

They all hopped back onto the train and leaned out the window to wave at Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley as it began to pull out of the station. Harry froze in mid-wave, however, as a reedy
man with straw-coloured hair and a very obtuse nose locked eyes with him. Perched upon his
shoulder was a large tawny owl that was napping peacefully.

It was Merlin! In yet another illusion! Harry waved vigorously at Merlin, who gave a two-
finger salute in return.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron suddenly.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.

"Ron," said Harry shortly. He didn't notice that Ginny had paused slightly at his warning.

"What?" shrugged an unconcerned Ron. "C'mon, let's find a compartment."

Harry quirked his brow. Obviously, Ron had gotten over the events of the past term quite
nicely. When Harry turned back to look over his shoulder, Ginny was gone. Sighing, he
walked off with Ron and Hermione. He didn't see any reason why the four of them couldn't
sit together as friends.

In the end, they picked a compartment that was occupied by an adult, Professor R. J. Lupin.
Harry started as he stared at the shabbily dressed, relatively young wizard slumbering in the
compartment. His face was tired and despite his youth, his light hair was flecked with gray.
With Sirius Black having escaped it had to be too much of a coincidence--that had to be
Remus.

They chatted about Sirius Black a little, and Harry had to bite his tongue to not tell them
anything about Sirius being innocent. If he did, he'd have to explain how he knew, and he
didn't think he could come up with a plausible excuse without bringing in Merlin. If he gave
them both barrels at that point, they'd probably cart him off to the loony bin.

His Sneakoscope whirred wildly, making Harry frown in confusion. Ron said it was a cheap
one that went haywire when he sent it, but Harry protested, saying that it was working fine.
All three kids turned at each other, and then cast a curious glance at the napping Lupin. But
that didn't sit well with Harry either. Finally, he tucked it away in a pair of old socks, less the
noise rouse the werewolf.

Harry told them both that he'd be unable to go to Hogsmeade with them as his Uncle Vernon
hadn't signed his permission form. Ron tried to think of ways to get Harry into Hogsmeade,
while Hermione argued that it wouldn't be wise with Sirius Black on the loose. Again, Harry
felt the desire to protest the vilification of his father's best friend.

After an encounter with Malfoy, and grabbing some food from the trolley, the Hogwarts
Express came to a jarring halt. All the lamps went out, placing them at the mercy of the
howling storm outside. Harry wished he had enough command over his magic to clear up the
weather, but the storm had been gaining in intensity since they set off.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said, having wiped a patch clean on the window
and peered out. "I think people are coming aboard..."

Neville then tripped into their compartment, wondering if anyone knew what was going on.
Harry helped him up, only for him to almost sit on Crookshanks. He was having a bad feeling
about things as the minutes ticked by.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice. Harry felt her
pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for--Ron--"

"Come in and sit down--"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" said Neville. Harry jammed himself close to the compartment door to give Ginny
enough space to fall comfortable between him and Neville. Even in the darkness he thought
he could catch a glint of her fiery hair. Fire! Of course!

"Quiet," said a hoarse voice suddenly. It appeared that Professor Lupin had beaten Harry to it
by conjuring a handful of crackling fire. "Stay where you are."

He made for the compartment door, but something beat him to it. It was a tall figure dressed
in nothing but a hood and cloak. Harry shivered. The figure seemed to have been made of
pure darkness.

Harry caught sight of a decayed, slimy hand for just a second, for it drew it back as if sensing
his gaze. It dawned on him just what that thing was. A dementor of Azkaban! Patronus
Charm!

The dementor sucked in a long, slow, rattling breath that brought on an intense cold that
struck Harry straight to his very heart. He tried to concentrate on a happy thought--the Haven,
Merlin, his birthday--but it was so hard to formulate the desire to mould it into a Patronus
when it felt like he was falling into a deep, cold, roaring ocean.

Something shimmered around him like a body-sized shield that repulsed the dementor for just
a second, giving Harry a brief reprieve. Unfortunately, he collapsed on his hands and knees
before the dementor. A woman's scream pierced Harry's ears as from afar. It was a terrible,
horrible, pleading scream that roused his protective instincts. He wanted to help her; he
wanted to protect her.

Though Harry couldn't move his limbs and everything around him was growing dim, Harry
again concentrated on the beauty of the Haven and its peaceful stillness. He poured his desire
into fighting the dementor back, even as his consciousness was waning.

Again the shimmering mist returned around Harry, this time focusing itself in a more
solidified shape. The oblong mass pounded into the dementor's chest, again giving Harry a
chance to breathe. It was enough for him to push his heavy limbs away from the dementor.

God he was so weak. He felt like he was about to sleep and never wake up.

"None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks," came a voice Harry thought had to be
Lupin's. "Go."

The dementor didn't move, in fact, it seemed poised on going after Harry again. Lupin then
pointed his wand at it and muttered, "expecto patronum" under his breath. A much stronger
silvery mist flew from the tip of his wand and drove the dementor back.

Once the dementor was gone, Harry gave out a great, shaky breath as if he could breathe for
the first time. He was trembling on the floor and covered in a cold sweat; he felt sick and
nauseous as the lights flickered back on.

"Who--" gasped Harry in a horribly dry throat. "Who screamed?"

"N-no one screamed, Harry," said a nervous Ron. Everyone in the compartment was a little
on the pale side. Ginny was huddled up in a corner, seemingly close to tears. She looked what
he was feeling. Professor Lupin was the only one composed.

"B-but I heard..." Harry frowned, trying to recall Merlin's lesson on dementors. A great spike
of heated fear and anger ran down his spine. "No..." he said, feeling his eyes burning. "No,
they couldn't... They can't!"

"Harry, what's wrong?" said Hermione, slipping down from the seat to put an arm on his
shoulder.

"That was a dementor!" cried Harry angrily, slamming his cold fist against the floor of the
compartment. He'd never heard a woman scream before, not like that. If it truly was his
memory, then there was only one option. "That was one of the dementors of Azkaban!"

The storm pick up in intensity with Harry's wild rage. Great globs of rain pelted at the
Hogwarts Express and powerful winds buffeted the compartments. This was the second time
he was losing control, but what could he do? It was one thing to have everything explained to
him, it was quite another to hear it.

"Harry, I don't understand..." said Hermione in an anguished voice. She clearly wanted to.

"They make you relive your worst memories, Hermione!" snapped Harry, rounding up her
with such an intense look that she gave a small squeak and pulled back. "What d'you think is
the worst possible memory for me?"

"No..." said Hermione softly; her eyes wide in understanding; her face pale with fright.
Unshed tears brimmed in her eyes for Harry's pain. "Oh Harry..."

"What?" said Ron thickly, but no less concerned.

"I heard her," declared Harry to the compartment, drawing in upon himself as he spoke. "I
heard my mum being killed by Voldemort..."

Everyone gasped at that. A much heavier hand fell on Harry's shoulder, and Remus Lupin
knelt down beside him. Concern and sympathy shined in his sharp eyes. He looked as if he
wanted to embrace Harry but didn't think he had the right.

"Chocolate?" asked Harry instead, recognizing Lupin's restraint.

A very small smile graced Lupin's face.

"Very good, Harry," he whispered, fishing around his robes for a giant slab of chocolate. He
snapped off a particularly large piece for Harry, who took it gratefully. Even though he didn't
feel like eating, he knew it was supposed to help. All it took was one bite for him to feel
warm again. He almost wanted to sigh in contentment.

"Give--give a bigger piece to Ginny," Harry requested softly and then took another bite.
Everyone else followed his lead and began to eat their chocolate. Ginny's pale cheeks pinked
just barely, and she offered Harry a very weak smile.

"I need to speak to the driver," said Professor Lupin, eyeing them all carefully. "Excuse me."

Hermione lifted herself back into her seat beside Ron, but Harry didn't have the strength yet
to get up from the ground. He was withdrawing back into his thoughts as he ate the chocolate.
The Patronus Charm had worked, partially. Maybe if he'd had time to prepare he wouldn't
have been so affected...

A flood of shame and weakness burned through Harry's body. Merlin wasn't going to be
happy at all.

"H-how d-did you know?" stuttered Neville, addressing Harry.

Harry chewed his chocolate thoughtfully. It helped to unfreeze his brain, for which he was
grateful at this moment. He'd need his wits about him if he was to explain away the Patronus.

"I read up on them when I heard about Sirius Black's escape," Harry lied, not looking at
anyone; his eyes were riveted to the compartment door. "I had a lot of time to kill this
summer."

"It felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful
again..."

"Dad had to go to Azkaban once," said Ginny in a small but resolutely even voice. She
glanced at Ron, who nodded in confirmation. "He came back all weak and shaking, said it
was the worst place he'd ever been. I offered to make some hot chocolate for him," Ginny
blushed at the memory, but Harry and Hermione gave her fond smiles. Harry thought he
could imagine it. "I didn't know it would actually help... I thought it was just something nice,
'cause Mum does it for us all when... Well, I guess we know why..."

Everyone nodded at that. But despite the chocolate, Harry still felt weak, and from that
weakness came anger. He'd been prepared--more prepared than anyone else, anyway--and yet
the dementor had almost made him pass out. And they were going to be at Hogwarts. He'd
have to suffer a whole year with them, maybe more. He didn't know how he was going to
survive the term.

*****

Harry considered himself grateful for Ginny. After getting dragged to see Madam Pomfrey
needlessly, she told him when he returned to the Great Hall that Neville was about to tell
other students about his reaction to the dementors. Neville didn't mean it unkindly, of course;
he was trying to console some of the first years about the dementors. All the same, she
understood that he probably wouldn't want it spread that he heard his mother being killed, so
she threatened Neville to keep quiet or he'd become the very first recipient of her Bat-Bogey
Hex.

Schedules were handed out and Ron couldn't help but comment on the fact that Hermione
had three classes at nine o'clock that Monday--Divination, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy.
Harry and Ron shared a look. That didn't make sense at all.

Harry was the lone Gryffindor in Arithmancy, although it was nice that the class was
relatively small. There were seven people--eight, if one counted Hermione. Three
Ravenclaws--Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin, and Padma Patil; two Hufflepuffs--Susan Bones
and Zacharias Smith; one Slytherin--Daphne Greengrass; and two Gryffindors--Harry and
Hermione.

To Harry's surprise, Hermione did in fact make it in just before the bell. He wanted to ask if
she'd been to Divination with Ron, since she did walk off with him, but the class started.
From then on, it was Hermione as usual, answering nearly every question.

Arithmancy was difficult and required a patient mind. There were many numbers--good and
bad--that Harry had to keep in mind. Dimensions and numbers when casting a spell
apparently mattered a great deal in terms of strength. Numbers also carried a certain amount
of magic for no discernable reason. By the end of the first day, Harry began to
subconsciously count things and compare it to what little of the number chart they'd learn.

He was going to kill Merlin for getting him to take this class.
McGonagall's Transfiguration class was interesting as she'd gone over Animagi, which
Merlin had explained at length at the Haven. He'd never asked Merlin if he was an Animagus,
but it was clear that Professor McGonagall was. Her transformation earned a gasp from
Harry, although everyone else was subdued. Hermione gave the answer for that; Professor
Trelawney had looked into Ron's cup and found a Grim. The fact that McGonagall
downplayed it did a lot to relax Ron. Still...

"Hermione, how did you know what happened in Divination?" said Harry in a low voice as
they escorted Ron to lunch. "It's the same time as Arithmancy, and you were in class with me
the whole time."

Hermione swallowed nervously.

"I hope you're not going to say something about me being in two places at once?" sniffed
Hermione.

"No, because you'd have to be in three places at once," pointed out Harry with an arched
brow. "You had Muggle Studies at the same time, and I reckon if I find someone in Muggle
Studies, they'll say you were there too."

Hermione pinked slightly but still said nothing. It wasn't that Harry minded; he had his own
secrets to keep. No, it was more like a riddle. Maybe Merlin was too much of a bad influence
on him because it was too much like one of his puzzles or tests.

It might be possible for a person to be in three places at once, but somehow, if his
understanding of magic was right, he had the distinct impression that it wouldn't be
conductive to schooling. Knowing how sly magic could be, each--err--clone would probably
be incapable of sharing what they learned in class. Three separate Hermiones with three
separate brains. Therefore, it probably had to be another option...something that would allow
just one Hermione to go back and take three classes at the same time...time...time.

Surely not...! Time travel?

He didn't have much time to contemplate things as a row came up between Ron and
Hermione--Divination and Arithmancy. They weren't speaking to each other as they made
their way down to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Merlin had taken the initiative
on this subject as well. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Merlin's curriculum would match
Hagrid's. Somehow he doubted it.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" Hagrid called. Harry dreaded the fact that they were
having class with the Slytherins. That isn't what Hagrid needed for his first day. "That's it--
make sure yeh can see--now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books--"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book
of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.
"Stroke the spine, Malfoy," said Harry shortly. He'd been doing it with his own book to keep
it docile.

"Good man, Harry!" boomed Hagrid. "Le's see 'ere...take, er, fifteen points ter Gryffindor!"

Malfoy scowled at Harry while the trio smiled at their large friend.

Hippogriffs were Hagrid's first lesson of the day, which happened to be one of the animals
that Merlin had gone over. As such, Harry volunteered to help with Buckbeak, determined to
make sure that Hagrid's first lesson was a success. He bowed perfectly, not afraid of them so
long as one was polite. Although he wasn't prepared to fly on one, and found he much
preferred his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Unfortunately, all of Harry's efforts to make Hagrid's first day perfect went for naught as
Malfoy insulted Buckbeak and got injured.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tried to console Hagrid later in the evening, only to have him
come to his senses and yell at them for being out after dark.

Potions the following day was a real test for Harry. He had to remember Merlin's words--
Snape was to be pitied, not hated. And indeed, the way he acquiesced to Malfoy overplaying
his injury reinforced that notion. Not to mention the way he treated Neville on a regular basis.
Yes, Snape was definitely a pitiful, childish man.

Seamus informed Harry that Sirius Black was close to Hogwarts, and Harry couldn't help but
give a smile. Merlin still had a chance, then! He could catch Sirius!

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, leaning over the
table past Ron.

"Something like that," said Harry offhandedly as he resumed working on his potion, trying to
obtain some Zen-like stillness.

"Of course, if it was me," Malfoy said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I
wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

Harry slowly raised his eyes to meet Draco's cold gray eyes, not at all like Merlin's warm and
sparkling eyes. He shot Malfoy a smirk, wiping the mean smile off the pale boy's face.

"Who says I'm doing nothing, Malfoy?" whispered Harry. Now it was Malfoy's turn to scowl
in confusion towards Harry's demeanour.

"What's that about, Harry?" said Ron in an undertone once Malfoy had turned away.

"Tell you later," muttered Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

He would've done so on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, but then Snape took
points from Gryffindor because Hermione had helped Neville, and then she pulled a
disappearing act on them. That mystery took precedent in Ron's mind as she came down a
different flight of stairs on the opposite side. The amount of books in her bag reinforced the
time travel option...unless she'd learned how to teleport...

Defence Against the Dark Arts was brilliant, and Harry found himself liking Professor Lupin
a whole lot. He was very knowledgeable about the subject and he was a friend of his father.
Neville's boggart was particularly amusing, and he knew the story would spread like wildfire.

The only issue Harry had with it was the fact that Professor Lupin wouldn't allow him the
chance to face the boggart. Harry couldn't help but wonder why. Was it because of the train?
Did he think that Harry couldn't handle it? But then he knew all about the dementor and
chocolate...

*****

The next morning's post brought Archimedes, much to the surprise of Ron and Hermione.
They'd never seen the barn owl with tawny feathers that leaned more towards the orange hue.
Ginny, however, looked up sharply from her conversation with Demelza Robins and Vicky
Frobisher, two of her classmates. She recognized him from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hullo, Archimedes," greeted Harry cheerfully, but making sure to keep his voice low. The
owl hooted half-heartedly in return and proferred its leg out to Harry. He took the letter from
Merlin, recognizing the archaic hand, and tore open the post eagerly.

Harry,

Alas, I've not come across our wayward friend yet. I assure you that I've heard the rumour
and am keeping both my eyes open as often as I can spare them, which is more than I can say
for Archimedes. I'm sure the little rascal is sleeping as you're reading this in the Great Hall.

Harry glanced up. Archimedes was indeed sleeping on his feet. Harry poked him slightly to
wake him up, earning a baleful look.

"Here," offered Harry, giving the owl some of his bacon. Archimedes ate them graciously
and then began to settle his eyes again. "Go on, Archimedes. I'll be fine, I promise."

Archimedes opened up one eye towards Harry, as if to say, "You presume that I actually care
about you."

Harry chuckled, knowing that Archimedes's gruff and lazy temperament was more an act
than anything and ruffled his feathers affectionately. Archimedes gave an indignant hoot,
nipped at Harry's finger--though no harder than Hedwig--and then took off.

Worry not over the incident upon the train. You are the apprentice, I am the master. You are
my responsibility, Harry, and if you were unprepared, the fault is mine own. I would have
spared you that memory if I could, Harry. I do believe it is imperative that you learn the
Patronus Charm as quick as you can. I wish that you could do so under practical
circumstances, but without my supervision, I fear that would be too much. You would need it,
however, as your memory is particularly potent. If a dementor were to overcome you while
you practiced alone...

As to the boggart, I would not worry. Even I would be hesitant to test you against a boggart
for the same reason that the dementor affects you so. It has been my assumption that Lord
Voldemort would be your boggart, and I'm afraid I haven't the slightest notion as to how you
might make him funny. I am sure that Professor Lupin is of the same mind, if he is as brilliant
as you say. Imagine the panic that would come if it was so, and Lord Voldemort appeared in
the staffroom.

In regards to Mistress Hermione's interesting schedule, you are quite right. There are spells
that allow a person to be in two or more places simultaneously, however they are either
illusions, or suffer from the drawbacks you intuited. I would agree that some limited form of
time travel is undoubtedly the surest thing for Mistress Hermione to attend all her classes
and retain the knowledge.

I should say that it worries me. If her schedule is as filled as you say, then that means she
must be putting in additional hours, effectively making her days much longer than the 24
standard. She needs sleep, and I very much doubt she's getting it with that workload. If I had
to hazard a guess, I'd say she might be using a Time-Turner. They are found in the
Department of Mysteries and have the ability to transport a person back through time.

Take heart, Harry. Things will work out in the end--they always do for those who believe and
have the proper perspective. Do keep up with your readings, please? I would hate to assign
quizzes.

Puck

Harry altered the parchment with a wave of his hand and folded it back up. Practical
experience with a dementor...right. Not that Harry could argue with Merlin's logic. It
wouldn't do to practice the theory and spell if he couldn't do it when faced against a
dementor. No, he'd have to...he'd have to get used to their effect on him. He'd have to...he'd
have to get used to hearing his mother die...

"What is that, Harry?" inquired Hermione, rousing him from his reverie.

"A letter," he said obliviously. Ron snickered at Hermione's put-out expression. He grinned
cheekily at Hermione and got up from the Gryffindor table. "You've your secrets, Hermione,
I've mine."

"B-but--" sputtered Hermione, obviously just as interested in a good puzzle as Harry'd been.
He smiled mysteriously at her before exiting the Great Hall. He had some thoughts to put
down in his journal.

After the next Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Harry stopped Professor Lupin. He had a
plan to gain adequate experience against a dementor, but he would need Lupin's help.

"Professor Lupin?" asked Harry. Hermione and Ron paused at the door, not having been
informed of his plan. He waved them off and turned back to their teacher.
"Yes, Harry?" said Lupin pleasantly, packing away the Red Cap. Hermione checked her
watch anxiously and then decided to leave, confirming in Harry's mind that she was using a
Time-Turner, or some other method of time travel. Ron merely shrugged and exited soon
after.

"I was wondering if you might do me a favour," inquired Harry softly. Lupin paused and
turned a sceptical look upon Harry. "It has to do with your class, I promise."

"All right, Harry, what is it?" inquired Professor Lupin, folding his arms across his chest. "I
can't promise you anything, of course, but I can try."

"Did you keep me from confronting the boggart because you thought it might turn into
Voldemort?" Harry blurted out. Not quite the way he wanted to start things, but he was
anxious to get started.

Lupin's brow raised in mild surprise. Harry noted that he didn't shudder at the mention of the
name, however.

"Yes, that was indeed the reason," said Lupin slowly. "I didn't want to cause a panic by
having Lord Voldemort appear in the middle of the staffroom."

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised by the fact that Lupin would openly say the name.
Only Dumbledore and Merlin spoke the name freely. He couldn't help but stare for a moment.

"Er..." Harry shook himself out of his stupor. "I didn't think of Voldemort at all, really. I...I
thought of the dementors."

"I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well...I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look
of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggest that what you fear most of all is--fear. Very wise,
Harry. Though I should have suspected such a mature answer from you."

Harry blushed at that bit of praise, thinking it was mostly due to Merlin than himself.

"I was wondering, sir," said Harry hesitantly. "The dementors really affect me...and--and I get
the reason for it--but...I don't like feeling helpless..."

"No," said Lupin gravely. A flicker of something passed beneath his eyes. "No, none of us
truly do."

Perhaps he was thinking on being a werewolf? Harry was ignorant to the transformation
process and so couldn't say for sure.

"I know the Patronus Charm," Harry went on hurriedly, withdrawing his wand, "but it's one
thing to practice the charm alone in a tranquil place. It's something else entirely to have to do
it in the face of a dementor."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about the Patronus you cast, Harry," said Lupin; his eyes
honed in sharply on Harry's face. "You did so without a wand or incantation. It was almost
like it appeared as a natural defence mechanism."
Nerves fired off through Harry's body, warming him under the face of the scrutiny.

"I don't know what to tell you, Professor," said Harry as evenly as he could muster. "I just
wanted to cast the Patronus--I wanted the dementor to go away."

Lupin made a thoughtful sound as he mulled over Harry's statement. It was a half-truth. That
was what he had done, after all, but he wasn't about to explain that he could cast magic based
on sheer willpower.

"I was wondering, Professor," Harry continued before Lupin could explore that statement too
much or ask questions of his own, "if you could find another boggart, then maybe...maybe I
could practice the Patronus Charm on it..."

"It's possible, Harry," admitted a speculative Professor Lupin. "It would take me some time to
scare up--no pun intended--another boggart, but I'll see what I can do. I'll let you know when
I find something. In the meanwhile, would you mind showing me how far you are with the
Patronus?"

Harry nodded and raised out his wand. He focused on his desire to be protected from the
memory, on his desire not to be weak or scared. The incantation was just a formality to his
mind.

"Expecto patronum!" he said clearly, forcing his magic through his wand. A thick silvery
mist exploded outward from the tip of his wand. It looked to congeal, as if it might take on a
solid shape, but then it faded away as Harry grew tired.

"That's very good, Harry," praised Lupin. He held out a hand to steady Harry. "Quite an
amazing result for a third year... The spell, as I'm sure you well know, is well beyond the
Ordinary Wizarding Level. I promise you, Harry, that I'll do all I can to help you."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry earnestly, wishing he could tell the man that his best friend was
innocent, but now just wasn't the time.

*****

The first Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled for Halloween. All the third years were excited
about it, except for Harry who didn't have permission to go. Well, he did, in a way. He could
port there if he chose, but then again, he didn't know the lay of the land. If he wasn't careful,
he could very well teleport into someone or something.

Ron tried to bolster his spirits by having him ask McGonagall to let him go, or by using the
Invisibility Cloak. Hermione countered all the attempts by saying that Sirius Black was still
on the loose and that the cloak wouldn't work against dementors, per Professor Dumbledore's
warning at the start of the term. It was just another rift in their friendship, brought on by
Crookshanks's continual persecution of Scabbers.

Still, the two put aside their differences in the face of the Hogsmeade visit, promising to bring
back loads of goods for Harry.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," said Lupin brightly as Harry made his way back into the castle.
He was levitating a closed water tank filled with a creature that had long, spindly fingers and
horns. "I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

Merlin had taught Harry that using the lake. He'd found it hilarious when they grabbed at
Harry's ankles without warning and dragged him down. Worst of all, it came the day after the
first swimming lesson when he turned Harry into a fish. Merlin would give the twins a run for
their money, Harry was quite sure.

"Cool," said Harry. "You just break the fingers, yeah?"

Harry had a particularly fun time with that, thinking each one was Merlin's after that little
prank.

"Very good, Harry," praised Lupin with an easy smile. "We shouldn't have a problem with
them after kappas. Anyway, I'd been hoping to catch you. I found a boggart. It was lurking in
Filch's filing cabinet. I've it in a cupboard under my desk. I think the History of Magic
classroom would do nicely for our lessons. Perhaps every Thursday evening at eight?"

"Sure thing, Professor," said Harry eagerly. "Can we have a go now though? Since..."

Lupin pursed his lips in thought. "I don't see a reason not to. Just let me get the grindylow
settled first."

They walked at a brisk pace to his office, which looked quite different than it had when it
belonged to Lockhart. Professor Lupin then moved over to his desk and picked up an empty
packing case. He popped it open and held it close to a cupboard beneath his desk. There was
a rattling sound the moment Lupin opened the cabinet, and then the case shook in his hand.
Harry guessed the boggart had jumped from one dark place to the other.

"There we are," he announced, clicking the latches shut on the case. "Now then--"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Lupin.

Snape strode into the room carrying a smoking goblet. He stopped at the sight of Harry,
narrowing his black eyes. Harry returned the gesture.

"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk
for me?"

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin.

"I was planning on Harry practice a Patronus Charm," intoned Lupin pleasantly, gesturing at
the case. "We were going to use a boggart."

Snape's lip curled into a slight sneer as he appraised Lupin.

"Teaching him how to fend off dementors, Lupin?" said Snape coldly. "Perhaps wishing he
would escape the grounds through old methods. Perhaps hoping he would come in contact
with old friends."

Lupin kept a placid look on his face, while Harry shook with rage. The code wasn't as subtle
as Snape probably thought. He knew full well what the greasy git was referring to.

"I would never endanger Harry, Severus," replied Lupin calmly. "It is my job to protect him,
and the dementors seem to have been taken with certain pains in Harry's life."

"Yes," drawled Snape, turning his eyes onto Harry. "Because we all know how vexing fame
can be."

Harry saw a murderous rage and thought his desire might be strong enough to kill Snape dead
on the spot if only his mind could decide on just how to do it. Suddenly, Harry understood
why Merlin had been so stringent with Harry in stressing that Snape was to be pitied, not
hated. It shook Harry to his very core that he could have killed Snape with nary a thought if
he had the mind to.

Fortunately, Lupin spoke up the second Snape had finished his sentence.

"That is quite enough, Severus!" snapped Lupin, dropping all formalities. He too had a
murderous glint in his eyes, but Snape remained as calm as ever, if a little more pale. Lupin
fashioned his face into one of forced politeness again and said in a calmer voice, "I thank you
for brewing my potion. I should probably take some again tomorrow."

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape remarked offhandedly, his eyes boring at Harry's. With
his magic so very close to the surface, he could feel the ruff of his neck bristle at the eye
contact. Instinctively, he dropped his gaze towards Lupin. A flicker of irritation passed over
Snape's face.

Keeping a close watch on Harry, Snape made his way out of Harry's office. Harry steeled his
gaze at Lupin, however, still feeling that bristle against his mind. Snape was doing
something. Harry was sure about it. He'd need to write it down in his journal and write a
letter to...Puck as soon as possible.

"I apologize for Severus, Harry," said Lupin once Snape had left.

"Don't," said Harry shortly. "I know he won't ever."

"Yes, well, all the same, it was very unprofessional of him," sighed Lupin as he hefted the
goblet and case. "Are you still willing to go through with the practice right now? We can hold
off until next Thursday..."

"No!" said Harry quickly. "No, I can...I'll be fine."

Harry focused on the goblet instead to take his mind off of things. He knew Lupin was a
werewolf. Thinking back to his lunar chart for Astronomy, he knew the full moon was
coming up soon. Logically, the goblet and the potion had to be connected. He couldn't ask, of
course, not without explaining how he knew Professor Lupin was a werewolf. Instead, he
thought to do a little research.
The lesson was dismal, in Harry's opinion, though Lupin thought differently. After a few
hours, Harry could hold back the dementor, but he wasn't strong enough to drive it back. The
plethora of candy from Honeydukes that Ron and Hermione brought back helped to energize
him though. He then told them about his day with Lupin before the feast.

"I can't believe that slimy bast--"

"Ron," hissed Hermione reproachfully. "Professor Lupin handled the situation nicely, but
really, I'd hoped he would file an official complaint with Professor Dumbledore. That was
hardly appropriate for a teacher."

"No, but it was appropriate for Snape," said Harry bitterly. He picked up his journal and
began to write everything, including his worries about his wandless magic and his wild
emotions.

The feast was better than ever, and all three, who'd already had their fill of Honeydukes,
stuffed down seconds and thirds. Despite the events of the day, Harry was feeling happy and
light-hearted. A full stomach and friends would do that.

The mood changed, however, when they all tried to head back to the Gryffindor common
room. The Fat Lady was missing and her portrait was smashed. Peeves offered an
explanation, however; Sirius Black.

*****

Harry couldn't sleep that night, staring up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall and
tucked into a squashy sleeping bag. Sirius Black had been inside the castle and he had no way
of informing Merlin! He wanted to port away so badly that his body actually began to feel
light. Before he accidentally did something, Harry tried to get a firm grasp on his desires.

He didn't think he got any sleep at all that night, even after he overheard the conversation
between Percy, Snape, and Dumbledore. Instead, he settled for trying to use astrology with
the enchanted ceiling. Maybe he could scrye out his future, or the future of Sirius.

"It'd be easier if we had our diaries, wouldn't it?" said Ginny softly. Harry's eyes widened and
he twisted his head around to spy her huddled in her sleeping bag, a small smile on her face.
He then glanced around. Ron and Hermione were sleeping.

"Yeah, I've loads I want to get down," sighed Harry. He closed his eyes and clenched his
fingers into the springy material of his sleeping bag. If only wizards had mobile phones...

"What did you do today?" inquired Ginny sleepily.

"Hmm?" said a distracted Harry, opening his eyes.

"I know you couldn't go to Hogsmeade," said Ginny apologetically. "You didn't come back to
the common room though. I thought... Nevermind."

Harry caught a bit of pink as she turned to face the other side of her sleeping bag.
"I was with Professor Lupin," Harry told her, not knowing what she was embarrassed about.
"He showed me a grindylow he got for our next lesson, then Snape came in and... Well,
anyway, the rest of the day I was practicing against a dementor with Professor Lupin."

"You practiced with a dementor?" said a worried Ginny. She turned back around to face
Harry with her eyes wide open. "After--"

"Because of what happened," Harry clarified in a tempered voice, staring back up at the
ceiling. "I'll not be helpless like that again. I won't let them make me hear...it. Besides, it's not
a real dementor, anyway. We're using a boggart. My boggart just happens to be a dementor."

"Oh... Harry? D'you--d'you think that maybe I could learn--with you, I mean?"

Harry furrowed his brow. He needed to think very carefully. The first instinct was to say
"no," primarily because he didn't want anyone else to see him fall again and again to a
dementor. Beyond that, the Patronus was serious magic. Not that he didn't think Ginny
couldn't do it--just not now at age twelve. On the other hand, she could do that Bat-Bogey
Hex...

He understood why she wanted to, however, and how important that might be to her. Because
of that, and the hurt look that crossed her face when Ron told her to get lost, he took a
moment to gather his thoughts.

"Um," he coughed slightly. "I--uh--well, Professor Lupin might be able to teach you the
incantation, but..."

"You don't think I can do it," she said flatly.

Harry skipped over the question and said, "You haven't done boggarts, have you?"

"No, Professor Lupin's been working us on basic defence spells," said Ginny curtly. "I heard
about Neville's though."

They shared a smile.

"Ginny, my boggart's a dementor," Harry told her. "It only works for me. If you tried to take
it on, it wouldn't turn into a dementor."

"How do you know that?" accused Ginny.

"What do you fear more?" questioned Harry. "A dementor, or Voldemort? If you truly think
it's a dementor, then I'll ask Professor Lupin to see if you can come, but if it's Voldemort..."

"There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" said Ginny defiantly.

Harry chose not to answer that. Instead he bade Ginny goodnight and rolled back into his
sleeping bag.

Archimedes flew in the next morning. Harry's heart had almost leapt into his throat at the
letter. He hoped Merlin had found Sirius the previous night, but unfortunately that hadn't
been the case. Merlin had heard about the break in--everyone in Hogsmeade had heard about
it--but he didn't find anything amiss. He was growing frustrated because everyone in
Hogsmeade was accounted for. No one was walking around with an illusion of any kind
except himself, and the dementors were patrolling the Forbidden Forest. Nothing about it
made any sense at all to Merlin.

Harry replied back with Hedwig about Snape, asking about any potion that helps with
lycanthropy, and his progress with the Patronus Charm.

The day before the match with Hufflepuff, for Flint and Malfoy had managed to sneak
Slytherin out of the first match, Harry was scrawling in his journal about Sirius Black rather
than being down for breakfast.

How do you disguise yourself so that you can't be recognized, yet also slip past a dementor?
How would you slip past a dementor in the first place? They're blind, but they can sense
emotions. They'd know if anyone was moving around the forest...wouldn't they? And if he's
not hiding out in Hogsmeade, then it has to be close by for him to have made it into
Hogwarts. But that still doesn't explain how he can slip past the dementors!

To his imminent disgust, Snape was substituting for Professor Lupin in Defence Against the
Dark Arts. Harry mentally checked the lunar chart in his mind and deduced that Lupin had
undergone the transformation last night. How tiring it was, Harry had no idea, but it was
enough that Lupin couldn't make it to class.

To make matters even worse, Snape was teaching them about werewolves. The anger was
bubbling back up into Harry's being as he continued to ask questions, all the while ignoring
Hermione's hand. He couldn't handle it any longer.

"Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a
werewolf when they saw one," drawled Snape in his silky voice. "I shall make a point of
informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..."

"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, but Harry'd had enough.

"You can't expect us to have seen a werewolf in our third year, Professor," said Harry coldly,
his eyes boring into the far wall. "That's something you'd expect to see in one's sixth."

He swore the air grew cold and he heard Snape take a sharp breath through his hooked nose.
He didn't dare spare a glance at Snape, not when the prickling sensation was back in full
force. Whatever that sensation was, Harry didn't like it, and so he just had to plough on.

"And even then, we should always have someone present to save our lives," Harry drawled.
"Especially if any of us are dumb enough--"

"Enough, Potter!" snarled Snape angrily, startling everyone in the classroom. Harry
swallowed. A masochistic part of him wanted to see just how livid he'd made Snape. "One
hundred points from Gryffindor and a detention! Tomorrow. For the whole day."

"That's not on!" bellowed Ron loudly as all the Gryffindors in the class began to murmur and
talk. "You can't do that! Harry didn't do anything!"
"Detention, Weasley," snapped Snape, undoubtedly rounding on Ron.

Harry couldn't handle any more of it. If he stayed, he knew he'd inevitably fantasize about
hurting Snape in some way, and with the turbulent state of his emotions, he'd very likely
manage it with his magic going so wild. Unless...

He thought back to...Puck's lessons. Not all vengeance needed to be bloody and hateful.
Sometimes, the best way to pluck a bully's power was to humiliate him, like Neville's
boggart. Their primary weapon was intimidation...

Channelling his rage and his desire to humiliate Snape for every foul word he spoke of his
father; for every petty insult he threw at Harry; for every nasty barb he fired at Hermione,
Ron, and Neville, Harry focused his magic to alter Snape's attire. He was careful to keep both
hands on his desk and his head bowed over his book. There was little doubt that Snape would
look to him first, if he wasn't already.

A dead silence hung over the Defence class, and Harry finally risked taking a peak at Snape.
He had been facing Harry, Hermione, and Ron the entire time. Rather than the billowing
robes of black, Snape was wearing a garish set of robin's-egg blue robes with a set of
iridescent, blue fairy wings sprouting out from his back. His greasy hair was permed and
conditioned, but it was also a waxen gold that tumbled down to the small of his back.

Lavender--Harry was sure it had to be Lavender--snorted, and that's all anyone needed. Soon
the whole class was murmuring, and then Ron chortled chokingly, while Harry had his hand
clamped firmly over his nose and mouth.

"What is the meaning behind this silly...tittering?" demanded Snape. And that did it. Seamus
lost complete control over himself and howled out in laughter. Everyone soon followed,
cluing Snape in to the fact that something was wrong. He glanced down at himself, and his
eyes bulged at what they spied. The immediate instinct of his hands to grab at his chest
induced another wave of laughter, and instead Snape settled for tugging at his hair.

"POTTER!" snarled Snape lividly. The man was seething with rage, but...but it was rather
ineffectual. Harry had let his magic get carried away a little too much, for some rather
impressive physical characteristics had changed about Snape. Namely the fact that he was
sporting a very impressive chest. "POTTER! I KNOW--STOP THAT LAUGHING OR I'LL
HAVE YOU ALL EXPELLED!--I KNOW YOU WERE BEHIND THIS POTTER!"

"H-honestly, Pr-Professor Snape," Harry laughed uncontrollably, knowing that if he was

going to die, it would be nice to do so with a smile. "I--I haven't taken my--my wand out even
once! You--you--you've been watching me!"

"And, really, sir," said Hermione, her entire face quivering with barely restrained mirth, "the-
-the Transfiguration is quite--erm--advanced for third-years..."

Snape dismissed them with a wild growl of spittle. Everyone cleared out quickly, still
laughing over Harry's prank. He was still flinging and spitting curses in the Potter name as
they dashed through the halls.
"How did you do it, Harry?" asked Ron eagerly. "I mean did you see him? That was bloody
brilliant!"

"Ron, language!" admonished Hermione, though she was smiling slightly herself. "And I'm
not sure Harry could have done it. He didn't even have his wand out."

"She's right, mate," Harry lied. "Someone must've done it though."

"You don't think the twins left some sort of prank for Snape, do you?" questioned Ron.

"Seems like their style," shrugged Harry, not feeling guilty for laying the blame on the twins.
He was sure they'd love the notoriety behind Snape the Fairy. "Maybe it was on some sort of
delay? It would've gone off during their class, but it didn't?"

"Maybe," temporised Hermione thoughtfully.

The twins did indeed get the full brunt of the suspicion, as McGonagall informed everyone in
the common room that night. And, as Harry suspected, they took it all in stride, not even
denying their involvement in the matter, though they didn't exactly confirm it either.
McGonagall also informed everyone that Professor Dumbledore found no grounds for
Snape's actions that class, therefore all points were restored and detentions overturned.

"So how did you do it?" Harry asked Fred and George solicitously. An impromptu
celebration was going on at the sound of that. Dean was passing out his rendition of Snape
the Fairy to everyone's enjoyment. Percy was trying to stamp some semblance of order on it
all.

"That's what we'd like to know, Harry," said Fred shrewdly.

"We know a prank when we see one," lectured George, who was rummaging around his
satchel.

"Nicely done, by the way," added Fred with an easy smile. "We couldn't have done it better."

"And the way you threw the blame on us was brilliant!" piped in George, extracting what
looked to be a spare bit of parchment. "Nothing amateur at all about today, mate."

"Well, I thought you'd like the notoriety," shrugged Harry easily.

"And that we do, Harry," said Fred.

"Which is why we thought we'd give you something to show our thanks," said George,
presenting the parchment to Harry. It was a large, square, much worn piece of parchment
with nothing at all written on it. Harry was quite sceptical.

"Here," offered Fred, whipping out his wand and touching it to the parchment. "I solemnly
swear that I am up to no good."

Harry watched as ink lines began to spread. It was almost like the diary, but not quite. They
explained the purpose of the Marauder's Map and how it showed many secret passageways
along with the names and locations of everyone in Hogwarts--specifically the paths to
Hogsmeade, where they recommended the one-eyed witch. They then told Harry how the
nicked it from Filch's office in their first year. They were going to give it him for the next
Hogsmeade weekend, but decided that Harry would need it to carry on pranking.

"Mischief managed," intoned George, tapping the parchment again to clear it.

"What's that, Harry?" asked Ron once Fred and George left to mingle a bit.

"Tell you later," whispered Harry, although he couldn't help but think that he if sent the map
to Merlin, well, he'd have a better chance of catching Sirius, wouldn't he? Maybe Merlin
could even duplicate the map...

Harry had a lot to write and read up on that night.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

Ron is thicker than Harry. I'm sorry, but it's true, at least from what you can see in
the PoA book. Ron really does say "girlfriend" complete with italics (I hadn't noticed that
particular emphasis until my fifteenth read through of PoA, believe it or not), and doesn't
seem to show an interest in girls until the veela at the World Cup. Harry, however, notices
Cho from the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game.

And fear not...Harry will not be getting together with Cho. I like angst, I really do, but
considering the length of time from CoS to HBP coming out, and then the fact that they broke
up...that's...that's more than enough angst, really... Not that their relationship will be
completely perfect, but I am cutting them some slack in the fic.

Remember, though, Harry doesn't notice Cho until the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match... Not
that he couldn't have noticed other girls, I'm sure, but... Anyway, there will be a few moments
that help Harry open his eyes to Ginny, and vice versa, though the emphasis of the story is
more on Harry.

Luna make a very early appearance here in this chapter. Harry's relationship with Neville,
however, will remain unchanged up until Goblet of Fire, I'm afraid. Harry's is preoccupied
with finding Sirius before the dementors can. (An Author's Note to the Author's Note--
Erm...this note belongs in Chapter SIX... Oops. It's what I get for writing them all at the same
time. Heh...)

So we've now seen three instances of how powerful Harry truly is when his emotions go wild.
You'll see it come to a head next chapter when he finally showcases some control. Three
guesses how that'll come about... It includes foul weather and even fouler creatures.
Some responses to comments--

GinnyMarie: My take on things? Mrs. Figg isn't there to make sure Harry doesn't run away,
so much as she's there to keep an eye out for anything bad. I doubt either Dumbledore or Mrs.
Figg would ever consider Harry running away to be a possibility. And, as far as we know
from PoA canon, Mrs. Figg rarely seems to stop by, if at all, once Harry started Hogwarts.
And we all know the Dursleys wouldn't care if Harry ran away.

Tron: There is no difference. Mr. Ollivander is just being facetious when he calls Ginny's
wand the sister wand. It's mostly because Ginny is a girl.

And, just a general FYI: I've done all of Prisoner of Azkaban. Seven chapters in total, each
about the same length as the previous two. So, once I'm done uploading it all, I'll start work
on the Goblet of Fire section.

And lastly, thank you all for the comments.

Back to index

Chapter 4: Chapter Four: Strays

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Four: Strays

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

Peeves woke Harry earlier than normal the next morning. Harry was half-inclined to teach the
poltergeist a lesson, but was instead captured by the stormy weather outside. It was probably
the worst conditions to play Quidditch in.

The match was hard and trying because of the weather. Harry wished he had enough strength
to do away with the storm, but he unfortunately didn't. Merlin did, but Harry could barely see
the Snitch, let alone see if Merlin was in the stands watching. Oliver Wood had to call a time
out because of the length of the game, and Hermione charmed Harry's glasses to repel water.
As Harry rose up towards the stands, he caught sight of a lone, black, shaggy dog at the top of
the stands. He thought that it was strange to see a stray all alone at a Quidditch game of all
places. Weirder still was the fact that it seemed to be watching Harry.

Oliver's voice rang out through the thunder and thick rain. Cedric Diggory was going after
the Snitch! Harry pressed himself close to his Nimbus Two Thousand and made for that
direction with all speed.

It was close. Diggory's bulk allowed him to steer better against the high winds, but Harry was
dogged in his determination. The speed of his Nimbus helped to overcome the storm as well.
He was close...so close...

But soon the sound of the storm began to fall away. The roar of the pitch was growing slowly
muted, as if someone was turning down the volume in Harry's ears. Then Harry felt it, the
familiar cold seeping through his robes, skin, muscle, until it crawled over his heart.

Dementors!

Cursing himself for neglecting his wand and hoping that he was high up enough that people
wouldn't see, Harry threw up his Patronus in a misty shield around his sailing body. Some of
the sound came back and he risked a glance down. A hundred dementors were hovering
beneath him, their hooded faces tipped up to glare at him.

Almost as if they shared one mind, they rose up after him. Harry cursed and veered off. The
icy wave of cold crashed into him, numbing his body as the flock of dementors split both
Seekers from the Snitch. If there was ever a time he could do with a corporeal Patronus, now
would be it, but with a hundred dementors trailing after him...

Harry threw himself into evasive manoeuvres, praying that he could put enough distance
between himself and the dementors that he might have a chance at rallying a Patronus. There
was nothing he could do though. A hundred dementors were just too much. Everywhere he
turned, a handful of them were waiting for him.

Harry regrouped as the screaming started in on his ears. He didn't want to hear his mother
beginning Voldemort to spare his life; he didn't want to hear his father telling his mother to
take him and run; he didn't want his soul sucked. He countered back with a scream of his
own, ripped out from a primal instinct of survival, desperation, and a plea for protection.

The plea was answered in the shape of a bright, silver stag that hovered in the air in front of
Harry. The screams of his parents died out in his ears, as if someone had completely shut of
the radio in his mind. The radiant stag charged, as if on solid ground, at the dementors around
them. The dementors scattered under the strength of the Patronus, and Harry let out a loud
whoop of joy, egging the stag on.

As the stag cantered about after the dementors, it threw light upon the Golden Snitch that had
seemed to have sought shelter from the Seekers in the voluminous cloaks of the dementors.
Harry pressed himself against his broom and shoot straight at it. Cedric was too far below to
even have a chance at it, and by all the magic in the world, Harry was going to finish this
game. His fingers closed around the icy object.
No sooner had Harry grasped the Snitch in his fingers, than did lightning strike from the sky,
honing in on the metal of the Snitch. Harry's world exploded in a flurry of colours as his body
jerked uncontrollably due to every nerve cluster firing off simultaneously. His Nimbus Two
Thousand exploded out from under him, but he wasn't aware of anything. All he knew was
darkness.

*****

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"Lucky Hermione charmed his glasses; Madam Pomfrey said those splinters could've taken
out his eyes. Lucky he was wearing his Quidditch leathers for that matter. Hate to think what
those wood splinters would do to you down there."

"Fred!"

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Did you see that glowing thing though? Threw back all those dementors like paper."

"I still can't believe he caught the Snitch..."

"I can't believe he still takes your advice, Oliver. 'Get the Snitch or die trying...'"

"Are you still on about that?"

"Are you mental? Look at him!"

"Why? Sumthin' on my face?" slurred Harry groggily. He was feeling very nauseous and
quite hot. Immediately he tossed the blankets off from his legs. He'd been hoping for a glib
comment in reply, not several water-logged, anxious faces staring at him in return.

"What?" asked Harry again, wincing at the rawness of his voice.

"You fell off," said Fred solemnly, looking all the more pale under his freckles. "Must've
been--what--seventy-five feet?"

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot. Ginny was
clutching onto George's hand as if her life depended on him. He kept shooting murderous
glances to Wood, who, while he was as pale as everyone else, couldn't hide the sparkle in his
eyes.

"Struck by lightning," added Katie, wiping at her nose. "You were covered in burns. The
Snitch kind of acted like a lightning rod."

"Madam Pomfrey cleaned you up though, Harry," piped in Angelina. "They were easy
enough to heal."

As if summoned, Madam Pomfrey came by to usher out the team, but not before Oliver
Wood scooped Harry up into an embarrassingly tight hug that nearly crushed the life out of
his weak body.

"You did it, Harry!" he whispered emotionally so only they could hear. "I knew you could do
it! Two hundred points in the lead!"

Harry was trying desperately not to laugh. Good old Oliver.

"I'm fine, thanks, Oliver," said Harry loudly for the benefit of the team. George's dark
expression lessened a little and Fred cracked a slight smile. They finally had to pry Oliver off
of Harry. Ginny lingered back, holding a soft leather bag in her hands.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice, moving closer to the bed.
"I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand and
you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the
dementors. I don't think they were happy, or satisfied, or something, because they'd
regrouped and seemed to want to follow you. He shot a silvery stuff at them, kind of like the
silvery thing that appeared around you up in the sky, and back on the train. He was furious
they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him--"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you
floating on it. Everyone thought you were..."

"I fell?" asked Harry. "How?"

Hermione and Ron shared a look, so Harry took the opportunity to glance at Ginny. His eyes
then trailed down to the bag in her hands. Something triggered in his mind. It felt like his legs
had been blown off, or his body had been blown apart.

"The lightning," Ginny said in a very tiny voice. "It--it blew apart your broomstick. Pro-
Professor Flitwick and I tried to gather what we could..."

Harry deflated visibly against his pillow. Ginny had the good graces not to upturn the
remnants of his trusty broom before him; instead she set down the bag at the foot of his bed.

"We're really sorry, Harry," said Hermione sympathetically. Harry said nothing in reply.
There wasn't anything to say. He felt as if he'd lost one of his best friends.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all stayed until Madam Pomfrey came back. She made Harry take
a foul tasting potion to help bring back his strength, saying that he needed to stay the
weekend. Between the dementors and the lightning strike, he was suffering from a bad case
of fatigue. He asked if he could at least write and read. She had no issues with it.

Before they all left at Madam Pomfrey's orders, swearing they'd be back, Harry called out to
Ginny.

"Listen," he told her, "in my trunk, there's this blank piece of parchment. There's a long story
behind it that I'll tell you about later. Anyway, it's a map of Hogwarts that shows everyone.
Tap your wand against it and say 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' to activate it. I've
also an Invisibility Cloak down at the bottom of my trunk."

Ginny's eyes were wide at the sudden influx of information. Once again, she looked as if
she'd been petrified. Harry hoped that by giving her a mission or duty of some kind she'd
rouse herself out of it. It didn't occur to him that he could've probably ask Hermione for this.
Besides, Ginny would understand.

"I need you to use both of those things to get me my journal," said Harry urgently. "You can
do that, right?"

Understanding flickered in her eyes and she nodded quickly.

"Good," smiled Harry, settling back against his pillow. "There's no rush. Oh, to clear the map,
tap your wand against it and say 'Mischief managed,' or else anyone can read it."

"Got it," said Ginny, throwing Harry an impish grin that wouldn't look out of place on the
twins before dashing off with Ron and Hermione.

He sat in silence, mulling over everything that'd happened that day when something flickered
at the foot of his bed. Harry's brow raised up past his fringe as he saw a very soaked Merlin,
still dressed as Gandalf, appear. A passive wave of his staff returned him to normal, wearing
navy blue robes with silver linings.

"I must say, Harry," he breathed shakily. "You know how to scare me."

Harry grinned sheepishly.

"I did cast a corporeal Patronus though," he offered. "It was a stag."

"Did you really?" said Merlin in surprise, leaning his staff against the bed so that he could
half-sit at the foot of it. "Well, that might add to your fatigue some. Your Madam Pomfrey is
a fine healer, but I've a few remedies of mine own that might help."

He fished through his robes before producing a small vial full of clear magenta liquid. After
examining it by star light, he preferred it towards Harry.

"All of it," intoned Merlin briskly. "It's what I used on you before..."

Harry shrugged, remembering how rested he'd felt waking up that second time. A sharp pop
came from uncorking the vial, followed by the smell of dewy flowers--the scent of the
meadow. Shrugging again, he downed it in one go, thinking it tasted like liquefied cotton
candy. His body gave a shiver as the potion went to work, flooding his blood vessels with life
and vitality.

"Tastes better than what Madam Pomfrey gave me," remarked Harry, handing the vial back
to Merlin.

"I should hope so," chuckled Merlin, setting the vial into his robes. In a more serious tone he
continued, "I'm glad you recognized the dangers in letting your emotions get away with you.
You were quite right. If you thought of something specific--and I won't bother putting
thoughts into your head--you could very well have killed Professor Snape. I should hope,
however, that my lessons took root in your brain?"

"Oh it did," smirked Harry. He then entered into the story about Snape the Fairy. Merlin had
to settle himself firmly upon the bed or else fall off in laughter.

"Oh mercy, Harry," laughed Merlin, wiping at his tears. "I must really master astral
projection without the confines of a prison. I should love to have seen Master Neville's
boggart and your Transfigured Professor Snape. But I'm glad you've taken humour to heart.
There is no better thing one can do in face of darkness than laugh. You'd best prank more
often."

"Should be easier with the map," said Harry, then launching into the story of how the twins
bequeathed it to him. He was sure to include how useful it might be if Sirius Black should
ever sneak back onto the grounds. Merlin looked quite chagrined. "What is it, Merlin?"

"Some great wizard I am," huffed Merlin, wiping at his face. "Fifteen hundred years and it
seems I've forgotten all the basics..."

"What are you on about?"

"Maps, dear boy--maps!" emphasized Merlin, getting up to pace around. "The old methods
are always the best. You know that unification of Britannia did not come easy. I would have
preferred negotiations, but sometimes peace through the tip of a sword in unavoidable. You'll
know this soon enough if Lord Voldemort ever regains his body... Anyway, part of what gave
us an edge in battle was my cartography skills. I made maps that outlined not just the
battlefield, but every combatant and every status they were in! All I need do to find Master
Sirius is--"

"--create a map!" they said simultaneously. "That's brilliant!" Harry went on excitedly. "How
long would it take?"

"That, I'm afraid, I cannot say," shrugged Merlin. "Most of my cartography was done in
anticipation of a battle, and it's been quite some time since I've created one. I shouldn't need
to create one of Hogwarts, if you've one of your own. Hogsmeade, and perhaps a little of the
Forbidden Forest should suffice..."

"The Forbidden Forest? But what about the dementors, and Aragog--"

"Am I a wizard or not, Harry?" said Merlin drolly.

"Oh," said Harry foolishly. Merlin was going to map everything out through magic. Harry
had no idea how, but apparently that fell well within his abilities. Merlin sighed and settled
back down onto the foot of Harry's bed. He gave Harry a fatherly pat on the knee cap.

"I'm sorry, Harry," apologized Merlin sincerely. "I should have cleared the storm for you. In
the end, it was Professor Dumbledore who saved you, and I can't help but feel...inadequate...
There were a million things I could have done, and yet... I did nothing! I...froze..."
"I wouldn't have wanted to storm to be cleared anyway," shrugged Harry. "I mean, I thought
about it, sure, but it'd be a little like cheating, wouldn't it? Weather's a part of the sport,
yeah?"

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"There's noble and then there's suicidal, Harry," remarked Merlin drolly. "Though apparently
we were of the same mind. I thought it was just a game--harmless...except for when Lord
Voldemort tried to jinx your broom...and then Dobby with the rogue Bludger...now
dementors and a lightning strike! What next? Dragons?"

Harry snorted, and Merlin's lips curled up into a slight smile.

"It's all right, Merlin, really, like you say--everything worked out," said Harry reassuringly.
"You still need more time getting used to being back in a body again and being able to use
magic. Fifteen hundred years is a long time to be a passive observer."

Merlin chuckled slightly and reached out to ruffle Harry's untidy hair.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for you to be the wise one yet, Harry," said Merlin not unkindly.
"Keep safe; keep alert. Best keep an eye on that map of Messrs. Fred and George while you're
at it."

"Is there anyway I get in touch with you quickly?" inquired Harry, remembering his thoughts
on Halloween.

"Ah, you mean is there any way you might call on me if you need me?" clarified Merlin
thoughtfully. "There are a variety of ways, but I would ask you to refrain yourself from just
blindly asking your magic to contact me. Telepathy has never been managed between people.
Minds weren't meant to be merged in that capacity. I'll work out something and send it..."

"What?" said Harry, noticing the odd tilt of Merlin's head.

Merlin said nothing in reply. He simply reached out and removed Harry's glasses from his
face. A faint glow emanated from his staff as he waved it over the frames, muttering
something under his breath. He then handed the glasses back to Harry while he did the same
thing to a pewter ring on his middle finger.

"There," announced Merlin pleasantly. "It should work like the journal. Think of contacting
me and a connection should open between your glasses and my ring. Like a Muggle radio."

"Cool," said Harry, turning his thin frames around before setting it back on his face.

"I forgot to say this before, Harry, but good job with the game," praised Merlin. Harry smiled
sheepishly as Merlin winked out. The timing was fortuitous because Ginny returned to the
hospital wing not long after.

For the rest of the weekend, Ron and Hermione would visit and stay until night. People sent
their well wishes and admirations. Ginny even gave him a singing get-well card that gave out
a beautiful song in her voice when it lay open. He thanked her for it when she stopped by late
at night with his journal and hers. They both sat in silence, writing out their private thoughts.

*****

People began to stare at Harry with something akin to awe once he got out of the hospital
wing. He'd overcome some frankly impossible odds to obtain the Snitch and win the match.
The scrutiny of it all made Harry nervous, and he was all too glad no one had seen his
Patronus clearly. The one person he couldn't lie to was Professor Lupin.

"Amazing, Harry," said Lupin, who stared at the stag as if he'd seen a ghost. "I'm...I'm
surprised you had the presence of mind to bring your wand out to the game. I know an ex-
Auror who would commend you for your vigilance. I'm likewise surprised that it didn't
explode with your broom..."

Harry could only offer a shrug as he tucked the wand back into his robes.

"Mr. Ollivander does some quality work," he said lamely.

"Indeed," said Lupin evenly. "Well, in any case, I see you've little need for your Patronus
lessons."

"Yes, sir, and...thanks," said Harry earnestly.

"It was my pleasure, Harry."

Harry had turned to walk out of Professor Lupin's office, but stopped just at the door.

"Erm...Professor?" he called out tentatively.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Ginny--Ginny Weasley, wanted to learn the Patronus Charm," said Harry, keeping his back
to Lupin. "I told her that we were practising with a boggart, and that her boggart might not be
a dementor, but...well, she was rather insistent..."

"You want me to teach her?" inquired Lupin knowingly. Harry swore there was a hint of
amusement in there as well.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," shrugged Harry.

"I'll see what I can do," Lupin promised.

Malfoy and Snape were in particularly vindictive moods after that. There was little point in
Malfoy milking his injury any more, though he tried to needle Harry about the fall. It didn't
work since he was much more satisfied at handing the dementors a taste of defeat. Snape was
thoroughly convinced that Harry, not the twins, was behind his humiliation--especially
considering the conversation preceding it--and was determined to give Harry a failing grade
for every potion. Not to mention his eye took to twitching whenever he saw Harry, and his
fingers flexed as if he imagined them wrapped around Harry's neck. The bristling sensation
didn't help him to calm down any either. The more he was around it, the more invasive he
realized it was.

If it is magic, Harry, subvocalized Merlin through Harry's glasses, then it's magic I've not
heard of, meaning it comes after my time. You say it's invasive? In what way?

"I don't know," muttered Harry, his curtains pulled with a Privacy Charm locked in place
around his bed. He'd just finished his nightly routine of writing and reading. "It's worse when
he looks me in the eyes, but if he's just looking at me, I can feel it. I want to say it's like
someone digging under my skin...like it's...it's going for my brain, almost..."

Merlin went silent for a moment.

This is perhaps a very serious situation, Harry, said Merlin gravely, forcing Harry to tense. I
can think of one manner of magic that Professor Snape is employing. It's called
'Legilimency.' Loosely described, it gives the wielder the ability to read minds. Though, think
back to the lake, Harry.

"It doesn't really read minds, then?"

Close. How do you feel the mind is organized? A book? Or a jumble of thoughts?

Harry mulled it over, tapping out a steady rhythm on the cover of his journal. His journal!

"You're saying that...a person who uses Legilimency--"

A Legilimens, supplied Merlin.

"Right, a Legilimens--they can look into another person's mind, but it's not like the journal.
You can't just--I don't know--peek inside and hope for the proper memory. You might have to
sift through a bunch of other stuff?"

Very good, Harry. If I could award House points I would, chuckled Merlin. Yes, the mind is
very often a jumble of thoughts and memories. Sit and ponder for a moment, and follow your
train of thought. You will find yourself running off on tangents without even realizing it, yet
once you do, you'll be amazed at the length you travelled--provided you remember what
sparked the train in the first place.

A Legilimens can probe surface thoughts through eye contact and force of will, from my
understanding of the theory. They require their wand and the incantation, however, to fully
immerse themselves in a person's thoughts. The incantation, coincidentally, is 'legilimens.' In
any event, through conversation, they can steer a person into thinking of the memories they
want to find. Their best bet is to use Veritaserum or some other Truth Serum.

"And Snape's been trying to do this to me?" snarled Harry angrily.

Merlin gave a sigh through the connection.

Prank him, Harry, but for my sake don't kill the man, pleaded a weary Merlin. It's very
invasive, yes, but nothing we can't deal with. The heightened connection you have to magic
through our lessons is giving you a very weak defence against it. You know enough to avoid
eye contact.

"And I've been trying to push everything down and away," murmured Harry as he
simultaneously thought of wicked pranks to pull on Snape, while flipping through old entries.
"Yeah, I wrote it down. Some instinct would tell me to think of you as 'Puck,' rather than as
'Merlin.'"

Good form, Harry, very good form," praised Merlin. There is a defence to Legilimency, if I
recall. I should have the proper information in the library.

"I've got it here," said Harry, smiling at Merlin's chuckle. "It's called 'Occlumency.' The
principle behind it is clearing one's mind against a Legilimens. In effect, you're trying to
create a void so that the Legilimens can't see anything." Harry gave out a self-deprecating
snort. "If I mastered that, Snape would probably say that nothing's out of the ordinary."

Merlin gave a snort himself.

With all due respect, Harry, I very much doubt you've the qualities of a Zen master, said
Merlin dryly. Perhaps on the pitch, or in a duel, or doing any activity that does not involve
Professor Snape. This wound goes too deep; the poison much too potent. Perhaps a different
alternative?

"Like what? Occlumency's the only defence."

You are disappointing me, Harry, chided Merlin teasingly. If you can't achieve Nirvana, then
perhaps you should do the opposite. Perhaps you should give Snape something to see instead
of nothing...

Harry furrowed his brow, but after a minute of silence it became apparent that he'd have to
figure out the riddle himself. What good would it be to show Snape something? He was
trying to hide things, not show them off. But who'd ever heard of hiding something in
nothing? People hide things in a safe or in a closet or in a trunk or in the floorboards under
the...

"You want me to--what? Compartmentalize my thoughts? My memories? Visualize them

as...as personal symbols?" declared Harry.

Ah, you are awake, replied Merlin glibly. That is precisely what I am saying, Harry. Do
whatever you prefer--a simple wall, a vault, a chest--but I might remind you that the more
imaginative you are, the more disorienting it shall be to Professor Snape, and the less
likelihood that he shall discover anything of importance.

"Great," muttered Harry under his breath. "First the Patronus Charm, now this. I really don't
have a break, do I?"

I never said being my apprentice would be easy, Harry, said Merlin dryly. And you would do
well to remember that this is the price you pay for doubling your course-load. You could've
stopped studying with me, or stopped studying at Hogwarts, but you chose to study both.
Thus, you must deal with dementors, Legilimency, and Sirius Black. Things you might never
have encountered with just myself.

"Can I pack it in, then?" said Harry half-heartedly.

Come, come, Harry, at the very least you have my teachings to assist you. It might've taken
you much longer to cast the Patronus otherwise, and you would be left defenceless to
Legilimency. And...you would not have the means to garner some revenge and humiliation
upon Professor Snape.

And so, every night from that night on, Harry worked on his defence. He smiled at his
ingenious, knowing it would frustrate Snape to no end. For one thing, Harry developed a
complex labyrinth that made very little sense in a conventional fashion. Then, Harry sifted
and sorted his memories behind specific vaults, like Gringotts, however he refrained from
labelling them in anyway. Some memories, like that of his parents' dying, he walled so thick
that the vault became indistinguishable from the halls of the maze. Anyone would have a hell
of a time finding anything in there, although he did keep a cheat sheet in his journal for
reference.

Unfortunately, it was the added homework that kept him from checking the Marauder's Map
on a regular basis. Well, that and the fact that Harry had decided to wage a prank war with
the twins--Snape was unsurprisingly their victim of choice. The twins, of course, were
outclassed by Harry's superior magical control. While all of their pranks were deflected,
Harry's were passing through Snape's defences with ease. He'd already managed to turn
Snape's robes into an actual bat costume--complete with flapping wings; change the
dungeons so that they possessed a sunny disposition and pink frilly lace; conjure a rain cloud
over Snape's head in the Great Hall; and make his voice sound like a teenager going through
adolescence again.

Harry chuckled to himself one night, thinking he'd found a perfect way to get in the practical
experience of Merlin's lessons. It was hard to find the space and privacy in Hogwarts
otherwise. Then again, as Harry recalled Merlin's constant urgings for Harry to do pranks, he
thought that might've been Merlin's goal all along.

*****

By the time McGonagall took names for those who'd be staying behind for the Christmas
holidays, Harry's labyrinth was complete. He could stare into Snape's eyes and smile for as
long as he liked; the man wasn't getting anything. The very first time Snape had tried to use
Legilimency, he'd grown so disoriented at the unexpected vision that he actually tripped up
and fell.

Since that point on, Snape had taken to shooting Harry murderous glowers instead and
seething over Harry's shoulder in class. Though he couldn't see it, Snape's fingers would
actually start taking the shape of claws that were about to wring Harry's neck. Still, with his
defences in firm shape, he was now free to work in peace. Much to Snape's immense
displeasure, Harry's Potion marks steadily improved no matter what Snape tried to pull.

"McGonagall's taking names," said Hermione to Harry in the common room.

"Hmm?" said Harry distractedly, looking up from his journal.

"For those staying over the Christmas holidays," explained Hermione patiently.

"Oh." Harry's face fell slightly. "I'm--uh--I'm not staying..."

The gobsmacked expression on Hermione's face was priceless.

"You're--Harry, you're not actually going back to your relatives?" Hermione was showing a
great deal of concern. So much so that Harry had to laugh.

"No, Hermione, I'm not!" chortled Harry. "I--um--I have a friend I'm visiting."

"A friend?" Hermione's frown deepened. "You haven't mentioned a friend."

"You still haven't mentioned how you're taking Divination and Arithmancy at the same time,"
said Harry, pointedly stressing the final word to see if she'd crack.

Hermione did look like she was about to crack, but for very different reasons.

"I can't, Harry, I'm not allowed," said Hermione in a pleading voice. Unshed tears shown in
her eyes, which drooped with dark bags. Her once browned skin from France was now too
pale to be healthy. The bag filled to burst by her ankles was undoubtedly the culprit. "Ron's
pestering me about this and Crookshanks and he just won't stop! Please, Harry, I can't take it
from you too!"

Harry grimaced at seeing Hermione so close to a breakdown. Merlin hadn't exactly taught
him how to deal with a distressed girl. What did Merlin do when Harry'd been overwhelmed
with the little history lesson before his birthday? He'd given Harry space... No, he'd told
Harry the truth. Hermione needed understanding! That was it!

"Hermione, listen to me," Harry called out to her. "Listen to me, Hermione. I wasn't pushing
you, I was teasing you. I'm sorry. I'm sure you've a reason for keeping it from us, and I won't
tease you again. I promise."

"Thank you, Harry," sniffed Hermione.

"Save the thanks," said Harry gruffly, winding himself up for the hard part. "I'm not gonna
tease you 'cause I've already got a pretty good idea of how you're doing it."

"What?" said a stricken Hermione.

"Wasn't hard, really," he told her with a half-smile. "You told Ron you couldn't be in two
places at the same time, which was a large enough clue for me, yet you still showed up for
Divination and Arithmancy. The fatigue clued me in, along with your odd disappearances."

Harry paused to look over her face, which was a warzone of emotions ranging from relief to
anger to embarrassment to joy. A single tear trickled down from her cheek.

"Hermione, I'm sure you've worked out your schedule perfectly," Harry went on, fishing in
his pocket for the handkerchief Merlin made him carry as a gentleman. He offered it to
Hermione who promptly shed a few more tears. "But I think you might've overlooked
something in your planning."

"No, I haven't," said Hermione with a vehement shake of her head. "I worked it all out,
Harry, honestly! Look for yourself!"

She rummaged through her bag to extract a homework planner. No small feat considering
how tightly packed everything was. The thin, leather-bound book was clearly magical as it
read off a reminder for Hermione when she flipped it open. Harry stared down at the schedule
she jutted defiantly under his nose, her expression daring him to find fault with it.

"See?" she prompted. "I have everything blocked out for each class."

"Sure," agreed Harry, letting Hermione beam triumphantly before dropping the other shoe.
"But you forgot to block something else."

"What? What could I have possibly forgotten?" asked Hermione peevishly, snatching the
planner back.

"Sleep, Hermione," sighed Harry. "There's twenty-four hours in a normal day. You're putting
in twenty-eight, even thirty hours on some days! Worst yet, you're doing it all on less sleep
than you'd normally get. You're burning out, Hermione."

Hermione mouthed wordlessly as she looked over the schedule.

"I think you should go back to McGonagall, get your name off the list, and spend your
holidays trying to catch up on sleep," counselled Harry as he got up from his armchair.

Though he was pleased at pointing out a flaw in Hermione's thoughts, he was now worried
about Ron asking the same question Hermione had. Lo and behold, not ten minutes after
escaping the common room, he ran into Ron.

"Hey, mate!" called out Ron cheerfully.

"Hey, Ron," returned Harry.

"Best put your name down with McGonagall quick," Ron informed him. "I reckon she's
almost ready to send the list on to Professor Dumbledore. I'm staying. Don't reckon I can
stand having Percy around the house the way he's been acting. Couldn't even stomach it over
the summer."

"Er, Ron... I'm--I'm not staying this Christmas," said Harry slowly.

"Yeah, right, mate," laughed Ron, shoving at Harry playfully. "Like you'd ever willingly go
back to those relatives of yours!"

"Not my relatives, Ron," said Harry, shaking his head. He took another deep, bracing breath.
"It's a friend I made over the summer holidays."
"A friend?" said Ron dumbly. "Whyn't you ever tell us you made a new friend, Harry?"

"Because...because I'm not supposed to, Ron," sighed Harry, knowing that was exactly the
wrong thing to say, but it was also the only thing.

Sure enough, a cloudy expression passed over Ron's face.

"Oh, so you've a secret too, eh?" accused Ron bitterly; the tips of his ears flamed red. "Fine!
Some bloody bunch of friends you are! Hermione's got her own sodding secret, and now
you've a secret friend? Some ruddy friend! Doesn't even want your other friends to know
about him! What? Is he too ashamed? Or maybe he's not that good of a friend after all! Or
maybe we're not good enough for you anymore, Harry!"

"That's not it!" said Harry heatedly. "It's just complicated, Ron!"

"That's exactly what Hermione said!" snapped Ron.

"Look, I can't speak for Hermione, but my secret isn't only mine to tell!" yelled Harry in
return. "What if you told me something, Ron? Just between us blokes. Would you want me to
tell Hermione if she asked?"

"No, but that's different, isn't it? That's Hermione!" Harry sucked in a breath. Ron's logic did
not resemble Earth logic in the slightest. "I mean, at least I know Hermione and I trust her!
Wish she could say the same thing... But I don't know this person, Harry...do I?"

Now there's a mildly loaded question.

"Sorta...not really?" he shrugged. Harry tried again, "What you know about him isn't entirely
accurate?"

"Doesn't sound trustworthy to me, mate," declared Ron authoritatively, even though he
looked just as confused as Harry. "See, you're choosing someone over us and you don't even
know who he is!"

"No, you don't know who he is!" fired back Harry, thoroughly irritated. "And I'm not
choosing him over you and Hermione! Look, go get your name off of McGonagall's list and
I'll pop over to the Burrow for a visit, I swear!"

"Yeah?" frowned Ron sceptically.

"Yes, you great git," said Harry, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "If your mum'll have
me over, that is."

"Course she will!" snorted Ron. "You know my mum, Harry. Bollocks, I'd better run if I'm
gonna catch up with McGonagall! See you, Harry!"

Harry shut his eyes and slowly counted to ten, all the while resisting the urge to smack his
head with his journal. Though he didn't like to admit it, perhaps Ron had a point. Perhaps
Harry was choosing Merlin over his friends. But...but Harry never asked about Ron and
Hermione's parents, did he? Whatever happened in their families was their business unless
they came to him. It was only proper, right? To give his friends a bit of privacy? So...so if
Merlin was his mentor, then the same should apply, right?

Harry gave out a frustrated sigh.

*****

The weekend before the end of term was another Hogsmeade weekend. Ron and Hermione
were excited for they could get their Christmas shopping out of the way. Harry hardly cared.
Once Christmas came around, Harry could go anywhere. In truth, there wasn't anything
stopping him from going anywhere that very day. He contemplated visiting Merlin in
Hogsmeade, but he'd see him soon enough the next day.

That plan changed, however, when Archimedes flew into the Great Hall just as Harry'd
finished breakfast.

Harry,

The map has been completed and I've found your treasure. If you would like an early
Christmas present, please join me in the Shrieking Shack at all haste.

Puck

Harry tried to put a stamp down on his emotions, but it was too hard to keep the grin on his
face. He quickly folded up Merlin's letter and tucked it into his pocket. It took some
prodding, but he managed to get Archimedes to fly back.

He felt the bristling, probing sensation again through magic. It was as if someone had taken
the slightest of peeks into his maze. It was so quick that Harry thought he might've imagined
it if the bristling hadn't lingered. Turning to the staff table, he expected to find Snape glaring
at him, but was instead surprised to find it was Dumbledore who was gazing at him over the
top of his half-moon spectacles.

Someone beside him moved away from the table, temporarily blocking his view of
Dumbledore. When he could again see Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster was chatting
amicably with Professor McGonagall. Professor Lupin was also nodding absently along with
the conversation. It was just enough for Harry to doubt whether it had been Dumbledore after
all.

"That's from your friend, isn't it?" asked Ron grumpily.

"Yes, it is," said Harry simply as he wiped his mouth and made to get up. "You'd best get on
if you're gonna get all your Christmas shopping done. I need to go write a reply."

As Harry left, he caught Ron say to Hermione, "You don't--you don't think Harry's got a--
a girlfriend, d'you?"

Harry blushed a little in embarrassment, but decided to eavesdrop a little longer. Neville
looked curiously at him, but he motioned for Neville to be quiet.

"I'm not sure," he heard Hermione answer, "but what does it matter if he does or doesn't?"

"I dunno," shrugged Ron. "It's just...just a bit odd, don't you think?"

"It's not odd, Ron, it's part of growing up!" said an exasperated Hermione. "Surely you know
this? You have six brothers of your own, and Percy already has a girlfriend. You'll be
wanting one soon enough, I imagine."

Ron made a face that mirrored the one he wore when the slug-vomiting curse had rebounded
upon him. A part of Harry agreed with Ron--Girls? Bleh!--but then another part of Harry, a
newer part which sounded like some beast, thought that girls weren't so bad. His cheeks
tingled with what Harry thought was a blush, until he realized it was localized to only one
cheek. Idly, he reached up to scratch at it.

"Yeah! Right!" snorted Ron incredulously. "Why would I ever wanna bother with a
girlfriend? They can't be as fun as Quidditch!"

Harry suppressed his snort and, having heard enough, walked out of the Great Hall. He
ducked into one of the empty classrooms down the hall and ported straight to the third-year's
dorm. Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were still in the Great Hall, so he knew it to be empty.

He fetched his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map from his trunk. Under the safety of
the cloak, he then teleported straight to the Whomping Willow. The map, much to his
disappointment, didn't show how to bypass the Whomping Willow like it did with the one-
eyed witch statue.

There was nothing to it, Harry would have to teleport blindly, although the map did show
which direction the tunnel headed off to. At least he wouldn't be completely blind. He just
had to believe it was no different from when he first ported into the Haven.

Making sure he kept his eyes open, Harry willed his magic to carry him forward, again
ensuring that everything on his person was accounted for. The gale-force wind pushed him
forward, through the Whomping Willow, and on towards Hogsmeade. There was no
mistaking the Shrieking Shack with its boarded up windows and overgrown garden. It also
happened to be the only house along the path.

Harry solidified himself to stop, lest he overshoot his target. He ended up tripping over a
damaged chair and tumbled into the far wall. Archimedes, who was on the landing overhead,
opened one eye to peer down at Harry, then closed it again.

"I'll refrain from the obvious comment," said Merlin dryly, coming out of somewhere to
appear on the landing beside Archimedes. Like Archimedes, he looked unconcerned at
Harry's sprawled form. "Why didn't you come by the passage?"

"The map doesn't show how to get past the Whomping Willow," said Harry shortly as he
dusted himself off and his Invisibility Cloak. Merlin was again dressed in his Gandalf garb,
though he assumed this time it was more for insulation against the cold as he hadn't bothered
to alter his face and hair. "I didn't fancy getting into a duel with the tree and alerting
Dumbledore--who's a Legilimens by the way, I think--and the dementors!"

Merlin gave a sigh as he came down around the stairs, disappearing around the corner, and
then reappearing through a hallway. The tip of his pointed, broad-rimmed, hat brushed
against the ceiling of the narrow hall.

"Did you try speaking to it?" asked Merlin lightly, waving his walking staff over Harry.

"Speak to it?" asked Harry dumbly as he folded up his Invisibility Cloak to stuff in his
pocket. He guessed Merlin had cast another illusion, making them look more like father and
son. Indeed, Harry's entire outfit had changed to something matching Merlin's, but in a green-
gray.

"You ought to pay more attention to my stories, I think," sighed Merlin. He extracted a long
rolled up piece of parchment from his outer robes and laid it out a nearby table. "Either that,
or my storytelling is not quite up to par yet."

"Huh?" was Harry's intelligent reply.

"When I grew up with my mother, who do you think I spoke with?" asked Merlin patiently. A
quick wave of his staff over the parchment brought it to life, showing Hogsmeade, all its
shops, and the Forbidden Forest. Unlike the Marauder's Map, the icons were colour-coded;
black for students; red for teachers; green for villagers; blue for other wizards; purple for
anything that wasn't human. It was disorienting yet mesmerizing, like watching ants at a
picnic.

"You said you spoke with...oh." Harry's face heated as he realized his blunder.

"Speaking with plants is not a Muggle superstition," Merlin told Harry. "Nor is speaking with
animals. I thought you might've seen that when we did our lessons."

"I thought you were just summoning them from the Haven! Conjuring them!" protested Harry
defensively.

"I was, but then I also continued to speak with them after I called them. Words hold power,
Harry. Spoken or written, they are potent weapons or invaluable aids. Through what I've
taught you, surely you can now see it. How else do you make your requests of magic? And if
you can make your request of magic, then why not of the flora and the fauna?"

"Lesson learned," mumbled Harry, dipping his eyes to the map. He could see Aragog in the
Forbidden Forest, not to mention each of Aragog's many children. "Is that how you finished
the map, then?"

Merlin smiled kindly.

"You do learn quickly, Harry," he praised. "Insects, birds, and trees are usually the best to
employ for this work. Though slow, there is nothing more thorough. Try it out with Hagrid
and Care of Magical Creatures. Remember that you need to work your magic into your
words, for that is what you will be appealing to directly--the magic in all things. Do not
attempt to control them. Appeal to them, entreat them, as you would any other friend. They
too have minds and feelings. They are somewhat simplified and less complex minds and
feelings, but they are present all the same."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Now, this is where Sirius Black is," said Merlin, pointing at the map. Harry saw the blue dot
ambling around Hogsmeade. It was awfully fast for a person, but the label read "Sirius
Black." He was keeping far from the high-traffic areas though, staying near residential
cottages. "I had thought he might be here, in the Shrieking Shack, but apparently so did your
Professor Dumbledore. It's been searched, regularly, by Professor Dumbledore. At nights,
however, he sleeps out in the Forbidden Forest, never in the same spot twice. He leaves the
village just before the dementors do their sweeps."

"But how? Wouldn't the dementors find him over the Forbidden Forest? The acromantula?
The centaurs?" Harry had been asking himself those same questions over and over for the
better part of the term.

"That is what we are about to find out, Harry," vowed Merlin with an adventurous twinkle in
his gray eyes. "Deep breath, now."

Merlin tapped the bottom of his staff against the floor of the Shrieking Shack. It was a
different feeling to be carried through teleportation. For one thing, Harry was completely at
Merlin's mercy during the motion. Rather than being in control, it was like he was a piece of
scrap cloth caught in the wind. Still, it was loads better than Apparition.

Harry peeked around Merlin's sleeve to take a look at the map. They were on a side-street far
from the main road where only a handful of houses were scattered around. All the homes
were empty for the time being. According to the map, Sirius was coming around the corner.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest at the notion of meeting his father's best friend and having
a chance to save someone that he might've grown close to had things been different.

It was surprising, therefore, when a big, shaggy, black dog ambled around the corner instead.

"Puck?" said Harry out of the corner of his mouth. He risked a glance up at his mentor, only
to find him close to laughter.

"I should have known," chuckled Merlin as the dog began to scrounge and sniff around for
scraps. A wave of Merlin's staff set Harry back to normal.

"Known what?" insisted Harry. "Is the map wrong?"

"Hardly," scoffed Merlin. "We simply weren't inventive enough in our thinking. I'd seen that
dog around here for the past few months, but I never... Harry, what did I tell you about
animals and plants before we began discussing the map?"

"Uh, they've simplified emotions and thoughts?" said Harry uncertainly. He was rather off-
footed by this turn of events.

Merlin nodded and then gave Harry the look that he'd become so familiar with in the past few
months. It was the look that said "I've given you the clue, now you must take all that you've
learned and assemble the puzzle."

Harry sighed. Animals have simplified emotions and thoughts, so what? What does that have
to do with the dog and Sirius? What about the dog and Sirius? Merlin said the map wasn't
wrong, so... So the dog is Sirius? But then...but the register didn't...but that didn't mean...

Harry's eyes flung wide as his thoughts reached conclusions before the questions could even
be pondered. Sirius was an illegal, unregistered Animagus! It was wandless magic, so he
could do it in Azkaban without a wand. The simplified emotions and thoughts would lessen
the effects of the dementors, who were blind and wouldn't register him as a human.

"Figured it out?" teased Merlin, knowing full well from his reaction that he had indeed.
"Come now, there's little time to waste."

Both Merlin and Harry began to approach the dog. Its ears perked up at the sound of their
approach and it began to back away slowly. Harry swore those big, reflective eyes bulged at
the sight of him. After a few moments of staring, the dog began to back away, looking
towards all exits as if expecting a trap.

"We are not here to capture a stray," said Merlin in a clear, authoritative, yet friendly voice.
"Are we, Harry?"

"Nope," said Harry with a bright smile, cottoning on to Merlin's intentions. "We're here
to adopt a stray. We want to give it a place to sleep, eat...bathe. A place for it to be free."

"Quite. Harry has a knack for freeing the imprisoned," remarked Merlin as he gave Harry a
sidelong glance. "So, won't this stray come let us take him home? We wouldn't want the bad
men to have to put him down, would we?"

"No," said Harry gravely. "No, we really wouldn't. It'd be a nice Christmas present too,
wouldn't it?"

"A fine one," agreed Merlin. "Now, then, little stray, won't you get out off these cold streets
and draw up beside a fire?"

The dog moved towards Harry and began to sniff and lick at his hands. Harry bent down and
petted the shaggy fur. It was knotted and dirty and covered in grime. He imagined that Sirius
hadn't had time to bathe. The last time he did so had probably been his escape from Azkaban,
which, according to Merlin, was in the North Sea. Underneath the great fur, however, was a
painfully thin body. Thin enough to squeeze through most bars.

As if he was watching a seed grow into a plant on sped up film, the dog changed into a man.
He was tall, although crouched on the ground now with claw-like hands quivering as they
grasped Harry's shoulders. His face was waxen and stretched tight around his skin so as to
appear like a skull; his gray eyes were sunken and haunted, but gazing at Harry with a sparkle
of life and hope. Like the fur of the dog, his black hair was long, brushing at the pavement,
and just as scraggly. When he smiled, he showed his yellowed and blackened teeth.

It was obvious they didn't approve of hygiene in Azkaban. Or food, judging from the way his
convict robes just hung off his emaciated frame. Still, he might've passed as a relative of
Merlin's if he cleaned up and put on some weight.

"You look so like your father," he said in a voice that had not been used in a long time. "But
you're eyes... You've your mother's eyes."

"I know," said Harry with an uncomfortable shrug.

"Has he done anything?" asked Sirius with a sudden vehemence. Harry winced at the sudden
pressure on his shoulders. Merlin shifted closer just slightly. "Has he--has he tried to hurt
you?"

"He?" asked a confused Harry. "He who?"

"Peter--Peter Pettigrew!" answered Sirius's maniacally.

"Peter...but he...but you..."

"No, Harry," said Merlin softly. "Peter Pettigrew is indeed alive. I'll explain once we're far
away and safe."

*****

Merlin ported them all to the Haven, where they could give Sirius a long bath and some
decent food. It was disorienting for Sirius, especially to learn that The Merlin had been
watching over--and had been, in fact, saved by--Harry. Merlin decided to tell Sirius because
he was family to Harry, being both guardian and godfather. Besides, if they couldn't catch
Peter Pettigrew, the Haven would become just that for Sirius.

"I love Sherlock Holmes stories," said Merlin in a seemingly nonsequitur as they drank
butterbeer. A gentle snow was falling over the Haven. Everything was paradisiacal, even the
seasons. "I've made you read a few, I think, Harry. Observation and deduction; eyes and
brains. Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must
be the truth.

"Peter Pettigrew is alive because Sirius Black is an Animagus. I doubt he learned it in the
interim between Hogwarts and Azkaban, for he was a member of the Order. His Animagus
shape would not be beneficial, least of all this close to Hogwarts as Dumbledore would have
known. Therefore, he had to learn it during school, and I doubt he could undertake such a
task alone, so his fellow friends must have been involved--Peter Pettigrew, then among
them."

"My dad?" asked Harry, shooting Sirius an eager, hungry look.

"A stag," said Black with a wistful smile.

"Like your Patronus, Harry," murmured Merlin with great interest. Suddenly, Harry
understood the look Professor Lupin had given him when he displayed his Patronus.

"We did it for fun and adventure and because it was a great challenge," Sirius went on, "but
we also did it because our friend needed us. We learned about Moony's furry little problem
come the end of our first year. It wasn't until our second that James came up with the plan to
become Animagi. A werewolf won't hurt another animal, so we could accompany Remus
when he transformed, and go exploring in the Forbidden Forest. Took us the better part of
three years, but by our fifth year, the Maruaders were born."

"The Marauders?" said Harry, clenching at the parchment resting in his pocket.

"The name we christened ourselves with in celebration of our achievement," chuckled Sirius.
"We already did some marauding before, but after we could transform... We made up
nicknames too, to correspond with our animals; Remus is Moony, Pettigrew is Wormtail--"

"You're Padfoot and my dad was Prongs," finished Harry with a sense of awe.

"How did you--"

"The map!" exclaimed Harry, slipping it out of his pocket and slapping it onto the coffee
table.

"How did you get it?" cried out Sirius, who looked as if he'd been reunited with a long lost
child. He picked it up off the table and ran his fingers over it lovingly. "Wormtail lost it to
Filch years ago! Wormtail! I can use this to get him!"

"Where is he? How'd you know he was at Hogwarts?" asked Harry. Sirius reached into his
robes and pulled out a yellowed page from the Daily Prophet. It had the blurb about the
Weasleys about it. How did that... And then Harry figured it out. "Scabbers!"

"Master Ronald's rat?" inquired Merlin. "Ah, of course, the longevity, the Sneakoscope
malfunction, the undue stress..."

"And the missing toe," agreed Sirius, pointing it out on the picture. "Wormtail cut off his own
finger before he killed the Muggles. Then he destroyed the pavement before transforming
into a rat."

They brooded and plotted until Harry needed to be ported back to Hogwarts. He felt as if a
huge weight had been lifted. Sirius was safe! Moreover, his godfather had a chance at
freedom! There was an overwhelming desire for Harry to harm Wormtail when he saw him
on Ron's bed, but only through a stern warning from Merlin did he refrain from doing so.

"Sneak a peek at your Christmas present?" inquired Ginny when Harry sat down at dinner.

"What?" said Harry, almost spilling his pumpkin juice down his front.

Ginny blushed and tucked back a strand of hair behind her ear. Something about that simple,
sweet, nonchalant motion made Harry's throat bob and the beast in the center of his chest
rouse a little more.

"I caught a glimpse of your note this morning," admitted Ginny bashfully, now toying with
her plate. "I'm sorry, but you kind of tipped it towards me...I mean, I shouldn't have been
reading your letters without permission, but it was there--and that's really no excuse at all,
but--"

"I did," said Harry quickly to cut off her stammering. "I saw it all, really. It's--it's going to be
one of the best Christmas I ever had, I reckon. Not that there's a whole lot of competition for
the title. The Christmas back when I was a first-year is still the best, then there's last
Christmas, and then..." Harry gave a half-shrug.

"Harry," hissed Ron to get his attention. "Meet us up in the common room after, will you?
We heard something you need to hear."

"Ron, we shouldn't tell him!" whispered Hermione from across the table. It looked like she
was taking a good deal of concentration in making sure her lips didn't move.

"I don't know about you two, but I don't keep secrets," snapped Ron peevishly. Harry
furrowed his brow. The superior tone of voice reminded him an awful lot like Percy, though
Harry reckoned Percy would say that and then pointedly keep the secret as if to prove some
strange point.

Hermione huffed at Ron and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Sure, Ron," said Harry, now faced with a new dilemma. As with Professor Lupin, he wanted
to tell Ron not to take care of Scabbers, and maybe feed him straight to Crookshanks, but
once again, he was expressly forbidden by Merlin. Oh he understood why clear enough, but
that didn't make him any happier about the situation.

He turned back to Ginny. "So, what was I saying?"

"Huh? Oh!" She blushed as if expecting him to continue talking with Ron and Hermione.
"You were ranking your Christmases."

"Right," nodded Harry. He cleared his palate and moistened his tongue with a draught of
pumpkin juice. "Anyway, this Christmas is shaping up to be the best one yet. If I'm not
careful, I reckon I might actually start looking forward to them. I already look forward to
your mum's jumpers."

"I--I picked out the yarn," Ginny mumbled, going back to digging at her plate.

"What?"

"Your first year," explained Ginny, whose blush was growing spectacularly. "I picked out the
yarn for the jumper Mum made for you..."

"Did you really?" asked Harry in wonder. She gave a shy nod. Harry reached down to grab
her hand. He couldn't explain why other than sheer impulse. It seemed right. And he loved
that jumper. He was sad that he'd outgrown it in two years, but still kept it in his wardrobe
back at the Haven.

Ginny tensed at the contact of their hands. Harry tensed as well because it only further served
to waken the not-so-slumbering beast in his chest--a beast that Harry was beginning to
imagine as a dragon. He thought it must be snorting fire or something because his heart was
beating much more rapidly than normal. A strange tingling was running up his right hand,
raising the hairs on his forearm.

"Well, you've great taste, thanks," he told her, covering for the momentarily lapse that felt
like minutes rather than half-a-second. "Maybe you should pick out the yarn for all my
Weasley jumpers--"

"Harry, c'mon," said Ron gruffly. The gangly redhead had already gotten up, while Hermione
was making her way down the table.

"Right, yeah," said Harry quickly, lifting his hand up from Ginny's. In a quiet, urgent voice,
he said to the other redhead, "Bye, Ginny--see you at the Burrow!"

On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry kept rubbing at his right hand and
arm. The tingle just wouldn't go away and it felt like a certain other tingle that he couldn't
quite place. There was an energy to it that Harry just didn't understand, but somehow it
resonated with him.

He was in a strange introspective daze until the trio hit the common room and sat him on the
couch.

"Listen, mate, we were in the Three Broomsticks today," said Ron, taking the squashy
armchair. Hermione sat next to Harry on the couch and placed a hand on his right hand. No
tingle. Bizarre.

Ron glanced down at the contact, but just for a moment. "Hermione did a bit of impressive
charm work to move this Christmas tree so the teachers couldn't see us--"

"Teachers?"

"Honestly, Ron, tell a story properly, don't skip about," lectured Hermione.

Ron threw up his hands angrily and slapped them down upon the squashy leather of the chair.

"Bloody hell, woman, you didn't even want to tell him in the first place!" he nettled her.

"If you're going to do something, you may as well do it well," retorted Hermione primly,
removing her hand from Harry's to cross her arms over her chest. "And don't swear!"

"Fine," growled Ron. "McGonagall, Flitwick, Fudge, and Hagrid all came into the Three
Broomsticks. They invited Madam Rosemerta--she runs the joint, we told you, yeah?--over
for a drink and began talking about Sirius Black..."

Hermione and Ron then began to tell a story that Harry knew well, although it was the wrong
story. He nodded at the appropriate spots without any impatience. He hoped Hermione would
take his silence to be a sign that he was too overwhelmed or in shock. In truth, he can't
believe how close they were. Oh sure, Sirius--no, Padfoot--might've gotten away, but
still...the Minister had been there...

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked a very concerned Hermione, giving his hand a squeeze.
"Huh? Oh--"

Just then Fred and George set off a half-dozen Dungbombs in the now filled common room to
celebrate the end of term. Everyone started fleeing in a rush. Ron bolted out the portrait hole
while Hermione went up to her dormitory. Harry walked up to his dorm at a leisurely pace. It
wasn't too difficult to keep a steady stream of fresh air wrapped around his head through
Merlin's teachings.

It took a good deal of willpower not to make Scabbers spontaneously combust when he
stepped into the dormitory. Instead, Harry changed out of his clothes and into his pyjamas,
opened up the bedside cabinet, and withdrew the leather-bound album. He shut the curtains
and flipped through the photographs of his parents until he came across their wedding
picture. There, joking with his parents, was Sirius Black, looking handsome and carefree.

Yes, he did resemble Merlin in some respects. Both were handsome, dark-haired, and gray-
eyed, but there was a different quality to Merlin, probably from him being fifteen hundred
years removed. His facial structure was just...unique.

"Harry?" called out Ron sometime after.

"Yeah?" said Harry through the curtains.

"You--you all right, mate?" asked Ron tentatively.

"Fine."

"All right, then." Harry could almost hear Ron's shrug. "Mum says you can come and stay the
whole holidays if you like."

"I'll stop in after Christmas," said Harry after some consideration. He wanted time to talk
with Sirius, to swim in the lake, to stare up at the stars, to chat idly with Merlin, to just...enjoy
his home.

Yes, he actually had a family.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

So as I've shown, Merlin is still quite fallible. Fifteen hundred years of being a simple
observer has made his reflexes a little on the slow side. Yes, I could've gone without anything
happening to Harry's Nimbus but, well...

Bringing back the "Get the Snitch or die trying" line. George, ever the sensitive one, had
called Oliver on it before, and he's doing it again. I know he doesn't do anything of the sort in
the actual PoA, but then Wood was trying to drown himself in the showers, wasn't he?

And the singing Get-Well card doesn't shriek because Ginny has a proper wand this time
around. Yup. That's my story and I'm sticking to it... Actually, there is a larger reason behind
her nice voice.

Given Sirius Black being on the loose, you think McGonagall and Dumbledore would
prevent Harry from leaving Hogwarts over Christmas, wouldn't you? Don't worry, it'll be
addressed in the next chapter. That was partly the reason why Dumbledore was exercising his
Legilimency on Harry during breakfast. He recognized Archimedes's constant trips and
knows it's not a standard post owl.

And Harry's mental defense is taken from Thomas Harris's Hannibal of all places. Hannibal
Lecter has an interesting mnemonic device for remembering things. He has this house built in
his mind where every object represents a certain memory. I'm not sure if it's found in Red
Dragon or Silence of the Lambs as I've never read those books. I know other people in other
fics have done something similar, but Hannibal is my strange inspiration for it.

Back to index

Chapter 5: Chapter Five: Christmas Gifts

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Five: Christmas Gifts

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

The next morning, Harry packed up his trunk and left with Ron and Hermione. It was strange
to be going home instead of staying; it felt stranger still to actually look forward to leaving
Hogwarts for a while. He was immensely pleased that Hermione had decided to go home for
the holidays. She'd reworked her schedule to factor in additional sleep time.

That didn't mean things went without a hitch. For one thing, Professor Dumbledore spoke
with him in the entrance hall.
"Going home for the holidays, Harry?" intoned Dumbledore genially. The pressure was
almost nonexistent, and Harry felt grateful for it in a way. Dumbledore wasn't trying to be
invasive, unlike Snape who still tried to catch him off guard.

"Yes, sir," he answered. So he didn't clarify which home; if he hinted to Dumbledore that he
wasn't going to number four, Privet Drive, then there'd be no chance in hell that he'd be
allowed to leave Hogwarts. Merlin would be proud.

Dumbledore smiled kindly and gave a short nod.

"Good, good," he commented softly. "I think it would also be nice to get away from the
dementors for a few weeks."

"Hard to be cheerful with them hanging around," said Harry agreeably.

"None more so than when they are surrounding us," said Dumbledore, peering at Harry over
the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Professor Lupin tells me you've managed a corporeal
Patronus. I admit that my eyesight is not what it was, so I was not entirely sure if that is what
had transpired that evening. Would you mind a demonstration?"

"Not at all, sir."

The incantation was just a formality for Harry. He brought forth the thought of family--him,
Sirius, and Merlin--and his Patronus stag--or Prongs, as he'd begun to call it--leapt out and
trotted about the ground. A few students trickling down the stairs gaped in surprise and awe.

"Most impressive magic, Harry," lauded Dumbledore with a hint of pride. "I can't recall ever
seeing a third-year produce a corporeal Patronus. Off with you, then."

Though Dumbledore seemed fully trusting in Harry's abilities--or his decision to stay put on
number four--Hermione was being more proactive.

"You really shouldn't go, Harry," Hermione told him; her brow knitted in concern. "What
about Sirius Black?"

"He's not about to walk up to my front door, Hermione," said Harry, although Sirius had said
he'd practically done just that.

"Yeah, mate, y'know Mum wouldn't've minded me staying over for the holidays," said Ron,
chewing on a Peppermint Toad. For once, this term, he seemed to be in agreement with
Hermione. Harry thought it was a minor miracle.

"We both would've!" Hermione looked almost too eager, as if Harry's answer could turn the
train around and send them back to Hogwarts.

"Oh no, Hermione!" crowed Harry cheekily. "You're sticking to that schedule of rest! The
farther you are from Hogwarts's library, the better!"

"I still don't get how you're taking all those classes," muttered Ron before Hermione could
issue a retort, sparking a whole new round in the very old argument.
Mrs. Weasley was just as worried as Hermione, asking him how he was going to get to the
Dursleys. Harry then explained to Ron and Hermione that the friend was on Privet Drive.
That one happened to be a bold-faced lie, but there wasn't anything for it. He was getting
more than a little irritated with everyone trying to look out for him without him knowing. All
he wanted to do was get started on his holidays with Merlin and Sirius. Was that too much to
ask?

When it became apparent that Mrs. Weasley was determined to have her brood wait with
Harry, despite Percy's constant whinging, he decided to take drastic measures. He pointed out
a car parked against the street and claimed it as Uncle Vernon's. Once Mrs. Weasley believed
him, she bustled them off back to the Burrow with Harry's assurance that he'd stop over for a
visit anytime.

Finally free of everything, Harry ducked into a desolate alley and teleported home to the
Haven.

"Ah, finally here, I see," teased Merlin as he and Sirius poked their heads into Harry's room.

"Yeah," Harry snorted, "after getting badgered by Dumbledore, Hermione, and Mrs.
Weasley. Somehow they think a murderous psychopath is going to try and kill me. I wanted
to tell them that Voldemort's still incorporeal."

Merlin and Sirius chuckled at that.

"Mrs. Weasley wants me to visit," Harry explained. "I think they want to check up on me to
make sure I'm still breathing."

"It is a mark of a good friend to show their concern," said Merlin with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know, but I was thinking," began Harry as he sat down on his bed, "this would be
the perfect time to get Wormtail. I mean, Mr. Weasley's a Ministry worker, yeah? He can get
someone to bring Wormtail into custody."

"That still leaves you going up against Wormtail alone," pointed out Sirius.

"He'll be wandless," returned Harry.

"He still killed a dozen Muggles," said Sirius shortly. Even after one night, he was looking
less waxen, but it would take some time to do away with twelve years of hell. "He won't be
afraid to do it to you if he's backed into a corner."

"And it won't matter that he's without a wand," said Merlin in full agreement with Sirius.
"The Weasleys are a large magical family. Taking in the five children currently at home, plus
their parents, that's seven potential wands for a rat to get a hold of. Assuming he won't just
run off as a rat."

"Well, we could take care of that last bit," sighed Sirius reluctantly. "There's a spell to undo
human-to-animal Transfiguration, but you wouldn't normally learn it until sixth year."
"Teach it to me," said Harry to Sirius. Then with a hint of mischief, Harry grinned at Merlin
and Sirius. "And can you teach me how to be an Animagus?"

Merlin laughed outright. "First you complain about the extra work I've been giving you, and
now you're actively seeking out something more complex and difficult than either of the
previous assignments? I warn you, Harry, that even under my tutelage, becoming an
Animagus is a long and hard road. I very much doubt you will manage it by the end of this
term."

"But it's cool, isn't it?" Harry asked of Sirius. "And my dad was one..."

"Yes, Harry, it's very cool," Sirius agreed with a conspiratorial smile. The smile then
vanished and was replaced by a grave look. "But Wormtail's still dangerous, Harry. You
shouldn't do this without help."

"Oh but he won't," said Merlin with a mischievous smirk of his own. "No, I think we'll be
able to provide Harry with enough assistance."

From that point on, Harry returned to his normal schedule. He exercised in the mornings with
Merlin and Sirius, who wanted to get back into shape after twelve years of prison. Later, he
studied with Merlin and chatted with Sirius.

Sirius soaked up the stories from Harry about his first two and a half years at Hogwarts. He
was more than impressed with the Philosopher Stone, Norbert, Forbidden Forest escapades,
and Polyjuice Potion--more because of Harry's disregard for the rules than anything else. It
wasn't until Harry got to his stories about Snape, however, that he truly had Sirius in stitches.

"Your father would be so proud of you, Harry," laughed Sirius over the Snape the Fairy
incident, which gave Harry a swell of warmth stronger than any butterbeer might provide.

From Sirius, Harry learned more things about his parents that no one could have ever shared
with him. Admittedly, Sirius mostly told him about his father, but that was only to be
expected. They were a tight group of friends all through Hogwarts. Lily didn't join in until
their seventh year. Up to that point, she was more of an antagonist to the Marauders in the
same way that Ron and Hermione were antagonistic towards each other.

It made him wonder about Ron and Hermione, and relationships, and everything else in
general. Harry felt like a sponge that grew with every passing day. Each night, Harry would
wring out the saturated knowledge into his journal, and then carefully sifted through the
memories and locked them behind vaults in his maze. The overall effect reinforced each
memory threefold. For the first time, Harry felt truly content--truly happy.

*****

Christmas rolled around all too soon. As he was wont to do, Harry woke up no earlier or later
than he normally would. Usually it was much too early for Ron, but when it came time for
Christmas, it was much too late. However, neither Merlin nor Sirius were too inclined to
rouse Harry from sleep.

After going through his morning routines, he stumbled into the den. Two days ago, Merlin
had fetched them a handsome Christmas tree and, after disguising them all with an illusion,
they had bought some general ornaments. The most ornate ornaments, however, had been
handmade through their magic. A respectable stack of presents were under the tree. All of it,
Harry realized, was for himself.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," grinned Merlin as he approached from his study.

"Harry's up?" called out Sirius from the kitchen. He poked his head through the door and the
smell of breakfast wafted out. Draped over Sirius's front was an apron that read: HOT DOG.
"Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas," returned Harry brightly. His face fell slightly as he looked at Sirius. "I'm
sorry I didn't get you anything..."

Sirius strode out of the kitchen and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"There's no need, Harry," said Sirius softly. "Everything that's happened this past week has
been more than I could ask for. There's no greater gift than that."

"Freedom, perhaps?" quipped Merlin.

"That'd be nice too," chuckled Sirius.

From Mrs. Weasley, he got a Gryffindor lion jumper and food, which Merlin and Sirius
relished. Neither man was great shakes at cooking, which Harry would readily attest to. Out
of the three, Harry was by far the best. Ron had given Harry Chocolate Frogs. Harry gave a
very amused Merlin his own card.

"Ah yes, I can see the resemblance clearly," said Merlin drolly. Harry and Sirius laughed.

Hermione had given him a smart-looking stationery set from Scrivenshaft's. It was pretty
handy, really. It had a miniature desk that he could lay on his lap when he wrote in his
journal, which she'd noticed he did a lot. Like anything else, it was magical and would fold
up to about the dimensions of his journal. Spare pieces of parchment, inkwells, and quills
could also be stored within.

Merlin had given Harry a ring. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen such a detailed piece of
jewellery in his life. It was a dragon's head, but he didn't recognize the species. The head
narrowed like a crocodile; two great, serpentine horns adorned its head, jutting out from a
crown of smaller ridges and were predominantly swept back; bright emeralds were fitted into
the slots of its narrowed eyes and glittered as if the ring was alive.

"Goblin-wrought platinum," said Merlin, plucking the ring out from Harry's hand to
showcase it before his eyes. "A special order. I'm glad they still keep to the old ways. You
can learn much from them, so long as you know how to listen. Specialty charms. No ancient
runes to give away its powers to an enemy."

"What does it do?" asked Harry as he took the offered ring and slipped it onto the middle
finger of his left hand. There was a tingle of magic through the contact and Harry had to stifle
a gasp. His skin felt...alive. Not that he was a walking corpse or anything, but now he was so
much more...aware. He couldn't truly describe it with words.

"It will strengthen your connection to magic," explained Merlin. "That is to say, the
connection you've been fostering with your wandless magic. It does so because it uses your
magic to protect you from most moderate spells or physical harm. The tingle you
undoubtedly felt is that protection activating. However, you are not invincible and should not
treat yourself as such. Moderate is mostly a...guideline term."

"Thank you," said Harry, examining the ring and feeling every scale and ridge on the
dragon's face.

"It's my duty as your mentor to protect you, though you may feel the need superfluous--I
know I did many times." Merlin added the last comment at Harry's sour face. "After the
incident during the Quidditch match, I felt I needed to take certain precautions. You are not
nearly the master of your abilities, though you are certainly beyond your peers. You will wear
the ring until that time when you can protect yourself without it."

"Fine," acquiesced Harry. Inwardly, he thought he might still wear the ring even after; he'd
just remove the protection charm. It was a pretty cool hunk of jewellery.

Last was the gift from Sirius. It was a very long, narrow, brown package. Harry tore into it
and almost fell over in shock. He gazed at the glittering handle, the registration number, the
streamlined body. It was a Firebolt!

"Sirius, how--?"

"Things work differently in this magical world, Harry," said Merlin with a gentle smile.
"Fortunes are passed down through family lines. No one would trust the Ministry if they
thought their fortunes could be seized at whim, least of all pureblood fanatics; therefore,
Gringotts isn't exactly a part of the Ministry. They're...outside of things. They've laws all their
own."

"I ordered it with a help of a cat I befriended on Hogwarts's grounds," Sirius told him. "He
was a clever beast. Knew Wormtail for what he was from the very start. Took a bit of
convincing to get him to trust me, but... Anyway, I asked him to take the order form out to the
Owl Office, giving your name, but asking the goblins to take the money from my vault.
Consider it thirteen years worth of presents from your godfather."

Harry felt the prickles form in the back of his eyes. Compulsively, he reached out to hug
Sirius, who returned the gesture in full force. No one had ever made that offer for him. No
one had ever wanted to repay what was lost. It truly was the greatest Christmas Harry could
ever imagine.

Lessons were cancelled for the day, allowing Harry to take a turn out with the Firebolt. It was
magnificent. The broom seemed to respond to his very thoughts, not unlike magic. He could
turn sharply without losing the slightest bit of acceleration. Perfect for all the crazy dives he
was renowned for.

"You fly better than even James," praised Sirius when Harry finally came down. "Though I
think you might've given Lily a heart-attack or two on a few of those dives."
Harry didn't sleep until very late that evening, spending most of it chatting with Sirius about
how well his dad played Quidditch. Sirius and Remus played the occasional pick-up game
with James, but neither were good enough to play for the team--well, that wasn't entirely true.
Sirius just wasn't the fanatic that James was. Besides, he had the Duelling Club. Wormtail,
however, was more fanatic about Quidditch than any of them, but couldn't fly a broom to
save his life.

*****

The next morning, Harry was full of anxious energy. He wanted Wormtail caught and
exposed for the traitorous rat he was, but he didn't want any of the Weasleys to get hurt. In
the chaos of what might ensue, as well trained as most of the Weasleys are, things might just
happen. All that he could do was just...trust in things.

"What're you doing?" he asked Merlin when he stepped into den. Harry was dressed warmly,
knowing that the Burrow was likely to be much colder than the Haven. Merlin was likewise
dressed warmly, albeit in Muggle attire which looked a little out of place on his form. It
wasn't that he dressed wrong, but more that Harry was used to him in archaic-cut robes.

"Going with you, of course," Merlin answered obliviously. He Transfigured his walking staff
into a wand and tucked it into the pocket of his calf-length trenchcoat. "You didn't really
think we'd let you go at it alone, did you?"

A loud bark announced the presence of Padfoot, who trotted out from behind Merlin's legs. A
collar was affixed around his neck and the chain went up to Merlin's freehand. Harry
suppressed a laugh as Sirius reached back now and then to snap at it. All of a sudden, he felt
much better about their plan.

Merlin winked them over to Ottery St. Catchpole, some distance from the Burrow. They
walked in companionable silence, although Harry could feel his anxiety rising. It was a
different sort of anxiety, however. Not fearful, but more like...a predatory elation. He could
feel his magic crackle and his senses gradually sharpen, like focusing a microscope.

"Calm yourself, Harry," warned Merlin. "Keep your mind on the task at hand. Tip not your
hand before the opportune moment. You must draw Wormtail out to us. We shall handle the
rest. That goes double for you, Padfoot. Keep your instincts in check until the rat is revealed."

Padfoot let out a disgruntled whine, all the while baring his fangs menacingly.

"Harry dear!" called out Mrs. Weasley when he knocked upon the Burrow's door. She looked
confused for a full moment before scooping him up in a crushing hug. Merlin chuckled from
his spot just over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, and you must be Harry's friend?"

"Puck, my dear lady," said Merlin, grasping at Mrs. Weasley's hand and bowing down to kiss
the back of it. She blushed a little, much to Harry's amusement. "I moved to Privet Drive only
this summer. Young Harry, here, has been most helpful to me. My dog...Snuffles, has grown
quite fond of him."

Padfoot sat on his haunches and held out a paw for Mrs. Weasley. Harry turned his head to
hide his smile. Sirius was overdoing things a bit in his estimation. Judging from the look he
shared with Merlin over Mrs. Weasley's bent head, he agreed with him.

"Well come in, come in," bade Mrs. Weasley, urging them all into the Burrow. "Can't have
you standing out in the snow all day!"

"Harry, good to see you, mate," called out Fred. He, George, and Ginny were all seated on
the sofa. Ginny blushed at the sight of Harry. George noticed and nudged at her. "No
murders, then?"

"Fred!" scolded Mrs. Weasley sharply. Harry bit on his finger to keep the smile from
spreading, while Merlin tapped out a rhythm with the heel of his boot.

"Harry, you made it!" came Ron's loud voice from the stairs.

"Honestly, Ron, the way you say it, almost makes you think there was a madman after him,"
drawled George as he tugged Ginny up off the sofa.

"George!" admonished Mrs. Weasley, now working up to a full rant.

Harry knelt down to bury his face into Padfoot's fur. He was going to lose control soon if they
kept it up. Merlin lowered his head down towards them, his gray eyes sparkling and his lips
sucked in between his teeth.

"Ron?" There was something in the odd way that Fred had said it that made Harry look up.
Ron was pale and stricken; his knees were quivering and it seemed as if he was about ready
to keel over.

"H-Harry, th-that's not..."

Panic swelled up into Harry's heart and he felt Sirius tense up in his grip. Even Merlin had his
finger splayed by his side for immediate action. There was no way Ron could know though,
right?

"What, Ron?" said a trepid Harry.

"That's not a--a Grim...is it?" Ron finally choked out.

"A Grim?" queried Harry, who was very nonplussed at the question. Sirius almost seemed to
deflate in Harry's arms.

"Hush, Ron, that's just nonsense," snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"But Uncle Bilius--he--he saw one! And--and he died, twenty-four hours later!" said a
panicked Ron. "And--and Professor Trelawney--"

"Oh here we go," muttered Fred.

"--she saw the Grim in my cup!" declared Ron. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Ron so
scared--not even when they went to see Aragog. Just what the hell was a Grim?
"Honestly," huffed Mrs. Weasley in a very eerie imitation of Hermione, although Hermione
never stood akimbo like Mrs. Weasley did, "I don't know why you took that rubbish class,
Ronald Weasley! Dementors guarding the school and now teachers giving students death
omens, of all the--"

"Harry!" interjected George for everyone's benefit. "Replaced your broom yet? You know
Oliver's going to be getting on your case if you haven't."

"Aye," agreed Fred. "We could lend you one of ours in the shed. They're not the best, but
they're better than the school brooms."

"No, that's all right, I've got a replacement," smiled Harry mysteriously, he glanced down at
Sirius and petted him affectionately. Sirius replied in turn by licking at Harry's face, which he
found appropriately disturbing.

"Ah, Harry, you're here," greeted Mr. Weasley as he emerged from around the kitchen. He
looked up at Merlin. "And who're you?"

"I'll--um--leave you to make introductions, then? C'mon, Ron, I've got to tell you what I got
for Christmas," said Harry hurriedly. He cast a glance over to Merlin who gave a very slight
nod. "Let's go up to your room."

"Sure," said Ron, casting a wary glance at the huge dog. As they started up on their path up
the stairs, they nearly missed Ginny coming back down with a gift in her hands.

"Hey, Ginny," said Harry absently as he brushed past her. He was so wrapped up in his
thoughts on Wormtail that he didn't see the gift, or her excited but shy face, nor did he see
that face crumble under the unintentional slight.

"So what'd you get, Harry?" said Ron. They were nearing his lurid, orange room and all that
apprehension was bubbling back into Harry's body. He could barely pay any heed to what
Ron was saying. All he could see was that rat... The memory of his parents' death was rattling
deep within Harry's mind, fighting to escape the prison. Flickers of it echoed in his ears and
behind his eyes.

"Hmm?" said Harry distractedly.

"Christmas, Harry--what'd you get?" Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation as he closed his
hand over the doorknob to his room. "Harry," he said in a more concerned voice. "You all
right, mate?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, just fine." Harry shook his head to try and clear his mind. Merlin could
probably sense his bubbling magic from down the stairs if Ron could see it in his face. "I got
a great haul! You'll never guess what I got!"

"That's why I've been asking," snorted Ron as he opened the door.

"Oh," said Harry. Wormtail was napping on Ron's bed, looking a little better now that he was
away from Hogwarts and Crookshanks, but he was still awfully thin. Harry had to remember
the plan. He was to get Pettigrew down to Merlin. If there was absolutely no chance at that,
then Harry would have to do the work himself.

But there he was...lying there so open and exposed... Harry's arm was shaking and his heart
raced. No! He needed to focus!

"Scabbers is looking a little...better," commented Harry in a tight voice, pointedly ignoring

Ron's question about presents.

"Yeah, I think time away from Hermione's monster is doing him some good." Ron went in
and picked him up.

"Hey, I just thought of something," said Harry, trying to stick to the hastily written script.

"What you got for a Christmas present?" remarked Ron dryly.

"No," laughed Harry. "Puck, my friend? The bloke downstairs? He might be able to do
something for Scabbers. He takes care of animals."

"Sure," shrugged Ron as he cradled Scabbers in his hands.

"C'mon, I'll tell you about my Christmas present on the way down," said Harry. "Actually,
Fred and George should hear about it too since they asked about my broom. Then again, I
could just tell you and you can bellow it for the whole village to hear."

"Shut up," groused Ron without any heat. "Is it really that good?"

"You won't believe it," Harry promised, letting Ron walk past him on the way down. Once
Ron was in front, Harry withdrew his wand. They hadn't actually planned on having Merlin
reveal himself in front of the Weasleys. Best to make it seem like he needed his wand.
"Neither will anyone else for that matter. I'd love to see Malfoy's face though."

"Oh it must be good!" chortled Ron evilly.

"The best," said Harry unable to hide an ear-splitting grin.

Merlin was seated in a chair beside the fire, chatting lowly with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. None
of the other children were anywhere to be found. Sirius was also gone.

"Hey, Puck," Harry called out, capturing his attention. "I was wondering if you could look at
Ron's rat, Scabbers. He hasn't been looking well."

"Hermione's got some mad cat, more like a lion, really, that's been terrorizing the poor thing,"
said Ron, handing the rat over to Merlin.

"He's been like that since Egypt too," Harry pointed out. "Ron bought some rat tonic from
Magical Menagerie the same day Hermione got Crookshanks."

"I'd forgotten that," said Ron blankly.

"Snuffles is outside," Merlin told Harry in an undertone as he examined Wormtail. "Playing-
- with Ginny."

There was something odd about the look Merlin gave Harry. It wasn't in a knowing way, like
he was trying to pass on a hint that Sirius was safe. There was something about the way he'd
stressed those last two words too. What about Ginny?

"Yes, Master Ronald, this rat's health is dreadful," tutted Merlin. "It's stress, I'm afraid.
Scabbers is very frightened and anxious of something."

Ron coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Crookshanks."

"Oh he does look terrible, doesn't he?" commented Mrs. Weasley. "Must be getting near his
time, I should think. How long have we had him?"

"Twelve years?" said Mr. Weasley with a frown. "I'm not sure when Percy bought him."

"Yeah," nodded Ron. "Percy gave him to me when he got Hermes."

"Twelve years?" Merlin affected a surprised voice. "An uncommonly long life for a common
rat. But then...you're not a common rat, are you, Scabbers?"

Harry watched Wormtail grow still. Merlin's eyes flickered up to Harry's in an imperceptible
signal. Harry nodded and raised his wand up slightly.

"I believe I can cure him, Master Ronald. It's but a trifle," said Merlin, shooting Ron a
reassuring smile as he withdrew his wand. "Back away now, things might get a little...bright."

Harry drew Ron back as a blue-white light shot out of Merlin's fake wand. A white light
flashed back out from Wormtail in return. Merlin dropped the frozen rat onto the floor; the
three Weasleys watched in dumb horror as a balding, thin, grubby man appeared, looking like
someone who'd once been plump but had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His beady,
watery eyes flickered around at the faces surrounding him.

Mrs. Weasley let out a strangled cry at the stranger sitting where Scabbers had been. Mr.
Weasley had his wand out and pointed towards Pettigrew, mimicking Harry and Merlin's
gesture. Harry couldn't help but smile. Things had gone swimmingly.

"Hullo, Wormtail," said Harry darkly.

"H--Harry," squeaked Pettigrew. "It's--it's s-so good to see you, dear boy. Sweet boy. How v-
very much l-like your fa--"

"Don't," warned Harry taking a step closer to Pettigrew; a dark shadow passed over his face
and an unseen pressure pushed against the walls of the Burrow from the inside. "You don't
have the right to say anything about my parents."

Harry's pulse was pounding so hard against his ears that it felt as if they would melt from the
blood rush. His eyes burned with unshed tears as they pinned the pitiful man to the floor. This
was not Snape. Snape at least had his uses--he was bound to Dumbledore with an
Unbreakable Vow, and he'd been a spy for the Order--but Wormtail? The man who had a
choice and chose to betray those he called friends? The man who'd robbed him of
family?! What use was he?

"Harry," warned Merlin; a pressure was building in opposition to Harry's own.

"It's his fault," said Harry in a hushed voice. "He betrayed them..."

"We know this," Merlin reminded Harry gently; the words carried an extra in Harry's ears
that made them unavoidable. "That is why we are here, Harry. We come with purpose, but
blood vengeance is not it. Our vengeance will be met by a different route."

"H-Harry?" said a confused and frightened Ron.

"I--I haven't betrayed anyone," Pettigrew lied brazenly. That had almost been the spark to
unleash the powder keg that was Harry.

"Really?" asked Merlin sharply. "Tell me, then, Master Pettigrew. If you did not betray
anyone, then why have you been living as a rat for twelve years? Not the glorious life of a
hero, is it?"

"I was afraid!" exclaimed Pettigrew. "Afraid for my life! Afraid others l-like Black m-might
t-try to k-k-kill me..."

"Pettigrew?" said Mr. Weasley in an awestruck voice. "Peter Pettigrew? He's not dead?"

"No," said Merlin with a humourless smile. "As much as he'd like everyone to believe him to
be, he is far from dead."

"A-Arthur," stuttered Wormtail fearfully. "Y-you sh-should know that Black is--he's an
illegal Animagus! He--"

"We know, Master Pettigrew," Merlin cut across sharply; his voice crisp like frost outside.
"Harry, if you would be so kind as to fetch Snuffles, I will fill in the Weasleys."

A quick glance from Merlin told Harry that the issue was not debatable, so he had little
choice but to follow the request. He didn't have to ask where Ginny and Sirius had gone,
however. They had made a pretty deep furrow in the knee-length snow. The path led away
from the Burrow on towards the woods. Harry was fine with that. The short walk might clear
his head. He thought he might've brought the Burrow down in his rage.

He couldn't understand why he could somehow pity Snape and not Pettigrew. Logic told him
that Pettigrew was the easier one to pity. Pettigrew was a coward and a traitor; Snape was a
bully. Then again, Harry detested both sorts. Maybe it was the knowledge that Snape was
now bound to Dumbledore and had to be good, while Pettigrew had no such compulsion.

No. It was because he expected such vile and vicious behaviour from Snape, while Pettigrew
had been a friend--a brother--to his father. It'd be like Ron or Hermione doing the same thing
to him. Yes, that was it. The betrayal of friends made Harry hate Wormtail with a fiery
passion.
A voice brought him out of his reverie. Ginny's voice. And Harry realized it wasn't the voice
so much as the sadness in the voice that made him stop short.

"I don't know, Snuffles," sighed Ginny. The snow wasn't so deep in the woods. She'd found a
bit of clear ground at the base of a tree to sit at. Sirius was curled up around her, offering his
fur for further warmth. "He's so frustrating! Sometimes he treats me like the most important
person in the world--or at least, like he treats Ron and Hermione--and then other times it's
like I don't even exist! Sometimes he's so thoughtful and nice that I think he's the most
wonderful boy in the world, and then he goes and be as thick as Ron!"

Ginny made a strangled sort of cry and slapped the nearest root.

"RON! Can you believe the git sent Errol off without my present to Harry? Mum puts hers on
first because it's always food and a jumper, then lets Ron go and add his present. I tried to run
over and attach mine, but just as I open the door--BAM--Errol's limping out the window!

"And my git of a brother acts like it's no big deal since I couldn't go to Hogsmeade anyway,
and that Harry wouldn't like me bothering him with more singing Valentine's! I wanted to hex
him so bad, even if Mum was standing right there! I know what he wanted to say was, 'Why
would Harry want any rubbish you give him?' But I know Harry would because he, unlike
Ron, loves Mum's homemade things, and Mum always said that gifts from the heart were the
best things.

"But then as soon as Harry comes in the door, it's all about Ron. He didn't even see me on the
stairs with his gift. Well, all right, he did because he said 'hello' at least, but he didn't
actually see me, you know?"

Harry's eyes widened and a swell of shame burned in his gut. He really hadn't seen her. And
she'd gotten him a gift? He hadn't given her anything... In fact, he didn't even notice she didn't
give him anything. Harry didn't think he could've been a bigger heel.

The truth was that he did see her as an equal to Ron and Hermione on some occasions, but at
the same time she wasn’t. The trio was, well, the trio, and Ginny was...well, Ginny was
Ginny. She'd certainly been there for him while Ron and Hermione had been too busy
bickering, but she wasn't there for all of his classes because she had a different schedule from
him.

He'd made the same mistake Voldemort had, it seemed--he'd underestimated the depth of
Ginny's caring. That struck a blow more crippling than anything else. He'd extended the hand
of friendship in the first place, but then he'd gone and kept her at arm's length, and now he
was hurting her.

Harry knew just how to make it up to her. He'd promised her a ride on his Nimbus and he
never delivered. Well, he had a Firebolt now, and he'd let her ride it first.

Sirius sniffed at the ground, perked his ears up, and then bounded towards Harry, who'd
stepped back to appear as if he hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. Ginny darted for
him, until she spotted Harry.
"Hi," he said to her as he petted at Sirius. "We got him," he whispered into Sirius's ear.
"Merlin's explaining it all."

"Hi," she said in return, her anger falling way to embarrassment and shyness. Harry wanted to
frown. That didn't sound at all like the passionate girl he'd just heard.

"Puck sent me to get Snuffles," Harry explained. "Something happened back in the living
room."

"What?" frowned Ginny in concern.

"You'd better see for yourself," Harry told her. He stood up and offered a hand towards her.
"Come on."

Ginny looked at the hand as if it might bite her. Her cheeks pinkened and he knew it had
nothing to do with the cold. Still, Harry resolutely held out his hand for her. In the end, she
squared her shoulders bravely and grabbed hold of it.

Harry almost jumped away as the same tingling sensation from the last time they held hands
shot up his arm. Ginny gasped aloud and he knew she felt it too. Things were different,
however. He was very much aware that the sensation was originating from Ginny. There was
a quality to the feeling--a force of power that Harry had never before felt. It was the deep,
clean earth mixed in with the scent of a field full of flowers just after a spring rain. It was
eternal. And it was Ginny's.

"Harry--wha--?"

"I--I don't understand it either, Ginny," said Harry, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Let's save it for another day?"

All she could do was nod in reply.

As they walked through the path in the snow towards the Burrow, Harry gradually became
aware of things. There was a pulse to the very Earth that was deep, steady, and rattled the
inside of his ribcage. The wind was breath, and if Harry focused on it, he could feel himself
drifting away with it. He could even see the magic that supported the Burrow and the magic
within the Burrow.

Never had he been so connected to the magic before.

All too soon they came at the Burrow, and Harry reluctantly dropped his hand to deal with
everything. Ginny was a mystery that would have to wait. For now, everything was focused
upon Sirius and Wormtail.

They weren't alone in the living room anymore. In addition to Merlin, Pettigrew, and the
other Weasleys, Professors Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall, and Snape were also in
attendance. Minister Cornelius Fudge was also there with his lime-green bowler hat, rolling it
nervously with his fingers. Two other individuals--a stately witch with short hair and a
monocle; and an elderly wizard with a cane, a wild mane of graying, tawny hair, and wire-
rimmed spectacles--were also in attendance.
Percy, to Harry's amusement, was bustling trays full of tea to the latter three. He was almost
tripping over his ankles to be polite enough. The twins, however, for the first time that Harry
could remember, seemed dumbfounded.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," commented Merlin teasingly. "And here I thought you were lost."

Harry and Ginny blushed a bright red. Fortunately, Sirius took that moment to transform,
instantly steering everyone's attention from them. Everyone's attention was riveted upon the
convict, who looked ready to murder the frightened Pettigrew.

"Sirius," Harry warned, reaching out to hold his godfather's forearm. The irony was not lost
on Harry, who couldn't help but grimace in shame.

Sirius turned back to Harry and the anger seemed to fade from his gray, fathomless eyes.

"I know, Harry," Sirius sighed.

"Percy, dear, can you make sure the children go up to their rooms?" urged Mrs. Weasley,
who was looking nervously from Pettigrew to Sirius.

"We want to know what the hell's going on!" shouted Fred angrily. "What's Sirius Black
doing here? Who's that guy?" Fred had pointed to a cowering Pettigrew, who kept darting his
eyes around as if looking for an avenue of escape.

"Fred!" snapped Mrs. Weasley angrily. "We have important guests! The Minister for Magic,
no less! Behave yourselves!"

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Mrs. Weasley look so agitated before. She was in constant
motion, even when she was standing still. A moving ball of energy in a room full of
composed people. Of course, the twins were also balls of indignant energy, as was Ron.
Percy, in the meanwhile, affected his Head Boy posture and began to shoo his younger
siblings towards the stairs.

"Harry," said Merlin in a commanding voice, stilling the fight the twins were about to put up.
He reached up to scratch his ear, but did so with the middle finger of his right hand--the hand
that had the enchanted pewter ring. "I assure you that no harm shall befall Sirius. Trust me.
We will get to the truth of the matter."

"Yes, Puck." Harry made a small production of looking dejected as he trudged begrudgingly
towards the stairs. Dumbledore levelled a firm gaze upon Harry, though there was no
Legilimency behind it, Harry could tell the headmaster was appraising him carefully. As he
brushed past Snape, however, he felt the bristles ripple across his neck so hard he thought his
hair might be pulled out. Harry snapped his head up angrily.

"If you value your dignity, Professor Snape," warned Merlin coldly, a great deal of raw
magical power radiating out of his essence, "I suggest you keep your mind where it belongs."

Snape turned his glare in full-force upon Merlin, which was perhaps the dumbest thing that
he could've done. There was a sharp CRACK that resounded in the air. Where Severus Snape
once stood was now a pink, fluffy bunny.

For a moment, everything was so quiet that Harry swore he could hear the whiskers on
Snape's nose rub together. As usual, it was the twins who broke the mood.

"Wicked!" they chorused, looking close to tears with suppressed glee. It was like Merlin had
given them a late Christmas present or perhaps their greatest desire in life. It was hard to tell
which.

"Th-that was an unprovoked--"

"Are you suggesting that I did anything, Minister?" said Merlin innocently. "My wand is still
in my pocket. How could I possibly have done such a complex show of Transfiguration
without it? Certainly not with just my mind! How can any have such power?"

"Err, well, of--of course," stuttered Fudge, casting a curious look towards the unnamed witch
and Dumbledore. The witch arched her brow, while Dumbledore steepled his fingers
thoughtfully. His eyes, however, regarded Merlin with a great deal of suspicion.

"Boys!" said a very unsure Mrs. Weasley.

That was Harry's cue to leave, which he did in great haste. He charged up the stairs and ran
straight into Ron's room. Ginny was right at his heels, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she
stared at Harry. Ron stormed up in next.

"The twins are gonna try and eavesdrop," Ron reported with a shake of his head. "Percy's
doing it too, 'course, he reckons the Minister might call on him for assistance or something.
That bunny thing was brilliant though! Did you do it? I didn't even see you--"

"Shhh!" said Harry, activating the charm on his glasses.

Now, Mr.--

Just Puck, Minister, said Merlin jovially.

Right then, Puck, how did you--

I hardly consider how I came across this information to be the more important than the fact
that Peter Pettigrew is alive and well, interrupted Merlin with a note of finality to his
voice. The fact that Sirius Black has lost twelve years of his life in Azkaban for a crime he
obviously did not commit is much more important, I should think.

That is why we have assembled, said Dumbledore in his calm, amused, voice. Amelia, have
you verified Severus's dose of Veritaserum?

I have, said the witch. It is an authentic batch of Veritaserum.

"Harry, how--"

"Shhh! exclaimed Ginny this time, leaning close to Harry to hear the conversation from his
glasses. Ron scrunched up his face, looking as if it wanted to implode out of sheer irritation,
but nonetheless quieted to hear the conversation occurring downstairs.

Did someone say something? questioned Fudge's voice. Harry and Ginny turned their eyes on
Ron who pointedly clasped his hands over his mouth. No? Must've been my imagination...

A healthy thing to foster, Cornelius, noted Dumbledore in his odd way. Rufus, if you would be
so kind as to administer the Veritaserum, seeing as you are Head of the Auror Office?

Indistinct sounds emerged from Harry's glasses for a moment.

Struggle, hissed Sirius darkly. Make one move to the door, Peter, and I swear it'll be the last
you make!

Now, now, Sirius. There's little need for melodrama, said Merlin quietly. Master Pettigrew is
not leaving this chair, unless it is within shackles.

Do you know where you are? came the voice of Rufus, whoever he was.

The Burrow, came a flat, yet still fearful, voice. Ottery St. Catchpole. The home of the
Weasleys.

What is your name? Rufus again.

Peter Pettigrew, said Wormtail. A chorus of gasps greeted the news.

How did you survive the events of October thirty-first, nineteen eighty-one? questioned
Amelia.

I--I killed the Muggles to distract S-Sirius... The voice was monotone, but there were long
pauses and stutters. He was trying to fight the Veritaserum. T-then I blew a hole in the
ground and...cut off my finger and...I transformed, making sure I left my robes behind...I--I
wanted to frame him. Everyone believed he was the Secret-Keeper...it was--it was his bluff...

Oh Sirius... said Professor Lupin in a strangled voice.

So Sirius Black was not the Potters' Secret-Keeper? questioned the wizard named Rufus.

No. Sirius convinced James to switch at the last moment. He...thought that no one would
think that a weak, talentless thing like me would--would have such important information.

And it was your proudest moment, wasn't it? snarled Sirius angrily. How proud you must've
been to tell Voldemort what you knew!

Sirius, said Merlin in a restraining manner.

Yes, said Pettigrew. Despite his flat voice, Harry would've sworn he was crying. Yes, I was
proud... He--he was taking over everywhere... He was to reward me handsomely... There was
nothing for me to--to gain by refusing him...
Nothing to be gained? cried out a furious Sirius. Only innocent lives, Peter!

He would have killed me... whined Wormtail, carrying through despite the Veritaserum's
effects.

THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! roared Sirius; Harry flinched at the sudden volume
increase. DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE
FOR YOU!

I've heard enough, said McGonagall. Harry didn't think he'd ever heard his Head of House so
disgusted before.

Quite so, sniffed Amelia. To think that he was awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class!

Very much a disgrace, Merlin agreed. Harry clamped his fingers over his nose to stop the
snort.

Arthur! Oh Arthur, cried out Mrs. Weasley. We've had him under--under our roof! With
our children! With--with Harry! Oh the poor dear!

It is no fault of yours, Molly, said Dumbledore consolingly. Indeed, Pettigrew has deceived
the whole of the wizarding world, myself included. I should think you are in good company.

What's going to happen? asked Mr. Weasley in a calm voice.

With the Minster of Magic, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Head of the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Head of the Auror Office as witnesses, I
am quite sure that we have more than enough to ensure a swift conviction for Mr. Pettigrew,
along with an even swifter declaration of Sirius Black's innocence, announced Dumbledore
grandly. I am sure the Minister would also like to put forth a public apology to Mr. Black and
Mr. Potter for their tragic separation and issue a sizeable recompense.

The Weasleys should also be issued a reward for the capture of such a nefarious
character, suggested Merlin, much to the shock of the three eavesdropping children.

Just the Weasleys? questioned Amelia. Surely--

Were it not for them, Sirius would never have learned where to find Pettigrew, and this whole
charade might have lingered, Merlin elaborated smoothly. Harry thought to himself that a
chess game between Dumbledore and Merlin--or hell, just a conversation--would be
rather...interesting. They kept Master Pettigrew in one location. In essence, they 'caught' him.
We merely 'exposed' him. If anyone is worthy of a reward, it would be the Weasleys.

Yes, let's not forget the mental anguish of having to keep company with and--care for--the
most vile of rats, said McGonagall waspishly. Harry almost wanted to cheer for his
Transfiguration professor. I'm not quite sure there are enough Galleons in the world for that.

C-certainly, said Fudge in a very brittle voice.

The Ministry employees left with Wormtail in tow. Harry cancelled the charm on his glasses
and collapsed back onto Ron's bed. A ragged, relieved sigh passed his lips. Sirius was free!
Harry had a godfather!

"Bloody hell," exclaimed Ron with a hushed voice. Harry cracked open his eyes to find Ron
looking very revolted, staring blankly at the sheets over Harry's head. "He--I let him sleep in
my bed..."

Ginny gave an involuntary shudder and jumped off the bed.

"All right, Ron?" questioned Harry in concern.

Ron could only shake his head and rake a hand through his hair. He looked ready to faint...or
be ill all over the floor.

"Get some air, Ron," said Harry knowingly; he'd been likewise overwhelmed when he heard
the much longer tale. "Deep breaths. Go for a fly."

As if attached to invisible strings, Ron moved jerkily from his spot and out the door with an
absent nod. He bumped against the doorframe, and then the wall opposite the door, but
neither seemed to have an affect on him. Ginny was left alone with Harry, standing over the
foot of Ron's bed with her arms wrapped around herself.

"You knew," Ginny spoke softly, but in the stillness of the room it might've been a shout.
"That's what the letter was about. That's why you visited the Shrieking Shack. You visited
them. That's why you knew your Christmas was going to be the best."

"Yeah," admitted Harry, removing his glasses so that he could rub at his eyes. "Sirius--he's
my godfather, y'know? He's also my legal guardian. I--I've family, now, Ginny..."

Ginny turned her head up to look at him. She gave him a bright, happy smile that
overshadowed any pity or sympathy that might've bubbled up. Then the look dimmed as she
began to gaze within herself, until finally her eyes bulged in alarm.

"Oh--oh no!" moaned Ginny from behind her hands, which she'd clasped over her face in
mortification. Harry instantly shot up in concern.

"What? Ginny--"

"I talked to him!" groaned Ginny, flopping onto the bed behind Harry's back so that they
were perpendicular. "I told him things! Stupid things! About you! Oh, he must think I'm such
an idiot... Why do I keep doing this to myself?"

"Ginny..." Harry began helplessly, wondering just what he could do. "I'm sorry." That'd
always been the response around the Dursleys.

"Sorry?" Ginny blurted out in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"I--I dunno," admitted Harry with a helpless shrug.

"Then why apologize?" asked Ginny. Harry's head was staring down at the tiny holes on the
toes of his trainers, but he felt Ginny shift around on the bed. He assumed she'd propped
herself up to look at him.

"I..." Harry gave another shrug and began to kick his heels against the bed. He didn't want to
say the answer, but at the same time, he didn't want Ginny to dwell on something that wasn't
so terrible. So she'd spoken to Sirius about him. Sirius didn't seem like the type to betray
someone's confidence. But he didn't want to keep the focus on Ginny. Best distract her with
something else.

"It was always my fault at the Dursleys," he sighed, raking his hands through his hair.
"Whenever something happened, even if it wasn't my fault, they always blamed me. So I had
to apologize for everything and take the punishment for it. It's just...natural for me, I guess. I
don't know what else to do...well, it was either apologize or get mad, and I'd feel even more
horrible for getting mad at you for no reason..."

Harry felt the bed pool around one spot, and then that spot move closer towards him. He
reckoned Ginny had drawn herself up on her knees. Soon, a pair of arms wrapped around his
shoulders and his nose was saturated with the smell of flowers. The sensation was back in full
force, and Harry wrapped himself up within that feeling of earth and life like a blanket.

"Mum would always hug us when we felt bad," Ginny explained from somewhere above his
ear. "Then she'd load us up with our favourite plates, make us some tea, listen to what was
bothering us, and tell us everything would be all right.

"Of course, that was for those tiny problems that seemed like they mattered when they really
didn't. I mean, everything's relative, isn't it? After last term...I don't think Mum was
prepared...not like I was anymore prepared or anything either, but... Sometimes it still
works."

"This beats the cupboard," Harry joked feebly. He relaxed into her embrace, soaking up the
sensations flooding through him. It was like...coming home. Somehow the phoenix song
poured forth, washing over them and bringing a certain peace. Had Dumbledore brought
Fawkes along?

"Sirius won't tell anyone what you told him, and I'm sure he doesn't think you're an idiot,
Ginny," Harry told her softly, now that she was safely calmed--or was it that he was safely
calmed? "You heard him down there. He's a trustworthy bloke."

Ginny actually laughed, which made Harry relax further.

"I reckon he is," she agreed easily.

"I don't think you're an idiot." Harry raised his head off Ginny's shoulder to look her in the
eyes. The blush crept back up Ginny's cheeks, but her eyes were hard and intent. She was
searching for the lie in the words or in the face. This close, he was well aware of how the
gold flecks in her brown eyes were warm and inviting, like honey.

"I'm sorry for not noticing you had a gift," he apologized honestly.

"Don't," Ginny shook her head in understanding. She knew why he'd wanted to rush up to
Ron's room as soon as possible. How could she not after what they'd just overheard? He'd
wanted to expose Scabbers as soon as possible. Instead, she placed a quick kiss onto his
brow--the second kiss she'd given him, which was also the second kiss that Harry could
remember getting. The kiss set the nerves upon his scalp on fire, trickling down a soothing
warmth that rained towards his toes.

Harry's enhanced senses warned him that a powerful wizard was approaching Ron's room.
Ginny must've felt it too, for she scurried up off the bed to smooth out her clothes, and Harry
reached back for his glasses. Though they themselves were oblivious to the implications of
such actions, they were aware that it was indecent for a boy and girl to be left alone at their
age. Fortunately, it was just Merlin, though there was a knowing glint in his gray eyes.

"Molly wants me to inform you both that lunch is ready," said Merlin, gesturing down the
landing towards the stairs. "The others have all left."

"Right," said Harry, shooting a glance at Ginny.

Lunch was taken with the Weasleys, Merlin, Harry, Sirius, and Lupin. It was a raucous sort
of lunch with conversations flying all over the table. The adults divided attention amongst
themselves, although Fred and George tried to get Merlin's attention several times. The elder
Weasleys were trying to learn more about Merlin, while Sirius and Remus spent their time
catching up. Percy kept badgering his father about what Minister Fudge might've thought
about his impression, and how the reward might translate into a promotion for Mr. Weasley.
That left Ron, Ginny, and Harry somewhat out of the loop of things, though they could soak
up all the conversations around them.

After lunch, Ginny took Harry aside to give him her present. They sat outside on a bench
tucked under where Percy's room jutted out from the Burrow. The box was small and
wrapped up in a Gryffindor red that went well with her hair. On the inside was a pair of
knitted, fingerless gloves done in the same emerald green of his jumper from first year.

"I took the leftover yarn from Mum's supply," explained Ginny sheepishly. "When--when
you told me about the jumper at dinner last week, I sorta made them..."

"That quick?" Harry asked, having no idea how long it really took to knit something like
gloves. Handmade equated a long length of time in his mind.

"It wasn't that hard," shrugged Ginny shyly, blushing a little at his praise. "Gloves are small,
and Mum taught me from when I was young. Besides, you can use a little magic to make
them. The charms aren't powerful enough to tip off the Ministry sensors, like lumos."

"Thank you," said Harry honestly as he tugged off his gray ones and slipped on Ginny's. It
might've been his imagination, but he swore they were softer and warmer than any other
glove he'd worn. "They're--they're amazing... I'm...I'm sorry I didn't get you anything..."

Ginny pinked and ducked her head.

"That's all right, Harry. You already gave me my diary and my wand. You didn't have to get
anything for me."
"I...I know," nodded Harry, tugging the gloves snug against his skin so that his hands had
something to do, "but I'll make it up to you, Ginny. I made a promise to you at Diagon Alley
and, well, I couldn't go through with it 'cause of the Nimbus, but I can honour it when we get
back to Hogwarts."

"You--you got a broom?" gasped Ginny. "You replaced your Nimbus? With what?"

"You'll see with everyone else," teased Harry with a roguish grin he'd been learning from
Sirius. He wasn't sure if he could pull it off without looking silly. "Just remember that you get
the first turn!"

Rather than staying for dinner, Merlin, Harry, and Sirius chose to return to the Haven.

"Well, Harry, I can't thank you enough," said Sirius, scooping Harry up into a quick embrace.

"What happens now?" asked Harry. "Are you going to...leave?"

Sirius's face fell in understanding. He laid his hand on Harry's unruly hair and gave it a quick
rub.

"I'm not leaving your life, Harry," Sirius assured him, which drew Harry's eyes back up to
meet Sirius's, "but at the same time, I can't live here, can I? Oh Merlin would love to have
me, and I'd love to stay, Harry, but I can't. You're his apprentice, which means you're his
responsibility. You have to learn from him, Harry, and I can't exactly bring home a casual
date here, can I? Or file it down as my place of residence when I apply for a job. But I'll visit,
Harry, and keep in contact. I've spent twelve years missing your life, Harry, I promise you I
won't miss the rest."

"All right," Harry said with a jerky nod. Sirius cupped Harry's cheek with his hand before he
took off for his room.

"I am sorry, Harry," said Merlin once Sirius was gone. "I decried Morgana and all of Avalon
for being xenophobic, and, yet, here we are...I am being quite agoraphobic."

"But it's not your fault," said Harry, shaking his head emphatically. "If people knew who you
really were, they'd...they'd think you were crazy, or rush to elect you as Minister, or think you
could solve all their problems with a wave of your hand, like some kinda all-powerful god!
But...but you're just Merlin! You're a man!"

"Which is why I have trusted in you, Harry," said Merlin gratefully. "Still, he is your
godfather. Would you not rather live with him instead?"

"It'd be nice," admitted Harry slowly, staring off down the hall to where Sirius's room was.
Sirius's words echoed through Harry's ears--Then you should have died! Died rather than
betray your friends, as we would have done for you! "But Sirius is right; he won't be leaving
my life. He'll be back to visit. And we'll have summers and...and Christmas! He'll always be
a part of my life."

"As your parents will always be a part of your life," stated Merlin softly. Harry looked up
inquisitively. "Do you think it chance that your Patronus assumed the shape of a stag? Do not
doubt magic, Harry. It knows more than you think. You asked for protection, did you not?
Who better to protect you from your worst memory, than your father?

"Rest, Harry. Tomorrow we keep with our schedule."

*****

The next day, Harry wrote to Hermione, informing her about Scabbers, Wormtail, Sirius,
Lupin--everything that Ron knew. He wasn't sure if Ron would've given the rift that had
settled, not to mention the fact that Crookshanks had been in the right. The very next day,
Hedwig returned with a reply.

Dear Harry,

I can't believe so much happened to you over the break! It's all a little hard to believe. I wish
I'd been there to see it all. To think that Sirius Black was innocent and had spent twelve years
in Azkaban. And they were unregistered Animagi! That's very advanced magic--highly
illegal, but very advanced.

It's nice to feel that Crookshanks's actions were vindicated. I'm expecting an apology from
Ron, but he hasn't been forthcoming. In fact, he hasn't told me anything at all about this.

You're welcome for the stationery set. Thank you in return for CodeSeven: Permutations and
Mysteries. I've not read it before and I've skimmed the first few chapters. It seems like an
interesting fiction novel on Arithmancy. I'd no idea they made such things. Did you get it
from Flourish and Blotts?

I hope you're having a good Christmas.

Love from

Hermione

The Daily Prophet had also ran an article about what had transpired. Mr. Weasley was to
receive a thousand Galleon reward and an Order of Merlin, Third Class. Sirius to be
compensated with ten thousand Galleons and an Order of Merlin, First Class.

Sirius wasn't so very concerned about the rewards, he was just happy to be declared a free
man. Most notably, he was anxious to get back into the dating scene of things. He was also
anxious to have himself a job. In short, he was anxious to get back to living.

Though that didn't mean he was quite so ready to up and leave the Haven. For the rest of the
Christmas holiday, Sirius spent his time between the Haven and Hogwarts, where he
continued to catch up with Professor Lupin. Dumbledore did make Sirius apologize to the Fat
Lady for the trauma he put her through. Harry wished he could've seen it.

They did take time out to visit Hermione, just so she wouldn't feel alone and have a chance to
meet Merlin and Sirius. Fortunately, with the Grangers present, Hermione didn't have a
chance to put an inquisition on Puck or Sirius. Her parents were eager to have new
perspectives on the magical world. Truthfully, it also seemed like Hermione was just grateful
for company. Sirius, for his part, was happy to see Crookshanks.

For New Years, Merlin conducted an amazing fireworks display that left Harry and Sirius in
awe.

"May this year be joyous and blessed," Merlin intoned reverently.

Harry hoped it would be so. It had certainly been the best Christmas yet.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

I know some of you are probably disappointed by the short confrontation between
Dumbledore and Harry, but keep in mind that Dumbledore, up until this point, has no solid
reason not to trust Harry's judgement. As far as Dumbledore is aware, Harry is no different
from the other years. And Dumbledore is not omniscient. He was just as surprised as
everyone else when Fudge brought the dementor to Kiss Barty Crouch Jr.

Of course, after the events at the Burrow this Christmas, Dumbledore will certainly have
some questions for Harry, and their relationship will shift slightly.

Though neither can realize it, Merlin's Christmas gift is not so different from the Shield Hats
the twins developed in Half-Blood Prince. Which is me explaining that the ring does not
make Harry invincible, but the ring won't really be tested until the Goblet of Fire chapters.

As to Sirius being an illegal Animagus... The Wizengamot considered his twelve years in
Azkaban to be times served. I have no idea how the Wizengamot would square things
otherwise, but it makes sense to me. Ten thousand Galleons is a bit extravagant,
but...well...c'mon, Sirius dies in OotP!

Harry didn't give Ginny a gift because we don't usually hear about the gifts that Harry gives
to anyone in the books. The exception being Ron's Chudley Cannons hat in GoF I think. We
also hear very little about Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's birthdays in canon. I just took that fact
and played around with it a little. Harry's gift to Hermione obviously came from the huge
buying spree he and Merlin went on in the first chapter, and his gift to Ron (unmentioned)
was likewise simplistic.

Back to index

Chapter 6: Chapter Six: Awakenings

 Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin
by GeekUSA

Chapter Six: Awakenings

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

"I think you owe someone an apology," stated Hermione as Harry and Ron entered her
compartment for the ride back to school. Crookshanks sat curled up in her lap, his eyes
staring intently upon Harry and Ron's forms.

"Well, I--er--what I mean to say is..." The tips of Ron's ears pinkened as he stood stammering
helplessly in the doorway of the compartment. Harry and Ginny shared a smirk behind his
back. "I'm sorry," Ron blurted out and hurriedly sat on the seat closest to the door, putting
him as far from Hermione as possible.

"For?" Hermione prompted, still petting Crookshanks. Her eyes, however, were like steel
daggers, pinning Ron to his place.

Ron quickly reddened, not with embarrassment or shame, but with anger. Harry could
sympathize. Aunt Petunia very often made him explain just why he needed to apologize. As
if the gesture wasn't hard enough, especially when he wasn't at fault. Though he'd hardly
equate his relationship with Aunt Petunia to Ron's relationship with Hermione--at least, he
hoped they weren't the same.

"Let it go, Hermione," said Ginny as she plopped down beside the older girl and across from
Ron. "You got an apology out of him. Sometimes even Mum can't get anything more than a
mumble out of him, and when she pushes him again he gets all moody and bangs around in
his room. It just wakes the ghoul up and gets Ron into more trouble."

"What're you doing here, anyway?" growled Ron petulantly.

"She's sitting with us," said Harry drolly, stroking the muzzle of his dragon ring nervously.
"Any news on when Wormtail's going to get Kissed?"

"Dad's not sure," said Ginny. "The appeal is slowing things down, but given the testimony it
doesn't seem likely to succeed."

"Poor Mrs. Pettigrew," said Hermione commiseratively. "I can't imagine what it's like to
think your son's been dead for twelve years, only to find out he's alive and a murderer. It
would be hard to take. I can see why she's in denial. Thinking he died a hero must've helped
her cope through the years."

While Harry could see her point, he really couldn't dredge up much sympathy for Mrs.
Pettigrew. Wormtail was much too dangerous. He'd already faked his death once and had
survived for twelve years as a rat. That spoke volumes to Harry on how desperate he was to
keep his life. The longer he survived, the greater the chance of something going wrong.

"At least those ruddy dementors won't be around," sighed Ron gratefully. Harry was a little
glad too. He swore a few of them had been keeping a close watch on him, blind or no. It was
like they'd developed a personal interest in Harry. The fact that he could produce a corporeal
Patronus and had driven them off seemed to make them even more hateful of him.

With them gone, however, Harry could now do some exercises in the morning. Hogwarts
wasn't the Haven, but that didn't mean the grounds weren't beautiful in their own right.
Besides, a bit of physical activity helped keep him more awake and alert through the rest of
the day.

They traded stories of their Christmas holidays; Hermione had finally caught up with her rest-
-although she looked a little peaky, her smiles came easier; Ron and Ginny said the twins
were trying to duplicate the Transfiguration that turned Snape into a pink bunny; Percy had
high hopes of getting a good Ministry position after the recent acclaim with their family; and
all Harry had to say was that he spent time catching up with his godfather.

"How did this Puck person know?" inquired Hermione. "I never got to ask when you stopped
by to visit."

"He didn't," shrugged Harry. "Not until the day before we left for the holidays. He saw Sirius
around Privet Drive not long after he escaped. Sirius wanted to catch a glimpse of me before
he went to hunt Scabbers. But then Puck saw the same dog during the Quidditch game, and
then around Hogsmeade. He thought it couldn't just be a coincidence."

"And he just cast a reversal spell on a mere whim?" asked Hermione sceptically.

"It doesn't do anything to a regular animal," explained Harry, marvelling at the fact that the
lies were coming out so easily. It was almost as if someone was speaking for him. "If Sirius
had been a regular dog, nothing would have happened. So once he transformed, Sirius didn't
have much of a choice but to confide in Puck--he was wandless and weak from living off
whatever he could forage. Fortunately, Puck chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's a
big fan of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and if Sirius was an unregistered Animagus..."

"Then it stood to reason that Pettigrew might've been one too," nodded Hermione.

"Right. After that, Sirius explained the whole story, which Puck then relayed to me--"

"That tawny owl!" exclaimed Ron. Harry gave another nod. "But why didn't you tell us,
mate?"

Harry turned an incredulous look upon Ron. "Would you have kept Scabbers around if I did?
Or keep Crookshanks from trying to eat him? I was having a hard enough time about it."

"No, I reckon not," conceded Ron with a sour look.

"But you could've told Dumbledore," Hermione pointed out. "Or Professor McGonagall! Or
Professor Lupin!"

"And they would've believed me without any proof?" Harry fired back. "Puck thought it was
best to wait until we got Wormtail as proof of everything. We were going to do it at the next
Hogsmeade weekend or something, but when I offered Ron to go visit the Burrow..."

Everyone seemed to take Harry's answers at face value. He sagged against the seat in relief
and stared out the window. Through its reflection, however, he became aware of Ginny
shooting a contemplative look his way. When he turned his gaze towards her, she blushed a
little, but also shot him an arched look. It was clear that she had her own doubts about the
story.

"So what're your parents going to do with the reward?" Harry asked her.

"They haven't a clue," announced Ron happily. "I'd say we should take another trip, but then
next summer's Quidditch World Cup. Dad always gets us tickets from work! You two should
come, I'm sure Dad can get enough tickets."

"Maybe you could get another pet?" offered Hermione as a bit of a peace offering. "Maybe an
owl this time?"

"Yeah!" said Ron, brightening up. "Something that wouldn't be rubbish!"

No sooner had Ron spoken than did a fuzzy furball bounce against the window of the moving
train. Harry moved to let it in, which it did rather clumsily, but then proceeded to hoot about
wildly. Hedwig opened her eye from her cage and gave a disapproving cluck of her beak.

Harry snagged the tiny owl like a Snitch and brought it down to relieve it of its letter.

"It's from Sirius!" he explained.

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry I hadn't been able to make it to King's Cross with you. Putting a life back together
isn't as easy as taking it apart, I'm afraid. I've twelve years of accounts to set right and
goblins aren't the easiest of negotiators, though they are the best investors. I've also been
shopping around for a new residence now that the holidays are through. Though the Black
mansion is now mine--I've no idea how that occurred, I would've thought my mother had
stricken me from the inheritance--I'm not eager to darken that doorway anytime soon.

In any event, picking up the pieces of my old life isn't as easy as I'd thought. Oh I thought it
was going to be difficult, but I'd no idea of just how difficult, or time consuming for that
matter. It's strange, in a way, how it's almost like starting over.
Anyway, I'll be around with Puck for your last two games. I look forward to seeing you in
action with my Christmas gift.

Speaking on gifts, I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no
longer has a rat. I have some doubt about his reliability, but given how busy I've been, he's
the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job.

Sirius

P.S. I've enclosed something to make the rest of the term more enjoyable.

Harry found a permission slip signed by Sirius, enabling him to go on Hogsmeade weekends
with everyone else. Meanwhile, Ron had grabbed at the tiny, gray owl in his hand as it'd been
circling the compartment non-stop. He eyed the owl intently before shoving it at
Crookshanks, much to everyone's surprise.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred, and Hermione gave Ron an impressed smile.

"That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."

Ron's elation lasted all of five seconds as Ginny spoke up.

"He looks a little like those--what d'you call them, Hermione?--pigwidgeons?"

"Pigeons?" offered Hermione hesitantly.

"He is not a ruddy pigeon!" bellowed Ron loudly, earning a disapproving look from
Hermione as Ginny giggled. The owl, however, hooted excitedly. "Oh no. Don't tell me you
actually like being called 'Pigeon?'" To Ron's great relief, the bird stilled.

"Ron," coughed Harry tentatively. "I don't think 'Pigeon' was the name."

"Yes, Ronniekins," said Ginny impishly. "I believed I called him 'Pigwidgeon.'"

The tiny owl hooted excitedly again in Ron's hands at the sound of his new name. Ron
moaned pitifully and slouched in his seat. Harry and Ginny laughed at the ridiculousness of it
all. Even Hermione couldn't hide the smile on her face. Only Hedwig shared Ron's disgust,
but for different reasons.

Wood poked his head through the compartment not long after. "Had a good Christmas?" he
inquired, which was merely a formality since he hurried on without waiting for a reply,
"Have you ordered a new broom? Can't have you riding a Shooting Star against Ravenclaw."

"How soon can you book the pitch for practice?" grinned Harry mysteriously.

"What'd you get, Harry? Another Nimbus Two Thousand?" asked Ron excitedly. Ginny's
brown eyes sparkled with her own anticipation, only because Harry had promised her first go.
"Or the Two Thousand and One?"

"I wouldn't have anything that Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry flatly. "Just book the pitch,
Oliver."

Oliver seemed ready to strangle Harry to get the information out of him, but the pleasure at
having his star Seeker back on any broom that wasn't the school's won out in the end. He
nodded and backed out of the compartment.

Once they all filed into Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore requested that Harry stay back for a
moment in the entrance hall. He was pleased with the distraction, actually, as people had
taken to badger him and the Weasleys about the events surrounding Pettigrew's capture. They
wanted to know what it was like to have a convict as a godfather--blatantly ignoring the fact
that Sirius was now innocent in their horribly insensitive questions--while others wanted to
know what it was like for Ron to keep Pettigrew as a pet. Ron, however, relished the chance
to soak up the spotlight.

"Did you have a pleasant holiday, Harry?" inquired Dumbledore pleasantly. Unlike Wood,
Dumbledore actually waited for Harry to answer.

"Yes, sir," answered Harry emphatically. "The best."

"I thought as much," smiled Dumbledore, a bright twinkle in his eyes. "Especially since you
did not spend one day with your relatives. Or on Privet Drive for that matter."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"You knew? How?" Before Dumbledore could answer, Harry's memory had supplied the
information. "Mrs. Figg! She called on the Dursleys, didn't she? Or maybe you had her find
out if anyone new had moved in?"

"Both, actually," admitted Dumbledore, his bushy brow raised in slight surprise. He did not
comment on the fact that Harry knew Mrs. Figg had been minding him at Dumbledore's
request. Harry assumed that Dumbledore was making his own assumptions, like perhaps Mrs.
Figg had informed him about it herself, or that a few years in the wizarding world had been
enough for him to figure it out.

He expected Dumbledore to inquire further about his break and Puck, and then to limit his
time with the latter. Dumbledore did not disappoint.

"It is nice to spend the holidays in the company of friends," he commented lightly. "However,
Harry, in light of recent events, I will ask that you return to number four, Privet Drive per
your normal routine."

"No, sir," said Harry, defying Dumbledore for the first time, well, ever. The sparkle in
Dumbledore's eyes faded and his brow contracted into a frown. "I know about the blood
protection, sir. I know that other than Hogwarts, Privet Drive is the safest place I could be, so
long as I call the place where my mother's blood dwells home."

Dumbledore's brow rose at Harry's precise phrasing. Harry felt the subtle probing of
Dumbledore's Legilimency into the maze, but all the vaults were shut tightly. Unless he
happened to be really lucky, or desperate enough to call on the incantation, they both knew he
wasn't going to get any information.

"With all due respect, sir, I disagree," Harry continued resolutely. "There are other places that
are just as safe. And I wouldn't worry about protection; no one would dare try to harm me
with my guardian about."

"As capable as Sirius is, Harry--"

"I'm not speaking about Sirius, sir," said Harry shortly.

"Puck?" Dumbledore tried. Harry nodded. His eyes searched Harry's, though the pressure of
his subtle probing didn't change at all. "I admit that my trust in Puck is not terribly sturdy,
Harry. He is not listed in any wizarding registry that I can find, nor do I remember him as a
student of Hogwarts--and given the power he displayed in Transfiguring Professor Snape, I
would imagine him to be very memorable. I have not spoken on my suspicions previously as
you are well within your rights as a person to make friends with whomever you chose, but I
must voice my doubts upon him taking you on as a guardian in any capacity. Especially if he
chooses to withhold information from others."

Harry felt that last sentence was a little like the pot calling the kettle black, but refrained from
voicing that opinion--out loud, at any rate.

"I understand completely, Professor," said Harry honestly, "but I'm not returning to the
Dursleys--ever. And Puck doesn't withhold anything from me. I know all about him, sir."

"Harry--"

"Professor," Harry interrupted, taking a step back, "I'm not a child--not anymore. I know
about everything, sir. I know about the Unbreakable Vow between yourself and Professor
Snape; I know about the prophecy; I know about Neville's parents. I thank you for trying your
best to look out for me, and I understand completely why you kept it all from me for so long.
I had a bit of a break down when I first found it all out, actually. But this is my life, sir. And
Puck won't let anything happen to me. I'm as safe with him as I'd be with you."

Dumbledore gave out a sigh of what Harry thought was relief. Perhaps he was glad that
someone else had taken up the burden to tell Harry what he could not. Though that did not
account for the new lines of worry that crossed his old features, nor the look of sadness in his
eyes when he opened them.

"I would have told you all when you were old enough to prepare," said Dumbledore
sorrowfully. "I have tried to give you a childhood as normal as possible, knowing that should
Lord Voldemort ever return to power, you would cease to have any semblance of normalcy.
It does not soothe my conscious that this Puck has had access to this information, indeed, it
only worries me further, but as I know you would betray no friend's confidence, I shall not
press the matter. I will trust you in this, Harry, but know that my door is always open to you
should you need it."

"Of course, sir," said Harry, thinking something had just passed between them, but he
couldn't think of what it was. All he knew was that something had changed in their
relationship. Its feeling was almost palpable through the magic.

"Very good, Harry. I think you had best head back to your dormitory now," suggested
Dumbledore.

"Yes, Professor."

Harry walked up the stairs, stealing only one glance back over his shoulder. Dumbledore still
stood in the entrance hall alone, staring almost mournfully towards Harry. He didn't
understand it at all, except that he felt sad for Dumbledore in return.

*****

Hagrid had seemed subdued during their Care of Magical Creatures class the next day,
though their subject of salamanders had been very interesting. After the class, they hung back
to inquire of their large friend.

"It's abou' Buckbeak," he said, close to tears at just the thought. "I'm not sacked, but there'll
be a hearin' on Buckbeak. It's hopeless. Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's
pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak--"

"We'll help, Hagrid," said Harry emphatically.

"We'll research your case, I'm sure I've read something about hippogriff baiting," nodded
Hermione earnestly.

That left Hagrid in better spirits.

Oliver Wood had booked the pitch that Saturday for practice. Everyone had been pestering
him about his secret broom, but he kept it resolutely hidden from view by sheathing it with a
piece of conjured red velvet cloth. Unsurprisingly, both the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw
teams had come out to the pitch to see for themselves.

"All right, Potter?" Wood called out as Angelina, Alicia, and Katie mounted and took off.
The twins were next, though they hovered low to the ground to see Harry.

"Release the Snitch, Oliver," said Harry confidently.

Wood eyed Harry apprehensively for a moment before doing just that. Harry gave it a five
second head start and then tugged the sheath off his Firebolt. In one swift motion, he mounted
the broom and shot straight up, hitting thirty feet in barely a second. He took a sharp turn that
made Alicia scream and darted past a Bludger to snag the Snitch. Harry let out a whoop of
triumph, let the Snitch go, gave it a minute's head start, then tried again. This time he caught
the Snitch at Katie's knee in a little over seven seconds.

"You've a Firebolt!" Harry heard Ron bellow out over the stands once the shock had worn
off.

From the thunderstruck looks on the Ravenclaw and Slytherins' faces, they had obviously
come at the very same conclusion. Oliver looked close to tears of joy. The Quidditch Cup
was as good as theirs.

"It's ours, Harry! It's ours!" cried out Wood nearly delirious with joy.

"Harry! That's brilliant, Harry! Can I have a go, Harry?" asked Ron excitedly. He sounded a
bit like Colin Creevey, who was with the rest of the Gryffindors, snapping pictures of Harry
on the Firebolt.

"Sure, Ron," said Harry, turning around to look for Ginny. He spotted her at the back,
chatting with a blonde Ravenclaw with protuberant blue-gray eyes and a dreamy look on her
face. "After Ginny."

At the mention of her name, Ginny swirled her head around, eyes wide with shock. Harry
smiled at her and held out the Firebolt. She blushed and looked around at all the assembled
people. They all seemed more focused on the Firebolt than on what Harry'd been saying.

"Ginny?" said a dazed Ron. He shook himself out of his drooling stupor to gaze at Harry.
"Harry, I don't know if you know this, mate, but Ginny's never been on a broom in her life. I
wouldn't trust her on a broom like that..."

"I trust her, Ron," said Harry, looking squarely at Ginny. She glared at Ron, and then at the
twins who quickly backed up Ron's original statement. Harry quirked a brow at her, throwing
down a challenge, hoping she'd want to prove her brothers wrong.

He wasn't disappointed.

A hard, blazing look crossed over features, making her look much older and dignified than a
twelve year old girl. She squared her shoulders and marched over towards Harry, never once
breaking eye contact. Harry's eyes followed her long, fiery tresses as she tossed them over her
shoulder.

"Never been on my broom in my life, have I?" questioned Ginny with a distinct edge to her
voice as she snatched the Firebolt from Harry's hand.

Harry bowed and swept his hand out towards the pitch, while the Weasley boys gazed at the
Firebolt as if it was the last time they'd see it in one piece. Ginny took in a bracing breath to
quench any remaining fear. When she opened her eyes, she mounted the broom and kicked
off just as gracefully as Harry did.

He watched spellbound as Ginny streaked across the sky like a fireball. She lacked any of the
death-defying dives that were Harry's speciality, but she made up for it with a fearlessness
he'd never seen on anyone else. There was a grace to the way she rolled and weaved, dipped
and bobbed that pegged her as a natural on the broom. It was like she was gliding on air and
the broom was merely a formality.

"I'd say Katie's got herself a good teammate when Angelina and I go," murmured Alicia from
beside Harry.

It was only then that Harry realized Ginny was actually flying Chaser manoeuvres and
pulling them off flawlessly. For Christ's sake, she could be on the team now and they could
flatten everyone else. In fact, Harry could see it all clearly--swap Angelina for Ginny and
there's the three fastest Chasers in Hogwarts; swap Alicia for Ginny, keep Angelina in the
middle for power, and Ginny and Katie would fly circles around the other Chasers and
Beaters; swap Katie for Ginny and the Quaffle would be a blur between her and Alicia. It was
a pity Quidditch wasn't played with four Chasers.

"Harry! This broom is amazing!" gushed Ginny as she pulled into a slow loop just over the
ground and hopped off.

"You're amazing!" Harry blurted out unthinkingly, stopping Ginny cold with wide eyes.
Harry realized what he'd said and blushed furiously, moving his hand back to muss up his
untidy hair nervously.

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, who were all flanking him glanced down and giggled at Harry's
reaction, which made him want the Earth to open up and swallow him. Fortunately, the
Weasley men were too busy accosting Ginny about how she learned how to fly like that to
pay his comment any notice. Oliver Wood had a look on his face that probably would've
mirrored Harry's, had he not been embarrassed by what he blurted out to Ginny.

"I should've suspected it," Wood announced at last. "First Charlie, then these two..." Oliver
gave a shake of his head. He turned to Ron. "You're another Weasley, aren't you?" The tips of
Ron's ears went red at being addressed after even Ginny. Still, Ron gave a nod. "And what do
you play?"

"Bludger," said Fred automatically. The suddenness of the statement elicited a surprised titter
from the Chasers, and even Harry had to turn his snort into a cough. Wood, however, was
used to zoning out Fred and George's remarks and stared expectantly at Ron for an answer.

"I--uh--I--Keeper?" said Ron hesitantly.

Oliver's eyes swept over Ron in such a manner that the Chasers were eyeing him curiously.

"You've the build for it, all right," he concluded. Then he turned to Ginny, "Spinnet's right,
you'll make a good partner for Bell when the rest of us are gone."

"He makes it sound like we're dying, doesn't he, Fred?" remarked George in a stage whisper.

Ron got a turn on the Firebolt after Ginny, though he didn't fly nearly as well as either her or
Harry. Not that it really mattered since a Keeper merely had to circle the hoops. Wood,
almost as if he were running tryouts, barked at Ginny to mount the Shooting Star Harry'd
been using previously for practices. He wanted to see her Chasing skills and Ron's Keeping
skills.

"Blimey, Wood, they're not even on the team yet," said Fred, though Ginny was eager to play
some real Quidditch and followed the order obediantly.

"We've a shot at winning the cup!" said Oliver passionately, emphasizing his point by
slapping his fist onto an open palm. "I'll not have it be a one-time thing! I want to make sure
the team won't fall apart when I'm gone!"
Ginny, everyone could plainly see, would definitely find a spot on the team in the near future.
Even on the old Shooting Star, she was flying circles around Ron, putting the Quaffle through
the hoop time after time. Ron wasn't horrible per se, in fact he was fairly decent in the face of
Ginny's skill, but he had a terrible case of the nerves.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny told him, planting a third kiss, this time on his other cheek. As
with the other kisses, they felt another explosion of feeling. Rather than trying to observe the
feeling from a clinical standpoint, or trying to pull away from it, Harry found himself
embracing it--literally--by pulling Ginny into a one-armed hug.

"You're welcome," Harry replied, smiling down at her. Somehow, being in contact with her,
it felt like he was putting down his roots and drawing on an inexhaustible source of power.
The feeling was intoxicating, and just where it came from didn't matter half-as-much as what
it felt like.

They walked back to the castle hand-in-hand.

*****

Unfortunately, that was the last chance Harry had at having contact with Ginny. The
professors seemed hellbent on drowning them with homework. Potions, Transfiguration,
Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes were latched onto his ankles like a ball and chain. When
added with Merlin's hefty workload and Quidditch practice, well, Harry thought he might
have a breakdown. That was nothing compared to Hermione, however, who could be found at
a desk in the common room surrounded by towering stacks of books. And they were all
trying to research Buckbeak's defence.

Gryffindor flattened Ravenclaw, all but solidifying their spot as holders of the Quidditch
Cup. Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker, had come up with an interesting strategy to
counter his Firebolt; she marked him instead of the Snitch. It might've worked if he'd been on
his Nimbus Two Thousand, especially since he was hesitant to elbow or check Cho, but there
was no way she could match his dives, control, or acceleration with the Firebolt.

"That's my boy!" Wood kept yelling. The Quidditch Cup was all but theirs. They'd beaten
Ravenclaw two hundred and thirty points to zero. Their only real competition was Slytherin,
who'd managed to defeat both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Still, the point gap was such that
they all knew Slytherin didn't have a prayer. Malfoy would have to catch the Snitch when
they were up by sixty points, which would be impossible given the skill level of both teams.

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all kissed him, while Fred and George nearly crushed him in
hugs. A mob of Gryffindors flooded the field. It was almost as if they'd already won the
Quidditch Cup. Indeed, the party that awaited them in the common room certainly felt like it.

Well, for everyone except Hermione, who was seated in a corner, reading a book.

"Did you even come to the match?" Harry asked, kneeling beside her. She was a markedly
different girl from the witch he'd seen on the Hogwarts Express. The bags were back in full
force; her bushy hair seemed to be almost limp for a change; and her skin was waxen and
taut.
"Of course I did," said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm
very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry said, waving over at Ron to help
him. "Have you been getting your sleep?"

"I can't, Harry. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" said Hermione, now
sounding slightly hysterical.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Ron asked, looking apprehensively at the
giant book in her hands.

"I couldn't do that!" said a scandalized Hermione.

"But why? You're killing yourself, Hermione!" said Ron heatedly. He was truly fearful for
her.

"No, I'm not," protested Hermione, her voice cracking from stress; her entire body was
trembling. "I'm fine! Now would you two please let me get back to my reading?"

"You're not fine!" voiced Ron, snatching the book out of her grip. "Hermione, look at you!
You're gonna crack!"

"Give me back my book, Ron!" Hermione shrieked. She leapt unsteadily to her feet, tears
streaming down her cheeks. Ron used his height to his advantage and kept the book out of her
grasp. The whole scene brought back uncomfortable memories for Harry--memories of when
he'd been surrounded by Dudley's gang as they did the same to him. From Hermione's
anguished looks, it seemed that she'd been through the same.

"Ron, stop!" said Harry. He came around from behind Ron and snagged the heavy book out
of the taller boy's grasp. The unexpected weight of it, coupled with the fact that he'd had to
jump to get it, almost sent him crashing to the ground. "Hermione--"

Before Harry could say anything, she'd snagged the book from out of his hands, tucked it
under her arm, and sobbingly ran up the girls' staircase.

"She's insane," said Ron exasperatedly. "Harry, you know she's gonna kill herself if she keeps
this up!"

"Yeah, Ron, I do," sighed Harry shortly, "but bullying her to stop isn't going to solve things
either."

"Who's bullying?" blurted Ron dumbly.

Harry turned a gaze towards Ron--Ron who'd never been a freak or an outcast; Ron who'd
never attended a primary school of any sort, and whose only experience with teasing had
come at the hands of his brothers, who hadn't meant it...most of the time. Harry had no idea
how to explain it to Ron, and truthfully, he had little energy to try.
"Nothing, Ron," Harry waved off wearily. "Nevermind."

McGonagall came in at one in the morning to put an end to the party, but after he was sure
she'd left, Harry snuck back down in the common room. The inside of his bed was just a little
too confined at the moment. So he'd dragged his journal and Hermione's Christmas gift down
to the common room and sat on his favourite squashy armchair. At the very least he could
read up more on Animagus theory.

Unlike regular Transfiguration, there was a lot more finesse involved in an Animagus
transformation. He'd have to know exactly how his body would take shape into the animal of
his choosing--for example, if he wanted to be a bird, would his arms turn into wings, or
would they retract into his chest and have the wings grow out of his back? Technically, no
animal was off-limit, however no wizard had been able to produce the magical effects of a
magical animal. Choosing an animal was also problematic. There were all sorts of options to
take into consideration, like being a lion would certainly attract attention from the Muggles
and would limit where he could transform.

For the moment, Harry would have to practice some high-level Transfiguration before he
could even begin to think about an animal he might like to become.

"You know, some might say that you're not far from being another Hermione," came a soft,
familiar voice to his ears.

Harry looked up over the rim of both his glasses and his journal to spy a blurry Ginny
descending the stairs.

"I'm not the one taking more classes than physically possible," replied Harry smoothly, which
wasn't entirely true. The things Merlin was having him study could easily fill up another two
blocks on his daily schedule. It was only the fact that Merlin didn't have stringent deadlines
that saved his sanity. Plus, the practical side of class was easy with Merlin's teachings.
Writing the essays, however...

"Couldn't sleep?" Ginny asked, tugging her carnation dressing robe tight across herself and
tying it shut.

Harry shook his head. "You?"

"I was talking with Hermione," said Ginny in reply, sitting upon the couch and tucking her
legs under her like a cat. She rested herself against the armrest closest to Harry and gazed at
the dying fire.

"How is she?" Harry asked.

"Sleeping," answered Ginny cryptically, shooting Harry a sidelong look. "She cried herself
out. She's not really mad at you or Ron. She's just...stressed out. Are you researching for
Buckbeak?"

Harry turned over what Ginny had reported. He wished there was something he could do for
Hermione, but there really wasn't. If she was determined to see this through to the end, then
that was it. She'd just have to learn on her own that human beings have limits.
"No," answered Harry. He closed his journal and tilted his head back against the chair. "We
finished that a few days ago. I think Hermione's put together a great case, but Ron doubts it'll
make any difference with the Department for the Disposal of Magical Creatures. I have to
agree with Ron."

"You really don't think it'll help?"

Harry shut his eyes and made a grimace.

"Malfoy's dad bullied the Board of Governors to get Dumbledore removed from Hogwarts
last year," said Harry; he could almost feel Ginny's tension from the sofa. "Bullying or
bribing a committee to get a hippogriff killed? Sounds like child's play for a Malfoy.
Literally. I bet Malfoy's dad gave ickle-Draco all sorts of lessons in it."

Ginny gave out an unladylike snort that made Harry smile.

"Dumbledore can't do anything?"

"I think Dumbledore did all he could to prevent Hagrid from getting sacked," sighed Harry as
he stretched out his legs. "Professor Lupin says the Disposal members love any excuse to
execute a creature. Werewolves fall under their jurisdiction, you know? Even though they get
aid through the Beings side of the department? It's stupid."

"Poor Professor Lupin," said Ginny sympathetically. "Poor Hagrid too. I've been to his hut a
few times. Buckbeak is so pretty. I can't believe the Malfoys can be so petty."

This time Harry was the one who snorted.

"Oh I know how petty people can be," he said derisively, thinking on Snape and the Dursleys.
"Believe me, there's worse."

"How's Sirius doing?" inquired Ginny after a moment.

"Fine," Harry replied, smiling at the mere thought of his godfather. "He bought a house in
London. It's at number three, Crossbough Crescent. Lupin's going to move in with Sirius at
the end of the term. You should write to him. He's asked about you."

"Really?" said a surprised Ginny. Harry cracked open an eye to find her blushing a little, she
was staring down at her knees as she ran her free hand over her covered legs.

"Yeah, I think he's a little concerned," Harry informed her with a slight smile. "I'm pretty sure
he wants to make sure you're all right and that I'm not being a prat."

"Well, I'll just have to tell him that you haven't been one for a while," remarked Ginny
teasingly, though her neck was as red as her hair. "But even when you are one, I'm finding
that you've your reasons."

Harry shrugged and shifted about in his armchair uncomfortably. He'd rather not think of the
Dursleys at all. They were a closed chapter in his life now.
"Write a letter," suggested Harry, staring studiously down at his miniature desk. "The next
time I send off a note with Hedwig, I'll attach yours."

"Thanks, Harry, but I could always use Pigwidgeon," Ginny giggled, thinking on the
hyperactive fluffball that was Ron's owl. "It'd be nice for Sirius to see his gift is getting some
appreciation."

They both laughed, knowing all about Ron's mannerism with his pets. No matter his
complaints, he truly cared for them--even Scabbers.

"Have you found out anything?" inquired Ginny into the peaceful silence. "About what
happens when we..." She blushed furiously again and bowed her head towards her lap. Harry
felt the tips of his own ears heat up as well.

"No, nothing," said Harry with a shake of his head. "It--it doesn't happen with--when
you...touch anyone else, does it?"

"No," answered Ginny in a very tiny voice. Her face was now indistinguishable from her hair
and the glow of the fireplace. "Does it--do you--?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head so vehemently that he almost sent his glasses flying.

This time an uncomfortable silence settled between them, neither sure how to proceed from
that point on.

"Does it--does it bother you?" asked Ginny in such a soft voice that Harry thought he
might've imagined the question. She did risk a glance at Harry, who'd been staring intently at
her, trying to confirm whether or not she'd spoken.

Harry dropped his stare to glance down at his drumming fingers.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "It bothers me that it's something else to make me...well, a
freak...like my scar or Parselmouth. But it doesn't bother me that it's you...that I...share this
with... Does that make any sense?"

"Do you have to think on it so negatively?" said Ginny with a very wry look on her face. "I
mean, if it doesn't bother you that it's...with me...then couldn't it be something...special?
Unless it really does bother you, then--"

"No!" said Harry quickly. "No, I--I reckon you're right... It's just..." Harry shrugged
helplessly and mussed up his untidy hair even further. "I--I like the feeling I get when we..."
Harry blushed furiously and tried to wipe it off his face with his hands. "But--but what does
it mean? I can't imagine something so...well that something like this can happen for no
reason! And--and I don't want you to think that I'm--I'm just using you for the...feeling..."

"Harry, you're not, nor will you ever be, Tom Riddle," declared Ginny emphatically, catching
on to a major root of his uncomfortableness. Harry looked up to see that hard look in Ginny's
face again--the one she wore when she’d marched across the pitch to show up her brothers.
There was no trace of doubt in her face.
"But I--"

"Listen to me, Harry," Ginny interrupted, shifting towards the edge of the sofa. He swore he
could hear the soft trill of a phoenix in her voice even though they weren't touching, but
Fawkes was no where in sight. Did it really come from Ginny--from her magic? Whatever it
was, it resonated with the beast within his chest. "You've many opportunities to do something
that Voldemort would've, like kill Pettigrew or turn him into your slave or something in
exchange for his freedom, but you've never once tried anything like that. I trust you, Harry.
Not because you're the Boy-Who-Lived, but because you're the kind, sweet, brave boy who
saved me and never once asked for anything in return--not a thanks, not friendship, not a kiss,
not even my hand in marriage."

Harry blushed, as did Ginny, but they were both smiling a little.

"Sorry to disappoint," he mumbled, and Ginny smiled wider. He couldn't resist teasing her
just a little and said, "Reckon there's always another chance."

Ginny gave a slight cough and blushed brighter than her hair.

"Anyway," she said, "I don't want you to think you're using me in this--" she reached out to
grab his hand, strengthening the connection between them, but it was different, much
different. "I like this feeling too, Harry," Ginny told him, smiling shyly, but her eyes were
dancing with joy. "I don't know what this means either, but it's...it's us, and we'll figure it out-
-together."

"Together," Harry promised.

*****

Hermione was back to her normal self the following day, preferring to act as if the row the
previous night had never happened. Ron was just as eager to forget that he'd made Hermione
cry--again. On Friday they all assembled at Hagrid's hut to wish him luck with his hearing.
Throughout the week, Harry made sure to spend sometime with Ginny at night in the
common room where they could further explore the power they felt when they touched. As
she had a significantly less workload than he, she also offered to spend time in the library
researching it.

He felt a little bad about leaving that work up to her, but then, the mystery was theirs alone.
Logically, he knew he couldn't add research upon his workload without turning into
Hermione. And Ginny was a smart and talented witch. Her Bat-Bogey Hex, which she'd
actually been forced to use on a seventh-year Slytherin who was bullying her and Colin, was
proof of that. Maybe it was just genetic in the male sex to feel like they had to shoulder every
burden, or maybe it was just a quirk of his nobility streak, but he did feel guilty for letting her
do it alone--even if it wasn't really alone.

"So a dragon's out of the question?" said Harry to himself later that night in his bed. He and
Ginny had just finished working out possible theories in the common room. Ginny had
suspected a life debt stemming from the Chamber, but Harry had disagreed, pointing out that
the debt works by sparing someone and showing mercy. Sacrificing one's life for another has
different consequences, such as his mother's sacrifice for him.

Merlin let out an exasperated huff of air.

If you're so inclined to risk health and limb for some foolishness, then by all means, attempt
to transform yourself into a dragon, he remarked irritably. You certainly have the mind of
one.

Harry smiled at Merlin's fond rantings.

If I may ask, he bit out tersely, why are you so determined to become a dragon?

"I don't know," said Harry honestly, though it had to do with the beast in chest that reacted
anytime he was within close proximity of Ginny. Indeed, it seemed to have a mind of its own
where Ginny was concerned, or perhaps it was just voicing the thoughts that he was too thick
to realize. He gazed down at the ring that adorned the middle finger of his left hand. "Because
it's cool?"

Merlin gave out a snort that clearly showed his disbelief.

You are not one to do something for the mere novelty of it, Merlin pointed out dryly. Even
your desire to become an Animagus has its ties with the sentimentality of both your father
and your godfather. If you are asking to do the impossible, then there must be a reason for
the attempt, and "cool" does not seem appropriate. I very much doubt that Norbert is the
cause for this either.

Harry laughed, imagining that Hagrid would kill him in a crushing hug if he ever managed to
become a dragon.

"All right," said Harry slowly, "I do have a reason, but I can't exactly describe it..."

Try, Merlin urged dryly.

"Sometimes...sometimes I think that...that I've got a dragon in my chest..." Harry blurted out,
feeling a hot spike of embarrassment run down the length of his spine.

How...painful...

Harry sighed and tried again.

"Sometimes I get these...flashes... Like I can see magic and everything magical without even
trying. And...and there's this sensation of...the earth, like fertile soil only not...gross. And
there's...there's the smell of flowers, like the meadow only...I dunno... Oh, and...and I think
there's a phoenix involved somehow..."

And this...phenomenon...just happens? inquired Merlin sceptically.

"No, I reckon I know the catalyst," admitted Harry.

Are you going to share with the class?

Harry blew out a bracing sigh and said, "It happens when I--when I touch Ginny..."

Silence filled the dorm. Even the snores of Ron and Neville seemed muted somehow.

When you...touch...Ginny... parroted Merlin. Harry, traditionally one waits until their
wedding night...

"MERLIN!" blurted out Harry, who felt as if his head might explode from the blood rush.
Merlin's laughter met Harry's embarrassment. "It's--it's not like that! Honest! I haven't--I
mean..."

Is the feeling mutual? asked Merlin clinically, which made Harry grateful that he was taking
it seriously. That is to say, does she feel the same?

"Um...she feels something," Harry told Merlin. "I'm not exactly sure what she feels. I just--I
just assumed it was the same. Actually, it's...well, we've been experimenting..."

Mmhmm.

How such a simple statement could insinuate so much, Harry had no idea, but there it was.
He already felt like he'd been doing something...dirty...

"It's a little different now," Harry ploughed on, reading off his journal to help calm himself.
"For one thing, if we concentrate hard enough, we can get the feelings to come when we're in
close proximity. We don't even have to be touching."

How terribly tragic for you, murmured Merlin almost to himself.

"There's also more to it than soil and flowers," Harry continued, feeling almost faint with the
blood rush. "Well, I noticed that it has to do with the senses...kinda... I mean, I taste the soil
in my mouth, but it's not like I'm eating dirt or anything, but more like...like I'm a plant
soaking up the nutrients...if that makes any sense, which I'm not sure that it does..."

Harry flipped through a few more pages of his journal, searching for the right paragraphs.

"The phoenix song, I think, has to do with hearing, obviously, but when it gets going I can
hear this dragon roar out its approval and...I mean it sounds absolutely bonkers because you
wouldn't think it, but they actually...harmonize together... And I can see magic now, so that's
sight, but it's more than just sight sometimes... And there's even a touch aspect too! There's
this--this fire that just sweeps through me, but it's not burning me it's--it's cleansing me? I
dunno, this all seems more than a bit mad, doesn't it?"

No, remarked Merlin slowly, this seems...magical.

Harry rolled his eyes and settled back against the headboard of his bed. At least Merlin wasn't
saying he was crazy--yet.

So there is taste, smell, touch, sight, and hearing, yes? questioned a thoughtful Merlin; Harry
could just see him hunched over in his study, jotting everything down in his own journal. And
the sensations are connected to earth and fire? I suppose one might consider the scent of
flowers to be wind, or that the phoenix song to have a calming effect like water, but that's
tenuous at best, isn't it? And then there's the matter of the phoenix and the dragon, if you
consider yourself the dragon, then Mistress Ginevra must be the phoenix? Most curious...

"Merlin?" said Harry tentatively when Merlin had trailed off. He could barely make out the
sound of a quill scratching on parchment, along with the flutter of pages turning. "Merlin?
D'you know what's happening?"

Hmm? No, not a blessed thing, said Merlin airily, and Harry buried his face in his hands in
barely restrained frustration at being strung along after all the teasing. I've never actually
heard of this phenomenon at all in fifteen hundred years. Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade
weekend, is it not?

"Yeah," said Harry. He was rather excited at his first opportunity to explore Hogwarts
without worry of being caught.

Meet me in the Shrieking Shack, Merlin told him. Bring Mistress Ginevra along with you. I
would like to see this for myself. Not that I don't believe you, of course, but if I'm to help you,
I'd need some observation.

"Erm," was all Harry could say. Hadn't he promised that it would be just between himself and
Ginny? "Um, well..."

This is purely innocent, is it not, Harry? teased Merlin. You're not doing anything indecent,
are you?

Harry could only groan and crawl under his sheets.

"Fine, tomorrow," Harry muttered. At that point, he would've promised anything just to get
Merlin to stop teasing him.

*****

The next morning, Harry intercepted Ginny before she could walk down to breakfast with her
usual gang of friends consisting of Demelza, Vicky, and Colin. He waved off Ron and
Hermione as well, saying he'd forgotten something back up in his dorm. Ginny likewise
excused herself from her friends and followed Harry once they'd all exited the portrait hole.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked. Harry was bent over his trunk, rummaging for his
Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map.

"Here," he said, handing them both over to her. "The Whomping Willow sits on a
passageway to the Shrieking Shack. Remember, that's how Professor Lupin said he did his
transformation when he attended Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded dumbly, not understanding at all why Harry was shoving both artefacts
towards her.

"Fold these up and stick them in your pocket," Harry told her as he dusted off his knees.
"Padfoot amended the map to show what knot you have to press. Puck's waiting for us at the
Shrieking Shack."

"Puck? Why?" asked Ginny, finding her voice at last.

"Well, Puck and I sorta got into discussing things last night," said Harry slowly, pushing his
glasses up on the bridge of his nose nervously, "and I sorta told him...everything. I'm sorry, I
know I probably should've asked..."

"Yes, you should've," agreed Ginny as she folded up the map and cloak, "especially as this
concerns only us... But if you trust...Puck...then I trust you."

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry, dropping a quick kiss on Ginny's cheek impulsively. A
wellspring of power surged out from his center, passing through his lips and into Ginny's
skin. He kept moving because if he stopped, he knew he'd have a hard time doing anything
other than gaping dumbly at her. Despite that, he couldn't resist running his tongue over his
sizzling lips.

As it turned out, it wasn't terribly difficult to separate himself from Hermione as she wasn't
going to Hogsmeade at all.

"I can't!" she cried out after breakfast was through. "I've so much to work on. I need to get to
the library and work on that essay Professor Vector assigned us."

"Ward construction?" inquired Harry. "But it's barely a foot in length. She just wants us to
know the basics before we start the practical next week."

"Exactly," said Hermione, which made little sense to either Harry or Ron. It took a second for
his brain to shift into proper gear. Hermione wanted to know everything about ward
construction before they started class. That was Hermione's flaw. Her schedule would be
manageable if only she wasn't so obsessed with being ahead of everyone else. If she had the
blasé attitude of Harry and Ron, she wouldn't be so close to burning out.

Ron looked for all the world as if he wanted to reach out and shake some sense into
Hermione, but remembering the fiasco surrounding the game the week prior, he just shook
his head in helpless exasperation.

"C'mon, mate," he said, jerking his head towards the castle doors. "Let's get moving."

On their way down, Ron regaled Harry with all the things Zonko's and Honeydukes could
offer, and he told Harry of all the sorts that could be found in the Three Broomsticks. It was
enough to get Harry's excitement bubbling again. That lasted for all of three seconds when
Ron brought up the Shrieking Shack and how Fred and George could never find a way inside
it. Ron moved on to say how much it didn't matter anymore now that they all knew it'd never
been haunted, and then proceeded to talk about other things, but Harry hardly paid him any
heed. His mind was lost to the lone house on the hill.

Fortunately, Ron didn't seem to be in much of a Hogsmeade mood either. After buying some
treats from Zonko's and taking a quick tour, Ron decided to head back on up to the castle to
check on Hermione.
"Go on, mate," Harry waved off. "I'll get me a butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks and
walk around a bit more. No worries--it's not like the dementors are still around."

Once Ron was gone, Harry winked over to the Shrieking Shack, only to almost have his head
taken off by a flying chair.

"Harry!" cried out a concerned Ginny. Harry had thrown himself onto his back as soon as
he'd seen the chair whizzing towards his direction, Quidditch reflexes preventing him from
getting walloped. Not that the ring would've allowed any serious injury to happen.

"I'm all right," said Harry, honestly meaning it. The ring had certainly made his impact with
the floor more comfortable. "What the hell was that?"

"That was Ginevra practicing her wandless magic," came Merlin's smirking voice. The older
wizard appeared over Harry's face, holding out his walking staff for Harry to grab hold of.

"Really?" said Harry as he was helped to his feet. He spotted Ginny levitating several objects
simultaneously. The only sign that she was using magic to do so was her upturned hands,
which she held with elbows tucked against her side as if she was about to receive a gift.

"As with you, we're starting things out slowly," said Merlin. "Simple spells, like Levitating,
Conjuring, Vanishing, and Summoning small objects. Ginevra has proven herself to be very
receptive."

"I told you to stop calling me by my full name," grumbled Ginny, setting each piece of
furniture down on the ground before Vanishing all the conjured ones with a wave of her
hand.

"And I told you I would do no such thing," smiled Merlin broadly.

"And you," declared Ginny, rounding upon Harry with her wand out and pointed at him. Ring
or no ring, he was downright afraid that Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex might well be powerful
enough to break through its enchantments. "Merlin? The Merlin? You go around cavorting
with him and then lack the decency to tell your best friends?"

"I wouldn't call it cavorting..." mumbled Harry fearfully as he was backed literally into a
corner. "And--and Merlin told me I couldn't..."

Harry trailed off and noticed the impish sparkle in her honey flecks, along with the suspicious
twitch of her pink lips. Of course, Merlin had no pretences at all and was leaning heavily on
his staff as he laughed.

"You told her, then?" It was a statement, not an accusation.

"We had time to kill," shrugged Merlin casually.

"I had suspicions, really," admitted Ginny as she lowered her wand. "It was strange that you
could prank Snape when no one, not even Fred and George, could manage it. And then
Merlin goes and does the same thing without doing anything either. And I looked up the
charms that went into making the journals. They're horribly complex, some of them aren't
even found in the library. And then there was the fact that he looked so different in the Leaky
Cauldron, 'cause I remember seeing him there... I knew he wasn't an ordinary wizard, but I
had no idea he was Merlin!"

"Yes, well, while I loathe to reveal myself to any others, I fear I’ve little choice where
Ginevra’s involved,” remarked Merlin dryly.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry sharply, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at his mentor.

"Activate your connection and I'll see if my theory has any merit," was all Merlin would say.

Harry gazed at Ginny who arched a brow as if to say "You wanted to bring him into things."
Giving a resigned shrug, Harry reached down and took her hand in his own. Merlin was
suddenly bathed a bright blue light with a fiercely silver core. Harry couldn't help but gaze in
awe as his features warped into an almost otherworldly feature.

"Is--is that how much magic--?"

"If you are referring to a blue aura with a silver core, then yes, that would be my magical
potential, as my mentor had once described it to me," said Merlin; his voice was now much
deeper, and yet it wasn't different at all. "Magical potential changes, of course. At thirty-five
winters, I'm sure my aura is very bright, but I can assure you it hasn't always been so. As I
grow older, the light will surely dim. When I die, the light will be no more. But that shall not
be for many years yet, I should think. And you have not seen your own aura."

"What--?"

"He's right, Harry," said Ginny softly, her voice tinged with the trill of a phoenix. He turned
to face her, only to find himself standing beside a radiant sun of gold and white. The light
wasn't bright like Merlin's, so he was still able to make out her features, including the freckles
along her face and the vibrant hair that seemed like living fire.

"You're beautiful..." Harry murmured. The blush was like a pink cloud across the white, and
brought a pleased smile to Harry's face. This wasn't at all like Cho Chang, who was beautiful
in her own way and had made his stomach flop for a brief moment on the Quidditch pitch.
No, this was something wholly different. This was the pure essence of Ginny Weasley, and
she was beautiful inside and out.

"Thank you," she managed to mumble out. "You're--you're beautiful yourself."

This time it was Harry's turn to blush. The dragon deep within his center roared in pleasure at
the compliment. He thought Merlin had to have heard that.

"I--I mean it, Harry," Ginny hurried on. "You've this...green corona of varying hues--forest-
green, emerald, pale jade..."

"But my core's a smoky gray," murmured Harry as he gazed down at his free hand.

"A remnant of Lord Voldemort marking you, I'm afraid," said Merlin mournfully, referring
cryptically to the prophecy in which Voldemort had marked Harry as an equal--the scar, the
Parselmouth, all of it. "Take heart, Harry, for the gray is not terribly dark. I doubt you would
find any light at all were to you peer into Lord Voldemort's aura. But neither of you see the
significance of your connection, do you?"

Harry and Ginny shook their heads simultaneously.

"Gaze down towards your entwined hands," bade Merlin.

What Harry saw amazed him. Ginny's aura was seeping up Harry's forearm, stopping just at
his elbow, which was coincidentally where the sensation of gooseflesh stopped. The colours
blended into a perfectly equal yellow-green, but white light at the core was almost drowning
it out. It was almost as bright as Merlin's.

"What does this mean?" said Harry in awe. "And why is it my arm? Why isn't anything
happening to Ginny?"

"Ah, but there is," remarked Merlin, stepping close to them. He levelled the crescent head of
his staff down towards Ginny's forearm. The blended aura had wrapped itself an inch or two
past her wrist. "Cast a spell, Harry--any spell."

Harry obliged by asking his magic to clean the room they were in. He thought he might've
heard Ginny gasp as a surge of power pulsed through himself. A bright white light flashed
out from the palm of his outstretched hand, and Harry's jaw almost hit the ground when it
cleared.

The room was cleaned all right; in fact it was better than clean. Somehow his magic had done
more than just clean the damaged home; it'd also rebuilt the interior into some idealistic
fantasy that had been in Harry's subconscious. It was obvious in the different style of some
chairs--his favourite armchair from the common room, for instance--and the plaque adorning
the space above the opening to the tunnel. Moony, Prongs, and Padfoot were cast in bronze
and could be seen marauding around the Forbidden Forest. A redheaded woman was seated
side-saddle on the back of Prongs with a baby in her lap.

Harry was completely nonplussed at the changes to the interior of the Shrieking Shack.
"Uh..."

"Merlin..." exclaimed an awed Ginny.

Merlin merely gave a chuckle, drawing the attention of both children.

"I suppose I'll have to grow accustomed to people using my name as an expletive," he
remarked casually. Ginny blushed a little, but Harry looked close to laughter himself. "Oh I
wouldn't laugh, Harry. I'm sure, a very long time from now, they'll use your name soon
enough. 'Harry Potter's Eyes!'"

Ginny laughed at that as it became Harry's turn to blush. Harry, in the meanwhile, realized he
could control the level of magic he saw depending on his focus. Desiring to see things as he
normally would, the world returned to its status quo, excepting the faint hue surrounding
things and people with high concentrations of magic.
"So this--" Harry raised their entwined hands "--is some sort of...connection? I know I
couldn't do that before. Not unless my emotions were going crazy anyway. Is Ginny--is she
sharing her power with me?"

"A very astute observation, Harry," praised Merlin with a smile. "That is one clear facet of
your connection. While joined in this fashion, somehow you each draw on the strength of the
other. The load, burden, whatever you would wish to call it, is lessened by having another to
lean on."

"But why is it just us?" inquired Ginny. "I've even tried it with Ron and nothing unusual
happens."

"Harry?" addressed Merlin.

"Same here," Harry confirmed.

"Curious," mused a frowning Merlin. "I had thought perhaps that my instruction of Harry--
bringing out his own awareness of magic on an intimate level--had brought about your
awareness of the connection. Can you tell me when either of you became aware of it?"

"Before we left for the Christmas holidays," said Ginny, her brow knotted up in
concentration. "Harry--Harry held my hand at dinner. I could feel this tingle in my arm and it
broke out in gooseflesh, right up to the point where our auras mingle on my side. But the first
time it was anything like this was Boxing Day at the Burrow, when we walked back from the
woods."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully and then turned an expectant gaze upon Harry.

"I remember that," Harry confirmed with an inward gaze, "but there was something else
before all of that... It was--it was at the Leaky Cauldron! The day before we left on the
Hogwarts Express! Ginny--Ginny kissed me on the cheek and I just felt this...tingle..."

"You felt something?" gasped Ginny in shock. "Was that why you looked so...so..."

"Stupid?" said Harry dryly.

"Well, I was going to say 'adorable,' but 'stupid' works in a pinch," Ginny teased him lightly.
Harry felt himself blush down his neck and ducked his head shyly. Adorable?

A cough from Merlin brought them back to their senses.

"And you didn't feel any effects from the kiss you gave Harry?" he asked Ginny.

"No," said Ginny with a shake of her head. "I mean, I felt a little embarrassed because I got to
kiss Harry Potter, even though it was on the cheek, but nothing like I feel when..."

They both blushed, which was fast becoming a habit. After all, it wasn't like Harry was used
to girls fawning over him. He was used to girls picking on him and teasing his clothes, or just
keeping far away from him in general. Holding hands was a completely alien experience, but
their connection certainly helped facilitate Harry's enjoyment of physical contact.

"Ah," said a more vindicated Merlin, "then my assumption might not've been too far from the
mark. Harry's growth and altered perception of magic made him aware of the connection,
however small it might've been at the time. As the connection is not one-sided, in time,
Ginevra became aware of it as well. Now, it seems that as you grow in strength, so does your
connection. Harry has told me that you can even maintain it if you concentrate upon it."

Ginny nodded in confirmation. To demonstrate it, they let go of their hands, but focused on
the connection between them. Before, they needed to choose a certain aspect of the bond to
maintain it--for Harry, it'd been her scent. This time, however, it was much easier because
they knew what their connection looked like. They had managed to reach the opposite ends of
the enlarged room while still maintaining the link.

"D'you have any idea the reason behind it?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Several, actually, but at the moment I haven't the means to confirm or deny any of them,"
shrugged Merlin nonchalantly. He closed his bright gray eyes and gave a sigh. When he
opened them again, he was gazing directly at Ginny. "It would be unfair for me to keep
instructing Harry, while you trudge through your education at the snail's pace of Hogwarts...
But, traditionally, a mentor takes only one apprentice... Still, when was I ever known to play
by any rules but mine own?"

Ginny's eyes bulged as the implication of his words sunk in. Harry felt his own brow rising
well past his fringe. Indeed, they were probably floating some feet above his head.

"Do you mean to say--you're going to train me like Harry? I'm going to be your apprentice?"
said Ginny excitedly.

"If you desire so," smiled Merlin genially.

"Of course!" she blurted out.

"Excellent," beamed Merlin. "I'm afraid Harry will have to instruct you on certain exercises,
namely teleporting, until I can give you something that will enable us to stay in contact. Still,
you know the basics and the theory--understanding, desire, and power. You should be able to
experiment and grow in your own way 'til the summer."

"Is she going to stay at the Haven, then?" wondered Harry with a furrowed brow.

"Perhaps..." temporised Merlin, grimacing slightly. "This is getting rapidly out of hand.
Barely a year I've been free and I'm already teetering on the verge of discovery. One thing's
for sure, Harry, being your mentor means I'll never be bored again."

Harry ducked his head bashfully, but smiled at Merlin's gentle ribbing.

"Well," Merlin sighed in a very blasé manner, "things always work out in the end, as I've told
you. No need to dwell on the negative now. You'll meet your fair share of it by the end of the
day, I think. For now, Ginevra, practice your wandless magic whenever you can spare a
moment. Don't hesitate to ask Harry any questions. I've full confidence that he can teach you
what he's learned. In the meanwhile, Master Ronald and Mistress Hermione are searching for
you. Best make haste."

Merlin bid his farewells to Harry and Ginny, then promptly winked out of the Shrieking
Shack to her astonishment.

"C'mon," said Harry, gazing down at the map. Ron and Hermione were indeed moving
frantically around Hogwarts from what he could spy. He picked out an abandoned spot on the
seventh floor, cleared the map, and unfolded the Invisibility Cloak. "Let's go."

"But how--?"

"Astrology," remarked Harry mysteriously as he wrapped the cloak around both of them. If
they remained in contact or focused on the bond, Harry was sure he'd be strong enough to
carry them both. "Merlin can catch an occasional glimpse of the future through it. He says it's
the most reliable way. Centaurs use it too, but they like to see major events instead of the
trivial."

"Oh," said a very confused Ginny.

"Hold your breath," Harry warned as he drew his arms around Ginny's waist. The power
came much quicker and required barely little thought. Faster than even Harry could see, they
had both appeared in the hall of the seventh floor, across from the portrait of Barnabus the
Barmy. Ginny would've fallen if it hadn't been for Harry's arms around her waist, though it
didn't do anything for her pounding heart and gasping breath.

"All right?" said Harry, tossing aside the Invisibility Cloak and folding it back up to stick in
his pocket.

"What--what was that?" she gasped in amazement. "We--we didn't--? I thought Hermione
always said--"

Harry's eyes flickered up to the portraits around them. Most of them seemed empty for the
time being, but that didn't stop Harry from throwing up a pocket of privacy around them.

"Teleportation, not Apparation," Harry informed her carefully as they moved around the
corner. "Different method, like Merlin's magic from Hogwarts's."

"And you'll be teaching me that?" inquired Ginny impishly. Then sudden understanding
dawned in her eyes. "That's how you've been getting Snape!"

"Yes and partially," replied Harry with a broad grin. "It's not Apparation, so you don't really
need a license to learn it, do you? And since it's not Apparation, the wards can't prevent you
from using it, nor can it be detected since no one else knows about it. It's similar to house-elf
movement, but not quite."

"Cool!" exclaimed Ginny, now a veritable fireball of energy. "Let's go now!"

Harry laughed and gave her a playful shove.

"Remember what Merlin said? Ron and Hermione are looking for us. I'll start teaching you
soon--"

"HARRY!" yelled out Ron from the far end of the hall. Ron and Hermione had just climbed
up the stairs looking decidedly out of breath. Harry quickly cancelled the Privacy Charm.
"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" Spying Harry and Ginny, flushed from
laughter and teleportation, he gave them a queer look. "What're you doing with my sister?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny beat him to it.

"Harry and I were walking, Ron," she said shortly, stepping up between Harry and Ron.
"Harry's my--my friend, you know? We're allowed to hang out."

Ginny had given Harry a strange look at the pause, but neither Ron nor Hermione seemed
to've noticed.

"Oh Harry, it's terrible," declared Hermione, holding up a tear-stained letter. "Hagrid's lost
the hearing!"

"Gets worse, mate," said Ron gruffly as Ginny took the letter. "Pettigrew's escaped from the
Ministry."

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

So, in this chapter we have the "big" confrontation between Harry and Dumbledore in regards
to Puck. I wanted something other than a straight argument between them. That's something
for Ron and Hermione. The Harry in Order of the Phoenix had been under quite a lot of
strain--thinking Dumbledore had been ashamed of him, having just lost Sirius not minutes
ago, etc. This Harry is markedly different, mostly because of Merlin's tutelage, and the fact
that Harry had already gone through his break down. Therefore, we have a mature discussion
between two adults.

Don't think that Dumbledore will take this lying down, of course. Harry is too important for
him to leave in the hands of someone he doesn't know a thing about--especially a person who
knows secrets that no one else should know. Though he wasn't lying when he said he trusts
Harry's judgement, Dumbledore will still do everything within his power to uncover Puck's
true identity.

While it seems like Ginny took things quite well, remember that this story is all from Harry's
point of view. Originally, I did have this from a much wider third-person omniscient lens, but
then realized that Harry has always been the main focus. Adding scenes of other characters,
while nice to round out their scenes, tended to break up the flow of the story. Maybe I'll do
some "missing moments" vignettes and post them.
There's also a reason for Harry and Ginny's link, not to mention the sensations they're feeling.
Also, don't expect Harry to become an Animagus overnight. It'll take him quite some time.
Nor will all the answers in regards to their link be explained quickly either. Goblet of
Fire will be a very busy year for Harry, after all.

I absolutely enjoyed writing this chapter, I have to admit. First there was Fred taking the
mickey out of Ron on the Quidditch pitch, saying that he plays Bludger. Then there are all the
unconscious compliments that Harry spouts out like some strange twist on Tourette's
syndrome. And, of course, there's Merlin taking the mickey out of Harry about the link.

Well, that's chapter six. The next chapter, which I should have up by the weekend, wraps
up Prisoner of Azkaban. Then it's going to be a longer wait while I work on the Goblet of
Fire chapters.

Back to index

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven: Homeward

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the comments, nominations, and votes even! In the world
of fanfiction there's nothing sweeter.

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Seven: Homeward

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

"What?" said Harry, feeling his mirth and happiness from laughing with Ginny melt away.

"It's in the letter," said Ron grimly, nodding down at it.

Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione,

We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.

Execution date to be fixed.

Beaky has enjoyed London.

I won't forget all the help you gave us.

Hagrid

P.S. Pettigrew's also escaped from the Ministry holding cell.

Don't have all the details, but there was a fight and he transformed.

"Malfoy," snarled Harry; his body was practically trembling with anger. "You know he had to
be there if it was about Buckbeak's hearing. He'd have to if he wanted to order the Disposal
Committee around."

"But why would he want to speak with Pettigrew?" inquired Hermione.

"Wormtail was a Death Eater," said Harry shortly, "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy was one too. Sirius
said Wormtail hid because he was afraid the Death Eaters would want to kill him. They'd
think the double-crosser did another double-cross, since it was on his information that
Voldemort went and got himself blown up."

"That still doesn't explain why Mr. Malfoy would risk an open confrontation like that," said
Hermione.

"Maybe he wanted to have one last gloat," said Ron derisively. "You know? Taunt Pettigrew
that he was going to get Kissed and there was nothing he could do about it?"

"Well, they're never going to find him now," sighed Hermione, her shoulders sagging
helplessly. "It would be near impossible to find one rat out of all those in the wild. Sirius was
just incredibly lucky."

"All right," said Ginny, trying to be positive about things. "There's nothing we can do for
Wormtail. What about Buckbeak?"

"Well, there's always an appeal, only I can't see any hope... If Malfoy's dad's frightened them
once, he can certainly do it again," said Hermione sourly, rubbing wearily at her brow.

"That's still something," Ginny pointed out.

Hagrid, however, didn't share Ginny's optimism. He was convinced that Malfoy had the
Committee in his pocket and the appeal would be a formality. He'd much rather make sure
Buckbeak's final months were happy ones.

Naturally, Draco just could resist gloating.

"Look at him blubber!" Malfoy had commented to Crabbe and Goyle outside the castle doors
after their first Care of Magical Creatures of the new term. "Have you ever seen anything
quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Harry was half-inclined to fling Malfoy through the entrance hall. Had he been in contact
with Ginny, Malfoy would've probably flown much further than that. Ron marched towards
the platinum-blonde Slytherin furiously, but Hermione got there first--SMACK!

She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy
staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand
again.

"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul--you evil--"

"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.

"Get off, Ron!"

Malfoy beat a quick retreat with all the poise he could muster.

"Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione said shrilly. "You just better,
because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"

They were late for Charms, but they'd discovered that Hermione hadn't followed them at all.
Ron was confused as to how it could be possible, but Harry had already guessed. In fact, he
was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Hermione had been distracted and had lost track of
when she was supposed to turn back time via the Time-Turner. This was just too much.

Sure enough, Hermione was passed out at a table in the common room; her head was resting
on an Arithmancy book. They sat down on either side of her. Harry prodded her awake.

"Wh--what?" said Hermione, waking with a start and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go?
W-which lesson have we got now?"

Ron said "Divination" just as Harry said "Arithmancy." They shared a wry look over
Hermione's head and then turned their attention back to the distraught girl. "It's not for
another twenty minutes, though."

"Hermione," said a bemused Ron, "why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms!"

"But how could you forget?" Ron pressed. "You were right with us 'til we were right outside
the classroom!"

"She just lost track of time," remarked Harry mysteriously. Hermione scowled deeply at
Harry's cryptic statement.

"You know what, Hermione?" said Ron, looking down at the enormous Arithmancy book
Hermione had been using as a pillow. "You're really cracking up, now. You're trying to do
too much."

"No, I'm not!" said Hermione fervently, brushing her hair out of her eyes and staring
hopelessly around for her bag. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see
Professor Flitwick and say sorry... I'll see you in...oh, I'll see you in our next class!"

Harry stormed out after Hermione, however.

"How many turns?" he called out to her. Hermione stopped in her tracks and whirled on
Harry. He wasn't fazed by her irritation. He stared her down and repeated, "How many
turns?"

"One," she answered him, whirling back on her heels to march along towards the Charms
classroom. "All I ever use is one turn. There's the occasional two, but for the most part one's
all I need."

"What's it like?" inquired Harry, spying the thin gold chain around her neck.

"It was disorienting at first," admitted Hermione. "Most of the time I'm afraid of running into
myself. Awful things have happened to wizards who meddle with time. Loads of them ended
up killing their past or future selves by mistake..."

"But you shouldn't have much of a problem if it happens," pointed out Harry. "You know
you're running around, so it shouldn't be too much of a shock if you stumble on yourself,
yeah? It's not like...you're going back years or anything..."

"Still, it's not supposed to happen!" Hermione emphasized. "Besides, I'd see it if it did. I'd see
my future self, only I wouldn't know what my future self was doing until I'd reached that
point."

Harry rubbed his aching head. "I hate studying temporal theory."

Hermione gave him a commiserating look, which quickly morphed into a shrewd and
suspicious one.

"Why would you be studying temporal theory?" questioned Hermione.

"I've been studying a lot of things, Hermione," smiled Harry mysteriously, spreading out his
hands.

"But I've never seen you with anything but your journal," Hermione told him. Something
flickered in her eyes. "It's enchanted isn't it? That's what the white glow is for! But Harry, an
enchanted diary?"

"It's nothing bad, Hermione," said an affronted Harry. "I gave one exactly like it to Ginny!
Would I give her anything bad? I made sure it's safe, all right?"

"Right, I'm sorry, Harry," a tired Hermione apologized. "But that doesn't explain--"
"It's charmed so that I can access Puck's library," said Harry. "Whatever book, article, or
whatever is in there, I can read it through my journal."

The idea of having access to a library other than Hogwarts instantly appealed to Hermione,
however they were already at the Charms classroom.

"Don't think about reading my journal, Hermione," Harry teased as moved to stand across the
hall from the door. "It's charmed for only me."

Hermione gave a mock-affronted sniff before disappearing into the Charms classroom to
speak with Professor Flitwick. Harry escorted her to Arithmancy soon after, so he didn't hear
about her infamous walk out from Divination until later. He was actually relieved since that
meant one less class for her to take.

Still, the lack of Divination from her schedule didn't mean she had any less work during the
Easter holidays. All of the third years found themselves burdened with a heavy load, but none
more than she. Ron had to pick up the slack for Buckbeak's appeal in the interim. Harry
would have helped, but between his own homework, teaching Ginny spells, and Quidditch
practice, he could barely find time to follow through with Merlin's studies.

In the meanwhile, Sirius had sent a more detailed account of Pettigrew's escape.

Nearest we can tell it was Malfoy's fault. He didn't intentionally break Pettigrew out of the
holding cell though. There were two guards on duty to make sure Pettigrew didn't change
into a rat and escape. Lucius, being the upstanding citizen we all know him to be, wanted to
"personally condemn such a vile and vicious traitor." He'd stepped pretty close to the bars
for his rant, which was the reason Peter got away.

Lucius had blocked Pettigrew from the view of the guards and the little rat used that to his
advantage. He charged at Malfoy, pulling him into the bars and relieving him of his wand.
The Hit-Wizards couldn't get a clear shot without injuring Malfoy (I say they should've shot
through), which gave Pettigrew enough time to blow the bars off the wall. I suppose I'll have
to take back my statement about Peter being talentless. The bugger has a knack for pulling
escapes, not to mention an apparent affinity for destructive spells.

Wormtail slipped away in the resulting chaos. Least I can take solace in the fact that Lucius
had a bar-shaped imprint on his face for most of the day as the Aurors took statements. I'm
sorry to say that it probably contributed to Buckbeak's hearing. He was in a sore mood. I'll
see what I can do from my end of things. In the meanwhile, best of luck with the Quidditch
final,

Sirius

*****

As it turned out, Harry might've needed luck just to get to the final in one piece. The
Slytherins were hell bent on making sure that the Gryffindor team was incapable of playing
in the final. They tried to trip him everywhere he went, while Crabbe and Goyle seemed
primed to do more than just trip him. As such, Wood made sure a group of Gryffindors
escorted him to all classes. The only Slytherin he fell across that seemed oblivious to the
fervour was Daphne Greengrass, the Slytherin in his Arithmancy class, but he wasn't about to
ask her about it.

Harry was surprised when the Great Hall applauded as the team strolled in for breakfast.
Wood urged them to eat, but had nothing for himself. While they were leaving, Cho yelled
out a shrill "Good luck!" Ginny, who'd been seated right beside him, muttered something
unintelligible under her breath as Harry got up. He thought to ask her about it, but then
caught sight of where she was staring--or, more accurately, who she was staring at.

As expected, the Slytherins played with a ferocious desperation. All Harry had to do was
catch the Snitch and the Quidditch Cup was theirs. Bludgers whizzed past Harry's slim body
on his Firebolt; the Beaters were looking to cripple Harry the first chance they got. Malfoy
dogged Harry constantly to make sure he didn't catch the Snitch and end the match, going so
far as to hold the bristles of Harry's Firebolt, lock ankles, and otherwise clobber Harry
around.

Merlin and Sirius were in the stands cheering. They stood with all the other Gryffindors,
surrounded by Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Hagrid, and Professor Lupin. Merlin occasionally cast
his eyes up to the skies, as if expecting a storm to appear at any moment.

The match was brutal. When it became apparent that the Beaters wouldn't be able to take
down Harry, they tried to take out Wood so that their Chasers could have free reign of the
goals. Of course, those penalties just gave Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all the more
opportunities to score with penalty shots. Nothing Slytherin did would allow them to catch
up--Gryffindor was much too superior this year. In a rather satisfying show of payback, Harry
actually managed to get Malfoy to plough himself before catching the Snitch.

Pandemonium ensued for Gryffindor, and Harry found himself squashed between the rest of
the team as they embraced him in a many-armed hug. Wood was actually sobbing joyfully
and thrusting Harry's Snitch-filled hand up into the air triumphantly. Together--bruised,
beaten, exhausted, and triumphant--they descended back to the earth, yelling hoarsely.

Harry didn't think he'd ever felt such elation in his life before. He was hoisted upon the
shoulders of his housemates as they bore him towards Dumbledore and the enormous
Quidditch Cup. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder than even Wood, wiping her eyes
with a great Gryffindor flag. Percy was jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity
forgotten, finally acting like a Weasley. Ron and Hermione made their way towards Harry,
beaming proudly, with Sirius laying a hand on each of their shoulders, mirroring their
expressions.

But it was Ginny's shining face of triumph and the blazing look in her eyes that made his
heart swell. The dragon within roared triumphantly and an equally prideful trill of a phoenix
sang back in reply. There was no other girl like her, in Harry's opinion. Over everything else,
he felt his heart in his throat. Did he like her? Did he like Ginny Weasley?

Looking at her bright face, the answer was crystal clear.

Oh Lord, he did. Now what was he to do?

*****

The celebratory party that ensued was the last hurrah for many Gryffindors. Though the
weather finally appeared to be perpetually sunny and bright, exams were only a month away.
Everyone was busy trying to cram a year's worth of knowledge back into their brains. Even
Fred and George seemed involved with their studies for a change.

A red ring came in the morning post for Ginny two weeks after the Quidditch final. Though
the owl was anonymous, it bore a suspicious resemblance to Archimedes in sleepy
mannerisms. The red band was sized to fit on Ginny's pinky finger and had a very detailed
phoenix carved into it. Unlike Harry's dragon ring, the phoenix could actually roam around
the band like it was flying. It offered the same protection as Harry's, as well as the
communication charm.

Harry was glad. Merlin could now instruct Ginny through the ring, and then he didn't have to
do anything but concentrate on school. Sure, it was the coward's way out of things, but it was
Ginny! Ron's sister! Already Ron was eyeing Ginny's ring and taking in her bright smile with
the foulest expression imaginable.

"Did a boy give you that, Ginny?" he questioned lowly in an almost growl. Obviously "boy"
meant anyone who wasn't her brother.

"There's a custom order section in Witch Weekly," Ginny replied unconcernedly. "There're all
sorts in there, you know? The more expensive ones have jewels of all kinds. This is more of a
basic model. Why? Interested in getting one yourself?"

"No!" declared Ron, the tips of his ears reddening.

"Why not?" teased Ginny with a sly glint in her eye. "Bill's earring is fetching. Boys can wear
jewellery too!"

Harry slipped his left hand under the table. Ron had yet to notice his own ring, despite the
length of time he'd had it. Of course, it helped that Harry usually kept his hands in his pockets
or tucked under the long sleeves of his robes; the fact that he wore it on his left hand instead
of his right certainly helped. Even Hermione hadn't noticed it, but then she had her own
problems to deal with.

"I thought about baiting him," Ginny admitted to Harry as they made their way back up to the
Gryffindor common room. Though it was a sunny Saturday, Harry had an extensive
translation to finish up, not to mention a complicated number chart for Arithmancy. "'Yes, a
boy did give me that'--the boy being Puck, of course--but then it'd only make him
more...ornery. I thought humiliation works best. Besides--" Ginny glanced down at Harry's
pocketed left hand, "some boys do look fetching with jewellery."

Harry rolled his shoulder and neck uncomfortably, knowing full well that Ginny was teasing
him. But then, she wasn't teasing either, and that was the scary part where Harry was
concerned. Her crush hadn't gone away with their friendship; on the contrary, it’d grown and
deepened. He was no longer on a pedestal in her eyes. No, he was something obtainable now-
-something tangible. A real person with faults and pains and burdens. And she wasn't some
love-struck little girl who ran out of a room everytime he stepped in. She held conversations
with him and impressed him with her strength and skills.

For anyone else, it might've been a happy thing to learn, but it was a very undiscovered
country for this particular thirteen year old boy.

"Puck got Mum to agree," Ginny added after a pause, drawing Harry out of his reverie. She
took out a folded slip of parchment in Merlin's hand, though it was signed as "Puck."

Dear Ginevra,

Feel honoured. Feel very, very honoured. It took eight hours, several bottles of Firewhiskey,
and numerous demonstrations for your parents to believe that I was who I claimed. I won't
bother venturing into specifics as to what lengths I went through to convince them that I
should take you on as an apprentice; they are you're parents and you know them best. Suffice
to say, they have sworn themselves to secrecy, and you are now officially my apprentice.

So that your siblings (namely Master Ronald) and your friends (namely Mistress Hermione)
do not feel jealous, you are to inform them that you shall be sleeping over at a friend's for
long stretches of time this summer. I suppose that's hardly stretching the truth, is it? While
your brother and Mistress Hermione are most capable wizards, I am not interested in
starting up a school at this particular moment in time. As Harry can attest, my track record
with apprentices is rather...abysmal.

Plus, I find Mistress Hermione's inquisitive nature rather...scary. There is curiosity and then
there is, quite frankly, obsession. Given her choices this term (I'm sure Harry can fill you in
here) it is a distinction she has yet to make.

Puck

Harry chuckled and passed the letter back to Ginny. He hadn't thought of Hermione's
behaviour this term in that particular manner, but it made sense. If she learned that Puck was
Merlin, she'd probably badger him to no end in an attempt to discover how Arthurian life
was, not to mention life at Avalon and everything else.

And so, because Merlin had requested and because it was easier than thinking about his
feelings for the redhead beside him, Harry informed Ginny about Hermione and the Time-
Turner. Ginny wasn't terribly surprised that Hermione would go to such lengths in the interest
of knowledge, and happened to agree whole-heartedly with his Merlin's assessment.

"So..." said Ginny as they drew near to the portrait hole. The Fat Lady had been expertly
restored and mollified once Sirius had apologized--grovelled, more like it.

"So?" echoed Harry, sneaking just a slight glance at her before returning his attention to his
very interesting shoes. There was a curious splatter of mud on the toe that looked like a
chocolate butterfly.

"So, we'll be spending a lot of time at Merlin's Haven, wherever that is," said Ginny with a
slight hitch to her voice. "Together."

"Uh huh," agreed Harry, feeling the blood rush to his head as he nodded. "You'll--you'll like
it, I think. It's kinda like the Burrow, only there's much more...um...space...to--y'know--be
alone and stuff..."

"Oh," said Ginny. Harry felt like a heel for the note of disappointment that rang in her voice.
"Space," she continued in a tone of forced neutrality. "That's--that's nice. Can't have too much
space..."

Harry glanced up as Ginny made her way to the portrait hole, spoke the password, and
slipped inside with nary a glance back.

That night, Harry sought Merlin's help before things could get any worse between himself
and Ginny, especially with their connection and the fact that she would now be apprenticing
with him. He did not want to test out how good of a duellist she was--well, so long as he was
the target.

I would hardly consider myself the best person to turn towards for advice in this situation,
Harry, remarked Merlin dryly. The last woman I fell in love with sealed me in a crystal
prison for fifteen hundred years.

"That's more experience than me," pointed out Harry grumpily.

Just what concerns you, Harry? asked a resigned Merlin.

"She's Ron's sister for one thing," said Harry quickly, having gone over the list many times in
his mind. "What if it doesn't work out between us? What'll happen between me and the
Weasleys? I--I don't want to lose them... And I probably would bollocks it up. Not like I've
any idea what I'm doing. And then there's the connection... Am I feeling what I'm feeling
because of it? Is she?"

As to the first issue, I'd hardly consider her brother a problem if your relationship should fall
apart so spectacularly, noted Merlin drolly. Harry was decidedly not amused. As to your
connection, what did I tell you about magic?

"It can do anything, but that doesn't mean it'll always do exactly what you want," said Harry.
It was an easy question by this juncture, but Merlin's silence meant that Harry would have to
keep going. "There are love potions, aren't there?"

Yes. Many, actually. Certainly more than there'd been in my time. Of course, what would
happen should the potion wear off?

"I reckon the person would go back to normal and wonder just what the bloody hell'd been
going on," Harry bit out sarcastically.

Quite so, said Merlin, unaffected by Harry's irritation. Are you connected to Ginevra now?

"No."
And how do you feel about her?

Realization struck Harry at that moment. They weren't connected, but everything Harry felt
about her remained the same. The connection was just...another trait; her aura was no
different from the colour of her hair or eyes. Everything he felt about her was real.

But that still didn't mean he had any idea what the hell he was going to do about it.

"But what do I do?" said Harry, voicing his thoughts in frustration.

Well, I for one would feel elated that the girl I was attracted to felt the same in
return, quipped Merlin off-handily. However, I'll admit that entering a relationship would be
nerve-wracking for any thirteen year old boy. Given the pot of weeds your flower was forced
to bloom in, I can understand your extreme apprehension. But do you remember what I told
you I was preparing you for? During the summer, when you would complain--in jest, I'm
sure.

Harry frowned at the unexpected question and cast his mind back to the summer. He'd
complained a lot during the summer. What did Merlin say that Harry was preparing him for?
Suddenly it hit him...

"I have to...talk?" said Harry, who felt like he'd rather face down another hundred dementors
than talk about his feelings like that--let alone those feelings...and with Ginny, no less!

I suppose you could write it in a letter and send it to her, Merlin mused in an attempt to help
Harry along, but that'd only be a starting point. You'd have to talk to her eventually. ...Or you
could ignore things, but bear in mind that she is now my apprentice, and the two of you will
be living together this summer. It would be easier, I think, to confront this hurdle.

Harry sighed, knowing that Merlin was right. What was the alternative? Push Ginny away?
Maybe even push her into the arms of someone else? The dragon in Harry's chest revolted at
the very thought. He was a Gryffindor. He could...talk...about his feelings... Maybe
tomorrow...

*****

Unfortunately--or fortunately, depending--exams rolled around, and Harry found himself too
preoccupied to work on the letter to Ginny. Despite that, he did notice that she wasn't hanging
around him as much anymore. She was huddled with her fellow second years in the common
room, but Harry knew they couldn't have that much to study for. How could they? Third
years and above had two--or more--classes than they.

Every now and then she would look up and find Harry looking at her. The first few times
she'd blush, but when it became obvious he wasn't going to do anything, she did her best to
ignore him. At least Ron and Hermione were too preoccupied with their own problems to
notice his forlornness.

Hagrid had sent a note informing them of the date of the appeal, which coincided with their
last day of exams. It also said the Committee was bringing along an executioner, which didn't
bode well for Buckbeak.
Shortly after their Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, in which Harry actually scored a
higher mark than Hermione, they ran across Minister Fudge, a representative for the
Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and the executioner who bore an axe on
his belt. To their greater surprise, however, they also came across Sirius. He was looking
much better now that his hair was shorter and he'd put a few months worth of good meals in
his belly. His fathomless gray eyes had lost a good deal of their haunted look, and he smiled
freely when he saw them.

"Sirius!" exclaimed Harry, running up eagerly to hug his godfather.

"Hello, Harry! Ron, Hermione," greeted the older wizard. "How're exams going?"

"We've just come from Professor Lupin," Ron told him. Harry noted the executioner's
expression turned foul at the mention of Lupin. He also began to caress the flat of his axe
almost longingly.

"Ah, and what did ol' Moony set up for you?" inquired Sirius.

"An obstacle course," said Harry. "We had to get past all the magical creatures we'd learned
about over the term."

"Harry got full marks," said Ron, nudging at Harry's side.

"No doubt there," remarked Sirius, giving Harry's hair a fond tussle. "You've more practical
experience in dealing with Dark wizards than adults three-times your age. What about the rest
of you?"

"Hinkypink," said Ron with a morose shake of his head. Hermione seemed reluctant to speak,
so Ron answered for her, smiling all the while, "Hermione couldn't deal with the boggart."

Had Hermione apprenticed from Merlin, Harry had little doubt that Ron would survive the
glare she'd sent him.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" said Harry, hoping to avoid another argument between his
friends.

"I'm here for Hagrid's appeal," explained Sirius; he shot a dark look at the executioner for a
moment. "I told you I'd try to help."

"I'll come with," said Harry. "I've finished my exams. Ron and Hermione've got exams after
lunch, but I'm free now."

Sirius agreed and the group made their way down to Hagrid's hut. Sirius spoke to Harry about
the home he'd purchased on number three, Crossbough Crescent, London. He couldn't wait
for Moony to move in, or for Harry to come visit. Conversation also turned towards the
summer and the Quidditch World Cup. Sirius was pleased to have a chance to see it again and
vowed to be there with the Weasleys.

"'Arry? Sirius?" called out Hagrid when the door opened. Buckbeak was tethered up to the
pumpkin patch beside the hut. "What're yeh doin' 'ere?"

"We're here to help you, of course," Sirius replied cheerfully. Hagrid seemed to be a little
relieved that he didn't have to go through yet another proceeding alone.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" inquired Harry softly as he moved towards the large man.

"Out in the back garden," answered Hagrid in a gruff manner.

Minister Fudge seemed anxious to get things done quickly, but Harry would have none of
that. He'd spent months with Ron and Hermione going over Buckbeak's case, and the
Minister was going to hear every last word of it! Every now and then, Sirius would add
something of his own. Hagrid was content to let them do the talking.

"Buckbeak's done nothing wrong!" said Harry vehemently in conclusion. "Malfoy knew he
wasn't supposed to insult a hippogriff, Hagrid told him so! And since Hagrid wasn't found to
be negligent, then it has to be Malfoy's fault, not Buckbeak's."

"Well, we can hardly punish young Draco, can we?" replied Fudge nervously.

"Oh, I don't know, the spoiled brat could use a good thrashing," muttered Sirius under his
breath. Harry bit his cheeks to stop himself from laughing.

"Then don't punish anyone," Harry insisted. "If you won't punish Malfoy for his...slight, then
don't punish Buckbeak for his nature."

"It would be tradition, Minister," said Sirius in as silky a voice as he could manage. "Harry's
proven precedence of it happening before. Indeed, to have a hippogriff executed under these
circumstances would be...suspicious."

"Suspicious, you say?" said Fudge curiously.

"Well, here's hundreds of years worth of wizarding law," said Sirius as he waved towards the
notes assembled before Harry. "It clearly says that the hippogriff must be allowed to live.
Hagrid didn't train it to attack young Mr. Malfoy; therefore it's no more dangerous than the
rating given to it. But here we are--a hair’s breadth from killing it. Are our traditions so
worthless, Minister, that you--or perhaps, Lucius--can throw them all aside? Don't you think
it's bad form for Lucius? A terrible example to set for young Draco. That laws and tradition
can be thrown aside at the whim of petty want? What would Ms. Skeeter say?"

Harry had no idea who this Skeeter woman was, but it was obvious that Fudge did for he
grew pale and shaky at the mention of her name. Macnair was murderous at this point, and
Harry thought that he might actually have a go at Sirius right there in Hagrid's hut. Hagrid's
eyes were practically glowing with hope.

"Yes, well, we certainly can't--can't have the Ministry looking like it doesn't care for our own
laws, can we?" said Fudge, giving a very brittle smile. "Yes, yes, I'm afraid Lucius must
teach his son to be--to be accountable for his actions... Actions--actions have consequences,
after all. I, acting as Minister, hereby overturn the decision set forth by the Department for
the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Hagrid, your hippogriff is free to have a long life."
"Oh bless yeh, Minister!" cried out a very emotional Hagrid. He threw a giant embrace
around Sirius and Harry, practically crushing the life out of both of them. Macnair gave a
very loud snarl and stalked out of the hut. "Bless yeh, 'Arry! And you too, Sirius!"

"Ah, Hagrid, we'll need to file the appropriate papers," coughed Fudge uncomfortably.

"Righ'--righ'!" exclaimed Hagrid as he wiped at his tears with the bottom of his beard.

"Who's Ms. Skeeter?" Harry whispered to Sirius as Hagrid, Fudge, and the old Committee
representative read over and signed the proper paperwork.

"A reporter for the Daily Prophet," Sirius replied. "She's been overly critical of the Ministry
lately. No one knows how she gets her information, but it's spot on. She's been writing
articles about their incompetence starting from my acquittal. Wormtail's escape only made
things worse. Fudge has been side-stepping most of the issues by laying the blame on
someone else, but if Skeeter learned something like this..."

"Wouldn't it be a little too insignificant for the news?" frowned Harry.

"This is a lesson you'll have to learn, Harry, but when you're famous? There's nothing that's
insignificant to the rest of the world," muttered Sirius darkly. "I hope you never have the
displeasure of meeting her, Harry. Rita Skeeter's dangerous in her own way. She was a
Slytherin, after all."

Harry nodded, not wanting to meet her anytime soon either.

"Speaking on Slytherin," said Harry with a teasing smirk. "Nice job."

"Well, I've seen my father do it enough times," replied Sirius wryly. "Did you know he got an
Order of Merlin just for donations? I guess it's just the Black blood in me. Still, if it helps
Hagrid..."

Harry rushed back to the Gryffindor common room to tell Ron and Hermione the good news.
Hermione was so relieved at the news that she almost melted into the armchair she'd been
seated in. That evening at dinner, the trio were finally excited and enthusiastic for the
summer like the rest of the school.

"You lot are in a better mood," remarked Ginny, glancing at Ron and Hermione, but not
Harry.

"Buckbeak got off!" whooped Ron. "We're celebrating!"

"Good job!" beamed Ginny happily. Harry found himself wishing that she'd turn that look
back on him. He remembered how great it made him feel to see her smile at the Quidditch
final.

"It was Harry's doing," Hermione waved off. "He went down to speak on Hagrid's behalf."

"Sirius was the one who convinced the Minister," said Harry, ducking his head down towards
his plate bashfully. "And you all helped with the research anyway."

He risked a glance up towards Ginny to find her staring off towards the staff table, where
Hagrid was chatting freely with McGonagall. Harry gave a sigh and glanced around the Great
Hall. He'd have to work on the letter and clear the air between himself and Ginny. There was
no way he could continue like this.

"Hang on," said Harry, craning his head around Ginny's to spy the Slytherin table. Macnair
was there, leaning over and whispering to Malfoy.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ron from beside him. "Ginny got something on her face?"

"Macnair's talking to Malfoy," said Harry, though he couldn't resist glancing at Ginny's face
again. A strong vibration was coming off of her body, keying Harry to the fact that a spell
would be flying Ron's way if she focused just a little more on casting it.

"He's probably telling him the results of the appeal," Hermione waved off nonchalantly.

But Harry didn't think that was the case at all. Malfoy looked horrified for a moment, then
glanced towards the staff table. A sinister smile crossed Malfoy's features as he began to
gossip fervently with those closest to him. In the meanwhile, Macnair walked away
chuckling. Suddenly, Harry felt all the elation suck out of his body at Malfoy's mirth.

*****

The next day was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and Harry found out the cause
behind Malfoy's conversation with Macnair. Everyone in the school now knew that Professor
Lupin was a "dangerous" werewolf. News also spread that Professor Lupin had then decided
to resign from his post. Rather than head off to Hogsmeade with everyone else, Harry headed
straight for Lupin's office.

"Hello, Harry," said Lupin genially as he packed his things together. "I suspected you might
come."

"You're not really leaving, are you?" said Harry.

"I'm afraid so," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

"Why?" said Harry.

"Macnair wasn't very pleased that Padfoot got to ruin his fun." Lupin's sour face told Harry
his true opinion of Macnair. "He informed Draco that I was a werewolf, who then spread
word to everyone else."

"And you're leaving because of that?" said Harry incredulously.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents... They will not want a
werewolf teaching their children, Harry," Lupin told him patiently, as if he'd given the speech
more than once in his lifetime--or received it.
"But--"

"Lucius would have a far easier time getting me fired than he would with Buckbeak's
execution," Lupin cut across calmly. "Especially since the Ministry would be on his side.
They just recently passed a series of anti-werewolf legislation, which will make it difficult for
me to find a job. Perhaps Lucius had a hand in it, I'm not entirely sure."

"All the more reason for you to stay and fight!" protested Harry.

Lupin gave a sigh and leaned over his desk. "Severus let his curiosity get the better of him
once. What's to stop another student from doing the same? Or worse, what's to stop Lucius
from having Draco set me free during a full moon? Or tamper with my Wolfsbane? Given
that Peter's made a fool of him at the Ministry, and then Padfoot interjecting on Buckbeak's
behalf, his pride must be wounded. If something were to happen, you wouldn't find it so very
easy to defend me, Harry. Least of all against Macnair."

As Harry tried to come up with some way to help Lupin, the elder wizard continued to pack
up his things. A knock on the closed door sounded, and Harry shifted away so it could be
opened. Professor Dumbledore entered, looking not at all surprised that Harry was present.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he said.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty grindylow tank.

"Well--goodbye, Harry," he said smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I'll see
you over the summer when you visit Sirius, and I'll be sure to accompany you to the
Quidditch World Cup. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage..."

Harry had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

"Goodbye, then, Remus," said Dumbledore soberly. Lupin shifted the grindylow tank slightly
so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift
smile, Lupin left the office.

"It's not fair," said Harry, hating how petulant he sounded when compared to the situation
around him.

"No, it is not," agreed Dumbledore quietly. After a moment, he said, "Why so miserable,
Harry? Given all that you have accomplished this year, I would imagine you should be very
proud of yourself."

"It hasn't exactly ended on a high note," said Harry cryptically.

"I trust you are not speaking merely of Professor Lupin--or as we must now call him, Remus?
Perhaps Pettigrew's escape?"

"That too," sighed Harry, not wanting to bring up his situation with Ginny to the headmaster
of all people. "Have they heard anything?"
"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is very hard to find one rat out of so many."

"So he could be anywhere," said Harry despondently. "He could be running back to
Voldemort right now for all we know!"

"Very likely," agreed Dumbledore calmly. Harry looked at Dumbledore, aghast. How could
he be so unconcerned? "I was there, Harry, when we took Pettigrew's statement. I knew the
risks then, but I went along with the proper course of action. There are always times in our
lives when we must choose between what is right and what is easy. We made our choices,
Harry, and I do not find them wanting. Your father would have been proud of your decision."

And Harry remembered that James had saved Snape from being killed by Lupin. Surely, had
Snape been killed, Sirius could never have been blamed for his role in it. It would've just
been a terrible tragedy. James had been forced to make a hard choice, and he chose to do the
right thing. Even though Snape's actions eventually led to James's death, he'd still made the
right choice. Harry could only hope that history wasn't repeating itself.

*****

All too soon it was time to leave Hogwarts, and Harry found himself not wanting to go back.
It was strange, considering how much he didn't want to leave the Haven in the first place.
Was it possible to be homesick for two separate places? Or perhaps it was leaving a comfort
zone after settling into a routine.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station that morning, Hermione gave Harry and
Ron some surprising news.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop
Muggle Studies."

"But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" said Ron.

"I know," sighed Hermione, "but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it
was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle studies and Divination, I'll be able to
have a normal schedule again."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it," said Ron grumpily. "We're supposed to be
your friends."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," said Hermione severely. She looked around at Harry,
who was patting a letter in the pocket of his jeans. It was a mingled look of gratefulness and
warning. Harry had played up his surprise when Hermione came clean to Ron, and he seemed
to take the information better so long as he wasn't the only one left out of the loop.

Ron eventually steered the conversation towards the Quidditch World Cup. He seemed to be
a little concerned whether the Dursleys would allow Harry to go, but then Harry remembered
that they didn't know about his conversation with Dumbledore months ago. In fact, his best
friends didn't know a lot about himself. That fact hammered in how close he'd become to
Ginny over the year, and how much he'd been missing her the last few weeks.
By the time they reached the halfway mark, Ginny hadn't yet made an appearance. He hadn't
even seen her on the ride down to Hogsmeade for that matter. Worrying about her safety was
easier to focus on than the loss of her company, so Harry decided to take action.

"Fancy a game, Harry?" asked Ron, holding out a deck of Exploding Snap.

"Not right now," said Harry with a forced smile. "I want to stretch my legs out a bit. You play
Hermione, I'll play winner."

Once in the hall, Harry stretched out with his magic to find Ginny's aura, only to find he had
a difficult time in doing so. Apparently he didn't have enough power without their
connection. He wasn't exactly anxious to establish that at the moment. The last thing he
wanted to do was give her a power boost if he happened to hack her off even further.

It took quite a bit of searching before he found Ginny in an almost empty compartment
speaking with the blonde girl she'd been speaking to at the first practice of the spring term.
Harry could see she wore a necklace of what seemed to be common pebbles, and that her
wand was tucked behind her ear. Both girls were laughing and giggling, and his heart swelled
to hear the muffled sound through the compartment door. He'd missed it...a lot.

Steeling his Gryffindor courage, Harry knocked on the glass door. Ginny looked up and the
smile faded from her face. Harry gave a tiny sigh and opened the compartment door.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

"It's Luna's compartment, I'm just sitting with her for a while," shrugged Ginny. She turned to
the blonde girl. "Luna, is it all right if Harry sits with us?"

Luna turned her protuberant blue-gray eyes towards Harry and gave a slow blink.

"You're Harry Potter," she said serenely.

"I know I am," said Harry.

"You made Ginny angry with you," Luna continued on blithely. "I don't think it was your
fault, really. You're a boy, after all. I happen to think she might've scared you a little."

"Luna!" Ginny hissed, blushing slightly.

"She--er--she didn't scare me," said Harry, finding it easier to address the strange girl that was
Ginny's friend than Ginny herself. "I--I actually scared myself a little."

Luna narrowed her eyes and peered at him intently.

"I don't see any Zinkzies in your eyes," she murmured, almost to herself. "You must've gotten
rid of them."

"Err--wha--?" said Harry. He looked over towards Ginny for some assistance, instead he
found himself staring at a very amused witch who showed no inclination to help him. Finding
himself irritated for no discernible reason, Harry extracted the letter from his pocket and
dropped it on Ginny's lap. "Here."

He left without a goodbye or a look behind. He didn't walk very far before he started staring
out the windows. They were still quite a ways from London. Never had the trip felt so long to
him before. He'd much rather teleport straight away to the Haven and be done with it.

The door to Luna's compartment popped open and Ginny stuck her head out frantically. For a
moment Harry was concerned and had called upon a strong supply of his magic at his
fingertips. Then Ginny's face broke into relief upon spying Harry.

"Ginny?" he said.

Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip as if deciding something. She sprang out from the
compartment and grabbed Harry by the hand. Both of them gasped as the connection returned
in full force, but it was much more than that. The tingle shot all the way up to his shoulder
now, and when he engaged his sight, he could see that Ginny's was now up to the middle of
her bicep. Their senses were also sharper, and Harry was much more aware of the power
between them.

Rather than dwell on it, she tugged on his hand to get him moving. He followed her into the
luggage compartment, which she then charmed shut with the Privacy Charm he'd taught her.

"You like me?" she asked boldly, blushing a little as she did.

"Yes," answered Harry. He felt a great sucking sensation on the inside of his stomach, as if
his body wanted to instinctively curl up into the foetal position.

"You...you...you great prat! I thought you didn't like me!" said Ginny heatedly, punching
him on the arm for good measure. It didn't hurt, thanks to the ring, but from the smack he had
little doubt that it would've. Then she surprised him by throwing a hug around his neck that
sent them both crashing back against a stack of trunks.

"I--I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry apologized, wrapping his arms around her waist tentatively.
Their connection surged through their bodies, engulfing them both in a comfortable blanket
of fire. Harry's dragon let out a growl of glee.

"I know, I read the letter," said Ginny softly against his neck. "I'm sorry too. It--I thought it
was me... Here we were, becoming great friends, and then I thought I'd messed things up by
reading the wrong signals. I thought you just wanted to be friends. I mean, what could you
see in a scrawny little thing like me?"

"A lot," said Harry automatically, before he even had a chance to register what he'd said.
They both stiffened in surprise. Ginny pulled back just enough to gaze up into Harry's eyes.
"I do! I--you..." Harry almost growled in frustration. He closed his eyes, but even when
closed he could still see her shining aura, and realized that more of his was mingling with
hers.

"I see you," he told her, gazing deep into her dark eyes; the gold in them were almost
glowing. There was no other way to tell her how he felt.
Tentatively, Ginny traced one hand from the nape of his neck along his jaw line. Every nerve
jumped to life at the motion, and it felt like his world began and ended with her fingertip. It
was an alien, yet familiar, sensation. The dragon within shivered, too overcome by the
sensation to speak.

"I see you too," she said in reply, her voice almost drowned out by the phoenix song.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized again. "I just didn't know what to--"

"I said I read your letter, didn't I?" Ginny challenged with an arched brow. "I know why you
acted the way you did. In a way, I feel a little flattered that the great Harry Potter's scared of a
twelve year old girl. Of course, I could also feel offended that the great Harry Potter's scared
of this twelve year old girl."

"Ginny--"

"I'm only teasing, Harry," said Ginny, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Harry, you have to
understand that I don't know what I'm doing anymore than you. What makes you think I've
had a boyfriend before--before now?"

The dragon in Harry made him reach out with his hand and possessively rake it through her
silky tresses when she claimed him as her boyfriend. The phoenix in Ginny trilled softly at
the gesture, and she moulded herself against his body in response. Had Harry been even a
year older--or maybe even a few more months older--he would've known how terribly
inappropriate this whole situation was.

"I dunno," he shrugged, not finding an immediate desire to talk. "I just did... Maybe you
picked up some knowledge without even realizing it. You have your parents and your older
brothers. I just...I just have the Dursleys."

"Well, all right, say I did pick up some things, that doesn't mean I'm anywhere close to being
an expert," Ginny pointed out logically. "Like our connection, we'll figure everything out as
we go along."

Harry recalled their conversation the night Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw.

"Together?" he asked, smiling.

Ginny positively beamed in understanding.

"Together," she vowed.

Because it seemed like the thing to do at the moment of such declaration, Harry dipped his
head forward without warning and captured Ginny's lips in a chaste kiss. Though it was
chaste, and though it barely lasted for a second, through their connection, Harry had never
felt anything like it in the world. It was like a Bludger had struck his heart, sending it rattling
around his chest like a Snitch; while gooseflesh spread to every inch of his body, making him
think his skin might explode off his bones.
From a clearly technical standpoint, it was a little sloppy; their teeth clicked and a little bit of
Ginny's upper lip got pinched; Harry's glasses got a little smudged and knocked askew, but
neither of them noticed.

"Wow," breathed Harry, who'd never felt anything like that before in his life.

"Wow," Ginny concurred breathlessly. "Oh! Your glasses..."

Harry's eyes crossed as he focused in on the blurry spot. Before he could react, Ginny
reached up and slipped them from his face. It was such a weird sensation, almost weirder than
kiss, really. Few people had ever removed his glasses--at least when he was awake. Dudley
had yanked them off many times, but nothing like the gentle motion of Ginny. And no one
had certainly ever cleaned them, like Ginny was doing with the hem of her shirt.

"Guess it's another thing we'll have to figure out and practice at," she giggled impishly as she
set them back on his nose, blushing while she spoke.

"Reckon so," grinned Harry, sure that he was blushing just as badly.

The train gave a sharp jolt, bringing them back to the world around them.

"I'd best get back," said Harry reluctantly. "I promised Ron and Hermione I'd play the winner
of their Exploding Snap game. They probably went through three games."

"Probably," laughed Ginny. "Demelza and Vicky are probably wondering where I've gone,
too. I promised them I'd speculate over the World Cup."

"They follow Quidditch?" said a bemused Harry.

Ginny nodded as she cancelled the Privacy Charm and opened up the door. As their hands
were linked, it was rather easy to spy anyone magical lurking on the other side, yet another
handy feature of their bond. Speaking on which, their auras had spread a little further
between each other, going a little past their shoulders and looking a little more even.

"Demelza wants to be a Chaser," Ginny explained. "She's as good as I am, really. Vicky's a
fair Keeper, but she's a part of every club there is at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Harry seemed to have a hard time wrapping his mind around that particular fact.
"But...they're always giggling...and..."

"Oh, well, they were comparing the Bulgarian and Irish Seekers," shrugged Ginny
nonchalantly, but Harry could see the dancing light in her eyes. "Comparing their
attractiveness, that is. Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Nation Team's Seeker, won."

Harry snorted.

"They're not that bad, really," Ginny promised after a slight laugh. "Demelza is really good,
though Vicky can be a little flighty, like Lavender. Mel's been a lifelong Tutshill Tornados
fan."
All too soon, Harry came upon his compartment with Ron and Hermione.

"I'll see you this summer, then," he sighed a little sadly. A part of himself hated that he was
so love-struck so quickly. "When're you coming?"

"Puck hasn't worked out the logistics, yet," admitted Ginny. "I think he'll either send you or
come himself to pick me up. He wants to give me some time at home with my folks. It's
going to be busy--training and then the World Cup. I think Mum might have a hard time
letting go."

"They'll probably demand you stay with them for Christmas," nodded Harry in agreement.
"And you probably should."

"You want me gone already, Potter?" Ginny teased.

"No!" said Harry quickly. "No, it's just--well, Puck's become like a--a dad to me, yeah? I
mean that's the difference between him and Sirius, isn't it? He got to live so much more of his
life than Padfoot, who's more--more of an older brother. So--so he's family, see? But you've
your own family, and I know you'd like to see them. This Christmas was the first time I
looked forward to going home. I--I missed him."

"That was sweet, Harry." She smiled at him and laid a caressing hand upon his cheek. Harry
burned at being called "sweet," but so long as it came from Ginny... "You're right though. I
do miss Mum, and I'll probably miss her over the summer. At least I can teleport back to
visit. I think I'll even miss Ron!"

"Ron..." Harry groaned and fell back against the wall of the compartment, looking diagonally
towards the glass door where the aforementioned brother was. "He's going to kill me..."

"He'll have a hard time doing it with this," murmured Ginny, plucking Harry's left hand to
examine the dragon. "I can't believe he hasn't noticed it. Besides, so long as we keep our
connection open, I'll get him before he can even try to get you. I wonder how bad the Bat-
Bogey Hex would be if amplified..."

Harry envisioned bat-bogeys the size of dragons and gave of a shudder.

"Bye," said Harry.

"Bye," said Ginny.

Though they'd said their goodbyes, neither made any movement to leave. In fact, Harry's
body almost seemed like it was drawn to Ginny's, rather than towards the glass door. He gave
her a quick peck on the cheek that gave his skin the requisite tingle, bringing a smile to both
their faces. That made the separation a little more bearable.

*****

When the Hogwarts Express pulled up to King's Cross, Harry saw Merlin, dressed in Muggle
attire, standing beside the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley had something of a regular face plastered
onto what had to be a trembling one, while Mrs. Weasley kept stealing glances at Merlin as if
she were about to faint. Merlin, for his part, was torn between looking terribly amused and
thoroughly uncomfortable.

Harry choked back a strangled laugh as he pushed his things over towards them.

"'Lo, Puck," he greeted brightly.

"Survived another year," remarked Merlin dryly. "I daresay this one was less exciting than
others. No grand confrontations with the great evil of your age."

Mrs. Weasley looked scandalized at the casual way Merlin spoke of Voldemort and Harry's
confrontations, but it was simply Merlin's sense of humour. Besides, it was also a way for
Merlin to show his relief that it had been a simple year, relatively speaking. He worried,
much more than Mrs. Weasley ever could, because he knew of Harry's role to play in things.
Worse, even, given that Merlin practiced astrology and could catch glimpses of the potential
futures.

"Nope, just a barking lunatic..." Harry blinked at the last two words and applied them to the
two men he'd had the pleasure of becoming friends with over the term. Merlin covered his
mouth behind his hand as he too stumbled upon Harry's unintentional double pun.

"A week shall be sufficient, I think, Molly," said Merlin, turning to face Mrs. Weasley.

"A--a week?" said Mrs. Weasley. She was almost heartbroken in a way.

"A fortnight if you must," said Merlin in a tone that brokered no argument, "but Ginny has
much she needs to catch up with. To have her catch up this far, I needed to postpone Harry's
lessons. I would prefer having both my apprentices on equal footing."

"O-of course, Mer--Puck," said Mrs. Weasley nervously.

"You might as well make that your name," said Harry in an effort to soothe Mrs. Weasley's
nerves. "Mer-Puck. Merpuck. Merp-uck."

"Enough," chuckled Merlin as the rest of the Weasley troupe approached them.

Percy was saying goodbye to Penelope, still wearing his Head Boy badge proudly and
speaking about how well he'd gotten along with Minister Fudge, Rufus Scrimgeour, and
Amelia Bones during the Christmas holidays. He was sure he'd get a job at the Ministry.

Fred and George were huddled together closer than usual. Though they received a handful of
OWLs--combined--they seemed happy. In fact, they seemed downright excited. That
inevitably amounted to trouble.

Ron and Ginny brought up the rear, having said their farewells to Hermione. The moment
Hermione left, Ron immediately tried to distance himself from Ginny. She scowled at his
back as her shorter legs tried to close the gap futilely. Harry wondered about it, but then
Ginny beamed when she spotted him staring at her. Everything was forgotten.
"I'll call about the World Cup!" said Ron excitedly as the Weasleys began to make their way
towards the barrier.

Before they left, Ginny gave him a vigorous wave, which he happily returned, much to
Merlin's amusement.

"I see all's well between my apprentices," he noted teasingly.

"Er, you could say that," said Harry, unable to keep the broad grin from his face in spite of
the blush.

"Good," said Merlin as he escorted Harry through the barrier. "I suppose the rescue plan I
drew up is no longer required. Shame. It was a good one."

"Har..." drawled Harry sarcastically. Then he threw in cheekily, "Maybe you should file it
away for the next row?"

Merlin threw back his head and laughed. "A fine idea, Harry! Always best to be prepared."

They walked on through the station until they hit the streets. Waiting for them outside,
leaning against an expertly restored Mini Cooper, was Sirius Black. He was the epitome of
cool, standing there in his leather jacket, black slacks, and red-gray shirt. He didn't look at all
like a thirty year old man who'd spent almost half his life in jail. Instead, he looked more like
a twenty-something eager for a good time.

"Harry!" he called out, beaming wide.

"I thought you might like to see Sirius's place before we head home," Merlin informed Harry.
Harry turned to smile at Merlin in return, only to find his mentor scanning the streets
carefully.

"Puck?" inquired Harry carefully. They were out in the open and neither had cast a Privacy
Charm.

"People have been making...inquiries about me," said Merlin slowly. Sirius had popped the
trunk, which had been altered through magical means to accommodate the luggage. He then
helped Harry load everything up while Merlin leaned against the car.

"People?"

Merlin's gray eyes dipped down to meet Harry's.

"People," was all Merlin would say. Then, as if to allay Harry's fears, he gave a slight smile.
"It was unavoidable, I'm afraid. I have no identity anywhere, do I? No address, no record of
my life, nothing... I hadn't the time to piece anything together, barring the story you
graciously told Master Ronald and Mistress Hermione."

"And people are watching you? Why?" asked Harry. It didn't make sense to him.

"I made myself known in the presence of the three most powerful people in the Ministry and
your headmaster," said Merlin softly as they climbed into the very comfortable and spacious
Mini Cooper. "Moreover, I did so in connection to Sirius Black and Harry Potter. I've roused
a great deal of suspicion in regards to my identity, allegiance, and purpose. Trust me, Harry, I
regret nothing of what I've done."

"That's why we're going to Sirius's place, isn't it?" said Harry shrewdly. "So we can teleport
to the Haven without being detected or you having to cast a Privacy Charm which would
arouse suspicion."

Harry's eyes glanced up to the rear-view, where Merlin was smiling proudly in the reflection.

"You do catch on quick. While it isn't the sole reason we're heading for Sirius's home, it's a
convenient one. Let them believe that we took a Portkey or Flooed to wherever I happen to
live."

"Is the Haven even hooked up to the Floo system?" wondered Harry with a slight tinge of
humour.

"Heavens no!" laughed Merlin. "Believe me, however, Molly demanded it every few
sentences during that marathon...discussion. But to have the Haven be a part of the Floo
system is to have it registered with the Ministry of Magic as a place of residence. She insisted
that Arthur could sneak it in, but I'd rather there be no paper trail at all."

"What about the Owl Post?" mused Harry. "You told me to never underestimate them. What
if they sent a letter addressed to you and followed it?"

"Ah, but as you pointed out, I was the one who told you," smirked Merlin superiorly. "I'm not
sure you've noticed, Harry, but the Haven is some rather advanced magic." Merlin paused to
allow Harry the chance to make at a face at the understatement. "You wondered that first day
how owls can enter, even though it is underground. It is all a part of the magic. A person
could never enter the way a magical owl could."

*****

It didn't take long for them to pull up to Crossbough Crescent. Sirius's home actually seemed
to be a three story brownstone. There was an aged feel to the walls that made it stand out
from the much more modern and smaller homes surrounding it. It seemed like a relic of the
early industrial era of London.

Sirius pulled up into the rather bare garage around the back of the building. The only other
thing inside was a strange shape covered beneath a gray tarp.

"What's that?" inquired Harry as he retrieved Hedwig in her cage and his trunk.

"My replacement flying motorcycle," grinned Sirius, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Hagrid
sort've... Well, let's just say I didn't have people of his size in mind when I made my original
modifications. It was shame to let her go, but I figured if I'm to make a fresh start of things, I
might as well go all out."

"Can I ride it?" asked Harry, just as excited as Sirius with the prospect of something that
could fly and go fast.

"Harry, I'll buy you one of your own and teach you how if you'd like!" exclaimed Sirius.

Merlin muttered something under his breath that sounded like "tomfoolery," but Harry wasn't
quite sure.

"I couldn't--I mean my Firebolt..."

"Godfather," said Sirius, gesturing at himself. "My job to spoil you, remember? Besides, I'm
beginning to think you don't have the slightest idea how rich I actually am!"

Harry really hadn't a clue as to how rich Sirius was. All Harry knew was that Sirius was rich
enough to buy many extravagant things for himself and a Firebolt for Harry.

"I could even buy one for Merlin and teach him how to ride," said Sirius, throwing a smirk
over towards the other wizard.

Merlin harrumphed loudly and cast a wary glance at the covered vehicle.

"I prefer having a mount that actually possesses a brain of its own," Merlin told them. "Just
what, exactly, is so wrong about horseback riding? A horse is a fine and noble beast, and
journeys are meant to be enjoyed."

They shared a laugh and then toured what Sirius affectionately called the "Marauder's Pad." It
was simple in design. Each level was designated for someone--Sirius had the third floor;
Remus, the second; and the third floor was a sort of common area for guests. There was a
simple kitchen and dining area located off from the first floor entrance hall, with a staircase
that led up each floor. The basement was cleared for potion keeping and brewing.
Unfortunately, Sirius didn't know how to brew the Wolfsbane for Remus, but he could keep a
stock of things to alleviate Remus's discomfort the next day.

"I should be able to manage the Wolfsbane," said Merlin confidently as he examined the
cupboards. "Get me the ingredients and instructions, and hopefully I can have a cauldron
ready by the next full moon."

Harry wished Merlin could wave his hand and cure Lupin of lycanthropy, but he knew it
wasn't that simple. Maybe if Merlin could understand how the curse worked and the origins
behind it, but... Well, to be honest, Harry didn't know the first thing about developing a
counter-curse to anything, let alone lycanthropy. Just another lesson to look forward to.

The backyard was much more open than any other yard in the surrounding neighbourhood,
which was to say that Sirius actually had a yard. It was much more confined than the Haven
or the Burrow, however, but it was enough that Padfoot and Moony could enjoy some
exercise come the full moon.

Despite the size of the Marauder's Pad, everything was Spartan-like in its furnishing. It was
hardly surprising given the fact that Sirius and Remus were bachelors. Harry even doubted
whether or not Sirius could manage the upkeep of the Marauder's Pad. Then again, magic did
make everything easy.
After staying for lunch, Harry and Merlin winked back to the Haven. At first, Harry took a
moment to breathe in the fresh air around him and the impressive vista. Merlin chuckled
appreciatively before entering the quaint cottage.

"Breathing in the free air?" he asked in amusement. "Welcome home, Harry."

"Home," Harry agreed.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

It's never easy to be the first at something because you have no reference for it to guide you.
That was Harry's fear in entering a relationship with Ginny, though he didn't quite know how
to voice it. Growing up with the Dursleys have left him with no example to strive for.

The marathon "discussion" between Merlin and Mrs. Weasley is one of the many scenes I'll
try to cobble together in a series of "Missing Moments," though the story itself is my primary
focus. It wasn't nearly as easy as Merlin plays it off to be.

Rita Skeeter makes an earlier than canon appearance here by name only...or well, that's not
entirely true since we're not given an exact point when she started tearing into the Ministry.
Of course, with something as big as Sirius's innocence, you know she was bound to exploit it
for all it was worth.

Luna, for me, is an incredibly difficult character to write for. Mainly because I'm so very
tempty to write her like River Tam from Joss Whedon's wonderful, though tragically short-
lived show, Firefly and movie Serenity (yes, I'm a Browncoat, and have done Firefly
fanfiction). While I think the analogy might be very appropriate, in a way, it's also not. The
difference is that I know why River seems insane, but I'm not altogether certain of Luna's
motivation, whether she's cognizant or otherwise. In any event, her backstory is something I'll
have to nail down before she makes any more appearances.

Now that the PoA stretch is finally over, I should say that this story is actually a revision on a
previous draft (which I had written all the way to OotP before dropping it). I say this because
while I deviated greatly from canon in PoA here, in the previous draft I stuck pretty close to
what happened. In the meanwhile, my GoF section was far different. Harry did not become
Triwizard Champion as Crouch Jr. was unconvered just after he Confounded the goblet. The
goblet was thrown past the age line and it was Ron who took advantage of the situation and
placed his name to become champion.

I only mention it because I actually liked the turn of events with Ron as Triwizard Champion,
maturing quickly under the scrutiny that Harry had faced in the past, not to mention the fact
that Ron got to compete against Viktor Krum directly. In the meanwhile, Harry got to enjoy a
peaceful year free of any scrutiny.
From the way things have progressed the second time around, it seems very doubtful that Ron
will end up being Triwizard Champion.

In the meanwhile, that's it for PoA and the rapid posting...well, at least for a little bit. I'll be
working on Goblet of Fire from here on out. I'd like to get all of GoF finished before I start
posting that section, but maybe I can be persuaded otherwise...

Back to index

Chapter 8: Chapter Eight: World History

Author's Notes: So, here begins the Goblet of Fire section. I've decided to finish two
chapters before revising and posting, meaning that I've already got Chapter Nine finished.

Thanks for all the comments! And votes and nominations! It's really cool that you all think so
highly of the story, and I appreciate it!

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Eight: World History

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

"Here," said Merlin, thrusting a tray full of potions literally under Harry's nose. The young
wizard gazed down at the various colours stuffed into thin vials apprehensively. At least they
had no discernable scent.

"Um..." Harry didn't quite know where to begin. For all he knew it could be one of Merlin's
patented riddles, or he could be entering the soda pop business. Such was life at the Haven,
and the price of being Merlin's apprentice.

"It's not poison," said Merlin sourly, setting the tray down on the coffee table in the den. "I'm
not Professor Snape, Harry."
Harry's brow gave a quirk as he thought back to a breakfast two nights ago. Both he and
Merlin had been left incapacitated by the devious pasta sauce filled with the wrong kind of
spices. That would teach Merlin about proper brewing conduct.

"That was an accident!" Merlin added quickly, apparently being of the same mind with
Harry. Harry smothered his snickers with his hand.

"All right," said Harry. He sat down in his favourite armchair, while Merlin settled into the
couch with his journal and quill. Harry noticed this and asked, "What do the potions do?"

"My own invention," replied Merlin proudly, though he kept his face downcast towards the
journal as he tried to find a blank page. "Though I admit I had Sirius's help in the matter. The
potions will settle the question of whether or not a dragon is possible for you. When you
drink one, it should induce a vision of what your animal form will look like. If the form is not
possible, then no vision shall take place."

"So I take it the books are wrong when it says that one can choose any animal?" Harry sought
for confirmation. He plucked up a murky amber potion and held it up to the light.

"So it would seem," nodded Merlin, peering at Harry from under his brow. "For instance, did
you know that I am incapable of turning into a hippopotamus? Or a unicorn? Or a panther?
But I can be a Pegasus, a fox, an acromantula, a common cat, and a hawk? I've yet to test out
the theory on whether one can transform into multiple shapes, but let's take it one step at a
time, shall we?"

"Cheers," said Harry dully before tipping the vial into his mouth. The potion slid down easily
enough, but when it hit the bottom of his stomach, all hell broke loose. His throat had sucked
shut and it felt like a volcano had grown in the pit of his body. Worst still, it was about to
erupt.

Fortunately, before anything bad could happen, Harry felt his consciousness jerk back and
away from his body, as if he'd been fastened to the back of the Hogwarts Express and was
being dragged through a tunnel. The train deposited him in what could only be described as a
lush rainforest--or at least, Harry assumed it was a rainforest, never having seen one before in
his life. It wasn't at all like the Forbidden Forest, however. It was humid and noisy and full of
colour.

A snake dropped down from the foliage above, startling Harry. From the looks of things, it
seemed like a very large python. Bright emerald scales glittered through the filtered sunlight,
showcasing a chaotic pattern of black lines to break up the uniformity. Just as Harry reached
out to touch the python, the vision ended and he jolted slightly in the armchair of the Haven.

Harry looked around quickly. Merlin was staring expectantly at Harry with quill in hand,
while the mantle clock showed that not even a minute had lapsed. The vial itself was still
cradled lightly in his palm.

"Python," Harry reported breathlessly. "I was a python..."

Merlin made a thoughtful noise and jotted down the results in his journal.
"One down, thirty-nine to go," said Merlin encouragingly.

"Wonderful..." muttered Harry as he picked up a vial full of earthen-green liquid.

"Stop whinging," admonished Merlin lightly, "and be grateful I didn't test it on you."

It only took ten minutes to fire through them all, with a three minute break for a very grateful
Harry. Among the animals they discovered that he could not be were a bear, a lion (much to
their surprise), a falcon, and an elephant. Some of the animals he could be were a scorpion, a
crow, an ocelot, a wolf, and an Abraxan, which was a breed of winged-horse. The latter
surprised Merlin.

"I mean no offence, Harry, but I thought we might've established a pattern," he explained
gently. "You don't seem able to manage very large predators, or any animal that requires a
great deal of brute force, for the most part. The animals available to you all match your
relative stature and size. If you were to be a winged-horse, I would've thought you to be the
Pegasus like myself, not an Abraxan. Hmph. There goes that theory..."

But the most important question of all remained unanswered. All ten breeds of known
dragons were scattered throughout the forty potions, and not one potion gave a definite
positive. Oh Harry had visions with each one, but they were often visions of darkness. The
Hungarian Horntail produced the earthen taste from his link with Ginny; the Common Welsh
Green produced a pair of giant emerald eyes with vertical slits; the Ukrainian Ironbelly
produced the sensation of flight through the air; and so forth and so forth.

Merlin gave a great sigh at the couch, tapping his finger against the cover of his much worn
journal. Harry could tell his mentor was giving things some serious thought.

"Is there a breed of dragon that's gone extinct, maybe?" Harry offered.

"Perhaps, but that doesn't explain the discrepancy," Merlin pointed out thoughtfully. "Your
cobra potion came out negative--no vision at all--yet you can manage an asp and a python.
There is something else...something I'm missing...something that, perhaps, all dragons share
in common...like...like a common ancestor..."

Merlin uncrossed his leg with such force that he stomped the ground with his heel. The pages
of his journal glowed white, indicating to Harry that he was searching through his entries for
something specific. Merlin skimmed the lines with the tip of his middle finger as he mouthed
along quietly.

A smile came to Merlin's face when he'd found what he'd been searching for. Merlin cleared
his throat and began to recite the words in a rich voice. The words were alien to Harry's ear,
but strangely melodious, yet possessing all the guttural harshness that Harry recognized as
Germanic or Danish in nature. Harry was held spellbound by the beauty of Merlin's voice.

"Old English," Merlin explained with a gentle smile. "In my time, Anglo-Saxon was the
growing language of choice, though I still know my Welsh and Gaelic and Latin." Noting
Harry's awestruck expression, Merlin continued, "I told you I was once a bard. I entertained
Arthur once, along with the court of Camelot, by singing the story of Beowulf for a whole
week. It was a different version than the one committed to paper, of course. Far less
references to God."

Harry shook his head out of his stupor.

"So what did you say?"

"I sung you a story," smiled Merlin wistfully, "one I heard long ago during my apprenticeship
in Avalon. It tells of the time before mankind was brought into existence, of the ancestors to
the creatures who now roam the Earth. The piece that I sung deals with two dragons--
Bahamut and Tiamat--who were brother and sister.

"In the war between good and evil, the two dragons were the generals of each army--
Bahamut for the Light, and Tiamat for the Dark. Bahamut was the Lord of all Dragons,
though a less poetic and more appropriate title would be the Lord of all Light Dragons. By
default, I suppose, Tiamat was the Lady of all Dark Dragons. I'd say the basilisk to be one of
her kin, but they are wizard bred monstrosities. The hydra, by contrast, would be more
appropriate. Or Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent, who is said to sleep at the very bottom of
the ocean with his great body encircling the world. But even he is known only by myth
among wizards.

"At the end of the war, shortly before the coming of man, Bahamut and Tiamat killed each
other in mortal combat. Tiamat was flung into the far reaches of the cosmos, while Bahamut
crashed upon the Earth itself. His blood mingled with the water, his bones mixed with the
dirt, and his dying breath bore the flowers and the fields and the evergreen. Gaia, the Great
Mother, cradled her lost child, and from his sacrifice, she created mankind, who would
eventually put an end to the war."

"Is there any truth to it?" inquired Harry softly.

Merlin gave a shrug.

"Who is to say?" was his only reply. "I've 'lived' many ages, Harry, but I am not so old in
comparison to this world. I've heard many stories on the creation of this world, some facets
having been incorporated into the more predominant religions of your age. In all my years,
however, I've never encountered a god--well, not technically, anyway..."

"Not technically?" said Harry.

"Well, during the early days of Camelot, while it was still being built, we had invaders from
what is now Norway. One such group was led by the Archmage Wotan, who held a magical
eye that allowed him to see many things, and possessed a wolf and raven as his familiars. I
won't say what came first--the legend or the wizard--but needless to say, he was formidable
foe."

"And you think...what? That I'm an incarnation of this Bahamut?" posed Harry.

"A possibility to be sure, but not the only one," shrugged Merlin easily. "Bahamut was not an
only child, as Tiamat is evidence of in the legend. It could be that Bahamut and Tiamat are
examples of a never before seen species of dragon."
"And how're we going to test that?" said Harry dubiously.

A sly smile crossed Merlin's face. "Very easily, I should imagine."

Harry watched as Merlin left the den and headed towards their potions lab. A few seconds
later, Merlin emerged with another vial containing what Harry assumed to be the base potion,
which was a soft violet shade with green mist rising from it. He then stepped into the
threshold of the front door and scooped up some of the dirt from the ground. Harry grimaced
as Merlin dumped the soil into the potion, yet to his surprise it also turned the solution as
clear as water.

"Most interesting," remarked Merlin as he passed the vial towards a sceptic Harry. His brow
rose challengingly at Harry's timidness. With a sigh, Harry snatched the clear liquid and
knocked it back in one go, maintaining eye contact with Merlin.

As before, the same sensations overcame Harry. This time, however, Harry emerged within a
darkened cave full of dancing emerald flames. Within the cave, he became aware of the
feelings commonly associated with his link with Ginny--the taste of the fertile earth and the
smell of flowers. Harry could feel the heart of the Earth pulse through the cave, washing him
with a great swell of energy and power.

Out in the dark emerged two more flames, but upon closer inspection Harry realized they
weren't flames at all, but rather great emerald eyes. Into the light crawled a dragon of massive
length, but with a narrow, almost skeletal, body consisting of what seemed like ebon plates of
natural armour. Much like its body, its head was long and tapered like a crocodile. Just above
its emerald eyes, set into his black scales, was a livid red scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
At the end of its tail was a heavy mace full of unruly spikes, and two sets of shadowy wings
expanded out from its torso, one set looking like it was built for distance and endurance while
the other was set for short sprints.

"Whoa..." breathed Harry as the den came back into view.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a young dragon in our midst," chuckled Merlin in
amusement.

*****

Harry was quite understandably obsessed with becoming a dragon. For the remaining three
days before Ginny was to arrive, Harry focused solely on advancing his Transfiguration
practice so that he could start working on the transformation itself. It also helped to keep
Harry's mind off Ginny's impending arrival, which was difficult as her room was set to be
across from his.

Some of the anxiety revolved around the intimacy in having Ginny live with him. Their first
kiss hadn't been anything spectacular--well, all right, it had been, but it was also sloppy and
awkward. He knew--just because he shared a dorm with a bunch of other blokes--what older
boys and girls did alone, and felt some semblance of pressure to live up to it. He knew, from
a logical standpoint, how crazy that was given their age, but nevertheless it existed on the
periphery of his awareness. He didn't know what else boyfriends and girlfriends did when
they were alone.
Another part of Harry welcomed the arrival of Ginny. She was his best friend, after all, rising
above even Ron and Hermione given the past year. No one knew more of his secrets than she,
although even she did not know of the prophecy. He felt that didn't need to be mentioned,
since it may not even come to pass. So he looked forward to Ginny coming to stay at the
Haven so that they could chat and fly.

It was while he slept that Ginny arrived at the Haven, bending over his bed and tickling him
with her silky hair. She was supremely disappointed by his lack of a reaction. Ten years of
crawling spiders and Dudley's torments had made him immune to most distractions, though
he could not suppress the unconscious twitch and wrinkle of his face with each tickle.

Huffing at Harry's uncooperative body, Ginny had instead decided to wake Harry up the
romantic way--by planting a kiss on his parted lips. Only she was in for quite a surprise by
the unexpected problem of morning breath. Still, the contact was enough to jolt their
connection, which ended up rousing Harry from slumber.

"Brush--now," Ginny had ordered, scrunching up her face cutely.

"Hello to you too," Harry chuckled, caressing his tingling lips with the tip of his finger. He
got up from bed in his red-striped pyjamas and sleep-tussled hair. After fumbling around for
his glasses, he found that Ginny was fully dressed in a very nice beige T-shirt and denim skirt
that fell appropriately past her knees. He noted that her bare legs were dusted in a very fine
spray of freckles, not at all like the ones that dotted her cheeks and nose, which were a little
more prominent. She also walked around barefoot, something Harry hadn't noticed her doing
at Hogwarts, but then again that was up in Scotland.

"You look nice," Harry added automatically, once he'd taken in her appearance. Ginny's brow
raised at the fact he'd noticed, and so did Harry's for that matter. He then beat a hasty retreat
to his private bathroom where he could finish up the morning routine.

Once he was through, he found Ginny standing across the hall, looking into her brand new
accommodations, which were just a mirror image of Harry's own.

"I'm only staying for a fortnight," sighed Ginny, leaning back against Harry's chest and
activating their link yet again. Harry could feel the tension slide off her at the gentle purr of
his dragon.

"What? Why?" said Harry, feeling as if an ominous cloud had settled in over a perfect day.

"Part of Mum's agreement with Merlin," explained Ginny ruefully. She grabbed at Harry's
hands and then proceeded to cross them over her stomach. "I get to stay the first two weeks of
my apprenticeship, because any longer would arouse suspicion. Frankly, with everything
going on at the Burrow, I'd hardly think anyone would notice I'm gone. Anyway, it'll be
enough for Merlin to get me up to par with you, he reckons. After that, I'll be popping in
three or four days a week."

"It's better than nothing, I guess," said Harry glumly.

"There's that positive attitude," teased Ginny; he could hear the smile in her voice.
"So what's going on at the Burrow to make your brothers forget about you?" Inwardly, Harry
wondered how anyone could forget Ginny.

Ginny snuggled closer to Harry as she prepared herself for story mode. Even Merlin seemed
to have the need to shift himself when he prepared to deliver a tale. Harry wasn't quite sure
what the cause behind such an action was, never having told a story himself.

"Well, Bill and Charlie are back for the Quidditch World Cup. They've tickets for the games
of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. If any make it past that round, they're sure to buy
tickets for those games too. Dad's getting us tickets for the final."

"They're not taking anyone else?" asked Harry.

"They can't," shrugged Ginny. "Ron would love to go, but Bill and Charlie can only really
afford tickets for themselves if they're going to make it to every match. Fred, George, and
Ron also don't have jobs like Bill and Charlie. Percy got one with the Department of
International Magical Cooperation, but he's been too busy with that to really pay attention to
the games. He's also been teasing us with this big secret at the Ministry that Dad's apparently
in on. The twins spend their time cooped up in their room. We hear some explosions every
now and then and figure they just like the noise."

"And Ron?"

"Ron spends his time putting Wood's tips to use," laughed Ginny. "He drags me out there
with him so that I can help him practice. The git. First I'm not allowed on a broom at all, and
now he needs me! I swear if I didn’t need the practice myself I’d make him owe me a
favour.”

"But you don't need the practice," said Harry with a frown. "I saw you fly, Ginny. You're a
natural."

"No, you're the natural," snorted Ginny, rubbing her thumbs along Harry's forearms. "The
way Ron tells it, you could fly like a pro from the very moment you got on a broom. Me? I
needed years of hard work and practice to be able to fly like I can. Believe me, Harry, I'm
grateful for any time I can squeeze in some flying."

"Well, you'll get some," Harry promised. "And on my Firebolt."

Ginny's eyes danced merrily at that prospect.

"Can we go now?" she asked eagerly.

"You can," said Harry, pulling away from her and gesturing towards his room where the
Firebolt was, "but I have to get started on my morning exercises."

Ginny accompanied Harry for the rest of the day. Merlin thought it would be better than
giving her a tour and it would also introduce her to his teaching style. It wasn't terribly
difficult for Ginny to remain quiet throughout the day. By the time they were ready to turn in,
she had a glazed look on her face from the information overload.
"You could give Hermione a run for her money, Harry," Ginny commented just outside her
door.

"I don't know about that," said Harry with a shake of his head. Hermione still managed better
grades than him in all classes but Defence Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes.

"I mean it," said Ginny emphatically. "Just sitting there listening to you and Merlin talk about
things... Hermione might get the better grades, but I think it's because she's a better essay
writer and test taker than you. If you two got into a debate, I think you'd manage to hold your
own. I...I'm not really sure I can keep up."

"Of course you can," Harry told her. "I've seen your power, Ginny. I know you can do
anything I can."

"I can't cast a Patronus," muttered Ginny under her breath as she stared down and away from
Harry.

"How did those go?" asked Harry softly, remembering that he'd spoken to Remus about it
during the term. He never did follow up with any other inquiries, thinking that Ginny would
want to keep it to herself like he had, but since she brought it up...

"They went," shrugged Ginny enigmatically. "My boggart wasn't a dementor, but then again,
it took me a while to even get a mist to form. I spent the rest of the term trying to manage a
corporeal Patronus."

"Can I see?" said Harry. Ginny bit her lip hesitantly, but wandlessly Summoned her wand
from her room. Harry pursed his own lips so as not to point out the obvious mistake.

"Expecto patronum!" Ginny called out, holding her wand straight out from her shoulder. A
strong vapour poured forth from the tip of her wand. It was almost wedge-shaped and
hovered clear off the ground. The mist was straining to become corporeal, and Ginny's face
was contorted with the desire to see just that happen, but unfortunately she seemed to lack the
power.

Ginny dropped her arm to her side and gave out a disgusted sigh.

"See?" she said, frowning at the dissipating silvery mist.

"Care to try again?" inquired Harry gently, doing his best to imitate Merlin. "Maybe without
all the restrictions?"

"Restrictions? What restric--tions..." Ginny trailed off as she caught sight of the wand in her
hand. "Oh..." She sheepishly flipped her wand around and handed it to Harry.

"I'm sure Remus told you the theory behind the Patronus Charm," said Harry encouragingly.
"Just apply that understanding to your desire to make one. If you can manage that big of a
mist, I reckon you've enough power to make a corporeal Patronus."

Harry wasn't yet powerful enough on his own to see magic without engaging the link, but he
was strong enough to feel her magic build up like the rising tide. A blush crept up over her
freckled cheeks, and her lips tugged at a smile as she got a firm grip on her happy memory.
Harry found himself smiling at her happiness.

Ginny snapped out her right hand suddenly with the fingers splayed. A silver mist coalesced
slowly out of thin air in the shape of phoenix. Ginny gasped in surprise as she watched the
great bird dance around in flight.

"It's a phoenix!" she exclaimed needlessly.

"It is," Harry agreed, beaming proudly at her.

"You don't sound surprised," she noted, shooting him an inquisitive look.

"Well, I knew you could do it," he shrugged with a smirk. She shoved him, knowing that
wasn't the point of her question. "My Patronus is a stag, right? And my dad's Animagus shape
was a stag, right? Merlin told me that magic sometimes knows things, even what we're not
consciously aware of. I wanted my Patronus to protect me, and so it took the shape of my
dad. What's the one animal that protected you?"

"Fawkes," said an awed Ginny as she reached out to touch the phoenix.

"See?" said Harry. "You'll do fine, Ginny. You're a powerful witch."

They stood alone together in the hall, both in their sleeping things, and staring silently at the
other. Harry glanced down from her eyes to her lips and saw her do the same. He knew what
he wanted to do. It seemed only proper to give his girlfriend a kiss goodnight, right?
Especially since they hadn't the chance for the entire day. Mindful of what went wrong the
first time they kissed, Harry tried to make sure the same didn't happen this time, only it
seemed like Ginny was of the same mind, resulting in a very awkward and jerky dance
between the two that left them laughing.

"Goodnight, Ginny," said Harry, dropping a kiss onto her forehead instead.

"Goodnight, Harry," said Ginny in return. That night they slept with their link fully active. It
was the most peaceful and rest-filled sleep that Harry had ever experienced.

*****

Despite the good night's sleep, Ginny was in a deadened mood the next morning when she
awoke for the usual jog and swim. Noting her reaction to it, Merlin suggested that she didn't
have to join them. Merlin did so to keep his body fit and in motion. Even after a year, he was
still trying to get used to having a corporeal body again. That was enough to spark the
Weasley stubbornness in Ginny, who set her face grimly and marched out along with them.

Harry would've tried to talk her out of it but for two things: One, he did not relish the idea of
going toe-to-toe with her not long after their previous row; two, he had a decidedly male
reaction to seeing her in her one-piece bathing suit at the lake. Yes, it was a very modest cut,
but at the same time, Harry was very used to her being dressed in Hogwarts robes or warm
clothing. He'd never seen her in anything so revealing before. It was very obvious that Ginny
was maturing into a young woman--a beautiful one, in Harry's opinion.

Rather than swimming laps, as Harry and Merlin usually did, Harry and Ginny fell into a
routine of horseplay. They would splash, tickle, tackle, and submerge the other, much to
Merlin's amusement. Harry would take things a step further by utilizing his wandless magic,
against which Ginny had a large disadvantage. Merlin was disinclined to stop that, however,
as it proved to be a good measure of Ginny's own skill.

"In everything is a lesson," a smiling Merlin told Ginny as she complained playfully about
how unfair it was, "be it play or a general conversation. Inspiration is not prejudice to when it
shall hurl its lightning bolt of epiphany."

As things turned out, Ginny didn't need the full two weeks to match Harry's adeptness with
Merlin's teachings. Ever since he'd sent her the ring, Merlin had been coaching her along. All
he really needed to do was test her in person and offer some minor corrections here and there.

"I believe we can afford a break," he announced once the first week had finished. Ginny had
already taken the Animagus potions and had chosen a phoenix as her animal, not that it
surprised anyone. "We need not start work on the bond between you immediately. Take the
week off. Do what you will--well, all right, maybe not exactly what you will..."

Merlin gave them a pointed look that had both children blushing under the scrutiny. Once
they blushed, Merlin laughed heartily and fixed himself a plate for breakfast.

"Please," he scoffed at their embarrassment. "You're not yet fourteen and thirteen; I very
much doubt I've anything to be concerned with." Merlin affixed a thoughtful expression on
his face as he chewed a piece of bacon; an impish twinkle glittered in his gray eyes.
"Although, I suppose I should take this opportunity to remind you that having a child while
being an apprentice is most assuredly against the rules. Raising a child entails a huge amount
of responsibility, and you cannot in good faith devote yourselves to two masters."

Harry and Ginny did not dare meet Merlin's teasing smile as he gradually continued to chew
at his bacon. They were both blushing furiously, even though neither had done more than
kiss. In fact, Harry could still count on one hand the number of times they've done even that.

"Is that how you convinced Mrs. Weasley?" said Harry at last in a strained voice.

"Yes, that was certainly a point that helped allay fears," nodded Merlin blithely, "of course,
with wizards, there are contraceptive methods that ensure total protection. So, really,
you could, but you'd just have to do so responsibly. Then again, it was when she thought of
you both as being too young to enter into a relationship..."

It was growing harder and harder for Merlin to suppress his grin at the increasing
embarrassment of the preteens. Ginny had made a strangled noise in the back of her throat
and hid her face behind a curtain of red hair. Harry was having a difficult time breathing.
Images of Ginny in her bathing suit was flashing back into his head, making him wonder if he
needed to barricade that memory behind a tighter vault.

Moreover, Harry and Ginny came at the mutual agreement that it was best to keep their
relationship hidden from the Weasleys--until they could adequately defend themselves
against the resulting explosion, at any rate.

"Well," said a thoroughly amused Merlin, "I have some business to attend to this day. Enjoy
your holiday!"

Harry and Ginny sat together in the silence of the kitchen, Merlin's exit sounding louder than
usual because of it. Each chanced a peek at the other to see how they took Merlin's teasing,
and when they finally managed to lock eyes they couldn't help but smile. Ginny made the
first move and reached her hand out on the table, which Harry took shyly.

"He's a prat, isn't he?" she asked, smiling in spite of the blush.

"Too right," Harry nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Shall we do something?" Ginny wondered wickedly.

"What do you have in mind?"

Alone, neither of them would probably be able to successfully prank Merlin, but together?
They utilized their link to lay a complex curse on the threshold of the front door. Bill had
taught Ginny how the ancient Egyptians had managed their traps during the last summer,
while Harry's Arithmancy class helped to fill in some blanks on the theory. After buying a
camera like Colin's, they returned to the Haven and waited in the den for Merlin's return,
listening to Transylvania trounce England in the Quidditch World Cup and discussing the
possibility of reviving the Marauder spirit.

When Merlin teleported back to the Haven and walked through the front door, they waited
with baited breath. He furrowed his brow at their eager expressions as he hung up his
patented walking staff and cloak. Just as Harry's face fell at their prank's failing, a
loud CRACK resonated in the air. A puff of smoke obscured Merlin's body, and when it
cleared there was a donkey standing in the entrance hall with dull gray eyes.

Harry and Ginny fell over laughing as the donkey whined and spat at them. They could
barely hold the camera straight and snap a few pictures for posterity. After five minutes, the
curse was lifted, showing a very dishevelled and confused Merlin crawling on all fours. Harry
couldn't resist taking one final picture, which seemed to rouse the great wizard.

"Oh you think you're clever, do you?" he challenged, gray eyes twinkling with power as he
dusted himself off. "Well...you are, I admit that." Soon he joined in with their laughter and
congratulated their skill, though Harry thought he might have to watch himself for a while.

That prank was indicative of the fun they had that last week. They flew on Harry's Firebolt,
sometimes alternating turns, while also flying tandem as well. They also explored the various
environments of the Haven, with each one constituting as a type of date. For those moments,
Ginny would often prepare a picnic basket for them.

The Haven became just that for the young couple--a place where they could forget about the
world outside and focus solely on each other.

"I'm going to miss this," sighed Ginny, after Harry had planted a soft kiss goodnight on her
lips. They had progressed nicely on that front, Harry would admit. No more smudged glasses,
clinking teeth, or pinched lips. They hadn't progressed to full on snogging, but at the same
time Harry could no longer count the number of kisses they'd shared on his fingers and toes.

"What? Kissing? We can still kiss," said Harry, playing dumb.

Ginny laughed and dug her knuckle into Harry's rib, knowing him to be very jumpy there.

"I meant you--tucking me in--saying goodnight," she emphasized. "I wish we could hold the
connection over that distance."

"Me too," agreed Harry, pulling her into a strong embrace. "I'm going to miss being sung to
sleep by a phoenix. Reckon there's no better lullaby in the whole world than that."

"I don't know about that," said Ginny, "the rumble of your dragon's pretty soothing. It feels
like I'm being rocked to sleep by Mum. And being wrapped up in that fire's more comfortable
than any blanket."

Harry could hardly disagree there.

"Maybe--maybe we'll grow strong enough to manage the connection even when you're at the
Burrow," suggested Harry hopefully, earning another laugh from Ginny.

"You were actually positive about something!" she teased. "But even if we can't, there's the
Quidditch World Cup final, and then you'll be staying at the Burrow for the rest of summer,
and then we'll be at Hogwarts together for most of the year."

"Together?" chuckled Harry.

"Yes, together," Ginny promised, smiling in return.

When Ginny left to teleport back to the Marauder's Pad, where she would then Floo back to
the Burrow, she only took her clothes. All of the photos, knickknacks, and other things that
she'd brought from her room remained where she'd placed them at the Haven. Harry, much to
Merlin's further amusement, couldn't help but look forlorn at her sudden absence.

"You know, you could try dating too," said Harry, trying to turn the tables back on Merlin.
"In fact, you could go out with Sirius! Yeah! You, Padfoot, and Moony! I'll go over and ask
him..."

Rather than making any attempt at stopping Harry, Merlin simply tilted his head thoughtfully.

"It is a tempting prospect," admitted Merlin at length, "however there remains a minor flaw. I
am your mentor--and now Ginevra's as well. What applies to you, in some respects, applies to
me. I would do you a disservice, Harry, by splitting my attention and responsibilities. Not
that after Nimue I find myself eager to enter the dating scene, as Sirius would call it,
anyway."

Harry felt extremely sad for Merlin, who'd never experienced what he was going through
with Ginny. If any adult deserved it, he reckoned it would be Merlin.
*****

Ginny's schedule was lessons every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with the occasional
Sunday or Saturday sleepover thrown in. Though that was the schedule for Ginny's lessons
and their time to work on the connection, Merlin still continued to tutor Harry as he would
have normally. Harry thought it a little unfair, but Merlin could only shrug.

"Molly and I reached a compromise," Merlin explained. "Traditionally, a family would

release their child to a mentor. The child was supposed to eat, sleep, and breathe the trade
they were being apprenticed towards until they became of age. You follow that tradition,
whereas with Ginevra, I must make certain...adjustments."

Sometimes Harry spent those days without Ginny by hanging around the Marauder's Pad with
Sirius and Remus. Unbeknownst to either man, Merlin and Harry had observed them during a
full moon from the roof of the building. Merlin had his journal in hand and was taking careful
notes of something that Harry could not see without Ginny's assistance.

It was during those visits that Harry and Puck became acquainted with Nymphadora Tonks,
Sirius's cousin, who was in her final summer of Auror training. Merlin had been wary at first,
but she did not press the subject of his identity. She did, however, confirm the fact that the
Minister was very curious. For his part, Merlin was very curious in regards to her abilities as
a Metamorphmagus. In a way, it resembled the illusions he could cast on himself or Harry,
but at the same time they couldn't be cancelled by a counter spell.

"I gotta admit," said Tonks cheerfully over dinner, her hair a vivid blue that fell straight to
her shoulders, "I picked a great time to be an Auror."

"Why's that?" inquired Harry.

"Well," she said conspiratorially, "I'm not supposed to say anything, but I reckon you'll hear
about it the moment you board the Hogwarts Express--if not sooner. You're pals with Arthur's
kids, yeah?" Harry nodded, remembering Ginny had said something about Percy teasing
everyone about a secret.

"Tonks," warned Remus.

"Oh stop hiding behind the professor act," snapped Tonks, flinging a pea playfully at his face.

"We used to call it the prefect act," said Sirius. "Not that it ever worked," he added as an
afterthought.

"Anyway, they're going to bring back the Triwizard Tournament this year!" gushed Tonks
excitedly. Harry watched her hair shorten into spikes and turn a bubblegum pink. Merlin
pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained expression, while Harry stared on blankly.

"The Triwizard Tournament, Harry, is a competition between the top three wizarding schools
of Europe," explained Remus, settling into his professorial mode. "They include Hogwarts,
Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Once every five years, a school would host the tournament
and among the judges were the heads of those schools."
"It was started seven hundred and three years ago," said Merlin under his breath, clearly
having seen one or more in his spectral form. "They were contests to test a wizard's thinking,
reasoning, courage, and strength. One hundred and five years ago was the last time the
tournament was held. It was cancelled on account of the mounting death toll. I...heard of an
instance where, in the final task, a captured giant that the champions were to slay ended up
slaying all three champions in a wonderful show of irony."

Harry blanched. He wondered how Professor Dumbledore could allow such a tournament to
take place.

"All schools agreed because Albus assured them of an age restriction. You'll have to be of
age in order to be eligible as champion. He seems to think the tournament would be a good
way to facilitate good will with the other schools," said a very sceptical Sirius. "I'm not at all
certain about Durmstrang."

"Ah who cares about all that?" Tonks waved off. "The Triwizard Tournament means a Yule
Ball! A ball. Do you know how many girls in my year wished Hogwarts had a ball?"

"Ours as well, actually," mused Remus.

"Really?" challenged Sirius. "Who?"

"Lily for one," said Remus easily. "She considered her wedding to be the ball Hogwarts never
had. Better, even, because it was all for her."

"And where was I during that?" asked a gobsmacked Sirius.

"I believe you were chatting up one of Lily's bridesmaids--Dorcas, I think," said Remus
softly, a solemn expression passing over his face. Sirius likewise sobered up and stared down
at his hands.

"Dorcas Meadows was a member of the Order who was later killed by Lord Voldemort
personally," Merlin told Harry quietly, answering his unspoken question. "Your parents'
wedding was attended by all the Order. Professor Dumbledore gave your mother away."

"What about my grandparents? Aunt Petunia?" said Harry.

"James's folks died of dragon pox close to the end of our seventh year," said Sirius sadly.
"Mr. Potter was a great bloke."

"Lily's mother died in an automobile accident our sixth year," Remus reported. "Her father
held on just long enough to see Lily through our final year of Hogwarts. As for Petunia...
Well, let's just say that James left a rather poor impression on her and Vernon."

Remus and Sirius shot each other a look of barely suppressed mirth.

"I hope I get assigned to an Auror detail for the Triwizard Tournament," sighed Tonks into
the conversation's lull. "It'd be horrible to get called away on some duty and not be able to
make it. I'd at least like to see one task, or maybe the Yule Ball... Maybe even get in a
dance..."

"Dance?" said Harry, hating the fact that his voice had to crack at that moment. All four
adults turned their attention on Harry.

"Ah, that's right," said Merlin slowly; his gray eyes held the bad omen of dancing twinkles,
"you don't know how to dance. I'm afraid we'll have to remedy that situation, else you end up
disappointing Mistress Ginevra by crippling her--or worse, refusing to dance and then spend
your time watching her dance with other people."

Harry glanced around, but while everyone else was smiling, it seemed like they wholly
agreed with Merlin's assessment.

"No worries," announced Tonks, rising up from the table, "I'll teach you." Now four sets of
eyes swung towards Tonks, who met them all levelly. "What?"

"You?" was all Sirius needed to say.

"I'll have you know I'm a wonderful dancer!" huffed Tonks. "Mum made me learn how to
dance! 'A proper witch would know,' she told me. I'm just glad her idea of a proper witch isn't
the same as Aunt Cissy's." Noting their continual disbelief, Tonks pursed her lips and barked
at Remus, "All right, old man, up!"

"Wha--what?" said a nonplussed Remus.

"Up," repeated Tonks, folding her arms across her chest as Sirius leaned back in his chair to
cover his smirk. "I'm going to show you how well I can dance, but I can't very well do it
without a partner, now can I?"

"Er--um..." stammered Remus, turning his tea cup around on the plate slowly.

"I think what Moony is trying to say," said Sirius slowly, "is that he doesn't know how to
dance either."

"What?" blurted out Tonks. "Remus! Of all the people who should know how to dance!
Didn't your mother teach you?"

"My father was the wizard," Remus reminded Tonks drolly. "It was my mother who was a
Muggle, and she didn't know how to dance either."

"Well," said Tonks, "I guess I'll have to teach Harry and you. Sirius--up!"

And so Harry watched Sirius and Tonks dance. To their great surprise, Tonks really was light
on her feet in spite of her clumsiness at mundane tasks. Still, Remus looked very
apprehensive at the prospect of dancing with Tonks. Harry wasn't necessarily happy about
learning yet another skill either, but if it would make Ginny happy like everyone assumed...

*****

Harry found his summer in yet another routine. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he
spent the entire day having joint lessons with Ginny. They often spent the mornings going
over their link, and then spent the rest of the day going over the more traditional lessons. On
the days without Ginny, Harry continued to train with Merlin, but he also participated in
Tonks's dance lessons. Somehow, Sirius had also managed to turn that into Harry's
motorcycle lessons.

Merlin spent his free time going out, though it wasn't in the same sense as Sirius's "going
out." Harry wasn't exactly sure where Merlin went, but sometimes he would return exhausted
and dishevelled, as if he'd travelled very long distances. Other times, however, Merlin would
return smelling of liquor, though he himself did not seem to drink.

"Are you looking for Wormtail?" said Harry one evening, the day before his birthday. Ginny,
who'd been lying on her stomach upon the floor, paused in her reading and looked up.

"Wormtail?" said Merlin, pausing as he shrugged off his cloak and staff. He cancelled the
Gandalf illusion he very often went by. "No. There is no means that I know to detect an
Animagus from a regular animal."

"So where--"

"I have been trying to penetrate Morgana's spell," sighed Merlin wearily. "I've been trying to
regain access to Avalon."

"Why?" wondered Ginny, who'd drawn herself up into a sitting position with her back against
Harry’s shins.

"Well, curiosity all around, I suppose," shrugged Merlin as he rubbed at his eyes. "I wonder if
it still stands. I wonder how the people have changed. I wonder if they remain as prosperous
as they had, or if they'd gone the way of the Atlanteans. But the more pertinent reason is that
I wish access to their library. I have had no luck of any kind discerning your link. If ever
there was a place where it could happen, it would be Avalon, whose school of thought was
not so different from mine own."

"No such luck?" said Harry.

"None," confirmed Merlin bitterly. "Whatever spell Morgana created to conceal Avalon from
the outside world is as impenetrable as a Fidelius Charm. I cannot break through it."

"Surely they didn't all stay in Avalon," said Ginny, drawing her knees up close to her chest.
"You didn't. Maybe you can find an Avalonian wizard wandering around."

Merlin chuckled softly.

"Your charming and treasured optimism, Ginevra, is..." Merlin frowned and straightened his
head slowly. Harry and Ginny shared a look before turning their attention back towards
Merlin.

"Merlin?" prompted Harry.

"The odds of me finding another person or descendant of Avalon are about the same as me
finding Pettigrew out of all the rats in the world," said Merlin, his eyes still distant as they
worked through a problem in the back of his mind, "but not every creature capable of human
speech need be human..."

Without further elaboration, Merlin rose sprightly from his chair and Summoned his staff to
his ready hand. He marched purposefully out the cottage, with Harry and Ginny scrambling
to keep up. Standing a safe distance from the cottage itself, equidistant between the lake and
the flowery meadow, he lifted his hands as if in exaltation towards the heaven.

Harry watched Merlin's staff glow a dim blue against the night sky. He grabbed hold of
Ginny's hand to activate their connection just as Merlin made to speak.

"I call on the living flame to light my path!" said Merlin in a booming voice. Harry inhaled
sharply as he watched a wave of magic wash out from Merlin, his command echoing around
the inside of Harry's ear once the wave crashed into him.

Merlin stood proudly in the clearing as he waited. Seconds ticked by--then minutes. At last, a
great shadow of soot and smoke bubbled up before him. Bright orange flame gradually
consumed the cloud until a large flame towered over him. Out from the flame emerged a
giant of a man--taller than Merlin, but shorter than Hagrid--with solid bronze skin, a beige
duster that fell to his ankles, and a matching fedora pulled down over his face.

Through the link, however, Harry could see the figure for what it was--living flame, just as
Merlin had said. It had a great set of wings made of fire that would periodically furl and
unfurl from its back; its features were harsh, despite the fluid nature of fire; its "skin" was
still bronze, but it mingled with a bright orange fire; its eyes were a deep red and with every
breath it distorted the air around it, like a mirage on a hot day. Topping everything off was a
great set of bull-like horns upon its head.

"An interesting guise," noted Merlin in amusement. "Do people really ignore you in that?"

"The Trickster?" growled the thing before Merlin in a voice thick with a crackling fire.
"Morgana was right. You are far too stubborn to die so quietly."

Merlin gave a deep sarcastic bow.

"I have need of a favour, Ifrit," said Merlin. "Either grant me passage to Avalon--"

"Which I cannot do," growled Ifrit.

"--or remove from Avalon's library the books that I require," finished Merlin. "You can, I
assume, still enter and exit Avalon freely, yes? I know it is beneath your great station, but I
have no other alternative. There is a great riddle that I would like to see solved, and I fear
only Avalon has the answers that I seek."

"You and your mysteries," snorted Ifrit, blowing a plume of smoke from its nostrils. "Very
well. What do you require?"

"It is but a trifle," said Merlin appealingly as he removed a list from his robe. "I seek the
books on these subjects."
Ifrit took the parchment, looked it over, and then turned his glowing eyes upon Harry and
Ginny.

"I know the book you seek," he told Merlin, handing the list back. Without another word, the
great beast vanished in a puff of smoke. Only then did Harry and Ginny move towards their
mentor.

"What was that?" said Harry, staring at the last wisps of odourless smoke in the air.
"Who was that?"

"An ifrit," answered Merlin. "Like the phoenix, they are ancient creatures. They have no
name, each seeking to be called individually what we call them collectively. As you can
imagine, that can get quite confusing in a crowd. Fortunately, I've never seen them in a
crowd. Like the phoenix, their element is also fire, though unlike phoenixes, they are much
more aggressive by nature."

It did not take long for Ifrit to return. When he reappeared, he wordlessly passed on a tall,
thin, brown book towards Merlin, who accepted it gratefully.

"And what is the return policy of Avalon these days?" inquired Merlin lightly as he began to
skim through the archaic dialect.

Ifrit paused as he turned away from Merlin.

"Have you not heard?" he inquired incredulously. "Avalon is deserted. You were right to
criticize them, Trickster. Nay, I thought you might've been behind it. Inbreeding weakened
their constitution, robbing them of the light that once shone so bright behind their eyes. Yet
even at their darkest they foolishly clung to the glories of old and would not abandon the
halls of their forbearers. No great ocean swallowed up Avalon and its inhabitants. No, merely
time and foolishness."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," said Harry sympathetically, once Ifrit had disappeared. Both he and
Ginny held the shocked wizard upright for support.

"It--it's quite all right," Merlin assured them gently. "Avalon was never truly home to me, yet
home it was. I imagine the Dursleys would hold a similar place to you, Harry. I knew but still
I hoped..." Merlin sighed and rubbed at his brow. "I should contact Ifrit again. No sense in
letting the archives go to waste. For all their foolishness, there was brilliance underneath.
Such as this, for example." He held the book aloft for them to see.

"What is it?" said Ginny, turning the conversation from Avalon's fall.

"A book on bonds and connections," said Merlin, turning the aged pages carefully. "I hope
that somewhere in Avalon's history was a bond like yours. I will need some time to study
this. In the meanwhile, you should keep to your assignments."

It did not take long for Merlin to find what he sought, once he had the book within his library.
He used the search function of his journal to seek out any bond that matched his notes. The
book spat back an answer almost immediately. With the answer found, he called Harry and
Ginny into his study for story time--something Harry had not participated in for sometime.

"In the beginning there was the Earth, and the Great Mother who saw all things in its unity,"
said Merlin in the voice of a bard. "For all the majesty of the Earth, however, and all the
beauty within its elements, it was still barren of life. Gaia then sought to remedy the situation
by creating a host of beings to populate her world. But there is nothing more important to
nature than balance. As such, she separated the beings into two sets--Good and Evil.

"However, that proved to be a folly on Gaia's behalf. For the Light could only be the Light,
and it was in their nature to battle against the Dark. An endless war then raged upon the Earth
for countless years. The host of Light was equal to the armies of Darkness, because Gaia had
made it so.

"Tired of the endless conflict that she had created, Gaia brought forth a new life--humans. In
every human is the natural balance. No person is defined by their birth, as the Old Ones were.
They could choose to be good or evil--to fight or not. Their priorities and dreams were
markedly different from that of the Old Ones; their natures unpredictable and chaotic, but at
the same time they were balanced and orderly. Not unlike the weather and the seasons.

"The Dark, sensing mankind's great strength, tried to eradicate them, making them the
automatic allies of the Light. It was two humans who turned back the Darkness; their love
connecting them to each other, and to the Earth that gave them life. Together, they defeated
the Darkness, heralding the Age of Men. Many of the Old Ones left this plane of existence,
though some remained.

"It is that link--the Bond of the First--that the both of you share," said Merlin, wrapping up
his story. "One other couple in Avalon's storied history has achieved that very same bond.
Very naturally, they ended up as Avalon's king and queen for the rest of their very long life."

"Does--does it say how?" said Harry, who felt very weak on his feet. Was Merlin going to
turn this into a tradition? Dropping a heavy bombshell on the day before his birthday?

"They were childhood friends who remained close even while they both entered into an
apprenticeship," answered Merlin, flipping through his notes. "It was her love for him that
awakened the link, but it took some time before he became aware enough to reciprocate.
Sound familiar?"

"Our auras," said Ginny softly, who likewise looked about ready to faint under the sudden
flux of knowledge. "That's--that's why my aura went up Harry's forearm, while his only went
to my wrist. I--I felt for him before he did."

Harry blushed in shame. He couldn't help it. The sign had been there from the very beginning
and he'd missed it--or almost missed it. At the very least he could take solace in the fact that
their auras were mingling at an equal rate now, which, if Merlin was to be believed, meant
that their...love for each other was likewise equal.

"But that still doesn't explain... I mean...why us?" wondered Harry. "Why sense only this
bond between us and no one else?"

"For that, you would need to ponder on the nature of love, Harry," remarked Merlin. "And
not just any love, mind you, but the romantic variety. So, what is love?"

"Selfish," said Harry immediately, earning a surprised look from Merlin and Ginny. "Err--
well--um--it is, isn't it? I mean, I don't--I don't want Ginny to--to be with anyone else like she
is with me. Not that she can't be with her friends or anything! I mean--"

"Shhh, luv," said a very amused Ginny. "I know what you mean."

"An interesting starting point," chuckled Merlin; his gray eyes dancing merrily. "Yes, Harry,
romantic love is quite selfish. There is only you and your other, unlike familial love which
can include many. So, need I explain why you can feel only Ginny?"

"But how did it start?" inquired Ginny. "I hadn't been training with you then. I didn't even
know wandless magic was possible when I kissed Harry's cheek."

"No, but what have I taught you about wandless magic?" smiled Merlin, settling back into his
leather chair and steepling his finger.

"Intent..." said Harry slowly. "Ginny...Ginny had that crush on me... You're saying the
magic knew."

"And my training with you made you much more receptive of her...desires," nodded Merlin
as Ginny blushed slightly. "A second property of love is that must, by nature, be given. Love
cannot be kept locked away within one's self. It needs to be expressed in some way to be
appreciated and accepted. Only then can it reach its full potential. Your mother gave her love
for you, Harry. Surely you of all people know its lasting power."

Harry swallowed thickly and gave a tight nod.

"Why is the link so rare, I would hazard to guess is your next query?" said Merlin. Actually,
Harry thought his mind might be overloaded by this point, but Ginny gave a curt nod. "I
suspect the inherent power in the wizard and witch has a certain bearing. Both of them were
tremendously powerful and highly gifted when they were separated. If the legend is to be
believed, who knows why Gaia bestows anything on anyone?"

"Does it say anything else about our link?" asked Ginny.

"No," said Merlin with a shake of his head, "the couple wasn't very forthcoming on details,
I'm afraid. The entry here is based on observations of others that could be confirmed by
sages. It sounds closest to yours...but there's no mention of any animals. It does say, however,
that they could 'speak without speaking.' Perhaps they had learned to interpret the voices of
their animals?"

"I think I can read the moods of my dragon," admitted Harry. "I'm not sure about knowing
what it says--it's not speaking Parseltongue."

"I don't think I'll be holding a conversation with Fawkes anytime soon," shrugged Ginny, "but
it makes it hard to be sad about things when I've got a phoenix to sing."

"Ah, but they can sing mournful songs," pointed out Merlin. "One of the greatest honours a
person could earn is to have a phoenix sing a requiem at their funeral. In any event, I suppose
that's something we'll have to work on, but not tonight."

Harry said his goodbye to Ginny, complete with their usual kiss, but never had he felt so
eager to see her go. There were other questions about the link that he now had--questions he
didn't exactly want to ask with Ginny present. As he turned to make his way into Merlin's
study, he found his mentor leaning against the doorframe, waiting.

"I expected some follow-ups," remarked Merlin lightly, "mostly because I'd probably have
the same."

"I feel...weird," admitted Harry, leaning back against the shut door with his hands in his
pocket. "A part of me hates the fact that Ginny was more aware than I was--or that Ginny
loved me first. It's stupid, I know, but there it is. And that same part wants to turn our link
into a competition, you know? I want to take the lead, even though I know it's not some
bloody race! I wanted to blurt out 'I love you,' just so I could be the first one to say it!"

"Again, not quite the direction I thought things were heading, but very well... That's very
mature of you to recognize, Harry. Let's look at things from a different aspect, shall we? Why
don't you use your link to speed up your Animagus transformation?"

"Because I can't do it alone," said Harry easily. He and Ginny had discussed the benefits and
costs of their joined power many times. "I'm not strong enough yet. We can't be linked all the
time, so it's better to know our limits individually and our limits together. We should let our
magic grow as it's supposed to, and not try to push ourselves too far."

"Sound like the lecture I should be giving you?" inquired Merlin blithely.

Harry let out a sigh and tilted his head back against the door.

"It does make more sense to look at it as another aspect of our link," conceded Harry. "I
mean, I'm only thirteen--"

"Two hours shy of fourteen," said Merlin, snapping his pocketwatch shut with a sharp click.

"We haven't done anything other than kiss, and I like where we're at right now," admitted
Harry, who pinked just slightly. He grew silent, thinking he'd successfully conquered that
negative voice. Their relationship would grow as it should, not because of their link or his
pride. That left Harry with one final question--the question Merlin had been expecting. "Is the
link...permanent?"

"If you're asking whether the Bond of the First could also be translated into a Wedding Bond,
the answer is...I don't know," shrugged Merlin, causing Harry to groan in disappointment.
"We are, as they say, off the edge of the map, Harry. The couple before you ended up
marrying, but of course, that would be the logical choice with the connection. Did that mean
they had to marry? I'm not sure. Could you establish the link with someone else? Or break
the link with Ginevra? I don't know. Possibly. There is no one true guidebook for a
relationship, Harry, and I'm sorry to say yours sounds more complicated than most. What
would Ginevra say?"
"She'd probably tell me to focus on the positives," sighed Harry. "That I'm likely brooding a
little too much, or worrying about things that are really inconsequential in the bigger picture."

"You've found yourself an excellent witch, Harry," complimented Merlin. "If nothing else,
take solace in the fact that you still have choice. Everything that you do in this relationship is
from your own volition. No one is making you do anything."

"Thanks, Merlin," said Harry softly as he made to walk down the hall towards his room.

"Happy birthday, Harry," called out Merlin. Harry snorted in return, hoping his next birthday
could get by without something serious eclipsing it.

*****

A good night's rest did a lot to help Harry digest all the information from the previous day, as
it had the previous year. He was in brighter spirits as he sat down in the den to unwrap his
gifts. The Weasleys gave him an assortment of biscuits and a birthday cake, while Ron
passed on a box of Chocolate Frogs--apparently he was still on the search for Agrippa.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday!

Hope the Dursleys are treating you well. Reckon things shouldn't be so bad if you've a wizard
living by you. I'd visit, but you're coming over for the Quidditch World Cup, and it's not like
we can take your Firebolt out for a spin with all the Muggles about. I'm surprised Dad hasn't
asked to visit though. You know how he is about all things Muggle.

Things are busy here. Bill and Charlie've come back for the World Cup. They've been going
to every game, and since England's been knocked out, they've got some money set aside to let
me sit at Scotland's upcoming game against Luxembourg. Percy's obsessed with his new job.
I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. Ginny, well, I'm not sure what she's
been doing. She says she's been visiting friends, and I reckon that's not so different with the
twins and Lee, but there's something--I dunno, off?--about the visits...

Harry swallowed hard, thinking back to the way Ron reacted about having a girlfriend at all.
He'd hardly think it any better if Harry's girlfriend was his sister--his only sister--
his little sister.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's got herself a boyfriend. She's always got this really
dumb grin on her face when I see her. Percy used to have the same thing with Penelope
Clearwater. But she can't have a boyfriend! She's only twelve. I don't even have a girlfriend.
How can she have a boyfriend?

It took three more readings of that paragraph for Harry to confirm what Ron had written. It
hardly sounded like the Ron who made a disgusted face at Percy and Penelope, or Harry's
visits from Archimedes. Then again, that had been some months ago. Maybe Hermione had
talked some sense into him after Harry had left?

What worried Harry more were the last two lines of that paragraph. It confirmed Harry's
suspicion that Ron could handle things better if he was not the last person to know--perhaps it
stemmed from being the youngest boy.

By the way, if Mum's cooking seems a little wonky, it's because she just found out today what
the twins've been up to this whole summer. She cleaned their room and found all these order
forms for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes--fake wands, trick sweets, loads of stuff. Mum went mad
at them. She binned all the products and burned all the order forms. I think it's brilliant--
dangerous, but brilliant.

So, yeah, if things taste wonky (or if your tongue should start growing) it's probably the
twins. Hope to see you soon,

Ron

Harry pushed those presents aside for the time being and opened Hagrid's. His large friend
had given Harry a set of quills from Buckbeak's own feathers. As far as presents went from
Hagrid, that was by far the most tame. He set them in his stationery set alongside Hedwig's
quills.

Sirius had gone overboard--again. He, Remus, and Tonks had pitched in to buy Harry a
seven-lock trunk, however--and Harry was sure Sirius was behind this--behind every lock
was a trunkful of presents. Among them were a black motorcycle helmet and racing leather
jacket; a set of fancy dress robes for the Yule Ball; a set of Quidditch balls; a mirror that
would allow Harry to communicate with Sirius; a penknife that would undo any lock or untie
any knot; and a chamber that would allow Harry privacy if he wanted to teleport to either the
Marauder's Pad or the Haven.

Ginny had given Harry a handmade cloak--or, rather, a magically made cloak--that seemed
pitch black until light struck it, when dark red sparkles would shine in the weave. Merlin had
shown her the process, but she had added her own touches. For instance, the cloak was
designed to repel rain and keep the body at a comfortable temperature. It also gave Harry an
inspiration for Ginny's birthday present, but he'd require Tonks's help.

Hermione, predictably, gave Harry a book, but it was the letter accompanying the present that
intrigued and worried him.

Dear Harry,

Are you having a good summer? My parents wanted to take another trip this summer, but
with the Quidditch World Cup coming up I thought it might be best if we didn't. In any event,
I had thought that you might visit like you did over the Christmas holidays, or that we might
call on you. Puck really hit it off with my folks.
We were going to look him up in the phone book, but only then did we remember that you
hadn't given us his full name. I tried to call you at the Dursleys, but, as they had with Ron last
year, they claimed you didn't live with them. I would have tried Sirius, but he doesn't have a
phone and I don't have access to the Floo Network nor an owl.

Who is Puck, Harry? Really. I hadn't noticed because I'd been so busy last term, but now that
I can stop and think... He must be a powerful wizard from what he did to Professor Snape
over the Christmas holidays. I also looked everywhere for a diary like yours and Ginny's, but
I haven't been able to find one. I can only assume that Puck (being the only wizard in your
vicinity) enchanted them, which is equally impressive.

But if he's that powerful then why haven't I read about him in any of my books? Or seen any
notice of him in Hogwarts? Do you really know him, Harry? I worry because it seems as
though he's training you for something. I say this because your Transfiguration of Professor
Snape during our Defence Against the Dark Arts class matches Puck's, and then you said you
read some very advanced theory from his library, and then you apparently have some
Communication Charm set on your glasses to keep in contact with him. It's dangerous to
learn magic outside of a Hogwarts environment setting, Harry. Nevermind the Improper Use
of Magic Office, but how do you know what Puck teaches you is right--ethically and
academically?

In the meanwhile, what is going on with you and Ginny? I'm hurt that neither of you have
said anything to me. I know that I've been a little unplugged during the last year, but that
doesn't mean I'm not your friend. I wouldn't have noticed anything at all if not for the ring
she received through the Owl Post. I heard what she told Ron and know that it's a flat out
lie. Witch Weekly has no such order form. And then her ring is just as elaborate as your
ring. I'm not exactly sure when you started wearing it, but they both seem very expensive. If
something is happening between the two of you, I wish you the very best.

Happy birthday, Harry. I'll see you around the time of the Quidditch World Cup.

Love from,

Hermione

"Doesn't miss a trick, does she?" remarked Merlin absently. He'd come around to read just
what had made Harry go so very pale. "I find it amusing that everyone must consider me a
threat. If it's not Mistress Hermione, then it's Minister Fudge. Even Molly thought me a
charlatan of the highest order and feared for your safety at being in the proximity of such a
madman."

"But...what're we going to do?" said Harry.

"'Do?'" parroted an unconcerned Merlin as he folded up a letter of his own. "We are going to
get dressed and meet Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadora for an impromptu celebration at the
Leaky Cauldron. She just passed her final proficiency exam. She is now a full-fledged
Auror."
"You're a brave man to call her that behind her back," said Harry.

"Yes, well, what she doesn't know won't hurt me," answered Merlin glibly as he marched
down the hall.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

I will say that this chapter was extraordinarily hard to write. I will also say that the calendar I
use is the same one the HP Lexicon has come up with for each book...just in case you were
wondering. According to that calendar, Harry's birthday fell on a Thursday, which would not
be a lesson day for Ginny.

Ocelot is an homage to Hideo Kojima's Metal Gear Solid series. I had no idea what an ocelot
was before those games, but I'm determined to include it in as many of my works as I can. It's
such a cool alternative to a lynx or other exotic cat.

Ginny's boggart, and her initial lesson with Professor Lupin, is one of the many planned
"Missing Moments" bouncing around in my mind.

Yes, Bahamut. Not the mythological Bahamut, mind you, but the Advanced Dungeons &
Dragons/Final Fantasy Bahamut. Tiamat likewise comes from AD&D (Ifrit, on the other
hand, comes primarily from Final Fantasy, as opposed to mythology). Of course, whether
Harry or Merlin's speculation is the correct one will continue to be a buried mystery for the
continuation of Goblet of Fire.

I should also note (because I forgot to in a previous note) that Merlin's staff in based on
Slayn's from the anime/manga The Record of Lodoss War, which, in turn, is based heavily off
of D&D and AD&D. But minus the ancient runes. It's such a badass staff, in my opinion.
Better than the ones Peter Jackson picked out for Gandalf and Saruman in the Lord of the
Rings movies.

The creation myth that I've come up with is one based loosely on Persian/Zoroastrian
mythology, which has also influenced Christianity a great deal. Whether or not it'll play a
larger part in the Harry/Voldemort saga is up in the air at the moment.

Merlin smelling of liquor has nothing at all to do with Avalon. That actually ties in with
something from the first chapter, where Merlin leads Harry on a very brief detour to
Knockturn Alley and purchases a book. That'll be revealed in the next chapter.

Back to index

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: Confrontations

 Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin
by GeekUSA

Chapter Nine: Confrontations

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

When they met up at the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius readily admitted that he'd insisted they fill
each locked compartment with presents for Harry. His promise to never do it again was
marred by the broad wink he shot Remus. Tonks, in the meanwhile, was appropriately giddy
over her promotion to a full-time Auror, prompting Remus to keep a close watch on her as
she knocked back the drinks.

"Ah, Harry, how good to see you," said Cornelius Fudge sanctimoniously as he approached
their booth. Lucius Malfoy was hovering behind him, shooting a malevolent glare at Harry
and Sirius. A short, squat, toad-faced woman wearing a lurid pink cardigan flanked Fudge on
the other side.

"Minister," greeted Sirius with a genial smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Merlin sank
back into the worn leather of the booth and turned his attention to a spot at the far corner of
the Leaky Cauldron. Two wizards were standing there, trying for the entire world to seem
unassuming. One was a tough-looking wizard with short, wiry, gray hair. The other was taller
with close-cropped black hair and a thin moustache and beard that matched his pointed face.

"Having an enjoyable summer, I hope?" Fudge asked, ignoring the other occupants of the
booth save for Merlin.

"Quite," said Harry shortly.

"Good, good," said Fudge as he rolled the edge of his bowler hat around in his fingers. "You
must be excited for the Quidditch World Cup. I was about to take Lucius here to see Ludo--
err, that is, Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports--to get
him seats in the Top Box. He gave a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for
Magical Maladies and Injuries, Harry. He'll be attending as my guest."

"Really?" inquired Sirius with an arched brow. "How nice, Lucius. I think you've contributed
quite a lot to St. Mungo's over the years haven't you?"

Harry couldn't quite interpret the meaning behind Sirius's statement, though the animosity
rang clear in the glares of the two men.

"Tell you what," Sirius continued, "I think it's only fair the most noble and ancient House of
Black matches Lucius's contribution. Only...put it in Remus's name. We all know
the good that St. Mungo's done for him."

The sarcasm was very evident there.

"Sirius," said Remus in a low, warning tone. Fudge, Malfoy, and the unknown witch all
looked as if they'd been slapped in the face at Sirius's statement, with the latter looking like
she might be sick.

"In fact," Sirius went on, ignoring Remus's warning, "I expect that money to go towards a
cure for lycanthropy. The Wolfbane Potion is good for the time being, but we shouldn't lose
sight of the bigger picture."

"Er--of course," said a strained Fudge, whose smile had grown even more brittle since the last
time Harry had seen the man.

"Mr. Puck, I was--"

"Just Puck, Lady..."

"Umbridge," simpered the toad-faced woman in a girlish voice that didn't match her
appearance. Remus's lip curled into an almost feral snarl, which he kept hidden behind his
hand. "Dolores Umbridge. I was wondering, Puck, if you might wish to confirm your place of
residence? We checked and know that you do not live on Privet Drive. Care to revise your
place of residence?"

"I live with Sirius and Remus at number three, Crossbough Crescent," said Merlin easily.
"Harry has likewise taken up residence with his godfather rather than his Muggle relations. If
you wish to know anything else about me, I would direct you to Ragnok, my representative in
all things legal and financial."

"Thank you, Puck," said Umbridge, batting her eyelashes in a way that left Harry torn
between retching and laughing.

"Well, Lucius, we'd better get on to the Ministry," said Fudge. He placed his lime-green
bowler upon his sweaty brow and made to leave. "Who knows where Ludo might be right
now, or what trouble he might be getting into."

Once they--including the two unscrupulous wizards--took their leave, Harry let out a breath.

"It was only a matter of time," said Merlin with an unconcerned shrug. "I think they might've
threatened legal action if I didn't answer some of their questions."

"You planned this?" said Sirius.

"Not this," said Merlin, motioning to where Fudge, Malfoy, and Umbridge had been standing.
"I was going to sneak away, but... Apparently, I've underestimated the tenacity of certain
Aurors...or, today just happened to be their lucky day."

"I'd go with luck," snorted Tonks, who Harry had forgotten was present. She was now
sporting a thick head of blonde hair and a pock-marked face, looking as different as possible
from the Tonks that Harry knew. "Top marks in Concealment and Disguise, remember?" she
teased Harry, noting his look. "The Aurors were Dawlish and Savage. They're dead loyal to
Fudge, but better duellists than trackers."

Merlin pulled a sour look at having been tracked so easily--or through dumb luck. The
meeting with Fudge had left a sour taste in all their mouths. After the next round of drinks,
everyone decided to part their separate ways, though Harry made sure to inquire Tonks about
his favour for Ginny, which she readily agreed to.

"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked once they returned to the Haven.

"No," admitted Merlin. "Mostly I head out under the guise of an illusion--the Gandalf
persona, if you would. It's not much of an inconvenience, Harry. I would rather the Ministry
gaze at me with suspicion, yet retain the freedom to speak with the common person with
mine own face. Wearing a disguise constantly? That would be horrible. In the meanwhile..."

He fished around his robes until he pulled out a platinum pocketwatch. It was smaller than
the one Merlin carried around, which was also golden, but the style was similar. The chain
was so finely crafted that it felt as malleable as silken string. Harry took it and examined the
relief on the cover. There was a single tree in the centre with the blossoming of many stars in
its foliage. A great dragon--its wings folded tight against its body--stretched itself around the
edge of the cover, as if it was curled protectively around its treasure.

"The great crest of Ambrosius is that of a single star to commemorate the everlasting
morning," Merlin told Harry softly. "The Potter family crest is more ornate in that it
possesses a single tree under a chevron, crossed blades above the chevron, and two lions as
supporters. I thought that as we are both orphans, in a way, that we might...combine our
crests into a new line..."

"The stars...the tree...I suppose you picked the dragon instead of the lions," remarked Harry.

"It does do a better job at protecting what is treasured," agreed Merlin.

"Thank you," said Harry as he continued to run his finger along the cover. He thumbed the
hidden latch and popped open the watch. The face was sleek and modern. On the inside cover
was the phrase Tempus non facit finem. "'Time does not stop?'"

"It doesn't, as I've learned, and you would do well to remember that," said Merlin. "No matter
the tragedy, nor the joy, time does not stop. It moves ever forward, and so must we all.
There's no standing still or going back, no matter how much we might wish it."

*****

Harry waited until Ginny came over the next day before writing a reply to Hermione. Ron's,
by contrast, was relatively simple to compose. In the end, they decided to be honest with the
older girl in regards to their relationship. Harry also wrote assurances to Hermione that Puck
could be trusted and was not practicing anything dark. He also got an inspiration for
Hermione's birthday gift. He and Ginny would give her a diary, though it would not be
connected to Merlin's library.

For the eleven days until her birthday, the duo worked on understanding their link. Merlin
tried to have them communicate via their animals, but at best they could only judge the
other's mood. Harry found the phoenix to be soothing against any brooding thoughts, while
Ginny enjoyed the boost of courage and assurance that the dragon provided.

Though Ginny's birthday fell on a Monday, she insisted on keeping to their schedule and
going to the Haven. Mrs. Weasley was not particularly happy about that, and so Merlin had to
reach a compromise again. Ginny could stay the afternoon, as their lessons were otherwise
cancelled in honour of her birthday.

Harry was grateful, actually. He didn't want Ginny to open his gift in front of the rest of her
family--least of all her six brothers.

"Harry!" gasped Ginny as she plucked the gorgeous set of dress robes out of the box. It
wasn't quite white in colour, having the subtle hint of green in the fabric. There were
intricate, abstract floral patterns on the material, giving the robes an interesting texture to
both the eye and finger. It was to be worn off the shoulder with long, tight sleeves meant to
taper so that it fell across the back of Ginny's hands, lying to rest on her middle knuckles. A
platinum wrap was also included.

"Harry, where did you get this? How much was it? Oh it's so beautiful..." gushed Ginny in a
rush as she pressed the robes against herself and modelled it in the closest mirror. "Harry, this
had to have cost a fortune--I can't accept this!"

"It cost the same as the cloak you gave me," Harry told her, smiling.

Ginny stared at Harry uncomprehendingly for a moment, still dazzled by the splendour of the
almost regal dress robes. When it finally registered in her mind, she set down the robes
gently, and then threw herself at Harry. The kiss was hard and energetic, almost bowling
Harry over in her enthusiasm, but nothing compared to the hot shot of warm liquid that
bubbled out of Harry's centre at the contact. The dragon in Harry's chest purred contentedly,
and he could almost imagine it relaxing in a volcanic sauna.

"You made it for me?" she asked softly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Harry
nodded. "Why?"

"Well," he said slowly, "along with the Triwizard Tournament comes a Yule Ball. I was
hoping you could be my date."

Ginny laughed and planted a kiss to his cheek.

"Are you bribing me to be your date, Mr. Potter?" she teased; the golden flecks in her eyes
danced like a warm fire. "Because I'll have you know that I've a wonderful boyfriend who
might hurt you."

"You're worth fighting for," said Harry seriously, feeling a shiver go through him.
"Ahem," coughed Merlin, and the two teens moved from hugging each other to standing side-
by-side with their arms around their waists. "You two have some very interesting ideas on
redecorating."

Harry glanced down at Ginny in confusion, but in doing so he spied the floor. Ginny, on the
other hand, noticed the walls when she glanced up at Harry. Grass had sprouted through the
flagstones along with a whole host of wildflowers. Healthy, green vines had likewise
wallpapered the den, bearing the very same blooms.

They were a pristine white that seemed to glow with an inner light. There were no more or
less than seven petals per bloom. Each of those seven petals were long enough that they
folded back over, forming a chalice or bell-shaped structure.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Merlin remarked almost to himself. He clipped one flower and
preserved it, presumably to research it, and then cleaned up the rest.

The discovery of a new aspect of their bond energized Harry and Ginny's sessions together.
When they weren't working on their link, they were working hard on their Animagus
transformations. Ginny, it seemed, had an easier time with her phoenix than Harry did with
his dragon. Merlin assumed it might be due to the size difference. Harry might require a lot
more power to manage the dragon, and in that case, it might take longer for him to master the
form.

In the meanwhile, Merlin spent most of his time in his study. Ifrit made several regular visits,
dropping off more books from Avalon. He shared some of the history with them, such as
Morgana's fate or Arthur's tomb, but kept most of it to himself. A weary shadow grew over
Merlin's face, and Harry had no idea how to help him. The man was bottling up his grief, it
seemed, or shouldering the blame on himself. Harry thought that he would've done the same.

*****

The day before he was to leave for the Weasleys, Harry took one last tour of the Haven.

"You can always teleport back, if you feel homesick," offered Merlin.

"I know," nodded Harry. "It's just...weird. It's not so bad after a few weeks at Hogwarts, but...
I dunno. I’ve just never been homesick before.”

"Perhaps it's because you've never had a home that was truly yours before," suggested
Merlin. "Sleep, Harry. You'll need it. Arthur tells me you've an early Portkey to catch
Monday morning, and I highly doubt you'll get much rest tomorrow when you meet with
your friends for the first time all summer."

"You could just 'port me to the moor," said Harry sourly.

"I could, yes," nodded Merlin, "but then the Ministry will be watching. You know how they
do seem fascinated with us for those unfathomable reasons." They shared a wry smile
together. "You will go with the Weasleys and set up a tent for Sirius, Remus, and myself.
Now, goodnight, Harry."
As Harry slept that night he had the most peculiar dream. He was a baby, or so he thought,
wrapped up in warm blankets before a fire. A bottle was set between his lips, which he
sucked greedily at. The liquid tasted most foul, but at the same time it suffused his body with
life and vitality that he most desperately needed.

Wormtail had been present, and perhaps another--a witch named Nagini, who Harry needed
her breast milk (or so he assumed), which he found particularly weird about. They were
plotting something...something to be done after the Quidditch World Cup--something
involving Harry. But Harry wondered how could that be if he was speaking to Wormtail?

The conversation turned to someone called Bertha Jorkins, who'd gone missing thanks to
Wormtail, and a faithful servant of Harry's. And then Harry realized that Nagini was a snake,
not a witch, and that he spoke to her in Parselmouth. He wasn't sure if the fact that he drank
snake venom was more or less weird at this point. In any event, Nagini had informed Harry
of a Muggle eavesdropping outside the door.

The Muggle was defiant to the last, until he stared upon Harry's visage. Harry wondered
about his appearance that it would provoke such a reaction, but he was more horrified at the
fact that he was now raising a wand towards the old man. A swell of hatred rose up in Harry's
chest as he spoke the terrible words--

"Avada Kedavra!"

A bright green light flashed out from the tip of Harry's wand and struck the old man dead. In
response to that action, Harry felt a hot knife stab into his own heart, eliciting a shiver of
pleasure through Harry's body in spite of the pain.

"Dispose of the body, Wormtail," ordered a shivering Harry--shivering with glee and
anticipation.

"Y-yes, My Lord," stammered the pitiful wizard as he magicked the body out through the
door.

Once Wormtail was gone, Harry hurriedly turned his wand upon himself.

"I share that which has been split by the deed most foul," hissed Harry. From the moment
he'd spoken, Harry felt a cold wave wash through him, as if he'd stepped through a ghost. But
there was something more--something that left Harry bereft. It was as if the ghost had taken
something with it when it had walked through Harry. He directed that sensation with his
wand, turning it upon Nagini.

When the spell was done, Harry collapsed back against the back of the chair, acutely aware of
a gaping void somewhere within himself, but feeling content despite it.

It was then that Harry awoke in fright, his hands clamped over the burning scar on his
forehead. It took a moment for Harry to process what he'd seen, and to take in the horror of it
all. As the cool wind of the Haven caressed his sweat-soaked body, he then realized that his
scar was still prickling, and the last time that had happened had been when Voldemort was in
close proximity to him.
He sat up in his bed, trying to listen for anything that might sound out of place. It was foolish,
Harry knew. There was no chance at all of Voldemort making his way into the Haven. He
was safe.

Instead, Harry wandlessly Summoned his journal and desk set. The dream needed to be
written down. He wanted to talk with Merlin about it, but considering it was far too early in
the morning, Harry decided to talk about it when they were both awake.

"This is serious, but not so serious that you should let it ruin your experience at the Quidditch
World Cup," Merlin assured Harry. "From what you say, it seems as if Lord Voldemort has
managed to create a modest vessel for himself with the help of Pettigrew, but he's
tremendously weak if he requires such stringent feedings."

"But his plan..."

"Requires you," pointed out Merlin. "Whatever it entails, you play a key role in it, and as I
shall be with you at the Quidditch World Cup, I very much doubt anything will happen
there."

"And Hogwarts?" wondered Harry. Merlin fell silent as he contemplated things.

"I will take up my residence in Hogsmeade again," said Merlin at last. "Long have I seen a
dark shadow looming over this year. I had not known what it meant, but now certain things
are becoming clearer. I've been working to prevent this, but apparently I've not been fast
enough. There are days when I prefer to be intangible and invisible..."

"What was that thing about Nagini?" asked Harry. "The very last thing before I woke up?"

"Very dark magic," said Merlin gravely, levelling a hard gaze at Harry. "It is how Lord
Voldemort survived that Halloween. There are many ways to gain a measure of immortality,
but the former Master Thomas Riddle chose a very difficult and dark route. He made Nagini,
his apparent familiar, into a Horcrux."

"What's a Horcrux?"

"In essence, it is an item to which one entrusts a piece of their soul," said Merlin with a
disgusted look upon his face. "Even if a person's physical body should die, one piece of their
soul will remain earthbound and untouched, anchoring them in the land of the living. To split
one's soul requires an act of pure evil--the cold-blooded murder of another life. The diary was
one such Horcrux, I believe, as does your Professor Dumbledore."

"But I destroyed it!" said Harry. "If I destroyed it and Voldemort was without a body, then
wouldn't that--"

"Mean he would become unanchored and be forced to pass over?" finished Merlin. "Yes, but
the very fact he didn't led me to suspect that Lord Voldemort has done the unthinkable. He
has created more than one Horcrux. And the ease with which he turned Nagini confirms that
belief.
"For the past year I've been trying to find out how Lord Voldemort could've discovered
Horcruxes. I've come close in recent weeks. An old professor of Hogwarts, Horace Slughorn,
seems rather...peculiar about the subject. I've been trying to get him to talk through long
conversations, but the man is stubborn...even when liquored up."

Merlin gave a weary sigh and rubbed at his face.

"It seems Professor Dumbledore and I shall be having a conversation very shortly," he said to
himself. "As much as I know about Lord Voldemort, I have little doubt that Professor
Dumbledore knows more. Perhaps, if we work fast enough, we may leave him without his
anchors and trapped in a helpless body. At least then you could live your life without Lord
Voldemort looming over it."

They both sat in silence for a moment, half of their respective breakfasts lying untouched on
the table. Harry raked his hand through his hair in frustration, feeling as if he'd aged another
ten years. Merlin, on the other hand, took a gentle sip of orange juice from a tall glass.

"I think things can wait until after the Quidditch World Cup," said Merlin. "I think you need
to remember that you are now fourteen, Harry. Time does not stop, but it wouldn't do to jump
ahead of the flow. In the meanwhile, see if you can't seal up the connection behind a vault.
That should prevent any further intrusions."

Harry nodded, glad that he might be able to prevent more dreams. Still, he didn't feel like
seeing a Quidditch match at all. Rather, he felt like marching out and meeting Voldemort
head on. The last thing he wanted was another year of torment and feeling helpless. He was
Merlin's apprentice for heaven's sake! He should put that power to use!

"I know you might not feel that way now, Harry," said Merlin softly, "but believe me, your
song will change when you get caught up in the excitement. Now go on."

*****

It was a very distracted Harry that tumbled through the Weasley's fireplace, having Flooed
from Sirius's fireplace. Mrs. Weasley swooped him up into a big hug, but he barely paid it
any mind. His thoughts were focused on Voldemort, the World Cup, and Horcruxes. It was
just all too much at the moment. He could just imagine the dragon within him stalking around
angrily and impatiently.

Suddenly, Harry heard the phoenix song rush through his body and soothe his taught nerves.
Ginny had activated their link and was shooting him the most concerned look, while trying to
remain aloof in front of her relatives. He gave her a grateful look in return.

"Hey, mate," greeted Ron as he vigorously helped to pat the soot off of Harry's shoulders. It
seemed as if his best mate had grown another six inches. He was by far taller than any of his
siblings, including Mr. Weasley.

"Hey, Ron," nodded Harry in return, feeling a little better with Ginny soothing him gently.
"Hermione, when did you get here?"

"Sirius brought me yesterday," she explained, standing beside Ginny.

"Yeah, on his flying motorcycle!" exclaimed Ron. "Why didn't you ever tell me he had
something like that, mate? It was brilliant! Dad spent hours chatting with Sirius about it. All
of us wanted turns on it but Mum said no."

Harry thinned his lips. He didn't think Ron would appreciate knowing that Harry could now
ride it--well, maybe not legally, but...

"That's not true," pointed out Ginny, "Bill got to ride it! So did Charlie!"

Speaking on which, both siblings entered the living room from the stairs. Bill shared what
Harry had come to assume was the Weasley gene--tall and thin. He was, like Sirius, the
epitome of cool and would not look out of place at a rock concert with his long hair, earring,
and leather vest. Charlie, on the other hand, shared Mrs. Weasley's traits of the short and
stocky variety. He was so covered in freckles that he looked a shade darker than any of the
others, and he had a livid burn on his forearm.

They welcomed Harry with all the hospitality of the other Weasleys. Percy only poked his
head down to wonder at the noise, and then retreated back to his room to work.

"The twins are up with us," said Ron. "Bill and Charlie are in their room. Percy gets to keep
his room because he has to work."

The twins were no happier with the situation than Ron.

"At least when Charlie was with us he helped with our products," said Fred ruefully.

"Why not keep Bill up here with me and Ron?" asked Harry as they all sat on their respective
beds.

"Mum wanted you to be more comfortable since you're staying the rest of the summer," said
George. "You know us, but you don't know Bill and Charlie."

"Why don't you two Floo over to the Marauder's Pad?" suggested Harry as he began to
unpack some things. "Padfoot and Moony've got this potion lab set up in the basement.
Besides, they're Marauders, I'm sure they'd have all sorts of ideas for you two."

A silence rang out over the room for a moment. Harry paused in his unpacking and gave a
quick glance over his shoulder. Ron was suppressing his laughter as the twins stared at Harry
in undisguised awe.

"Why didn't we think about that before?" crowed Fred as he smacked his forehead.

"That's brilliant, Harry!" exclaimed George happily. "Really brilliant! We were going to owl
Lee about it, but, well, we're not sure how well that'd go over with his folks. They're nice and
all, but we do have a way of testing people's patience..."

The twins assumed a look of exaggerated innocence that proved too much for Ron as he burst
out with laughter.
"Here," said Harry, fishing out the two-way mirror from his seven-lock trunk. "You can ask
him now. Sirius!"

Harry watched his reflection fog over before it was replaced with Sirius's.

"Harry!" greeted Padfoot. "How're things at the Burrow?" The last he added with a waggle of
his brows that sent the blood rushing to Harry's face.

"Great, Padfoot," returned Harry with a bright smile. Merlin had been right. All he needed to
do was allow him to be swept up in the excitement of things. The infectious quality of it was
unstoppable. "I've a proposition for you..."

Harry relayed the twins' problem with them hovering over his shoulders, wondering just how
the mirror worked. In the end, he surrendered the mirror to the twins and allowed them to talk
business with Sirius. Ron and Harry then went to check in on Hermione and Ginny, catching
up on their respective summers.

Dinner was taken out in the garden since there were so many people at the Burrow. The twins
seemed to be in high spirits again, and Percy was engrossed in a discussion about work with
Mr. Weasley. Bill and Charlie engaged Ron in various discussions and speculations about the
World Cup final between Ireland and Bulgaria. Hermione and Ginny, by contrast, were bent
close together and whispering about things.

Just as Harry was about to relax, however, he heard the name "Bertha Jorkins" being spoken
by Percy and Mr. Weasley. Ginny noticed again, but even the phoenix song wasn't enough to
allay his worries. Unfortunately, neither got a chance to speak with the other as the Burrow
was so crowded.

*****

Mrs. Weasley got Harry up early the next morning for their trip to the Portkey. The twins
were in a foul mood as Mrs. Weasley had Summoned their stock right out of their pockets.
They were going to turn over what they had saved to Sirius and Remus, but now they'd have
to work from scratch. Ginny was in a foul mood for a different reason--she hadn't been able
to speak with Harry privately since he arrived, and was less likely to do so on their trip.

The only ones not exhausted from their long trek from the Burrow, through Ottery St.
Catchpole, and up Stoatshead Hill, were Harry and Ginny. Merlin's conditioning had paid off
it seemed. A smile came to Harry then. That was the sort of trek Merlin would've enjoyed.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well,
we've made good time--we've got ten minutes..."

Hermione was the last one to make up the hill, clutching at a stitch in her side. Ginny went to
help their bookish friend.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting
around at the ground. "It won't be big... Come on..."

Harry engaged his sight through his link with Ginny and spied the Portkey easily.
"It's over there, Mr. Weasley," said Harry, pointing towards the far side of the hilltop. "The
two wizards have it."

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop. The
Portkey glowed with the primary colours of red, yellow, and blue. The two wizards, on the
other hand, glowed a faint tawny colour. As it turned out, those two were Amos Diggory, a
Ministry employee for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,
and Cedric Diggory, the extremely handsome boy who was also Seeker and Captain of the
Hufflepuff House team.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everyone said "Hi" in return, though Hermione and Ginny followed it up with barely
suppressed giggles. The dragon in Harry's chest roused itself in spite of the hour and snarled
irritably at Cedric's direction. Ginny noticed immediately and turned an amused look towards
Harry, who ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck to hide the blush. Her phoenix
laughed teasingly in return.

The Portkey trip was thoroughly uncomfortable for Harry, who was much used to teleporting
from place to place. Actually, using a Portkey was a lot like being dragged along as a
passenger during teleportation, leading Harry to wonder if the two were connected in theory
at the very least. They got their assigned plot from Mr. Roberts, who then needed a Memory
Charm. Given the sheer amount of tents that blanketed the moor, not all of them within
compliance for the Statute of Secrecy, Harry could understand why.

While Mr. Weasley's tents were borrowed from a Perkins who worked with him, Harry's tent
had been purchased by Merlin. Harry was dumbstruck at the interior of his tent. It was more
like a miniature flat than a camping tent, complete with running water--which Harry didn't
understand at all! Despite that, he offered to accompany Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as they
went to fetch water for their tents.

"You realize we could just conjure up some," grinned Ginny impishly as they walked side-
by-side. With Ron among them, they couldn't hold hands, but that didn't stop them from
bumping into each other as if they were drunk.

Harry snorted.

"Yeah, but there's the 'anti-Muggle security,'" pointed out Harry, repeating Mr. Weasley's
words. "I don't think they'll believe we just miraculously struck a well."

Ginny laughed aloud at that.

"Oy!" called out Ron. "What're you two laughing about?"

"Nothing!" returned Harry and Ginny simultaneously. Hermione shot them a knowing look of
amusement, but otherwise remained silent.

"So are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" said Ginny out the corner of her mouth.
Harry gave a weary sigh, but did just as she asked. Ginny had stalled at first, and Harry had to
prod her along gently to keep pace with Ron and Hermione. By the time he'd finished,
however, she seemed to be composed and natural.

"Well?" prompted Harry.

"Well, what?" returned Ginny. "You heard Merlin; he's going to tell Dumbledore about
himself and then the two of them can go and do...whatever...with the Horcruxes. They're the
two most powerful wizards--ever. Merlin's right. Just enjoy the Quidditch World Cup. Even
Voldemort said he wasn't going to try anything today."

"Well if you put it that way..." said Harry, who could find little fault with her logic.

"You mean the right way?" teased Ginny, giving Harry's ribs a playful nudge.

"Yes, luv," laughed Harry.

Along the way they ran into Seamus and Dean in the sea of green tents that supported Ireland.
While in the queue, they overheard a rather hilarious argument between a wizard named
Archie and a Ministry wizard. Both Hermione and Ginny had to leave the line for a moment
as they'd been overcome with a fit of giggles.

On the way back to the tent, they ran into Oliver Wood, who dragged Harry over to be
introduced to his parents, and told him excitedly that he'd just been signed to Puddlemere
United's reserve team. He then accosted Ron and Ginny (but Ron in particular) about their
training over the summer. They also ran into Ernie Macmillan, Demelza Robbins, Luna
Lovegood, and Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker. She waved and smiled at Harry,
which prompted a reaction from Ginny's phoenix. He swore it ruffled its feathers in
indignation and irritation.

When Harry shot Ginny an amused look of his own, she tilted her chin up defiantly, but there
was no mistaking the blush on the tips of her ears.

They returned with the water and helped Mr. Weasley cook up some lunch. Sirius, Remus,
and Merlin arrived, followed shortly by Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They sat outside with Mr.
Weasley, who pointed out Ministry officials as they crossed by. When Ludo Bagman came
up, Sirius moved quick as lightning to reach the twins, who seemed eager to meet Bagman.

"Bagman doesn't pay the debts he incurs," Sirius whispered sharply to the twins. "That's why
he bets on almost everything. He needs to shuffle around his winnings to pay off collectors."

The twins soured at that. Fred didn't stop counting the money in their pouch though. In fact,
Harry was willing to bet--pun intended--that the twins would march up to Bagman the first
chance they got. After the incident with their mother that morning, the twins would probably
want some sort of compensation for their lost time and stock. Sirius seemed to have realized
the determination in the twins as well, for he pressed on--

"If you really need the money to start up, you know Moony and I would be happy to invest."
The twins turned their eyes sharply upon Sirius at that. "Don't give me that Weasley
nonsense! It'd be an investment--I fully expect to be made a silent partner, or have you pay
me back. You're already going to use our basement, and a joke shop’s an idea I should've
thought up ages ago. Zonko's looks like it hasn't added anything at all since my time."

Fred and George looked at each other, communicating silently, before giving Sirius a curt
nod.

"Excellent," grinned Sirius, clasping both twins on the shoulders. "I'll just owl my barrister to
work out a contract. You might want to ask Bill to help out. I'm sure he'd be more open to the
task than Percy, and Bill ought to have some practical experience at Gringotts. We don't want
to work out something where I might accidentally step on your toes..."

The look of disbelief on the twins' faces was comical and Harry had to struggle not to laugh
aloud. Someone--correction, an adult--was taking them seriously. It was one thing for Sirius
or Remus to encourage them by giving them a place to work, but it was something else for
Sirius to be so...well...serious...and go so far as to want a legal contract, and then to make
sure that it was the twins' show.

"He's been having a difficult time of finding a career," Remus whispered into Harry's ear,
having observed the byplay as well. "It's not something pureblood wizards do. They typically
enter public service, or merely live off the interest of their lands. I remember Sirius saying his
father was rather proud of the fact that he hadn't worked a day in his life."

The twins looked about ready to kiss his godfather, but the arrival of Barty Crouch pulled that
to an abrupt halt. Any joviality was doused by a bucket of ice cold water as Barty Crouch and
Sirius Black stared at each other, both baring looks of undisguised hatred. Only Bagman
seemed oblivious to the exchange. Even "Weatherby" fumbled as he tried to offer Crouch tea.
Fortunately, Remus headed off Sirius and Crouch pulled Bagman away.

"I'm not sharing the box with that--" Sirius caught sight of Hermione and snapped his jaw
shut, making her smile at him. She then turned an arch look to Ron as if to say, "Now why
can't you do that?"

"It's the Top Box, Padfoot," said Remus soothingly. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of space for
the two of you to keep away from each other."

"Master Crouch was responsible for Sirius's imprisonment," explained Merlin to Harry,
Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, as they watched Remus escort Sirius into the tent for a moment.
"He was ruthless in his punishment of Death Eaters, Sirius included. For many, the trial was a
mere formality; for others, like Sirius, they received no trial at all."

"Crouch and Malfoy?" sighed Harry.

"Malfoy?" spat Ron. Harry then gave a much abbreviated version of the events at the Leaky
Cauldron, keeping out mostly the suspicion towards Merlin.

"They've been talking about Bertha Jorkins," said Harry in an undertone, nodding towards
Mr. Weasley and Percy. "Percy seems to think Mr. Bagman should try to find her."

"A moot point," said Merlin grimly. "Remember what I said, Harry. Enjoy tonight. No sense
confronting trouble when we're not ready."
*****

Merlin bought the children Omnioculars for themselves. As long as it was a gift from an
adult, and a gift to all, Ron seemed pleased. Hermione purchased programs for them, while
Ron splurged on a dancing shamrock hat, a large green rosette, and a small figure of Viktor
Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. Harry copied Ron's purchase of hat and rosette, but also added a
model Firebolt. He had an idea for Ginny's Christmas present and would need the little
Firebolt's help. Ginny, for her part, purchased the Irish flag and rosette, but little else.

Because they reached the Top Box early, they were able to stake out prime seats. The
children all took the front row closest to the wall, while the adults filed in behind them. Ron
and Hermione were curious about Winky, the house-elf saving Mr. Crouch a seat, while
Harry was curious about why Dobby wanting pay was so taboo. Hermione, however, was
appalled that Winky would be forced to do something she didn't want to.

Fudge joined them soon after with the Bulgarian Minister and was then followed by the
Malfoys. With both Merlin and Sirius, however, Mr. Malfoy was out matched. He settled for
a sneering smile directed at Mr. Weasley before finding seats as far from the group as
possible.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione as they turned back to the field.

A shriek alerted the lot of them back at the Malfoys. Draco Malfoy had taken his seat, only to
find himself covered head-to-toe with spiders. Ron immediately jumped up and away from
everyone with a pale face. It took Harry a moment, but he realized that Malfoy was stuck to
the chair. Mr. Malfoy was busy trying to get Draco free before wiping the spiders away,
while Mrs. Malfoy was screaming bloody murder.

"Fudge!" snapped an irate Mr. Malfoy.

"Terribly sorry, Lucius," apologized an embarrassed Fudge as he directed some of the

Ministry wizards to help.

"Weasley," snarled Mr. Malfoy, rounding on Mr. Weasley and, more importantly, the twins.
"Your sorry excuse for children are behind this!"

"Now see here Malfoy--"

"The twins are hardly of age, Lucius," said Sirius calmly, interrupting a very flustered Mr.
Weasley who had his wand out and ready. "And the older children all hold respectable
positions."

"Then you!" snapped Mr. Malfoy. "I remember how you were back in Hogwarts! You were
behind this!"

"Begging your pardon, sir," said one of the Ministry wizards, "but it seems to be bad luck is
all. There's a whole host of nests under the seat. Bad timing to have them all hatch like that.
The floor and chair were also sticky. Seems someone must've spilt their butterbeer from
another game. Reckon that's why a simple finite didn't work--there weren't nothing
charmed. Scourgify was what we had to use."
"Yes," agreed Merlin, whose eyes were twinkling with a dangerous intensity. Harry needn't
guess who had been behind things. "Seems quite unlikely anyone could've known which seat
you'd choose. Mere bad luck, Master Malfoy."

Mr. Malfoy's nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed by contrast.

"I believe you owe these fine people an apology for your accusations," Merlin continued,
seemingly oblivious to Malfoy's rage. "Oh, and the Bulgarian representatives as well. Bad
form to act so rashly in the presence of such esteemed guests."

"Yes, yes, Lucius," said Fudge, shooting a nervous glance towards the Bulgarians, who were
whispering amongst themselves. "Come now and apologize."

Mr. Malfoy seemed to be clenching his jaw so tightly that Harry was surprised his teeth didn't
shatter. His right hand trembled as it squeezed the head of his serpent cane.

"My apologies," he said in a blanket statement towards everyone, but made eye contact with
no one. He then made a more sincere one to the Bulgarian group, complete with a very stiff
bow. When he turned to march back towards his seat, his robes snapped crisply in a way that
would've made Snape envious.

To add insult to injury, the Bulgarians pointed and laughed at the Malfoys once everything
was done. The Minister, seeking to appease them, played along. Even Sirius joined in the fun.

As everyone chuckled silently, Ron nervously sat in his chair. He periodically checked
around and lifted his feet off the ground, which only served to make the twins laugh harder.

"I wouldn't worry, mate," Harry told Ron, shooting a glance up to Merlin, who twiddled his
thumbs as he stared at the giant blackboard. "I think those Ministry blokes got 'em all."

"Better Malfoy than me, yeah?" said Ron in a high-pitched voice.

Fortunately, the ceremonies got underway soon after. The Bulgarian team presented their
mascots, which were veela. Harry had no idea what veela were, but watched as a hundred
beautiful women danced across the field. They were almost otherworldly with their moon-
bright skin and white-gold hair.

As they danced and sang, Harry felt his ears tingle. He willed himself to see the magic in all
things, and realized the veela were working some sort of enchantment through their song and
dance routine. It was not unlike Merlin using magic to bolster his words.

The dragon uncoiled from within Harry's chest and snarled at the invading magic. It was
vicious, angry, and highly possessive. Harry could almost see the dragon unfurl its wings and
rear up as if to strike down the veela. He was unaware of the storm building overhead, but he
was aware of his magic neutralizing the veela magic.

Ginny reached out to squeeze his hand and gave him a bright smile.

"Ron, what are you doing?" said Hermione. Harry blinked and looked around with normal
sight. Ron was perched on the edge of the Top Box's wall, as if he was about to dive off into
the crowd below. Malfoy seemed to be of a similar mind as he had fallen over two rows in an
effort to get close enough to the edge.

The other men, however, had their hands clamped firmly over their ears--except for Merlin,
who seemed just as immune as Harry.

"Veela," he explained as if conducting another lesson. "You might know them better as
sirens, of Greek fame. Like many magical creatures, they're quite migratory. Odysseus tied
himself to the mast of his ship so that he might hear their song. Apparently, we haven't the
need."

"I've heard better," said Harry, squeezing Ginny's hand. She blushed and smiled in return.
None of them caught Hermione's suspicious gaze.

"Honestly," huffed Hermione and tugged Ron back down into his seat. The veela had been
forced to stop, much to the outcry of many males in the stadium.

"Harry," said Fred with amusement tingeing his voice. "Are you perhaps deaf and blind? Do
we need to get your glasses adjusted? Perhaps one of those hearing maids--"

"Hearing aids," corrected Hermione absently.

"Really?" asked a distracted George. "And here I was looking forward to one day losing my
hearing so I could have lovely women whisper sweet nothings in my ear all day..."

Bagman saved Harry from having to answer by announcing the Irish National Team Mascots,
which were leprechauns. The game started in earnest after that. The veela provided additional
amusement as they sang when Bulgaria scored, which had the inadvertent side-effect of
distracting the referee. Also, when the leprechauns banded together to form a rude gesture, it
showcased the true nature of the veela.

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley as the bird part of the veela's ancestry emerged, "is
why you should never go for looks alone!"

"Don't I know it," muttered Merlin under his breath. Harry barely caught that over the tumult
of the crowd below.

Ireland soundly defeated Bulgaria, though Viktor Krum managed to catch the Snitch. Harry
could admire Krum for the pride involved. That night, no one went to sleep early in spite of
the early day. Everyone wanted to discuss the match or replay it with their Omnioculars.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," remarked Mr. Weasley as he paused long enough to admire
the noise. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

"Poor Tonks," said Harry to Sirius. "And it's her first assignment too, yeah?"

"It's because she's a novice that she's been assigned to this," said Remus. Sirius affixed a
playful smile and nudged Remus in the ribs. Moony, in turn, gave Padfoot a very sour look.
Ginny was tired and leaning limply against Harry's arm, but their connection was giving her
enough strength to stay awake. She didn't want to miss any of the conversation around her.
Harry wished he could put his arm around her.

It was Hermione who finally nodded off first, prompting Mr. Weasley to order everyone to
bed. Ginny gave Harry a rueful look and escorted a sleepy Hermione off towards their tent.
Remus, Sirius, and Merlin all accompanied Harry to their tent. They changed into their
sleeping clothes, with Sirius wondering just how Merlin had came across the vintage T-shirt
he was wearing--a touring shirt from Queen's It's A Kind of Magic tour that had passed
through Wembley Stadium in '86--and crawled into bed.

Not long after, Harry felt himself being roused by Merlin.

"Up," he said softly, fake wand in hand. Sirius and Remus were fully dressed. "There's
trouble."

Harry picked up on Merlin's tone and did so without question. He threw on the cloak that
Ginny had given him and made sure his ring was in place. As he did so, he noted the sounds
had changed. No longer where there any songs and cheers, but rather screams and explosions.

"What's going on?" said Harry.

"Death Eaters," said Sirius gravely. Harry's eyes flew open and he turned a stare upon Merlin.
The older wizard merely ushered Harry out of the tent where Ron, Fred, and George were
already assembled.

Chaos was unfolding around them. Some people were running frantically towards the woods,
while others seemed to be running towards a growing mob that was heading right at them.
Some fires were still going, while some flames were from tents that had been blasted away.

Harry caught sight of four floating figures that seemed to be the focus of everyone's attention.
They were being jerked around as if they were nothing but marionettes on strings. As they
passed by a fire, Harry caught sight of who the figures were--Mr. Roberts and what had to be
his family.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like
a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side-to-side. "That is really
sick..."

"Those're Death Eaters for you," said Sirius grimly.

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying towards them with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At
the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with
their sleeves rolled up and wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his
own sleeves. "You lot--get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when
we've sorted this out!"

"Do as Arthur says," said Merlin, kneeling down before Harry. "I can keep all of them safe,
but it'll be up to you to keep your friends safe."

"And who'll keep you safe?" shot Harry worriedly. Merlin or not, he was still one of the most
important people in Harry's life.

Merlin gave Harry a slight smile and squeezed his shoulder.

"Go," he urged Harry and then made off with Sirius and Remus.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. She tried
to struggle against Fred so that she could get back to Harry, but he was physically stronger
than her.

"You heard everyone--move," barked Harry as he tore off after Fred, Ginny, and George.
That was all Ron and Hermione needed.

Once they broke through the tree line of the woods, however, Harry stopped running and
pressed his back against a nearby tree. Ron and Hermione shot past him, along with a few
other people. It was a stupid move, Harry knew, but someone needed to watch Merlin's back,
especially if Voldemort was present. There was the chance that Harry's dream had been
wrong. Besides, Ginny was just as skilled as he was. If anything happened in the woods, she
could take care of it.

Harry pulled up the hood of his cloak and teleported as close to the crowd as he dared.
Merlin, forgetting his disguise, charged into action. He thrust his wand towards the Death
Eaters, clad in black robes and masks, bowling them all over with an invisible wave; with his
free hand, he called forth a gale-force vortex of wind to cushion the fall of the Roberts.

Spells flew wild in the air as the Death Eaters recovered. Harry ducked and used a Shield
Charm to protect himself. With the Roberts out of the way, the Ministry wizards were free to
subdue the Death Eaters. Only, the Death Eaters were likewise trying to defend themselves,
making for a very chaotic flurry of spells.

Merlin, by contrast, glided through the action with an impossible calm. It took a moment for
Harry to realize that he was timing his teleportations to pass through the spells he couldn't
block. In the meanwhile, he would ensnare Death Eaters with tree roots from the ground, or
toss fire spells and Disarming Charms around.

A particularly clever Death Eater shot some version of a Reductor Curse towards the ground
at Merlin's feet. The explosion unbalanced him, sending him down to a knee. Another curse
flew out, catching him on his right arm and sending him spinning. Harry moved to assist his
mentor, but there was little need. Merlin struck the ground with the tip of his wand, forcing a
large pit to open up beneath the feet of the approaching Death Eaters. As they fell, Merlin
Summoned their wands to him.

In minutes, the action was over. All the Death Eaters were round up and examined. Merlin
was dirtied, and there was a cut across his right arm, but was otherwise fine. Sirius and
Remus were bruised but well. All of the Weasleys were all right also.

Seeing that they had everything under control, Harry engaged his sight and tried to see if he
might spy Ginny's location in the forest. If he was right, her aura should be relatively
distinctive, though there were quite a lot of other auras as well. Swift feet carried Harry
through the woods as he tried to find anyone with a golden aura tinged with a yellow-green.

The recognizable squeak of Winky's voice made Harry pause for a moment. She seemed to
be speaking with someone--begging, really. There was another aura that seemed to be
dragging her towards the edge of the woods. A spell bound them together somehow. But
who? And why? Mr. Crouch had been with the other wizards--

"My wand!" came Ron's bellow in the near distance.

"What about it?" drifted in Ginny's voice.

"It's gone!" proclaimed Ron. "I had it in my hand and--"

"Dropped it when you tripped over your big feet," muttered someone else.

"I didn't trip!" protested Ron hotly. "Something tackled me and ran off through the bushes!
Someone nicked my wand! Help me look!"

Harry frowned at what Ron said and drew his attention back to where he'd heard Winky's
voice. As he approached, he realized the sound of everyone's searching was growing closer.
That had to be more than a mere coincidence.

"Master Barty, please!" whispered Winky urgently, catching Harry's attention again. "Master
Barty, please! Winky must keep you away from the bad men. Master Crouch will not want
Master Barty near them..."

Master Crouch? Master Barty? Harry was very confused. He moved closer and tried to
switch to his normal sight, only to find no one standing beside the very agitated house-elf. He
thought it might just be the low light and crept further.

Just then, a deep male voice shouted, "MORSMORDE!"

Something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness, illuminating the
slight shape of Winky the house-elf, but the spell itself had come from...nothing? That didn't
make sense at all unless...

Harry directed his wand towards the spot where a man should be--where his aura was--and
wandlessly used a Summoning Charm. An Invisibility Cloak flew from the man and into
Harry's awaiting hand. There was a pale-skinned, slightly freckled man with straw-coloured
hair standing beside Winky, staring at Harry in disbelief.

The man acted first, firing off a Killing Curse straight for Harry. He tried to employ Merlin's
technique and timed his teleportation to make it appear as if the curse had sailed through him.
Harry answered back with a nonverbal Stunner, using his wand to keep up with appearances,
which the man effortlessly blocked with a twitch of his--Ron's?--wand. Almost in a fluid
motion, he snapped back a Stunner of his own.

There was no denying that Harry was outclassed by his opponent. He had never had a serious
duel with Merlin as neither had felt the need. Everything Harry knew was enough to take
down nuisances like Malfoy, but this wizard was obviously battle-hardened.

A series of pops resounded off in the distance, followed by a chorus of voices

shouting "STUPEFY!". A wide spray of red lights criss-crossed through the trees, more than a
few coming close to Harry and his mystery opponent. Winky went down in a squeak of
sound, while both men blocked the spells the best they could manage. The Stunners crashed
against their shields, knocking both men down under the sheer force of multiple collisions.

They'd been both disarmed by the fall. Harry'd had enough by this point and waved his hand
at a nearby tree. He was going to trap his foe with the tree's help, but as if sensing Harry's
attack, the man leapt at Harry with his bare hands.

They crashed against the trunk of a thick tree, and Harry felt the air rush out of his lungs as a
heavy weight pressed into his chest. The ring saved him from physical pain, but the loss of
breath was enough for him to lose concentration. His foe was almost feral in his intensity,
trying to find purchase around Harry's throat with one hand as the other closed over his nose
and mouth.

Harry tried to fight back, physically and magically, but his ring could do nothing against the
loss of air. The lack of oxygen led to Harry being unable to concentrate enough on one spell
or command in particular. By that moment it was just a wild thrash for survival.

Spots of darkness began to cloud Harry's vision--darker than even the night around them. All
he could see was the glittering mark in the sky--the colossal skull of emerald stars with a
snake coming out from its mouth, looming like an ill omen. All Harry could hear was the
laboured breathing of a man itching to kill him.

"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's--but--blimey..."

"You've got someone?"

"Help! We've got a fight! Help!

"Who's there?"

"Harry!"

"Is that a house-elf?"

The voices were far away, like through a watery tunnel, but the man strangling him had heard
it clear enough. Those voices brought hope to Harry, allowing him to clear his mind. When
the man ceased suffocating Harry, being distracted by the newcomers, he unleashed another
primal yell from the pit of his being. The magic reacted to Harry's muffled cry, throwing the
man clear.

Harry hacked and coughed as his lungs struggled for breath; tears fell from his lashes and
onto the inside of his glasses. He fumbled at his neck, while the sound of people approaching
caught his attention. Try as he might to call out, his throat seemed incapable of cooperating.
"Harry!" shouted the voices of Sirius and Merlin at once. Along with them came other voices.

"That's impossible--"

"Can't be!"

"S'posed to be dead, isn't he?"

"Barty, what on Earth?"

"Barty, explain yourself!"

Their only answer was the sharp pop of someone Disapparating.

"Harry? Harry are you all right?" It was Sirius. Merlin had also come over and pulled Harry's
hands from his throat so that he could examine the marks; his gray eyes glowed furiously in
the darkness.

"'M'fine," Harry rasped, wincing at the rawness of his throat.

"Junior throttled you good," clucked Remus softly as he tilted Harry's chin up to check his
neck. "Best not let Ginny see you with those. She might think you've a girl or two on the
side."

Harry, despite everything that'd happened, blushed at the teasing. Merlin chuckled and
seemed to sigh in relief. A blue flash came from Remus's wand, and suddenly Harry's throat
felt much better.

"There," said Remus. "My experiences in life have taught me how handy Healing Charms can
be."

"Thanks," said Harry. He winced almost reflexively, but was relieved to find no discomfort
from speaking.

"Crouch, just what the hell are you playing at?" demanded Sirius angrily from over Harry's
head. "Your son's supposed to be DEAD! So what was he doing walking around trying
to KILL Harry?"

Harry didn't think he'd ever heard Sirius so angry before--not even when he'd confronted
Wormtail.

"That's a question I'd like to know the answer to, Black," came the voice of Rufus
Scrimgeour. He emerged with his cane and limped over towards the assembled wizards.
"Amos, take the house-elf in for questioning. In the meanwhile, Bartemius, you and I are
going to have a little chat."

Barty Crouch looked so despondent and depressed that Harry actually felt a twinge of
remorse for the man. He didn't even look like he could stand under his own power anymore.

"We've also several men to question regarding the little stunt they pulled with the Muggles,"
growled Scrimgeour, who rounded upon Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, I'm sorry, I know your
family's had a trying evening, but I need everyone here. We weren't prepared for Death Eaters
this night. If Skeeter ever got wind of this..."

"I know," said Mr. Weasley grimly.

"Harry, what happened?" asked Tonks, not as an Auror, but as a concerned friend.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I'd like to know as well," said Scrimgeour, turning his gaze down upon
Harry.

"I got lost from everyone else in the woods," explained Harry as best he could manage,
avoiding eye contact with Merlin. "Fred and George dragged Ginny off, but with the woods
being so dark, I lost track of Ron and Hermione. As I tried to find them, I ran across Winky,
Mr. Crouch's house-elf. She sounded like she was talking to herself, but I thought maybe she
was breaking some order from Mr. Crouch and was punishing herself."

A few people nodded in agreement, as if it were common house-elf practice.

"So I went on looking for everyone else. It was then I heard someone say a spell, and then
that--" Harry pointed up at the Dark Mark, "appeared. I went over to investigate, but found
only Winky. I thought someone was under an Invisibility Cloak, so I--I jumped out to take it
off. We struggled, and..."

Merlin's brow arched ever-so-slightly in scepticism, but the others seemed to find his story
plausible.

"C'mon, Harry," offered Tonks, "I'll take you over to everyone. Almost took them all down
when we Apparated into the clearing. They're all fine though. Oddest thing. I don't know how
we didn't hit any of them. They were just standing there..."

"We'll get the children home, Arthur," Remus assured Mr. Weasley. "Sirius?"

"No," said Sirius shortly, turning back to glare at Mr. Crouch. "You go on with Puck. I want
to see if I can't be of any help around here."

"Thank you Remus--Puck," said Mr. Weasley. "Give my apologies to Molly?"

Merlin had fetched Harry's wand and handed it back--wand!

"Wait!" said Harry to Remus and Tonks. "I think that wand belongs to Ron. I heard him shout
out that someone stole his."

Tonks nodded and retrieved it from the ground.

"Harry!" exclaimed a relieved Ginny once they'd moved a short distance into the clearing;
Tonks moved to hand Ron back his wand. Harry was surprised. He thought she'd been
separated from them by the twins--who were also standing behind her?

"Ginny tracked us down," explained Hermione, interpreting Harry's look correctly. She then
shot a curious look over at the younger girl. "I'm not entirely sure how she managed that..."

"Gave Fred a good kick to the shins when he wouldn't let go of her hand," chuckled George
appreciatively.

"Wasn't anything compared to what she did to Malfoy though," chortled Ron gleefully. "Poor
sod tried scaring Hermione and she used this wicked hex on him. Turned his bogeys and nose
hairs into giant bats! Most brilliant thing I've seen."

Harry felt sorry that he missed a chance to see Ginny's infamous Bat-Bogey Hex in action--
on Malfoy, no less. That reminded him--

"Where's the others? Bill? Charlie? Percy?"

"They're helping the mediwizards with the Roberts family," Remus told him.

"And helping to keep an eye on the captured Death Eaters," added Merlin. "Don't worry
about them. They'll be Apparating back to the Burrow when they can. In the meanwhile, we
need to find you lot a Portkey."

"What happened, Harry?" accosted Hermione in a low voice while they moved through the
woods.

"Yeah, mate, you were right in front of us," said Ron. "Did you take your Invisibility Cloak
or something?"

"He wouldn't have needed to," pointed out Hermione shrewdly. "We could hardly see our
hands in front of ourselves. He could've doubled back. Harry, you didn't try to help defeat the
Death Eaters, did you?"

"No!" said Harry defensively. It wasn't entirely a lie. "I just wanted to make sure everyone
was all right."

He shot a glance over towards Merlin's back that Ginny didn't miss. She still held a "We'll
talk later" expression, however.

"So you saw what happened?" asked Ron eagerly.

Harry recounted the defeat of the Death Eaters, doing his best to minimize Merlin's
involvement in the events. He then had to tell about his run in with Barty Crouch Jr., which
did nothing to wipe the look from Ginny's face. If anything, it made it more resolute.

"That was really dangerous, Harry," admonished an exasperated Hermione, though she was
obviously relieved at his safety.

"I know, Hermione," said Harry shortly, rubbing his neck absently as a reminder. So much for
a good end to the summer.
------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

Had this not been the Goblet of Fire section, and rather the Order of the Phoenix section, you
can believe Fudge and Umbridge would've been much more aggressive with Merlin (perhaps
even charging him before the Wizengamot, as they did with Harry). But as Rita Skeeter
continues to run her criticism against the Ministry, Fudge is very reluctant to do anything that
might create more negative press. Especially the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived has dropped
off the Ministry radar, and that he keeps company with a very powerful wizard that the
Ministry knows nothing about. That would really make Fudge seem inept.

So, despite me having taken Latin for over a year now, I am fifty-percent sure that the phrase
I used "Tempus non facit finem" is wrong, haha. Literally it should translate into "Time does
not end." Tempus(time) is nominative singular as it is the subject. Finem (end) is accusative
singular as it is the direct object. Non is not. Facit (He/she/it does) is present active indicative
third singular. I suppose it could be another verb, but...

If you've ever seen Monty Python's Life of Brian, I so understand the scene with Brian, the
Centurion, and the "Romans go home" sign that it's not even funny--it's just sad, really.
Basically, this is a big disclaimer to say: "Don't take my Latin as being 100% correct."

The book GoF presents Harry's first vision of Voldemort to be of the third-person. More
accurately, Harry takes the point of view of Frank Bryce, I guess because Voldemort is still
weak? Anyway, I used the OotP where he sees himself in Voldemort.

I don't know how Voldemort really makes his Horcruxes. It's hard since we don't know how
any of this soul magic works. We don't see how the Fidelius Charm works, nor do we
actually see a dementor Kiss anyone.

We finally get to see Merlin and Harry in action, though both men have held back from their
full potential in an effort to confirm to "conventional" methods. A mistake on Harry's part.

Back to index

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten: Rematch

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Ten: Rematch

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

Merlin and Remus left them to pack. Merlin had gone to speak with Basil, the keeper of
Portkeys, to bring them one that would take them back to Stoatshead Hill. Remus Apparated
straight back to the Burrow to warn Mrs. Weasley of their sudden arrival.

It was while Harry packed up what little he'd unpacked that Ginny came in.

"All right, Harry," she told him, creating a Privacy Charm around the inside of the tent, "tell
me why you really ran off and worried me half-to-death."

"I did tell you," protested Harry petulantly as he turned back to his rucksack.

"Harry," said Ginny firmly. He could imagine her standing akimbo, not unlike her mother.
Her phoenix was also strangely silent, even though Harry was certain that their connection
was open.

"I was worried," said Harry with a sigh. "I thought maybe Voldemort had been lying to
Wormtail, or that my dream was wrong. It's Merlin and Sirius, Ginny. I don't...I don't have
anyone else... And what's all the training for, if I couldn't put it to use?"

"And what about me?" said Ginny. "Did you forget that my father and brothers were out there
as well? Didn't you think that maybe I would've wanted to watch their backs too?"

Harry winced, hearing the hurt in Ginny's voice.

"Why didn't you wait for me? Didn't you think I could've gotten away from Fred?" asked
Ginny, now directly behind Harry.

"Fred already took you!" said Harry, shoving his rucksack off his bed so that he could sit
down. "I thought if anything bad happened in the woods, you'd be strong enough to protect
everyone else! Merlin was going to watch out for your family along with Sirius and Remus,
but I wanted to be there to watch his back."

Harry hung his head so that he was staring down at Ginny's slippered feet, the hem of her
nightdress dancing in the slight breeze drifting through the tent flap. Suddenly, her feet
disappeared under her nightdress, and soon Harry was staring into her warm, honey-flecked
eyes. She reached out to cup his face; her phoenix trilled a soft tune.

"I could feel you," she said slowly, eyes brimming with unshed tears that resonated within
Harry. "I could feel you slip away from me... It wasn't at all like when our connection isn't
active because we're too far or not concentrating on it. It was a hundred--a thousand--times
worse than feeling my own life slip away that time in the Chamber. I don't ever want to feel
that again, Harry, do you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry, running his fingers through her silky soft hair. "I didn't--"

"Neither did I," said Ginny. "Just promise me that next time you'll have someone to
watch your back, all right?"

"I will," Harry promised. "I'd rather it be you if possible."

Ginny laughed and planted a soft, tender kiss on his lips.

*****

Merlin had indeed procured for them a Portkey back to the Burrow, where Mrs. Weasley
promptly swallowed up the twins into a hug that almost broke their necks. She'd been so
relieved that they were all right and that their final words hadn't been bad ones. Harry
shivered as he tried to think what his last words to Ginny might've been. He held on tight to
their connection that night.

Mr. Weasley and Percy still hadn't returned by the following morning, though Bill and
Charlie were having a bit of a lie in. The twins Flooed over to the Marauder's Pad, looking to
build up a small stockpile of tricks before the end of the week, but made certain Mrs.
Weasley was out of earshot when they did so. Harry contemplated going as well, but figured
he could simply call Sirius with the mirror.

"Wotcher, Harry," greeted Tonks instead. "Calling about the World Cup, I imagine?"

"Yeah," said Harry, wondering why Sirius didn't have the mirror. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione
were all crowded around the mirror up in Ron's room. Harry and Ginny sat against the foot of
Ron's bed, while Hermione and Ron sat on the edge, peering over their shoulders.

"Hello, Harry," said Remus, squeezing himself into view beside Tonks, who was trying
playfully to keep him out. "And the rest of you. Padfoot didn't return until a few hours ago.
Tonks likewise spent the night, as she hasn't yet found a home for herself and we're closer to
the Ministry than her parents' home."

Ginny arched her brow a little at that lengthy, unprompted explanation from Remus, but
Harry didn't see anything particularly interesting about it.

"I thought Barty Crouch Jr. was supposed to be in Azkaban," said Harry, remembering what
Merlin had said a year ago.

"Barty Crouch is supposed to be dead, Harry," said Remus, the meaning of his words
carrying the same sensation as the crack of a whip. "He was thought to have died about a year
after his incarceration."

"Mr. Crouch said under Veritaserum how his wife convinced him to break their son out as her
dying wish," said Tonks, picking up the narrative. "He kept Barty under the Imperius
Curse and an Invisibility Cloak. Winky, his little house-elf, was apparently in charge of
taking care of him."
"The Imperius Curse?" asked Hermione; her brow was scrunched up as she flipped through
her mental catalogue of spells.

"One of the three Unforgivable Curses," said Remus, assuming the role of Professor Lupin
briefly. He gave a glance towards Tonks. "I daresay you'll learn more about them this term."

"Fudge is furious," Tonks informed them with a shake of her head. "Bertha Jorkins
apparently knew about Barty's existence. Crouch slapped a strong Memory Charm on her,
which resulted in her dottiness. We're all doubly worried now that she's missing."

"She's not missing," said Harry grimly; Ginny's fingers gave a spasm over Harry's wrist.
"She's dead. Voldemort--" and everyone but Remus, Harry, and Ginny shivered, "killed her
after breaking through the Memory Charm. He knows about Crouch Jr."

"Harry, how--"

"Trust me," was all Harry said. Remus looked at Harry thoughtfully before nodding.

"Hate to say, Harry, but I may need an answer," said Tonks sheepishly. "I mean, I don't think
Scrimgeour's going to take my word on this, and it'd be nice to get that information out so we
don't waste resources."

"I'm not sure how well that'd go over with Fudge," warned Remus. "Rita Skeeter would have
her greatest story if she learned that Lord Voldemort--" more shivers, "knows about Bertha
Jorkins--and, indeed, killed her--while the Ministry did nothing to even look for her."

"What is the Minister doing about the World Cup?" inquired Hermione. "And the Death
Eaters?"

"I take it Molly hasn't allowed you to read the day's Prophet," remarked Remus rhetorically.
"He's placing the blame solely on Crouch's shoulders. Not only is he sacked, but pending a
trial, he's looking at a life sentence in Azkaban."

"Ironically, the Death Eaters are trying to pin the blame on Crouch too," said Tonks with a
sarcastic eye roll. "Barty Crouch Jr., that is. They're saying Barty slapped the Imperius Curse
on them after they'd drank a little too much elf-made wine. Scrimgeour and Madam Bones
don't believe them in the slightest. For one thing, what're the odds Barty had several Death
Eater masks on hand? Because they certainly weren't Conjured or Transfigured. Nevermind
the fact that Crouch's kid didn't even have a wand."

Ron shifted uncomfortably on the bed as the tips of his ears reddened.

"Among the Death Eaters was Lucius Malfoy--"

"I knew it!" Ron interrupted Moony savagely. Ron blushed at his outburst, but Remus merely
gave him a patient smile.

"However," Remus continued, "the Malfoys are trying to fight against a conviction with
every resource they have. None of us are sure what Fudge might do. If Rita Skeeter should
get wind that Fudge pardoned those involved in the World Cup attack, there would be little
chance of deflecting the scandal. Sirius thinks Fudge will wait on public opinion to decide."

A small explosion startled them all from Remus's side of the mirror.

"Fred and George," he muttered under his breath. Tonks already had her wand out and ready.
"We'd best check on things. Enjoy the last week of summer."

After the mirror fogged back to show their real reflections, Hermione and Ron grilled Harry
on how he knew about Bertha Jorkins. Harry had little choice but to reveal his dream with
Voldemort, though he kept out the Horcruxes. That might almost be too much for his friends
to handle.

"Why didn't you tell us, Harry?" said Hermione.

"I told Puck," said Harry in return. "He tried to explain the connection to the best of his
ability. What else was I supposed to do, Hermione? Write Professor Dumbledore in the
middle of the night saying 'Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning?'"

"Well, as long as you told an adult," relented Hermione, though the scepticism was clear on
her face. "But how does Puck know anything about it?"

"He's a well learned wizard," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, Hermione, lay off the man," Ron chimed in.

"You only like him because of what he did to Professor Snape," sniffed Hermione, referring
to Boxing Day where Merlin Transfigured Snape into a pink bunny.

"You have to admit it was brilliant," said Ron.

"It was dangerous," Hermione countered.

"You'd have thought it was brilliant too if you'd seen it," said Ron confidently. Hermione
rolled her eyes but let the conversation drop.

The week rolled by, but with the Burrow being as crowded as it was, Harry and Ginny
couldn't find the time to sneak out for some private time. The only thing they could do was
take solace in their link and work on communicating through it. Their main problem was Ron
trying to monopolize Harry's time with either a game of chess or Quidditch practice out in the
orchard.

It wasn't until the day before they were to leave for London that Harry got a chance to speak
with Merlin.

"I've spoken with Professor Dumbledore," said Merlin without preamble as they took a tour
around the Burrow's property. A heavy rain fell upon them, but it was a simple matter to keep
their bodies dry.

"And?" said Harry with a good deal of trepidation.

"We've come to an accord," said Merlin cryptically; his face turned into a slight grimace as if
the conversation hadn't been entirely pleasurable. "In any event, we spoke at length about
Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. Unfortunately, neither of us have any substantial information to
go on. I may have to pull a few tricks to get Master Slughorn to speak."

"So what're you going to do?"

"Professor Dumbledore would gather the information personally, if not for the Triwizard
Tournament this year. With the media scrutiny and Ministry presence at Hogwarts this term,
he has little choice but to remain and oversee everything," explained Merlin. "So, he's left the
matter up to me. I'll be trying to confirm the locations of Horcruxes, based on our
conversation and notes. That means, however, my presence at Hogsmeade will be limited."

"That's all right," shrugged Harry, even though he couldn't deny that it felt very comforting to
have both Dumbledore and Merlin watching out for him. "I don't reckon getting into any life
threatening situations this year. After all, there'll be the Triwizard Tournament."

"Which worries more and more," said Merlin darkly. "Mistress Jorkins knew not only about
Barty Crouch Jr., but of the Triwizard Tournament as well since she worked for Master
Crouch and Master Bagman."

"You don't think Voldemort..." began Harry worriedly.

"I'm not sure what to think, Harry," replied an irritated Merlin, "and that worries me most. All
I know is that this year is a turning point for many things, but the stars won't show me
anything beyond that. There are many other ominous signs, however."

"Like what?"

Merlin cast a glance back towards the Burrow.

"Master Crouch was discovered dead at his home this morning, where he'd been placed under
house arrest pending a trial," disclosed Merlin. Harry gaped at his mentor. "No one is sure
who was responsible, and it's something Minister Fudge is trying to cover up by saying they
applied the Dementor's Kiss to him. The Ministry, of course, believes it's Master Barty, but
Professor Dumbledore, myself, and Sirius fear it to be Lord Voldemort, trying to draw his
faithful servant out of hiding for a reunion. The only piece of evidence was the Dark Mark
hanging over Master Crouch's home."

Percy took the news of his boss's death as if it'd been Mr. Weasley who died. Hermione, on
the other hand, had wanted to know just what was going to happen to Winky. She was
distraught to learn that Winky would have to live in the empty Crouch household alone.

"But how can they allow that to happen?" she asked shrilly. "If there's no one living there,
why should she be forced to stay there?"

"Technically, she belongs to Barty Crouch Jr. now," said Mr. Weasley wearily.

"But he's a criminal!" exclaimed Hermione.

"And he's still the rightful owner of Winky by their customs," Mr. Weasley informed her.
"Only her master can free Winky."

"And what if Barty Crouch is killed or arrested?"

"Then Winky will be faced with a choice," said Mr. Weasley. "She can either remain in the
Crouch household, or try to serve the next closest relations. As most pureblood families are
related to some degree, many house-elves choose to simply live out their days in the home of
their masters."

In an effort to curb the argument that Hermione seemed raring to pick, Mrs. Weasley ushered
them all upstairs to make sure they'd packed. It was then that Ron discovered his dress robes
for the upcoming year. They were red in colour and made of some highly reflective material
that would make Ron look like some glowing, overripe cherry. The cuff and collar were a
good and solid black velvet, but unfortunately they were also dotted in what might've been
pink glitter. On the whole, it seemed like something Lockhart might've worn. Ron was,
understandably, very horrified.

Harry thought it could've been worse. They might've had lace frills.

"They're dress robes," explained Harry.

"What am I gonna wear them for?" asked Ron, balling up the material and throwing it into his
trunk.

"The Yule Ball," said Harry as he threw his underwear into his cauldron and set it into the
second lock of his trunk.

"What Yule Ball?" said Ron.

"The one that's going to happen this year," explained Harry. It took a moment, but he realized
he hadn't told Ron or Hermione about the Triwizard Tournament. Thinking quickly, Harry
came up with something, "Tonks told me about it before I came over, but I kinda forgot with
the Quidditch World Cup and all. Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament."

"The what?" said Ron, looking as if he should remember the name, but couldn't quite place it.

Harry then proceeded to explain the tournament in length. He was surprised to see Ron
looking very excited at the prospect, only to deflate at the mention of an age limit.

"What d'you reckon?" asked Ron, mostly to himself. "If you could get past the age restriction,
would you enter?"

"I'm not anxious to take on another basilisk or troll, Ron," said Harry shortly, remembering
Merlin's horror stories about the other champions. "Or a giant..."

"Yeah, but that was then, wasn't it?" returned Ron excitedly. "Dumbledore wouldn't possibly
let something so dangerous happen this year... Think of the fame..."
Hermione, of course, shared Harry and Ginny's opinion on the matter, but it seemed nothing
could sway Ron. Especially as he gave one final disgusted look at his dress robes before
shutting his trunk. The idea of fame and glory had always appealed to the youngest Weasley
male.

*****

The trip to the Hogwarts Express was the following day. Mr. Weasley was called off to help
someone called "Mad-Eye" Moody. Apparently the man had illegally charmed some Muggle
items as a warning device, and the Ministry wanted it all hushed up before Rita Skeeter could
find out.

There was a perverse sort of curiosity running through Harry. On one hand, he was very
curious about this Rita Skeeter character. He was amazed one person could wield so much
power over the Ministry and everyone else. On the other hand, Harry was downright afraid of
the witch. He didn't want to think what she could do with him.

"What're you doing?" said Ron to Ginny as they all filed into a compartment aboard the
Hogwarts Express.

"Sitting?" she replied as if it should be obvious, gesturing to the bench she was about to sit
on.

"Here?" said Ron grumpily. "Can't you hang around with your own midgets?"

"Ron," admonished a surprised Hermione. Harry felt his jaw tense and his dragon growl.
Ginny pursed her lips, but reached out through their link to soothe Harry's temper. It didn't
seem like she was surprised by his reaction in the slightest.

"I'm going to see about Mel, Vicky, Luna, and Colin," Ginny told Harry, offering him a
smile, "but I'll be back." She stressed that final word for Ron's benefit before walking out the
compartment door.

"Why do you do that?" asked Harry once Ginny left.

"Do what?" said Ron obliviously. At the moment, he was trying to shake off whatever rain
had accumulated on his person.

"Treat Ginny like that."

"Like what, Harry?" said an exasperated Ron. "We're in separate years. I've got my friends--"
he gestured to Harry and Hermione, "and Ginny's got hers! You heard her."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe we're Ginny's friends too, Ron?" asked Hermione,
lowering The Stand Book of Spells, Grade 4 slightly.

"I guess," shrugged Ron, who clearly hadn't thought that. "I reckon she might want to tag
along since we're older, but I dunno why you'd wanna put up with it."

Harry rubbed at his face while Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Then again..." Ron trailed off contemplatively, staring at the closed compartment door in
heavy thought; his brow sagged under the weight. "You think she might've gone off to meet
her boyfriend?" Hermione hid her face behind her book, returning the favour to Harry for
keeping her secret over the past year.

Just then, Dean, Seamus, and Neville entered the compartment and spoke about the Quidditch
World Cup at length, distracting Ron adequately. After Dean and Seamus left, Malfoy came
swaggering about with Crabbe and Goyle.

"So...going to enter, Weasley?" asked Malfoy once he'd teased Ron about his dress robes,
much to Ron's growing ire. "Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's
money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"I bloody well will!" snapped Ron angrily.

"Ron," admonished Hermione over the edge of her book. Whether it was for his language or
his choice to risk his life for something as foolish as glory and fame, Harry wasn't sure.

"Wouldn't that be rich," sneered Malfoy. "A Weasel as champion. The only way you'd ever
be Triwizard champion is if Hogwarts were filled with Squibs." Then Malfoy turned his cold
eyes upon Hermione. "Or Mudbloods..."

Ron made to lunge at Malfoy angrily, but Harry and Neville managed to restrain him just in
time. Crabbe and Goyle had moved from a flanking position and were now standing
protectively in front of Malfoy.

"What about you, Malfoy?" asked Harry, still struggling with the towering rage of Ron.
"Don't think the son of a common criminal is worthy enough to be champion. Besides, there
might be spiders."

Malfoy and Ron stilled at Harry's last word. Malfoy also turned pink with rage, however, and
made for his wand. He wouldn't have a clear shot though, as Crabbe and Goyle obstructed his
arm.

"Don't you dare talk about my father like that, Potter," snarled Malfoy. The venom in his
words was diluted by his inability to extend his arm in the cramped corridor. "The Ministry
has no right to keep him imprisoned! Not when the Dark Lord's servant was responsible for
the mess."

"You know, Malfoy, we're in agreement with something," Harry shot back. "Voldemort's--"
and again, everyone but Harry shivered, "servant was responsible for the World Cup, and that
servant was your father! And he's getting just what he deserves!"

Malfoy made an angry, frustrated growl and tried to take aim at Harry with his wand, but
Crabbe and Goyle were still impeding him obliviously. He was like a little child throwing a
tantrum, or an irate orchestra conductor, as he beat his wand arm furiously against the backs
of his lackeys in repeated attempts to make room.

"Move! Out of my way!" Malfoy finally roared at his lackeys. They obliged stupidly. As
Malfoy tipped forward under the sudden freedom, Harry pushed his magic out towards
Malfoy's robes. The voluminous material became trodden under Malfoy's feet, and the blonde
wizard fell without warning upon the floor.

Ron let out a hearty guffaw as Crabbe and Goyle made to pick Malfoy up. He'd bitten his
tongue when he'd fallen, and couldn't manage an intelligible word--not that it was much
different than usual. Now thoroughly angry, yet incapable of verbalizing a spell, Malfoy
stalked off in an impotent huff, beckoning Crabbe and Goyle to follow.

"You shouldn't let Malfoy get to you like that, Ron," sighed Hermione as Harry made to shut
the compartment door.

"Him?" scoffed Ron testily. He slammed his lanky frame down upon the seat beside
Hermione. "Get to me? As if!"

Just as Harry was about to close the door, he spied Ginny coming down the corridor, tucking
her wand into the pocket of her jeans.

"Malfoy," she explained upon noticing his inquisitive glance. The dragon roused unbidden
briefly in his chest at the thought of an angry Malfoy confronting Ginny. It settled after
rational thought caught up with it. "He still remembers my Bat-Bogey Hex," she said,
confirming his thoughts.

"'Still remembers?'" inquired Harry with a slight smirk.

"I might've hit him with it after the World Cup," said Ginny with a sly smile of her own.
"Hard to tell, really. The woods were so very dark..."

Neville remained with them for the duration of the trip, while Ron still remained broodish
and moody over Malfoy's taunts. It took more than a moment for Harry to remember that
Barty Crouch Jr. had played a hand in the torture of Neville's parents, driving them to
insanity. No wonder the normally shy boy looked even more frightful and anxious than usual.

"They'll catch Crouch Jr.," he whispered to the boy that might've been him in another time.

Neville's head whipped around so fast that Harry flinched on reflex.

"Of course they will," said Hermione absently, nose back into The Standard Book of Spells,
Grade 4. She missed the serious undertone to the look Neville was giving Harry, almost as if
he was pleading with him not to say anything aloud. Harry gave the slightest of nods, and
Neville deflated back against his seat in relief.

*****

Ron's foul mood continued once they hit Hogsmeade and later the castle. Peeves had struck
Ron with a water bomb the moment they stepped foot into the entrance hall, seeking shelter
from the deluge outside. Peeves then tried to hurl another one towards Hermione, but Harry
sent it flying back towards the poltergeist with a surreptitious wave of his fingers.

Everyone laughed as Peeves somersaulted backwards in the air.

McGonagall interrupted things before they could escalate with Peeves and sent everyone into
the Great Hall. It would be the first sorting that Harry would attend since his own, but as he
was rather hungry, he wished he could just skip it and get to the meal. At least he wasn't
soaking like Ron, having protected himself against the rain.

"Here," said Harry, drawing his wand and casting a Drought Charm on both Ron and
Hermione--and then pretending to do it on Ginny, just to keep up appearances, much to her
puzzlement.

"Thanks, mate," said a grateful Ron.

"How did you learn that?" wondered Hermione. She was busy trying to tame her great bushy
hair, which had unfortunately begun to frizz as a result of Harry's spell. Ginny pulled her own
wand and tried to repair some of the damage Harry had inadvertently caused.

"Sirius," said Harry in an effort to throw Hermione off the trail.

Colin Creevey sat on the other side of Hermione so that he could tell Ginny, Vicky Frobisher,
and Demelza Robins--and by proxy, Harry--about his younger brother starting Hogwarts that
year. It was around then that Hermione pointed out the Defence Against the Dark Arts
teacher was unaccounted for. Indeed, aside from McGonagall's and Hagrid's empty seats,
there was also a third vacant seat.

Dumbledore, Harry noted, peered intently at Harry from over the rim of his half-moon
spectacles. The man wasn't trying to employ his Legilimency, not that it would do him any
good with Harry's creative defences. He merely seemed to be trying to get a measure of
Harry.

The first years were escorted in--Dennis Creevey signalling to his brother that he fell into the
lake--and then the Sorting Hat begun it's song. Harry noted it was different to the one of his
first year, but Ron assured him it sung a different one each year. The sorting went by at an
agonizing pace, made even more agonizing--to Harry, at least--by the arrival of Dennis
Creevey.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself between Colin and Vicky. The fair-haired
girl threw up her hands against the energetic spray of water that came from Dennis. "It was
brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, and the enthusiasm that he poured into that one word made Ginny turn
and hide her giggles against Harry's sleeve. Both Demelza and Vicky turned their attention
from Colin to Dennis, as if they couldn't believe it possible to have two of them.

"Oh! Dennis! Dennis! See that boy over there?" asked Colin, pointing across the table to
Harry. "Know who he is, Dennis?"

"Colin!" warned Ginny sharply, all traces of laughter gone from her expression. Harry could
sense Ginny's phoenix straighten up protectively. This time it was Demelza who hid her
amusement as Colin looked as chastised as a puppy.

Eventually the sorting finished and the feast could begin. It was during the feast that
Hermione learned there were house-elves in Hogwarts's kitchens. The more she learned about
house-elves, the more appalled she became towards their treatment. This time it appeared she
was going on a hunger strike.

Once the plates were cleared, Dumbledore settled into his start of term announcements. Harry
felt he could relax, already knowing about the Triwizard Tournament. Ron seemed to be of
the same mentality, but he wanted to know more about the age limit. Of course, that was until
Dumbledore announced that Quidditch was cancelled for the year.

"What?" Harry gasped. Ron looked crestfallen as well; he'd been anticipating the chance to
replace Oliver Wood as Gryffindor's Keeper. Fred and George were too appalled to speak.

"He can't do that!" whispered Ron fervently as Dumbledore continued speaking. "Triwizard
Tournament or no, he can't cancel Quidditch!"

"I know!" exclaimed Harry in return. If ever there was a thing that Harry looked forward to
each year, it was Quidditch.

Anymore complaints about the loss of Quidditch were interrupted by the sudden arrival of
Mad-Eye Moody--the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Up until Dumbledore's
announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, everyone's attention was focused intently upon
the scarred visage of Professor Moody. After a very truncated history of the Triwizard
Tournament, followed by the announcement of the age limit, Dumbledore dismissed them.

"They can't do that!" said George, who'd stood up and glared at Dumbledore while everyone
else moved towards the exit. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The
champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a
thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron fervently. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."

"What do you two care about the thousand Galleons for?" asked Ginny. "You've Sirius
investing in you, right?"

"It's not just the money, Gin-Gin," said Fred, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "It's the
notoriety!"

"Think of it!" added George, sandwiching her between them. "How many customers could
we get if we end up being Triwizard champion? How many people will want to buy what we
sell if they help us through the tournament? It'd be brilliant for business! Better than any
advertising you could buy!"

"Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?" asked Fred.

"Yeah!" said Ron.

As they climbed into the empty common room, Fred, George, and Ron all moved swiftly
towards the boys' staircase with their heads bent close together. Hermione shook her head at
them, bade good night to Harry, Ginny, and Neville, and then made her way up the girls'
staircase. Neville lingered around slightly.

"Um, good night, Neville," said Ginny, shooting a pointed glance towards Harry, who was
shuffling nervously from foot-to-foot.

Neville's eyes floated from Ginny to Harry and then back to Ginny.

"Oh--OH!" exclaimed Neville as understanding flickered in his eyes. "R-right! Good night,
Ginny. Um, see you up in the dorm, Harry."

Harry held his laughter as Neville took off towards the stairs.

"I thought he'd never leave," Harry remarked, drawing Ginny into an embrace.

"Shush," Ginny chided laughingly. "Neville's sweet."

"So what am I?" said Harry, looking down at her with a face of mock hurt.

"Mine," said Ginny; her eyes burning intensely. Harry chuckled pleasantly as the beast within
his chest purred. They shared their first kiss in what seemed like forever, though they were
mindful not to let their emotions get too carried away, or else the Gryffindors would be in for
quite a surprise the next morning.

*****

At breakfast they got their schedules. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were all bent together as
they discussed magical methods of aging themselves. They paused in mid-discussion as a
large package floated towards them. It was carried by two owls, one Harry immediately
recognized as Archimedes with his distinctive tawny feathers and lazy attitude. The other,
however, was fairly new. It was a large female owl on par with Hedwig's size, though it had
black, white, and gray feathers in varying degrees. Harry recognized it as Sirius's new owl,
Aurora.

Apparently, Sirius and Remus had sent over whatever stock Fred and George had created
during the final week of summer.

The morning went by relatively quickly with bubotuber pus in Herbology and Blast-Ended
Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures. If Harry hadn't known better, he would've sworn
Hagrid had bred the Skrewts himself, which was incredibly dangerous and illegal--not that
he'd say anything. Its aura was a blinding mix of bright colours, but they responded poorly to
Harry's attempts at conversing with them. Hermione ate her lunch rapidly to dash off to the
library, much to Ron and Harry's surprise.

"I'm trying to learn about house-elves," Hermione told Harry in Double Arithmancy. They
settled into their routine seats at the back of the classroom, taking up the last row of desks
with the sole Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass. "You don't think there's anything in Puck's
library about them, do you?"

Harry didn't know whether to take the question at face value, or wonder if Hermione might
not've had another reason for asking. In either case, Harry wasn't sure himself and just
shrugged. Hermione gave a frustrated huff and tapped at her notes.

"You freed Dobby," she pointed out after a moment. "Don't you think the treatment of house-
elves is wrong?"

"Yes," said Harry slowly, "but Dobby wanted to be free, Hermione."

"I'm sure the others do as well," Hermione waved off unconcernedly. "They just haven't had
the chance to voice their desires because they're not allowed."

Harry swore he heard Greengrass give a snort of laughter into her book, but when he looked,
he found her with a stony expression.

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as Harry and Hermione later met up with him in the
crowd heading for dinner.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"I sorta made a comment in Divination and got us assigned lots of homework," muttered Ron.
Harry felt grateful Professor Vector hadn't assigned them a thing.

"What did you say?" said Hermione.

"Lavender said she found an unaspected planet," explained Ron, blushing at the tips of his
ears already. "She asked Trelawney what it was and she said Uranus..." Harry had a sinking
feeling of what Ron had said--Dudley had made a similar crack once. "So I asked, 'Can I have
a look at Uranus too, Lavender?'"

Hermione made a face at Ron.

"You are so mature," she remarked disgustedly.

Malfoy showed up before an argument could ensue between them, brandishing the
day's Daily Prophet, which had an article about Mr. Weasley having to help Mad-Eye Moody
yesterday. He taunted Ron about his parents--particularly Mrs. Weasley--which had Ron
shaking with fury. It all seemed to be an attempt to reclaim some pride from the train.

Harry tried to diffuse the situation by insulting Malfoy's mother as he and Hermione
restrained Ron from launching himself at Malfoy. That sent Malfoy into a red rage. Despite
that, Harry turned, knowing that Malfoy wasn't anything to be concerned over.

A loud BANG! echoed in the entrance hall as Harry turned away. Harry felt the spell heading
towards his direction. A white-hot curse grazed the shield generated by the ring he wore on
the middle finger of his left hand, not strong enough to penetrate.
Harry whirled angrily upon Malfoy, ready to do worse than what had happened on the train,
when a second BANG resounded.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" roared Professor Moody, who was limping down the
staircase. Ginny and her fellow third years were coming down behind him. Moody's wand
was out and pointing to a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor,
exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

Harry cast a quick, inquisitive glance to Ginny. She shook her head slightly to say that she
hadn't done it, though her eyes danced with glee at the result. Professor Moody had quite the
imagination.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled, examining Harry with his good eye, while his magical
eye was pointed back through his head.

"No," said Ginny, who'd sidled up beside Harry, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave--what?" Harry said, bewildered. But Moody had been referring to Crabbe. The big
oaf was trying to pick up Malfoy. Moody's magical eye could apparently see out the back of
his head. Malfoy then tried to run off, but Moody foiled his plan with a Levitation Charm.

Everyone watched as if spellbound while Professor Moody bounced the ferret up and down,
going higher with each bounce.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody.
"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do... Never--do--that--again--"

"Professor Moody!" said the shocked voice of Professor McGonagall. She was descending
the stairs with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What--what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing
ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody. Harry gave a little snort. Apparently Moody and Merlin were of the
same mind when it came to teaching. Harry remembered his swimming lesson with Merlin
where the man Transfigured him into a fish.

"Teach--Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of
her arms.

"Yep," said Moody. The succinctness of the deadpan made Ginny snort in laughter. She
covered her face behind her red hair and slipped behind Harry, just in case McGonagall
decided to round on her. Fortunately their Transfiguration professor was more concerned
with Malfoy.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall as she all but flew down the stairs to Untransfigure
Malfoy.

Their enjoyment over, most people began to migrate towards the Great Hall as McGonagall
and Moody had a discussion over proper punishment. Malfoy simply sat sulkily, looking
utterly dishevelled, and unable to even utilize his father as a threat, seeing as how Mr.
Malfoy's fate was still in question.

"Don't talk to me," Ron told Harry, Hermione, and Ginny later as they sat down for dinner.

"Fine by me," teased Ginny glibly.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted
expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret... Almost as good as
Snape the Fairy..."

Everyone laughed at that. Harry found himself wondering if they might be able to repeat the
process--or perhaps turn Snape into some greasy animal, while changing Malfoy into a girl.
The impish grin on Ginny's face said that she was of the same thoughts as Harry. Hermione,
in the meanwhile, ate her meal hurriedly before rushing off for the library.

*****

Things hit a sort of rhythm from that point on, though that isn't to say that things were boring.
Professor Moody had shown them about the Unforgivables, and in a later class actually
subjected the students to the Imperius; Harry was the only one capable of throwing it off--
quite easily, as a matter of fact. Neville had been rather shaken at the demonstration of the
Cruciatus Curse that first lesson, but Harry had no idea how to help the other boy, especially
when he didn't want to talk about it. In the end, it was Moody who ended up trying to help
Neville over tea.

Hermione revealed what she had been working on in the library--the Society for the
Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Ron promptly called it spew, earning Hermione's ire. Ginny, on
the other hand, pointed out the logical flaws in Hermione's undertaking, namely logistical and
political shortcomings--

"We're four students, Hermione," said Ginny, eyeing the badges warily. Harry didn't know
what she was sceptical about--Hermione hadn't pressed her into any service. He was stuck
being secretary with his abysmal handwriting. "We'd be up against centuries of tradition and
precedent, not to mention people with money and influence like the Malfoys. Wouldn't it be
smarter to get people like Professor Dumbledore or Sirius or Dad? Then we can recruit our
fellow classmates."

Hermione was forced to grudgingly concede the point. Changing policy would require money
and influence, which none of the children had--well, Harry had money, but… Instead,
Hermione decided to write letters to Sirius and Mr. Weasley, though she did manage to
accost Professor Dumbledore in a hall.

"I admire your pluck and enthusiasm, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid I cannot donate to your
cause," said Professor Dumbledore apologetically. "I feel it best to teach everyone to be kind
and considerate to the house-elves. Once they become accustomed to better treatment, it will
only be natural for them to seek the independence they deserve. Unfortunately, almost all
house-elves are not in the proper mind to neither accept nor acknowledge freedom."

Hermione had thinned her lips to the point where it seemed she'd been sucking on a lemon
wedge. Her passion in regards to the subject battled against her respect for Dumbledore's
authority. The result was her shaking so tremendously that Harry feared she might drill a hole
in the floor.

As all of that went on, Harry and Ginny also worked on their Animagus transformations in
whatever spare classroom they could find. It was rather easy to keep several steps ahead of
Filch. Whenever Filch got near, rather than skulking about with the Invisibility Cloak, they
could simply teleport to some place empty, using the cloak for cover.

Ginny was progressing much faster than Harry because he was finding it difficult to visualize
the internal workings of a dragon--or, at least, the dragon he was supposed to be. All Ginny
had to do was look up a book on phoenixes.

It was mildly discouraging to say the least.

The day of Hermione's birthday rolled around soon enough, and she appreciated the joint gift
from Harry and Ginny.

"Why'd the two of you get her a gift together?" frowned Ron as he gave Hermione the usual
gift of assorted candy from Honeydukes, though he always made sure they weren't too sweet.
Even though Hermione's parents were dentists, she didn't find any harm in indulging her
sweet tooth in moderation--as long as she continued to take proper care of her teeth.

"I couldn't think of anything to give Hermione," said Harry quickly.

"I thought of the diary, but I couldn't quite afford it on my own," added Ginny, catching on to
Harry's plan. "We decided to split the cost and get her the gift together."

"Oh," said Ron. "Could've told me," he complained lightly, casting a glance over at
Hermione, who was already beginning to write in her new diary; the box of chocolates left
half-open at her ankles. "I think she's getting tired of my gift."

"You get her something different, Ron," Ginny pointed out obviously.

"Like what? A book?" snorted Ron. "The only books I know are about Quidditch, Ginny. I'd
probably get her the wrong sort of book."

"I don't think there is such a thing with Hermione, mate," Harry told Ron, clapping him on
the shoulder.

Hermione was not the only person celebrating that day, however. The Daily Prophet brought
word of the "Death Eaters" involved at the Quidditch World Cup. In the end, it seemed as if
Minister Fudge had caved under the pressure of Mrs. Malfoy. All eight suspects, including
Walden Macnair, had been acquitted of all charges. Fudge had laid the blame on Barty
Crouch Jr. over the objections of both Madam Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour.

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Malfoy's release statement held nothing but glowing praise for
everything Minister Fudge was doing to apprehend Barty Crouch Jr.

"I can't believe this!" exclaimed Hermione as she slammed the Prophet down on the table.
Harry glanced around her bushy hair and spied Malfoy with a big smile on his face as he
talked boldly with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.

"I dunno, Hermione," said Ron sourly as he plucked at the paper. "You heard Professor
Moody. The Imperius Curse gave the Ministry an awful lot of trouble back during the war.
After being under it, I can kinda see why, y'know? I mean, did you get a look at Neville
doing those flips?"

"Just because it makes sense doesn't make it right," huffed Hermione, folding her arms over
her chest. "Then again, I suppose it's not terribly surprising given how the Ministry's treated
house-elves..."

From that point on, Malfoy seemed to regain a great deal of his former arrogance, though it
was nice to see Hagrid put Malfoy in his place during a Care of Magical Creatures class by
referencing the ferret incident.

Malfoy was soon forgotten, however, as a notice telling of the impending arrival of
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's respective champions sent the school buzzing over the
Triwizard Tournament again. Fred, George, Ron, and Lee all cobbled their heads together in
an effort to come up with a way past the impartial judge. Hermione rolled her eyes in
exasperation at what she considered a futile attempt, while Harry sat looking at Ron
contemplatively.

"Here," said Harry, the night before the delegations were to arrive.

"What's this?" said Ron in return, snatching the piece of parchment Harry had offered.

Harry glanced around to make sure Dean, Seamus, and Neville were sleeping before saying,
"I just asked Puck about the Triwizard Tournament--" he tapped at his glasses. In truth, Harry
had simply looked up the information with his journal. "The judge is the Goblet of Fire. The
champions write their names on a slip of parchment, including the school they attend, and
then toss it into the goblet. Twenty-four hours later, the goblet makes its choices. I don't
know how Dumbledore plans on restricting the age, but I reckon he can't charm the goblet
directly since it's so old. It'd be like trying to cast a spell on the Sorting Hat."

"Yeah..." said Ron absently as he his eyes raked over Harry's notes. "Yeah, you probably
don't want to go mucking about with something so old..."

"I reckon it's gotta be something around the goblet," Harry continued. "I was thinking, if you
really wanted to enter, you could use a Levitation Charm and maybe float the goblet out of
whatever barrier. Then you could just dump your name in. Let the Goblet of Fire decide if
you're champion."

"Yeah!" exclaimed Ron in a very hushed voice, mindful of their slumbering dormmates. He
then looked carefully at Harry. "Why're you helping me, mate? Why me and not Fred and
George? Why not enter yourself?"

"Why should I?" shrugged Harry, setting his glasses upon his nightstand. Actually, Harry's
first instinct had been to tell Ron he'd already found his treasure by fighting the basilisk, but
under the circumstances...

Ginny had sensed the affection of the thought--though not the actual thought itself--and her
phoenix responded with a pleased trill.

"Look," said Harry as he crawled under his sheets, "you're my best mate. If you really want to
go for it, then I'll do everything I can to help you. It's up to you if you want to tell Fred and
George. I don't want anymore fame or glory, Ron."

Ron looked over Harry a moment before nodding.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron gratefully.

"No problem, Ron," yawned Harry. He picked up his wand and was about to shut the
curtains, leaving Ron sitting at the edge of his bed while reading the parchment, when he
paused and said, "Good luck, Ron."

"Thanks, mate," Ron repeated.

With a lazy flick of Harry's wand, which was a mere formality, the curtains pulled shut and
Harry curled up into a foetal position. Ron barely slept at all that night as his mind thought up
ideas to fool the goblet in someway.

*****

The next day was a buzz of excitement. Ron, though half-dead, couldn't keep the silly grin
from his face as he spoke with Fred and George. They seemed sceptical of whatever he had to
say, though his very prideful expression never faltered. Harry didn't speak it aloud, but the
way Ron puffed out his chest reminded him an awful lot of Percy.

It was also over breakfast that Archimedes flew in gracefully with a note from Merlin. Harry
cast a surreptitious glance to the head table to spy Professor Dumbledore peering intently at
him. Once again, the man used no Legilimency, but the curiosity in his gaze was like a heavy
blanket being thrown over Harry's shoulders.

"Here, try to feed him," said Harry to Ginny. He'd nudged Archimedes twice, but the large
tawny owl remained unresponsive as he napped on the table.

Dear Harry,

I trust the term is proceeding well. So that you wouldn't worry much (and after the tale you
told at the World Cup, there's no denying that you do worry) I thought I should write to tell
you that I yet breathe. So this is where you should probably breathe yourself, Harry. No need
to wait for my arrival with baited breath.
To his great amazement, Harry actually did let out a sigh of relief, and then chuckled a little
at that. Ginny was poking at Archimedes repeatedly with her finger, but the stubborn owl
continued to feign sleep.

"Is that from Puck?" Hermione asked politely, even though Archimedes was a dead
giveaway.

"Yeah," said Harry absently, returning to the contents of his letter.

"Do you think Archimedes would mind terribly if I sent a thank you note off with him?"
asked Hermione, withdrawing a thick packet of parchment that looked like much more than a
mere thank you note.

At the mention of carrying post, Archimedes cracked open his eye. He too spied the letter and
promptly woke up. The orangish owl fluttered up immediately to Harry's shoulder, as far
from Hermione as possible. Harry covered his smile with the letter, while Ron snorted into
his breakfast.

"All right, so I might have a few simple questions," said Hermione defensively.

"You've an interesting scale, don't you?" remarked an amused Ron. "I mean, it's your light
reading, and now some simple questions..."

Hermione shot Ron a look that would've put a basilisk to shame and then tried to coax
Archimedes down.

"You can use Hedwig, Hermione," Harry promised, and returned to reading the letter.

My little excursion has yielded some profits. Seven of them, point in fact. Alas, I have no
souvenirs to give you. I will need some more clues before I can dig for more treasure.

I've heard that the delegations from the other schools will be arriving shortly. Assuming their
method of transportation hasn't changed in the past century, I could spoil the surprise, but I
won't. If you need me, I'll be here in Hogsmeade. Until I can acquire something more
concrete, I don't believe I'll be adventuring anytime soon. I enjoy a good trek as much as the
next person, but even I require a rest.

Puck

Harry read the third paragraph of the letter again a second time. Merlin obviously didn't trust
information regarding Horcruxes to the Owl Post. Professor Moody would certainly
commend his constant vigilance. From what Merlin had hinted, there are seven Horcruxes,
which made sense from an Arithmatic point of view. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Merlin
had found any. He'd probably meet with Professor Dumbledore about it as soon as he was
able.
Lessons passed by quickly that day. Everyone's minds were focused on the arrival of the
other schools. Harry's, however, was split between the Triwizard Tournament and his
curiosity about the Horcruxes.

The Beauxbatons students arrived via a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage that was
born by a dozen winged horses the size of elephants. If Harry had to hazard a guess, he'd
have to assume that they were Abraxans, as they were certainly too large to be Pegasuses.
Remembering the tray of Animagus potions Merlin made him drink, Harry couldn't fathom
turning into horses of that size--then again, there were some moments when he couldn't
fathom turning into a dragon either.

Madame Maxime was the largest woman that Harry had ever seen, standing on par with
Hagrid. The dozen students she brought with her were dressed poorly for the Scottish
weather, wearing only silken robes with no cloaks. Harry wondered about their planning.

Durmstrang arrived via a ship that emerged from the depths of the lake. Harry was more
surprised at that than the carriage. He'd no idea there was some connection between the lake
and some larger body of water. The biggest surprise, however, was the presence of Viktor
Krum amongst the Durmstrang students. A fact that did not escape the keen eye of Ron.

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione as they filed back into
the Great Hall.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron all but bellowed, looking at her as though he couldn't believe
his ears. "Hermione--he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at
school!"

Ginny linked up with Harry, hiding their joined hands beneath the sleeves of their robes and
the folds of their cloaks. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes at Ron's antics. Harry
chuckled, but secretly was just as amazed at Ron. To be a student and a professional
Quidditch player... It was astonishing.

"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed a few sixth-year girls who were chattering
rapidly about getting Krum's autograph. They had even gone so far as to squabble over a tube
of lipstick, lacking any quills to get an autograph.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said a still awed Ron. "You haven't a quill, have you,
Harry?"

"Here," sighed Ginny in exasperation, wandlessly conjuring a quill and spare bit of
parchment for Ron. It was a skilled show of sleight of hand, making it seem as if she'd pulled
it out from her robes. Hermione looked curiously at Ginny, but didn't say anything about it.

The Durmstrang students were impressed with everything Hogwarts had to offer, while the
Beauxbatons students seemed to look down upon Hogwarts's appearance. One in particular
had a lofty sense of self, which Hermione immediately took offence at. It didn't help when
she came over for the bouillabaisse.

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" Harry saw she had long, silvery-blonde hair
that fell to her waist like Ginny's. She also had large, deep blue eyes and very white, even
teeth. Every part of her looked perfect, but that perfection roused a suspicion in Harry's mind.

Both Ginny's phoenix and Harry's dragon roused aggressively in response to the witch's
presence.

Ron, however--well, Ron had gone purple and was making a strangled, gurgling noise as he
stared at the girl. Hermione, who sat beside Ron, was like a tiger ready to pounce on the
French witch. Harry had never seen her act so...jealous before and couldn't help but wonder
about it. Ginny looked torn between amusement and disapproval of Ron's actions.

"Yeah, have it," said Harry quickly, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," said Ron breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

Harry covered up his snicker at the blatant lie as the girl carried the dish to the Ravenclaw
table. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils, mirroring McGonagall so
exactly that Harry was taken aback. Her eyes bore into Ron's head, as he'd merely laughed off
her suggestion to try it.

"She's a veela!" Ron said hoarsely to Harry once the girl had left.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an
idiot!"

Ginny nodded in defence of Hermione, but Harry watched as many other boys' heads turned
to track the French girl's movements across the Great Hall. Some seemed to have it worse
than even Ron. Perhaps Ginny couldn't quite see a veela's effect? But then the witch didn't
seem to have the same potency as the veela at the World Cup...

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear
view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"Can't say I agree with you there, mate," said Harry, casting a glance over to Ginny who
smiled brightly at him.

"Smart boy," Ginny whispered to Harry.

"When you put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just
arrived."

She was pointing up at the staff table. In addition to Madame Maxime and Professor
Karkaroff, Ludo Bagman and Percy Weasley were also seated at the table.

"Percy?" said Ron, almost choking on his dinner. "What's he doing back here?"

"You don't think he...he got a promotion, do you?" wondered Ginny. "He's only been working
for a few months..."
"I don't think so," answered Hermione. "I didn't expect him to be here either.
The Prophet reported that Mr. Crouch's position hasn't been filled yet. Minister Fudge named
one Dolores Umbridge as interim Head of the Department for Magical Cooperation, but
nothing permanent."

Harry grimaced at the mention of Umbridge's name, glad that she wasn't there. The woman,
quite frankly, gave him an odd chill.

After the Halloween Feast, Professor Dumbledore unveiled the Goblet of Fire, much to Ron's
growing excitement. Percy had been introduced as being a representative of Dolores
Umbridge, who was busy with her other duties for the Minister. He also told everyone that an
Age Line would prevent anyone not of age from entering.

Fred and George seemed pleased with that prospect, confident that their aging potion would
be a success. Ron simply shook his head behind their backs with a grin on his face. It was
obvious he had his own plan. Harry wondered if Ron would keep to his suggestion of a
Levitation Charm.

"Listen," said Ron to Harry as they made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, "can I
borrow the Invisibility Cloak and map tonight? I don't want to try in front of everyone and
have it, y'know..."

"Yeah, sure," agreed Harry. "You want me to..."

"Nah," shrugged Ron quickly. "I reckon Dumbledore can't have made anything serious as a
consequence if things didn't work. Madam Pomfrey should be able to fix anything, and it can
probably wait for the next day..."

*****

As the next day was Saturday, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all sat up to wait for Ron's return.
It was an odd sight, if Harry had to be honest. All three of them had their enchanted journals
out and were either writing or reading.

"Do you think he has a chance?" asked Hermione into the silence. She was staring worriedly
at the closed portrait hole.

"At what?" said Ginny absently. She was busy scribbling down an entry. Harry, in the
meanwhile, was trying to read up on dragon anatomy. "Entering the tournament or surviving
it?"

"Both, I guess," answered Hermione. "I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a
chance, we just haven't learned enough."

"The youngest champion in history belongs to a Beauxbatons first year," said Harry.
"Although, it was a sort of default win... One champion had been maimed so badly he
couldn't compete and other...erm...sorta had a nervous breakdown..."

Ginny reached out to pat Harry's hand.

"We need to work on your positive thinking," she teased. Harry made a face at her, but his
eyes were smiling in return.

"It was you," said Hermione, as if answering an unspoken question in her brain. Both Harry
and Ginny turned to their other friend, who had overcome the shock and horror and was now
looking intently at Harry. "You told Ron how to get past the Goblet of Fire!"

"I might've offered him some suggestions..." admitted Harry, who thumbed at the page
corners of his journal.

"But why?" cried out Hermione. "He's our friend, Harry. Why endanger him like that? You of
all people know how horrible that tournament is."

"I know, Hermione, but...it's Ron," said Harry in exasperation. How else could he put it? He
remembered the boy who saw his own glory in the Mirror of Erised--the boy who wanted
nothing more than to step out from the imaginary shadow of his six other brothers. "Look,
maybe the goblet won't even pick him, all right? But even if it does, he's still got us to help
him get through it."

"Ron never did listen to anyone when it involved something dangerous," Ginny reminisced,
breaking up a potential argument before it started. "He was one of those kids who didn't
believe the stove was dangerous until he burned himself on it."

Ginny just received blank looks from Harry and Hermione.

"You've never heard of that?" said Ginny incredulously, alternating her gaze from Harry to
Hermione.

Harry shook his head. Aunt Petunia would never have bothered to point out something
dangerous to him. And where the stove was concerned, Harry had been forced to learn his
way around it from the moment he could pick up the iron skillet.

"No, I never disobeyed my parents," said Hermione. "They're grown-ups, after all."

The pink colour that bloomed over her cheeks told a different story, however.

"Hermione," grinned Ginny in a cajoling manner.

"All right," huffed Hermione as she stared pointedly towards the fire. "I once shoplifted. It
was a book. I thought the bookstore was the library... And I wasn't sure how the checkout
process worked at the time... And maybe I would sneak and eat candy once in a while, but
that was it!"

Harry hid his smile behind his journal, though he was sure its shaking would give away his
laughter.

Ron came barrelling into the common room moments later, quite out of breath. He held the
portrait door open, much to the indignity of the Fat Lady, and beckoned towards Harry,
Ginny, and Hermione.
"Ron!" they all exclaimed, rising up from their seats. "What happened?" Hermione added as
they rushed towards him.

"Crouch...Junior..." Ron gasped, waving the Marauder's Map around with his free hand. "He's
in the Great Hall!"

Everyone gasped at that.

"We have to tell Dumbledore!" said Hermione quickly.

"His office's too far from the tower," said Harry with a shake of his head. He grabbed the map
from Ron's hand and began to examine it. "Crouch must be here to tamper with the Goblet of
Fire..."

"Or he could be here to kill you, Harry," pointed out Hermione, who looked horrified at the
prospect. Ginny likewise held a similar face of worry.

"Then why's he standing in the Great Hall?" asked Harry, jabbing his finger at Crouch's name
on the map. He was tucked away in a tiny room by the head table, but not for long. Filch and
Snape were ushering the handful of students still peering at the Goblet of Fire back to their
common rooms. Crouch Jr. saw that and then proceeded to move across the Great Hall--hang
on...

"How did he know the entrance hall was emptying?" pondered Hermione.

"Weird," agreed Ginny.

"Save it," said Harry sharply. "We haven't any time! We have to stop him! What if..." A cold
feeling of dread shot through Harry's spine. "What if he's going to enter my name?"

Hermione let out another gasp while the two Weasleys paled.

"That must be You-Know-Who's plan!" exclaimed Hermione in a hushed voice. "If--if you
die in the tournament, how can anyone blame him? It would just look like an unfortunate
accident! But if someone killed you in Hogwarts, then..."

Something about Hermione's theory didn't ring true in Harry's ears, though at the time he was
willing to accept anything she said. Rational thought had been all but flung out the window in
the face of this dire situation. Every one of Crouch's step towards the goblet was like a
countdown to a time bomb exploding.

"But we'll never make it in time!" moaned Ron. "Look!"

Harry and Ginny shared a glance with each other. They could make it.

"We'll split the difference," Harry told Ginny, passing the map over to her. Ron and
Hermione were confused the by seemingly non sequitur. "Take Hermione and the map and
get Dumbledore! I'll take Ron and try to hold off Crouch...again."

"But--"
"Don't argue, just go!" Harry interrupted her as he grabbed onto Ron's shoulder.
Remembering his thoughts upon returning from the World Cup, however, he promptly
captured Ginny's lips in a powerful kiss as he tried to pour out his love for her through their
link.

With that, Harry teleported himself and a very dumbstruck Ron away.

*****

"STOP!" Harry shouted, the moment his feet touched ground; Ron doubled-over immediately
in an effort to catch his breath. It was too late, however, as Harry watched a folded slip of
parchment flutter into the gaping maw of the goblet. The blue-white flames within swallowed
the parchment, sealing Harry's fate.

It was only once the parchment had fallen in did Harry notice the man standing within the
golden Age Line was not Barty Crouch Jr., but rather...Professor Moody?

"Pr-professor?" asked an uncertain Harry. The two stared at each other in surprise for what
seemed like an eternity, while Ron continued to make hacking and wheezing sounds behind
Harry.

Harry's head jerked as his brain shifted into a higher gear. The map had said Crouch Jr., yet
somehow Crouch Jr. had seen across the Great Hall and into the entrance hall, just as
Professor Moody's magical eye could; Mr. Weasley had been called away to help with a
disturbance at Mad-Eye Moody's house the day they left on the Hogwarts Express; and
Moody only drank from his hip-flask on account of constant vigilance.

"Polyjuice..." whispered Harry, which seemed to rouse "Moody" from his stupor.

"Harry--wha--who--how--"

Ron's stammering was interrupted by Crouch picking up the wooden goblet and hurling it
towards the teenagers. Harry's Quidditch reflexes allowed him to dodge by rolling left.
Unfortunately, that took him right into the path of Crouch, who was trying to hobble out the
front doors. As the two rolled around the floor in a tangled mess, Harry heard the sound of
Ron crying out, followed by a blunt object striking the ground.

Harry tried to grab at Crouch's cloak, but the man caught him with a sharp elbow to the nose.
Though the ring protected Harry from the physical pain of that blow, he was still forced back
to the ground under the impact. It cost him precious seconds for Crouch had risen and was
limping for the door.

"Petrificus totalus!" shouted Ron. Crouch parried the curse deftly with his wand. Harry tried
to fire off a wandless Stunner at his back, but the man blocked that easily as well. It was then
that Harry realized Moody's magical eye allowed him to keep tabs on both teens.

In a fit of frustration, Harry waved his hand towards the front door. A wall of fire burst out
from the ceiling and floor, stopping Crouch short for the time being. Once Crouch had
overcome his surprise, it was relatively easy for him to extinguish a path to the door. By that
time, however, both Harry and Ron were up on their feet.

Harry pushed out both of his hands and fired off a shockwave that not only extinguished the
walls of flame completely, but it also flung Barty Crouch Jr. through the castle doors and
down the steps.

"Bloody hell, Harry," remarked Ron. Just then Ginny teleported into the entrance hall with
Dumbledore and a disoriented Hermione in tow.

"Harry!" called out Ginny, but he'd already teleported out of the entrance hall and appeared at
the foot of the stairs.

Crouch was struggling to get back on his feet. His magical eye had already been knocked out
of its socket and was spinning wildly upon the grass. That was the least of his concerns,
however, as he was busy trying to reattach his fake leg. He seemed to have sensed Harry's
arrival, and whirled upon him with wand in hand, but Harry was quicker. A powerful orb of
red streaked out from Harry's open hand and slammed into Crouch's back, dropping him like
a sack of gold.

Harry collapsed onto his arse in relief; his heart thudded against his chest like a Bludger
chained to a wall. He felt a little light-headed as the adrenaline worked its way through his
system. He rubbed at his arms to stop the muscles from quivering in his shoulders and biceps.

Ginny teleported by his side in an instant, throwing her arms around Harry's neck in relief,
while Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, and Ron made their way down the steps. The lights
were on in Hagrid's Hut, and soon Hagrid himself emerged through the door. Even a few
Beauxbatons students had emerged from their carriage to see what the commotion was about.

"He dropped a name into the Goblet of Fire," Harry reported dejectedly as Dumbledore
neared. "It's probably mine."

"That is, I'm afraid, the most likely conclusion," admitted Dumbledore apologetically. Ginny
tightened her grip on Harry's neck. Harry reached out to soothe her, both physically and
through the link.

Ron stared at them as if he were seeing them for the first time. He still held the Goblet of Fire
in his hands, mindful to keep the flames away from his face as a precaution. Illuminated from
below like that, and with his jaw working soundlessly, Harry thought he resembled a zombie.

Professor McGonagall came down at that point, dressed in her tartan dressing gown, followed
shortly by Professor Snape, who was still dressed in his daily work robes. Harry wondered if
the man slept in them. Or, perhaps, if he slept hanging upside down from the ceiling...

"Minerva," said Dumbledore softly as Hagrid also approached them from his hut, "if you
would be so kind as to replace the Goblet of Fire where it belongs, then summon Poppy from
the hospital wing and accompany her to Alastor's office?"

Dumbledore magicked Crouch's body to float in the air, though Moody's fake leg promptly
fell off. For a moment, everyone stared at it in surprise.
"Dear me," murmured Dumbledore lightly.

"Er, allow me, Professor," said Hagrid as he gathered up the spinning eye and discarded leg.

"Thank you, Hagrid," smiled Dumbledore, as if the man had passed him a dish at dinner.
"Ah, if you could please gather Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff and bring them to
my office? I would be most appreciative."

"Course, Professor," said Hagrid. Casting one last worried look at the teens, he turned and
made for the carriage first.

"Minerva," Dumbledore called out, unclipping a set of keys from Crouch's belt. He handed
them to her, though she didn't seem to know what to do with them. "If my suspicions are
correct, you will need them."

Ron then passed the Goblet of Fire over towards Professor McGonagall. The blue-white
flame flickered slightly in an invisible wind. After receiving both objects, she then proceeded
to make her way up the stairs.

Dumbledore continued to dole out orders in a calm and downright conversational fashion.
"Severus, I shall need your strongest Truth Potion."

Snape's eyes rolled over to where Harry and Ginny sat. He gave them a cruel sneer before
bending stiffly at waist towards Dumbledore. When he marched back up the stairs, it was
almost like a giant bird flapping its wings as it prepared to take flight.

"And, now," said Dumbledore, turning back to the four teens, "I think you've had a very long
night, and would do well to return to your common room."

"But Professor--"

Dumbledore raised his free hand to forestall the impending arguments.

"I will tell you everything once there is something to tell," Dumbledore assured Harry, "but
until that time, I think you have matters of your own to discuss."

Harry turned over his shoulder to where Hermione and Ron were both staring intently at him.
He swallowed nervously. Dumbledore was right. There was no way around it this time. Harry
had to come clean with his best friends. It was time for them to know the truth.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

About Ron's dress robes. Remember that the Weasleys did receive a cash reward for the
capture of Wormtail in Chapter Five. I say this because I had almost forgotten, haha! I
imagine Mrs. Weasley would still be frugal about money and try to find a good deal, and with
Lockhart sitting in St. Mungo's, I'm sure most of his robes might've found their way to the
second-hand robe shop in Diagon Alley.

Of course, had Ron seen the maroon monstrosity with the lace, I'm sure he'd be much more
appreciative about the dress robes he currently has.

Remus and Tonks did not sleep together. They aren't together...yet. But Remus is aware of
his attraction to her, and her attraction to him. His same misgivings from canon are present
here.

And I am assuming Dumbledore's frequent absences during Harry's fifth year deal with him
gathering the memories he'd later show Harry. Maybe not all of them, but most of them. After
all, he doesn't find the ring until the two week span between the end of term and when Harry
gets picked up by Dumbledore. Merlin will be doing the footwork this time around, and since
Slughorn's role has already been completed, that leaves sixth year very open, doesn't it?

Harry beats Barty this time around because, as we all know, the plan isn't to kill Harry--at
least, not at that moment, anyway. So not only was Barty distracted as he had to worry about
Ron, but he was also in a body unfamiliar to him, and he was trying to get away. Not to
mention one can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts's grounds. All of that is more than
enough to allow Harry the upper-hand.

And so Barty Jr. is captured! How will Lord Voldemort ever trap Harry now? Well, it's a
little unfair to tease now since you'd have to wait until the end of the GoF section anyway... I
will say that you'll get more details on Dumbledore/Merlin's conversation in the next chapter.

Back to index

Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven: The Four Champions

Author's Notes: No sense coming up with a new chapter title for this one. Thanks for all the
comments. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up the pace of these updates.

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Eleven: The Four Champions

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.
------

Relenting to Dumbledore's request, Harry and Ginny teleported the four teenagers back to the
empty common room. Harry paused as he took notice of the new decorations awaiting them.
White blooms framed the entrance to the common room, spreading out from the spot where
he'd kissed Ginny. They'd have to learn to control that, or else it'd be rather easy to discover
what broom cupboards they'd been in.

Ginny cleaned them up, though like Merlin she saved a blossom for herself. Harry, in the
meanwhile, addressed Hermione and Ron. The three stood in front of the dying fire, making
up a strange isosceles triangle with Harry at the furthest point.

"So..." began Harry uncomfortably, "where d'you want to begin?"

"How can you Apparate on Hogwarts's grounds? Hogwarts, A History explicitly states that
you can't Apparate or Disapparate here!"

"Did you just kiss my sister?"

Harry wasn't the least at all surprised that both of his friends had different priorities. He
wondered at the best way to handle the situation. Would they allow him to talk through the
whole tale? Or would he have to address each question individually?

"Yes, Ron, Harry kissed me," said Ginny, who had the white flower tucked behind her ear. It
gave her an angelic quality that juxtaposed with the hard look upon her face, which happened
to be emphasized with her arms akimbo. "I've kissed him too, you know. We've
kissed loads of times!"

"Ginny," said a worried Harry. He kept glancing warily from one Weasley to the other,
watching their faces redden with every passing moment; Ron was well on his way to puce.
Their auras were also flaring wildly, like rolling waves of fire. Even Ginny's hair was fanning
out in some invisible breeze.

Ron's mouth worked impotently, and Harry was sure there was a great traffic jam of angry
words going from Ron's brain to his tongue. Suddenly, Ron stiffened and his eyes cleared
with a deadly calm that put Harry on edge.

"That's where you've been all summer," said Ron in a low voice. His eyes cut from Ginny to
Harry and the fingers of his wand hand twitched. "You've been with Harry all summer,
haven't you?"

"But you've been doing more than just that," said Hermione, who turned slightly pink under
the unintentional double entendre. "Oh honestly, I meant that Harry and Ginny were
obviously studying over the summer. How else could they have managed to transport us
through Hogwarts? They were learning magic!"

Hermione seemed as betrayed by the fact that they'd been learning without her as Ron was
with their relationship existing behind his back.

"Look, can I just explain everything from the beginning?" said Harry at last, growing
increasingly frustrated with the situation, his friends, and himself. There was nothing else for
it, however. It was like a Band-Aid; he'd have to do it quickly. Once they knew, they may be
able to understand and accept...after a while...

And so Harry told them everything about Puck really being Merlin and the circumstances
surrounding the apprenticeship. At first, naturally, such information was met by scepticism
and incredulity, but Harry didn't pause for any such obstructions. Rather he ploughed on with
his narrative, stopping only for the breath to continue.

Ginny was a source of strength during those moments. She sat silently by his side, though her
phoenix was anything but. Her song encouraged him, while simultaneously giving him
something to focus on other than the slack faces of Ron and Hermione.

When the story was finished at last, Harry collapsed back into the squashy armchair he'd
seated himself in; Ginny was balanced on the right armrest. The fire was all but gone,
wrapping each teenager in a blanket of darkness. But Harry didn't need the light to see the
reactions of his friends, not when he could see their inner light.

An invisible weight pressed against Harry and he turned his head. Standing in the entrance of
the common room were Professor Dumbledore and Merlin; a great sense of unease spread
from the two wizards, which had been the source of the disturbance. There was no clue in
Merlin's blue aura nor Dumbledore's off-white, nor even on their countenances, yet Harry
swore it was there.

"Ah, from your lively greeting I can only assume you've just concluded your most exciting
narration," said Dumbledore lightly, though his levity fell unappreciated like a stone.
Dumbledore remained undeterred; Merlin, by contrast, rolled his eyes.

"Master Barty confirmed that he slipped your name into the Goblet of Fire under orders from
Lord Voldemort," said Merlin with no trace of levity. In fact, Harry was quite sure that
Merlin was almost brimming with a cold fury under his placid face, not unlike the fury that
had controlled Ron moments ago. "He seeks Harry to be used in a resurrection ceremony that
also involves, apparently, the bones of his father..."

"How do you know the last part?" asked Ginny. She'd risen off the armrest to stand
protectively at Harry's turned shoulder.

"We investigated," said Merlin before Dumbledore could even speak. Dumbledore shut his
mouth slowly and stole a quick glance at the other wizard. There was something going on
between them.

"Barty Crouch Jr. told us that Voldemort had taken up residence in the house of his father,"
reported Dumbledore.

"A grave oversight on our parts," added Merlin shortly after Dumbledore had finished
speaking. Merlin then tilted his head slightly, and his gray eyes sparkled with humour. "An
interesting pun... Anyway, neither of us believed Lord Voldemort would retreat to the home
of his Muggle father for sanctuary of all things. Obviously, he sticks to the creed of 'desperate
times call for desperate measures.' When we searched, we found nothing disturbed but the
grave of his father."

"The Triwizard Tournament is a binding magical contract starting from the activation of the
Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore told them apologetically. "Madame Maxime and Professor
Karkaroff have already been informed of this, as have Madam Umbridge and Mr. Bagman. I
shall make a general announcement to the student body tomorrow--or rather, later this
morning--over breakfast."

Merlin lost much of his anger and pent up frustration as he moved towards Harry's chair. He
knelt down so that he was close to Harry's eye level.

"Master Barty was to guide you through the Triwizard Tournament safely," he said with
some irony. "Unfortunately, now you'll have to rely on yourself."

"Can't the tournament just be cancelled?" wondered Hermione, speaking up for the first time
in what might've been hours. While her brow was furrowed--which was her typical, puzzle
solving expression--she continued to take cautious glances at Merlin. It was obvious to Harry
she was trying not to stare at him outright.

"All those involved in organizing the three tasks are likewise bound to the magical contract,"
Dumbledore informed them. "It's all a precaution from the organizer's standpoint. From a
champion's standpoint, it is to ensure their fortitude and commitment. For those organizing
the task, it is to likewise ensure a solid commitment. It would be a great bother to think up a
replacement task on short notice."

Tragic, Harry thought unsympathetically.

"In short, Harry, if you are chosen, do not hold back," said Merlin gravely. "Use all that I've
taught you and everything at your disposal to survive. Secrecy is not so important as survival,
Harry." A true, mischievous smile stole over Merlin's sharp features as he paused. "If you
like, think of representing me rather than Hogwarts. I admit I would feel some validation
knowing how...well, I don’t want to say superior…”

Dumbledore gave a polite cough. Hermione's eyes glittered almost lustily for the secret
knowledge dangling before her. Harry and Merlin merely shared a smile.

"I'll keep in touch," said Merlin, reaching out to mess Harry's untidy hair further. "Get some
rest. You'll need it to face tomorrow."

"Are--" spoke up a now hesitant Hermione, "are you really Merlin?"

"The one, and the only, Mistress Hermione." Merlin gave a deep, polite bow.

"Then...can you teach us?" she asked hopefully. In the dim starlight, Hermione's eyes were
almost glowing. "As you do with Harry and Ginny?"

Merlin, who had been expecting the question from the very beginning, was still unable to
keep his face from betraying his feelings. Oh he tried, there was little question of that, but a
certain quality removed itself from his gray eyes and an extra line sprouted on his face.
Hermione looked close to tears.

"I am not instructing a class, Mistress Hermione," Merlin apologized. "My relationship with
that of Harry and Ginevra is one of a master an apprentice. Though as a result of certain
compromises, it is truly Harry who is my apprentice. I am dedicating my time and energy into
shaping Harry, not just on a magical level, but on a moral and social level. You understand
that more pupils will require me to expend more energy and attention--energy and attention
that should be devoted to Harry alone."

"Right, it's just all about Harry isn't it?" remarked a very bitter Ron under his breath. Perhaps
he'd thought no one would hear, but the opposite had occurred. Under the scrutiny of so many
stares, none of which approving his sentiments--and some flat out incensed--Ron quickly shot
out of the chair. His energy displaced the heavy armchair a good foot in the process.

They all watched the gangly redhead march up the boys' staircase.

"Not terribly polite," remarked Merlin absently, "but wholly understandable given the
situation. Professor Dumbledore and myself will do all that we can to ensure your safety for
the rest of the term, but above all, Harry, trust in yourself."

"I should think that you all would require some rest," announced Dumbledore, though it was
no suggestion.

"One last thing," said Harry. "Does the Ministry know that Voldemort's back?"

For the first time since stepping into the common room, Dumbledore and Merlin made eye
contact. The tension between the men ratcheted up another notch.

"Yes and no," said Merlin sourly. "Minister Fudge has been informed of Master Barty's
testimony, but he believes it to be the delusions of a madman. If Mistress Jorkins is any
indication of Master Crouch's former zeal, it's easy--though wholly incorrect--to see how
Minister Fudge could cling to the belief that fourteen years under his Imperius Curse would
produce such a profound level of insanity..."

"Insanity is the only acceptable defence against Veritaserum," Dumbledore confirmed with a
rueful shake of his head. "It's not one that wizards claim voluntarily due to certain stigmas..."

"If you ask me, the Minister is the insane one," quipped Merlin. Harry felt inclined to agree.
"Sleep, Harry. Let's take matters one day at a time, shall we?"

Harry bade a goodnight to all, but it was with heavy steps that he ascended the stairs. It was
as if a great weight had burrowed its way into his shoulders and would not leave. There was
so much to take in--not just with Barty Crouch Jr. and Voldemort, but in the shift of his
friendships as well. Hermione had not been as frigid as Ron, but it was clear she would need
space of her own to work through the secrets.

The conspicuous lack of snores coming from Ron's closed curtains told Harry that he was not
the only sleepless one that night. It was with that thought in mind that he rolled himself up
tight under his sheets.
*****

The night had brought a bright dream that slipped beyond Harry's grasp upon waking, which
struck Harry as odd. Through the continued use of his mental defence and his journal,
recalling dreams had been almost effortless. The warmth and hope that emanated from his
dream, however, faded shortly as he recalled the events of the previous night--particularly
Ron's absence in the dorm.

With the arrival of Durmstrang's ship, Harry could no longer manage his daily exercises
again. Well, he could, but he didn't appreciate having such a close audience. He racked his
brain for an alternative, especially since he didn't want to be seen at all today.

"Ready to go?" asked Ginny brightly, dressed in her workout clothes as well. She'd
eventually grown used to the early hours, helped in part by the link which deepened their well
of strength and endurance. Harry shook his head. She so embodied the characteristics of a
phoenix it was dazzling.

"Where's everyone?" Harry wondered. It was a Saturday, yet the common room was just as
deserted as it had been the night before.

"They're down at the entrance hall," answered Ginny solemnly, and then made a great show
of checking her ponytail. Of course. Everyone would want to see people enter their names
into the Goblet of Fire. Harry never wanted to see that chalice again.

"I don't fancy running down by the lake today," said Harry simply and made to retreat back
up the stairs. He felt her consternation through their link as her phoenix went unnaturally
quiet.

"Who said anything about this lake?" she said at last, her voice bright and cheerful once
more. "We'll port back to the Haven and go at it like we always did. I think I've still my suit
there..."

No matter the trepidation Harry had felt upon waking, the thought of spying Ginny in her
bathing suit summoned forth warm memories of the carefree summer. A rosy bloom tinged
his cheeks while an honest grin cut across his face. He was glad his face was turned away.

"Sure!" he exclaimed, losing himself to his memories for a brief moment. Ginny laughed and
gave him a loving swat on the arm.

After going through their morning workout routine, which included a particularly long water
fight in the lake, Harry felt a little better. Some of his pent up frustration and impotence over
his situation had been expunged from his muscles and nerves. Still, he was not at all eager to
return to Hogwarts then and there. Ginny, noting his lingering uncertainty, decided to fix
them breakfast at the Haven.

"It's Saturday," she explained as she cracked a few eggs onto the skillet. "It's not like we're
missing class or anything. We just need to be back before dinner."

Harry nodded absently. A part of him wanted to ask Merlin what his Hogsmeade address
was, but he didn't want to deal with anything serious at the moment--although he did wonder
about Merlin and Dumbledore's relationship. The other part of him wanted to call on the
Marauder's Pad, but that had too much risk of someone discovering their presence
accidentally. Someone, namely Rita Skeeter, might be extra curious as to why they weren't at
Hogwarts.

"I spoke with Hermione about everything last night," said Ginny conversationally as she
continued to cook. Harry's attention was captured in an instant. "It was a big shock to learn all
of that at once, but she understands and is okay with everything."

Harry was impressed--both at the haste of Hermione's ability to digest everything and the
speed with which Ginny had cooked. "So soon?" he asked, watching while Ginny laid out the
modest breakfast.

"Well, Hermione's been suspecting something," Ginny pointed out, using her fork as a means
of emphasis. "She told me how you figured out the Time-Turner last year, but still kept it
secret. She'd been trying to return the favour by figuring out what was going on with you and
Merlin, so it wasn't that much of a shock--I mean, it was, but...you know..."

Harry nodded.

"So she's all right with everything," Ginny repeated, though there was something about her
eyes that said she wasn't wholly convinced. "It'd be hypocritical for her to be angry at us
when we were told by Merlin not to tell anyone, right? It'd be no different from her Time-
Turner..."

"But it's still Hermione," Harry cottoned on. "She would've liked to have known, or at least
figured it out."

This time it was Ginny's turn to nod.

"All of that knowledge... I mean, it has to be like someone piling a load of gold right in front
of Ron," she remarked. "And then Merlin tells her he won't teach her anything... No matter
what she says, I'm sure she's not all right with everything."

"But what can we do?" wondered Harry.

"I've been thinking on that," said Ginny as she toyed with her eggs. Harry's eyes rose at the
odd quality in her voice. "Merlin made a compromise with my parents about me... I was
wondering if we might make a compromise with him about Hermione...and Ron,
depending..."

"What d'you mean?"

Ginny chewed her lip as she considered her words. "What if you taught them?"

Harry stared dumbly at Ginny for a moment. Had he heard her right? But the look on her face
was dead serious.

"I'm not a master, Ginny!" Harry protested. "I'm just an apprentice myself! I'm no teacher."
"Look, I'm not saying you have to take them on as apprentices," said Ginny soothingly,
reaching out to grab Harry's hand. "Just teach them the theory. You know how Merlin says
we learn better from life or play. Teach them the theory, let them get the hang of things, and
then let them experiment from there. Who knows? They might come up with something even
Merlin wouldn't have thought of!"

Harry took a moment to let Ginny's words soak into his mind. She had a point. Hermione in
particular would jump at the chance. But what was the limit? Do they stop there? Do they tell
them about the Bond of the First? About their Animagus training?

Ginny brought Harry's hand up to her lips and kissed at his knuckles. Some of his tension
melted at that simple gesture.

"I reckon we have to start somewhere," he said at last.

They finally returned to Hogwarts shortly before dinner, using the rest of the day to practice
their Animagus transformations. Hermione was waiting for them in the common room with a
large book propped up in her lap. She raised her eyebrow when they descended the stairs,
having checked each dormitory more than once that day.

"I suppose you wouldn't want to be around today after last night," she admitted, shutting the
book carefully. "Dumbledore was vague in his announcement. He said the Goblet of Fire had
been tampered with, and so there might be some unusual results this evening, but he didn't
mention you at all. He also told everyone about Barty Crouch Jr. impersonating Professor
Moody."

Harry pulled a face and wondered just how Neville had taken that information. At least
Crouch was now locked in Azkaban where he belonged.

"And Ron?" Harry dreaded the answer.

"He's been with the twins all day," said Hermione simply, though there were some lingering
traces of hurt in her eyes. Apparently Ron blamed her for something as well, perhaps
knowing of the relationship and keeping it from him. "And if not with the twins, then he's
been with Seamus and Dean."

Harry nodded glumly, and together the new trio made their way down to the Great Hall for
dinner. Ron was indeed seated by Dean and Seamus, chatting amicably with both Lavender
and Parvati. Of course, he was only doing so because it gave him the best vantage point to see
the mysterious Beauxbatons girl.

Hermione made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat as they took their seats.

"All right, Neville?" asked Harry softly to the boy seated next to him.

"Fine," said Neville, looking anything but. Again, just as he had been after the lesson on the
Unforgivables, Harry found himself unable to help Neville. This time, however, Harry
recognized that it was because he didn't know Neville. They weren't friends so much as
acquaintances.
Harry glanced over Neville's head to where Ron was laughing at something Dean had said.

Well, Harry could remedy the situation by being more of a friend to Neville. Maybe then he
could help Neville. There was a powerful wizard lurking beneath the skin of the shy boy.
Harry could see it clear as day.

In hushed tones, Harry noted that Ginny had informed Hermione about their mutual decision.
Hemione's eyes lit up in excitement and a broad smile passed over her face. At least things
would be all right with her. There was no better olive branch than information where
Hermione was concerned. Well, maybe one thing...

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry apologized earnestly.

"It's all right, Harry," she waved off. "I understand completely. I'm sure Ron will too. Just
give him some time..."

Harry wasn't as sure about Ron, but held out for hope.

The feast seemed abnormally long in Harry's opinion, and the fact that his appetite was
practically nonexistent didn't help matters in the slightest. Finally, however, all the plates
were cleared. Dumbledore gave told everyone that the champions would need to wait in the
side chamber--where Barty Crouch Jr. had hid himself the night before--while Madame
Maxime, Karkaroff, Percy, and Bagman all held tense expressions.

Viktor Krum, representing Durmstrang, was the first champion selected. Fleur Delacour, the
witch Ron was so enamoured with, became the champion for Beauxbatons. Once the
applause for them had died down, the flames within the goblet again turned red and spat out a
name. Dumbledore snatched it from the air and paused as he read the name silently.

"The champion for Hogwarts is--" Harry shut and eyes and took a deep breath; Ginny
reached out and took hold of his hand for support, throwing every bit of comfort she could
into the song of her phoenix. They awaited the name, but it was not the one they expected...

"Ron Weasley."

*****

A deafening silence spread throughout the Great Hall. Though Dumbledore had announced
the tampering of the goblet that morning, the whole student body was nevertheless surprised.
That was because they had taken their cue from Dumbledore himself. As he and his staff
were surprised, so was every student in Hogwarts.

Ron, for his part, had gone as white as a ghost. All eyes were on him, and all mouths were
open in varying degrees of shock. Harry wondered how Ron's mind was taking things. Far
from the glorious cheers he'd probably envisioned when slipping his name into the goblet
before passing it back to McGonagall.

There was no other answer for it, Harry knew; Ron had slipped his name into the goblet once
it'd been removed from the Age Line. That'd been the plan Harry suggested, after all. It was
only fortuitous that Barty Crouch Jr. had thrown the Goblet of Fire free from Age Line and
right into Ron.

And yet, through all that, Harry could not help but feel some measure of relief. It was not his
name that'd been chosen, but Ron's. Lurking beneath that, however, was a certain darkness
that wondered why Ron would be chosen over him?

Suddenly, the goblet again turned a bright red in the dimmed Great Hall. Everyone watched
with blank stares as yet another name fluttered out from the dancing flames. What else could
it be? What was more shocking than Ron being Triwizard champion?

Fortunately, it wasn't very shocking at all--at least, not to anyone in the know.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, a smile returning to his face, and along with it spread a sense of
relaxation among the student body. "The result of Barty Crouch’s interference shows itself at
last. Harry Potter, if you would please come join the rest of the champions? You too, Mr.
Weasley."

The moment Dumbledore had spoken Harry's name, Ron had become much more alert. He
shot an angry glare at Harry and then stood up from the Gryffindor table. Harry followed
shortly after, but he couldn't hope to match Ron's lengthy strides. The taller boy spared not a
glance to any of the staff, not even Percy, who frowned disapprovingly at Ron being
champion.

"Go on, Harry," said Dumbledore encouragingly as he gestured towards the door.

It was with some trepidation that Harry made his way into the adjoining room. Viktor Krum
and Fleur Delacour stood on opposite sides of the fireplace, which threw their bodies into an
impressive silhouette. Ron, on the other hand, stood dumbly as he stared at Fleur.

"What is it?" Fleur said, staring down her nose at Ron. "Is zere a problem with ze 'Ogwarts
champion?"

She thought Ron was a messenger and not the Triwizard champion of Hogwarts. Harry tried
his best not to snort but failed miserably. Fortunately, the arrival of the other officials covered
up the noise.

"Extraordinary," said Ludo Bagman. "Absolutely extraordinary!"

"We have, it appears, four champions," noted Dumbledore, just as amused as Bagman. Krum
and Fleur, however, were most decidedly not amused. "Mr. Ronald Weasley shall be
representing Hogwarts, and Mr. Harry Potter shall be representing...a fourth party..."

Neither Viktor Krum nor Fleur Delacour seemed surprised at Harry's presence, leading him
to believe Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime had already informed them of such a
possibility. Ron, however...

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman and Dumbledore,
gesturing to Ron. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
Ron's face turned a bright red as he stood at the centre of an informal circle. He shot a sharp
look towards Harry and then back towards Fleur. The message was clear to Harry, at least.
Why would Fleur have a problem with Ron and not Harry?

Fleur then turned towards her headmistress. "Madame Maxime! Zey are saying zat zis little
boy is to complete also!"

There was no mistaking the shade of puce rippling over Ron's face. Harry bit down on his
finger. Saying Ron was a little boy was a contradiction in terms, though he knew Fleur wasn't
referring to his physical size, but his age and perhaps even his maturity.

"Is this a result of Crouch's tampering too, Dumbledore?" asked Karkaroff darkly.

"I think not," said Dumbledore, peering intently at Ron from over his half-moon spectacles.
He too had come to the same conclusion as Harry. "If I recall correctly, the Goblet of Fire
was well outside the boundaries of the Age Line last night. You held it in your possession
after Barty Crouch threw it at you, did you not, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron could only manage a stiff nod.

"And did you place your name in the goblet?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," said Ron glumly, averting eye contact with everyone.

"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am very disappointed in

your severe lack of judgement. Rest assured your mother will be informed of your
foolhardiness."

The horror written in the bulging eyes of Ron would've been humorous had things not been
so very serious. Ron had put himself willingly into a situation of life and death--a situation
that he was woefully under prepared to face. At least Harry had Merlin's teachings to
compensate for the age gap, but Ron?

"That is another matter of concern," said Karkaroff sharply, turning his glare from Ron to
Percy. "The boy is too connected in this tournament. It is an unfair advantage!"

"I would never allow personal prejudice to override my sense of duty to my job!" protested
Percy heatedly. "Believe me, I am no more pleased at Ron's utterly idiotic disregard for
authority than the rest of us!"

Ron grew angrier at Percy's words, but he was still one boy bereft of any support. Harry
would've stood by his side, but he was not sure the other boy would appreciate the gesture at
this moment.

"I assure you, Igor, that the Weasleys are a good and honourable family," said Dumbledore,
raising his hand in a placating gesture. "They will not overstep their bounds and break any of
the...traditions of the tournament."

Harry wondered about the pause, but before he could think on the matter, Mr. Bagman had
spoken up--
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" He rubbed his hands together and smiled around the room.
"Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Weasley, want to do the honours?"

"Certainly," said Percy, adjusting his glasses pompously as he puffed out his chest. "The first
task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is--" he gave
Ron and Karkaroff a pointed look. "Courage in the face of the unknown is an important
quality in a wizard. We Gryffindors know this."

Snape gave a snort of derision.

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students
and the panel of judges," Percy continued, while McGonagall shot Snape a glare. "The
champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind to complete the tasks in the
tournament."

"Er, I believe the actual phrase is that 'The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept
help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament," interrupted
Bagman, shooting a careful glance towards Harry and Ron, as if he were trying to decide
something.

"That's basically what I said," huffed Percy. It was obvious that even though Mr. Crouch had
been no saint, Percy's opinion of Mr. Bagman was still much lower. "No cheating. The
champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive
information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-
consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Ron perked at the last. It was the only sign of happiness to come from his face since his name
had been chosen.

Dumbledore called their meeting to an end and asked of Percy if he might stay. But the third
eldest Weasley declined, saying he had to inform their mother of the events immediately.
Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff likewise declined a nightcap as they escorted their
champions back to their respective dwellings. He then entreated Harry and Ron to return to
their common room, though his brow contracted at the physical distance between the two
friends.

"Well," said Harry, but Ron had already made towards the exit. Harry sighed and decided
there was little point in the walk. He teleported himself straight to the dormitory and was
fortunate to find it empty.

A set of steps could be heard making their way up the stairs. Attuning his eyes to spy the
auras of a person, he saw the familiar gold and yellow-green of Ginny's aura. Her phoenix
called out, just to make sure he knew of her presence.

"Hi," she called out softly, shutting the door behind her. "Everyone's waiting downstairs for
your return, you know? You might as well not disappoint them."

"I don't..."
"Just tell them all you're tired," Ginny said, crossing the length of the common room to lay a
soothing hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's Ron they're all curious about anyway. Dumbledore
already explained that Crouch had entered you as a part of his scheme."

"All right," said Harry with a sigh.

"I'll be waiting right here," said Ginny, sitting herself down onto Harry's bed. With that,
Harry teleported himself to a small alcove by the portrait hole. He'd beaten Ron by a good
handful of minutes. He spoke the password to the Fat Lady and was promptly swallowed up
by a cyclone of noise, cheers, and slaps to his back.

Harry told them all he was tired and that Ron would be along shortly. By repeating that as a
mantra, he made for the boys' staircase. Hermione noticed and followed along soon after.

"I'm worried about Ron," admitted Harry in the quiet of his dorm.

"I'm worried about what Mum's going to do to him," snorted Ginny. "He might not even
make it to the first task."

"Ginny," said Hermione reproachfully, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "We can't do
anything for Ron, Harry. We can try to be there for him, but if he doesn't want our help, we
can't force it on him. You can't do his tasks for him either."

A muffled cheer burst out through the stone walls, heralding the arrival of Ron. They waited
for a few moments, but the cheers and conversations didn't die down at all. Ron must've been
soaking up the praise and adoration. It was what he wanted after all.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry curtly, wanting to be asleep before Ron came up. Ginny and
Hermione both cottoned on to that fact and let him be.

"See you tomorrow," Ginny said, planting a goodnight kiss on Harry's lips. He wrapped
himself up in their link and hoped for more good dreams that night, but no dreams came at
all.

*****

The following morning, Harry and Ron found themselves seated on opposite ends of the
Gryffindor table. It proved to be an interesting contrast of the school's opinion. Many people-
-including Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang (much to Ginny's irritation), and Luna Lovegood--
offered Harry sympathetic apologies surrounding his plight, recognizing that he'd been forced
into competing against his will.

Ron, however, was another matter entirely. No one held the slightest bit of sympathy for Ron,
except for his fellow Gryffindors. As far as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were concerned,
Ron was the glory seeker, trying to hog everything for Gryffindor and not letting the other
houses have a chance.

Harry thought it was unfair as the goblet had chosen Ron over the other students in a fair
manner, but given the split between the two, he was not about to speak up on the other's
behalf.
The criticism and derision were only compounded when Errol, the decrepit owl of the
Weasley family, crashed into the jam in front of Ron. Clutched loosely in its claw was the
unmistakable red envelope of a Howler.

A panicked Ron tried to get up and leave, only to bang his long knees on the underside of the
Gryffindor table. His howl of misery was soon joined by the raucous laughter of the Great
Hall. The Howler, in the meanwhile, had slipped from his fingers and floated down to the
floor.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" the voice of Mrs. Weasley rang clear in the Great Hall for
the first time since Harry's second year. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO
SOMETHING AS DANGEROUS AS ENTERING YOURSELF IN THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT! PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE SET THAT AGE LINE FOR A REASON!
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED YOUR FATHER AND I ARE ABOUT THIS?
WHATEVER POSSESSED YOU TO DO SOMETHING SO RECKLESS? I AM VERY
DISAPPOINTED IN YOU!"

Though there was a good deal of anger in Mrs. Weasley's voice, Harry couldn't help but pick
out the warble in the volume. She'd been close to tears as she composed that Howler. A quick
glance to Ginny face told Harry she'd realized the same thing. Ron, on the other hand, stared
at the pile of ash with a look of disgust, betrayal, and contempt. The new chorus of laughter
stemming from the others, including Fleur Delacour, only magnified the intensity of those
emotions.

Of everyone, however, no one had taken the lead to degrade Ron more than Draco Malfoy. A
few weeks after the champions had been chosen, just before Potions, Ron's temper finally got
the best of him.

"Here you go, Potter," said Malfoy, handing over a badge to Harry. It almost sounded polite,
if not for the malicious grin etched into his sharp features. Harry glanced down at the badge.

Staring back at him was a caricature of himself dressed up in the livery of a vicar, looking so
pious that he might burst into tears. Beneath the icon was written:

Support Famous St. Potter--

Poor VICTIM

Harry curled his fingers around the badge, making an angry fist at the mock support.

"That's not all they do, Potter," said Malfoy, pressing his own badge that sat upon his robe.
The image swirled until replaced by a different caricature. This time it was Ron, dressed up
like a threadbare king, complete with a rusted crown that clashed with the luridly bright hair
of the drawing. The fur of his patched cape was a live weasel, and the crown hung lopsided
on his brow. An exaggerated look of stupidity, which happened to be the default look of
Crabbe and Goyle, was drawn upon Ron's face. Once more, a scroll of text was beneath the
image:
 Better than King Hand-Me-Down Weasel--
Just POOR

The Slytherins howled with derisive laughter and pressed their own badges just as Ron came
down the hall with Dean and Seamus.

"If there has to be a champion," Malfoy continued, knowing full well Ron was there but
ignoring him all the same, "I suppose it must be you, Potter. After all, what's Weasel done
except curse himself with his own wand?"

"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin
girls, though Harry noted that while Daphne Greengrass wore the badge, she covered it up
with a hand and turned her face to the side. A tall Slytherin boy beside her was doing the
same. Though their shoulders were shaking, Harry noted they weren't smiling at all; they
were only pretending to follow along with Malfoy.

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But
don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

"Shut your filthy hole, Malfoy," said Ron, charging forward with his wand already out.
Everyone moved to the sides of the hall, leaving only Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Harry,
Hermione, and Ron standing in the middle.

"Ron!" Hermione said in a mixture of worry and surprise.

"Go on, then, Weasel," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Let's see if you're
really champion material or if anyone could've been spat out by a Confounded goblet..."

The two boys stared at each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy; Ron, on the other hand, remained silent, but still fired off a
spell of his own.

The two jets of light collided in midair and ricocheted off at angles--Ron's hit Goyle in the
face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle went green and doubled over. Shortly after, a large
slug emerged out from his mouth. For once, Ron's patented curse had actually worked.
Hermione, other the other hand, whimpered and clutched at her mouth.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Harry as Ron rushed over to her as well. Her already larger than
average front teeth were growing at an alarming rate. They were moving past her bottom lip
and toward her chin. Harry had little doubt they might just continue on to her toes if
unchecked.

"And what is all this noise about?" said the soft, deadly voice of Professor Snape.

Harry hardly paid it any attention as he fished out his own wand. He promised Merlin to use
all he knew in the tournament, but until that point, he felt some sort of obligation to the man
to keep things as quiet as possible until then. While he wasn't sure how to reverse Malfoy's
curse, he could at least stop the growth.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly, vanishing the slugs with a wave of his wand.
Malfoy had apparently given his own testimony.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said angrily. "Look!"

Snape glanced down his hooked nose at Hermione, following the length of her front teeth
until coming to rest at the collar of her robes. His eyes then snapped back up to Hermione's
and said coldly, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper. She might've ran if Harry's hand hadn't stopped her. A
murderous look was set firmly on Harry's face while Ron began to shout a plethora of
obscenities at the Potions Master. The dragon in Harry's chest reared itself angrily.

BOOM!

Snape was flung back from Ron to everyone's surprise. The smell of burnt hair lingered in the
atmosphere, tickling at everyone's noses uncomfortably.

"Who did that?" hissed Snape in a dangerous tone, but not for the first time, the man's rage
was undermined by his physical appearance. Wisps of smoke rose from his head--from
his bald head. Every hair, from his chin to his scalp, had been burned off. The greasy quality
of his skin gave it a nice sheen in the torchlight. Harry found himself blinking rapidly in an
effort to not laugh.

Snape's eyes locked with Harry's, and the young wizard felt the bristle of Legilimency ripple
over his mind. While Harry'd had no time to lock away any memory of misdeed in the past
few seconds, he could also not recall having done anything--consciously, anyway. All Snape
could see was his own ludicrous reflection in Harry's surface thoughts.

It was then that Snape moved his hand to pat his bald head, and his cognisance of his plight
finally brought forth the snorting laughter of Gryffindor and Slytherin alike.

"C'mon," Harry murmured to Hermione and tugged her towards the hospital wing without
fail.

"That was you again, wasn't it?" Hermione tried to ask, but the words had come out garbled
on account of her predicament.

Harry gave a slow nod. Hermione's eyes flew open wide, and it was only then that Harry
noticed her hair seemed bushier than normal. For one instant the shadow of fear flickered
over her bulging eyes, but then she managed to school her features into one of neutrality--as
neutral as she could manage with grotesquely large teeth.

She understood, it seemed, the implications of Harry's temper and his power. A lesson that
Harry himself had been forced to learn against Snape the previous year. Perhaps he might be
able to teach her after all...
*****

Harry left the hospital wing soon after, as Colin Creevey had somehow tracked him down and
alerted him that the champions were required to meet in a classroom for photos. He shook his
head at the boy's enthusiasm, but also towards Hermione. She had a sly streak in her after all,
allowing Madam Pomfrey to shrink her teeth until they were even and straight.

"Class got cancelled," Ron informed Harry stiffly just as Harry neared the classroom. There
wasn't even a glint of humour in his blue eyes. "How's Hermione?"

"Fine," said Harry, matching Ron's tone. "Madam Pomfrey fixed her up."

Ron gave a curt nod and the pair of them entered.

Harry cared little for the wand weighing ceremony as he hadn't planned on using his. What
interested him was the presence of Rita Skeeter. It was his first time meeting the woman, and
her reputation was not far off the mark. The manipulative energy coming from her was
practically palpable against his skin. Her smile, Harry noted, was as false as her nails.

She tried to get an interview with the youngest champions, but neither Harry nor Ron were
about to oblige her. The dark look Skeeter gave them made Harry think they'd just found
themselves on her bad side.

After the wand weighing ceremony, Snape was conspicuously absent at dinner, though by the
following morning, he'd somehow managed to restore all his hair. Harry was glad to leave
things at that, but Ginny pointed out that Malfoy still needed to get his. It was an unusual
notion to grasp, Ginny standing up for Ron even though the siblings were estranged. Had he
never been introduced to how a real family should act, and had only the Dursleys for
reference, he might've thought she was mad.

A few days later, Ginny's prank came to fruition. They'd initialised it earlier, but it had taken
a few days to actually come about. Malfoy had been sitting at the Slytherin table looking as
smug as always. Shortly after the Owl Post arrived, everyone began to hear a strange sound...

It was as if a million tacks were being dropped upon the flagstones of the entrance hall in a
giant wave, rushing onwards toward the Great Hall. Some turned their eyes skyward, as if
expecting the ceiling to reflect rain, but most turned their attention to the doors of the Great
Hall. Ginny tugged at Harry's sleeve while grinning impishly.

Hundreds and hundreds of ferrets poured into the Great Hall, earning shrieks from many
witches. They swarmed the Slytherin table and one Slytherin student in particular. Their goal
wasn't to attack Malfoy, however. No--

"GET OFF OF ME!" Malfoy shrieked and, to everyone's amazement, the ferrets stilled. The
ferrets that were on him got off and immediately lined up around him in a circle. They all
held a sort of reverent and awed look that made some people titter in amusement.

"Looks like Malfoy's quite the ferret charmer!" someone from Ravenclaw commented,
sending off peels of laughter as Malfoy's pale face grew more and more pink.
"What're you going to do, Malfoy?" said Fred. "Sic your ferrets on us?"

All of the Great Hall laughed at that, forcing Malfoy to stalk away. The laughter doubled as
the ferrets followed after him lovingly in a uniform fashion. Worse still, Harry and Ginny
kept the ferrets after Malfoy for the whole day, before finally telling them they could leave
shortly before dinner. By that time, he'd been molested by female ferrets several times and
had most of his clothes chewed up in some form or another.

In the meantime, despite all that had transpired, neither Harry nor Ron were on speaking
terms with the other. Ron had gradually returned to speaking terms with Hermione, but
neither of them were as close as they'd once been.

"He knows Barty Crouch Jr. entered your name into the goblet, Harry," Hermione told him
one evening. "To be honest, I'm not sure why he still isn't speaking to you yet..."

Harry thought it might've been jealousy, but if he knew Harry didn't ask for his spot in the
Triwizard Tournament, then...what? Did he really have a problem with him dating Ginny?
How could he forgive Hermione so quickly for keeping a secret, but not him?

"Don't worry about Ron," said Ginny from her spot on the ground, where she was using
Harry's shins as a backrest while reading her diary. Now that Ron knew, they didn't care so
much about hiding their relationship. All of Gryffindor knew by that point.

"I'm sure he'll come around," added Neville, who sat nervously on the other end of the sofa
from Hermione. Harry noticed he kept casting surreptitious glances at Hermione, but held his
tongue about it. He'd learned much about Neville since the other boy had begun to hang
around with Harry, Ginny, and Hermione--namely his skill with Herbology and his apparent
crush on Hermione.

"Maybe," sighed Harry. He then gave Ginny a nudge with her knee. "What d'you wanna do
for Hogsmeade?"

It would be Ginny's first trip to Hogsmeade, now that she was a third year.

"Doesn't matter," said Ginny, smiling at Harry over her shoulder. "Let's just explore?"

"Whatever you want," Harry replied. "There's nothing down at the village that I need to buy,
really."

"I'm not going," Hermione announced, her face hidden behind her diary. Neville seemed a
little crestfallen at that.

"Why?" asked Ginny.

"I need to look up some things in the library," she replied. Harry shook his head. For the past
few weeks, he'd been trying to teach Hermione the simple fundamentals of Merlin's theory,
but they hadn't been catching. She was convinced it was because she lacked an understanding
of magic, while Harry was convinced he was just a rubbish teacher.

"What about you, Neville?" Harry said.

"Oh, well, er...I might see if Professor Moody needs anything done," said the boy nervously.
It was downright eerie how well Barty Crouch Jr. had impersonated Alastor Moody. If
Dumbledore hadn't told anyone about it, no one would've known.

Apparently, however, it had been Moody's intention all along to strike up camaraderie with
either Neville or Harry, assuming they needed it. Moody would've known, just as well as
Dumbledore, about the past of both boys.

"Really?" said Ginny, turning to glance over at Neville. "I was hoping we might all meet up
in the Three Broomsticks. You should come for Harry's sake. He shouldn't have to suffer
through Mel, Vicky, and Colin all by himself."

They all laughed, even though Harry didn't mind it too much--all right, maybe Colin could be
a little trying at times...

"Maybe," Neville relented a little.

*****

As it turned out, their Hogsmeade visit was almost spoiled by the sudden appearance of Rita
Skeeter and her photographer. Harry had spotted them coming out of the Three Broomsticks,
while he and Ginny emerged from Honeydukes. He met Skeeter's eyes for a moment and
gave a chill at the hungry way she gazed at his joined hand with Ginny's. It was almost like
he found himself staring at an evil Hermione...

He frantically looked for a place they might hide, all the while wishing he'd thought to carry
his Invisibility Cloak, but there was no place they could duck into on the main street. Just as
Skeeter and her photographer approached them, however, her crocodile-skin bag burst open,
spilling its contents upon the street. She seemed particularly concerned about a certain acid-
green quill.

Harry took the opportunity to run, dragging Ginny along with him.

"It was Merlin," said Harry, pulling his hood over his head.

"But--"

"Who else could it be?" Harry cut her off. Without speaking, both teens attuned their eyes
and the whole village became transformed into a city of light. They hadn't needed to look.
Merlin winked into view before them in his Gandalf disguise.

"To me, quickly," he urged with all the bearing of an old man. Harry and Ginny obliged, and
Merlin whisked them away just as the reporter and photographer rounded the corner.

"Ah, home...such as it is..." said Merlin less than a second later, his disguise rolling off like a
second skin peeling into the air. Harry could only assume they were in his Hogsmeade
residence, which looked like it hadn't been lived in at all. Aside from a few amenities, like a
chair, desk, and a few books, the place was completely bare. Things looked too...open.
"This needs a woman's touch," remarked Ginny, voicing what Harry couldn't put to words.

"When I find one, I'll be sure to ask," said Merlin sardonically. Ginny made a face and
would've made a rude gesture, if Harry hadn't been holding onto the hand she wanted to use.
"I was glad to get you away from Mistress Skeeter," Merlin continued in a more serious tone.
"I overheard her whispers in the fair tavern. She seems a little affronted at your lack of
cooperation."

"I don't get it," muttered Harry. "If she wanted to slander my name, why not just do it?"

"Because believable fiction requires fact, Harry," lectured Merlin. "Anyone could spread
rumours, but rumours are hardly effective without some basis of fact to take root. She will
twist the truth into her own work of art, and she will do so with wondrous skill if you are not
careful."

"Assuming I survive the first task," said Harry dryly. Ginny promptly smacked his arm far
harder than necessary.

"I wanted to speak to you about that," Merlin said, ignoring the amorous gestures of the
couple. He reached over to an empty bookshelf and removed a roll of parchment. It was the
map he'd created the previous year to find Sirius.

Like thickening spider-webs, the dark ink of the map began to appear, outlining all of
Hogsmeade and a fair amount of the Forbidden Forest and Black Lake. Merlin tapped his
finger upon a secluded section of the Forbidden Forest, which then glowed white.

"What is it?" said Harry, leaning in for a closer look.

"Dragon pens," Ginny announced with a fearful voice. "I recognize them from our trip to
Romania over Christmas..."

"I have to...slay a dragon?" Harry blanched visibly, not to mention the dragon within him
reacted violently to such a suggestion.

"Oh nothing so crude," Merlin waved off. "Even a fully grown wizard such as myself would
have a difficult time managing such an impressive feat alone. Likely your task will involve
sneaking a treasure past the dragon."

"Charlie!" gasped Ginny in belated realization, but suddenly Harry's mind leapt into action as
well. Charlie had known the secret of the Triwizard Tournament like all the other Weasleys
who were of age. Now Harry knew why, and he also knew the reason behind Karkaroff's
reluctance to allow Ron as the Hogwarts champion.

"Your brother will undoubtedly inform Master Ronald come tomorrow, once he arrives with
the four dragons in tow," nodded Merlin. "If not, he will surely face the wrath of Molly,
which would be more fearsome than any dragon, I'm sure."

"So how am I going to do this?" wondered Harry.

"Sirius suggests the Conjunctivitus Curse," said Merlin calmly. "One of a dragon's weak
points is its eyes after all. Given Master Charles's knowledge, it is likely he will pass along
that very same advice to Master Ronald."

"And what would you suggest?" Harry asked.

"Use your imagination," shrugged Merlin. "You are more than capable of stealing a treasure
from under the nose of a dragon, Harry. The power is there on your tongue or in your fingers.
You need only find a way to apply it to the situation. And as angered as I was regarding the
situation, this may well turn into an impressive test of your knowledge."

That reminded Harry of something.

"What's going on between you and Professor Dumbledore?" he said, pinning Merlin with his
emerald eyes.

Merlin pursed his lips and sat himself down into an old chair that moaned under his wiry
frame.

"He and I have...disagreements on certain topics," said Merlin, which didn't really clear the
problem at all. Noting the expectant gazes of both Harry and Ginny, he gave a sigh and
continued, "He fears me, to put things simply. I am a...wild card, to use a colloquialism. I
have all the power and skill of himself or Lord Voldemort, yet he does not know me enough
to trust me.

"To be fair, I've not given him the slightest inclination to trust me. I do not approve many of
Professor Dumbledore's decisions. Though he may agree in my goal of uniting the Muggle
and wizarding worlds, his methods to achieve it have been...poor. His choice in regards to
you, while something I can understand, is not one I would have condoned. His choice in
regards to Minister Fudge is a folly I cannot accept either."

"What choice are you talking about?" asked a curious Ginny.

"Professor Dumbledore had the chance to take the reigns of the Ministry," said Merlin softly,
tapping out a steady beat with his fingers upon the carved armrest of the chair. "He declined,
which I can respect. I would not want the responsibility either, which was why I had trained
Arthur. But he had the chance to play adviser!" Merlin banged his fist upon the armrest.
"How different do you think things might be had Minister Fudge continued to lean on
Professor Dumbledore for support rather than Master Malfoy?"

"But he didn't want to be like Malfoy!" protested Ginny, rising to Dumbledore's defence. "He
didn't want to control Fudge; he wanted Fudge to stand on his own."

"As much as I'd really like to call him one, Professor Dumbledore is no fool," returned Merlin
shortly. "He should have realized how weak in will and wit Minister Fudge truly was. The
man is too optimistic for his own good. For that I will not follow him blindly. I am not a
member of his Order of the Phoenix, nor have I any desire to be."

"That's why..." Harry began in understanding.

"Yes," Merlin said with a curt nod. "I used a variant of the Unbreakable Vow. I am not a
pawn for Professor Dumbledore to play in the war against Lord Voldemort. If anything, I
would wish to be treated as an equal and consulted as such. He cannot tell anyone of my true
identity without my explicit authorization."

Taking note of the shocked expressions on both teenagers, Merlin's face softened slightly.

"I don't hate the man," he assured them, "nor are we enemies. We are simply two men who
disagree with the other's methods. Speaking on rifts, how are things with Master Ronald?"

An identical sour expression flickered across the faces of both Harry and Ginny, earning a
small chuckle from Merlin.

"Very well, what of Mistress Hermione?"

"She's having difficult mastering the basics," said Harry glumly, leaning his palms against the
worn table. "She can't even Conjure up a quill. She thinks it's her lack of understanding, but I
know that's a lie. Hermione's the smartest witch of our age! There's nothing she can't
understand."

"Harry thinks it's his fault, but that's just as silly," Ginny chimed in. "He's taught her like he's
taught me. There's nothing wrong in his explanations."

A knowing, almost superior, smile graced Merlin's handsome face.

"The fault is with Mistress Hermione," he said easily. "There is no fault in your methods,
Harry."

"But how--"

"Mistress Hermione has built herself a very tall tower of knowledge," said Merlin,
demonstrating with his left hand. "At its roots are her faith in books and what she has been
told by figures of authority. What you are doing is constructing a new tower--" Merlin
demonstrated with his other hand. "It's much shorter than the other, owing primarily to
Mistress Hermione's penchant for overachieving. The former is a most formidable mountain
to scale, and it is where, deep in her subconscious, her faith and routine truly resides. You
and Ginevra, on the other hand, were much more open and receptive to new ideas, owing
primarily--if you'll excuse me saying--to your ignorance."

"So then how--"

"This is a problem Mistress Hermione must overcome on her own if she wishes to learn,"
explained Merlin calmly. "By all means, explain my theory behind it, but the answer must be
one she comes up with."

They spent the remainder of the day speaking on subjects less serious in nature before Harry
and Ginny returned to the main part of the village. As promised, they met up with Neville in
the Three Broomsticks, along with Demelza, Vicky, and Colin. Ron was also there, laughing
with Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati in a corner table, but Harry did his best to put it
out of mind.
If Ron wanted a competition--and not necessarily a friendly one from his demeanour--Harry
would give it.

*****

The day of the first task came with surprising speed. Merlin's only advice for Harry had been
to use his imagination, but so far he'd come up with nothing. In conjunction with Hermione,
who'd taken Merlin's criticism to heart, he'd spent most of his time in the library with her and
Ginny. Viktor Krum was also there, much to Hermione's complaints. What Ron was doing
was anyone's guess, though Seamus could be seen rubbing furiously at his eyes at one point
in the common room.

Over breakfast, the four champions were looking horrible. Fleur Delacour looked pale and
clammy, yet even still, most of the males at Hogwarts were smitten with her. Viktor Krum
looked surlier than ever, eyeing his breakfast with scorn. It seemed as if Madame Maxime
and Professor Karkaroff had learned of the first task too, somehow. Ron swayed in his seat,
looking as if he might swoon at any moment.

Harry would've liked nothing more than to have skipped the morning lessons, but
unfortunately, that wasn't at all possible.

"Good luck, Harry," said Ginny, kissing him in front of the Great Hall at lunch. Harry wasn't
quite sure how she'd done it, but she'd managed to knock him into a daze without calling
forth the strange blossoms that'd happened of late when they got carried away. That had
certainly confounded Filch on one occasion.

Ginny sank back into her chair and giggled with Vicky, Demelza, and even Hermione. There
was a sly smile on her face directed at him, even if she was avoiding his gaze. She knew what
he wanted to know but was teasing him.

Ron had caught the kiss, but to Harry's surprise, he just rolled his eyes with a "if you must"
mentality. There was no great hatred any longer, though he was still cold towards Harry. It
was a most uncomfortable walk for the two teenagers, though McGonagall was too worried
herself to notice. Former best friends had now become heated rivals.

Once the order had been determined--Ron would go first against a Swedish Short-Snout;
Fleur, against the Common Welsh Green; Krum, the Chinese Fireball; and Harry, the
Hungarian Horntail--Mr. Bagman then took Harry aside, wanting to know if he knew what he
was going to do. Bagman then did the same with Ron.

A Horntail? murmured Merlin in a low voice. Harry had strayed as far from the other
champions as he could and cast a Privacy Charm around himself.

Puck's examining the pen, Ginny whispered. As the communication devices had no
conference feature, Harry assumed she was speaking into Merlin's ring.

It's the most vicious of the lot, Merlin reported sourly. She does not seem very happy to be in
Scotland.

"Great," said Harry in an undertone. Ron and Bagman returned at that moment. Bagman
seemed very cheerful as he hurried back out to do his announcing. "Keep me informed, all
right?"

Of course, Harry, was Merlin's reply. And he did keep Harry better informed than Bagman
did. It helped that Ginny was there as another commentator.

Master Ronald appears to have been struck dumb, noted Merlin.

Not that it would've taken much, Harry heard Ginny interject under her breath, but Harry
could also hear the underlying concern in her voice. No matter what had transpired Ron was
still her brother.

He's just standing, Merlin continued. And standing...and standing...and...oh--no, I'm sorry,
that was the Short-Snout blowing on him. He's still standing...

By Harry's reckoning, Ron stood for a full five minutes before acting. The loud jeers led by
the Slytherins couldn't have helped Ron's nerves any. He still remembered how nervous Ron
had been when Oliver Wood had called on him that practice...

Ah, there we are, said Merlin, who almost sounded as if he'd been roused from a light doze. I
was right. Master Charles has taught Master Ronald the Conjunctivitus Curse--Oh!

Harry winced as he heard Ginny and Hermione gasp in unison--the other girl must've been
outside the Privacy Charm, or else Harry was sure she'd be speaking too. Ginny's phoenix had
even let out a mournful trill through their connection. Something had happened.

The half-blind Short-Snout caught Master Ronald with her tail, Merlin commentated in a
calm voice. From the looks of things he's suffering a severely dislocated left shoulder, or
perhaps the arm is broken outright. He's gone for the Conjunctivitus again. A direct hit on
the Short-Snout's other--

Merlin fell silent as an outcry came from both outside the tent and from Harry's glasses.

Sorry, said a ruffled Merlin. The Short-Snout almost rampaged into the stands... But that did
give Master Ronald the opening he needed to grab the golden egg. It's over--for him at least.

Harry felt himself letting out a sigh of relief for Ron's sake.

Scores are coming in, whispered Ginny. They must be out of ten. Madame Maxime's given
Ron an eight. Percy gave Ron an eight too--so did Dumbledore. Bagman gave...what?
Bagman gave Ron a ten! Wow!

Merlin gave a thoughtful sort of noise through the open communication.

Karkaroff--That lousy bastard! He gave Ron a four! A FOUR! I bet he'll give Krum a
ten! groused Ginny angrily, bringing a smile to Harry's face that he had to hide from his
fellow champions.

And so things continued with the other champions. Hearing the commentary from Merlin and
Ginny relaxed Harry greatly. He was sure it was a result of the humour they intentionally--or
unintentionally--added.

Fleur had lulled her dragon to sleep, though its snore had set her fancy robes on fire, much to
Ginny's amusement. While an impressive feat, the length it took her to accomplish it kept her
from beating out Ron's score of thirty-eight. Viktor Krum had done the exact same thing as
Ron, which might've explained Karkaroff's low score. Unlike Ron's Short-Snout, however,
Krum's Chinese Fireball reacted badly and trampled half of the real eggs. Still, he was, as yet,
the only champion to come out unscathed. That was enough to beat Ron's score by two
points. That, and Karkaroff giving him a perfect ten, as Ginny predicted.

Finally, it was Harry's turn.

He emerged from the tent into a world of unintelligible, but booming cheers. Hundreds and
hundreds of people filled magicked stands, much more than Harry had ever seen in a
Hogwarts's Quidditch match. Try as he might to focus on faces, it was almost an
impossibility. There were too many faces, too much movement, and too much sound for him
to focus. It seemed like people were purposefully shuffling around to confuse him.

The one thing that remained constant, however, was the Hungarian Horntail looming at the
far end of the enclosure, guarding her clutch protectively. Harry stared at its evil, yellow
eyes, half-furled wings, and glittering red scales. Her claws gouged deep fissures into the
rock quarry as her spiked tail flicked back and forth.

Harry tried to take in his options. Teleporting to the eggs was out of the question. The tail
might come around the moment he appeared and take off his head. Summoning the egg
would be just as difficult. All the Horntail would have to do was unfurl her wings and the egg
would be stopped.

So what was Harry to do? Somewhere, deep inside, he already knew the answer.

The dragon in Harry's chest roused itself in a low crouch with its four wings fully unfurled.
As it had at the Quidditch World Cup, it circumvented Harry's own control of his magic,
bringing out to the forefront. He put his trust in his deep instincts, as it hadn't steered him
wrong with Ginny.

The Horntail paused in her gentle swaying and flared her nostrils. Harry saw the vertical slit
of her yellow eyes narrow. His own aura was pouring out, directed right at the heart of the
Horntail's. Was it possible? Could it be true? He and Ginny had done it with the ferrets, and
Merlin had showed his skill with many other creatures, but...

"Sit--please," said Harry, holding his right hand out towards the Hungarian Horntail. His
voice was suffused with the low growl of his dragon--to his ears, at least. Others could not
help but feel the sense of authority radiating from the youth, even if they could place no
definable quality upon it.

The Horntail bobbed her head, like a dog might when it gave a bark, and complied with
Harry's request to the surprise of everyone--Harry included. She fell onto her haunches, her
wings folded back against her body, and her tail curled around her legs. Even her head dipped
low in respect of Harry's authority.
"Erm..." said a nonplussed Harry. "There's an egg in your clutch that isn't yours," he tried to
explain, not knowing how much of the tournament the dragon was truly cognizant of. "Would
you mind if I took it?"

Harry watched as she cast a glance over her shoulder. With a grace that seemed impossible
given her bulk, the Horntail slid to the right, giving Harry clear access to the nest. She even
laid her head upon the rocky ground in submission.

"Um...thanks?" Harry said as he picked up the golden egg in his hands. The crowd was
almost roaring in their silence, though somewhere, Harry was sure that Merlin was laughing
softly. As if to confirm this wasn't some strange dream, he tucked the egg beneath his armpit
and walked towards the Horntail with the intent to pet it.

Her scales were warm like a stone left out all morning. It was impossibly hard, yet there was
a sensation of suppleness beneath his fingertips. A jolt passed from the Horntail into Harry,
but it'd transpired so quickly that he hadn't even time to jerk his hand away. All he knew was
that his brain felt light, yet strangely filled at the same time. He blinked at the Horntail, who
seemed to be smiling down at him.

"My--my word..." Bagman said at last in a hushed voice. Even with the Sonorous Charm, his
voice was barely a whisper. "Will--will you look at that... Our youngest champion is not only
the quickest to get his egg, he's also managed to come out unscathed..."

You did great, Harry! came Ginny's voice from his glasses. The sudden noise almost made
Harry jump. All of the silent eyes upon him were downright unsettling.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid looked like they wanted to approach
Harry, as did the dragon handlers, but he was still standing beside the Hungarian Horntail,
stroking her snout absently. Even Ron looked close to swooning with disbelief.

"Well--well let's have the--ah--the scores?" said Bagman, turning his attention to then panel
of judges he sat on. Unsurprisingly, Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Mr.
Bagman all gave Harry perfect tens; Percy gave Harry a nine (to show that he wasn't biased);
while Karkaroff, in an unprecedented show of bitterness, gave Harry a one, claiming that the
boy hadn't done anything.

"There you have it!" boomed Bagman, as the crowd had come back to life at the
announcement of Karkaroff's score. "Tied for first place is Harry Potter and Viktor Krum,
with Ron Weasley coming in close at second--"

Bagman continued on to say a few more things, but Harry had drowned it out. The whole of
his attention was focused on Ron, who'd darkened noticeably at Bagman's precise phrasing.
All of a sudden, Harry thought he had an idea of what it was that had made Ron so distant...

------
Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

...and there are a lot for this one, mostly because it was such a hard chapter to write.

From my understanding of the books, Dumbledore seems very hands off on many things. He
allows the pureblooded bigotry to remain both in the Ministry and at Hogwarts, whereas he
might be a powerful force to implement social and political changes (not just on blood status,
but the treatment of magical creatures as well). He seems to think that by leading through
example, people might eventually emulate his kindness and tolerance, but that could take
many, many generations. The only thing that will rouse Dumbledore into immediate action, it
seems, is an external physical threat, like Grindelwald or Voldemort.

Naturally, that butts against Merlin's more proactive approach. Merlin, after all, set himself
up as adviser to Arthur, doing many things to shape the future with his own hands. Though
Merlin does not want to be in the seat of true power. He is willing to break some rules,
however, if he feels it's for the greater good.

The difference, while not mentioned in the story, is emphasized by Merlin and Dumbledore's
glance when Harry asks about Fudge. In canon, Dumbledore was naive in regards to Fudge's
love of power until he had the dementor's plant their Kiss on Barty Jr. This time around, it is
Fudge's inability to believe Barty's testimony, choosing to instead think of him as a madman.
Had Dumbledore been adviser to Fudge, as Merlin would've, then things would've gone very
differently.

And yes, it's Ron as the fourth champion. His chess skills are unparalleled. And only Harry, I
think, is braver than Ron, as Ron is very often at Harry's side (giant game of wizard's chess,
Aragog, Chamber of Secrets, etc). Those qualities aside, he's also a very capable wizard. He
comes very close to producing a Patronus in OotP, takes on Death Eaters in OotP and HBP,
and is quite the Quidditch player, once he overcomes his nerves. Though he's a second choice
for prefect, with Dumbledore choosing to pass on Harry, he still beats Dean, Seamus, and
Neville. Don't forget that each of his siblings are very powerful wizards in their own rights.

And the drama Ron brings as Triwizard champion is too much to pass up. It is a huge test for
the friendship of Harry and Ron, to see if they can stand being rivals, or if Ron's--and perhaps
even Harry's--jealousy might overcome them. There is also his unavoidable reaction to Fleur,
and then his admiration of Viktor Krum, which turns to jealousy the moment of the Yule
Ball. That being said, the Yule Ball will be very interesting, don't you think?

If I could, I'd rename my Goblet of Fire into The Year of Ron or something, because this is
his chance to really mature as a person.

As to other minor details... I like the idea of Ron continuing to use his Slug Curse, which,
according to the HP Lexicon, has no incantation. It's a good mirror of Ginny's Bat-Bogey
Hex.

Also, if you haven't guessed, Harry is not a Metamorphmagus in my story. There is a Hair-
Growing Charm of some kind that Harry used as a child, and which Snape later used to
regrow his own greasy hair.

Speaking on Snape and his Legilimency, the only one who needs to worry about it is Harry.
Snape's vindictiveness towards Ron and Hermione are usually a means to get under Harry's
skin. Besides, Legilimency isn't precise, as seen during Harry's Occlumency lesson. The
memories are pretty random.

Back to index

Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve: The Yule Ball

Author's Notes: Again, no sense in changing a perfectly good chapter title. And I admit that
there's quite a lot I borrowed from Rowling in this chapter, but they're classics and I couldn't
help it.

And thanks to those who comment on, nominate and vote for my fic. It's a really awesome
feeling.

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Twelve: The Yule Ball

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

After Harry's scores had been announced, he was ushered back into the tent where he was
met by the suspicious looks of Fleur and Krum. Ron merely averted his gaze from Harry
down to his own golden egg. Bagman bounded in soon after, beaming broadly at each of
them--Harry in particular. He explained when the second task would be, February the twenty-
fourth, and that the golden eggs held the clue to learning what the task would be.

Once that business was done, Harry blocked the exit to the tent, preventing Ron from getting
by, and set up a Privacy Charm with a wave of his hand.

"It's not the secrets and it's not me dating Ginny, is it?" said Harry without preamble in a
voice that brokered no lies. It was not quite the same voice he'd used against the dragon, but
it was pretty close.

"No," said Ron in a dull voice, still staring at his reflection in the golden egg. "Well, sure, it
was a bit of shock to hear you and Ginny... I--I didn't think some very kind things, but I
reckon you kinda figured that out on your own..."

Harry nodded slowly; his eyes never wavered from Ron's face.

"If--if you're all right with it, and you're not doing it to humour her crush, or..." Ron grimaced
and wisely kept his mouth from completing that sentence. "If you're all right with it, then I
reckon I can't really think of anyone better. And the secrets thing? I was mad...and
shocked...and I don't know... It was just a lot to take in..."

"So the cold shoulder?" Harry prompted. He had an inkling, but he wanted to hear it in Ron's
own voice.

Ron's face clouded and he raked his large hands through his hair. It seemed as if he were a
caged beast, even though the tent was more luxurious than most rooms. No, it was Ron's own
skin that was a cage.

"I know you hate the fame and the money and the whatnot," said Ron, still looking
everywhere but Harry, "and after the past month, I'm beginning to understand, but I still think
it's all worth it! It--it meant a lot, y'know? That you'd help me enter?"

For one brief moment, both teens held the other's gaze. Ron's gaze was brutally open, as if
anyone--not just a Legilimens--could see deep into his soul. This time it was Harry who
averted his gaze slightly.

"I hated that everyone thought I couldn't make it through the tournament," said Ron
vehemently. He might've kicked at something were there anything to kick. "No one, not even
Mum, thought I could handle myself..."

Harry wanted to interrupt, saying that Mrs. Weasley was just worried about him, but now that
he got Ron talking, he wasn't about to stop him. This was something the gangly boy just had
to get off his chest.

"You--you thought I could do it, and it meant a lot, but... But then you go and do that
amazing teleporting trick." Ron frowned, staring out over Harry's shoulder in deep thought. "I
reckon I would've started talking to you about the same time as I did Hermione, which was
how long it took for me to wrap my head around everything, but..."

And Ron's energy finally seemed to stall. Harry waited three seconds, but no words came out
of Ron's mouth. Instead, it was as if he was wrapped in a shadow of shame.

"But I ended up being your competition," said Harry in an effort to get Ron moving again.

"Yeah," said Ron bitterly. "Yeah... Bloody hell, Harry, I couldn't give a damn if Krum's a
famous Quidditch star! That doesn't mean a thing in the tournament! And, sure, I get a little
tongue-tied around Fleur--" Harry covered up a snort, "but I'm not duelling her. I thought for
sure I had a chance, but then...but then your name comes out...

"I don't have a chance of beating you, Harry! We all know that! Not because you're the Boy-
Who-Lived, but because you're Harry. I've seen you, mate. I know what you can do, and I
know that I couldn't even do half the things you can! I've always been second to you, just like
I've always been last in the family--even Ginny can do loads of things better than me! And
now you're getting training from Merlin and...

"And I know you'd give it up in a heartbeat. I know you'd lay it all aside if I said any of this
before today, and you'd do your best to throw the tasks so I'll feel better, but it'd be a lie and,
again, we'd all know it. I don't want charity, Harry! I want to earn it all on my own! I want
to deserve it."

Harry gave yet another slow nod as he digested everything Ron had flung at him. For his part,
Ron's shoulders heaved as if he really had hefted those words like a boulder. That speech had
to have been building up for the whole month. There had to be a compromise somewhere in
things--a way for them to compete as friendly rivals, while still giving Ron the belief that he
had a chance...

"I'm tied with Krum, Ron," said Harry slowly. "We're only two points ahead of you. You've
still got a chance--" Ron gave a disbelieving snort. "Look, I'm teaching Hermione the
fundamentals of Merlin's teachings. I'll do the same with you to level the field. Then maybe
you can work with Hermione for the next two tasks. You can figure out your own things
that'll even be a surprise to me. And you've still got your brothers..."

Harry could see Ron rolling over the idea in his head. While Harry would be relying heavily
on Merlin, Ron having Hermione and his brothers--Bill, if Harry's suspicions were correct--
would certainly level the field.

"Yeah," he said with very tiny smile. "Yeah, I reckon that'd be all right."

"Good," Harry said with a smile of his own; he was glad to have his best mate back again.

"Was that a Merlin trick?" asked Ron as they made their way out of the tent. "The dragon
thing?"

"And the ferrets," grinned Harry. Ron let out a long guffaw as they made their way around
the woods.

As they rounded a clump of trees, Harry fell short. There was a presence lurking around
behind them. He could see the gray and pale yellow aura clearly. Ron stopped a step later,
just as Rita Skeeter leapt out. She wore acid-green robes, presumably to hide that Quick-
Quotes Quill Harry could still pick out.

"Congratulations, Harry--Ron!" she said, beaming at them like a spider with a web full of
delectable. "I wonder if you two could give me a quick word? How you two felt facing that
dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring? I'd heard a rumour that the two
of you weren't on speaking terms, but you seem awfully chummy right now..."

"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Good-bye."

Ron followed it up with a rude gesture that made Skeeter gasp. Smirking at each other, the
two boys made their way back to the castle. They'd faced a dragon! Who cared how vicious
Skeeter's articles might be?
The party awaiting them back at the common room seemed twice as sweet than it might've. It
was a little crowded with all of the fourth years making up the nucleus, but all that mattered
to Harry was that he had Hermione and Ron back with him. Though Ron seemed to have
been taking Harry's pep talk a little too much to heart--either that or the soaked up accolades
went straight to his brain--as his stories grew more and more outlandish every time he told it.

The party was also the perfect opportunity for the twins to advertise their wares. Neville in
particular had fallen for the Canary Cream. Harry had to hand it to them. Their business
savvy was downright impressive.

It wasn't McGonagall that broke up the party, however, but rather the shrill shriek
from both of the golden eggs. After the unveiling, everyone began to be more focused on
speculating on the second task rather than partying.

"Brilliant, aren't they?" said Ron that night, stroking the back of his own model Swedish
Short-Snout. The moving model of the female dragon seemed to purr lovingly at the gesture.
"Even Charlie doesn't have something like this, I'll bet! Or at least...this detailed... They sell
kids stuff, of course. Charlie had loads... Wonder how they made 'em..."

Harry chuckled and set his own model of the Hungarian Horntail upon his bedside table. He
wondered if Ginny might like it... After all, he had his own dragon within himself.

*****

Unfortunately, not long after the first task, Rita Skeeter made her appearance at Hagrid's Care
of Magical Creatures class--right when the ten remaining Blast-Ended Skrewts went on a
rampage. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say the witch had almost timed that appearance
perfectly...

"Stop!" Harry had shouted, trying to calm the skrewts as he had with the dragon, but again,
the skrewts remained immune to Harry's command.

"Why didn't it work, Harry?" hissed Hermione, just as one burned the back of her hand.
Neville tried to battle back against it with sparks from his wand, but had to throw himself to
the ground to avoid the stinger of another.

Harry wasn't quite sure. For one thing, it might be because they weren't real animals
according to any source he'd come across. But that couldn't be the only reason. The basilisk
had been bred by a wizard, yet it responded to a Parselmouth. But then the basilisk in the
Chamber of Secrets would only respond to the command of the Heir of Slytherin...

Finally, truly tired of being burnt and scratched, Harry tapped into his wandless magic and
called upon the winds to brush the Blast-Ended Skrewts into a pit...which happened to be
when Rita Skeeter arrived.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked as he checked on the ten skrewts that began to attack each other
with a gusto. Harry felt disinclined to do anything about it.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid,
frowning slightly. Harry frowned as well. Maybe he'd ask Merlin if he couldn't set the map to
warn them about Rita Skeeter like they had with Wormtail. Something just wasn't right about
her...

Later that day, Hermione made a shocking discovery. With Ron, Harry, and Ginny in tow,
they all made their way down to the kitchens--Hermione having procured the method of
entering from Fred and George. To Harry's immense surprise, Dobby had come to work at
Hogwarts--along with...Winky?

"Winky? But how--"

"Master Black and Master Wheezy is making Master Barty free Winky..." Winky wailed
loudly and Dobby merely raised his voice over her pitiful moans. "It was Dobby's idea to
come to Hogwarts! Winky did not know where there was a place with enough work for two
house-elves, but Dobby did! And Professor Dumbledore was happy to hire us--and give
Dobby pay!"

As happy as Harry was for Dobby, there was a slight bit of trepidation in Harry's heart as he
gazed at Winky.

"Voldemort's used her once," Harry reminded them, ignoring the shudders from Ron and
Hermione. "What if he uses her again? It wouldn't be hard for a house-elf to bewitch the
Triwizard Cup if they were ordered to."

"But Winky's free, Harry," protested Hermione passionately, "and do you really think Sirius
or Mr. Weasley would lobby for her freedom if they thought she posed a danger? Or that
Professor Dumbledore would allow her to work here?"

Harry thought that Hermione had a point, but he couldn't help but remember Dobby's "help"
from second year. The fact that Winky was handling her freedom poorly also set him on
edge.

Hermione, however, took everything with a proud jut of her jaw. She only saw what she
wanted to see--Winky was free, and she had a hand in it. Harry did not want to point out to
her that Dumbledore seemed to be correct. House-elves were not ready to accept or demand
freedom.

Fortunately--or unfortunately--all of those worries were lost in the flurry of Professor

McGonagall's announcement: the Yule Ball. It didn't matter that Harry was going out with
Ginny; there was still the occasionally brash witch who asked him anyway. And Ginny was
likewise caught up in the excitement, often giggling with Vicky and Demelza, who were both
too young to go unless asked by someone older.

"I reckon you're going with Ginny," groused Ron in the common room one evening, shooting
a look at Ginny and her friends.

"If I'd like to keep breathing," chuckled Harry. Ron muttered a bunch of obscenities under his
breath that went unnoticed by Hermione. Harry could still guess what he'd said from his face,
however, and asked, "What about you?"

"No one," muttered Ron. That caught Harry's attention.

"Really? But what about Hannah Abbott?" asked Harry in confusion. "She asked you during
Herbology, didn't she?"

To be honest, there had been a lot of girls clamouring after Ron--almost more than Harry,
really.

"I don't want a girl to ask me," said a highly affronted Ron. "Well, I mean, I do, but at the
same time I don't, yeah? I'm a bloke, after all..."

Harry thought it was imagination, but he swore he saw Hermione smile--through the giant
book she held up over her face. Seeing that Ron was expecting an answer, Harry just nodded.

"You'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred, sidling up to them
and leaning over the back of the couch between Ron and Hermione.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron challengingly.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi!
Angelina!"

Angelina, who'd been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a
grin on her face.

"There you go," said a smirking Fred to Ron, "piece of cake."

If Harry hadn't known better, he would've sworn that the entire thing had been planned out. It
didn't help that Fred got to his feet with what seemed like an exaggerated yawn.

"Say, Ron, mind if we use Pigwidgeon?" Fred asked.

"Why?" came Ron's sceptical voice.

"Need to get Sirius to buy us some decent dress robes," said George, coming around to stand
with his brother. He jangled a small bag full of money. "Seems like Mum got us all
something from the Lockhart line..."

All three Weasley brothers pulled a face; Harry wished he could see Hermione's reaction
from behind her book.

"We made enough from selling our products to buy some better robes," remarked Fred. "We
trust Sirius's style. So can we borrow Pigwidgeon, Mr. Triwizard Champion?"

"Yeah, sure," said Ron, waving them off. After a moment, Ron said to himself, "He's right.
I should get a move on... I don't want to end up with a troll or something."

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation, closing her book with a sharp snap. Harry winced.
He knew she treated every book lovingly, and snapping a book shut like that wasn't good for
the spine.

"A...what, excuse me?"

"Well--you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with--with Eloise Midgen,
say."

"Um, you can't go alone," Harry pointed out. "McGonagall wouldn't let you. You're a
champion, after all."

Hermione continued on as if they hadn't heard Harry. "Her acne's loads better lately--and
she's really nice!"

"Her nose is off-centre," said Ron.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl
who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er--yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron. Harry buried his face into his hands. Not the
best thing to say at the moment.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls' staircase without
another word.

"You shouldn't have said that, Ron," sighed Harry, watching the now vacant staircase.
"Ron?"

Harry turned his head back to his best mate, only to spy the back of his red head. In the
process of following Hermione's departure, Ron'd come across Lavender and Parvati,
giggling over their Divination work.

"Ron?" Harry tried again.

"I'm gonna do it," Ron said to himself. Harry wondered about what Ron was going on about
until he stood up with a determined expression. "Oi! Lavender!" he called out in a direct
imitation of Fred.
"Yes?" Lavender returned, blushing slightly.

"D'you--d'you wanna..." Harry groaned into his palm. Bad time for Ron to lose his nerve.
"Wangoballwime?" a pink Ron blurted out.

Colin gave out a shriek in time with a small explosion. Ginny had dropped her Exploding
Snap card haphazardly, but she'd turned away to stare at the unfolding drama. Colin, on the
other hand, had caught the full brunt of the flames, losing both of his eyebrows.

"Sorry?" said Lavender, wrinkling her brow slightly. Parvati let out a small giggle, but
Lavender elbowed her friend in the side.

"Do--you--want--to go--to the ball--with me?" said Ron through gritted teeth. The sweat was
already dripping from his heated face. A swell of sympathy rolled off of Harry for Ron,
though Ginny's phoenix was rearing up with anger and embarrassment. Harry again cut his
glance towards her.

"Oh!" said Lavender, who instantly brightened before smiling demurely. She too was
blushing, though not to same degree as Ron. "I'd love to go, Ron!"

"Gr--great!" Ron winced at the crack of his voice, sending Lavender and Parvati into giggles.

Harry applauded Ron wickedly, setting off a round of applause from the other Gryffindors.
Both Ron and Lavender burned at being the centre of attention, but soon Lavender got over
herself, marched towards Ron, and dragged him over to the boys' staircase.

"C'mon, I need to see your dress robes," she announced. "We need to coordinate!"

Ron let out a pitiful moan at the mess he'd found himself in, but obligingly allowed himself to
be dragged off.

"Harry!" hissed Ginny once they were gone. With an idle wave of her fingers, she brought up
a Privacy Charm around them. "Why did you let Ron ask Lavender?"

"Wha--because he wanted to?" replied Harry uncertainly, not at all sure why Ginny was so
angered.

"Oh God, this is so bad," groaned Ginny, smacking her forehead. "Why--why--did Ron have
to do that?"

"What's the big deal?" frowned Harry. Ginny shot him an incredulous look.

"The big deal, Harry, is that Hermione likes Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, raising her voice only
because of the Privacy Charm.

Harry blinked slowly as his mind processed that information.

"Really?" was the only thing he could say.

"Yes," exclaimed Ginny, throwing her hands up into the air. "I was going to try and work on
Ron to get him to ask her! Oh this is so bad..."

"But I thought Neville likes Hermione," Harry frowned.

A frown creased Ginny's brow.

"He does," she sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. "Neville likes Hermione, and Hermione
likes Ron--Luna likes him too, really. What is it about my brother?"

Ginny set her hands on her hips in an eerie reflection of her mother's exasperated stance.

"I suppose I'll have to work on Neville...get him to ask Hermione," said Ginny to herself, still
with the pained expression marring her face. "Just tell me one thing--does
Ron like Lavender?"

"I--uh--I don't know," said Harry truthfully. At Ginny's narrow look, Harry felt himself grow
defensive. "If you've forgotten, he and I haven't exactly been on the best of speaking terms
lately. I guess it's possible. He did hang out with them for a while, and they've got Divination
together..."

Ginny groaned and collapsed into the empty sofa. Harry moved sympathetically from the
chair to sit beside her. He threw his arm around her shoulder and drew her into an embrace.

"What's wrong with Lavender?" Harry murmured, stroking her hair.

"The same thing that's wrong with Fleur," said Ginny. She kept her head tucked against
Harry's chest, but pointed at her head with her free hand. "There's a lot out here, but
nothing in here. Honestly, would you go for just looks?"

"I dunno," shrugged Harry. "I happen to think I've got the most beautiful girl."

Ginny laughed and wrapped her arms around him in return.

"Flatterer."

"I wouldn't worry so much, Ginny," said Harry, glad to be the one to offer her comfort for a
change. "I don't think Ron really likes her--not in that way. He just needs a date for the Yule
Ball. Reckon there still might be hope for Hermione."

"Maybe," said Ginny, curling up against him. "I reckon it could've been worse," she giggled.
"He could've asked Fleur--in front of the entrance hall, no less."

Harry laughed at that.

*****

From that point on, Hermione was cool towards Ron for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
Harry wanted to tell him, but it wasn't his place to say so. As it was, their joint lessons were
rather tense, for Harry had offered to teach Ron and Hermione while he and Ginny did their
Animagus lessons. It certainly didn't help that Ron caught on much easier than Hermione.
"It's not so hard," said Ron with a satisfied smirk as he Conjured and Vanished a simple red
ball, making it look like sleight of hand.

"But I just don’t understand!" Hermione all but growled in frustration. "How are you doing
that? How can you just...wish something to exist? Isn't there a spell...or...or a trick to your
wrist movement?"

"No, Hermione," said Ginny, placing a sympathetic hand on the older girl's shoulder. "You
just have to command your magic to do something. It can be anything, provided you have a
strong understanding of how it works..."

The more Harry observed Hermione, the more he found he could tell what spell she was
trying based on the movements of her wand along with the tiny motions of her lips. He
thought he had an understanding of her then. Hermione needed the structure--a planner, a
textbook, a spell, a wand motion. She thrived on boundaries and order, whereas Harry, Ron,
and Ginny all thrived on a freer environment.

"Here," said Harry, crossing the length of the empty classroom towards Hermione; he had an
idea. "Try to conjure up a flame. You're good with them, right, Hermione? You know how
fire works. Just think of one sitting in the palm of your hand. Think it. Picture it. Will it."

Hermione looked a bit sceptical, but did as Harry asked. She held out her left palm, but Harry
coughed to clear his throat.

"Use your right hand," he told her. This time there was no mistaking the sour look on
Hermione's face as she passed her wand into her left hand and held out her right hand, palm
facing upward.

Everyone watched silently as Hermione's eyes fluttered half-closed. Harry saw her aura pulse
in time to the steady beat of her heart. A tingle could be felt--to Harry and Ginny at least--
radiating out from Hermione's palm, growing stronger and stronger with every passing
second. It was not long before a brilliant bluebell flame sparked into life, flickering proudly
just millimetres above her hand.

"I did it!" she gasped happily. "I did it!"

"Good on you, Hermione!" whooped Ron.

"Nice one, Hermione," agreed Harry, while Ginny expressed herself by crushing her friend
with a hug. "I think you ought to focus on spells you already know and try to do them
wandlessly."

Hermione was not the only one to make progress that day. Ever since the first task, Harry had
felt a little different. His dreams were filled with strange visions and thoughts. Like the happy
dream he'd had on Halloween, the new dreams were chased away with the morning sun. He
couldn't even set them down in his journal if he tried.

Yet, when Harry tried to transform into a dragon, he found himself instinctively knowing
how to do it; how the muscular structure should work; how the scales should feel--
everything.

It has been a suspicion that each generation of dragons carry the memories of all their
ancestors before them, mused Merlin, when Harry had brought it to his attention. If this is
true, and if Bahamut was indeed a common ancestor of all dragons, then it would explain
your sudden understanding of a dragon's nature--both biological and instinctual. It appears
the first task was most fortuitous after all.

While Harry could manage certain things like the wings, or the scales, or even claws, he was
unable to do more than one transformation at a time. In the meanwhile, Ginny was busy
putting together her pieces. There was little doubt that she would manage her transformation
before him. He simply lacked enough power at the moment.

While the quartet worked on their spellcasting and side projects, Neville had been working on
a side project of his own. On the last day of the term, he'd finally asked Hermione to the Yule
Ball--only to have her politely decline. Harry was surprised, though Ginny only registered
sympathy through the link.

"What's wrong with Neville?" Ron asked, once the other boy had trudged in defeat towards
the boys' staircase. "He's a good bloke."

"I'm going with someone else," sniffed Hermione.

Ron laughed. "C'mon, Hermione, I know you just said that to get rid of him. Really, why not
go with him?"

"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's
taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared blankly at her. Suddenly there was a dawning comprehension in his face that
she was, in fact, a girl.

"Really?" he said in a slow voice. "Who're you going with then?"

"That's none of your business," snapped Hermione as she once again left for the girls'
dormitories.

"She's lying," concluded Ron after a moment. "Has to be. Why else would she not tell us?
Poor thing. She'll have to go all alone. Dunno why she wouldn't go with Neville..."

Harry could think of a reason, but it wasn't one he could tell Ron. But then...why wasn't
Ginny surprised? Hadn't she wanted to get Neville to go with Hermione since Ron had asked
Lavender?

Ron continued to try and uncover the truth, popping the question at the most unexpected
moments--even trying to pressure Ginny to tell, until she threatened him with her Bat-Bogey
Hex. Ginny confided secretly to Harry that she knew who Hermione's date was, but
Hermione wanted it to be a surprise for the both of them. Not to mention she was truly a little
embarrassed about it, so she wanted to make as least as fuss as possible.
"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, overhearing Ron's question. "You're not telling me
someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"

Harry and Ron whirled around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's
shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"

Even though it had been Barty Crouch Jr. to change Malfoy into a ferret, that didn't stop the
pale boy from jumping back, trying to spy the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He'd
gone a handful of months thinking it'd been Moody, after all.

"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and the trio headed up
the stairs laughing heartily. There was an added sparkle of pride to her smiling eyes,
however, leaving Harry to wonder just who Hermione's date was.

*****

Christmas finally rolled around, with Harry receiving the shock of his life. Dobby had been
looming over his head when he awoke. The fright and panic that shot through Harry's system
ended up shooting Dobby halfway across the room. Unsurprisingly, Dobby got up with a
smile, praising Harry's great power.

Sheepishly, he accepted Dobby's gift of socks, and then passed the excitable house-elf the old
pair of Uncle Vernon's he kept in his trunk. Ron mixed it up a bit with a pair of socks that
Mrs. Weasley had sent him. He didn't give Dobby his Weasley jumper, however, but rather
slipped it over his head with something akin to pride for a change.

Mrs. Weasley had knitted similar jumpers for both Harry and Ron--a dragon was pictured on
each of them. Apparently, she'd gotten over her initial worry for Ron's well-being. Ron had
likewise forgiven his mother for sending the Howler.

In addition to Mrs. Weasley's usual package, he'd received a bag of Dungbombs from Ron; a
box of his favourite sweets from Hagrid; and a Quidditch book from Hermione. Sirius had
gone overboard again by giving Harry the keys to his very own motorcycle--an import, no
less. Until Harry could take it out for drives--ignoring the legality of the issue--he'd also
enclosed a model of the 1994 Honda Shadow VLX Deluxe. Remus had given Harry defence
books, while Tonks had given him a modest collection of music including the latest Weird
Sisters album.

Merlin gave a set of blue-gray robes designed to be more functional in the Triwizard
Tournament than the simple school robes he'd been using so far. Ginny had given Harry a
new face for the watch Merlin had given him for his birthday. It was a duplicate of the
Weasley family clock, only it had Merlin, Sirius, Remus, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.

The moment Harry came down the stairs, he found himself almost toppled over by a sea of
red hair. Harry laughed and returned the embrace as best he could while keeping his balance.
Something was pressing his spine and the back of his head. It was his Christmas present to
Ginny.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Harry realized Ginny was saying. He pulled back to
spy her shining face. "How long did it take you to make it? How did you make it? How fast
does it go? Can we go now?"

Harry laughed and removed the object that was making their hug uncomfortable. It was a
broomstick made of a reddish wood, somewhat shorter than Harry's Firebolt. The bristles
were bound tightly and swooped back with a slight curve. They seemed to have been sprayed
with a fine mist of gold that winked in the morning light. Firefly was written in gold along
the handle in Merlin's archaic cursive.

"I bought the toy Firebolt from the Quidditch World Cup," explained Harry. "I stripped it
down so that I could see how it worked, and then I tried to just reverse engineer what they
did. I've been working on it the whole time."

"I love it," gushed Ginny, alternating her gaze from the broom to Harry. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Harry chuckled, drawing her into a kiss.

"Oi," said Ron, pulling a face at their kiss. "There'll be plenty of time for you two to suck
face at the Yule Ball, yeah? No need to be doing it in front of me."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at her older brother. So did Harry, but for an entirely different
reason.

Ron had scratched at his neck. In doing so, he pulled down the collar of his new jumper
slightly, revealing a flash of gold. Like a Quidditch match, Harry's hand reached out on
instinct to pinch the heavy golden chain between his fingers.

"Hang on, what's this?" said Harry in confusion. The twins padded down the stairs at that
moment, and Ron twisted away to present his back to them. Harry doggedly kept a grip on
the chain, however, and managed to yank more of it out of the collar. Ginny and Hermione
took a step back from the wild thrashing going on between the two boys. Because the chain
was so thick, Ron couldn't budge free as long as Harry kept his fingers curled under it.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," bade Fred in greeting, noticing Ron's writhing and the flashes of
gold that stood out against Ron's red hair and pale neck. He sent a silent request over to
George, who nodded in return.

"Happy--Christmas," said a struggling Harry in reply. He was being jerked around by Ron's
movements being both shorter and lighter than his friend. "C'mon, Ron, who sent that to
you?"

"Nothing! No one! Gerroff!" grumbled Ron, drawing into a tight, protective curl.

Fred and George prodded Ron's ribs with the tips of their wand, sending him jumping up in
surprise. At the same moment, Harry lifted his hand to pull what had to be the heaviest
medallion he had ever felt out from Ron's collar.

"Ah, teamwork," said Fred, clasping Harry's shoulder as they came around to inspect Ron's
hidden gift.

"Can't go against three teammates, Ron," admonished George, waggling his finger at his
younger brother.

They stared down at the chain, which held Ron rooted to his spot like a pet dog, and the big,
stylised, gold letters that spelled out My Sweetheart. As one, Fred, George and Harry turned
their eyes up at Ron.

"Ron--"

"--who gave--"

"--you this?"

"Now that's spooky," commented Ginny as she moved to come around behind Harry, Fred,
and George to read the medallion too. "I don't think Mum can handle the twins becoming
triplets."

Ginny and Hermione peered at the chain Harry was holding. Their eyes scanned the
grotesquely cute letters, then ran back up the length of the chain to Ron's purple face, then
back to the twins.

"Did you give this to him?" Ginny had to ask.

"Why would we waste Galleons on that?" pointed out George.

"We've got our stock to build up," Fred reminded them.

"Did any of you get such an expensive gift from us this year?"

"Did any of you ever get an expensive gift from us period?"

"And need we remind you that we were just as curious as you?" they finished simultaneously.

"So--"

"Ron!" came the cry of Lavender as she sprinted down the girls' staircase. She slammed
against Ron in a very Hermione-ish hug. "Happy Christmas!"

"H-ha-happy Christmas," stammered Ron as his voice cracked; one hand hovering just over
Lavender's back in a sort of reflex gesture. Lavender kept her arms around Ron's neck and
turned to see everyone examining the chain. "Oh, you're showing off my gift? How sweet of
you!"

Harry let go of the chain as if it might burn him any moment. It fell against Lavender's arm
with a thud, and she removed one of her arms so she could handle it. She beamed proudly, all
the while sending dreamy looks towards Ron.

Hermione's eyes narrowed into smouldering slits, and Harry felt the hairs on the nape of his
neck prickle.

"C'mon, Hermione," said Ginny quickly, looping her arm through her friend's. "Let's get
changed and head down to breakfast..."

It took three tugs from Ginny to finally get the girl to budge. Harry had surreptitiously built a
magical barrier between Lavender and Hermione--just in case.

"But--but L-Lavender--"

"Ooo, ickle Ronniekins has a girlfriend," grinned Fred wickedly.

"Harry and Ginny--Ron and Lavender...oh they grow up so fast," said George, mopping at
imaginary tears.

Ron's face was in danger of overheating. He opened his mouth wide, and Harry had an
inkling as to what he was about to shout out unthinkingly. With Lavender standing beside
him, it wouldn't be a good idea to go screaming that she wasn't his girlfriend.

"Let's go--um--grab some breakfast too, Ron," said Harry hurriedly, pulling at Ron's free
shoulder. "'Scuse us, Lavender. Maybe we can go for a turn out on my Firebolt after?"

"Ye--yeah!" said Ron, noting Harry's glance and jumping to the correct conclusion.

Once they were up in the boys' dormitory, Ron flung his back against the door with the most
panicked expression Harry had ever seen.

"What's wrong?" asked Neville, poking his head out from a modest pile of wrapping paper--
Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron had all included Neville in their gift giving this year.

"Lavender thinks I'm her--her boyfriend," said Ron.

Neville scrunched up his brow. "I thought you were her boyfriend! She's been sitting with us
in Divination ever since you asked her to the Yule Ball."

"So?" Ron asked blankly.

"So she's laughed at your jokes--even the ones about Trelawney and Divination..."

Ron's jaw fell to the ground while Harry's eyebrows rose to the ceiling. Harry turned an
incredulous look upon Ron. How had Ron not noticed Lavender's growing attraction?
Laughing at Ron's complaints about her favourite subject? That's a pretty big sign.

"But...but..." Ron stammered, looking helplessly from Harry to Neville. "I never wanted
to date Lavender, I just wanted her to be my date!"

"Did you tell Lavender that?" said Harry.

"I thought she knew!" exclaimed a surprised Ron.

"Obviously not," sighed Harry. "I reckon there's nothing else for you to do but tell her..."

"On Christmas? The day of the Yule Ball?" blurted out Ron, now turning a critical look upon
Harry. "I'm not that bloody thick, Harry!"

Harry had to admit that Ron had a point. The timing of things could be better. Still...

"I'll do it--I'll do it before the start of term, I promise," Ron vowed, correctly interpreting
Harry's resolute look. "I can't very well do it tomorrow either. That's not any better than
today, is it?"

"I suppose not," sighed Harry.

*****

They spent the remainder of Christmas Day out on the grounds. Harry and Ginny took their
brooms out for a spin and an impromptu game of tag while Neville, Ron, and Hermione all
amused themselves with their gifts in the stands. Harry did, however, allow Ron a turn on the
Firebolt so that both Weasleys could get some Quidditch practice in.

After a magnificent lunch, where Ron could no longer avoid Lavender, they again returned to
the grounds for a snowball fight, though Hermione chose not to participate. She then left
them three hours before the start of the ball to prepare, which surprised even Ginny.

"I guess she doesn't need my help," noted the redhead with something of a disappointed look.

"Who's she going out with?" Ron asked Ginny, hoping to catch her off guard. As things went,
it was Ginny who caught Ron off guard, as she answered back with a snowball straight to his
face.

At seven o'clock, the boys finally made their way back up to the common room, with Ginny
having left them half an hour previously. Harry admired himself in the full-length mirror,
perhaps the only time he'd ever do so. His black robes, a birthday gift from Sirius, were so
dark that they made his hair a little light by contrast. The white tunic beneath the
predominantly black outer robe seemed to almost glow with an otherworldly haze. He was
almost princely in his attire, although there was nothing to be done about his hair.

"Why couldn't have I had that?" groused Ron in a resigned way. He tugged at his sleeves,
looking like a very tall cherry. Somehow, he lacked the poise to carry off the look like
Lockhart had. Harry thought it was probably due to the defeated slump of his shoulders,
which, in turn, might be due to the medallion Ron had around his neck. Thankfully, he kept it
tucked under his dress robes.

They met their dates in the common room, which had turned in a strange sea of colour instead
of the usual mass of black. Harry stopped at the last step. Ginny looked like a princess in the
white dress robes with just a hint of green. The platinum wrap was draped elegantly over her
svelte arms and accented all of the curves she was developing. She looked like she could pass
for a seventh year, but then again, so did Harry.

Ginny turned from her conversation with Vicky Frobisher, who'd managed to get a date with
Dean Thomas. Demelza and Colin had likewise stayed over for the Christmas holidays to get
all the details they could. Colin had gone a step further by rushing around the common room
with his camera in hand, snapping pictures of all the couples, or just catching candids of
people talking.

"You look--wow..." breathed Harry, bringing a satisfied blush to Ginny's cheeks.

"So do you," murmured Ginny, running her tapered fingers over the lapels of his dress robe
and the clasp of his mantled cloak.

"Where's Hermione?" said Ron, looking around. Harry blinked and began to look around as
well. Even though she'd retired three hours before the start of the ball, there was absolutely
no sign of their friend anywhere.

Ginny, to whom the question was surely addressed to, only shrugged and dragged Harry over
to Colin. As they posed for a picture, Lavender had descended in golden robes to compliment
Ron's red, making them a true Gryffindor couple. She was accompanied with Parvati in robes
of shocking pink, but there was no sign of Hermione.

Ron almost declined a photo, but Ginny, Fred, and George slyly pointed out that Mrs.
Weasley would like to have one. Not to mention that Lavender was practically yanking Ron's
arm out to get him at Colin, whose services had grown very popular.

Once the pictures were taken, they all marched down to the entrance hall, which was just as
multicoloured as the common room back in Gryffindor Tower. Parvati bade goodbye to
Lavender and made her way towards the Beauxbatons students. Fleur had led them in
wearing satin robes of silver-gray and with Roger Davies on her arm.

"Hi, Harry!" called out Neville, dressed in smart, black dress robes of his own, though not as
expensive as Harry's. He did look much slimmer, however. "Wow, you lot look great."

"So do you, Neville," replied Ginny. "Where's your date?"

"Oh, Seamus and I are waiting for them," Neville said with a shrug, casting another look
around the entrance hall. Making sure Ron and Lavender were out of earshot, he leaned
forward conspiratorially and said, "He was going to ask Lavender, but Ron beat him to it. So
he ended up asking Hannah Abbott, but she'd only go if someone would go with Susan
Bones..."

Harry only knew both Hufflepuffs in passing. Hannah and Susan were in Herbology with
them, while Susan was also in his Arithmancy class. He was glad Neville had managed to
find a date. Through the crowd, Harry saw some of the other couples--Malfoy had come with
Parkinson, of course, though in their matching moss-green robes, it seemed like Crabbe and
Goyle had come with each other too; Cedric and Cho mingled happily through the crowd,
making a pleasant looking couple; Fred and Angelina were speaking with their Quidditch
teammates, but George was surprisingly alone.

"George doesn't have a date?" Harry asked of Ginny.

"He wants his dance card open," Ginny answered with a roll of her eyes.

McGonagall called over the champions and told them they would enter in a procession after
everyone else. Fleur and a stupefied Roger had positioned themselves first, just beating out
Ron and Lavender, much to her disappointment. Viktor Krum stood by Harry with his date.
Harry got a chance to get a good look at her. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

"Hi, Harry!" she said with a nervous smile. "Hi, Ginny!"

Ginny was just as gobsmacked as Harry. Hermione's bushy hair was sleek and shiny, and
twisted up into an elegant knot. Much like Harry and Ginny, the addition of dress robes made
Hermione carry herself differently. Combined with the reduction of her teeth, she almost
looked like a different person.

Soon Ginny mastered her shock and gave a sly look towards Ron's oblivious back. Ron's
reaction would be priceless, making Harry wish he had his camera to capture it. He thought it
might be something like Pansy Parkinson's look as she walked by with an equally floored
Malfoy.

"Her--Hermione?" said Ron in a strangled voice once they were all seated at the head table
with Professor Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Ludo Bagman, and Percy.
Lavender's jaw looked like it might've fallen right into the goblet of water she was holding.

For the rest of dinner, Ron spent his time ignoring Lavender and glaring daggers at Hermione
and Krum. Ginny, for her part, spent her time glaring daggers at Ron whenever there was a
lull in the conversation. Harry would've liked to have kept the menu and hide behind it. He
had a bad feeling about how things would end.

Ron's look of loathing--and what Harry thought might've been jealousy--only deepened when
Hermione tried to teach Krum how to say her name properly; he kept calling her "Hermy-
own," which brought on a derisive sort of smile on Ron's face. It continued on when he
managed "Herm-own-ninny," but crumpled when Hermione grinned at Harry, apparently
enjoying the way Krum said her name.

All of Tonks's lessons had paid off when he guided Ginny across the dance floor. They, along
with Fleur and Roger, were the most elegant of the four couples. Harry couldn't resist
shooting a smirk down at Ginny's incredulous expression. Ron's jerky motions might've been
due to the fact that he didn't know whether to avoid Krum and Hermione, or stick close to
them. Krum, on the other hand, didn't look like he was as graceful on the ground as he was on
a broom.

"Oh my..." gasped Ginny, full of humour, once they were alone on the dance floor. He knew
what she was speaking about, however.

"I know," said Harry, shaking his head slightly. "He doesn't like Lavender in that way. I
asked. He just wanted a pretty date to the ball."

"Prat," muttered Ginny. "But why's he jealous? Is he jealous because he likes Hermione and
has only realized it now? Or is he jealous because she's Krum's date? Or..." Ginny let out a
frustrated huff. "Sometimes I don't understand my brother."

Moments later, other couples joined them. The sight of Dumbledore dancing with Madame
Maxime sent laughter flowing through both teens. Moody's magical eye passed over Harry as
they danced close to him and Professor Sinistra.

"Nice socks, Potter," Moody growled. Harry started. He'd forgotten that he still had Dobby's
gift on.

"Oh--yeah, Dobby the house-elf knitted them for me," said Harry, grinning.

"Oh?" questioned Ginny. Harry tugged up the hem of his robes to show off the mismatched
socks. Ginny laughed appreciatively. "Only you could wear those things at a formal occasion,
Harry."

"Only you would let me," Harry smiled back. "Well," amended Harry, glancing over to where
Fred and Angelina were dancing exuberantly, "maybe the twins could pull if off."

They stayed on the floor for three more songs before moving to grab refreshments and a seat
at the empty tables against the walls. Not far from them, Neville and Susan were likewise
taking a rest. Susan was leaning against Neville's arm as he muttered apologies to her. She
simply smiled lazily and shrugged them aside; however, whenever he turned away, Susan
would move to massage her feet.

"Poor Susan," remarked Harry, sipping at his butterbeer.

"At least Neville's trying," conceded Ginny. "And at least Susan's letting him try." No sooner
had she spoken than Harry heard Neville ask her for another dance. Susan tried to decline
politely, but Neville's low self-esteem immediately honed in on the correct reason. "Oh... I
think maybe I'll dance with him just once."

"I'll rub your feet when you come back," deadpanned Harry.

"I don't know whether to smack you for insulting Neville or kiss you for the offer," Ginny
laughed as she set her butterbeer on the table; her eyes danced like the fairy lights and she
leaned in to kiss him. "I'll be back."

Harry watched Ginny approach Neville to ask him to dance. Susan looked like she wanted to
warn Ginny, but a sharp glance from the younger redhead told her she knew what she was
getting into. Susan shot Ginny a grateful smile and then pushed Neville to dance.

Hermione and Krum made their way from the dance floor at that particular moment. Try as
Ron might--and Ron was certainly trying--he couldn't extricate himself from Lavender's firm
grip. She seemed to enjoy leading him around the dance floor like a show pony.

Harry tried not to laugh, but in a queer way they seemed to fit--Lavender obviously enjoyed
the attention just a much as Ron craved it. Unfortunately Ron had other agendas on his mind
that night, which distracted him from what might've been an ideal evening otherwise.

"Hermione," called out Harry brightly as they neared. He rose from his chair and turned to
address Krum. "May I?"

Krum seemed surly and reluctant to allow Harry, his competition, to dance with her and shot
a questioning glance over to Hermione.

"Viktor and I were going to get some refreshments," Hermione explained pleasantly.

"Oh, just one dance," said Harry, more to Krum than to Hermione.

"Very vell," bowed Viktor. "I vill get the drinks."

"Thank you, Viktor," said Hermione, allowing Harry to escort her back to the dance floor.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Harry.

"Immensely. Viktor is very polite and quite the gentleman," Hermione told him. She meant
every word too. Harry saw it in her eyes. Even if she wished her date to be Ron, Hermione
was making the most of the situation and was enjoying herself.

"I'm sure he is, Herm-own-ninny," teased Harry.

"Harry!" laughed Hermione. "He's trying. And English isn't his first language, and my name
isn't the easiest to manage. Even I had difficulties as a child..."

Harry snorted, trying to bring that picture to mind.

"I'm sorry about Ron," said Harry solemnly. The smile faltered in Hermione's face for just a
second. "If it helps any, you've certainly got his attention now. You look smashing tonight,
by the way."

He steered them so that Hermione could spy Ron staring at them from over Lavender's
shoulder.

"Thank you, Harry. You're not so bad yourself. As they say, you clean up nicely," Hermione
said in return. "But it doesn't matter," she sighed dejectedly. "He just wanted a date that
looked good; he doesn't care about anything else. He's just so...so...shallow. He has the
emotional range of a teaspoon!"

Harry very nearly tripped over Hermione's feet at that. It'd taken all of his will power not to
let out an embarrassingly huge laugh. Fortunately, the song ended at that moment and they
could break apart with a bow.

"Thank you for the dance, Harry," Hermione said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'd
better find Viktor."

A quick scan of the dance floor showed that neither Ginny nor Neville were anywhere to be
seen.

"I'll come with," said Harry. "Ginny sacrificed herself to dance with Neville. I owe her a foot
massage."

"Neville can't be that horrible," admonished Hermione, allowing Harry to escort her off the
floor, but there was an uncertainty to her words.
"You didn't see Susan's feet."

"I'm glad he has a date," Hermione confided in Harry. "I really did feel horrible about turning
him down. I wanted to tell him that I was going with Viktor, but I didn't want the rest of the
school to know and make it out to be something that it wasn't."

"And you wanted to surprise the hell out of Ron," snickered Harry. Hermione kept silent, but
a small, sly smile crept over her face.

"Language, Harry," she admonished belatedly as they neared the tables. "I think the Weasleys
are a bad influence on you--the youngest more than any."

"I don't know about that," temporised Harry. He was now grinning broadly as they
approached Ginny, who kept shuffling her feet around and biting her lower lip so that she
didn't wince.

"Five times," stated Ginny towards Harry. Harry clucked his tongue sympathetically as he
moved into the chair beside her. He picked up her legs and slipped off her shoes. He was
surprised to find her wearing white stockings over them and unconsciously drew in a sharp
breath as his hands roamed over her smooth feet and ankles. Ginny, however, heard it and
blushed a little at his reaction.

"Hermione," she said in an attempt to distract herself, "are you enjoying yourself? Where's
Viktor?"

"I left him to get drinks while I took a turn with your boyfriend," Hermione explained as she
fanned herself and sat down on the opposite side of Ginny. "He dances marvellously, by the
way."

"I know," said Ginny, shooting Harry a pointed look; Harry ignored it and worked his thumb
in circular motions along the ball and heel of her feet. "I half-expected to be doing this after
our first dance."

"Hey!" protested Harry mildly, much to the laughter of the two girls. An ominous shadow fell
over the three of them, silencing their laughter. When Harry turned, he saw Ron standing all
alone in front of them. Somehow he'd managed to free himself of Lavender. Harry noticed
every muscle around his eyes was straining to keep him from looking at Hermione.

"Good job, mate, getting Hermione away from Krum like you did," he announced in a gruff
voice.

"What?" sputtered Harry, almost falling out of his chair in shock.

"Ron," scowled Hermione as she started to rise from her chair. "Viktor and I were taking a
break. Harry, as a good friend, wanted to dance with me, so I let Viktor get us some
refreshments."

Ron finally took notice of her and shot her a withering look. "Viktor?" he said. "Hasn't he
asked you to call him Vicky yet?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she said, though Harry thought he
might've detected a little bit of hope in her voice.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

That ambiguous answer was apparently all the confirmation Hermione needed. She turned a
secret smile to Harry and Ginny. Ron was jealous because Krum was with her and he wasn't.
That jealousy had given Ron a big wake-up call. Harry thought that if Ron had a beast like
his, it would put it to shame by this point.

It was a good thing, in that case, that neither Ron nor Hermione were sufficiently skilled with
wandless magic to cause any incidents--at least, Harry hoped so.

Ron was not content to glower in silence.

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron lividly. "He's competing against Harry!
Against me! Against Hogwarts! You--you're--" Ron was obviously casting around for words
strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're
doing!"

Three sets of mouths fell open. None of them suspected Ron to lie about the cause of his
agitation...or was Ron lying? Did he have feelings for Hermione? Now Harry wasn't so sure,
and even Hermione had a good amount of doubt in her eyes. Ginny, however--

"Have you gone completely around the bend?" snapped Ginny. Harry tried to keep her in her
seat. Her phoenix was beating its wings furiously. It was taking the bulk of his concentration
to keep Ginny from lashing out with her magic.

"Don't be so stupid!" said Hermione on the heels of Ginny's statement, having regained her
composure. "The enemy! Honestly--who was the one who was all excited when they saw him
arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their
dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore her statement and instead answered, "I s'pose he asked you to come with
him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, sporting pink patches on her cheeks. "So what?"

"What happened--trying to get his opinion on house-elf rights?"

"No, although Viktor does agree that some people can be horrid in their treatment of them,
Professor Karkaroff especially! If you really want to know, he--he said he'd been coming up
to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the
courage!"

Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she began to resemble Parvati's
robes.

"Yeah, well--that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" chorused Hermione and Ginny.

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with...
He's just trying to get closer to--to me--get inside information on me--or get near enough to
jinx me--"

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. Ginny looked as though she was ready to
slap Ron--or worse. Harry, for his part, thought that Ron had given himself away. If he
wanted to hide his feelings for Hermione, he would've covered it up by saying "us," referring
to himself and Harry. Then again, Harry reasoned that Ron could be wrapped up in himself
again...

"Do you hear yourself?" roared Ginny, rising up from her chair. "Did you hear how many
'me's you said in that sentence? I swear, Ronald, you're growing to be as bad as Percy!"

Now it was Ron who looked as though he'd been slapped. Harry felt like sliding down under
the table as he realized people were looking at them, such as Neville and Susan. All they
needed was Rita Skeeter...

Hermione's voice quivered when she spoke before Ron could retort at Ginny. "For your
information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about you--or Harry--not one--"

Ron, remembering his anger was all directed towards Hermione and not Ginny, changed tack
at the speed of light as he rounded on her.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting
your heads together during those cosy little library sessions--"

There was no missing the hurt, anguish, and jealously pouring out of Ron as he undoubtedly
imagined such a scenario. The problem was that Harry was the only calm person to recognize
this. Hermione and Ron were too focused on their emotions, making everything pour out
truthfully as if their refreshments had been spiked with Veritaserum.

"I'd never help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "Never. How could
you say something like that--I want you to win the tournament! You know that, don't you,
Ron?"

Harry's brow rose at that, but he'd be lying if he said he was surprised by this point.

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron. That, Harry thought, was out of line
for Ron to say. He finally got out of his chair and tried to pull Ron away, but the tall boy
shrugged free of Harry's grip and got into Hermione's face.

"Don't you stick your ugly nose into Hermione's face," snapped Ginny, pushing her small
body between Ron and Hermione.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and
making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.
"No it isn't!" shouted Ron, elbowing Ginny out of the way to get back at
Hermione. That made Harry reconsider his earlier thoughts; no beast of Ron's could possibly
match the ire now roused in Harry's chest. "It's about winning!"

"Ron, so help me, if you say one more word I will hex you where you stand," growled Harry;
his hands trembled from their spot on Ginny's shoulders, where he'd placed them to steady
her.

A crack of lightning split the sky in the enchanted ceiling, causing a few girls to shriek out in
surprise. It was so intense that some people thought the lightning might actually burst through
the illusion. A chill wind, colder than the wintry frost outside, blew through the Great Hall.

Harry's protective instincts had reared the moment Ron had laid a hand on Ginny. Nothing
would steal or harm a dragon's treasure; a lesson Ron had apparently forgotten from the first
task. The magically infused authority of Harry's voice brought the argument to a grinding
halt.

"Harry," said Ginny softly. She'd turned around to stroke at his arms in a soothing way.
"Harry, sweetie, calm down--please."

Through their link, Ginny's phoenix was doing its best to calm the irate dragon through its
song. Harry, bolstered by Ginny's words, likewise tried to quell his instincts. He didn't want
to bring the Great Hall down around them.

A great shadow seemed to have removed itself from around the quartet, along with a sense of
phenomenal pressure that had been building up.

"I think we need some air," Ginny told Hermione and Ron over her shoulder. She then tugged
Harry away without another word to either friend. As they stormed out through the Great
Hall, Harry swatted at a stray beetle that had crossed their path.

*****

"Wotcher," said a bright voice that surprised Harry the moment Ginny dragged him out into
the garden created out in front.

"Tonks?" said Harry blankly, taking in the brunette before him with chiselled features that
jarred against the kind heart-shaped frame of her face. It was Remus's uncomfortable
presence beside her that confirmed it. "What're you--"

"Security detail," said Tonks pleasantly. "After the hoopla around Barty Crouch Jr., the
Ministry's decided to make sure an Auror detail is stationed around the grounds for every
Triwizard event. It just so happened I got myself the Yule Ball--and a handsome date to
boot!"

Remus, to Harry's amusement, blushed a little as he said in a deadpan, "Severus was most
displeased to find his job of chaperone taken. I believe he retreated back to his dungeon for
the rest of the evening."

"I thought there might've been some...disturbance in the Great Hall," said Tonks innocently.
"Remus and I were going to check it out."

"Is everything all right, Harry?" asked Remus in concern. Harry realized Remus was wearing
dress robes that were brand new. They made the gray in his hair look very dignified. Tonks,
by contrast, was wearing a dazzling purple set of dress robes.

"Fine," said Harry with a shake of his head; he then addressed Tonks mischievously, "though
you might want to check out the Great Hall--just to be thorough."

"Right, then," nodded Tonks, smiling in return. "Let's go, old man."

"Ah--but--Harry, are you sure--?"

"Go--dance," Harry urged; his eyes twinkled with silent laughter. Ginny made no pretence
about hiding her encouraging grin in the slightest. The tips of Remus's ears burned slightly,
but in a show of great composure, he took Tonks by the hand and led her through the castle
doors.

"So," said Ginny as they took a turn around the garden, stopping at a stone reindeer. That
gave them a good vantage point of the fountain that was currently occupied with Madame
Maxime and Hagrid.

"So," said Harry, wrapping his arms around Ginny as he leaned against the statue. "Do you
think Ron's jealous? Or did you believe what he said about the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I don't know," admitted Ginny, sinking into Harry's embrace. "I just can't believe the git
would ruin everything for everyone. As if he couldn't keep his big mouth shut for just one
night!"

"I know," sighed Harry, pressing his lips against Ginny's soft hair and breathing in her
flowery scent. It'd been much too long since he allowed himself the pleasure of tasting,
smelling, and feeling their connection--the earth, the smell, the wind... Somehow it was more
soothing than ever and a thousand times more potent.

"I wanted tonight to be perfect," Harry admitted.

"It was," Ginny assured him. "It is now."

A black beetle buzzed through the still air, making its way over towards the fountain. Harry
eyed it curiously. If he didn't know better, he'd swear it was the same beetle as before. But
that couldn't be. They were outside, after all. Surely there were a lot of bugs. But...Harry
couldn't hear anything except the sound of the fountain. There wasn't a bug to be heard for
miles.

"I think we can still catch a few more dances," suggested Harry after some time had passed.

"If you want," shrugged Ginny nonchalantly, but he saw the anticipation in her eyes. After
all, her last partner had been Neville. It would be nice to end things on a good note.

"Of course," Harry smiled down at her and drew her tight to his side.
When they entered back into the Great Hall, they saw Remus and Tonks dancing--or more
accurately, swaying in place--lost in each other's eyes. A satisfied smile tugged at Ginny's
lips. Hermione and Krum were back out on the dance floor, while Ron glowered in a corner.
Lavender, to Harry's surprise, was dancing with George of all people.

They danced together until midnight, at which point everyone cheered loudly for the Weird
Sisters before making their way towards the entrance hall. Even though it was midnight,
Harry almost didn't want the evening to end. He and Ginny practically dragged their feet
through the entrance hall. The evening had been magical, all the drama with Ron aside.
Despite their prolonged trek, they still found themselves before a snoozing Fat Lady sooner
than they'd have liked. Rather than fighting to get the portrait's attention, Harry and Ginny
teleported themselves through the threshold.

When they appeared, they spotted Ron and Hermione having a blazing row. Standing ten feet
apart, they were bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her
hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and
stormed up the girls' staircase to bed. Ginny, with a satisfied smirk, seemed like she was set
to applaud Hermione. Ron turned to look at Harry and Ginny.

"Well," he sputtered, looking thunderstruck; the medallion from Lavender had jarred loose
and was bouncing against his chest, "well--that just proves--completely missed the point--"

Seeing nothing but knowing smirks from Harry and Ginny, Ron scowled and fumbled
furiously with the clasp of the medallion. They heard Ron trudge up the boys' staircase, and
then a faint clunk of metal on stone. Once he was gone, Harry and Ginny turned to each other
and laughed aloud.

"Goodnight," murmured Ginny, curling herself against Harry's chest after all the laughter had
settled into peaceful silence.

"Goodnight," returned Harry. He wanted to kiss her, but he was sure he'd get carried away.
Which reminded him... "How did you stop the flowers from blooming?"

Ginny grinned, but stayed silent for a moment.

"Magic," she giggled. Harry gave out an exasperated groan. "I--I just focused on--on the
sensation of the kiss, you know, the physical part? I tried to ignore the sensation from the
link..."

"Oh," said Harry. It seemed so simple and logical.

"Thinking of practicing?" teased Ginny.

"Well I would like to kiss you goodnight without everyone finding out," Harry replied dryly.

"So what are you waiting for?"

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. Doing as Ginny said, he captured her lips in a kiss. He
tried to focus on the physical sensations--the soft strawberry wine of her lips, the satin feeling
of his fingertips on her cheek, the playful teasing of her tongue--but as their kiss continued to
deepen, Harry's concentration began to relax. Soon, he was lost in a current of sensations
both magical and physical.

For one as strong willed as Harry, it was almost frightening how lost he could find himself
with Ginny.

When the flushed teens finally broke their kiss, neither were surprised to find a change in the
common room. However, both were surprised to find the extent of the change. White flowers
blanketed the common room, stretching from the stairs to the common room entrance. The
fireplace was dead, and yet Harry could see everything clearly. Tiny green flames danced
above the centre of each blossom, reminding Harry of the green flames he'd seen in the vision
of his dragon. A song also carried through a breeze localized within the common room. It was
not at all like the phoenix song, but more like the low lullaby of a mother to her children.

"Um..."

"Wow..."

"We'd--ah--we'd better..."

"Yeah..."

The two blushing, yet amazed, teens worked at cleaning up the flowers before heading up to
bed. This time, however, it was Harry who saved a bloom, still with a glowing green flame
and a soft tune. He Conjured up a bell jar to place it in and handed it over to her.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny," said Harry.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

Yup. That is the reason for Ron's resentment this time around. He knows that Harry isn't
seeking glory, and, as he was in the canon, he's all right with Harry and Ginny's relationship,
though it's taken a little longer to get over the shock. Ron doesn't think he stands a chance of
beating Harry in the Triwizard Tournament. For Ron, it's his one big chance to get everything
he wants, and now it's ruined because he can't beat Harry--and worse, Harry doesn't even
want it in the first place.

As with many things Ron, the loathing comes from his own lack of self-esteem, which he
projects onto those around him--namely Harry and Hermione.

In any event, the first handful of drafts had Rita Skeeter being captured at the Yule Ball...of
course, the first few drafts were markedly different from the final story--the biggest change
being that Harry is now a Triwizard champion. Back then, I figured I could get away with
capturing Skeeter early since she had no influence at all with Harry, but this time...

Well, she'll still be captured earlier than canon, but I'm going to give her a parting shot.

George dancing with Lavender comes from a fanfic I never neither finished nor published. It
was a Post Hogwarts story incorporating HBP canon, and I was trying to come up with an
original pairing with George, as he's usually paired with Alicia, Katie, Padma, or even
Gabrielle. I was kinda pleased with complexity and depth to it, but don't expect that to show
up in this fic.

I've seen Firefly used as a nickname for Ginny in a few fics, but I always thought it fit better
as a broom name. Besides, if you haven't noticed already, my fic doesn't have any nicknames
other than the ones the twins come up with. And I suppose it is a backhanded reference to
Joss Whedon's tragically short-lived series Firefly.

I suppose I should also add that Barty Crouch Jr. did not get the Dementor's Kiss. Fudge only
did so because he was under the assumption that Barty was at Hogwarts to get at him. He is
serving a lifetime sentence in Azkaban along side the other Death Eaters.

Back to index

Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen: Encounter in the Deep

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Thirteen: Encounter in the Deep

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------
The following morning, Harry decided he could put off the golden egg no longer. Besides, he
needed an excuse to get out of the common room. After the Yule Ball, Ron and Hermione's
relationship had taken an odd turn. Neither could spend more than five minutes in the same
room together, yet they weren't angry with the other. Every time they made eye contact both
would invariably blush and duck away.

Lavender noticed the display between Ron and Hermione, which only made things all the
more uncomfortable around Gryffindor Tower. While any of the three were free to roam
around the grounds, neither showed any inclination to stray very far. Hermione in particular
was not keen to be seen around Viktor Krum now that she finally had Ron's attention, which
was the last thing Ron wanted anyway.

Unable to take the tension any longer, Harry and Ginny teleported over to Merlin’s
Hogsmeade home.

He was slumped in the creaky chair with a fair amount of dusty tomes scattered around his
ankles. His shoulder-length dark hair fell over his face in a tangled mess. A book lay in his
lap, clutched loosely in his left hand with his thumb acting as bookmark. His right hand was
curled around his staff, upon which his head leaned against. The map of Hogsmeade and the
Forbidden Forest was unfurled upon the table.

"Maybe we should come back later," whispered Harry, taking a cursory glance at the books.
Most of them were written in Avalonian runes, but others were in clear English. They were
Dark books, mostly in regards to ancient magic that dealt with the soul.

"Merely because I'm tired does not mean I'm old," murmured Merlin, just as the two teens
were about to turn away. His eyes were closed, but Harry thought they'd be smiling if they
were open. "And even if I were both tired and old, I would still very much appreciate a visit
from my two favourite pupils."

"We're your only pupils," Ginny bantered back.

"So you are," grinned Merlin, sweeping back his hair. He'd long since abandoned the pewter
circlet as it was quite archaic, but at the same time he couldn't abandon his long hair. "How
was the Yule Ball, by the way? Remus and Nymphadora passed through on their way back to
London. Any conflicts?"

Harry and Ginny shared a glance.

"That all depends," Harry shrugged. "I mean there was a thing with Ron..."

"Nothing with Mistress Skeeter?" frowned Merlin, leaning forward in his chair.

Harry and Ginny shared another look.

"We didn't see Rita Skeeter at the Yule Ball at all..." said Ginny.
"That's what Remus and Nymphadora said," sighed Merlin. "The map--" he gestured towards
the active parchment on the table, "warned me that Mistress Skeeter was on the grounds, but
as it was the Yule Ball, I thought she might have permission for a change. I was worried
when Remus and Nymphadora told me that they never saw her, but by that time the Yule Ball
had ended... The fact that neither of you saw her when she crossed your path twice worries
me more..."

"What? When?" asked Harry.

"Once when you were leaving the Great Hall, and again out in the gardens. She made her way
past you and Ginny towards Hagrid and Lady Maxime."

"But there wasn't anyone there! There was just..." Harry paused as he searched through his
maze for the relevant memories. "A bug... There was a beetle both times. I thought it was
strange because I couldn't hear any other insect, but at the time... And I would've seen her if
she were under an Invisibility Cloak..."

"She's another illegal Animagus," concluded Merlin. After Sirius and Wormtail, that was no
longer a far-fetched conclusion. "Strange how the animals most useful for espionage are the
ones easiest to transform into... You'd think with those two qualities, the Ministry might
regulate things a little better..."

"Then who knows what she might've heard!" gasped Ginny. "Or seen!"

"You're going to do something, right, Merlin?" Harry said.

"Mistress Skeeter is cunning enough to know that we have nothing without proof," said a
weary Merlin. "There are days when I find myself wishing to be back in the past. The kings
were greedy and power hungry, but at least they were idiots... Superstitious and cowardly, all
it would take was a grand enough spell to get their fear going... No, it would be best to
capture her in the act with irrefutable proof. Until then, I'm afraid you're going to have to
weather whatever storm she crafts."

"Great," said Harry sarcastically as he set the golden egg down upon the table.

"Ah, would that be the infamous golden egg?" said Merlin lightly, picking it up in both
hands.

"No, wait--don't!"

Harry's warning came too late, however, as Merlin had already opened the golden egg,
releasing its unholy noise of thirty musical saws amplified through a rather large sound
system. While Harry and Ginny immediately clamped their hands over their ears, Merlin just
winced for a moment, but then cocked his ear as if he was searching for something through
the screeching.

Rudely leaving the egg open, Merlin got up out of his chair and waved his staff over the
groaning floorboards. Harry watched the ground expand before his very eyes, and a deep
concave pit formed that was filled with clear water. Merlin grabbed the egg and threw it into
the makeshift poof, muffling the noise as effectively as if he'd shut the lid.
"What did you do?" said Harry, rubbing at his ears with the palms of his hands.

"I translated," deadpanned Merlin. "What you heard was Mermish, the language of the
merpeople who dwell at the bottom of the lake. Well, I should say that what you heard was
Mermish spoken out of its environment. In you go."

"Um..." Harry gestured down to his winter clothes. Not exactly the most conducive attire for
swimming.

"Are you a wizard or not?" remarked Merlin. He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.
There was a puff of smoke that swallowed up the three of them for a moment. When it
cleared it revealed them in swimming clothes. "Now--in."

Harry turned to Ginny, who shrugged her shoulders and hopped into the pool. Harry set his
glasses on the table and followed in after her. A chorus of eerie voices singing met his ears
the moment he submerged. They sang:

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour--the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

"'We've taken what you'll sorely miss?'" repeated Harry with a sense of dread, turning his
gaze upon Ginny's blurry form.

"Not terribly original, is it?" noted Merlin as he sat himself down on the edge, dangling his
feet in the water. "First you have to take the golden egg from a dragon, now you have to
retrieve a hostage from the lake, and we know from Master Barty that you must find the
Triwizard Cup in the third task. I suppose this was their idea of making it safe... Sounds a
little boring to me--ah, er, as a spectator, of course, not as a concerned guardian..."

"But Ginny..."

"Will be fine," Merlin assured him. "There are many spells to induce a lengthy sleep upon a
person."

"Sleeping Beauty," said Ginny with dawning comprehension.

"Precisely," nodded Merlin.

"Well," Harry said hesitantly, never removing his eyes from Ginny, "as long as she'll be all
right... That still leaves me an hour to look for her. I can't...Summon her?"
"If she's anchored to anything, that might prove harmful to her," pointed out Merlin. "No, I
think you'll have to bring yourself to her in some way."

"But I can't hold my breath for an hour!" exclaimed Harry.

"Stop thinking so one-dimensionally," Merlin chastised lightly. "There are many ways to
traverse the sea, and not all of them deal with you swimming. There are also many ways to
swim, and not all of them deal with holding your breath. Honestly, if Muggles could think to
package oxygen in pressurized tanks, you should know that wizards had long had their own
alternatives."

"You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions, would you?" Harry wondered.

"Of course--think," replied Merlin in a deadpan. "Put that mind of yours to use, Harry."

Ron, of course, waved off his golden egg, saying that he had plenty of time to figure out.
Keeping to their unspoken rule, Harry offered no hints and let Ron go about his own way.
He'd levelled the field by teaching Merlin's theories to Ron, but that was the extent of help to
be given.

Harry and Ginny did, however, disclose their suspicion that Rita Skeeter was an illegal,
unregistered Animagus, and had more than likely eavesdropped on what had gone on at the
Yule Ball. Naturally, both Ron and Hermione were horrified at the thought. They could all
remember what they'd said, and none of them looked forward to it being published.

For the rest of the winter holidays, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all waited anxiously for Rita
Skeeter's article to come out but it never did. Harry's anxiety was compounded with the fact
that he had to think up a way to breathe underwater for the second task.

"Relax, Harry," said Ginny as they went through their Animagus practice on the last night of
the holidays. She was only a few steps shy of mastering the form of her phoenix. Once she
accomplished that, she would need to work on mastering the abilities of a phoenix.

"Relax?" said Harry incredulously. "Ginny, you're going to be taken to the bottom of the
lake!"

"And I'll be fine," she assured him gently. "You know Dumbledore wouldn't have made the
task if it were dangerous. You heard Merlin, the tasks are downright tame compared to what
he'd seen before. And besides, even though I wouldn't like to be the damsel-in-distress again,
you did rescue me when it mattered. This--this is just some stupid game that you got trapped
in."

"But--I--I don't want to fail you," said Harry. "And--and if I didn't get to you, I know I'd feel
that way..."

Ginny smiled and shook her head.

"You're such a silly, sweet boy," she said with a mixture of exasperation and fondness,
reaching out to cup his downturned chin in her hand. "You couldn't ever fail me, Harry James
Potter."
Saying that, she brought their lips together in a kiss.

*****

On the first day of the new term, Rita Skeeter's bombshell finally dropped--or rather,
bombshells. The first of which appeared in the Daily Prophet, where she revealed to the
whole world that Hagrid was a half-giant, a fact that surprised Harry and Ron, but not
Hermione.

"Well, I thought he must be," she said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because
they're about twenty feet tall."

"I always thought he'd got in the way of a bad Engorgement Charm when he was a kid or
something. Didn't like to mention it..." Ron muttered.

"Really," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be
horrible. It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves...It's just bigotry,
isn't it?"

Ron looked as though he'd like to reply, but given the fact that both teens had been tiptoeing
around each other, he settled for shutting his mouth. Harry shook his head. Things would be
much easier if Ron would just square his feelings for Hermione. Glancing around the
Gryffindor table to where Lavender glared daggers at both Ron and Hermione, he thought it'd
be better for everyone.

As Harry had glanced around the Great Hall, he noted that Neville hurriedly piled a napkin
full of bread and left. Seconds later, Susan Bones likewise left the Hufflepuff table. A slight
smile came to Harry's face.

"I can't believe the things Malfoy said," growled Ginny in a low voice. "As if the little ferret
didn't learn his lesson the first time..."

"Hello," came a dreamy voice over the Gryffindor table. Harry looked up and spied Luna
Lovegood, complete with serene expression and radish earrings, drifting close to Ginny.

"Hi, Luna," greeted Ginny distractedly as she shut the Prophet. "Did you have a good
holiday? You should've stayed."

"That's all right," Luna waved off airily. "Have you seen this? The girls in Ravenclaw were
passing it around."

She dropped the latest issue of Witch Weekly in front of Ron. Warring for Love was the title,
and Rita Skeeter's name was on the byline. Pictures of Ron and Viktor Krum from the wand
weighing ceremony were framed with pink hearts, and the two were glaring at each other
across the page.

It was a real piece of work, making it seem like Ron and Krum were in the Triwizard
Tournament, not because of the prize, but because of Hermione. Worse still, because Pansy
Parkinson had been one of the people interviewed, it painted Hermione to be some attention-
seeking villainness. It insinuated--but not claimed--that she'd brewed a love potion to steal
Ron out from Lavender, wanting the attention from each Triwizard champion because of her
"plain" looks.

Harry was not spared either, thanks to his relationship with Ginny. His picture appeared on
another page, though both he and Ron were looking at each other in confusion, as if
wondering what they were doing in Witch Weekly. That section of the article painted Ron as
being a disapproving brother, who wanted to teach Harry a lesson for stealing away his sister
in a torrid love affair, which left Ginny in a fit of giggles.

"Well, now, so that's how things came about, eh, George?" said Fred as he marched over with
his twin.

"Dear Harry's been taking lessons from ol' Padfoot, and Hermione's the master of the love
potion," grinned George, taking a seat beside the quartet.

"A love potion!" exclaimed Fred, rapping his knuckles onto Ron's head. "So that explains the
thickness of our beloved brother."

"Oi! Knock if off you two!" groused Ron. "This is serious."

"We know," said George as he blithely buttered a piece of toast. "Why d'you think we're
joking about it?"

Despite Skeeter's attempts to sow dissent and chaos, those who were affected knew
differently. Though Lavender was still cold to Hermione, she knew the other girl would never
stoop to a love potion.

"Really though, that just makes things worse," Lavender admitted in Care of Magical
Creatures, where Hagrid was conspicuously absent. Professor Grubbly-Plank, Hagrid's
substitute, was showing off unicorns. "To know that Ron chose you over me, and you didn't
need anything..."

Hermione turned slightly pink and mumbled something to the effect that Ron hadn't chosen
her at all. Lavender laughed.

"Stop it, Hermione," she said sharply. "Even now, Ron can't keep his eyes off you."

Harry glanced around and noted that Lavender was right. Ron kept giving Hermione looks
when he thought no one else was watching from his spot over by Neville.

Malfoy, of course, was his unbearable self. There was something else about him though, like
an unknown quality that made his eyes shine even brighter. Harry didn't know what it was
that made Malfoy seem justified in his arrogance--or that made Pansy Parkinson want to keep
in constant contact with him for that matter--but he didn’t like it at all.

"I'm going to get him," said Harry savagely as he made his way up to Arithmancy with
Hermione.

"It's not worth it, Harry," she sighed wearily. "Just let it go."
"No," said Harry, clenching his fists in the pockets of his robes. "He can't keep doing this,
Hermione. I won't hurt him or anything--well, much--but..."

Harry trailed off as he noted Daphne Greengrass standing away from the other Arithmancy
students. She caught sight of Harry and Hermione, and for the first time ever, actually
addressed them.

"Malfoy's been unbearable, hasn't he?" she asked, which stopped both teens short. Greengrass
had a cultured voice that didn't sound at all very different from Hermione's. "It's as if
someone's given him an award, only none of us were invited to the ceremony."

"What of it?" said Harry shortly.

Greengrass arched her brow elegantly at Harry's rudeness, but didn't comment on it.

"I know how Ms. Skeeter's been gathering her information," she announced proudly. "Malfoy
and Parkinson haven't exactly been discrete about it, and neither Crabbe nor Goyle would
understand the concept of stealth--even if it were explained as icing on a cake."

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Harry, moving toward the now open door. "I know how
Skeeter's been doing things too. I'm just waiting for the...opportune moment. Besides, I'm not
dumb enough to make a deal with a Slytherin."

A slight scowl crossed Greengrass's fair face.

"One might argue you'd be foolish not to make a deal with a Slytherin," she countered,
following in behind Harry and Hermione. "And you, Granger, I thought you might have more
of an open mind. Surely you wouldn't be so prejudice to an entire house based on the actions
of a few bad seeds?"

Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Harry knew Greengrass had struck a nerve
with Hermione, and he couldn't help but praise her skill. Of course, respect didn't exactly
mean trust. Then again, he remembered that Greengrass hadn't ever made any remark towards
Harry like the other Slytherins, and while she'd worn the badge, she hadn't looked as if she
wanted to be put in that situation.

"We're sorry," Hermione apologized as they took their seats, "but Harry was telling the truth-
-we already know how Rita Skeeter gets her information. But, in the future, should you come
across any information that might be valuable to us, we would kindly hear you out."

Greengrass gave a slight nod and remained silent for the rest of the lesson.

Afterward, Harry and company tried to call on Hagrid, but their friend remained silent. It was
obvious that he was home for they could plainly hear Fang scratching and whining on the
other side of the door. Harry had half a mind to teleport into the hut, but if Hagrid needed
some alone time, then Harry wouldn't violate that--yet.

*****
The weeks went by as if someone had folded a calendar. Hagrid, after some persuading from
Professor Dumbledore, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had finally returned back to work.
Ron was in a panic over the golden egg, which he'd only begun to puzzle over. The four of
them had skipped the Hogsmeade weekend in January to work on their respective ideas.

"He's still been making moon eyes over her," scowled Ron over dinner one evening. There
was no questioning who the "he" was; Harry had found the right arm of his figure in the boys'
dormitory.

"What're you going to do about it?" said Harry. It was a rare sight to find Harry and Ron
sharing the same side of the table, but Ginny had needed to help Vicky and Demelza with a
Transfiguration essay.

"I don't know," admitted Ron. "What d'you reckon?"

Harry pursed his lips. He'd long wondered why Ron hadn't made a move with Hermione
when he was perfectly all right with asking out Lavender. Then again, he reasoned that Ron
had asked Lavender out for a date, not a relationship...

"Why haven't you done anything yet?" Harry asked instead of giving Ron an answer.

"Well it's Hermione, innit?" said Ron as if that explained the world. From the closed off way
he held his shoulders against his head, Harry knew he wasn't going to get anymore of an
answer out of Ron. That wasn't a whole lot to go on. "All right, how did you and my sister...
What made you..."

"It was something I just had to do," Harry shrugged. "I was scared, I'll admit. Ginny and I
were becoming great friends, and then everything...happened... I got scared and started to
push her away, which hurt--a lot. In the end, I decided to be a Gryffindor about things. I
admitted how I felt to Ginny, along with my insecurities, and we worked things out from
there. Just be honest about things, mate. It's worth it; I promise you."

He finished up dinner and left Ron to contemplate on a wealth of things--least of all the
golden egg. Idly, Harry wondered just who Ron would find at the bottom of the lake.

The day before the task, Fred and George came by to collect Hermione and Ginny. There was
little doubt on Harry's part why McGonagall wanted them, though he wondered about
Hermione. Was she going for Viktor? Or for Ron? Despite their talk, Ron had yet to do
anything. With a parting kiss, Harry allowed Ginny to leave, promising that he'd find her
quickly.

"Welcome to the second task!" boomed Bagman's voice. The lake had been transformed
somewhat as great stands had been conjured. The purpose was beyond Harry's understanding.
Save for Merlin or Moody, he doubted anyone would be able to see what went on. "Let's
recap the scores, shall we? Tied for first place, with forty points, are Harry Potter and Viktor
Krum! Trailing behind them with thirty-eight points is Ron Weasley, and rounding out the
four is Fleur Delacour with thirty-five! A close race--a close race, indeed! Anyone could be
in the lead after today's task!

"And what is today's task, you might all be wondering? Well our champions should know if
they solved their clues!" Bagman turned a particularly bright smile towards Ron, who
promptly dropped his gaze to his bare feet. "We've taken a certain treasure of each of the
champions and hidden them at the bottom of the lake!"

Bagman paused to allow the crowd to give a giant gasp.

"Our champions will have one hour to find their hostages and return to the surface," he
concluded. "On three, then! One...two...three!"

Without waiting to see what the other champions--Ron included--were doing, Harry sprinted
into the icy waters. He kicked open his vision and the dark depths of the lake became a most
wondrous cosmos of suspended light. Simultaneously, Harry created an almost skin-tight
shield.

It had been a painful trick to invent, but from his first water-free breath under the surface, he
found that it was very worth it. An artificial filter that operated around his body like gills on a
fish! He had needed an in depth understanding of how gills worked in order to duplicate it
without actually Transfiguring himself, which required many hours of study. In essence, it
could be considered a variation of the Bubble-Head Charm.

Down into the black depths Harry swam, weaving through towering weeds and avoiding the
grindylows as he went. A shockwave now and then kept the grindylows from being a
nuisance. Still, the lake was awfully big and teeming with life. It was hard for Harry to
clearly spy Ginny's aura through all the others.

A wild idea occurred to Harry. He stopped swimming for a moment and closed his eyes,
calling on the dragon deep within himself. Could it find Ginny? Could he find
her through the link? Even though she was unconscious, he could still feel her--their link was
still active; the phoenix was quiet, but there was something of it in his ears and in his heart.

Harry's eyes opened as the dragon within himself roused. In his mind's eye, could see it
sniffing around for Ginny, the very embodiment of his desire to find her. It pointed out the
direction for Harry to go, and he followed without question.

As they skimmed near the deepest crevices of the lake, one of which had to be where the
Durmstrang ship passed through, Harry's dragon roared wildly. Though he was submerged
deep under water, Harry swore he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. There was a
power here in the depths--a great power. It was so great, he felt as if he were enveloped in a
black cloud that sought to crush the blood through his skin.

Far down below in the chasm, Harry saw an ugly green light emerge. It grew bigger...and
bigger...and bigger, until he realized the light wasn't only growing bigger, it was also
growing longer. Whatever shape had awoken in the depths was clearly as large as the crevice
and more.

With incredible speed, a massive mountain rose from the depths, knocking Harry away by the
displaced water. But it wasn't a mountain at all, Harry realized. No, he was staring into the
giant face of a snake. Not even a thousand basilisks could compare to the size of the monster.
The head alone was big enough to swallow Hogwarts castle.
Harry toned down his sight to see things in better detail. All he could see, however, were a
pair of glowing red eyes that were bigger than Hagrid. Framing its wedge-shaped face were
great fins, and Harry could make out wicked points on the snake's ridged scales. Evil radiated
into the water from its body like poison.

A tongue darted out dangerously close to Harry's face.

My, my, hissed the serpent in Parseltongue. The vibrations in his voice rippled like little
earthquakes. How far you have wandered, little stripling. This is my domain, unworthy
inheritor. I do not take intruders lightly--least of all your kind.

Who--who are you? said Harry, switching unconsciously over to Parseltongue. Something
told him this beast was not a part of the task. Something also told him that fight or fly, there
was nothing he could do to stop the gargantuan serpent if it wanted to strike.

The snake gave a slow, lazy blink and drew back its head. It began to rotate around Harry,
trying to examine him from all angles.

You are a most perplexing creature, the serpent hissed at last, heedless to Harry's
inquiry. You bear a most interesting balance, little stripling. For the darkness in you, I will
allow you to pass, but I wonder what will be of our next meeting...

The serpent sunk into the depths like a cloud of soot washing out in the breeze. It never once
broke eye contact with Harry, however, leaving the young teenager very shaken by his
encounter. How long Harry floated there, staring down into the abyss, he had no idea. Long
after the snake was gone, he wondered if it'd even been there.

Gathering himself together, he swam along. He allowed his instincts to pull him as the higher
functions of his mind had shut down. He gradually became aware of the mersong floating
through the water.

"An hour long you'll have to look

And to recover what we took.
Your time's half gone, so tarry not
Lest what you seek stays here to rot..."

Harry gave a shiver and fumbled in the pocket of his swim trunks for his watch. He clicked it
open and turned the knob to switch faces. Ginny and Hermione's hands were resting on
"Asleep," while Ron's was on "Travelling." Spurred on by the knowledge that his friends
were all safe, Harry continued on with the task, pushing his encounter in the deep as far from
his mind as possible.

Not long after, he came upon the merpeople village, where Ginny, Hermione, Fleur's sister,
and--to Harry's great surprise--Lavender were tethered to a giant statue of a merperson. There
was little doubt that Lavender had to be Ron's treasure, even though Harry knew it wasn't
true. But then the staff wouldn't know that. All they would know is what they saw at the Yule
Ball, and what they read in Rita Skeeter's article.
Harry wasted little time in cutting loose Ginny and grabbing her round her waist, but he
hesitated in his return journey. Where was everyone else? Ron was on his way, and it's
entirely conceivable that he could've gotten lost, but what about Fleur and Krum? Had they
encountered that...thing?

Suddenly, Ron's red hair showed through the muddy waters like a beacon. Harry had to blink
to take in his mate's new appearance. Ron was sporting gills and webbed fingers and toes.
Harry had no idea how he had managed such a transformation.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but only a giant bubble emerged; he settled for waving at
Harry.

"Vicky and Fleur should be coming," he mouthed slowly to Harry. Harry nodded in return,
feeling visibly relieved until Ron tensed up. His blue eyes were dancing from Hermione's
form to Lavender's.

"Hurry up, mate," said Harry, giving Ron's shoulder a squeeze, and with that, he teleported
straight to the shore.

*****

"Oh my!" was the first thing Harry heard as he teleported quite close to Ludo Bagman. Harry
winced and pulled away from the man's amplified voice. Ginny let out a startled gasp as she
had awoken to a very disorienting scene.

Their appeared so abruptly that the crowd was too shocked to react. Harry thought they might
have this reaction for the third task if things kept going they way they were.

"And Harry Potter is the first of our champions to return with their treasure!" boomed
Bagman, which seemed to rouse the crowd into a raucous applause. A very pale Percy had
immediately run over to check on Ginny. "And he once again manages to do so in a
most extraordinary way!"

"I knew you could do it, Harry," beamed Ginny, planting a quick kiss on the corner of Harry's
lip, but Harry didn't feel like celebrating at all. The encounter with the giant serpent left him
drained on an emotional and mental level. Never before had the feeling of helplessness
reached its fingers so deep into Harry's mind.

And what did it mean by the darkness within him?

"Harry?" whispered a concerned Ginny.

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry before he could think and dragged
him up the bank until he was standing by Fleur, who had cuts on her face and her robes were
torn. "Well, Mr. Potter, this one--" Madam Pomfrey tossed her head towards Fleur, "won't let
me treat her, but I think you know the routine..."

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled and dried himself off with just a thought.

"Honestly, boy, you're soaking--my word..." breathed Madam Pomfrey as she patted Harry's
hair and shoulders. Not a drop of water could be found on him, and his skin was quite warm.
"Well it's still February, Mr. Potter. Take a towel before you freeze..."

"Gabrielle," moaned Fleur piteously, gazing out towards the tranquil surface of the lake.
Harry understood at that moment. She'd been forced to return to the surface and the failure
was tearing at her. He could relate. He'd probably be in the very same state if he'd failed to
rescue Ginny.

"She's fine," said Harry softly, catching Fleur's attention. "The hostages...they're all fine.
They're just sleeping. I'm sure the merpeople will return your sister to the surface once the
time limit is up."

"Harry's right," said Ginny, who seemed to have soften in her opinion on Fleur just slightly.
"Dumbledore explained it to us. We'd be put to sleep and the merpeople would carry us down
to their village. If we weren't found within the time limit, the merpeople would carry us back
up."

Fleur tried to work her mouth, but she was too overcome with relief. She instead settled for
planting two tearful kisses onto Harry's cheeks, much to Ginny's irritation. Although that
irritation vanished into shock when Fleur turned to Ginny and planted two kisses on the
younger girl's cheeks.

"You are very lucky," Harry heard her whisper to Ginny and tried not to blush.

"She's not bad, really," Ginny admitted once Fleur had finally allowed Madam Pomfrey to
check on her.

They stood on the banks, waiting for the other champions to come out. Just before the time
limit expired, Harry saw Ron break through the surface of the lake dragging--
Hermione! Harry and Ginny started in shock, and even Bagman seemed at a loss for words.
Karkaroff, however, was beyond incensed.

"She is not his treasure!" he complained loudly to his fellow judges. "I demand him to be
disqualified! He has sabotaged Viktor's chance! This is an outrage!"

Hermione was too shocked for words as she accompanied a soaked Ron out of the lake. He
tried to speak, only to realize that he still had gills and needed water...

"Ah, allow me, Mr. Weasley," said Professor Dumbledore. With a flick of his wand, a spout
of water was pulled out from the lake and enveloped Ron.

"I don't care about Vicky--Percy, gerroff, I'm all right!" said Ron heatedly, marching straight
for Karkaroff. "I care about Hermione! I wasn't about to leave her behind!"

"Ron..." said an awed, flattered, and speechless Hermione. A faint trace of pink showed up
over her pale cheeks.

"The rules--"

"What rules?" argued Ron. "You never told us who our treasured thing would be! Harry
already had my sister, so that left Hermione. I wasn't about to leave her like that!"

A slightly pained and haunted look filled Ron's eyes. It had been an eerie sight down in the
bottom of the lake, now that Harry could think back on it without seeing the gargantuan
serpent. Ginny floating in the dull green light, her head lolling lifelessly on her shoulders, and
surrounded by a group of fearsome merpeople brandishing spears...

"I believe we will await Mr. Krum's return before we reach a final decision on the matter,"
said Dumbledore with his hands up in the air, though Harry noted a twinkle in the old man's
eyes.

Viktor Krum did emerge not long after with an honour guard of merpeople around him,
bearing both Lavender and Gabrielle. He looked like some Transfiguration assignment gone
wrong as he struggled onto shore as a shark-man. Karkaroff rushed forward to Untransfigure
Krum and escort him to shore.

Madam Pomfrey ushered Krum, Lavender, and Gabrielle over to her, while the judges
conferred. Krum shot Ron a dirty look as he passed by.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision," said Ludo Bagman in his magically
amplified voice. "Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of
the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the
champions, as follows...

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was
attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We
award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head. Ginny patted Fleur's
shoulder awkwardly in commiseration.

"Harry Potter, who--well, we're not quite sure just how he managed to breathe underwater,
or...erm..." Bagman turned a questionable look towards the Merchieftaness. "Well, at any
rate, he showed a very original command of magic, and he is the only one to find his hostage
without difficulty and return to the surface within the time limit. We therefore award him the
full fifty points."

The crowd burst into a sudden applause that made Harry jump. Ginny flung her arms around
Harry's neck.

"Ronald Weasley used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned third, a
minute within the time limit of an hour. However, Mr. Weasley rescued the wrong captive--"
a flurry of snickers, most likely from the Slytherins, rippled out. "Be that as it may," said
Bagman to silence the crowd, "we feel this was a mistake on our parts. Our instructions were
not very...clear. Mr. Weasley obviously felt that Miss Granger was his treasure, and rescued
her accordingly, even fighting off a multitude of merpeople to do so..."

Everyone turned their attention to a blushing Ron--by that time the effects of the gillyweed
had worn off. Hermione's eyes shone with awe, while Krum's surly expression grew bitterer.
Harry cheekily punched Ron's shoulder.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless

effective," Bagman went on. "He returned five minutes outside the time limit; however, the
Merchieftaness told us that Mr. Krum reached the village not long after Mr. Weasley left. He
would have had more than enough time to return, had he actually found his treasure present.

"To compensate for our mix-up, we award Mr. Weasley with forty-two points, as he was first
to reach the merpeople village, and award Mr. Krum with forty points."

Harry cheered with everyone else. That put Ron tied for second with Krum at eighty points a
piece, while Harry was well in the lead with ninety. Fleur had fallen far behind with sixty
points. Still, if each task was judged out of a score by fifty, then that meant either of them
could end up winning.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," announced
Bagman over the applause. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one
month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

"I owe Neville a lot of chocolate frogs for that tip," Ron confided to Harry as they made their
way back up to the castle. "Not to mention Fred and George for getting the gillyweed from
Madam Rosemerta."

"But how'd you solve the clue?" Harry wondered, even though he already suspected the
answer.

"Lucky guess," shrugged Ron; the tips of his ears turned a flaming red.

"Oh Ron," said a still overwhelmed Hermione. "Did you really--do you mean..."

Ron stopped short and so did Hermione. He scuffed his trainer against the soil and bowed his
head.

"I'm--I'm sorry about the Yule Ball," he muttered into his chest, looking very much like a
turtle with his shoulders hunched up over his ears. "I was--I was just... I was jealous, all
right? And I was stupid, and a prat, and I don't ever deserve another nice thing from you for
everything I said...

"It's just that... Krum...he's...well he's a profession star, isn't he? He's older and everything
and I'm just...just Ron... How can I compare to him, yeah? If you'd rather be with someone
like him... But then--then you said how you wanted me to win and I thought--I thought that if
Hermione believes in me..."

Harry decided to cut short Ron's babblings and nudged him in the shoulder.

"Just ask her out, mate," he whispered.

"Erm, right!" said Ron, finally turning his eyes up to Hermione. "Um, Hermione, will
you...uh... I mean, there's a Hogsmeade weekend next week, and well..."
"Yes, Ron," said Hermione. "I'd love to."

"You--really?" gaped Ron.

"Yes, Ron," repeated a slightly exasperated, but beaming, Hermione. Ron continued to gape
at her disbelievingly for a few moments before he whooped loudly and rushed at her.
Hermione let out a shriek of surprise as Ron picked her up by the waist and spun her around.
Harry and Ginny laughed at Ron's exuberance.

"I take it I missed something," said Merlin as he approached them.

"Ron finally worked up the courage to ask Hermione out," Ginny informed him.

"Ah," he smiled pleasantly. "A good day all around, then. How do you like my new pet?"

Merlin pulled out a small glass box from behind his back. Inside it, aside from a few branches
and leaves, was a fat beetle. Upon a closer inspection, Harry noted the markings around the
antennae were just like Rita Skeeter's glasses.

"That's not--you didn't..." said Ron, who could barely control his mirth.

"Oh it is.” Merlin gave them an almost feral grin.

"What're you going to do with her?" inquired Hermione, peering close to the glass.

"Mistress Skeeter and I will have a little chat," Merlin told them darkly, putting the box
behind his back again.

"So," sneered Malfoy as he marched up to them with Crabbe and Goyle. "You caught a
pathetic reporter, and Potter's in first place of the tournament. Big deal. You'll still have to
survive the third task, Potter. And you, Weasel? How touching that you'd fight to save the
Mud--"

Before anyone could react, Malfoy had been knocked back by some invisible force. It wasn't
hard to find Ron behind it as his entire body trembled.

"Calm yourself, Master Ronald," warned Merlin in a magically enhanced voice.

"You'll get yours," a flustered Malfoy threatened before marching back towards the castle.
"Mark my words!"

"Could he get anymore melodramatic?" remarked Ginny, making Harry and Merlin smile
slightly.

"Honestly, Ron, don't let him get to you," Hermione whispered softly towards his ear as she
stroked his cheek. "He's not worth it. You're better than him..."

"Well," said Merlin, turning away from Ron and Hermione so that they could have a private
moment. "I just wanted to inform you that Mistress Skeeter will not be writing anything for
some time, so that is one less concern."

"Good," sighed Harry in relief. Things were finally looking bright for a change. "I'm
surprised we didn't have any, you know, hate mail from people...or from Mrs. Weasley..."

"Ah, well, the former would be because of Sirius and myself," explained Merlin. "We sort of
paid for a mail answering service for the four of you. Any Howlers and hate mail were
forward there. The only owls you will receive are Archimedes, Aurora, Hedwig, Pigwidgeon,
Hermes, and Errol. As to the latter, you have Ginevra to thank for that."

"What?" said Harry blankly, turning to face Ginny. She seemed just as confused as Harry.

"Do you know that out of all the Weasley children, only Master Percy and Ginevra wrote
regularly to Molly?" Merlin asked them. "As careful as you thought you were in the letters,
Ginevra, Molly has long suspected a budding relationship between yourself and Harry. Never
underestimate the knowledge of a loving parent."

"Oh..." said Harry. "So..."

"You will know Molly's opinion in due time," smiled Merlin enigmatically. "Good work,
Harry. I'm very proud."

*****

Following the second task, things seemed to have finally taken a turn for the better. Ron and
Hermione's bickering had been replaced with playful banter and cuddling before the
fireplace. Hermione and Lavender had settled into something of a quiet accord, though Krum
made no move to hide his intense displeasure of Ron.

In the meanwhile, though Harry's method of saving Ginny was mysterious, it was Ron's story
that everyone wanted to know. The girls swooned every time Ron retold the story, thinking it
to be the most romantic thing they'd ever heard, and every time the story was retold, the
number of merpeople Ron fought off multiplied. Hermione didn't mind so long as she was
around Ron to beat back any overzealous girls, much to Harry and Ginny's amusement.

Aside from Malfoy's outburst after the task, he'd stopped antagonizing them now that he no
longer had any ammunition. In fact, the little ferret seemed downright sick at the attention
Harry and Ron were receiving, which suited Harry just fine.

The week passed very quickly. Both Ron and Hermione were so excited for the upcoming
Saturday that they were actually afraid. Harry and Ginny were constantly reassuring their
friends that things would go just fine, and both were declining offers to make the affair a
double-date.

"We'll go," offered Neville in Herbology, which Harry considered fortunate as he'd grown
tired of their needling. He'd already had plans with Ginny on that Hogsmeade.

"We?" said Ron. "We who?"

"Neville and I," chimed in Susan, who was standing across from Neville. "We'd love to join
you."

"Um, sure," blinked Ron. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," grinned Neville. Harry raised his brow. There was something different about the
way Neville carried himself now, and it had nothing to do with dress robes or his appearance.
Harry had the suspicion it had everything to do with a Hufflepuff.

"She's good for him," announced Hermione once Herbology was done. "I'm happy they got
together."

"Neville got a girl...who'd have thought..." mused a still shocked Ron.

"I could say the same about you," said Hermione waspishly.

"Oi!" protested Ron. "I'm happy for the bloke! Honest! I'm just surprised is all..."

On the morning of the Hogsmeade weekend, a very nervous and shy Ron and Hermione
stood as close as they could without actually holding hands. Ginny rolled her eyes behind
their backs and prodded them towards Filch. Harry looked up over Ron and Hermione's head
to spy Neville taking Susan's cloak, as the morning's weather had been the fairest of the year.

"Have fun, you two," grinned Harry, tugging Ginny's hand back to keep her from moving
towards Filch. "We'll see you later."

"You're not coming?" inquired Hermione, looking from Harry's sly smile to Ginny surprised
face. She arched her brow just slightly.

"Nope," answered Harry. Ginny furrowed her brow searchingly.

"All right, then," shrugged Hermione and tugged at Ron's arm for them to join Neville and
Susan. He had a suspicious look on his face for a moment, but then shook it off as he
matched Hermione's stride.

"Okay, Harry, spill," Ginny demanded while they navigated the halls of Hogwarts.

"I'm not sure you noticed," Harry began, unable to keep his grin off his face, "but we missed
Valentine's Day, and I'm sorry."

"Harry--"

"I know, I know," Harry interrupted her, shaking his head. "We were busy with the second
task, but that's not really much of an excuse, is it? I knew what I was going to do long before
Ron, after all. I could've spared some time to do something... Well, I'm doing it now,
anyway."

"Just what have you done?" demanded Ginny, though there was no keeping the smile from
her face.

"Here," said Harry, pulling out two tickets from his pocket and handing it to her.
"Eric Clapton?" she read.

"A famous Muggle musician," Harry informed her. "Sirius got me the tickets when I asked.
Merlin and I caught a private show of his two years ago and I've liked him ever since. I
thought we could see him."

"That's lovely, Harry, but it's not until tonight," she pointed out, handing him back the tickets.

"I know," he grinned mysteriously. Had he seen himself, he might've thought he'd hung
around Merlin much too long. "But that's just the last part to our belated
Valentines. This would be the beginning..."

From behind his back, Harry produced a beautiful bouquet of flowers handpicked from the
meadow neighbouring the Haven. At the centre of the arrangement was the strange bloom
known only to them, giving off a soft white glow. Harry had learned how to conjure them at
will now, but those really special blooms--with the green flame and song--were something
they could only do together.

"Happy belated Valentines, luv," said Harry, kissing her slowly as he handed a stunned
Ginny the bouquet.

"Wha--what did you say?" said Ginny, her eyes fighting to focus on the world around her.

"Happy belated Valentines--luv," he grinned down at her. "I love you, Ginny."

Bright tears glistened in Ginny's honey-flecked eyes as she jumped up and flung her arms
around his neck.

"I love you too, Harry," Ginny whispered into his ear.

Gathering up their necessary clothes, Harry then winked over to the kitchens to pick up a
picnic basket from Dobby. The house-elf had been more than happy to help in Harry's plans
and the contents of the basket were proof. Dobby had practically crafted a feast for what
Harry'd envisioned as a simple lunch.

"Um, thanks, Dobby," said Harry. He was glad that the basket was magic or else he might've
been crushed under it. Taking a glance around, Harry added, "How's Winky?"

"Winky is not doing well, sir," admitted Dobby, likewise glancing about for any
eavesdropping house-elves. "Winky is getting through six bottles of butterbeer a day now.
Winky is pining, Harry Potter. Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her
master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her
master now."

Harry scowled slightly. That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Is she...erm...safe?" inquired Harry, not sure how to ask Dobby what he wanted to ask.

"Oh yes," nodded Dobby. "Dobby keeps Winky quite hidden when she is...not well."
"Oh, okay," said Harry, feeling marginally better at that.

After his visit with Dobby, both Harry and Ginny teleported to the Haven for a picnic in the
meadows. In the afternoon, they took their brooms out for a bit of play and exploration.
When the evening rolled around, they cleaned up at the Haven and then dressed smartly,
falling shy of being actually formal, for a romantic dinner at a place that Sirius
recommended.

"I think George was right," teased Ginny as they admired their view of London. "You have
been taking lessons from Padfoot."

Harry ducked his head shyly, feeling quite out of his element at such a fancy place.

"I wonder how many women he's taken here," Harry commented, picking up a very fine fork
that was lined with flowery etchings. The silverware really was silver.

"Many, I imagine," said Ginny, who looked absolutely smashing in her slinky, red, cocktail
dress. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, allowing Harry a glimpse of her
dangling foot and ankle. His mind naturally tried to fill in the rest of the lines from what he'd
already seen. "I'm surprised they haven't set his name on a plaque and roped off a table for
him."

"Uh huh," said Harry absently, eyes following the motions of her foot.

Their appetizers came seconds later, forcing Harry's attention away. If anyone wondered
what two teenagers were doing out in a place like that unchaperoned, no one asked. Then
again, Harry had to remind himself that not everyone went to a boarding school up in
Scotland. Merlin's teachings served Harry well in such a formal environment, though Ginny's
presence helped keep thing relaxed and smooth.

After dinner, Harry and Ginny walked a few blocks from the restaurant over to the Royal
Albert Hall in preparation for the show. They entered and browsed the merchandise booth set
up near the front. Harry bought them both shirts while Ginny bought them a program of the
From the Cradle tour.

"I was wondering when you two would show," said a familiar voice to the both of them.
Harry turned around to find the beaming face of his godfather. The years out of Azkaban had
transformed Sirius Black into a brand new person, looking nothing like the emaciated husk
Harry had first seen.

His hair was a little shorter than shoulder-length, but his face was healthy and strong. The
leather jacket he usually wore in Muggle settings fit nicely over his shoulders. He finished
out the ensemble with a black tee, jeans, and shoes.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, embracing Sirius.

"Hello, Harry--Ginny," Sirius grinned in return. "I hear things are going well with you. I wish
I could see it, but then the, ah, competition is mostly for the students of the three schools and
any dignitaries. Well, until the final task..."
"What d'you mean?" said Harry.

"Nothing," replied Sirius coolly. "Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. Now, then, I'd like for
you two to meet someone. Only...I can't find her." Sirius scratched at his head and began to
look around the crowd. "Ah! There she is. Over here!"

Through the crowd emerged someone that Harry almost mistook for Tonks. She had long
blue hair that fell past her shoulders, a nose stud, a Led Zeppelin tank top, and torn jeans. But
there were differences in the facial structures of both women. For one thing, in almost all of
her shapes, Tonks usually had rounded and heart-shaped features.

"Hey, you," she grinned, sidling up beside Sirius.

"Starla, I'd like you to meet my godson, Harry, and his girlfriend, Ginny," said Sirius. "Harry,
Ginny, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Starla--she's an aspiring rock star. In fact, you
should thank her. Her manager got the tickets for us tonight."

"Nice to meet you, and there's no need to thank me," Starla greeted, nodding towards Harry
and Ginny. "Wow, you two are all spiffed up tonight. Special occasion?"

"Yes, ma'am," nodded Harry politely. "It's our belated Valentine's Day."

"Well, aren't you polite? And sweet too!" said Starla, who then nudged at Sirius's side.
"Godson, eh? Maybe you ought to take some lessons from him."

"Hey!" Sirius protested as Ginny laughed. "I'll have you know I taught Harry a great deal.
Tell her, Harry."

Harry, playing along, shook his head in the negative until Sirius turned to look at him, at
which point he began to nod emphatically. Ginny laughed harder and even Starla let out a
giggle.

"Oh I see how it is," harrumphed Sirius as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought us
blokes would stick together. I see I shall need to recruit Moony for this. You've been too
corrupted!"

"Corrupted?" chorused Ginny and Starla together, each arching their brow at Sirius.

"Well, not corrupted," Sirius back-pedalled quickly. "No, not corrupted, what I meant was..."

"Moony's here?" inquired Harry, choosing to save his godfather.

"Yes," answered Sirius. He gave Harry a grateful look while Starla and Ginny shared amused
smiles. "He and Tonks should be around here somewhere. You didn't think either would miss
a chance to see ol' Slowhand play, did you?"

"How did you--" Ginny paused and gave a slight glance towards Starla, "get into him in the
first place?"
Harry knew she'd wanted to ask how Sirius had become interested in Muggle music.

"Ah, well, Harry's mother had great taste in music," smiled Sirius fondly. "Or, I should say,
Mr. Evans had a wonderful collection. He got us all into...the classics."

Harry smiled back a little sadly. Whatever happened to that music collection? Whatever
happened to anything of his grandparents? Surely Aunt Petunia didn't sell it all.

"C'mon," said Sirius, checking his wristwatch. "The show should be starting. We've all front
row seats--but don't worry, we'll have a safe distance from each other."

He dropped a broad wink on Harry and Ginny as he turned to escort Starla away.

"You're horrible," she laughed, slapping him lightly upon the shoulder. "You shouldn't tease
them like that. I think he's a sweet lad for taking her out on a belated Valentine's."

The noise of the show surprised Ginny at first, but soon she stood mesmerized as Eric
Clapton dazzled the audience with his guitar playing, mixing the old and new together. When
he played "Wonderful Tonight," somehow Harry and Ginny ended up dancing right there in
front of the stage.

"They should have played this at the Yule Ball," Ginny murmured right into Harry's ear.

"You do look wonderful tonight, you know?" Harry replied with a smile.

"So do you."

With their ears ringing, feet aching, and throats burning from cheering, the pair said their
farewells and made their way back to Hogwarts, teleporting directly into the common room--
after Harry checked the Marauder's Map he conveniently brought along. Ron and Hermione
were curled up together on the couch with Hermione fast asleep against Ron's shoulder.

"Hey," he called out to them, setting down the book as best he could manage.

"Were you reading?" Ginny asked incredulously, her voice sounding much softer to Harry's
ears.

"Well, Hermione fell asleep and I wasn't about to wake her," shrugged a burning Ron. "Didn't
have much of a choice, did I?"

"I take it things went well?" Harry teased.

"You could say that," muttered Ron. In spite of his sour face, he did reach down to stroke
Hermione's hair. "What about you two?"

"Tonight was wonderful," Ginny giggled and gave Harry a goodnight kiss.

"Barmy, aren't they?" said Ron lightly as he gazed down at Hermione.

"Yeah, they are," Harry agreed, staring up the girls' staircase, "but we wouldn't have them any
other way."

"Hey, Harry," Ron called out as Harry made his way up the boys' staircase.

"Yeah?"

"Between us blokes, don't get taken into Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade," was Ron's
cryptic advice.

*****

Things remained tranquil for the rest of the term. Harry found out from both Merlin and
Remus that Sirius had been seeing Starla for quite some time. She was a Muggle, and both
men were in agreement that it would be very fitting for Sirius actually fall in love with her.

"The man's been against the Black family tradition his whole life," Remus had said, using
Sirius's mirror. "I think it would be quite fitting for Sirius to fall for a Muggle. Not that I'm
saying he has to fall in love with a Muggle, or Starla in particular, but..."

My, if it isn't the season for love, an amused Merlin had noted. Ronald and Hermione, Remus
and Nymphadora, Sirius and Starla... For all you know, I might find a girl next. Of course, as
I've been spending most of my time in a skin other than mine own, that might be somewhat
strange...

If Harry thought about it, this had been the year for love to blossom. Not merely with the
couples Merlin had noted, but with others as well--Neville and Susan, Cedric and Cho, and
even Hagrid had tried to spark something with Madame Maxime. Ginny had begun to
teasingly refer to the year as the "Year of Love."

With April came the twins' birthday, and an owl post from Aurora and Archimedes bearing
two familiar looking shapes.

"Are those..." Ron began as the twins tore into them at breakfast. Sure enough, both twins
had seven-lock trunks identical to Harry's and Professor Moody's. "What'd they get you those
for?"

"For next year," explained Fred.

"Thinking ahead to your NEWTs, are you?" inquired Hermione.

"No," said the twins, cringing as if they'd been forced to swallow one of Snape's potions.
"Hermione, dear girl, you wound us," Fred added.

"Look," said George seriously, "we don't really need to be here next year, do we? With Sirius
backing us financially, we're all set to start our business. We just needed to wait on turning of
age, which happens today. If we wanted to, we could find a place and set up shop right now--
we've been making more than a little pocket money."

"But Mum might have herself a heart attack," said Fred picking up on the narrative. "Besides,
we thought, why waste a golden opportunity like this? If we spend the whole summer
working on new products, we'll have a whole year to test them out on the student body--find
out what the average Hogwarts student wants in their joke products and such."

"Ol' Zonko's won't know what hits 'em," grinned George, snapping his trunk shut.

"Is it just me," said Ron slowly once the twins had left, "or are they absolutely brilliant?"

Harry nodded. There was no denying how utterly confident and sharp the twins were when it
came to business, and their products certainly backed up their claims. Weasleys' Wizard
Wheezes, whenever it came to fruition, would be a smashing success.

All too soon, Harry found himself in the month of May, walking with Ron through the
grounds, about to learn the final task they would need to overcome.

"What've they done to it!" Ron bellowed indignantly; his tall form had spotted the changes in
the Quidditch stadium first.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest wall.

"Hello there!" called the cheery voice of Ludo Bagman. He was standing in the middle of the
field with Krum and Fleur. Fleur beamed at Harry as he came nearer. The small bit of
empathy he'd shared with her in the second task had altered her perception towards him.
Krum, however, was even more distant and cold to Ron and Harry.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman, gesturing to the low hedges. "Growing nicely, aren't
they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added,
grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on Harry's and Ron's faces, "you'll have
your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess
what we're making here?"

"Maze," grunted Krum.

"That's right! A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be
placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

Merlin had been right. They weren't very original this year, not that Harry was really
bothered by it.

"So anyone can win?" called out Ron.

Bagman beamed brightly at Ron.

"That's right, my boy--anyone."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry
wished he could share in the man's enthusiasm. "Hagrid is providing a number of
creatures...then there will be spells that must be broken...all that sort of thing, you know.
Now, the champion who is leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman
grinned at Harry. "Then Mr. Krum and Mr. Weasley will enter at the same time...then Miss
Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the
obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry bit back his groan and glanced over to Ron, who mouthed "skrewts" at him. That about
summed up the contributions Hagrid would give. Still, there was a chance that Harry might
be able to manage short bursts of his teleportation. If he could do that, then he should be able
to get past most obstacles...

"Very well, if there are no more questions, shall we head back to the castle?"

Krum brushed brusquely passed Ron and Harry.

"So...a maze..." said Ron as they made their way up to the castle.

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Well, it was nice competing with you," said Ron dejectedly.

"What're you on about?"

"What d'you mean, what am I on about?" Ron said. "C'mon, Harry, I saw what you did with
the dragon! Merlin--I mean, bugger--if you can do that with a dragon, you can do that with
any of Hagrid's creatures--"

"I can't do it with the Blast-Ended Skrewts," Harry pointed out quickly. "They must be
wizard bred, either by Hagrid or whoever he got them from."

"Well, so what?" Ron waved off. "I've seen what you can do. You can just...brush them
aside! This task is perfect for you! I don't have a prayer..."

"You've got Hermione," said Harry, gripping Ron by the shoulders. "And you've got the same
foundations as I do! Use them! What would Hermione say if she heard you speaking this
way?"

"Reckon she'd hex me," snorted Ron.

"Don't give up, Ron," said Harry, walking past Ron. "She wouldn't give up on you."

*****

For the remaining month, both Harry and Ron threw themselves into their respective studies.
Neither would tell the other their strategies as part of their competitive bargain. Ron was
often seen around Hermione and Neville, while Harry spent his time with Ginny and Merlin.

"If I could transform myself into a phoenix, I could lead you through the maze," mused
Ginny.

"Harry and everyone else," pointed out Merlin easily. "It would be better if you mastered a
phoenix's method of teleportation, but then I doubt you'll even manage the shape of a phoenix
within the month."

"What about the map?" questioned Harry. "Can't Ginny read me the directions off it?"

"Possible," nodded Merlin, "but it's likely she won't be able to warn you of any magical traps.
You could rush right into one and not even know until it was too late."

"So what else?" frowned Harry.

Merlin smiled and turned his left palm up. "I call on the light of the evergreen, Sylph,
Guardian of the Forest."

An orb of emerald light shimmered in Merlin's palm. Hovering over his palm was a tiny little
sprite no bigger than Harry's thumbnail. The first thing that popped into his mind was
Tinkerbell. The little sprite was clad in a leaf green dress, though no wings sprouted out her
back, with hair the colour of bark. She gave a childlike giggle upon seeing the others
towering over her.

"Sylph is a sprite," explained Merlin calmly. "Queen Mab taught me of them. They are, like
ifrits and phoenixes, from a time long before men. Call on her to help you navigate the maze.
I suppose you could call on an ifrit and burn your way through the maze...but I think stealth
would work best."

"How many beings like them exist?" wondered Harry as he watched Sylph dance around with
three times the speed of a Golden Snitch.

"Not as much as you think," Merlin said with a curt shake of his head. "A handful are
confirmed and another handful are still considered myth. Since the loss of both Avalon and
Atlantis their sightings have grown less and less. The two societies had a much more direct
link to our early ancestors."

"And they obey if you call on them?" inquired Ginny as she held out her finger for Sylph to
alight upon.

"Yes and no. As I've told you, within a person is balance--the choice of good and evil. Your
choice determines which beings will respond to you. Servants of the Light, like ifrits or
phoenixes or sprites, will heed you if your intentions are good and pure of heart. On the other
hand, beasts like krakens and hydras will only obey a Dark soul."

Harry thought back to his encounter in the deep and rubbed at his scar. Was that giant serpent
one of those creatures?

"Harry?" Merlin prompted. From the concerned look on both his and Ginny's faces it was
clear they'd been trying to catch his attention for sometime.

"Is there a giant snake?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I don't mean...I don't mean the basilisk.
A giant snake--large enough to swallow up an entire city in its mouth, but living at the
bottom of the water..."

"What you speak of sounds like Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent," said Merlin slowly.
Unbeknownst to all, Sylph gave a shudder from her perch upon Ginny's finger. "But Harry,
he is only a legend--a myth. No one thing can be so large as to encircle the world."

Harry saw the giant snake in his memory and how its thick body seemed to just disappear in
the darkness below, stretching on and on and on... It didn't sound like a myth to him.

"I--I don't think it is," said Harry. "I think I met it during the second task... It--it reacted to the
beast within my chest, but..."

"Well, if you can truly turn into a dragon like Bahamut, then that would only make sense,"
said Merlin. "In the war, Bahamut and Jormungand were on opposing sides."

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" asked Ginny, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder in
concern.

"Because--because it didn't seem real," said a still shaken Harry. "And...and it was..."

"Let us consider it very fortunate that you escaped Jormungand unharmed and that the third
task shall be on firm ground," said Merlin lightly. "And might I suggest you shy away from
diving as a hobby?"

"Definitely," Harry nodded, not bothering to correct Merlin on just how Jormungand had
allowed him by.

-------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

So this, and Chapter Twelve, would be the calm before the storm. Chapter Fourteen should
wrap up the Goblet of Fire with the third task, the aftermath, and the end of term. As I'm
nearing midterms and everything, I may just end up posting Chapter Fourteen whenever I get
it done instead of my usual two chapters.

Originally, Jormungand was supposed to chase Harry through the lake and almost decimate
the mervillage to give the second task a real sense of danger, but I decided against it. The
darkness Jormungand sensed in Harry (if you're wondering) was, of course, the connection
with Voldemort.

In earlier drafts, Daphne Greengrass had a much larger side role, but for a variety of reasons
I've had to cut back. I used Daphne instead of Nott because lots of people use Nott. So I made
Daphne into a true Slytherin, holding the sly ambition and shrewdness that the other
Slytherins (Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy) all seem to lack. Her role may grow again in
the Order of the Phoenix section, but that all depends on the ending to Goblet of Fire.

And I was fortunate that Eric Clapton really was on his From the Cradle tour during 94-95
and conveniently had a show at the Royal Albert Hall during a Hogsmeade weekend.
Although, in real life the show was on a Sunday, and according to the Rowling 'verse,
Hogsmeade is a Saturday (they're the same date). I had to include Eric Clapton
and Wonderful Tonight.

It was unintentional--yet also intentional--that so many couples would get together in this
section. Though, to be honest, Remus and Tonks are not yet "official." Remus in my story
still has the same misgivings he does in canon, although they won't come up until the war
actually starts. I gave Sirius a Muggle girlfriend because I wanted to explore how a
relationship between a wizard and a Muggle would work, especially when the war starts. And
Neville's relationship with Susan was likewise practical. I wanted Neville to grow a little
more than he has in canon, just like I wanted to do with Ron.

Merlin, however, has no romance in the foreseeable future. Not that there's any rush for
wizards, really.

Sylph comes from Record of Lodoss War. I believe Deedlit uses Sylph in the first episode,
although Sylph might've been a wind spirit...and it might not have been Sylph at all, really...
But anyway, that was the inspiration. I know Deedlit also has a water spirit called Undine to
call upon though...

Back to index

Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen: Revival

Author's Notes: I am so very sorry in the delay between updates and not replying to
messages or comments. Things have been increasingly busy in real life, and I doubt they'll
get any better until the semester ends. Chapter Fourteen is the only chapter for this update,
just to finish the Goblet of Fire section. I'm hoping to start on Order of the Phoenix before the
end of the month, but...we'll see...

That being said--enjoy!

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Fourteen: Revival

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------
"You know, I expected Malfoy to be more--I dunno--lively after the second task," Ron
remarked on the day of the third task as they headed down to breakfast. Harry glanced over
towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy had just received a package through the owl post for his
family's eagle owl sat regally in front of him. Only the normally materialistic braggart
seemed almost fearful of the small box. Upon further inspection, Harry noted that Malfoy
looked much paler than usual.

"Malfoy's all talk," Harry shrugged. He had more important things on his mind, like getting
through the Triwizard Tournament in one piece. Once that was over, he'd no longer feel as if
he carried a big target on his back.

"I wouldn't worry about the maze," Hermione commented as the boys sat down. "At least, not
in the way you're worrying, Harry," she amended, noting the looks from both Harry and Ron.
"We all know how You-Know-Who planned to sabotage the third task. I'm sure Professor
Dumbledore is taking measures to secure the Triwizard Cup."

Harry made a noncommittal grunt as he piled breakfast upon his plate.

"You're not still suspicious of Winky, are you?" Hermione frowned.

Harry's face soured, though he made sure to keep it from Hermione's view as he bent over to
eat his eggs. Sirius had assured him that Mr. Diggory had checked Winky over before having
Barty Crouch Jr. free her from service. There was no sign at all of enchantments on her, but
she was still hopelessly devoted to her incarcerated master. Voldemort could find someway to
twist that to his advantage. Still, Dobby had reported that Winky was working as hard as
ever. She seemed to have gotten over her attachment to the Crouch's...

Professor McGonagall's approach along the Gryffindor table cut short his musings.

"Potter--Weasley, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after
breakfast," she told them.

Ron, in a panic, spat out his mouthful of breakfast as he tried to speak. Hermione and
McGonagall both looked at him disapprovingly, though Hermione also appeared grateful that
it hadn't flown all over her. She did, however, shoot an apologetic look towards the young
Hufflepuff girl who got some breakfast as a hair accessory.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, who'd also had a food related accident in his own
panic. Ginny was busy trying to clean that up as he gaped dumbly at McGonagall.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," McGonagall said. "The champions' families are invited to watch
the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

Harry's eyes widened at her words. Suddenly cryptic hints from both Merlin and Sirius made
more sense. A smile broke out over Harry's face. That meant Sirius--and maybe even Remus
or Tonks--might be in attendance in addition to Merlin.
A glance over towards Ron wiped the smile from Harry's face. If the families were invited to
the task, then that meant Mrs. Weasley was sure to be present as well, along with any of the
other Weasley members. He knew--well, he hoped--that she had no issues with his
relationship with Ginny. At the very least Sirius would be there to act as a buffer if things
were terrible.

"Oh, I wish I could see Mum," Ginny sighed. She was not oblivious to Harry's tension as she
rubbed his hand underneath the table, simultaneously coaxing her phoenix to sing a
comforting tune.

"You could always port to my dorm and grab my cloak," Harry muttered, half-hoping she'd
do it.

"Sorry, Harry," Ginny snorted, "but I think Mum might have a fit if I ditched McGonagall for
that--let alone what McGonagall might do to me." She planted a chaste kiss on his lips as she
got up; Harry could still taste the jam from her toast. "I've got to be going. I'm sure it'll be
fine with Mum. And if not, tell her all about Ron and Hermione. That ought to distract her
enough for you to run."

"Oi!" Ron protested, having just given Hermione a light kiss as well.

Once the girls were gone, Harry and Ron both finished up their breakfast as quick as they
could. Fleur and Krum still beat them, with Krum shooting both Gryffindors a dark glare in
passing. Mrs. Weasley enveloped Ron in a great hug the moment he came through the side
chamber, planting a wet kiss upon his cheek.

"Mum!" Ron squawked at the ambush. Bill stood just over his mother's shoulder, looking
very cool as always with his ponytail and earring, and smirked down at his younger brother.
"Not in front of the other champions..." he added in a low voice.

Ron's face burned red as he fought to extract himself from his mother's embrace, but none of
the other champions were focused on him. Krum was busy speaking with his dark-haired
parents in quick Bulgarian, and Fleur was focused more on Bill than anyone else. It seemed
that she had no objection to earrings and long hair.

"All right, Ron--Harry?" Bill called out, shaking Harry's hand first and then moving to help
separate Ron from Mrs. Weasley. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He
said you two were incredible against your dragons."

"I, for one, would've loved to have seen Ronald's war against the merpeople," said Merlin
from the side. Harry whirled around and spied both him and Sirius standing with grins on
their faces. "From what I heard it was a spectacle to behold."

"It's nice to be able to walk around here without worrying about a dementor popping around
the corner," Sirius sighed, throwing a wink to the portrait with Violet and the Fat Lady. "Care
to give us a tour, Harry?"

Harry and Ron obliged and gave them a tour along the grounds, showing them first the
Durmstrang ship and the Beauxbatons carriage. Mrs. Weasley became particularly interested
with the Whomping Willow, which had been planted after her time. Sirius, being the resident
expert regarding it, showed little fear as he hit the knot that subdued it.

"Can I speak with you a moment, Harry?" inquired Mrs. Weasley. They were just about to
head back to the castle for lunch when she spoke up. Harry shot a pleading look towards the
backs of Sirius and Merlin, but it appeared that the whole thing had been planned out before
hand. They seemed completely entranced with Ron's account of the second task.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," said a very resigned Harry. He walked alongside her in silence for
sometime, each quiet footfall adding another pound of pressure upon his shoulders and within
his gut.

"Did you have a pleasant experience at the Yule Ball, Harry?" she asked after a while,
making Harry completely nonplussed.

"Erm, yes," he answered.

"Good," she said with a slight smile. "I had two very interesting accounts of the Yule Ball
from Ginny, both true in their own way. In the first, she tried to write about it as if you two
were just friends, but it was fairly easy for me to see through it. There was something about
the tone that didn't sit right. What was even more obvious to me was the fact that neither of
you had been 'just friends' for a very long time, leading me to question just why Merlin
decided to take her on as his apprentice in the first place.

"If Arthur hadn't stopped me, I think many Howlers might've gone out that night." Harry
winced at just the thought. "But then the article came out, and with it came the honest letter
from Ginny. Oh she tried to pass it off as being the night when everything started, but I was a
girl once too. Regardless, there was something to the tone of that letter that made me see
everything."

Mrs. Weasley stopped just shy of the castle and smoothed out her simple robes. The others
had already passed through the castle doors.

"I consider myself to be a very good mother," Mrs. Weasley said, glancing down from the
castle to Harry. "While neither Arthur nor myself could give my children everything they
wanted, we could at least give them everything they needed, and there was never a time in the
Burrow without laughter. Saying that, I've never heard Ginny speak about anything as she did
about you."

Despite the off chance that things might go south, Harry couldn't suppress the tingle of pride
that shot through him, or his deep affection directed towards Ginny through their link.

"As a parent, I admit that I have certain expectations of what I want my children to do and
when I want them to do it. I don't have an issue with you dating Ginny, Harry. I had an issue
with the timing of the thing. I won't--can't--stop either of you--heaven knows Ginny takes
after me in many things--and you make her happy, so I'll accept this sudden change in things.
But there are some changes that I won't be so accepting of..."

Harry swallowed hard as he found himself pinned by Mrs. Weasley's pointed look. There was
no mistaking her meaning. Any thoughts of "being responsible" that might've been suggested
by Sirius were flung clear from Harry's mind by that stare. For all he knew, she might be
practice some supreme form of Legilimency that only parents were capable of.

"You're a good boy, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly, leaving Harry again
nonplussed at the mercurial shift. She reached out to make an attempt at smoothing out his
hair, and then walked sprightly towards the castle doors. Harry could only trail dumbly
behind.

*****

For the rest of the day, Harry found himself unable to think of any troubles. Lunch was spent
with Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny joining Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Sirius, and Merlin. It
was like the summer all over again, but better because there was no secret to keep. Laughter
and jokes flowed freely between everyone as they caught up. An especially amusing moment
happened when Mrs. Weasley found out about Ron and Hermione, then began to chide her
other sons about their lack of significant others. Ron in particular felt happy about that.

As things turned out, Percy would not be on hand to judge the final task--not that the final
task needed judging to begin with. Madam Umbridge would be assuming her position as
interim Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation that night and sitting
in as a judge. Because of that, Percy would have to remain at the Ministry to oversee the daily
work. He was under the belief that he would be due for a promotion soon, something Bill
thought absurd.

Shortly before the feast, Harry ran back up to the Gryffindor dormitory so that he might
change into the robes Merlin had given him, which he'd already worn for the second task.
Ron would be using his Hogwarts robes and so kept with their guests. The gray robes sat
folded and freshly laundered at the edge of his bed. Having changed, he then rushed back
down to the Great Hall for the feast.

After an extravagant meal, even by Hogwarts's standards, Dumbledore announced that

everyone was to make their way towards the Quidditch pitch for the final task. Hagrid,
Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick would all be patrolling
around the maze.

"We have thoroughly checked the Triwizard Cup," Professor McGonagall told them. Though
she addressed all the champions as a whole, her eyes were focused solely on Harry. "It has
not been tampered with in anyway. With Professor Moody, we very much doubt there shall
be outside influence of any kind. That being said, the maze itself presents difficulties of its
own. If you wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get
out, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

"Good luck, Harry--Ron," Hagrid whispered before following after his companions. They
moved off in different directions to situate themselves around the twenty-foot high hedge.
Through his glasses, Harry also heard Ginny whisper Good luck, followed by a strong burst
of emotion through her phoenix that warmed Harry to the very centre of his being. Almost as
an afterthought, Ginny's voice came back with, And tell good luck to Ron, too.
Harry nudged Ron in the side. "Good luck, mate--from everyone."

"Thanks," murmured the green giant.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to
begin!" Bagman's magically amplified voice boomed. "Let me remind you how the points
currently stand! In first place, with ninety points--Mr. Harry Potter, of Hogwarts School!"
The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening
sky. "Tied in second place, with eighty points each--Mr. Ronald Weasley, of Hogwarts
School and Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place,
with sixty points--Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beaxubatons Academy!"

Harry could just make out Sirius, Merlin, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Hermione, and Ginny
applauding Fleur politely, halfway up the stands. He waved up at them, and they waved back,
beaming at him.

"So...on my whistle, Harry!" said Bagman. "Three--two--one--"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry hurried forward into the maze.

It was an eerie situation, as if he'd walked through a sticky web, when he crossed the
threshold. The sound of the crowd became muffled, and Harry thought the sensation had to
do with the enchantments cast over the maze. Standing in the shadows, hearing only vague
sounds, he thought he might be underwater again.

Wasting very little time, Harry held out his right palm and said clearly, "I call on the light of
the evergreen--Sylph, Guardian of the Forest."

The miniscule form of Sylph materialized over his palm, shedding her green light over the
darkened maze. She flittered about excitedly for a moment, before pausing to turn her
attention over towards Harry with a curtsy.

"Take me to the Triwizard Cup, please," Harry asked of the little sprite. Sylph gave a nod in
return and sped off down the path.

Minutes later, Harry heard Bagman blow his whistle a second time, meaning that Ron and
Krum had now entered the competition. Harry could hardly bother himself with those
thoughts. Sylph moved at a relentless pace, her glittering giggles teasing him from around
corners or at the far end of paths. It took all of his concentration to keep up with her.

Suddenly, Sylph pulled up to a stop.

"Boggart," she warned once Harry got near. Her voice was odd, bearing the gravity of a
warning, yet still containing the light-hearted laughter and volume that one would assume of
a tiny sprite.

Harry nodded his thanks, withdrew his wand--it'd be easier for him to cast Riddikulus with it-
-and popped around the corner, only to come face-to-face with a twelve foot dementor. He
faltered for just a moment, forgetting that his boggart was also a dementor, but recovered
quickly.

"Riddikulus!" Harry said, brandishing his wand towards the dementor, which then exploded
in a wisp of smoke.

In the stillness that followed, Harry heard the last blow of Bagman's whistle. All four
champions were now in the maze.

Harry rushed on after defeating the boggart, again following the almost impossible pace of
Sylph. Despite the inconsideration of her pace, he knew they'd avoided most of the traps set
in the maze because of her navigational skills. He followed her all the way to an odd golden
mist that shimmered in the middle of the path.

"What is it?" Harry asked Sylph.

"Illusion," the tiny figure answered, flittering just out of reach from it. "Close your eyes."

"But if I close my eyes, how am I supposed to..." Harry shook his head with a bashful grin on
his face. He did as Sylph counselled and engaged his sight in the process so that he might still
sense the aura of the magic around. At the very least, he might be able to see Sylph.

Sylph still could be seen as a floating ball of green light, but the golden mist had become
even brighter. The intensity of it managed to hurt Harry's eyes even through his closed
eyelids. Through the artificial sunlight of the mist, he could discern a faint magenta swirl
rushing upwards within the illusion charm. Even his robes pulsed with the primary colours of
red, yellow, and blue. Something about those colours struck a chord in the back of Harry's
memory, but he ignored it, even though it began to pulsate faster.

With his eyes closed, Harry stepped into the mist. He had only taken one step into the
glowing mass of light when he felt a tug at the back of his navel. Suddenly he remembered
where he'd seen the aura before--the Portkey on Stoatshead Hill!

"Merlin--help!" Harry tried to shout just before his world became a nauseating swirl of
colour.

*****

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his stomach rolled and flipped in his belly as his
magically enhanced vision was still active, and the colours swirled and meshed into a
dizzying spectrum. Without warning, a door within the maze of Harry's mind began to rattle
and shake. Harry held his hands against his head as he tried to reinforce the door that guarded
his connection to Voldemort.

Harry? Harry, what's wrong? came Merlin's panicked voice.

"Portkey," Harry gasped. "My robes...Portkey..."

"Disarm him," ordered a cold, high voice. The force battering against the heavy door almost
tripled in strength, and Harry was much too unbalanced at the moment to summon any
strength.
"With pleasure, my Lord," drawled another voice. "Expelliarmus!"

Harry felt something slam into his back, right between his shoulder blades. The shield
conjured by the ring he always wore protected him against the Disarming Charm.

"Intriguing," came the cold voice. "Again--together!"

"Expelliarmus!" twin voices chorused. This time the shield was not enough to withstand two
simultaneous strikes. It faltered, and Harry was flung away, scrapping his face against the
rough terrain of wherever he might be. His wand slipped free from his fingers, but that wasn't
nearly as important as his glasses being thrown off.

Harry concentrated first on doing away with his sight so as not to be distracted by the colours
any longer. He was glad for the spell knocking him way, truth be told. It allowed him the
chance to regain his bearings.

Rolling onto his side allowed Harry to get a good view of his surroundings--as good as his
myopic vision could allow at any rate. A grand estate could be seen some distance away from
Harry. It was heavily blanketed with vines that seemed vicious even to his blurred vision.
Beyond that, a heavy forest of yew trees surrounded him.

One of the two figures moved towards him. It was a tall person dressed in black, but with a
bright head of hair in the moonlight. The other figure was much shorter and seemed to walk
with an odd gait. Perhaps it was because he looked so top heavy.

"So very glad to see you again, Potter," drawled the tall figure, who Harry now recognized as
Lucius Malfoy. One hand kept his wand trained on Harry's face, while the other reached
down and drew him up by the front of his robe. "Welcome to my home. Please, make
yourself comfortable."

Mr. Malfoy threw Harry at the feet of the other man, who'd just set down a bundle of cloth. A
great snake, which Harry recognized as Nagini, slithered around the bundle protectively. The
cold hand of dread gripped at the base of Harry's spine. He knew what that bundle of black
cloth was and who the other man had to be.

"You've almost been more trouble than you're worth, Potter," Mr. Malfoy said
conversationally as he again hefted Harry up by the scruff of his robes and threw him back
against a stone. Another lazy flick of the wand and Harry was bound against the great boulder
from head to toe. "But then, you're worth quite a bit to the Dark Lord...for now."

Mr. Malfoy's words roused Harry's stunned brain into action. Somehow Voldemort had
managed to charm Harry's robes into a Portkey, and he had the sneaking suspicion that
Winky was behind that. Escape was now Harry's main goal, but things would be tricky. For
one thing, he could not leave his wand in the hands of Voldemort--not after what Mr.
Ollivander had said about it that first trip to Diagon Alley. For another, Mr. Malfoy's wand
had not wavered from Harry's forehead, and Harry still required his glasses if he was going to
fend off Wormtail as well.

At least Harry had managed to quiet the link between himself and Voldemort, but his link
with Ginny was likewise weakened. He remembered that the Malfoy Manor was located in
Wiltshire, which was some distance from Hogwarts. He could barely hear the worried trill of
Ginny's phoenix, nor feel her blanketing presence.

"Hurry!" said the bundled mass of cloth that was Voldemort. Wormtail had already set up a
giant cauldron and a small rectangular box. Harry winced and turned away when Wormtail
unveiled Lord Voldemort's pitiful shape; a hairless, scaly-looking, dark, raw, reddish black
mass with thin and feeble arms and legs. It was one thing to be in that body during a dream,
but another thing entirely to see it up close.

"Don't turn away now, Potter," chided Mr. Malfoy, gripping the top of Harry's head with his
free hand and turning it towards the cauldron. "We are witness to a most miraculous
ceremony."

Wormtail lowered the infantile shape of Voldemort into the cauldron, illuminated only by
starlight and the fire burning below. Harry heard Voldemort's body hit the bottom with a soft
thud. In another time, he might've prayed for Voldemort to have drowned, but this he saw as
his golden opportunity.

Even in such a weak state, Voldemort had proven himself capable of performing complicated
magic such as the Killing Curse and the creation of a Horcrux. With him being immobilized
within the cauldron, Harry had his chance to escape!

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Wormtail intoned, tipping
the rectangular case over the cauldron. A fine trickle of dust fell from it and into the sparking
potion, turning it into a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Wormtail stared down into the sputtering potion for a brief moment. He gave out a whimper
and withdrew a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak.

"Do it, Wormtail," Mr. Malfoy hissed, likewise adopting the use of Peter Pettigrew's much
more fitting Marauder name.

"Why?" Wormtail snapped back. Harry thought the hazy shape of his parents' betrayer
might've been brandishing the knife towards Mr. Malfoy. "You claim to be most loyal! You
should be the one!"

"Do it!" Mr. Malfoy repeated, this time turning his wand from Harry to Wormtail.

"You can't put the Imperious Curse on me, Lucius, even if it is your speciality," Wormtail
countered with a hint of conviction in his voice. "The spell requires the servant to give it
willingly!"

And there was the opportune moment for Harry. Summoning all his focus, he built up his
magic within his body. With a guttural cry, he released it in a powerful shockwave that felt
like warm water spreading under the very surface of his skin.

The ropes binding Harry snapped under the pressure, and both Wormtail and Mr. Malfoy
were pitched to the ground. Even the cauldron was knocked off its support and slipped from
the fire. Harry wasted little time in scrambling up to his feet. He wandlessly Summoned his
discarded wand and glasses into his right hand while dashing for the shelter of trees. He
wanted to put some distance between himself and the Death Eaters before teleporting away.

Spells zoomed by Harry's ears, shoulders, and head as he slipped on his glasses and replaced
his wand. Other spells crashed against the trees, splintering some while taking huge chunks
out of others. Apparently one Death Eater was the better aim than the other. Just as Harry had
put enough distance between him and his pursuers, a new voice cut through the forest.

"Crucio!" called out the feminine voice. The spell crashed into Harry's chest, cutting through
the shield of the ring with chilling ease. Pain such as Harry had never endured before spread
throughout the whole of his body. White hot knives cut at every inch of his skin; his head
swelled with fire; a horrid scream shredded out of his throat.

Spots danced before Harry's eyes as the pain slowly subsided. He was flat on his back,
twisted in an awkward shape with his muscles cramping, as another hooded shape came
towering over him. Somebody--Harry thought it might've been Wormtail--screamed in the
distance, matching the scream that he'd just given. A rustle of grass by his head caught his
attention. Nagini had returned, baring her sharp fangs. The quick puncture of his shoulder
seemed like a mosquito bite in comparison to the Cruciatus.

"Come now, Narcissa," Mr. Malfoy ordered from afar. "We have need of the boy's blood."

The svelte shadow above Harry tossed back the hood, revealing the condescending face of
Narcissa Malfoy. Harry cursed his stupidity. He should have known she would have been
watching if the ceremony were to take place on Malfoy Manor's grounds.

"This is your fault," she hissed, levitating him with a flick of her wand. "I never wanted
Draco involved with this--never. Because of you, the Dark Lord had to entrust him with a
dangerous task. I hate to imagine the agony he went through, wondering whether or not he'd
be caught with the real Moody lurking about. I fought against Lucius with all I could when he
packed the special Portkey crafted from my Master. My little Draco could get a lifetime
sentence in Azkaban, you know? Lucius taught him how to cast the Imperious Curse. Oh he's
not strong enough to affect an adult, but something like a house-elf..."

Harry stopped focusing on the wild spasms of his body at Narcissa's words. Now he
understood Malfoy's ill look for the past few weeks, along with the package from that
morning. Malfoy had somehow cast the Imperius Curse on Winky to get her to switch his
robes for the ones that'd been turned into a Portkey. Until now, he hadn't thought it strange to
find his robes freshly laundered on his bed...

Constant vigilance, indeed...

"Your escape," Narcissa continued, "means the capture of my precious Draco, and I will not
allow him to be sent to Azkaban."

Harry was ready to try another escape when Mr. Malfoy's wand appeared in front of his eyes.

"I'm not sure how you managed that, Potter," he said coldly, "but I won't be so lax this time.
Not one motion. We only need your blood, after all..."
A heavy charge rippled up through Mr. Malfoy, and once again Harry found himself on the
receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse. This time, floating in midair, he flopped around like a
fish out of water. He hung limp when Mr. Malfoy released him, and then took that
opportunity to gather some blood from the ever-bleeding snake bite.

"B-blood of the enemy..." sobbed Wormtail, clutching his left hand against chest--Harry's
mind processed the bloodied stump, though his body was mercifully too exhausted to
respond, "forcibly taken...you will...resurrect your foe..."

The burning red potion became a blinding white at the addition of Harry's blood from the
puncture wound on his shoulder, which had swollen so hard so as to immobilize his arm.
Wormtail collapsed to the ground, bemoaning the loss of his hand and his intense pain.
Narcissa released Harry from the Levitation Charm, and he crashed awkwardly upon the
ground. A white mist rose up from the sparking potion, obscuring everything from view.

Weak as he was, Harry still had presence of mind to know that once hidden from view by the
mist, he might have his chance at teleporting to freedom. He was checked, however, by the
cold voice that cut through the haze:

"Robe me."

"Of course, Master," said Mr. Malfoy, presenting a set of black robes to the figure half-
towering from the mist. Above all else, the paler than bone face of Voldemort enveloped
Harry's field of vision; the set of burning red slits that were Voldemort's eyes pinned him to
his spot on the ground.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Never breaking eye contact from Harry, Voldemort withdrew his wand from the deep pocket
of his robes. He brandished it around in the air like a seasoned maestro prepared to conduct
the most important symphony of his career. Both Malfoys bowed low before him--the almost
sacred display marred by Wormtail's constant simpering.

"My Lord..." Wormtail choked, scuttling towards Voldemort on his knees, "My Lord...you
promised...you did promise..."

Harry's breaths were coming in quick pants as he tried to get his brain working. How was he
to escape now that Voldemort was no longer weak? What were his options?

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily, finally taking his eyes off Harry.

What Harry needed was help, but how was he to obtain it? Speaking into his glasses would
alert Voldemort, and his fuzzy brain couldn't work on an intelligible code. Besides, would
any of them know the exact location of Malfoy Manor so that they could Apparate there?

"Oh Master...thank you, Master..."

Voldemort laughed and gestured with his wand.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

The Malfoys laughed along with Voldemort.

"Master, please...please..."

Mr. Malfoy got up and pulled up Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's
robes up past his elbow, and Harry spied the Dark Mark burning red on the pale flesh.
Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," Voldemort said softly, "they will all have noticed it...and now, we shall see...now
we shall know..."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

The scar on Harry's forehead seared as the vault responsible for it rattled, but it was a minor
nuisance compared to what Wormtail felt if his cry was any indication. Voldemort removed
his finger from Wormtail's mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and
stared around the forest.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming
red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Seeing Voldemort use the Dark Mark to summon his Death Eaters gave Harry the answer he
sought--summoning. And aside from Sylph--who was far too small to help him against
Voldemort--there was only one other being he knew how to summon. Before the Death
Eaters could arrive, Harry shouted out:

"I call on the living flame to light my path!"

The magic burst out of Harry for a second time. Though they all felt the ripple effect this
time, no one was knocked off their feet. Voldemort's flat nose flared as he narrowed his eyes
at Harry.

"And what, Harry Potter, was that pitiful plea?" he demanded, gliding across the ground until
he was standing over Harry's crumpled form. "A living flame to light your path? Perhaps you
look to some comfort before you die? And you will die, Harry Potter, but not until
my...loyal servants are here to bear witness to my superiority."

Voldemort reached out with his abnormally long finger and pressed it against Harry's scar.
No amount of mental reinforcement was enough to block the sudden surge that broke
through. Voldemort's pleasure was Harry's pain. Laughing cruelly, Voldemort then removed
his finger and stood straight.

"You see, Potter?" he asked. "You see my superiority? Your protection, your mother's
sacrifice, is but a trifle compared to my might."

Though his eyes were blurry from retching against all the pain he'd endured, along with the
lack of assistance from his glasses, Harry could still make out a moving darkness that was
blacker than the night sky. It started behind Voldemort and the others, but soon grew with the
coming of orange flames.

"M-Master..." Wormtail moaned, noticing the harsh glare of fire first. They all turned to face
Ifrit's hulking mass of bronze skin, hidden as best as possible beneath a beige fedora and
trenchcoat. From beneath the brim of his fedora, Ifrit's red eyes smouldered with liquid fire.

"Ifrit...help..." Harry gasped, hoping that Ifrit might remember him and obey as he did with
Merlin.

The fire elemental's response was to shed his guise, revealing himself in his full demonic
shape. Narcissa let out a shriek and fell back as his fiery wings unfolded; Wormtail swooned
under the blood loss and intense heat radiating out of Ifrit's form. Mr. Malfoy shifted himself
protectively between Ifrit and Narcissa, but he was unable to stand erect in the presence of
the ancient creature. Only Voldemort could face Ifrit with a face of indifference.

"Go, human," growled Ifrit, addressing Harry directly.

"Thank you," Harry rasped. He thought of Ginny, Merlin, the Quidditch field on Hogwarts's
grounds, and gathered every bit of magic remaining in his exhausted body. The wind blew
him back home, just as his consciousness slipped away. He had been vaguely aware of other
shapes appearing on the grounds of Malfoy Manor while Ifrit moved viciously to engage
Voldemort in combat.

Before the sweet peace of unconsciousness wrapped itself around Harry, he felt the
concerned trill of Ginny's phoenix swell in his chest. Even though he heard her cry out his
name with a voice full of fright, he could not help but pass out smiling, knowing that he was
now in safe hands.

*****

It was the smell that Harry became aware of--the smell and the pronounced absence of his
connection to Ginny. While the hearty fragrance had roused him, it was the chill of solitude
that made Harry sit up in alarm.

He found himself lying on the petal of a giant white flower, making for the softest and most
comfortable bed he'd ever experienced. At first, Harry believed the curved walls surrounding
him to be a cave, but upon closer examination he realized they more resembled the bark of
trees. The ceiling was too far for him to see, but illumination was provided through floating
green flames over the flowers that decorated the room.

It took a moment for Harry realize that the giant blooms all around were the same that
appeared whenever he got carried away with kissing Ginny.

"Merlin?" Harry called out, trying to focus on his glasses, but nothing happened--nothing at
all. It was as if magic didn't exist, like he was missing a limb or his clothes. Fear crawled its
way up Harry's spine. Was it Voldemort? Hadn't he made it back to Ginny?

"Fear not," came a voice of tinkling glass and laughter, but it was much more mature than
Sylph's. To Harry's surprise, he actually felt the fear vanish from within himself at those
words. They were far more potent than anything Merlin might accomplish.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, sliding off the petal to stand on the grassy ground that was far
softer than any carpeting. His bare feet clenched and unclenched the fluffy blades
automatically. "Where am I?"

On the far side of the room, a group of green flames gathered together into the shape of a tall
person. He watched the flames solidify into a skin. While it was not unlike Ifrit's arrival, there
was a sense of elegance to this green creature as opposed to the crudeness of the fire
elemental.

When the figure appeared fully, she was revealed to be nude, much to Harry's
embarrassment. Her figure was curved and healthy, looking like a goddess from a
Renaissance painting, but only painted a brilliant emerald instead of traditional flesh. Her hair
was curly and thick. Unlike the rest of her flesh, which became smooth, her hair retained its
fiery quality.

She swept her eyes over Harry's fidgeting shape and then over her own nudity. A gentle smile
graced over her lips.

"I am sorry," she apologized, and yet never once opened her mouth. "I admit that I never
understood your fascination with clothing, nor the shame you seem to have with what I have
given you. I thought that by appearing in your likeness you might be more comfortable with
me."

Green flame swirled around her body, gradually shifting into a very light, bright, and flowing
set of white robes. Harry thought she might've looked like a green angel.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, who shook his head against the dazzle of the spirit--for
indeed, that was the only word he felt applicable to her. "What've you given me?"

"Life," replied the spirit as she glided over to where Harry stood. "Oh, I am afraid I cannot
take credit for you specifically, but your race as a whole has its origins with me."

Something stirred in the back of Harry's mind.

"Are you...Gaia?" he asked, remembering the minor history lesson from over the summer.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "And you, Harry Potter, stand in the Source. Here, in the centre of
all things, is where magic blooms. Separated from your body as you are, you may be unable
to feel it at all. That is good, considering no mortal flesh could withstand the raw power."

"Why've you brought me here?" Harry said. He turned around to look at the flower behind
him; the giant version of the bloom that seemed connected to himself and Ginny. "Why are
these flowers here?"

Gaia glided gracefully along the ground until she stood before Harry. He had to turn his eyes
at first against the brilliance of her light, but she reached out and cupped his chin in her hand.
A soothing warmth, very much like the link he shared with Ginny, flooded his entire being.
He could smell and taste everything that comprised the revitalizing Earth in that touch,
encouraging him to open his eyes again. Though Gaia shone radiantly, he noted that staring at
her was not like staring at the sun. There was no harshness at all to the glare.

"I know you have many questions," she conceded with a motherly smile, "but I am afraid my
answers are limited, child. You are blessed, Harry Potter, for the balance of all things lies in
your very centre; the love of your mother, and the hatred of Tom Riddle. I see it in the
varying shades of green in your aura. Mother--enemy--self."

She emphasized her point by gesturing at something in the air. Though disconnected from his
magic as he was, Harry was unable to see what she was pointing at. He could, however, take
a wild guess that she was gesturing towards his aura.

"Why?" Harry whispered. "What does it all mean?"

"The purpose of all beings is to live," Gaia answered back, stroking his cheek with her
thumb. "What cause they take up, however, is their choice. That is the gift of free will that I
bestowed upon your kind, child. Unfortunately, some of my other children choose to impose
their own will and direct the flow of life. It is upon your shoulders, Harry Potter, because of
this unique display of chance, that I place the task of restoring the balance."

"Why?" Harry cried out in frustration. "Why me? I don't want this! Voldemort--"

"It is because of Tom Riddle that this must be done," intoned Gaia gravely. "I know in your
heart that this would not be the life of your choice, but understand that if this is not done, you
will have no life left to choose for. Take heart in the knowledge that those twice before have
felt as you have, and like those twice before, they did not have to bear this burden alone."

Harry sagged his shoulders and fell back against the petal. "I don't understand."

"History, then," smiled Gaia kindly. She sat down beside Harry and manoeuvred him so that
his had lay on her lap. "Young Merlin has told you some--but not all--of the history of this
world--of me. I shall tell you the rest.

"The Universe breathed life into me, and for many joyous years I had the company of my
brother and sister, whom you know of as Mars and Venus. But then their lights died while
mine grew. I thought to create another sibling to keep me company, as the Cosmos had long
since swept me by, but my Lunar sister was likewise cold and empty. So I turned to my
surface, and created those who your kind has called the Old Ones. My children kept me
company for many more years, but alas, they too were with faults.

"My balance was simple then; beings of Light and beings of Darkness. I thought they might
harmonize with equal numbers, but they could not deny their nature; that the light must
always strive to dispel the darkness, and that the darkness must snuff out the light. And so
their war began. For a long time it cut over me, paining both my body and spirit.

"I had no other choice but to create again, this time knowing that balance must be in each
individual. Humans were my creation; pure of spirit and thought, and capable of recognizing
the existence and usefulness of Light and Dark. The Dark despised them for their perfection,
making them natural allies of the Light.
"Chief among the Dark was Ahriman, the very incarnation of shadow and darkness. He led
his brutal army against my small pocket of man, looking to smote them back into the clay I
had moulded them from. In terms of numbers and physical size, it should have been a simple
victory for him, but he did not take in the inner strength of every person, that, when in
harmony with me, is increased many times over.

"Ahriman was turned back by a champion among that first small tribe--who would be the first
of the three that you, Harry Potter, are a part of. With the triumph of man, both armies
recognized that their time was ended. Many departed from me, choosing the solitude of Mars
or the Moon, while others still wished to explore the Universe and see what else their
grandparent had created. While I am happy with their decision, I still miss them with each
passage of time.

"Some, however, such as Ahriman, chose to remain here with me. Not out of love for their
mother, but out of hatred for mankind. Therefore, servants of Light likewise remained to ever
be the allies of men. Man would need it, for one of Ahriman's trusted lieutenants, Lilith,
worked her magic by sacrificing most of her power to become one of you. She seduced and
corrupted mankind, dulling your senses and sowing false seeds in your hearts. She made you
susceptible towards Ahriman's influence."

Harry looked up into Gaia's sad face as she continued to stroke his hair. She gazed at a point
on the wall, but he knew she was really seeing the past in her mind.

"What happened to Ahriman?" Harry wondered.

"That would be the second of the three," Gaia told him. "He was no one special, very much
like you think to be, born of common people in Avalon long before Merlin's time. He was
fortunate to love, and be loved, by a princess of the royal court. Parn, as his name was, would
go on to have many adventures in his quest to marry Deedlit, his love. Deedlit would very
often accompany him, or otherwise help him, where her father might not approve.

"Unfortunately, there was a Dark wizard rising in Avalon, seeking to overthrow the king and
rule all of me. Thanos was his name, chosen himself as a youth; death was its meaning. He
entered in a pact with Ahriman; he would be Ahriman's vessel, combining the power of man
with the power of an Old One. None, they reasoned, would stand against them.

"And they were right.

"Before their onslaught, Avalon was all but forced to submit. If not for Parn and Deedlit and
their love, Thanos would have succeeded. Using my power, they built a prison where they
trapped Thanos and Ahriman. Since then, the armies of Darkness that remain have patiently
awaited for the chance to free their lost master."

"What does this have to do with me and Voldemort?"

"You have used an ifrit against him. Tom Riddle is not so ignorant as Merlin might have you
believe, Harry Potter. He knows the power of elementals and other ancient creatures. He now
knows you have control over some of them--those who are not as weak as he perceives
phoenixes to be. He will seek to equal the balance between you before he attacks again, and
that might very well lead him to Jormungand, the general of Ahriman's army. You have met
him."

Harry gave a shudder as he remembered the experience in the second task.

"I know all my children, Harry Potter. Jormungand serves none but Ahriman. He will use
Tom Riddle to find his master and unleash him upon mankind again. With only Merlin
remaining from Atlantis and Avalon, those who held the closest connection to your ancestors,
there is little hope of turning back Ahriman this time. You know how easy it was for Tom
Riddle to amass his own army.

"That is why I have charged you with this task, Harry Potter. I have gifted you with the link
to Ginevra Weasley, and therefore the link to my powers, as Parn and Deedlit were gifted the
last time. The choice, as always, is yours, but you know that Tom Riddle will not rest until he
knows you are dead and gone."

"Can I call for you when I need help?" said Harry, sitting up from Gaia's lap.

"I am afraid not," Gaia apologized. "This might be the only moment we have, child. The only
way you can speak with me is when your spirit is separated from your body, as it is now, or
else risk visiting me at the Source, which is located in Avalon.

"As this may be our only meeting, I will tell you that these blooms are my flowers. They
represent me. There are many properties in them, many of which I know you will discover if
your friend, Neville Longbottom, has access to them. I will impart one hint upon you, Harry
Potter; if brewed properly, these blooms can heal any curse."

Harry blinked. A cure for Remus! He'd had it all along!

"And now I must return you to your body, child. Good luck, Harry Potter. Know that your
parents are very proud of you, that they love you, and that they very much approve of
Ginevra Weasley."

"My parents..." But before Harry could speak any more, the room was gone, and instead he
found himself seated upright in the hospital wing.

*****

"Harry!" Ginny cried out loudly from Harry's right, and soon he found himself on the
receiving end of a very painful, yet simultaneously comforting, hug.

"Hullo," said Harry softly, as he made to pat Ginny's back. Everything was still a blur without
his glasses.

"Here, mate," came Ron's voice. Something wiggled across his field of vision, and with his
Seeker reflexes, he reached out and snatched the object. It was his glasses.

As the world came back into focus, Harry noted that a very bloodied and bruised Ron was
cradling the Triwizard Cup against his chest. Hermione supported him in the most literal of
ways as without her presence, Harry was quite sure the gangly redhead would crash to the
ground.
"How long was I out?" Harry asked.

"Not long," reported Hermione. "They'd just brought you up from the pitch."

"Madam Pomfrey's tending to Fleur and Krum," said Ron. Ginny, however, remained silent
with her arms around Harry's neck. She sobbed quietly against his shoulder, but through the
link he knew it was tears of relief.

"What's all this commotion, then?" came the brusque voice of Madam Pomfrey. "Ah, I see
you're awake--my word!"

"What?" said Harry and Ginny simultaneously.

Madam Pomfrey met their inquiry with silence as she took Harry's shoulder in a firm grip.
She then sandwiched his face between her hands and turned his head every which way.

"When you were brought in here, Mr. Potter, you looked near half-death," she reported at
last, "now I can't find hardly a scratch under all the filth! That snake bite in particular looked
as if it might need the attention of St. Mungo's."

"Gaia..." Harry murmured as he re-examined the shoulder that Nagini had bit.

"You, on the other hand, Mr. Weasley," said the matron, turning upon Ron. "Sit."

"Where's everyone else? What happened?" Harry asked, turning the questions to Ginny and
Hermione, as Ron was now preoccupied.

"Those are questions we should be asking you, Harry," replied Hermione dryly. "We, that is
Ginny and I, heard some of the conversation through Merlin's ring. We know--"

"We could hear you scream," sniffed Ginny, who shuddered at the mere mention. Harry also
shivered in remembrance of the Cruciatus. He placed his arm around her shoulders and tried
to pour all the comfort he could manage across their link.

"Yes," said a solemn Hermione. "Once Merlin couldn't speak to you, he moved very quickly.
He very nearly teleported straight to the judges table, but instead ran with all haste. Professor
Dumbledore immediately called over Professor Moody to search for you in the maze, which
confirmed that you'd been taken. They wanted to put a hold on the third task, but Minister
Fudge and Madam Umbridge wouldn't allow it. They wanted a winner to be determined and
didn't believe the seriousness of the matter. Despite words to the contrary from both
Dumbledore and Bagman, he didn't believe it wasn't part of the task."

Hermione scowled at that, and Ginny let out a positively feral growl.

"We heard you scream," Hermione continued in a shaky voice, going a little pale in the
process. "The adults all recognized it immediately. They--they knew you were under the
Cruciatus. I've never seen Merlin so angry. I thought... Anyway, when they heard Mrs.
Malfoy speak about Malfoy, they all knew where you were."
"Only no one knew where Malfoy Manor was," said Ginny bitterly. "It's Unplottable, so it's
not any map, and Sirius wasn't exactly invited to his cousin's wedding. Dad would know, but
he wasn't with us... Fudge knew, of course, but he was more concerned with Merlin and the
validity of the communication charm..."

"Merlin demanded Malfoy be brought over for questioning," said Hermione. "Dumbledore
pleaded for patience in all the arguments and accusations flying around. It was such a mess.
In the end, Sirius went ahead and fetched Malfoy. The little ferret was almost sick with fear
when he heard the accusations. Then..."

"Then we heard Voldemort's voice," said Ginny in a dull voice. "Fudge might've been
convinced everything was really happening if not for that toad, Umbridge, who was
convinced that it was all an elaborate hoax. Professors Karkaroff and Snape both clutched
their arms immediately. Karkaroff ran off without warning. Moody wanted to go after him,
but Dumbledore stopped him. The thing was...Malfoy's arm burned too."

"He'd been marked," confirmed Hermione. "He just about broke down like a baby, then. He
begged and sobbed for forgiveness and safety. He looked to be in so much pain..."

Harry remembered the anguish Wormtail had felt. Of course anything made by Voldemort
would be used to inflict pain as a reward.

"Then you called on Ifrit and appeared in my arms," Ginny finished. "I teleported you here as
quickly as I could."

"Ron finished the maze not long after," Hermione told him, gesturing to where Ron was
being fixed up. "I told him everything as I helped him up here. I'm not sure what happened to
the others, or what even transpired in the maze..."

Harry was left wondering for some time as, after Madam Pomfrey had dealt with Ron, she
insisted that each of them take a Sleeping Draught for their nerves. A good night's sleep was
her diagnosis for all of them, despite the protests of the three teenagers. Ginny held out the
longest, finally managing a compromise where she would take the draught if she could sleep
in Harry's bed.

When he awoke the following morning, it was to the flowery smell of Ginny's hair under his
nose, and to Merlin seated at his bedside.

"Ah, you're awake," Merlin whispered, looking very haggard after the events of the previous
night. "Feeling well?"

"Better than you look," Harry croaked with a slight smirk.

"Perfectly healthy," Merlin drawled, smiling back. "I suppose you'd like to know what's been
going on in your slumber, yes? I know that I wish the same of you."

Harry nodded and tried to shift into a sitting position without disturbing Ginny.

"I will go first," Merlin offered. "Minister Fudge, of course, does not believe a word of Lord
Voldemort's return. Dark Marks and a conspiracy with an 'insane' Barty Crouch Jr. were not
enough; he requires a true smoking gun, as Muggles might say. Igor Karkaroff has
disappeared, leaving the return of Durmstrang's students in the hands of...well, the students.
Ronald won the Triwizard Tournament, though I'm not sure of the details.

"Sirius and Professor Moody have been dispatched to call together the Order of the Phoenix,
of which I shall not be joining, but we'll get to that later. Professor Snape has been dispatched
in his role as spy once more. There is some issue of whether Professor Snape will walk out
alive, but after what Ifrit did to Lord Voldemort's ranks...I think he'll be welcomed quite
readily."

"How is Ifrit? Is he--?"

"He's fine," assured Merlin. "Ifrit is a little injured, but otherwise quite hardy. He's very proud
of the fact that he dealt with five of the Death Eaters before the rest ran. Sylph is also back to
her cheerful disposition. She was, however, quite distraught that she was unable to help, and
at the state in which you returned. You do have a knack of making stalwart friends, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but think it wasn't just his personality that earned him their loyalty. He
thought his connection to Gaia might've been part of it. Harry's humility prevented him from
seeing the fact that it was the other way around. It was his personality, helped by the balance
brought on from his mother and Voldemort's influences, which had earned him the attention
of Gaia and the others.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked at last.

"Ah," Merlin exclaimed, shifting around in his chair as if it had suddenly become
uncomfortable. "Well, now we arrive at the reason why I shall not be joining the illustrious
Order of the Phoenix. As I explained to you once before, Professor Dumbledore and I don't
always see things eye-to-eye; Master Malfoy is yet another example of it.

"I wanted young Master Malfoy imprisoned for his crimes, while Professor Dumbledore
believed there was still a chance for redemption. Noble sentiments, but... What truly angers
me is his naivety. What redemption? He allows Professor Snape to go about with his
prejudice in the name of what? Spying? Does he personally show a noble side against the
lifetime of bigotry the Slytherins have been exposed to? No! He remains ever aloof in his
overcompensation of free will. I believe he does more harm than good, and his redemption
must come after a grievous act has already been committed!

"To answer your question, then, Harry, Master Malfoy is suspended from Hogwarts; however
I do not think that will last with the elder Malfoy's influence..."

Merlin opened his mouth once more, as if to say something else, but then pulled back in his
chair. Whatever it was, Harry could see that it concerned him directly, but Merlin was
obviously reluctant to broach the subject now. Instead he put on a sorrowful smile and said--

"As difficult as I'm sure this will be, Harry, I need to know what happened..."

And Harry explained all that happened on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, including the dream
of Gaia afterwards. Merlin didn't bother to hide his surprise at the latter.
"There is much to be done," Merlin sighed as he rose up from his chair. "Making Lord
Voldemort vulnerable to death is chief among those. Fortunately, my temporary alliance with
Professor Dumbledore this past year has made that simpler. I would not trust this task to
Professor Dumbledore, and I believe he will be busy with other things in the upcoming
months. Rest, Harry, you will need it."

Merlin placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a squeeze before leaving. Moment later
it was Professor Dumbledore who strolled through the hospital wing. Harry had the sneaking
suspicion both men had agreed to do things separately.

"Good morning, Harry," intoned Dumbledore softly. "First, I must apologize for what has
transpired last night. It should never have occurred. Second, I must tell you that you are not to
feel any blame for the return of Lord Voldemort. That Voldemort can now touch you is not a
terrible loss, for he is still vulnerable to many other things where you are concerned."

Harry puzzled at that for a moment. Before he could think on it for more than a minute,
Dumbledore had seated himself in Merlin's vacated seat and continued--

"Minister Fudge has taken young Mr. Malfoy's Dark Mark into consideration, and I very
much doubt Lucius's influence will be enough to return him to Hogwarts--at least, not
without some character witness. Where he may go is anyone's guess, though I think, if
Narcissa's words were any indication, that she would rather send Draco as far as possible, or
keep him under her watchful eye at all times."

From then on, Dumbledore retread the same thing that Merlin had, and then entreated Harry
to retell his events. As he had already done so twice before, Harry's version was slightly
glossed over and weary, but Dumbledore appreciated it all the same.

It was a strange end to the term for Harry. Everyone wondered why Ron came out champion
and not Harry. Knowing, however, of the ordeal that Harry'd went through, Ron took no
offence in the matter. He instead came up with lavish story after story on how he took down
Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum in a three-way duel. Hermione stopped trying to reign in
those stories once she saw how it took the attention away from Harry. Ginny, in the
meanwhile, never strayed far from Harry's side. In all their free time, the two remained
together, drawing comfort from the other's presence.

The truth, Ron finally confided, was that he and Viktor had reached the cup together. At first,
they began to duel, with Ron having been hurt by Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewt, until the final
monster appeared--an acromantula. Ron believed it to be another boggart, but then realized
Krum couldn't possibly have the same fear. They had to team up in order to defeat it. Fleur
arrived, but was quickly incapacitated by the giant spider.

It was while fighting the spider that Ron ended up champion. As Krum distracted it with
another use of the Conjunctivitis Curse, the acromantula struck Ron with its rear leg. That
sent him flying back a good length and just so happened to land upon the Triwizard Cup,
which triggered the Portkey.

Dumbledore did not disappoint with the end of term speech. He announced clearly and
without fear that Lord Voldemort had returned, and that everyone had a choice between what
is right and what is easy. Malfoy had made his choice, and for that he was removed as a
student from Hogwarts. All of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were welcomed back, on the
other hand, though Viktor Krum did not look as if he'd take that invitation, ignoring Harry,
Ron, and Hermione. Fleur, on the other hand, explicitly told Harry and Ron that she wished
to see them again.

*****

Harry stood in his dormitory before his seven-lock trunk. Everything was packed and he
needed to be down in the entrance hall soon. The carriages would be leaving to take him back
to the Hogwarts Express. He gazed down at his palm, where the charred remnants of his ring
remained. The Cruciatus had overloaded it, damaging it beyond repair. Merlin had promised
him a new ring, but Harry wasn't so sure he wanted it...

"What're you gonna do?" Ron asked, noting the contemplation on Harry's face. Harry knew
he wasn't just talking about the ring.

"I don't know," said Harry truthfully, curling his fingers around the ring.

"You know Mum and Dad are joining the Order," Ron informed him, shifting awkwardly on
the edge of the bed. Harry had informed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about the philosophical
separation between Merlin and Dumbledore. Hermione thought it was hardly constructive
given that the wizarding world was now in a state of war, but Ginny thought Merlin had
many good points.

Harry was much more indecisive. If he had to choose, he would side with Merlin in a
heartbeat. That being said, Harry didn't really want to choose.

"Sirius isn't sure," sighed Harry, leaning against the post of his bed. "If I side with Merlin, so
will he. There's no animosity between he and Dumbledore or anything, but I think he just
connects better with Merlin, y'know? Plus it's Merlin who liberated me from the Dursleys,
who helped uncover his innocence, and Dumbledore's choice already led to...well..."

Harry didn't want to say the death of the parents, but Ron understood.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Heard from Bill that Merlin was pretty mad that night. Said he went to
Mum for some parental advice. I think he blamed himself more than he did Dumbledore that
night, or so Bill told me. He blamed himself for not being able to protect you and see through
the little ferret's scheme."

"Yeah," said Harry, remembering how Merlin had reacted after that Quidditch match the year
before.

"C'mon, mate," Ron called, moving to grab the straps of Harry's trunk. "We'd better get a
move on."

They met Ginny and Hermione in the common room and made their way down to the
carriages. Neville and Susan joined them all the way down, but left to find a separate
compartment, which was fine with Harry. He'd thought about giving Neville a sample of the
flower now, but thought he had plenty of time to do later. Besides, he had all summer to
figure it out himself.
"Still thinking about what Gaia said?" Ginny asked softly. They'd discussed the implications
of it many times since the third task. Harry could only nod.

"I'm beginning to wonder whether or not I should come back," Harry admitted, turning his
gaze out the window to Hogwarts as the train started to pull away from Hogsmeade. "It's not
really safe, is it? And if Voldemort does manage to free this Ahriman somehow, shouldn't I
be ready? I want to say that Dumbledore or Merlin can handle it, but Gaia said it was only
me..."

"Us," Ginny reminded him, lacing her fingers in his. "Only us, Harry. Only our bond. But
Harry, you know Merlin will be busy trying to track down the Horcruxes. He's going to try
and stop Voldemort before Ahriman can be resurrected."

"Yeah, but..." Harry ruffled up the back of his untidy hair in frustration. He didn't want to
doubt Merlin's abilities either, but then again... "I can't stand around and do nothing while
everyone tries to protect me."

"I know, Harry," said Ginny, shifting closer towards him and singing softly through their
link. "At the very least, we'll work on our Animagus transformations. I'm almost done with
the phoenix form, so I can start on the powers. You've been making excellent progress on
your dragon too."

"I'll need it if Voldemort joins up with Jormungand," said Harry darkly. His brow furrowed
together as his mind raced into gear. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"Some of the Old Ones still linger," Harry repeated, almost to himself, "like ifrits, phoenixes,
and dementors... I wonder what else..."

He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully as he stared at the rapid moving scenery. If
Dumbledore was busy with the known creatures, like sending Hagrid and Madame Maxime
off to the giants, and Merlin was busy with the Horcruxes, then who would rally the servants
of the Light? Surely Voldemort would not stop with just dementors and Jormungand...

"Hey, Harry," Ron called out again. "How 'bout a game?" He shook a deck of Exploding
Snap in the air.

"Sure, Ron," Harry smiled, a plan beginning to form in the back of his mind.

When the train pulled up to the station, Harry spied Merlin, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Mrs.
Weasley all lined up on the platform. They were all bent towards each other, whispering in
low voices. Mrs. Weasley scooped up her children in powerful hugs, while Harry lingered
over by Merlin and Sirius.

"Tedious, Harry--very tedious," said a weary looking Merlin, and Harry knew it was about
the Horcrux search. Fred and George came close to speak with Sirius, so Merlin raised his
finger to his lips and ushered Harry further away. "Here." Out from his robes, he produced a
small box. Harry thought he knew what was in it.
"I--I don't want it," Harry told Merlin, laying his hand over the velvet lining. "I can't rely on
it, Merlin."

There was a hurt look on Merlin's face that was quickly replaced by one of understanding.

"Merlin, what am I to do this summer?" Harry asked, meeting his mentor's gaze head on.
"While you're searching for Horcruxes, and Dumbledore is dealing with the Order?"

Merlin gazed carefully at Harry a moment before saying, "What is it you wish to do, Harry?"

"Prepare," said Harry unwaveringly.

Merlin nodded, as if anticipating that very answer, and gave out a sigh.

"Then might I suggest, Harry, reading up on the books of Avalon in my study?" he said.
"There is much there that you will need to know. I will not, nor cannot stop you, Harry, but
allow me to impress upon you a warning: No matter what Lord Voldemort may do in the
coming weeks, months, or maybe even years, you will not confront him until you are
ready. Swear it."

"I swear," Harry vowed.

"Good." Merlin's smile came easier then. "Well, we'd best be off. Plenty to do and not long to
do it."

"Is Ginny coming to stay?"

Harry's question put a stop to the whole procession, giving for an awkward moment with the
adults present. Ginny looked sharply from Merlin to her parents, awaiting an answer.

"That is a slightly more complicated matter..." Merlin admitted. "We are, as yet, unsure on
certain arrangements for this summer. This, however, is not the time to be discussing it--and
that we are agreed on." He added that last bit to prevent Ginny from arguing.

"Come along, children," Mrs. Weasley bade. "Hermione, dear, your parents are waiting on
the other side of the portal."

"Bye, mate," shrugged Ron in consolation. "Hope you can come over--or maybe we can
come to the Haven?"

"Yeah, me too," Harry nodded in reply. Then he turned to Ginny and gave her a lingering kiss
on the lips, not caring who saw them. "I'll contact you tonight, maybe?"

"I'll do you one better," she answered, "I'll visit." She threw him a wink before disappearing
along with her family.

"Let's be off, Harry," bade a chuckling Merlin. "Home awaits."

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

So that's the end of the Goblet of Fire section. I tried to have multiple people set up (namely
Viktor Krum) as the one who might capture Harry for Voldemort, but I didn't try too much
since Malfoy had already been proven to be a Death Eater (or at least, possible Death Eater,
since it's never confirmed if he took the mark) in Half-Blood Prince. I didn't linger too much
on Malfoy's indecision because

A) This chapter covers a lot of things that are required for the other years, and

B) Malfoy's personal struggle is covered in HBP, so I didn't want to do much of a repeat here.
Besides, Harry is more concerned with the Triwizard Tournament to be stalking Malfoy like
he does in HBP. Just think of it as being the same, including the Malfoy/Myrtle friendship.

If you don't get it: With Barty Crouch Jr. incarcerated, and Riddle House having been
exposed, Voldemort had little choice but to seek out the next "loyal" Death Eater not in
Azkaban, which was Lucius according to the ranking in GoF.

Minor Star Wars reference with Harry wondering how he'll see with his eyes closed.
References Luke wondering how he'll see the remote with the blast shield of the helmet
down. And minor Pirates of the Caribbean reference with Harry waiting for the "opportune
moment" to escape.

Ahriman comes from the Persian mythology, which likewise influenced Judaism and thus
Christianity (if it sounds at all familiar) though I tossed in Lilith. Gaia's actual appearance
comes from DC Comics, where they often portray her as a humanoid being of green flame,
though she's gigantic in stature. I changed her appearance to seem much more rounded as
befitting a fertility/goddess image (as opposed to some Amazonian beauty).

The Source, of course, is the molten center of the Earth, which is a primary reason we have
life on our planet. It produces the electromagnetic field around our planet which protects us
from a lot of cosmic radiation and solar winds. Without it, our world would be as dead as
Mars. So I figure it's only fair I liken it to magic.

You get the explanation of pretty much everything in this chapter--aura, flowers, link.

Parn and Deedlit come from Record of Lodoss War. I use them, aside from fantasy reasons (I
suppose I could've used Redcrosse and Una...ten points for knowledge of that reference),
because they have one of my favorite conversations that happens to mirror Harry and Ginny.

Parn: "Deed, I want you to stay behind tomorrow. [pause] Deed!"

Deedlit: "No."
Parn: "We don't know if we'll even be coming back!"
Deedlit: "Then why are you going?"
Parn: "Because...all I can do is keep moving forward. That's why!"
Deedlit: "Then I'll be there to guard your rear."
Parn: "Deed..."
Deedlit: "The world's full of people who will try and get you from behind. Let me handle
them, and keep your eyes on what's ahead."

Thanos comes from Marvel Comics.

So that's it for GoF. I know you're wondering how different Order of the Phoenix be with all
the set ups here. You'll just have to wait to find out...hopefully not too long...

Back to index

Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen: The Parting of Ways

Author's Notes: Yes, people, I am alive. I know, I know, I am some months overdue for this
chapter, and I apologize, but hey...I'm a college graduate now, so wooooo. I'm sorry again if I
haven't replied to all messages or emails or comments, but I did read them all. You are all the
reason why this story is continuing. It wouldn't be possible without fans feeding demand. So,
without further wait, here's chapter fifteen...

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Fifteen: The Parting of Ways

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

The sun spilled its pastel orange over the sky as it began its ascent, bleeding in and
overpowering the ashen blue. Harry was up to greet it, wrapped tight in a gray cloak that
matched the clouds. A sea of rainbows spread out below it in waves from the heavy misted
morning that caught the same early light.

"I wish Ginny could see this," he said aloud.

"Well, when all is done, you can take her any time you wish," commented Merlin. He sat,
likewise wrapped in a cloak, upon a fallen, rotted log. At the moment, he was busy etching
runes into the muddy ground with the end of his staff--or he might've been doodling. They
looked similar to an untrained eye. "There is a lovely lake beyond the ridge to the south of us.
When the sun hangs overhead on a clear day, the entire lake glows like a great jewel.
Muggles are incapable of seeing it. It would be a nice spot for a private picnic."

"Did you used to come here often?"

A small, sad smile crossed Merlin's lips as he stared at the spot he'd indicated in the distance.
"I brought Nimue here for a picnic once. Arthur did the same with the Lady Guinevere. I
know this area well, which is quite fortuitous to your quest, Harry. Here we shall find Owain.
It shall be he who will direct you on your way. Do you know of Owain?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. "One of King Arthur's knights? Except he was aided by a lion?"
In truth, Harry had poured over so many mythologies and accounts in Avalon's vast library
that every story had blended into one large narrative.

"That'd be the common tale," said Merlin, who cradled his staff against himself. "In truth,
Harry, Owain is an illustrious member of the Old Ones, as Ifrit and Sylph are. I enlisted his
services to assist Arthur in the creation of Camelot, seeing as how Wales is as near to being
his homeland as anything. If there's anyone who might uncover the location of the remaining
Old Ones, it will have to be Owain."

"And keep me safe, you mean," said Harry, almost inaudibly.

Merlin rose to his feet with a feline grace. The magic of the dawn had already faded. The
sunlight had ripened into its golden colour, and the morning mist had thinned out into a mild
drizzle.

"That goes without saying, Harry. I'm not favourable to the fact that I must rapidly redevelop
the very fine and faultless criteria of an apprenticeship. As we must part ways momentarily, I
need to ensure your safety until we are capable of meeting once more. And, as I am incapable
of securing said safety through the traditional training, I must leave you with an appropriate
minder. This, however, would be unnecessary if you were not so insistent on accomplishing
your goal for the summer."

"Well what else am I to do, Merlin?" Harry demanded. "Dumbledore won't let me in the
Order, and I can't go with you to hunt the Horcruxes--why, exactly?"

"Because, Harry, I do not mean to quit this quest until every bit of Lord Voldemort's
shattered soul is done away with," said Merlin, laying his hand upon Harry's shoulder. "That
may take me into your fifth year, and you need to be at Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort must
believe you to be uninvolved with this war in any active capacity. We must keep the element
of surprise on our shoulders for as long as it's bearable. The more Lord Voldemort considers
you inexperienced, the better chance you have of overwhelming him in your next
confrontation."

"Wouldn't he think me experienced from what happened?" Harry wondered, thinking to all
the tricks he'd been forced to use in order to escape from Voldemort and Malfoy Manor.

"He had you at his mercy, Harry." Merlin knelt low to capture Harry's eyes. There was a brief
flash of anger that rippled through his jaw. "You barely escaped. Lord Voldemort is sly and
cunning, but he is also arrogant. He'll think himself superior and you lucky, and he will not
think Professor Dumbledore to extend you any special training this summer, rather he would
believe Professor Dumbledore to shield you further from him. Fortunately, he also remains
largely ignorant to the knowledge that you have Merlin Ambrosius as your mentor. We have
this one chance to prepare; we should not waste it foolishly."

"Do you think it foolish to do this?" said Harry honestly, meeting Merlin's gaze with an open
expression normally lacking in pubescent youths. As such, Merlin took an extra moment in
composing his reply.

"I think it admirable to assist however you can, including the recruitment of some powerful
allies. If anyone could do this task you've put to yourself, Harry, it would be you. This
journey shall not be an easy one to be sure, but by the same token it will take you far from the
places Lord Voldemort is like to tread. So I find some measure of safety in it."

Merlin gave Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze and a gentle smile, to which Harry replied with a
tentative nod. Satisfied with Merlin's approval, Harry pulled away and began to disassemble
the tents that comprised their campsite.

"There is one thing that would make me feel more secure of things," Merlin called out after a
moment. A great weight settled in Harry's gut, like a lift crashing down a skyscraper; it nearly
tore the rolled tents from his grasp. "This is not something to be done alone, Harry," said
Merlin, once Harry had met his gaze. "Even with Owain, even with Ifrit and Sylph, and yes,
even with Ginevra, your numbers would still be too little. I ask, therefore, that you invite
Master Ronald and Mistress Hermione along."

"Ron and Hermione? Why?" said Harry. Though he stood still on his own two feet, the
unexpected question almost sent him falling back to the ground.

"Oh, many reasons," Merlin shrugged. "Because Master Ronald, for all his faults, is loyal and
brave as any true Gryffindor ought be and would be invaluable at your side in a pinch.
Because Mistress Hermione is the cleverest witch of your age and would be likely to unwind
any riddle you might face both culturally and historically. Because they will have a horrible
time of summer otherwise, following the results of the upcoming Order meeting. But--and
here is most important, Harry--because you have kept a great many things from your two
closest friends, and in times as dark as these, and knowing the lessons you have taken from
your parents, trust is the one thing you cannot afford to damage."

A cold jolt in his spine set Harry down upon the boulder surrounding their smouldering
campfire. The truth of Merlin's words rung like a church bell. Sirius's unthinking prank had
driven a wedge in the Marauders. Had there not been a war, the friendship might have
survived, but the trials and hardships of the conflict had exacerbated that wedge into a full
fracture.

He thought on the secrets he'd kept for the past few years: Merlin, his relationship with
Ginny, and he had still not revealed the Prophecy. Were those enough to fracture his
friendship? Harry didn't wish to chance it.

"You're right," he admitted at last.

"Of course I am," Merlin snorted. "Send word to Ginevra of your plan when we're through,
she shall be in position to transport Master Ronald and Mistress Hermione. But for now, we
have an Old One to locate."

*****

Merlin's words bounced about in Harry's brain as they wandered through Snowdon. How
would Ginny be in the best position to get both Ron and Hermione? Wouldn't he be better
suited to get Hermione? How could they have a horrible summer because of the Order? But
Merlin, in his mysterious way, had chosen to remain tight-lipped throughout their trek. Harry
knew from experience that there was little good in trying to coax any elaboration from him
now.

Instead, Harry asked "Why couldn't you summon Owain, like you did with Ifrit or Sylph?"

"I tried, Harry," said Merlin in reply. "I waited three days for Owain to respond, only to have
none at all. We are here to ascertain the reason for his absence."

"What...what if he's dead?"

Merlin stopped and reached into the folds of his robe. He removed an object and tossed it
over his shoulder at Harry's feet. A spread of several Daily Prophet clippings wiggled and
blinked before him.

"Those are a mere sample of the reports I have uncovered. Muggles and wizards alike being
saved by some guardian angel--an angel not registered in any Ministry division."

"But it could be anyone! Or anything!" Harry protested. He bent down to scoop up the
clippings and sprinted forward to catch up with Merlin. "Just because a stranded hiker is
saved doesn't mean an Old One's behind it!"

"True enough, Harry," said Merlin, turning his sly smile upon his apprentice, the smile that
told Harry he had been strung along for just that reaction, "but I'd also spent quite a few
nights divining Owain's location. Far from a precise art to be sure, but it proves to me that
Owain still roams free."

"You might've said that before and saved me the indignation," Harry muttered.

Merlin laughed and said, "Then I'd have no fun in seeing said indignation."

They continued on in silence with Merlin at the point. Harry's Firebolt was strapped to his
back as a precaution. Every now and again Merlin would pause, test the ground with his staff,
examine a piece of foliage nearby, or cast his gaze heavenward. Harry could only assume his
mentor was looking for markers that correlated with his vision as his magical vision revealed
nothing usual about any of those objects.
Trusting Merlin to guide them unerringly, Harry began to turn his attention inward. It had
been a full year since he had tried to become an Animagus and, in spite of a most impressive
series of successes, he felt he had gone nowhere. Ginny already mastered her flying, though
she had run into some difficulty with tapping a phoenix's powers, while Harry had not yet
managed one single complete transformation. Partial transformations were of little help, for
while it allowed him to further understand the physiology of an ancient dragon, it also left
him with limbs proportionate to his final size. The fiasco with the tail was one he did not
wish to repeat again.

It was a testament to his discipline that Harry could focus on his Animagus transformation
while hiking through a mountain. His eyes were half-shut and all of his concentration was on
his breathing for the moment, counting the breaths, making sure every inhale and exhale were
in perfect uniformity, getting lost in the mundaneness of it all. As somnambulism took hold,
Harry felt his magic pool out from his centre and saturate every cell in his body. It felt like
one night, nine years ago, when Harry had managed a glimpse at Little Whinging during
Christmas; a bright sea of Christmas lights made brighter still by a child's innocence.

Once more, Harry found himself standing in the cave where he had first met his dragon--the
cave that was revealed to him through Merlin's unique potion concoction. It stalked out from
its depths into the ring of floating emerald flames; its two eyes adding two more to the circle.
No matter the number of times he had seen this shape in his dreams, the shimmering
midnight scales always sent a thrill up his spine.

Each dragon possessed the memory of all other dragons that had come before it, Merlin had
told him. The Hungarian Horntail had brought this to Harry's attention when he'd touched her
during the first task. While Harry was not a dragon just yet, he still held the potential to
become one. Already having the instincts of a dragon, he only needed to bring those instincts
into his awareness. With every connection made to his inner dragon, the closer he became to
reaching that goal. Now, if only he had enough magical strength to achieve a full fledged
transformation...

Harry stretched his hands out to cradle the dragon's tapered snout, as much as his tiny hands
could manage at any rate. The magic intensified as they drew nearer, like the opposite poles
of two magnets pushed together, only this effect sent knee-quaking charges throughout
Harry's body. He imagined it to be analogous to getting struck by lightning, if he could only
remember what that felt like.

Pain exploded from Harry's forearms the moment before they were about to make contact
with his dragon. It drove him to his knees and sent the world around him peeling away like a
gunshot through an orange.

"Mind your step, Harry," Merlin chastised. Harry blinked and came to realize he was
kneeling at the edge of an incline. It was not terribly steep but a wild tumble down would do
him no favours. "Multitasking is an admirable endeavour, but there are times and places for
such things."

Harry's cheeks burned as red as the marks on his forearms from where Merlin had struck him
with his staff. He could only imagine how he had appeared, walking about in a daze with his
arms extended. There would be no practice during class; that much Harry was certain of.
They paused for a moment's breath, clueing Harry into how long they'd been hiking. Things
seemed to be fruitless, and while Snowdon was no Kilimanjaro it was still a mountain. He
had begun to consider summoning Sylph to aid them when a surge of magic caressed the
back of his neck, setting the hairs on edge.

Both Harry and Merlin whirled around as one. The vacant path they'd come by greeted them
in silence. No breeze rolled through to rustle the leaves and no warm bird song lightened their
hearts.

Merlin inched out in front of Harry to better shield him from an oncoming attack. The
moment he'd made that slight motion, the whole area froze. It was different from the stillness
they'd been staring at only a second prior. That contained some movement, even if only on a
cellular level, to key them into the fact that things were normal. This, on the other hand, felt
wrong and suffocating, like even the air about them was frozen and uncirculating.

"Owain?" Merlin ventured into the frozen vista. He raised his staff up a fraction.

The deep, throaty staccato of a lion's purr echoed from everywhere in response.

"Owain?" Merlin tried again. "It is I, Merlin Ambrosius. Surely you--"

A streak of golden lightning leapt from the middle of the path, crashing straight into Merlin's
chest. Faster than even Harry could register, Merlin had brought the staff across to block the
unknown shape, Transfiguring it into a shield simultaneously. It did nothing stop the
momentum of impact from bouncing him over the ledge, however.

"MERLIN!" Harry shouted, reaching over to catch a piece of his mentor's cloak. But for all
his Seeker reflexes, Harry could only feel air between his fingers.

At the moment of contact, the world began to work under its normal mechanism once more.
Harry could hardly be bothered with noticing, as his focus was on Merlin's tumbling shape
down the ledge. Planning went out his ear as he straddled his Firebolt in one smooth motion
and dove down to fetch his mentor.

The world came to another standstill as Harry neared his goal. From his right, his periphery
warned him of a golden blur, trained as it was to spot the Snitch. He tried to move, but the
shape was faster. It crashed straight into his shoulder with all the force of Dudley shot from a
cannon. Thought escaped Harry's mind along with the air from his lungs. He tumbled
unknowingly down into small grove below.

*****

For a long minute, Harry could only lie on the soft earth. The whole of his left shoulder felt
like Lockhart had given healing another go; the treetops and clouds still spun from his cycle
in the washer; and only now had his stomach caught up with all the excitement and begun its
protest. The memory of Merlin's tumble, however, spurred his heart into life.

Ignoring that the stabbing pain had spread like some rapid growing mould to his ribs, Harry
rolled himself up to his knees. He raised his right palm up and intoned clearly, "I call on the
light of the evergreen--Sylph, guardian of the forest."
Sylph materialised over Harry's palm with her typical bounce of excitement and curtsy of
recognition.

"Sylph, I need you to find Merlin--hurry! We've been attacked!"

The tiny sprite went rigid at the severity of the situation and launched herself through the
trees like a Fawkesian rocket. In the meanwhile, Harry took a moment to summon his
Firebolt back to him, hoping it was not too damaged. He needn't have worried, as there was
no Whomping Willow around Snowdon. Aside from a few bent and misplaced twigs, and
perhaps a few nicks along shaft, the Firebolt was as good as ever.

A sharp wind swirled through the small grove. The magic within resonated with Harry's
dragon, confirming to him that it was an urgent message from Sylph. Wasting little time, he
straddled his broom once more and followed the wind's direction.

Merlin lay face down in a small clearing, covered in a smattering of leaves and dirt. The state
of his hair might've been comical if the situation were not so desperate. He did not appear to
be breathing, but a quick check of Harry's sight found his magic to still be strong and alive.
His staff lay just out of his reach.

Sylph flew protectively in a small circuit just over Merlin's body. She stopped to stare at
Harry when he approached, then continued her lap. It was apparent to Harry that she was
determined to be useful during this crisis.

Another purr echoed through the clearing, setting Harry on edge once more. Sylph, however,
dipped somewhat at the sound. She hovered, facing one direction, and Harry soon set his
attention that way as well.

A lion that even Hagrid would have a hard time in wrestling with stalked through the tree-
woven shadows and into the clearing. Its fur looked to be a series of long, prickly needles
swept back into something approximating spikes. Both its mane and the tuft of its tail were
comprised of liquid gold that cast a warm halo of light around its body. A set of ruby eyes
stared unflinchingly toward Harry.

"Are you Owain?" Harry demanded, gathering his magic into his right hand as a warning.

The Old One stared at Harry a moment longer before turning his attention to Sylph. "Little
light," he said in a deep, rich voice. Sylph crossed over to where Owain was and whizzed
about his ears. On occasion, the lion would grunt and bob his head.

"Stand down, Harry," came Merlin's voice from the ground. Harry swung his eyes down in
surprise. "It's called lulling your enemy into a false sense of security--or, in more simplistic
terms, relaxing."

"He attacked us, Merlin," Harry protested in a harsh whisper.

"Verily so," Merlin agreed cheerfully, "though I'm sure we are to find out his reasoning
shortly."
Sure enough, Owain and Sylph made their way over to Harry and Merlin, who began to
leisurely stretch and roll on his side to face them.

"My sincerest apologies," Owain rumbled, performing a delicate bow reminiscent of

Buckbeak's. He swung his great head towards Merlin. "I had thought you dead, Trickster.
When I heard your summons, I feared it was a plot against my life."

"Couldn't you have known his magical signature?" Harry challenged. Quite the courageous
gesture when he considered that, even on his haunches, Owain loomed above Harry's head.

"I might have, child," Owain acknowledged, turning that penetrating stare back to Harry, "but
there is an ill omen in the wind. Things are shifting. Enemies are returning. Cautiousness
takes precedence over curiosity. Sylph has confirmed Trickster's identity, and she has also
related to me your most interesting nature, Harry Potter."

A flush suffused Harry's cheeks at the scrutiny.

"Trust you to be on top of things so," Merlin commented as he sprang up to his feet. A mild
wave of his hand cleared the debris from his body and set his hair into place. "It's that ill
omen which has brought us to you, Owain. Recent events may have pushed Lord Voldemort
into the recruitment of Old Ones, which might, in turn, lead him to Ahriman's prison."
Owain's lips curled upward as a true growl shook free. The force was so great that it sent
Harry's heart bouncing about his ribs like a tennis ball. "Harry wishes to recruit a force in
matching to repel whatever Lord Voldemort might conjure. As you are, perhaps, the most
active Old One of the Light, I felt it best to approach you first."

Owain's eyes turned towards Sylph, then back to Harry's. "I trust Sylph's presence means you
have already contacted others...?"

"I've met Ifrit," Harry replied. "Professor Dumbledore has a phoenix. I've tried to do a bit of
research, but there's nothing conclusive on locations, I'm afraid. I haven't the time to search
aimlessly."

"No, I would suspect not if Trickster's assessment is to be considered valid."

"Which it is," Merlin added.

"You have my allegiance, Harry Potter. Considering who you are, I would find myself in a
hard place to deny your request." Harry thought back to Gaia's words at the conclusion of the
Triwizard Tournament and gave a hard swallow. "Summon me when--"

"There is little time for that, Owain," Merlin interrupted, much to the lion's consternation.
"I'm to leave on another quest this very night. Harry needs his minder now, and he will need
your special guidance to plan out this trip." Owain gave a slow nod in understanding. "Sylph
can direct you to the Haven. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have some parting words with
mine pupil."

Owain gave Harry another bow and made his way out the edge of the clearing with Sylph,
who gave one last flourish around Harry's head in a playful farewell. Merlin then wrapped his
arm around Harry's shoulder and guided him in the opposite direction, back to the incline
where they had fallen.

"As you are well aware of, mine own things are packed in my tent," he said softly. "From
here we shall be parted physically, but I will always hear you if you wish to speak with me.
Remember all that I've taught you and you shall do fine."

Harry gave a short nod. It was temporary, Harry knew, but for the past two years Merlin had
taken up the position no one else had bothered with--that of a father. Worse still was the war
that surrounded them like a hard shadow. Perhaps, if it were different, he might envision this
as a simple business trip--Uncle Vernon went on them all the time--but it wasn't. There was a
very real possibility of Merlin not coming back. Of never seeing him again. Of being alone.

"Keep a watchful eye on things, or as Master Moody might say, 'constant vigilance,'" Merlin
went on. "Keep your friends close, Harry. They'll be there for you when things seem darkest,
when the tasks seem impossible, when you feel hopelessly alone--and I'm afraid that you will
be acquainted with those things in the coming year."

Again, Harry wondered at Merlin's prophetic riddles, wishing he had developed better skills
with Astrology. All he could do was give Merlin a tight embrace in return. "You'd best
keep yourself safe, Merlin," Harry cautioned. "You won't have anyone to watch your back."

"Aye, a shame," Merlin murmured. "I've heard my backside's my best side." Both Harry and
Merlin let out small chortles at that. Merlin gave a sigh of contentment mingled with regret as
he stared at Harry once more. "I'll be back soon as the bearer of wonderful news, Harry. Trust
in that." With a final tousle of Harry's hair, he summoned his rolled up tent to him and
teleported away, leaving Harry alone in Snowdon.

*****

The Haven was without its normal cheer now that Merlin was gone. True, Harry had gained
three additional flatmates in the guise of Owain, Ifrit, and Sylph, but they were hardly the
same. Most of the time they were outside, wandering among the expansive forest and
mountains. Ginny teleported over whenever she was able, but there was no denying that she
was distracted. All she wanted to do most nights was curl up with Harry in front of the fire, or
outside under the stars. Not that it wasn't pleasant, but there was no denying that something
tired her out most days, although she never said what.

Finally, on the third day after Merlin's absence, the Haven was shaken by an uproar of
Weasley proportions.

"THAT PRAT!" twin voices echoed throughout the Haven, rousing Harry from his
meditations over a letter he'd been composing. A sharp burst of magic stopped his inkwell in
midair to make sure it didn't spill all over the letter.

"Who the hell...?" Harry murmured to Hedwig, who'd also been stirred most
unceremoniously from her tranquil resting. If she could speak the tongue of men, Harry had
little doubt the intruders would receive a dressing down to rival Mrs. Weasley.

What followed was a farce of epic proportions. Though the Haven was by no means a large
property, Harry still had a hard time tracking down the very vocal intruders. Even the simple
strategy of following the sound of slammed doors turned up nothing. By the volume, he could
only assume them to be Weasleys, and by process of elimination, Ginny and Ron, but the
reason behind their clamour was still a mystery. Harry even ventured outside at one point to
get a better vantage point without realizing that Ginny and Ron had decided to stay in the
rooms they occupied and let Harry come to them.

Finally, after nearly five minutes of searching, the three teens met up in the kitchen.

"Ginny? Ron? What're you two going on about?" Harry demanded. Ginny answered by
approaching Harry and giving him the hardest squeeze he'd ever felt from her. Ron, in the
meanwhile, looked about ready to tear down the Haven stone by stone.

"Percy," Ron spat. Only on Uncle Vernon had Harry ever seen such a shade of puce before.

"What about Percy?" said Harry, concern overriding his irritation. "Has something
happened?"

"You could say that," Ron growled.

Visions of Percy being tortured or having been killed in some gruesome way flickered
through Harry's mind in rapid procession. It continued on for quite a few seconds before
Harry found himself somewhat desensitized to them and realized no one had clued him in
further.

"Would anyone like to elaborate?" he asked at last.

"Percy had a row with Dad," Ginny muttered into Harry's shirt.

"A row?" echoed a nonplussed Harry. He hadn't expected Ron's anger to be directed at Percy.
More to the point, he found it hard to imagine Percy and Mr. Weasley having such an
upsetting row.

"A ruddy understatement," Ron clarified, answering Harry's unspoken follow up question.
The towering redhead threw himself down into a chair that was quite vocal of its rude
treatment. Still, all things considered, Harry thought it was a wise move on Ron's part.

"Here, Ginny," he said, helping her into another of the kitchen chairs. "I'll--uh--I'll make us
some tea, shall I?" he added, thinking on what Mrs. Weasley might do. He bustled around the
kitchen, suddenly ignorant of where the most basic ingredients were for tea. Breakfast he
knew, he was sure of, he had it locked, but tea...

"I'll do it," Ginny sniffed and was already halfway out of her chair. "Honestly, Harry, I'll feel
better if there's something for me to focus on. I reckon that's why Mum cooks like she does."

Ron gave out a small snort and Harry reluctantly made his way back to the table.

"Things have been off lately," Ginny said, and she began to retrieve all the necessary items in
a methodical fashion. Harry nodded, unable to keep himself from noting the location of items
as she gathered them and wondering why he'd forgotten they'd been there in the first place.
"Mum and Dad are in the Order now, as is Bill and Charlie."
"The twins aren't," Ron chimed in, "and they're more'n a bit vocal about it."

"So Mum and Dad aren't home as often as they used to, what with Order meetings and the
like," Ginny continued, ignoring Ron's contribution. Harry gave another unnoticed nod;
Sirius had been filling him and Merlin in on Order business since their first meeting not long
after the end of term. "Normally, they'd turn to Percy to mind us, seeing as how he's the
responsible one, but he's been busy with work lately. He stays at the Ministry longer than
Dad on most nights, and when he's home he shuts himself in his room."

"There's been a steady stream of post owls out his window, too."

Ginny's inner phoenix ruffled her feathers somewhat in irritation, but from what Harry could
see with his eyes, she seemed quite calm. "So I've been doing most of everything around the
Burrow when Mum and Dad are at meetings. Percy's been in something of a foul mood,
meanwhile, criticizing Mum and Dad--mostly Dad--when they're out. He hadn't done
anything to their faces though, least, not until today.

"We're moving," she announced to Harry's surprise. "It's temporary, anyway, but we are.
Sirius donated his family estate to be the Order's new headquarters, but it hasn't been used in
over a decade, so they need to air it out a bit. Mum's been a little concerned that she doesn't
really have a place in the Order, so she jumped at the opportunity to clean it all up."

"Percy was mad, madder than I'd ever seen him," said Ron in a low voice, picking up the
narrative flawlessly. This time Ginny didn't seem to be too bothered. She was more
concerned with setting the stove a precise temperature and filling the teapot with the right
amount of water. "He thought Dad was nutters for believing Dumbledore and for going along
with what he said about You-Know-Who and all. He said that's why Dad never got anywhere.
He hung out with the wrong people, and he should've kept his fascination with Muggles quiet
or given up on it altogether. If he'd been smarter, he would've had several promotions by
now."

Ginny made a throaty noise as she arranged the biscuits on a pewter tray. A few clinked like
bricks and she threw them out without a second glance. The teapot still sat on the stove,
waiting to boil.

"Dad was just as angry as Percy, maybe more so. He wanted solidarity in the family, what
with the war going on, but Percy just wouldn't believe there was a war, the git. He stormed
out, said he knew this was coming, hoped that Dad would wise up or else lose his job. Dad
tried to use the ol' 'You live under my roof, you live by my rules' routine, but Percy told us
he's already got himself a place in London."

"Mum's heartbroken," said Ginny, sounding quite heartbroken herself. The teapot got out one
good whistle before she snatched it off the stove. "I think George might've Flooed for Bill.
He's transferred to an office job here so he could help with the Order."

Harry knew that from Sirius again, but remained silent, absorbing the drama in the Weasley
household--a place that, up to this moment, he had considered to be a rock of stability in his
life.
"Sorry for barging and barking like we did, mate, but we were...well...I still am...but..." Harry
spared Ron further floundering by giving him a short nod.

"It's fine," he elaborated after a moment. "Things've been a little quiet since Merlin left."

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed and looked up in alarm, having been lost in her troubles and in
setting down the tea tray. "He is gone, isn't he? I'm sorry, Harry..."

"It's all right," said Harry. He reached out and grabbed her hand to establish a strong
connection. The sensation of earth and the elements flooded through their link, and his
dragon and her phoenix resonated in harmony with one other. "I'm glad you both are here,
really," he admitted. "We've got ourselves a busy summer. I'd like to show you both what I've
been planning out."

They left the tea sitting on the tray and made their way into Harry's own private study, which
also doubled for Ginny's when they were training. He paused for a moment and looked at the
letter left on his desk.

Dear Neville,

How is your summer so far? I imagine you're shocked to see a letter from me, even more
shocked after everything that's gone on in the Prophet these past few weeks. I think we both
know Professor Dumbledore's not like that. And I hope that after several years of living
together, you know I'm not some glory seeker.

I'm writing because I recently came across an interesting flower. The books I have don't say
anything on it, and Hermione's at something at a loss as well. I know you've a fair knowledge
of Herbology, and if it isn't too much, could you please find out more? The bloke I got it from
said there was some healing properties in it, if it helps you any.

Thanks, and have a great summer. See you next year,

Harry

For the time being, Harry left it on the desk and covered it with a world map and the docket
he'd been building with Owain's help. Aside from a wild mass of scribbles that painted the
surface, which even Harry was hard-pressed to read in a hurry, was a small list in clear print.

"What's this, Harry?" Ron asked, scanning over the map, while Ginny picked up the map for
perusal. She read the names from the list: "Durandal, kujata, leviathan, Marduk, Jupiter?"

"This is the trip I'm planning for our summer holiday," Harry deadpanned. "You all need to
be packed for it. On the list are the last remaining Old Ones of the Light that Owain
remembers. We're going to recruit them."

"Are you mental?" balked Ron. "Harry, how're we to get to these places? D'you have any idea
how much it cost for us to get to Egypt? D'you have any idea how long it took to cross by
enchanted liner?"
"There are better and faster means of travel, Ron," said Harry, grabbing his journal and
flipping through it. "In America, the wizarding world is heavily influenced by Muggles,
being a land of immigrants with a very high count of Muggle-borns and an almost
nonexistent pureblood population. They've developed magical aeroplanes for international
travel. Fare's quite cheap compared to their Muggle counterparts. I'll pay for it all."

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed; the tips of his ears became as lit candles.

"I'm not treating for a vacation, Ron," said Harry in exasperation. "This is all going for the
war effort!"

"Oh," a chastised Ron muttered.

"Now we need Hermione to complete our tour group," Harry commented aloud.

"Dad was going to pick her up once we get settled in headquarters," said Ginny; her eyes
were focused on the paper, but a familiar sparkle was back in her eyes at the prospect of
adventure. "She was going to help us for the summer. Plus, I think there was a general
concern for her safety."

"Good, that gives you two a few days to pack and prepare, and it also gives you time to
inform Hermione," remarked Harry.

A sharp pop and a ripple throughout the ward system of the Haven alerted Harry and Ginny
to another arrival.

"Ron? Ginny?" It was Sirius's voice. "Harry, d'you know--" Sirius came up short as he poked
his head into the study. "There you two are. Arthur Flooed about what happened with Percy.
Molly's worried about the way you two ran off."

"We're fine," Ron protested shortly.

"I know that, Ron," said an amused Sirius, "but Molly's still on edge after Percy ran out. It's a
bit soon to be doing the same, you understand?" Sirius's eyes drifted down to the marked map
and notes scattered across the desk. They then trailed up to Harry with a question written
clearly in them. "You two had better get back to the Burrow. Arthur's wanting to leave
for...for headquarters."

Ron and Ginny looked less than pleased at that information. Harry knew that after the Percy
ordeal, and now having to move, no matter how temporary, they would've much preferred to
spend their time at the Haven instead. This was all the more important when one took into
consideration the fact that they'd be soon travelling abroad.

Nevertheless, Harry urged to leave. "You need to get ready for the summer, anyway."

Ron's face twisted into a sour look, but he gave a nod regardless. Ginny let out a sigh before
moving into another embrace with Harry. He gave her a soft kiss, trying to focus his emotions
of assurance and support through their link. In response, his dragon curled its wings
protectively around her phoenix, and bowed its head below the makeshift shield.
After the two Weasleys said their farewells and teleported, Sirius turned to Harry again.

"What's this, Harry?" said Sirius with more than a hint of concern. He took a seat at Harry's
desk to better examine the notes. It was only then that Harry noted Sirius's hair was longer
than normal. "Planning to do some travelling this summer?"

"It is a holiday, isn't it?" Harry shrugged. "Don't normal families travel?"

"Don't play thick, Harry, least of all with a Marauder," Sirius replied.

Harry gave a sigh and sunk into one of the other chairs in the study. "It's the strategy Merlin
and I came up with, as neither of us are members of the Order. We kinda decided to form a
new incarnation of the Order of Merlin."

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "I'll have to ask Merlin to induct me, then!"

"I can do it," Harry assured him with a tiny smile. "I'm Merlin's second, after all. I'm free to
add members to the roster at will. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione are all to be added. The twins
too...maybe. Remus and Tonks, if they'd like."

"Harry, it's the Order of Merlin--one that actually means something and helmed by the actual
Merlin," said Sirius with his mischievous smile. "Of course people will want to be a part of
it."

"Anyway, we're letting the Order of the Phoenix deal with the recruitment of wizards,
witches, and any other known magical folk who wishes to join the fight against Voldemort;
Merlin's gone off to find Voldemort's Horcruxes and make him mortal; I'll be busy recruiting
Old Ones of the Light on the off chance that Voldemort finds it necessary to recruit the Dark
Ones because of what happened in Malfoy Manor."

"A tall task," said Sirius, whose brow moved up to his hairline. "I wouldn't be too worried
about Voldemort searching for allies at this moment. True, it's a part of his preparation for
war, but we've reports from Snivellus that learning the contents of the prophecy is his real
priority. He reckons that knowledge might help him this time around. We're guarding the
Department of Mysteries at the moment."

"Smart. The more you keep Voldemort focused on the prophecy, the more he won't be doing
anything else, which leaves you lot with a greater freedom of movement."

"That's Dumbledore's thinking," Sirius nodded. "So, considering the circumstances, I'd say
it's a perfect time for your plan. I only wish I were going along. Sounds to me like it'll be
quite the adventure. A good deal of marauding," he added with a broad wink.

"I wish you could, too," Harry admitted, "but Merlin and I need to know what's going on in
England while we're off. You're gonna have to keep us informed."

A sly smirk came to Sirius's face. "And I guess it's an excuse for us to keep in constant
contact?"
The thought hadn't occurred to Harry before, but it sounded like Merlin to plan it in such a
way. Through the mirrors, Harry could check in with Sirius, under the guise of getting
updates on the Order, and the same would be true when he passed on that information to
Merlin. Clever.

"Stay safe, Harry," said Sirius solemnly, drawing Harry into a tight hug. "And remember to
try and have fun this summer, all things considered."

"I'll try," Harry snorted.

*****

Two days later, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all assembled in Harry's study at the
Haven, looking over a more polished version of his notes. Ifrit was leaning against a corner
with his heavy coat and fedora, doing his best to seem as inconspicuous as possible, while
Owain had curled in front of the empty hearth like an overgrown house cat for a short nap.
Every few seconds Ron would glance over to Owain, as if frightened that the mystical lion
might eat him. Sylph flitted restlessly around the library, buzzing each person in turn, and
often coming to rest on the various candles scattered throughout.

"The twins weren't pleased, let me tell you," said Ron to Harry. "Sirius managed to convince
Mum that...headquarters wasn't the safest place for children. Mrs. Black certainly helped."

"Mrs. Black?"

"Sirius's Mum," Ginny chimed in. "With a charmer like her, it's hard to imagine how so many
Slytherins came from the family."

"He also showed Mum some of the things we'd have to clean out." Ron gave a slight shudder.
"Anyway, he convinced Mum and Dad that the Haven would be safer for all of us, and that
he, Remus, and Tonks would stop by regularly to help with clean up instead. Mum still wasn't
pleased. Reckon she wants us all home after Percy. I bet she'd drag Bill back by the ponytail
if he didn't have to work."

"Poor Fred and George," Ginny snickered. "Still, it won't be as bad for them. They've hit it
off with one of the Order members, and they reckon some of the dark critters in headquarters
would be helpful in their products. Trying to eavesdrop on Order meetings would help
sharpen their skills some too, I'd imagine."

"I just wish you'd given me a bit more notice, Harry," Hermione lamented, though she hadn't
looked up from Harry's notes. "I'm hardly sure whether what I packed is needed or not."

Harry craned his neck to look behind Hermione. A stack of three suitcases, almost as large, if
not larger, than her Hogwarts trunk, and bulging in odd areas, teetered in a makeshift tower.
By contrast, Ron and Ginny were both hefting magical tents on their packs.

"It'll be fine, Hermione," he assured her. He then straightened up and gathered his notes
together to address everyone. "Now, here are the Old Ones we're after: the kujatas, the
leviathans, Durandal, Jupiter, and Marduk."
"I'm familiar with all but the first," said Hermione, her brow knit in consternation. "And isn't
the leviathan Biblical? Aren't they against humanity?"

"They're mentioned, but it's not the same type," Harry replied. "Jormungand would also be
considered a leviathan and could actually be the Biblical one. These leviathans are sea
dragons. They're not like Bahamut, Tiamat, or even Jormungand. They're a step above the
lesser dragons, like the Welsh Green or Hungarian Horntail. We can summon them easy from
any relatively large body of water, but Owain will have to manage that. There's no
incantation written anywhere."

"The lake?" Ginny asked, turning her gaze out the window.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "Really, I was hoping to save them for last, seeing as how they're
the easiest of the rest. There no telling how long it'd take us to track down the others."

"That's not a bad idea," Hermione mused. "All right, who's next?"

"Owain says the kujata can be found in the Middle East," Harry went on, tapping the name on
the list with a finger. The page expanded magically to bring up a rough copy of an etching. A
kujata appeared to be something of a cross between a bull and a turtle. "He suggests we try
Mesopotamia or Syria. Somewhere near the cradle of civilization."

"They might look fierce if it weren't for those things on their backs," Ron remarked. "I mean
it's like they're dragging a mountain on their backs."

"And you don't call that fierce?" Ginny asked with a quirk of her brow.

"I'm sure that'd be so in person, but on paper? It looks more like a tumour."

"Marduk is easy to find," Harry said, bringing the side conversation to a close, "but the
problem will be in convincing him to join us." This time, when Harry tapped the list, it was a
crude representation of a man in what appeared to be scaled armour, wielding a short spear.
"Owain says he's not far from the dragon reserve in Romania, so might swing by Charlie if
you'd like."

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed with a grin.

"But Mrs. Weasley thinks we're staying here at the Haven," Hermione protested. "Won't
Charlie tell her he's seen us?"

"Not if we tell him to keep it a secret, Hermione," said Ron. He threw a gangly arm around
his girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a squeeze. "Honestly, woman."

"Why would it be a problem to convince him?" Ginny questioned; Hermione nodded rapidly,
leading Harry to think that'd been her follow up question. "Considering what Gaia told you,
don't they have to follow us?"

"Not all Old Ones are a species, Ginevra Weasley." Owain's voice rumbled against the glass
panes. "I am the only Owain. So it is with Marduk and Jupiter and, yes, even Ahriman. It is
true that Marduk must help the Light, as we lack the will to choose whether we are good or
evil, but that does not mean he must heed your commands, or help as you would wish him to.
Knowing Marduk as I have for many millennia, I would not be surprised if you must prove
your skill against him."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered under his breath. "Anyway, Marduk leads us to Durandal. We
suspect he's hidden himself in Rocamadour, France, but where, exactly, is something of a
mystery."

"But, Harry," interjected Hermione, "Durandal is a sword. It's Roland's sword. I know it
from The Song of Roland."

"I read it," Harry nodded, having done so during the course of his research, "but Owain tells
me Durandal is a person, so..." He gave her a helpless shrug and decided to go on. "The
hardest will be Jupiter. No one seems to know where he's gone, but consensus seems to be
that he hasn't left Earth yet. We'll have to ask the other Old Ones when we track them down."

"So...France, Romania, the Middle East, and...anywhere?" Hermione voiced first. She was
already nibbling on her lower lip, as she was wont to do in such situations. "Harry..."

"It's a tall order, I know, but I'm hoping things will be more manageable with one of your
schedules, Hermione," said Harry, raising his hands in supplication. "We'll need to schedule
flights, book hotels if we can, divvy up cooking and cleaning duties when we have to camp,
figure out an order to approach things... But I know we can do this--we have to. Even if
Voldemort--" both Hermione and Ron shuddered at that, "recruits no one else but
Jormungand, that would be enough to defeat the entire Order and win the war! We have to
level the field!"

"Well, I didn't say this was impossible, Harry," Hermione smiled. "Give me a few days and I
should be able to work something out. I helped loads when my parents planned their trip to
France."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry. "Thanks, all of you." He looked down at Ginny, "I know it
can't be easy with everything--"

"It's fine, Harry," Ginny silenced him with a finger upon his lips, filling his lungs with the
nurturing smell of flowers and moist earth, settling a nervousness in his belly he wasn't even
aware had been developing. "What Percy did was hurtful and...and it'll take some time to get
over, but that's what you're offering on this trip, isn't it? Something to do to keep us
distracted?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, unable to resist the thought that there were more things they could do
to keep distracted. Something must have translated through their link because Ginny's eyes
grew wide soon after; her phoenix reared up in shock and a warm trill filtered through Harry's
ears. Harry wasn't sure how, but he also thought the phoenix might've flashed him a wink.

"Well," Harry coughed, "best get started, yeah? Ron? Care to help with the luggage."

"Sure," the lanky boy shrugged.

*****
As Hermione made inquiries of various wizarding hotels and airlines through the Floo
Network, Harry spent his time training with Ginny and Ron. They'd have to make sure their
duelling skills were better on the off chance they encountered any Death Eaters or other
troubles. Owain and Ifrit lent their considerable knowledge to that endeavour; however, even
when all three teens joined forces against either Old One, they were hard-pressed to find
victory.

Word from number twelve, Grimmauld Place--as Harry now knew it, thanks to Sirius
allowing him a look at the address in Dumbledore's script--was bleak. Mr. Weasley had now
taken to avoiding Percy whenever the two crossed paths at the Ministry, while Mrs. Weasley
seemed to be in a state of depression. It was hard to miss, Sirius had assured Harry, as she
threw herself into all of her chores. Still, Kreacher, the Black family's house-elf, didn't help
matters any.

"Why not ask Dobby?" Harry had wondered.

"Why?" Sirius shrugged. "They're just house-elves. One's as good as another in the long run,
and I technically own Kreacher. I can't free him, anyway. He'd likely run off to Narcissa and
tell her what I'm up to. While they wouldn't be able to access the most noble and ancient
House of Black, and Kreacher certainly wouldn't be able to tell them the location, it'd be an
unnecessary complication."

Harry reasoned that Sirius would be the expert on such things and let the subject slide.

Three days later, Hermione had finalized all of their travel arrangements. Despite Harry's
insistence that she could use whatever she needed to use from his trust vault, Hermione had
managed to do it all on a very modest budget--one that even Uncle Vernon might be willing
to consider for a holiday, if he'd been subject to Hermione's presentation. They had packed
what they needed in their tents, leaving regular use items in their rucksacks for easy access,
coaxed Hedwig and Pigwidgeon into their respective cages, and teleported their disguised
selves to the Leaky Cauldron, from where they could summon the Knight Bus.

"There's a wizarding terminal at Heathrow," Hermione explained as they held on with white
knuckles. "It's completely obscured to Muggle eyes, just like Hogwarts. They'll only see a
row of hangars if they look."

"Hermione, what does laundry have anything to do with it?" Ron wondered.

"Not hanger, Ron, hangar," Hermione huffed. At Ron's blank look she elaborated, "It's a
special warehouse built to protect an aeroplane when it's not in use. Think of it like a garage
for an automobile, only for aeroplanes."

"Yeah, cause I really know what those look like," Ron muttered.

"Dad had a picture book," Ginny pointed out. "He showed us a picture of one."

"Yeah, but that's just a drawing, wasn't it?" Ron fired back. "And a Muggle drawing at that.
We don't walk around with circular heads and stick arms neither, you know."
"Must've been a children's book," said Harry to Hermione under his breath. She gave a short
nod in agreement. "Well I'm excited," he said in a louder voice. "I've never been on one. The
Dursleys used to leave me with Aunt Marge or Mrs. Figg, a neighbour, when they went on
trips. I think they only went on two, actually. Uncle Vernon never liked the service, though I
suspect he couldn't fit himself into a seat."

"Are they that uncomfortable?" Ginny asked.

"Well, things can get a little..." Hermione looked over Ron's towering form, "squished." After
flashing her boyfriend a sympathetic smile, she went on, "But I'm sure the wizarding variety
must have more room available. At the very least, there should be Cushioning Charms on the
seat, or expanded rows, like you said you had in your dad's Anglia."

"I dunno, Hermione, the Hogwarts Express isn't too different from a regular train," Harry
noted.

"True, but the Knight Bus is quite different from a standard one," returned Hermione. "They
certainly don't have a chandelier or beds to sleep in at night. No beverages either. I suppose
we'll see when we get there, which shouldn't take long. Owain and the others will be meeting
us there."

"They'll be flying with us?" said Harry, slightly surprised.

"Of course. It's a wizarding airline, Harry, they're used to all varieties boarding."

The rest of the trip on the Knight Bus was just long enough for Hermione to relate to
everyone the amazing speed of the Daedalus Wing compared to a Muggle aeroplane. The trip
to Romania would only take them a little under half an hour.

"Now, there's no hotel in the immediate area of the dragon reserve," Hermione continued on,
much to Harry's amazement, as she led them off the Knight Bus, "so we'll have to camp
nearby if we're to search for this Marduk there."

"There's gotta be hotels in Romania, Hermione," Ron protested. He turned to Ginny, "What'd
you do when you went to visit Charlie in my first year?"

"Yes, there are hotels in Romania, Ron," said Hermione, who was now growing quite
agitated with her rehearsed, informational spiel being interrupted, "but none are near the
reserve. The dragon reserve is quite isolated for a very understandable reason. We'd need to
rent a car to travel there if we got a proper hotel in a city and none of us have either a license
or proper age. And remember, Ron, Marduk lives near the dragon reserve too! If we need the
time to convince him, it's best to be in close proximity to him. We'll take the continental
Knight Bus to the reserve once we land."

"We stayed at reserve with Charlie," said Ginny, answering Ron's query. "They've cabins to
put up visitors for a while, but Dad did have to notify them in advance."

"Why not stay there?" Ron persisted. "Charlie could bend the rules for us."

"Your brother's not in charge of the whole reserve, Ronald!" exclaimed Hermione. The
bushy-haired teenager stopped in her walk and whirled upon her much taller beau. A few of
the wizards likewise trickling into the Maxwell Terminal of Heathrow stopped to stare at the
brewing argument. Harry, having had many times to practice over his life, tried to make him
small and unobtrusive from the growing audience. "What if there are others who wanted to
visit their family this summer and had already booked the cabins? Besides, we're going there
for a specific purpose! We're not just going there to visit Charlie!"

"All right, Hermione, don't get your knickers into too much of a twist," Ron muttered. Not
wanting to know if that poorly phrased apology did any wonders, he hurriedly picked up
Hermione's pack, which she'd discarded when she had rounded on him, and began to march
off.

"Yeah, this is gonna be real fun," Harry muttered under his breath, thinking of Sirius's words.
Ginny's phoenix trilled out a soothing song to him while she flashed a bright smile. "We can
prank them if they too out of hand," she promised.

Owain, Ifrit, and Sylph were awaiting the foursome at far end of the terminal. They stood out
against the assorted vendors that sold souvenir trinkets for the trip home, or the harsh
fluorescent lights and cold concrete that Harry was not used to associating with wizards. Out
the window behind them, what looked to be a tiny, twin-propeller aeroplane was being
wheeled towards the umbilical. There were some forty people currently seated on rows of
stiff, black plastic chairs, and Harry had high doubts of all of them fitting into that plane. He
hoped there was some trick, like the magical tents, or Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia.

"It's a connecting flight," Hermione told them, explaining the presence of so many
passengers. "The flight originated from Phoenix, Arizona in the States. Romania is just one of
the stops. The final destination is Calcutta, India. They should be calling us to board, if things
run on schedule."

Sure enough, Harry now saw that many of the passengers assembled were dressed more in
Muggle attire than wizarding robes, lending credibility to what Harry had read about the
wizarding world in America. There were even other large animals roaming around, though
not nearly as large as Owain, such as the young toddler riding on the back of what could only
be the family panther.

"Pity the old ways have gone out of knowing," Owain commented. The great lion had padded
over beside Harry to stare out the window. "Magic could close the distance between any two
points on this world faster than any artificial mechanism."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry; his brow twisted into knots. "I know there's limitations on
Apparation, but even with our teleportation, we wouldn't be able to just blink from England
to Romania."

"There are magical means for augmenting such trips," Owain counselled. "Those of Avalon
and Atlantis knew this. My one wish is for humans to return to the state in which they were,
to get on the path that they'd once been one. Alas, those schools and all of their learning are
long since gone."

"Merlin's still around. He always wanted to start a new school."

"The Trickster is unlikely to being a new school anytime soon," said Owain, shaking his
brilliant mane. "This world is not his world. This time is not his time. There is much he must
acclimate himself too, in spite of his lengthy role as spirit walker. Moreover, none would ever
recognize his fame in this calloused age. One would need to wield considerable influence to
carry through such reforms."

"Merlin would find a way," said Harry with a shrug.

Before their conversation could go on any longer, a clear voice announced the boarding for
flight 96789. While those numbers meant nothing to Harry, it obviously struck a bell with
Hermione as she leapt up from her seat--her and the forty others waiting around.

"That's our flight!" she said needlessly. "Up! Here are your boarding passes." She handed out
three tickets to each of them, choosing to hold onto those of the Old Ones as Owain, Ifrit, and
Sylph might have their own problems in holding them. Each ticket, complete with
destination, name of passenger, compartment number, and a whole host of other details that
were beyond Harry's keen, looked to be handwritten in a very neat script of gold. "I suppose
we should be fortunate that the wizarding world doesn't require passports to move about
internationally. We'd have a hard time getting a magical one for us, Harry, on such short
notice."

"Why is that?" Harry wondered as they queued up.

"Because we'd need to fill out the necessary paperwork and--"

"No, not about getting the passports," Harry interjected with a slight smile. "I'm wondering
why the wizarding world doesn't need one."

"Oh, well..." Hermione glanced towards both Ron and Ginny, who could only offer helpless
shrugs in return. "I'm not sure, Harry. I suppose that if I had to guess, I'd say it's because the
importing of diseases doesn't represent the same danger it does to Muggles. Wizarding
medicine is many times more advanced than Muggles."

"What about fugitives?"

"Harry, you can't stop a wizard from travelling," Ron laughed, giving his best mate a
boisterous clap on the shoulder. "If a wizard wants to leave, he'll figure out ways of doing it."

"He's right, Harry," said Ginny. "Dad's complained quite a bit when a wizard he wanted to
capture had left England for another country. They can monitor a person's wand, but it's a bit
imprecise. The magical detector is even less precise."

Harry gave an incredulous shake of his head. The sharply dressed stewardess took his ticket
without question, tore it in a perfect half, and gave him back the one with the understandable
information on it. She didn't even blink when Ifrit and Owain passed through.

"But that's a bit foolish, don't you think?" commented Hermione after a moment's pause.
"Where's the security?"

Ron gave a shrug. "There's bound to be Magical Law Enforcement around. Maybe an Auror.
Maybe private security. They've got posters, too."

"It just doesn't make sense," said Hermione with a shake of her head. "There should be a
better way at containment."

"Let's not question it too much, Hermione," Harry decided. "I mean, they are letting four
underage wizards leave the country in the company of a giant lion, a tiny forest sprite, and a
large fire spirit with no questions asked. We should be grateful."

"I suppose you're right," sighed Hermione; a tiny smile tugged at her lips. The smile shifted
into undisguised awe as all four teens entered the aeroplane.

While the umbilical resembled what it was made out of--cheap plastic and fluorescent lights,
the same couldn't be said of the plane's fuselage. Royal red brick covered the walls of the
plane, several crystal chandeliers lined the ceiling, and a long series of compartments, not
unlike the Hogwarts Express, travelled down the length of the plane. Each compartment was
made of a dark, solid wood with a wild grain pattern. A series of enchanted instruments were
also busy playing a soothing composition to greet the passengers at the hatch.

"Wow," Harry breathed at last.

"Yeah," agreed Ginny.

They made their way toward their compartment and found another shock awaiting them. Not
unlike the wizarding tents they carried on their backs, the compartment contained much more
space than a standard studio flat. Cushy sofas, a broad fireplace, thick carpets, and a
panoramic window were more than enough comfort for a half hour flight. There was even a
kitchen for longer trips.

"I'm not travelling any other way again," Ron exclaimed before diving upon the first sofa
available. Ginny settled herself into the sofa perpendicular to Ron's, allowing her red hair to
tumble over the edge like a crimson wave. Owain and Ifrit took a more methodical tour of
their transient accommodations, while Hermione stood frozen at the threshold.

"What is it, Hermione?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Well..." she drawled out with a wince, "it's just that... Well... Oh, I hope it's nothing. A
minor discomfort at best."

Harry continued to stare at Hermione for a while as she shuffled around the compartment.
Though there was ample room on even Ron's seat, she kept moving past it and began to
check the torch fixtures mounted upon the wall. After tugging on four, she made her way
back to the second one and settled herself there, gripping onto the wrought iron as if she
might snap it in two.

"Ladies and gentlemen, wizards and witches, this is your captain speaking," came a voice
from out of nowhere. "We are about to depart for our destination of Romania. Our total flight
should take us twenty-eight minutes and some change. A refreshment trolley will stop by at
about the halfway mark to see if you'd like anything--I recommend the strawberry frosties, or
the Gargle Blaster, if you're old enough. Sit back, folks, and relax. You're in good hands."
A loud BOOM followed the captain's announcement. One moment Harry had known himself
to be standing on his feet, ready to approach Ginny and cuddle up for the flight, the next
moment he found himself inside of the hearth. Fortunately, the fire had not been active at the
time, although Harry was now covered in a fine layer of soot, reminiscent of his first Floo
travel.

The rest of the compartment was in an uproar. Ron had fallen into the coffee table across
from his sofa, shattering it into many splinters; Ginny had tumbled over the armrest of her
sofa and was only now picking herself up. Both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon's cages had
smashed open, releasing the two owls into the air; Pigwidgeon was now in a frantic flight
around the compartment, flying alongside Sylph, while Hedwig remained perched upon her
cage, resembling a pipe cleaner from the extent of her ruffled feathers. Owain and Ifrit had
both been smashed up against one of the corners, much to the other's aggravation. The only
one to remain unscathed was Hermione, whose grip upon the fixture remained solid.

"Oh I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized, moving out from her niche; a wave of her right
hand repaired the table that Ron had broken. She knelt down beside Ron and tentatively
reached for the bump on his forehead. "I couldn't quite explain that there's usually an
application of gravitational force during take off."

"Hermione, you could've said it was like the Knight Bus," Harry remarked as he crawled out
of the hearth with the help of Ginny. The small of his back felt like it'd been pinched in a vice
whenever he tried to get up.

"Yeah," Ron groaned. "A simple 'brace yourself' would do."

"Sorry," Hermione apologized again, "but the Hogwarts Express acts like a normal train, so I
wasn't entirely sure."

"You know," Ron went on, after being propped against the sofa, "there's nothing wrong with
a good, ol' broom, I reckon."

"I agree," Ginny added. She was busy working her hands against Harry's back, infusing the
cells with magic to promote rapid healing, per Merlin's instructions, the equivalent to one of
Mrs. Weasley's household spells used often on the Weasley children. It had to be done
wandlessly, of course, to minimize detection from any Ministry underage magic sensor. "I
can't wait until we land."

Harry couldn't help but agree. The sooner they reached Romania, the sooner they could begin
on their large mission. Though he had spoken with confidence to everyone else, he was more
than aware of how difficult the task might be. He could only hope that things turned out as
well as they could--for those with him on the trip, for Merlin, and for their family and friends
back home.

------
Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

*cough* Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain...or said man's prolonged absence...

Anywho, I had a hard time narrowing down my choices for the Old Ones of the Light, all of
whom are taken from existing mythologies. Owain is from Arthurian legend--well, sort
of...there's a bit of a controversy with him--but twisted for my own uses. Is it wrong of me to
think of James Earl Jones as Mufasa when I write his dialogue?

So we begin the Order of the Phoenix section of my alternate universe. Already we can see
that things are not nearly as angsty as Rowling's--a joy for some readers, and a
disappointment for others, I'm sure. As Harry and company leave merry England for their
trip, keep in mind that things back home will progress as they had in OotP. The exception
being that Harry will not be around to get in trouble with dementors and Sirius will not be stir
crazy in Grimmauld Place, but those points will be developed in their communications over
the summer.

I know that Ginny would've been able to find Harry through their link the moment she
teleported to the Haven, but for the sake of a comedic beat, I ignored that as author's are wont
to do at moments. If you'd like, think that she was so angry and distraught over Percy's words
that she couldn't focus.

The idea of wizarding airlines came from a post-Hogwarts tale I never finished, as did my
theory on American wizarding society. OK, I'll admit, that's how I wish flying really was like,
as opposed to being stuffed into a sardine tin of recycled and stale air. Not that I wouldn't
have minded doing portkey terminals, but that's been done a lot in other fics I've read. I admit
it was difficult coming up with a wizarding airport procedure and decided to stick with a
simplified form of Muggle airports.

The Gargle Blaster comes from, of course, Douglas Adams's The Hitchhiker's Guide to the
Galaxy. More accurately, the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

The "BOOM" from the Daedalus Wing (a reference to the Greek myth, and based on the
inventor, rather than on the idiot son who flew too close to the sun) is a sonic boom...or at
least I consider it to be one. It wouldn't have to be hidden from Muggles the way the Knight
Bus is since it's at an airport, and they happen pretty frequently. The idea is that the planes
magically achieve supersonic speed in less than a second.

And I'm sure Hermione would've known about the sudden take off, but this is another
instance of me ignoring something for the sake of comedy. Or you could think that she was
too pressed for time to properly research the wizarding aeroplane, and truly thought it too
insignificant to mention as the Knight Bus, Ford Anglia, and Hogwarts Express are three
Muggle vehicles that are each charmed in a variety of ways.

And I wrote them being forced to camp outside the reserve because I have never been to
Romania, never seen Hostel or any other movie set in Romania, and am much more
comfortable imagining a fictitious reserve than a magical addition to any real city.

I prevented Dobby from replacing Kreacher as house-elf for the Order of the Phoenix for that
reason as well. It's simply too minor of a detail for Harry to think anything of, and frankly too
early for Kreacher to be considered a real problem. Not to mention the fact that Harry will not
be spending his summer at Grimmauld Place, experiencing the oddity that is Kreacher first
hand.

Sorry if this chapter seems a bit off, I know it did to me as I was writing it. It'll take some
time to find my character's voices again, and more time to remember everything that I'd done
in previous chapter (which is my excuse as to why I might've explained something again
here). It's not easy coming back after such a long period of time away.

*edit* As it was pointed out by my girlfriend when she read this chapter, Ron and Hermione
have never been to the Haven before this moment. While I could say "Oops," take this
chapter down, rewrite it, and upload it again...let's just say instead that Ron and Hermione
have been over earlier in the summer and this is just a missing moment I have yet to write in
the series of missing moments I haven't written. Savvy?

Back to index

Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen: Do As Dragons Do

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA

Chapter Sixteen: Do As Dragons Do

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

Despite the auspicious takeoff, the rest of the flight was comfortable enough for Ron to revert
to his original position on magical aeroplanes. Both Weasleys agreed that they would take
Mr. Weasley on one the very next chance they had. Owain and Ifrit, on the other hand, would
rather never step foot onto another plane if they had a choice. They disembarked from the
plane in Targu Mures on shaky legs.

Hermione stuck out her wand to summon the continental variant of the Knight Bus soon after
landing. The traditional BANG resounded on the airport tarmac, soon followed by the
appearance of a horseless carriage turning an imaginary corner. A driver, dressed in a suit
dated some centuries prior, complete with a top hat, jumped off of the bench and approached
them.

"My name is Calsof," said the man with a sweeping bow of introduction. He was quite short,
no taller than the bridge of Harry's nose without the hat, but his shoulders were very wide and
almost bulged out from his jacket. When he bowed, Harry noted that four bluebell flames
hovered in the air surrounding the Knight Carriage. "How might I help you?"

"Could you take us to Balaurost?" asked Hermione. She fished in her coin purse and
withdrew a handful of Galleons.

"Of course," Calsof replied, accepting the coins in a leathery palm. Not once did his genial
smile slip from his face. Ron, Ginny, and Harry all exchanged looks behind Hermione's back.
There was something odd to them about Calsof, but neither had the words to explain it.

Before anyone might make an order to the contrary, Calsof had already begun to heap their
luggage upon the top of the carriage. Each toss was done haphazardly over his shoulder, and
yet each bag landed with mathematical precision. Thick leather thongs sprouted from the
carriage's frame and slapped over their possessions like shackles. With a snap of Calsof's
fingers, the doors to the Knight Carriage swung open on creaky hinges, and without a look
back at them, he made his way back up to his bench.

"Cheerful fellow," Ron remarked to Harry.

The inside of the Knight Carriage was dimly lit and smelled something like old clothes that
hadn't been aired for decades. The wooden walls were stained dark from age and use; the
chairs were likewise worn down from years of service. Things were far from shabby, but it
was clear the Knight Carriage was in dire need of an upgrade. There was just enough room
for all four teens and three Old Ones to pack in.

"Reckon it's the same as the Knight Bus?" Ron asked at large with a good deal of trepidation
in his voice.

As if in answer to his query, the Knight Carriage started out with a BANG. Fortunately their
seats were fixed to the floor with a Sticking Charm of some variety, though that did nothing
to lessen the sensation of Harry's stomach passing through his spine. Less than a second later,
the Knight Carriage slammed to a complete halt, throwing all of her passengers up to the
front, and then proceeded to shake them unceremoniously out the door.

"Balaurost!" Calsof called out in a cackle. The Knight Carriage gave another great shudder
and tossed their bags from off the roof right into them. Before even one complaint could be
uttered, the Knight Carriage left them with yet another BANG.

"A curse upon the human whose learning resulted in this," growled Owain as he shook his
head; tiny flecks of gold flew out from his aqueous mane. "Could he imagine nothing better?"

"Here, Hedwig," said Harry. Despite the bumps and bangs the cage had endured recently,
there were no signs of dents or damages. That didn't stop Hedwig from biting Harry's finger
harder than she might've normally when he let her loose.
"OW! You sodding pest!" Ron roared. It was a sight to behold: the towering redhead being
felled by Pigwidgeon shooting out of his cage like a fluffy cannonball and crashing right into
his nose. Harry was reminded of David and Goliath from his primary days.

"Ron! Language," Hermione chastised, though her voice was more laced with concern than
admonishment. "Here, let me see." She carefully pried Ron's hand away from his nose and
winced at the blood trickling out. "It doesn't seem so bad. Does this hurt?" She poked at the
bridge of his nose with the tip of her wand.

"Bloody hell, woman!" Ron bellowed, falling away from Hermione's embrace. "Of course it
hurts!"

"Honestly, Ron, it's not broken," Hermione tutted. "The pain will fade soon."

"What is this place, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

If Balaurost was a village, Harry thought it to be the smallest village in the entire world. It sat
at the foot of the Carpathians with one lonely road passing through. The number of buildings
present could be counted on Harry's fingers and each of them looked considerably dated.
There was the pub--by far the largest structure present--called the Green Dragon, three
grocers selling a variety of items, a novelty shop for various odds and ends that couldn't be
easily qualified, and one clothing store. None of which, Harry noted, were open.

"Balaurost is the nearest wizarding...establishment to the reserve," said Hermione, clearly as

reluctant to call it a proper village. "Merchants set up their wares to keep the reserve fully
stocked and also to keep those at the reserve updated with current events."

"We came here when we visited," Ginny told Ron, whose nose was now almost as red as his
hair. Harry turned his snort into a discrete cough. "The dragon keepers all come on their days
off."

"Yes, but this place is strictly utilitarian," said Hermione. "There are no living quarters in
Balaurost. All proprietors have to commute here. It's not exactly an ideal place for living."

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "It doesn't seem so bad."

It was true, if one took to ignoring the state of Balaurost itself. When one considered instead
its location, at the foot of the Carpathians Mountains, and noted the tall forest and seemingly
endless stretch of mountains, when compared to Snowdon, Harry thought a home could be
made. The isolation would be an added bonus given his celebrity status.

"We'd better get a move on," said Hermione. "I'm not entirely sure how far the reserve is
from Balaurost, so it may take us a while to hike there. Moreover, we still need to find an
adequate camp site."

"Leave that to us," said Owain. Without any further word, the majestic lion began to amble
on down the dusty lane that led into the mountain.

They fell into line the moment they entered the thick trees. Though the noon sun hung over
their shoulders, the thick, dark foliage of the trees was like an ever-present umbrella. Owain
took the lead, followed by Harry and Ginny, then Ron and Hermione, with Ifrit--sans fedora
and coat--bringing up the rear. All of them followed the enchanted wind that Sylph left
behind.

Several hours later, four very exhausted teenagers collapsed upon a ledge overlooking an
expansive valley with a giant lake. It reminded Harry of a pie tin that Dudley had once left
behind, with the crinkled edging and a blotch of cherry filling.

"The camp site is past there," Owain told them, tossing his head to a thick wall of trees
further back against the mountain face.

"There?" Ron gasped. From the way his mouth continued to work long after he'd spoken, it
was clear there were many words he wanted to say if he only had the breath for them.

"Ifrit will handle your things," said Owain. It was then that Harry realized he hadn't his
rucksack or tent any longer. Vaguely a misty memory arose of Ifrit collecting them during
their hike. "Keep sharp," Owain warned, and Harry felt a brief surge of magic revitalize his
mind and body. While it wasn't enough to say, play through another game of Quidditch, it
was certainly enough to help him pay attention to Owain's words:

"Sylph has led us halfway up the tallest peak surrounding the dragon reserve. The dragon
handlers' compound is on that thin sliver of shore to the north of the lake. The dragon pens
are scattered around the large clearing south of the lake, on the foot of the mountains. Sylph
has been observing the handlers throughout the day. Dragons are led to the clearing per a
schedule in clusters that the handlers can manage. Unfortunately she came across no sign of
Marduk."

"We can search tomorrow," Harry breathed, staring down at the valley of twinkling stars. At
their distance, it was hard to tell where the dragon plumes ended and the reflected sky began.
Owain's magic having served its purpose, Harry was beginning to feel the effects of his hike.
"I think we could all use some sleep."

Already Hermione had succumbed to sleep, slouched against a boulder. Ron was not far
behind her; every third breath his chin would slip off from his palm, jerking him awake long
enough for him to reset its position, and then begin again. It was, perhaps, only by their
pooled magical reserve that Harry and Ginny were still somewhat cognizant.

Or so Harry thought...

Though he tried to stand and move back to camp, a numbing darkness overwhelmed his
body. One instant he felt Ginny's warmth against his shoulder, and saw Owain pad closer to
him, the next...nothing.

*****

The first things Harry realized when he opened his eyes were the black void of space and the
muted blue of Earth's atmosphere stretching out before him. The second thing that Harry
noted was the sea of sheepskin clouds laid out beneath him. The third--and arguably most
important--thing that occurred to Harry was that he was no longer at the campsite, no longer
with Ginny, Ron, Hermione, nor any of the other Old Ones, but was flying thousands of miles
above ground.

Panicked, Harry floundered about in the air. As it happened with the surrealness of dreams,
he never once questioned why he flew without a broom, nor why his body felt several sizes
too big and quite ungainly. Landing consumed Harry's thoughts. He had to get back to Ginny.
There was a mission that needed to be accomplished.

The clouds parted before Harry's rocketing descent like a gossamer veil. Rushing towards
him was a broad island, at the centre of which was a complicated array of mountains, natural
or otherwise, that bore a striking resemblance to a giant fingerprint. In the centre of the
design was a circular construct that struck a familiar chord somewhere in the pit of his being.
It was calling him back home like a mother's warm smile and waiting embrace.

A deep-rooted, all-consuming longing drove Harry there with a swift speed faster than any
silver starlight or Golden Snitch. There was peace in that place--a peace he'd never known
existed. He never imagined wanting such a thing so bad until it was there for the taking.
Right there! There! Close now! Close! He could see it! It was...

But Harry did not land on that island, rather he flew straight through it and crashed upon an
almost claustrophobic corridor. It was dark, but his fingers could feel the stone on the floor.
Off in the distance was a blinding light that pierced beyond the cracks of a door. There was
no peace to be found beyond that door, but he wanted to know what was there regardless. It
was there. His answer. There. His answer. Beyond the door. There. His answer... His...

The hand that reached out to open the door was pale with thin fingers. A frighteningly
distinctive hand. Lord Voldemort's hand!

Harry bolted upright in his bed, gasping for the soothing breath that had escaped his sleep.
The whole of his body trembled against the feverish fire that had claimed it; his clothes were
like a living sauna that clutched against his skin; his scar throbbed with the fine percussion of
a marching band, as did the vault that symbolized it in his mind. His room...was not what he
expected.

Instinctively, he reached for his glasses to peer at the world with some focus and distance. He
was not at the Haven. He was not back on Privet Drive--to his abundant relief. He was not at
the Burrow, nor was he back at Hogwarts. In fact, it took him almost a minute to recognize
the bunk beds, the kitchen, and the hearth with a vacant owl perch. He was in his tent, the
same tent he'd used for the Quidditch World Cup. It came flooding back to him then--the
mission, Owain's speech, where he was--but for the span of that one minute, he had felt
horribly alone. Maybe he might ask Ron to sleep in his tent, as he was quite certain having
Ginny sleep in the same tent as he would bring an uncomfortable pressure to their
relationship.

The scar was still a bother as Harry dressed, but after reinforcing his defences it gradually
faded out. He reasoned he'd have to do that every night before he fell asleep. As tiring as that
sounded, the alternative seemed worse. It was a chilling truth to be handed with--the deep
desires of Voldemort's dreams pouring through their link. Somehow Harry felt fortunate to
have only seen that little sliver, which was probably connected to the prophecy in some
manner.
"Oh, hello, Harry," said Hermione cheerfully as he exited his tent. She was in the process of
Conjuring up a simple dining set in the middle of their little camp. Ifrit had done a marvellous
job of setting things up with an almost military precision. "Good morning. Did you sleep
well?"

Harry offered a weak shrug, but Hermione was far too busy to notice. "Ron and Ginny aren't
up yet, but I expected as much. You know neither of them take well to being awake so early,
and we did have quite an exhausting day yesterday." She blushed at that, undoubtedly
embarrassed for her lack to plan such a glaringly obvious result. "Anyway, I was wondering
if you might make breakfast for us this morning? Tired or not, I'm going to wake our
favourite redheads. We've another busy day."

"Sure, Hermione," said Harry in what he hoped was a happy voice. Truthfully, he'd rather not
make breakfast on this particular day. What he really wanted was another few hours of
uninterrupted sleep and was sorely tempted to grab just that instead.

Something else, however, caught his attention.

"Where's Sylph gone?"

"The little light has not yet stopped her search for Marduk," said Owain. "I suspect she should
return shortly with more information. I'm afraid you'll have to progress on your search
without her though."

"She shouldn't push herself," said Harry to himself, feeling that it was his responsibility to
watch out for her.

"You underestimate Sylph," Owain warned. "She has been a soldier in this war far longer
than you think. Young is her disposition, but her experience is beyond compare. Never doubt
her heart."

The words sunk into Harry's sleep-fuzzed head. Sylph, as an Old One, has been fighting the
war of Light and Dark since long before mankind walked the Earth. Though she looked small
and childlike, in her was a wisdom ages old. Voldemort, only a few weeks prior, had made a
similar mistake with Harry.

"You're right," Harry sighed, still feeling stretched thin from his lack of sleep. "We'll plan our
next course of action when Sylph gets back."

"That would be the wisest course to take," Owain agreed.

Harry fixed their breakfast easily despite his less than restful sleep, having done so for many
years with the Dursleys under worst conditions. A soft trill through his link told him that
Ginny was awake. His dragon shifted closer to her phoenix and the two cuddled under the
protection of his great wings. An underlying irritability rolled by in the undercurrent of her
song, and Harry discerned it was directed towards Hermione.

When Harry emerged from his tent, floating their breakfast in tow, he found Hermione, Ron,
and Ginny all seated around a smokeless campfire.
"'Bout bloody time," a dishevelled Ron griped. If his hair was black instead of red and several
inches were shaved from his height, the two might currently pass for brothers in their
dishevelled state. "A man shouldn't be made to get up so early if there's not breakfast already
on the table."

"Unfortunately you're not yet a man, ickle Ronniekins," Ginny teased, helping herself to
some eggs and toast. Ron allowed Ginny's dig to pass as his focus had shifted completely
upon the platter of sizzling food.

With a practiced hand, Hermione began to fill her own plate without ever once looking away
from the open Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five on her lap.

"Hermione," said Harry with a furrowed brow, "what're you doing?"

"This is our OWL year," she answered, not bothering to raise her eyes as she nibbled on her
toast, careful not to get the crumbs on the book. "While what we've learned from you, Harry,
has been wonderfully informative and amazingly helpful on the practical side of magic, it's
not going to help me any on the written portion of the exams. I mean--" and here she raised
her face apologetically, "I do understand much more of magical theory now, but it's not the
answer the Ministry expects to have, and I very much doubt it'll be enough to earn me an
Outstanding grade."

"Blimey, Hermione, we've only started summer," Ron groused around a mouthful of bangers.

"But the OWL year is our most important year!" Hermione retorted. "The grades we receive
on our OWLs and our career counselling session with our head of house will determine what
classes we'll be taking for our NEWTs. Ideally we should all be striving for an Outstanding in
every subject--" Harry coughed to cover his snort, while Ron's mouth was much too packed
to manage one, "but at the very least you ought to work at earning ones for the classes that
will be necessary for your desired career."

"What career were you thinking of, Hermione?" Ginny inquired.

"Well, I'd thought about something with the treatment of animals or magical beings," said
Hermione, brightening at Ginny's question. "It's simply atrocious how the Ministry handles
centaurs and house-elves and werewolves. I was thinking of being a legal representative or
perhaps a lobbyist on their behalf."

Ginny gave a thoughtful nod of active listening as she picked up another piece of toast--this
time from Harry's plate. "It's...ambitious," she finally commented. "I'm not sure how much
you'll be able to get done practically."

"I know," Hermione sighed, closing her book and setting it down beside her. "Believe me,
Ginny, I remember everyone's reaction to SPEW--"

"Wazzat?" said Ron.

Hermione gave another sigh and a bracing breath before facing Ron. "Spew."

"Ohhhhh. Right, I remember now." Ron and Harry shared a smile.

"Anyway," she continued with a narrow look on her face directed towards Ron, "I know there
would need to be some incredible magical reforms to transpire before I could even hope to
have a successful career in that field, so I've thought about going into magical research.
There's still so much for me to learn about the wizarding world. Plus, the lessons we've been
having from Harry have shown me a whole new side of magic and I'd like to see how I could
take that and improve what's already present in the wizarding world."

"That's--that's great, Hermione," said Ginny, who seemed a little awed at Hermione's
planning. "I think Dad might've mentioned a division at the Ministry that does just that."

Harry swore that Hermione's ears actually perked up. It was not an errant breeze that rustled
the curly locks around her ears, it was her ears actually perking.

"Really?" Hermione shifted so that she was on the very edge of her seat. "Do you know what
they're called?"

Ginny scrunched up her brow and twisted her eyes in an attempt to capture the buried nugget
of information but came up with nothing. "No, I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It's all right," Hermione shrugged and made a quick note in her journal. Remembering the
original subject of the conversation, Hermione looked to both Ron and Harry. "And do either
of you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Ron tilted his head somewhat as the pumpkin juice he'd hastily swallowed washed down the
remains of his breakfast. "An Auror," he pronounced at last. "An Auror'd be cool, I reckon."

Hermione opened her mouth, and judging from the disapproving shadow that'd crossed her
face, she was ready to enter in a row with Ron over his reasoning process. Choosing to head
off the argument, Harry said, "I've never thought about a career. I've never actually thought
about leaving Hogwarts..."

It did seem blasphemous to Harry's own ears. Leaving Hogwarts? It'd been his first home and
the moment when his life truly started. Thinking about leaving so soon was a shocking thing,
but he realized that it wasn't so soon to Hermione or everyone else. They'd been enjoying
their whole lives. Moving on, going past Hogwarts, that was just another phase in their
ongoing lives.

A burst of warmth came through his link with Ginny. She reached out and squeezed his hand,
knowing the emotions going through him. He returned the gesture and melted into their link.

"You don't have to think of it now," she told him. "There's lots of time yet."

"Speaking on time," interjected Hermione, flipping to another page in her journal. "I've
worked out chores and the like while we're on the trip. It's flexible, of course, depending on
our location and time zones and other variables, but it helps to have one. I wanted to speak
with you about further training, Harry. We'll have to schedule that in as well."

"Wha--?" was Harry's intelligent reply, his second in a row.

"Our tutoring," Hermione went on, pen poised over whatever page. "I assume you must've
learned more things from Merlin by now, and if not, there's always more for us to learn if we
do it together. If we are to be a part of this war, Harry, shouldn't we be as prepared as we
can?"

"Erm...sure. How about a few hours each day?" Harry tried. "Like a Hogwarts schedule?
With weekends free?"

"That would work," Hermione nodded and scribbled it down.

"Are we seeing Charlie?" Ron asked while Hermione wrote. "I've wanted to go over some
choices for a new broomstick with him, maybe get in some practice with the dragon
keepers..."

"Well you'd better write him a note ahead of time," Hermione noted. "It wouldn't do to show
up unannounced. More to the point, it would bring all sorts of uncomfortable questions that
we won't be prepared to answer."

"I'll do it," Ginny volunteered. She was about to set her plate down with the others when she
glanced up at Hermione. "Unless it's my day to wash up?"

"No," Hermione answered, gathering up the small pile. "It's my day, actually. Um...are there
any pots or pans that need cleaning?"

"I was going to do them," said Harry with a shake of his head.

"But these are your plates," Hermione pointed out. Harry scratched at the back of his head in
befuddlement. If the plates were his own, and he had to cook from his own kitchen, then why
go through the trouble of having Hermione come in to wash them? It'd be far simpler if he
did the cleaning.

"Am I the only one that thinks sleeping in four separate tents is a bit mad?" Ron voiced,
watching the deliberation flit over Harry and Hermione's faces. "Couldn't we, I dunno, do as
we do in Hogwarts? Me and Harry, Ginny and Hermione? Or, y'know, I put my things in
with Harry and we share his tent, and you two...figure that part out on your own?"

"I wouldn't mind the company," Harry admitted quickly, and Ron let out a breath.

"Well, I suppose..." Hermione began, but that was good enough for Ron.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "I'll go and get my things!"

"I'll help," Harry shrugged.

The moment he stepped into Ron's tent, he realized just why Ron had been so anxious to
move. There was a veritable mansion tucked under the ugly gray tarp. The living room alone
could have eaten up the whole interior of Harry's tent, never mind what the bedroom or the
bathroom must look like.

"Hermione had the same look on her face," Ron admitted sheepishly. "I know I shouldn't
have bought it and it's silly...but it's--well it's the first thing I could buy with my earnings. I
didn't... I wanted to splurge."

Harry understood. He also understood why Ron now wanted help in choosing a new broom.
Charlie had been the broom expert of the Weasley household, being the only one (so far)
capable of making it to the professional level. More over, Charlie would have studied broom
types from all over the world before picking the perfect one to help him at the reserve.

It didn't take them long to pack up Ron's things--he could've packed his entire room at the
Burrow and still have space to spare--take down the tent, and pack everything in Harry's.
Though there were three other beds to choose from, Ron had picked the bed below Harry, not
that he minded in the slightest.

When Harry and Ron emerged from Harry's tent, they saw that the girls had managed to join
their tents together. The midpoint of the olive drab tent on the right side, and the midpoint of
the dusky blue tent on the left side had been sewn together by very large stitches. From the
outside, it looked like a person might have to crawl in order to get from one tent to another,
but the magical interior might've formed a full, fanciful corridor.

"You didn't move in?" Harry asked once Hermione and Ginny exited.

"Unlike someone," said Hermione archly, casting a glance towards Ron, "Ginny and I bought
sensible tents."

"But since you two are doing it, we didn't want to feel left out," Ginny added, grinning.
"Besides, Owain explained that it was better from a tactical standpoint. With each of us in our
own tent, our reactions would be delayed if one of us were attacked. This way, we have a
partner to watch our back."

"Owain?" said Harry.

"Who do you think helped us with that?" Ginny retorted, waving back at the Frankenstein
tent. "Any idiot could've sewn the two together, but the magic inside...?"

"I admit, it was spectacular to see," Hermione agreed. The wistful smile that crossed her face
did a lot to soften her ire at Ron.

Shortly before lunch, Sylph finally returned to their campsite without any of her usual
jubilation. The little green sprite all but crashed upon Owain's head the moment she saw him.
Everyone tried to rush over towards her, but Ifrit held out his arm to stop them.

"She is fine," Owain assured them. "She merely needs a moment's rest."

Peeking through the middle of Owain's golden mane was Sylph. The green of her glow had
dulled somewhat, but Harry thought he could make out an encouraging smile on her pinky-
sized face.

"You've done a smashing job, Sylph," Harry praised; her glow flared out bright in response.

"That she did," Owain agreed with a gentle nod, careful not to jostle his passenger. "She
found Marduk."

"Where is he?"

"Can we meet him?"

"What did he say?"

Owain sat down upon his haunches and raised a paw to stop the barrage of questions that beat
against his ears.

"Our little light has told me that Marduk will speak to Harry Potter only if he passes a test."

"A test?" Harry frowned. "What sort of test?"

"Marduk refused to say."

"Hold on," Ron spoke up. "What d'you mean 'speak to Harry?' You mean if Harry passes this
test, this Marduk bloke'll only speak to him? Not join him?"

Owain gave another nod.

"That's not on!" Ron bellowed. "Harry, we don't need this guy, do we?"

"If we don't convince Marduk to join us, it'll be that much more difficult to find Durandal
next," said a resigned Harry.

"And if we cannot discover Jupiter's location, then Marduk will be more all the more
valuable," said Owain. "Of the remaining Old Ones, Marduk and Jupiter are two of the
strongest--Marduk being the more capable warrior, and Jupiter being the more powerful
mage."

"So when am I supposed to take this test?" Harry asked.

"Marduk offered no answer."

"Of course not," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"So what're we going to do now?" Ginny asked. "Do we wait here for Marduk's test? Or do
we move on to France and look for Durandal? Or maybe we should contact the leviathans
using the lake down at the reserve."

"We wait," Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy locks. "We'll visit the reserve
when we get word back from Charlie. That's all we can do, really."

"No sense in wasting any time," Hermione announced briskly. "How about a lesson now?"

*****

The night passed without incident or any signs of a test. Harry shared any notes he thought
relevant with Hermione, and together the two composed something of a course syllabus for
the summer. It was difficult, Harry realized, as this was the first time he'd done so without the
aide of Merlin. Those thoughts had led Harry down the dark path of worry--worry for Merlin
and Sirius and everyone else, but focusing on the training diverted him into a more forward
moving direction.

Owain and Ifrit continued to drill them almost mercilessly in combat. Even with the odds four
to one in favour of the teens, they still couldn't garner out a solid victory over either Old One.
It was maddening in more ways than one, but it emphasized the importance of their mission.
The Dark Ones would likely be as formidable, and in Jormungand's case, more so.

In the midst of all their scheduling, Harry had forgotten the time difference between Romania
and England, and so had little more than five minutes to catch up with both Merlin and Sirius.
Merlin was still in England, near Little Hangleton, and was close to finding the first Horcrux.
Sirius told of Dumbledore's decline in the public, going so far as removing him from his
position with the International Confederation of Wizards, and cheerfully informed him that
Mrs. Weasley was still none the wiser about their little summer trip.

The following morning brought a reply note from Charlie.

Dear Ginny,

It's a bit on short notice, but you lot are cleared to visit. I won't bother asking if Mum knows
of this as the four of you are out without anyone, but, then again, if I haven't got a Howler
from Mum then I'll assume you four have surpassed the twins in cleverness and are more
than capable of taking care for yourselves. We've other visitors using up our lodgings, so I'm
afraid you can't hang 'round overnight, but feel free to stop by anytime.

Charlie

The odd menagerie of four teens and three Old Ones made their way down the side of the
mountain. It was easier on the trip down, as life very often chooses to reflect. They teleported
from point-to-point until they were standing outside gates made of the dark wood found in
the area.

"Not much protection against stampeding dragons, is it?" Ron noted, rapping his knuckles
against the fence.

"I'm sure it's more privacy than anything," said Hermione.

"Privacy?" Ron balked, gesturing about the valley they were in. "Here? You can't get much
more private than this, Hermione."

Behind the gate was a series of wooden compounds built from the same wood of the valley.
They varied in size, but were generally low to the ground and long in length. There was a
wide berth between each compound, enough for maybe the Hogwarts Express to plough
through comfortably.
"Not afraid of fire either, it seems," Hermione commented.

"Actually, all the wood here is treated with a fire retardant stain," came a voice, startling the
four teens. The voice belonged to a witch exiting the compound they'd just passed. She was
tall and lean, with dark hair in a boyish cut. As she moved, the dragonhide cloak she wore
slipped over her shoulders and seemed to swallow up her figure. How she could manage to
wear it in the summer heat was beyond Harry's comprehension.

"I think it has crushed dragonhide in it to make it so," the witch told them, staring up at the
building's roof instead of down at them. She set her arms on her hips, which pushed back the
cloak once more. In addition to it, she was wearing two layers of thick tunics, elbow-length
dragonhide gloves, a weighty belt with bulging pouches, airy breeches about the thighs, and
long dragonhide boots.

By all rights, Harry thought she should be a walking sauna.

"The buildings are spaced apart like this to make sure that if a dragon does go on a rampage
and attack the reserve, then it'd be that much more difficult for the fire to spread from one
compound to another--or so they tell me."

"You'll have to excuse Cortana," Charlie called out, emerging from the same compound as
the witch; he was similarly garbed as her, leading Harry to believe it was a standard uniform
among the dragon keepers, "she's only been on for the past three months. She's a bit of a
novice."

Cortana scoffed at that and folded her arms across her chest. "A novice who can out fly any
of you."

Charlie grinned, ignoring Cortana's dig, but Ron couldn't conceal the shock that'd crossed
over his face.

"You're just in time," Charlie told them. "We were about to go off and check on the Welsh
Greens. You lot can tag along."

"Are you sure that's safe?" said Hermione worriedly. She took a step back so that she was
pressing against Ron's shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arm around her waist and drew
her tight against him. It looked to Harry that they were both drawing some comfort and
stability from the presence of the other.

"The Welsh Green?" Charlie did a quick double take towards Hermione. "It's practically
harmless."

Ginny snorted. Apparently what Charlie considered "practically harmless" covered a wide
variety if a Common Welsh Green was counted amongst them. Harry thought Charlie and
Hagrid subscribed to the same dictionary.

They made their way to the lakeshore, where an open-air broomshed awaited them. The wood
of the shed sagged and was rotted up in the corners and down by the ground. Deep gouges on
one side of the frame showed that a door had once rested comfortably there. Another dragon
keeper, approximately of the same build as Charlie, was busy tugging on his own pair of
dragonhide gloves. He was bald, with narrow eyes, a long, thin moustache and goatee, and
deep olive skin.

"There used to be a door here," Charlie confirmed, noting Harry's first glance, "but we use the
shed so often that when we blew it off in an emergency, we just decided to keep it off."

"Ho, Charlie!" the other dragon keeper called out.

"Dziga," Charlie returned cheerfully. "This is my sister, Ginny, you remember her? And Ron,
my younger brother, he was in Hogwarts when the others came to visit; he's the Triwizard
Champion." Ron blushed at Charlie's little addition.

"Da," Dziga nodded with an agreeable smile somewhat reminiscent of Hagrid's. "He took on
the Short-Snout."

"These are their friends--Hermione and Harry."

Dziga arched his brow as he looked at Harry, and Harry tried hard to resist his first instinct of
going for his scar. "Da," said Dziga a little more carefully. "The Horntail."

"Sorry, Harry," Charlie said, looking somewhat abashed. "I forgot to say you're something of
a legend here."

A dark scowl flittered across Ron's face for a moment before passing. Harry resisted the urge
not to do the same. As he looked around in an effort to distract himself, he noted that Owain,
Ifrit, and Sylph were nowhere to be found. It had been odd, now that he thought over it, that
neither Cortana nor Charlie had made any comment about their companions.

"Watching," a passing breeze told Harry. He took that to mean they were observing from a
distance, not wanting to confuse matters at the reserve. Harry doubted many wizards had seen
Owain or an ifrit before.

"Well, mount up," Dziga told them, gesturing at the brooms.

There were several empty slots in the shed, but all the remaining brooms were in the best
shape possible. None were archaic, a few were foreign, but they all flew in spite of the wear.
It'd be a dragon keeper's lifeline, after all. In the end, Harry settled on a Nimbus Stratos, the
model that'd been Nimbus's signature line before the Two Thousand series.

"Things are done by shifts," Charlie told them, mostly for the benefit of Harry, Hermione,
and Ron. "The night shift observes the dragons in the pens we've constructed for them and
takes care of feeding; the day shift does the same, and they're also in charge of leading the
dragons out for their exercise."

"Is that what we'll be doing, then?" Hermione all but shouted.

"Yeah," Cortana returned, looking none-too-pleased. "Exercise right off."

"Is not so bad," Dziga waved off. "The Welsh Greens...they are giant children. Besides, there
is only the three."
"The Ukrainian Ironbellies, who got out first today, typically need eight keepers to manage
them, even though we've only the male and female," Charlie elaborated. "The Horntails can
take up to ten if they're in a really foul mood. We can manage the Liondragons with about
six."

To emphasize his point, Charlie took them around to the clearing first, where eight keepers,
all on foot, were busy prodding and leading the Ukrainian Ironbellies back to the nearest
mountain.

"Why don't you lead them by broom?" Hermione asked.

"Because we'd all be dead," Dziga snorted.

"Flying around a dragon's head, we'd all look like a tasty bird," Charlie again elaborated. "So
we keep to the ground, mostly, where we have a better chance of taking an accurate shot."

"Why have the brooms at all, then?" Ron voiced.

"Because sometimes the dragons break loose," said Charlie. "When that happens we need to
chase them down, which takes all the flying skill you can muster."

At the phrase "break loose" Harry turned his attention back to the Ukrainian Ironbellies. He'd
missed it the first time because the scales glittered bright in the rising sun, but there shouldn't
be any glint in the area between dragons. They were bound together by a thick chain, from
the looks of it. Giant spikes as long and large as a dragon's teeth were arrayed along the
chain. The dragon in Harry's chest gave out a low growl of indignation, which Harry silently
agreed with.

They landed in the dense forest of the mountain across from the one they'd set up camp and
made their way up. They moved in silence for some time until they came across a large
boulder. A complicated series of runes were etched on its side. Harry recognized them from
Ancient Runes. It was a part of a webwork net, used to confine a person or animal in a
specific place. That type of spell was easily broken once one of the marked stones were
pushed out of alignment, but for a dragon that might be a little difficult to spot.

"Something's wrong," Charlie whispered over his shoulder. Cortana gave a curt nod and
pointed up towards the treeline. A hut sat near the middle of the tree, well disguised by a
Disillusionment Charm and a few dark tarps. "There's no one in the perch," she said.

"Where's that damned Mikhail?" Dziga swore.

The brush within the border of the pen began to rustle and shake, drawing everyone's
attention. A wizard walked out shortly and almost collapsed in relief before Charlie.

"There he is," said Dziga with a carefree shrug.

Mikhail was taller than both wizards and quite lean. His rough uniform was all askew and
mud stripes decorated his sunken cheeks. "Thank God I found you. I was ready to send
sparks if no one had shown up."
"What's going on, Mick?" Charlie asked, helping him to sit against the boulder. "Where's
Henri?"

"Looking for the Welsh Greens," Mikhail gasped. He reached to the back of his belt and
withdrew a large canteen.

"They're missing?" Cortana said.

"No--yes," Mikhail said with a sour face. "We're not sure."

"Are you a simpleton?" Dziga nearly shouted. "How does one lose two adult dragons? The
hatchling, perhaps, but the adults?"

"Start at the beginning," Charlie told Mikhail in a calm voice. "When was the last time you
saw the dragons?"

"We never did," Mikhail admitted, staring mournfully into the neck of his canteen, "not for
the whole watch. If they'd escaped, the alarms would've spoken, so we knew they had to be
somewhere in the pen. We tried searching for them all night, but it's hard to see a dragon
under all that with a little Lumos from a broom. I wanted to go on foot, but Henri stopped
me."

"Why the blazes would he do that?" Cortana demanded. "Why the hell didn't you send up
sparks regardless?"

"I wanted to do that, too!" Mikhail pleaded. "But Henri kept telling me 'No, no, it's no
emergency.' He said it was procedure. Searches, barring a direct emergency, could only be
conducted by day within a pen. It's suicide to do it by night!"

"Psh," Cortana dismissed. "True it's procedure, but no one ever does it."

"But it means Henri has a lot to answer for," Charlie said, his jaw set. "Did Henri go in?"

Mikhail nodded. "At daybreak. Told me to stay out and wait for the day shift. I tried, but I
was worried, and I heard nothing from him! I went in, but not so far."

Charlie nodded and glanced over to Dziga, who nodded in return. A silent communication
had passed between the two, one not unlike Fred and George, or even Harry and Ginny.
There was some missing thread to the overall tapestry that Harry wasn't privy to.

"Cortana, stay back with Mick and the others. Dziga, let's go find--"

"Wait!" Harry interrupted. "I can find the dragons."

Charlie looked sceptical for a moment.

"Trust him, Charlie," said Ginny. "Remember the tournament?"

Charlie and Dziga glanced at each other once more. The other dragon keeper shrugged a
shoulder in reply.

"All right," Charlie relented, "but none of you lot'll do any fighting. Mum'll kill me if she
knew you lot got hurt while I was watching, never mind what she'd do to all of you when she
learned you're here in the first place."

The four teenagers nodded in agreement.

Harry was about to summon Sylph to guide them, when, unexpectedly, his inner dragon
roused itself with a great fury. The pull was incessant, and Harry felt that his feet were no
longer under his own control. Something bad had happened to the dragons, something that
enraged his instincts more than the chains connecting the Ironbellies.

"What's wrong?" Ginny whispered to him as they went. Her phoenix had been trying to calm
his dragon, but to no avail. Some part of her recognized that the anger was necessary and
should not be quelled through song.

"I'm not sure," Harry frowned. The anger, the fear, the suspicion all rolled together into a
burning black mass the pushed against his chest. With every step, he felt a part of his rational
mind falling into that black mass, and, in turn, that mass grew larger and larger. He had to
find the dragons. He had to see.

They found the two Common Welsh Greens curled up in their nest, a shallow depression
made in the soft soil. It seemed that they were sleeping, the male wrapped protectively over
the female, but there was something distinctively wrong about the stillness. Harry recognized
it, however--or rather, his instincts recognized it, and he fell back against the nearest tree,
winded.

"They're dead," he said mournfully. That black mass burst into a bleak shower, sapping the
strength from his limbs. His first instinct was to throw back his head and let out a long, loud
growl, but the action was too jarring for his rational mind.

"No they're not they're..." Ron paused and took another look at the dragons. Neither animal
was breathing in the slightest, and no animal would lay so relaxed upon another.

"Where's Henri?" Dziga growled. "Where's that dog?"

"Maybe he's still searching for the dragons?" Cortana offered weakly.

"No," said Charlie shortly, looking as furious as Harry was saddened. "Look," he pointed to
the edge of the nest closest to them, "one of the eggs are crushed. Even sickened, a dragon
would do all it could to get away from their egg rather than crush it. It would never trample
one unless it was forced to. And where are the other three? She laid four total."

"Henri could've--"

"He would've sent up the sparks," Dziga spat; he looked ready to topple over the surrounding
trees by crashing into them. Cortana deflated as she stared at the dead dragons.

Charlie took the brave step and made to examine the dragons. All he needed to do was scrape
at the female dragon's mouth with her wand and gaze at her eyes. He marched back and
crouched down before Mikhail.

"Henri fed them, didn't he?" The young dragon keeper nodded. Charlie hung his head for a
moment and sighed. "They were drugged," he announced to everyone. "Sleeping Draught.
Same sort we gave them when we transported them up to Hogwarts. I reckon Henri meant to
catch them when they were out and take the eggs."

"Something wrong must have taken place," said Dziga. "He was never good with the mixing.
They must have woken."

"I don't think that's it," Charlie said to Dziga. "He got them with Conjunctivitis Curses. They
trampled the egg, just like the Liondragon had in the tournament. The Sleeping Draught
must've kicked in afterward, judging from how they ended up. Maybe the potion was brewed
wonky, or maybe they got an infection from the curse. Either way it's greed. Pure and
simple."

Harry's hands gathered up the jeans around his knees. Knowing the pain he was in, if not
quite understanding it--but, then again, Harry didn't quite understand it either--Ginny knelt
down beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Greed?" said Hermione blankly. "I--I don't understand. I know the twelve uses of dragon's
blood and none is worth this. And...if it was for the eggs...well...you can't domesticate a
dragon."

"No," said Charlie softly, "you can't, but that doesn't stop people with too much money and
time from buying the eggs, raising them for a few months, then tossing them out when they're
too much to handle."

Harry thought of Hagrid and Norbert, and how Lord Voldemort had easily procured a dragon
egg through Quirrell.

"What're we going to do?" Cortana asked. "If Henri went in at daybreak, then he's already
had a few hours head start on us."

"We raise the alarm, contact the local Ministry, file out a report," said Charlie, who sounded
as if he'd quite the experience with such matters, and that such matters never ended the way
he'd like. "It's all we can do at this point."

The dragon within Harry's chest raised its head slightly and began sniffing at the air.
Something yet lingered, something faint, something that he could only notice once everything
had settled. It was like whimper, a plea, sent through magic and magic alone.

Harry did the only thing he could; he got up and followed the anguished cry to its source.

Buried under the male dragon's limp wing like a child hiding under the bed was the young
hatchling. The tiny, lime lizard appeared dead, but upon a closer inspection, Harry could see
very shallow breathing under its jaw and in its chest.

"Charlie!" Ginny, who'd accompanied Harry, shouted. "Charlie, come quick! The baby's still
alive!"

It was considerably larger than Norbert had been, meaning it was also older. Harry had to
cradle it like a baby in order to hold it. The baby dragon remained unresponsive, although he
noted a shift in its emotions as it pressed its head against his heart.

"It must've got the Sleeping Draught," Charlie cursed, leaning close over Harry's shoulder to
examine the dragon. "The little thing couldn't possibly handle an adult dosage."

"I've sent the sparks!" Cortana shouted.

Everything was a jumbled mess to Harry's mind except for one thing--the baby dragon
needed him. None of the other dragon keepers would be able to diagnose or monitor it as well
as Harry could by opening his connection to it, not unlike the Triwizard Tournament. There
was a tremendous sadness at the very heart of the stripling. She--and he knew it was a she--
was more than aware that her parents, her guardians, had been taken from her. Lacking any
remaining kin or connection to this world, she felt little purpose left in hanging on.

"Harry," it was Charlie, he thought, "you have to give us the dragon, now."

"No," said Harry firmly, reinforcing this through his aura. "She needs me. I claim her as
family."

"Harry..." Who was it now? Hermione? Cortana? It didn't matter anymore. What mattered
was getting the stripling to accept Harry as...well, not as its Mum...maybe godfather? He
prodded the Common Welsh Green with his aura, trying to wrap it securely within it like a
blanket without the dragon's own magic rejecting him. The instincts had taken over. Harry
wasn't sure how he knew to do this, he only knew that the information was there and needed
to be used. Once more, he found that he was losing himself to his magic, only now his magic
was trying to entwine itself with a dying baby dragon.

"He's not letting go."

"We need to move fast."

"Dragon's fading."

"Harry...what's he doing?"

"D'you feel that?"

"Stop it, all of you! He's helping the dragon!"

"Ginny, how--"

"Move him and you'll move the dragon, it that so hard?"

"Do it."

"He's not looking so good."

"Harry?"

"Merlin's beard, help him!"

"What's that boy doing?"

"Brooms now! We need to transport them and figure out what the bloody hell's going on!"

For the second time in as many days, a sudden darkness stole its way over Harry's
consciousness, leaving him unaware of everything.

*****

No unusual dreams greeted Harry when he awoke next, though his mouth felt stuffed full
with cotton wads and the whole of his head was being pounded by several mallets at random
intervals.

"There he is." Ginny's familiar voice, along with her comforting presence, did a lot to soothe
the ailments that plagued him. She carefully set his glasses over his nose and ears, then
proceeded to take his right hand. He tried to sit up and embrace her, but she laid her other
hand upon his forehead to stop him. "You'll upset her," she warned.

"Who?" said Harry dumbly.

"You're new friend," said a smiling Ron. He nodded down to Harry's chest where the
Common Welsh Green was napping. There was a healthy sparkle back in her lime scales, and
he could clearly see the deep breathing of a peaceful sleep. He could feel the dragon's
comfort at Harry's presence. "Don't believe it. Hagrid'll be beside himself if he ever knew."

"She's not a pet," Harry clarified in a scratchy voice. "She's--" a deep, red blush saturated his
quite pale features. "She's my...niece...goddaughter..." Harry took a calming breath, stroked
the crown of the dragon's head with his index finger, and tried again. "She's family."

"Are you going to make a habit of this?" Ginny wondered, brushing back his fringe with
gentle fingers so that she could lay a soft kiss upon his brow.

"I'm not even sure what happened..."

"You weren't really in any danger," said Charlie. He grabbed a nearby chair, twisted it
backwards, and plonked himself down. "I say really because I'm not sure I've ever seen that
done by a human before." At Harry's inquisitive--if not blank--stare, Charlie went on.
"Dragons, the mother usually, wrap their hatchlings--"

"Stripling," Harry corrected automatically. "That's what they're called," he said, blushing
once more.

"They wrap their striplings," said Charlie slowly, but with a Weasley grin, "in a cocoon of
their magic in times of injury or sickness. It helps facilitate healing within the stripling, but it
does require the parent enter a sort of hibernation. That little Welsh Green must really
consider you family. Dragons don't allow any non-kin, let alone another species, do it for
them."

"What'll happen to her?" Hermione asked softly. "She...she's an orphan."

"She'll be fine," Harry croaked. Charlie nodded quickly in agreement. "Every dragon is born
with the knowledge of every dragon that came before it in its lineage," Charlie lectured.
"That means that they know how to survive from the day they're born. They know how to fly,
hunt, mate, interact with other dragons... What they need most from their parents is protection
until they're old enough to manage everything on their own.

"With that advantage, dragon's are actually the easiest animal you could probably raise--
provided you had the resources. They can devour more food than even Ron here." Now it was
Ron's turn to blush, doing his best to shoot his older brother a glare while everyone laughed.
"But they need a big space to roam, and, of course, no one really understands a dragon, not
even us."

"It's like those Muggle zoos or amusement parks or carnivals," Dziga broke in. "You can train
a wild beast to perform tricks, but that does not make them less wild. In their heart, they
remember their true self. Because of the blood knowledge, dragons are more aware of their
selves. They do not take kindly to domestication."

"We can keep her here," said Charlie, going back to Hermione's question. He reached out and
gave the Welsh Green a soft pat on the side. "Or we can send her back home. There's a few
Welsh Greens in the Hebrides's reserve."

"I think we're all a little more curious as to how Harry managed to bond with the...stripling,"
Cortana commented with an arched brow.

Harry's inner dragon gave a glance towards Ginny's phoenix. There were two options: truth or
lie. Neither felt like lying to Ron and Hermione about their Animagus transformations any
longer, but by the same token, they didn't want to reveal such a large secret to complete
strangers either.

"Magic," Harry shrugged.

"I'm sure," said Cortana drolly.

"We'd best get going," said Charlie, rising up from his seat. "Dinner's starting. You three are
welcome to join us?"

"No, not right now," said Ginny. Charlie nodded, undoubtedly expecting that answer. The
three dragon keepers left, leaving the four teens alone in the reserve's infirmary.

It was homely, unlike the infirmary of Hogwarts. The warm, wooden planks that glowed
under the fire light did a lot to shape that atmosphere, but it was also in the way the bed
seemed twice as stuffed, or the soothing rosemary that wafted through the air, or the shorter
ceiling that made it seem more like a home.

"So, Harry," said Hermione in a quiet voice, perhaps to soften the question she sought to ask,
"how did you do all that?"

Though he expected the question, Harry still found himself taking in a deep breath. "You
remember we talked about the link...right?" he started off.

"The one that Gaia gave you?" said Hermione, taking the seat that Charlie had vacated.

"There's a certain...representation of it in us," said Ginny, giving Harry's hand a squeeze. "It's
a little hard to explain. I feel...I feel as if there's a phoenix living inside of me. When I want
to...well talk, I suppose...to Harry over the link, it's that phoenix that does the talking."

"It's a dragon for me." Harry stroked the Welsh Green again. In her slumber, she rubbed her
snout back against his palm. He glanced up and saw Hermione give an attentive nod, while
Ron just stared at his sister and best mate. "But that's not exactly how I managed the bond..."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other once more, the final pregnant pause before the big
plunge.

"We're trying to become Animagi," they said simultaneously. "That's how I knew how to
bond with the dragon," Harry went on. "I wasn't consciously aware of it, but I had the
instincts inside of me because of my bond with Ginny."

"B-but...but that's...magical animal...impossible..." Hermione stammered.

"Merlin disproved that theory," said Harry quietly. "Some animals you can't become, it's true,
but there are a lot of animals you can transform into. He's developed a potion that will test
your compatibility."

A frozen silence descended over the infirmary. Both Hermione and Ron continued to stare at
Harry and Ginny for several millennia-stretching seconds. Harry was reminded of their first
visit to the Haven a few weeks ago.

"How long?" Ron asked with a compacted voice.

"A year or so," Harry shrugged, plucking at his pinstriped sheets.

"How far along?" Hermione asked. The wording of the phrase struck Harry as odd. It was
almost as if he and Ginny had confessed that they were having a baby. From the barely
suppressed snort that came from Ginny, it was obvious she felt the same.

"Ginny can manage to transform into a phoenix, but she's hit a stall with learning the
powers," Harry answered succinctly. "I haven't been able to manage a complete
transformation yet. We think I'm not yet strong enough magically to do it."

Hermione gave another nod, albeit much more slowly, as she processed this information.

"We hadn't meant to keep it from you," said Ginny contritely. "Things were just hectic last
year with the Triwizard Tournament and all. If it weren't for that and you and Harry going off
separately to train, I know we would've told you."
This time it was Ron's turn to nod, though his brow was knitted in deep thought.

"You know this is illegal," Hermione reminded them in an anguished voice. "If anyone finds
out--"

"Who'd believe it?" Harry countered swiftly. "A dragon and a phoenix? No one in the
wizarding world would believe that."

"So," said Ginny, "do you want to learn? We can add that to our training, and it'd be
beneficial for the war."

"I don't know..." was Hermione's reply.

"So we can be anything, then?" Ron asked thoughtfully.

"You have the potential to be anything," Harry clarified, echoing Merlin somewhat. "We'll
have to test you to see if you can actually turn into the animal."

"Wicked," Ron breathed. A dreamy look clouded his eyes as he swayed around on his feet.

"What about the dragon?" Hermione inquired, nodding towards the slumbering Welsh Green.
"Is it safe for you to leave? Do we have to take her with us?"

"It's fine for her to stay. You heard Charlie, she knows how to be a dragon; she just has to
grow into that knowledge. She'll find some other dragon to protect her." Harry stroked the
Welsh Green's head again with a finger. "It's amazing, isn't it? Passing down a history of who
you were into your child? So that as long as your child lives, you'll live as well?"

Ginny squeezed Harry's shoulder and sent out waves of comfort through their link. They were
quite a pair, Harry reflected, he and the stripling. It would be hard to let her go, now that
they'd bonded, but he vowed to visit whenever he had the chance.

"The magical miracle of dragons," spoke a voice from the door. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione
automatically took protective positions around Harry, while he wrapped his arms around the
dragon sleeping on his belly. They all relaxed slightly as they saw Owain, Ifrit, and Sylph
flanking the source of the voice.

The man was garbed in a thick, midnight blue cloak with the sturdy hood pulled over his
head. He was slightly taller than Merlin or Sirius, but not nearly as tall as Hagrid. Carefully,
he pulled back the hood and tossed the rest of his cloak over his shoulders.

"I am Marduk," he greeted in a solemn voice. The man's skin was dark with jet black, curly
hair that fell to his shoulders. Bits of dragon mail armour could be seen poking out from
under the many layers of blue and white fabric wrapped around his body. A thin-bladed
scimitar hung from his left hip, and his waist was garbed in a glittering skirt of electric blue
dragonhide, perhaps the most visible of his armour. "Salaam, Harry Potter." He inclined his
head in a short bow.

"Hullo," said Harry warily.

Marduk stared down his sharp nose at the Common Welsh Green. A small, sad smile slipped
over his face. "You passed my test, I see."

"This?" said Harry, gesturing down at the Welsh Green. "This was your test? You killed--"

"I have killed many dragons in my long life, Harry Potter, but those two were not of my
doing," Marduk protested, raising his right hand in supplication. "The test, as originally
conceived, was to see if you might uncover the criminal amongst the reserve. I had not
known it to be Henri, and I wondered if you would care enough to help the dragons here."

"Does it change anything?" Harry wondered bitterly. "They're both dead!"

"Yes, it does change something. Had you not been here, that little stripling would be gone,
along with her parents. An entire line--three sets of memory, of life, of personality--wiped
free, with none left to carry it on. Were you not here, I would still only learn of Henri's
involvement this very morning and the world would be three dragons less. Death happens,
Harry Potter. It is the natural state of things. Sometimes there is nothing to be done."

"Will you come with us?" Ginny asked in Harry's stead. "Join us against Voldemort?" Ron
shuddered and made a hissing noise at the name.

Marduk levelled Ginny with his emotionless gaze. "I must decline," he said unapologetically.

"But why?" Harry shouted, both words carrying the resentment he felt against Marduk for the
test. The Welsh Green stirred a little at the volume. Harry instinctively began to stroke it with
his hand to calm it.

"You wish me to accompany you because you fear this Lord Voldemort capable of releasing
Ahriman?" Marduk posed. Harry and the others, including the Old Ones, nodded.
"Preposterous."

"Why?" Harry fired again.

"Because Ahriman, along with Thanos, were sealed away by King Parn and Queen Deedlit
for many centuries," Marduk returned. "No one was there during the final confrontation, and
King Parn and Queen Deedlit developed the prison in complete secret. No one knew what it
looked like, and if there was any speculation done after the war, those records are still in
Avalon--a dead island."

"But Ifrit travelled to Avalon and retrieved books for Merlin," Ginny retorted, taking a step
into Marduk, who was nearly twice her height. "Jormungand, or any of the Dark Old Ones,
could do the very same. And you forget that some Avalonians probably migrated over to
England before everything died out there. Whose to say they didn't take the knowledge with
them as books or scrolls?"

Marduk's right eye and the corresponding corner of his lip gave a slight twitch. After a
thoughtful pause, he said "Jormungand cannot speak to simply any human. If that were so, he
might have tried to free Ahriman many generations ago."

"Voldemort's a Parselmouth," said Harry, meeting Marduk's gaze. "He'll be able to speak
with Jormungand, just like I can. He's already had some experience with a basilisk."

"Could you people stop saying the bloody name," Ron bit out through gritted teeth.

"Shush," said Hermione, giving him a swift slap on the shoulder.

Marduk pursed his lips and turned to look at Owain. "You believe the boy, then?"

"Mother believes," Owain snorted in reply. "She believes enough to establish a new link
between two humans. If that is not an omen..."

A weary sigh passed through Marduk's lips and suddenly the hard, impassive look on his face
sagged and stretched until he seemed as old as Dumbledore. It took Harry a moment to
realize no physical change had actually taken place. The shift was all in Marduk's black eyes.

"I have not bothered myself with a war since Napoleon," Marduk admitted. "For a long time,
I have been content in observing this dragon range, and the animals that I so dearly love,
being nothing more than an eccentric hermit to those here. Now you ask me to pit my
strength against the most formidable of foes..." A smirk cut its way across Marduk's face as
his eyes glittered with predatory glee. "I do love a challenge."

"So you'll join us?" said Harry hopefully.

"Someone must deal with Jormungand," shrugged Marduk. "You and your mate--" Ron
choked and nearly fell upon the end of Harry's bed at that, "shall need to concentrate all your
energies on this Lord Voldemort. The Serpent and I have old scores that require settling."

*****

Due to Harry's unique condition, they stayed overnight at the dragon reserve in the infirmary.
Marduk left for his shack to collect the things he would need, while Owain, Ifrit, and Sylph
returned to camp to take down the tents. After a very international breakfast with the other
dragon keepers, and Harry coaxing the Welsh Green to follow Norbert's lead, they were all
ready to leave.

"I wish we'd a chance to play Quidditch with them," said a rueful Ron. "They're amazing.
Cortana's a former pro, you know? She was a reserve Seeker for the Falcons but they all
reckon she got tired being a reserve there so she signed up for the reserve here. She and
Charlie helped pick out my new broom!"

Ron thrust a folded, dog-eared, and heavily marked issue of Which Broomstick under Harry's
nose. The advert for the Nimbus Stormfront took up nearly half the page, showcasing a
Keeper pulling off tremendous acrobatic feats upon a sturdy looking broom.

"The Stormfront!" Ron exclaimed. "It's the first broom made for a Keeper! They're a bit
pricey, and, really, it's a bit of a big risk, but they both think it'll be a big thing for Keepers in
the coming seasons."

"Cool, Ron," said Harry, giving his best mate an enthusiastic smile.
"I'll be on the team for sure!" said Ron. A dreamy look had blurred the features of his face
while his arm began to lower like a rusted machine.

"If only you'd study your books half as much as you do that magazine," Hermione tutted,
tugging the periodical out from Ron's fingers. Harry noted, however, that instead of putting it
aside, she began to thumb through the pages.

"Maybe if what we learned was as interesting as Quidditch I might," Ron retorted.

Harry shook his head fondly for his two friends and made his way over to Ginny, who stood
by the reserve's gate with Charlie.

"Remember what I said about Percy, Gin-Gin," murmured Charlie sagely, and then
proceeded to break the whole image by tossing her hair with his rough hand.

"I will," Ginny promised. She'd been on the verge of a bittersweet smile when Charlie's
parting gesture brought forth the overwhelming irritation of a younger sibling. Instead, she
stuck her tongue out at the second eldest Weasley and began a blitz barrage of pokes against
his ribs.

"Too bad you lot couldn't have stuck around," said Charlie once he'd recovered.

"Ron's heartbroken," Ginny laughed in agreement.

"Take care of yourself Ginny--and Ron while you're at it."

"You too."

The Weasley siblings parted and Ginny made her way over to Harry.

"Sad to go?" he asked softly, reaching out to comb her hair with his fingers.

"Yeah," Ginny admitted, sinking into the sensation. "It's hardest for Charlie to visit because
they need all the people they can get here."

"What was that about Percy?"

"He just said that Percy's still our brother." Ginny gave a weary sigh and leaned her head
against Harry's shoulder. "He told me that he and Bill had their own little argument with
Mum and Dad--mostly Mum--when they wanted to leave for their jobs. He said it's a normal
Weasley thing, if he and Bill are any indication, but Percy's situation is worse because he's
staying in London and working with the Ministry and facing all sorts of problems that he and
Bill never had to deal with."

Ginny took a deep breath before continuing.

"But I'm not sure if I believe Charlie. What he says makes sense, but at the same time it's like
he doesn't believe how bad it was when Percy said those things. He wasn't there to see how
angry Dad looked, worse than the time he fought with Malfoy's dad; he wasn't there to see
Mum cry. So I don't know..."
"It'll be all right," Harry told her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"I hope so," Ginny sighed.

The foursome then teleported back to their campsite, ready to begin the next leg of their
journey. Marduk had also returned and was busy going over details with Owain, while Ifrit
and Sylph hung in the background. Harry took his tent from off the ground and strapped it to
his pack, while Hermione took her shared tent and added it to her rucksack.

"I have taken the liberty of borrowing your spare," Marduk told them, brandishing Ron's tent.

"Keep it," said Ron. Marduk gave a slight bow in return.

"Rocamadour is next," said Harry. "That is, if Durandal is still there."

"Being an inanimate object as he is, I very much doubt he possesses any mobility to be
anywhere else," replied Marduk.

"What?" blinked Ron.

"Durandal is the name of a sword," Hermione explained. "It's from a legend, the Song of
Roland, like Excalibur is from King Arthur's tales."

"And the sword is an Old One?" said Ginny.

"He wasn't always one," Owain clarified. "Durandal thought he might help men best if he
became a tool for men to use, so he sought another of our ranks, Hephaestus, to bring about
the change."

"It was also Hephaestus," said Marduk, "who fished Durandal out from the poisoned river he
had been cast into, and then built his current resting place in Rocamadour. As such, you can
be quite assured that it will be very full of exciting peril."

"Lovely," Ron deadpanned, voicing Harry's own feelings on the matter quite accurately.

"You already knew that this quest would neither be easy nor simple," Marduk reminded
them. "I have little doubt that Durandal would reject you as his new owner, but reaching him
will test your spirit and your fortitude, young Master Harry."

"I'm ready," Harry declared without hesitation.

"That remains to be seen," was all Marduk would say.

------
Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

In a way, the Knight Carriage is a reference to Bram Stoker's Dracula. The trip was
accelerated for the sake of chapter length, which, I think, made it a little funnier, and the
Carriage's attitude mimics Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia in a way.

Balaur, so the internet tells me, is Romanian for dragon, and Balaurost is a portmanteau word
of balaur + (trading) post.

The name of Balaurost's pub, the Green Dragon, is taken from Tolkien's Lord of the
Rings trilogy.

Cortana is, I'll admit, named after the AI of the Halo series. Dziga is named for Dziga Vertov,
a Russian filmmaker whose most famous work is probably Man With Movie Camera. The
idea for Dziga is that he's a Manchurian raised and educated in Russia. To get by my near
ignorance of the Russian accent or language (and trying not to resort too much on the
Colossus stereotype of Marvel Comics) I've decided that the dragon reserve is a multi-ethnic
place and sometimes, in such situations, accents have a way of shifting and gravitating,
depending on the person.

Between coming up with the dragon reserve details and then a whole host of characters, I'm
almost tempted to work on a dragon reserve fanfic...but I should really finish this first. What
happens with Henri and the stolen dragon eggs may or may not be dealt with in this fic. If it
isn't, it'll be dealt with in the dragon reserve fanfic...should I do it. The reason why I didn't
elaborate on Henri was that the chapter was growing too long, and I really wanted to move on
to the next Old One. The other reason is that Marduk is the first Old One seen to be taken
from an actual deity, and I wanted to show that he has limitations on his power. He is not an
omnipotent or omniscient god, capable of meting out justice by hurling thunderbolts from the
sky. He is a powerful being to be sure, but he's not a god.

It always strikes me as odd that, in the Quidditch World Cup, both teams used the Firebolt
exclusively. I can see the benefits to having a racing broom for Chasers and Seekers, but
c'mon...it's a bit much for a Keeper, isn't it? Look at hockey. Hence, the Stormfront.

The Percy situation is difficult. When we encounter Ron and Ginny and, in fact, the other
Weasley siblings, in Rowling's canon they've all had time to adjust to Percy walking out on
his family, but the wound is still fresh here so I have to treat it as such. I feel that Charlie and
maybe even Bill would have that disbelieving distance, being so far away from the family at
the time and not being there to be a witness.

Back to index

Chapter 17: Chapter Seventeen: In Dark Places

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

by GeekUSA
 Chapter Seventeen: In Dark Places

Disclaimer: I am playing with JK Rowling's 'verse...and taking quite a few liberties with
Arthurian legend as well. Anything else is pure coincidence unless otherwise stated. I've tried
to make this as British as possible, but realize that I'm as far from England as possible (I'm a
Japanese guy living in Hawaii). So forgive the Americanisms that slip through.

------

As before, Hermione took care of the flight arrangements out of Targu Mures. Fortunately for
them they didn't have to worry about monetary conversion rates. Though the governments of
each wizarding nation were notoriously private, bordering on xenophobic, Gringotts hardly
shared their mentality. The gold standard was the same across every branch, and so Galleons
were accepted equally in every wizarding nation.

Marduk handled the take off with considerable style and aplomb, not to mention balance and
strength. "It is not so different from riding a dragon," he noted. Meanwhile, everyone else had
to get by with holding on to various fixtures.

They pulled into the Toulouse Blagnac International Airport some twenty minutes after
they'd left Romania. It turned out that France's answer to the Knight Bus was the Chevalier
Cab, more commonly referred to as C2 or C-Squared.

"It's a Renault taxi, or the Renault Taxi de la Marne," Hermione informed them as the Cab
pulled up beside the terminal. It was a turn of the century automobile painted a pristine flag
blue. The car shuddered to a stop upon its thin wheels. It wasn't at all like Mr. Weasley's
Anglia. "They were most famous during the first World War. They were used to transport
soldiers of the French Army from Paris to the Battle of the Marne. I hadn't the opportunity to
take one when I visited France with my parents, but I'd read about them."

"They don't look anything like Dad's car," Ron noted with a wary glance, echoing Harry's
thought.

"Yes, well, they're considerably older, aren't they?" said Hermione brusquely.

The driver didn't bother to introduce himself, unlike Stan or Calsof, but he was quite polite as
he took everyone's luggage and helped them all into the open-air car, which began to
magically expand as more people climbed into it. Every bench seat came equipped with a
proper seatbelt to keep the passengers secure. An enchanted trolley rolled by as people settled
in, giving them the opportunity to snatch a complimentary drink or snack.

Several other people had also decided to take the C2 from their flight, which held even more
American tourists than before. The driver rang a small chime once they were all seated, a
polite warning that they were about to leave. As was the case with every form of wizarding
public transportation Harry had experienced so far, the C2 set off with another BANG,
followed by the sharp tug of acceleration. Fortunately, the restraints made things more
bearable.

The whole of the trip took nearly forty minutes by Harry's reckoning, though his wrist watch
said only a mere twenty minutes had passed. Hermione held no answers as she also believed
the trip had been longer than her watch indicated.

"A temporal bubble," Owain rumbled to them. "We are moving faster than time without
moving forward through time. It's a tricky bit of magic that requires some considerable fine-
tuning. I may find myself impressed by human ingenuity after all."

"Thank heavens for that," Ron mumbled under his breath.

By the time the C2 pulled into Rocamadour, almost half of the occupants had already
disembarked. The old style auto manoeuvred through the streets of the village with snakelike
ease. Everything about Rocamadour screamed magic to Harry's mind. The small-yet-
impressive village was built into a mountain peak. There were three separate levels,
according to Hermione; the bottom level was the village proper, the second level was full of
churches for pilgrims, and the top level was a privately owned chateau.

"A series of miracles taking place in Rocamadour, along with some very interesting religious
artefacts, put Rocamadour on the map for religious pilgrimages," Hermione told them as they
exited the C2 along with every other passenger. "Archaeologists also find Rocamadour
interesting for its unique architecture."

"Looks like it should be a wizarding village," Ginny commented. "Kinda reminds me of

home, doesn't it?"

Ron gave a slight shrug.

"The population of Rocamadour is some six or seven hundred," said Hermione, affecting her
best tour guide voice as she led them towards Le Serpentin Vert, the only wizarding inn in the
entire village. "There's an almost negligible wizarding population."

"It makes me feel quite old." Marduk let out a heavy sigh and surveyed the village with his
hands upon his hips. "I remember this place before it was even a mountain. There used to be
a tree here, as I recall. The fruits were Jovian in appearance with swirls of milky white and
bright orange. You have not tasted sweetness until you bit into its skin! Alas, it has been
several millennia since I have last spied one."

Noting the heavy, awkward silence that had descended over the teens and the Old Ones,
Marduk shook his head slightly and flashed them all a bracing smile. "Apologies, little ones. I
assure you that I am not nearly so maudlin at all hours. Shall I expand instead on Hermione
Granger's most informative history of Rocamadour?"

"Please," Hermione entreated.

They crossed into the cosy inn, lit by low-burning candles in the darker corners where the
sunlight couldn't reach through the square windows. A loose queue had developed for the
recent arrivals and they were being helped by wizards and witches dressed in loose robes
consisting of several broad strips of crisp fabric. A belt about their midsection helped to keep
everything in place.

"Rocamadour was built through cooperation between Muggles and wizards," Marduk
lectured in a slow, patient voice. It was, Harry realized, not unlike Professor Binns, though
there was some quality to it, perhaps that Marduk was quite alive, that made listening
somewhat more bearable. "There were, at one time, several churches not dedicated to the One
God of Muggle faith, but to us Old Ones, whom wizards and Muggles alike viewed as deities,
but as those civilizations began to mature, we began to withdraw ourselves further and
further. So now they are neglected, looted, or converted into other things. None of us care,
knowing as we do that we are not gods ourselves, merely higher beings...of a sort."

Hermione checked them in. Using Harry's vault, three simple rooms were booked; one for
Marduk (Owain, Ifrit, and Sylph chose to sleep in nature), one for Harry and Ron, and one for
Hermione and Ginny. From the brochure the clerk handed to them, the rooms were all
interlinked, with Harry and Ron's room being in the middle. They looked to be more
comfortable than the tents in some respects, and there would be room service and no need for
chores for the duration of their stay.

All in all, France was shaping up to be a highlight in their trip.

"Our task," Marduk continued as they meandered through the winding, almost spirals halls of
the Le Serpentin Vert, "will take us to one of those long-forgotten temples--the very last of its
kind to be built, point in fact."

"We know," said Ron shortly. "You told us."

"I told of some things, Ronald Weasley, but not of all things," Marduk clarified with a raised
finger. "Hephaestus was the master forger amongst us. If you could imagine something,
Hephaestus would inevitably manage to build it. Not only would he build it, but he would
also build it beyond all expectations.

"After rescuing Durandal from the poisoned river, Hephaestus decided to build a temple for
Durandal so that those of Charlemagne and Roland might pay their respects to the most
revered sword. But, to honour Durandal's desire to further help mankind, the temple was
meant to be a testing ground of sorts for those who wished to wield Durandal's power. As
such, the temple is full of traps and other challenges to be overcome."

"Lovely," said Ron drolly. "Couldn't we have brought Bill along with us?"

"This does seem to fit his talents," Hermione murmured.

"Look on the bright side," Ginny offered, "we get to see what a Curse Breaker does first-
hand."

Hermione scrunched up her brow a moment. Conflict clearly raged in her brown eyes
between her Gryffindor courage, innate curiosity, and the uncertain shroud of worry from the
dangers within the temple. "Lovely," she huffed ambiguously, echoing Ron's sentiment.
After unpacking and staring out the view of their rooms, it was unanimously decided by the
teens that they would do a bit of sightseeing for one day and tackle the temple the following
day. They passed a lot of shops, though Hermione was behind most of the spending, buying
novelties for her parents.

"We wanted to come to Rocamadour," she explained, "but we hadn't the time when we were
in France."

Harry did splurge on one trinket for himself. In a tiny craft store he'd spotted a miniature
model of a sailing vessel. It reminded him of the pirate ships he'd seen in one of Dudley's old
picture books, and the stories of free-roaming pirates seeking adventure out on the high seas
had always tickled his imagination, being locked as he was in his cupboard. What sold Harry
on the idea of purchasing the model was its name--The White Stag.

That night, as he was busy setting the sleek, honey-brown ship upon his nightstand, Merlin
contacted him through his glasses.

Hello, Harry, he said in a tired, yet clearly cheerful voice. Is the hour late?

Harry glanced over towards Ron, who was already wrapped up under the thick sheets of his
hotel bed like a cocoon, despite it being summer. His mouth was open just slightly and his
nostrils would flare out every once in a while.

"Not terribly," Harry whispered, casting a Privacy Charm about his bed with a wave of his
hand. "We're in France--Rocamadour."

Ah, but an hour's difference this night, Merlin mused. Are things well?

"We played a bit at being tourists for the day," Harry admitted sheepishly, feeling a hot flush
cross his cheeks. There was a war going on, after all, and Harry had charged himself with a
mission to carry out. Merlin was busy doing his duty, as was every member of the Order.
What right did Harry have to go and play?

Good. Good, said Merlin honestly if not softly. I know you, Harry. Don't be troubled for
doing that which children must do. In all things, as Gaia has told you, there must be a
balance, including that of work and play. Many adults forget this and find their sanity eroded
away as they tread the waters of the deep. Curiously, they often view those floating on the
surface of life with a healthy sanity as the insane.

Harry gave a wan smile. "How's the hunt going?"

The second of Horcruxes, the first being the foul diary, turned out to be a weighty signet ring
belonging to the Gaunts, reported Merlin, and Harry had the vision of Merlin toying with the
ring as he spoke.

"The Gaunts?" Harry echoed.

You know much of Tom Riddle's Muggle family, yes?

"He elaborated a bit in the Chamber."

Have you ever wondered about his wizarding family? The Gaunts, as I have been able to
ascertain with the help of Professor Dumbledore, are descendents of Salazar Slytherin. While
you might think that to put them in the position of riches untold, the truth is quite the
opposite. As pureblood fanatics of the utmost, they squandered their fortunes and became
nothing more than a group of inbred degenerates.

"Charming," quipped Harry dryly.

The shining example of pureblood elitism and xenophobia, said Merlin in a voice as dry as
Harry's. Undoubtedly the fate that awaited Avalon. There was a quiet pause as Merlin's
thoughts undoubtedly turned inward at the mention of his former home. You should know, if
you haven't already suspected, that Tom Riddle, being a charming fellow in his own right,
was single-handedly responsible for the downfall of his wizarding line as he was for his
Muggle line. But, as sole inheritor of the Gaunt family line, he took the two remaining
heirlooms of Salazar Slytherin: a locket and a ring.

The ring he left behind in the Gaunt's shack, unguarded. Not terribly surprising when one
considers that no one would have any reason to call upon the Gaunt residence in the first.

"Did you destroy it?" Harry asked, sitting upright in his bed.

Not as of yet, Merlin admitted. I need more time to analyze it. While the location was left
unguarded, there's a complex covering of curses in place around the ring itself. I suspect it's
set to trigger if anyone were to actually wear it and if anyone tried to destroy it. So, for now,
I've decided to keep it secure. How are things with Marduk?

"He's... It's like having a personal History of Magic tutor," Harry admitted, drawing a loud
guffaw from Merlin. "Are you sure he's a great warrior? So far all he's been talking about is
the history of Rocamadour."

Ah, Harry, Harry, Merlin chuckled. I suppose I might say you've forgotten, but I suspect
you've never learned in the first place. The East, in the distant past, had distinctive renown
for its scholars. Marduk was very likely a cause behind this advancement.

"We'll be exploring Le Tombeau de Merveille tomorrow," Harry reported, rubbing at his

weary eyes.

The Shrine of Wonder... Merlin translated with a thoughtful voice. Harry waited a full minute
after Merlin had trailed off into silence before saying, "Merlin?" Oh? Hmph. My apologies,
Harry, a flustered Merlin replied. The name, or some variant thereof, rings some familiarity
to mine ears. I'm afraid, however, that I'm unable to name the tune, as it were.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry remarked, suppressing a yawn. "If it is something, we've our
own bodyguards to help out."

Mmmm, was Merlin's thoughtful reply. Yes, I'm sure it's nothing. In any event, I shall
undoubtedly be indisposed for the following days. The next Horcrux is rather remote, as I
understand it.
"Stay safe, Merlin," said Harry.

I have still many things to teach you, Merlin snorted, and don't forget that you have many
things yet to learn from me. We shall both stay alive for that if nothing else. Good night,
Harry.

"Good night, Merlin."

*****

The following morning the group ate a modest, satisfying breakfast at the inn before making
their way up to the second level of Rocamadour. One of the churches, named the Notre
Dame--although, not the Notre Dame--opened up into a terrace called the Plateau of St.
Michel. A shard of dark metal was embedded within the rock face of the mountain and
further anchored in place by a thick chain.

Marduk raised his left hand into the air. Engaging his magical sight, Harry saw a purple
bubble flash out from Marduk's hand and envelop the entire terrace. "So that we are not
disturbed, Harry Potter," Marduk told him.

"A Muggle aversion charm," Hermione murmured in awe.

"The gateway to Le Tombeau de Merveille is here," said Marduk, gesturing to the area
beneath the shard. "Muggles, and indeed even wizards, believe that shard to be a true piece of
Durandal. Of course, Durandal is an unbreakable blade, so that legend is foolishness. It is, in
truth, nothing more than a marker for the entrance."

"How would anyone find the temple if it were hidden?" Hermione inquired, placing her
palms against the mountain to feel for any trigger.

"The priests charged with maintaining the shrine were also responsible for leading
worshipers," said Marduk. "One would stand out here and wait patiently for pilgrims to
approach, but that was many lifetimes ago."

Marduk pulled a short dirk from the gauntlet strapped to his left wrist. Narrowing his hawk-
like eyes, he scanned over each and every rock that comprised the wall. Harry mimicked his
motions and saw that beneath the random tapestry of rocks was a rigid grid of magic, almost
like a Muggle keypad. The only difference that he could discern between each palm-sized
button was the subtle shades of colour in each one.

The keypad was twelve by twelve and without knowing the amount of "numbers" in the
combination, Harry imagined that picking the lock would be next to impossible. Marduk, on
the other hand, obviously knew the combination by heart as the tip of his dirk pressed into
nine pads.

The whole group took several steps back as the wall began to tremble; the chain above rattled
like a rusted wind chime. Harry stole a glance over the edge of the terrace; none of the
Muggle tourists or residents seemed to notice the very foundation of their village shuddering,
although several wizards emerged worriedly out of Le Serpentin Vert. Seconds later, the wall
parted like a veil and transformed into a grand arch. Harry was reminded of the portal to
Diagon Alley.

A satisfied smile crossed over Marduk's face. "There it is."

The four teens shot each other a look as they stared down the darkened corridor that seemed
to lead straight into the heart of the mountain, the very core of Rocamadour. As if by an
unspoken agreement, Owain padded into the tunnel first.

Smokeless torches ignited as the procession passed them, illuminating a tall tunnel of smooth
rock. Thick cobwebs hung like tattered veils from the corners of the tunnel. Ron moaned at
the presence of the cobwebs and instinctively tried to shrink himself down to Harry's height.
"Why's it always spiders?" Ron moaned in a very high, soft voice.

After two minutes the tunnel opened up into a grand hall of old Roman design. Not unlike the
Haven, the inside was magically augmented to reflect an open-air setting. A pristine illusion
of sunlight and blue sky hung between the walls of the cavern in which the temple sat in and
the temple itself. Two green, fetid rectangular pools stretched out along the sides of the
temple and weeds had overrun the arranged gardens behind them; mould clung stubbornly to
the marble like a malignant cancer.

"You can tell it used to be spectacular," said Hermione, brushing the base of a statue that
stood before the temple itself. Like most statues, it was an exaggeration of human perfection;
a tall, well-muscled man with flawless skin bore an almost Roman style of armour over his
body. In his right hand he held out a spatha with an overly ornate engraving over the narrow
blade. "It's Roland," she announced, reading a plaque at the bottom of the statue.

"A facsimile of Roland to be precise," said Marduk. "I do not recall anyone during those
times to be quite so flawless."

Sylph buzzed about the temple excitedly; Harry imagined her memorizing every ridge and
searching every corner.

"Dead," Ifrit bit out through a sneer. "There's death in the air."

"I smell it as well," said Owain, tilting his head up and flaring his nostrils. He turned to look
back at Harry over his shoulder; the glare of his mane gave an odd glow to his amber eyes.
"The priests died here; their bodies long-since decomposed into dust."

Ron blanched and immediately made to grab at his nose. Hermione was a little more discrete
in covering her mouth as she affected a thinking posture. Even Harry couldn't suppress the
urge to brush at his nose now and then. A glance towards Ginny caught her in the midst of
wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Why wouldn't they leave?" Ginny asked. "They weren't trapped here, were they?"

"We aren't trapped here, are we?" Ron clarified quickly; his voice hitched on a knot of panic.

"Nonsense," Marduk scoffed. "The exit is open once you are already within the temple. The
code masks the arch for those outside. As to why the priests chose to die here... Perhaps they
were simply too loyal to their devotion."

Harry frowned. That hardly sounded plausible. If such a time came that no one remembered
the location of the temple, or no one wanted to visit it, then why bother hanging around?

"Let's just find Durandal and get out of here," Harry suggested grimly.

Sylph rounded them all up so they stood sandwiched between the ornate, stained altar and a
giant replica of Durandal hanging upon the wall opposite the statue. There were no markings
in the floor or wall to indicate a hidden door of some kind, yet Sylph continued to whirl
around them adamantly.

"Any ideas?" Harry offered.

"I don't see anything around that might indicate a portkey," Hermione mused. "Is there
another secret entrance?"

Harry scanned the area with his magical sight but saw nothing to indicate a magical grid like
the entrance. The magical currents were, however, quite wild around the platform on which
they stood. Maelstroms of red, black, and white currents swirled around their ankles, up the
walls, and over the altar like storm clouds from an alien world.

Ron stood before the altar and peered at the black spot soaked into its otherwise white
surface.

"I remember Bill telling me a story about Curse Breaking once," said Ron. "He was trying to
scare me, yeah? Told us things about what went on in the pyramids and the tombs and the
like." Harry watched as Ron tugged Marduk's dirk from the gauntlet without asking. "So...he
explains blood sacrifices..."

Hermione gave a sharp gasp and then reached out for Ron, but Marduk brushed her hand
aside. Ron was wholly focused upon the altar's black mark and the blade in his hand.

"I reckon it can't take...much, right?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, turning a glance over
to Harry, Ginny, and Marduk. "I mean, this Hephaestus bloke, he's a good guy...isn't he? He
wouldn't want to...to sacrifice a whole person? Probably was an animal or something...huh?"

"A wise deduction, Ronald Weasley," Marduk whispered.

Ron sucked in a few deep breaths as he readied the blade over the palm of his left hand,
slowly working the courage with each one. Finally, he closed his eyes and made to slash at
his own skin.

Marduk made a slight cough and the blade nearly jumped from Ron's grip. "You might wish
to try the fingertip," he suggested, ignoring the annoyed looks from Ron, Hermione, and
Ginny. "Maximum blood with minimum damage."

Ron's face twisted at Marduk's suggestion, but he nodded all the same. Scrunching up his face
so that he wouldn't see, Ron drew the blade quickly across the index finger of his left hand. A
sharp hiss met the pain. Ron took a moment to stare at the horizontal slit over his fingertip
that was rapidly filling with blood, then he turned it over the altar and began milking it. A
thin, steady trickle of blood fell onto the dark stain.

After squeezing out all he felt comfortable sparing, Ron covered up his finger and dropped
his hands to his sides.

"Here, Ron," Ginny offered, plucking his large left hand in her two smaller ones. She bit her
lower lip and waved her right hand over the injured finger. A spray of fine, green glitter
scattered over the cut and healed it perfectly.

"Thanks," said Ron, flexing his hand, "but it doesn't seem like it--"

The bottom of the floor dropped out from beneath their feet. Harry had one second's worth of
time to register this fact before he was dropped down a shaft with the rest of them. Wind
whipped over his ears, deafening him in his descent. Something caught his back, guiding him
down in tight curves and languid spirals. He was reminded, ever so briefly, of the Chamber of
Secrets and wondered if Ginny was all right.

The tube or pipe that Harry'd been sliding on suddenly vanished from under his back. He had
another several seconds of a heart-stopping, stomach clenching, blind drop before his body
crashed into a smooth, hard floor. He grunted and groaned but made sure to tuck all his limbs
in tight and roll with the momentum until he came to a stop.

"Ugh," grunted Harry as he forced himself up to his knees. The good news was that nothing
seemed broken, the bad news was that he found himself completely alone. "Ginny?" he called
out. "Ron? Hermione? Anyone?"

A wave of his hand conjured several balls of smokeless flame in the air. They cast their light
over the smooth, purchaseless walls of the chamber Harry found himself in. No matter how
he might've arranged them, he was unable to spy the hole from which he fell through. Even
his magical sight revealed nothing.

The chamber was tall and rather narrow, as if several prison cells had been stacked upon the
other with the floors removed. A rectangular door, cut from the rock with no supporting
frame, seemed to be the only way out.

He reached for his glasses and winced at the contact. The frame had jammed into the bridge
of his nose at impact, leaving a pair or sore spots there. Gingerly he touched his glasses again
to activate the communication charm. "Ginny?"

Harry? came Ginny's relieved voice. Harry, are you all right?

"Yeah," said Harry, testing out that answer as he spoke it. Aside from some soreness on his
ankle and shoulder, and an ache when he took a deep, rib-expanding breath, he seemed to be
fine. "You? Is anyone with you?"

Yes, we're fine--Hermione and Sylph and I, Ginny replied. I can send Sylph over to find you.

I think we should seek out Harry last, said Hermione. You and he have a method of
communication already, so you'll be able to keep in touch, but what of Ron? He could be
hurt! He could be all alone like Harry!

"She's right, Ginny," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Use Sylph to track down
the others, then come and find me. I promise I'll stay rooted."

All right, Harry, said Ginny reluctantly. We'll come for you soon.

"I know, luv." In spite of the situation, a reassuring smile flitted over Harry's face.

Harry lost all track of time as he sat in the chamber. For one thing, the watch he wore had
been shattered in the fall, for another thing, he spent his time meditating on his Animagus
transformation. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, lost as he was in a potentially hostile
environment, but he'd managed to magically flag some stones around the door with crude
runes, erecting a few flimsy wards to give him warning.

When Harry contacted his inner dragon to attempt another try at learning how to transform,
he couldn't help but notice the ease with which it began. Normally it took some coaxing to
get the dragon to acknowledge him, and then to begin the assimilation of dragon instincts into
his own consciousness. Perhaps, he pondered, it was because he'd thrown himself into his
dragon instincts at the reserve. Perhaps that'd been the key all along, losing himself to the
dragon's instincts. It might've been harder to realize because dragons were far from tame and,
unlike phoenixes, showed little care in helping man.

Harry was about to test his theory and pass into the dragon's cave, thereby voluntarily
relinquishing control to his inner dragon, when a low sob drew him out from his meditations.

The sobs were low and distant. How long they'd been going on, Harry was unable to say, but
after a few minutes he confirmed their existence. He did notice, however, that they grew
weaker with every passing moment.

"Hello?" Harry hollered tentatively. He got up off the floor, noted that his legs had lost a bit
of circulation, and then proceeded to shuffle towards the only door. "Hello?" he tried again,
louder this time. The sobs almost seemed to redouble in their volume at Harry's inquiry.
There was no mistaking that they belonged to a female voice.

"Ginny?" said Harry, activating his glasses. "Hermione? There's someone crying near me. I
think they might be in trouble. Is it either of you? Are you all right?"

Harry stilled himself, but all he could hear were the wails of a woman in obvious pain. He
was about to go rushing out to find the source when Ginny finally replied. Yes, we're fine.
Whoever it is, it's not us, Harry.

We've just come across Owain and Ifrit, Hermione added. It seems as if this place is a maze
of some kind. Like the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Durandal is located in the
centre of the maze. We had to overcome--

"Hermione, as interesting as that is, there's a person injured nearby," said Harry shortly.

Harry! Ginny yelled; Harry winced at the volume, his glasses being so close to his
ears. Didn't you listen to Hermione? This is a maze. How do you know it's not a trick or a
trap?

"And you heard what Marduk said about Durandal and Hephaestus," Harry fired back. "How
do you know this isn't a test?"

He imagined Ginny had thrown her hands up in exasperation, narrowly missing Hermione's
face. Fine, Ginny conceded. But please, Harry, be careful.

A flash of memory echoed in his mind. He saw Ginny crying as he woke up after his
abduction by Voldemort and the fear that had been in her voice. He remembered the horrid
helplessness that'd seized him when Wormtail and Malfoy had chained him in Malfoy Manor.
Never again would he walk into a battle alone and unawares.

...if he could help it, at any rate.

"I will," he promised.

*****

Harry shut off the communication charm and made his way down the corridor. Much like the
entrance hall, torches flared to life as he passed them, making his own conjured fireballs
unnecessary. Every now and then the corridor would splinter off, but the woman's cries were
easy enough to pinpoint and keep Harry on track.

The closer Harry drew to the source of the voice, the more he became aware of another
sound. A stream, or perhaps a small waterfall, was nearby. It made sense to Harry. A person
needed water to survive more than food, and where there was water there was probably some
sort of edible vegetation.

At the end of the corridor, the very source of the sound, was another chamber nearly twice
the area Harry's had been. Water rushed down the wall opposite the door and fell into a moat
that circled around the room. Vines covered the other walls, drawing on the moat for
necessary sustenance. Torches hung from the ceiling on rusted chains. In the centre of the
chamber was a raised rectangular bed made of the same stone as the walls and floor. A
woman in white robes was slumped over the bed, her head buried in slender arms, and
wailing.

"Um," Harry coughed uncomfortably. He'd been expecting someone trapped in a dire
situation, and as uncomfortable as the room was, it didn't seem like a prison. "Are you all
right? Do you...do you need help?"

The crying stopped; it stopped too quickly for Harry's liking, like someone had hit the mute
on the telly. The woman snapped her head up from off the bed with all the baring of a
predator. Harry took a step back into the hall, collecting his magic up into his hands.

"I do," the woman sobbed, spying Harry. Her golden hair was waxy in the dull light. She
pushed it out from her face and tucked it over her ears. A pale, gaunt face stared at Harry,
looking so very much like Sirius had when he'd first escaped from Azkaban. "Please..." She
made to stand, bracing her slender arms against the bed, but they trembled visibly as she
pushed herself up. They gave out on her and the weeping woman crashed into the unforgiving
floor.

Harry moved on instinct. A sharp burst of magic froze the surface of the moat so that he
could cross. He traversed the span of the room at a quick jog and slid to a stop beside the
woman. She was moaning pitifully; a quick scan with his magical sight found a magical aura
to her essence as with any witch or wizard, but it was quite weak--the weakest aura Harry had
ever seen, point in fact.

She seemed harmless enough.

"Hold on," Harry told her as he cradled her limp body in his arms. "I've got help coming..."

"Ohhhhh..." the woman murmured, hair falling back over her face. "'Ow lovely."

The strength of the voice surprised Harry, but that was nothing compared to the battering ram
of air that struck him clear in the chest. The surge of magic had seemingly come from
nowhere. It threw Harry across the chamber, coming to a stop just at the edge of the moat.

"'Elp," the woman said mockingly. "Good. Zat means more food for me to feast on. I tried to
ration zose priests, I truly did, but I was never one for diets."

"Who are you?" Harry gasped, feeling the pain from his previous fall returning to his chest.
Engaging his sight again, he found the witch's aura raging with all the vitality of a healthy
mage. It'd been a trick.

"My name eez Melusine," said the woman. The aura around her continued to grow. As it
grew, so did her size, Harry noted. She became taller, although it was all in the legs. Seconds
later, Harry realized Melusine's legs were turning into the tail of a great, black serpent. Her
robes bulged out at her hips before tearing under the expansion; her tail cracked like a whip
in the air out of anticipation; her hair rose up and gathered together like the flame of a candle
or the twigs of a racing broom. "You, leetle one, shall be my lunch."

Wasting little time, Harry tried to teleport back to his own chamber. The landscape around
him zoomed by normally, but he became aware of things slowing down until he came to a
full stop. Something was holding Harry back, but the force was coming in front of him rather
than behind him, like he was pushing at a net or a fence and had reached its stretching point.
Suddenly, Harry was snapped back with double the speed of his teleportation, and hit the
ground of Melusine's chamber with a grinding CRUNCH.

"You cannot vanish from me, child," Melusine taunted. "I, too, am a Child of Avalon."

The pain in Harry's body kept him grounded, but at the same time, lying on his arm made
things much, much worse. With some anguish, he drew himself up to his knees and stared
down at his right arm. It was twisted into a jagged line that resembled his scar, thanks to the
broken bones in his forearm, and the snapped bone of his upper arm. From the way it hung
limply out of his socket, he imagined it was dislocated at the shoulder as well.

"Then...then why don't you port out?" Harry bit out through clenched teeth. The pain was
churning up the acid in his stomach and with it came the nausea. Even breathing became
tricky. More than once, Harry found himself collapsing onto his left side. Through the pain
he'd managed to answer his own question. "Wards...? Is...is that why I couldn't..."

"You truly are a child," Melusine snorted derisively. "Your master must be 'orrible to leave
you so eegnorant." Rage flooded through Harry's body, nullifying the nausea and pain.
"I stopped you from leaving. Eet eez simple enough to cast a net. 'Ephaestus captured me
after I and my seesters had taken my vengeance from my Papa. 'E warded ze maze to keep
me, and me alone, from vanishing."

Through his sight, Harry could indeed recognize the unique webbing of what had to be an
Avalonian ward. The net Melusine had talked of, however, was not visible around him,
leading Harry to believe that it had to be cast each time a person had to teleport. There was
only one way to test that theory, but first, Harry needed her to be distracted.

Acting quickly, Harry threw out his left hand. A bright orange ball of flame whistled out
towards Melusine. It splattered harmlessly upon an invisible barrier that resembled a large,
square pane of glass, which formed out of her own left hand. She snapped her right hand out
and cast yet another net over Harry before he could teleport.

This time Harry saw the bright pink and white net appear around him and hoped that the net
only affected teleportation. He sprinted for the exit. Passing through the net felt like
burrowing through a thick gauze or cotton candy with the same sticky residue. Ignoring the
pain in his right arm from every footstep, he crossed over the frozen section of the moat and
emerged inside the hall.

Melusine emerged soon after, breaking up Harry's attempt to teleport back to his chamber.
She was too large to stand upright in the hall, instead she hunched her shoulders and head; the
back of her human half probably scraped against the ceiling. Still, her serpentine torso
allowed her the better speed.

Harry conjured a broad shield to appear floating behind his back. The odd position of
Melusine's arms made it difficult for her to aim precisely, allowing the shield to adequately
deflect any spell she bounced his way. Though the pain in his arm and the knowledge of the
half-serpent baring down on him prevented him from concentrating on teleporting back to the
chamber, or even the temple, he did manage enough focus to teleport several steps ahead,
garnering him a large boost in speed.

After many minutes, Harry could no longer ignore the searing pain in his arm and the acidic
ache in his thighs. He'd lost track of the turns and twists of the maze. The whole thing had to
be five times the size of the third task, by Harry's reckoning. Unfortunately for him, Harry's
luck had expired. At completing his most recent magical sprint, Harry found himself running
headlong into a dead end.

The shining bit of fortune was that the dead end came after a turn--a turn that Melusine had
not yet taken. A mad, spur of the moment plan exploded across Harry's mind.

Melusine let out a screech of anticipation as she turned the corner. Perhaps she knew the
maze's layout after all and had been herding Harry to this point. In either case, it bore no
relevance to his plan. It was fight or flight time.

Harry tucked himself into a roll, making sure to use his good shoulder, just as Melusine
appeared. As he did so, his magic Transfigured the shield into a rough approximation of the
Sword of Gryffindor, which fell into his outstretched left hand. He came up to his feet, facing
Melusine, sword out and ready, and then tapped into his magical well. With pinpoint
accuracy, Harry teleported from his spot to another spot mere centimetres from Melusine's
gray belly. The sword, on the other hand, was another thing entirely; it had materialized
within Melusine's underside up to the hilt.

Melusine slammed the whole of her upper body against the ceiling of the hall in a rage. An
ear-piercing screech assaulted Harry's ears from all sides. She tried to reach at the blade to
extract it, but it was too far down for her human-length arms. The hall was also far too small
for her to twist her tail around to get at it.

"Don't," Harry panted hard, drawing even more of his magic into his clenched left fist, "ever
insult my master! He's the great Merlin Ambrosius!"

Emphasizing his point, Harry threw out his hand once more. This time a thick bolt of blue
lightning arced out from the whole of his hand and struck home at the pommel of the sword.
Melusine could barely get out one shriek before her body fell in convulsions, her insides
boiling under the intense heat.

Harry kept pouring more and more power into Melusine until he was finally exhausted and
slumped to the floor. Her smouldering shape fell beside him with a wet squelch. The smell of
seared flesh curled his nose hairs, and this time he did finally succumb to his nausea,
emptying his breakfast in a pool next to Melusine's hair.

"Reckon we're a bit late, then?" said a familiar voice from behind Melusine's corpse. Harry
lifted his head slightly to spy Marduk and Ron standing there. Both were breathing hard and
sweating a little, but upon seeing Harry still alive and Melusine dead, neither could resist
breaking out into a slight smile.

*****

"We ended up in the same room together," said Ron, cleaning up Harry with a wave of his
hand. "Marduk suggested we stay in place until Sylph came around to find us, but then--" he
waved his hand towards Melusine, "then you can barrelling by with that thing chasing after
you."

"Let me look at that," Marduk offered, kneeling down beside Harry. It was then that Harry
noticed Marduk had been carrying a spear the whole time. The shaft glowed like a very fine,
polished piece of solid ivory, while the surface of the long, metal tip seemed to undulate like
living lightning.

Marduk picked up Harry's right arm carefully, though even so, Harry sucked in another sharp
breath at the onset of pain.

"Nothing too serious," said Marduk. "Broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. Nothing
beyond my healing."

The Old One cupped his hands loosely around Harry's right wrist. Magic flowed out from
them, warming Harry's wrist from the inside out. So comforting, so desirable was the feeling
that Harry almost passed out in contentment. Marduk moved his hands up Harry's right arm,
bringing the warm sensation with it, until he came to a stop at the shoulder.

"There," Marduk announced with a grin. "All better. There will be some lingering tenderness
to it, but overall the arm will still function in a pinch."

Harry made a fist and then flexed his arm. It felt weak, yes, and trembled when he tensed it,
but there was no pain to it.

"Ginny?" Harry called out to his glasses.

Harry? Ginny replied. Harry, where are you? Sylph says we reached your chamber, but
you're not here.

"I--uh--got a little sidetracked..." he murmured.

He could feel Ginny's barely suppressed amusement and vindication at being right. Not a test,
was it?

Harry glanced down at Melusine's form. "No," he admitted. "I did run into Ron and Marduk
though. They're both fine."

Good, Ginny breathed in relief. Stay where you are, we'll come to you soon.

"You're not really gonna listen to her are you?" said Ron with a roguish grin once he was
certain the charm was finished.

"Ron, I'm not really in the mood," Harry replied, again glancing down at Melusine.

"Oh come on, we've Marduk with us," Ron continued to cajole. "At least if we find the sword
first, that saves us all the searching later."

Harry scrunched up his brow in thought. "Can you find Durandal?" he asked of Marduk.

Marduk gave a snort. His hand flexed over the spear shaft and it collapsed immediately in
response. Harry watched as he clipped it to a thin piece of twine that fell across his shoulders.
"He is not a mile from our position," Marduk said without looking at either Ron or Harry.
Instead, he was quite busy shrugging his shoulders, as if to situate the spear snugly against his
back "Down the hall we have just come from, the first right, then the third left. He is most
anxious over meeting new people."

Once he was satisfied with the spear's position he turned his attention to the stunned looks
over Harry and Ron's faces.

"Do you imagine we would not have developed our own methods for communications given
the amount of time we have spent walking this Earth?" Marduk asked them.

"Then whyn't you just call Durandal and be done with it?" Ron whinged. Harry was inclined
to agree, given his struggle with Melusine.
"He is a sword," Marduk said slowly, as if explaining to a child. "He's not about to get up and
start walking."

"What about Jupiter?" Harry pressed. "Couldn't he answer?"

Marduk sighed. "As with any form of communication, Harry Potter, merely because one can
hear, does not mean one will listen or reply."

"All right," said Harry. "Let's go find Durandal and leave."

After informing Ginny and the others of the change in plan, the three men followed Marduk's
most accurate directions. Unlike the rest of the maze's fairly square design, Durandal's
chamber had sweeping arches that reached high into the ceiling. A soft, blue, almost angelic
light seemed to be seeping down from under each arch. Many rectangular levels were
incorporated into the chamber's design, each with a small spigot from which a waterfall
emerged.

Floating in the centre of the chamber, with the tip of the blade pointing down, was Durandal.
It appeared exactly as it had in the statue, or on the wall above the altar; a spatha blade,
roughly the length of Harry's arm from tip to tip, and almost as narrow. The hilt looked as if
it'd been carved from bone or ivory with thin bands of platinum accentuating the guard and
pommel; a red lacquer had been applied to the middle section of the moulded grip, where the
hand would likely rest.

"Hello, hello, hello, hello!" Harry blinked at the high, excited voice that came from the blade.
"So good, so wonderful to have so many visitors! I can't remember the last time this
happened--is my blade polished?"

"Yes, Durandal," Marduk chuckled. "You are quite presentable."

"Ah," Durandal sighed. Harry stared hard at the blade. It seemed to him that there was a
foggy face lurking somewhere beneath the surface. "Lovely, lovely. All I've had is that
dratted Melusine. Do you know she killed my priests? And not only did the woman--and here
I'm using the term in the loosest of loose ways--kill them, she ate them. Ate them! I mean, can
you believe it? And that was after she'd already had her fill on the other creatures lurking
about down here. SO! Could one of you be so kind as to pick me up, march on over to her,
and thrust me into her heart? One stab, that's all I'll need."

"Err..." Harry coughed uncomfortably. Ron's blue eyes had glazed over at the explosive rush
of speech that greeted them, while Marduk simply smiled, unfazed. "I sorta...already killed
her..."

There was no mistaking the face, now that Harry saw it turn to face him head-on. It
resembled the ghosts who occupied Hogwarts, although it possessed less than any of their
features. He was visibly reminded of the mannequin heads in department stores, except this
one was more metallic, reflecting the properties of the blade.

"Did you now?" Durandal asked. "Did you really?"

Harry gave a short nod.

"Really?" Durandal prodded, his face expanding as it moved closer to the blade.

Another nod from Harry.

"Reeeaaaaallly?"

"Yes!" said Harry shortly.

"Oh bother," Durandal muttered, deflating somewhat. "I'd wanted to be one..."

"This is Harry Potter," Marduk broke in. "He is the one Mother has marked."

"So I gathered," Durandal yawned, quite unimpressed; his eyes wandered over to Ron. "Is he
your other half, then?"

"Wha--NO!" Harry and Ron blurted simultaneously. "It's my sister," Ron added, throwing an
irritated look towards the sword.

"Well, every sword needs a sheath as I like to say," said Durandal with a shrug--or, at least,
Harry thought the sword had shrugged. "Can someone please pick me up, now? It's been so
long since I've seen anything other than these walls, as fine as Hephaestus tried to make
them."

"Right, sorry," said Harry. He climbed up the raised dais and made to grab at Durandal's hilt
when the Old One spoke up once more. "No, sorry," he said. "Not you. Him."

"Who?" was Harry's blank reply.

"Him," repeated Durandal. The head reflected in the blade nodded towards Ron.

"Me?" questioned Ron, as dumbfounded as Harry.

"Ronald Weasley?" a nonplussed Marduk elucidated. Recovering himself momentarily, he

swept his cloak away so that he could stand akimbo. "Harry Potter--"

"Hardly needs me, does he?" Durandal mused in a lilting voice. Harry got the impression that
if Durandal had fingers, he might be busy examining the nails. "Has his other half to help in
the trials ahead, right? That's what Mum set up for them, isn't it? But what of the others
accompanying the Harry Potter? Surely you've thought of this."

"They have been training," said Marduk, clearly affronted. "Owain and Ifrit have been
helping matters, as has the young Merlin."

Harry's brow twitched in amusement. Merlin, to Harry, seemed as old as the Old Ones,
although that was clearly not the case from their perspective.

Durandal was clearly unimpressed. "Please, my brain isn't nearly as thin as the blade I've
become. If they have accompanied Gaia's Chosen here, then it's clear to even my eyes that
they would accompany them anywhere and everywhere. Do you mean to say that you will
guard them in the midst of battle? Do you mean to say that, unassisted, they stand even a
fraction of a chance against the others?"

Marduk stared at Durandal for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

"The boy," Durandal nodded towards Ron, clearly taking Marduk's sigh as an
acknowledgement of defeat, "has great potential to become a strong wizard, a brave warrior.
He'll need me if he wishes to continue alongside the Chosen. And," here Durandal stared
pointedly at Marduk, "he'll need someone to instruct him on the proper use of a sword. I'll not
be handled nor brandished about clumsily like a log."

"It seems," said Marduk to Harry and Ron, "that Durandal has laid down his terms. Do you
accept?"

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance. Ron creased his brow and made an odd gesture with his
head. Harry could only assume he was looking for guidance, but all Harry could offer was a
weak shrug.

"All right," said Ron at last.

"Do try to sound a little more enthusiastic," Durandal chided. "Many would consider this
quite the honour."

"Right," Ron coughed, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He stepped over to where
Harry was and reached out to grab hold of the sword. Harry's brow rose as he heard the blade
sing with every gesture Ron made of it.

"Not too bad, not bad at all," said Durandal in an evaluating tone. "A little on the short side,
yes, though not nearly as the other--" Harry bristled at that, "but you'll grow--oh yes, you'll
grow. A fine grip. A strong arm. Sturdy shoulders. Yes, you've all the makings of a grand
knight."

"A knight...?" Ron repeated, bringing the sword up so he could stare at his reflection. An odd
look fell over his face. Whether it was consternation or glee, Harry had a hard time
discerning.

"Yes, dear child, a knight! Merciful Mother, don't people dream of being knights anymore?"

Marduk gave a snort. "You have fallen out of favour as the chosen style of combat for quite
sometime."

"Oh..." Again Durandal deflated, but this time it was far more serious. Harry couldn't even
see Durandal's head in the blade any longer. "I see," his faint voice added.

"No!" Ron blurted. "I want to be a knight! I love chess! Knights are my favourite! And--and--
and I want to be an Auror when I grow up, which is like a knight, and maybe I could use you
on the job..."

"Yes," Marduk agreed wholeheartedly. "Maybe through Ronald Weasley's use, you might
find yourself once more in favour of the world."
"Really?" said Durandal, emerging again faintly. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes," said an exasperated Marduk. "I do."

Ron shot Harry a helpless sort of look, but now knowing what Ron was saddled with, Harry
couldn't help but give a very amused shrug in return. Ron responded with a rude gesture that
was either unnoticed by both Old Ones, or they had no idea what it meant.

*****

The others met up with them shortly after Marduk had conjured a makeshift sheath for Ron to
carry Durandal in. Apparently, Ginny and Hermione had their own share of difficulties
judging from the state of their clothes.

"The usual," Ginny shrugged off, "pits with spikes, blades coming out of the wall, poisoned
arrows flying from statues, narrow walkways over gaping chasms, giant boulders rolling after
you. Nothing a little magic couldn't fix."

"Yes, well, I do hope we won't have to do anything like this again," said Hermione. She
glanced at Harry and Ron. "If that's anything at all like the third task..."

"Nah," Ron shrugged with a Weasley grin on his face. "No Skrewts."

The four teens laughed at that before they teleported back up to the temple. Harry told them
of his encounter with Melusine.

"I wish I hadn't killed her," Harry admitted.

"You did what you had to, Harry," said Ginny, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

"I...I know," he said haltingly, "but...and I hate how this sounds...but I wish I hadn't killed
her, if only to learn more about Avalon." He looked at Ginny to see if there were any signs of
revulsion on her face, but he found himself only met with a confused look. "She was from
Avalon, and she stopped me from teleporting, and I dunno...there were so many things that
flew through my mind about the place--things that Merlin can't or won't say."

"Then why not visit?" asked Durandal, though his voice was muffled somewhat from the
leather sheath.

"Morgana put it under some variant of the Fidelius," Harry replied. "No one can see it."

A snort came from Ron's hip, which was somewhat disconcerting. "Merlin can't see it, but
anyone magical can find it, provided they know where to look."

Silence met that revelation. There was no denying the excitement bristling through
Hermione's eyes, nor that of Ron's, but Harry had a more pensive look upon his face. It was
such a cruel thing to have been done to a man. It would be like something keeping Harry, and
Harry alone, from ever going back to Hogwarts. Ginny understood his feelings and sent her
support through her phoenix's song. They would figure out what to tell Merlin later.
The group made their way back to Le Serpentin Vert. The sun had already set on their day,
but it was only now that the exhaustion began to set in on their bodies. And while Ron,
Hermione, Ginny and the others could all seek out their beds for a bit of rest, Harry had some
final business to attend to.

"Harry!--you look horrible," Sirius commented through the enchanted mirror.

"Bit of a rough day," Harry deadpanned. "We got what we were looking for though. How're
things at home?"

This time it was Sirius who made a sour face. "Dumbledore's taken another hit to his
reputation, but so far you've kept your clean reputation. A small wonder, really. Voldemort's
still bending all his attention on the prophecy and doing little else, which is going according
to plan."

"But...?" Harry ventured.

"But it's boring!" Sirius whinged, drawing a smile out of Harry. "I know the prophecy's got
nothing to do with anything in the long term, so does Remus, but everyone else is treating
this duty as the most sacred thing imaginable! And d'you know how hard it is to stand in front
of the Department of Mysteries under an Invisibility Cloak for several hours? The
Department of Mysteries! It's like the restricted section in the library!"

"What is it?" Harry inquired.

"All sorts of experiments get done down there. The wizards in charge of it all are called
Unspeakables because, strictly speaking, they're not supposed to reveal what they're doing to
anyone save the Minister of Magic and other such bureaucrats who need to know. Some
night's I wish I could just run in and see what's going on."

"Why not skive off?" A Marauder twinkle lit up Harry's green eyes.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Oh I'd love too, Harry, believe me, but we both know how
necessary the prophecy is in the short term. As long as Voldemort focuses on it, he's not
focused on you, or on recruiting. Well...not recruiting much..."

Harry arched his brow at Sirius's post-script.

"Snivellus told us that Voldemort's already sent envoys to the giants. Dumbledore's sent
Hagrid and Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons to try and convince them to join our side. It's
a hard mission, and I don't envy Hagrid much either."

Harry's brow knitted in worry for his half-giant friend. Had he ever been around his own kind
before? He always did have a unique idea as to what was dangerous.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Sirius, giving a wan smile. "I'm sure Madame Maxime will keep
Hagrid in line."

The rest of the conversation was spent updating Sirius on what was going on with Merlin, not
to mention the startling discovery regarding the state of Avalon. In return, Sirius told Harry
about the Weasleys--Bill was rumoured to be seeing Fleur, Mrs. Weasley was just as nervous
and anxious as ever, the twins were busy working on an inventory for their shop, and Mr.
Weasley was exhausted from his run ins with Percy and the Order work--and the budding
romance of Remus and Tonks.

"Things have been somewhat rocky since the time we all saw Eric Clapton," said Sirius with
a short shake of his head. "Moony's been...conflicted. He's been so used to the prospect of a
bachelor's life thanks to his condition that he doesn't think he's worth anyone, let alone
anyone as special as Nymphadora. Still, she and I have been very convincing, so they've
continued seeing each other sporadically."

"What about Starla?" Harry inquired.

Sirius's face darkened on his side of the mirror and receded a little. Harry imagined that Sirius
had just reclined back into his armchair to think.

"Nothing's happening," he said slowly, deliberately. "There's nothing happening because

we've stopped seeing each other."

"What? Why?" Sirius had spoken of nothing but Starla in their communications during the
previous year, and in Harry's one brief meeting with her, he thought they complemented each
other quite well.

"Things just fell apart, Harry," Sirius sighed, suddenly looking as he had shortly after
escaping from Azkaban. "We're from different worlds, she and I. It didn't work."

There was a hollowness to his answer, a complete lack of emotion that made Harry question
the validity of those words, although he did so solely within his mind.

"Oh... Sorry..." Harry offered.

"Old laundry, Harry," said Sirius with a forced smile. "It's been washed and hung out to dry.
Don't worry about me. Happened all the time back in Hogwarts."

They bid each other good night not long after, but Harry found himself having a hard time
getting to sleep. Things were not going well back home it seemed. Danger and peril was
everywhere, and not everyone was so fortunate to be bonded as he, or have an entourage of
Old Ones for protection. An irrational doubt stabbed its way to the forefront of Harry's mind,
saying plainly that he should never have left. He should have stayed back home and done
what he could there.

Dark dreams of corridors and explosions and horrible laughter filled Harry's mind once more
that night.

*****

"I'll be instructing you in va'atri," Marduk told Ron the following morning over breakfast.

"Vatree?" said Ron, holding a spoonful of eggs just outside of his mouth. "Wazzat?"
Marduk cast his eyes heavenward a moment and settled back into his chair. "An old
Atlantean fighting style," he explained. "Do you, perchance, know what a Jedi is?"

"No," said Ron. Both Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Even Harry knew what a Jedi
was and he'd spent ten years of his life locked in a cupboard.

Marduk was apparently of the same mind as he muttered, "I am not even human and I have
seen those films...

"A Jedi is a fictional warrior caste from a Muggle film, Star Wars. In it, magic is known as
the Force. Jedis, like wizards, can use the Force to do amazing things. The difference being,
however, that Jedis use the Force to augment their physical capabilities in battle; wizards tend
to rely only on magic.

"Atlantean soldiers developed the art of va'atri in this same spirit. Magic was used to augment
their physical capabilities--strength, speed, agility. To some respects, Avalonian duelling
teaches very much the same properties. At any rate, in va'atri the physical and the magical
must come together. Magic is used as an extension of the body, like another limb, to sharpen
a person into a living weapon."

"Wicked," Ron breathed; his eyes had already taken on that glassy, daydream look that Harry
was so familiar with. Harry found himself agreeing, and realizing how beneficial such
training would be if Ron truly wanted to be an Auror.

"I don't know," said Hermione with a deep frown. "It sounds a bit...dangerous
and...irresponsible."

Ron's face quickly turned a deep shade of red, but Marduk spoke up first. "Quite right,
Hermione Granger. It is both dangerous and carries the significant chance of irresponsibility,
which is why prospects were trained and drilled heavily in philosophy." He nodded towards
the sheathed Durandal. "The sheathe to their sword, if you will."

"Thank you," said Durandal.

Ron made a face at that, as if everyone had sucked the life and fun out of his joy.

"Still," Marduk went on, moping up his mouth with a napkin, "I have the utmost faith in
Ronald Weasley."

"Oh I could tell you stories of his temper," Ginny muttered from behind her own napkin.
Harry had to agree, thinking back to the Yule Ball most recently. Still, Harry knew a little of
fencing from Merlin. There was a strategy there absent in wizarding duelling, considering
that spells offered a great deal of flexibility and range. Ron's chess mind might relish the new
challenge presented, and it might do wonders at tempering his...well...temper.

"What is next on our schedule?" Marduk inquired at Harry, choosing to ignore Ginny's dig if
he'd even heard it at all.

"Mesopotamia or Syria," said Harry. "The kujata. Then it's the leviathans, if we can't find
Jupiter."

"Mesopotamia, then," said Marduk immediately. "They are easy enough to spot. Once, many,
many moons ago, there were wizards who herded them, but those tribes have long since died
out."

"And Jupiter?" Harry wondered.

"Therein lies the question," Marduk sighed, again staring up at the sky as if he could see it
through the roof. "I would not know where to begin searching. Greece is possible, as is Italy,
but, then again, so is Mars. He always did have a soft spot for sentimentality."

"Why Mars?" Ginny questioned.

"There's an inert volcano on Mars," Hermione explained, unwrapping the riddle with ease.
She hadn't even looked up from the international paper stretched out before her. "Olympus
Mons, or Mount Olympus. It's the largest mountain in the entire solar system."

"We're not going to Mars, are we?" said an alarmed Ron.

"Not unless we can commandeer a space shuttle," Harry snorted. Ron might've muttered
something about barmy Muggles, but Harry didn't quite catch it.

"No, Mars will be an undertaking for us," Marduk assured them, referring to the Old Ones.
"However, if no clues turn up by the time we rally the kujata and leviathans, I am afraid this
search will come to an end. One cannot find an Old One that does not wish to be found."

Harry mulled things over a moment, but after the previous night's discussion with Sirius, the
sooner he returned to England the better. Events were unravelling rapidly it seemed, and he
wanted to be there when things happened.

"It's fine," he told Marduk. "You'll need the time to train Ron up, and we'll need to the time to
train as well. We'll just have to do without Jupiter, if that's the case."

"Fortunately, I do not think any of the remaining Dark Ones are formidable in magic. A small
blessing, to be sure."

A small gasp from Hermione drew everyone's attention towards her; her wide eyes were still
riveted to the paper.

"What is it?" Ron asked, trying to peer over her shoulder to read. Harry and Ginny both rose
up their chairs to look over the table at the article.

"Is it home?"

"Is everyone all right?"

"Oh!" Hermione gasped again, realizing her gaff. "Oh, yes--yes! Everyone's all right. It's
nothing to do with home. Sorry. No, it's about Mesopotamia."
She folded the paper, shook it until it stood straight in her hands, and began to read:

Belit-Sheri, the wizarding prison which serves Syria, Iraq, and Iran, was broken into last
night under unknown circumstances. Several guards were questioned and came up with
conflicting reports. One thought the devil himself had come up from hell, a few others spoke
of the intruder being over ten feet in height, but the most reliable accounts speak of a man,
heavily cloaked, with a hood pulled up over his head.

The unknown wizard attacked Belit-Sheri at around midnight local time. He entered by
destroying the south gate with a powerful curse, killing one guard and wounding three others.
The assailant then proceeded down to the lowest levels of Belit-Sheri, obliterating the wards
as he descended. His final destination was the very foundations of the prison where he
unearthed a tomb that wasn't on any prison blueprints.

No one can say with any certainty what the secret chamber held, as the chamber itself was
bare of any identifying marks. Many government officials believe Curse Breakers from the
nearby Mesopotamian archaeological reserve or the Persian archaeological reserve may be
responsible and are looking to investigate the matter further. No prisoners escaped in the
break in, but citizens are warned to be mindful at night with the prospect of a Dark wizard on
the loose.

"Blimey, the Prophet's never that detailed, is it?" Ron commented, unconcerned.

Hermione shot Ron a look as if to say "Well, it's the Prophet, isn't it?"

"So there's a Dark wizard running around Mesopotamia now?" said Ginny, tightening her
grip on Harry's hand.

"It's a big world, Ginny--there's bound to be Dark wizards everywhere," Ron remarked
sagely, biting into a sausage.

"We will merely need to err on the side of caution," Marduk assured her. "More than a Dark
wizard moving about, the local government will undoubtedly be suspicious of new arrivals
going off to remote places."

Harry let out a sigh. Things seemed like they were taking a turn for the complicated.

------

Author's Notes, Justifications, and...well...Excuses:

If you haven't noticed, I am trying to differentiate the Knight Bus from country to country. It
doesn't make sense that countries other than England would have a double deck bus as their
form of public transportation, cool as they are. For France, I drew upon the Renault cabs used
for the Battle of the Marne. I felt that might carry a significant amount of national pride. I
wonder if you could guess Mesopotamia's already, since it's a mode of transportation that's
been mentioned in canon.

Le Serpentin Vert comes from the sleuthing of my girlfriend who uncovered the French
folktale/fable for me. As interesting as it was, it'd come too late to fit with the chapter, but it
was an excellent name for the inn. All right, in truth it's the same exact name as the pub in
Balaurost, the Green Dragon, but it's in French...and it's a common enough name that it's
bound to be the name of more than one establishment.

The White Stag is a Celtic myth and undoubtedly the source for Rowling's use of a white stag
as Harry's Patronus, and thus the stag as James's Animagus. It often signals the boundary of
the Otherworld and the presence of a supernatural being of some kind, but is also sometimes
considered as a ferry...creature I suppose for souls between the living realm and the dead. It's
probably more a sign of warning than protector, but it was incorporated into Arthurian legend
as impetus/guide of a quest. Also, white stags are in C.S. Lewis's Narnia series.

The ship that Harry purchases has a whole story of its own, which is not likely to be
expanded upon in this story, but that's not to say it might not play a minor role.

Melusine comes from yet another French legend, the legend of Pressyne (and also its
following story, the legend of Melusine). She, her two other sisters (being triplets) and her
mother, Pressyne, were forced to flee to Avalon after her father broke a promise to her
mother. Having been raised in Avalon and learning the cause for their exile, Melusine and her
sister seek revenge on her father and end up locking him and his riches in a mountain. Her
mother learns what they've done and curses each of the sisters. Melusine is forced to
transform into a serpent from the waist down every Saturday. Through the course of her own
tale, Melusine ends up transforming into a serpent completely. Obviously I took liberties with
the folktale.

Durandal's form of a spatha blade is because Charlemagne, and thus Roland, would have
been in the 8th or 9th century. The cruciform cross-guard typified in Medieval depictions
(and Godric Gryffindor's sword) wasn't around until the 11th century. The spatha, and the
Viking sword, however, were in full development and use during the 8th century. Too be
honest, I'm a huge fan of the spatha's design (and the gladius for that matter) and relish the
opportunity to use it.

Va'atri is, perhaps, the only truly unique name I've come up with this whole series (maybe a
slight exaggeration). I have no idea where it came from. I just plucked the name out of thin
air. Although I must admit it sounds somewhat Star Wars-ish. And me building up Ron is, I
admit, in response to fics that build Harry up to be a universal warrior, good at both magic
and physical combat. Not that there's anything wrong with those fics, and I'm a fan of the
ones that do it right, but I wanted something to separate Ron as a sidekick and turn him into
an equal. Therefore, Ron will put his size and strength to use, while Harry will focus more on
his greater magical strength.

Belit-Sheri (or Belet Seri) is a Mesopotamian goddess of the underworld. She is a scribe who
records the activities of humans so that she may advise the queen of the underworld at their
final judgement. A fitting name for a prison, I think.
 Back to index

Chapter 18: The End

Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin

By: GeekUSA

The End

You have asked and asked whether or not I'll continue this story. I knew the answer, though I
held off in saying anything official. It's no longer a question of time (I could undoubtedly
pursue this to its finish), but rather a necessity of priorities. Between my family and my job, I
needed to choose what to devote my free time towards. Writing, of course, but writing what?
Ultimately, I decided to move past fanfiction for the time being. I've been spending the last
few years writing and plotting up original stories and novels that I hope to have published
some day. So, yes, Harry Potter and the Magic of Merlin is finished indefinitely.

But I owe you, each and every one of you, who spent their time reading what I wrote. The
story is not without an ending. A happy one, I don't mind saying. I hope you at least take
some fulfillment, if not closure, by reading what are essentially my notes.

Regarding Harry's fifth year:

•The Horcruxes, except for the sliver in Harry, are done away with by Dumbledore and
Merlin. Aside from Harry's piece, they don't factor into the larger narrative.

•Sirius does indeed become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, making Harry's fifth
year a tad more enjoyable than it might have been.

•The break-in alluded to in the end of Chapter 17 was done by Voldemort, as some of you
assumed. One of Ahriman's greatest lieutenants, Sin, had been sealed away there by
Dumbledore during his previous war with Grindelwald. Voldemort, on Jormungand's orders,
freed her to learn the location of Ahriman's prison.

•Sin, the Old One who tempted the first of mankind, thus rendering them vulnerable to
Ahriman's influence, also commands the dementors.

•The prison ends up being the mysterious arch in the Department of Mysteries. In the climax,
it is the arch that Voldemort has designs on, not the prophecy as everyone had assumed. As
such, in the massive battle that follows, he is successful in shattering the prison and freeing
Ahriman. Ahriman, a shapeless entity of pure evil, then empowers Voldemort by possessing
him. The year concludes with the whole wizarding world on the cusp of war.
•Sirius does not die. The wizarding world becomes aware of Merlin.

Regarding Harry's sixth year:

•War. The apocalyptic variety. Think The Last Olympian if you follow the Percy Jackson
series. Come to think of it, that was a fair approximation of what Magic of Merlin was
heading towards.

•Avalon is the focus point of this year. Voldemort/Ahriman feel it is a very symbolic center
of power to conquer. For Merlin, of course, it is much more personal. Harry and co. try their
hardest to learn its location so that they can take it back from Voldemort.

•As Harry and his friends do their best to research from Hogwarts, possible since Merlin has
become such a figurehead, they must contend with Draco Malfoy. Give his close proximity to
key targets such as Harry and Dumbledore, Voldemort/Ahriman are pressuring him to kill
them. Harry, through his link with Voldemort/Ahriman, gradually realizes what is going on.

•Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron sneak away from Hogwarts, thanks to Ginny's final
Animagus form, to assist Merlin in his battle to reclaim Avalon. They succeed, but
Voldemort/Ahriman score a parting shot. With Malfoy's help from inside school grounds,
Jormungand is summoned and turns Hogwarts into rubble. In the end, both Dumbledore and
Hagrid are slain, trying to save students.

Regarding Harry's seventh year:

•This year is a less definite. The final battle takes place in London, in plain view of wizards
and Muggles alike.

•There are many casualties, but all Weasleys, the remaining Marauders, Tonks, Harry, Ginny,
Hermione, and Merlin survive.

•At last, Harry obtains his Animagus form. Ron, a full Knight of Avalon, rides him to
confront Jormungand and Voldemort/Ahriman.

•In a duel that spans several city blocks, Harry and Voldemort/Ahriman have one final
knockdown, drag out. Both Harry and Voldemort are pushed past the physical limitations of
their bodies and seem to die. But Voldemort's body is possessed by Ahriman and it rises.
Merlin, enraged, rushes in to duel Ahriman.

•Neither Harry nor Voldemort are truly dead, bound by the final Horcrux that links them.
Their spirits, entwined, continue to battle in the realm between life and death. Memories of
their lives become the setting. At first, Voldemort seems to have the upper hand, until Harry
realizes that the Voldemort he faces is nothing but a mere shadow. His soul, whole and pure,
is able to easily overcome the remains of Tom Riddle.

•In the world of the living, Harry rises. Together, with Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Merlin,
they shattered Ahriman's host. The surviving Old Ones capture Ahriman's body and, together,
they travel to the stars, intending to banish Ahriman to the furthest reaches of the universe.

Regarding Harry's life after Hogwarts:

The epilogue was meant to be multi-chaptered, with its own little rises and falls as it
chronicles several Harry Potter characters.

•Though Merlin is offered the post of Minister of Magic he turns it down. The time of Avalon
is lost, for now. He instead takes the position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, hoping to impart
Avalons teachings onto a new generation. Avalon will come in time, he believes.

•Harry turns to professional Quidditch. It is not a permanent choice, but he hopes to enjoy life
for a change. Perhaps sometime in the future he will be an Auror, maybe even come to teach
at Hogwarts.

•Ron and Hermione take a year off to travel the world, researching more of Old Ones. For
Hermione, it is more a vacation, as she waits for Ginny to finish her year at Hogwarts. For
Ron it's a time to meet Aurors of other nations. They see him a hero, as he always wanted to
be. They come to him, wanting to learn of his unique style.

•Once Ginny finishes Hogwarts, she and Hermione decide to start their own business, not
unlike Fred and George. Their idea is to make Muggle technology and items, such as
computers and cell phones and other electronics, more accessible to wizards. To that end,
they enter into a bit of friendly rivalry with the twins.

•Neville Longbottom became a hero in his own right during the final battle. While some
might consider it foolishness, he tried to duel both Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange.
They defeated him and mutilated him, but he survived. Professor Sprout offers him a position
as Herbology professor at Hogwarts, but only after he acquires more field experience with
plants. He and Susan Bones, who joins the Magical Law Enforcement, eventually enter into a
romance.

•Luna Lovegood becomes something like Avalon's librarian during its rebuilding--one who
publishes her strange findings in The Quibbler. For her part, she enjoys cataloguing the many
variety of species that live on Avalon. In time, she wonders if she might take over the Care of
Magical Creatures post.
•Parvati Patil becomes a fashion columnist for Witch Weekly, while Lavender Brown
becomes a designer. At first, Lavender apprentices at Gladrags and comes across George
Weasley, who is looking to open up a Hogsmeade shop. He commissions a different color
scheme for the robes there, and the two begin an odd romance.

•Percy Weasley eventually attains his ambition of being Minister of Magic, but not until
many years ahead. During the war, Percy and family reconcile.

•Snape... Well, he and Harry never reach the understanding they do in Deathly Hallows.
Aside from that, he continues to live and be dour.

•Remus survives, as does Tonks. They never have children and, despite all he's done,
werewolf rights never become established. Old prejudices are hard to shake. Eventually, they
would move to Avalon. Sirius and Starla end up reconciling and marrying. A new Black
family tapestry is made along with a new noble House of Black.

•At the end of all things, Avalon is rebuilt, and Harry and Ginny live there with their family.
Happy.

Those are all the notes I have regarding Magic of Merlin. There are minor things I might be
missing. I hope your imaginations can at least bridge some gaps, fill in what I no longer have
the time to write. Of all, I must admit, the epilogue is something I regret not writing.

Thank you all for reading my story. It's been a great honor and pleasure to entertain you. For
now, this is goodbye. If, in the near future, my being a professional author doesn't work out, I
might always return to fanfiction. Until then.