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SIYE Time:15:27 on 29th March 2024
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The Refiner's Fire
By Abraxan

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General
Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 618
Summary: In the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter learns to come to terms with the death of Sirius. As he heals and grows emotionally, he learns how to enjoy life again. But there's a war on, and Voldemort's primary objective is to kill Harry Potter, by any means necessary. As a result, Harry and his friends have a very adventurous sixth year at Hogwarts. Canon-based with some OC. HG, RHr, RT.
Hitcount: Story Total: 380748; Chapter Total: 17681







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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my beta-readers, Blakevich, Starfox and Pilar!

You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPRef inersFire



Chapter 16 - Harry Rocks his World



The Daily Prophet was carrying more and more stories about atrocities committed by Death Eaters. It appeared that Voldemort was whetting a taste for mayhem in his new followers by allowing them to do whatever they wanted to Muggle victims of their choice. He was careful to keep them away from wizarding families because Muggles usually had fewer defences against wizards.

“I’ll bet if this were happening in America, all the cowboys there would be shooting the Death Eaters,” Neville growled at breakfast after glancing at the lurid photos in Hermione’s copy of the Prophet.

Hermione giggled. “Neville, America isn’t full of cowboys, and people don’t all go around carrying guns.”

“They did in the film I saw with Dean during the holidays,” he protested.

“Films are usually fiction, made up stories. Don’t believe everything in them. They’re as full of hot air as the print media like the Prophet,” Hermione said with a dismissive sniff.

“At least the Prophet is finally reporting what’s going on,” Ron said darkly. “They can’t say Harry’s a liar anymore.”

“Oh, just give them time,” Harry said with an irritated shake of his head. “They’ll find some way to make me look bad. It seems to make them happy.”

“Did you read what happened to the woman you saw being tortured?” Hermione asked softly, her eyes filled with concern as she saw the grim look that appeared on Harry’s face when she asked. “It’s in today’s paper.”

“Dumbledore told me she lived for a few hours after they found her,” Harry replied, his body tense and his voice dangerously quiet, full of anger and grief he was attempting to suppress. “They had to sedate her heavily because she was so hysterical and in a lot of pain. He said she probably preferred to die after all she and her family went through. I just couldn’t read about it in the paper. I know more details than they’ll print. No point in my getting angry over that or anything else right now, is there?”

Hermione put her hand on his arm, wishing she could think of a way to comfort him. She knew he was tired, upset and his nerves were frayed by what he’d seen. How could she help him stay calm? How could she comfort him? She was at a loss, and Ron wasn’t being much help, either. He was as confounded as she was in the face of their friend’s torment. Madam Pomfrey had Ginny helping her mix potions in the hospital wing this morning, so Ginny wasn’t available to try to console Harry.

Harry glanced at Hermione’s hand on his arm, then looked up into her sympathetic eyes. He put his hand over hers and leaned his shoulder against hers, bending his head until his cheek was on top of her curly hair. Between the nightmarish vision he’d had and the news about the woman’s death, Harry was feeling very low this morning. Hermione’s caring gesture touched a place in his soul that needed reassurance that kindness still existed in the world. “You’re a good friend, Hermione,” he sighed.

“Hey, Potty, you stealing your best mate’s girl now?” Malfoy jeered from across the Great Hall.

Harry sat up straight and pulled his hand and arm away from Hermione as a blush suffused his face. What if that’s how it appeared to other people? What if that’s how Ron saw it? He was so grateful for Hermione’s intuition and compassion — now what had he done? A quick glance at Ron showed Harry that Ron had seen Hermione’s quiet comforting of Harry. Ron looked tense but the glance he gave Harry was friendly, not frosty. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Ron tossed, “Get stuffed, Malfoy!” over his shoulder without bothering to look Malfoy’s way. Harry’s temper was rising, but he did his best to stifle it.

“What’s the matter, Potty, one girl not good enough for you? Or have you tired of Weasley’s baby sister? She has a face like a weasel! I don’t blame you for tiring of her, but to change from the weasel girl to the chipmunk? Going from loser to loser. That says a lot about you, Potty!” Malfoy’s sneering laugh rang across the hall. His gang laughed raucously, watching Harry avidly to see his response.

Harry seemed to be swelling up as his rage built. He suddenly looked taller, broader, much more menacing than the Harry the Gryffindors knew. They cringed away from him, unnerved. He stood up and stormed away from the table, breathing hard. Hermione jumped up from her seat to follow him, but he turned back and, with a violent shake of his head, said, “No, Hermione. You stay here.”

“But. . .,” she began.

“Stay here,” Harry insisted. He moved closer to her, softened his tone a bit and continued. “Don’t you listen to him, Hermione. You are a beautiful girl, inside and out. So is Ginny. Malfoy’s just jealous because amazing girls like you and Ginny won’t give him the time of day, much less go out with him.” He glanced up at Ron, who was standing resolutely by his side. “What?”

“I’m coming with you,” Ron said, nervous but determined. “And thanks for that. Hermione needed to hear it.”

“It’s the truth, and we both know it,” Harry said. He walked back and touched the girl’s shoulder briefly. “I have to go and blow off some steam. It won’t be pretty. I don’t want to be worrying about your safety, so stay here, please?” he said softly. “We’ll be OK, don’t worry.” Harry was still vibrating with rage, but he knew he needed to force it down long enough to reassure Hermione. When she nodded mutely to him, he turned to Ron. “Ready?”

Ron nodded. The two of them left the Great Hall with long, determined strides.

“What? Gone to have a duel over chipmunk-face, have you?” Malfoy called after them. Harry and Ron kept going, ignoring Malfoy’s crack.

Professor Snape glided silently to a stop in front of Malfoy. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff watched with interest from the staff table as the boy looked up, startled. Malfoy had been concentrating on Harry and Ron and had not seen his Head of House approaching.

“Mister Malfoy,” Snape drawled in his silkiest tone, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Baiting Potter. He needs to be taken down a few pegs every so often so his head doesn’t explode,” Malfoy quipped with absolute arrogance. His smile faded as the look on Snape’s face registered. “What’s wrong, sir?”

“It is very unwise to ‘bait,’ as you put it, Mr. Potter. You will, in future, leave Mr. Potter and his friends alone. No more teasing, no more catcalls, no more unprovoked attacks, verbal or physical, of any kind. Do I make myself clear?”

Malfoy sat up straight, his face a study in disbelief. “What? Why?”

“Potter’s temper is legendary, as you well know, but he seems to be controlling it now, doesn’t he? And an angry wizard who can control his temper has an awesome force at his command. Do not provoke Mr. Potter again. You will regret it. In the meantime, ten points from Slytherin for your unprovoked attack on Potter, and another ten points each for your slurs against Miss Granger and Miss Weasley.” Snape looked as if taking thirty points from his own house was one of the more difficult things he’d had to do in his life. “And another thirty points for forcing me to take points from my own House.” He gave Malfoy the look of supreme loathing he normally reserved for Harry and Neville.

“What? Sixty points?” Malfoy squeaked, appalled.

“Yes. Sixty,” Snape confirmed. “And more if you continue to show me such disrespect.”

Malfoy leaped to his feet, causing his bench, and his friends seated on it, to topple over. His pale face was contorted in rage. “When I tell my father what you’ve done, humiliating me in front of my friends. . .” he growled, all pretence of a respectful attitude gone.

“Your father has every right to withdraw you from Hogwarts,” Snape replied, unperturbed. “In the meantime, I am your Head of House, and I have taken house points from you because of your misbehaviour, which is perfectly within my rights. You’ve just earned a week’s detention for your cheek, as well. See me at six o’clock in my office, Mr. Malfoy.” With a swirl of his black cloak, he strode away, leaving Malfoy spluttering incoherently.

“I’ll get Potter for this,” Malfoy growled when he could speak plainly again. His friends had set the bench back up and they were all seated around him, commiserating with him over his punishment and how unjust it was.

“Yeah, and we’ll help,” said Crabbe defiantly.

“Wonder what made Snape change his tune about him?” Pansy Parkinson mused, gazing at Hermione’s back where she still sat at the Gryffindor table.


* * * * *


Ron and Harry kept up a brisk pace until they were well past Hagrid’s cabin at the edge of the woods. “Harry, what d’you want to do?” Ron asked uncertainly. Harry didn’t answer, but kept walking with long strides, getting farther and farther away from the castle and Hagrid’s hut. “Where are we going?” Ron asked, growing more nervous as he saw his friend’s rage growing, not abating. Harry still didn’t answer. “Erm, Harry? Would you give me a ride on the thestral?” Ron asked, hoping to distract him somehow. “It’s a nice day for flying, and you promised to give me a ride sometime.”

“Not right now, Ron,” Harry growled. He kept walking in silence, Ron doing his best to keep up. Finally, Harry stopped. He was so enraged, he was panting and his face was white, with bright red blotches on his cheeks. They were standing in front of a massive boulder in a clearing near the edge of the woods. Several smaller boulders were ranged around it.

“What are we doing here?” Ron asked tentatively.

Harry was glaring at the boulder with great intensity, still panting but trying hard to control his breathing. He glanced at his friend, as if just becoming aware that Ron was still there. “Stand still,” he commanded.

“What?” said Ron, paling rapidly when he saw the absolute fury in Harry’s eyes.

“Stand still. I’m going to put a shield around you. Don’t move.” Ron nodded mutely, trembling now, as Harry completely encased him in as strong a shield as he could create. Harry turned his attention back to the boulder. He began breathing more rapidly, letting the rage build inside him, finally accepting the anger, grief, torment that he’d forcibly controlled all these months. He stretched his right hand toward the boulder, his fingers cupped and reaching as if for a Snitch. With a tremendous growl, Harry unleashed his anger on the boulder, remembering at the last instant to put a shield over himself. With a resounding “BOOM!” the massive boulder and all the rocks around it turned into shrapnel, gravel and dust that blew in all directions.

Back in the castle, bedlam reigned as the ancient castle rocked with the explosion. Those students who were still at breakfast in the Great Hall were shrieking and running everywhere until Dumbledore’s voice rang over the tumult. “SILENCE!” They stopped and stood looking at him, bewildered.

“Prefects, take your classmates to their House Common Rooms, please. Do a count to be sure no one is missing,” Dumbledore instructed. “Teachers, please check the castle for damage and see if anyone’s been injured. Please escort any stray students you find to their House Common Rooms. If any students are missing when you make your counts, please let me know as soon as possible.” He turned to Remus with a twinkle in his eye. “Professor Lupin, if you would accompany me.”

“Please, Professor?” Hermione called, an anxious look on her face.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore replied kindly.

“Harry and Ron went outside, I think.”

“Thank you for letting us know. Professor Lupin and I will look for them.”


* * * * *


Moments later in the Gryffindor Common Room, Parvati and Lavender rounded on Hermione. “What’s up with you and Harry?” Parvati asked in a stern voice.

“What do you mean?” Hermione replied, taken aback.

“He was acting awfully friendly. Have he and Ginny broken up?” Parvati demanded.

“She’s such a cow. I don’t know what he sees in her,” Lavender added off-handedly.

Hermione flew into a rage. “For your information, Ginny and Harry are JUST FINE! Harry’s my best friend in the world. When he’s not feeling his best, whichever of his close friends is nearest him helps him out. It just happened to be me this time. I’m with Ron. Harry’s with Ginny. And you’d better hope neither Harry, Ginny nor Ron ever hear you call Ginny a cow or you’ll have boils that won’t disappear for months! I may give them to you myself!”

The other two girls took a step back, then looked at each other. “OK, then, tell me this,” Parvati said hesitantly after a moment. “You looked scared of him just before he left. Why?”

“I’ve seen Harry in a true rage and it’s not something you want to witness. He was close to it then, and I was worried about him. If you have any sense at all, if you see him getting angry, try to calm him down somehow, or else get completely away from him,” Hermione warned.

“Why?” snapped Lavender, obviously not believing Hermione. “What’s he do?”

“That’s Harry’s business, not yours. Just believe me — Harry in a full-fledged rage is very dangerous.”

The other girls looked startled. “Has he. . .hurt. . .or killed someone?” Lavender asked nervously.

“Harry would never hurt a friend intentionally,” Hermione said evasively. “I’m a Prefect, I need to take names and see if anyone is missing. Just leave him alone, all right?”

Lavender and Parvati looked at each other, dumbfounded, as Hermione stalked off to make a list of those students who might be missing.


* * * * *


As Remus and Dumbledore left the castle, Remus asked, “You think it was Harry, then?”

“I’m certain of it. Mr. Malfoy provoked Harry beyond all endurance this morning, and he was already greatly disturbed by the vision he had last night. I was wondering when this would happen.” Dumbledore almost seemed more amused than concerned. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am with how well he’s been controlling his temper. This day had to come sometime, and he’s just proved that he’s developed some wisdom in dealing with his anger. He took it outside, at a distance from everyone, before he let it loose. It will be interesting to see how Harry deals with losing his temper to this extent, and after controlling it for so long.”

“Do you think he and Ron are all right?” Remus wasn’t nearly as amused as Dumbledore. The boys could have been seriously hurt by whatever Harry blew up.

A silvery flash of light gently hit Dumbledore’s temple at that moment. “Ah, an Adfero from Harry!” Dumbledore said in delight, but then a frown creased his face. “He says he’s fine, and he’s digging Ron out. He hopes Ron is unhurt, but he hasn’t reached him yet, so he isn’t certain.” He quickened his pace toward the dust cloud hovering over a place near the woods far beyond Hagrid’s cabin. In the distance, they could see Hagrid pelting down the path toward the site, Fang at his heels. When they arrived, they found both Harry and Hagrid digging into a tall mound of dust, stone and gravel.

“Is Ron in here, Harry?” Remus asked as he bent to the task.

“Yeah. I put a shield over him, so he should be fine, but I haven’t heard anything from him. I don’t know how much air he has in there,” said Harry, his forehead furrowed in worry and tears streaking down his face. He glanced up at Dumbledore for a moment. “I didn’t know, Professor, honestly, I didn’t think it would. . . .”

“It’s all right, Harry,” Dumbledore assured him kindly. He smiled briefly and added, “Might I remind you that you are a Wizard? Stand back, all of you, please. Harry, follow my lead.” Dumbledore lifted his wand, watching Harry to be sure he was following along. When the boy had his wand lifted similarly, Dumbledore said, “Swish and flick, Harry. First year Charms.” Harry looked gob-smacked, then did a simple swish-and-flick and said “Wingardium Leviosa” along with Dumbledore, and the rocks, gravel and dust lifted off a shielded Ron and were deposited safely a few yards away.

Harry ran to his friend and removed the shield. “Ron! Are you OK? I’m so sorry, I didn’t. . .”

Ron took a deep, shuddering breath, then said, “’S all right, mate, honestly. Thanks for the shield!” He grabbed his friend and hugged him tightly.

Harry returned the hug. “I thought I’d killed you,” he said after a moment, his voice breaking.

Ron patted Harry’s back comfortingly, then pushed away so he could look his friend in the eye. “Nah. I knew you’d take care of me. You always do.”

Harry shook his head ruefully. “Most people don’t get their best mates in danger as often as I do with you and Hermione.”

“Just part of the excitement of being your friend, Harry,” Ron said bracingly. “And this time you kept Hermione out of it. Thanks for that.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Harry replied with a small smile.

“Feel better now?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, actually, I do!” Harry said with a grin.

“Oh, good,” Ron said, relief apparent on his face. “I’d hate for that to have been a wasted effort!”

“Erm. . .would someone min’ tellin’ me what happened here?” Hagrid said tentatively.

Harry looked at Ron and both of them burst into laughter. “Would you like to explain this one?” Harry asked Ron.

“Nope, you do it,” Ron said with a grin. “I still don’t understand it all.”

“Another interesting question is,” Remus added, “how are we going to explain this to the rest of the school?”

Dumbledore put his hands up to calm the rising tide of nerves and questions in the group. “First, Hagrid. What happened here today never happened. Harry had nothing to do with it. At least, that’s what we’ll tell the school.”

Hagrid looked confused, but nodded.

“We need to come up with a cover story. Any ideas?” Dumbledore asked the group. The boys and Remus all looked confused, but Hagrid had a concentrated look on his face.

“Well,” Hagrid began after a moment. “I was thinkin’ o’ puttin’ in a pond near here, fer some ducks an’ geese, y’know, to keep fer the kitchen. I’ve bin tryin’ ter keep ‘em on the lake, but the squid takes an awful lot of ’em. I’ve heard o’ somethin’ Muggles use ter make big holes or tear down buildings. . . .”

“Dynamite,” Harry supplied, the faint traces of a grin just starting to show on his face.

“Yeah, that’s it! It’s noisy and makes big holes, blows things up, right, Harry?” Hagrid asked, beaming at the boy.

“Yeah! That’s brilliant!” Harry replied gratefully.

“And I honestly haven’t used dynamite before, so I, well, I. . .overdid it a bit,” Hagrid said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well done, Hagrid! All right, we’ll say the boys came down to watch. That will explain their being here and being so dusty — although we should clean you up a bit before you go back to the castle to keep Mr. Filch happy,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Now, Harry, if you would, please. I’d like to know what really happened here.”

Harry hung his head, ashamed of what he’d done. He hated having to explain himself. He could see no justification for his actions. “I’m sorry, Professor. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Apology accepted. Please go on,” Dumbledore encouraged.

“Well. . . Malfoy. . .” Harry began hesitantly.

“Yes, I heard about what Mr. Malfoy did this morning,” Dumbledore replied.

“I was so angry about what he’d said. I was already upset because of the vision I had last night of that family dying. Malfoy was just . . .more than I could bear, I suppose,” Harry said. He was holding himself tensely, trying to stay calm and not let himself get upset again.

“Relax, Harry. Deep breaths, as I showed you,” Dumbledore said kindly. “You are not in any trouble. I just want to know what happened.”

Harry looked up sharply. “I’m not in trouble?”

“None at all.”

The boy took the deep, calming breaths Dumbledore had taught him and went on with his story. “I could feel a huge amount of rage building up inside me, and I wanted to see what I could do with it, quite honestly. I wanted to see if I could control the power it created. So I came out here where I knew this big boulder was in a clearing and well away from the castle and Hagrid’s hut. I thought my anger would just bounce off a rock that big, so I shielded Ron to protect him from my spell in case it bounced back.”

“What spell did you use?”

“Honestly, I didn’t use one. I just concentrated my anger and aimed it at the rock,” Harry said with a confused shrug. “I didn’t know what it would do. I thought maybe it might inflate and lift a bit like my Aunt Marge did that time, or maybe just disappear. I didn’t think a boulder was fragile, at least not like glass, so I didn’t think I’d break anything.”

“Show me what you did,” said Dumbledore.

“I held my hand out, curled a bit as if I were reaching for a Snitch,” Harry replied, demonstrating. “Then I let go of all the constraints on my anger and concentrated them so they flowed through my hand. You can see the results.” A crater fifty feet across and ten feet deep lay before them. Every boulder in the clearing had been reduced to small rocks, gravel and dust. Trees surrounding the area had been mowed down by shrapnel from the rocks. Shreds of wood surrounded the hole like so much mulch. Everyone was silent for a few moments, gazing in awe at the destruction before them.

“That’ll make a fine pond, Harry,” Hagrid said encouragingly. “Thanks for doing it where you did.”

Harry blushed and smiled slightly at Hagrid. “Thanks for taking the blame for me. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t! You’ve helped me out loads o’ times, and I really was going ter make a pond fer ducks and geese. That part o’ the story is true. I just hadn’t started digging yet. You saved me a ton o’ work!” Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder so hard, Harry felt his feet sink into the ground a few inches. He smiled up at Hagrid, more grateful than ever for his friendship.

“Harry, I must say, I’m quite proud of you,” said Dumbledore.

“What for?” Harry was dumbfounded.

“For many things. Number one, you controlled your temper until you got to a place where it was safe to vent it. Number two, you prevented other people from coming with you, and the one who was with you, you shielded admirably. Number three, you acknowledged that what you did was dangerous and that you shouldn’t have done it. However, on this point, I must disagree with you.”

“Sorry?”

“You needed to know what you could do if you concentrated your rage. Emotions are powerful forces. Both love and hate are strong emotions, and what you do with them determines if you’re a light or dark wizard. You, Harry, are more interested in protecting those around you than in protecting yourself.”

“I did put up a shield for myself once I thought about it,” Harry offered sheepishly.

“Yes, but before you let your anger fly, you made certain Mr. Weasley was safe. What you did today was an excellent experience for you. You have learned that you have power beyond all imagining, and that you can control that power long enough to protect those around you. That’s a very positive thing, Harry.”

Harry stood a little straighter, his head tilted and his face thoughtful as he let Dumbledore’s words sink in.

“Professor Snape has taken sixty house points from Mr. Malfoy for his actions this morning,” Dumbledore added. “For your actions, let’s see. I think. . .” he stopped, considering for a moment. “Ah yes, this will do nicely. All right then. Thirty points for protecting Mr. Weasley. Twenty points for controlling your temper until you were in a place safe enough to do this experiment. Twenty points for protecting yourself. Ten points for notifying me via Adfero as quickly as you did, so we wouldn’t worry unnecessarily. And Hagrid, how many points shall we give Mr. Potter for digging your pond?”

“You’re giving me those points, not taking them away?” Harry was astonished.

“Yes, giving them to you,” Dumbledore assured him.

“I’d say that pond is worth a good fifty points,” Hagrid said, beaming at the chance to be so generous to Harry.

“Fifty it is, then. Let’s see, that totals. . .one hundred and thirty points. Not a bad morning’s work, eh?” He smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean. . .” Harry fumbled around, trying to find the right words. Finally, they occurred to him. “Thank you, sir! And you, Hagrid!” He grinned at both of them.

“Now, Harry, we do need to work on controlling that power. I’ll have to think of some way for you to practice that skill safely. I’m very pleased you’ve discovered how to control it as much as you have,” Dumbledore said, patting Harry on the shoulder. “This was just a continuation of the accidental magic you’ve done before, you know, such as when you inflated your Aunt Marge, or made the glass on the snake case disappear. Your anger made those things happen without you controlling it. This time you controlled your anger and channelled the power it created. Well done!”

Harry smiled, warmed by his Headmaster’s praise. Then he grew thoughtful. “Erm, Professor?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Did you feel the explosion in the castle? It rocked the ground pretty hard here. Knocked me flat in spite of my shield.”

“Yes, the castle shook a bit. No damage or injuries that I know of. Don’t worry about it,” Dumbledore assured him serenely.

“And Hagrid won’t get in trouble with the Board of Governors for this either, will he?”

“No, I will tell them I gave him permission to use the dynamite.”

Hagrid elbowed Harry none too gently, a big grin on his face as he winked down at the boy. “Hey, Harry — if you want, you can practice out here again. I need a channel dug from the spring ta this pond ta keep it filled, an’ an overflow channel dug ta the lake.”

Dumbledore looked delighted. “Hagrid, what a wonderful idea! Thank you!” He winked at Harry and added, “I think our problem is solved.”

“I know what ta do with the debris here, too, Headmaster. If you good wizards would give me a hand — well, use your wands, I mean - it will go much more quickly,” Hagrid said, his beard curling to show he was smiling.

“What would you like us to do, then?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully as he pushed up his sleeves.

“The wood — that’s nice mulch, that is. I was goin’ ta mulch the garden anyway. If you could just transport it there. An’ the gravel. Ya know that marshy spot on the path around the lake? I’d planned ta do summat about that soon. This gravel will do the trick. The dust, I s’pose we can just spread around that little rocky beach. It’ll mix in there readily enough, I think.”

Harry, Ron, Remus and Dumbledore soon had the debris from the explosion distributed where Hagrid had suggested they put it. “Ar, but that’s a good day’s work!” Hagrid said with a chuckle as he rubbed his hands together. “And I didn’t have ta get any blisters to get it done!”


* * * * *


At breakfast the morning of the first Quidditch game of the year, Harry was encouraging Seamus Finnegan to eat at least a piece of toast. The Creevey brothers didn’t seem nervous at all about facing their first Quidditch game as players, but Seamus was a fabulous shade of green.

“I felt the same way before my first game,” Ron said encouragingly. “You’ll soon get used to it.”

Harry grinned at Ron, remembering that it took a lot of games and practice before Ron himself stopped being interesting shades of green before a game.

The post owls arrived, and a long, skinny package landed in front of Ginny. “What’s this?” she said curiously. She looked at the label and saw it was for her, then ripped into the wrappings, her friends and brother all watching avidly. Inside was a brand-new Cleansweep 7 like Ron’s. “WOW!” she cried as she lifted the broom gently from the wrappings.

“Who’s it from, Ginny?” Hermione asked curiously, casting a curious eye at Harry, who shrugged innocently.

“Fred and George!” she exclaimed, tears of delight in her eyes. “Wow! This is fantastic!”

Ron leaned over to Harry. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“I might have made a small suggestion,” Harry admitted with a grin. “I couldn’t buy it for her myself — I didn’t think your parents would approve of such an expensive present from a boyfriend.”

Ginny looked over every inch of the broom, then up at Harry. “You had something to do with this, I know you did.” Harry did his best to act innocent, but she leaped up and gave him a big kiss anyway, whispering “Thank you!” in his ear when she finally stopped kissing him. Harry’s ears were as red as Weasley hair, but he was grinning broadly as he held his delighted girlfriend in his arms.


* * * * *


“Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the year,” Dean Thomas said. He had taken over Lee Jordan’s position as announcer, as Lee had finished Hogwarts last term. “And it’s Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Here comes the Slytherin team. Captain and Seeker Draco Malfoy, Keeper Adrian Pucey, Chasers Montague, Pritchard and Warrington, and Beaters Crabbe and Goyle.” As he announced the team members, boos and catcalls erupted from the stands. “And Captain Malfoy lands in the centre of the field to await the arrival of Gryffindor Captain Potter! And here come the Gryffindors, holders of the Quidditch Cup for the last three years! Captain and Seeker Harry Potter, Chasers Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnegan, Beaters Colin and Dennis Creevey — another brother team, we’ll have to keep our eye on them! And champion Keeper, Ron Weasley!” Cheers erupted from three-quarters of the stadium as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined their voices to those of the Gryffindors in cheering the team. Luna Lovegood’s lion hat roared in greeting as the team entered the pitch.

“The captains are shaking hands — Malfoy, don’t even think about trying to crush Harry’s hand! He’s bigger than you now!”

“Mr. Thomas, please keep your comments to announcing the game,” snapped Professor McGonagall.

“Sorry, Professor. I thought I was announcing the game,” Dean said with a cheeky grin, not the least bit perturbed by the reprimand. “And Madam Hooch has released the Snitch, the Bludgers are away and the Quaffle is in play! Katie Bell in possession, go, Katie go! She passes to Ginny Weasley, who passes to Finnegan, who . . .drops the Quaffle. It’s picked up by Pritchard and. . .NICE Bludger work by Colin Creevey! The Quaffle is now in Ginny Weasley’s possession, and she SCORES! Ten points to GRYFFINDOR! That’s a new Cleansweep 7 Ginny’s riding — looks like she’s getting on well with it!”

Ginny flashed Dean a thumb’s up and a grin as she flew away from the goal.

“And a foul is called against Slytherin Beaters Crabbe and Goyle for hitting Bludgers at Chaser Weasley long after she released the ball. Nice work dodging those Bludgers, Ginny!” he called, and she waved gaily in return. “Ginny Weasley will take the penalty shot. Come on, Ginny, you can do it. . .YES! She scores!”

The game went by quickly, the new players making groaning mistakes at times, but overall, the play wasn’t bad. The Creeveys were crowd-pleasers like Fred and George Weasley, cheeky and irreverent but also terribly polite. They apologized to each person they hit with a Bludger, but their kind natures didn’t keep them from cheerfully whacking Bludgers at every Slytherin within range. Seamus finally got over his first-game jitters and actually scored a goal. Katie and Ginny were adept at stealing the Quaffle from the Slytherin Chasers, and racked up the points continuously.

"And it’s Warrington with the Quaffle racing toward the Gryffindor goals. Keeper Ron Weasley is circling, gauging which hoop the Quaffle will make for — ah, it’s the left hoop! Weasley leans down and makes a one-handed catch below his broom! Magnificent! He tosses to Chaser Ginny Weasley and we’re off again. She SCORES! And it’s Gryffindor 110 to Slytherin’s 30! Well done, Ginny Weasley! Well done, Ron Weasley! Weasley is our King! And our Queen! We need a new song!” Dean cried, and the Gryffindors took up the song they’d revised from the Slytherins original cruel lyrics. The song now sang the praises of Ron Weasley, who’d saved the game and the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor last term.

“Look out, there goes Potter after the Snitch! He grew a lot over the holidays, and offered to step down as Seeker in favour of someone smaller and lighter, but look at the reach on him! His arms are half again as long as Malfoy’s, and can Potter FLY! There’s never been a Seeker like Harry Potter! Go, Harry, go!”

The Snitch was hovering near the Slytherin goal posts when Harry spotted it. He flattened himself against his Firebolt and urged it forward at breakneck speed. He ducked and dodged as two Bludgers came his way, hit by Crabbe and Goyle. The Creevey brothers soon had the Bludgers in their control and used them to chase Crabbe and Goyle away from Harry. The Creeveys were like gnats compared to Crabbe and Goyle in size and speed, and like gnats, they were constantly buzzing around, annoying the slow-flying Slytherin beaters.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy streaking up the pitch toward him. The angle of their paths to the Snitch gave Malfoy the advantage, but Harry wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning and soon caught up with him. Malfoy pulled close to Harry’s side and began a heated battle with him, shoving Harry’s broom and hitting Harry’s face and arms as two Seekers hurtled toward the fluttering Snitch. Harry gave as good as he got, shoving or pushing back whenever Malfoy attacked him, but Harry’s attention was on the Snitch, while Malfoy’s was on Harry and only partly on the Snitch. The Snitch suddenly zoomed down toward the ground and Harry followed it recklessly, dives being his speciality. The ground was coming up faster and faster. He could feel Malfoy’s breath on his neck, the other boy was so close to him. Harry felt a heavy tug on his Quidditch robes and realized Malfoy was actually hanging on to him! “Gerrof, Malfoy!” he cried, swinging an elbow back to ward off the other boy. Malfoy ducked, and in that instant, Harry pulled up the front of his broom to avoid hitting the ground, skimming along just inches above the grass still in pursuit of the Snitch. He heard a crash and curses behind him as Malfoy ploughed himself into the ground. Harry stretched his arm as far as he could and caught the Snitch by one fluttering wing. He curled his fingers around the golden ball and pumped his fist in the air, spiralling up in the air with a triumphant grin on his face. The whole team converged on him in a massive red-and-gold coloured, screaming, moving hug.

“And Gryffindor WINS, two hundred and ninety points to thirty! WELL DONE, GRYFFINDOR!” Dean announced, then joined the cheering of his classmates.

Somewhere amidst the clamour of the team’s celebration, Harry managed to grab Ginny and whisper “Well done!” in her ear before kissing her soundly. The team’s cheers redoubled as they laughed at the blushes Harry and Ginny sported as the team spiralled slowly to the ground.

The party in Gryffindor tower that night was one of the rowdiest ever. Neville and Hermione had recorded the game on Omnioculars, which were passed around among all the Gryffindors so they could relive every wonderful moment of the game. Harry and Ron had nipped off to Hogsmeade to get butterbeers and sweets, and Dobby had brought some treats up from the kitchen. After a while, Harry and Ginny were able to get away from their well-wishers and find a quiet corner where they could talk. Harry turned a squashy armchair so its back was to the party, and sat down, pulling Ginny down into his lap.

“Now, young lady, about your fear of flying,” he began with a smirk.

“What fear of flying?” she asked innocently.

“Exactly!” he said with a huge grin. He kissed her playfully, then rested his forehead against hers. “Seriously? I am so proud of you. Well done!”

“My team captain did a good job of training me,” she giggled, “and the extra sessions really helped!” She gave him a playful peck on the nose, then laced her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a serious snog.

When they came up for air, Harry chuckled and said, “Anytime you need extra training, let me know!”

“I’ll remember that,” she replied, smiling up at him. Harry took a length of her long red hair and tickled her nose with it, then made it a “moustache” on his own face, then hung it over his ear where it rested like one bright red sideburn against his black hair. Ginny giggled, resting back against his arm and enjoying his playfulness. Harry was serious so often these days, it was wonderful to see him being silly.


* * * * *


The D.A. meetings had been postponed until the Quidditch season began. With the first game completed and everyone’s practice and game schedules set, it was possible to work out a meeting time for the D.A. Dumbledore had given them the use of the Great Hall, since so many new people had signed up for it. At the first meeting, Harry put Hermione and Ron in charge of the returning members, while he had a talk with the new ones.

“For simplicity’s sake, we’re going to call you lot ‘First Year D.A.’ and the other group ‘Second Year D.A.,’ no matter what year you are at Hogwarts,” Harry began. “If you progress quickly or your skills are especially good, we’ll move you up to the Second Year group. Those in the Second Year group — are you listening over there? — who are still having trouble with the lower level spells will come over to this group until your skills improve. That’s no reflection on your abilities or intelligence or anything like that. Some people just learn at different speeds, and it’s easier for everyone if you’re grouped according to your skill level. You will be working with partners, practicing whatever spells we’re working on. You will stop when you hear a whistle blown. Usually when I do that, it’s because things are getting out of hand, or people are making mistakes, or I see something that needs to be improved before we go further. I will have some of the Second Year D.A. members helping to supervise you so I can teach both groups. I’ll teach you a skill, or review it if it’s a spell you should already know, and then I’ll turn you over to other people who will watch you work.” He studied the group thoughtfully for a moment. There were some rebellious looks among them already, as well as many whose faces showed they weren’t taking this meeting seriously. “These helpers have the same authority I do, so don’t give them a hard time. They can hex you into next week if you cheek them,” he said with a grin, teasing them. A shocked silence was followed by nervous laughter. “What we do in D.A. is fun, and I want you to enjoy it. But it’s also deadly serious. We are at war, and the skills you learn here will help you if you find yourself in danger.” He glanced around the group, now seeing some eager faces, some full of nervous anticipation, and some just plain scared. “Don’t be afraid — we won’t let anyone get seriously hurt. These are exercises, but they do work in the real world. I’ve been there, and so have the people who will be supervising you. We know these spells work in real combat.” The gathered students looked awe-struck. A tentative hand went up. “Yes?” Harry said, pointing to the tiny first-year student with her hand in the air.

“Mr. Potter, sir?” she said timidly, her blond curls bouncing as she trembled with nerves.

Harry laughed. “I’m Harry, just Harry. I’m a student like you. No ‘Mr.’ anybody here, unless Professor Lupin joins us sometime. What’s your question?”

“Erm. . .when you said ‘combat,’ what did you mean? I mean, when you said you and these other people have been in combat?” When she finished speaking, she put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, apparently unnerved by her boldness.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked kindly, squatting to get on her eye-level.

“Megan. Megan O’Reilly,” she answered with a quiver in her voice.

“Nice to meet you, Megan. Let’s all sit down, shall we? I don’t know about you, but I’ve already had a long day,” Harry began as he sat cross-legged on the floor. “Come on, gather round,” he invited. Once the First Year D.A. students were settled, he looked at Megan. “What I meant by combat was actual face-to-face fighting with Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort.” At the collective gasp resulting from his saying Voldemort’s name, he looked around at the group sternly. “Professor Dumbledore says ‘fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself.’ ‘Voldemort’ is just a name, like ‘Potter’ or ‘Weasley’ or ‘O’Reilly.’ Don’t be afraid to say Lord Voldemort’s name, and don’t cringe and gasp or be frightened when you hear it. Reactions like that give him more power than he already has. The simple truth is, Lord Voldemort is the enemy. Get used to it.”

A young girl in the front row raised her hand tentatively.

“Yes? What’s your name?” Harry asked.

”Margaret Boyle. Hi, Harry!,” she said with a giggle and a small wave.

“Hi,” he answered, wondering what she had on her mind. “Go on.”

“Well. . .” she began breathlessly, then said in a rush, “I’ve got your Quidditch poster and your Famous Wizard Card. Will you sign them?” Her comment stirred choruses of “Me, too!” “Sign mine, will you?” and similar calls from the new D.A. students, as well as giggles and much avid whispering among the girls who’d been following him around all term. The Second Year D.A. students paused in what they were doing and looked at the new group, chuckling. They knew Harry well enough by now to know what his answer would be.

Harry was blushing furiously. “Erm. . .no, no autographs, sorry. I don’t do that. I’m just Harry. That’s all.”

“No, you’re famous!” “Please, Harry!” the crowd encouraged him.

“No!” Harry’s temper was rising dangerously. He took some deep breaths and calmed himself. “Look. I’m flattered and all that, but we’re here for a serious reason.” Glancing around at the group, he began to wonder. He took a deep breath and said, “OK, how many of you are here to learn how to fight Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort?”

A shudder went through the gathering, and very few hands were raised.

“How many of you are here because I’m the one leading it?” he asked. Nearly every hand shot up. Harry slumped, shook his head and sighed. This wasn’t the right attitude for them to have, not at all. “Look, you lot,” he replied angrily. “We’re here because we’re at war and we need to get better at defending ourselves. If you’re just here to see Harry Potter, you can leave right now. I will be happy to teach you all I can to help prepare you for the war, but I will not give out autographs, interviews, hugs, kisses or anything else! Those of you who are here for the wrong reasons can leave right now!” He waited, but no one moved a muscle. Even the girls who’d spent the last several weeks openly lusting after him seemed to be holding their breath. Silence reigned for a while, then a boy’s hand wavered uncertainly in the air. “Yes?” Harry asked, stifling his anger the best he could. “What’s your name?”

“Bill Miller,” the boy answered timidly. “Second year, Ravenclaw.”

“Is your question about defensive spells and what we’re doing here, or not?” Harry snapped.

“About what we’re doing here,” the boy said hesitantly, quailing in the face of Harry’s temper.

Harry sat back, relaxed a bit and grinned at the boy. ”Great! Nice to meet you, Bill. What’s your question?”

“You said face-to-face combat with D-d-d-Death Eaters and L-l-l-Lord V-v-v-. . . .” He couldn’t go on.

“Yup. That’s ‘Voldemort.’ Learn to say it. And your question?”

“How could any of you fight them and survive?” the boy responded nervously.

“That’s what we’re here to learn!” Harry said encouragingly. “OK, I imagine you want proof.” He sighed and looked over at Hermione, who was busy correcting the wand work of one of the returning D.A. members. “Hermione, have you been listening?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to him.

“I could use some ideas here. I don’t want to spend the entire time telling stories.”

“Then ask what they’ve heard and answer those questions. That should lead you to tell the stories they want to hear.”

“OK,” Harry said, sighing. “You lot have to realize, it’s not fun for me to relive any of these things. I had loads of help. . .”

“Not on the first task where you faced that Hungarian Horntail!” piped up one voice from the older D.A. group.

“Not in loads of other cases, Harry,” someone else called. “Get on with it and just tell them what happened!” There was general laughter in the Second Year group at this statement.

Harry blushed, then shrugged and chuckled. “I can see they aren’t going to give me any peace. Tell me what you’ve heard and that will give me a starting point.” The usual questions about the Sorceror’s Stone, the Basilisk and his Patronus came up, and Harry explained those. Then someone asked about Cedric Diggory’s death and Harry told them about seeing Voldemort return. Telling that story was still quite hard for Harry, but he could see they needed to hear it from him, despite having read about it in the paper and in magazines.

“All of those things are amazing, Harry, but they were all you. You said some of the D.A. has also fought . . . erm. . .You-Know-Who,” Bill said.

“No, I said they fought Death Eaters. None of them faced Voldemort. That was me, the other times. Again, I had help. Dumbledore fought him last year and saved my life.” He told them about the battle with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries and took that opportunity to stand up and call over Neville, Luna and Ginny. “This is Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. They’ll be supervising your work while I’m working with the Second Years. They, Ron and Hermione and I were the ones involved in that battle with the Death Eaters last year.”

“Some of us fared better than others in that one,” Ron commented, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Harry.

“Some of us, me included, need to learn to curb our curiosity,” Harry retorted with a rueful laugh. He and Ron grinned at each other over the heads of the students between them. Harry’s insatiable curiosity had led him to actually want the dreams that drew him into and guided him through the Department of Mysteries in the first place, and Ron’s had led him to summon a brain to him which tangled him up in thought threads and kept him in the hospital wing for a while after everything was over. Harry turned to his listeners again. “Neville, here, is living proof that you need to use a wand that chose you, if at all possible, not a hand-me-down wand. He used his dad’s wand until it was broken in that battle last year. With his new wand, his spell work is fantastic. His dad’s wand worked fine for his dad. It just never worked as well for him. Ron Weasley — give us a wave, Ron, so they know who you are — had the same situation. He used one of his brothers’ wands for a while, but then it broke. Since he got his own, his spell work has improved tremendously. So if you’re using a wand that didn’t choose you and your spell work isn’t what it should be, consider getting a new wand if it’s at all possible. A new wand might make a huge difference for you, as it’s done for Neville and Ron. That new wand working properly for you may mean the difference between life and death.”

There was a stunned silence among the First Years, then one of the younger students raised a nervous hand.

“Yes? What’s your name?” Harry said.

“Sean Freeman,” the boy responded. “So you’re saying we really can’t do magic with other wands than the one that chose us?”

“I’m saying the wand that chose you will always work best for you. But once you’re good at the spells, you can work them with any wand. Here, Ginny, let me borrow yours a sec,” Harry said, reaching out for her wand. “OK, I’ll do a little demonstration. This is my own wand,” he said, holding his wand in his right hand, high enough for everyone to see. “Watch.” He pointed the wand at Ginny and said “Wingardium Leviosa.” Ginny rose several feet above the floor, giggling while floating above them. “Ginny, are you OK up there?”

“Yes.”

“OK if I play around a bit?” Harry said with a crooked grin.

“I trust you, Harry,” she said with a warm smile.

Harry turned to the gathered students. “I wouldn’t do this with someone who isn’t a good flyer. It might make them sick. Ginny’s a terrific flyer, so it shouldn’t bother her.” With that, he used his wand to fly her around the room, even having her turn somersaults. She giggled and squealed with glee through the whole exercise. She sounds as if she’s on an amusement park ride, Harry thought, a brief memory of Casey flashing through his mind. He pushed the memory down, then looked up at his beautiful red-haired girlfriend, who was waving down at him. He couldn’t help grinning at her. She made him so happy. He lowered her gently to the ground and switched wands. “Now I’ll do it with her wand. Ready, Ginny?”

“Yes.”

He repeated the performance, which went just as well as it had with his own wand. When Ginny was standing beside him again, Sean piped up again.

“Can you do that with my wand?”

“Right,” Harry agreed, taking the offered wand and turning to Ginny. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Harry did the same things he’d done the first two times and set Ginny gently on her feet next to him again.

“Wicked!” Sean and a few others breathed.

“But that’s a first year Charms spell,” one of the older new students commented. “I thought we were going to learn useful spells.”

“Ron knocked out a mountain troll and saved Hermione’s life — and mine, too — with that spell in our first year,” Harry commented dryly.

“He did?” The new students looked with new respect at the gangly redhead still leading the older D.A. members.

“Right, then. Let’s start with that spell and see how you do,” Harry told the group as he handed the wand back to Sean. Luna handed around feathers and she, Ginny, Neville and Harry supervised the group as they all attempted to make their feathers fly. Harry did some corrections in technique, then stood back and watched his helpers teach. They were doing very well, so he went back to the older group, where Ron and Hermione were reviewing spells they’d done the past year.

“How are they doing?” he asked Hermione.

“Pretty well, actually. We’ve reviewed most of the basic spells and jinxes already, just briefly. Some people need to brush up on them, but nobody’s seriously behind yet. I think we’d all like to work on our Patronus spells, and that will certainly impress the new people, too,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Nothing like blowing their socks off in the first class, right?”

Harry laughed. “I like the way you think.” He looked at the Second Year D.A. members and raised his voice above the din of flying spells. “You lot!”

“Yeah?” “Hey, Harry!” “Nice of you to join us!” “We thought you’d never pay attention to us!” the group called cheerfully.

“Yeah, nice to see you too. I’m glad you all came back this year. I think we’re going to learn a lot, especially with the school actively supporting us rather than us having to do it in secret!” This comment elicited general laughter. “All right, I’d like to see how you’ve done on perfecting your Patronus spells over the holidays. Everyone do your Patronus — and if you haven’t managed one yet, don’t worry about it, we’ll spend a good bit of time on them this year.” The Second Years cast their spells amid much laughter and teasing, as some people had their Patronus chase the Patroni of other people. The First Years stopped what they were doing and gaped at the silvery forms gambolling around the Great Hall.

“All right, First and Second Years both, everyone sit down and we’ll have a group session. We need to explain to the new people what the Patronus charm is, why we use it, and why some of you still don’t have it conquered,” he said with a teasing grin as he glanced around at the Second Years. He began a discussion of the purposes of the spell and how it was conjured, and the types of happy thoughts that seemed to work best. Then he added, “We’ve just been working on creating them. They have a serious purpose. They aren’t supposed to just be pretty, although many of them are. I’ve asked Professor Lupin to find us a Boggart to work with so we can practice them against a Dementor.”

“If it’s a Boggart, where will we get the Dementor?” asked a tiny first year student.

“A Boggart is a shape-shifter, and it takes the form of whatever scares you most,” Harry began. “In Ron’s case, it’s usually a spider.” Ron shuddered. “In Seamus’s case, it’s often a banshee.” Seamus gave a similar shudder to Ron’s. “In my case, it’s a Dementor. You’ll be learning about Boggarts in your Defence classes, so don’t worry about how to get rid of Boggarts right now. We don’t want to get rid of our Boggart, we want him to keep coming out as a Dementor so we can practice on him.” He looked around the room. “Which of you seen or been near Dementors?” All the second year and above students raised their hands. “Yes, I thought so. Some came on the Hogwarts Express last year. Who wants to tell us what it’s like to have Dementors around?” He looked around at the raised hands and called on Colin Creevey.

“It gets all cold. The windows of the train frosted up. My water bottle froze. And I thought I’d never be happy again,” Colin said with a shudder.

“That’s right, Colin. Thank you.” Harry turned to the rest of the group. “Those of you who know Colin know he’s one of the most cheerful people you’ll ever meet. It’s almost impossible to catch him without a big happy grin on his face.” There were some chuckles at this comment. Colin’s relentless cheeriness was well-known throughout the school. “Imagine, then, something horrible enough to make someone so cheerful think he’d never feel that way again.” A sudden nervous silence filled the room. “What he said was completely true. You’ll feel very cold, you’ll become very depressed, and you’ll relive the worst memories of your life. And if you aren’t careful, they can do the most awful thing to you I’ve ever heard of.”

“What’s that?” Megan asked timidly.

“They can suck your soul right out of your mouth and you’ll be an empty shell. Your body will live, but you won’t have any mind, any personality, any soul at all. It’s worse than death,” Harry intoned seriously.

“There’s only one person alive that anyone knows of who knows what a Dementor looks like under its hood,” Hermione added quietly. “Harry was about to have his soul sucked out when he was saved by a Patronus.”

“Wow. . .who saved him?” someone breathed.

Hermione gulped. She had said too much. She glanced at Harry, who shrugged and said, “I saved myself. I thought it was my dad, but he’s been dead since I was a year old. I saw a stag on the shore across the lake just before it charged the Dementors — my dad was an Animagus and his form was always a stag. I thought it was him. But it was me.”

“How in the world were you two places at once?” Ernie McMillian asked. He’d never heard this story.

“We had a Time-Turner. Long story, and we can’t go into details, but we went back in time. . .”

“By ‘we,’ who do you mean?” Ernie asked insistently.

“Hermione and me,” Harry answered. “And I honestly am not at liberty to tell you a lot more except that we had a Time-Turner and went back in time a few hours, which is what saved our lives. Hermione had already fainted from the Dementors surrounding us, and my Patronus just wasn’t strong enough to fight them all off. . .”

“How many?” Dean asked. He hadn’t heard the story either.

“Over a hundred. Anyway, one Dementor pushed back his hood and I saw its face — it was gray, slimy and rotten looking, like a corpse that’s been underwater, I guess, and there was only one opening, a huge mouth. It had me in its hands and was forcing my head back, ready to give me the Kiss, when the stag came charging across the lake and chased them all away. When I was there later, after using the Time-Turner, I waited to see my father, or whoever it was, cast the Patronus that saved Hermione and me, but then I realized it had to be me who did it. Nobody else was there. So, since I knew I’d done it, I was able to do it, and I’ve been able to do them ever since.” He shrugged as if this weren’t a big deal.

“Did the stag run on top of the water, or splash through it, or what?” a wide-eyed girl asked.

“It ran across on top of the water, but you can see from what we’ve done here that they’re just vapour — kind of.” Harry shrugged again. “I don’t know how else to explain it. The Patronus charm is ridiculously difficult, over N.E.W.T. standard, but since the Dementors have been turned loose on the population by Voldemort, it’s important we all know how to fight them.” He glanced at his watch. “Our hour is up. Good work tonight. Sorry there was so much explanation and so little practical work, but now that we’ve got that behind us, we’ll be working hard each session. I’ll try to have a Boggart for the Second Years by next time. Keep working on your Patronus charms. And First Years, work hard on all the charms and spells you’ve learned in school. We’ll be reviewing them here. If you’re already good at them, you’ll progress faster. Thanks for coming, everyone. Next week, same time. Good night!” He stood up and started picking up feathers, along with Ginny. Hermione held open a bag and said, “Accio feathers,” which solved the problem neatly. Harry and Ginny laughed at being caught doing things the “Muggle way.” As they put their supplies away and moved the House tables back in place, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione chatted about the various students who’d joined them.

“I think you’ve got a fan problem in these new girls, Harry,” Ginny said in a teasing tone. “Want me to do something about them?”

Harry laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll try to hold my own against them, but if they gang up on me, you’re welcome to have a go at them!”

“I think it went very well, overall,” Hermione commented as the four of them finished tidying up and prepared to leave the Great Hall.

“I thought you were going to get yourself and Harry in trouble with that Time-Turner story,” Ron chided, stopping before they left the Hall. “We’ve got to be careful what we say in here. We don’t know if all of these people are actually on our side.”

“You’re right, Ron. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, that wasn’t like you. Where was your mind?” Harry asked, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t know. It just sort of popped out. It seemed like the right thing to say,” she said with a shrug. “I hope it doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“Well, we didn’t say when it happened, or who else, if anyone, was involved, and Dumbledore and McGonagall gave you permission to have the Time-Turner, so it should be OK,” Harry said reassuringly, hoping that he was right.


* * * * *


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