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Chapter Text

Harry Potter pressed his face against the cold window of his bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, watching the red streak that had appeared in the summer sky three nights ago. The comet was visible even in the early evening light, a crimson gash across the pale sky that made his scar tingle with an odd warmth. Not painful like when Voldemort was near, but almost pleasant.

The Dursleys had banned all mention of it at breakfast that morning. "Unnatural rubbish," Uncle Vernon had declared, glaring at Harry as if the comet's appearance was somehow his fault. But Harry couldn't stop looking at it. There was something about the way it pulsed with deep red light that drew his attention for hours at a time.

And the dreams. Strange dreams where he felt confident, respected, where people actually listened when he spoke instead of dismissing him or whispering behind his back.

"Get away from that window, boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice boomed from downstairs. "Don't want the neighbors seeing you gawping at that thing!"

Harry stayed where he was. After everything he'd been through, Vernon's shouting seemed more annoying than threatening. He'd faced Voldemort. He'd watched Cedric die. He'd fought in the Department of Mysteries. Vernon Dursley yelling about windows hardly registered anymore.

"Don't make me come up there!"

"Then don't," Harry muttered, not moving from the window.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs suggested Vernon had decided to make good on his threat, but before he could reach Harry's room, a sharp crack echoed from the street below.

Harry looked down to see a familiar figure in midnight-blue robes striding up the front path, long silver beard catching the streetlight.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry breathed, his spirits lifting.

Uncle Vernon's roar of outrage shook the house as the doorbell rang. Harry could hear Aunt Petunia's sharp whispers, Dudley's confused grunting, and then Vernon's stomping toward the front door.

"What do you want?" Vernon's voice carried clearly through the walls.

"Good evening, Vernon. I trust you received my letter?"

Harry frowned. What letter?

"We told you already," Vernon snarled. "The boy's not going back to that place. Nearly got us all killed last time, didn't he?"

"I'm afraid that decision isn't yours to make," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "Harry's education continues as planned."

"We won't have it! The boy's nothing but trouble-"

"The boy," Dumbledore's voice carried a steel edge beneath the politeness, "has done more to protect this world than you could possibly imagine. I suggest you show him the respect he has earned."

Harry felt a warm glow at the defense. It was nice to have someone acknowledge what he'd been through, what he'd done.

After a moment's silence, Vernon grudgingly said, "Fine. Take him. But don't expect us to welcome him back."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dumbledore replied dryly.

Harry grabbed his trunk, already packed and waiting. He'd learned years ago to stay ready for quick escapes from Privet Drive.

"Ready, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as Harry hurried downstairs.

"More than ready, Professor."

The Dursleys clustered in the hallway like pale, hostile sentinels. Aunt Petunia's lips had disappeared entirely, pressed together in disapproval. Dudley cowered behind his parents, still terrified of magic after his encounter with Dementors.

"Well then," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I believe we have business elsewhere. Good evening."

Vernon slammed the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

"Charming as ever," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, his blue eyes twinkling. "Though I hope you don't mind, Harry, but we have a small errand to run before I deliver you to the Burrow."

Harry felt a familiar stab of irritation. Of course there was an errand. There was always something with Dumbledore, always some plan Harry wasn't fully trusted to understand.

"What kind of errand?" he asked, working to keep his voice level.

"Nothing too demanding. We need to visit an old colleague of mine. Horace Slughorn. You may have heard the name?"

Harry shook his head, studying Dumbledore's face. There was something calculating in those blue eyes that made his nerves prickle.

"Well, no matter. You'll meet him soon enough." Dumbledore offered his arm. "Shall we?"

As they Disapparated, Harry caught a glimpse of the comet through the swirling darkness. For just a moment, it seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

They appeared on a quiet village street lined with neat houses and summer gardens. Everything looked perfectly normal except for one house near the end, where the front door hung crooked and dark stains marked the doorframe.

"Budleigh Babberton," Dumbledore announced. "Charming village."

Harry stared at the damaged house. "Professor, shouldn't we call someone? It looks like there's been an attack."

"All in good time, Harry." Dumbledore was already walking toward the house, apparently unconcerned.

Inside was complete chaos. Furniture lay in splinters, a chandelier had crashed to the floor, and dark stains that Harry didn't want to think too hard about splattered the walls.

"Horace?" Dumbledore called in a sing-song voice. "It's no use hiding. I can smell the dragon dung fertilizer. You always were heavy-handed with it."

Silence.

Dumbledore sighed and looked around the destroyed room. Finally, he approached an overstuffed armchair that looked oddly untouched amid the chaos. He poked it sharply with his wand.

The chair squeaked and began transforming, colors swirling until it became a large, walrus-like man with a silver mustache, who glared at Dumbledore with wounded dignity.

"There was no need to poke so hard, Albus!"

"My apologies, Horace." Dumbledore smiled. "Though your interior decorating has become rather dramatic."

Slughorn huffed and waved his wand. The room began reassembling itself - furniture flying back together, the chandelier floating up to the ceiling, stains vanishing from the walls.

"One must take precautions," Slughorn said stiffly. "My pursuers have been persistent."

Harry found himself studying the older wizard as the room reformed. Slughorn had the look of someone used to luxury, expensive tastes poorly concealed beneath current shabbiness. When his eyes landed on Harry, they lit up with something like hunger.

"Harry Potter," Slughorn breathed, his entire manner changing. "My word. You look just like James. Except the eyes - you have your mother's eyes."

The mention of his parents sent warmth through Harry's chest. "Did you know them well?"

"Oh yes! Lily was one of my most gifted students. Such talent for Potions - she could brew a Draught of Living Death that rivaled my own by sixth year."

Harry leaned forward, genuinely interested. "What was she like? Everyone talks about her sacrifice, but no one tells me who she actually was."

"Brilliant mind," Slughorn said, his eyes lighting up. "Always asking insightful questions, seeing connections others missed. She theorized that emotional resonance could enhance potion-making, and she was absolutely right."

Finally, real details about his mother. Not just platitudes about her bravery, but who she'd actually been. Harry felt the words coming more easily than usual.

"I'd love to hear more sometime. Hogwarts could probably use a teacher who really understood her methods."

"Well," Slughorn said slowly, straightening slightly, "I have been considering returning to teaching..."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore interjected smoothly. "Then it's settled. Horace, surely you're tired of this constant running?"

Slughorn's expression flickered between temptation and fear. "The Death Eaters-"

"Will find Hogwarts much more challenging than a series of hideouts," Dumbledore pointed out. "And you'd have exceptional students to work with again."

Harry caught Slughorn's eye. "The students need teachers who actually care about helping them reach their potential. From what I've heard about you, you'd be perfect for that."

Something in his tone seemed to reach the older man. Slughorn's chest puffed out with old pride.

"You know, you're quite right, my boy. Very well - on one condition!"

"And what would that be?" Dumbledore asked.

"I want Professor Merrythought's old office. If I'm coming back, I deserve proper accommodations."

"That can be arranged," Dumbledore said, looking satisfied.

"Wonderful! I suppose I should start planning my curriculum then."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, though Harry noticed the headmaster watching him with unusual intensity. "We should be off. Molly will be expecting us."

Outside, the comet hung in the darkening sky. Harry found himself staring at it, feeling oddly energized by how well the conversation had gone. He'd handled that better than he usually managed with adults.

"Remarkable sight," Slughorn commented, following Harry's gaze. "The Ministry's quite puzzled. It doesn't appear in any astronomical charts."

"It's beautiful though," Harry said, then paused. When had he started describing things as beautiful?

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured, still watching Harry carefully. "Until next week then, Horace."

"Yes, yes. And young Potter - thank you. You've reminded me why I became a teacher. I look forward to having you in my class."

As Slughorn headed back inside, Dumbledore offered Harry his arm again.

The Apparition felt smoother this time, less disorienting. When they appeared outside the Burrow, Harry felt genuine happiness at the sight of the crooked house with its warm, spilling light.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "might I have a word?"

Harry turned, noting something serious in the headmaster's tone. "Of course."

"You handled Professor Slughorn very well. Very persuasively."

Harry felt pleased by the praise. "He seemed like he wanted to be convinced. Just needed someone to remind him why teaching mattered."

"Quite so," Dumbledore said, studying Harry intently. "I'm curious - where did that approach come from? The appeal to his better nature, the connection to your mother?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. It just felt right. Like I knew what he needed to hear."

"And how did that feel? Knowing what he needed to hear?"

"Good," Harry admitted. "Really good, actually."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Power is a curious thing, Harry. Even the power to persuade can be intoxicating."

"I wasn't trying to manipulate him," Harry said quickly, though something in his stomach twisted.

"Of course not. But I wonder - have you noticed any other changes recently? In yourself?"

Harry thought of the dreams, how conversations seemed easier lately, the way he'd been feeling while watching the comet. "Maybe small things."

"Small changes often become large ones," Dumbledore said gently. "I only ask that you remember - who we become is always a choice. Every decision shapes us."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Dumbledore's eyes were kind but searching. "I hope so. Because I suspect you'll face some difficult choices this year."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, the front door burst open.

"Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried, sweeping him into one of her bone-crushing hugs.

This time, Harry found himself settling into the embrace more completely, savoring the warmth and affection. When had he become so hungry for this kind of connection?

"We've missed you terribly," Mrs. Weasley said, holding him at arm's length to look him over. "You look well. More grown up."

"I've missed you too," Harry replied, meaning it more than usual.

"I'm afraid I must be going," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. "Business to attend to." With a soft pop, he was gone.

"Come in, come in!" Mrs. Weasley ushered Harry inside. As she moved ahead of him, Harry couldn't help noticing how her robes clung to her full figure. The thought brought heat to his cheeks.

"Ron! Ginny! Hermione!" she called. "Harry's here!"

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Ginny appeared first, and Harry felt something shift in his chest. The summer had been kind to her, she moved with new confidence, and her auburn hair caught the evening light. Her petite body had grown a bit curvier over the summer and the freckles that dotted her face made her look like a dream come true.

"Hi, Harry," she said, stepping close to hug him. The embrace lasted longer than it needed to, and they both seemed aware of it.

"Ginny," he managed, surprised by how her name sounded on his lips.

She pulled back with a small smile. "You look good."

"So do you," Harry replied, meaning it completely.

Hermione appeared next, throwing her arms around him enthusiastically. "Harry! You look different. More confident somehow."

"Do I?"

"Definitely," Ginny said quietly, still watching him.

"Course he does," Ron said, grinning as he reached them. "Probably all that brooding at the Dursleys. Good to see you, mate."

As they moved toward the kitchen, Ginny fell into step beside him.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly.

"Me too," Harry replied.

Through the kitchen window, the red comet pulsed against the darkening sky.

Dinner was comfortable and warm, with Harry naturally drawing the conversation along, making everyone laugh with stories about the Dursleys' attempts to appear normal to the neighbors. He found himself watching how the others responded - Mrs. Weasley's delighted chuckles, Ginny's bright smile, the way even Mr. Weasley seemed to hang on his words more than usual.

"You're quite the storyteller tonight, Harry," Mr. Weasley observed with a chuckle.

"Good company brings it out in me," Harry replied, glancing at Ginny, who flushed prettily.

As the evening wound down and they headed upstairs, Harry felt oddly restless. The warmth of the evening lingered - Ginny's smiles, the easy conversation, the way everyone had responded to him.

Ron fell asleep quickly, snoring softly within minutes. Harry lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling more awake than tired. When sleep finally came, it brought strange dreams.

He stood in Hogwarts, but not as he knew it. The corridors seemed grander somehow, the stone walls warmer. Tapestries hung in rich colors, and the very air seemed to hum with possibility.

Students moved through the halls, but they looked at him differently. With respect, admiration, something approaching awe. When he spoke, they listened intently. When he smiled, they lit up as if he'd given them a gift.

Ginny was there, watching him with bright eyes full of something deeper than friendship. Hermione stood nearby, her usual know-it-all expression replaced by genuine curiosity about what he might say next. Even students from other houses seemed drawn to him.

The feeling was intoxicating - being seen, truly seen, as someone worth listening to. Someone important.

The dream shifted. He was older now, standing in the Great Hall, but he wasn't just another student anymore. He was addressing the school, and every face was turned toward him with rapt attention. They hung on his every word, and when he finished speaking, the applause was thunderous.

"Harry?" The voice was soft, concerned. "Harry, wake up."

His eyes snapped open to find Ginny sitting on the edge of his bed, her hand gently shaking his shoulder. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting her red hair in silver highlights.

"You were talking in your sleep," she said quietly. "You seemed... excited about something."

Harry sat up, still disoriented from the dream. "What was I saying?"

"Just mumbling mostly. But you were smiling." She studied his face in the dim light. "Good dream?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice coming out rougher than expected. "strange though."

"Want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head. How could he explain the feeling of being admired, respected, genuinely important to people? It would sound arrogant.

"Just strange dreams," he said instead.

Ginny nodded, but didn't move to leave. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and Harry became acutely aware of her closeness - the warmth radiating from her, the faint scent of her hair.

"Harry?" she said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're here. It feels... right. Having you here with us."

"It feels right to me too," he admitted.

She smiled, and in the moonlight, she looked almost ethereal. For a moment, Harry thought she might lean closer, but then Ron snorted loudly in his sleep and the moment passed.

"I should let you rest," she whispered, standing.

"Ginny?"

She paused at the door. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For checking on me."

"Always," she said simply, and slipped back out into the hall.

Harry lay back down, but sleep was a long time coming. Above the Burrow, the red comet continued its slow arc across the sky, and Harry found himself thinking about dreams and the way Ginny's eyes had looked in the moonlight.

When he finally drifted off, his dreams were filled with crimson light and the intoxicating feeling of being exactly where he was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Harry woke to sunlight streaming through Ron's bedroom window and the distant sound of Mrs. Weasley clattering around the kitchen below. For a moment, he lay still, savoring the lingering warmth from his dreams. Not nightmares this time – dreams where he commanded attention effortlessly, where people hung on his words with genuine interest rather than morbid curiosity about his scar.

Ron was still snoring across the room, one arm dangling off his narrow bed. Harry stretched, feeling unusually rested, and caught his reflection in Ron's cracked mirror. Something had changed, though he couldn't put his finger on what. His eyes seemed sharper, more alert. More confident.

The red comet was still visible through the window, even in the morning light, pulsing gently against the pale sky.

"Ron! Harry! Breakfast!" Mrs. Weasley's voice carried up the stairs.

Ron snorted awake, his hair sticking up at impossible angles. "What time is it?"

"Time to eat," Harry said, already pulling on his clothes. He found himself looking forward to joining the family downstairs in a way that felt different from previous summers.

The kitchen was its usual morning chaos when they arrived. Mr. Weasley sat hunched over the Daily Prophet, muttering about Ministry incompetence while Mrs. Weasley juggled six different pans. Ginny was already at the table, still in her nightgown with her red hair loose around her shoulders.

When she looked up at Harry, her smile was warm and knowing. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in months," Harry admitted, settling into the chair across from her. He couldn't help noticing how the morning light caught the copper highlights in her hair, or how her nightgown had slipped slightly off one shoulder.

"Good," she said softly. "You looked peaceful."

The simple intimacy of the observation made Harry's pulse quicken. Had she checked on him during the night?

Hermione appeared in the doorway, already dressed and carrying a thick book. "Morning, everyone. Any word on OWL results yet?"

"Should be any day now," Mrs. Weasley said, sliding a plate of eggs in front of Harry. "Though I'm trying not to think about it. The waiting is killing me."

As they ate, Harry found conversation flowing more naturally than usual. When Mr. Weasley mentioned his latest Muggle artifact, a rubber duck that apparently sang when squeezed – Harry had them all laughing with his impression of Uncle Vernon's reaction to Vernon's brief encounter with a whoopee cushion.

"You're different," Ginny observed, eyes sparkling with amusement. "More... I don't know. Relaxed, I suppose."

"Maybe I'm finally where I want to be," Harry replied, holding her gaze a moment longer than necessary.

The slight flush that crept up Ginny's neck was reward enough.

"Right then," Ron said, completely oblivious to the undercurrent between his best friend and sister. "What's the plan for today?"

"Garden work," Mrs. Weasley announced. "Those gnomes won't de-gnome themselves, and the vegetable patch needs weeding."

An hour later, Harry found himself working alongside Ginny in the herb garden while Ron and Hermione tackled the gnomes with considerably more enthusiasm than skill. The sun was warm on his back, and he was acutely aware of Ginny kneeling beside him, her bare legs emerging from beneath her summer dress as she reached for weeds.

"You know," she said quietly, not looking at him, "I used to dream about moments like this. Just... normal things. Working in the garden, talking without everyone watching."

"Everyone watching you, you mean?" Harry asked, understanding immediately.

"Everyone watching us," she corrected, finally meeting his eyes. "I know people talk. About whether I'm just some silly girl with a crush, or if you're just being kind to Ron's little sister."

Harry sat back on his heels, studying her face. "What do you think?"

"I think," she said, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "that the way you're looking at me right now has nothing to do with Ron."

The air between them seemed to crackle. Harry was suddenly very aware of the freckles scattered across her nose, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed, the pulse visible at the base of her throat.

"Ginny..."

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron's voice shattered the moment as a particularly large gnome got the better of him. "These things have claws!"

Hermione's laughter rang across the garden. "Language, Ronald! And you're supposed to grab them by the feet!"

Ginny grinned at Harry, the intimate moment broken but not forgotten. "Come on," she said, standing and brushing dirt from her dress. "We'd better help before he gets himself gnome-bitten."

But as she walked past him, her hand brushed his shoulder in a way that sent heat racing through his veins.

The rest of the morning passed in comfortable domesticity, but Harry found his attention constantly drifting to Ginny. The way she moved, the sound of her laugh, the flash of her legs when she bent to pick up scattered gnomes. When she tied her hair back with a bit of twine, exposing the elegant line of her neck, Harry had to focus very hard on not staring.

"Someone's distracted," Hermione observed quietly, appearing beside him as they watched Ginny demonstrate proper gnome-throwing technique to Ron.

"Just thinking," Harry replied.

"About anyone in particular?"

Harry glanced at her, noting the knowing look in her eyes. "Am I that obvious?"

"To me, yes. Ron's completely oblivious, of course."

"Good," Harry said, then paused. "I mean-"

"I know what you mean," Hermione said gently. "Just... be careful, Harry. She's not the little girl who had a crush on the famous Harry Potter anymore."

"I know," Harry said, watching Ginny launch a gnome over the hedge with impressive force. "That's the point."

---

Three owls arrived the next morning, official Ministry seals gleaming on their legs.

"OWL results," Mrs. Weasley announced unnecessarily, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Oh, my nerves can't take this."

They gathered around the kitchen table, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Harry broke his seal with steady hands, though his heart was racing.

"Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he read aloud, feeling a surge of satisfaction. "Exceeds Expectations in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology. Acceptable in History of Magic and Astronomy." He paused. "And Poor in Divination."

Ginny snorted. "Poor in Divination? That's the best result! Shows you've got your head screwed on right..."

"Seven OWLs!" Ron announced, staring at his results in shock. "Seven! I can't believe it!"

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and enveloped him in a crushing embrace while everyone else applauded.

"Ten Outstanding, one Exceeds Expectations," Hermione reported, trying to look modest. "I missed Outstanding in Defense by just a few marks."

"Only you would be disappointed with an E in DADA," Harry laughed, but his attention was caught by the way Ginny was looking at him. There was something like pride in her expression, and admiration that made his chest tighten pleasantly.

"Not bad, Potter," she said with a grin. "Though I always knew you were brilliant at Defense."

"Did you now?"

"Oh yes. Very impressive, watching you work." Her tone was light, but there was something in her eyes that made Harry's mouth go dry.

"This calls for celebration!" Mrs. Weasley declared, releasing Ron from her death grip. "Arthur! Come see what brilliant children we have!"

The rest of the day passed in a blur of congratulations and planning. Harry found himself naturally at the center of conversations, his confidence growing with each interaction. When Uncle Vernon's treatment of him came up, he told the story with wry humor rather than bitterness, earning laughs and admiring glances.

"You've changed," Mr. Weasley observed that evening as they sat in the garden after dinner. "More sure of yourself."

"Maybe I'm just finally growing up," Harry replied, very aware of Ginny sitting beside him, her leg pressed against his.

"About time," she murmured, so quietly only he could hear.

---

The third morning brought news that would cast a shadow over the coming weeks.

"Another disappearance," Mr. Weasley said grimly, reading from the Daily Prophet. "Ollivander this time. Vanished from his shop, no sign of struggle."

Mrs. Weasley's hand went to her throat. "But he's been there forever. Who would want to hurt a wandmaker?"

"Someone who doesn't want their activities traced," Harry said quietly, the implications hitting him immediately. "If Voldemort's recruiting, he wouldn't want Ollivander identifying which wands were used."

The use of the name made everyone flinch except Ginny, who was watching him with sharp attention.

"That's... actually very good thinking," Mr. Weasley said, looking at Harry with new respect. "The Ministry hadn't considered that angle."

"They should," Harry said firmly. "And they should be warning other shopkeepers. Borgin and Burkes, Knockturn Alley businesses. Anywhere that sells things Death Eaters might need."

"I'll mention it to Kingsley," Mr. Weasley promised.

Later, as they helped Mrs. Weasley prepare for the engagement party, Ginny cornered Harry by the pantry.

"That was impressive," she said, standing close enough that he could smell her soap. "The way you analyzed the situation. Very... commanding."

Harry felt heat pool in his stomach at her tone. "Someone has to think strategically about this war."

"Yes," she agreed, moving even closer. "Someone does." Her hand came up to rest on his chest. "And I like that you're not afraid to take charge."

The pantry was small, shadowy, and suddenly felt about ten degrees warmer. Harry was acutely aware of Ginny's curves beneath her summer dress, the way her lips parted as she looked up at him.

"Ginny..."

"GINNY! HARRY! Where are you?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang through the kitchen. "I need help with these decorations!"

Ginny stepped back with a frustrated sigh, but not before letting her fingers trail down Harry's chest. "Later," she promised.

---

Bill and Fleur had come over to plan their wedding and it ended up turning into a small engagement party. It was small but it gave Harry his first real taste of how different he felt in social situations now. Instead of hovering awkwardly in corners, he found himself naturally part of conversations, offering opinions that people actually listened to and respected.

"Young Harry's grown up, hasn't he?" he overheard Bill say. "Got a good head on his shoulders now."

"Always did," Mr. Weasley replied. "Just needed confidence to show it."

Across the room, Ginny was talking to Fleur about wedding preparations, but Harry caught her glancing at him repeatedly. When their eyes met, her smile was private, meaningful in a way that made his pulse race.

"She's smitten," Hermione said quietly, appearing at his elbow with a butterbeer.

"Is she?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

"Completely. Though I suspect the feeling's mutual."

Harry took a long drink, not trusting himself to respond.

Later, as the party was winding down, Ginny found him on the garden wall, looking up at the red comet that dominated the night sky.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said, settling beside him close enough that their thighs touched.

"Just thinking about changes," Harry said. "How everything feels different now."

"Different how?"

He turned to look at her, struck again by how beautiful she was in the moonlight. "Like I'm finally becoming who I'm supposed to be."

"And who's that?"

"Someone worth your attention," he said quietly.

Ginny's breath caught. "Harry..."

"I know this is complicated," he continued, his voice rougher than usual. "With Ron, with everything that's happening. But I can't stop thinking about you."

"Good," she whispered, leaning closer. "Because I've been thinking about you too. About us."

The space between them was electric now, charged with possibility. Harry could see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

"Ginny, if we do this-"

"When," she corrected firmly. "When we do this. Not if."

The certainty in her voice sent heat coursing through him. "When," he agreed.

"OI! GINNY!" Ron's voice bellowed from the house. "MUM WANTS YOU!"

They sprang apart, both breathing hard. Ginny stood, smoothing her dress, but her eyes never left Harry's face.

"This conversation isn't over," she promised.

"I certainly hope not," Harry replied, watching her walk back toward the house with a new appreciation for the sway of her hips.

Above them, the red comet pulsed against the star-filled sky, and Harry felt something fundamental shifting inside him. He was changing, growing into someone who could handle whatever came next – war, responsibility, and the intoxicating complexity of Ginny Weasley.

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt ready for it all.

Chapter Text

Three weeks had passed since Harry's arrival at the Burrow, and the lazy summer days had settled into a comfortable rhythm. On the morning of their Diagon Alley trip, Harry woke early to find Ron already sitting on the edge of his bed, looking uncomfortable.

"Alright, mate?" Harry asked, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.

"Yeah, well..." Ron fidgeted with his hands. "Actually, no. I need to ask you something."

Harry felt his stomach tighten. "About?"

"About you and Ginny." Ron's ears were turning red, but he pressed on. "Look, I'm not blind. I've seen the way you two have been... you know. Looking at each other."

Heat crept up Harry's neck. "Ron, I-"

"Let me finish," Ron interrupted, holding up a hand. "She's my little sister, yeah? And you're my best mate. Which makes this whole thing bloody awkward for me."

Harry waited, not sure what to say.

"But the thing is," Ron continued, "she's been happier these past few weeks than I've seen her in ages. And you... well, you seem more like yourself than you have since Sirius died."

"So what are you saying?" Harry asked carefully.

Ron sighed heavily. "I'm saying that if you hurt her, I'll hex you into next week. But if you make her happy..." He shrugged. "Then I suppose I can learn to live with it."

"I won't hurt her," Harry said seriously. "I care about her too much for that."

"Good." Ron stood up, looking relieved to have gotten that off his chest. "Just... try to keep the snogging to a minimum when I'm around, yeah? Some things a brother doesn't need to see."

Harry couldn't help grinning. "I'll do my best."

"Right then," Ron said, his usual cheerful demeanor returning. "Mum's making breakfast. And if we're late, she'll blame me."

---

"Everyone ready?" Mr. Weasley called from the sitting room, where the Floo powder sat ready.

"Just a moment!" Mrs. Weasley replied, still fussing over her preparations. "Harry dear, do you have your list? And your vault key?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, patting his pocket. He'd been looking forward to this trip for days.

"Right then," Mr. Weasley said, stepping up to the fireplace. He threw the powder into the flames and stepped through as they turned emerald green.

One by one, they tumbled through the Floo Network. Harry emerged from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron with only a slight stumble, brushing soot from his robes.

The pub was busier than usual, filled with witches and wizards having early breakfast before their own shopping trips. Tom the barkeeper nodded at them as they passed through to the back courtyard.

The moment they stepped through the brick archway into Diagon Alley, Harry could sense the change. The usual bustling energy was still there, but shopkeepers watched their customers more carefully, and people moved in tighter groups. Several shops had new security measures - iron bars on windows, heavy locks on doors.

"Blimey," Ron said, looking around. "It's like a different place."

"People are being careful," Mr. Weasley said. "Can't blame them."

As they walked down the cobblestone street, Harry noticed the glances that followed him.

"Let's start with Gringotts," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Get the money sorted first."

The goblin bank was as imposing as ever, though Harry noticed additional guards at the entrance. Their business was conducted quickly and efficiently, but the goblins seemed to keep a watchful eye on everyone there.

"Good thing it didn't take us too long. I heard from Bill that the Goblins are being a lot more thorough." Mrs. Weasley said as they emerged back onto the street, Harry's moneybag considerably heavier. "Books next, I think."

“Actually,” Hermione began, “could we—”

But she never finished. Two identical arms shot out, hooking her and Ron both.

“No one leaves Diagon Alley without seeing the attraction,” Fred announced grandly.

“The beating heart of commerce, the jewel of the wizarding world,” George added, already steering them down the street. “Ladies and gents, welcome to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

The shop blazed with color, customers laughing as shelves spilled over with contraptions that hissed and whirred. A stack of Skiving Snackboxes towered dangerously beside a gaggle of younger students, and Harry found himself grinning despite the crowd.

"Business is booming," Fred said smugly, pressing a small, weighty pouch into Harry's hand. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Limited stock. On the house."

"Don't waste it all in one go," George added. "Though if you do, send us a review."

Harry tucked it away, meeting Ginny's eye as he did. She smiled - quick and knowing, like they shared far more than just a secret now.

"Ohhh," Fred drawled, catching the look. "Notice that, George?"

"Crystal clear, dear brother," George replied solemnly. "Our sister's found herself a... business partner."

"More than that, I'd say," Ginny replied boldly, stepping closer to Harry and looping her arm through his.

Harry didn't move away. If anything, he shifted closer. "Your brothers always this observant?"

"Only when it comes to embarrassing me," Ginny said, but her eyes were bright with amusement rather than annoyance.

"Blimey," Fred said, looking genuinely surprised. "She's not denying it."

"Why would I?" Ginny asked, tilting her head to look up at Harry with obvious affection. "I'm not ashamed of having excellent taste."

The boldness in her voice made Harry's pulse quicken. This was definitely not the shy girl with a crush anymore.

A firework dragon roared overhead, making Mrs. Weasley shriek from the doorway. “George! Fred! This is supposed to be a shop, not a war zone!”

“All Ministry-approved!” Fred said brightly.

They spilled back into the Alley, Mrs. Weasley muttering furiously about “bad influences” as she steered them toward their next stop. The brightness of the joke shop only made the rest of Diagon Alley feel darker by contrast. Shops shuttered, posters peeling, people moving with their heads down.

They were heading toward Flourish and Blotts when Harry caught sight of a familiar pale face across the street. Draco Malfoy was walking quickly toward the darker end of the Alley, his usual swagger replaced by something furtive. He kept glancing around as if checking whether he was being followed.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, already moving away from the group.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione called.

"Just saw something. Won't be long."

He followed Malfoy at a distance, staying behind other shoppers and using the crowd for cover. Malfoy moved with purpose, occasionally checking over his shoulder. Harry had to duck behind a cauldron cart when Malfoy suddenly turned around, his pale eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously.

Malfoy stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes, the dark artifacts shop Harry remembered from his second year. Instead of going inside immediately, Malfoy lingered outside, running a hand through his white-blond hair. He looked genuinely nervous.

Harry crept closer, positioning himself behind a grimy pillar where he could see through the shop window. Malfoy finally entered, and Harry watched as he approached the counter where Mr. Borgin waited.

"Harry!"

He turned to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny approaching, all slightly out of breath.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed, glancing around nervously.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, nodding at the shop window. “He’s up to something.”

“More than usual, you mean?” Ron muttered, but he craned his neck to see. “Blimey, what’s he talking to Borgin about?”

Through the grimy glass, Malfoy was bent low over the counter, speaking fast and sharp. Borgin looked wary, shaking his head every so often.

“He’s trying to buy something,” Ginny whispered.

“Or threatening him,” Harry said grimly. Malfoy jabbed his finger toward the counter, where a large, ornate cabinet stood. His gestures grew more frantic with each word.

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, frowning, “it’s probably nothing.”

“Nothing?” Harry cut in. “Look at him. He’s desperate.”

“Should we try to hear?” Ron suggested, half-grinning. “Extendable Ears?”

Hermione sighed but dug into her bag. “Fine. But quickly.”

They stretched the cord toward the window. Malfoy’s voice came through, muffled but urgent:

“...has to be perfect... no mistakes... he’ll kill me if it doesn’t work...”

Harry’s insides tightened.

“I understand your urgency, Mr. Malfoy,” came Borgin’s smooth reply, “but this item is... temperamental. Dangerous.”

“I don’t care!” Malfoy snapped, his voice cracking. “I need it working, and I need it soon. Money doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not the price, boy - it’s the risk.”

A passerby blocked their view for a moment. When Malfoy came back into sight, he was white-faced, gripping the edge of the counter like he might fall.

“He looks scared,” Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded. This wasn’t Malfoy’s usual swagger. This was something else.

“...my mother will be here soon,” Malfoy was saying. “She’ll convince you. But it has to happen.”

Borgin’s sigh was audible even through the Extendable Ear. “Very well. But I promise nothing.”

Malfoy leaned over the cabinet, running his hand along its carved surface like it was something precious. Money exchanged hands.

“Come on,” Hermione whispered sharply. “He’s leaving.”

They ducked into the shadow of a nearby shopfront as Malfoy emerged, scanning the Alley before hurrying off, a mix of triumph and terror etched on his face.

“Follow him?” Ron asked.

Harry’s fists clenched, but Malfoy was already lost in the crowd. “We’d never manage it without being spotted. He knows we’re here somewhere.”

“So what then?” Ginny pressed.

“We remember,” Harry said. His eyes were fixed on the shop door, where the cabinet had loomed in the shadows. “That thing, whatever it is. He’s desperate to get it working.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Working? That means it’s not just furniture.”

“Nothing in Borgin and Burkes ever is,” Harry muttered. “Come on. Before your mum comes looking for us.”

They rejoined the main street, the noise of Diagon Alley swelling around them again. Harry slowed when they passed Ollivander’s. The familiar windows were shuttered, the door bolted.

“He’s really gone,” whispered Hermione, her face slightly pale.

Harry felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. If even Ollivander wasn’t safe, who could be?

Mrs. Weasley’s voice carried from further up the street, calling them toward Flourish and Blotts. Ron muttered something under his breath, but Harry barely heard him. His thoughts were fixed on Malfoy’s pale face and the words still ringing in his ears.

He’ll kill me if it doesn’t work.

"There you are," Mrs. Weasley said, relief in her voice. "I was beginning to worry. Did you find what you needed?"

"Something like that," Harry said. "Ollivander's shop is boarded up."

"Yeah, hasn't been long since he disappeared..." Mrs. Weasley added grimly.

They walked down the alley in silence, the weight of the morning settling over them. Flourish and Blotts felt crowded but familiar, and their spirits lifted slightly as they split up to find the books.

"Advanced Potion-Making," Hermione read aloud from the list. "Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Confronting the Faceless..."

"I'll get the Defense books," Harry said, heading toward the nearly empty shelf. He found the last copies, and overheard two seventh-years talking about new Hogwarts security measures.

"...heard they're bringing in new security measures at Hogwarts..."

"...about time, if you ask me. My dad says things are getting worse..."

A chill ran down his spine. If Hogwarts needed extra protection, things were worse than he thought.

"Find everything?" Ginny asked, arriving with a small pile of books.

"Yeah. You?"

"Most of it. Still need Transfiguration, but Hermione’s got that covered," Ginny said with a grin.

They paid and left, and Harry noticed Narcissa Malfoy across the street, tense and alert, moving alongside a woman he did not recognize. Draco trailed slightly behind, pale and rigid.

"Isn't that Malfoy's mother?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Wonder what she's doing here."

"Probably shopping," Hermione said, though she was watching them closely.

Mrs. Weasley steered them toward Madam Malkin's. The shop smelled of fabric and sizing potions. While Harry had his robes adjusted, he heard Narcissa speaking to the shopkeeper.

"Simply must have the best protection money can buy," she said. "These are dangerous times, and I will not compromise on my son's safety."

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy," Madam Malkin replied, her voice taking on the particular tone shopkeepers used for wealthy customers. "We have several options for protective enchantments. Repelling hexes, minor curse deflection, even some basic shielding charms woven into the fabric itself."

"Money is no object," Narcissa said firmly, and Harry could hear the strain beneath her composed exterior. "My son's safety is paramount. Absolutely paramount."

Harry saw Draco through the hanging robes. He looked drained, his usual swagger gone. When Draco caught Harry’s eye in a mirror, something flickered in his expression before the sneer returned.

"Potter," Draco said loudly enough for the whole shop to hear. "Fancy seeing you here. Still shopping for clothes that actually fit, I see."

"Still getting dressed by your mother, Malfoy?" Harry replied evenly.

The shop quieted. Narcissa’s eyes locked on Harry, icy and sharp.

"Mr. Potter," she said, and her voice could have frozen fire. "How... predictable to find you inserting yourself where you don't belong."

"I'm just shopping," Harry said steadily. "Though you look stressed, Mrs. Malfoy. Everything alright?"

Her mask faltered for a moment, fear flashing before she regained composure.

"The concerns of the Malfoy family are hardly your business," she said icily. "Though I suppose playing savior has become something of a habit for you."

"Someone has to." Harry said simply, and there was something in his tone that made several people in the shop look at him with increased interest.

For a long moment, Narcissa stared at Harry as if trying to read his mind. Her son watched the exchange with growing confusion and alarm.

"Mother," Draco said quietly, "we should go."

"Yes," Narcissa said, but she didn't break eye contact with Harry. "We should. But Mr. Potter..." She paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully. "Perhaps you're not quite as naive as I once thought."

As the Malfoys prepared to leave, Draco caught Harry's eye once more. This time, there was no sneer, no contempt. Just a boy who looked utterly lost.

"Enjoy the rest of your shopping, Potter," Draco said, but there was no venom in it. If anything, he sounded almost wistful.

"You too, Malfoy," Harry replied quietly. "Stay safe."

Draco's eyes widened slightly at this unexpected sentiment, but before he could respond, his mother had steered him firmly toward the door.

"That was intense," Ginny said quietly once the Malfoys had left. "What was all that about?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, though his mind was racing. The fear in Narcissa's eyes, Draco's obvious distress, the desperate shopping trip to Borgin and Burkes.

"She looked nervous," Hermione observed, voicing what they were all thinking.

"Can't imagine why," Ron said sarcastically, but even he looked troubled by what they'd witnessed.

Harry said nothing, but he found himself thinking about Narcissa's parting words. 'Perhaps you're not quite as naive as I once thought.' What had she meant by that? And why had she looked at him with something that almost resembled... hope?

They finished their shopping relatively quickly after that. Mrs. Weasley purchased everyone's robes with an efficiency that spoke of years of practice, while Mr. Weasley examined the protective enchantments with obvious interest.

"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" Ginny said suddenly as they passed the familiar shop. "Can we just have a quick look?"

"I suppose we have time," Mrs. Weasley said, though she checked her watch.

"Look at this," Ginny breathed, running her fingers along the handle of a gleaming Firebolt. "It's beautiful."

"Think your mum would buy you one?" Harry teased, moving to stand beside her.

"Not bloody likely," Ginny laughed. "She nearly had a heart attack when she found out how much your Firebolt cost."

"Maybe after the war," Harry said quietly, watching her examine the broom with obvious longing. "I could get you one. You deserve to fly on the best."

Ginny looked up at him, her expression softening. "You don't have to buy me things, Harry."

"I know I don't have to," he replied, stepping closer. "I want to. You're brilliant in the air."

"Is that so?" she asked with a small smile.

"Completely mesmerizing," Harry said honestly. "Sometimes I forget to look for the Snitch because I'm watching you fly."

Ginny's cheeks flushed pink, but her eyes sparkled with pleasure at the compliment. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Besides," Harry continued with a grin, "I quite like the idea of spoiling you."

"Careful, Potter," Ginny said, moving closer until they were almost touching. "Keep talking like that and I might start expecting it."

"Good," Harry murmured, his voice dropping lower. "I want you to expect good things."

The intensity in his voice made Ginny's breath catch, and for a moment they just looked at each other, the air between them charged with unspoken promises.

"Oi Harry! Come look at these new gloves!" Ron called from the other side of the shop.

"Coming," Harry called back, but his eyes remained on Ginny for another moment.

"We should..." Ginny started.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, though he made no move to leave.

"The gloves," Ginny said, but she was smiling now, a secret sort of smile that made Harry feel warm all over.

"Right. The gloves."

They moved toward where Ron and Hermione were examining the protective equipment, but Harry felt hyperaware of Ginny beside him. When she brushed against his arm reaching for a set of Chaser pads, the contact seemed to last for ages.

"These are interesting," Hermione was saying, holding up what looked like a standard pair of Quidditch goggles. "They claim to enhance vision in all weather conditions - rain, fog, even magical darkness."

"Useful for Seekers," Ginny said, glancing at Harry with a playful smile. "Though Harry’s always been good at noticing things."

"I have?" Harry asked, feeling her meaning.

"Oh yes," Ginny said. "Very good at noticing important details."

Ron continued oblivious, examining chest padding.

"Might be worth having," Harry said, forcing himself to focus on practical matters. "If we're playing this year, which we probably are, despite everything..."

"Some things are too important to give up," Ginny said firmly.

"Exactly," Harry agreed, watching her.

"Right then," Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the shop entrance. "Time to head home. Arthur needs to get back to the Ministry soon for an evening meeting, and I want to get dinner started."

As they prepared to leave, Harry caught Ginny's hand for just a moment.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For reminding me that some things are worth fighting for."

Ginny squeezed his hand gently. "Always, Harry."

The journey back to the Burrow was quieter than the trip out. Everyone was tired from the day's shopping, and Mr. Weasley seemed preoccupied with whatever Ministry business awaited him. Harry found himself thinking of the general atmosphere of unease that seemed to permeate the entire Alley.

"I'll need to leave shortly," Mr. Weasley said as they arrived at the Burrow. "Emergency meeting about security protocols. But let's have a quick bite first."

As they quickly settled around the kitchen table for an early dinner, Mrs. Weasley hurried to put together sandwiches and tea.

"That business with the Malfoys was concerning," Mr. Weasley said, loosening his tie. "Borgin and Burkes especially. That shop's been under Ministry surveillance."

"What kind of surveillance?" Hermione asked.

"We've been keeping an eye on anyone purchasing certain types of... questionable items. They're careful about what they sell openly, but we know what goes on there."

"Narcissa looked nervous," Harry said. "Really nervous."

Mr. Weasley nodded grimly. "I imagine she has good reason to be. Lucius's imprisonment has put the entire family in a difficult position. They're no longer in You-Know-Who's favor, but they can't exactly run to the Ministry for protection either."

"So they're stuck," Ginny said.

"Exactly. And desperate people do desperate things." Mr. Weasley stood, grabbing his Ministry robes from the back of his chair.

---

That night, Harry lay in his bed staring at the slanted ceiling while Ron snored softly in his own bed nearby. The events of Diagon Alley kept replaying in his mind - Malfoy's desperate behavior, his mother's fear, the general atmosphere of unease.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice whispered through the door. "You awake?"

He glanced at Ron, still fast asleep. "Yeah. Come in, but quiet."

She stepped inside, her auburn hair tousled from sleep, nightdress slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her presence made the small room feel warmer, more alive.

"Couldn't sleep either," she said, settling on the edge of his bed, close enough that her knee brushed his thigh. "The Alley felt different today. Darker. And Malfoy..." She shook her head. "I've never seen him look so desperate."

Harry nodded, shifting slightly closer. "His mother looked terrified. Whatever's happening with their family, it's serious."

"Everything's changing, isn't it?" Ginny said quietly, her hand finding his under the covers. "The war, us... even you seem different than you were at the start of summer."

"Different how?" Harry asked, though he suspected he knew what she meant.

"Like you've finally figured out who you are." Her eyes met his in the dim light. "I like it."

The simple admission sent warmth through Harry's chest. "I like who I am when I'm with you," he said honestly.

Ginny's smile was soft but knowing. "Good. Because I plan on being around for a long time."

She leaned forward then, her lips meeting his in a deep kiss that was unhurried, full of promise rather than desperate heat. Harry's hand came up to cup her cheek, marveling at how natural this felt, how right.

When they broke apart, both were breathing a little harder, but there was something tender in the moment - an acknowledgment of how much had shifted between them.

"I should go," Ginny whispered, though she made no immediate move to leave. "Before Ron wakes up and traumatizes himself."

"Probably wise," Harry agreed, though his thumb traced across her cheekbone, reluctant to let her go.

She pressed one more quick kiss to his lips before standing. "Sweet dreams, Harry."

"Night, Ginny," he murmured, watching her slip quietly from the room.

Harry lay back against his pillows, touching his lips where he could still taste her kiss. Outside the window, the red comet pulsed against the dark sky, and he found himself thinking about changes - in the wizarding world, in himself, and in whatever was growing between him and Ginny Weasley

Chapter Text

Harry spent the last week of the holiday thinking about Malfoy’s odd behaviour and having a few shared intimate moments with Ginny. They struggled to find time to be alone, but once they did, their time was usually spent snogging or discussing past events. Apparently the rumour Harry had heard of Dean and Ginny dating was just that. In reality Ginny had turned Dean down and in his embarrassment, he had told his friends that she had said yes. The rumour had spread from there and Dean had come to apologize for the misunderstanding.

But what annoyed Harry was the fact neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to share his curiosity about Malfoy.

“Harry, we both agree it’s fishy” Hermione said impatiently, looking up from her transfiguration textbook.

“But there could be a million different explanations for it, and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” She continued.

“Yeah mate, Draco already owns a bunch of stuff from there, maybe he just wanted one of them repaired before school starts.” Ron said, as he was straightening the tail twigs of his worn broomstick.

“”Still, with his dad in Azkaban… wouldn’t he want revenge?” Harry said

“Well what can he do?” Ron said lazily.

“Well… I’ve been thinking… Since his dad’s a death eater, what if he replaced him” Harry said grimly.

Ron erupted in laughter and snorted a few times before calming down.

“Malfoy? Please… he might be a prick but he’s still sixteen. I don’t think You-Know-Who would let him join.”

“I don’t think he’s gone that far Harry… I mean I don't like him either but that’s quite a leap.” Hermione said, almost scared of the thought.

“Well I still feel like he’s up to no good, and I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him” Harry said, standing up from the bed he was sitting in and making his way downstairs.

“Ah, Harry!” Mr. Weasley “Good, I wanted to talk to you about the security arrangements for the Hogwarts journey, there will be some Aurors on lookout to make sure everything goes well.”

“You’d better start getting ready, won’t be long until we leave. I don’t want any last minute scrambling like usual.” Mr. Weasley said with a serious tone.

The departure to the station next morning did in fact go smoother than usual. They apparated near the King’s Cross station, into a small hidden alleyway designed for it. A few Auror lookout’s made sure arrivals were safe.

The party, now flanked by a few dark suited Aurors who didn’t say much, marched into the station.

“Come one now, through the barrier.” Mrs. Weasley hurried them.

A moment later Harry himself stood on platform nine and three-quarters, staring at the scarlet Hogwarts Express which bellowed steam onto a large crowd.

The others joined him quick enough, and a murmur seemed to go through the crowd of people there. He could see some taking quick looks at him and murmuring. Harry straightened his back and scanned the crowd with a steady gaze.

“Harry dear? Can I talk to you and Ginny for just a second?” Mrs. Weasley said kindly, Harry’s heart started beating a bit faster.

Harry, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley took a few steps away from the group. Mrs. Weasley looked over the two with a gentle gaze.

“I’d like to start by saying I know the two of you are old enough to make your own decisions.” Mrs. Weasley started. And Harry felt like burrowing into the ground.

Mrs. Weasley continued with a small smile. "And though I suppose you thought you were being terribly clever. You haven’t always been so aware of your surroundings…"

"Mum..." Ginny started, her cheeks flushing.

"You're both nearly adults now, with all the feelings and impulses that come with that. It's perfectly natural, but it's important to be sensible about these things."

Harry felt his face warm but didn't look away. He'd faced down Voldemort, he could handle this conversation.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, a slight grin tugging at his lips despite everything. "Right, well, I think we've got that covered."

Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow at his tone. "And treating my daughter with respect means..."

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry interrupted gently, his green eyes steady and serious now, "Ginny means everything to me. You don't need to worry about that."

“Good,” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. “I suppose that’s that covered then. Have a lovely time at Hogwarts and stay safe. I’ll see you both during the Christmas holidays.“

With that they both joined the group again.

“What was that about?” Ron questioned.

“Oh nothing, why don’t we go find a good compartment before it gets too full” Harry said and started approaching the Express.

“We can’t Harry” Hermione said apologetically. “Ron and I have prefect duties.”

“Oh yeah…” Harry said, his eyes jumped to Ginny, possibilities coming to mind. “Too bad.”

Harry and the others made their way into the Express, which started slowly lurching forward. As it picked up speed, Harry waved to Mrs and Mr Weasley. Finally as they turned a corner and they disappeared from view, Harry turned to face the hallway.

Ron and Hermione had already disappeared to their prefect's carriage and Harry was left standing next to Ginny. Ginny gave Harry a hungry look and bit her lip, before grabbing her trunk and heading off to a free compartment.

"Alone at last," she said, sliding the door shut behind her and drawing the blinds with a decisive snap.

"Ginny..." Harry started, but she was already moving toward him, her eyes bright with mischief.

"What? We've got at least twenty minutes before anyone comes looking for us." She settled beside him on the seat, closer than strictly necessary. "Besides, after that lovely chat with Mum, I think we deserve some privacy."

Ginny moved from beside Harry into his lap, grinding down on him as she settled.

Harry felt his pulse quicken as she leaned against him. "Your mother means well."

"Oh, I know. But did you see her face when you said I meant everything to you?" Ginny tilted her head to look up at him. "I thought she might cry right there."

"Well, it's true." Harry's voice was quieter now, more serious. His hand wrapped around her thin waist, pulling her even closer to him.

"I know it is." Her free hand came up to touch his cheek. "That's what makes this so..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she kissed him, deep and hard. Ginny let out a soft moan that went straight through him. Their tongues twisted together and hands roamed, exploring each other.
Harry’s hand found her tight yet shapely ass and grabbed on tight, enjoying the softness. Ginny moaned and leaned even harder into him.

They were so absorbed in each other that the knock on the compartment door made them both jump.

"Er... Harry? Are you in there?" came Neville's uncertain voice.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, both slightly breathless. Ginny's lips were swollen, her hair mussed, and Harry was fairly certain he looked no better.

"Just a minute," Harry called, running his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to flatten it while Ginny quickly smoothed her robes.

She opened the door to reveal Neville and Luna standing in the corridor, Neville looking rather embarrassed while Luna gazed dreamily at something over their heads.

"Sorry," Neville said, his cheeks pink. "We were looking for somewhere to sit. The other compartments are all full."

"Of course," Harry said, gesturing them in. "Come in."

Luna drifted in first, her large eyes taking in the slightly rumpled state of the seats with interest. "Oh, were you two snogging? How lovely. I read in The Quibbler that couples who engage in regular displays of affection have better luck with Nargles."

Neville turned an even deeper shade of red. "Luna..."

"What? It's perfectly natural. Although," she continued, settling herself by the window, "you might want to be careful. Mars is particularly bright tonight, and when it's in conjunction with Venus... well, things can get rather intense."

"Right," Harry said faintly, while Ginny bit back a laugh.

"Actually," Luna went on, pressing her nose to the window, "I think it might be the comet. Daddy says they're omens of great change. And I can see its glow seeping into you Harry."

Harry stood quiet, confused yet somewhat shocked by what Luna had said.

Neville sat down heavily, clearly wishing he could disappear. "How was your summer, Harry?"

“It was good. I’ve learned a lot.” Harry responded. He felt like he could see the lack of confidence beaming out of Neville.

“You’re looking better Neville, is that a new wand?” Harry said. He had noticed Neville clutching it close.

“Oh yeah, thanks for noticing. Gran got it for me after what happened at the Department of Mysteries. Got it just before Ollivander disappeared…”

The lights in the compartment seemed to dim slightly for a moment. It was strange, Harry felt like he instinctively knew just what to say.

“Are you going to continue the D.A. lessons this year Harry?” Luna asked, her wide eyes staring into him.

“We’ll see, I’m not sure there’s much of a use anymore.” Harry responded

“Well I quite liked them, it was nice having friends.”

An uncomfortable silence settled into the compartment for a few seconds.

“You’ll still have friends Luna, we’re here after all.” Harry said with a kind tone.

“Oh yippee! that’s nice. I do like you too Harry” Luna said with a dreamy smile.

Ginny's eyes lingered on Luna thoughtfully, a small smile playing at her lips.

About an half an hour later, the compartment door slid open again. This time with Ron and Hermione, both looking slightly frazzled.

"Bloody hell, the first years get worse every year," Ron said, throwing himself down beside Neville. "One of them hexed his own trunk and it started sprouting tentacles."

"Language, Ronald," Hermione said automatically, but she looked tired. "How was your journey so far?"

"Educational," Ginny said with a perfectly straight face.

“Wish the lunch trolley would show up soon, I’m starving.” Ron said with a sigh.

“You know Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty, he’s just sitting in his compartment with some other slytherin’s.” Hermione added.

Harry sat up a bit straighter. It was strange, Malfoy wouldn’t normally pass up an opportunity to show off his power as a prefect.

“Wonder why he’s not out there.” Harry said quietly.

“Dunno” added Ron, trying to dig out a chocolate frog from his bag.

Before anyone could respond, there was another knock on the door. This time it was a small, nervous-looking girl Harry didn't recognize.

"Excuse me," the girl squeaked, "but Professor Slughorn would like to see Harry Potter in compartment C."

She handed Harry a small note, on it an invite written in beautiful cursive:
Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” Ron asked, mouth half full of chocolate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full!” Hermione chided him. “But I don’t know him either, new teacher I guess?”

“Yeah, I met him briefly, I wonder what he wants though.” Harry said, rising from his seat.

"Want us to come with you?" Ron offered, though he looked more interested in what remained of his chocolate frog.

"No, it's alright. I'll be back soon." Harry glanced at Ginny, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Harry started making his way to compartment C, as he walked people would stare at him, their faces glued to the glass of the compartments. Harry even saw a group of lower year girls quickly look away and giggle when he caught them staring.

When Harry reached compartment C, it was clear he wasn’t Slughorn’s only invitee. Although judging by his enthusiasm, Harry was clearly the most awaited.

The compartment had clearly been magically altered. It had been expanded enough to fit twenty people. While rich tapestries hung from the walls, and the seats had been transfigured into comfortable armchairs arranged around a polished table laden with delicacies.

"Harry, my boy! How wonderful!" Slughorn heaved himself up from his chair. "Come in, come in! So good to see you again, dear boy!"

Harry stepped inside, taking in the other occupants. The compartment was quite full - he recognized Cormac McLaggen from Gryffindor, looking pleased with himself, and there was Blaise Zabini from Slytherin. There were several other students he didn't know as well, but his attention was immediately drawn to a striking girl with flowing red hair.

“Do you know everyone?” Slughorn asked. “This is Cormac McLaggen, also from Gryffindor. Maybe you’ve come across each other? - No?

“and Blaise Zabini here is in your year of course…”

“And this over here is Marcus Belby. I don’t know whether–?”

Slughorn quickly introduced some of the remaining people in the carriage, a group of about fifteen upper year students, most of whom Harry had only seen in passing.

“And this lovely young lady is Susan Bones from Hufflepuff." Slughorn said, gesturing towards the striking redhead who Harry had only spoken to a few times.

Susan stood gracefully, her warm hazel eyes meeting Harry's as she offered her hand. Harry couldn't help but notice how her robes seemed to strain across her remarkably full figure, and the small beauty mark beneath her left eye that only added to her gentle attractiveness.

“Good to see you again, Harry,” She said shyly, cheeks slightly pink. “Though we haven’t ever really gotten a chance to talk properly.”

"No, we haven't," Harry replied with his most charming smile, finding himself slipping easily into the social rhythm. "I'm glad we finally get the opportunity."

"Better late than never," Susan said with a gentle laugh, her hazel eyes sparkling with warmth. Her chest responding hypnotically to the movement.

Slughorn paused for a second to look between the two.

"Now then," Slughorn beamed, "Harry, please, take a seat. Help yourself to anything you fancy. We’re here so I can get to know all of you a bit better."

“I was just mentioning how I had the pleasure to teach Marcus’s uncle Damocles” Slughorn said cheerily, his eyes roaming around the room with a hint of guile. “Outstanding wizard, his Order of Merlin is well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?”

Belby, who had just taken a large bite of pheasant, hastily tried to answer, only to start choking on his food.

“Anapneo” Slughorn said with a calm tone and the food in Belby’s throat disappeared.

“No, not really.” Belby said, still with a few tears in his eyes.

“Well yes, I imagine he is quite busy-” Slughorn started

“No, I mean, him and my dad don’t really get along…”Belby said.

In that instant, Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to others.

Harry decided he had had enough of watching the professor and turned to Susan, who was sitting next to him.

"Poor Marcus," Susan murmured quietly, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. "That looked painful."

Harry nodded, though he found himself less bothered by Slughorn's tactics than he might have been in the past. "Slughorn certainly doesn't waste time figuring out who's useful to him."

"That's rather calculating," Susan observed, though without judgment. There was something in her tone that suggested she understood the harsh realities of the world better than most their age.

"Maybe. But at least he's honest about it, in his way." Harry shrugged, surprising himself with his pragmatic response. "And it's not like the connections don't help people. If someone deserves opportunities, does it really matter why he's providing them?"

Susan looked at him with new interest, as if seeing a different side of him. "That's... very mature of you. I suppose after everything that's happened..." She trailed off, her expression momentarily darkening. "Well, idealism can be a luxury some of us can't afford anymore."

Harry caught the pain that flickered across her features and felt a pang of understanding. "I heard about your aunt. I'm sorry, Susan. She was an incredible woman."

"Thank you," Susan said softly, her eyes glistening for a moment before she composed herself. "She always said the world needed people willing to do what's right, even when it's difficult. I think she would have understood your point."

Susan glanced around the compartment, then leaned slightly closer to Harry, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "You're not at all what I expected, you know."

Harry felt a thrill spread through him because of her proximity, catching a hint of her subtle floral perfume. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Someone more... arrogant, I suppose. The way some people talk about you." Her hand briefly touched his arm as she spoke. "But you're actually quite... normal. In a good way."

Harry found himself studying her face as she spoke, noting the intelligence in her hazel eyes and the way she seemed to see him. "It's nice to be understood for once."

Their moment of connection was interrupted when Cormac, who had been watching their intimate conversation with growing irritation, cleared his throat loudly.

"Now, you, Cormac," Slughorn suddenly addressed him, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

Cormac's chest puffed out importantly, clearly pleased to have the spotlight back. "Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was. We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour, this was before he became Minister, obviously."

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies. Somehow, Belby was missed out entirely.

Seizing his moment, Cormac turned toward Susan with renewed confidence. "Actually, Susan, I was meaning to tell you about some of the other dangerous hunts I've been on. Takes real skill and courage."

"I'm sure it does," Susan replied politely, though Harry could see her trying to be diplomatic rather than genuinely interested.

"Perhaps you'd like to hear about the time we tracked a wounded hippogriff through the Scottish Highlands?" Cormac continued, completely missing her lukewarm response. "It was a week-long hunt. Uncle Tiberius said I showed exceptional natural talent."

Harry watched with growing amusement as Cormac launched into what was clearly a well-rehearsed story, gesturing dramatically while constantly glancing to see if Susan was impressed.

"That must have been quite dangerous," Harry said when Cormac paused for breath, smoothly inserting himself back into the conversation. "Though I imagine hunting wounded creatures isn't exactly sporting."

"It wasn't about sport," Cormac said defensively, his face beginning to redden. "The hippogriff was terrorizing local villages."

“I’m sure it was.” Harry added with a hint of irritation. Bad memories from third year coming up.

“I've always thought it's more admirable to heal creatures than hunt them." Susan added from Harry’s side.

Cormac's frustration was becoming increasingly obvious. "Well, not everyone can afford to be squeamish about these things, Susan. Sometimes you need people willing to do the dangerous work."

The barely concealed jealousy in his voice was making the atmosphere tense. Harry noticed Susan shift uncomfortably.

"Speaking of dangerous work," Slughorn interjected smoothly, clearly sensing the need to steer the conversation away from Cormac's growing hostility, "Harry, my boy, I've been dying to ask you about some of the extraordinary things I've been reading in the papers. 'The Chosen One' they're calling you now, aren't they?"

Harry felt every eye in the compartment turn to him, including Susan's admiring gaze. He decided to use the moment to his advantage. "The papers do tend to dramatize things, Professor. Though I suppose some of what they write has basis in fact."

"Modest as always!" Slughorn chuckled, clearly delighted. "But surely you can't deny the remarkable events at the Department of Mysteries? Facing You-Know-Who himself and living to tell the tale, again!"
Harry glanced around the room, noting the mix of fascination and respect on various faces, particularly Susan's. "It wasn't just me, Professor. I had friends with me - brave friends who were willing to risk everything to do what was right."

"But you led them there, didn't you?" Slughorn pressed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Showed remarkable leadership for someone so young."

"I suppose when people you care about are in danger, you don't really think about leadership," Harry said, his voice carrying just the right note of humble heroism. "You just do what needs to be done."

Susan was watching him with clear admiration, her hazel eyes bright with respect.

"Most of Potter's 'heroics' can be attributed to extraordinary luck, nothing more." Zabini said suddenly from across the compartment, his voice coolly dismissive.

The compartment went quiet, tension crackling in the air.

"Luck?" Slughorn's eyebrows rose sharply. "My dear boy, luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. What Harry has accomplished requires far more than mere chance - it requires skill, courage, and remarkable magical ability."

Zabini shrugged elegantly. "If you say so, Professor."

Harry felt Susan's hand brush his again, a gesture of support that didn't go unnoticed by Cormac, whose jaw tightened visibly.

The gathering continued for another fifteen minutes, with Slughorn skillfully navigating between topics while making mental notes about each student's potential usefulness. Finally, he clapped his hands together.

"Well, my dears, I think that's quite enough for today. Thank you all for joining me, I do hope we'll have many more opportunities to chat throughout the year."

As students began to rise and make their departures, Harry turned to Susan.

"This was really nice," he said quietly. "I hope we can talk more once we get to Hogwarts."

Susan's cheeks flushed pink, and she smiled shyly. "I'd like that very much, Harry. Perhaps... perhaps we could study together sometime?"

"I'd like that," Harry replied, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile that made something warm flutter in his chest.

He made his way out of the compartment, leaving behind Cormac's thunderous expression and Susan's lingering gaze.

Harry had barely made it three carriages toward his compartment when he nearly collided with Lavender Brown, who was hurrying in the opposite direction with her arms full of packages from the lunch trolley.

"Oh! Harry!" she exclaimed breathlessly, steadying herself against the wall. Her strawberry blonde hair had come slightly loose from its ribbon, framing her face prettily, and her robes had shifted in a way that emphasized her notably curvaceous figure. "I didn't see you there!"

"Sorry, Lavender," Harry said, instinctively reaching out to steady some of her packages. "Let me help with those."

"You're such a gentleman," she said with a bright smile, letting their hands brush as he helped reorganize her sweets.

"I was just getting some chocolate frogs for the girls. We're having the most ridiculous argument about which Quidditch players are the most handsome."

"Sounds like a serious debate," Harry said, amused.

"Oh, it is!" Lavender laughed, her eyes lighting up. "Parvati insists it's Viktor Krum because of his whole brooding thing, but honestly, I think brooding is so last year. And Romilda is going on about some Irish Seeker, but really..." She stepped closer, looking him up and down with obvious appreciation. "I've always preferred the homegrown talent."

Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly at her obvious meaning. "Have you now?"

"Mmhmm," she said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

"There's something about a good Seeker, you know? All that athleticism and bravery... Plus there's something rather exciting about flying with someone famous." She bit her lower lip playfully. "Don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know," Harry said with a grin. "Never met any famous boys."

Lavender giggled, the sound bright and infectious.

"Oh, you're being modest! That's adorable. Though I have to say, you've gotten quite fit over the summer, haven't you?" Her eyes lingered on his shoulders appreciatively.

"All that training must be doing wonderful things for you."

Before Harry could figure out how to respond to her increasingly bold flirtation, she had shifted her packages to one arm and reached out to briefly touch his bicep.

"My goodness, you have been working out," she said with obvious delight. "No wonder half the girls in our year have been talking about you."

"They have?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised.

"Oh yes! Haven't you noticed? Though I suppose boys never notice these things." She giggled again, tossing her hair.

"Well, I should get back to the girls before they send out a search party. But Harry?" She leaned closer, her perfume sweet and overwhelming. "Save me a dance at the first party this year, won't you?"

Before Harry could respond, she had continued on her way with an extra sway to her hips, calling over her shoulder, "See you at the feast, Harry! Try not to get into too much trouble before then!"

Shaking his head with a bemused smile, Harry continued. He was almost back at his compartment when he caught sight of Blaise Zabini walking purposefully down the corridor in the opposite direction, heading toward the back of the train where the Slytherins typically congregated.

Something about Zabini's focused expression made Harry pause. The Slytherin moved with obvious intent, as if he had somewhere specific to be. Harry watched as Zabini get further and further, heading deeper into what Harry knew was Malfoy's territory.

An idea began to form in Harry's mind - a dangerous, probably stupid idea. But if Malfoy really was up to something…

Harry glanced back toward his own compartment, where his friends were waiting, then looked again in the direction Zabini had gone.

The train swayed gently as it continued its journey north, and Harry Potter made a decision.

Chapter Text

Harry made up his mind. It was now or never.

He strode quickly towards his compartment, which was just a few doors down.

The decision formed in his mind before he could second guess it. If Malfoy really was up to something, he would find out.

"Just need to grab something from my trunk," he said casually, sliding the door open.

"Everything alright, mate?" Ron asked, looking up from where he was attempting to teach Neville Exploding Snap.

"Yeah, fine. Just need to take care of something."

Harry rummaged through his trunk, his fingers closing around the familiar silk of his invisibility cloak. He also grabbed the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder he had picked up from Fred and George.

"Won't be long," he said, already heading back toward the door.

Ginny caught his eye, a questioning look on her face. "Harry?"

"Just... stretching my legs," he said, trying to sound casual. "The compartment's a bit stuffy."

She didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded. Harry slipped out into the corridor, his heart already beginning to beat with excitement.

The train seemed different as he moved toward the rear carriages. The corridors grew quieter, the laughter and chatter of students fading behind him. Harry ducked into an empty compartment and quickly threw the invisibility cloak over himself, the familiar sensation of settling over his shoulders.

Moving through the train under the cloak required careful navigation. There weren’t too many students moving around, but Harry still had to press himself against the wall a few times to avoid getting bumped into.

Harry managed to catch up to Zabini, who was lazily wandering his way back. After a minute, he was finally at his destination. Zabini grabbed the handle with a firm grip and slid the compartment door open.

Harry crept closer, his feet silent on the carpeted floor. He stood right behind Zabini, a single step backward could ruin his plan.

As Zabini walked through, Harry followed. And when Zabini turned to close the door. Harry quickly dove under his arm, holding tightly onto the cloak.

Harry quickly backed away into an empty corner. Standing still and trying to blend into the shadows.

“So Zabini” Malfoy drawled. “What did Slughorn want?”

“Just trying to make some connections,” Zabini said, settling down across Malfoy. “Not that there were too many good ones to make there.”

“Who did he invite then?” Malfoy asked, displeased.

“Well the expected ones, McLaggen, Belby, some older students with promise… And Potter too.”

“A waste of time then.” Malfoy said with an upturned nose.

“Oh and that Bones girl too… So at least there was something nice to look at.” Zabini said with a slight smirk. “Too bad she was making eyes at Potter the whole time.”

“She’s just a filthy blood traitor.” Malfoy said dismissively. “Maybe once things are a little different she will learn who to admire.”

Harry felt anger rise inside him. He knew this was not the time, but they would get what was coming to them one day.

“I do pity Slughorn’s taste. It’s a shame really, my father always said he was a good wizard. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Maybe he hasn’t heard I’m on the train.”

“I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” Zabini added. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. Old friends apparently, but when he learned he’d been caught by the ministry he didn’t look too pleased, and Nott didn’t get an invite, did he? Don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.”

Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a humorless laugh.

“Well who cares about what he’s interested in anyway. What is he really when it comes down to it? Just some old has-been.”

“Besides.” Malfoy yawned. “I might not even be at Hogwarts next year.”

Harry felt puzzled by Malfoy’s words.

“What do you mean you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Goyle added from the side.

“Well you never know, I might have moved on to bigger and better things…” Draco said with a whisper.

Harry inched closer, trying to burn every word into his memory.

“Do you mean - Him?” Zabini asked carefully.

Malfoy shrugged.

“Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t... It’ll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown.”

“And you think you’ll be able to do anything for him? I mean we’re still sixteen, not exactly qualified either.”

“Well maybe the job I’ll do doesn’t require qualifications.” Malfoy said quietly.

Crabbe and Goyle sat there with their mouths hanging open and Harry felt vindicated. He knew something was up with Malfoy and this confirmed it.

“I can see Hogwarts.” Said Malfoy, clearly relishing the effect he had created. “Better get our robes on”

As the others started preparing their robes, Crabbe suddenly stood up and started walking right at Harry. At that moment Harry noticed the bag next to his feet and connected the dots. Just as Crabbe was about to run into Harry, he put his foot out next to Crabbe’s ankle, and in that instant the boy started falling over.

As Crabbe hit the ground Harry threw out the Peruvian instant darkness powder onto the floor. The room was suddenly engulfed in a strange mist like darkness.

“What the hell is this?!” Malfoy screamed

“Crabbe? Was that you? I can’t see anything.” Zabini asked.

Harry quickly jumped over Crabbe and made his way to the compartment door. He opened it quickly, but as quietly as possible and practically sprinted down the hall. It was a miracle he was able to find the handle while blinded.

He could faintly hear Malfoy and Zabini rummaging and yelling in the background, trying to open a window or find the door.

Harry ducked into an empty compartment on the way back and threw the cloak off. He breathed heavily and tried to get his heart beat back to normal. He felt a few drops of sweat run down his brow and tried to make himself as presentable as possible before heading back out.

Harry made his way back to his compartment looking as normal as he could. Although he could still feel his raging pulse in his ears, and couldn’t focus on anything but replaying Malfoy’s words over in his head.

"Harry! Where have you been? We’re almost at Hogwarts and you don’t even have your robes on!" Hermione said with surprise.

"Better get a move on mate!” Ron exclaimed and turned to him. “You alright mate? You look a little pale?”

Ginny was studying his face intently, her brown eyes searching. "Harry, what happened?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, settling back into his seat next to Ginny. "Just... got a bit lost, actually. The back of the train all looks the same."

"Lost?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "On the Hogwarts Express? Harry, we've taken this train six times."

"Yeah, well," Harry ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that made Ginny's frown deepen. "I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going."

Ron was still looking at him oddly. "You sure you're alright, mate?”

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, though he was fairly certain he didn't sound convincing. "Really. Just... ready to get to Hogwarts, you know?"

Ginny's hand found his under the table, squeezing gently. The gesture was both comforting and questioning, and Harry squeezed back, hoping to reassure her.

“I’ll go get changed.” Harry said, gathering his things and making his way into the next compartment to change.

Once Harry was alone he was finally able to get his heart rate to normal and process what he had heard. The conversation hadn’t mentioned any specifics, but the fact the dark lord was even brought up made Harry wonder. Should he tell Dumbledore? Or would he just push his concerns aside and tell him things we’re under control?

A few minutes later, once he felt the train begin to slow, he made his way back. And they began disembarking the Express.

The platform was darker than usual, evening air carrying the scent of pines. Harry walked with the others, the familiar sounds of students reuniting after summer mixing with Hagrid's voice calling for first years.

"Is that Tonks over there?" Ron asked, spotting a figure with shifting hair colors among a small group of Aurors.

"Yeah," Harry replied, waving to her. She waved back with a smile, her hair changing from brown to blonde.

"Nice to see a friendly face," Ginny said as they made their way to the carriages.

They found the Thestral-drawn carriages waiting. Harry sat next to Ginny for the ride up to the castle, all six of them fitting into one carriage. The conversation was quieter than usual, but not uncomfortable - more like everyone was settling back into the rhythm of returning to school.

"Good to be back," Neville said as Hogwarts came into view.

"Always is," Hermione agreed softly.

At the gates, they had to disembark again. Professor Flitwick stood waiting, clipboard in hand.

"Names, please," Flitwick said curtly.

"You know me, Professor?" Harry said, confused by the formality.

"No exceptions, Potter."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Filius cleared his throat. “Okay very well, in you go Potter.”

They moved forward to be checked before being allowed into the castle proper.

The Great Hall felt warm and welcoming, golden light and floating candles creating their familiar magical atmosphere. The tables bustled with talking students.

As they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry found himself scanning the faces of his fellow students. They all looked older somehow, more serious than they had the previous year. The war was touching everyone, even if they didn't want to admit it.

"At least the food's still good," Ron said, loading his plate with shepherd's pie the moment it appeared. "Some things never change."

“Is that all you can think about?” Hermione sighed.

“What? I’m hungry!” Ron said, slightly offended.

Harry was only half-listening to their conversation. Under the table, Ginny had found his hand again, and was tracing small patterns on his palm with her fingertips. It was distracting in the best possible way.

"You're thinking too hard," Ginny murmured, leaning closer so her words were meant for his ears alone. "I can practically hear the gears turning in your head."

"Just processing," Harry replied quietly, turning his hand palm-up so she could intertwine their fingers properly. "It's been a long day."

"It has." she agreed, and there was something in her tone that made him look at her more closely.

The meal proceeded with the usual enthusiasm, though Harry noticed a slight undercurrent of tension within some older students.

"Pass the potatoes?" Ron asked around a mouthful of roast beef.

"Here," Hermione said, but her attention was focused on the high table. "I wonder if that man next to Dumbledore is that new Professor Slughorn?"

"Well as long as it's not another ministry official, We’ve had enough of those." Ron muttered.

Harry was about to respond when he felt Ginny's hand on his thigh under the table, her fingers tracing small patterns that made his concentration scatter. When he turned to look at her, she was innocently taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, but there was a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Something funny?" he murmured.

"Just thinking," she said, still not looking at him directly but letting her hand drift higher on his leg. "About how much I've missed having you around."

Harry felt his cheeks warm, and he was grateful for the dim lighting in the Great Hall. "Ginny..."

"What?" she asked innocently, finally turning to meet his eyes. "I'm just being friendly."

"Friendly," Harry repeated, trying to ignore the way her touch was making his pulse race. "Right."

"Very friendly," she confirmed, and the look in her brown eyes made Harry's breath catch.

“On second thought, I don’t have much of an appetite.” Ron said, having caught the glances between the two.

“Oh come off it Ron. When, or if, you finally manage to get a girlfriend you can’t expect me to get mad at you too.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence…” Ron said, and threw his fork down on the plate.

A short while after the Sorting Hat was brought out and Professor McGonagall began calling the first years forward. Harry mindlessly clapped at all the new students, his eyes drifting over to the slytherin table every now and then.

Before the hat was taken away, it broke into song one final time - not its usual welcome, but something more urgent about unity between the houses and standing together in dark times.

When the last first year had been sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the high table. The Great Hall fell silent, hundreds of faces turning toward the headmaster.

"Good evening to you all," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying easily through the hall without amplification, "and welcome to another year at Hogwarts."

He paused, his blue eyes sweeping over the assembled students, and Harry felt that familiar sense of comfort that came from being in Dumbledore's presence.

"What happened to his hand?" Hermione whispered, looking at Dumbledore's blackened and withered hand. She was not the only one to notice, as whispers spread throughout the room.

"I don't know, it was like that over the summer. Thought it would have been fixed by now." Harry said, somewhat worried.

Dumbledore could hear the whispers and knew what they were about. "Nothing to worry about" He said with a smile.

"Now, to our new students, welcome. And to our older students, welcome back! To another year at Hogwarts." He spoke with a kind tone.

“Let me introduce the newest member of our staff, Horace Slughorn." He gestured toward the teachers' table. "Professor Slughorn has agreed to resume his old post as potions master. Meanwhile the post of defence against the dark arts, will be taken by Professor Snape.."

The reaction to this announcement was immediate and varied. The Slytherin table erupted in cheers, while the other houses responded with more mixed reactions. Harry wondered what Snape’s defence lessons would be like, not that they could get much worse than the potions classes.

"Now as you know, each and everyone of you was searched upon your arrival here and you deserve to know why."

Dumbledore’s voice grew more serious.

“Once there was a young man who, like you, sat in this very Hall. Walked this castle’s corridors. Slept beneath its roof. He seemed, to all the world, a student like any other. His name? Tom Riddle”

The Great Hall was silent now, all eyes intently watching Dumbledore.

“Today, of course, the world knows him by another name. Which is why, as I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I am reminded of a sobering fact. Every day, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. But in the end, their greatest weapon... is you”

“Now with that, off to bed pip pip!” Dumbledore ended on a more cheerful note.

With that, he clapped his hands together, and the copious amounts of food and drink coating the tables disappeared. The students all stood up and the prefects started herding up the first years to show them to the dorms.

As Harry and the others were preparing to leave they were interrupted by a commotion at the Hufflepuff table - Susan Bones was making her way over toward them, weaving between the benches with a smile on her face.

"Harry!" she called out with a wave as she approached the Gryffindor table. Harry could see a large amount of gazes on her as she walked.

"I was hoping to catch you before everyone headed to their dormitories."

"Susan," Harry said. Ginny looked over too, though she didn't seem bothered by the interruption. "How was the rest of your journey?"

"Oh, fine," Susan said. "Strange seeing Aurors here but I suppose it’s for the better.."

"Well we're here now, that’s what matters." Harry spoke.

"Yes," Susan said, with a slight smile. "And I was wondering... you mentioned studying together? I know we have several of the same NEWT classes, and I thought perhaps we could help each other out."

Before Harry could respond, Ginny leaned forward with a bright smile.

"That's a wonderful idea! Harry could definitely use the help in some subjects - he's brilliant at Defense and Charms, but his Transfiguration essays could use work."

"Ginny?" Harry was confused, though not that he minded.

"What? It's true," Ginny said with a laugh. "And I'm sure Susan is excellent at Transfiguration. At least that’s what I’ve heard."

Susan blushed slightly at the compliment. "I do enjoy it, yes. And Harry, you have practical experience that the rest of us could benefit from."

"I wouldn't say that," Harry said modestly, though he was pleased by her words.

"Oh, please," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "False modesty doesn't suit you, Harry. You've faced You-Know-Who multiple times and lived to tell the tale. I think that counts as practical experience."

"Ginny's right," Susan said earnestly. "And I was thinking... Perhaps we could form a study group? Even invite some others if you’d like? We could meet in the library, or find an empty classroom..."

"That sounds perfect," Ginny said enthusiastically, and Harry noticed that she seemed genuinely excited about the idea rather than merely being polite. "I'd love to join, if you don't mind having a fifth year tagging along."

"Not at all," Susan assured her. "The more perspectives, the better. And you're advanced for your year anyway, from what I've heard."

"So it's settled then? We'll start once we've gotten our schedules sorted out?" Ginny said with a pleased tone and a slight blush on her face.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed, finding himself looking forward to it more than he would have expected. Susan was intelligent, pleasant company, not to mention one of the prettiest girls in school. And the idea of spending time studying with both her and Ginny was... appealing in ways he didn't want to examine too closely just yet.

"Wonderful," Susan said, clasping her hands together with obvious delight. The action made her body move in ways that made Harry struggle to concentrate.

"I should get back to my table before Professor Sprout notices I'm missing, but I'm so looking forward to this."

She gave them both a warm smile and made her way back toward the Hufflepuff table, pausing once to wave goodbye.

"She seems nice," Ginny observed, watching Susan's retreating figure with an expression that Harry couldn't quite read.

"She is," Harry agreed. "Very down-to-earth, despite everything she's been through."

Ginny turned to look at him more directly. "Everything she's been through?"

"Her aunt," Harry said quietly. "Amelia Bones. She was killed by Voldemort this summer."

Ginny's expression softened immediately. "Oh. I didn't realize... that's terrible."

"Yeah," Harry said. "But she seems to be handling it well. Better than I would, probably."

"You handle things better than you think," Ginny said, her voice gentle. She found his hand again, squeezing gently. "and I think this little study group will be good for the both of us. A lot of possibilities and such."

There was something in Ginny's tone that made Harry look at her more closely, but before he could analyze it further, Professor McGonagall was standing at the head table, calling for the students' attention.

"First years, please follow your prefects to your dormitories," she announced. "All other students, please make your way to your common rooms in an orderly fashion. Classes begin tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp."

The Great Hall began to empty, students streaming toward the exits in waves of house colors. Harry walked back to the dorms and enjoyed the familiar sights of Hogwarts, finally feeling like he was home.

Chapter Text

Harry descended the stairs into the common room the next morning. Malfoy's words still playing on his mind. He wondered whether he should tell the others about it.

On one hand, Harry felt vindicated, Malfoy's words all but confirmed he was up to something. On the other hand, actually proving any of that, or that he was a death eater was still a stretch. And the last thing Harry wanted to do was tip Malfoy off and let him know that he was onto him.

And while Harry trusted Ron and Hermione, he wasn't sure they, especially Ron, wouldn't somehow let it slip or taunt Malfoy with it.

"Morning mate," Ron said, looking up from the cozy sofa he was sitting on.

"Sleep well?" Harry asked.

"Like a rock," Ron yawned. "You?"

Before Harry could respond, Hermione and Ginny walked down the girls staircase already carrying their bookbags. Ginny's hair was tied back into a cute ponytail. She walked over to Harry and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Morning Harry" Ginny said brightly, and took Harry's hand.

"Are you two ready to go? We shouldn't be late, Professor McGonagall's going to hand out our schedules today."

"We know Hermione, not exactly our first time here." Ron rolled his eyes and yawned.

The group headed out of the common room, a good amount of people, especially first years, staring at him and whispering.

"It's rude to stare you know." Ron said to a particularly nosy first year who blushed and toppled out. Ron sniggered.

"I love being a sixth year. All the younger ones take us so seriously and we get a lot of free time!"

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" Said Hermione as they set off down the corridor.

They were halfway down the corridor when Lavender came bouncing around the corner. Her blonde curly hair swaying up and down.

"Harry!" she squealed, hurrying over. "I can't believe you're Quidditch captain now! Knew you had it in you."

"Thanks, Lavender," Harry said with a small smile, though he could feel his cheeks warming slightly. Her enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming, but he was getting better at handling attention like this.

Her eyes drifted to where his hand was linked with Ginny's, and Harry could see something flicker through her eyes. "Merlin, Ginny - you've nabbed him quick. You must be proud!"

"Can't say I'm surprised though. Harry's always been Gryffindor's best seeker…" Ginny said with an amused glint in her eyes.

Lavender brightened considerably at that. "He really is! I was just telling Parvati how sad it was when Umbridge banned you from playing last year! But I'm glad you're back…" She bit her lip, looking almost shy for a moment.

Ron made a strangled noise that might've been a cough, his ears going pink as his eyes lingered a second too long.

"Right, well," Harry said quickly, "we should probably get to breakfast before all the good food's gone."

"Oh yes, of course!" Lavender said. "But Harry, if you ever want to practice your captain speeches or... anything really, I'd love to help." She gave him a meaningful look before glancing uncertainly at Ginny.

Ginny's smirk widened. "How thoughtful. Harry could use all the support he can get, couldn't you, Harry?"

There was something in her tone that made Harry's stomach do a small flip, though he couldn't work out why.

"Well," Harry said, his smile becoming a bit more natural, "I appreciate the offer, Lavender. That's really kind of you."

With a pleased little wave, Lavender skipped off toward the Great Hall.

"Bye!" Ron yelled out somewhat awkwardly. Lavender didn't seem to hear him.

Ron watched Lavender vanish down the corridor and muttered dreamily, "She seems quite nice… doesn't she?"

"Subtle" Hermione rolled her eyes.

The great hall bustled with the familiar chatter of students. Harry saw several heads turn and follow him when they entered. He noticed it didn't bother him as much as it used to. The fame was something that had always made him uncomfortable but after everything he had been through, it didn't seem as bad.

A slight red glow shimmered through the windows.

They settled on the Gryffindor table and started loading up their plates.

"I hope Hagrid doesn't mind that none of us took Care of Magical Creatures classes…" Harry said.

"He can't really think we'd continue it right? I mean… Have any of us really showed any… you know… enthusiasm?" Hermione said.

"That's it though, innit? We're the ones that made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he might think we actually liked the subject. You reckon anyone else will take the N.E.W.T classes?" Ron said, before swallowing an entire fried egg.

The words hung in the air. None of them wanted to say it aloud, but it felt a little like letting Hagrid down.

After they had eaten, they remained in place and waited for Professor McGonagall to descend from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was a bit more complicated than last year, since she needed to confirm they actually had the prerequisite grades to continue to their chosen N.E.W.T classes. Ginny however didn't need to wait, and went off to her first class, giving Harry a small peck on the way out.

Hermione was, of course, almost instantly cleared to continue to her chosen classes. And shot off to an Ancient Runes class without further ado.

Next McGonagall spent the next ten minutes discussing class options with Neville, Parvati and Lavender, who gave Harry another wave as she left the table.

"See you, handsome!" She called out cheerfully.

Ron stared after her, slack-jawed, half a bite of toast still in his mouth, as her hips swayed back and forth while leaving.

Finally McGonagall approached Harry and Ron.

"So, Potter. Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration… all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions?"

"I was under the impression I had to get an Outstanding on my O.W.L's for that."

"That was the case when Professor Snape was teaching potions. Professor Slughorn however, is perfectly happy to accept students with an Exceeds Expectation into his N.E.W.T classes. Do you wish to join?" McGonagall said with her normal curt tone. Although a hint of a smile could be seen tugging at her lips.

"Yes," said Harry. "But I haven't bought the book or any supplies…"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some, " said Professor McGonagall. "Now, here's your schedule Potter. And by the way, about twenty hopefuls have already put their names down for the Quidditch team. I'll pass you the list and you can hold trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was also cleared on the same subjects as Harry, and the two left the table.

"Look mate! We have a free period now and after lunch too!" Ron said, delighted at his schedule.

An hour later, they made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Ron dragging his feet somewhat.

"I'm sure this'll be interesting…" Ron muttered quietly.

Hermione was already standing outside the classroom and waiting to get in, carrying an armful of heavy books.

"We got so much homework from Runes," She said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen inch essay, two translations and I have to read all these by wednesday!"

"Bummer." yawned Ron.

"I can try to help if you'd like." Harry said with sympathy.

"Thank you Harry." Hermione said, giving Ron a quick look.

The classroom door opened as she spoke, Snape stepped into the corridor, his cloak billowing dramatically.

"Inside" he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. The classroom had been transformed into a dark and moody space, lit by candlelight.

"I'd like your full attention…" Snape drawled, looking around the room. His gaze seemed to linger on Harry for a second longer.

"You have had five years of education on this subject thus far. But from what I've seen, it appears inadequate. So I'll be surprised if any of you truly manage to keep up with all the course work." Snape said in a low voice, slowly gliding around the classroom like a ghost.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape "are varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a fiercer, more intelligent and powerful new head."

The way Snape spoke of the Dark Arts seemed, at least to Harry, to border between a healthy respect for an enemy and a loving caress.

The thought unsettled Harry for a moment, but after truly considering it, he couldn't disagree entirely. With an enemy like Voldemort out there, who cared whether the spells he used were considered dark. What mattered was protecting those he cared about.

"Your defenses," Snape continued. "must therefore be just as flexible and inventive."

"That is why the subject of today's lesson will be nonverbal casting. Now as far as I know, you are complete novices on the subject. Can anyone tell me what the advantage of nonverbal casting is?"

Hermione threw her hand up like usual. Snape took a long time making sure there were no other options.

"Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively

Harry could faintly hear Malfoy sniggering in the corner.

"You will now divide into pairs. One partner will jinx nonverbally and the other will protect in equal silence. Begin." Snape spoke.

As was to be expected, some cheating ensued. Many just whispered the incantation instead of saying it outloud. Although in Harry's mind, that was better than nothing. Since in an actual battle, hearing a whisper is certainly more difficult than someone yelling.

To his surprise, within five minutes Harry actually managed to perform a nonverbal Protego charm. And judging by the slight raising of eyebrows from Snape, he noticed. Not that he awarded any points to Gryffindor.

It was only five minutes later when Hermione managed to do the same. No points again.

Ron was desperately trying to jinx Harry, his face had turned purple and he had pressed his lips shut tight to try to distract from the temptation of muttering the spell.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after watching Ron for a minute. "Here, let me show you."

He suddenly turned to Harry, his wand pointed right at him. Within a split second, a red looking spell was barreling through the air, just as it was about to his Harry, he lifted his wand up and managed an overpowered nonverbal Protego.

Harry had reacted instinctively, he realised he had used too much of his power on one spell. In a real fight, he might have to pay for that down the line.

For now though, Snape stumbled backwards and into a desk. Not expecting Harry to react so quickly.

"Potter, have you not been taught how to properly channel spells?" Snape asked after righting himself. The whole class now watching.

"Yes, I have." Said Harry

"Yes sir." Snape responded.

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor."

The words were out before Harry realised. A silence hung in the room. Harry could see Ron, Dean and Seamus trying to contain their laughter in the back.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office." Snape said dryly. "I don't take cheek from anyone Potter, not even 'the Chosen One'"

---

"That was brilliant Harry!" Ron exclaimed once they were on their break.

"You really shouldn't have said that," said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "why did you?"

"I don't even really know… I guess I'm just a bit fed up with him. I feel like I could be so much better if he actually taught us properly." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Well… I do agree with you there. But getting detention isn't going to change that." Hermione said.

"Yeah I know," Harry said, stopping to think for a moment. "you know I've been thinking… What if we start up the D.A again? Not like last year, something more small scale. We could really focus on practical training. Since Voldemort is coming, like it or not, we could really use the skills and allies."

Ron and Hermione paused in their footsteps. They took a moment to process what Harry had suggested.

"I'm in mate! That sounds like a great idea!" Ron said, tapping Harry on the shoulder.

"I guess that's not a bad idea… You're certainly right that extra practice wouldn't hurt… Although we should ask Dumbledore for permission, just in case." Hermione said.

"Yeah, sure. I'll do that." Harry said. "I'll let you know once I've thought about it more"

The thought seemed better and better as Harry considered it. The fight at the Ministry had shown Harry that he had a lot to learn, and that he needed to be better. If he was to face Voldemort, it wouldn't be alone or with an Expelliarmus.

"Excuse me! Harry!" Harry looked around. Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor team, was hurrying toward him holding a piece of parchment.

"For you." Sloper handed the parchment to him. "Listen, I heard you're the new captain. When are you holding trials?"

"I don't know yet." Harry thought Sloper would have to be very lucky to get back on the team.

"Oh okay, well I was wondering if maybe-"

But Harry had stopped listening. He recognized the thin, slanting handwriting on the parchment. Dumbledore. He left Sloper mid sentence and hurried away with Ron and Hermione. Unrolling the parchment as he walked.

'Dear Harry, I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.'

"Snape's not going to be pleased, I won't be going to his detention after all." Harry said with a grin.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were joined by Ginny, who finally got her first break.

"Finally" Ginny exhaled, leaning into Harry as if going to sleep.

Harry grabbed onto her thin waist. The flowery scent filled his nose and brightened his mood.

Harry showed her the note and told her of the events of Snape's class. As expected she laughed when hearing of Harry's words, combined with Dumbledore inadvertently getting him out of detention.

"That's my man. Knocking Snape on his ass. Wish I could have seen it though…" She said, looking up into Harry's eyes with a smirk.

Ron mimicked a gagging noise from the side.

"Oh shut up Ron." Hermione said, hitting Ron with a rolled up newspaper.

They spent the rest of the break trying to come up with what Dumbledore might teach him.

Just before their break ended, Harry managed to spot a familiar set of wavy, red hair. He quickly waved to Susan, who gave him a charming smile and a wave, before running off to her next class. A slight blush covering her cute face.

"Save some for the rest of us…" Ron shook his head.

The time had come for them to head to the familiar dungeon class that had so long been Snape's. When they got to the corridor they saw that there were only about thirteen people progressing to N.E.W.T level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L grade but four slytherins had still made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, alongside one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan who was quite nice despite his pompous exterior. And to Harry's surprise, Lavender Brown had also managed to join.

"Hi Harry!" She waved from the other side of the corridor.

Harry raised his hand slightly, but before he could respond the dungeon door opened and Slughorn, sporting a cheery face appeared out of the door. As they filed into the room, Slughorn seemed to greet Harry and Zabini with extra enthusiasm.

The dungeon seemed slightly more colorful and less dreary than usual. Although it was still full of vapors and odd smells. The class looked around curiously at a set of bubbling cauldrons.

The four slytherins took a table together, and so did the four ravenclaws. This left five people remaining, with the tables only seating a maximum of four.

Ron, Hermione sat down at the nearest table, and they were quickly joined by Ernie.

Harry shot a look at Lavender, who was hopefully looking at him and the remaining empty desk.

"Come on Lavender," Harry said to her and seated himself at the empty desk.

Lavender happily bounced over and seated herself next to him, a bit closer than strictly necessary.

"Now then, now then," said Slughorn, happily tapping his round belly. "scales out, everyone and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…"

"Sir?" Harry spoke

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything really… and neither does Ron. We weren't aware we'd be allowed to join this N.E.W.T class so we didn't get them."

"Ah yes Professor McGonagall mentioned it… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, we'll lend you some scales and there are a few old books you can loan."

Harry and Ron walked over to the cupboard, inside lay two copies of Advanced Potion-Making. One close to pristine in condition, the other not so much. It was tattered and scuffed almost to the point of falling apart. Ron quickly jumped forward and grabbed the pristine looking one, leaving Harry to sigh, and pick up the battered one.

"Now then," said Slughorn from the front of the class. "I've prepared a few potions for you here today. The kind we'll be learning in this N.E.W.T class. Who can tell me what they are?"

He pointed at the first cauldron, near the Slytherin table. Harry and Lavender both leaned forward in their seats to see into the cauldron, Lavender's arm brushed against his as she leaned a little too far, her perfume faintly mixing with the potion's steam. Inside the cauldron, a clear, almost water-like substance boiled away.

Hermione's well practiced hand was up before anyone else's. Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good! Exactly right." Slughorn said happily. "Now what about this?" He pointed to the one near the Ravenclaw table.

"It's been featured in quite the number of ministry leaflets as of late-"

Hermione's hand shot up once again.

"It's Polyjuice potion, sir."

Harry too had recognized the slow bubbling, mudlike substance in the cauldron.

Lavender leaned closer to him to whisper something, her breath warm on his skin. "Honestly, how does she remember all that…"

"Great! That's correct." Slughorn said. "Now what about this-"

Hermione's hand shot up instantly. "Yes, my dear?"

"It's Amorentia." Hermione spoke.

"It is indeed. I assume you know what it does?"

"The most powerful love potion in the world." Said Hermione, with an almost reverential tone. "It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, for example I smell new parchment, and a woody sort of scent with hints of amber…" Hermione blushed slightly.

Harry could see Lavender leaning closer to the fumes of the Amorentia, eyes half closed.

"Funny, seems familiar." Lavender said, giving Harry a quick look.

"Quite right my dear! May I ask you your name?" Slughorn said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Take twenty points for Gryffindor Miss Granger! This must be the brilliant witch you mentioned on the train, Harry?"

Harry nodded and Slughorn looked even more pleased.

Harry could see Malfoy on the other side of the room, looking quite sour.

Hermione gave Harry a look, her face red.

"Amorentia doesn't create love of course, that's quite impossible. But it does create a strong infatuation and obsession. It's also the most dangerous potion in this room."

Malfoy snickered and whispered something to the other Slytherins. Slughorn turned to them. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…"

“Now I think it’s about time we get to work!” Slughorn said.

"But sir, you haven't told us what's in this one." Said Ernie Macmillan, pointing to a small cauldron bubbling on Slughorn's desk.

Inside, a deep golden liquid bubbled and shimmered.

"Oho!" Slughorn exclaimed. Harry was quite sure Slughorn hadn't forgotten the last potion, but wanted to be asked for dramatic effect.

"Yes, well, ladies and gentlemen… This is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis."

Hermione let out a light gasp.

"I take it from your reaction Miss Granger, that you know what it does?"

"It's liquid luck," Hermione said "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to be paying attention now. Harry could see Malfoy sitting up straight, eyes wide open. Finally paying full attention to what was happening.

"Quite right! Take another ten points for Gryffindor." said Slughorn. "A funny little potion, this is. Extremely difficult and expensive to make. And the effects are disastrous, should you get it wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all you endeavours tend to succeed. At least until the effects wear off…"

"Why don't people just drink it all the time then, sir?" Asked Terry Boot from the Ravenclaw table.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddyness, extreme overconfidence, recklessness and in high doses, it can be quite poisonous. Also a single dose only lasts for about 12 hours, and the cost will make your head spin." Slughorn explained.

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" Michael Corner asked.

"Twice, once when I was twenty-four, and once when I was fifty-seven. Two perfect days…" Slughorn spoke wistfully. "And that is what I offer you," He said, looking around the class. "A vial of Felix Felicis. Now I must warn you, it is banned in all organized competitions… so quidditch matches, exams, elections and the like. So use it on ordinary days only!"

"So!" Slughorn gestured dramatically. "How are you to win this fabulous prize you ask?" He looked around the room, a moment of silence hung in the air.

"By turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making and brewing the potion listed there perfectly! We have a little over an hour left, which should be just enough time for a Draught of the Living Dead. I must warn you though! Only one student thus far has managed to claim this prize. Off you go!"

There was a loud cacophony of scraping noises, as the people in the class quickly rushed to get their ingredients and supplies ready. Harry saw Malfoy feverishly riffling through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Sweat covering his face and a desperate look in his eyes. It was clear Malfoy really wanted that lucky day.

Harry opened the book, and to his annoyance saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the book with tiny handwriting. With a large amount of things crossed over or annotated.

Harry hurried off to the cupboard to get started. The advantage and disadvantage of potions class was that it was difficult to hide your work.

Within ten minutes the class was full of strange smelling vapors. Unsurprisingly Hermione seemed to have progressed the furthest.

Having finished chopping up his Valerian root, Harry bent down to see the instructions. However it seemed the last owner had taken issue with them, as he had crossed off multiple steps and written next to them.

Instead of cutting up the sopophorous bean, an alternative had been written.

'Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.'

As Harry was reading, he overheard Mafloy speak to Slughorn.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Malfoy spoke with a proud tone.

"Yes," Said Slughorn without even looking at Mafloy. "I was sorry to hear about his passing."

As Slughorn walked away, Harry couldn't help but smirk slightly. He could tell Malfoy was expecting to be treated like him or Zabini. Maybe even preferential treatment, like the kind Snape gave him.

Harry turned back to his book and paused. The official instructions were to cut it up… But something about this just seemed right. Harry didn't know why but he felt like he should follow this book instead.

"Can I borrow your silver dagger?" Harry turned to Lavender.

"Of course Harry! Here." Lavender handed it over, her potion a deep swirling purple instead of the lilac shade it was supposed to be.

Harry crushed up the bean, and to his surprise the juice came spilling out. It was amazing such a dry, shriveled bean could hold all of it.

He collected it and added it to his potion, which turned into the exact shade of lilac it was supposed to be. His doubts about the book vanished instantly.

"Wow, Harry, you're actually really good at this," Lavender giggled over his shoulder. "Maybe I should copy your notes sometime…"

"Not a bad idea, Lavender," Harry said with a small smile, still focused on the potion.

According to the book, he needed to stir it clockwise until it turned clear, but the previous owner had annotated the section, and added an extra counterclockwise stir after every seventh stir.

Harry followed the instructions as written, and soon his potion was as clear as water.

"How are you doing that?" Hermione asked from the next table over, her potion still a shade of lilac, even after stirring it.

"Add a counterclockwise stir." Harry whispered to her.

"No, no, but the book says clockwise!" She said, with a grumpy tone.

Harry shrugged and continued work. He also decided to tell Lavender of his little trick, who seemed more trusting. Her potion turned from the deep purple, closer to the lilac, but was still a step away from Harry's clear potion.

"Thanks, Harry! I owe you one…" Lavender said with a little mischievous grin.

Across the table, Ron was cursing and muttering under his breath. His potion the color of liquorice. Harry looked around, and as far as he could tell, no one else's potion was as pale as his.

"Time's up!" Slughorn yelled a minute later. "Stop stirring, please."

Slughorn moved slowly along the tables, inspecting everyone's work. Occasionally stopping to sniff or stir. He seemed to react quite positively to Hermione's potion, giving it an approving nod. While grinning ruefully at Ron's concoction.

Finally, he reached Harry's and Lavender's table. Also giving Lavender's potion and approving hum.

Once he saw Harry's potion, an expression of delight spread across his face.

"We have a clear winner!" he yelled out. "Excellent Harry, It's clear you've inherited your mothers talent! She was a dab hand at potions, Lily was. Here, one vial of Felix Felicis as promised. Use it well!" Slughorn tapped him on the shoulder before handing him the shimmering golden vial.

"How did you do that?" Hermione whispered to him the moment they left the dungeon.

"I just followed the instructions," Harry said, which was technically true.

"No you didn't," Hermione said, her voice rising slightly. "I watched you. You were stirring counterclockwise when the book clearly says clockwise."

"Maybe the book was wrong?" Ron suggested, still looking rather dejected about his own disastrous attempt.

Hermione looked scandalized. "Books aren't wrong, Ron. Advanced Potion-Making is a standard text, it's been used for decades."

"Well, Harry's potion was perfect and yours wasn't," Lavender interjected sweetly, falling into step beside them. "Maybe sometimes experience trumps theory?"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "Experience? Harry's never been particularly good at Potions before. No offense, Harry, but you know it's true. You've always struggled with Snape's classes. So either you've suddenly become brilliant overnight, or there's something else going on." She gave Harry a pointed look.

"Maybe I'm just naturally talented when I'm not being terrorized by Snape," Harry said defensively.

Lavender giggled. "I think it's sweet how modest you are, Harry. You were amazing in there." She touched his arm lightly. "Maybe we could study together sometime? I'd really appreciate it."

"I'm sure Harry would be happy to help anyone who needs it," Hermione said, though her tone was a bit clipped.

"Of course," Lavender said pleasantly, though she kept her attention on Harry. "Well, I should catch up with Parvati. See you later, Harry!" She gave him another warm smile before heading off toward the staircase. Ron's eyes once again following her retreating figure.

They made their way to the Great Hall, where the familiar warmth and chatter provided a welcome distraction. Ginny waved them over from the Gryffindor table, her face lighting up when she saw Harry approaching.

"How was Potions?" she asked, settling back down as Harry took the seat beside her. "I heard Slughorn's quite different from Snape."

"That's putting it mildly," Ron said, still looking rather glum. "Harry here won a vial of Felix Felicis on the first day."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?" She turned to Harry with an impressed smile. "Well done, you!"

"It wasn't exactly skill," Harry admitted, though he felt a warm glow at her praise.

"Don't be so modest," Ginny said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So how did you manage it then?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Hermione said, her frown returning. "Harry didn't follow the instructions in the textbook."

"Lucky guess?" Ginny suggested, though she was looking at Harry curiously now.

"It wasn't luck," Harry said, pulling the battered textbook from his bag. "The previous owner left some modifications to the instructions."

Hermione leaned forward immediately. "Let me see that."

Harry hesitated, then slid the book across to her. She flipped through the pages, her frown deepening as she took in the numerous annotations and corrections.

"Harry, this is... who wrote all this?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But their suggestions worked."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Hermione said, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "You can't just trust random scribbles in an old textbook! What if they're dangerous? What if whoever wrote this was trying to sabotage future students?"

"Bit paranoid, aren't you?" Ron said, helping himself to a generous portion of shepherd's pie. "I mean, Harry's potion was perfect. If someone was trying to sabotage students, wouldn't they write instructions that made things go wrong?"

"I mean I don't think following random instructions in books you find is the best idea either…" Ginny said, memories of her first year coming to mind. "But if it's just some annotations to recipes, and they work well, then I don't really see the issue." Ginny added

"It's not about whether it worked," Hermione said impatiently. "It's about following proper procedures. These textbooks are carefully written and tested."

"And apparently improved upon by someone even more knowledgeable," Ginny interrupted. "Honestly, Hermione, sometimes you act like books are sacred texts that can never be questioned."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I just think we should be careful about trusting anonymous advice."

"I'll be careful Hermione, I promise." Harry said with a gentle tone.

Hermione looked around the table, clearly outnumbered. "Fine. But don't come crying to me if following those notes gets you into trouble."

Harry closed the book and tucked it back into his bag.

Hermione still looked unconvinced, but added. "Just... maybe don't mention this to other people? At least until we know more about who wrote those notes?"

"Agreed," Harry said, though privately he wondered if keeping secrets about the book would prove as difficult as keeping quiet about his suspicions regarding Malfoy.

As they settled into dinner Harry found himself thinking about the mysterious previous owner of his textbook. Whoever they were, they had clearly been brilliant at Potions. But more than that, they had cared enough to share their knowledge, even if only through scribbled notes in a textbook.

It was, Harry thought, exactly the kind of thing a good teacher would do.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week’s potions classes went as well as the first. He continued relying on the tattered books notes, and by the fourth lesson, Slughorn was raving about Harry’s abilities, comparing him to his mother.

Neither Hermione nor Ron were too happy about this. Hermione still believed it to be “cheating”, even though he was just following instructions like the rest of them. He had even offered to share the book with her, which she rejected due to it not being official or trustworthy.

Ron though, could barely read the small notes, and even when he could, his skill was not improved to the level Harry’s had been. And Harry could only whisper so many instruction to him during one class.

Lavender had also kept up her typical bubbly conversation during the classes. Harry was now officially caught up on almost all gossip the castle had to hold.

He hadn't been able to spend quite as much time with Susan as he might have wanted to, they shared some words in the classes they had, but the study club they had discussed had not yet began in ernest.

It was finally one late night, when Harry was more intently studying the book, that he discovered something interesting.

Written in small, slanted print on the last page of the book. It said ‘Property of the Half-Blood Prince’.

He had also skimmed through the book, finding out that there wasn’t a single page without some type of writing made by this prince. He had scribbled everything from potions notes to even directions to spells that looked like they were made by the prince himself.

“Or herself,” said Hermione, with a hint of irritation in her voice, overhearing Harry pointing them out to Ron and Ginny in the common room on Saturday evening.

“The handwriting does look pretty girly after all,” Hermione pointed out.

“Well how many girl princes do you know?” Harry responded.

“Humph!” Hermione let out a sound of irritation and returned to writing her transfiguration essay. Harry rolled his eyes, Hermione’s attitude about the book was annoying, yet somewhat understandable.

“It’s half eight,” Harry said, looking at the clock. “I better start getting ready to go meet Dumbledore.”

“Oh yeah!” Hermione said, looking up excitedly. “Good luck! We can wait up, we want to hear what he teaches you” Ron nodded his head eagerly.

“Yeah mate! Maybe he’ll teach you how to fly or something!” Ron said with sparkling eyes.

“I doubt it…” Harry said, amused.

Just as Harry was about to leave, Ginny also stood up. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, moving back and forth, almost unsure of which way to move.

“Hold on Harry!” Ginny said, grabbing onto his arm. “Before you go, I wanted to show you something…”

“Now?” Harry asked, confused by the timing.

“Yeah, I thought it should be now. We still have a bit of time before Dumbledore’s lesson starts. Just trust me okay?” Ginny said, having made up her mind.

“Okay then… I trust you,” Harry said.

Ginny led him by the arm and out of the common room.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked

“It’s a surprise…” Ginny said, with a husky tone.

Harry raised his eyebrows, but followed along.

Ginny led him down quiet corridors, her warm hand around his. “Come on, almost there,” she whispered into his ear.

They turned a corner and entered an empty, seemingly unused classroom. The faint smell of old parchment and dust hung in the air. Ginny paused, then dragged Harry forward into the room.

“What’s this?” Harry said, trying to seem casual, but his excitement clear from his tone.

“Just a little something I found recently… It’s not used and almost no one ever comes near here… I thought it could be used for that D.A idea you had, among other things.” Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry when she finished, leaning into him.

Harry felt blood rush around his body, making his excitement obvious.

“I thought I could help you relax a bit before your meeting with Dumbledore. If you're okay with that?” Ginny asked, a hint of nervousness in her tone.

“That sounds like a great idea Ginny,” Harry said, his hands gripping onto Ginny’s waist.

Ginny leaned into him and Harry felt a shiver run through him. He leaned down and captured Ginny’s lips in a slow, yet passionate kiss. Her subtle flowery warm scent spreading through the room.

“I haven’t really done anything like this before Harry…” she admitted, a faint tremor in her voice. “So I hope you’ll be patient with me.”

“Neither have I Ginny… Let’s just take this at our own pace okay? We’ll figure it out together.” Harry said with a gentle tone. Ginny’s nervous demeanor made her look cuter than Harry thought possible.

Ginny stared into Harry’s eyes, unspoken love in her gaze. Her fingers slid over him through his robes, while Harry’s hand slowly guided her, encouraging her forward. Every touch made a thrill run through them - the air was charged with something magical.

“I like it when you take the lead…” Ginny whispered, almost embarrassed to admit it. But growing bolder by the second.

Harry’s eyes were locked on hers, his breathing heavy, his gaze almost predatory. “Then don’t hold back now,” he said firmly. “I want to feel you.”

Ginny nodded, a small shy laugh escaping her. “Okay… Okay, then,” she whispered. Her hand moving deliberately now. Further and further down his robes. Confidence blooming with Harry’s encouragement.

She finally reached his member, which pulsed with heat and excitement. Ginny seemed to jump slightly, almost surprised by it, before grabbing hold firmly. Harry sighed as he felt Ginny’s firm grip wrap around him. Her eyes staring into his.

“Am I doing it right?” She asked with a trembling tone.

“Yeah, that’s perfect Ginny, you can start moving,” Harry said with a groan, it felt better than he could have predicted.

Ginny began moving up and down Harry’s length, at first unsure, but growing in both confidence and speed by the second. She even looked down to examine him fully after a minute or two

Harry’s groans seemed to excite her more and more, and soon she was back to her cocky, confident self.

“You like that?” Ginny whispered into his ear.

“God yes!” Harry groaned out, enjoying every sensation.

“Just relax Harry, let me take care of you…” Ginny whispered.

It wasn’t long before Harry had reached his limit. “Ginny… I’m so close…”

Ginny increased her speed, excitement clear in her bright eyes. Finally, Harry released, it felt dizzying, leaving him breathless and flushed.

The floor was now covered, and Ginny couldn’t help but stare at the result of their ‘little fun’. She rested her head on his chest, eyes twinkling with satisfaction and awe.

“Wow… That was…” She said, speechless.

Harry gave her a small smile and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. “Yeah, wow.”

They stayed wrapped in each others arms, letting the empty classroom hold them still for a few moments longer. Their breathing finally returned to normal, and the flushes covering their faces disappeared.

Finally, Ginny pulled back slightly, giving him a playful nudge. “We should probably clean up… get ready for Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded, still smiling, brushing a hand over her hair. “Yeah… but I’m glad we had this time first. We needed it.”

“Definitely,” Ginny whispered, her eyes shining with affection and satisfaction. “Definitely.”

They managed to return the classroom back to it’s old boring self via a few cleaning charms, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley.

“You know when mom told me I’d need these spells one day this isn’t quite what I imagined.” Ginny said with a humorous tone.

Harry laughed, the atmosphere changing back into the relaxed yet intimate tone they were used to.

It wasn’t long before Harry was trouncing his way through deserted corridors, trying to find his way to Dumbledore’s office. Though he had to step behind a statue of what appeared to be a mermaid playing a harp when Professor Trelawny appeared around a corner, holding a pack of playing cards and muttering to herself.

“Ace of hearts: union,” she murmured, eyes narrowing as the cards whispered under her fingers. “Seven of spades: conflict. Ten of spades: danger in the dark. King of clubs: a looming shadow…

She stopped as if frozen, right next to the statue Harry was hiding behind.

“Well that can’t be right!” She huffed, annoyed. Harry could hear her vigorously reshuffling her cards as she walked away. Leaving a scent trail that reminded Harry of cooking sherry behind her as she walked. Her large round glasses shimmering from the torchlight.

Harry quickly made his way through a couple more corridors and staircases until he finally reached that familiar tall gargoyle.

“Acid Pops” Harry spoke, and the gargoyle shifted aside. Leaving a wall behind it that quickly shifted aside, a spiral staircase was revealed, onto which Harry quickly stepped.

Harry made his way up the stone steps, reaching a grand wooden door with a brass knocker on it.
Harry knocked, the thumping noise echoing in the staircase.

“Come in,” Dumbledore’s voice said from within.

“Good evening sir,” said Harry, walking into the headmaster’s office. The space was littered with old tomes and strange magical artifacts and machines that whirred every now and then.

“Ah! Good evening, Harry. Sit down,” said Dumbledore with a smile, gesturing to the empty seat in front of him. “I hope you’ve had an enjoyable first week back at school?”

“Yes, it’s good to be back, sir” Harry said, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

“And busy too I see, already a detention under your belt!” Dumbledore said with a teasing smile.

“Er…” Harry began, disappointed that Dumbledore had realised.

“I have arranged with Professor Snape for your detention to be served next saturday, instead.”

“Right, too bad...” Harry said, turning his attention onto the matter at hand.

The office looked normal, the strange whirring machines in their place, portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed off in their frames, Fawkes stood on his perch and watched Harry with interest. Not even any place had been cleared for dueling.

“So, Harry,” Dumbledore said in a businesslike tone. “I’m sure you’re wondering what our plans are for our - for lack of a better word - lessons?”

“Yes, sir. That did cross my mind.”

“Well I have decided, it is time for you to be given certain information, for you to know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try to kill you fifteen years ago, and for you to learn what Voldemorts secrets truly are.”

There was a pause.

“You said, at the end of last term, that you were going to tell me everything…” Harry said, annoyance clear in his voice. Dumbledore was once again hiding things, playing games. “Sir,” he added.

“And so I did,” Dumbledore said, trying to placate. “I told you everything I know, and from this moment on, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and entering into the murky marshes of memory and into thickets of guesswork.” Dumbledore said with a poetic flare.

“But you must at the very least think you’re right if you’re showing me this.” Harry added, his voice still a bit tense.

“Naturally, I do, but as time has shown, I can be wrong from time to time, even if I am - forgive me - more clever than most.” Dumbledore said.

“And what you’re going to tell me will help me to survive? to fight?” Harry said.

“I certainly hope so, I do hope you never have to fight again though… but should the situation come to it, I want you to be prepared.”

Dumbledore got up and walked around his desk, past Harry, and over to a cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore emerged, he was holding a familiar stone basin with odd markings around the rim. A Pensieve.

“It’s time we enter the pensieve together Harry. This time with permission though.” Dumbledore said, lifting the Pensieve onto a table.

“And where will we be going to, sir?”

“A trip down Bob Ogden’s memory lane…” Dumbledore said, pulling a crystal bottle containing a silvery-white strand.

“Who’s Bob Ogden?” Harry asked, confused by the unfamiliar name.

“A former employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” said Dumbledore. “He died some time ago, but I managed to get this memory before his passing. We are about to accompany him during one of his visits during his course of duty.”

Harry got another look at Dumbledore’s injured hand, while he held the bottle. It was black, almost rotting and cracked. It seemed completely dead, yet somehow still seemed to retain some functionality.

“Sir - is your hand okay? How did you injure it?” Harry asked, somewhat concerned.

“Now is not the time, Harry, not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden.”

Harry felt that familiar tinge of irritation. A tinge of worry at Dumbledore’s health and frustration that he was once again deflecting.

Dumbledore tipped the silvery-white strand into the Pensieve, where it swirled and shimmered.

“After you,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to Harry.

Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor, falling through whirling darkness until suddenly he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Dumbledore landed beside him.

They stood in a country lane bordered by high hedgerows beneath a brilliant summer sky. A short, plump man with enormously thick glasses stood reading a wooden signpost. He wore a bizarre combination of frock coat and spats over a striped bathing costume - clearly a wizard trying to dress like a Muggle.

"That must be Ogden," Harry muttered as the man set off down the lane.

They followed, passing signs pointing to Great Hangleton and Little Hangleton. The lane curved and sloped steeply downhill, revealing a valley with a village nestled between hills and a handsome manor house on the opposite slope.

But they weren't heading for either. Ogden turned through a gap in the hedge onto a narrow, rocky dirt track that led toward dark trees. Hidden among the tangled trunks was a ramshackle cottage, its walls mossy, roof tiles missing, nettles growing up to grimy windows. A thin wisp of smoke suggested someone lived there, and a dead snake was nailed to the front door.

Suddenly a man in rags dropped from a tree, landing in front of Ogden. He had matted hair, missing teeth, and eyes that stared in opposite directions. Most unnervingly, he held both a wand and a bloody knife.

"You're not welcome," the man said, though Harry realized whoever the man was, he was speaking in Parseltongue.

"Er - good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic-" Ogden began nervously.

"You're not welcome." The man hissed again.

Before Ogden could respond, there was a bang and he was on the ground, yellow goo squirting from his nose where he'd been hexed.

"Morfin!" shouted a voice from the cottage.

An elderly man emerged - short, oddly proportioned with broad shoulders and overlong arms. His scrubby hair and wrinkled face gave him the look of an aged monkey.

"Ministry, is it?" he said, looking down at the fallen Ogden.

"Correct!" Ogden said angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"That's right. Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you? This is private property."

After healing his nose, Ogden explained he was there about Morfin's attack on a Muggle. Gaunt's response was to demand whether Ogden was pure-blood and sneer about his "muggle nose."

"I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl-"

"I've no use for owls. Don't open letters."

After a few minutes of back and forth bickering, Gaunt grudgingly led them inside the squalid cottage. Morfin sat by a smoking fire, twisting a live snake between his fingers and crooning to it in Parseltongue. In the corner, nearly invisible against the dirty stone wall, stood a girl in a ragged gray dress. Her lank hair hung around a plain, defeated face, and like her brother, her eyes stared in opposite directions.

"My daughter, Merope," Gaunt said grudgingly when Ogden glanced at her.

She didn't respond, just continued shifting pots on a grimy shelf with frightened, trembling hands.

When Ogden explained about Morfin performing magic on a Muggle, Merope dropped a pot with a deafening clang.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed. "Grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle! What's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

Merope's hands shook so badly that when she tried to repair the pot magically, it shot across the room and cracked in two. Morfin cackled with laughter while Gaunt screamed at her to mend it. Ogden finally had to fix it himself.

"Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here," Gaunt jeered. "Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs-"

As Ogden tried to continue his business, the sound of horses and laughing voices drifted through the window. Gaunt froze, Morfin's expression turned hungry, and Merope raised her head, her face going stark white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"

"It's not ours," replied a young man. "That cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt. The son's quite mad-"

The girl laughed as the sounds grew louder.

"Tom, I might be wrong, but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"

"Good lord, you're right! Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling."

As the voices faded, Morfin whispered in Parseltongue, "'Darling,' he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."

Merope looked ready to faint.

"What's that?" Gaunt snapped, also switching to Parseltongue. "What did you say?"

"She likes looking at that Muggle," Morfin said viciously, staring at his terrified sister. "Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge. And last night, hanging out the window waiting for him to ride home."

"Hanging out the window to look at a Muggle?" Gaunt said in a deadly voice, advancing on his daughter. "My daughter - pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin - hankering after a filthy Muggle?"

Merope pressed herself against the wall, shaking her head frantically.

"But I got him!" Morfin cackled. "I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him!"

"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy blood traitor!" Gaunt roared, lunging forward and closing his hands around his daughter's throat.

"No!" both Harry and Ogden yelled. Ogden raised his wand. "Relashio!"

Gaunt was thrown backward, tripping over a chair. With a roar of rage, Morfin leaped up and ran at Ogden, brandishing his knife and firing hexes wildly.

Ogden ran for his life, with Dumbledore indicating they should follow. Merope's screams echoed behind them as they fled up the path onto the main lane, where Ogden collided with the chestnut horse ridden by a handsome, dark-haired young man - Tom Riddle Sr. Both he and the pretty girl beside him roared with laughter at the dust-covered, fleeing Ministry official.

"I think that will do," said Dumbledore, taking Harry's elbow. They soared through darkness back to the office.

"What happened to the girl?" Harry asked immediately as they landed back in Dumbledore's office. "Merope?"

"She survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself and gesturing for Harry to sit. "Ogden returned with reinforcements, and arrested both men after a fight. Morfin got three years in Azkaban for his record of Muggle attacks, while Marvolo received six months for injuring ministry workers."

"Marvolo," Harry repeated, the pieces clicking together. "That was Voldemort's grandfather, wasn't it?."

"Very astute, Harry. Yes, the Gaunts were Voldemort's maternal family - the last of an ancient wizarding line that had deteriorated through generations of inbreeding and violence."

Harry's mind raced ahead. "And the man on horseback - Tom Riddle Senior. He was Voldemort's father." He paused, frowning. "But how did someone like Merope end up with him? She was terrified of her own shadow."

"An excellent question. What do you think happened once her father and brother were safely in Azkaban?"

Harry considered what he'd seen - Merope's desperate longing as she watched Tom ride past, her family's obsession with blood purity, her obvious magical ability despite appearing so defeated. "She was free for the first time in her life. And she was a witch." His eyes widened with understanding. "She enchanted him somehow. Imperious curse? A love potion?"

"I believe the latter. Easily administered - a cool drink on a hot day from a seemingly harmless girl."

"But it didn't last…" Harry said

"I believe she stopped dosing him. Perhaps she hoped he'd learned to love her genuinely, or would stay for their child's sake. She was tragically wrong. He left her while pregnant and never looked back."

Harry felt the weight of it. "So Voldemort was born from a lie. False love created through magical coercion."

"Indeed. His mother died shortly after his birth, choosing death over a world without the love she thought she'd found."

"Sir," he said finally, "is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"

"Very important, I think."

"And it's got something to do with the prophecy?"

"It has everything to do with the prophecy." Dumbledore's voice was gentle but certain.

Harry nodded slowly, feeling both confused and oddly reassured. He stood to leave, then paused.

"Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?"

Dumbledore considered this. "Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be wise if word got around how much we know about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

Harry hesitated. "What about Ginny, sir? She's... well, she's important to me, and I trust her completely."

A knowing smile played at the corners of Dumbledore's mouth. "Ah, the fervor of young love. Yes, Harry, I believe Miss Weasley has proven herself quite trustworthy. It’s good to see you’ve found real companionship, even in these trying times."

Harry felt his cheeks burn. "I... yes, sir."

As Harry turned to go, he spotted something that made him freeze. Sitting on one of the spindle-legged tables was an gold ring set with a large, cracked black stone.

"Sir," he said, staring at it. "That ring - you were wearing it when we visited Slughorn. But isn't it the same one Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"

"The very same," Dumbledore confirmed.

"How did you get it? Have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently. A few days before I came to fetch you from your relatives, in fact."

Harry's eyes moved to Dumbledore's blackened hand. "That would be around the time you injured your hand."

"Around that time, yes."

"So what exactly is it-"

"Too late, Harry!" Dumbledore said with a smile. "You shall hear that story another time. But before you go..." His expression grew more serious.

"I'm sure you've noticed the comet that has been gracing our skies recently."

Harry paused. "The bright one? Yes, sir."

"The Celestial Wanderer, at least that’s what some records call it, appears roughly every seventy years, and its presence is... significant. Though I must confess, our understanding of its influence remains incomplete." Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "What we do know is that it seems to affect certain individuals more than others - those with particular magical gifts or bloodlines, though the pattern is not entirely clear."

"What kind of effects, sir?"

"Amplified emotions, heightened magical abilities, sometimes prophetic dreams or visions. The last time it appeared was in the early 1920s, just before Grindelwald began his rise to power. Whether there was a connection..." Dumbledore trailed off meaningfully.

Harry felt a chill. "Do you think it's affecting me?"

"I suspect it may be, though in what ways, I cannot say. The comet's influence is subtle and often goes unrecognized until after the fact."
Dumbledore's blue eyes studied Harry carefully. "Simply be aware that strong feelings - whether love, anger, or ambition - may feel more urgent than usual in the coming months."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, sir."

"I'm sure you will. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, sir."

Harry left the office with his mind spinning, the weight of Voldemort's twisted origins heavy on his thoughts, and Dumbledore's warning about the comet echoing in his ears.

Chapter Text

Hermione had been right as expected. The free periods of sixth year were not the blissful relaxation Ron had hoped for, but just time in which they could attempt to keep up with the mountains of homework given to them.

To Harry's surprise, potions had gone from his worst subject to nearly his best subject in only a week, the Half-Blood Prince's notes assisting him. He also noticed a good amount of improvement in his DADA classes, the nonverbal magic, which Snape was now expecting in his classes, came easier to Harry than any other student.

It wasn't an uncommon sight to see a few N.E.W.T level students standing around in the common room, their faces purple and straining, like they had taken a large dose of the Weasley twins' U-No-Poo. But he knew they were just desperately struggling to make spells work without saying them.

All the other classes had started getting more difficult as well. They were dealing with large Venomous Tentacula in Herbology, which had a nasty tendency to throw students around.

One of the results of their enormous workload was that Harry had not been able to setup the D.A. club yet. He had already planned out who to invite, and even the fact they would be using the abandoned classroom Ginny had found. It was sad to have to sacrifice their private space, but it was worth it.

Harry felt that using the Room of Requirement was not the best idea, as he had no idea who else knew about it, or if the room would somehow freak out at the large level of magic they would be using, and he didn't want to risk some type of freak accident.

"That's it. We're doing it." He announced to Ron, Ginny and Hermione one afternoon in the common room.

"Doing what? More studying?" Ron asked, exasperated.

"No, that club I was talking about. It's about time we get started, it should help with our classes too." Harry said, and Ron let out a sigh of relief.

"What about Dumbledore? Have you asked him?" Hermione asked.

"I did, he said it was okay... just told us to be careful." Harry said. He had in fact sent Dumbledore a note, although how much he'd revealed about the club's intended activities was another thing entirely.

"Okay well we're in Harry. Just tell us when and where, okay?" Ginny said from beside him.

"Mhmm" Harry hummed, plans forming in his mind.

Harry spent the next few days finding opportunities to approach the others. The first chance came when he, Ron, and Hermione were studying in the library one afternoon, their essays spread between them. At a nearby table, he could hear Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein discussing something in hushed tones about increased security at the Ministry.

"This is hopeless," Hermione muttered, scratching out another line. "How are we supposed to write three feet on the theoretical applications of human transfiguration when McGonagall won't let us actually try it?"

"At least you're not stuck on Snape's essay about nonverbal spell theory," Harry said, glancing up from his parchment. "He wants us to analyze why some wizards struggle more than others, but I can't exactly write 'because Snape makes everyone nervous.'"

"Oh please, Harry," Hermione said with sudden impatience. "Half the school would probably help you write it if you asked. You're more popular than ever."

Ron made a choking sound. "Popular? Since when is Harry popular?"

"Since everyone finally admitted he was right about You-Know-Who," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Everyone knows you're the Chosen One now, Harry. You've faced him and lived to tell about it. Twice. Plus you've gotten much taller over the summer."

"I'm tall too," Ron said defensively.

Harry couldn't deny he'd noticed the change. The way conversations quieted when he walked by, how younger students looked at him with something approaching awe, the number of people who suddenly wanted his help with Defense work. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, if he was being honest, though sometimes he wondered if the attention was deserved or if people were just desperate for someone to look up to.

"It's not just that though," Hermione continued. "You stood by your story even when the Ministry was calling you unstable. People admire that kind of integrity."

"And it doesn't hurt that you actually know what you're talking about now," Ron added quietly, though there was something slightly strained about his tone.

Before Harry could respond, Susan's voice called softly from the next row of shelves.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" She appeared around the corner carrying a stack of Defense books, which pushed out her already large chest even further and made Ron’s face go blank, like he’d seen a Veela again. Her face brightening when she saw them. "I thought I recognized those voices."

"Susan," Harry said, genuinely pleased to see her.

"Studying for Snape's Defense class?" Hermione asked.

"Attempting to," Susan said, settling into the chair beside them. She glanced at Harry with obvious admiration. "Though I have to admit, after seeing what you accomplished at the Ministry... well, some of us feel rather inadequate in comparison."

"See?" Hermione said pointedly.

Harry felt a small surge of satisfaction rather than embarrassment. "We're all still learning," he said modestly, though he didn't deflect the praise entirely.

"You seem different this year, Harry," Susan continued, her cheeks turning pink. "More sure of yourself. More..." She searched for the right word. "Capable, I suppose."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

Harry caught Ron's look but didn't feel the need to downplay Susan's words. Instead, he smiled. "Well, I suppose I have picked up a few things along the way."

"Actually," Harry said, leaning forward slightly, "that's something I wanted to discuss with you. We're considering starting a more practical Defense study group."

Susan's eyes widened with interest. "Like the D.A. last year?"

"Similar concept," Hermione said, "but more focused on current... realities."

"You mean preparing for what's coming," Susan said quietly, her voice taking on a harder edge. Around them, the library felt unusually tense. Students spoke in hushed whispers, and every rustle of parchment seemed louder than usual.

Harry nodded, though part of him wondered if they were really ready for whatever might be coming. "There have been more incidents lately. The Prophet's not reporting everything, but people are getting worried letters from home. We can't just sit here learning theory while the situation gets worse."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Dad did mention that they're getting more reports at work. Things that don't make it into the papers."

Susan's jaw tightened, and for a moment her usual gentle demeanor cracked completely. "My aunt knew more defensive magic than almost anyone in the Ministry. She was Head of Magical Law Enforcement. But it wasn't enough when they came for her." Her hands clenched into fists. "If there's a chance to learn something that might actually matter... that might prevent what happened to her from happening to someone else..."

"That's exactly what we're thinking," Harry said, and something in his tone made both Ron and Hermione glance at him. There was an intensity there that hadn't been present in the old D.A. discussions. Something that suggested he was prepared to go further than before if necessary.

"When would we start?" Susan asked.

"Soon," Harry said. "I just need to speak with a few more people first."

Later that evening, Harry found Lavender alone by the common room fire, a raunchy romance novel in her lap but her eyes red from recent tears.

"Everything alright?" he asked, settling into the chair across from her.

Lavender looked up, quickly trying to compose herself. "Oh! Harry!" She attempted her usual bright smile, but it wavered. "Just tired from all the coursework."

Harry waited, and after a moment her facade crumbled slightly.

"Mum's been sending rather frantic letters," she admitted quietly. "She keeps including clippings from the Prophet about all the... unpleasantness. She thinks I should consider coming home for safety."

"What do you think?"

"I want to stay," Lavender said immediately, then looked uncertain. "But Harry, what if I'm not strong enough for whatever's coming? What if when something actually happens, I just panic?"

Harry studied her face, seeing something he hadn't noticed before. Beneath the bubbly exterior was a girl who'd been thinking seriously about the world around them. "What makes you think you would panic?"

"Because I'm not like you," she said simply. "You've stared down You-Know-Who and survived. I struggle with basic Shield Charms half the time."

"You might be surprised by what you're capable of when it matters," Harry said. "Besides, struggling with something is just the first step to getting better at it."

As he explained the defense group, Lavender's expression shifted from uncertainty to determination. "You really think I could learn to be... useful? Instead of just someone who needs protecting?"

"I think you're tougher than most people realize," Harry said, and meant it. "Including yourself."

The next morning at breakfast, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual mix of academic stress and underlying anxiety that had become the norm. Harry spotted Luna and Neville near the Ravenclaw table, Luna apparently trying to comfort a visibly shaken Neville.

"The Blibbering Humdingers are particularly active this time of year," Luna was saying in her dreamy voice as Harry approached. "They feed on worry, you know."

"Luna, I don't think magical creatures are causing..." Neville began, then stopped when he saw Harry. "Oh, morning Harry."

"Morning," Harry said. Neville looked more rattled than usual. "What's wrong?"

Neville glanced around nervously before speaking. "Gran received another letter yesterday. Anonymous, but... they knew things about our family. About what happened to my parents." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "They said they remembered what they'd done, and they weren't finished with the Longbottom family yet."

Harry’s eyes unconsciously moved to the Slytherin table, to Malfoy. He seemed to be his normal, pompous self, but there was something a bit off about him. He seemed on edge, eyes scanning the room every few seconds.

Malfoy looked over to where Harry was standing and they locked eyes. The room seemed to dim as they stared at each other. After a few seconds, Malfoy looked away, grabbed something from the table and started walking out.

"That's horrible, Neville. No wonder you're upset." Luna's expression grew less dreamy and more focused.

"Have you reported it to the Aurors?" Harry turned back to Neville, his voice carrying concern and anger.

"Gran did, but they said there's not much they can do about anonymous threats." Neville's hands shook slightly. "She says we won't be intimidated, but I can tell she's worried."

"Fear is perfectly reasonable when there are genuinely frightening things happening," Luna said matter-of-factly. "The question is what you do with that fear." She paused, then added in a sing-song tone, "Though I suppose that's easier to say than to actually do."

Harry leaned forward, something sharp and focused in his expression. "Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to both of you about."

As he explained his plan, Neville's fear didn't disappear, but it transformed into something harder, more resolved. Luna listened with her usual dreamy attention, though she occasionally asked surprisingly practical questions.

"You really think learning more could help?" Neville asked quietly. "Against people like... like the ones who hurt my parents?"

"I think we can't afford not to try," Harry said, and there was an edge to his voice that made both Luna and Neville pay closer attention. Part of him wondered if he was leading them into something they weren't ready for, but another part of him was tired of feeling helpless. If Death Eaters wanted to threaten people like Neville, they should be prepared for consequences.

Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think that sounds quite sensible. My father always says the best way to deal with Nargles is to be prepared for them, even if you're not entirely sure what they'll do."

"Are we plotting something dangerous?" Neville asked, and there was both fear and hope in his voice.

Harry considered the question seriously. Were they? He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he found that the uncertainty didn't bother him as much as it should have. "We're preparing to defend ourselves and the people we care about. If that's dangerous to some, then so be it."

By the next evening, Harry stood in the abandoned classroom with his seven recruits, feeling the familiar weight of leadership settling on his shoulders. But unlike the previous year's D.A., this felt different. More urgent, more necessary. The faces looking back at him held a mixture of fear and determination that matched his own conflicted feelings about what they were starting.

"Right," Harry began, his voice carrying quiet authority. "I know we're all here for different reasons, but we're all here because we know what we're learning in class isn't sufficient anymore."

He paused, letting his eyes move across each face. Ron, loyal but trying to hide his own fears. Hermione, practical and determined as always. Ginny, fierce and ready for whatever came next. Susan, burning with quiet anger over her aunt's death. Luna, serene but watchful in her peculiar way. Neville, frightened but resolved to honor his parents' memory. And Lavender, scared but trying desperately to find her courage.

"This isn't going to be like last year's D.A.," Harry continued, and felt a small flutter of uncertainty about whether he was making the right choice. But he pushed it aside. They needed to be ready.

"We're not preparing for exams or trying to spite a terrible teacher. We're preparing for a war that's already started, whether the Ministry wants to admit it or not."

The room was very quiet.

"I want everyone to understand what that means," Harry said, his voice steady despite his own doubts.

"We're going to learn spells that could seriously hurt someone. We're going to practice scenarios where the goal isn't to disarm or stun, but to stop someone who's trying to kill you or the people you care about." He met each of their eyes in turn.

"If anyone's not comfortable with that, there's no shame in leaving now."

No one moved.

"Good," Harry said, and found that he meant it. Perhaps they weren't ready, perhaps he wasn't the right person to lead them, but they were going to try anyway. Because the alternative was to wait helplessly for whatever came next.

"Then let's get started."

Harry moved to the center of the room, feeling the familiar thrill of being watched, of having people hang on his words. It was intoxicating in a way he was still getting used to.

"We'll start with something practical," he said, pulling out his wand. "The Protean Charm variant I'm about to show you isn't in any textbook. It creates a defensive barrier that can deflect multiple curses simultaneously."

Hermione's hand shot up immediately. "Harry, where did you learn this? It sounds like advanced Auror training."

Harry hesitated for just a moment. He couldn't exactly explain that he'd found it scribbled in the margins of the Half-Blood Prince's book alongside what looked like original spell modifications. "I've been doing some... independent research."

"Right then," Harry said, raising his wand. "The incantation is 'Scutum Multiplex.' The wand movement is a clockwise circle followed by a sharp downward slash."

He demonstrated, and a shimmering silver barrier appeared in front of him, wider and more substantial than a normal Shield Charm. "Who wants to try first?"

Susan stepped forward immediately, her jaw set with determination. "I'll do it."

"Alright, but remember, it requires more focus than a standard Shield Charm. You need to visualize the barrier expanding outward." Harry watched her first attempt, noting how her grip was too tight on her wand.

"Susan, try loosening your grip slightly. You're fighting the magic instead of guiding it."

She adjusted her hold and tried again. This time the shield appeared, wavering but visible.

"Better," Harry said, moving closer. "The visualization is the key. Think of it as extending your magical presence outward." He stood beside her, close enough that she glanced at him with obvious admiration. "Try once more."

Susan's third attempt produced a steadier shield, and she looked to Harry for approval, her cheeks slightly pink.

"Brilliant," he said, and watched her face light up at the praise.

Neville went next, managing a weak but visible barrier after several attempts. His confidence seemed to grow with each success, though Harry noticed he still jumped slightly whenever someone spoke to him.

Luna produced a shield that had an odd, almost translucent quality to it, as if it were made of moonlight rather than magic.

"Interesting variation," Harry said, genuinely curious. "How did you manage that effect?"

"I was thinking about how Nargles move through solid objects," Luna said dreamily. "I thought perhaps the barrier should be permeable to harmless intentions but solid against harmful ones."

Hermione looked fascinated despite herself. "Luna, that's actually quite advanced magical theory. Intent-based filtration charms are incredibly complex."

When it came to Lavender's turn, she struggled with the wand movement, her shield flickering and failing repeatedly.

"I can't get it right," she said, frustration creeping into her voice.

"The problem isn't your technique," Harry said gently, moving to stand in front of her. "You're doubting yourself before you even cast. Magic responds to confidence." He met her eyes steadily.

"You're more capable than you think, Lavender. Trust that."

Lavender bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay. I'll try."

Her next attempt produced a small but stable shield. She looked up at Harry with delight, stepping closer to him. "Did you see that? It worked!"

"I knew it would," Harry said, and Lavender beamed at his confidence in her, staying close to his side even as they moved on to the next person.

From across the room, Harry caught Ginny watching the interaction with an expression he couldn't quite read. Not jealousy, exactly, but something more complex. Almost like... satisfaction?

"Right," Harry said. "Let's try something more advanced. Ron, Ginny, you've both been quiet."

Ron had managed the basic shield easily enough, his natural magical power making up for any lack of finesse. Ginny's shield was nearly as strong as Harry's own, crackling with energy that suggested she'd put considerable force behind it.

"Show-off," Ron muttered, but he was grinning.

"Just because you're holding back doesn't mean the rest of us should," Ginny shot back with a smirk.

Harry felt a surge of pride watching her. Ginny had always been magically gifted, but she seemed more confident now, more willing to display her abilities.

"Now for something more... practical," Harry said, and his tone grew more serious. "The Cutting Curse. It's not technically Dark Magic, but it can cause serious harm if used improperly."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, are you sure we should be learning potentially dangerous spells? What if someone gets hurt?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Yeah, mate, this feels a bit... dark. Are we sure this is the right path?"

"If someone's trying to kill you, a Disarming Charm might not be enough," Harry said bluntly. "The incantation is 'Diffindo,' but with a specific wand movement that increases the power significantly."

He demonstrated on a piece of conjured wood, which split cleanly in half with a sharp crack.

"The key is controlling the depth and direction of the cut," Harry continued, and part of him was surprised by how comfortable he felt teaching this. A year ago, the idea of teaching potentially harmful magic would have bothered him more.

"Too much power and you could seriously injure someone. Too little and it's useless in a real fight."

Susan stepped forward again, her expression grim. "Show me."

As the lesson continued, Harry found himself paying attention to more than just their magical progress. The group dynamics were already forming in interesting ways.

Hermione remained cautious but thorough, taking careful notes on everything. Ron provided steady support and occasional humor to lighten the mood. Neville surprised everyone, including himself, with his determination to master each spell despite his obvious fear.

But it was the way Susan and Lavender responded to his teaching that caught Harry's attention most. Both sought out his individual guidance, and both seemed to find excuses for physical contact during the lessons. Susan's touches were more subtle but deliberate, while Lavender was more openly affectionate, often staying close to him even after he'd finished helping her.

And Ginny... Ginny watched it all with that same satisfied expression, as if seeing other girls drawn to Harry pleased her rather than bothered her.

After an hour of intensive practice, Harry called a halt to the session. "That's enough for tonight. You've all done well."

As the group began to disperse, packing away their things and making plans for the next meeting, Harry caught Hermione pulling Ginny aside near the door.

"Ginny, can I have a word?" Hermione asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Harry pretended to be organizing his notes while listening to their conversation.

"Is everything alright between you and Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. "I've noticed some... interesting things tonight."

Ginny's response was more direct than Harry expected. "You mean Susan and Lavender?"

"Well... yes," Hermione said, sounding slightly taken aback by Ginny's bluntness. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Should it?" Ginny asked with a slight smile. "Harry's attractive, powerful, and charismatic. Of course other girls are going to notice. And honestly..." She paused, then continued more quietly. "I find it rather exciting. Seeing how much other people want him, knowing that he's chosen to be with me."

Hermione was quiet for a long moment. "Ginny, that's... are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

"I'm sure," Ginny said firmly. "Harry deserves to be appreciated for once. And if I can share that with people I trust and care about... well, there are worse problems to have."

Harry felt something shift in his chest at her words. He'd known Ginny was confident and secure, but this level of openness was beyond what he'd expected. And if he was being honest with himself, the idea of being with both Ginny and possibly others wasn't entirely unwelcome.

The group finished packing up, and they made their way back toward the main corridors in small groups to avoid attracting attention. Harry walked with Ron, Hermione and Lavender, while Ginny said goodnight to Susan before catching up with them. Luna and Neville had already disappeared toward their respective rooms.

"That went well," Ron said, though he sounded slightly uncertain. "Though some of those spells were more intense than I expected."

"Harry knows what he's doing," Hermione said, but there was something thoughtful in her voice. "I just hope we're all ready for where this might lead."

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was snoring lightly in her frame. As they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room, Harry noticed an elegant piece of parchment waiting for him on the table by his usual chair. Lavender had already gone up to bed, leaving the common room mostly empty.

The handwriting was unfamiliar but clearly expensive, written with what looked like golden ink. Harry picked it up and read:

*Mr. Potter,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a small gathering in my office this Friday evening at eight o'clock. A few select students will be in attendance for what I believe will be a most illuminating event.

Light refreshments will be provided.

Most cordially yours, Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

P.S. I do hope you'll bring along Miss Weasley. I understand she has quite a talent for the Bat-Bogey Hex.*

Harry stared at the invitation, recognizing Slughorn's distinctive handwriting. After their conversation on the train and Harry's recent success in Potions class, he'd been expecting something like this.
"What's that?" Ron asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Invitation from Slughorn," Harry said. "For Friday evening."

"Friday?" Hermione frowned. "That's tomorrow night."

"And he wants you there too, Ginny. Something about your Bat-Bogey Hex."

"Oh!" Ginny's face lit up with surprise. "That must be from when I hexed Zacharias Smith in the corridor last week. Slughorn was walking by and looked impressed. I thought I would get detention but he just smiled and walked away." She looked pleased with herself. "I suppose it was rather spectacular."

"Why would he invite you to a party for casting a hex on someone?" Ron asked, confused.

"Maybe he likes impressive magic?" Ginny suggested with a shrug.

Harry looked at the invitation again. "Well, I suppose we'll find out what he wants tomorrow night."

"Should be interesting," Ginny said, though she looked curious rather than worried.

Chapter Text

The next evening arrived with an unusual mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Harry adjusted his dress robes one final time before meeting Ginny outside the portrait hole.

As they made their way through the corridors toward the dungeons, Harry found himself wondering exactly what Slughorn had planned - and more importantly, what the professor wanted from him.

Slughorn's office had been completely transformed. The usually cramped space had been magically expanded to accommodate all the students, all mingling beneath floating candles and tasteful golden ribbons that caught the warm light.

Multiple tables lined the walls, laden with refreshments ranging from pumpkin juice and butterbeer to what Harry recognized as expensive firewhisky - complete with a small, neat sign declaring it "For Students of Age Only."

The office bore little resemblance to its usual cluttered state, with elegant furniture replacing Slughorn's usual mismatched chairs, and rich tapestries depicting various magical achievements adorning the walls.

"Ah! Harry! Come on in, and Miss Weasley, a pleasure to see you." Slughorn called out warmly, weaving toward them through the crowd. His robes strained slightly across his considerable belly, and Harry could see the flush in his cheeks and the merry gleam in his eyes that suggested he'd already sampled the firewhisky.

"Professor," Harry said politely, shaking Slughorn's hand while Ginny offered a warm smile beside him. Harry glanced around the room, recognizing several faces but wondering what they all had in common that had earned them an invitation.

"Thank you for the invitation. I have to ask though - what's the occasion?"

"Oh, not to worry, my boy! I just thought it would be good to gather everyone together at the start of term. Foster a little fraternity, make some connections!" Slughorn said with a hearty laugh, though Harry caught something calculating in his eyes that suggested there was more to it than simple socializing.

"Now come in, come in!" Slughorn insisted. "We have a variety of refreshments here, so feel free to enjoy yourselves! Just make sure not to get too carried away with the firewhisky," Slughorn added the last part with a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'll see you two later, I'm afraid I must go greet some new arrivals!" Slughorn said, looking toward the door where Harry could see Pansy Parkinson entering, her calculating gaze sweeping over the room.

Slughorn bustled his way over to her as Harry and Ginny made their way further into the party.

Harry took Ginny's hand and felt the warmth of it radiate through his arm. The warm candlelight and soft murmur of conversation created an atmosphere that felt slightly intoxicating, even without a drink.
Though Harry couldn't quite shake the feeling that they weren't here just for a social gathering, despite Slughorn's claims.

"This is a lot more elaborate than I was expecting," Ginny said, gripping Harry's arm tighter. "Now I feel bad that I wore an old dress."

"Don't worry, you look great as always," Harry said, looking over at Ginny, who seemed pleased. "Though I can't help but wonder who else made the guest list."

Harry looked around the room, spotting familiar faces. Blaise Zabini stood near the corner, seemingly lost in thought. Cormac McLaggen hovered over the firewhisky table, along with some younger students and other faces he recognized from Slughorn's train compartment. It seemed everyone here had something in common - good grades, exceptional talent, or famous relatives.

Harry led Ginny over to the refreshment table, weaving in between a few sets of younger students, whose gazes seemed to linger on him. He grabbed a couple butterbeers and handed one to Ginny.

At that moment, a familiar face walked in. Hermione entered, looking somewhat flustered as she took in the transformed office. Her hair was tamed into elegant waves that rippled down her back and she wore a light pink dress that reminded Harry of the Yule Ball.

Harry felt surprised. He knew Hermione was a brilliant and beautiful witch, but he had never really thought about her that way. But now as she walked in, Harry could see the soft candlelight reflect off her brown eyes and her cute button nose, making him feel strange inside.

“Hermione?” Harry called out, confused.

Hermione looked over, spotted them and made her way over.

“Hi Harry, Ginny!” Hermione said, still seemingly impressed by the office.”The expansion charms on this place are impressive!”

“Why are you here? Or I mean, you got invited too?” Harry corrected himself.

“Yeah, I got the invite earlier today, I wasn’t sure I’d come so I didn’t mention, but Ron was moping about not being invited so I decided this would be a little less irritating,” Hermione explained.

The three of them found a relatively peaceful area near the edge of the extended office.

“I have to admit,” Hermione said, taking a sip of her butterbeer. “This is a lot nicer than I was expecting… I was afraid this would be a dingy or awkward get together.”

“It certainly is a lot…” Harry said, looking around the room.

“Well if you’re trying to impress ‘The Chosen One’” I suppose you have to pull out all the stops, Ginny laughed. Harry rolled his eyes, but a slight smile quirked at his lips.

“I’ll go grab us more drinks,” Harry said, noting their almost empty butterbeer bottles.

As he made his way toward the refreshment table, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Ginny! Hermione!”

Harry turned and saw Susan approaching Ginny and Hermione, looking slightly nervous, but genuinely pleased. She’d clearly made an effort for the evening, her auburn hair styled into fluffy waves and she wore a deep emerald dress that complimented her hair and accentuated her noticeable curves, though she kept smoothing the fabric nervously.

“Susan!” Ginny said warmly, pulling her into a quick hug. “You look lovely!” Ginny’s eyes roamed.

“Thank you!” Susan said, her face flushed. “You both look wonderful too.”

Harry returned with the drinks just as Susan was saying, “I still can’t believe I managed to learn that shield charm! That lesson really was a help.”

“You always had it in you, you’re just finally trusting yourself.” Hermione said kindly.

“Well Harry’s teaching methods help too,” Susan said, then noticed Harry approaching and her cheeks turned a deeper crimson. “Oh! Harry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Just getting some drinks,” Harry said, distributing the butterbeers. “I was wondering if you’d be here tonight.”

“Well Professor Slughorn mentioned something about my herbology marks… though honestly there are a lot more accomplished students than me.” Susan said, accepting her drink.

“Don’t downplay yourself Susan, your practical spellwork is impressive,” Harry said, and watched Susan’s face lit up at the praise, and her hand tightening slightly around her butterbeer.

Ginny watched the exchange with quiet interest, while Hermione’s thoughtful gaze flickered between all three.

At that moment, soft music began to play and a space was quickly cleared out in the middle. A handful of students approached the floor and began dancing.

“Would you like to dance?” Harry spontaneously asked Susan, surprising even himself. He was momentarily hit with flashbacks of fourth year, of his dancing disaster. His gaze flickered over to Ginny, who seemed even happier than Susan at this moment.

Susan’s eyes widened. “Oh! I… yes, I’d like that very much.”

As Harry offered Susan his hand and led her to the dancefloor, he was acutely aware of the gazes lingering on them. Conversation seemed to quiet as other guests noticed Harry dancing with Susan Bones.

Susan seemed like a competent dancer, though quite nervous about being so close, her hands trembling slightly.

“Relax,” Harry whispered to her. “Just focus on the music, and on me. Just like with the defense spells - you’re more capable than you think.”

Susan laughed softly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "It's just... I never imagined I'd be dancing with you at a party like this. It feels rather surreal."

“Why?” Harry asked, confused by Susan’s words.

“Because… well because you’re Harry Potter,” Susan said, then seemed to realize how that sounded. “I mean… yes you’re famous but… well, you’re…” She seemed to search for the right words. “You make people feel protected. And after what happened to my aunt, that means more to me than you might realize.”

Harry felt something tighten in his chest at her words.

“I wish I could have stopped what happened to her… But I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else..” Harry spoke with a low, quiet tone.

“Thank you Harry,” Susan said, leaning slightly closer to him. “I think she’d be proud that I’m learning to protect myself instead of just waiting for someone else to do it.”

When the song ended, Harry and Susan walked back to where Ginny and Hermione were standing. Ginny’s face was warm and flushed, while Hermione’s expression seemed carefully neutral.

“That looked lovely.” Ginny sighed out.

“Harry’s a wonderful dancer.” Susan said, her voice soft with contentment. “I guess he’s improved since fourth year,” the girls giggled at that, while Harry cringed.

“I think I saw Hannah over there, I’ll go say hi to her.” Susan said, before moving to near the drinks table, where another Hufflepuff girl stood.

“She seems to be doing a bit better,” Hermione said, her gaze flickering to Harry.

"There's something beautiful about watching someone discover their own confidence," Ginny said, her eyes following Susan's retreating form with a pleased expression.

Before Harry could respond, he saw Ginny looking at him with a pointed gaze, when he looked back, she gestured towards Hermione, and then the dance floor. He got the message, but was a little confused by why Ginny seemed to want Harry to dance with everyone but herself.

“You want to dance too, Hermione?” Harry turned to her.

Hermione looked surprised, then somewhat pleased. “I’d like that, thank you Harry.”

Dancing with Hermione felt different than dancing with Susan. Where Susan had been nervous, Hermione was graceful, matching his movements with an ease that suggested she was a better dancer than she usually let on. But there was something conflicted about her demeanor, as if she was fighting some internal battle.

“I didn’t know you were so good at this,” Harry said after a turn.

“Well I’ve always liked dancing, even took a few lessons when I was younger,” Hermione admitted. “Though I’ll admit, this is a lot more pleasant than dancing with Viktor, less stressful.”

“Stressful?” Harry asked.

“Well he always took everything so seriously. It was less a dance and more a step by step performance. Even the conversation was like that, and after a bit it got quite exhausting.”

“While this is… it feels more…” She trailed off, as if she couldn’t quite articulate what she was feeling.

Harry felt himself start to notice even more things about Hermione as the dance went on. The way her lips curved up when in thought, the graceful way she carried herself. And from the way her eyes had widened when he asked her to dance, he suspected he wasn’t the only one noticing things.

When the song ended, Hermione stepped back, her expression a mixture of confusion and something that looked almost like guilt.

"Thank you for the dance," she said quietly, then moved toward the wall where she stood watching the other dancers with a troubled frown, as if trying to puzzle out her own emotions.

"My turn," Ginny said firmly, moving into Harry's arms before he could even ask.

Dancing with Ginny was entirely different from the previous two dances. She was confident and present. Pressing closer to him than either of the others had, her hand sliding up to rest against the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

"Having fun?" she asked, her voice low.

"I am," Harry said, though he found himself studying her face. "Though I have to ask - why did you want me to dance with them?”

Ginny's smile was slow and knowing. "Did you enjoy it?"

"That's not an answer."

"Isn't it?" She spun gracefully under his arm, then pressed back against him, closer this time. "You looked good out there, Harry. Like you were finally understanding your own appeal."

Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks, but also something deeper - a thrill at her words. "Ginny..."

"I love watching you realize how much people want you," she continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Susan could barely contain herself, and Hermione... well, she's fighting it, but I could see the way she looked at you."

"You're not... bothered by that?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"Bothered?" Ginny laughed softly. "Harry, do you know what it's like watching someone you care about finally getting the attention they deserve? Watching them look at you the way I do?"

Her hand traced along his jaw as they swayed. "It's intoxicating. And I want to see more of it."

Harry stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. "So you... like it? When other girls show interest in me?"

"I more than like it," Ginny said, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I love seeing the effect you have on people. The way Susan melts when you praise her, how Hermione gets flustered when you pay attention to her... It makes me proud. And it makes me want you even more."

The music continued around them, but Harry felt like they were in their own bubble. "Ginny, that's... that's not exactly normal, is it?"

"Since when have we ever been normal?" she countered. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with appreciating what's yours and enjoying that others recognize its value too."

Harry found himself leaning closer to her, drawn by her confidence and the heat in her eyes. "And what if... what if I said I enjoyed their attention too? More than just attention?"

"Then I'd say it's about time," Ginny replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I've been hoping you'd want more than just admiration from girls like Susan. They care about you, Harry. And I think you care about them too."

"Ginny, are you saying-"

"Harry!"

They both turned to see Cormac McLaggen approaching them, clearly having sampled too much of the firewhisky. His face was flushed and he was swaying slightly as he walked.

"McLaggen," Harry said tersely, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the interruption.

"Mate, I've been meaning to talk to you about Quidditch tryouts," Cormac said loudly, seemingly oblivious to the intimate moment he'd interrupted. "You know I'm the obvious choice for Keeper, right? I mean, my uncle Tiberius was saying just the other day that raw talent like mine shouldn't be wasted on the bench..."

Ginny stepped back from Harry's arms, giving him a look that clearly said 'we'll finish this conversation later' before moving away to rejoin Hermione near the refreshment table.

Harry found himself stuck listening to Cormac's increasingly slurred and boastful monologue about his Quidditch abilities, all while his mind raced with the implications of what Ginny had been suggesting.

“And you know Harry…” Cormac’s voice dipped to a whisper. Harry could smell the firewhisky on his breath.

“I’ve seen you hanging around with Granger and Bones… and well I was thinking… How bout you save one of them for me eh? You already got Weasley to play with, so how about letting me have the other redhead?” Cormac stumbled slightly, almost tipping over.

“I have always wondered if the carpets match the drapes if you know what I’m saying,” Cormac lightly tapped Harry with his elbow. Harry looked at Cormac blankly.

“And well with the body she has! Merlin…” Cormac finished with a burp.

Harry's expression turned cold. "You're drunk, McLaggen. Go find someone else to bother."

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned and walked away, leaving Cormac swaying unsteadily by himself.

He made his way toward a quieter corner of the room where he noticed Blaise Zabini standing alone, observing the party with his usual detached air.

"Potter," Blaise said as Harry approached. "Enjoying Slughorn's little gathering?"

"It has its moments," Harry replied, glancing back to where Cormac was now attempting to steady himself against a wall. "What brings you here then?"

"My mother has a certain... reputation in social circles," Blaise said with a slight smirk. "Slughorn finds that useful for his connections. Besides, these parties can be entertaining if you know what to watch for."

"And what's that?"

"The dynamics," Blaise said, his eyes moving across the room. "Take you, for instance. You’ve been quite the prince charming this evening. Quite fascinating to observe."

Harry studied Blaise's face, trying to determine if there was mockery there, but found only genuine interest.

"You're very observant," Harry said carefully.

"It's a useful skill, Potter," Blaise replied. "Especially when tensions are running as high as they are these days. People reveal more than they intend when they think no one's paying attention."

Before Harry could respond, raised voices from across the room caught both their attention. Cormac had apparently decided to approach Susan, who was still standing near Hannah Abbott by the refreshment table.

"Come on, gorgeous," Cormac's slurred voice carried across the room. "Just one dance. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Susan stepped back, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm fine where I am, thank you."

"Don't be like that," Cormac persisted, reaching for her arm. "You danced with Potter, didn't you? What makes him so special?"

"She said no, McLaggen," Hannah interjected firmly, moving to stand beside Susan.

Cormac's face flushed darker. "I wasn't talking to you, Abbott. Mind your own business."

"I already told you no McLaggen.” Susan said, taking a step back.

But Cormac was beyond reason now, the firewhisky and rejection combining poorly. "You think you're too good for me? Is that it? Rather save yourself for the famous Boy Who Lived?"

His voice was getting louder, and other conversations around the room began to quiet as people turned to watch.

"You're just another blood traitor anyway," Cormac continued, his words becoming more venomous. "No wonder your aunt-"

"Silencio," Harry said sharply, his wand appearing in his hand so quickly that most people missed the movement entirely.

Cormac's mouth continued moving, but no sound came out. His eyes widened in shock and rage as he realized what had happened.

"I think you've said quite enough for one evening," Harry said coldly, his voice carrying clearly in the suddenly quiet room.

Cormac fumbled for his own wand, his movements clumsy from drink and anger, but before he could draw it properly, Harry flicked his wand again.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Cormac went rigid and toppled backward, saved from hitting the floor only by Blaise, who had moved with surprising speed to catch him.

"Well," Blaise said mildly, lowering the petrified Cormac to the ground. "That was interesting."

The room buzzed with whispered conversations as Professor Slughorn hurried over, his face flushed with embarrassment and concern.

"My boy, my boy," he said, wringing his hands. "What happened here?"

"McLaggen had too much to drink and became inappropriate with Miss Bones," Harry said, anger still apparent in his voice. "I felt it was necessary to intervene before things escalated further."

Susan nodded, still looking shaken. "He was being horrible, Professor. Harry was just trying to help."

Slughorn looked down at the petrified Cormac with a mixture of disappointment and resignation. "Yes, yes, I see. Well, we can't have this sort of behavior at our gatherings, can we?" He pulled out his own wand and began casting counter-charms. "Mr. McLaggen will be escorted back to his dormitory immediately."

As Cormac's body went limp and the silencing charm wore off, he began to sputter angrily, but Slughorn cut him off with a stern look.

"Not another word, Mr. McLaggen. You've embarrassed yourself quite enough for one evening. You’ll serve a month's detention for this, maybe that will teach you some manners. Two seventh-year prefects will see you back to Gryffindor Tower."

As the commotion died down and Cormac was led away, still muttering under his breath and swaying, the party slowly returned to its previous atmosphere, though Harry noticed some approving looks directed his way from various students.

“Thank you” Susan said quietly, approaching Harry.

"No one should have to put up with that," Harry replied. "Are you alright?"

"I am now." Susan's smile was grateful but also held something else - a warmth that suggested the evening's events had only increased her admiration for him.

From across the room, Harry caught Ginny's eye. She was watching him with an expression of clear approval and something that looked very much like pride.

As the evening wound down and students began filtering out of the transformed office, Harry found himself approached by Professor Slughorn, who had clearly indulged in more firewhisky than was perhaps wise.

"Harry, my boy," Slughorn said, his words slightly slurred as he placed a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "I must say, you handled that unpleasantness with McLaggen quite admirably. Quick thinking, decisive action - very impressive indeed."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, glancing around to see that most of the other students had already left. Ginny was waiting near the entrance, talking quietly with Hermione.

"You know," Slughorn continued, swaying slightly, "you remind me of another student I once taught. Brilliant boy, had that same... commanding presence, it really is too bad..." His eyes grew distant and somewhat troubled. "Tom was always so..."

Slughorn stopped abruptly, his face paling slightly as he seemed to realize what he was saying.

"Oh my," he stammered, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Oh dear, I think I've had far too much to drink tonight. Listen to me, rambling on about old students. Pay no mind to the foolish musings of an old man, Harry, my boy."

He forced a jovial laugh, but Harry could see the discomfort in his eyes. "Now then, you should run along with Miss Weasley. Thank you for coming tonight, and do give my regards to your friends."

Before Harry could ask any questions, Slughorn had bustled away, suddenly very interested in organizing the leftover refreshments.

Harry made his way over to Ginny, who bid farewell to Hermione before taking his arm.

"Ready to go?" she asked, though her knowing look suggested she was eager to continue their interrupted conversation.

They walked in comfortable silence through the corridors until they reached a quiet spot near a window overlooking the grounds. Ginny pulled him into the shadows of an alcove, immediately pressing closer to him.

"So," she said softly, "where were we before McLaggen decided to be a complete arse?"

Harry felt his pulse quicken. "You were saying something about... enjoying watching me get attention from other girls."

"Mmm," Ginny murmured, her hands sliding up to rest on his chest. "And you looked like you were starting to understand what I meant."

Harry studied her face in the moonlight. After tonight - the way she'd encouraged him to dance with Susan and Hermione, the pride in her eyes when other girls looked at him - he was beginning to piece it together. "It's not just that you don't mind it. You actually like it."

"I do," Ginny admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I like watching other girls want you. I like seeing how you affect them." She paused, then added more quietly, "And I'd like to see you do something about it."

"Ginny..." Harry started, not sure what to say.

"I know how mad that sounds," she continued, eyes dropping to her hands on his chest. "What kind of girlfriend wants that? I’m scared you’ll think I’m strange, but after seeing you with them… I can’t keep it in anymore. When I picture you with Susan, or Lavender..." Her eyes lifted back to his. "It doesn’t make me angry. It makes me feel... things."

Harry reached up to touch her cheek. "What kind of things?"

Ginny leaned into his touch. "Excited. Nervous. Like I'm doing something I shouldn't want." She bit her lip. "Sometimes I imagine what people would think if they knew. What they'd say about me."

"And that bothers you?"

"That's just it - it doesn't," Ginny said with a shaky laugh. "It should, but it just makes everything feel more... intense somehow."

Harry was quiet for a moment, processing this. "So when you pushed me to dance with them tonight..."

"I wanted to see how they'd react to you," Ginny said. "And I wanted to see how it would make me feel, watching it happen." She pressed closer to him.

"It felt incredible, Harry. Seeing Susan melt when you complimented her, watching you be so protective of her... I've never felt anything like it."

"What exactly are you saying you want?" Harry asked carefully.

Ginny took a deep breath. "I want you to stop holding back with them. If Susan wants to spend time with you after DA meetings, let her. If Lavender keeps finding excuses to sit next to you in the common room, don't discourage it."

She met his eyes. "And if they want more than that... I want you to give it to them."

Harry stared at her. "You want me to...?"

"I want you to make them happy," Ginny said simply. "The way you make me happy. And I want to know about it when you do. I want you to tell me how they responded, what they said, how they looked at you. Maybe even watch it happen…" Her voice dropped. "Is that completely mad?"

Harry was quiet for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. "No. Different, maybe, but not mad." He cupped her face in his hands. "Are you sure about this?"

"More sure than I've ever been about anything," Ginny said. "I love you, Harry Potter. And part of loving you means wanting you to have everything that makes you happy. Even if that means sharing you."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. "Besides," she whispered against his lips, "I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy sharing you more than I should."

As they made their way back toward Gryffindor Tower, Harry's mind was spinning with Ginny’s words, although he couldn’t deny they made him excited. Harry thought back to his encounters with Susan and Lavender, the lingering touches, glances when they thought he wasn’t looking…

He had a feeling things were about to get a lot more interesting...

Chapter Text

Saturday morning was crisp and clear, perfect weather for Quidditch tryouts. Harry made his way into the Great Hall with Ginny, Hermione and Ron, feeling the familiar anticipation that came with Quidditch.

"Nervous?" Harry asked Ron, who couldn't seem to stay still.

Ron just stared at him and took a hasty gulp of pumpkin juice, his foot bouncing under the table.

"You'll be fine," Hermione said, looking amused by Ron's jitters.

"Apparently half of Gryffindor wants to try out this year," Ginny added. "Should make for quite a show."

When they left the Gryffindor table, they passed Susan and Hannah finishing their breakfast. Hannah spotted Harry first and quickly nudged Susan, whispering something that made Susan turn around with a bright smile.

"Harry! Heading to tryouts?" Susan asked, standing as they approached.

"Just leaving now," Harry replied.

"How are you feeling about it? Being captain must add extra pressure," Susan said, genuine concern in her voice.

Harry found himself appreciating her directness. "A bit, but I'm looking forward to it. Should be interesting to see what we're working with."

"You should come watch," Ginny suggested with casual enthusiasm. "I'm sure Harry could use some friendly faces in the crowd."

"I was hoping you'd ask," Susan said, falling into step beside them as they headed toward the doors. "I've been curious to see you in action as captain. The D.A. sessions have shown you're good at... leading."

Hannah waved them off with a knowing grin.

"Different kind of leadership," Harry said as they walked through the entrance hall. "Though I suppose some of the skills transfer."

"I'm sure they do," Susan agreed, and there was something in her tone that suggested she was looking forward to seeing this side of him.

As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning, almost thirty people having shown up just to try out, not to mention those who came to watch. There were everything from first years who could barely hold the rickety old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking intimidating.

The latter including someone Harry recognized quite well from last night.

“Potter!” Cormac McLaggen said, clearing his throat and approaching him.

“Good to see you,” He said, lowering his voice “How about we just put last night behind us eh? We both got a little carried away, but that’s natural when you’re talking about the important things in life!” Cormac laughed out arrogantly, patting Harry on the back.

Harry stared back with narrowed eyes.

“Tryouts should be interesting this year!” Cormac continued, seemingly ignoring Harry’s hostile gaze.

“Of course, some positions are more crucial than others,” McLaggen continued with a condescending tone. "Keeper, for instance. Really sets the tone for the whole team's confidence, you know." He said, shooting a glance toward Ron.

Ron’s face began to redden, but Harry held up a hand.

"I'm sure the best candidate will prove themselves during tryouts," Harry said coolly. "Now why don't you wait over there with the others? I'll call you when it's time."

McLaggen's confident expression flickered slightly at the dismissal, but he walked toward the edge of the pitch with forced casualness,

“What a git!” Ron said, after McLaggen left. “Why even consider him for the team! Just tell him to go kick rocks.”

“If I do that he’ll just make more of a stink, I’m sure you’ll do better than him Ron, after that he can’t complain.” Harry said, giving Ron an encouraging look.

Harry decided to start the tryouts off with a basic test, a lap around the pitch. This seemed to be a good idea as the first group of first years had seemingly never flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into a goal post.

The other groups did not prove much better, one had a massive pileup halfway around the pitch and one was seemingly comprised of Hufflepuffs.

“If there’s anyone not from Gryffindor on the pitch, leave now!” Harry yelled out, somewhat annoyed.

There was a pause before a small handful of Ravenclaws scattered out while giggling.

After two hours, several complaints, crashes and tantrums, Harry had found himself three chasers. Ginny, of course, had outflown all the competition, even stopping to give him a smooch during her flight. Katie Bell returned to the team after an excellent trial, and a new find, called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging bludgers.

Unfortunately Harry had shouted himself hoarse during the Beater selection, finally managing to make a decision, and while neither had the brilliance of Fred and George, they would do.

Harry had left the Keepers for last, hoping that the crowds would decrease a bit and there would be less pressure overall, but quite the opposite had happened.

Harry decided to hold a five minute break, hoping that the crowds would relax slightly, and that his voice could recover.

He made his way behind one of the large audience boxes, before hearing a sweet and light voice from behind.

"Harry! You doing okay?" Lavender asked, moving to stand next to him.

"Yeah just needed a few minutes," He said, breathing out some tension he didn't realize he even had.

"Well you've been doing great, I don't know if you've seen but I've been watching the whole thing!" Lavender said with her usual bubbly tone.

Harry had indeed seen Lavender in the crowd, cheering and jumping around at every possible moment. She had even blown him a few kisses, when she didn't think anyone was watching.

"Thank you for the support Lav, I appreciate it" Harry said

"It's the least I can do… You know, after the last D.A. session, Ginny and I talked a little…"

This caught Harry's attention.

"And, well, she didn't really mention any specifics, but I kinda got the impression that she was, you know… not opposed to us getting to know each other?"

"I guess you could call it that…" Harry said, leveling his gaze at Lavender.

"That's good to know… You know Hogsmeade is coming up soon! Maybe we should do something then?" Lavender said with a dreamy smile on her face.

"Sounds great, Lav. I'd love to get to know you a bit more," Harry said, starting to hear people looking for him.

Ginny popped out from around the corner, spotting them and pausing. Harry could see her breathing slightly heavier, and Lav seemed to unconsciously get closer.

"Harry, they're looking for you." Ginny breathed out.

"I'm coming," Harry said. As he started to walk back, Lavender gave him a quick smile and headed back toward the stands.

"See you later, Harry," she called over her shoulder.

Ginny fell into step beside him, but instead of heading straight back to the pitch, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a shadowy alcove between two of the wooden stands.

"Ginny, what-" Harry started, but she silenced him by pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was hungry, urgent in a way that made Harry's pulse race. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pressed closer to him, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest.

"Merlin, Harry," she whispered against his lips when they broke apart, her eyes bright with something that looked almost like fever. "Watching you with her... the way she looked at you..."

"Did you like it?" Harry asked, his voice rougher than usual.

"More than I should," Ginny admitted, kissing him again, softer this time but no less intense. "You have no idea what it does to me..."

She pulled back slightly, studying his face. "How did it feel? Having her so interested?"

"Different," Harry said honestly. "Good, I think. Like you said it would."

Ginny's smile was slow and satisfied. "This is just the beginning, Harry."

In the distance, they could hear people calling Harry's name more insistently.

"You'd better get back," Ginny said, though she made no move to let go of him. "Your team needs their captain."

Harry kissed her once more, quick but thorough, before they emerged from the alcove. As they walked back toward the pitch together, Harry found himself thinking about how right Ginny had been.

After getting back and getting set up, the Keeper tryouts finally started. Surprisingly there were only two. Ron and McLaggen.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who had always had issues with his nerves. He had hoped winning their final match last term would have cured it, but apparently not. Ron looked to be a delicate shade of green.

To Harry's great disappointment, Cormac managed to save four goals out of five. On the last one however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction, causing the crowd to jeer and laugh. McLaggen returned to the ground, gnashing his teeth in frustration.

Ron looked like he was about to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.

Despite Harry's worries, Ron managed to save all five penalties in a row. Delighted and managing to resist joining the cheers of the crowd, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's steaming red face inches from his.

"His sister was holding back," McLaggen said menacingly. There was a vein in his temple, which reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon. "She gave him an easy save."

"I'm afraid not, McLaggen," Harry said coolly.

"Give me another go!" McLaggen yelled out.

"No," said Harry "You had your go, and you lost. Ron saved five, you saved four. Ron's keeper. Now get out of my face before we have a repeat of last night." Harry said, with a serious voice.

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he only gave Harry an ugly grimace before storming away, growling what sounded like threats to empty ears.

Ron landed heavily, still looking somewhat green but grinning widely as the crowd erupted in cheers. "Well done, Ron," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You earned that spot."

"I still can't believe I actually saved all five," Ron said, voice shaky with relief.

"Harry!" Susan's voice called out as she approached, slightly out of breath from hurrying over. "That was really something, watching you be captain."

"Thanks," Harry said. "Bit chaotic, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but you handled it brilliantly," Susan said, then blushed slightly. "I mean, all those people trying out, and you kept everything organized. Even when that first year crashed into the goalpost." She giggled a bit at the memory.

"Poor kid," Harry said with a grin. "At least he stayed on his broom for a few seconds."

"And Ron was fantastic in the end, wasn't he?" Susan continued, then looked at Harry with genuine admiration. "You must be pleased with how it all worked out."

"Yeah, I am," Harry said. "Should be a good team this year."

Susan smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. "I have to admit, I've never really paid much attention to Quidditch matches before. But I think I might actually come watch this year."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised but pleased.

"Well," Susan said, her cheeks turning pink, "it might be nice to have a reason to care about the outcome for once."

There was something in the way she said it that made Harry very aware of how she was looking at him, and how Ginny was watching the exchange.

As the crowd began to disperse, Harry felt his stomach rumble loudly. They made their way back toward the castle, Ron still buzzing with excitement about his successful tryout.

The Great Hall was already filling with students for dinner when they arrived. As they settled at the Gryffindor table, Ginny sliding in beside Harry and absently beginning to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, Harry spotted a familiar massive figure at the far end of the hall - Hagrid, sitting alone and methodically working through what appeared to be an enormous portion of shepherd's pie.

"There's Hagrid," Harry said, nodding toward the gamekeeper.

"Should we go say hello?" Hermione asked, though she looked uncertain.

Harry caught Hagrid's eye across the hall and waved. Instead of his usual booming greeting and enthusiastic wave back, Hagrid merely glanced at them briefly before pointedly returning his attention to his meal.

"He's still upset about us not taking his NEWT class," Ron said quietly, helping himself to roast chicken.

"We should go talk to him," Hermione said, already starting to rise. "We can't leave things like this."

They made their way across the hall, weaving between the long tables until they reached where Hagrid sat. He continued to ignore their approach until Harry cleared his throat.

"Hello, Hagrid."

"Oh. You lot," Hagrid said without looking up, his voice notably cooler than usual. "Come ter enjoy yer dinner, have yeh? Don't let me keep yeh from yer important business."

"Hagrid, that's not fair," Hermione said gently, sliding onto the bench across from him. "We wanted to see you."

"Nothing ter see here," Hagrid said gruffly, finally looking up at them. His beetle-black eyes were hurt despite his attempt at indifference. "Just old Hagrid, not important enough fer yer fancy NEWT classes."

"That's not true," Harry said earnestly, sitting down beside Hermione. "We wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid. It's just that for our career paths-"

"Career paths," Hagrid snorted. "Right. Too important now fer dangerous creatures that won't help yeh become Aurors or whatever it is yeh want ter do."

The pain in his voice was unmistakable, and Harry felt a stab of guilt. Ron shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"Hagrid," Hermione said softly, "your classes meant so much to us. Remember the hippogriffs? And the Thestrals - Harry's told us how much that helped him understand-"

"Really?" Hagrid's expression softened slightly, though he tried to maintain his stern demeanor.

"Of course," Harry said quickly. "Your lessons taught us more about magical creatures than anyone else could. Even the blast-ended skrewts… we learned so much from you."

Hagrid's lower lip began to tremble slightly. He looked around the Great Hall, then back at them, his composure starting to crumble.

"It's not just that," he said, his voice becoming thick with emotion. "It's... it's Aragog. He's... he's not well. Not well at all."

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned despite his personal feelings about the massive spider.

"He's old, see," Hagrid said, his eyes filling with tears. "Very old for an Acromantula. Been with me since I was just a boy here at Hogwarts. And now he's... he can barely move. Can't hunt fer himself anymore. His children are having ter bring him food, and even then..." Hagrid's voice broke entirely.

"Oh, Hagrid," Hermione said, reaching across the table to pat his enormous hand.

"I don't think he's got much time left," Hagrid continued, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "And I don't know what I'll do without him. Raised him from an egg, I did. He's been with me longer than... longer than anyone."

The four friends sat in silence for a moment, all thoughts of academic disappointment forgotten in the face of Hagrid's genuine grief.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Harry said quietly. "I know how much he means to you."

"Is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked gently, though Harry noticed Ron looked rather alarmed at the prospect.

"I don't think so," Hagrid said, attempting to pull himself together. "The rest of his family... they're getting a bit restive with him being so ill. Bit dangerous fer anyone but me ter go near the colony right now."

"Well," Harry said, "if there's anything at all we can help with, you know we're here."

Hagrid looked at them with watery eyes, and slowly, his usual warm smile began to return.

"Yeh know what?" he said, voice still rough but considerably warmer. "I reckon I was being a bit unfair. Course yeh had ter make the right choices fer yer futures. I understand that, really I do."

"We'll still visit," Ginny promised. "And we want to hear about all your creatures."

"Aye, well," Hagrid said, looking considerably cheered. "I suppose I can forgive yeh this once. Now then, yeh'd better get back ter yer dinners before they get cold."

As they made their way back to the Gryffindor table, Harry felt relieved that they'd cleared the air with Hagrid, though his heart ached for the gamekeeper's obvious pain about Aragog.

"Poor Hagrid," Hermione murmured as they sat back down.

After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was crowded, as most people had finished eating by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down. Ron, who had been in a good mood since making the team, was still recounting his saves to anyone who would listen.

As Harry spotted Cormac McLaggen entering through the portrait hole, something about his movement caught his attention. McLaggen seemed to be walking strangely, almost stumbling, shaking his head as if trying to clear fog from his mind. It took him two attempts to navigate around a chair.

"Look at McLaggen," Harry said quietly to Hermione. "He's walking like he's been hit with a Confundus Charm."

Hermione's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and she suddenly became very interested in arranging her quill case.

"What?" she said defensively when Harry continued to stare at her.

"If you ask me," Harry said quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was flying right in front of where you were sitting."

Hermione blushed even deeper. "Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and the team! And that’s not to mention how he behaved yesterday!."

"Wasn't that dishonest, Hermione?" Harry asked, though he was smirking slightly. "I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped.

Before Harry could respond further, Hermione reached for a copy of the Prophet that someone had left abandoned on a nearby chair.

"Anything new?" Harry asked, settling back in his seat.

"Not really..." Hermione said, scanning the pages. Then she paused, her expression growing troubled. "Oh, look at this."

She folded the paper and pointed to a headline: "KNIGHT BUS CONDUCTOR ARRESTED: Stanley Shunpike Held on Suspicion of Death Eater Activity."

"Stan Shunpike?" Harry said incredulously, leaning forward to read over her shoulder. "That's ridiculous."

"It says here he was arrested based on 'overheard conversations of a suspicious nature' and 'association with known Dark wizards,'" Hermione read aloud.

"That's mad," Ron said, looking up from his conversation with some second-years. "Stan's about as dangerous as a flobberworm. I've ridden the Knight Bus loads of times - the man can barely remember which end of his wand to hold."

"Exactly," Harry said grimly. "This is just the Ministry trying to look like they're doing something. Arresting someone harmless like Stan is easy - makes it seem like they're making progress against Voldemort."

Hermione nodded, her expression troubled. "While the real Death Eaters go free. How many other innocent people do you think are sitting in Azkaban right now?"

The thought sent a chill down Harry's spine. If the Ministry was this desperate to appear effective, who else might they have wrongfully imprisoned?

"It's getting worse out there," Ginny said quietly, having overheard their conversation. "Mum's letters have been... different lately. More worried."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, the reality of the world outside Hogwarts pressing down on them.

Before they could discuss it further, Demelza Robins appeared at Harry's shoulder, looking nervous but determined.

"Harry?" she said quietly. "I've got a message for you."

"From who?" Harry asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.

"Professor Snape," Demelza replied, confirming his fears. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight for your detention. And he says..." she paused, looking uncomfortable, "he says there's no need to bring protective gloves, because you'll be sorting through rotten flobberworms with your bare hands."

Harry grimaced. "Right. Thanks, Demelza."

As she hurried away, Harry checked his watch. Quarter past eight now - which gave him exactly fifteen minutes before what promised to be a thoroughly unpleasant evening with Severus Snape.

At half past eight precisely, Harry stood outside Snape's office door, steeling himself for whatever unpleasantness awaited him inside. He knocked once and heard Snape's cold voice bid him enter.

The office was as dimly lit as always, candles casting long shadows across shelves lined with pickled specimens and strange tomes. Snape sat behind his desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of essays before him. He didn't look up as Harry entered.

"You're late, Potter," Snape said without raising his eyes from the parchment he was marking.

"Actually, sir, it's exactly half past eight," Harry replied, checking his watch.

"I said we would start at half past eight, which means you should have been here before half past eight," Snape said silkily, finally looking up with his usual sneer. "But I suppose punctuality, like so many other virtues, is beyond your capabilities."

Harry bit back his retort and remained silent.

Snape set down his quill and gestured toward a table in the corner of the room. Upon it sat several large jars filled with what appeared to be dead flobberworms in various stages of decay.

"Your task tonight, Potter, is simple even by your standards," Snape said, rising from his chair. "You will sort through these flobberworms, separating those that are merely dead from those that are rotting. The dead ones can still be used in certain potions. The rotting ones are useless and will be disposed of."

Harry approached the table and immediately regretted it. The smell was overwhelming - a mixture of rotting fish and something far worse.

"As I mentioned," Snape continued with obvious satisfaction, "you will be doing this with your bare hands. The oils on your skin will help determine which specimens are still usable."

"Right," Harry said through gritted teeth, rolling up his sleeves.

For the next hour, Harry worked in silence, trying to breathe through his mouth as he sorted through the disgusting creatures. Snape continued marking essays, occasionally looking up to watch Harry's progress with evident enjoyment.

It was during one of these glances that Snape spoke again.

"Tell me, Potter," he said casually, "how are you finding your new role as Quidditch captain?"

Harry looked up suspiciously. Snape rarely made conversation during detentions, and never about Quidditch.

"Fine," Harry said cautiously.

"Leadership," Snape said, his quill scratching harshly across parchment, "separates the wheat from the chaff. Some rise to it. Others..." He looked pointedly at Harry. "Others let it go to their heads."

Harry said nothing, sensing a trap.

"Your father was Quidditch captain," Snape continued, his voice taking on its familiar edge of contempt. "Strutted around the castle thinking himself above everyone else. Used every opportunity to show off."

"You always say that about him," Harry said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Because it was true," Snape replied coldly. "James Potter was an arrogant show-off who never met a rule he wouldn't break if it suited his purposes." His dark eyes fixed on Harry. "The question is whether his son has learned anything from his failures."

"What failures?" Harry demanded.

Snape's smile was thin and cruel. "Dead at twenty-one, Potter. That's quite a failure, wouldn't you say?"

Harry felt his anger flare. "He died fighting Voldemort!"

"He died because he was reckless," Snape snapped. "Because he believed his own legend. Because he thought being brave was the same as being smart."

The room fell into tense silence. Snape returned to his marking, but Harry could sense the professor's attention was still focused on him.

"The Dark Lord has returned," Snape said quietly, not looking up. "This war will not be won by heroes charging blindly into battle. It will be won by those who can think, who can make hard choices, who can see beyond their own righteousness."

Harry watched Snape's face carefully, trying to read the expression there. "Is that what you do? Make hard choices?"

Something flickered across Snape's features - so quickly Harry almost missed it. "Every day, Potter. Every single day."

For a moment, Harry caught a glimpse of something in Snape's eyes - not hatred, but something deeper. Weariness, perhaps. Or pain.

"Why do you care what happens to me?" Harry asked suddenly.

Snape's quill stilled. When he looked up, his expression was carefully blank. "I don't. But I have... obligations. Debts that must be repaid."

"What kind of debts?"

"The kind that are none of your business," Snape said sharply, returning to his marking with unnecessary force.

They worked in silence for the remaining twenty minutes. When the detention ended, Harry's hands were raw and reeking despite multiple washings.

"Potter," Snape called as Harry gathered his things.

Harry turned back.

“Your mother had a rare gift,” Snape said quietly, his voice unreadable. “Try not to squander yours.”

Before Harry could respond, Snape had turned away, effectively dismissing him.

As Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower, he found himself thinking about the strange sadness he'd glimpsed in Snape's eyes, and wondering what debts could possibly drive a man to such bitterness.

Stepping through the portrait and into the common room, Harry rubbed his still-aching hands against his robes. The flobberworm stench seemed to cling to him despite his attempts to wash it off.

A few younger students were still up, huddled around a Transfiguration textbook and looking miserable.

He climbed the stairs to his dormitory, where Ron was already snoring loudly. Harry changed into his pajamas quietly, but sleep didn't come easily. His mind drifted to thoughts of Ginny, Lavender, Susan… and even Hermione.

And underneath it all, Snape's words echoed: “Your mother had a rare gift,” Snape said quietly, his voice unreadable. “Try not to squander yours.”

Harry stared at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, wondering what his mother would think of the choices he was making.