Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Twelve

Back Where We Belong

On the day before they were due to return to Hogwarts, Ron and Harry were scheduled to take their Apparation tests. Ron had kept the fact he’d been practicing with Harry a secret, so the rest of the Weasleys were shocked when he said he was ready to reapply for his license.

Harry had thought Ron was ready; they’d practiced on the island, and Ron could easily handle even long distances. However, once the announcement was made, the twins instantly began teasing him, and Mrs. Weasley started quizzing him. Ron completely panicked under the pressure from his family, and Harry worried that he was in danger of failing again. Even Ginny’s light teasing seemed to unnerve Ron so that he couldn’t concentrate. Hermione tried to be encouraging, but in typical Hermione fashion she started listing off facts and rehashing the results of her own Apparation test. Ron finally lashed out at her, and she ended up storming out of the room. Grimmauld Place had rattled with the number of slamming doors for the remainder of the afternoon.

On the morning of the test, Mr. Weasley entered Ron and Harry’s room to wake them. Harry was already awake when he entered; he’d had a miserable night, and his scar was burning intensely. Mr. Weasley’s face was grim, alerting Harry that something was wrong. Ron, still trying to hold on to the last remnants of sleep by keeping his head beneath the covers, missed the look entirely.

“Good morning, boys. I’m sorry to wake you so early,” Mr. Weasley said, sitting down on the edge of Ron’s bed.

Ron peeked out from beneath his pillow and blearily opened one eye. “What time is it?”

“Early,” Mr. Weasley said, sighing. “I just received a call from the Ministry, and I’m going to have to go in now. I know we were planning on heading in together later so you boys could take your exams, but there’s been a change. I’m afraid they’ve had to postpone all Apparation licensing. I’m sorry, I know you’ve been looking forward to this. We’ll get you rescheduled as soon as things settle down.”

“What?” Ron shouted, sitting up in bed and glaring at his father.

Mr. Weasley raised his hands in defense. “Take it easy, Ron. There’s been a situation and all non-essential operations have been closed temporarily.”

“What does that mean?” Ron demanded.

“What happened, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked. He suspected it had something to do with the reason his scar had burned with such intensity during the night.

“There was a series of Death Eater attacks last night,” Mr. Weasley said, sighing again. “They were directed at Muggle-born Ministry officials and their families. The Ministry is in chaos, trying to cover all the sites and deal with its own losses. We lost a lot of good people last night.”

Ron and Harry remained silent, the impact of Mr. Wesley’s words sinking in to their sleep-addled brains. They were truly at war. After Mr. Weasley left, they lay in their beds discussing the attacks for a while. Eventually, their conversation turned back towards Ron’s Apparation test. Harry was slightly disappointed, but not nearly as down as Ron.

“At least you can take the test without having to tell everyone about the appointment. It should be less stressful,” Harry said, trying to look on the bright side. He actually thought the postponement was the best thing for Ron. They could reschedule the test while they were at school and away from the pressure Ron felt from his family. Harry thought Ron would do much better without the twins there to tease him about the test.

“What do you mean, less stressful?” Ron asked, scowling at his friend.

“I just thought…er, well, if the twins didn’t tease you, you wouldn’t be nervous,” Harry stammered, seeing how red Ron’s ears were growing.

“You didn’t think I was going to pass, did you? You thought I’d screw this up, too. Thanks, Harry; you’re support is overwhelming,” Ron snarled, getting out of bed and stalking towards the door. “Of course, you got special training to make sure you could Apparate before you were legal. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble if they’d thought to teach all of us. Don’t tell me you couldn’t have got away the first time you escaped if it weren’t for the fact that I was still there!”

Ron’s words were like a slap in the face, mostly because they were true. If Ron had been taught to Apparate, they might have escaped from Malfoy Manor on their own. Harry hadn’t realized how much Ron resented it. Now that he thought about it, he needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore about teaching Ginny early. “Ron…you’re right; I should have made certain you were taught when I was trained. I couldn’t have left you anymore than you could have left me. We all made mistakes. Professor Dumbledore thought it better to keep the skill quiet at the time.”

“Yeah, if you don’t think I can do it now, you’d never have believed I’d be competent enough to learn early.”

“Ron, wait,” Harry said. “I know you can do it; I didn’t mean that-”

“No? Well, that’s certainly how it sounded, mate,” Ron interrupted, emphasizing the last word. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry sighed and flopped back down on his bed. You handled that brilliantly as usual, Potter. His inner voice sounded remarkably like Snape at that moment.

Ron avoided Harry for the rest of the day. Harry got ready for bed with a heavy heart. He was anxious to return to school, but he didn’t want to be on bad terms with Ron on the first day.

Ginny awoke during the night and decided to head down to the kitchen for a drink of water. She always had trouble sleeping the night before the journey to Hogwarts. She’d end up tossing and turning, thinking of the day ahead with both apprehension and excitement. This would be the last year with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the school; she thought that next year would be very lonely for her, indeed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be significant. Harry would complete his magical training…Voldemort knew about the prophecy…the final battle loomed ahead of them. She felt like they were all on a collision course, and they’d already passed the last turnoff. There could be no turning back.

She was terrified for Harry, yet she sensed some kind of change within him. It had started around the time of his birthday. His power had increased, but his sense of purpose had also intensified. He was eager to end this war; he wanted to move on with his life, with their life together. Ginny wasn’t certain what she’d be able to do to help him, but she was determined to find a way. She wouldn’t lose him, not after all they’d gone through. Tom had put Harry through hell from the time he was a baby; Harry deserved the chance for a good life that had always been denied him.

She crept out of bed, careful not to wake Hermione, and tiptoed silently down the stairs towards the kitchen. As she passed the drawing room, she noticed a faint light coming from beneath the door. Pressing her ear to the door, she thought she heard a muffled groan. Cursing under her breath for leaving her wand behind, she gently pushed open the door and peered through the crack.

Harry was lying on the couch, curled on his side into a defensive ball. He was muttering in his sleep and thrashing his head from side to side. Ginny’s heart ached when she looked at him. She’d noticed that he always slept in that position, as if trying to protect himself during sleep, when he was most vulnerable. Her eyes flicked to all the candles left burning in the room – that was another thing she’d noticed recently. Harry always kept a light burning, even when he slept. It was so unfair that he’d been forced to live like this. He was truly one of the most kind-hearted, gentle people she knew, and he was always being hunted like an animal. She hated to see the toll it was taking on him. During the day, he was one of the bravest, toughest people she’d ever seen, but at night, his demons always returned to haunt him – and he still tried to hide that fact from everyone else. It physically hurt her to see him this way.

She and Hermione had talked about the effect Harry’s upbringing had had on him. Her friend had asked her if Harry had talked to her at all about his life with his so-called caregivers. Without giving away any confidences, Ginny had told her about the conversation they’d had after the Dursleys were killed, and that Harry had tried to say whatever they did to him was his own fault. Hermione had shared her fears about what both Ron and Harry were going through and her research on what she called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Ginny wasn’t certain if everything worked the same for wizards and Muggles, but from what Hermione had said, it sounded very similar.

Ginny moved to the side of the couch and gently sat down next to Harry. She stretched her body alongside him and wrapped her arms around him, forcing his body to straighten out. He awoke almost instantly, startled by the contact.

Looking around the room wildly, his eyes raked over her body lying there with him. “Ginny?” he whispered, his voice sounded young and fragile. “Where are we?”

“Shhh, luv, it’s all right. We’re in the drawing room; you must have fallen asleep down here. You were having a nightmare,” Ginny answered, stroking the hair on his forehead.

His breathing was ragged, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Although stiff at first, he eventually settled and relaxed into her embrace. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Did I wake you?” he asked, sounding as if he were on the fringes of sleep once again.

“No. I’m too excited to sleep. We’ll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to seeing everyone.”

“Yeah,” he said, but she could sense his apprehension. Everyone knew about his captivity at the end of last term; she supposed he was worried about the reception he was going to receive.

“Everyone is bound to be curious about what happened to you, Harry, but you don’t have to talk about anything if you’re not ready. You’ve been the subject of their speculation before; you can handle it.”

“How do you do that? How do you always know what I’m thinking?” he asked, snuggling closer to her. A slight smile played on his lips, and she could tell he was pleased.

“Because I love you,” she said without hesitation, “and you’re not nearly as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. Your eyes give you away. I’ve heard an expression that the eyes are the window to the soul, and I never really understood what that meant until I met you.”

Harry opened one eye to look at her sleepily. “Tell me, oh wise one, what do you see when you gaze into my eyes?”

Ginny giggled at his horrible interpretation of Trelawney. “I see a very brave…a very sweet…and a very stubborn person that completely holds my heart. I wish you could see yourself as we see you, Harry. You’re terribly hard on yourself. These past few weeks have been so terrible for all of us, and you’ve really helped, in your own way. And I don’t just mean you’ve helped Mum. You’ve helped me, too. I know I’ve been acting rather mad these past few weeks – overly cheerful one minute, then nearly bursting into tears the next. But I didn’t want to be told it was all right. I didn’t want to hear anything, really. I wanted to be held and allowed to sort it out. I’m not there yet, but it’s better. And you were the one who gave me that time I needed.”

Ginny shook her head, as if forcing her thoughts away. “As for what I think you need – it’s to accept that we all love you as much as you love us. Let the inner-Harry out sometimes and tell us what you’re feeling. He’s a good bloke.”

Harry felt a huge lump in his throat, and he swallowed painfully. “The inner-Harry, huh?” he croaked. “Is this bloke the reason you hang around?”

Ginny turned on her side to face him, her teeth gently tugging on his bottom lip. “I like the inner-Harry very much,” she whispered, kissing him passionately.

Harry rolled over and clutched onto her as if he were drowning. He had no idea how much time had passed before he noticed the faint traces of dawn’s early light peeking through the window. He suddenly realized they were snogging on the couch in the drawing room with the door wide open for anyone to see.

“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed, willing his body to calm down. “Are you mad? The rest of the Order is constantly in and out of here, and most of them are your very large older brothers.”

Ginny giggled. “I didn’t notice you complaining. I love how you’re planning to duel Tom, but the thought of getting caught snogging by my brothers puts that panicked expression on your face.”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “It’s not so much your brothers, but what your mother will do to me when they tell her.”

“Do to you? Be serious, Harry. It’s me she’ll send to a convent. You can do no wrong,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Harry beamed. “She does like me, huh?”

Ginny could still hear that slight tone of wonder in his voice, and the biting comment she was about to make died in her throat. “Yes, Harry. She really does.”

Harry awoke later that morning when he heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairway. He was still lying on the couch in the drawing room. Ginny had spent most of the night with him, snogging him senseless. He was incredibly tired, but he still thought it had been worth it. She’d gone back up to her own room, and he tried to grab a short catnap before the chaos ensued. It felt like he’d only just shut his eyes when he heard Mrs. Weasley shouting at Ron to get out of bed and finish packing.

He sat up and blindly searched for his glasses. He’d finished his packing the day before, so all he needed to do was take a shower. He was about to head up and see if the shower was free when Remus entered the room and sat down on the couch with him. He glanced around the room, his eyes resting on the still-lit lanterns. Harry felt his skin grow warm; he was still having trouble with the pitch-black darkness of Grimmauld Place at night.

“Are you ready to return to school, Harry?” Remus asked, although Harry could tell there was more on his mind.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. I just need to shower and change. I was on my way to do that,” he replied.

“Did you sleep down here last night?” Remus asked.

“Yeah.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Ron’s hacked off at me. I was planning to wait until he fell asleep before going to bed myself, but I must have nodded off.” Harry was uncomfortable under the intensity of Remus’s stare.

“Harry,” Remus said, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for something. “We haven’t had as much opportunity to discuss things as I would have liked. With everything that happened on Privet Drive, then with Charlie…well, time seems to have got away from me. I’m concerned about you, Harry.”

“I’m fine, Remus, really.”

“No, you’re not. You wouldn’t have blown apart your birthday party if you weren’t so on edge. I’ve alerted Minerva to the situation,” Remus said, his body stiffening for the coming explosion. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You what?” Harry shouted, jumping up off the couch and twirling to stand face-to-face with Remus.

“Take it easy, Harry. She’s your Head of House, and I thought it prudent to have someone aware of what’s been happening. She’s going to talk to Poppy to make certain you get a Dreamless Sleep Potion at least twice a week. You need your rest, particularly if you’re going to be training. I know you’re angry with me – I expected you to be – but I did it, anyway. You need a support system, Harry, and I’m going to see that you get it. I’ve been lax about it for far too long.”

Harry was furious. He didn’t want Professor McGonagall hovering over him and watching him like a hawk to see if he was going to crack. He was fine – or, at least, he would be. Remus had no right to interfere this way.

“There is nothing to talk about,” Harry snarled.

“You need to talk about what happened at Malfoy Manor,” Remus said gently.

“You know what happened. They weren’t exactly hospitable hosts, but I survived.”

“Barely,” Remus pressed.

Harry felt the walls closing in on him again, and his breathing became labored. “Let it go, Remus. There is nothing wrong with me. Lots of people don’t like dark, closed-in spaces.” Harry was warring with the images in his head, struggling to keep the flashbacks at bay.

“That’s true, but most of those fears are irrational. Yours aren’t, and there are specific reasons behind them. The only way you’ll put it behind you, Harry, is to confront it head on, regardless of how difficult that may be. Talk to Ginny, if that’s easier, but you need to talk to someone,” Remus pleaded.

Harry let some of his anger go; he knew Remus truly was trying to help. Thinking about the time spent in captivity at Malfoy Manor caused a shudder to run up his spine, but it also triggered a memory from the fight on the island.

“Remus…when I was fighting the Death Eaters on the island, I…er, well, I know it couldn’t be true, but…I thought I recognized one of them,” Harry said, hoping he wouldn’t sound stupid.

“And?” Remus prompted.

“Well, I thought it was Lucius Malfoy, but he’s dead, right?”

Remus was silent for a moment. A moment that lasted longer than Harry would have liked. “Remus?”

Remus sighed. “I don’t know, Harry.”

“What do you mean? I was told Tonks killed him during the battle. I saw her dueling with him,” Harry said, a hint of desperation in his voice. The image of Lucius’s scowling face loomed in the back of his mind. He’d liked to toy with Harry before torturing him, like a cat playing with a mouse before devouring it. Did that hurt, Harry? Have you learned your place yet?

Remus looked right into his eyes, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling he could read his thoughts. “Tonks did duel and kill her opponent at Malfoy Manor. However, after it was over, when we went back for the clean up and to identify the bodies, Malfoy wasn’t one of them.”

“I don’t understand. How could that happen?” Harry asked. “Did someone take his body?”

“We had the right number of bodies, only Lucius wasn’t among them. We suspect that whomever it was Tonks was dueling with was under a Polyjuice potion,” Remus said, sighing.

“So, Lucius Malfoy is still alive?” Harry whispered, feeling like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. He stumbled back to the couch and sunk down upon it.

Remus sat beside him. “Our sources haven’t been able to give us any confirmation either way, and no one has seen him since. But you say you thought it was him on the island?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered, his mind going back to that horrible day. “There was something familiar about the Death Eater I fought before I jumped off that arch. I could see some blond hair coming out from the mask. Then, he spoke to me, and the voice sounded like Lucius Malfoy.” Harry shuddered again.

Remus laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m going to go inform Professor Dumbledore. He’ll probably want to speak with you after the feast tonight to give you your training schedule.”

Harry bit his lip and looked away. “Remus…what if…these flashbacks keep distracting me? What if when it comes time to battle…what if I freeze up?” Harry asked. The question had been on his mind a lot lately.

“You won’t. You’ve always been good in a fight, Harry. You think on your feet, which is a very important skill to have. You tend to worry too much beforehand and afterwards, but during the fight itself, you’re always in the game. You didn’t freeze up during the fight on the island, did you?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. That was true. His senses had been on heightened alert during the battle.

Remus patted Harry on the shoulder. “I’m going to go inform Albus about Malfoy.”

Harry nodded numbly. Lucius Malfoy had escaped; he is still alive. Harry’s mind struggled under the weight of processing this information. Ron wouldn’t take this news well, either. Why hadn’t anyone told them? That would be something else to discuss with his secretive headmaster.

By the time the rest of the house had awakened and the traditional chaos ensued, they were once again late getting to King’s Cross. They crossed the barrier with only a few minutes to spare. Hermione wore her Head Girl badge pinned proudly to her jumper, while Harry kept his badge tucked inside his pocket. The platform was quiet, as most of the students had already boarded the train.

Harry turned to Remus and gave him a one-armed hug. “Take care of yourself, Remus.”

“You, too, Harry. Send me an owl to let me know how you’re settling in. Don’t be reckless. Stay focused and finish your training, and try not to worry so much.” Remus swallowed heavily, as if there were a lot more he’d like to say, but he held himself back.

Harry nodded. It wasn’t as if he ever intended to be reckless. Things always sort of just happened that way.

Mrs. Weasley, who had finished crying over Ron and Ginny, turned towards Harry. She gave him a bone-crushing hug that completely cut off his air circulation. “Take care of yourself, dear, and keep an eye on Ginny. Be certain to tell Professor Dumbledore if you notice anything suspicious. We’re so proud of you.”

Mr. Weasley shook his hand, looked directly in his eyes, and kept his voice low so Mrs. Weasley, who had turned towards Hermione, wouldn’t hear. “I want to thank you for talking with Molly. You helped her more than you’ll ever know, and I appreciate it. You have a good heart, Harry. You’re an incredibly decent young man, and I couldn’t have picked a better match for my daughter if I’d chosen you myself.”

Harry blinked rapidly and ducked his head. “She means the world to me, Mr. Weasley, and I’ll do everything within my power to keep her safe.”

“I know you will, Harry. What I need you to do is keep yourself safe, because I think losing you would hurt Ginny worst of all. Be safe, for all of us,” Mr. Weasley replied, squeezing Harry’s shoulder tightly.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Harry replied, before following the others onto the train. They waved to Remus and the Weasleys as the train pulled out of the station. It was while they slowly departed that Harry noticed the large number of Aurors positioned all over the station watching the train safely depart.

“We need to get up to the front,” Hermione said. “There will be a prefect meeting so we can meet the new prefects.”

Everyone in the front car looked up as they entered. Harry noticed that none of the others seemed particularly surprised to see him entering with the others, despite the fact that he hadn’t been a prefect. He recognized Colin Creevey, who was Ginny’s sixth-year partner, and Jack Sloper, a new fifth-year prefect for Gryffindor. He knew the face of the fifth-year girl who was with him, but couldn’t remember her name. Blaise Zabini sat in a corner, eyeing Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry wasn’t surprised to see he had taken Malfoy’s position. Zabini sat with Pansy Parkinson, who refused even to look at Harry, and the other Slytherin prefects.

Hermione took over, introducing both Harry and herself, and laying out the expectations for the year to come. She scowled at Harry whenever she glanced his way. He was completely baffled by what he’d done to hack her off. Finally Ginny leaned over and hissed in his ear, “Put your Head Boy badge on, Harry.”

Harry had forgotten he had it. He pulled it out and pinned it to his jacket. Hermione seemed pleased.

The meeting dragged on endlessly and was rather tedious. Harry could better understand why Ron was always so cranky after he returned from one. When the questions finally stopped, and everyone seemed anxious to rejoin their classmates, Hermione dismissed them. Ron, Harry, and Ginny waited while Hermione collected her papers.

“Honestly, Harry, you’re as bad as Ron. You could have at least said a few words and told them what you expect for the year,” Hermione said, angrily stowing her things in her bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean, as bad as Ron? What did I do now?” Ron asked, his face growing red with anger.

“You spent the entire time staring out the window and cracking that gum,” Hermione snapped. “You were very rude.”

“So I’m rude and stupid now, am I?” Ron said.

“I didn’t say that. I never called you stupid, Ron. I said you didn’t pay attention. You never do at these prefect meetings.” Hermione had obviously reached the limit of her patience with Ron’s outbursts.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to say anything,” Harry said, stepping between them and trying to divert an argument. “This was my first one.”

“Well, well, well,” came a smooth voice from the corner. Blaise Zabini had remained seated and watched the Gryffindors with unconcealed amusement. “Seems like there’s trouble in paradise amongst the famous trio. Summer didn’t agree with you this year?” He stood up and walked over to them, picking up a stray piece of parchment from the floor and handing it to Hermione.

“What do you want, Zabini?” Ron demanded rudely.

“You seem like you’re on an even shorter fuse than normal, Weasley. You’d think you’d be much happier after finally getting rid of Draco,” Zabini said, his blue eyes glinting.

Harry stepped in front of Ron. “That’s enough.”

The Slytherin eyed Harry up and down very slowly. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you over the holiday, Potter. Each tale I hear is more outrageous than the last. Still, most rumors start with a grain of truth in there somewhere. I haven’t quite figured you out, yet.”

Harry didn’t answer. His eyes remaining locked with Zabini’s in silent battle. Ron moved to stand next to Harry. “I’m certain your Death Eater friends gave you their whole embellished spin. What more do you want?” Ron asked.

Zabini turned those cold, emotionless eyes towards Ron and eyed him silently for several moments before speaking. “I’m not a Death Eater, but any fool can see that this battle somehow centers between Potter and You-Know-Who. I freely admit that I agree with the Dark Lord’s ideals, if not his methods. I don’t agree with the violence, and not everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater. That’s not to say we don’t see things differently than you do. Nothing is ever clearly black and white; reality is colored in shades of gray.”

“There is nothing gray about his hatred for Muggle-borns,” Hermione said, looking down her nose at the offending Slytherin.

“His methods are wrong; I’m not arguing with that,” Zabini said smoothly.

“But you do agree that Muggle-borns don’t belong at Hogwarts?” Ginny asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“Yes. I believe magical education should remain in the pure magical families, and I won’t apologize for how I feel about that. I’m not campaigning to go out and kill anyone, merely to honor the purity of the bloodlines. I’m entitled to my opinion in the same way you are entitled to yours,” Zabini said, nodding and leaving the compartment.

Harry sank into a chair, resting his head in his hands.

“Harry?” Ginny said, kneeling next to him.

“This whole war might be doomed from the start. Even if I somehow manage to defeat Voldemort, it won’t change that attitude. It might cause them to hide and cover their feelings for a while, but it won’t change anything, and, sooner or later, someone else will take over the role of Dark Lord,” Harry said. He sighed, feeling a wave of hopelessness.

“Don’t think about that,” Ginny said, taking his hands in her own. “Your job is to think about Voldemort, not worry about the next Dark Lord. That will be another battle on another day – and hopefully for another person. There is always evil in the world; you can’t change that. Zabini has his head stuck so far in the sand that he’s not even worth the effort. How can anyone say that Hermione or anyone like her shouldn’t be taught at Hogwarts simply because her parents are Muggles? She’s a witch, and a thumping good one. She has more intelligence in her pinky finger than he does in his whole slimy Slytherin body. Voldemort is more than a differing political opinion; he’s a monster. Both you and I know that first hand.”

Harry took a deep breath. “You’re right, Ginny. Keep reminding me of that, okay?”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione said quietly.

“What did you do that for?” Ron demanded, his voice angry as he moved to face Harry.

Harry was lost as to why Ron was angry at him now. “Do what?”

“Stand in front of me when Zabini made that comment about Malfoy. Didn’t think I was up to the challenge, eh? Thought you had to step in and fight my battle for me, did you?”

“What? No! He was out of line, and I know it’s a painful subject. I was trying to help…you’ve done the same for me,” Harry said, backtracking.

“Ron, back off,” Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips in much the same way Mrs. Weasley always did when she was angry.

“Stay out of it, Ginny; this doesn’t concern you,” Ron snapped.

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. “Look, Ron, I know you’re still upset about Charlie, and I don’t want to fight with you. Taking it out on all of us isn’t going to make the loss go away; it—”

“What do you know about loss? You don’t know what it feels like to lose a brother right in front of you,” Ron interrupted, causing Ginny to inhale sharply.

Harry recoiled as if struck. His eyes blazed with sudden fire as anger rose in his chest. He clenched his fists and fought the urge to storm from the compartment. “I know enough,” he said through clenched teeth.

Ron’s eyes opened wide, horrorstruck when he realized to whom he was speaking. “I’m sorry, Harry; I didn’t mean that. I know you, of all people, do know what it feels like.”

“Yeah, and I know exactly what you’re doing. I tried to do it, too, and you were the one who wouldn’t let me. You grabbed onto me and held me up until I could stand on my own again. I’m going to do the same for you, like it or not.”

Ron’s eyes glistened slightly, and he was forced to look away, blinking furiously. “How?” he finally choked out.

“I need help with my training, and you’re going to be my new fencing partner,” Harry said firmly, as the idea took shape in his mind. “It helped me get out a lot of my aggression last year, and it’s a good workout.”

Ron’s eyes brightened at the idea. “I think I’d like to learn how to fence.”

“All right, you two. Slap each other on the back or something, and let’s go find Neville and Luna. They must be wondering about us by now. They didn’t know Harry and I were coming to the meeting this year,” Ginny said.

“Harry, could you hold up a minute?” Hermione asked. “I need to discuss one more thing with you.” It suddenly occurred to Harry that she had stayed unusually quiet during the whole row with Ron.

“Certainly. You two go ahead and meet Neville and Luna,” Harry said to Ron and Ginny. “We’ll be along shortly,”

Ginny pecked him on the cheek before following Ron out the door. He saw her slap Ron on the back of the head and hiss, “How could you say that to him?” before he shut the door and turned to face Hermione.

“I’m sorry I forgot the badge; I’m wearing it now, see?” he said, pointing to the Head Boy badge pinned on his jacket.

“You could have polished it up a bit,” she replied, but he could see the slight twitch in her lips, telling him he wasn’t in trouble.

He shrugged. “So, what did you want to talk to me about, then?”

“Ron,” she said, sighing and sitting back down. “He’s being so….so…obstinate.”

“Ron’s always obstinate, Hermione; you know that. He’s just having trouble coping. He’s been through a lot.”

“I know that, Harry. I just don’t know what to say to him. He’s not acting the way he normally does, and I don’t know how to handle this Ron. I’ve always thought of us as being polar opposites on the outside, but inside…he brings out the part of me I can’t usually find on my own. He makes me laugh, and take risks…and do things I know aren’t logical, but are worth doing, just the same. When I first came to Hogwarts, I was delighted to be here…but I was so lonely. You and Ron changed that. You two changed everything for me,” Hermione said, sniffling.

“I know exactly what you mean. You two changed everything for me as well. I’d never even had a friend before I came here,” Harry admitted.

“I want Ron to feel that we’ve made a difference for him, too. He’s given us so much but he doesn’t see that, and I’m running out of ideas on how to make him realize how important he is to us,” she said, swiping the tears from her eyes. “I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Harry knew that Hermione had to be very frustrated for her to admit that she didn’t have an answer for something.

“I think he just needs your support right now, even if he seems to be pushing you away. He’s not trying to hurt you. He’s trying to understand how his life spun so out of control.”

“Is that what you’re doing, Harry?” she asked.

Harry was perplexed. “Huh?”

“You haven’t said one word to us about the Dursleys, or how you’re coping with their loss,” Hermione said, gently laying a hand on top of Harry’s.

He looked away from her, uncomfortable with the way the conversation switched from Ron to him. “There isn’t much to say. We didn’t get along, but I’m sorry they were killed because of me.”

“Harry, you must know there was nothing you could have done.”

“I shouldn’t have left the house. I knew the blood protection was only valid as long as I could call Aunt Petunia’s house my own. I should have remembered that,” Harry said, clenching his hands into fists. He didn’t like being reminded of his own stupidity.

“You didn’t leave; your uncle threw you out. I know he hurt you, Harry,” she said anxiously.

“He was angry, and he lost control – it wasn’t a big deal. I was the one who knew I shouldn’t have left the house,” Harry insisted.

“It was a big deal; it’s always been a big deal. You can deny it all you want, but I know you and I can see that their deaths are bothering you. You may think you’re covering it, but I notice when that faraway expression crosses your face.”

“Of course it’s bothering me. They were struck down by the Killing Curse on their own front lawn on bloody Privet Drive! I didn’t even go to their funeral,” Harry said, gasping to refill his lungs. He’d finally admitted it out loud. The fact he’d never properly had any closure with the Dursleys had been preying on his mind.

“Well, you were unconscious at the time,” Hermione said, in her usual, matter-of-fact tone.

“They wouldn’t have wanted me there, anyway. And, besides, Aunt Marge insisted that I wasn’t allowed to come,” he whispered.

Harry had his head bent, so he didn’t see Hermione’s eyes fill with tears. She pulled his head against her shoulder and gave him a tight squeeze. “Harry, it’s not your fault. I don’t understand how you could have lived with them for so many years without them seeing you for who you really are. I’m sorry they’re dead, too, I really am. But I’ll never forgive them for what they put you through.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Thanks, Hermione. So, you and I are going to work together to drag Ron through this?”

Hermione sat up straight. “I suppose,” she said, although she didn’t sound like her usual, confident self.

As they walked along the train, he’d got several startled looks at his Head Boy badge. He was certain the gossip mill was running full steam at this point. They found the others in a car in the middle of the train. Ron and Neville were involved in a close game of chess, while Luna read the Quibbler, and Ginny dozed against the window. Harry sat next to Ginny and rested her head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep, as well; neither of them had slept well the night before.

By the time they reached Hogwarts, it was pouring rain, and the students dashed from the train to the awaiting carriages.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, this way,” rang out a familiar voice. “Allo, Harry, how are ye?”

“All right, Hagrid. Good to see you,” Harry called as he raced towards the carriage where Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were already waiting. Harry paused a moment to stare at the Thestrals, who looked back at him, unblinking.

Jonathan. Wormtail. Malfoy. Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia. Dudley. Charlie.

Those had been the deaths he’d witnessed this summer alone. It was building; the time was drawing near. Harry had always loved returning to Hogwarts; it felt so much like coming home. Still, this year, he could feel a sense of urgency – a tension that wouldn’t abate. His fate was rolling towards him like a snowball, gaining in size and momentum as it got closer. He had to make certain he was ready for it.

Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, and he hurried into the carriage. His hair was sopping wet, and his glasses fogged instantly as he got inside. He dried them the best he could on his robes and settled in for the ride up to the castle.

A/N: I have to give a big thank-you to my beta, Mistral, for all her editing and fine-tuning. I had a review on another site complimenting you, as well.

Also, thank you to KEDme, who has been wonderful in sharing her comments and suggestions and teasing me unmercifully when I was stuck inside with the snow last week. It was just what I needed and your suggestions have been invaluable.

Now, I have to clear one thing up. Last week when I was snowbound with three little ones – I got NOTHING done. Several of you commented on how I found the time to write, and that was the problem. I didn’t find the time. I got no NEW writing done at all last week, which is why I think I was so stressed out when I posted. I think I’ve told you that I’m ahead of you. I simply review and revise the chapter that’s ready to post. I spent the whole week and just barely got that done, never mind writing anything new.

I’m planning to post again next Friday, but I wanted to warn you all. My family is going away for the weekend to our annual SuperBowl party on Cape Cod. Go, Patriots! If I can’t get enough done, there could be a delay. I hope you understand, but I promise to pick right back up when we return.

Melinda