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 Thirteen

Feast of Fools

The Great Hall was decorated in its usual splendor for the start-of-term feast. The golden plates and goblets glistened in the candlelight, and the room seemed to sparkle despite the thick storm clouds covering the enchanted ceiling. Despite the elegance and finery of the hall, the students were uncharacteristically subdued this year. The war was obviously taking its toll on all of them, and there were several tears shed over missing classmates. As Harry walked into the room, shaking droplets of rain from his hair, he could hear brief snatches of condolences being offered for the loss of various loved ones. His stomach clenched painfully; things were only getting worse.

Harry could see both of his roommates who hadn’t shared a coach with him sitting across from each other on the Gryffindor bench. Seamus sat next to Lavender Brown and blew in her ear whenever Dean looked the other way. Lavender giggled madly, while Parvati Patil, who sat on Lavender’s other side, rolled her eyes.

Neville walked Luna over to the Ravenclaw table, while the others took their seats. Harry was aware of all the stares he’d been receiving since entering the room. He knew he ought to be used to it by now, but it never failed to make him uncomfortable. Every year, since arriving at Hogwarts, he’d been a hot topic for the rumor mill. He knew everyone would be curious about what had happened between him and Voldemort at the end of the previous term. No matter how much Professor Dumbledore tried to keep it quiet, the information mill at Hogwarts was surprisingly quick and accurate.

What Harry hadn’t expected was the amount of female attention his arrival would generate. It seemed girls from every house, particularly the younger ones, were staring openly at him. He knew he was looking healthier than he usually did at the start of term – Mrs. Weasley had seen to it that he got plenty to eat. He was suntanned and fit from all the exercise, but he didn’t think the difference was startling enough to garner such stares. Despite the fact that he’d been dating Ginny for a good nine months, he still found girls very confusing.

Stealing a glance at Ginny, he could tell by the scowl on her pretty face that she’d noticed the stares, as well. He couldn’t help that he liked it when she got possessive. He gently kicked at her ankle under the table and smiled brightly when she looked up. She returned his smile and linked her hand with his.

“I’m beginning to wish you were still wearing Dudley’s baggy hand-me-downs and looking like you were in desperate need of a good meal,” she muttered so only he could hear.

Harry snorted. “Now that didn’t sound like your mother.”

“Tosh. My mother would be proud of all these other girls staring at you – I’m not that easily amused,” Ginny said, lifting her nose pertly in the air.

“I don’t know why they’re looking at me. I haven’t even done anything yet this year,” he said, chuckling.

Ginny grinned and shook her head. “You really are so cute, Harry.”

Harry had no idea what he’d done, but he was quite pleased with himself, anyway. His thoughts were dragged away from Ginny when he heard Hermione gasp. He looked up quickly to see his friend staring up at the staff table.

“Is that Cordelia?” Hermione asked incredulously.

Harry scanned the staff table; sure enough, sitting between Professors Snape and McGonagall was Cordelia Monroe. Her dark hair was plaited and wound around the top of her head like a crown. She wore robes of bright orange that seemed to accentuate the Mediterranean coloring of her skin. She smiled at whatever it was that Professor McGonagall was telling her. Harry noticed that although Snape wasn’t glaring at her, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. Harry was amused by the thought of Cordelia’s charms working their magic on the sour Potions Master. Certainly, none of the other males on the island had been unaffected by her.

“Cordelia must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Hermione exclaimed.

Harry’s eyes slowly ran up and down the length of the table. Hermione was right; Cordelia was the only new face there. “I wonder why she didn’t mention it to us on the island,” Harry said.

“Maybe she didn’t know,” said Ron. “Maybe Dumbledore didn’t offer her the position until after we left. Has to be a good thing though, right? I mean, we know her, and she’s not a Death Eater.”

Hermione frowned as she continued to gaze at the staff table. “True, yet something seems out of place. I can’t put my finger on what it is, however.”

“I wish they’d feed us before they did the Sorting. I’m starving,” Ron complained.

Harry chuckled, while Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes. “You’re always starving, Ron. Ten minutes after you eat, you say you’re starving,” Ginny said.

“Well, right now I could eat a Hippogriff,” Ron said, holding onto his empty stomach to emphasize his point.

“I’m hungry, as well,” Harry admitted. “It would be nice if they could put some appetizers or at least bread and butter out beforehand.”

As if hearing his request, a basket full of warm bread suddenly appeared on the table.

All four Gryffindors stared at it stupidly. “Whoa,” Ron said, his voice awed. “You mean to tell me that all we had to do was ask, and it took until our seventh year to figure that out?”

Harry grabbed a roll and began buttering it. “Dunno. Maybe Dobby is on duty tonight, and he knows how hungry you get.”

Ron had already eaten half his roll before Harry had finished buttering his own. Even Ginny and Hermione each took a roll from the basket when Harry offered.

“Where did that come from?” Neville asked, finally joining them. “They’ve never had food out before the Sorting.”

“I just asked for some bread, and it appeared,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Cool,” Neville said, taking a roll.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall, once again, led a group of small first-years up the center aisle towards the front of the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall moved the stool and the Sorting Hat into place. The Sorting Hat looked even older than Harry remembered; he wondered what would happen if it ever finally just fell apart. He supposed a simple spell would take care of it; still, he amused himself with the thought.

“Hey! Where did the rolls come from?” asked Seamus from his seat a little further away from where Harry and the others were sitting. Harry started to pass the basket Seamus’s way, but Ron grabbed two more rolls before he let go. Harry noticed the basket magically refilled itself.

“Here you are,” Harry said, handing the basket to Dean. He watched in amusement as it traveled the length of the Gryffindor table, while several other Houses seemed to notice the existence of the food. The chattering in the Hall grew louder, before a stern glance from Professor McGonagall quieted them down.

Belatedly, Harry realized that he once again hadn’t paid attention to the Sorting Hat’s song.

“Adams, Beatrice,” McGonagall called out, and a tall girl with hair even bushier than Hermione’s ran eagerly to the stool. She sat upon it and grinned at her fellow classmates.

“GRYFFINDOR!” yelled the hat, barely touching Beatrice’s head.

The Gryffindor table erupted into shouts and applause. The young girl took a seat next to Hermione.

“Welcome to Gryffindor, Beatrice. I’m Hermione Granger, Head Girl. This is your Head Boy, Harry Potter, and Ron and Ginny Weasley, both Gryffindor prefects. Let us know if you have any questions,” Hermione said, making all the introductions.

Ron coughed, and Harry was sure he mumbled, “Big-Head Girl.”

Beatrice turned to Harry, and her eyes opened in shock. “Harry Potter…the Harry Potter?”

Harry lifted one eyebrow and unconsciously adjusted his fringe over his scar, “That would be me.”

“Crikey, my mum’s going to have kittens,” she blurted out, her eyes wide. Ginny spit out the water she was drinking and tried to cover her giggles, while Harry glared at her. Her eyes watered with mirth, and he had to admit that she looked awfully cute.

“He has that effect on my mum, too,” Ginny said to the first-year.

“Chandler, Christian,” McGonagall called, and Harry realized he’d missed several names while they’d been talking, but no one else had joined the Gryffindor table.

“GRYFFINODR!” yelled the hat, and a blonde boy with a baby face ran over and sat next to Beatrice. Hermione went through the introductions again, although Christian’s eyes never moved from Harry’s scar, nor did he blink.

Harry felt awkward and uncomfortable with the attention from the new first-years. Usually, he sat at the back of the table and away from the new students. They were always curious about him at first, but after a few days, they generally came to accept him. This year, being Head Boy, he sat at the front of the Gryffindor table, right where the new students took their seats, and there was no place to hide.

Harry pulled his fringe down over his scar and hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink a bit. Ginny quietly took his hand beneath the table, and the brief contact bolstered his spirits. He gave her hand a squeeze and chided himself for feeling this way. He was a seventh-year; he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bunch of new first-years. If they really got on his nerves, he could turn them all into bugs. He smiled to himself at the thought…maybe he could merely threaten to do that to them…but Hermione would probably flay him alive.

“My mum thought you were crazy a couple of years ago,” Christian stated bluntly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well…a lot of people did. Who says I’m not?”

Ginny slapped his upper arm. “That’s not funny, Harry.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ron said, laughing at Harry. “I’ve always thought he was a bit of a nutter.”

Harry squinted his eyes into a mock glare and blew Ron a kiss across the table.

Christian watched the antics of the older boys with close scrutiny. “After the break in at the Ministry, when You-Know-Who was seen, well...she changed her mind. My dad is an Auror, and he hears things. He says you were kidnapped last year and actually dueled with You-Know-Who. Mum says that can’t be true. So, what happened?” Christian asked with wide eyes.

Harry was aware of the silence descending upon the entire Gryffindor table; everyone wanted to hear the answer to this question. Ginny tightened her grip on his hand, while visions of the battle at Malfoy Manor caused Harry to shudder. Voldemort’s last words rang in Harry’s ears – This isn’t over. Harry had his doubts that it would ever be truly over.

“Voldemort seems to feel it would be better if I were dead. I disagree,” Harry said, watching both of the new Gryffindors flinch at the use of the name.

“That’s enough,” Hermione scolded. “You’re missing the Sorting, and Professor McGonagall is glaring at us. Pay attention.” She cast Harry an apologetic smile. He was grateful she’d managed to pull the unwanted attention from him. As each new Gryffindor joined the table, Hermione quickly rushed through the introductions, and Ron and Ginny deflected the questions. Harry felt a great swell of affection for his friends that night.

After the last boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. He was wearing deep emerald-green robes with pictures of the planets imprinted all over them. His silvery beard seemed to shimmer in the candlelight, and Harry squinted to try to see more clearly. He thought there might actually be a bit of glitter sprinkled into his beard and hair. Harry shook his head; he wouldn’t put anything past his headmaster. He remembered the first time he saw Dumbledore at his first Sorting feast. He’d asked Percy Weasley if Dumbledore was a bit mad. Harry smiled now with genuine fondness; Professor Dumbledore was brilliant, but that first impression still held true.

The room had quieted when Dumbledore stood, and they stared at him in expectation. “Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. Tuck in, and let the feast begin,” he said, and the tables magically filled with an abundance of food.

Harry began loading his plate with his favorites. His mind drifted to last year and how sick he’d felt during the feast. Voldemort had broken his followers out of Azkaban that night. Tonight, however, Harry’s scar didn’t ache, and his mood was much better. He was quite hungry, although still not keeping up with Ron’s appetite.

Harry watched Ginny’s profile as he began cutting his steak. She’d filled her own plate and was stirring her corn into her mashed potatoes. He’d noticed she often liked to mix her food together. A stray lock of hair kept falling forward into her plate, and Harry absently reached over to brush it back for her.

She looked up, and his breath caught as he saw the twinkle in her eye. The rest of the room disappeared for a moment, and they were the only two in the Great Hall. Ron’s voice snapped Harry back to the present. “Oi, knock it off. You look like a lovesick puppy, Harry. It’s not becoming, and I’m trying to eat.”

“Oh, like anything would ever stop you from eating,” Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes and gazing back at her own plate.

Harry snorted and continued eating his own meal. He watched Ginny from the corner of his eye as he ate. He wasn’t certain when she’d become so important to him, but now, it was like she was an extension of himself. Her happiness, her well being…his own life felt directly tied to her. He loved her. That thought still amazed him sometimes. He still felt a chill run up his spine every time she said those words to him. He’d waited all his life to hear them, and he just couldn’t get enough of them now. All in all, it was a good feeling, but it left him feeling vulnerable, as well. If she ever decided he wasn’t worth the risk – if she got fed up with his moods or uncertain about his feelings… He didn’t think she understood how completely she could break his heart.

Desiring a love he’d never experienced was one thing…having it and then losing it, or having it taken away…that was something else entirely, and Harry didn’t think he would survive. He needed her; she was a part of him. He would risk everything for her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ginny asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I was just thinking how much I love you,” Harry replied.

Ginny’s eyes flew open wide. Harry had told her he loved her on many occasions since that first time, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue. But he rarely said them in public, where he could be overheard. Her smile softened, wondering what was going on his head. “I love you, too, Harry. I always have.”

He smiled and seemed bolstered by her words. The pudding appeared on the table, and Harry served her before taking some for himself.

Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the room quieted, as the students turned their attention towards him. “Once again, I welcome you all to another year at Hogwarts. I have some beginning-of-term announcements before we can all retire for the evening. Even though I fear I may be wasting my breath amongst some of the older students, I will remind the first-years that the Forbidden Forest is strictly that – forbidden. In these dark times, I ask that the older students who have ventured there in the past to please heed my warning.” Professor Dumbledore’s eyes bore particularly hard into the Gryffindor table, causing Ron and Harry to duck their heads, and Hermione to chew her lip in nervousness.

“Mr. Filch, our dedicated caretaker, has a list of banned items available in his office. With the success of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, I’m afraid I’ve lost count of the number of items this list contains. All Weasley items are firmly on that list and are highly discouraged,” he continued, his eyes twinkling merrily.

“I’d also like to take this moment to welcome a new teacher to our ranks, and share congratulations with another. First off, our own Professor Snape will be transferring from teaching Potions to assume the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. I am certain you will all join me…”

“What?” Ron’s outraged voice drowned out the rest of Professor Dumbledore’s announcement. “He can’t be serious. I thought I was done with Snape for good.”

“I’m really surprised,” Hermione said, her eyes wide. “I mean, everyone knows he’s always wanted the position, but I always assumed there was a reason Professor Dumbledore never gave it to him. I wonder what’s changed.”

Harry’s head spun. Snape was the new DADA teacher? DADA was his best class; how could he learn anything in this – his most important class – in his crucial last year, with Snape as a teacher? Snape hated Harry. Harry felt that the fact that he’d never had any luck with Potions was directly related to Snape and his constant belittlement of Harry’s efforts. Even if he and Snape had made some progress toward an understanding last year – and Harry seriously doubted they had – he still wouldn’t want Snape as his DADA teacher. What was Dumbledore playing at?

“What’s wrong with Snape?” Christian Chandler whispered. Her eyes looked wide and fearful.

“He’s a git,” Ron said. “And he’ll automatically hate you, since you’re a Gryffindor.”

“Ron! He’s a teacher. Don’t worry, Christian; I’m certain that…that…” Hermione seemed at a loss for words. Harry could see she was trying to fulfill her role as Head Girl, but she couldn’t honestly say that Snape would treat the young first-year fairly.

“Don’t worry about Snape,” Harry said. “Just be certain to study your lessons carefully. I’m pretty good with Defense, so if you have any trouble, just ask me for some help. I’m certain Snape will love that. Actually, don’t use my name; you’ll get detention for certain.”

“Since Professor Snape will obviously be unavailable to continue teaching Potions, allow me to introduce Professor Monroe, who will be taking over in the Potions classroom,” Professor Dumbledore continued the introductions.

Cordelia smiled graciously at the students, flashing her brilliantly white teeth. Harry noticed many of the Hogwarts male population sit up straighter. Parvati Patil glared at the new teacher, who received a louder than normal welcome

Professor Dumbledore waited for the noise to abate and continued his speech. “As you are all aware, we are currently facing a war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.” Harry was annoyed by the continued gasps at the use of Voldemort’s name. If they couldn’t even handle hearing the name, how were they ever going to be able to stand up and fight? “I assure you, the castle remains the safest place for you to be. However, we have added some extra security measures for your own protection, and I will ask you to obey them. Curfews will be strictly enforced, and students are not permitted on the grounds after dark. Quidditch practices that continue into the evening must have a teacher present. Excursions into the village of Hogsmeade will be permitted, but there will be no prior notice given, and extra precautionary rules will apply. I shall inform you all of any changes or developments as the year progresses. Now, off to bed with the lot of you,” he said, making shooing motions with his hands.

Harry looked over at Ron and raised one eyebrow. “We’re still being allowed to go to Hogsmeade?”

“I’d bet a hundred galleons that that doesn’t include you, mate, “ Ron replied with a wry grin.

“Don’t be so smug. I think you might now be included in that ban, as well,” Harry said grimly. If Lucius Malfoy were still alive, Ron would have a target on his back, just the same as Harry. Even if not, Narcissa Malfoy had insisted she’d seek revenge for her son.

Ginny linked her arms with Harry. “Don’t worry about it now; if you can’t visit, you can always order anything you need by owl post, or Hermione and I will pick things up for you.”

“I think that all of us should—”

Harry, I would like a word. Could you meet me in my office? The password is Licorice Wand.

Harry stopped speaking and looked around wildly. He’d heard Dumbledore’s voice, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Harry, what’s wrong? What happened?” Hermione asked.

“N- nothing. It was nothing. Dumbledore wants to talk to me; I’m going to head up to his office,” Harry replied, seeing the headmaster give him a brief nod before exiting the Great Hall.

Ginny nodded, still looking at him strangely. “All right; we’ll wait for you in the common room.”

Harry leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Don’t wait up too long. I don’t how late I’ll be, and I can tell you anything important in the morning. He’s probably going to say that I can’t go into Hogsmeade and tell me who is going to be my trainer this year. I’ve got some things I want to discuss about Snape being the new DADA teacher, anyway.” Harry’s thoughts turned briefly to Jonathan, suddenly noticing his absence much more strongly since arriving at the castle.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble, Harry. Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, “ Hermione warned.

“I know, but I still don’t have to like it,” Harry said before following Professor Dumbledore from the hall.

Harry arrived in the headmaster’s office a few minutes after Professor Dumbledore, and he sat in a chair across from the ancient wizard’s desk. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s brilliant scarlet and gold phoenix, soared across the room to settle on Harry’s shoulder. Harry gently stroked Fawkes’s plumage, and the bird trilled its praise for the attention.

“I am going to have to make certain I buy Fawkes some special phoenix treats, Harry, or else I may find myself short one familiar,” Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly.

Harry grinned and looked right in Fawkes eyes. “You can come see me anytime he doesn’t give you a proper treat, Fawkes.” Fawkes trilled again and flew back to his perch.

“I see that you had no trouble with my message,” Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling.

“How did you do that? I wasn’t trying to pick up on your thoughts.”

“As you become more proficient with your skills, you will find that you can communicate with other Legilimens through your mind. Quite a useful skill, if I do say so myself,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

“How am I going to become more proficient with it, sir?” Harry asked.

“Ahh, that brings me to the reason for our little chat. I wanted to discuss plans for your continued training this year. You and I will work on the Legilimency together, and Aberforth will be coming to the castle to resume Jonathan’s work. He spends his evenings at the Hog’s End, but his afternoons are free.”

“That will be brilliant,” Harry exclaimed.

“I am glad you approve. I also wanted to inform you that we have come across a spell in Jonathan’s texts that we feel should prove useful.”

“Who’s we?” Harry asked. “Bill didn’t mention anything to me.”

“Actually, it was Miss Granger who first noticed the text. She researched it as far as she was able before turning it over to Emmeline Vance, who had the resources to pull it all together.”

Harry grinned, not surprised in the slightest that it was Hermione who made the first breakthrough. He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned anything to him. “What kind of spell?” he asked.

“The text roughly translates to Curse of the Damned. From what we have gathered, this curse would be able to undo the steps Voldemort has taken to ensure his immortality. It calls upon past victims of the cursed individual, draining the person’s power. It is similar in nature to what happened during Priori Incantatum in your duel in the graveyard. Priori Incantatum is a spell that merely causes a wand to reveal the spells it has cast. The fact that Voldemort had killed with his wand made it show his victims. However, the fact that they actually aided you in your escape is unique to you and you alone. I think it is one more instance that shows you are very connected to this Old Magic. Its basis comes from human emotion, and you have very strong emotions towards those you love. The more victims who feel wronged by the cursed individual, the stronger the curse. There is a complication, however.”

“Of course there is,” Harry deadpanned.

“The curse is designed to be used in a duel; however, much as your wands battled for power during the Priori Incantatum, you would again have to battle for control of this curse,” Dumbledore said gravely.

Harry was confused; he didn’t see the down side on this one. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Even if I don’t succeed in gaining control, how could the curse be used against me? I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Not directly; however…there are plenty of Death Eaters whom I believe would hold you responsible for their own demise. This is an ancient and powerful curse, Harry; you need to be ready for it. You already nearly destroyed Voldemort with your feelings for those you love…but this curse, this could take away his immortality, so you could finish him off. You need to prepare for the struggle. It is imperative that you be the one to place the curse on him.”

“But Voldemort hasn’t seen these texts, he won’t know about the curse,” Harry said.

“I would not be so confident. Voldemort went through extensive trials and research to ensure his immortality; he would be certain to know what could interfere with those efforts,” Dumbledore replied.

“So…between the curse and the use of Legilimency…you think he can be defeated?” Harry asked, barely daring to hope. Is this it? Might all this finally be over?

“I believe so, yes,” Dumbledore said, nodding.

Harry swallowed. So, there it was…it would all come down to this. “I’m ready, sir. I’m ready to end this. He has to be stopped, and I want a chance to live.”

“I want that for you, as well, Harry. Do you have any other questions?” Dumbledore asked, settling back in his chair and removing a lemon drop. He held the container out to Harry, who popped one in his mouth, as well.

“Yes. While I’m pleased to have Aberforth and Cordelia here, I can’t say that I’m thrilled with the idea of Snape teaching Defense,” Harry said, rolling the candy in his mouth.

“Professor Snape, Harry.”

‘Whatever,’ Harry thought, but remained silent and merely nodded at Dumbledore.

“I have my own concerns about Professor Snape taking on the Defense position, but I have my reasons for allowing it, and I will be watching the situation. Professor Snape has not been in Voldemort’s good graces of late, and we needed something to whet his appetite. We needed a reason for Professor Snape to become useful once again to Voldemort; this transfer killed two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Harry shook his head in amazement; did Professor Dumbledore ever do anything that wasn’t some sort of scheme? “Very well, sir, but if my marks in that class suddenly take a nose dive, you’ll know why.”

Harry really wasn’t all that concerned. He already was doing spellwork that was past N.E.W.T.-level, and he knew he could pass his test at the end of term. Since Aberforth would be training him, he had no fears about his defense preparation. He didn’t really expect Professor Snape to teach him anything, anyway; it would simply be an added nuisance.

“Was there anything else, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yeah. I want to know about Lucius Malfoy. Did Remus tell you about our conversation?” Harry asked warily, hoping Remus hadn’t mentioned anything to Professor Dumbledore about Harry’s sleeping troubles.

“He did. I have nothing definite for you, but I suspect that it was indeed Lucius whom you saw on the island. I believe he is alive and holding a vendetta against both you and Mr. Weasley. You will understand, of course, why I must insist you both remain in the castle, even during Hogsmeade weekends,” Dumbledore said.

“Yeah, we figured as much.”

“Very good. I would suggest that Miss Weasley and Miss Granger remain behind, as well. I am certain the four of you can find some interesting ways to spend your time,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry winced. “I agree with you, but you can be the one to tell Ginny that she can’t go to Hogsmeade.”

“Gryffindor courage has been taking a bruising from Miss Weasley, I take it?” Dumbledore asked, chuckling.

“Right in one. She’s scary when she gets angry,” Harry said, nodding. Ginny had inherited her mother’s temper.

“Very well, then. It shall be left to me to take on Miss Weasley’s temper,” Dumbledore said, smiling. Harry thought he looked almost eager for the challenge; he obviously didn’t know what he was in for in taking on Ginny Weasley.

“Sir, Ron’s and my Apparation tests were postponed after the Ministry attacks yesterday, so we’ll need to reschedule. I think it’s important we all be able to Apparate, just in case – Ginny, too. I’d appreciate it if you could get Ginny a waiver, so she could be taught to Apparate early, like I did last year,” Harry said. He was not planning on backing down over this point. As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

“Agreed. Let me see what can be arranged. Maybe something can be planned for the three of you to go in for testing one afternoon, unannounced. I will work on a waiver for Miss Weasley; perhaps we can use the observer from the Ministry for our own purposes,” Dumbledore said, nodding.

“Who is this observer?” Harry asked curiously; he had forgotten about Fudge’s stipulation that the Ministry keep tabs on Harry’s training.

“He shall be arriving on Monday for the start of classes. I have not informed Cornelius that Aberforth is the one who will be training you. I imagine the observer will be quite surprised by that development when he looks in on your first session.” Harry could tell by the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye that he was up to something, and that there was more going on than Harry knew. Some things never changed.

“I’ll wait to get my time-table, then. I’ve asked Ron to be a sparring partner for fencing. D’you think Abe will mind?” Harry asked.

“I daresay he will be delighted. A very good idea, I think; it will help Mr. Weasley adjust,” Dumbledore said, nodding his head.

“I hope so,” Harry said quietly.

“Keep your friends close, and continue watching out for one another. It serves you all well, and it is the best defense against Voldemort. Their continued loyalty to you infuriates him.”

“Ginny told me that once.” Harry said, smiling, remembering that night in the hospital wing after last year’s start-of-term feast.

“She is correct; he has never had anyone to do the same for him. Perhaps, if he had, things might have turned out very differently,” Dumbledore said, sighing.

Harry nodded and returned to Gryffindor tower to turn in for the night; he was knackered.

Ron blearily opened his eyes when he heard Harry enter the seventh-year boys’ dormitory. He’d waited in the common room with Hermione and Ginny for Harry’s return. When the hour grew late, they had finally given up on him and gone to bed. They knew he’d fill them in on what the headmaster had to say in the morning. Ron tried to stay awake, but just as he felt the gentle tide of sleep claiming him, he heard Harry enter the dorm. He watched as his friend smiled and looked around the room. He knew Harry felt like he was coming home; Ron had felt the same way. Since the loss of the Burrow, Hogwarts felt more like home than Grimmauld Place ever would.

Ron wanted to call out to Harry and let him know he was still awake, but he was too drowsy to form the words. Harry changed into his pajamas and cast a Silencing Charm around his bed before climbing in and pulling the curtains around him. Ron watched as the tip of Harry’s wand cast a small illumination from the closed hangings.

Ron knew Harry had been having trouble, not only with closed-in spaces, but with the darkness, as well. Harry had always had nightmares, but since their captivity, they seem to have been taken to a whole different level. Ron wondered what horrors plagued Harry during the night. Ron knew that his own dreams were vivid, recalling that trapped, hopeless feeling of waiting for death. The Death Eaters hadn’t beaten Ron; they’d simply left him alone. He’d barely seen another living soul that entire week, except for Narcissa Malfoy and her taunting. He’d been stuck there alone, frantically seeking a way out and trapped with his own thoughts.

The experience had left Ron with a hatred of silence. He couldn’t stand to be quiet, or not to hear noise coming from somewhere. Living with the twins, never mind his entire large family, ensured that things were never too quiet. Still, Ron frequently had to yell simply to make some noise. Ron had noticed the opposite seemed to be true with Harry. Harry pulled back and shied away from all the commotion, seeking calm solitude. Harry never talked about the torture inflicted upon him at Malfoy manor, so Ron only had the memories of Harry’s screams to fill in the blanks. Ron imagined that Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy would both have vendettas to score against Harry. He shuddered before letting sleep claim him.

Ron found himself in a small, dark cell. It was nearly pitch black, and he had to squint to make out the vague outlines of shadows moving around the confined space. The smell of rot and decay mixed with bodily fluids was overwhelming and caused him to gag. He put a hand on the wall of the cell to support himself but drew back quickly in revulsion. The walls were covered in a wet, sticky substance, but whatever it was, Ron didn’t want to know.

As his eyes became more accustomed to the dimmed light, he could see Harry lying unmoving on the floor. He was curled into a ball and panting heavily. He wore his old, battered, and too-big jeans, but his chest and feet were bare. Ron could see the belt Harry had worn around his waist hanging from the wall. It looked as if it had been used as a whip. Ron knelt next to Harry and was horrified to discover how badly he was bleeding. There was so much blood Ron couldn’t even tell from where it was all coming. He recognized with sickening surety that the substance all over the wall was Harry’s blood. His friend must have tried to get away at some point, but he hadn’t made it very far. Ron felt his stomach churn.

Harry was obviously in pain, but his eyes glowed with a determined ferocity. Ron had seen that same look in Harry’s eyes when he went up against a Hungarian Horntail back in fourth year.

“Harry,” Ron said, but no sound issued forth from his mouth.

Instead, another voice from another part of the cell purred, “How did that feel, Hawwy? Did the baby not wike it? Does the baby want his mommy? Oh…sorry…the mommy is dead. We already killed her, too bad, so sad. Is that what you see when the Dementor is here, Hawwy? You cry for her, you know. I like it when you cry like that.”

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Ron felt a burning hatred explode in his chest. Not only was she torturing Harry, she was taunting him while she did it. Bitch. Ron tried to walk towards her, but found he couldn’t move, nor could he look away. He was trapped within Harry’s nightmare, unable to move or speak…or to wake up. Ron began to feel panicked. Come on, Harry; wake up, mate. Get us out of here.

“Crucio,” Bellatrix said slowly, almost caressing the word as she said it. Harry’s screams filled the cell, despite the hoarseness of his voice. The scream went on, and on, and on. Finally, she lifted her wand and took a deep, shuddering breath, stroking her wand with her hand. She was truly enjoying this. “My master will be here soon, Hawwy. All you have to do is give him what he wants, and he’ll make your death so much less painful.”

“What?” Harry spat in a show of bravado, although his voice sounded horribly weak and strained. “He’s going to spoil all your fun? Doesn’t sound fair – he makes you do all the work then takes all the glory for himself.”

“Silence!” Bellatrix screeched in rage. She roughly grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, yanked his head back, then slammed it into the ground. “You will show proper respect, infidel. You will not speak of my Lord that way in my presence.”

“Come on, Bella.” Harry groaned, but continued giving her cheek. “I already told you; he’s no lord – he’s not even a pureblood. Didn’t you know? He’s a half-blood named Tom; I don’t know where all this pureblood nonsense came from.”

Shut up, Harry, Ron thought desperately. She’s going to hurt you, and I can’t stop her. Please wake up, Harry. You’ve got to wake up now.

Bellatrix was beyond furious. She aimed her wand at Harry and made a slicing motion. She was screeching so loudly that her words were distorted, and Ron couldn’t make out what curse she had used. The cut on Harry’s shoulder, which had already been bleeding, seemed to split open even further. He screamed in agony, and she sank her hands into the wound. She continued to claw at his skin until he nearly passed out. She removed her blood-covered hands and spat, “You’ll pay for that, Hawwy. I’ll make certain that pwetty wittle wed head you’re so fond of pays for your cheek after you’re dead. There will be nothing you can do about it. Your Dementor friend is on his way back; you hold on to the thoughts of all the things I can do to her, Harry. I’m certain your imagination can come up with some ideas the Dementor will never touch.”

It’s only a dream, it’s only a dream, Ron kept repeating desperately. This isn’t really happening; it’s over. It’s only a dream.

Cackling, Bellatrix strode past Ron and left the cell. Harry only had a moment to try to recover before a bone-chilling coldness descended upon them. Harry, who up until this point had remained confident and cocksure, despite his predicament, curled his legs up and began scooting back towards the wall.

“Noo,” he moaned, covering his ears with his hands and shaking his head violently.

“Harry?” Ron asked.

“Please, stop,” Harry pleaded, covering a sob with his arm. The door of the cell opened wide, and Ron suddenly understood Harry’s reaction. A Dementor glided in, taking a rattling breath and making it feel as if it was sucking all the air from the room.

“Sirius!” Harry screamed.

Ron sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat and panting heavily. His stomach was roiling, and he had to grip the sides of his bed to steady himself or he would have heaved. It took several minutes to get himself under control, but eventually he shakily sat up and moved the curtains. He could see Harry entering the room, returning from the bathroom. Harry was pale and sweating, and Ron knew that he’d lost the battle for control of the contents in his stomach.

“Are you all right?” Ron croaked.

Harry nodded. “Nightmare,” he said, before crawling back into his bed.

“Yeah,” Ron whispered, lying back down himself. “I know.”

How had that happened? Ron wondered, before falling back into a restless sleep.

A/N: Okay, there you go. Sorry for the delay in posting, I hope that doesn’t happen again. It was worth it though since I got another chapter completed in the meantime and also had a great time at the Superbowl party.

I read recently that HBP involves another “beloved” character death. Any guesses on who you think it might be? I have one, but I’m wondering what everyone else thinks…

Thanks, once again, to Mistral for editing this and making it so much better. I really appreciate all the help.

One last thing. I’ve been nominated for an Accio Fanfiction Award – thank you wvchemteach for the nomination. You check out the nominees here - http://www.geocities.com/marauder_jen/. Fun stuff – I’ll let you know the outcome.