BJ's Fanfic

Harry awoke the morning of August the first feeling better than he had in ages.  Sirius was still alive, and that meant that he could be saved.  Harry had felt so elated that no nightmare could come close to him, Voldemort or no.  Cho had stayed only long enough to be sure that he was all right and then she had returned to Mrs. Figg’s to Floo home before the Dursleys returned.

Harry jumped out of bed and took his morning shower, his mind reeling with plans on how to get Sirius back out of the archway.  He would need help to rescue him, and that was where the problems lay.  Remus Lupin and Professor Dumbledore were the obvious choices for assistance but they were also the least likely to believe him.  Remus was likely still furious about the row they had had at the beginning of July, about Harry’s decision to leave Privet Drive whenever he liked.  Since then, no one had tried to stop him from leaving, but neither had Remus or Dumbledore so much as sent him an owl.  Still, he needed help and that meant he had nowhere else to turn but his best friends, Hermione and Ron.  Surely, they would want to help him.  They had been willing to go to the Department of Mysteries before to rescue Sirius and nothing had really changed now, had it?  He needed to meet with them, and quickly.  Harry decided to send off some notes that very morning.

Heading downstairs after getting dressed, Harry was prepared to deal with the Dursleys, it was fairly simple now that they were mostly ignoring him, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight that met him as he entered the kitchen.  Remus Lupin sat at the Dursley’s kitchen table, sharing a cup of tea with his Aunt Petunia.

“Oh yes,” chatted Remus amiably, “it was obvious that James was totally smitten with Lily from almost the beginning of our fifth year.”  Aunt Petunia sat there, tight lipped, and didn’t say a word.  Remus continued on as if that were the most natural thing in the world.  “Lily, of course, loathed James.  He was constantly trying to show off, trying to get her attention the same way that he got all the other girls to swoon over him, but none of it worked.  In fact, the more he showed off, the more Lily despised him.”  Remus turned as the door swung shut behind Harry.  “Oh, there you are Harry!  I thought you’d sleep the entire morning away, not that your lovely aunt hasn’t been delightful company.”  Aunt Petunia looked as if she wanted to be sick.  “Would you care for a cup of tea?  How about some toast?”

Harry just shook his head dumbly.

“No?  Oh well then, what say we be off?”  Remus tossed Harry something shiny and Harry caught it out of reflex.  Looking in his palm, he saw it was an old key on a ring.  The ring had a cracked leather fob and Harry could just make the word “Triumph” embossed on it before he felt a familiar, somewhat sickening tug and realized that the key was a portkey.  He tried to get rid of the key but it was too late; he was already gone.

Harry tumbled to the cold stone floor of a dimly lit room.  He barely had time to sense that other people were also there when a sharp crack announced the arrival of Remus.

“You know, Harry,” he said easily, “your father never got the knack of that either.  He could never keep his feet when he landed.”  Remus reached out a hand and helped Harry to his feet.  “It got so that he would just refuse to go anywhere if he had to use a Portkey.  Sirius,” Remus’ face darkened for a moment, “and I used to have quite a bit of fun tricking him into it.”

Harry looked around the room; he was in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius’ house.  Sitting at the table was Professor Dumbledore gazing at him serenely over his half-moon spectacles with his fingers steepled under his chin.  Across the table, also staring at him but with a look no one would describe as serene, was Severus Snape, in his usual black robes and smelling of old potions ingredients.  Remus moved and took another of the mismatched chairs and motioned Harry to join them.

“So, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore began, “I hope your summer holiday has been going well?”  Harry just nodded, unwilling to admit that his summer so far had been one the best ever.  “Ah, well,” Dumbledore continued, “as you can tell, we have decided that keeping you restricted to your Aunt and Uncle’s house was not needed after all and that, as long as you continue to take reasonable precautions, you should be allowed a certain amount of freedom to move about and do as you wish.”  Again, Harry just nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet.

“A small show of gratitude would not be unreasonable at this point, Potter.  But I suppose expecting that would be…”

Harry snapped at his Potions Master, “Why should I be grateful for your not doing something that you have no right to do in the first place?”

Snape was about to retort but the Headmaster cut him off with a gesture.  “Quite a valid point, Harry.  We have no legal right to restrain you; however we all are quite concerned about your welfare.”

Harry wanted to say something about the value of their concern but choked it back.  Instead, he simply nodded.

Dumbledore continued, “However, we are concerned over the incidents that occurred during your birthday party.”  

Harry was puzzled, ‘What birthday party?’

Remus suddenly understood Harry’s confusion and explained.  “Harry, yesterday, for your birthday, the Weasleys came to Little Whinging; they were going to throw you a surprise party, but…”

“But Voldemort beat them to it,” Harry finished.  “Nobody told me that they were coming.  Why not?”  

“Well, if they had told you then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, now would it?” Dumbledore answered calmly.  “We understand that this is not the first time this summer that Voldemort has attacked you in such a way.”

Harry shook his head, “No, he’s done it a few times, just never that intensely, or for that long.”

Dumbledore nodded, seeming to think about this for a moment.  “We are also concerned about what happened after Voldemort’s attack.  You’re dreaming that Sirius was still alive.”

“It wasn’t a dream and Sirius IS still alive.”  Harry tried to remain calm, to think things through.  How had they known about his vision, about his talk with Sirius?  He had told Cho, had she told the Order?  Did she betray him just as Marietta had betrayed the D.A.?  He shook his head; he didn’t want to believe it.  How else could they have known?  He was watched, he knew that, but were they sneaking into his bedroom?  Were they staying that close to him?  Did they trust him so little?  Harry’s anger began to build again.  Without thinking about it, Harry’s thumb began to rub the palm of his right hand.

Remus’ voice was calm as he spoke.  “Harry, how can you be sure?  We all saw Sirius die…”

“No,” said Harry firmly, “we saw him fall through the curtain in that archway.  He was alive when he fell, I saw it.  We didn’t see him die.”

“Harry, that room is called the ‘Death Room’ for a reason.  That veil…  it covers the portal to another realm, the realm of the dead.  Anyone who passes through it is dead.”

“How do you know that?”  Harry wanted to ask if they had heard the voices but somehow Harry knew that they hadn’t.  Just like so many people couldn’t see the Thestrals that pulled the carriages at school, they just couldn’t.

“Harry, the Unspeakables have been studying that portal for years.  And no one who has gone through has ever come back.”

“Just because nobody’s done it yet, doesn’t mean it can’t be done,” Harry said obstinately.

“Typically arrogant,” sneered Snape.  “You think you know better than everyone else.”

“No,” Harry snapped back, “I don’t think I know everything, but I do know one thing.  I know that anything is possible.  And a door works both ways.  If you can go through one side then you ought to be able to go through from the other.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone ever done it?” asked Snape in his self-satisfied way.

Harry just hung his head.  He had no answer and Snape knew it.

“Black is dead,” he intoned with finality, like some form of justice had been done.

“NO, HE’S NOT DEAD!” Harry screamed.  “I spoke with him!”

“In a dream,” answered Snape.  “It was all a dream planted by the Dark Lord.”

“No!  It wasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t know how I know, but I know.  This was different than the dreams.  It was real.  I’m certain.”

“Just like you were so certain that your vision of Sirius being tortured was real?” Snape was sneering widely now.  “It took everyone in the Order to save your stupid life then, and it cost Black his.  You were wrong then and you are wrong now.”

“No, this is different.  Sirius is alive.”

Dumbledore stopped Snape’s retort with a small gesture.  “Harry, I understand that you are convinced that this was a true vision.  You believe it with all your heart.  But you must admit that you also want it to be true.”  Harry nodded slowly.  “Looking at this objectively, how can we tell that this was different than the vision you had of Sirius being tortured?”

Harry shook his head.  He didn’t know how to explain it.  This was different.  This wasn’t a dream that he watched, this had been real, but how could he convince them?

“This is pointless,” Snape said.  “The boy obviously doesn’t understand.  Ever since Voldemort realized he could send Potter these visions, he has been using him.  He is of no further use to us.”

Dumbledore nodded, a little sadly it seemed, in agreement.  “Yes, Harry’s ability to see what Voldemort was doing was a valuable tool, but now that Voldemort knows of it and can use the link as well…  At least we were able to save Arthur.”  Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin once again and thought for a moment before continuing.  “Harry, I think it best that you resume your study of Occlumency.  Professor Snape,” the self-satisfied sneer was now wider than ever on the Potion Masters face, “has agreed to resume his tuition, provided that you take it seriously.  Can you do that?”

“No,” said Harry flatly.  Snape’s mouth opened in shock for a second before reforming into his trademark sneer, but Dumbledore’s eyes merely widened ever so slightly.

“Harry,” he said calmly, “I think it is vitally important that you learn Occlumency.  You must learn to block these attacks by Lord Voldemort.”

“Yes, it is important.  And that’s why I’ve been studying.  On my own.”

Snape’s sneer didn’t shift an iota.  “On your own?  And have you learned to block him then?”

“No,” Harry admitted, “I haven’t, but I can hold him off now and that was more than I could do before.”  Harry felt his hand begin to tingle as if it was falling asleep.  He flexed it to keep the blood flowing.  Remus noticed this, and also noticed that Dumbledore was watching it as well.

“You’ve learned to isolate yourself, you mean,” Snape continued.  “You’ve at least shown the sense not to give him what he wants.  But you haven’t the slightest idea of how to block his attacks.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I have been blocking the Dark Lord’s probes for quite some time.”

“Yuh think?”

“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be alive today, you silly child.”

“That’s really what you believe?”  Harry was flexing his arm now, trying to stop the tingling that was slowly moving up from his hand towards his chest.  “Do you really think that you have hidden anything from him?  Do you think he doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

Dumbledore was watching Harry closely, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

“If the Dark Lord had any inkling that I was a spy then I would be dead, as dead as Black.”

“I can agree with that at least,” Harry said.  “Sirius is just as alive as you are, and Voldemort has known all along that you’re a spy.”

Snape’s face twisted in fury but before he could reply Harry continued, “He said so himself in the graveyard just after he got his body back.  He knew you were a spy then but he never expected you to actually try to come back.”

”Then why hasn’t he killed me?”

“Because he’s using you instead.  You talk about how he has been using me, or how he wants to use me.  What a joke!  He’s been feeding lies to Dumbledore through you all along.  You’ve been played a royal fool.”

“How could he have?  I’m the one who discovered that he was aware of your link and that you witnessed the attack on Arthur Weasley.”  Snape’s mouth still sneered but his eyes betrayed his doubt.

“Now who’s arrogant?” Harry asked, sneering back at the older man.  “Voldemort has known about the link all along .”

Snape stumbled, “How… how could he have?”

“He was sending me those dreams of the Department of Mysteries ever since he came back.”

“What?” all three men asked, almost in unison.

“Yeah, I’d been having those dreams since the beginning of last summer.  He just couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t doing anything about them.”

“That’s impossible,” Snape said.  Harry just snorted.

“Why didn’t you tell us about these dreams?” asked Dumbledore.

“Because I didn’t know they meant anything!” Harry practically screamed.

“But Harry…” Remus began, Harry turned on him like a hound on a scent.

“What?  I’m supposed to tell everyone about every single dream I have?  Do you want to know what I dreamt about Cho last night?  Is it any of your business?”  Harry looked at the three men.  “I had a bunch of pointless dreams about a dark corridor, how was I supposed to know they meant anything?  If I had had any clue to what they meant maybe I would have said something, but I didn’t.  You all made sure of that!  Voldemort just couldn’t believe I wasn’t doing anything.  So, just to make sure that I was receiving his dreams, he let me watch Mr. Weasley being attacked.  When he was rescued he knew that I was getting the dreams.  He just couldn’t believe I was too ignorant to understand them.”

Remus began to slowly shake his head.  “And so he…”

“And so he let Snape know that he knew about the link.  Snape trots back to Dumbledore like a good little lamb and bleats out what HE has learned.  He brags how HE is a master of Occlumency and so HE gets to teach ME how to do it.  All the while Voldemort knows full well that Snape is a dismal failure and his lessons would most likely leave me weaker and easier to attack.  That was why the dreams got worse after I started studying.  It was all a part of Voldemort’s plan, and everyone just puttered right along the path he set.”  Harry had no idea what was going to happen.  He had never, NEVER, spoken to a teacher like this before.  But, somehow, Harry didn’t care; it was the truth and he didn’t care who got hacked over it.

“That is absolutely ridiculous!” Snape said, but it was obvious that everyone believed it.  “You’re just an arrogant, lying little...”

He never got a chance to finish as Harry screamed, “I AM NOT A LIAR!”

Dumbledore half stood to try to gain some control over the situation.  “If we could all, please, remain calm,” he said.

“You have no idea of what you’re talking about.  I have been watching Voldemort for more than a year now,” Snape said, ignoring the headmaster’s warning.

“Then you’ve been a fool for a year.  You’re a dupe.  You’ve been used even worse than I have.”

Remus reached out a hand to hold Harry back but Dumbledore stopped him and with a slight shake of his head indicated that Remus should sit still.  He stroked his long beard thoughtfully and continued to watch Harry.

“He has no idea where my loyalties lie.”

“He knows everything.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Fool.”

“No.”

“Your own arrogance has blinded you.  You’re nothing but a miserable failure.”

Snape just sputtered.

“You’ve always been a failure,” Harry spoke with years of built-up hatred.  “You’re even a failure at being a traitor.  Can’t you do anything right?”

Snape stood and his wand was in his hand in an instant.  “We’ll see who is wrong here.  Legilimens!”

Harry saw this as if in slow motion.  He knew the spell was coming and somehow he was ready for it.  As it hit, he was prepared.  The mantra began to repeat in his head.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo…  He could feel the spell probing into his mind but he kept repeating the mantra.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo... The tingling sensations had now spread all the way up his arm and began to move across his chest.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  He felt his heart begin to flutter.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  The tingling was spreading further.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  His whole body seemed to vibrate.  Myoho Nhomei Rhingho Kyo...  As if of its own accord, his hand pulled his wand and pointed at Professor Snape.  Harry could see beads of sweat begin to trickle down Snape’s long nose to drip onto the floor.

“Legilimens!” a voice he barely recognized as his own called.  

In a flash, Snape flew back against the wall, his eyes widened and Harry began to see a flood of memories passing before him.  Snape evaporating the contents of his cauldron in Potions class.  Snape sitting at the Staff table watching Harry getting sorted; a look of disgust on his face as the sorting hat calls out “Gryffindor!”  Snape running through the Forbidden Forest, heading for the castle.  A young Snape pausing on the steps of the Hogwarts Express turning with his wand in his hand, as it begins to point at the back of another, black-haired, young man, it flies away from him and into the waiting grasp of an equally young Sirius Black, who snaps it cleanly in two.  Here was a crowded corridor, a young Severus Snape casts a tripping spell and Harry watched as James tumbled down a flight of stairs.

With a fierce shake of is head, Snape finally broke the spell.  Harry could see him panting as he stood braced against the wall.  Harry saw his eyes widen.

“How dare you do that!  How dare you invade my private thoughts!” he spoke.

“How dare I?” Harry heard his voice answer.  “Turn about is fair play, Snivellus.”  Remus began to stand but Dumbledore once again restrained him.  “It was you who started this so don’t waste your breath trying to act offended when it gets turned against you.”

“You arrogant little bas...”

Harry’s wand was pointed at his professor’s throat.  “You don’t really want to finish that sentence, do you?”

The two pairs of eyes were locked for a moment until, with a blink, Snape turned his away.  “You have no right to go probing into thoughts that are none of your business, just as you had no right to look into that Pensieve.”

“Oh, don’t even begin to peddle THAT load of codswollop here.  Do you really think anyone actually believes it?”  Harry had no idea where this was coming from, but it was obviously having an effect on Snape.  His eyes were wide and he began to lick his lips.  “It was so obvious that you wanted Harry to look in that Pensieve.  Why else would you make sure that he saw you using it before every lesson?  You made a point of showing him that you were hiding something.  It must have really galled you when he didn’t sneak right into your office to see what it was.  How many nights did you waste, waiting up hoping that Harry would break into your office?  It must have driven you mad!”

Snape swallowed before he spoke.  “I did not!  I wanted to hide that memory from him.  That is why I used the Pensieve!”

“Oh, give it a rest, Snivellus!  Placing a memory into a Pensieve doesn’t remove it from your own mind!  Everyone knows that.  It only allows you to view it from the outside... to gain a different perspective.  You weren’t hiding that memory.  You thought there was no chance that Harry could penetrate your brilliant defenses.  After all, you’re more clever than Voldemort, what possible chance did Harry have of gaining entry into any part of your mind?”

Snape squirmed under this close scrutiny.  “No, I never wanted him to see that.”

“You wanted nothing but!  For years you’ve been telling Harry what an arrogant bastard his father was, and for years he hasn’t believed you.  So you decided to show him instead.  You selected that memory to prove that you were right and everyone else was wrong, then you laid your trap.  You reckoned that Harry wouldn’t be able to resist spying into that Pensieve, and then he would be to blame for finding out the truth.  You could act the injured party to all concerned.  It was a perfect plan, except for one thing.”  Snape looked back into his eyes, his gaze hot with fury.  Harry’s mind quailed, but somehow his body remained stiff.  “What you forgot was that people grow.  That’s why everyone always tells Harry what a terrific bloke James was.  It’s the truth!  Sure, he was a stuck-up prat at fifteen, we all were.  But he grew out of it, and that’s a little trick you haven’t managed yet, is it?  James grew up, that’s when Lily came to love him.  You stayed the same pathetic little toad you always were.  Nobody remembers James at fifteen because of what he became later on, and everyone remember you that way for the self same reason.”

No one spoke.  There was no sound at all except for Harry’s ragged breathing.  He pocketed his wand and turned away.  There were two doors in the room, one led to a flight of stairs which in turn led to the front hallway.  The other, at the opposite end of the room, Harry had never gone through.  He began to walk towards it.  From behind him Harry heard the sudden rustling of robes.  In an instant he turned, his wand already back in his hand.  Snape had his wand drawn again and was raising it over his head to cast a spell.   Dumbledore was half out of his seat reaching to intervene.

Without stopping to think, Harry cried, “Expelliarmus!” and Snape’s wand flew into his outstretched hand.

In another instant, Harry had closed the distance between them again.  His heart was racing and the tingling feeling was back, this time dancing over his entire body.

“Still backstabbing, Snivellus?  Still too cowardly to face your opponent?  Not that it mattered much, did it?  You know, James was always better than you.  At anything he cared to put his hand to, he would beat you.  And now...  Well, as they say: “Like Father, Like Son”, eh?”  His face was right up against the older man’s, his breath pushing the greasy hair out of Snape’s eyes.  “So, tell me, Professor Snivellus, how does it feel to be bested by a sixteen year-old boy?”  Snape’s eyes held a hatred that Harry couldn’t even begin to fathom.  It was so strong that he wondered if there was room in the man’s heart for any other emotion.  Harry’s mouth just sneered at his Potions Master.

“From now on, you’d best stick to your cookery,” he said and, with a sharp crack, the pieces of Snape’s broken wand were falling to the floor.  Harry turned on his heel and stalked out of the rear door.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened slightly as the sound of the door slamming echoed in the room.

“Ah,” he said calmly, “now, at least, we know one thing for certain.”

“Yes,” Snape’s voice had regained its oily edge, even though he held his hands within the sleeves of his robes to conceal the fact that they were shaking, “we know that Potter has gone quite insane.”

Dumbledore looked at his Potions Master out of the corner of his eye and replied, “No, my dear Severus, we know that Sirius Black is, indeed, still alive.  And now we must find a means of rescuing him from the arch before...”

Remus Lupin cut in, “before Harry goes and does something incredibly stupid and unbelievably brave like...”

“...doing it himself,” Dumbledore concluded.

Snape drew his cloak around his shoulders.  “But Headmaster, we must consider, is it worth it?  He is, at best, only one man, one life.  Is it worth the risk?”

“Severus, any life,” Dumbledore said, looking Snape directly in the eye, “every life, is worth saving.  You, above all others, should know that.”

Snape returned the aged wizard’s gaze for a moment, only a moment before changing the subject.  “If you will excuse me, there is a meeting called for tonight and I must prepare for it.”

“No, Severus, I think it would be best if you did not attend this evening’s meeting.”

“But, Headmaster, there may be items of some importance discussed.”

“No, I really must insist.  You are to return to Hogwarts and, please, remain within the grounds until we discuss this further.”  Dumbledore’s tone left no room for argument.  Dumbledore then sighed heavily.  “My age is beginning to catch up with me, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean, Albus?” Remus asked quietly.

“Voldemort has indeed known about the link that joins him with Harry for some time, and I should have remembered as I am the one who told him about it.”  Both Snape and Remus stared in disbelief,  Dumbledore returned their gazes sadly.  “Two years ago, during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I discussed my concerns for Harry’s safety with many people, including the person I thought was Alastor Moody.  During these talks I mentioned how Harry has had dreams of Voldemort and how I suspected that the curse scar was some form of link.  Barty Crouch obviously gave this information to Voldemort at some time during the year, thus giving seed to his plan to seize the prophesy and kill Harry.  I’m sorry my friends, this is all my fault.”  Dumbledore looked as old as either Remus or Snape had ever seen him.  There was no twinkle in his eye and the weight of the world seemed to hang on his shoulders.

Remus cleared his throat and spoke softly, “Headmaster, a wise man told me something once.  He said, ‘all we can do is our best, sometimes it simply isn’t enough but it is all we have any right to expect, from ourselves or from others.’  I think it is still good advice.”

Dumbledore smiled at his former student and slowly nodded his head.  “Indeed, but still, hindsight blesses us with many things we would rather have known earlier.  Now I think it would be wise if you went and found Harry, before he gets into trouble.”

Snape sneered sourly but Remus grinned.  “He does seem to have an uncanny ability for that, doesn’t he?  Oh well, like father like son.”  Remus left the table not seeing the look of bitter revulsion cross his companion’s face.

* * * * *

The corridor was dark and cobwebs hung thick from the ceiling.  Harry strode down its length, not knowing where he was heading but heading there with a purpose regardless.  Dim torches sputtered in the hall, coming to life as he approached and dying out again as he passed.  At the end of the passage stood a door, for a moment Harry was eerily reminded of the passageway that had filled his dreams this past year.  It wasn’t true, what he had told them earlier, about his not knowing the dreams had meant anything.  He had known all along, since the very first dream upon returning to Privet Drive, that the dreams were important.  He just didn’t know exactly what they meant or how they were important.  If he had only told someone about them, if he had only asked, so much would have been different.  But he didn’t.  He had just been so angry at being left out of everything, at being left isolated and alone, that he had wanted to spite them all.  Well, he had certainly done a job of that.

He turned the knob and opened the door.  The room on the other side was expansive.  The ceiling was at least twenty feet high and the room as large as the largest classrooms at school.  Small windows lined two opposite walls providing light, and Harry noticed that the third wall was actually two large double doors.  This was a Carriage House, Harry realized, as he closed the door behind him.  Proof of this sat on one side of the room in the form of a large carriage, not unlike the horseless – Thestral-drawn, Harry corrected himself – carriages at Hogwarts.  This carriage had no traces, yokes, or harnesses however, it was truly horseless, and it seemed large enough to carry at least a half-dozen people in comfort.  Tucked into the rear of the room was a tarp covered mound and it was to this that Harry was drawn.

Harry reached out a hand and noticed as he did so that it was trembling.  He grasped the tarp and pulled it free, revealing a gleaming motorbike.  It was a Triumph, he saw, like on the old key ring that Remus has tossed him just this morning, but it wasn’t old.  This obviously wasn’t the same bike that Sirius had ridden in his youth.  It was a modern sports bike, with bright yellow fairings and bodywork.  Harry’s eyes bulged and his hands itched to grab the throttle.

“Wow,” said a voice behind him.  Harry spun to see Remus Lupin standing in the doorway.  A smile crossed the older man’s lips as he looked at the machine before him.  “I knew Sirius was thinking of getting this, but I didn’t know he already had.”

“Sirius got himself a new motorbike?” Harry asked astounded.  “But how was he planning on riding it?”

“I don’t even know how he managed to buy it, Harry,” Remus answered, grinning, “but he wasn’t planning on riding it.  It was for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Sirius was planning on giving it to you for your birthday.  I told him to wait until next year when you would be old enough to ride it, but I guess he didn’t want to.”

“This was for me?” Harry couldn’t believe it.  Sirius had given him his Firebolt when he had first broken out of Azkaban, before Harry had even met him, but that was for all the missed birthdays.  This... this was incredible.

“Now remember, Harry.  You’re not old enough to be licensed.  You’ll have to wait until you’re seventeen to ride this bike,” Remus said sternly, although the glint in his eyes told that he didn’t really expect to be obeyed.

“Do you really think that, in a year, I’ll be able to get a license to ride a flying, invisible motorbike?” Harry asked grinning.

“This bike doesn’t fly,” at least not yet, he thought, ”and it certainly isn’t invisible.”

Harry reached out to the handlebars and hit a button, the outline of the bike shimmered and faded, obviously under some sort of disillusionment charm.  If Sirius had had the time, and Remus suddenly realized that Sirius had had a LOT of time, to do this than the bike probably did fly as well.  Remus shook his head ruefully, wondering what good could possibly come of this.

“This is brilliant,” Harry crowed.  Hitting the button again to return the bike to visibility, Harry straddled the saddle.

“Harry, you don’t even know how to ride that thing,” Remus said but, judging from the easy way that Harry sat the bike, he realized that riding was likely going to come as naturally to him as flying.  Besides, Remus reckoned, with Sirius rattling around inside his head, Harry had a pretty good teacher already.  The werewolf just shook his head; this was a battle he just wasn’t going to win.

“So, Professor,” Harry began with a wicked grin that Remus recognized from more than a decade ago, “would you…”  Whatever Harry was going to say was cut off when a loud explosion rocked the carriage house.

With a wave of his wand, Remus opened one set of doors to the outside.

“Harry,” he called turning to re-enter the house, “get out of here NOW!”

Harry knew that Death Eaters had attacked and the bike roared into life at the push of the starter.  The door back into the house closed behind Remus as Harry, letting the voice inside his head take over, pulled in the clutch and kicked the bike down into first gear.  Slipping the clutch, Harry tore the bike out of the garage and past the faded and peeling shingles of the house.  Coming around the front of the building, Harry was thinking about which way to turn when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone… something.

It was Kreacher; the little house-elf was standing in the front yard of 12 Grimmauld Place practically dancing.  Harry could see the vicious grin on his face as he clapped his hands to the sounds of destruction coming through the open front door.  Giving the handlebars some hard right counter-steer, Harry felt the bike fall over onto its left side as he simultaneously gripped the front brake and rolled on the throttle.  Gravel skidded from underneath the rear wheel as the bike pivoted on its front until it was pointed directly at Kreacher.  Harry released the front brake and accelerated.

Kreacher never even had a chance to pop out of the way as the bike tore across the lawn and bowled him over.  Just as he hit the elf, Harry skidded the bike again and began to head for the front steps.  Jerking back hard on the handlebars as he accelerated Harry felt the front tire lift off the ground as he got to the steps and with a series of sharp jolts he climbed onto the front porch and rocketed through the door.

“KILL THEM ALL!  DESTROY THE MUGGLE-LOVING SCUM!” the portrait of Sirius’ mother screamed.  Harry heard the sounds of battle coming from directly ahead and, gunning the bike forward, he charged.  The stairs down to the kitchen were even harder on the bike’s suspension, and Harry’s, then the ones out front, but he didn’t slow down as the bike ploughed into the kitchen.  Harry saw that one Death Eater was down, at Dumbledore’s feet, while three more dueled with the headmaster and former professor.  Snape was pinned to the opposite wall by one masked figure, writhing under the Cruciatus curse.  Then Harry suddenly realized that the Potions Master had no wand with which to defend himself.  Harry had snapped it during their altercation earlier.

Accelerating at full throttle across the kitchen, the exhaust screaming in the enclosed space, Harry crossed the kitchen towards Snape.  Harry fishtailed the bike and slammed the rear wheel into the shocked Death Eater’s legs sending him sprawling.  Released from the curse, Snape began to slump to the ground but Harry caught him and pulled the semi-conscious man across the gas tank.  Harry recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange as she bellowed, “INCENDIO!”

With Snape draped in front of him, Harry pointed the bike towards the door leading to the carriage house.  Luckily, it was still open and the bike hurtled down the passage.  Harry could feel the heat of the flames behind him and he imagined them growing closer, about to envelope them both as he tried to reach the other end in time.  As he felt the flames licking at the back of his neck, Harry realized that Remus had closed the door to the carriage house.  Harry braced for the crash but just before they struck, Harry felt Snape’s hand grab the wand from his belt.

“Reducto,” Snape called and the door exploded as the bike burst into the carriage house proper.  Harry again skidded the bike around to point to the still open doors.  ‘One of these days,’ Harry thought to himself oddly, ‘I’m going to have to learn how to turn this thing properly.’

Harry raced out of the doors, down the drive, and into the street.  He turned away from the house, just as it exploded in a pillar of flame, and raced away.  Harry pulled the bike around, when he figured they were out of the danger zone, and came to a stop.  He looked up at the column of smoke that had once been his godfather’s home.

“Good riddance,” he muttered and at once he began to wonder if Dumbledore and Remus had also made it out alive.

His question was answered as two loud cracks announced the apparation of both Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.  The two men looked whole, if a little battered and singed.  Harry felt Snape begin to struggle up from his awkward position and sat up straight to get out of his way.  The man managed to stand and he stared Harry right in the eye.

“That was the most foolhardy display of bravado that I have ever witnessed,” the Potions Master growled.  “How dare you risk yourself in that manner.  You should have immediately left the area!  How could you be so reckless?”

“But we’re certainly glad for it,” Dumbledore interrupted.  “Aren’t we, Severus?”

Professor  Snape only continued his ranting, “If you think that your little stunt means that I owe you my life, Mr. Potter, you are sadly mistaken.  I was perfectly capable of dealing with that situation and your interference was NOT desired!”

Harry looked up at the older man and said, “I don’t think you owe me anything, Professor.  If anything, I reckon this makes us even.  I didn’t need your help either, back when Quirrel was jinxing my broom.  I most likely would have lived through that fall.  After all, I fell further when the Dementors knocked me off.  But still I appreciated the assistance, even if I never said ‘thank you’.”  Harry grinned wickedly.  “Besides, by saving me from that fall, you gave me the opportunity to beat Slytherin for the first time.”

Snape glowered at him, but Harry could see smiles on the faces of Dumbledore and Lupin.

“Albus,” Remus said, “how did they know about this place?  The protections and wards should have prevented their coming here.”

Both men looked at Snape, but when Harry realized what they were thinking he interrupted.  

“It was Kreacher,” he said.  “I saw him on the front lawn as I was leaving the first time.”  Now all three men were looking at him.  “He just looked so happy about the attack that I...”  Harry looked down at his shoes.  “I, sort of, ran him over.”

“Was he injured?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked up fiercely.  “I hope so,” he growled, “but somehow, I doubt it.”

“Harry,” Dumbledore began to explain, “we can not blame Kreacher for what he became.  Perhaps if he was treated differently...”

“No, Professor, we can blame him.  Dobby was raised in a household just a vile as Kreacher’s, but he chose not to become evil himself.  If Dobby can choose to be good, then why couldn’t Kreacher choose to be evil?”

“Harry, he might not have had the opportunities here that...”

“No, Sirius was raised in the same house, and HE chose not to become evil.  If he had a choice then Kreacher did too.  Either way, the responsibility for his choices are his alone.”

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly.  “Perhaps you have a point, Harry.  But now we must all leave quickly, before the Ministry appears and we are faced with a lot of uncomfortable questions.  Harry, you must return to your Aunt and Uncle’s, while the rest of us return to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.  He shifted uncomfortably for a moment before speaking further, “Um, Professor Snape?”  Snape glared at him.  “Could I have my wand back?  Please?”

Snape thrust the wand into his robes and replied, “You will have your wand returned, Potter, after you arrange to replace my own.”  Harry blushed slightly and nodded.

Dumbledore broke in, “Now, might I suggest that we all be off?”

“Yes, sir, Headmaster!” Harry said with a grin as he gunned the motorbike back into life and tore off down the street.

“Perhaps, I ought to have been a bit more specific with young Mister Potter,” Dumbledore said with a grin.

Remus smiled widely.  “Honestly, I don’t know what we are going  to do with that boy.”

“Perhaps Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine,” was all that Snape said.

A bright half-moon had risen when the meeting finally broke up.  In groups of twos and threes, the attendees rode the spiral stairs down from the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Soon there were only four left.  They had been the first to arrive and so it was oddly fitting that they were also the last to leave.  Professor Minerva McGonagall had a look of dour concern on her face but it was Severus Snape who spoke first.

“Headmaster,” he said, “I feel I must again stress my view that it is unwise to simply allow Potter to run roughshod over the law, both muggle and magical.”

“Indeed, Albus,” interjected Professor McGonagall, “we all know how fond you are of the boy, but to simply let him do whatever he pleases?  He must have some form of structure in his life.  Perhaps those horrid Muggle relations of his can finally be of some use?”

“No, those people have had too much of an influence over him already,” said Remus Lupin quickly.

“Well, someone needs to start having some control over the boy,” said Severus.  “How else can he be expected to survive?”

Albus Dumbledore looked at the three other people in the room.  They were all between 75 and 100 years younger than he and yet they were his closest advisors, more than that, they were his friends.

“Indeed, you are all correct,” he spoke at last.  “Someone must begin to exert some control over Harry, and I believe I know precisely the right person.  Remus, if you will remain for a few moments, I have a message for you to bring to Mr. Potter.”

With this the deputy headmistress and the Potions Master took their leave and left a rather curious werewolf behind.

* * * * *

The ride from London to Little Whinging in Surrey took Harry over five hours.  Not that he couldn’t have made the trip in considerably less time, the distance was only some 30 odd kilometers, but he was constantly delayed by turning off into the empty parking lots of office buildings, factories, and train depots so that Sirius could give him lessons on riding a motorbike.  Some of the lessons were basic, such as the proper techniques for braking, using the front more than the rear, or how to maneuver the machine at low speeds, which was in reality far more difficult than turning at high speed.  Other lessons were far more Marauder-like, such as the proper way to stand the bike up on its front wheel using the brake, as well as standing it on the rear wheel using the accelerator.  Sirius also made Harry, much to his chagrin, stop and buy a helmet.  Harry wanted one that was red and gold, the Gryffindor colors, but Sirius insisted on a yellow, full face model that matched the bike and fit snugly without interfering with Harry’s glasses.

And so it was dinnertime when Harry rolled up the drive of Number 4 and climbed off the bike, saddle-sore but grinning from ear to ear.  The Dursleys, as usual, made a point of not noticing him as he strolled into the kitchen, but when he sat his helmet on the counter to free up his hands to make a sandwich, he heard a distinct gasp from his aunt.  After grabbing a fizzy drink from the fridge, he set his plate on the table and took a chair.  Uncle Vernon was turning quite a lovely shade of puce when Harry swallowed a bite of food and asked how everyone’s day had gone.  His aunt and uncle quickly returned their eyes to their plates but Dudley couldn’t stop himself.

“Wha’ tha’ helmet for?  Did somebody bring you home on a motorbike?  I thought I heard one drive up.”

Harry looked at his piggish cousin, two years of training in boxing had made him a good bit stronger but he was still quite a rotund figure.  “No one brought me,” Harry said casually, “I rode myself.”

And so, while his aunt wailed about the neighbors seeing one of those horrid, hoodlum things in their drive, Uncle Vernon struggled to clear a lodged bit of beef from his windpipe, and Dudley whined because HE didn’t have a motorbike, Harry finished his sandwich, put his plate in the sink, and went up to his room to study for the rest of the evening.

The few mornings later, after another lovely, dreamless night’s sleep, Harry woke, showered, and went downstairs.  He reckoned to put in a little work around the house before going out on the bike for some more lessons.  So, as he entered the kitchen, he was quite shocked to see Remus Lupin once again sitting at the table.  The man looked quite tired and Harry noticed that this time he wasn’t even bothering to pretend to hold a conversation with his aunt, who sat with him, likely to make sure he didn’t try to steal any flatware.

“Remus,” Harry said when he got over the shock, “what are you doing here?”

“Yes, it’s beginning to become quite a habit, isn’t it?” he replied.  “I’m going to have to bring some groceries next time or I might start to wear out my welcome.”

Harry saw his aunt’s eyes widen at this comment but she didn’t say a word.  A remarkably intelligent decision on her part, Harry thought.

“I’m starving,” Harry said.  “I’m going to make myself some breakfast.  Would you care to have something?”

“Actually, Harry, I could do with a bit of toast or something; it’s been a long night.”

Harry got out a frying pan and put a healthy amount of bacon in it to cook as he scrambled a half-dozen eggs into another pan.  In truth, he wasn’t that hungry but he knew Remus often went without and decided that he ought to see that he had at least one good meal today.  Besides, the look on his aunt’s face as he crashed about in her pristine kitchen was delightful.

As Remus began to tuck into his breakfast, he looked at Harry.  It was obvious that he had something to say and this was not just a social visit.  Wiping his mouth carefully with one of Petunia’s best cloth napkins, he began.

“Harry, I want to begin by saying we all believe you.”  Harry couldn’t stop the hope that began to bubble up inside him.  “Somehow, Sirius is still alive, in one form or another.”  Remus’ eyes grew concerned as he looked steadily at Harry.  “Are you aware of how deeply he is engrained into your mind?”

Harry nodded.  “He’s in there pretty well.  I can’t sense him all the time, like right now, but when I need him, he comes forward.”

”Like the other day. During your encounter with Professor Snape?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, then and when I was riding the bike.  I sort of let him take control because… well, because I didn’t know what to do and he did.”  Harry blushed slightly with this confession and he lowered his eyes.

“Yes, Sirius could certainly handle a bike.  Was it him that got you home?”

“Well, yes and no,” Harry began and he went on to explain how Sirius had taken the long ride home to teach Harry how to ride for himself.

“So, Sirius is possessing you?”

“NO!” Harry said sharply.  “It’s not like that at all.”

“How do you know, Harry?”

“Well, I spent a lot of time thinking about it that night, after it was all over.  I’ve talked a bit with Ginny about what it was like when Voldemort was possessing her back a few years ago.  She said she couldn’t remember what she did, where she went, or how she got there.  It’s not like that now.  It’s like we’re a team, Sirius and I, almost like we’re joined.”  Remus looked at him curiously, with a strong vein of worry.  But since he wasn’t trying to call in an exorcist, Harry took this as a sign to continue.  “I’ve been thinking a bit about what she said, and my dreams.  Sort of comparing how they were to what she went through.”

“And?”

“Well, they all seem to be different.  Ginny was possessed against her will, and she had blackouts and couldn’t remember anything.  Back in fourth year, before Voldemort came back, the dreams I had were all… sort of… well, they were like going into a Pensieve.”

Remus shook his head, “I’ve never been in a Pensieve, Harry.  Describe it to me.”

“Well, it’s sort of like you’re there but you really aren’t.  You can walk around and see things from different angles, but no one knows you’re there.  They can’t see you or hear you.”

“Because they’re just memories,” Remus said.

Harry nodded.  “But that was also what those first dreams were like.  I could see what was happening but I was still me.  I was watching everything.  Then, after Voldemort got his body back, they were different.”

“How so?”

Harry took a deep breath and continued, “It was like I was a part of them.  Instead of being me and watching what was happening, I became one of the people involved.  At first, I just pictured myself walking down a dark corridor.  There was no one else there, not Voldemort, not Wormtail, no one.  That’s probably why I didn’t think they were coming from Voldemort; he wasn’t in any of them.  I didn’t feel any strong emotions, except maybe a desire to open that door at the end of the corridor.”

“But you were still yourself?”

“I thought so then, but I’m not so sure now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, the dream I had, where Mr. Weasley was attacked.”

“You watched that happen?” Remus asked gently.

Harry shook his head.  “No, I did it,” he admitted softly.

“What do you mean you did it?”

“I was the snake.  I saw what the snake saw, felt what the snake felt.  I… I hated Mr. Weasley and I wanted to kill him.  I hunted him.  I snuck up on him while he was asleep and then I attacked him.”  Harry was shaking with the power of the memory and the guilt it brought back.  “I bit him, over and over again.  I wanted to kill him.”

Remus looked at the boy intensely for a moment before speaking.  “Interesting,” was all he said.

“Interesting?” Harry barked.  “You think it’s interesting that I wanted to kill my best friend’s father?”

“No, Harry,” Remus quickly said.  “You didn’t want to kill anybody.  That was the snake.  You were witnessing not only the snake’s actions but its thoughts, its emotions.  It’s interesting that, in the beginning, you experienced these dreams in the third person.  You were an observer.”  Harry nodded; this at least he could understand.  “But after Voldemort’s resurrection, your dreams changed, they became first person.  You were no longer independent of the actions going on; you were a part of them in a way, but not in control of what was happening.”

Harry nodded again, “Right, then I got the dream of Sirius.”  Harry hesitated, he wasn’t sure if he could continue, but he felt he had to try.  “I was Voldemort.  I was torturing Sirius.  I was laughing.  I hated him and I wanted to kill him, but only after I punished him first.”  Harry stopped, unable to continue.  He looked at his father’s friend and waited for the recriminations he thought would come from this admission.

Remus got up and walked around the table.  Placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder he looked down into the eyes that had once belonged to the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts.  “Harry, you never felt those things, did you?”  Harry could do nothing but return his gaze.  “It was Voldemort who hated Sirius, just as it was Voldemort who wanted to kill Arthur Weasley.  I don’t want you to feel any guilt for what he made you witness.  It wasn’t you who felt that way.  You only witnessed what Voldemort felt.”  Harry nodded slowly but Remus knew it would take time for understanding to come to the boy.  “Harry, what about the dreams you have now, the ones that convinced you that Sirius may still be alive.”

“He is alive,” Harry said fiercely.

“I know, Harry, I know.  I saw him a couple of days ago.”  Harry looked stunned.  “That incident with you and Professor Snape.  That wasn’t you, it was your mouth that spoke but they were Sirius’ words.  I’ve witnessed enough of their battles to know one when I see one.  Especially when he beat Snape to the draw and snapped his wand.”

Harry gaped for a beat and said, “That’s happened before, hasn’t it?  On the Hogwarts Express?”

Remus shook his head ruefully.  “Yes, on our final trip back to London after finishing our last year, Sirius got hold of Severus’ wand and snapped it right in front of everyone.”

“No,” Harry said.  “It wasn’t like that.  I saw it, in Snape’s memories…”

“Professor Snape, Harry.”

“He was going to hex my dad.  Sn… Professor Snape was boarding a carriage and he turned to curse my dad,” he added with a sneer, “in the back.”  Remus looked at Harry oddly.  “Sirius disarmed him and then snapped his wand.  It wasn’t his fault, he was protecting my dad.”

“Did Sirius tell you this?” Remus asked.

“No, like I told you, I saw the memory of it in Snape’s…”  Harry grimaced, “Professor Snape’s mind.  Just like the time he tripped him and caused him to fall down that flight of stairs.”

“You mean that time in fifth year?” Remus asked, wide-eyed; Harry just shrugged, not knowing any context for the memory.  “It was the day before the final Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin.  Your dad fell down a flight of steps and broke his arm.  Poppy fixed it but wouldn’t let him fly in the game.  Without him we lost, we got creamed actually, and lost the Cup.  Severus did that?”  Harry nodded.  “Your dad always said he thought someone tripped him but no one was anywhere near at the time.”

“Well, Malfoy used the same hex on me last year.  That’s how he managed to catch me when they raided the D.A.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, as if filing this bit of information away for future use.  “But Harry, tell me about the dreams you’re having now.  Are they first person or third?”

“First, I reckon,” Harry said.  “But they’re different again.  Sirius isn’t in them, at least not as a human.  He’s Snuffles and I’m him.”

“Explain.”

“Well, it’s kind of complicated.  I’m always in the dream but I’m not me.  What I mean to say is that the real me is there watching the dream me.”

“So, they’re third person, like your first visions of Voldemort?”

“No, not like that.  I’m Snuffles, the dog, and I’m playing with myself.”  Harry blushed at the old marauder’s grin.  “Not like that.  I’m the dog and the dog is playing with the dream me.  Chasing sticks or Frisbees or just messing around.”

“You see out of the dog’s eyes?  Do you feel what he feels?”

Harry shrugged.  “I dunno, what does a dog feel?  I know I’m happy.  It’s kind of peaceful and relaxing.  Sort of what I…”  Harry hesitated again.  “Sort of what I used to always dream about, you know, before all this started.  I’m…”

“Carefree?” Remus ventured.

“Yeah,” Harry answered.  “Carefree, like I don’t have a problem in the world.”

“But what about this last dream, where you say you spoke with him?”

“That’s different again,” Harry said, somewhat confused.  “It wasn’t a proper dream at all.  I wasn’t really asleep.”

“Yes, Alastor told us about that, but what happened?”

“Well, I was sitting there on the floor trying to block out Voldemort, and then the attack stopped.  Suddenly, I wasn’t sitting there anymore.  I mean, my body was still there, I could see it, but I wasn’t in it anymore.  I just sort of floated up and through the walls.”  Harry looked over at his former Professor, expecting to be laughed at, but Remus had a serious expression on his face so Harry continued.  “I was somehow drawn to London, to the Ministry where I just floated through the walls and down to the Death Chamber.  I was standing there, in front of the arch, and I could here the whispering.”

“What whispering?”

“I dunno, it was coming from beyond the archway.”  Harry looked at Remus.  “I know, you can’t hear anything, just like so many of the students can’t see the Thestrals, but they’re still there and they’re real.”

Remus nodded his head, “OK, I’ll accept that you hear whispering, now go on.”

“Well, there’s not much to say.  One of the whispers got louder and then I recognized it as Sirius.  He told me he was still alive but he was stuck there.”

“Stuck where, Harry?”

“In Limbo, or some sort of a place between life and death.  Ghosts are stuck between the two planes too, but are on our side mostly.  Sirius is stuck but on the other side.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he was there and that it wasn’t that bad.  He said it was way better than Azkaban and that he could tolerate it.  He… he said he could still be here with me in some ways, and that he always would.  He didn’t want me to do anything stupid to try to get him out.  He told me to take care of myself first and not to worry about him.”

Remus seemed short of breath and he sat down clumsily on one of the chairs to avoid falling.  “What else did he say?”

“Nothing else, really.  All of a sudden I was back in my body.  Somebody had put me in my bed and Cho was there, waiting.”

Remus smiled at this.  “Yes, she said her father told her to wait until you came back and that’s exactly what she did.  That’s quite some girl you have there, Harry, not a Gryffindor but still quite some girl.”

“Yeah, she is,” Harry said, not mentioning that he wasn’t the one who had her.

Remus chewed on his lip for a minute then said, “Harry, I’m gong to have to speak with Professor Dumbledore about this.”  Harry nodded.  “We all believe you, but no one understands.  We need to look more thoroughly at the situation before we can take action.  There are still a lot of questions to be answered.”

Harry looked anxious.  “But you are going to do something, aren’t you?  I mean, we can’t just leave him there.  We’ve got to get him out.”

”Harry, I promise you, we’re going to do everything we can to get him out of there.  I don’t like the thought of him being trapped any more than you do, but we have to be clever about this and do it the right way.”  Remus stopped for a moment and looked Harry right in the eyes.  “But right now, Harry, we have something else we need to talk about… your behavior.”

Harry hung his head, he knew that he had been behaving abysmally for, well for about a year, truth be told.  Now it was time to pay the piper.  Remus drew his wand and muttered a silencing spell.  Not a good omen, in Harry’s opinion.

“Harry,” Remus began calmly, “you’re sixteen years old.  In another year you will be an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world and able to make all your own decisions about where and how you live your life.  But be that as it may, right now you are not an adult.  You are a child.”

Harry wanted to snap that he wasn’t a child and that he had faced things that many adults hadn’t or couldn’t, but somehow he managed to remain silent.  He had earned this lecture with his own behavior and now he would have it.

Remus continued, “You are also in rather unusual situation.  When Sirius was alive...”  Harry bristled, Remus balked then continued, “I mean when Sirius was physically here, we were faced with a strange dilemma.  He was your legal godfather but a fugitive, Professor Dumbledore was willing to accept his authority but the Ministry would not.  Legally, in both the magical and muggle worlds, your guardians were your aunt and uncle, but Dumbledore listened to Sirius.  He didn’t want you to be under the control of the Dursleys any more than necessary.  Everyone agreed with that concept, especially you, I’d wager.”  Harry nodded and wondered where this was going.  “Now that Sirius isn’t here to play that role, at least to Dumbledore, there is little to do but give full authority back to the Dursleys.”  Harry’s head sank; he was going to be stuck here on Privet Drive forever.  Remus waited a beat for this thought to fully reach Harry.  “However, Dumbledore and the rest of us realize that given their druthers, the Dursleys would just chuck you out and forget about the whole thing.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing.  At least I’d be away from here,” Harry said woefully.

“Yes, Harry, that would be a bad thing.  The protections you have while residing, at least nominally, here with your family are vitally important in keeping you safe.”

“Until I turn seventeen, next summer,” Harry said.  “Then all bets are off.”

“Exactly, and there lies the dilemma.  Who should have authority over you for the next year?”

Harry thought about this.  His first choice for a guardian would have been Remus himself, but Harry wouldn’t dare suggest it.  What if Remus didn’t want to be saddled with a rebellious teenage boy?  Why would he?  Why would anyone?  “Well, there’s always the Weasleys, maybe they would be willing to take me?”

Remus looked at the boy, hope glittering in his green eyes.  He had wished that Harry would ask him to do it, even though Remus knew this was impossible.  He knew that the Weasleys were the best choice but still he felt injured at being overlooked.  “Unfortunately, that won’t work either.  If anyone accepts legal responsibility for you then the protections you have from living here would be nullified.”

“So, we’re back to the Dursleys,” Harry said morosely.

“Yes, we are, and the sad fact that no one wants you to be involved with them any more than you have to.”

“But what else is there?” Harry asked.

“Well, Dumbledore reckons there is only one person who can accept responsibility for you yet still maintain the protections.”

“Who’s that?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Harry, you.  Legally, in both the magical and muggle worlds, your aunt and uncle will still have authority over you but, for all practical purposes, Dumbledore has agreed to treat you like an adult, as if you had already come of age.”

Harry was stunned, he couldn’t believe his luck.  They weren’t going to punish him, they were setting him free.  He suddenly realized how Dobby must have felt when he pulled that filthy sock out of the ruined diary.

“You mean I’m free?” he asked incredulously.

Remus looked at the shining face before him.  Dumbledore had told him exactly what to expect and, so far, the old wizard had been dead on.  Now was the time to hit the boy with some realities.

“Harry, do you know what it means to be free?” he asked, just as the Headmaster had told him to.

“Yeah!  It means that nobody gets to boss me around anymore.  I get to make my own rules and my own decisions.  I don’t have to answer to anybody!”  The boy was practically jumping for joy right there in the kitchen.

“No, Harry.  Freedom is not the absence of responsibility; it is the acceptance of it.”

Harry looked confused and Remus let him stay that way for a moment.

“If you want to be unaccountable, to not have to answer to anybody, then stay a child.  If you want to be an adult, then you have to answer to everybody.”  Now Harry looked even more confused.  “You will have to accept full responsibility for your actions.  You can no longer blame anyone else or ask anyone else to take care of the messes you make.”  Harry now sat still in his chair, his exuberance upon hearing the news of his emancipation had evaporated.  “Let’s take that new motorbike of yours as an example.  It’s yours, Sirius bought it for you as a gift, but legally you aren’t permitted to ride it until your seventeen.  You can physically ride it obviously, but not legally.  You’re breaking the law.”

Harry thought about this and shrugged.

“You’re taking this rather lightly, Harry,” Remus said.

“Well, I’m not likely to get caught, am I?  And I can always turn the bike invisible and get away.”

“Then you risk violating the statutes against underage sorcery, and that means expulsion.”

“So, I guess I’ll have to just deal with the muggle authorities then.”

“And what will they do?”

Harry thought again, “Most likely, they’ll call here.”

“And how do you think your aunt and uncle will react to being called by the police because you were breaking the law.”

Harry didn’t even want to think about that.

“Nobody’s going to try to stop you from riding that bike, Harry, but just know that no one is going to help you if you get into trouble on it either.  You’re going to have to accept responsibility for your own actions.”  Harry nodded, this he could live with.  Remus continued, “And what if you get in an accident?”  Harry was looking at him again.  “Say you’re out grandstanding on the bike, and don’t even begin to try and tell me that Sirius hasn’t shown you how to do any of that.”  Harry’s cheeks flamed.  “Say you’re out pulling some stunt that Sirius taught you.  Then, say you wind up running into a lorry somewhere.  What happens?”

“I’d likely kill myself,” Harry said.  He expected he was going to receive a lecture on how the whole wizarding world is counting on him and he can’t go taking foolish risks, but he was wrong.

“Yes, but what about the fellow driving that lorry?”

“He isn’t likely to be getting hurt,” Harry said bewildered.

“No, but how will he feel?  How did you feel after Cedric was killed?”  Remus knew that this was a low blow and the stricken look on Harry’s face told how low it was, but Harry had to understand.  “You weren’t responsible for Cedric’s death, were you?”  Harry shook his head, memories of the guilt he felt over Cedric’s death echoing in his mind.  “But you were still affected.  Do you want anyone to go through that because of you?”

“But it wouldn’t be his fault,” Harry whined.

“Was Cedric’s death your fault?  Did that make any difference in how you felt?”  Again a shake.  “This is a lesson you already know, Harry, but I want to make sure you absolutely remember.  Our actions have consequences that we can not predict.  Adults accept responsibility for their actions and the consequences, all of the consequences, known and unknown.  Children don’t have to.  Children have people who take that responsibility for them.  So, Harry, do you want to be an adult, or a child?”

Harry thought for a moment.  “I don’t really have much choice, do I?”

“No, Harry,” Remus said sadly, “you don’t, and I’m truly sorry for that.  Ironic, isn’t it?  Freedom is more restricting than servitude.”  Harry nodded slowly; this hadn’t turned out the way he had expected.  “So, there it is.  While you’re on holiday, you are free to use your own judgment on what to do and how to behave, but the consequences are yours to bear.  When you return to school, however, you will still have to abide by the headmaster and the school’s rules.”

The elation Harry has felt at being told he would be treated as an adult had turned to another weight on his shoulders.  Did it ever get any easier?

“Harry,” Remus was speaking again, “I want you to know that all of us, including Sirius, care a great deal about you.  We all wanted nothing more than to give you as normal a childhood as we could.”

“Didn’t turn out that way, did it?” Harry said mournfully.

“No, it didn’t,” Remus answered sadly.  “You never really had any childhood at all, did you?  A few moments here and there maybe, with your friends or playing Quidditch, but not a real childhood.”  The two men looked at each other, one old and one young.  “We did the best we could for you, Harry.”

“I know you did,” Harry answered.  “It’s not your fault.”

Remus nodded. “But somehow that doesn’t make it any better.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to speak but both unwilling to part.  Then a thought occurred to Harry and he brightened considerably.

“If Dumbledore agrees to consider me as an adult, does that mean I’ll be able to join the Order?”

“No, Harry, not until you’re officially of age and out of school.  Those are the rules, and there will be no exceptions.”  Harry’s crestfallen look tugged at Remus’ heart.  He loved this boy and he wished with all his heart that he could make things easier for him, but he couldn’t.  “But Dumbledore did agree that you shouldn’t be kept completely out of it.  He said he would try to be more open with you about what is going on, but only if you agreed to do the same.”

“What?”

“Harry, you’ve got to stop hiding things from Dumbledore and the rest of us.”

“But I don’t...” Harry began.

“Don’t bother with excuses, Harry.  You knew that those dreams were important, didn’t you?  Even if you didn’t know what they meant, you knew they meant something.”

Harry was getting hot again.  “Well, if somebody had been kind enough to...”

Remus got a little hot as well.  “Now don’t start that with me again, Harry.  Be an adult and own up to your mistakes!”  Harry shut his mouth and Remus continued.  “We’ve all made mistakes.  Dumbledore has already admitted that he shouldn’t have kept you in the dark, so now it’s time for you to admit you were a bit too pig-headed as well.”

Harry thought for a moment.  If they were going to treat him more like an adult, he would have to be more honest, with them and with himself.  “Yeah,” he said at length, “I knew they meant something, but I was just too angry at being locked out of things here.  I didn’t tell anyone about the dreams out of spite.”  Remus grinned to himself, Dumbledore had figured the whole thing out.  He had known, almost to the very words Harry spoke, how Harry would react.

“Well, just like you said yesterday, a door works both ways.  If you will try to tell us everything that you know is important, then we’ll keep you informed as well.”

“You mean, you’ll tell me everything?”

Now it was Remus’ turn to shake his head.  “No, Harry, Dumbledore doesn’t tell anyone everything, and well he shouldn’t.  Even I don’t get to be told everything.”

“Well, what about Snape,” at a look from his former teacher Harry quailed, “Professor Snape, Dumbledore trusts him?”

“It’s not about trust, Harry.  It’s just how things have to be.  I reckon everyone is rather relieved now to know that Professor Snape didn’t know everything, don’t you agree?”

Harry nodded his head.  “So, I agree to tell Dumbledore everything I know and everything that I find out, and he agrees to tell me only what he wants to?”

“Yeah, that’s just about the way it works.”

“That sucks.”

“Welcome to the world of adults, Harry,” Remus said with a sardonic grin.  “Oh, by the way, the Weasleys are going to try again to have a party for you.  If you want to go, it’s this afternoon at the Burrow.”

“And I’m only being told now?” Harry snapped.

“Hey!” Remus snapped back, “One, they only decided to have it yesterday.  Two, I got here faster than an owl would have with the message.  And three, keeping everything short notice makes it less likely that Voldemort will find out and try to mess it up for you.  So lighten up, Harry, people are only trying to be nice to you.”

* * * * *

With a sooty tumble, Harry fell out of the fireplace grate at the Burrow and was immediately engulfed in one of Mrs. Weasley’s immense hugs.  Extricating himself, Harry looked around and let the homey feeling of being at the Burrow just sink into him.

“We’re so glad you could come, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said with a broad smile.

“Oh, I’m glad to be here,” Harry replied as he continued to let the feeling of being back at the Burrow soak into his skin.  There was the distinctive smell of freshly baked bread that always seemed to linger in the kitchen here.  It made the place feel so much like… like a home that Harry was always happy to be here.  “And I want to thank you for throwing me this party, well both parties actually.  You really didn’t have to.”

“But we wanted to, Harry dear.  We wanted to.”

Just then the door burst open and Ron came in, holding a letter above his head.  Seeing Harry standing there, he stopped.

“Harry, mate!” he called.  “You made it!  I didn’t know when you were going to show up, and nobody told me how.”

“Well,” Harry said blushing slightly, “I didn’t know myself until just before lunch.  I took a muggle train to London and then Floo-ed here from The Leaky Cauldron.”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore just send you a portkey?” Ron asked.  “It would have been a lot simpler.”

“I never got ‘round to asking him,” Harry said and, from the sudden cloud that passed over Mrs. Weasley’s face, he could tell that she knew about his new arrangement with Dumbledore and wasn’t pleased with it.  In fact, Harry himself wasn’t sure how pleased he was with it right now.  Remus had said his good-byes and left before Harry could think to ask how he was getting to the Burrow.  Then he realized that no one was going to tell him.  If he was going, then it was his responsibility to find a way there.

Ron looked about to ask more, but just then Hermione came crashing into the kitchen and quickly snatched the letter out of Ron’s hand before he realized she was there.

“Ha!  Got it back,” she crowed in triumph.  “Honestly, Ron Weasley, you can act so immaturely sometimes…  Oh, hullo Harry.  Did you just get here?”  She quickly came over and gave him a brief but strong hug.

“Yeah, just now.  What was all that about?” Harry asked.

Ron beamed with mischief, “Oh!  Our little Hermione got herself a letter, quite a thick one too.  I wonder who it’s from.”

Hermione glared at him.  “It’s from Viktor, if you must know.”

Ron’s face suddenly grew tense.  “And what does our little Vicky want now?”

“For your information, Ronald, he isn’t our Viktor and he wants nothing from you.  This letter is addressed to me, and it’s personal.”  With that she stalked out of the room and up the stairs.  Ron looked after her then gave Harry a bewildered shrug.

“Well,” Mrs. Weasley said with finality, “I think it’s about time we got this celebration on track.”

Herding them all out into the garden and, with a wave of her wand, summoning a huge platter of sandwiches through the kitchen window, Mrs. Weasley closed the door and the conversation.  The garden was the usual tempest of activity.  The twins were chasing a garden gnome around the fence, carrying an odd little device in one of their hands that Harry didn’t want to identify.  Ron was stalking off to join them, still in a huff over Hermione and Viktor.  Ginny was sitting on one of the benches holding hands with… was that Dean Thomas?  Ginny had said that she was planning on dating him next, Harry thought with an odd sense of envy.  I guess she did it.

“All right, you lot,” Molly called out to the crowd. “Let’s all gather around and have some lunch.”

“Finally,” shouted one of the twins, while the other put something in his pocket, “I’m starving.  I tell you, Harry, if you didn’t show up soon, we were going to have another party without you!”

“Aw, don’t look so worried, Harry,” his match chimed in, “we would have saved you something… maybe.”

Harry was looking around at the group when Mrs. Weasley caught his eye.

“Harry dear, I want you to know that we invited Cho but, since this was all so last minute, she was busy and couldn’t make it.”

Harry was nodding his understanding when Ginny spoke up, “I kind of got the feeling that she had a date with Michael.”  Harry looked over at her and she returned his gaze, wide-eyed and unblushing.  “Not that she said so directly, but I just, sort of, got that feeling.  They are dating, you know.”

Harry nodded again and looked at Ginny curiously, then said simply, “I know.”

The meal began and conversations stopped as everyone grabbed sandwiches as the platter drifted up and down the table.  Harry had been eating better at the Dursleys this summer than he could ever remember, but there was just something about the Burrow, maybe it was Mrs. Weasley’s cooking or maybe it was just the atmosphere, that made him ravenous.  Harry smiled, then again it might just be that having so many hands grabbing for the food brought out the competitive streak in him.

After the meal was through, the group sat around talking.  The conversation naturally fell into the topic of the coming school year.  Hermione was anxious to know if everyone had done their summer assignments, which no one had but her.  Ron wondered who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be and no one had any idea.  Although everyone hoped it would be Professor Lupin and almost everyone doubted whoever it was could be worse than Umbridge.  Surprisingly, Fred and George felt that they owed a lot to ‘Dear Dolores’, as they referred to her.  After all, if it wasn’t for her they would have had to waste several more months in school before they opened their joke shop in Diagon Alley.  It was all due to her, they said in perfect unison, that the store was open for the Back to School shopping season, their busiest time of year.  Throughout all this, Mrs. Weasley was tight lipped and said nothing.

“And what about Quidditch?” Ron said.  “Who do you think is going to be captain next year?”

“My guess is Harry,” Ginny answered.

“Me?”  Harry seemed shocked by this answer.  “I’m not even on the team anymore!”  The entire table was shocked now.  “Com’on, you all remember; I was kicked off last year?  Banned for life.”

“Yeah, but the Reign of Terror is over; surely you’ll be back on the team!” Ron shouted.

“I dunno,” Harry said, “nobody’s said anything to me about the ban being lifted.  But hey, at least you still have a Seeker.  Ginny is undefeated and she’s at least as good as I ever was.”

“Oh no, Harry,” Ginny said, blushing at the compliment, “I only played Seeker because I had to.  I plan on being a Chaser this year!”

“You’d rather be a Chaser than a Seeker?” Harry asked.

“Sure, there’s more action.  I hated just sitting up there and waiting for the Snitch to show up.  When I see something I want, I go after it!” Ginny said with conviction.

Every pair of eyes at the table looked at Ginny and then slowly shifted to Dean, who was sitting next to her.  The twins were grinning maliciously while Ron just glowered.

Dean flushed under this onslaught and stammered, “I’m, ah… I’m done here… I mean, I’m finished eating… I... I reckon I’ll just go for a walk.”  He rose hastily from the table and fled.

Ron and the twins were laughing hysterically and Harry was hard pressed to stifle the guffaws that were struggling to escape.  Ginny turned on him with a glare and Harry gulped.

“And just what do YOU find so funny, eh?  Rest assured, Harry Potter, that if it was your scrawny arse I wanted, you’d be stuffed and mounted on my wall before you knew what hit you!”  She then rose and flounced off, in the opposite direction from Dean.

Fred looked incredulous and asked, “Did our little Ginny just tell Harry Potter to get stuffed?”

“THE Harry Potter,” added George.

“I think so,” Ron answered, equally stunned.

Hermione just smiled, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and excused herself to go inside and read her letter.

Harry finished his lunch and wandered off towards the pasture.  He looked up at the clear blue sky and tried to figure out how long it had been since he had ridden his broom.  It had been more than a month since his ride on the Thestral and months more since his last Quidditch game.  His thoughts drifted to Ginny flying as Seeker and how well she played.  He could only imagine what the match-up between her and Cho had been like.  He shook his head at the thought when a voice spoke up.

“A Knut to know?”

“What?”  Harry turned and saw Ginny standing next to him.  So engrossed was he in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her approach.

“A Knut to know,” she repeated, “your thoughts.  What were you just thinking about?”

“Oh,” Harry hesitated, “nothing much really.”

“It was Cho, I’ll bet,” Ginny responded, sounding slightly miffed.  “I don’t know what you see in her.”

“Com’on Ginny, lay off.  Cho’s nice.”

“Yeah, nice and weepy.  Really, Harry, you know she’s still going with Michael, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know, so what?  Cho and I are just friends.”

Ginny gave a loud snort and replied, “Just friends?  You really expect people to believe that?  Can’t you see, you’re just wasting your time?”

Harry turned on her, anger and hurt mixed equally on his face.  “Listen, I don’t care what people believe.  They’ll believe that I’m a liar, or a show-off, or a nutter, or just a freak no matter what I want.”  Ginny quailed a bit at Harry’s rant, she had no idea he felt this way.  “All I can do is tell the truth and let them believe whatever they want.  Cho is my friend, and we’re spending some time together this summer.  That’s it.”

The Weasley stubborn streak ran deep in Ginny and she refused to let up.  “Yeah, right.  Well, you know that once we’re headed back to Hogwarts, she’ll be back with Michael.  Nothing’s going to come of it, so why bother?”

Harry looked at her.  “You’re seeing Dean now, right?”  Ginny nodded.  “So when are you two getting married?”

Shocked by this question, Ginny instinctively replied in an almost shout, “We’re not getting married!  I don’t even love him!”  After she realized what she had said, she blushed a deep Weasley red.

“What?” Harry said, feigning shock.  “You mean you’re seeing him and you’re not planning on marrying him?  Why bother?”  Ginny’s mouth closed with a snap and Harry continued.  “Let me guess...  Because it’s nice?  It’s nice to have someone to talk with, or take a walk with, hold hands with, maybe even snog a bit?  Is that it?”

Ginny squirmed under Harry’s intense gaze.  “Yeah, it’s nice,” she said defiantly.

“Yeah,” Harry snapped, “it is.  So what if it’s going to end?  Right now, it’s nice.”

“But, Harry, you and Cho... it’s just not... normal.”

Harry was really beginning to get angry now.  He glared down at Ginny and watched as she dropped her eyes.  “Not normal?  What’s so not normal about it?  You’re not in love with Dean but it’s normal that you still date him?”

Ginny looked at Harry defiantly now, her arms crossed over her chest.  “Yeah, it’s normal.  We like each other and we’re dating.  So what!  Do you have a problem with that?”  Harry got the sudden impression that she had had this discussion before.

“No,” Harry snapped back, “it is perfectly normal.  Just like Cho and I, we’re friends and we spend time together.  Perfectly normal.”

“Oh, come on, Harry!  Everybody knows that she is just using you to get over Cedric.”

Harry stared at her, aghast.  “When you say ‘everybody’, do you mean everybody or just you?” he said pointedly.

Ginny squirmed under his gaze and finally responded, “Well, you can’t deny it, can you?”

“No, and I wouldn’t bother.  She cared a lot for Cedric and, when he was killed, she had no where to turn.  I thought you, more than anyone, wouldn’t be so cold as to deny her the opportunity to work through what happened to her.”  Ginny’s cheeks flushed red again, but she remained defiant.

“But what are you getting out of it?”

“Why do I need to get anything out of it?  I’m not some Slytherin, trying to make sure I get a profit from everything I do!”

“No,” she said, hurt that his comments had cut so deeply or been so on the mark, “but it would be nice if things were a bit balanced, you know.”

“Well, I get to help a friend,” Harry said.  Now it was Ginny’s turn to glare at him.  “Fine,” he continued, “I get to spend time with a pretty girl.  I get to walk with her, and talk, and hold her hand.  Maybe even kiss her.  Is that so bad?”  Ginny shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Harry cut her off, “Don’t bother.  It might not be what you consider normal, but it’s as close as I’m ever bloody likely to get.”  With this said, he turned away from her and started walking swiftly towards Ron.  Ginny stared after him, a slight blush still on her cheeks but her brow knit with thought.

Ron jumped at Harry’s idea of an impromptu Quidditch game.  They quickly gathered all the brooms available, Harry had left his Firebolt back at Privet Drive, and started sorting out teams.  Hermione, of course, refused to play.

“Where’s Ginny?” Ron asked.  “I’m sure she’d be up for a game.”

Nobody knew where she had gone off to, even Dean.  Then Mrs. Weasley stuck her head out of the kitchen window and said that Ginny had to run a quick errand and would be back shortly.

They didn’t have enough people for a decent pick-up game, so they opted to run some drills instead.  Ron played keeper, with Harry and Dean playing Chasers, trying to score against him.  The twins were acting as beaters, charming apples to chase the Chasers and whack them in the back of the head if they caught up.  The only way to stop an apple was to catch it and bite it, but since they weren’t quite ripe yet it was preferable to just throw them back at the twins.

Ron was doing really well; he could stop almost all of Dean’s shots and even some of Harry’s.  The problem was that Harry was nearly suicidal in his ability to ignore the apples pelting him in the head to charge straight at Ron and force him to duck before he tossed the Quaffle against the bole of the tree that acted as their goal.  Not wanting any nearby muggles to see them flying, they were forced to stay below the tops of the trees.  The nearness of the ground making everyone fly a little slower, except Harry of course

The drill had gone on for over an hour and everyone was starting to get tired, again except Harry.  His zeal was still as great as it was when they began.  He was tearing up the pasture, the Quaffle in one hand and two apples in the other.  He managed to throw the apples at the twins, his broom veering wildly off course as he did so, then switch the Quaffle to his right hand, spin the broom into a corkscrewing assault on Ron and bounce the Quaffle off the tree trunk.

The sound of laughter broke his concentration before he could complete his turn away from the trees and a stray branch sent him tumbling to the ground.  He looked around in a daze.

“Harry!” a familiar voice called.  “You are absolutely the most barking mad flier I have ever seen!”

“CHO!” Harry called, seeing her standing at the entrance to the pasture, Ginny a step behind her.

Leaping to his feet, Harry dashed across the meadow.  Ginny’s face suddenly sprouted a disgusted grimace.  But then, just short of the point where everyone expected Harry to throw his arms around Cho and spin her in circles, Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

“I, uh, I thought you weren’t coming,” he stammered.  Cho took a quick look over her shoulder at Ginny then turned back and smiled.

“I changed my mind,” she said casually.  “It’s a woman’s prerogative, you know.”

Harry just shook his head and continued grinning broadly.  “I’m just glad you could make it.”

“And I’m just glad you survived hitting the ground!” Cho exclaimed.  “That was the most completely insane bit of flying I’ve ever seen!”

“It was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”

“You call that fun!” Cho was genuinely shocked.  “It’s a good thing that you’re a Seeker, Harry.  At least you only go after the Golden Snitch once a game!  If you flew as a Chaser, I doubt you’d have survived you’re first match.”

“You want to come up and join us?” Harry asked.   “It’s perfect flying weather.”  But then he noticed what she was wearing.  It was a short sundress, with yellow flowers on the skirt and a halter top that showed off the smooth skin of her shoulders wonderfully.  It was the same dress that she had been wearing on his birthday but he hadn’t had a chance to see her in it then.

“I don’t think I’m quite dressed for Quidditch, do you?” she asked coyly.

Harry blushed.  Ron was about to make a comment but before he could speak, Harry’s arm whirled back and smacked him on the shoulder.  The twins took advantage of the opportunity and linked arms with Cho, one on each side.

“I wouldn’t worry for a second,” one said.

“No,” continued the other, “we’ll have you out of that dress in half a mo’.”

Cho grinned at them, enjoying the banter and the attention.  “You will, will you?”

“Of course,” came the response.

“It’s the Weasley charm, gets ‘em every time!”

“One look and you fall hopelessly in love.”

“That explains everything,” Cho said giggling.  “You two must have a mirror in your bedroom!”

Fred clutched at his heart while George collapsed as if in a faint.

“You wound us, good lady...”

“...wound us to the quick with your sharp tongue.”

Cho looked at the two of them and sharply replied, “You wish!”

They all began to head back to the Burrow.  Harry turned towards Ginny and she gave him a weak smile as he mouthed, “Thanks.”

Mrs. Weasley saw the group coming and immediately sat them around the table once again.

“All right now Harry,” she said when they had all settled in, “which will it be first: cake or presents?”

“Cake!” Ron, the twins, and Dean all shouted.

“After all,” Fred explained, “we’re not getting any presents so we might as well enjoy the cake!”

Harry looked around him and laughed, “Who am I to argue with the will of the people?”

“You’re the Birthday Boy, you git!” Ron shouted, giving him a sock in the arm to make up for the one he had received a few moments earlier.

“Oh yeah, I am, aren’t I?  In that case… definitely presents!”

The small pile of presents was placed on the table and Harry looked at them in wonder.  It was as if he was wondering why so many people would bother to give him gifts just because he had survived another year.  Taking a parcel from the top of the pile, Harry read the card, it was from Ron and Hermione.

“Thanks guys,” Harry said quietly.

“Don’t thank us yet, Harry, you haven’t seen what it is,” Ron joked.

Harry unwrapped the gift.  It was a thick book on Occlumency.  Harry began to flip though the pages and realized that, now that he had a bit of a grounding in the subject, he could actually almost make sense of it.

“This should be a big help, thanks.”

“Ours next, ours next,” the twins called and thrust a box roughly into Harry’s hands.

Cho noticed that everyone was leaning back, away from the package, as Harry gingerly unwrapped it.  Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, she also slid a bit further away from him on the bench.

All their caution was for nothing as Harry reached into the box and withdrew a small card.  It was yellow and all anyone but Harry could see was a large question mark decorating the back.  Reading it, Harry broke into a huge grin and quickly stuffed it into his pocket.

“Well,” a frustrated Ron said, “aren’t you gonna tell us what it says?”

“Nope,” Harry replied, but then he fixed the twins with a glare, “and you two had better mind your promise!”

“Not to worry, Harry mate,” they sang out, “you’re as safe as a Galleon in Gringotts.”

None of Harry’s other presents caused as much hesitation as the twins’.  Mrs. Weasley gave him another of her home-made jumpers and a box of delicious home-made fudge.  The fudge was immediately christened ‘Minister’ and passed around the table, not making it back to Harry until it was completely empty.  ‘Just like its namesake’ Ron commented as Harry turned the box upside-down and shook it to see the merest crumb remained.  Ginny gave him a pair of cozy woolen socks, with a large dragon embroidered on each ankle.  Ron and the twins thought this gift extremely telling but Ginny said, with a blush, that her mum was teaching her to knit and this seemed a more reasonably sized project than a whole jumper.  Remus Lupin had sent him a stack of DADA textbooks, along with a note stating that he had found these quite useful when he was teaching and thought that he would pass them on to Harry.  Hagrid sent him, or actually he sent Hedwig, a new cage of ornately wrought iron as well as a box of his trademark rock fudge, that was promptly named ‘Cornelius’ and left to sit alone and undisturbed by everyone.  The last present was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine.  Harry looked questioningly around the table.  Cho spoke up.

“That’s mine,” she said shyly, “actually, it’s from my father.”

Harry looked at her curiously for a moment then began to remove the paper.  Inside was a small cast iron pot with three legs.  Two handles were formed to resemble flowering vines.  There was also a bamboo ladle.

“It’s a ting,” Cho said, obviously surprised at what the package had contained.

Ron responded, “Oh, it’s a thing all right, but what?”

“Not a thing,” Cho explained, “a ting.”

“Oh, that explains every-ting,” Ron said sarcastically, then winced as Hermione cuffed his shoulder.

“It’s a ceremonial vessel used to aid in prayers and meditation,” Cho continued.

Ron and the twins were obviously not interested, Hermione looked on with her brows furrowed, and Ginny looked to be struggling to contain some giggles.

“It was made by my grandfather over a hundred years ago,” Cho said.  “It was one of the few things that my parents were able to take with them when they fled the revolution in China thirty years ago.”

Harry looked at her, wide-eyed.  “How do you use it?” he asked.

Cho reached into the vessel and took out two small sheets of parchment.  The first read: ‘Place two ladles of water into the ting and then fill the ladle a third time.’  Harry took the pitcher of water from the table and poured two ladles of water into the cast iron pot, then he filled the ladle a third time.  Raising an eyebrow at Cho in an unspoken question, Harry brought the filled ladle towards the ting.  He felt the ladle suddenly go weightless in his hand and he released it.  It hung in the air over the pot and slowly tilted, dripping water into the pot a single drop at a time.

Harry had a wondrous look on his face as the water slowly dripped, each drop sounding hollow in the vessel and echoing slightly.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry whispered as if he were in a church rather than the back garden of the Burrow.

“What does the second note say?” Ginny asked with a slightly disappointed-looking frown on her face.

Cho flipped over to the second piece of parchment.  “It’s from my father,” Cho said, “and it reads: ‘The pot is made of iron but it is the emptiness that makes it useful.’”

“Oh,” Ginny mumbled caustically, “that explains everything.”

“It’s a Koan, Ginny,” Harry said calmly.  “It’s just something to think about.”

Ginny looked at him for a moment then shook her head as if he had just explained that the moon was made of green cheese and actually expected her to believe it.

After this Molly brought out a huge chocolate cake and everyone set to devouring it with great enthusiasm.  A plate of biscuits was also passed around the table.  Ginny innocently held the plate out to Cho, who took a biscuit and passed the plate on to Harry.  Harry declined and had just sent the plate on its way when there was aloud POP from beside him as Cho was replaced by a large, yellow and rather agitated canary.

“Ah,” began George, “Weasley Roulette...”

“... such a wonderful family tradition,” concluded Fred.

Everyone at the table roared with laughter as Molly prepared to launch an angry tirade against her twin sons.  Harry noticed that canary-Cho seemed too agitated, not amused nor even angry.  Harry suddenly realized that she was scared, that she had no idea what was going on; she had likely never seen a Canary Cream before and didn’t understand that they were just a gag.  Harry quickly snatched the remainder of the biscuit from the table and gulped it down.  In a moment, he was also transformed into a yellow canary and he immediately began to twitter with Cho.  She quickly settled down as the two birds continued to chatter at each other.

George looked at the couple then said, “Seems like fun, should we join them?”

Fred began to scrounge in his robes, pulling out several packets of biscuits when Ginny cut him off with a scowl.

“Don’t bother,” she snapped.  “It looks like they’re doing just fine on their own.

Part Six:

Harry’s party at the Burrow lasted until well past supper, and when, towards the end, Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in a hug, Harry’s face was lit with a broad smile.  Cho accompanied him back to Privet Drive, ostensibly to help him carry his load of presents.  From the smug grin on the face of Mrs. Weasley, Harry guessed she didn’t believe that was all there was to it.  Before going home herself, Cho promised to come back the next day to finally take Harry out for his birthday lunch. 

Harry awoke early the next morning, got dressed, and helped himself to breakfast while the Dursleys were still dressing; it was much easier to get a hot shower when he got into the bath before anyone else was awake.  He was in the garden weeding when a pair of sharp cracks snapped his attention away from his work.  He whirled around to face the newcomers , his hand reaching for the wand that wasn't there.  He was met by the smiling faces of Remus Lupin and Professor Dumbledore.

“Feeling a bit Moody this morning, Harry?” Remus said with a grin.

Harry first grinned and then chuckled as the levels of his former teacher’s joke passed through his mind.  “Yeah, well I reckon that sometimes a bit of paranoia can be a healthy thing,” he said.

“Indeed it can, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said with a smile, “indeed it can.”  He produced a small package from within the billowing folds of his robes and held it out towards Harry.  “I know I am a bit late, but I didn’t want to put a damper on the festivities yesterday with your friends, so I decided to wait and give you this today.”

Harry reached out and took the package hesitantly.  “Thank you, Professor.  You know you didn’t have to get me a gift...”

“I know, Harry, but I felt this one would be welcome.”

Harry unwrapped the package to find a slim book.  It was old and bound in dragon hide; the script was ornate and illuminated.  The title read “Apparitione Codex” and Harry noticed that it held no wizarding copyright date, nor any publisher.  He looked at his Headmaster quizzically.

“Yes, Harry,” he said with a smile, “it is from my own library.  It was a gift to me from my friend Nicholas Flamel over a century ago.  I’ve found that it covers the topic in a slightly different way than modern texts and provides several interesting insights.  Perhaps, after you’ve read it over, we can discuss some of them?”

Harry was stunned; he had thought that Dumbledore would still be angry with him after his various temper tantrums but this... to give him such an obviously valuable book?

“But, Professor, we’re not supposed to even begin to study Apparation until after we’ve come of age?”  Dumbledore just looked at him with his eyes twinkling like the Kneazle who ate the canary.  Harry stumbled a bit trying to understand the meaning of this when he suddenly remembered something from the party yesterday.  “Oh, Professor, something happened at the party yesterday and it gave me an idea that might be useful to the Order!”  Both Lupin and Dumbledore now looked at him with interest.

“Molly didn’t notify us of any unusual incidents,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t that unusual for the Weasleys, but it gave me an idea.”

“What gave you an idea, Harry?  Start from the beginning,” Remus said.

Harry led them over to some chairs and Dumbledore, with a wave of his wand, conjured a pot of tea and three cups.

“Well, somehow somebody slipped some Canary Creams into the food at the party,” Harry began.

“Definitely not an unusual event from what I am given to understand,” Dumbledore chuckled.

“Yeah,” Harry said as Remus grinned.  “But this time it was Cho who ate it.  She’d never seen one before and she got a little frightened, not understanding what was happening and all.”  Both Dumbledore and Lupin nodded.  “Anyway, I ate the rest of it so that she could see that it was harmless, and the two of us sat there talking while we were canaries.”  Harry looked at the two men expecting them to leap to the same conclusion that he had, but both just looked at him expectantly.  “We were talking as birds, actually Cho was cursing at the twins rather colorfully, but no one else could understand us.  I tried to talk to other people at the table but they couldn’t understand me.”  Both Dumbledore and Lupin continued to gaze at Harry, waiting for him to get to the point.  “Don’t you see?  We could talk and, even though the other people could hear us, they couldn’t understand what we were saying.  If the Order used Canary Creams, or some kind of variation of them, then they could talk openly in public but no one else could understand.”  Harry waited some more but then continued, now a little exasperated.  “You wouldn’t have to worry about spies or being overheard by anyone.  Only other canaries could understand you.  Don’t you see?  This could be like a code that the Death Eaters couldn’t break.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry for another moment, his fingers steepled and resting on his lips.  “Harry, do you mean to say that while you were affected by these Canary Creams you could converse with another person similarly affected?”

“Exactly!” Harry crowed, thrilled that they had finally gotten his meaning.


“Could you hear the other people around you speaking, the ones that weren’t canaries?”

“Yes, I could hear and understand all the normal - if anyone could call the Weasleys normal - people talking but they couldn’t understand me!  Do you see?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were flashing brightly and a smile creased his cheeks.  “Oh yes, Harry, I see, and I think you are correct.  This could be something quite useful. I may just have to pay a little visit to Messrs. Fred and George Weasley to discuss this.”  Dumbledore nodded a few more times, as if he were taking mental notes for future reference before continuing.

“There is another matter that Professor Lupin and I would like to discuss with you today, Harry.  That is if you have the time?”

“Certainly, Professor, what did you want to talk about?”

Dumbledore eyes suddenly lost their twinkle as he replied, “I would like to discuss exactly how it was that Sirius came to be within you, Harry.”

Harry just sat and stared at them for a moment; this wasn’t what he had been expecting.  He didn’t have the slightest idea how Sirius had found his way into his mind and he said so.

“If I may venture something, Harry,” Lupin said.  “I noticed that when you started to get agitated with us, during our conversation at Grimmauld Place, and just as Sirius began to make himself known, you began to scratch and flex your hand.  Does that have anything to do with Sirius?”

Harry thought for a moment.  He vaguely remembered how a tingling sensation had started to flow up his arm from his hand as he got angry.  He opened his palm and looked at it.  There, in the center of his palm, was the faint white line of a scar.  It started just below the base of his index finger and curved down around his thumb, sort of like a second Life Line.  He had gotten that cut on his first day back from school.  He had gotten it from a piece of broken glass in his trunk... The MIRROR!  The one that Sirius had given him!  It was supposed to be some sort of a communications artifact.  Maybe that was it?

Harry began to tell them about the mirror, about how Sirius had given it to him at Christmas but Harry hadn’t opened it until after the events at the Department of Mysteries.  He looked at his former teacher with guilt as he explained that the mirror was a means of communication.  He waited for the incriminations to come.  If he had only opened it sooner then he could have been able to speak directly with Sirius when he had the dreams and none of it would come to pass.  None of his friends would have followed him to the Department of Mysteries.  None of them would have been put in danger.  Sirius would still be here.  He waited for the anger to come, the anger that he so fully deserved.  Remus just looked back at him with sadness.

“Listen, Harry, I know what you’re thinking,” he spoke gently.  “You’re thinking that so many things could have been avoided if you had only known about the mirror.  Don’t feel guilty about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Harry answered hotly.  “It was my fault.”

“Harry, listen to me,” Remus continued in a voice so soft that Harry had to lean forward to hear it.  “I know you feel responsible for what happened to Sirius.  You think that if you had only spoken of your dream to Professor Snape then he could have worked out that it was just a trap.  But you’re wrong.  There was no way for Professor Snape to discover whether your dream was real or not, and no way he could have contacted anyone at Headquarters.  You were all effectively isolated.  Voldemort had timed things perfectly.” 

Harry snapped back at the mention of his Potions Master and former Occlumency Instructor, not hearing anything else that Remus was saying.  Snape would have only ridiculed him if he had spoken to him about his dreams.  He would have laughed and said that they were all fantasies sent by Voldemort and if Harry had only done as HE had instructed then he wouldn’t be wasting anyone’s time with this nonsense.  And he would have been right. 

But then the voice from the back of Harry’s head spoke, Sirius’ voice.  He said that if Snape had honestly tried to teach Harry Occlumency then maybe Harry could have blocked the dream, but he didn’t.  He didn’t because he couldn’t.  Snape didn’t know enough about Occlumency to teach it.  He had failed to block Voldemort himself and so there was no way he could have taught Harry to how do it.

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted.  “Many things could have happened differently that would have altered to final outcome that night, but, all in all, I am pleased with how things were resolved.”

Harry looked at his Headmaster stunned.  Did he just say that he was PLEASED that things had turned out the way they did!

Dumbledore continued, “Harry, please, hear me out.  I am not pleased that Sirius is gone, even if it is only temporarily.  I am certainly not pleased that several of my students were injured.  But if we look at the situation as a whole, there is much to be pleased with.  The only permanent damage to any of your fellow students was the loss of Mr. Longbottom’s wand, and I have a feeling that he will be able to get on with his new wand quite a bit better than he did with his old.  The loss of Sirius was tragic, but now even that may be mitigated.  On the other side of the ledger we have the fact that Minister Fudge has been forced to openly acknowledge that Lord Voldemort has returned.  I think you will agree that this is a very good thing.  I have been returned to my position as Headmaster of Hogwarts.”  He gave Harry a sly wink. “Whether or not that is a good thing is a matter of opinion.  Several very prominent Death Eaters have been captured, including Lucius Malfoy.  And last, but not least, that atrocious statue in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic has been destroyed once and for all.”  Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling brightly at this.  “All in all, you would have to agree that the events at the Ministry were a distinct victory for the forces of light.”

Harry thought about this for a moment.  When taken from that perspective, he had to admit that Dumbledore had gained far more than he had lost.  It was Sirius who had lost, and Harry had lost Sirius.

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts, “do you still have this mirror?  You haven’t disposed of it have you?”

Harry hung his head for a moment.  His face flushed at the thought of having to admit that he had kept the broken pieces, but they were all that he had left of Sirius.  He kept them in a shoe box under the loose floorboards in his room.

“You still have them?” Dumbledore asked again gently.  Harry nodded.

“Have you done any sort of enchantments on them, even the Reparo spell?”

“No, nothing,” Harry said.  “The last thing I need is another letter from Madam Hopkirk.”  Both the Headmaster and Remus grinned at this.

“Indeed, it would be best to avoid her notice for awhile.  Would you mind if I borrowed the mirror, Harry?  I wish to examine it; perhaps it could provide some clue as to how to go about retrieving Sirius.”

Harry shrugged.  He hadn’t looked at the mirror since he had put it away, and with Sirius inside his head, he figured he wouldn’t much need the mirror now.  He ran upstairs and retrieved the box and gave it to the Headmaster.  Professor Dumbledore looked intently at the pieces of broken glass and silver frame.

“Ah, very interesting,” he said.  “Thank you, Harry, this may be most useful.  And now, I think it would be best if we left you to finish your chores and then get ready for your luncheon with Miss Chang.”

Harry gaped back at them.  How did he know about that?  The two men Disapparated, leaving a rather bewildered Harry sitting alone in the garden.

“Oh, and thank you for the book,” he called into the empty space.

* * * * *

The yellow motorbike came whizzing down normally quiet Privet Drive with its front wheel pointed firmly at the sky.  As he was passing Number 10, Harry backed off the throttle and brought the wheel back down to the pavement with a jolt.  Reaching Number 4, Harry turned up the drive and brought the bike to a halt in front of the garage door.  Taking the helmet off his head, Harry shook out his unruly hair and looked back at his passenger.  Cho was struggling with the chin strap of her helmet, so Harry helped her with it.

“So, how did you enjoy our little ride?” Harry said with a wide smile.  “Didn’t I tell you it was brilliant?”

“Harry,” Cho managed, struggling to catch her breath, “that was amazing!  It was better than riding in the carts at Gringotts!”  She began to swing her leg over the end of the bike.

“Watch your leg on the exhaust pipe,” Harry pointed out.  “They’re quite hot and will give you a nasty burn if your touch them.”  He held Cho’s hand to steady her as she swung her leg over the saddle and stood next to him.  She tried to take a step but her legs were still unsteady and she fell against Harry, who caught her firmly around the waist.  “Careful there,” he said warmly.  “It might take you a second to get your balance back.”

“Oh, Harry, I never thought it would be like that.  When you fly a broom it’s just you but here... everything just goes rushing by so quickly, and you’re snapping back and forth.  How fast does that thing go?”

Harry blushed a little.  “We never really went that fast, even though it seemed that way, but the bike will go up to 200 kilometers an hour.”

“200!” Cho practically shrieked.  “That’s faster than a Firebolt!”

“Yeah, but the Firebolt will turn a lot more sharply, especially in the air.”

“In the air?”  Cho’s eyebrows arched nearly to her hairline.  “You mean this thing can fly as well?”

“Yeah, Sirius enchanted it to fly and turn invisible also.”

Cho’s eyes grew round as saucers.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get into with that thing?” she asked.  Harry just grinned back and nodded.

Cho stepped away from the motorbike as Harry raised the garage door and rolled the bike inside.  As Harry came back out and closed the door he turned back to Cho.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the ride,” he said, “and I want to thank you again for the lunch, it was really nice.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Cho responded.  “I just wish that we could have done it on your actual birthday.  It’s sad that your special day was ruined like that.”

Harry just shook his head.  “It’s not like I usually celebrate my birthday anyway.  It was great that the Weasleys would throw me that party though, and now you take me to lunch.  It’s been a great birthday.”

Cho wanted to ask if what his aunt and uncle had done for his birthday but she suddenly realized what Harry was implying; they didn’t do anything, they never did.  Why did they treat him so horribly, she wondered for probably the hundredth time that summer?  What had he done to deserve it?

Harry broke into her thoughts.  “So, when do you have to head back?  Not right away, I hope.”

“No Harry,” she answered with a smile, “my family isn’t expecting me back until after dinner so we can hang around a bit, if you like.”

“Yeah,” Harry answered quickly, “I’d like that.  But what do you want to do?  We’ve already put the bike away.”

“That’s OK,” Cho said, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for the afternoon, thanks.  You have any ideas?  I don’t want to get your aunt annoyed with me.”

“No problem there.  She took Dudley into London for the day.  They’ve got to get him fitted for his school stuff.”

“Fitted?” Cho asked.

Harry grinned maliciously, “Yeah, ‘fitted’.  Old Dudders doesn’t fit into any normal uniforms anymore, hasn’t for a couple of years.  So, they take him to a tailor in London and have his school stuff made to fit.  Sort of like special ordering a circus tent with matching knickerbockers.”  They both giggled for a moment.

“So no one’s home?” Cho said.

“No one but us,” Harry replied.

“We’re all alone?”  Harry nodded and Cho grinned slyly at him, her cheeks blooming a lovely tint of red.  “Does that mean we can... go inside?”

“Yeah sure, if you want to,” Harry said, a little confused.

“Well,” Cho said suddenly shy, “I was wondering... I mean... “

“You mean what, Cho?”

“I’ve never seen the inside of a muggle house before,” she blurted out.

“Oh, is that all!  Sure, come on in and I’ll show you around.  You want to see the fellytone?  Mr. Weasley was really excited about that.”

“Oh, I’ve read about them in Muggle Studies!  Only I thought they were called ‘telephones’.  Isn’t that right?”

Harry blushed and ushered Cho through the front door and into Number 4 Privet Drive, the most normal house in all of Great Britain, except for its occupants that is.  He showed her around the entire house.  He tried to avoid Dudley’s room, but Cho insisted on seeing it and then wished she hadn’t when she did.  They finally wound up back in the lounge.

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry said.  “Have you ever watched television?  It’s all the rage for muggles.  They spent almost every moment they can sitting in front of it.”  Cho shook her head ‘no’ and Harry pointed her to the couch as he turned it on.

After no more than 10 minutes Cho turned to Harry and asked, “Is this it?”  Harry nodded in response.  “Not very good, is it?” she asked. 

Harry grinned.  “Not really, no.”

“I’d much rather sit in front of the fire and watch it.  At least then I can hear myself think.”

“Maybe you’d rather watch a muggle film?  They can be much better than regular shows.  I’ll make some popcorn and it will be like going to the cinema.”

Harry made a batch of popcorn in the microwave, fascinating Cho in the process, and then they started combing through the piles of videos to try and decide what to watch.  Finally, they came across one titled ‘Poltergeist’.

“Oh,” Cho exclaimed, “here’s one about Peeves!  That ought to be fun!”  Harry had never seen the film so he popped it into the player and they sat back on the couch.

About an hour into the film Cho had wormed her way under Harry’s arm and lay snuggled into his shoulder, turning her head away to avoid the screen.

“Muggles know absolutely nothing about poltergeists,” she said into the sleeve of his shirt.

“No,” Harry answered, “and not much about ghosts either.  Would you like me to turn it off?”

Cho nodded but Harry was suddenly riveted to the screen.  The people in the house had thrown a rope into some sort of portal and Harry was perched on the edge of the couch, fixated by what they were doing.

“Harry?” she said nudging him in the ribs.  “I think I really would like you to turn it off.  I’m not enjoying this at all.”

Harry shook himself out of his trance.  “Yeah, sure Cho, I wasn’t enjoying it either,” he said as he grabbed the remote control off the table.

“Are you sure, Harry?  You seemed rather engrossed in it for a minute there.”

“No, I mean yes, I’m sure.  It’s just that that scene, it’s given me an idea about how to get Sirius out.”

“What do you mean?  You want to see if Professor Trelawney has a much shorter sister who also likes to pretend she’s a seer?”

Harry looked at her and grinned.  “Not at all,” he said.  “How would you like to go to London for dinner?  I need to see the twins about something.”

* * * * *

The next day, Harry was sitting at the small desk in his small bedroom, a pile of crumpled and discarded parchment keeping him company as he tapped the end of his quill against his teeth.  He had started his note to Dumbledore at least a dozen times and each time he had faltered on how exactly to tell his Headmaster that he got the idea for how to rescue Sirius from a trashy muggle movie.  He knew the idea would work, well he didn’t know, but he felt it strongly.  After the events in the Department of Mysteries, he knew he had to present his idea in just the right manner if he was to have any hope of getting them to listen.

Harry’s deliberations were interrupted by a sudden flash of golden red flames as Fawkes appeared in the air in front of him.  Harry stared as the magnificent bird circled the small room, its wingtips grazing the walls and leaving a trail of sparks behind as they did.  Fawkes splayed his wings and came to a gentle stop resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“Hello, Fawkes,” Harry said and was answered by a warbling trill that penetrated and warmed him thoroughly.  “What brings you here?”

Fawkes responded by turning around and spreading his long tail across the desktop in front of Harry.  Realizing what Fawkes wanted, Harry took a firm hold of the bird’s tail and they were away in another flask of light.

Harry stumbled as he released the Phoenix’s tail, and fell to his knees on the floor of Dumbledore’s office.  He blinked at the sudden change of surroundings.  He heard a disdainful snort and looked up into the eyes of Professor Snape.  The Potions Master snarled silently and gathered his robes around his knees as Harry regained his feet.  Harry looked around the crowded room and found that Professor Dumbledore was meeting with Remus Lupin, and Professor McGonagall, as well as Snape.

Dumbledore was smiling serenely, Remus was grinning, Snape scowled, and Professor McGonagall said, “Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

“Hello, everyone,” Harry said cautiously.  “I take it you wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, “I did.”

Harry shifted from one foot to the other for a moment and Professor McGonagall waved her wand to conjure a straight-backed chair for him to sit in.

“Harry,” the headmaster began, “we’ve been looking at the mirror that Sirius gave you and I have to say that we are rather concerned.”

“Why’s that, Professor?” Harry asked.

“Well, Harry, it seems that the magic that Sirius used to create that mirror was very similar to that which Tom Riddle used to enchant his diary.  I think you remember that.”

Harry shuddered at the memories of Tom Riddle possessing Ginny Weasley and attempting to use her life force to resurrect himself.  “You don’t think that Sirius will try...”

Remus broke into the conversation.  “No, Harry, of course we don’t think that Sirius would try to possess you like that.  It’s just that Riddle used some very powerful Dark magic to create his diary.”

“And you’re accusing Sirius and my dad of using Dark magic to create those mirrors?”

“James had one, too?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, at least that’s what Sirius told me when he gave it to me.  He said that he and my dad both had them and that they used to use them all the time to talk to each other.  I thought you all had them.”

Remus furrowed his brows.  “No, Harry, I didn’t have one, and I doubt that Peter had one either.  It must have been something that only James and Sirius used.”

“Regardless, Mister Potter,” Professor McGonagall spoke, trying to get the conversation back on topic, “we are concerned that there might be some inadvertent risk in this connection between you and Sirius.”  Harry shook his head.

Remus continued, “Harry, we just want to make sure that nothing unexpected happens.”

“Unexpected?” Harry asked.  “Like what?”

“If we knew what to expect then it wouldn’t be unexpected, would it?” Snape’s voice was cold and full of condescension.

“What are you saying?” Harry said looking straight at Dumbledore.

“Harry, we feel it is best if we remove that part of Sirius’ being that is currently residing in you,” he said calmly.

Harry shook his head.  “No, I don’t agree.  Sirius isn’t causing any harm and as long as he is inside me I know that he is still alive somewhere.”

Dumbledore stood and faced Harry.  “Harry, we will do everything in our power to return Sirius to this world but we also have to think about your welfare.”

“No!  As long as I have a piece of him, he’s safe.  I won’t let you take him out.”  Harry thought of telling them about his idea, but the look in Snape’s eyes made him stop.  Now was not the time for discussion.  They had already made their minds up and now Harry had to concentrate on getting out with Sirius intact.

McGonagall spoke again, still trying to be the voice of reason.  “Harry, no one wants to put Sirius in any danger but we have to think about your well being.  We are only concerned about keeping you safe.”

“No, I won’t let you take him.”

“Harry, I’m afraid that I must insist,” Dumbledore said, his voice still calm and serene.

“No.”  Harry turned towards the door.

He had taken only a single step towards it when he heard Snape’s voice.  “Petrificus Totalus!”  The spell caught Harry right between the shoulder blades and his arms and legs snapped together with a thud as he began to fall.  Professor McGonagall quickly cast a cushioning charm on the floor and Remus levitated him over to a table.

As Harry settled onto the surface of the table, Remus spoke, “Albus, are you certain about this?”

“I am confident that it is the best course of action,” the old man responded.

“Indeed,” said Professor McGonagall, “I’m sure that he will thank us when this is all straightened out.”

Snape snorted, “I sincerely doubt that.  The boy is incapable of proper gratitude.”

“We’ve given him little to be grateful for today,” Remus said.

“No?  We’ve only saved his miserable life.  Again.  Not much at all.  What on earth is that to be grateful for?”

“Can you honestly expect him to be grateful for getting hexed,” Remus asked and then couldn’t stop himself from adding, “while his back was turned?”  Snape stiffened but made no further comment.

Harry tried to struggle but the hex was too strong.  His body was frozen and totally beyond his control.  He listened to them talk as if he wasn’t even there and his fury grew.  All the talk about treating him like an adult was just a lie.  They didn’t care what he thought and had no intention of giving him any control over his own life.  He railed against the curse.  He tried with all his might to break through it, to regain control of his muscles and himself, but he failed.

Dumbledore circled from behind his desk and came to the table where Harry lay.  With a flick of the headmaster’s wand, Harry was on his back, and with another, his arm had moved.  Now it stuck straight out from his body.  Dumbledore opened Harry fingers gently, exposing his palm.

“Albus,” Minerva pleaded, “shouldn’t we try to reason with the boy, to make him see the situation clearly?”

Dumbledore stopped what he was doing but it was Snape who spoke.  “We can reason with him, if he is capable of it, afterwards.  Let us do what needs to be done now and explain ourselves later.”

Remus looked at the headmaster with eyes full of doubt.  He was about to say something when Dumbledore resumed his actions.  He muttered an incantation, so softly that Harry couldn’t make it out.  Once again, Harry felt a tingling throughout his body, but now, instead of spreading, the sensation was coalescing back into his hand, pulling away from his heart, and his mind, and his soul.  Leaving him alone.  Then, with the nail of one finger, Dumbledore traced the faint scar that ran along Harry’s lifeline and sliced through the skin.