“Well,” he began, “you didn’t get History of Magic.”
“That’s probably because I slept through the test and didn’t turn anything in.”
“And you didn’t get Astronomy. Ditto for Divination.”
“Trelawney’s hacked off at me for not revealing my ‘Inner Eye’ again. How bad is the rest of
it?”
“Well, I hate to tell you this Harry, but you only got--thirteen.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “What? Thirteen? How did I get thirteen?”
Ron laughed and handed him the letter. “Well, it probably helped that you got basic,
intermediate and advanced for three subjects, Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the
Dark Arts. That’s nine right there. And then Hagrid gave you one, and Sprout, and Snape gave
you two, for basic and intermediate Potions. Getting to be quite the Snape-pet, aren’t you?
Who’d have thought, five years ago?”
Harry hit his arm with the back of his hand. “I’m not. I worked hard.”
Hermione took his letter and examined it. “Well, see? It paid off.” She was smiling at him and
his letter, looking proud of him, but she was also still glowing from being very, very pleased with
herself. Harry had never seen her quite so happy.
“How’d you do, Nev?” Ron said now to Neville, who was also smiling while looking at his
letter.
“Nine,” he said happily. “I missed Transfiguration and Charms. But I got one from everyone
else, even Sinistra and Snape, and two from Professor Moody and Professor Sprout.” He
looked down at his letter again. “Gran will not believe this...”
Suddenly Harry’s letter was plucked from his hands and he heard a familiar voice drawling, “All
right, Potter, let’s see how you’ve done...”
Harry waited for Malfoy to finish reading, trying to suppress the smile curling at the edges of his
mouth and looking at Hermione merrily. Harry wished he had a camera when Malfoy finished.
“How’d you do, Malfoy?” he asked, trying not to sound too smug. Malfoy grimaced, not
speaking, thrusting his letter at Harry for inspection. He’d gotten basic and intermediate from
Snape, McGonagall, Moody and Vector, and basic from Flitwick (who no doubt was taking
points off for the burglar-alarm fiasco), Binns, Sprout and Sinistra. The only teacher who hadn’t
given him a single O.W.L. was Hagrid, and considering Malfoy’s attitude in that class, as well as
his performance, it was a miracle Hagrid hadn’t found a way to give him a negative number of
O.W.L.s.
“Pity, Malfoy,” Harry said casually. “You only got twelve. Thought you said you’d get more
than me...”
Malfoy continued to look at Harry’s letter in disbelief. “And I should have. What’s this
‘advanced Transfiguration, advanced Charms, advanced Defense against the Dark Arts?’”
“You know about the Transfiguration...” Harry said under his breath. Malfoy nodded then.
“Oh, right. But these others...it sure pays to be the teachers’ pet...”
“It also pays to be able to duel with Flitwick for more than an hour and to conjure a Patronus
and block the pain of the Hara Kiri curse,” Hermione informed him archly, with a smile at
Harry. Malfoy still grimaced, then nimbly plucked Hermione’s letter from her hand. His
astonishment was even greater than when he’d seen Harry’s letter, but now he found a way to
turn the information to his advantage.
“So, Potter. Couldn’t outperform your girlfriend?”
Harry smiled and put his arm around her shoulder. “If we’re talking about performance,
Malfoy...”
“I’m out of here...” he muttered, throwing the letter back at Hermione, who caught it in the air,
laughing.
They were looking forward to going to Hogsmeade again the next day, though, even with
Malfoy, and spent much of Friday lounging by the lake and chattering about the tests. Now that
they were done, dissecting them in great detail seemed to be Hermione’s favorite pastime.
Harry had to quiet her more than once with a kiss. The third time this happened, they were
relaxing by the lake with Ron and Ginny and Malfoy and the twins and Angelina, who were
done taking their N.E.W.T.s. Hermione held his head firmly, and Harry had the distinct
impression that she’d been trying to get him to shut her up this time...
“Get a room!” Malfoy yelled irritably, throwing some leaves at them, as he sat next to Ginny,
looking more than a little grumpy. He wouldn’t dare lay a lip on Ginny with her brothers around.
Harry came up for air, smiling, then looked at Hermione searchingly.
“Sounds good to me. What do you think?” he said to her mischievously. She stood and
immediately started walking toward the castle. He took that as a yes. As he turned to go, he
caught Ron’s eye for a moment, and almost considered not following her. But then he turned to
watch her walk toward the castle; none of them were wearing robes on this hot almost-summer
day. She wore a pair of white shorts and a rather tight sleeveless blue blouse. His mouth went
dry, watching her, and he forgot about Ron, running to catch her up. George and Angelina sent
them off with wolf-whistles.
As they were about to enter the castle, walking hand-in-hand and grinning at each other,
Hedwig came and landed on his shoulder, a parchment tied to her leg with Dudley’s handwriting
on it. He thanked her, explaining that he didn’t have any owl treats, and she flew off to the
owlery. He pocketed Dudley’s letter; he could read it later. They dashed up to Fluffy’s room,
locking the door with multiple charms, putting a cushioning charm on the floor and attacking
each other with abandon, the desires of the previous five weeks finally unleashed.
Afterward, she pillowed her head on his chest, watching his face in the flickering light of the
candles they’d conjured, scattered around the room like a sea of fairy lights. “Harry?” she
whispered.
He opened his eyes and found her looking at him. He smiled at how beautiful she was. “Yes?”
“Dumbledore gave me some good news about my parents.”
“What is it?”
“They can come out of hiding. We’re going to be back in our old house this summer. He’s put
the kind of protection charms on it that are on your house--you know, the Dursleys’ house. But
we can’t go traveling like we normally do. We can leave the house, mind you, even go down to
London for the day or--” she smiled at him “--I could come to visit you in Surrey. But we can’t
leave England.”
“I’m sorry, Hermione...”
“No, Harry! I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty or anything. I’ll just be so glad to see my
mum and dad again. Do you know it’s been almost a year? When you’re an only child, you’re
very close to your parents...” Then she stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry, Harry. Sometimes I have a
terrible case of foot-in-mouth disease...”
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “Hermione. You can’t not mention your parents or
being close to them or missing them just because I’m an orphan. Frankly, I forget that there’s
any other way to live, now. I’ve never really known my parents. Seeing my mum and dad in the
Pensieve...it was interesting, but they don’t seem any more real to me now than before I saw
them. It was like seeing actors on a stage. You love your parents and you’re close to them and
miss them. Don’t be afraid to say those things to me, Hermione.”
She smiled and snuggled up to him again. “You make me feel very lucky, do you know that
Harry?”
He stroked her hair. “Feel like feeling even luckier--again?”
She lifted her head to smile at him, then moved to close the gap between their mouths as his
hands caressed her back, then started moving further down...
* * * * *
They left after breakfast the next day to go to Hogsmeade. It was the first time since the ceilidh.
When they reached the village, they were surprised by being greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley
and Bill and Charlie and Percy outside the newly-rebuilt Three Broomsticks. Ron and Ginny
and the twins were hugged and kissed by their mother (even the twins didn’t seem to mind for a
change) and O.W.L. results were discussed and praised, and N.E.W.T. results were speculated
upon (they wouldn’t know for five more days).
Harry didn’t mind the Weasleys meeting them in Hogsmeade, but Ron seemed a bit discomfited
by them suddenly turning up, as did Draco Malfoy. It seemed he couldn’t be alone with Ginny
ever, anymore; there were always other Weasleys somewhere in the vicinity. Mrs. Weasley was
practically bouncing with excitement--Harry had never seen her like this--but Bill managed to
explain what was going on a bit more coherently.
“We’re here to celebrate too. Do you remember the jury saying that the Malfoy assets had to
be liquidated and divided between the heirs of the six people he’d ordered killed? Of course,
that’s after paying the fines they levied on him as well. That meant two-thirds of what was left
was to go to the heirs to the Clearwaters. Penelope and her little brother Jeremy didn’t have
wills, of course. And they were the chief beneficiaries named in their parents’ will. But in the
event that Penelope and Jeremy didn’t survive their parents, last year, the Clearwaters added a
codicil to their will naming an alternate heir.”
Ron frowned. “Why are you telling us this?”
Bill nodded at Percy. “Percy’s the heir. Apparently Penelope’s parents were very keen on them
getting married and assumed they would in a few years. They never thought anything would
happen to them or their children, of course, but they put Percy’s name in since they assumed he
would soon be family anyway. So two-thirds of the proceeds from the liquidation will go to
Percy. He’s going to be bloody rich.”
And yet, Harry couldn’t help but think that Percy didn’t look like he felt like celebrating. All the
gold in the world couldn’t bring back the girl he might have married. Harry caught his eye. He
tried to smile, but it looked extremely half-hearted. Harry looked at Malfoy then, who looked
utterly miserable. Harry gestured to Malfoy with his head, his eyes wide, as he looked back at
Percy.
“Well, Bill,” Percy said shakily. “I don’t in particular want to be rich.” Ron choked on his
butterbeer, staring in disbelief at his brother. “I may put some of it away for the future...but I
think a better use for it would be to set up a scholarship fund for Hogwarts students who might
have trouble paying their school fees and buying supplies because their families have been killed
or injured by Death Eaters...or similar reasons...”
Malfoy stared at Percy, whom Harry knew he’d never liked, especially when Percy was Head
Boy. Percy looked back at him benignly, and Malfoy looked away. He was going to be even
harder to help than Ron, Harry thought.
“Also,” Bill continued, “Your thousand Galleons has been deposited in your vault at Gringotts,
Harry, and you two,” he said, nodding at Ron and Hermione, “now have Gringotts accounts,
opened with your respective thousand Galleons. Don’t spend it all at once!” he said with a grin.
“And,” he continued, “in honor of Perce becoming rich as Croesus, everything today is his
treat...”
George and Fred enthusiastically endorsed this idea, while Harry noticed Ron leaning back and
drinking his butterbeer, a look on his face that implied he was already envisioning what to do
with his thousand Galleons...
They enjoyed themselves in the village all day, going to various shops, back to the pub for lunch,
then having a leisurely walk back to the castle in the late afternoon, the sun still higher in the sky
than it seemed it had any right to be. The day before had been midsummer, and Harry
remembered that it was his parents’ anniversary. He wondered whether he could convince
Snape to put anything in the Pensieve from his parents’ wedding--he’d been there, after all.
Harry had seen him in the wedding photos. But then he thought about how his thoughts about
them and Sirius and Remus had changed after seeing them in the Pensieve, and he decided
against it. He could go look at the wedding pictures in the album Hagrid gave him, and imagine
them dancing on the wooden floor laid down on the lawn outside the country inn called the
Willows...he didn’t need to jump into the Pensieve. He had a very vivid imagination; after all,
he’d imagined being with Hermione countless times before it had actually happened...
He smiled at her as they walked back to the castle, remembering the previous afternoon. Lucius
Malfoy was in prison; Percy had a windfall (even though he’d rather have had Penelope), Ron
had a bank account for the first time, and Draco Malfoy didn’t have to worry about money
thanks to the scholarship Percy wanted to set up. They’d done well on their O.W.L.s. He didn’t
even mind going back to the Dursleys, he thought. Maybe he could contact Dick when he
returned home and ask for a real job with him, for real pay, for the summer. He’d enjoy that,
and he could continue to wear Sandy and chat with her when he liked. Despite the fact that
Voldemort was still out there somewhere, as well as Wormtail, Harry had never felt quite so
optimistic that everything would turn out all right.
As they neared the castle, though, Harry could see from a distance that Dumbledore was
standing on the front steps with a large black dog. Harry got a very bad feeling upon seeing that,
and he took his arm from around Hermione and started sprinting toward the headmaster, his
well-trained legs now moving smoothly under him. It was tempting to just transfigure into his
griffin form and fly to them, but he restrained himself. When he reached them, he stopped
abruptly, breathing hard.
“What is it?” he gasped, bracing himself for the worst. But it was something he could never
have expected.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “I have some bad news for you. Please come to my office.”
Harry nodded dumbly, patting Sirius on the head. He trotted next to Harry, pressing
comfortingly against his side. Harry looked over his shoulder at the others, still some distance
away. Hermione looked like she wanted to run, too, but Ron put his hand on her arm and
shook his head. He looked toward Harry. He looked like he too suspected what it was. Harry
soon found out that they were both wrong.
He didn’t remember how he reached Dumbledore’s office. When he was sitting in a chair
before his desk, Sirius changed to his human form again. Then Harry saw a beetle land on the
floor, and suddenly standing before him was someone he hadn’t seen in a year: Rita Skeeter.
Dumbledore nodded at her and he sat.
“Harry--Rita here has been helping us keep tabs on your aunt and uncle and your cousin,
between running some other errands now and again.” Harry remembered the samples that had
had to be collected to test for Krum’s paternity. “Unfortunately, I neglected to tell her
something important--and she was checking in on your aunt and uncle--”
“If I’d only known that he was also an unregistered Animagus...” she was saying in a slightly
whiny tone to Dumbledore. “I’d have known to say something...”
Harry looked at Sirius. “She didn’t know you were an unregistered Animagus? What does that
have to do with anything?”
He frowned at Harry. “Not me, Harry. Wormtail. He turned up at Smeltings. One of teachers
started keeping him as a pet, or some such thing, and then he was able to get at Dudley...”
Harry’s heart was in his throat. “What happened?”
Dumbledore looked at Harry levelly. “He jumped off the roof of his dormitory. This morning. It
looked like a suicide. We think he was under Imperius. Wormtail may be the one who put the
curse on him. He’s dead, Harry.”
Tears prickled against his eyelids. “What? But--but we’d just become friends! He--he was all
right, it turned out...we were writing to each other regularly...”
“And he never mentioned this rat with the silver paw?” Dumbledore wanted to know. Harry
shook his head.
“He mentioned rats, yeah. But he said they were white rats, they were using them in their
biology class. Behavior projects, mazes with cheese in them and all that. He never...” But then
Harry remembered the letter he’d received from Dudley the day before, the letter he hadn’t
read.
Without another word to any of them, he ran from the office, down the spiral stairs, up to
Gryffindor Tower. He ransacked the wardrobe, his trunk, trying to find every scrap of clothing
he owned. What had happened to the letter? He found the pants he’d worn the previous day,
when he and Hermione had gone up to Fluffy’s room. The pockets were empty and there was a
food stain on them from dinner the night before. The elves hadn’t washed them yet. Harry went
tearing out of the common room again and up to Fluffy’s room. After yanking the door open, he
lit his wand and stared around the dim chamber, then looked down and saw it, the rolled
parchment with his own footprint on it, having trod on it before leaving, never noticing....
He picked it up, tears already flowing down his face as he unrolled it.
Dear Harry,
Thank god school’s almost over! We can run together again, can’t we, during the
summer hols, right? I’ve lost a total of 120 pounds since September! You’re not going to
recognize me. Julia’s going to come visit during the summer, and you can meet her. I
never thought I’d have a girlfriend, and now I owe it all to you. Never thought I’d be
saying that! Maybe I can convince mum and dad to treat you half-decent, or to actually
do something for your birthday. I already have your gift. Hope you like it!
Even if I could make mum stop being so nasty to you, I suppose I could never convince
her to let me have a pet rat though. Sounds unlikely, doesn’t it? Remember how I said I
thought my rat had gotten my roommate’s rat preggers? They had some really cute little
white rat babies. Not bloody likely for her to let me, I know. Mr. Frankel, our biology
teacher, has made a pet of this rat he found with a silver paw. Calls it a prognosis or
something--
Prosthesis, Harry thought, remembering Hermione using the term in reference to Moody’s leg.
He wiped his eyes and continued reading.
--but I’m not sure what that means. Said he’s never seen an animal that was apparently
wild with anything like this. He didn’t even keep it in a cage, but carried it around in the
pocket of his lab coat. Frankel said it probably wasn’t wild after all, probably someone’s
pet for a good long while. He still couldn’t figure out how the silver paw was attached,
though.
Maybe I can convince mum and dad to take us to Brighton for my birthday, even if they
neglect yours. I’ll insist that you come! They won’t be able to get me to shut up until they
say you can! Hope your tests went ok. See you soon.
--Dudley
Then Harry was crying freely as he leaned against the door and thought, If only I’d read it
yesterday! If he had, he could have alerted Dumbledore and Sirius to the danger Dudley could
be in, Sirius could have Apparated to Dudley’s school, found Wormtail, kept him from putting
Imperius on Dudley...
If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to be with Hermione--if he’d only read it in time--
He curled up on the cold, stone floor, feeling like a murderer, crying until he could cry no more.
* * * * *
Harry skipped dinner. He staggered down to the common room later, a hollow ache in his
chest. He kept throwing passwords at the Fat Lady, who kept refusing him entrance because
none of them were the right one. He finally resorted to knocking, and Neville opened it for him,
looking surprised. Harry didn’t speak, walking toward the stairs to the dorm, not really seeing
anything or anybody. He was vaguely aware of people looking at him strangely, but he didn’t
care. He was responsible, he thought. He could have stopped it. He couldn’t have stopped the
Westminster explosion, he knew that now. He couldn’t have prevented the Clearwaters being
killed, or Marcus Flint and his mother, or their houseguest. But he could have stopped this. He
had as good as killed Dudley with his own two hands, Dudley who had become like a brother
to him...
And then he stopped, remembering Trelawney’s Tarot reading for the first time in months.
Another brother...And for him, at the hand of the traitor....
The Spectre of Death.
Had Trelawney actually made another accurate prediction? Harry was starting to wonder about
her, about whether she just wanted them to think she was a sham most of the time. He
remembered Snape telling his mum that a seeress had come up with the Prophecy...could it
have been Trelawney? He swallowed. At the hand of the traitor... Wormtail’s silver hand...
“HARRY!” Ron yelled, Harry realized, for the fourth or fifth time. He’d been trudging up the
stone steps listlessly, lost in his own thoughts. He turned to Ron, feeling like the world was
moving in slow motion again, like when he’d left his body when Ron had put the Cruciatus
Curse on him.
“What?”
“This came for you. A strange owl brought it.” He handed Harry a small package, labeled, H.
Potter. He opened it and took out a cassette tape. He frowned at it. Written on the small label
on the tape were the words For the Boy Who Lived.
Suddenly he was galvanized into action. He ran up to the dorm, he tore into his trunk, finding the
tape player Dudley had given him. He checked the battery compartment; it still had the right
sort, in the right position. He took the tape out that had been in the player and put in the tape
he’d just received. He put on the earphones and hit play, but the same hissing, rushing noise met
his ears that he’d heard before, when he’d tried to use it in the dormitory. He punched the
STOP button angrily, then went down the stairs of the dorm again, his robes swirling behind
him. As he strode through the common room, he was aware of multiple voices calling out to
him; Hermione’s, Ron’s, Neville’s...
He ignored them all, striding through the corridors up to the Astronomy Tower. He knew what
he had to do. He looked down at the ground, so far below, wondering whether Dudley had felt
any fear beneath the curse that compelled him to leap to his death. Had he stood on the roof,
looking down, shaking with fear, and moving toward his doom anyway? Had he been able to
form coherent thoughts of regret and apprehension as he fell toward the earth?
Harry swallowed and looked up at the sky instead. He put the tape player and headphones in
his robe pockets, knowing that they would be there again when he changed back to human form
again. Then he closed his eyes and felt the change move through him in an instant, as quick as
thought, and he opened his eyes to find the world just as sunny and summery-bright, albeit with
colors a little more muted because of his Animagus form. He spread his wings and leapt onto
the wind, moving toward the village, toward a place hopefully far enough from Hogwarts that he
could listen to the tape. As he flew over the village, he looked down, not surprised to see
people looking up and pointing, exclaiming in surprise. He probably should have used his
broom, he realized, but he wanted the feeling of flying, really flying under his own power, and
he pushed on, flying a little beyond the village, landing next to a copse of alders, running into the
shelter of the trees a little way before changing back, turning and looking toward the village,
hoping no one would try to find where the anomalous golden griffin had set down.
He sat against a tree, taking the tape player out of his pocket and putting on the earphones. It
was awkward to wear them at the same time as his glasses. He pressed play and watched the
gears spinning, then heard the familiar hissing...then finally, a familiar voice. A voice he hadn’t
heard since Ron’s birthday.
“Hello, Harry. I’m glad you’ve found a way to listen to this. I know how these things work
because my mother was a Muggle. Did you know that? You probably didn’t. My Master
doesn’t hold it against me, though. He is also a half-blood, and at least I’m no Mudblood. But I
digress. I thought there were a few things you should know, now that you have heard of the
death of your cousin.
“Yes, I killed him. You knew that, of course. You figured it out, at any rate. You’re not a stupid
boy. Lily’s and James’ boy would not be stupid. But are you smart enough to outsmart me?
People have been underestimating me all my life, Harry. It gets tiresome, frankly. I have the ear
of the Dark Lord. I have more power than the Minister of Magic, although he has the power to
do things like suspend sentences and cut years in prison in half...especially when he’s being
blackmailed. But I digress again...
“I have been living at your cousin’s school. It has been a very convenient place to avoid capture
by the Ministry of Magic. You surprised me that night, Harry, when you changed into a lion and
chased me through the forest. So, you’ve followed in your father’s footsteps and become an
illegal Animagus! I haven’t told my Master yet...I think it is something I will save for just the right
moment. Don’t worry; he will be pleased. For such a young wizard to achieve such a feat in
such a short amount of time will merely show him again how powerful you are, and how
powerful he can be when you are joined to him as his servant.
“One piece of information was not given to you on the night we were in the forest. Mr. Malfoy
indicated that he had had his underlings put the Imperius Curse on those girls in the hopes that
one of them might become your girlfriend...What we did not tell you was that a Congeniality
Charm was also placed upon your cousin, such that he became a much more agreeable person.
I understand you two became good friends, writing letters back and forth, running together
when you were still at home. What a shame he’s dead now...
“You must understand that this WILL happen. You will become the servant of the Dark Lord
and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Do not fight it any longer, Harry. I am sure you do not
want anyone else close to you to die. A pity he was never really your friend...you just thought
so...”
It seemed that there might be more, but Harry didn’t care. He ripped off the headphones, threw
them on the ground with the player and aimed an angry blast at them both with his wand,
blowing them to bits. He didn’t want it anymore. It was tainted. Tainted, like his friendship with
Dudley...
A pity he was never really your friend...you just thought so...
He swallowed, staring at the bits of metal and plastic littering the ground. He’d been
manipulated, completely manipulated. He felt as though he couldn’t trust anything or anyone.
What was real? Was his relationship with Hermione real? With Ron? Even with Malfoy? Had
he really gotten thirteen O.W.L.s, or had he just imagined it? Was he really a prefect, captain of
the Dueling Club? Nothing seemed to be real, he had no feeling of stability in his life any more...
He walked back through the village on foot, then reached the castle well after dark. Since the
day before had been the longest day of the year, that was saying something, as the sun was up
exceptionally late in the evening now. He tried to bring himself to climb the marble stairs, but
instead found that he was walking through the Great Hall, to the secret passage to Snape’s
office. Once in the dank passage at the foot of the stairs, he put his shoulder to the wall, finally
feeling it give and pivot. Snape looked up from where he sat at his desk, a pile of graded
parchments pushed to one side. He looked utterly unsurprised. Somehow, Harry knew that
Snape knew about Dudley.
Harry pushed the wall back into place and stood, staring at the bottle of Ogden’s Old Fire
Whiskey that was on the desk. There was a glass with a small amount of the amber liquid sitting
next to the bottle; Snape had been partaking after finishing his work for the evening. He took
one look at Harry and opened a desk drawer, producing another identical glass. He picked up
the bottle and poured until the glass was half-full. He was commiserating, in his way. Snape
pushed it toward Harry. Harry nodded and picked up the glass, then sat in the wing chair by the
empty fireplace. He stared at the glass for a minute before taking a sip. It burned his throat; he
welcomed the pain. He deserved it. He took another sip, feeling more burning, then a numbness
that started to creep into his brain. He wasn’t sure how long it took him to finish it, but when it
was gone, he felt thoroughly drunk. He wasn’t used to this; he had a very low tolerance. He
wouldn’t even be sixteen for over a month, and Snape probably shouldn’t have given it to him,
but it was too late now. Perhaps the Potions master had a patented hangover formula he could
give him in the morning...
Harry closed his eyes, leaning back in the wing chair, feeling sleep creep over him, and blissful
forgetfulness, although that would be strictly temporary. He was vaguely aware of Snape rising
and leaving the room, first taking his glass from his limp hand and placing it on his desk with a
solid-sounding thunk. He heard his professor leave the room, closing the door quietly, as he
sank back into the chair, letting himself sink down into a dreamless slumber...
* * * * *
