HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS!
In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must- Not-Be Named has returned to this country and is active once more.
"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord — well, you know who I mean — is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord — Thingy.
"We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month."
"In addition, I hereby call off the hunt on the creatures known as, 'Elementals.' Any person seen actively hunting them down will be punished with through discipline, and any person known in relation to these creatures are also given special permission in the conduction in their own testamented tasks. Thank you."
The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."
Details of the events that led to the Ministry turn around are still hazy, though it is believed that He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.
Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile the Boy Who Lived and the aforementioned implication of Y/N Lynx —
"There you are, I knew they'd drag you both into it somehow," said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at the both of them.
They were in the hospital wing. Harry was sitting on the end of Ron's bed, Y/N was propped with his back leaning against the bed frame and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet. Ginny, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione's bed; Neville, whose nose had likewise been returned to its normal size and shape, was in a chair between the two beds; Lauren, who was more mentally scarred than physically injured, was leaning against the wall between the beds, looking in a daze, and Luna, who had dropped in to visit clutching the latest edition of The Quibbler, was reading the magazine upside down and apparently not taking in a word Hermione was saying.
"He's 'the Boy Who Lived' again now, though, isn't he?" said Ron darkly. "Not such a show-off maniac anymore, eh?"
"They didn't even call me any names," Y/N noted, "Just my name... which they got wrong anyway."
Harry looked at him.
"What do you-?"
Y/N waved him away as Ron helped himself to a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the immense pile on his bedside cabinet, threw a few to Harry, Y/N, Ginny, Lauren, and Neville, and ripped off the wrapper of his own with his teeth. There were still deep welts on his forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction, there seemed to be some improvement.
"Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry," said Hermione, now scanning down the article. "They're complimentary about both of you, actually, now that Fudge seems to have given you his version of a 'pardon'. "'A lone voice of truth . . . perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story . . . forced to bear ridicule and slander . . . Forced to bear the name of a monster...' Hmmm," said Hermione, frowning, "I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering, though. . . ."
She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs. The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Madam Pomfrey's words, "quite enough damage to be going on with." Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day and although she was improving greatly, was already bored with the hospital wing.
" 'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine . . .'
Well," said Hermione, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, "it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago..."
"There'll be all sorts of articles appearing soon about Elementals now," Y/N sighed. "With Fudge waving off the hunt he set out last year, it's basically calling for open season on information about them."
"Yes but that's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione asked, "It means people will become more aware of the fact that they're not dangerous-"
"They are dangerous," Y/N cut across, "We're just lucky to be friends with one. How did the Prophet even get permission to use Harry's interview anyway?"
"Daddy sold it to them," said Luna vaguely, turning a page of The Quibbler. "He got a very good price for it too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer and see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
Hermione seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, "That sounds lovely."
Ginny caught Y/N's eye and looked away quickly, grinning.
"So anyway," said Hermione, sitting up a little straighter and wincing again, "what's going on in school?"
"Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp," said Ginny. "He did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off —"
"Why?" said Hermione, looking startled.
"Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic," said Ginny, shrugging.
"I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George," said Lauren through a mouthful of chocolate.
"They sent me all these, you know," Ron complained as she pointed at Lauren accusingly for eating extra than he had given. "Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?"
Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked, "So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?"
"Yes," said Neville, "everything's settled right back down again."
"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.
"Not at all," said Ginny. "He's really, really miserable, actually. . . ." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts. . . ."
All eight of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the forest to rescue her from the centaurs. How he had done it — how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him — nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling.
Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were bits of twig and leaf in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.
"Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock," whispered Hermione.
"Better than hearing that voice echoing around these walls again," Y/N said nastily.
"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.
"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.
"N-No . . . no . . ." said Umbridge, still with her stutter as she sank back into her pillows, "no, I must have been d-d-dreaming. . . ."
Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter in the bedclothes.
"Speaking of centaurs," said Hermione, when she had recovered a little, "who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?"
"He's got to," said Harry, "the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?"
"It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach," said Ginny.
"How's that going to work?" Y/N asked as he considered the less than complementary teaching contracts between the two Professors.
"No clue, but I bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good," said Ron, now munching on his fourteenth Frog. "Mind you, the whole subjects useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better. . . ."
"How can you say that?" Hermione demanded. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?"
Y/N's heart began to race. He exchanged a small glance with Harry. They had not told Ron, Hermione, or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed, and neither of them had not yet corrected this impression. Y/N did not wish to see their expressions when he told them it would be his choice that would 'consume the victory', which Y/N could only assume meant the ensuing war.
"It is a pity it broke," said Hermione quietly, shaking her head.
"Yeah, it is," said Ron. "Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either — where are you going?" he added, looking both surprised and disappointed as Harry stood up.
"Er — Hagrid's," said Harry. "You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are. . . ."
"Oh all right then," said Ron grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. "Wish we could come . . ."
"Say hello to him for us!" called Hermione, as Harry proceeded down the ward. "And ask him what's happening about . . . about his little friend!"
Y/N had been filled in on Grawp and everything that had gone on in between with Umbridge and the Centaurs. Y/N was the next person to leave, standing around with his friends was not doing his thoughts any good favours, and decided to take a walk around the grounds.
The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by studying or homework. Y/N walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as he went. He could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid.
His thoughts trailed back, like they had been since it occurred, to Sirius Black's death. His father's death. A death that could have been prevented if Harry had waited... a death that could have been prevented had he not called out to him.
He was finding it hard at the moment to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not. Whenever he was in company he wanted to get away, and whenever he was alone he wanted company. And quite frankly, he felt utterly miserable.
Y/N had just descended the last marble step into the entrance hall when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Y/N knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Y/N stopped dead; so did Malfoy and the others. For a few moments, the only sounds were the shouts, laughter, and splashes drifting into the hall from the grounds through the open front doors.
Malfoy glanced around. Y/N knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Y/N and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Lynx."
Y/N looked down at his body, "I look perfectly alive to me."
Malfoy looked angrier than Y/N had ever seen him. He felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage.
"Unlike your father, your mean?" said Malfoy in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father. . . ."
Y/N had to take a very loud, very slow deep breath to stop himself from launching ten thousand electrical volts through Malfoy's bones.
"You'd have thought," Y/N said slowly, his voice low and quiet. "That after fifteen years of living alongside an Elemental, fighting and resisting against your dad's old mate Lord Voldemort for five years, and then meeting him in person on multiple occasions, that someone would have made me pay by now... funny how it's never happened."
"You think you're such a big man, Lynx," said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison —"
"Don't call me that name," Y/N spat. "And besides, it's not my fault your father left his balls in your mothers handbag the night of the Department of Mysteries... It was like Elena had the authority over him, and now where is he? Locked up in Azkaban."
"The dementors have left Azkaban," said Malfoy quietly. "Dad and the others'll be out in no time. . . ."
"Yeah, I expect they will," said Y/N "Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now... I can only imagine how badly Lord Voldemort is going to treat the Malfoy's after their never ending failures..."
Malfoy's hand flew toward his wand, but Y/N was too quick for him. His hand was already sparking and a bolt flew past Malfoy's face by mere centimetres. A warning shot.
"Lynx!"
The voice rang across the entrance hall; Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office, and at the sight of him a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt toward Malfoy. . . . What- ever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never... He had reacted poorly, and was a mother significant factor as to why is father was dead.
"What are you doing, Lynx?" said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.
"I'm attempting to decide whether or not to melt Malfoy's face or not, Professor."
Snape stared at him.
"Put your hand down." he said curtly. "Ten points from Gryff —"
Snape looked toward the giant hourglasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.
"Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour- glass to take away. In that case, Lynx, we will simply have to —"
"Add some more?"
Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle. She was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.
"Professor McGonagall!" said Snape, striding forward. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!"
"Yes, Professor Snape," said Professor McGonagall, shrugging off her traveling cloak, "I'm quite as good as new. You two — Crabbe — Goyle —"
She beckoned them forward imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.
"Here," said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, "take these up to my office for me."
They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.
"Right then," said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hour- glasses on the wall, "well, I think Lynx and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know- Who! What say you, Professor Snape?"
"What?" snapped Snape, though Y/N knew he had heard perfectly well. "Oh — well — I suppose . . ."
"So that's fifty each for Lynx, Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom, and Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor's hourglass as she spoke. "Oh — and fifty for Miss Lynx in Hufflepuff and fifty for Miss Lovegood I suppose," she added, and a number of sapphires fell into the Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw glasses. "Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Lynx, I think, Professor Snape — so there we are. . . ."
A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.
"Well, Lynx, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this," Professor McGonagall continued briskly.
Before she made her exit, Y/N said to her, "Professor, I'd like for you to make something known to the teachers, if that's okay?"
McGonagall turned to him, curious. "What is it, Mr. Lynx?"
Y/n sighed and looked towards his head of house.
"I would no longer like to be referred to as 'Lynx', Professor."
McGongall tilted her head slightly, as though she didn't understand.
"In honour of my father, and what I want to make the name stand for... please call me Y/N Black."
Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, her eyes watering slightly as she turned to Snape.
"Did you hear that, Professor?"
"Quite," said Snape quietly.
"I will make sure it gets around swiftly... Mr. Black."
And with that, she swept away.
* * *
He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passersby behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking. . . .
Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was — he had always been — a marked man. It was just that he had never really understood what that meant. . . .
And yet sitting here on the edge of the lake, with the terrible weight of grief dragging at him, with the loss of Sirius so raw and fresh inside, he could not muster any great sense of fear. It was sunny and the grounds around him were full of laughing people, and even though he felt as distant from them as though he belonged to a different race, it was still very hard to believe as he sat here that one decision would be the factor in turning the tide. . .
He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about his father or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that Sirius had collapsed trying to fend off a hundred dementors. . . .
The sun was setting over the Black Lake, casting a warm glow over its tranquil surface. Y/N sat alone on the shore, his thoughts further consumed by grief and regret the longer he remained alone.
Lost in his thoughts, Y/N didn't notice Ginny approaching until she was standing beside him, her presence a comforting warmth in the midst of his sorrow.
"Y/N," Ginny's voice was soft, filled with concern as she looked down at him.
He glanced up, meeting her gaze with eyes clouded with sadness. "Hey..." he said, weakly.
Ginny sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "Everyone's looking for you... You've been out here for hours."
Y/N nodded, his gaze returning to the serene expanse of the lake. "I needed some time alone."
Ginny reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. "I understand. Losing Sirius...it's hard to make sense of it all."
Y/N's chest tightened at the mention of his father's name, a wave of grief crashing over him once more. "I should have been able to save him. I should have done something."
Ginny's touch was gentle, her eyes filled with empathy. "You couldn't have known what would happen, Y/N. You did everything you could."
Y/N shook his head, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. "I called out to him, Ginny. I called him 'Dad' for the first time, and it left him wide open."
Ginny's expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You were trying to protect him. You were trying to reach out to the only family you had left."
His throat tightened, the raw emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "And now he's gone. I never even got the chance to truly know him... I had two years, can you even call that family?"
Ginny's hand tightened on his arm, her touch a lifeline in the sea of his despair. "You're not alone, Y/N. You have people who care about you, who want to help you through this... and even though it was short, you still got the chance to know him, to see him, to be with him..."
Y/N's gaze flickered to hers, his heart aching with a longing he couldn't quite articulate. "Ginny...I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in my own grief, I haven't even asked how you're doing."
Ginny's lips curved into a sad smile. "I'm okay. Well, as okay as anyone can be after something like this."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared loss hanging between them like a heavy fog. Then, Y/N took a deep breath, his resolve steeling within him.
"Ginny, there's something I need to say," Y/N began, his voice cracking slightly.
Ginny turned to him, her eyes searching his face with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What is it, Y/N?"
His gaze met hers, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've been holding back for too long, keeping my feelings locked away. But now...I realise life is too short to hide from the truth."
Ginny's eyebrows raised, "You're doing this now?" She said, an almost incredulous look on her face.
Y/N reached out, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. "The truth is...I care about you, Ginny. More than I've ever let myself admit."
Ginny's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise. "Y/N..."
He pressed on, his voice trembling cracking. "I know we've both been through so much, and it's been hard to find the right time to say this... With everything from Fudge, Caym, and now this... But after everything that's happened, I can't keep pretending anymore."
Ginny's eyes shimmered as she looked at him, "You know how much I care about you, Y/N. But maybe... let's not... not right after your Dad has died. Your head isn't screwed on straight and-"
As Ginny spoke, her words were halted abruptly by the soft pressure of Y/N's lips against hers. She felt her words dissolve into a muffled murmur against his mouth, her thoughts scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. The unexpected warmth of his kiss silenced her protestations, leaving her breathless and wide-eyed.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the kiss enveloped her, his arms wrapping around her in a tender embrace. His lips moved with a gentle urgency, as if seeking solace in the midst of chaos. Ginny's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and desire.
Slowly, she yielded to the intoxicating sensation, her own arms finding their way around his neck as she melted into his embrace. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the echo of their shared longing.
When he pulled away, Ginny was left stunned.
"I-"
"If we're waiting until things have cooled off... I had to do that at least once."
Ginny said nothing as her head fell into his shoulder, her hand trailing around him as her lips found his neck as she hugged him. Y/N leaned into her, their embrace a silent promise of what could come... further down the line.
* * *
Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione showed signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make hushing noises every time she mentioned his name. Y/N was not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his father yet; at least not with them. It had been different with Ginny... That whole situation had been different. He knew one thing, though: Unhappy as he felt at the moment, he would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days' time when he was back at the Orphanage. Especially after dropping the name... it was almost as though he was cutting ties.
He couldn't return to the Orphanage for the summer, not after everything that had happened. He didn't want to put innocent lives in danger with the war ramping up and...
And it felt as though he would be betraying Sirius if he went back to David.
It did not take long for Mrs. Weasley's response letter to slot back into Hogwarts.
He would be staying at the Burrow this summer holidays.
Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed that she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinner- time, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed and chased her gleefully from the premises, whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the entrance hall to watch her running away down the path, and the Heads of Houses tried only halfheartedly to restrain their pupils. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.
Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term feast, but Y/N did not want to go.
He had slumped, this evening, and instead of heading to the Feast, he was going back to the Black Lake.
That was the idea, anyway. At least until he made it through the Fat Lady and turned to see Luna Lovegood fastening a note to the board on the wall .
"Hello," said Luna vaguely, glancing around at him as she stepped back from the notice.
"Why're you not at the Feast?" he asked.
"Well, I've lost most of my possessions," said Luna serenely. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs."
She gestured toward the notice board, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.
An odd feeling rose in Y/N — an emotion quite different from the anger and grief that had filled him since Sirius's death. It was a few moments before he realised that he was feeling sorry for Luna.
"Why do people do that?" He asked.
"Oh . . . well . . ." She shrugged. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually."
Y/N looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.
"That's no reason for them to take your things," he said flatly. "D'you want help finding them?"
"Oh no," she said, smiling at him. "They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway . . . why aren't you at the feast?"
Y/N shrugged. "I wasn't feeling it, not tonight."
"No," said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your father, wasn't he? Ginny told me."
Y/N nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius. He supposed that he too, could now see Thestrals... and then he remembered that Luna could see them.
"Have you... ever seen someone die?" he asked, rather depressingly.
"Yes," said Luna simply, "my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."
"Damn," Y/N said. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"
"Er — isn't it?" said Y/N uncertainly.
She shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?"
"You... You heard them?"
They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Y/N did not know what to say, or to think. Luna believed so many extraordinary things . . . yet he had been sure he had heard voices behind the veil too. . . .
"Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?" he said.
"Oh no," said Luna. "No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up. . . . It always does in the end. . . . Well, have a nice holiday, Y/N."
"Yeah . . . yeah, you too."
She walked away from him, and as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.
* * *
The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Y/N halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Y/N's aid. By the time Lauren, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniforms as Y/N, Ernie, and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.
"I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train," said Ernie with some satisfaction, as he watched Malfoy squirm above him. Ernie had never quite got over the indignity of Malfoy docking points from Hufflepuff during his brief spell as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.
"Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though," said Ron, who had come to investigate the source of the commotion. "He's loads better looking now. . . . Anyway, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything. . . ."
Y/N thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler, Lauren was looking at him, and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to come home?" Lauren asked weakly.
Y/N shook his head slowly, "Not this summer, Lozz. Wish everyone well and look after them all. Not many people know you're there, so its safer without me there... And I couldn't go back to David, not this soon... I- I called him 'Dad' at the end of First-Year... and now I've lost my real one."
Lauren sighed and nodded as she opened a book.
Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters, and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning. . . .
"It hasn't really started yet," sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. "But it won't be long now. . . ."
"Hey, Harry," said Ron, nodding toward the glass window onto the corridor.
Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.
"Anything happening between you two anymore?" Y/N asked, as he looked back at him.
"No, nothing," said Harry truthfully.
"I — er — heard she's going out with someone else now," said Hermione tentatively.
Y/N and Ginny couldn't help but exchange a small look at each other at the mention of relationships... the fact that they were going to be living together over the summer certainly gave some openings....
"You're well out of it, mate," said Ron forcefully. "I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful."
"She's probably cheerful enough with someone else," said Harry, shrugging.
"Who's she with now anyway?" Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.
"Michael Corner," she said.
"Michael — but —" said Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. "But you were going out with him!"
"Not anymore," said Ginny resolutely. It hadn't even occurred to Y/N when he kissed Ginny that for all he knew, she was still in a relationship with Michael.
"He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead." She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside down, and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.
"Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," he said, prodding his queen forward toward Harry's quivering castle. "Good for you. Just choose someone — better — next time."
He cast Y/N an oddly furtive look as he said it.
As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, when it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Apollo's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.
When the ticket inspector signaled to him, Harry, Lauren, Ron, and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him whom he had not expected at all.
There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous traveling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend the weird sisters. Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair graying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.
"Ron, Ginny!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forward and hugging her children tightly. "Oh, Y/N... how are you?"
"As well as I'm going to be," he said as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins' new clothes.
"What are they supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the jackets.
"Finest dragon skin, little bro," said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."
"Hello, Y/N," said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of him and turned to greet Hermione.
"Hey," Y/n said, awkwardly. The last time he had saw Lupin was when he had attempted to restrain him from chasing after Bellatrix. "What's everyone doing here?"
"Well," said Lupin with a slight smile, looking at Harry, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."
"I dunno if that's a good idea," said Harry at once.
"Oh, I think it is," growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"
He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.
"Ah, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, whom he had been greeting enthusiastically, and who were taking it in turns to hug Hermione. "Well — shall we do it, then?"
"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," said Moody.
He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station toward the place where the Dursleys stood, apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group. Y/N followed, curious as to what would be said.
"Good afternoon," said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon, coming to a halt right in front of him. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."
As Mr. Weasley had singlehandedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Y/N would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed. She kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.
"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.
"Yeah," growled Moody. "About how he's treated when he's at your place."
Uncle Vernon's mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.
"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house —"
"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody.
"Anyway, that's not the point," interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry —"
"— and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Lupin pleasantly.
"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, "even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone —"
"Telephone," whispered Hermione.
"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," said Moody.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.
"Are you threatening me, sir?" he said, so loudly that passersby ac- tually turned to stare.
"Yes, I am," said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.
"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" barked Uncle Vernon.
"Well . . ." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."
He turned from Uncle Vernon to Harry. "So, Potter . . . give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along. . . ."
Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbors would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.
" 'Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.
"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."
"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.
"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.
"Really soon, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. "We promise."
"Take care, Harry," Y/N said. "Look after yourself."
Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around, and led the way out of the station toward the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.
Y/N turned to Ron and the rest of the Weasley's, lugging his trunk behind him as Mr. Weasley said quite promptly.
"Right, shall we get going?"
-----------------------------------------
A/N:
OOTP has been by far the longest project in this book. It took me out of it for a period of time, I got hit with writers block and it wasn't fun. But, your comments about how you feel on this book managed to reignite my fire for this story.
I started a full-time job in September, so that also limited my free time for when I could actually write. Needless to say, I am trying to find as much time as I can, though updates may be slower paced than they were back in GOF when I had more time.
I go away on holiday next week, but Half-Blood Prince will start shortly after, that will not take me a full year, as OOTP has done.
What'd we think about that kiss eh? It's my first time writing something like that so I hope it wasn't too cringy!
See you around.
-Saber